/An Excerpt of a Conversation between Crys and Monica Vandham/

"So, Mrs. Vandham: what do you think?"

"What I think is that you like making life difficult."

"My apologies. But I truly do think this will work to the benefit of them both...and hence to everyone else that they are connected with."

"I'll have to clear it with Gray at least..."

"Do you truly think he would deny a request from you?"

"...fair enough. The question is, would Triton and Irma let him depart without much hassle?"

"I'm sure if you frame this 'punishment' in terms of Triton and Irma maintaining their working relationship with Polis. His sense of contrition will compel him to agree."

"...I literally met the kid earlier, and it still feels weird to consider Moebius D as someone capable of contrition."

"And that is the key, isn't it?"

xxxx

/Six Years After the Rejoining/

/Seven Months after Dirk Ran Away from Home/

It was the day after Dirk's conversation with Crys and Miyabi.

As night fell across the port of New Hope's Rest, the crew of the Defiance were partaking of the local food and drink from a dockside pub; they would be setting out the following morning.

Naturally, Dirk was getting grilled over his foray to the proverbial heart of Polis. "I cannot believe you, Dee," growled Garvel, cutting into his slab of steak with an etiquette that was both delicate yet fierce. "You weren't even away from the ship for half a day, and you managed to get in trouble with the locals?"

"Very poor form," dryly said Zeon, trying out some dried fruits with experimental nibbles. "I can only imagine what the captains did once they got their hands on you."

Dirk rolled his eyes, tossing some hardened nuts into his mouth; as he audibly chewed — much to Zeon and Garvel's irritation, which was precisely the point — he replied, "Well you don't have to imagine. Instead of spending eternity in the ship's brig or in this place's equivalent of jail, I'm doing...community service."

"And by community service, you mean...?" asked Mwamba, taking a swig of some cocktail with enough proof to peel paint.

"I've got no sparkin' idea," griped Dirk, inwardly wondering at just what Triton and Irma had told the crew about what had happened to him. "I mean, it can't be too bad...right?"

Hackt, idly tossing some G towards their waitress, casually remarked, "Our captains are being coy, as usual. Rumors are already running rampant about what trouble you got into, ranging from 'accidental arson' to 'pollen orb-induced streaking'."

Dirk let his head sink into the table. "Great."

"You could always tell us the truth," said Zeon. "I'm sure it can't be worse than our crew's fanciful imaginations."

"Got on the wrong side of someone important," he replied, which wasn't untrue. "I might've said some...impolite things." A confession about how he (not him, but D, D, D) had murdered the grandfather of 'someone important' would probably count as impolite, right?

"Very helpfully vague of you," complained Garvel. "And how long will this period of 'community service' last?"

Dirk shrugged. "Don't know. Weeks, at least." The other four crew members audibly complained. "It's not like you guys would miss me that much."

"On the contrary," retorted Hackt. "We're going to have to delegate your usual duties amongst the crew, and they're all more likely to complain than you."

"Gee, thanks."

Mwamba chuckled. "You're a reliable competitor at the weekly card games. I'll miss you fleecing Garvel of his pay."

The High Entia's long headwings flapped with palpable frustration. "Don't remind me of how much of a cheater Dee is!"

Dirk rolled his eyes. "I always gave all my winnings to Zeon so our ship's menu would be better; why are you complaining?"

"It's about the principle!" protested Garvel.

Zeon sighed. "I'm sure." Raising his drink, he remarked, "To our unfortunate comrade. May he serve the community with valor and distinction."

Mwamba, Hackt, and Garvel raised their glasses, much to Dirk's consternation. "You're all such fantastic chums," he snarked.

Garvel snorted. "Just you wait, Dee; by the time you return to the crew, I'll have surpassed you!"

"I'm sure," muttered Dirk, nonetheless feeling a slight bit of camaraderie with the quartet. (If he never saw them again, they would remember him as a simple yet dutiful sort; that was fine by him.)

"...also, I bet two hundred G that your name is actually Darius," said Garvel with confidence.

Dirk snorted, realizing this was going to be another thing he missed. "Sorry, but no."

"Damnation!"

Hackt looked over the crowd, calling out, "Api! Take two hundred off of Garvel for a wrong name!"

"Roger-dodger!" echoed the Nopon's words from across the way.

Garvel groaned piteously, even as everyone else got a laugh at his expense.

(Dirk burned all of these experiences into his mind.)

(Hopefully, they would overwhelm the trace thoughts he still had of Mwamba and Hackt's spines crumbling in his hands...)

xxxx

The very next day, Irma was escorting Dirk towards his 'community service', apparently located at a makeshift airfield outside of Polis. "So, you seem to have had a pleasant goodbye with the crew," observed Irma.

"It is what it is," said Dirk, not committing to much emotion one way or another. "So...did you find what you were looking for?"

Irma snorted. "Not yet. But I will find her..."

Dirk frowned, because he had heard enough from the crew over the past several months to know what she was referring to. "How do you think you're gonna find a specific snuffing Core Crystal? When they're not engaged with a Driver, they look no different from each other."

"Shows what you know," growled Irma, irritably rubbing at her elbow. "It sat on my father's desk for years...waiting for someone in my family to possess the capacity to be a Driver. I can't tell you how many times I stood there, looking at the patterns on the surface, marveling at the circuitry weaving inside of it...wondering who was inside, waiting to bond with someone...and when the day arrived that I became her Driver..." Irma paused in her recollection, with such abruptness that she seemed almost ashamed. "Point is: I don't know why or how, but the bond I had with my first Blade was...suppressed, or washed out, because of the blasted Rejoining. So I ain't gonna rest until I find her Crystal." As an aside, she muttered, "Not like I have anything left of my family as is..."

