NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: I've been gone from NS for a while, and I'd like to get back into RPing. I started writing up the intro for this a while back, and just got around to finishing it. Basic premise is that some unknown force is quietly making Guanyan intelligence agents in a particular region of the galaxy disappear. An elite operative of the Guanyan government is sent to investigate, bringing with him a former comrade-in-arms with an unorthodox style of operating. Past that point it will develop as we go along.

If you are interested, PLEASE READ THESE NOTES FIRST!

-Information on my nation is available from the NSWiki nation page linked in my sig. No need to read all of it, but before posting please at least look over the intro section describing Guanyans as a race, as well as the section on the Elic'Jum'toh (under Military in the table of contents) and the page on the Ren'Liao found at http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/ren_liao.html
-While I welcome any FT nation to become involved if you're interested, there is really only room for two nations besides myself. One will be the group or government responsible for abducting my agents, and the other will be a third party that will somehow become involved in the story, probably because they simply get caught in the middle.
-I have to insist on a certain level of spelling and grammar. I don't like to be an ass about it, but I can't handle RPing with people whose posts read like they were written by 12 year old AOLers in a Fall Out Boy chatroom.
-Some of the information referenced in this intro post was set up in or based on previous RP threads. If you want clarification, let me know and I'll either repost the relevant section of the previous RP if I have it, or summarize the important background information.

Well, here goes! Sorry that this is so long. It's because it's the intro, other posts will NOT be this long, I promise.

IC:
Deep beneath the Celestial Palace on Guanyu Ceta, in a chamber the existence of which is known to less than fifty living beings, there is a rests a teardrop shaped table carved from what looks like a single, giant block of obsidian. On the surface of the table, several rounded channels carved into the stone form a sixteen-pointed star that glows with a pulsing orange light that seems to flow like liquid phosphorescence. One point of the star extends up to the head of the table.

On this night, a man sits at each point of the star. Each man is clothed in a long black cape and a silver mask that completely hides the features of the wearer. In this day and age, the clothing is merely tradition. Every member of the room knows the identities of his colleagues. But tradition is the lifeblood of any secret society, and this one more than most. This chamber is Haeme’Elic: Dragonhome. It has been the meeting place of the Circle of Masters of the Society of the Dragon for tens of thousands of years.

The man at the head of the table speaks first, as is his right. Outside of this room, he is Abron nul Karhoff, Emperor of Guanyu. Here, he is the Dragonmaster High, Lord of the Elic’Jum’toh.

“This council is convened under the Seal of the Dragons. What is spoken here is bound to the Circle.”

The rest of the table spoke in concert. “In the name of the First Dragon, whose word was Law.”

“This council is convened both above and below, removed from the struggles of the People.”

Again, the room responded. “In the name of the Second Dragon, who was wise.”

“This council is convened for the benefit of the People.”

“In the name of the third dragon, who was ever loyal.”

The Dragonmaster High paused before speaking again. All present knew this was a breach of Circle etiquette. All present understood, and said nothing.

“This council is convened in remembrance of our struggles.”

“In the name of the fourth dragon, who was betrayed.”

“This council is convened by he who has both the right and the power to bind us in Covenant.”

The other men bowed their head in homage to the speaker. “In the name of the fifth dragon, who yet lives.”

The ritual completed, the speaker removed his mask.

“I speak as Dragonmaster High. My word is law, and my will is the will of the Circle. Hear my words. Members of the Intelligence service stationed in our foreign embassies have begun to disappear. So far it is confined to the third sector, but it is unclear whether it will spread to others. The identity of the culprit is as unknown, but we can not rule out the possibility that one of the major powers has has raised their hand against us. Regardless of who perpetrated this offense, it must not be allowed to stand. One of you will have to investigate this matter and retrieve any agents who still live.”

One of the masters spoke. “Your will is ours, Ganahi, but is this truly a matter for our intervention? If these are members of the Intelligence Service, why not let Yabrant handle it?”

The Dragonmaster High nodded, accepting the wisdom of these words. “Normally you would be correct. In this case, however, I have reason to believe that even his formidable resources may not suffice. One of the agents who is missing is the android JI-11, known to most of us as Jill. Jill is not simply an intelligence operative. She is a White Shadow.”

Had they not been so strictly bound by tradition, many of those present might have gasped. All knew that the Guanyan Intelligence Service was a branch network, wherein local agents reported to their superiors, who in turn reported to planetary supervisors, who reported to system heads and so on. The White Shadows worked outside of this structure. They were the personal agents of the Guanyan Spymaster, Domin Yabrant, and answered directly to him.

“As you can imagine, she did not reach this position by virtue of being soft. Anyone who can successfully kidnap her, and knows enough about how she operates to sever her link to GRIN, is an extremely dangerous opponent. I cannot trust this operation to anyone but a Master of the Society. Domin will not even be informed of it.” It clearly pained Karhoff to say this. It was well-known throughout the Empire that Domin Yabrant was the Emperor's closest and most trusted friend.

One of the men sitting on the far end of the table from the Dragonmaster High spoke. “I will undertake this operation, if it please the Circle. I have no other projects currently underway, and as you know I was once a Shadow. My knowledge may prove useful.”

The Dragonmaster High glanced around the table, and seeing no dissent, nodded. “Very well, Master Imis. You have full access to any information, supplies or equipment you require. You may select one initiate to accompany you.. This operation is of the utmost importance and secrecy. You have two weeks to prepare. If you are discovered, both the Celestial Seat and the Society will deny any knowledge of you. Once you leave, you are Bi’im, the unseen. The Circle does not acknowledge your existence.”

“I understand the risks. I would ask one thing only: that I be allowed to take with me one who is not of the Society.”

If the Dragonmaster High was surprised, he showed no sign of it. “Who do you wish to take with you?”

The man took a deep breath, as if reluctant to speak. “I wish to bring he who was once of the Ren’Liao. I wish to bring Simil Tokh.”

There was utter silence for a few long moments. Every man present knew the history of Simil Tokh, the only Guanyan ever to defect from the ranks of the Ren’Liao, the elite warrior-priests of the Guanyan Church and the only organization within the Empire that could come close to rivaling the training and resources of the Elic'Jum'toh. Some believed him a traitor. Others believed him insane. Most believed he was both. On one issue all were in agreement: he was one of the most dangerous men in the Empire.

Finally the Dragonmaster High spoke. “If you can convince him to go, you may bring him. This meeting of the circle is ended. Let what has passed here now fall into shadow.”

The circle spoke together, with finality. “Dust to dust, shadow and flame.”

---------------------------------

Twelve days later, Gol Imis stood before the door of a small house on the outskirts of the capital. It had taken a great deal of effort to gather together the resources and equipment he would need to undertake the mission within the two-week span he had been alotted. Now he had only one thing left to do, but it was perhaps the most difficult part of the preparation. Taking a deep breath, he lifted his hand and knocked firmly on the door.

After a few moments of silence, Imis raised his hand to knock again. As he did so, the door swung open and he felt another hand grip his and pull hard. Instead of fighting against the pull, Imis swung his body around using the grip on his hand as a pivot point and, lightning fast, brought his knee up into his attacker's stomach. The man released his hand and dove backward to avoid the blow, but Imis had anticipated this move and flung his free arm around behind his opponent's neck. As the man's dive drove him into into Imis's arm, Imis looped his forearm around and clenched his arm into a vise-grip on the man's throat. Taking a minute to assess the situation now that he had it at least marginally under control, Imis got a good look at his attacker's face for the first time. Grimacing, he released the man.

“You should have learned a long time ago that assaulting me is not conducive to your continued good health, Tokh.”

“I'm a slow learner,” the man replied. “Took me almost twenty years to figure out what you are, remember?”

“And by the laws of the Society I should have killed you immediately. Only initiates are allowed to know the identity of our members. I let you live two hundred years ago, and I'm here to call in that debt.”

