POP!

That doesn't sound good... or feel good either, though in an odd sort of way. Something in my artificial left leg just seemed to break. Maybe hopping down off the wing onto the hangar floor isn't the best idea, but I would think that carbon fiber whatever should easily withstand that much pressure or it will be worthless quickly. I try to take a step and realize that something in the ankle isn't working; my regenerating nerves tell me I've broken the joint, but the pain is barely half of what that should be. On the other hand, walking this way seems questionable and if my foot doesn't work, I'm useless on the left rudder pedal in flight.

"Shawn Ryan?" it's Kree'Gna coming back around the ship, "What was that?"

"This artificial ankle seems to have gone out on me. They had a jury-rigged medibay on the Renewal that the Professor used to rebuild my left leg. Maybe it wasn't quite up to par."

"I did not know you had lost your left leg, Shawn Ryan."

"Please forgive me, Kree'Gna. It was working well enough and I rather forgot to mention it."

He nods, but seems worried suddenly.

"What is wrong?" I ask quietly.

"You must get it checked out before I can fly with you. Replace any substandard components and insure it does not introduce any contagion to the Embassy."

That's the first time I've heard him speak like this. "What's wrong, Kree'Gna?"

"You must do as I say, Shawn Ryan. You must not have a weakness like this."

"I'm not crippled," I say as I hobble a few steps his way. The look in his eyes must match my own reality check, "Okay, I'm wrong. I'll call over to the hospital and see if someone can take a quick look at it. Maybe it just needs an adjustment."

…..

"We just can't seem to get rid of you, can we?" as voice asks from behind me. I'm sitting in the emergency room of the district hospital and as I turn to see who has spoken, none other that Dr. Harrington is approaching me.

"You get stuck with me again or just passing..." my words die as I see his nod and rather bemused expression.

"Our executives figure that since I didn't die the first time around, there's no sense putting anyone else through the drama or trauma of treating you." The is something about his tone that leaves me wondering, though.

"Well, shouldn't be much of either," I say, before noting that two rather burly lads have appeared with an odd looking wheelchair. I look back at him and ask, "What's up, Doc?"

"Please get into the chair without questions," he says quietly. "I can't answer you here."

The wheelchair is more like a half-body cocoon, heavy doors will cover my legs and up to my waist.

I let my voice drop, but ask anyway, "Am I contagious or something?"

"You are not contagious," He answers clearly enough for others in the room to hear, leaving me wondering if he is being honest or if he's just trying to head off panic. "No more questions, Mr. Ryan. We need to do a more careful examination."

He words don't match up with the situation, but then it occurs to me that maybe whatever power-source the leg uses is leaking... that would account for the doors over the legs, it may be radiation shielding.

I move as quickly as I can, assisted by the two big men, and the clamshells close quietly over half of me.

…..

We move quickly down the hallways, three sets of footsteps and the strange heavy sound of the wheelchair. There are fewer people in this wing. An elevator door opens and I note that one of the two large dudes stays at the doorway, as if guarding it.

Down we go. Down. Down... must be a ways.

"What's the story Doctor?" I broach.

He holds out his mobi and shows me what must be a scan of some sort. Whatever it is, I'm not at all sure I see the problem. "Yes?" I ask.

He looks my way and explains, "You have a substantial explosive device in your left foot."

"Excuse me?"

"Scans of your left foot show a quarter kilo of an RNL type explosive with rather sophisticated wiring in place. I'm not even sure how we are to deal with it."

"Well," I start, trying not to let the fact that I've got a bomb attached to my leg unhinge me, "Let's get it out, okay?"

"I'll include you in whatever decisions I can." The elevator door whisks open to reveal a spartan chamber with what looks like surgery and recovery equipment. As we start into the concrete walled room, Dr. Harrington continues, "I need some answers, Mr. Ryan."

"Shoot."

"Where did you get this leg?"

"In a pieced together medibay on a Reclaimer."

"Why?"

"Got a ship shot out from under me and the crew recovered me from the MUD."

