Turn 139

A few notes:
    -- Kris, we'll consider it ret-conned that Michal has been left behind after all, no need to go back and rework that.
    -- Jeff, might I say that it's darned nice to have Val back, melodrama and all?
    -- Dan, a line or two from Hiro would be most welcome; have you had a chance to think about my suggestion?
    
    And maybe this week someone might actually talk to Martin...? :-)
    * * *

Rigol: Two Scenes with Inez
    Emmett, initially oblivious to this, run-skips down and slaps hands with Valarin. "Glad you're back. Stop doing that crap." He then looks Hiro up and down, nods once with a grin, and then heads over to Inez. "Hi honey, I'm home. Man, the day at work I had. You would've hated it."
    "Can't wait to hear all about it... dear." She's clearly a bit nettled at being third in line for attention. "Can we go now?"
    The half man limps over to her and attempts entry into her personal space. "One foot on the dock, lady, one foot on the dock. Ibn Fadil had wanted to do this long slow investigation thing, but I kinda kicked that into gear to get us back in record time." He'll explain exactly *how* he accelerated things later, with his own usual spin on things. "In any case, we should be able to close this up and get the hell somewhere warm and sociable," he whispers to her.
    "Is that a promise?" Her petulance is half-hearted -- she finds it difficult to stay angry, and is in any case pleased to see they all made it back -- and laced with mischief.
    * * *
    Both discussions take considerable time. There are details to be explained and reiterated, about the mechanical creatures, the supplies in the fortress, and what they learned from the two captives. General Brosh issues quiet orders to servants, who run in and out with maps and messages as the extent of Durrell's preparations is made clear.
    "We thank you for all that you have done," Roald concludes the audience. "And we have not forgotten our promise before your departure. With the information your wife has provided," he looks at Emmett, and is rewarded with a barely visible jump, "we can see the benefits to be had, to which your discoveries have only added. Our ministers will discuss the matter with you as soon as you have recovered from your journey."
    Once the kings eyes are off of his, Emmett shoots one of his patented, easy to read glances at Inez that says something about how she might have *warned* him.
    Her return smirk is just as easily read; just a bit of tweaking in exchange for all she's put up with on this miserable world.
    * * *
    Rigol: The Great "ibn" Debate
    Val studies the Zakharan for a moment before asking, "And what we call you now?"
    "Ibn Hassan, sir. Or, if you like, al-Quadir. That's a nickname given me by some of my colleagues a while back. It means 'the capable.'"
    "I see," is Val's only response. He turns to his first mate and Emmett, obviously ending this interview with ibn Hassan. "A word, gentlemen?"
    The Zakharan watches them go, oddly relieved that Valarin is taking this so poorly, though he isn't sure why; perhaps it is simply that he himself regards it as a serious matter. Not that anyone looking at him could tell that this is going through his mind.
    In the other room, Yestin looks at Val queryingly, all business now.
    Val secures the hatch and looks at his crewmen. There is an odd look in his gaze, one that someone unfamiliar with Valarin might say was restraint and contemplation. Those familiar with him have a hard time identifying the look.
    "Let me get this straight," he begins sharply. "We have a spy in our midst, and everyone is 'okay' with this." It is more a statement than a question. And it carries an edge. "Would someone mind explaining this to me?"
    "'Feckless'? Did he just use the word 'feckless'?" Emmett is glancing back at the closed door separating him from the half-elf.
    "He revealed himself to us shortly after your disappearance, sir. Under the circumstances, it seemed better to keep an eye on the situation than to act precipitously," the giff replies, standing at attention. "His skills did prove useful in our Highfort investigation."
    "I'm sure they did," is Val's only response. He considers the giff's words, guessing his first mate must've agonized over this situation already. *And I should have been there to help*, he thinks to himself.
    "And you think his skills could still prove useful to us?" he asks both Yestin and Emmett, keeping his own opinion to himself for the moment.
    "The word I'd use would have some similar letters. Sorry Val. Got distracted there for a minute." Emmett looks back at the captain, and it's hard to tell how much of his humor here is an act. "Could they? Yes. Should they? That's a definite maybe."