Tokh looked at him, a feral gleam in his eyes. Imis knew he was toeing a very dangerous line here. Tokh hated being beholden to anyone, and he often reacted unpredictably when confronted with facts he did not like. As a Master of the Elic'Jum'toh Imis was among perhaps the top twenty best-trained close combat fighters in the Empire, but he was on Tokh's turf and he was convinced that despite their long history he had never seen the man's combat skills put to their full use. He also had to be careful not to divulge too much information. Tokh had long ago reasoned out that Imis was a member of the Society, but there was no way of knowing whether he knew about Imis's position as a Master. But Imis had thought long and hard and decided that the only way he could get Tokh to join him was to put their history front and center and push the debt for all it was worth. He hurried ahead.

“I've been ordered to investigate an issue that has the Masters worried. I've gathered all the resources and materials I need, but I need an ace up my sleeve. Whoever is behind this knows more than they should, and I don't know how far that knowledge goes. That's where you come in. You're an unknown quantity. The odds of them even knowing who you are, much less how you operate, are so tiny that it's almost impossible. I want you to come with me.”

Tokh didn't bother to hide his surprise. “You wouldn't have come here unless you already cleared this through whoever the hell you people clear these things through. How'd you pull that off? The Church won't let anyone who matters within two planets of me.”

Imis smiled slightly. “One benefit of my particular position is that I'm not obliged to give the slightest damn what the Church thinks.”

These words would have shocked and appalled most Guanyans, but one of the reasons Tokh and Imis had formed their uneasy friendship in the first place was a mutual distrust of the Guanyan Church. Imis had no idea what made Tokh feel that way, except that it obviously had something to do with his leaving the Ren'Liao in his youth. He sure as hell wasn't about to ask.

Tokh grinned, one of the few times Imis had ever seen his face break out of the scowl that constantly dominated his features. “The perks they don't tell you about.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “I do this, and we're even? You never come to me with this debt bullshit again?”

“Honestly? The odds of us both coming back alive are bad enough that one way or the other you're not likely to ever hear me talk about our history again.”

“That bad, huh? So tell me, if it's that dangerous why should I go with you?”

Imis frowned at Tokh. “That line might have worked on your superiors back in the old days, but I know you better than that. You live for the tough missions. Always did.”

“True enough. Speaking of superiors, if I choose to go, what's the command structure?”

“I will be in overall command of the mission. I will give you as much latitude as possible to let you operate in your own unique way, but if I issue you an order you will follow it. I cannot have you compromising the mission. If you disobey one of my orders, I will kill you without hesitation.”

“And probably enjoy it too, you bastard. You're not telling me anything that makes me thrilled at the idea of joining this mission. Sounds like even if I don't go along, you'll probably never come back and as far as I'm concerned that would end my debt. Is that all you've got for me? And don't give me that 'your Empire needs you' crap. I'm loyal to the Emperor, but I'm not in the military. It's not my job.”

Imis sighed. He had hoped not to have to reveal this to the other man, but it appeared he had little choice. “There is one more thing. Whoever is behind this...they've got Jill, Tokh. I can't say for sure that she's still alive, or operational, or whatever you call it, but we're almost sure they took her.”

Tokh froze. His mouth worked silently for a few moments, and then he turned. Walking toward the back of the house, he called back over his shoulder at Imis. “I'll need three days to get everything I need together and do some quick research.”

“You have until midnight the day after tomorrow. At that time I leave, whether you're with me or not.”

Tokh vanished through a doorway. As Imis walked out of the house and began to close the door behind him, three words floated out of the back rooms.

“I'll be there.”

Bump. I have a TG from someone interested in taking the third-party role, but I still need someone to RP the nation or group behind the disappearances.

Tora looked around the sparsely patronized at the moment, more than slightly seedy always, bar and snorted to herself. It wasn't the seediness of the spaceport cantina which had her sitting uneasy and ignoring her drink. Not that she tended to drink much anyways. She didn't care for most wines, beers and ales gave her hives, and most mixed beverages tasted like the alcohol in them.

No she was far from her customary haunts. The Phoenix Empire, which she called home, lay in the Hoag's Object as Terrans named the unique galaxy, and was a long way a ways. Oh not really for any ship equipped with DeSitter Translation technology, as the Warlock had, but wasn't supposed to have. A DST made millions of LY disappear behind one in the near blink of an eye.

But still she'd never been into this region before a few months ago and the Guanyans weren't, or at least hadn't been so far, the friendliest of people. They didn't much care for visitors, and it had been quietly made clear that this 'just outside the borders' transport hub was as far in as she ought to go. Though if this latest shipper was like the one before him, he would be prompt in the paying off of his contract. She had arrived very early.

Tora'd get paid, he'd get the lock codes to the dockside warehouse that held his goods and she could decide to stay local or look for carryables headed in the direction of home.. The Warlock was no bulk freighter; any one looking at the slender vessel could guess that sometimes what was carried in his holds might not be all that legal. But he was armed and he was fast and Tora't' su~ki Tsai (http://perigrinemoore.googlepages.com/home) was careful - and she had her standards. Some things she wouldn't carry no matter the price, and she'd mostly stayed on the lighter side of questionable.

But the well worn blaster that rode comfortably on her thigh was not just a bluff or pretty piece. It was a heavy Ogre Mark VIII and she was a better than decent shot, though she made no pretensions of being anything like a Duelist, or some sort of sharpshooter, with the well cared for older model. She hadn't been allowed to serve in the Phoenix Empire's military, but had been granted citizenship on a wavier.

And she wasn't good looking enough to make men press the issue, so generally life was quiet, and that was what Tora wanted. Clones often got second class treatment, and she was even worse - an illegal clone. Even after all the surviving data had been pawed through the Registry still wasn't sure where her base DNA had come from. No where in the Empire that was certain, but there were lots of forgotten 'lost colony' words out there and the Seed Sowers had spread variations on good old 'homo sap' far and wide.

"And you don't want to even think about me" chuckled the voice in her head, and no Tora most certainly did not. She was even more illegal- in most places, than the vilest of criminals, being the unwilling recipient of a Very Illegal Procedure known as an Valthusain Entechly Matrix Transfrer. Sha’Do lived in her mind, unhappily sharing the confines with Tora. All of Sha’Do memories, her skills, her personality and even her soul -said those who researched the experience. Two crammed into one. Tora wasn't really sure, she just knew that Sha’Do could be a huge help and, in the same exact moment, a huge pain in the posterior. Or just one of the two, generally seeming to go with the flow of 'pain in the pretty pink'...Sha’Do hadn’t been very forthcoming about her past and such, to this day Tora just knew parts. The massive headaches Sha'Do could dole out as punishment did nothing to make Tora want to push Sha’Do too far.

Did you have to wake up now? Tora complained silently. There's nothing here to interest you so go back to sleep

Oh come on find a pretty joy boy, make sure his tickets clean and lets have fun for a few hours

Tora wanted to scream. Sha’Do had come to the conclusion a few months ago that her hostess didn't get laid enough. Tora had come to the conclusion that Sha’Do had been a dirty old woman. It was an on`going argument, one that Tora won most of the time, by calling Sha’Do a Voyeur. Done just right left her passenger generally speechless, though Tora had to limit how often she used it, she didn't want the effect to wear off. This time she pulled out the responsibility and getting paid card "Gotta wait here for Master Tymvar to show up and pay us for our courier work. he won't flake, he wants those neural chip sets. Then maybe I'll think about it."

That seemed to mollify Sha’Do and she fell silent once again. Tora went back to nursing the dregs of ice melt in her glass.

Imis and Tokh walked together into the dimly-lit cantina. It had taken them a day or so to travel from the Guanyan homeworld to this fringe system in the two-person assault shuttle Imis had procured for them. Such vehicles were common enough both inside and outside the empire, and were sufficiently inexpensive that this one would not be missed should the two men not return to this planet, which was a distinct possibility. Even if the mission was successful, the fewer direct trails they left behind the better. Imis had suggested that they catch a transport or contract a ship here for precisely that reason, and Tokh knew better than to argue with his old comrade, who had no doubt undertaken more covert missions in his career than Tokh could conveniently count.