"Mud?" He asks, but before I can answer he continues he smiles and states, "I remember now: MUD, common term for DSML. You told me some about that last time."

"Yeah, probably."

"But why would you want a bomb in your foot?"

"Beats me."

"They put it there without telling you?"

"Well, I may like to have ordinance around at times, but attached where I can't take it off and use it?" I ask with at least a wee bit of sarcasm. "Of course I didn't know about it."

"I've read about slaves sometimes having explosives in their bodies, but..."

"Hmmm..."

"What?"

"Well, the folks that pulled me out of the void were not nice people. Their captain was an egomaiac and both her crew-members were slaves."

"So she may have put this in your leg for control?"

Remembering Lana's collar I think I understand, "Actually, I bet the Professor did."

"You'll forgive me if I don't follow. Just explain."

"The tech expert was the one who patched together the medibay and autodoc. He seemed inclined to do whatever the captain told him without question."

"So now you're an escaped slave?" he asks incredulously.

"Nope."

"Good, because whomever could probably detonate this if they were within range."

"Be kinda hard for her to do that; she's two jumps away floating in the void without any EVA gear."

"Come again?"

"She tried to kill me and I had to space her."

"Space?" He asks, then almost immediately his expression changes and he breathes, "Oooohhhh..."

The clamshell leg covers open and I'm about to try to stand when it occurs to me that Lana might know about this and the Professor certainly does. "What exactly would happen if it went off?"

"Without knowing much about the shape of the charge, what I've just read about RNL leads me to believe that the three of us here would meet Old Pete pretty quickly."

"Old Pete? That like hell?"

"No," he laughs, "quite the opposite, legend has it that Peter stands at the gates to Heaven to determine who gets in."

"So it would kill the three of us."

"Pretty much wipe this chamber clean of organic life, maybe even crack the walls."

"So if the folks who have the ship now don't like me and they are in orbit?"

He looks concerned again, "What was your blood type again?"

"Can we stop with the twenty questions and get it out?"

"That is what I'm trying to do. I have no desire to die either."

"So what's with the blood type? That's an artificial foot."

Exasperated himself, Doc Harrington replies, "Our chief surgeon said that unless we could mitigate the threat, the best and quickest way to remove the bomb is remove the artificial limb."

"But I thought it was grafted on..."

"Yes," he interrupts acidly, "So we'll likely have to amputate above the joint."

I shake my head in disbelief. "Drama and trauma, huh?"

He eyes me with what might be sympathy, "Yup."

"No other options?" I wonder out loud as the Doc starts a bank of equipment and what looks like modern autodoc.

"Ryan," he says rather shortly, "We don't know. I need to scan that thing without setting it off."

"Hey, I can walk," I grouse as Harrington and his attendant physically lift me out of the wheel chair onto a large bed-like platform.

"Not if it might set that thing off," the Doctor snaps back. "Just cooperate or I'll sedate you. Got that?"

I have about a million smart acre responses run through my mind but what comes out of my mouth is, "Sure, Doc. Just take care of it."

"Look," he says, making solid eye contact, "This is my first bomb, okay? We're both scared as hells about it, so just work with us."

He's right. "Okay. You let me know what I can do, if anything."

He grins grimly, "You got it."

An arm from the autodoc swings out over my left leg and starts a whirring sound that reminds me of an angry hummingbird. Slowly, it tracks the length of the leg to my foot; as it does, a large glas on one wall displays what must me my leg's internals. The transition from natural to the prosthetic isn't as quick as I imagined, there are reinforcing fibers that run all the way up to the bone surface just below the knee joint, but parts of my own skin reach almost to where a normal calf would be.

"There it is," Doctor Harrington states. Pointing, he continues, "See how the mass of explosive is woven through the carbon fiber foot structure and around the sensor and actuator wiring? I can't even guess which connections will trip it."

"Where's the detonator?" I ask as he zooms in on the foot and pans around looking at the sometimes hair-thin wires."

"What our resource says is that RNL detonates directly off of an electrical circuit."

"Joy. So what about the receiver?"