    "But, well, there are a couple of points. Much as I don't care for him, Ibn Whatever has never done anything that worked against what we were doing, either on the _Distraction_ or the _Lazy Cat_, and we have some serious hip deep problems were wading onto here. You weren't around to see it, but these Hextorians aren't like our light and fuzzy Pham, and we have inadvertently put ourselves on point for this one, if only due to the Tree's competition with V&S, which it looks like the Hextorians have corrupted. Having him on board means that we can draw on his family's resources in addition to our own, while at the same time the information he brings back to his people will be less valuable if only because we already know they know it."
    "Next, he and Nyala are sharing a bunk, and I get the real feeling that if he goes, she follows. Her, I like. She's multi-talented, damn useful in a fight and a good visual image on worlds with non-human populations. "
    "Third, he came clean with us, and that took some guts. And when he did, well, Yestin and I meted out a punishment and called it at that. Yestin was acting captain at the time, and we needed to keep moving. Now, you're captain, it's your call in the long run, but he's still not dodging the issue, and that still takes guts." Emmett looked up at Val, " I think he has his own sense of honor. Now that he's come clean with us, I don't think he's the type to start lying again. We're inside his circle. Like I said, we're not friends, and we're never going to be, but if I'm willing to vote to keep him around, that might count for something."
    The captain does not appear to be appreciating Emmett's attempts at humor. His face is a mask, nearly devoid of any emotion.
    "I see," Val says, digesting this information. True, it would take a lot of courage to come forward, especially knowing how much trouble he would be in with his own crewmates for his deceptions. "And just what kind of punishment was meted out?"
    "I hit him. Just hard enough to loosen his teeth, not hard enough to shatter his jaw. And made it perfectly clear that if he tried that shit again, I'd kill him. The circumstances just weren't right for anything else" Emmett looks at Val carefully. "It's a bad situation, and he's a pain in the butt, but I don't think we can cut him loose here. Like I said, we'd loose Nyala, and we'd look bad in front of our nice shiny new trading partners."
    "Have you anything to add, Yestin?" the captain asks the giff. He tries not to sound sharp or bitter, knowing he is not doing such a good job.
    "As usual, Emmett has distilled the situation masterfully," is the mate's straight-faced reply.
    "Three Trees *should* know about this," Val says, pacing the small room, "And I'm obligated to tell them." He looks at the other two half expecting them to contradict him. He is clearly not happy about being put into this situation.
    "Bring him in. I want us all to have a little chat with him..."
    "Right. Captain, you can always have him on probation until we get back to a base, then let Three Trees deal with it - he's a spy, we cunningly found him out, we're turning him back over to our bosses. We can see what machines they have in place for this sort of thing."
    "Noted," is Val's only comment.
    The half man opens the door, waving his hook to indicate the resumption of talks.
    Ibn Hassan is talking quietly with Nyala when Emmett looks out the door and calls him in. "Yes, Captain?" he says to Val, his expression serious but otherwise unreadable.
    For a moment, Val just studies the Zakharan, not saying a thing. There is no emotion, no menace in his look. Then... "How much do you wish to remain a part of this crew?" Val ask abruptly, expression still blank.
    It is clear that he did not expect that, and has to stop and think about his answer. "Sir," he says at last, "a question about what I wish doesn't mean much to me. I feel obliged to see out this voyage, which I did commit to, if you'll have me. It would make me very uncomfortable to see others doing the work that I promised to do. I ..." He pauses, staring off at something only he can see. "I left home because I wanted adventure. I still do. For a while I thought I wanted to go home - I was so tired - but this business with the Hextorians wants looking into -" He stops and shakes his head. "Which has nothing to do with crewing the ship, yes? Captain, I can't answer the 'how much' part of your question. I just would like to be allowed to do the job I undertook. It doesn't conflict with my other obligations, and I said I would do it." He still seems perplexed.