Both men had altered their appearance so as to appear less conspicuous outside of their native land. Tokh, with his usual eccentricity, had chosen to go all-out with the transformation. The result was a human male approximately six feet four inches in height, well-muscled and with striking good looks sure to attract the attention of just about any humanoid female, and a fair number of males for that matter. His rich, dark-brown hair was cut shoulder length, and swept back behind his ears (which, of course, were now rounded rather than coming to upswept points as they had previously.) Imis, being more pragmatic, had opted for a less visible disguise. He stood just over six feet, and would have been described by most as mildly attractive. His hair, also brown, was cut short, and his face was open and honest. Imis had long ago mastered the art of being completely unmemorable. It was unlikely that anyone who saw him in passing would recall him even a few minutes later. He had not been thrilled about Tokh's disguise, but had reasoned that by contrast he would look even less conspicuous. Neither man bothered to ask the other what methods they had used to effect their disguise. They had an unspoken understanding that neither would reveal any more of their secrets to the other than was absolutely necessary. Imis likely had the upper hand in this area, as most of the training and abilities of the Ren'Liao were commonly known among the intelligence services, while the Elic'Jum'toh were shrouded in the utmost secrecy. Imis knew better than to assume he knew all of the other man's secrets, however, and Tokh had at various times in their long history exhibited skills and talents that could not be explained by his Ren'Liao training.

The men chatted idly as they strolled into the cantina, to all appearances a couple of spacer buddies coming in for a drink after a job. Both glanced around at the assorted patrons with apparent idleness, and then sat down at the bar. Almost as soon as they had seated themselves, Tokh spoke quietly to Imis. “Seventy eight degrees.”

Imis glanced in the indicated direction, though this was mostly for show as he already knew precisely who was sitting there, having fixed a mental image of the bar and everyone in it upon entering. A brown-haired human woman, quite striking by even Guanyan standards, sat with a mostly empty glass. She looked fairly deep in thought. Other than her looks, there was nothing obvious about her that made her stand out, but Imis's instincts told him that there was far more to her than met the eye. He was also aware that for a woman like that to be able to handle herself alone in a spacer bar such as this one, she must have skills that were not immediately apparent. The bar's other patrons evidently thought much the same, as most were maintaining a healthy distance between themselves and the woman.

“What about her?” He asked his partner.

“She's...not right.” Something in Tokh's voice warned Imis, and he swung his head around to look at the other man. Tokh's eyes were unfocused, as if staring at something that wasn't there. Imis got the uneasy feeling that Tokh was somewhere else, and that wherever that somewhere else was, it wasn't particularly pleasant.

“Not right? Just what in the hell does that mean?” For all his training and experience, there were certain mental disciplines that were not part of his repertoire. As most of these disciplines were a specialty of the Church Warriors Tokh had once served with, he assumed that one of them was the source of the taller man's apparent intuition about the human woman.

“I've dealt with humans before. Not as many as you have, but...the vast majority all think the exact same way. Their minds all exude a sort of familiar...scent, I suppose is the best analogy. Some of the more eccentric breeds, like the Klonori, have variations on that, but for the most part they are minor. The patterns I'm picking up from this woman are so slight that they are barely even noticeable, but what I can get is most definitely outside the human norm. The closest thing I've ever felt to it is a Scolopendran automata. And last time I checked, most automata don't have legs like that. And there are certain physical indicators that don't match up as well.”

Imis nodded thoughtfully. “I assume you mean her body temperature and mass? I noticed that as well. Some sort of bioengineering perhaps, although certain types of mechanical implants could account for it as well.”

“In my experience,” Tokh said softly, “an unusual pilot means an unusual ship. This woman may be precisely what we're looking for. I think we should talk to her.”

“Fine. Make her thirsty.”

Tokh blinked. “What?”

Imis smiled. “Come on, Simil. I know all Ren'Liao are capable of minor biopsychic manipulation. Make her thirsty, then we can offer to buy her another drink.”

Tokh did not appear happy, but he quieted and the pupils of his eyes began to tremble back and forth, an unsettling sight and a sure sign that he was using one of his more unusual abilities. After a few seconds his eyes returned to normal and he frowned.

“I can't get traction. I don't feel any active resistance, but I don't seem to be able to insinuate myself into her mental processes. It's like I'm trying to unscrew a flathead screw with a Phillips screwdriver.”

Imis noted the oddly human analogy. Was Tokh merely attempting to stay in character, or was this another of his quirks? Either way, this was not the time to investigate it.

“Well, looks like we'll have to do it the old fashioned way.” With that, Imis rose and approached the woman. Sitting down across the table from her, he spoke. “My buddy and I are looking for a ship to take us off this rock. Do you think you might be able to help us?”

The two who'd entered last, like all who had come and gone, had been discretely but thoroughly observed. She wasn't expecting trouble, but she'd not steered clear of Mister Murphy's notice thus far by being complacent.

Looking through Tora's eyes Sha'Do has sat up and purred at the sight of the taller of the two Now, too bad that's no joyboy.

Tora sighed inwardly at Sha’Do’s one track pushiness, but agreed instantly No, no joy to be had there. Though he is very decorative She was female enough to admit that. Looking never hurt unless they had ‘taken’ written on them and the pair did not look like a couple. However But Gee! I wonder what doesn't say spacer about them[/u]

[i]Oh lets see; the well worn outfits that fit in here oh so very well, the too striking...

Tora cut her off with a mental snarl Muzzle...and both of them move

Like Mueller Sha'Do finished, bringing both to mind of the closest they had ever come to dieing.

Tora shivered at the memories. The rogue intelligence operative turned serial killer had hunted Tora for nearly two years. Once he’d captured her, she’d been in his hands for days. It was only pure, unadorned luck that had allowed Tora and Sha'Do to get free alive. It been easy for Tora to pull the trigger on him, for she known what he’d intended for her. And that was another reason most illegal clones were disposed of. Deeply inadequate socialization.

But he's dead, we haven't broken any local, and we cracked the locks, those chip sets checked as on the up and up...and this is way too far outside the Arena for any Lions to be about...Could it be the Ballroom? Our latest updates said nothing about them being active here though

No, They don't shine right for that, Tora, and... Sha'Do's reply ended abruptly and inarticulately.

Tora froze, nearly toppling her glass as Sha'Do yelped and dove for deep cover, though Tora had no idea why. Repeated silent calls brought no response and she found herself taken very off guard by…

“My buddy and I are looking for a ship to take us off this rock. Do you think you might be able to help us?”

With a carefully schooled expression but cursing inwardly Tora made herself give the stranger a small smile. It was a very measured smile, no more than the barest of courtesy, but it gave her a much needed half second to regroup. “Try the hiring hall, they’re always looking for qualified hands” Tora replied, her tone politely indifferent. “Check with the bartender for its location.” Tora never checked in with the local hiring halls, and had no idea where the one for the starport was located. And hopefully he’d take it as the brush off she meant it to be.

Inwardly she was on red alert. Sha’Do didn’t rabbit over minor things, and Tora desperately wanted to know what had routed the normally unflappable ‘voice in her head’. She gave the speaker a blatant and thorough look over. By approaching her, her open assessment should be counted as a natural reaction. And her off hand lay very close to the blaster that rode openly on her thigh.

It’s not him, but his comites Sha’Do’s whisper was very faint. Some sort of psi-manip try on us. But like nothing I’ve ever felt, not Tower taught[i]A long considering pause [i]not human? And invisible mental eyes narrowed, mingled anger and curiosity. Tora had the sense of a great cat lashing it’s tail. And the ‘voice inside her head’ made the next all but an order. Invite them over. I want a closer look at what’s wearing such a handsome face.

That brought a fine beading of sweat at Tora’s brow. Tora wanted nothing to do psionics, not with her oh-so-illegal guest. But she’d slowly come to trust Sha’Do and her ability to hide herself from detection. And she’d rarely experienced her this sort of angry.