"That tells it to detonate? No clue; there's so much makeshift tech in here that I could take all month determining which it is, not to mention actually knowing how to disarm it."

"Think it has a failsafe?"

"Ryan," he is sounding exasperated again, "Enough with your twenty questions, I need to think."

"Well, I just thought we could cut it off and let the Marines play with it."

He looks hard at me, then his expression softens, "You think that will solve it?"

"Well, it would make sense that it wouldn't be set to explode if it thinks the person died, at least not the way Fat Claire treated us. Otherwise it could easily kill the slave's 'master' before she got clear."

"Makes sense, but there might be sensors for things like sudden complete loss of blood pressure."

"Accidents happen."

"You gonna cut if off on your own?"

"Doesn't the autodoc have an amputation program?"

He looks at the machine, "Yes, but hospital rules are no automated surgeries without proper anesthetic management and surgical supervision."

"And if my ex-partner wants to get a ship without having to pay for it?"

"You have a point."

"Let's get this over with, I hate long goodbyes."

"Expecting it not to work?"

"No, but I didn't really expect to have an explosive in my foot either."

"Stop being snide or I'll strap you down and let it go to work without anesthesia at all."

"Yeah, right."

"Doc," the guard comments as Harrington looks up, "You want me to punch him a few times to knock him out? He sure deserves it."

"Who asked you?" I snipe back.

The Doctor smiles and looks down at me, "See, you are being an ass. Now shut up and let me work this out."

…..

"Okay," Harrington says quietly after an endless half-hour where I've laid here in the cold rather unattended. He continues, "I've gotten advice from a surgeon from Terra General who sees these all the time; we need to put you in stasis so any failsafe doesn't engage as the laser cuts through. He advised DSML and I've got a dose coming down right now."

"MUD, huh?"

"Yes, MUD."

"I need to let Kree'Gna know I'm back out of commission for a while."

"Do what you need."

…..

"Kree'Gna, Shē'sueren," I say as the Xi'An's serious face fills my mobi's projection.

I see his expression change to a warm smile, "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren. Are you ready to rejoin me?"

"We have a problem. You know that foot I was having trouble with?"

"Yes?"

"It has a bomb in it. They are about to drop me back into stasis and amputate the leg above the knee."

"That is most unfortunate," he replies with far less than enthusiasm.

"I'm afraid that Dnong and company will have to wait until I'm back out from under the MUD and the new leg is on."

"I suspect they will be most irritated, Shawn Ryan."

"Yeah," I respond with a hint of snideness, "Well, what would they think if I showed up with a bomb in my leg?"

"You would likely be immediately spaced."

"My point exactly."

"I will pass this news on to Diplomat Athas Mgren," he says thoughtfully. "Is there an option to retain the leg as evidence for the Seers to check?"

"I'll ask, but bet they don't like to keep bombs lying around in a hospital."

"I will instruct a lesser courier to pick it up," he says in a matter of fact tone.

"You going to be alright?" I ask.

He nods but doesn't look very happy as he responds, "I will retain another pilot for now, but I desire your return."

"I do too, my friend."

Finally, his smile returns, "Good. Shawn Ryan, athlē-korr."

"See you when I get out. Kree'Gna, athlē-korr."

…..

"Ready?" Doctor Harrington asks, an evil looking syringe held somewhat aloft.

"Did you have to show me that?" I ask as my stomach chooses now to do the butterflies thing.

"Have a good nap, Ryan. See you on the other side."

…..

One nice thing about MUD stasis is that when you are under you don't dream. One bad thing about MUD stasis is that as your system gets cleaned out and your body begins functioning again you can't tell when you aren't dreaming.

Take now, for example: I would swear that I'm looking at a couple of Xi'An, though they aren't speaking and I'm not seeing clearly enough to identify either. My mind tells me I should be seeing Doc Harrington and maybe a burly attendant, but I can't quite reconcile that with what my vision is offering. Dream? Reality? No clue here. I close my eyes and try to will my ears to hear anything, but they are still out of commission.