     "You do realize that your 'other obligations' conflict with *my* obligations as captain of this vessel for Three Trees?" Val asks a bit sharply. "My job is to ensure the safety of this crew and the success of our mission. Your... 'reports' could very well jeopardize all of that." His words are spoken very deliberately, hoping he impresses his concerns upon the man before him. Ibn Hassan is beset once more by the feeling that he and Valarin are not having the same conversation. "I thought we were speaking of the present journey back to civilization, Captain. Once we get there -" He stops, frowns, and speaks rather sharply in his turn. "You didn't think I'd ask you keep this matter a secret from Three Trees, did you?" "Mind yourself," Val tells ibn Hassan in an even voice. He is totally unruffled by the half-elf's sudden outburst and continues in his same deliberate tone. "The matter of informing Three Trees is not even in question. Your future aboard the Distraction *is*." Before the Zakharan can respond, Val continues as if there was no outburst. "I appreciate what it took for you to tell us about your charade, and I know it was not easy. What I do *not* know is whether or not I should trust you. Your responsibilities while on the Distraction are to the crew first. Do I make myself clear?" Val remembers the tone certain of voice once used on him when he had inadvertently endangered another crewman aboard a vessel he served long ago. And he remembers thinking very little of it at the time, too... Time to ease up a little. "I expect you to conduct your duties as appointed. I expect you to fulfill your obligations to your crewmates. And I expect you to do this to the best of your ability. If this is a problem for you, I expect you to say so now, before we go any further." This is said in a more mild tone of voice.
    "I rather thought I'd already said that wasn't a problem - at least twice. Sir." His tone is, deliberately, too reasonable for this to be taken as insolence. "I always fulfill my obligations to the best of my ability. Were it otherwise, we would not be having this conversation."
    "And I should believe you," Val says quietly. "Very well then ibn Fa-- Hassan, you will remain a member of this crew and continue to do your duties. When Three Trees is informed, we will let them decide your fate." He turns about, continuing without looking at the half-elf, "Until that time, you are to have no contact with crews of any other vessels we encounter, nor are you to go anywhere unescorted when we make a landfall. Is that clear?"
    "I could wish there was a Zakharan spy in every sail locker," he says dryly. "It would make reporting in so much easier. But as you command, I will have no contact with crews of other vessels we encounter. Regarding landfall, sir, I was going to suggest that we go to Abbarille. Three Trees has an office there, of course, and so does my particular branch of Zakharan enterprise, which is rather harder to find. Their presence would simplify negotiations regarding myself, I think."
    "How convenient," Val replies turning around, the mask of cold indifference once again in place. "We'll discuss our next destination later. For now, you're dismissed."
    "Yes, sir." For a moment he seems about to say something else, but this does not seem like an auspicious time for apologies, regrets, warnings, or anything else but leaving.
    Once ibn Hassan leaves, Val looks at Emmett and Yestin. He does not like how everything has unfolded, nor does he like that it has come to this...
    "I want to know how he was reporting information, and what kind of information he was reporting," he tells them quietly. There may not be a Zakharan spy in every sail locker, but there might be others that are. And that incident with the Hammerhead before they slipped out of Bral's sphere might have been more than it appeared.
    Damn. Just when Val was starting to like the half-elf, too...
    [Okay, after some thought, I'll let it stand as is that Val has asked this of Emmett and Yestin. If they refuse or suggest otherwise, we'll pick it up from there. Gotta let everyone have a chance to chime in, no? =) Rh- ]
     * * * Rigol: Lynden
    The next day, a rather contrite-looking Bendek appears at his door.
    "I hope your evening was a restful one, and that we may continue our discussion this morning? There has been much talk of your situation, and I have been ordered to see to it that you are provided with any resources that may be needed in your... your mission."
    Relief blossoms on Lynden's face. Obviously he'd been expecting to argue his case and had been contemplating leaving without permission.
    "To be honest, I'm not really sure. I've given it some thought and I suppose I'll need some means of managing on my own if it becomes necessary but I'm hoping to accompany the _Distraction_ when she leaves. I'm sure our aims overlap at least a little. A little money would be helpful I'm sure and any information we have on other worlds, whether myth or otherwise wouldn't go amiss. What resources do you have to offer?"
    "Alas, but the only information we have is distant rumor from Highfort; you are already far more knowledgeable about these matters than anyone else in the capital. We can provide you with letters of introduction, at least, and of course any material needs you might envision. I confess that I have not been privileged to know the details, but since these offworlders have the means to lure the unwitting from their proper gods to the worship of demons --" that being the only mental context into which he can place Hextor -- "perhaps ammunition for the reverse might be welcome as well."
     * * * Rigol: Emmett and Steelhand
    "Still, you told me before that our presence here has changed everything. I don't think people as adept as yourselves would fail to adapt to that change."