Tora let her smile grow a bit, as if she'd changed her mind. And she fluttered her eye lashes at the pleasant faced man sitting across from her. She just hoped he didn’t recognize that the smile never reached her currently cognac hued eyes. “But I bet there are other options. Why don’t you invite your friend over and we can discuss them.” She hoped her tone was seductive enough. Tora settled back in her chair, letting an outward air of lazy interest settle over her.

Another reason most illegal clones were disposed of. Legal clones were indoctrinated down to their core against any sort of falsehoods. Tora never caused an inadvertant blip on even the most sensitive meters. Though every test she had ever taken gave her much better than average levels of empathy. Most illegal clones scored near zero. Her scores had been a large part of the various factors that had gone into the decission to let the 'rescued lab rat' live. Though no one had ever botherd informing Tora of those deliberations.

Imis was beginning to have some very discomforting suspicions about this spacer woman. As casual as she appeared to be, there was something in her bearing that reminded him of a caged animal. She was definitely on guard. He didn't think it was him specifically that had her spooked. Something - or someone - had given this woman a very good reason to be cautious.

More than that, though, he kept getting glimpses of something that he had seen before, both in his fellow toh and in various others throughout the years. It was a sort of blankness that almost always indicated some manner of communication. I can probably discount signal communication, ATES isn't picking up any sort of transmissions either incoming or outgoing. Telepathic, perhaps?

As if on cue, her manner changed abruptly. It could have simply been that her not-so-subtle evaluation of him had led her to be less standoffish, but he doubted that. At her prompting he waved Tokh over, though the other man had no doubt heard every word. His ATES system might not be as advanced as Imis's, but it was still far better than ordinary hearing. Tokh approached and smiled rakishly at the woman.

"I hadn't expected to see so beautiful a lady in a dive such as this one. What a pleasant surprise. You rather remind me of an old friend of mine." He turned to Imis. "You remember Kieli, don't you Dom?"

Only his training prevented Imis from bursting out with laughter. Kieli had been a crotchety old man they had encountered on a mission some six centuries ago, and he had certainly looked nothing like this woman. He had also been a very quiet man, who had rarely said as much as two words to anyone. Tokh was telling him that he couldn't detect any telepathic or psychic emanations coming from the woman. Not external communication then. If she's memory-enhanced, she could be consulting an internal database of some sort. Or she could be interfacing with an AI implant. Either would explain the sudden interest in us. He hadn't detected any significant metal composites in her body, but then such things could be shielded or even, with the right nanotechnology, couched in organic components.

"Yes, Simil. The resemblance is rather striking, isn't it?" He turned back to the woman as Tokh seated himself. "The lady was just saying that she might be able to help us with our little grounding problem."

Tokh smiled, but inside he was troubled. He wasn't even trying to get inside the human woman's head anymore, and that strange blankness was still hovering just outside his mental view, like a buzzing just loud enough to hear. Psychic static, he supposed would be the most accurate term. He had never encountered anything quite like it before. It wasn't a mental shield, like many advanced sentients had (including Imis, which caused Tokh no end of irritation). It was more like something about the way her mind worked was simply not in tune with his abilities.

"That would be wonderful. There is so little of interest on this planet." He smiled charmingly at the woman. "Present company excepted, of course."

Haldirion was a planet distant from any Rhinaran Star Sovereignty territories. It was a mostly neutral planet that was part of a small but growing trade consortium in its own little corner of the galaxy. Due to it being far out of the way of the major trading lanes and the fact that they had a less-than-advanced level of technology, they have yet to pose much of an interest to the larger powers out there, and so have enjoyed a reasonable degree of prosperity in the recent decades.

It was for these reasons that a human named Antoine Carnette arrived here a number of years ago to start up what was now a relatively well-off neosteel foundry. Antoine was not his real name, though, and neither was he a human. He was Tal Va'den, an agent of the Sovereignty's civilian intelligence organization.

The Tal Va'den had wide wings both within and without the Sovereignty, ensuring the safety of the Sovereignty from all manner of threats, whether it be from hostile outsiders or dissident insiders. Although they did have their share of secrets that no one but the highest ranking personnel in the organization knew about, they had a public side as well. The Tal Va'den was a well-known organization within Sovereignty borders, and quite a few of their personnel were known by many to hold public offices.

Antoine, of course, was not one of these public figures. He was in charge of Tal Va'den activities in this sector, and local authorities tended not to appreciate an intelligence agent operating in their area. A business man who was contributing more than his fair share to the economy, on the other hand, sat perfectly well with the locals.

This day he was sitting in his spacious and luxuriously decorated office, having lunch with a childhood friend of his, Thalev Anvaris. The few times that the two meet for lunch, it was usually in Antoine's office, for it was highly secured against most forms of spying, both technological and biological, and their conversations more often than not tended towards topics that neither would want revealed to anyone else.

Inbetween a chew, Antoine lifted up a small, carved object and positioned it elsewhere on a gameboard. They were playing an old Rhinaran game, just vaguely comparable to the human chess. Thalev leaned forward, and studied the new situation. He did this often, which sometimes caused Antoine to complain about how much time he took for his turn. But Antoine did not complain all too much, as this studying allowed Thalev to devise often unexpected strategies to catch Antoine off guard, although Antoine would usually still manage to outmanuever Thalev by the end of the game.

Thalev was an original Haldirian - that is to say, he was of the native sapient species on Haldirion. At least, that was what all the bioscanners and planterary records said. In truth Thalev was Tal Diann, a specialized intelligence officer in the Sovereignty's Dragonflight, the interstellar navy branch of the Rhinaran military.

Tal Va'den and military intelligence typically did not get along. In matter of fact this specialized branch of the military was created long ago in order to keep the Tal Va'den from becoming too powerful and all-encompassing. It was Antoine and Thalev's childhood friendship that kept the two on good terms with one another.

And that, Antoine figured, was why military intelligence placed Thalev on Haldirion. The military had little interest in this distant parcel of real estate. The only reason why miliary intell set up shop here was because the Tal Va'den was here. Given Antoine and Thalev's past friendship, it was only logical to assign Thalev here as a means to determine what Antoine's mission was. Antoine had known this since he first found out that Thalev was coming, and he also figured that Thalev in turn knew that he knew this, but the two were still on amicable terms. Military intell was good, especially since Rhinara in general had been in the espionage business for a very long time, but it was not as good as the Tal Va'den, and so Antoine was not threatened.

The military intell officer finally made his move, and it took Antoine all but two seconds to make the countermove. Thalev went back to studying the layout.

Antoine finished the last of his food and placed the plate aside. Steepling his fingers, he casually said, "I hear the Feruuli Flight is making for the Ianorean Nebula."

That was classified fleet movement information that not even the majority of the military knew about, but Thalev was used to Antoine's attempts to simultaneously throw him off of his concentration on the game as well as to show off the abilities of the Tal Va'den. Without giving any other indication that he even heard those words, Thalev said, "Yes, though the flight could be better put to use elsewhere, if you ask me. How's Director Raevali doing? I got news that she fell ill yesterday. I certainly hope that the head of the Tal Va'den is not in too much trouble."

The edges of Antoine's lips raised up just slightly in amusement. He enjoyed the game ofbantering, which he found Thalev to be better at than with the board game on the table between them. Antoine had only heard about the Director a few hours ago, and the Tal Va'den would not have let non-members know so soon about situations that could alter the balance of power within the Tal Va'den. "She is fine for now, but who knows what the new dawn will bring?"

Thalev made a move on the gameboard that in the chess equivalent would be putting the opponent's king in check. "Surrender or forfeit your life," he said, which was the standard procedure in the game.

Antoine already saw a couple of ways to get out of the imminent defeat, but before he could do anything Thalev wiped his mouth off with a napkin and stood up. With a smile the intell officer said, "Ah, look at the time. I've a lot to do so I'm afraid I must be off and the game must end."

With a knowing grin, Antoine conceded and stood up to see Thalev to the door. "What kind of things do you need to do?"