Maybe I should go back to sleep. Weariness does come, bringing a restful settling sensation as my thoughts float away...

…..

I'm making a habit of recovering while others continue to live their lives. I seem to be thinking clearly and my vision is back to tack sharp.

From where I lay, I can see three humans in the room, but I don't recognize any of them. Well... is that true? There is a tallish, powerfully built, middle-aged man. Next to him is a shorter pleasantly attractive woman with just a hint of gray playing through her dark hair. Finally, there is a wisp of a woman barely shoulder height to the second, with short cropped black hair and almond shaped eyes... and she is drop dead gorgeous. Hmmm, maybe I'm dreaming again, the latter has almost a child's face with small lips and the smoothest pale skin... even Lanai wasn't such a heart-breaker.

I close my eyes to let the vision settle in my mind, guessing that it will all disappear when next my lids part...

But I'm not asleep.

"Mister Ryan?" an unfamiliar voice asks.

"Yeah, last I checked." I open my eyes again and the three haven't vanished.

"Thank you. I am Ryoko Hirosu from the Imperator's office. When you are ready, we need to get a statement." It is the short young woman who speaks.

"You know, I'm not sure that I'm not hallucinating right now."

She looks at the other two.

The big man speaks, "Mister Ryan, do you remember me? Dean Olivian?"

Dean... seems familiar... "And I know you from...?"

"Managing your tea plantation?"

Another man walks confidently into the room, a simple white cloth coat over otherwise nondescript clothing. "Okay, what is the meaning of this?" he demands.

"I was just trying to figure that out," I reply.

"Sorry, Shawn, I was talking to these three."

"I am Ryoko Hirosu from the Imperator's office. I was told that you were expecting me."

"Not until my patient is out of recovery."

"Maybe I wasn't clear, I am a representative of Imperator Costigan. We are trying to prevent an incident from becoming the spark that starts a war. I need to get answers from Mr. Ryan."

"And I'm his doctor. Nothing he tells you right now would be valid, his brain functions are still below sixty percent."

"Doc?" I interject.

"What do you need, Ryan?"

"She's cute," I say guilelessly. "I would really like her to talk to me."

"You know you said that out loud, right?"

"Yeah. Why not?"

He shakes his head a bit and smiles. I look back towards the three and see that Ryoko Whats-her-name is blushing and Dean and the woman... Jurdi... yeah, that's her name... I know her, too... anyway, Dean and Jurdi are smiling but looking almost embarrassed.

"You point is well taken, Doctor," the dark haired beauty comments. "I will check back in the morning. Please call if there are any issues."

She holds out her mobi and pokes at the holograph. Doc Harrington's does an odd chime and he nods.

The three leave the room and the doctor moves to examine something by my legs. "Can you feel this?" he asks, just before I feel something jab into my left foot.

"OWWww!"

"You big baby," he chuckles.

"What are you doing?! That HURT!"

"Good."

"Good?! Give me something for the pain if you are going to stab me."

"You still aren't quite back, Ryan. I'll explain when you are."

"Well at least don't chop my foot in half."

He laughs; it starts small, but soon it becomes a real belly laugh. I almost expect him to fall on the floor, he is laughing so hard.

"And just what is your problem?" I try to ask, but he is oblivious. "Hey Doc?"

Finally, his mirth lessens and he answers, "Yes, Mr. Ryan?"

"Were there two Xi'An in here in the..." my voice dies as the humor leaves him and a pall descends over his face.

"Yes. They were here early this morning."

Something worms its way into my recovering mind, winding its way through the corridors that lead to recognition.

"What's wrong?"

"They are dead."

My room has vanished and all I can see is Doc Harrington's face. "Dead? Who?"

His eyes are steady, "Don't know one of them, but the other was the one who caused the trouble the last time you were in. Dong or..."

"Dnong?"

"Yes, that sounds right. Dour sounding, kinda dino-faced, teeth instead of beak, single oval glyph, three fingers instead of four?"

I can visualize his face without effort, "Yes, that's Dnong. What happened?"