    Steelhand's bushy brows are slightly raised in surprise. "But of course we are interested. I can speak for my king without fear when I tell you that to hide in our tunnels now would be a foolish cowardice. The times being what they are, we can ill afford foolishness. We will be pleased to entertain whatever emissaries arrive, though I fear King Roald will be less so." He shrugs a bit, however, as if to say that the pleasure or displeasure of humans is of little importance, the world being what it is.
    "Three Trees is entering into a trading agreement with King Roald, not a wedding and not an alliance." Emmett takes another sip, and wishes that he spoke Dwarvish, "We have every respect for him, his kingdom and his people, but just as you warned me about the nature of change, he should be able to see that as well. Three Trees won't blockade ships, and with two trading houses visiting this sphere, others might arrive. Surely he will see that having you trade with his partners offers him more influence than having you trade with others whom he has never met."
    "He is not without wisdom. No doubt these matters will take quite some time to arrange."
    "One other thing: I have spoken to you of my God, yes? Our priests are as much craftsmen as clerics, and I think that we could have much to teach each other. Would you be adverse to some pilgrims coming to see your people?"
    "Not so long as they have better manners than these other interlopers I have heard rumor of...."
    There's a grimace from the Half-Man. "There is no comparison. Gond builds and improves. Hextor scours and burns. The fact that his priests have been masquerading amongst people whom Gond would call his own, does not make me happy." He finishes his drink to cover his anger. "You may rest assured of good conduct from Gond's emissaries. They might try to teach you things, and will learn all they can about your works, but it will be honest. 'Any mechanism must be as simple as possible for disassembly, repair and education'."
    The ambassador smiles. "It is in discerning what is 'possible' that the art lies in that axiom, is it not?"
    After the drinks are finished, Emmett makes his good-byes to Ambassador Steelhand, hoping that this meeting will advance the three causes of his employer, his god and his own career.
    * * *
    Rigol: Audience
    When it's Emmett's turn, Aron steps forward. "It is my understanding that you have an ensorceled item in need of attention. It will be my pleasure to do what I can for you in removing the spell."
    Emmett looks at Aron, then Inez, then the king, then back to Aron, and nods, smiling broadly.
    * * *
    Rigol: Lynden et al
    The next day, Emmett takes a break from anxiously minding his egg -- free of the stasis spell at long last -- to inquire, "Lynden, are you coming with us off planet? Your people would be well served by an ambassador of some sort learning what the spheres are like, and, well, you're one we trust and we're the only way off." The half man did not go into how comfortable he was with the young priest, instead changing tack. "Plus, many gods find it helpful to have priesthoods on multiple worlds - you might not want to carry the message quite the same way as the Hextorians, but there are advantages."
    A small smile plays at the corners of Lynden's lips as he listens to the half-man's proposal. "I have indeed been considering where I may best be able to serve Gerik and going off-world would help me hunt down these evil-doers. I have become accustomed to your company but..." he pauses briefly before reluctantly continuing," I believe that you are not now at liberty to extend this invitation yourself, welcome though it is." He looks closely at the halfman hoping he has not caused offense before a grin brightens his face. "Perhaps you would be so kind as to introduce me to your Captain?"
    "Ah, Val's a big softie. Come on, it's time for you to do more than just see him across a crowded throne room anyway." Emmett then leads Lynden through the halls to Valarin's chambers, all the way regaling the young priest with stories of Val's adventures, and praising his character in the willingness to come to the aid of damsels in distress.
    "Captain, Do you have a minute? I had a question for you - I know we're crowded, but I think bringing Lynden along will be a good move, not just for trade with Rigol, but in our other investigations. He ain't weak."
    "Of course," is Val's terse reply. Apparently the unpleasantness of dealing with his second mate has not gone away. It's almost hard to imagine this dour individual as the same man Emmett was just speaking to Lynden of.
    "Please come in, both of you," the captain tells them as he closes a log book he had apparently been writing in. "I've been given a rather complete report be Emmett and Yestin, and I must admit that I am impressed by what they have to say about you. We certainly *could* use your talents. But what exactly are you expecting from us?"