"Oh, the usual classified stuff. Nothing you to don't already know about, I'm sure."

***

The military intell underground facility on Haldirion was small and cramped out of necessity. After all, a giant, sprawling complex under a busy section of an alien planet would be hard to keep a secret for long.

It was dark too, in order to minimize power signatures. Of course, they had the latest stealth gadgets that kept the Haldirians above from realizing that they were there, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Had Thalev been a claustrophobic person, though, he would not have lasted there as long as he so far had.

After making his way through a series of false doors with an appropriate amount of technological masking to prevent even a skilled sleuth from realizing what was there, the first person that Thalev encountered was a junior officer who saluted him in the Rhinaran manner. "Report," said Thalev.

The junior officer said, "Security measures for subject JI-11 has been enhanced to prevent the same escape method from being used again, plus a number of other foreseeable escape routes. The subject should not even be able to attempt escape anymore, let alone succeed."

"Good," said Thalev with a nod. "Has any additional information been gathered from it?"

"Only of its construct, sir. Although its computer core is still in operation, it looks like our countermeasures are effective in keeping it from being able to issue commands to the rest of its body. Thus no communications from it."

"Let's reactivate its voice controls, then. I want to know exactly why that thing was so interested in spying on us."

"Yes, sir."

Thalev went into the monitor room and remotely watched the interrogation that was about to begin. They would begin with a simple voice communication at first, but if the subject remained unhelpful, then they would be forced to move to more invasion procedures.

The room that the subject was kept under heavy restraint on the floor in was a small and completely dark room. The sensors that Thalev watched through were unaffected by the lack of light, though, so that was of no consequence to the interrogators. The shape of the room was of a triangle, with the door in one of the corners. This prevented anyone from hiding next to the door to surprise incoming guards, and it also gave the guards a full firing arc on everthing in the room should the need arise.

After the dampening system eased off just enough to allow subject JI-11 to use its vocal communicators, a disembodied voice in the darkened room said, "State the nature of your mission here."

OOC: I'll post some basic info on Jill here, both as background and so Rhinara won't need to stop and ask questions before posting (or at least, not as much as might be necessary otherwise).

JI units are the most advanced cybernetic constructs Guanyu has ever produced. To all outward appearances they are completely organic. Close scans with reasonably high-tech machinery will reveal that the majority of their organs aren't actually necessary, and that their "brain", skeleton, and a good deal of their other tissue are entirely mechanical. The concept is similar to the robots found in the Terminator movies, but far more advanced. What makes these units so valuable is that they are the first series of construct in which Guanyan engineers were able to accurately reproduce the sentient thought process. In other words, not only do they LOOK like whichever race they're designed to resemble, they actually THINK like them, and as a result, are almost perfectly convincing mimics of sentient behavior. Furthermore, they have the sentient capacity to take initiative, change their plans when the situation calls for it, or even disregard orders if, in their judgment, the orders no longer apply because they failed to foresee some unanticipated circumstance or did not take into account some previously unknown bit of information. Perhaps their most useful function is that they are in constant and near-simultaneous contact with the Guanyan Robotic Intelligence Network, or GRIN, a mechanical intelligence who operates a vast repository of knowledge stored in databanks deep beneath the Guanyan capital. Any piece of information ever gathered by the Empire is contained in these databanks, with every citizen of the Empire having access according to his or her security clearance, from regular citizens with access to public information all the way up to the Emperor himself, who has access to everything. Through GRIN a JI unit with the appropriate clearance can retrieve any but the most classified information needed almost instantly, as well as communicate with their superiors across the vast distances of space.

Jill is something of an oddity among the JI line because in her case, there were some unexpected developments during her initiation phase,when all of her programming was being perfected. Unlike other JI units, who adapt every aspect of their mannerisms and appearance to fit their mission, Jill has a distinct personality and prefers to stick to a certain physical appearance unless absolutely forced to do otherwise. She developed both likes and dislikes early in her existence, and exhibits many characteristics not found in any other Guanyan construct, such as loyalty to individuals created by their actions rather than merely by her programming. After weeks of debugging her creators had still not been able to isolate these oddities, or even locate them anywhere in the code. Apparently it was what the human writer Asimov called "the ghost in the machine." Regretfully, the technicians deemed her too unpredictable for her intended purpose and slated her for destruction. However, Emperor Karhoff took a personal interest in her and countermanded the order. He then took over her training personally, relying on her personal loyalty to him and to the empire as he would any other Guanyan agent. After her training was complete he designated her an Imperial Voice, personal agents of the Emperor who engage important diplomatic missions where they must represent the Emperor to foreign leaders. In this capacity she served as ambassador to the Dominion of Dread Lady Nathicana for some years before being transferred back to the capital and into Domin Yabrant's intelligence service. For obvious reasons, there are no records of her activities since then.

And specifically to help this post be more easily understood, I should clarify that when a JI unit has been captured and has determined that escape is no longer a viable option, higher-level functions are automatically restricted, reducing the unit's processes to that of a standard Guanyan robot. All personality functions, access to classified information, and contact with GRIN are suspended.

IC:

Declarative: Escape options limited. Possibility exists that escape is no longer an option.
Imperative: Explore alternatives.
Declarative: Power sources under dampening effect. As per operational parameters, all non-essential functions restricted. Level Two functions and below still available.
Imperative: Activate subroutine Wolf-3.
Declarative: Dampening field in place makes subroutine Wolf-3 ineffective. There are no apparent ways to get a signal through.
Imperative: Activate subroutine Tokh-1.
Interrogative: Coding for subroutine Tokh-1 does not match any known programming. Execute anyway?
Imperative: Affirmative. Activate subroutine.

If a cybernetic construct could be said to hope, Jill did precisely that. She had never had an opportunity to test this protocol, and there had never been a confirmed case of a Construct being able to manifest psychic energy. But Jill was no ordinary Construct, and she'd had the requisite training. Maybe something would get through.

She opened her eyes. The darkness posed no discomfort for her, of course, but it did make assessing her situation more difficult.

"Programming parameters prevent me from answering that question. I must warn you that any attempt to gain physical access data stored in my memory banks without the use of proper procedures and codes will result in a complete wipe of all data."

Tora had stiffened a little at being called beautiful, she wasn't. Then she made herself relax. If she was going to find out anything more about these two, much less something resembling the truth...Driving them away wasn't the answer. So she let that pass. Besides competent was better than beautiful any day. Beauty might be nice, but competent was lifesaving.

"There is so little of interest on this planet. Present company excepted, of course."

Tora threw back her head and laughed uninhibitedly at that. "The locals don't like outsiders getting close enough to contaminate them. Or possibly they're too well aware that they might suffer by comparison to 'strange and noncomformists ways', though" She shrugged elaborately ""Me, I've always been of the opinion that it's 'live and let live' and may every one find what makes them happiest." She raised her off hand, flagging for the lone waitstaffs attention.

"Now, why in defiance of every bit of holovision wisdom should I take on two complete strangers and hie them off into the starry blackness. I do believe that is in complete contravention of rule number seven of 'How To Survive A Space Opera'" Tora asked lightly then paused as the waiter ambled over and took their drink orders.

"Another of the same for me and whatever these two gentlemen are having. And a large basket of crisps"

The Fizraz she favored was very mild for all that it 'steamed and smoked' like somthing that would dissolve battle armor. She liked the tart fruit taste that nearly masked the alcohol. And she'd learned that they didn't drain their fries well here. And a bowl full of hot oil drenched chips in the face made a wonderful distraction, if needed, and they didn't taste half bad.

Tokh shrugged. "The Greenskins aren't half bad, once you get used to them. A bit on the stuffy and superior side, but if you give them a little time to open up they're much like any other race. They just don't like strangers hanging around their little corner of the galaxy. Makes 'em nervous."