"Don't know. They took your leg and..."

"My what?"

"Your left leg?" His tone implies he is humoring me as he asks, "The one we just cut back off?"

That can't... be... didn't the Doc just stab me in my... hmmm.

It dawns on me that I should feel something odd... but don't. There is a table-like thing blocking my view of where my leg should be... I wiggle my toes and it sure seems like they are moving but I can't see them.

"But..."

"Your prosthetic is much better than your previous slapped together thing; I could tell it wasn't a surgeon who did that work. Anyway, even though the surgical laser cauterized the wound, we had no trouble salting stem cells next to the first set of undamaged neuron axon terminals. Because they lay at the interface between the cybernetic 'nerve' dendrites and your own cells, we established a perfect mesh as we cleansed the healthy local cells of DSML. Next..."

I interrupt, "Care to explain that in English?"

He chuckles, "Okay. How about: with some careful use of medical science, your body doesn't know that the leg isn't original equipment."

"Oh." Through the mental fuzziness one thought suddenly appears: This is a good thing! "Jix!" I exclaim.

Doc smiles and replies, "Glad you like it."

"But what about Dnong?" I query, getting back to the subject.

"The two of them left with your leg in a cryo tube. It should have remained stable barring outside activity. I only found out a few hours ago that they were dead when Ms. Amesly contacted me for whatever details I could give. Ms. Hirosu was sent when I couldn't let Amesly speak directly with you."

"Hirosu?"

"The one you thought was cute enough to say so out loud?"

"When did I do..."

His eyebrows arch and his smile has that patient look about it.

The memory seems to clear from the haze, "Oh. I did didn't I?"

"Yes, sounded like my thirteen year old: thoroughly smitten."

I shake my head and wonder just how embarrassed I should be when... or if... I see her again. What a moron I must have sounded like.

(sigh)

"It's okay, Ryan, I had only a few moments before told her you were not at full mental horsepower."

"Like that's supposed to make me feel better?"

"Well, if I may; better to sound like a star-struck kid than a lecherous old guy. I think she'll understand."

…..

In the darkness, a familiar voice digs me from sleep, hauling me into consciousness: "You seem to lead a charmed life, TOG."

"Hello, Gloria. Long time, no annoy."

"Relax, hotshot, I'm here to help."

"Kinda hard to imagine how."

"Wasn't that little wench supposed to pay you before she took your Reclaimer somewhere?"

"Rather inappropriate way to refer to a woman, isn't it?"

"As a woman, I have no problem calling her what she is. Actually, in different company, I would have called her worse. Care to hear what?"

"Nah, let's just pass on that, okay?" I can't see much more than her silhouette in the faint light of the hospital room's equipment. "So, what brings you here? I haven't been anywhere exciting lately, so you can go chase someone else."

"I have something for you... or more accurately, for you to give to Ms. Hirosu in the morning."

"Joy. No doubt something for me to further embarrass myself in the eyes of a lovely young woman?"

"Quite the contrary. But first, let me make two points: one, she is thirty-four. That makes her older than Xin. However, two, she is married with one child. I know you don't chase married women, even ones you care about, so that should help you keep those ancient hormones in check."

"Ancient hormones?" I snap back.

"Yes, now shut up and listen, I'm not supposed to be here and I need to be somewhere else very soon. There is a chip in your glas that has tracking logs on the Renewal, plus a transmission log that matches the time the two Seers were murdered that proves you were right: she tried to kill you just before she jumped." She pauses, maybe to see if I'm still breathing. "I do not believe they intend to tempt fate and stop while in Killian, but she will no doubt apply in Ellis for partnership control, claiming your death as a reason for terminating your rights. But there won't be any records of your death, and if the Imperator's Office moves quickly, your Reclaimer will be captured either by the Navy in Killian or in Ellis by the Advocacy."

"Good, she deserves it."

"Oh, one other thing."

"Yes?"

"I have a toy for you, a mobiglove."

Those aren't cheap. "Why?"

"You ever hear that ancient saw about gift horses?"

"Guess not."