    The Captain's somewhat abrupt approach rather decries Emmett's description of him but Lynden knows very well that initial appearances can be deceptive so does his best to answer his question. "Captain Valarin, " he begins formally, "I find that I am commanded to search off-world for other followers of Hextor and attempt to restrict their spread. To do that I must leave Rigol and your ship provides the perfect vehicle for that. For myself I would need to know that I could depend on you and your crew to not abandon me on some distant planet."
    Realizing that his meandering answer is a little vague he adds, "Obviously I would need a private place to pray and sleep, and although I do not require money here I suspect some may be needed in the future. I am happy to work alongside the crew and prove my worth to you and earn my keep."
    "Straightforward and honest," Val comments approvingly, almost to himself. He gives Emmett a glance before continuing, "I've been told how you have already proven your worth. I don't think that is in question at all. And we would not abandon you on some distant planet. Unless your own actions warrant it..." There is a brief smile to accompany the last comment.
    "Emmett, can you see to finding him a bunk and some private space?" The question of Lynden's future on the Distraction seems to have been answered.
    "Private space might be hard to come by, what with us being cheek by jowl right now, but I'm sure we'll be able to finagle something." Emmett turns to the young priest. "get your kit back together, because you're a sailor now. I'll catch up with you later to go over details."
    Emmett indicates that it might be a good idea for Lynden to leave, then he turns back to the captain. "That's one minute. Got another minute? You OK? I figure the Ibn Whatever thing is eating at you, but if you want to chew it out in the open, or tell me, oh, I dunno, where the heck you've been for the last few weeks, it might help." Emmett isn't about to sit until Val gives the nod, knowing that there is still some sense of protocol, but his appearance is much like a panther in reverse: dangerously taut, but ready to drop into a nigh-boneless sprawl without a second's hesitation.
    Val gestures Emmett to sit, but he remains standing. He paces the room a bit before stopping to stare off at some unseen point in the distance.
    "I was a fool, Emmett," he says with a heavy sigh. "I went looking for a remedy to my headache, and I go and get hit over the head. Kind of ironic, no?" There is little humor in his voice. He goes on to explain how he saw Mela, the concubine, being kidnapped, and how he rushed in to help. But it was too much for him, and there were too many of them. He'd failed.
    He tells Emmett about the ship they were on, surprised he was even still alive. But he'd remembered the bodies they'd found, how they were mutilated, and figured he and Mela were probably going to be used for that next...
    He glosses over the escape, mostly because it was a blur to him. He doesn't *want* to remember most of it. He can't remember how many men he'd killed on the ship they were on, or how long they'd wandered up the coast, nearly frozen to death, before they'd found shelter. And he doesn't want to think of the girl, either.
    "Some errand, huh?" Val turns back to Emmett, still restless. "And I left you all to handle something much more important. I *should have* been there, but I went and did something stupid and got kidnapped.
    "And a spy... " He turns suddenly, slamming his fist into the wall. "A *spy* does more good for the ship and my crew than *I* did," Val's voice is a harsh whisper. He stands there staring at the wall, a trickle of blood running down his hand from a split knuckle...
    [GM: Dearie me -- I'll remember next time that having male PCs get kidnapped is hard on their fragile egos. (eg) ]
    * * *
    Wildspace: Departure
    The members of the _Distraction_'s crew suffer no such doubts, as the ship moves slowly out from Rigol's tumbling disk, gaining speed as it works free of the planet's influence, once again flying into the endless night of the space between the worlds. Only Nyala seems the slightest bit saddened to leave the place behind, but soon the routines of spaceflight impose their soothing rhythm.
    Or perhaps not, as Emmett takes a brief moment to join her on the stern - standing close but not too close - watching the planet's vast forests fade into the distance.
    There is no doubt that the ship is crowded. A damselfly, which can be perfectly well crewed by two people, now has the captain, oversized first mate and problematical quartermaster; two pilots plus Lynden, whom Pham begins to teach the art; Emmett, Hiro and Nyala as a defensive contingent, and the amiable Emil, who quickly learns not to leer at Inez, whether Emmett is watching or not. Though it's a very genteel leer, for all of that, and he laments in so many words the fact that now that he's back among civilized people and spirited members of the fair sex, the latter are all taken -- but it seems that's his lot in life. Nyala finds him rather tiresome, and though she seems to enjoy chatting with him if only as a new face in the constrained social circumstances of a ship at space, Inez has clearly taken Emmett back into her good graces after a suitable period of huffiness.
