Turn 71

    Emmett names the red parrot Cog. It seems fairly bright, and within a few days seems content to spend most of its time perched on his left shoulder, being fed the occasional treat. Ibn Fadil solemnly presents Emmett with a bucket and some cleaning rags, for use in cleaning up after his pet.
    With the disk of Rigol looming still out of sight but not out of mind, one day ibn Fadil leaves off wiping down the galley table and curiously asks Valarin, "So, what is the plan, Captain?"
    "Plan?" Val looks over at the half-elf, snapped out of his reverie. "I suppose the plan is to make contact with those sympathetic to our position and work out some sort of agreement," he says after a moment's thought running his fingers through his hair. "It would be nice to see if we could contact Ginevra's family directly, but I'm not sure that could be done so easily. Or safely."
    Val pauses to pick up a rag and starts wiping down the galley where ibn Fadil left off. It isn't really uncommon for him to do such a thing, as ship duties belong to everyone aboard. "We've got to be careful," he says after a bit. "There might be some of the Victor's people here, either by chance or design, and they might be looking for us. There could be trouble. It might be best to even slip in as unnoticed as possible until we can sort things out first..." A ghost of a smile flickers across his face.
    "Any ideas of your own?" he asks after another thoughtful pause.
    "What do you mean by 'those sympathetic to our position'?" the Zakharan says carefully.
    "As Circio, my mentor once told me," Val explains, somewhat lost in thought, "'An enemy of my enemy does not make them a friend, but it *does* make them a potential client.'" A wry grin twists the corner of his mouth.
    "And that's not to mention there may be some sympathetic to the Victor," he adds after a pause to think things through. "A friend of my enemy doesn't necessarily make them an enemy either, but you should always watch your back just in case."
    Ibn Fadil smiles a little to hear these familiar adages from such a different source. "I thought," he objects more carefully still, "we were coming here to offer the Rigolese another market for whatever Victor & Sons considers so valuable. You make it sound like we are diving into some sort of a war already in progress."
    "'All business is war; the markets are our battlefields,'" Val responds absently, quoting Circio once again. "We're just providing...alternatives to them," he says, a little more cheerfully. 
    "But we are bringing our own problems-- *my* own problems with us. It'd be nice to think they don't matter in this, but I'm afraid they do..." Even to his own ears, Val sounds weary. 
    Relieved to learn that Valarin was only speaking figuratively (and leaving aside his own quibbles with that hoary metaphor), ibn Fadil hopes that his next remarks will not start another argument. "How so? There is no need for them to know of our involvement with the lady's, umm, departure from Bral or escape from the Victor. This is not even the same ship that was involved in that." He pauses to see how Valarin is taking this.
    The young captain stares off, appearing almost inattentive. In truth, he has already thought of these things, and is somewhat comforted by ibn Fadil's words.
    "I think," he goes on, "we should admit to knowing of her departure, as it was the talk of Bral for some time and pretending ignorance would be suspicious. But we do not have to tell them anything else, and I believe we certainly should not."
    "Good point. If they do not already know we are involved, *I* will not hastily bring it up," Val remarks with a flicker of amusement. "Thank you," he adds, gripping the Zakharan's shoulder meaningfully.
    "How goes your training with Hiro?" Val changes the subject, as if picking up on a conversation that was left off. He listens attentively to the half-elf, and in fact is very interested in learning more swordplay himself, but any attempts to get back to the previous subject seem to get brushed aside for now...
    "I think I am getting better," ibn Fadil says agreeably. "But then he is, too, I think, which makes it hard to tell for certain."
    Later, Rigol Orbit
    The planet lies below, three continents whose main features appear to consist of mountains and ice. It is winter on this world. In scattered places they can discern the patterns typical of cities, mostly on the shores where rivers twist down out of the higher lands.
    Val gathers the crew to discuss landfall and their plans. He takes a deep breath and runs his fingers through his hair, belying the facade of calm and collectiveness he has in place.
    "Okay everybody," he addresses his friends once they have all gathered, "we need to talk about Rigol and how we want to approach things." He takes a moment to gauge reactions and chooses his next words carefully.
    "We know very little of Rigol and its cities," he continues. "What I do know was told to me by Ginevra, and the rest has been gathered by Alais and Brother Pham. I'd like to think we could just walk in and be accepted without a problem, but that'd be wishful thinking. I think a little bit of caution should be used still." He has not forgotten the conversation with ibn Fadil as he tries to find the right words.
    "I propose we set down quietly somewhere and do a little reconnaissance." Val looks towards the disk of Rigol and tries to recall what Ginevra had told him of the place. "I think we should set down in small to medium sized settlement and try to get the feel for the place, and a feel for what kind of reception we should expect elsewhere. If we hit a port town, we could also see what kind of business is being done and maybe get an idea of commodities." _And I can see an ocean up close again,_ Val thinks to himself somewhat indulgently.
    "Whatever we do, I want to be sure there are no problems. Yestin will to draw up a roster of teams for our forays. That way, we'll have someone to watch our backs and catch what we may have missed when talking to the locals." Memories of their incident with the Tear have made an impression on Val, and he doesn't want to make any mistakes.
    "Okay then, any other suggestions or ideas for landing?" the young captain asks, leaving the floor open to discussion.
    "Do we know if they have any non-humans here?" ibn Fadil inquires. "Or any experience with them?"
    "She mentioned dwarves--there seems to have been some trouble with them. Other than that, nothing came up, so we should assume that if present they don't mingle with the human population very much."
    Discussion ensues. Emmett is willing to keep quiet on the Ginevra thing at first to see how things go, but he sees it as more of a bargaining chip, depending on what their responses are; ibn Fadil is opposed to bringing up the group's involvement under any circumstances.
    "I got the impression that her people are rather rigid about oaths and contracts and such, and may disown her on the spot when they find out her, umm, departure." He has trouble picking the right word; he's actually thinking "treachery" but guesses that won't go over well with his crewmates.
    The group is in agreement that a seaport will be the best place to begin; the dwellers there will know about trade, and strangers will be less easily noticed.
    Pham listens quietly to the various discussions. "Emmett's suggestion sounds quite reasonable. I would be happy to help feel out the natives... I've never set foot on a flat world before. Sounds interesting.
    "I would suggest we land at night if possible - assuming there is night in such a place. If there is, then we can get fairly close to a major city. Seaports are usually quite busy and used to the idea of trade. Do we know if this ship would float? Landing in the ocean might be an option. Then we can just sail into port like any other ship."
    Unfortunately, damselfly hulls are not built with water landing in mind. The _Distraction_ cruises at high altitude along a coastline. The sky is grey and heavy, and it's considerably colder than any of them are used to. Below, snow-blanketed forests march toward distant mountains and only slowly give way to a gentler landscape in which the occasional plume of smoke suggests habitation. Eventually a harbor is sighted, with a frozen river flowing into and and what looks to be a city of some size nearby. Evening is coming on and the wind picking up as they turn the follow the path of the river away from the coast, looking for a place to land the ship. While the failing light and worsening weather make it less likely they will be seen, they also complicate navigation; eventually Alais sets the ship down in the lee of a wooded hill.
    The wind is loud in the trees, and chill seeps into the ship; the world beyond the bridge viewports is entirely dark. Cog fluffs his feathers and squawks sadly. They have arrived.
    

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