"Let's just say you don't ask why when you get something worth a lot of Imperials."

"Unless it is loaded with a bunch of stuff that will get me arrested the next time I cross into Xi'An space."

"This one is stock, but it is the five chip model and you are starting with four chips already loaded."

"And they are?"

"The three your old mobi had plus the one we think will clear you with the Xi'An. It includes all of the transmissions from the time you were ambushed in the M50 up until Doctor Harrington put you under to remove the explosives, plus the applicable logs and transmissions I mentioned from the Renewal up to about an hour ago."

"And where is my old mobi?"

"In a slag heap, melting down to base elements."

"Great, now I have to reregister everything. Thanks a..."

"Stop!" she snaps. "I don't have time for this. The glove already has your bio and registration ghosted onto it. It IS your mobi now, you're off Spectrum if you DON'T take it."

"No choice."

"No. Put it on."

"Giving orders again?"

Her frustration is evident in her tone, but she says, "Shawn, will you please put the glove on?"

"Well, since you asked nicely." I can see her figure step forward from the deeper darkness and feel the device placed in my hand. She fades back into the shadows as I move fairly quickly to put it on. "It feels pretty good."

"It should. I have to go, your night nurse will be in on rounds in four minutes."

"Don't want to stay and chat?"

The room is silent.

"Gloria?"

There is a hint of air moving on my face, but only the equipment makes sounds.

I reach for the light control and as the space brightens, the room proves it is empty. Were it not for the very expensive device now gracing my right hand, I could easily imagine it was all just a dream.

…..

I wake early, dawn just beginning to play with the room's sole window and the emerald uplands beyond. The glove is still there, a reminder of my night visitor. Gloria is an enigma, sometimes she has been such a pain and then there are the times when she has helped. I turn my hand over and look at the hardened shell that protects my new mobi and by default, some of my own hand underneath. The Tonkor logo, though somewhat muted, is set along the edge so it can be read by someone in front of me while I use it; slick marketing, that. Beneath the logo is the word "Informer" so I guess that's the model. I rap on the shell with my left hand and there is no give whatsoever; must be metal of some sort, an exotic alloy if Tonkor's reputation were to suggest anything.

I hear voices in the hallway and Dean and Jurdi step into the room.

"Good morning," I offer.

They both return my greeting, then Dean asks, "How are you this morning?"

"Could be better, but I suspect I'm about where I'm supposed to be."

"Just saw the doc, he says your blood work looks good and you may be able to head back home this afternoon."

"Well, I need to get to the Xi'An Embassy as soon as possible."

"Got a question," Dean seems cautious before continuing, "What were they talking about yesterday? We got grilled pretty good about your new partners, both before and after we were in, but no one will tell me what 'the incident' means and there's been nothing on the Spectrum."

"Oh, well, you know how the grid is, everything that is really important gets out eventually."

Jurdi's eyebrows rise, "You haven't answered our question."

"Our?"

"We both want to know."

"And if I can't tell you?"

"Can't or won't?" Dean asks, just a bit of edge in his voice.

"Pick one."

"That's not an answer."

"You already know what I do. Right now, I need to talk with people who will tell me if I can talk about it."

Dean shakes his head in apparent disgust, but Jurdi seems to be evaluating. She reaches up for Dean's arm and affectionately says, "It's okay, he'll tell us when he can."

Her gesture brings a little tightening in my stomach, but I try not to show it.

Deans expression changes, "When did you get a glove?"

"This thing?" I ask, raising my right hand off the sheet. "It was a gift."

"Pretty spendy gift, partner."

"It has its uses."

"I'll bet."

"Look, I can't talk with you about this. Is there something else I can help with?"

Jurdi smiles, "When you get back to the hangar, we want you to look over the house plans we've had drawn up. We want to get moving on it before the seasons change."

"I'll be glad to. Hey, how are the kids?"

She smiles warmly and Dean seems to relax as well.

"They are doing fairly well. Bashir has discovered that he enjoys the country, even learning how to work with the tea plants."

"Jix!"