There was doubtless a story there, but it wasn't like Dirk to pry. "That's rough."

"Yeah. It is."

"...so, what exactly is my 'community service' gonna involve? I'm sure the Cityfolk had to clear it with you captains, right?"

Irma seemed grateful for the change of subject. "You're basically going to be accompanying a lady on scouting missions. You'll both have the same minder to make sure you don't get into any trouble." She glanced down at the thick bracelets on his wrists. "You should take those off. You won't have a whole crew to make up for your self-imposed handicap."

"I still remember the control code to unlock them," grumbled Dirk, fiddling with the side to unveil a series of buttons underneath a sliding panel. "One wrong button press delivers an immobilizing shock, so I damn well don't want to try removin' them unless absolutely necessary."

"And you've tested it?"

To satisfy Irma, Dirk calmly and methodically pressed ten buttons in a sequence, releasing the buckle on his left hand; then, just to be a smart aleck, he did it on the right. "There. You happy?" He quickly clamped the shackles back on, wincing as his ether flow — roaring through his body to a degree that it had been denied for months — was swiftly suppressed. "Ah, sparks, that stings..."

"That can't be good for you."

"I'll take it under consideration," he hissed.

Fortunately, Irma dropped it; the silence remained as they finally reached a patch of flattened grass, where the distinctive shape of a City-style Levnis rested. To Dirk's surprise, the people standing there were familiar.

"Hmm," remarked Gray, standing with arms crossed near the cockpit.

"Well. Small world." Dirk glanced over at the woman, who was still looking as surly as ever. "...you know, I never actually got your name, the other day."

"Shania," she flatly replied. "And I've apparently been tasked with babysitting you while you serve your time, Dee."

Dirk and Gray rolled their eyes, but for very different reasons. "I'm as much of a fan of this as you are, but beggars can't be choosers." Glancing over at Irma, he said, "Guess this is where I say fare thee well?"

"Smart-arse," said Irma with a huff. "You're doing this until our next time through to Polis, which could be who knows how many months from now. So don't do anything stupid." And with that said, the co-captain of the Defiance turned on her heel and departed.

Dirk tried not to snort, but it was really difficult. Wish I could've gotten Triton to see me off; least he'd pretend to be sad about it.

"We're burning daylight," said Gray, breaking Dirk's introspection. "Hop on board. We've a ways to go."

Dirk did so, following Shania into the back of the Levnis. He grabbed a seat on the wall opposite her, feeling somewhat defensive in the face of her glare. They kept a measured eye on each other — even as Dirk wondered why she felt so 'off' to him — as the vessel slowly rumbled; the floor beneath his feet vibrated as they slowly ascended, before the sensation of horizontal movement took hold. After a few more minutes of stern silence, he finally broke the peace. "So. What do these 'scouting missions' involve?"

"Barely in the City for a day and you got on someone's bad side," said Shania, ignoring his question entirely. "Who did you irritate so, that your crew decided throwing you to the Volffs was the preferable option?"

"Got a great opinion of yourself, don't you?" remarked Dirk.

Shania frowned, pressing forward with her words. "Who did you piss off?"

"Lady by the name of Ghondor Vandham, apparently."

Shania arched an eyebrow. "That so? What exactly did you say to her?" Leaning her elbows on her knees, she asked, "Rumors were flying, last night; about Ghondor dragging someone to see the leaders of the Six Houses. That was you, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. And?"

"So what did you do to piss her off?"

Dirk snorted, wondering why the lady was so insistent. "I'm practically a stranger to Polis; you're the one that lives there. Why don't you ask her?" Leaning back in his chair, he added, "You Cityfolk even still have the Irises from Aionios, right? Go ahead: tell her."

At this, Shania went silent...for a few moments. "Can't. Once we get beyond our territory, the Iris range drops. I can only communicate with Gray while we're out in the field."

"Well if you know this Ghondor so well, why didn't you ask her if you were so curious?" Shania's scowl only made Dirk even more bewildered. "Again, you live in Polis. You could have asked whoever!"

Shania huffed, leaning back in her seat; with arms crossed and head turned away, that was signal enough that all conversation was over.

Titan's cankles, what's her deal? This whole bit of community service was already turning out to be...less than ideal. Then again, 'community service' wouldn't be much of a punishment if it didn't suck, I suppose...

The Levnis continued onward for nearly an hour, until they finally began to slow and descend; during that entire time, Dirk and Shania had remained silent, trying to divine various aspects of each other's personality and character through stubborn silence. (Neither of them had been very successful.) When their ship finally settled to a definitive stop, Dirk said, "Here we are."

"...here we are," grumbled Shania, reaching for a rucksack on the ground. "...do you have rations on you?"

"I literally didn't know what my 'community service' would involve until I was almost at your ship...but I can forage, if I have to."

Shania stared flatly at him. "Our scouting missions last days at a time."

"...I see."

"...'thrown to the Volffs'," she said, paraphrasing herself.

"Clearly," grumbled Dirk. This is gonna go swell...

xxxx

Author's Note: I'm sure Dirk and Shania will get along swimmingly.