Imis shot Tokh an amused glance. "As for why you might be interested in giving us a lift, we have some cargo that would not be...looked upon favorably by some of the governments whose space we need to pass through on the way to our destination. You look like the kind of individual who could help us with that little problem. And while the cargo itself isn't worth much, getting it from here to where we need it is worth quite a bit to us. More specifically, it's worth the cargo's weight in platinum. And it's not a light cargo."

"As for where the destination is, I'd prefer not to share that information until you've agreed to-"

Tokh suddenly broke in. "Haldirion."

Imis looked sharply at Tokh, but his anger dwindled when he saw the expression on the taller man's face. Tokh had the far-away look again, but this time it wasn't just staring off into space. He was seeing something...or someone. Imis had a hunch he knew who that might be. Tokh turned to him, looking very intent.

"We need to go to Haldirion."

Imis was not thrilled with this outburst, but he covered it and turned back to the woman. "As my partner says. Haldirion."

As unsettled as Imis might be, it was nothing compared to how Tokh was feeling. He had never received a telepathic communication from a Construct (and as far as he know, neither had anyone else), and it was not a particularly pleasant feeling. His mind was still ringing with a sort of metallic clang that made focusing on anything difficult. He hadn't gotten all of the message, but one word had come through loud and clear, in a voice he knew well. Haldirion. Jill had managed to tell him her location.

"Whom do you work for?" asked the monotonous voice over the speakers.

In the monitoring room, Thalev looked aside to the junior officer who greeted him earlier and said, "Nice of it to warn us, though no doubt it is from some sense of self-preservation. It'll be useless to its boss if it had to resort to wiping its system."

The junior officer nodded agreement and said, "Which gives us some degree of latitude into how far we probe into it. But it's a walking computer; in theory it will have to follow its programming and do just that if it had no other alternatives. How far can we go before it becomes too far?"

Thalev looked back at the various screens in front of him. "Can we completely shut down the subject's systems? Cut off all internal power to it before it can wipe its systems? Then we can find some other means of extracting and deciphering the information we want without running the risk of the subject losing all of its stored data."

"Hmm, it would be tricky. That's a very complicated piece of machinery, and we can't be sure that completely shutting it down won't in of itself cause total data erasure. I'll need more time to study the construct; I highly doubt that the subject would-" the junior officer gasped softly and her knees buckled beneath her.

Thalev reached a hand out to steady her, but she had already caught herself with a nearby console. "Are you alright, Sublieutenant?"

Furrowing her eyebrows, the junior officer nodded unsurely. "I...think so." Shaking her head to clear it, she stood back up. "My apologies, sir. I don't know what just happened."

"Do you need to see the medic?"

"No, I'll be fine, sir."

"Very well," Thalev said before looking back at the monitors.

The junior officer watched the subject on the screens as well, but she could not shake the feeling that something very odd just happened, and that it may be connected with the android she was watching.

"Whom do you work for?" asked the monotonous voice over the speakers.

Before Jill could even think of an evasion or false answer, she found herself speaking. "Unit JI-11 reports to Sector Chief Omega One."

Interrogative: Why did I answer that question?
Declarative: There appear to have been unforeseen consequences of engaging subroutine Tokh-1. Data corruption detected. Systems have reverted to core programming sequence.

This was not good news. Her creators had never anticipated that she might use any form of psychic energy, and it seemed that her neural network was not designed to handle it. As a precaution, her default programming had been reengaged. Part of that programming was to answer any question put to her by a sentient. Luckily, that answer wouldn't tell them anything. No one outside of Guanyan Intelligence knew that Sector Chief Omega One was intspeak for Director Yabrant. But the next answer could be less obscure. Or perhaps it would be the one after that. And there was damn little Jill could do about it.

I'll have to report this phenomenon to Headquarters when I return. This could be a major security vulnerability. Then Jill realized the irony of that errant thought. If I return home at all.

Thalev smiled pleasantly. "Now we're getting somewhere. Not exactly a useful answer, but infinitely better than its previous response."

The junior officer nodded quietly, her attention still partially occupied by what just happened to her.

Choosing their words a little more carefully, the voice over the intercom asked, "By what other name or names is this 'Sector Chief Omega One' known as?"

Jill tried not to answer, but of course her programming prevailed. Certain pieces of information, such as the Director's actual name, were blocked off by security locks, but if they could piece together enough supposedly benign information...

"Alternate titles include Hostmaster of the Seventh Fleet, Eye of the Dragon, He Who Walks in Shadow, First Minister of the Empire, and Director of Imperial Intelligence."

The Rhinaran computers were quickly cross-referencing large stores of information to find any connections between the given titles and known holders of such titles.

Taking a slightly different tack on the original question, the voice asked, "Why did Sector Chief Omega One send you to this planet?"

"Unit JI-11 is assigned to investigate the sentient who calls himself Antoine Carnette, and determine whether he has any plans or organizational affiliations that could jeopardize Imperial interests in this sector. Termination is not authorized unless deemed absolutely necessary. Civilian casualties are unacceptable, but property damage and violation of local laws and regulations is permissible. Directive Seventy-Two Alpha is in effect."

Jill fervently hoped that her captors had a significantly higher level of technology than she had observed on the planet. Directive Seventy-Two Alpha was an operational codeword. Anyone who searched any international database to which GRIN had access (either openly or covertly) for the phrase "Directive Seventy-Two Alpha," or asked anyone connected to Guanyan Imperial Intelligence about it would immediately raise a red flag in GRIN's Agent Database, warning that the person, institution, or organization inquiring might be connected to the disappearance of an agent.

Thalev positively glowed from that answer, but it raised so many more questions. He resisted the urge to contact the interrogator to tell him what questions to ask next, knowing that given enough patience and time, all his questions may be fully answered.

The computers, of course, also began a search on Directive Seventy-Two Alpha on the data stores. The stores that this group used, however, were all internally kept and not connected to any worldwide or interstellar networks. That was what made it a necessity for the stores to be large, as direct connections to the outside were to be kept to a minimum. If what they wanted to be found was not in the stores, a download from the secured Rhinaran military intell network was made for any additional information that it may have. Only in special circumstances would this operating procedure be bypassed and a direct connection to the outside be made. This was not one of those instances, and not surprisingly nothing of import was found regarding this code.

"What is Directive Seventy-Two Alpha?"

"That information is classified. No further data available."

"What is the name of the nation or power from which your previously mentioned 'Imperial interests' stem from, and how has the person known as Antoine Carnette posed as a potential threat to that interest?"

"I am not privy to the Celestial Seat's designs on this sector. A standard Level Four sweep was conducted on individuals from this planet whose resources seemed greater than could be readily explained. Most were found to be embezzling, smuggling, or engaging in other illegal activities. The agents assigned to investigate Antoine Cornette, however, found nothing out of the ordinary. This usually indicates connections to a foreign government, a specialized intelligence service, or an international crime syndicate. I was assigned to determine what, if any, such connections the target has, and assess the resources, military strength, and influence of any organizations the target is found to have ties to."

Jill had attempted to sidestep the question regarding her homeland, but the Celestial Seat bit had still slipped out. As with the Director's name, the actual name of her nation was blocked off, but there was still enough incidental information in her memory banks that anyone with a reasonable number of international contacts could discern her origin if they managed to get enough of it out of her.

"As for where the destination is, I'd prefer not to share that information until you've agreed to-"

Tora had no problem in being willing to believe the first part of their story, she'd heard it all to often. However that didn't mean she really believed it, nor was it enticing enough for her to contemplate breaking rule seven.

"Haldirion."

Until Sha'Do sat up straight and issued another order. "Take the job."

Say What? Why? This stinks

Just do it! The push was not over rideable now. It was something the rider seldom used on her Cheval, not this blatantly, not this forcefully. She just hoped the protocals held and Tora didn't remember the actual push later.

"As my partner says. Haldirion."

Tora rubbed her forehead lightly as she took a sip of her fresh drink. "In platnium you say? To Haldirion? I think, kinchin 'bai, that we can manage that." She paused a second to figure out how much time she would need to get Warlock ready for passengers. "Only you two live? Nothing alien I need to special kit for?"