Dean smiles and picks up, "Yeah, he has a talent for it." A wee bit of edge returns though as he adds, "You have really turned him so far against you that it will take a while to mend that fence."

"Well, if anyone can work it out, it'll be you," I respond, nodding.

He smiles, perhaps grimly, but says nothing.

…..

Ryoko Hirosu stands near the foot of my bed, looking me over. "Are you feeling better today, Mr. Ryan?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Sorry about..."

She cuts me off with a wave of her hand, "Please, I understand. I need to ask you some questions about the incident."

"I only know what Doc Harrington told me, but I have gotten..." her expression intensifies, "Information about Ms. Tolstoy and my Reclaimer that you might be interested in."

"From the woman who stopped in last night?"

I nod.

"Do you trust her?"

"Only as far as I can throw her... which isn't very far. She's the one that got me into this mess in the first place."

"OES or..." she scans through something on her glas and then finishes with, "MARC?"

"You don't already know?"

She frowns for a moment, demonstrating a hint of pout that could melt titanial plate. If I didn't know that she is married, I would be in a lot of trouble about now. "Ms. Amesly has told me that there are facets of your case I am not supposed to ask about."

"Ms. Amesly is a pretty smart woman."

"So, what can you share with me?" She says the word "can" with all the appeal that a lover might use asking for a kiss.

"I have a chip that is supposed to contain information that will identify the person who activated the device in my old foot."

Her head tilts fetchingly to one side and she demurely asks, "May I have it?"

I think about the days ahead and decide to keep control of the situation myself. "I'll need it for the Xi'An when I get to the Embassy, but I can copy the data to you."

"Please do," she says with a flash of brilliant white teeth to punctuate it.

Be still my aching heart.

…..

A kind nurse clears away the lunch plates and whisks efficiently out of the room. I look out the window and wait. Soon, I should hear that I'm good to go home, maybe that I'm cleared to pilot. Boredom oppresses me.

I'm still hooked to one of the MUD cleaners; at least hospital cleaners don't go in through the neck, this one runs to a couple of needles lodged in my thigh. I'll sure be glad to be rid of them.

Familiar voices in the hall, Doc Harrington arguing with someone else... or several someone elses.

They turn the corner like a wave, sweeping into my room with enough energy that I'm momentarily afraid they will turn me over with their wake.

After Doc, two members of the party stand out immediately: Diplomat Athas Mgren and Seer Ksan Ko'Kree. But the animated discussion also includes Janice Amesly, Ryoko Hirosu, Captain Josiah Priest, and the OES' Major McMurdoe. The room is suddenly very crowded... to say the least.

"May I help you?" I ask the room with as much innocence as I can muster.

Six people start at once and I can't track any of them. Their voices raise in what must be an effort to be heard first. Only Ryoko stands silent, all the more lovely in her quiet restraint. Wow, I've gotta stop thinking about her like this.

"STOP!" I bellow and the room gets quiet. Ryoko smiles in what might be approval, while the rest mostly look at me like I've lost my mind.

"Let me start this over," I announce. "Proprieties first."

They glance at each other, but all are waiting.

"Athas Mgren, Shē'sueren. Please forgive my not bowing, I am still connected to the machines."

She bows elegantly and replies, "Shawn Ryan, Shē'sueren. Please do not trouble yourself, I understand completely."

"Thank you, Ma'am." I shift my attention next to our highest ranking, "Ms. Amesly, it is an honor to see you again, Ma'am."

"Good to see you alive, Mr. Ryan. As the Imperator's representative, I am sure he would send appropriate wishes for your swift recovery. I believe you know Miss Hirosu."

"Miss?" The question is out of my mouth before I can think. "Um, yes, I have had the honor." My heartbeat just went through the roof. Ryoko's smile could mean so little or so much. NO! I've got to think. I bet I just misunderstood what Ms. Amesly said.

I look around the room, need to get my mind onto something else... I better get the Seer out of the way. "Ksan Ko'Kree, Shē'sueren."

He nods my way, but his response shows contempt, "Shawn Ryan."