    Val eventually decides to put Emil to work on the damselfly, under the close watch of one of the crew at all times. General cleaning and helping with duties will keep him occupied. But Val won't allow Emil to deal with anything that would directly impact the Distraction or any of her operations. The captain also limits Emil's drinking, which proves less of a problem than it might have been.
    "I drank, my good Captain, merely to get through each day in that miserable locale. You may have noted that the winters are long, and unlike many of the locals I do not find stimulation in exertion, as either occupation or sport, and hence distracted myself as best I could." He pats his little paunch ruefully and takes to his chores with the same air of resigned humor that he has displayed throughout.
    Aware of the potential for disaster, Val keeps a careful eye on Lynden's interactions with the two female crew members, only to find that the priest is consistently respectful and polite. Nyala gets on quite well with him, as the goddess she follows has certain things in common with Gerik.
    * * *
    Wildspace: Griffin
    The half man spends much of his time with the creature, and makes several attempts to get Inez as interested in the minutiae of Griffin rearing as he is.
    Lynden is intrigued with the winged beast and tries to spend some time each day with it. After all, as he explains to Emmett one day, "I might be called upon to render help if it becomes injured and I don't fancy being attacked whilst healing it." He chooses not to add that he feels most comfortable with him, though he does try not to annoy Inez and is careful not to invade their privacy.
    If Emmett is aware of such concerns, he doesn't mention it, and is perfectly happy to have someone to talk to as he discusses the beast's dietary needs, the rigors of the training, the natures of the tack and harness for them and how their design evolved over 10 years on Emmett's homeworld, and the importance of the naming ceremony.
    For that, he invites Inez, Val and Lynden into the ad hoc aviary. "In another day, the Griffin will be old enough to start discerning sounds, and that means that I have to start enforcing his name. I *was* planning on naming him Cadin, after my homeworld, but the inclusion of this little guy," he nods his head towards Cog (who is cleaning his feathers a good distance from the sleeping beast, having been fooled by that "pretending to be asleep to get you close enough" thing before), "has me thinking about calling him 'Gear'. Ideas? Good? Bad? Too cute?"
    Val folds his arms and leans against a beam, taking in the sight. He'd hardly spent any time actually looking at the griffin, and it's almost enough to take his mind off troubling thoughts for the moment. A smile can be seen on Val's face, the first in quite a while.
    "Almost too cute," he says, knowing well Emmett's reasons for the name. "But if it makes you happy..." he adds with good humor.
    Nodding to himself Lynden strokes the griffin before answering, "The name seems appropriate but have you asked the beast himself if he is happy with your choice?"
    "Ummm, Lynden, even if Griffins could talk, he's a little young." The half man is resisting a patronizing grin, knowing that this unassuming cleric of the animal gods is setting him up for *something*.
    "You know, if you give me a chance to prepare I could ask him for you. I don't know that I'd get a yes or no answer but I might be able to get a sense of what he thinks..."
    "Well, the ceremony isn't until tomorrow. I suppose I can give you that much time, but don't expect too much. His main thoughts are probably going to be about getting more food."
    Inclining his head slightly Lynden turns and leaves the nursery in favor of his own quarters. Once there he settles down to meditate and receive his spells for the next day.
    * * *
    Wildspace: Emmett and Lynden
    A largely water-covered world whose small continents are all but barren under the erratic influence of its two heat sources, Abbarille is still well-situated to serve as a crossroads, and as with Bral, most of the major intersphere players maintain a presence there.
    Lynden listens avidly to everything that is said soaking up as much information as he can. He has barely travelled and has certainly never been off world before. The first few days Lynden's stomach had turned whenever he had gone on deck and he'd had to be reassured that he wasn't going to fall overboard but now he moved confidently around the ship helping to crew whenever he could.
    Emmett corrals the young priest most of the time into taking turns Griffin-watching, so he can try to maintain the relationship with Inez through the flow, as well as do his other duties and get some sleep. "I can't thank you enough for all of the help you've given me, Lynden," the half man says, pouring the two of them drinks in the aviary.
    "Me? Of help to you? I have done no more than any other would."