Again with the sudden reversal of opinion. And why does our new friend suddenly seem to have a headache? I'll have to keep a close eye on her.

"Just us and a few crates full of...shall we call it 'farm equipment?' Nothing that will be in any way dangerous to you or your ship, I assure you. Which brings us to our next point. Half of your payment will be up front, the other half you will get when we reach our destination. But I will need to see the ship before we make any firm deal."

"You were sloppy, Mister Carnette," Thalev said softly, mostly to himself.

Over the speakers, "What is everything that you have learned of your target thus far?"

"Subject Report - Preliminary: Antoine Carnette

True Name: Unknown
Gender: Male
Race: Unknown Humanoid
Known races eliminated: Human, Kzintosh, Ardan, Scolopendran Automata, Ctan, Non-Ardan Elven
Age: Unknown
Occupation: Unconfirmed, but suspect foreign intelligence, nonmilitary.
Cross-Linked Known Contacts: Thalev Anvaris, purportedly Haldirion native, suspect agent of same foreign power. Organization unknown, but likely different from subject's, as he does not appear to be a superior or subordinate. Further intelligence restricted by security measures taken during their meetings.
Nation of Origin: Unknown, technological designation likely R-4 or higher
Personal appraisal: Still in early stages of observation. Subject appears highly intelligent and extremely cautious. No exploitable habits or tendencies detected at this point."

But I will need to see the ship before we make any firm deal."


Farm equipment, thats older than dirt and the commonest, most abused description about Tora chuckled to herself If I had a credit for every time...

You'd buy your own planet just to make sure you had plenty of room to roam Sha'Do responded with long familiarity, her tone tart.

Is that so bad? It...it could be home Tora's inner voice was whistful.

You're a clone, you don't even know what species you are, much less who your people are. Now pay attention to the nice men. Warlock's presentable - one thing I'll say about you is that you aren't a slob.

Tora chuffed silently at that and nodded "Meet me in Bay 94 in an hour and you can take a look at my ship." Most of Warlock didn't meet the eye, but somehow she had the feeling that these men know how to look around that.

But Warlock had a nasty temper, and was well able to take care of himself. To this day she still couldn't figure out why the crochety CS had allied himself with her. Though part of her was sure it was the amusement factor of watching her stumble from one mishap to the next, like some space going version of Pauline, the Perils Thereof....But I'm not that pathetic am I? She wondered and then her eyes caugh the slinky form of Master Tymvar 3entering the cantina.

"If you will excuse me gentlemen, I see an old friend." She stood and moved toward the silver haired gent who had taken a shadowed booth. If the two who'd approached her showed up later fine, if they didn't, for Tora that was equally fine.

An hour later, the duo approached Bay 94. As the vessel berthed there came into view, Imis let out a slight snort of laughter. Sleek but not new, the vessel looked not entirely unlike a dozen other ships they had passed on their way here. The difference wasn't in the design, or the hull decoration, or anything immediately visible. After a while, you learn to recognize the sort of just-a-bit-too-average look with ships just as you would with other intel operatives.

Tokh turned to him and grinned. "So, smuggler or blockade runner? I've got twenty bits on smuggler. Doesn't look quite fast enough for the other."

It always unnerved Imis how closely Tokh was able to follow his thought processes. He supposed it was because their minds worked in much the same way, which was part of why they made such a good team. Still, it was unsettling at times.

"Bit of both, I'd imagine. And I bet there's quite a bit more thrust in those engines than appearances would indicate." Not to mention extra firepower. "Looks like it'll do, assuming there aren't any disastrous surprises inside."

Tokh laughed. "Remember that Klonori transport we hooked on the Gemmel mission? Hopped on for a nice, quiet flight to Tau Ceti, and damned if it wasn't filled to the brim with drunk psionicists and high-caliber slug pistols?"

"We should have known better." Imis grimaced. "Fucking Klonori. Whole damn country's full of crazies."

Tokh shook his head ruefully. "You can say that again. I've still got scars. Anyway, let's go find our pilot, shall we?"

The two men proceed toward the ship, looking for Tora.

The ramp was down looking very inviting, if one did not notice the slight shimmer of containment / bio hazard decontam field that was there to keep any thing - or one- unwanted out. The subliminal hum of a swarm of defensive nano's addded to the not so very subtle warning.

Warlock had been very thoroughly briefed - and Tora was almost ready.

Her meeting with the weasel that masqueraded as a human, Master Tymvar, had gone quickly and well. And her payment had been just as quickly converted into small, and very easily disposed of credit chips from the financial institutions that were as unbiquitus as rats, but far more useful.

The shipcat that sat at the head of the boarding ramp disappeared as the men came into it's view, and the Warlock's C.S. spoke up though it's tone wasn't particularly welcoming or friendly.. "Good afternoon gentlemen. You do match the holos taken at the cantina, so I suppose I must allow you aboard. My partner is waiting in the galley. Jjust follow the guide light."

The field shield became permiable, allowing the pair to board, and the nano swarm withdrew as a small blue 'firefly' sprang into being.

The ship's interior was immaculate, but it did show the minor dings and pings that any starship collected of many voyages. The air was fresh and obviously the envrionmental was supplemented with live plants - there was a wiff of rich floral and crisp herbal that no artificial could mimic.

Warlock was larger on the inside than the sleek exterior gave away they would discover as the firefly led them up tightly spiraling stairway - though they would note in passing a grav/ counter grav drop tube. Then passed a darkened med bay. Tiny but expensively and thoroughly equipped Tora had never spared any expense on medical need.

The galley too was well designed, compact but complete, and able to hold perhaps eight in comfort. Tora had just finished pouring herself a cup of aromatic expresso when they entered.

"Would you care for some?" She offered, much more relaxed in the security of 'home base'. Warlock wouldn't allow anything to happen to her. Her clothing was more casual, and her heair was still slightly damp from her quick shower. Yes water could be precious, but she disliked sonic showers and used them only when really necessary.

Tokh declined politely, and Imis shook his head. "No thanks. Never touch the stuff."

He pointed back at the entryway with his thumb. "Everything looks good to me, you have more than sufficient space for the cargo. We can transfer it onboard within the hour, along with the first half of your payment. I take it from our welcoming committee out there that this ship has an onboard AI, or something similar?"

The edges of Thalev's mouth tightened.

In the holding room, "What are all the other names that the 'Celestial Seat' is known under, and how many other agents of the Celestial Seat do you know of on this planet, this system, and/or this sector of space?"

I take it from our welcoming committee out there that this ship has an onboard AI, or something similar?"

Tora winced knowing how that was going to be replied to...

"You may call me Warlock, and I am a Cybernetic Sentience, with all the rights, duties, and privileges of Citizenship as granted by the Phoenix Empire" Warlock manifested by means of a nano swarm, the very not so insubstancial image of a towering Xa Cz'inni. His tail was straight up, ears flat back and whiskers pulled tight along his muzzle. Darker stripes, and a few ghostly ones, shown here and there along his obsidian hued pelt and fire green eyes looked down at them. "I happen to currently use this starcraft as a body yes, so you might say that I am indeed on board."

With that ther swarm dispersed the warming given, or so apparently Warlock felt.

Tora relaxed slightly - War' could have been a lot worse. He usually was.

"Thats my partner" She half shrugged. If they had been put off by Warlock ..."and yes. you are welcome to bring your cargo aboard as quickly as you like."

A tap on the tables controls and she brought up a rough schematic of the starcraft "There are two vacant staterooms, they are designed to handle two but you are welcome to roost however you like. The trip won't take that long anyways." The third had been converted to her library, though it was spilling out to all the others and even to the galley's dining room. Last was the Captains Cabin, and that was hers alone. Each of the staterooms was complete with their own 'fresher, and had as much compact and built in strorage for personal belongings as possible.

She wasn't going to mention the DST's and the fact that unless the jump was well over several hundred millions of Light Years it take less than an hour. Flight plans for some place completely different had been laid in with the Launch Authority - there was no reason for them to know here they were really going - and an open lauch slot reserved with a tenative time.