Diplomat Mgren glances his way, hints of displeasure cloud her expression; but she says nothing and I choose to let the insult pass.

The two human intel officers I would rather not even have here, but I acknowledge them anyway, "Captain Priest. Major McMurdoe."

"TOG," Captain Priest responds with a grin while Major McMurdoe barely nods, standing statue-like he says nothing.

"And last but not least," I begin with a grin, "The man of the hour, Doooctooorrr Harrington."

The doctor stifles a laugh at my verbal flourish, "Ryan, you're a nut. You need to stop holding state meetings in my hospital."

"But Doc," I joke back, "I feel so safe and secure here."

He chuckles and at least his smile is genuine.

"Okay, now," I begin, wondering how to get through whatever the lot of them have planned, "Let me start with the honorable Diplomat. How may I assist you, Athas Mgren?"

Several people look annoyed, but she nods and replies, "We need to have you come to the Embassy, Shawn Ryan."

"Well," I look over at the good doctor and ask, "How soon am I ready to go?"

"Your blood work is good, you're ready to leave any time now, but you are off flight status for twenty-four hours more. You need time to make sure the prosthesis is in fact working correctly before you get in a spacecraft."

"I look back at the Diplomat and ask, "Will tomorrow do?"

Ksan looks at Harrington, "Can he be questioned planet-side in the mean time?"

"Yes, I suppose he can," the doctor replies, but his tone changes to annoyed as he adds, "But not in my hospital."

Contempt in his tone, the Seer replies, "Good. This place reeks."

"Excuse me?!" Doc seems to finally take offense at something.

"You humans are all the..."

Diplomat Mgren almost hisses with unexpected anger, "Kath! (Silence!)"

Something passes between the two of them, but I have no idea what.

"My apologies, Doctor," Ksan abruptly says, his tone more petulant than the average Xi'An ever allows in public.

"I wish to be present at any Xi'An questioning of a UEE citizen," Ms. Amesly says with an unexpected force.

"He is our Contractor," the Diplomat answers, her voice reflecting a lot of stress. "Under terms of his contract he serves at the pleasure of Emperor Kray."

"He remains a Citizen of the United Empire of Earth and as such under the authority of the Imperator and the Imperial Senate." It would seem that this is part of the argument they were having when they got here.

"May I?" I ask, hoping to diffuse some of the rising tensions before someone comes to blows. They both look my way and I continue, "Perhaps we could have the questioning at the Imperator's office in Prime and Ms. Amesly or her designee could sit in on it to help me understand some of the finer points of interstellar relations."

"Not accept..." Ksan starts, but Diplomat Mgren holds up a hand and he stops.

"If we can reconvene within two hours, I find this acceptable. We can not wait longer or the incident will be difficult to reconcile and must be reported as an attack."

Captain Priest seems to object to that, "An Attack?! Your own fool took an uncontrolled explosive aboard his own vessel and..."

"Captain?!" Janice is incensed.

"We did not attack them and they know it," he sneers.

McMurdoe choses this moment to pipe up, "I expect to be present at any questioning also."

"Bite me," I say with heartfelt emphasis.

"Excuse me?" he says, stilettos in his voice.

I glare at him and reply, "You are not someone I want in the same room unless we are both armed and I have the Senate's blessing to shoot you."

Now he stares bullets at me, "Excuse me?"

"You may forget that the last time we spoke, you had kidnapped, roughed up, and threatened to torture and kill my friends. You don't belong in the same room as good people."

"That incident is privileged. Say no more."

"As I already said, Major, Bite me!"

His temper flares, but he says quietly, "You'll get yours, Ryan."

"Perhaps you were behind Dnong's death and you rather not admit it?"

His eyes grow large, he didn't expect this and as every head in the room turns towards him he snarls, "You know I didn't."

"Perhaps. It would fit your MO, though, wouldn't it?"

"I only kill little people," he says into a room that is tomb quiet.

"Yeah, big man you are."

"Your day will come, Ryan," he replies with conviction.

I chuckle, "Get in line."