    "There are a lot of people who would do a lot less. Baby griffins are time-consuming, and you have to have the right touch for them." He plunks himself down next to the priest. "Besides, I figure I still owe you for nearly getting you killed in Toll back there. So here's to you - the first emissary of Gerik in the spheres, and the first Rigolian in the Flow."
    Lynden raises his glass in salute with him. "I keep expecting to wake up back in Myrr. I can't tell you what a relief it is to be out here and now I've got my 'sea legs' I'm starting to feel more at home."
    "'Flow legs.' But yeah. From what Val tells me, the two are really different - Sea legs have to do with the actual move of the ocean, while Flow legs have to do with the view of the phlogiston messing with your peripheral vision." Emmett takes a quick drink, "He's the only guy I know who made the jump from sea sailor to space sailor, so he's probably got it right.
    "I didn't realize you were that eager to get off Myrr. That does explain your look when I brought up the idea though." He gives Lynden a appraising look. "You hide a lot more than you let on... as if that makes any sense. But what are you running from back there? Women trouble?"
    Taken by surprise by Emmett's question Lynden almost spits out his drink and ends up gasping for air as he inhales it instead of swallowing. "I suppose you could say that," he eventually gasps out after the vigorous thumping on his back had cleared his airway. "I don't hold with how women are treated on Rigol and my views are not particularly popular with the male masses, especially those in power."
    * * *
    Wildspace: Arrival
    Emmett spends one night going over security concerns with officers of the convoy, but after a bit the old military men start spinning tales and soaking up booze. The last thing he remembers is asking about herds of lich-horses in the Flow, but he's not sure he was lucid enough to elucidate the thought properly. The next morning brings a pounding headache and proof that any horses there are in the flow are right in his skull.
    Lynden enquires about local deities and any restrictions he should be aware of before disembarking and will tag along with another crew member if given the option. Of the former there are a downright bewildering number; as a crossroads of sorts the city is home to the gods of a hundred worlds. Of the latter there are none worth noting.
    Emmett starts to give him an invite, but with a quick look at Inez decides against it.
    Shrugging, Lynden approaches Val. "Perhaps I can accompany you if I would not be too much of a hindrance. I do not want to innocently cause any problems here through my ignorance."
    "No hindrance at all," Val replies, somewhat surprised to be asked. "Though my errands may prove long and... boring."
    "You may be surprised. My life as a priest in Myrr was fairly sheltered so it will probably all be new to me."
    Val tries not to comment upon that. Much of his experience with Lynden's home world has left a bad taste in his mouth.
    Once Emmett sees that Lynden is safely in Val's company, he again joins Inez on one of her favorite sports - picking up new stuff with the cash from the last run.
    "I am sorry that Rigol didn't work for you, but as crew on the route voyage, we get some nice royalties for the next few runs on that world. Worth a little discomfort, don'tchathink?"
    "I suppose it could have been worse. And we did find some pretty good stuff... the company should be happy. I'm glad to be back to civilization, though!"
    * * *
    Abbarille: Alais' Departure
    After a few days on the surface, Alais visits Valarin with some surprising news; he's going to leave the crew. He has found a berth on a ship going further into the Loop. He's going to the university on Lamond, he says, where he will finally convince those stunted minds of the correctness of his theories.
    "You're what?" Is Val's immediate reply. He is certainly shocked by the news, but understands the wizard's reasoning. Well, as far as he ever really understands Alais...
    "Are you sure this is what you want to do?" he asks after a moment to consider this turn of events.
    "Of course." He looks puzzled by the question.
    Val knuckles his forehead and lets out a deep sigh. It isn't as if he could stop the mage, really. Could he?
    "I hadn't realized you intended to do this," he tells Alais, mindful that the wizard has already made arrangements *before* telling him the news. This battles appears lost before it has even begun.
    "Shall I inform the rest of the crew, or do you wish to speak with them about it?"
    Alais leaves that in his hands, though he would be happy to make a general announcement the next time they are all gathered.
     * * * Abbarille: A New Meeting
    Barrend, dwarf of the distant clan Rumnaheim, is enjoying a quiet drink in the Happy Argos when the newcomers walk in. Barrend has been crewing the _Blackbird_ for the past couple of years, a decent enough tradesman with a comfortable crew, but something of a milk-run between Tagret sphere and the nearest neighbor; hardly a stretch for his navigational skills or a meal on which his native curiosity can feed.
    

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