"I've got us a up slot and of course my manifest indicates someplace completely diffrerent than Haldirion"

"What are all the other names that the 'Celestial Seat' is known under, and how many other agents of the Celestial Seat do you know of on this planet, this system, and/or this sector of space?"

The edge of Jill's mouth twitched a bit as she suppressed a grin, showing the first outward sign of personality since the interrogation had started. "You don't actually think my programming will allow me to answer that, do you? Besides, what kind of intelligence organization gives operatives a comprehensive knowledge of their colleagues' locations and assignments? As for the Celestial Seat, I can tell you that it's the ultimate authority in the Empire. Beyond that, it's the very definition of classified."

"You may call me Warlock, and I am a Cybernetic Sentience, with all the rights, duties, and privileges of Citizenship as granted by the Phoenix Empire" Warlock manifested by means of a nano swarm, the very not so insubstancial image of a towering Xa Cz'inni. His tail was straight up, ears flat back and whiskers pulled tight along his muzzle. Darker stripes, and a few ghostly ones, shown here and there along his obsidian hued pelt and fire green eyes looked down at them. "I happen to currently use this starcraft as a body yes, so you might say that I am indeed on board."

Imis nodded his head in greeting, not intimidated or insulted in the slightest. "Well met, Warlock. I meant no disrespect. I have often found cybernetic constructs to be invaluable companions and allies." It will, however, mean that Tokh and I won't be able to talk anywhere onboard, since I'm sure Warlock will hear every word. He knew Tokh was thinking much the same thing.

"I've got us a up slot and of course my manifest indicates someplace completely diffrerent than Haldirion"

"Of course. We've already arranged to have the cargo pre-cleared with the appropriate local authorities. As far as customs and Control are concerned, you're simply carrying two passengers off-planet with some unimportant luggage."

It was about an hour later when the cargo had been brought to the bay and safely loaded on the ship. All preparations were complete. Both passengers retired to their makeshift quarters to await takeoff.

Warlock sealed himself up and the lift to 'angeland' began with silent antigravs powering up and taking them to a safe altitude for lighting off n-space drives. This was one of the few times that any starcraft that came up from planet side were vulnerable. Shields hadn't stablised yet, pilots were busy running the last check overs, and sensors sometimes labeled returns as glitches when perhaps they shouldn't have.

And one of those glitches was shooting at them ...It was angular, all hard edges, but sleek and coming out of the sun, it's energy weapons packing more of a punch than they had a right to. And now others were joining in the hunt, howling after Warlock, a full hand of them

What ever race her genetics had intended her to be, it surely was something with the natural ability to fly, because Tora managed to keep the Warlock flying despite the completeness of the ambush. Leaving the C.S.to compute their run up to a DT - a Desitter Translation - jump she sent the ship into a series of spins along the crafts long axis that had the blast form the ambushers energy weapons fire just missing.

It was a good thing she had the best - in fact milgrade - interial compensators and grav projectors available. Otherwise none of them might have survived the manuevers she put the nimble starcraft through. As some one had once boasted she could 'make a quail loose it's lunch' - though she had no idea what a quail was.

The Warlocks own concealed weapons were out and replying with it's own ravening beams of coherent light - though they were no mere lasers, but full grazers. Two of the ambushers shivered into so much stardust as the powerful weapons over loaded the attackers shields and struck deep releasing the demon that lived in the heart of every starships power core

Imis was resting as Warlock left the landing bay. Not sleeping, of course. Toh initiates never slept. It was more like a low-energy state in which he could relax and restore his energy, while at the same time maintaining awareness of his surroundings. Thus he was instantly aware of two things when Tokh suddenly ran into his quarters. The first was that the other man was clearly in some sort of distress, and the second was that he was bare-ass naked.

"It would have killed you to put some clothes on, Sim?"

Instead of eliciting a scowl from Tokh, as Imis had expected, this comment seemed to have no effect on him whatsoever. Clearly, something big was going on. Tokh opened his mouth to speak.

"Gol, there are Grimm nearby. A lot of them. And they're not here to give us fruit baskets."

Imis stood up so fast he almost lost balance. The Grimm were a race whose planet had, at some point in the distant past, had the misfortune to be the battle ground for a war between two vast interstellar empires. When the fighting stopped, the planet was so damaged that it was almost completely uninhabitable. Those Grimm who had survived left the planet in search of a new home. Instead of finding one, however, the entire race had scattered throughout the galaxy, becoming a powerful and far-reaching crime syndicate. No one quite knew what had caused this phenomenon except the Grimm themselves, and they weren't much for sharing. Whatever the reasons, the Grimm turned out to be uniquely suited for the task, mostly because of a racial tendency toward strong telepathic and psionic powers. Grimm agents were often able to pick diplomatic, military, or trade secrets out of the heads of government officials, or to simply sit in on meetings while projecting a psychic aura that kept anyone present from even noticing they were there. And their ability to twist the minds of unprepared sentients gave them a definite edge in their "business negotiations". For the last four hundred years or so the Grimm network had been under the control of a ruthless brother-sister team that most non-Grimm referred two as the Gruesome Twosome (never to their faces, of course).

Imis and Tokh had run afoul of the Twosome when they had just taken over the syndicate, and were still consolidating their power. Some of their operations had jeopardized the Guanyans' mission, and so the two men had been forced to ruin some critical Grimm plans, as well as eliminate a number of high-ranking Grimm agents and associates. Like Guanyans, the Grimm were long lived, and therefore had long memories. After using the resources of their organization to discover as much as possible about the two men, the Twosome had been forced to forget their grudge for the time being. Both men had returned to their homes, and assassinating two Guanyan citizens, much less two distinguished elite agents like Imis and Tokh, in the heart of the Empire would have earned swift retribution that not even the powerful and influential Grimm could afford to chance. So they had waited, and kept an ear to the ground for news of their wayward enemies.

"How in the hell did they even know we were off-planet?" Imis hissed. "There's no way they could have agents in the capital!"

"I have no idea, but we have more pressing concerns at the moment. They're getting awfully close to -" Tokh was interrupted as the ship shuddered violently. "Shit, they're here. And they've brought at least one heavy hitter with them."

Imis was about to ask what he meant by that when he noticed that Tokh's eyes were twitching and he was standing very stiffly. Suddenly he understood. The Grimm had brought a psionicist with them and that agent had identified Tokh as a potential threat. Tokh was holding off a mental attack even as the two men were speaking.

Knowing that he could do little to help his friend in this fight, Imis sprang for the cockpit to check in with the pilot. As he entered, he spoke quickly to Tora. "Captain, these attackers are old friends of mine. If their tactics haven't changed since the last time I encountered them, they'll have a command vessel somewhere in the area waiting for the fighters to disable us so they can board. I highly recommend getting the hell out of here before whoever is captaining that command vessel gets tired of waiting and enters combat."

He was about to continue when Tokh came strolling in through the cockpit door. The other man looked pale and somewhat drawn, but otherwise okay.

"Bastard underestimated me." Tokh growled with no small amount of satisfaction. "I hope he enjoys being a drooling idiot for the rest of his undoubtedly short life. Burned out every trace of cognitive function I could find."

"I hope he enjoys being a drooling idiot for the rest of his undoubtedly short life. Burned out every trace of cognitive function I could find."

Only Sha'Do took note of that, but note she did. However the feel of something greasy and ugly that had been skimming across their mind, trying to wiggle past the disphas her presence had created was gone. She wished she had the chance to twist Tora around and get a good look at Tokh, but things were just too busy.

I highly recommend getting the hell out of here before whoever is captaining that command vessel gets tired of waiting and enters combat."

That Tora paid attention to. She was too busy being both pilot and weapons to answer him. "Talk to me War"

"Shield still above ninety" came the reply as she flipped the ship end for end, somthing one wasn't supposed to be able to do with a vessel of Warlock's size and built. Some engineering alerts sounded momentaiily and Warlock would have words about that with her ...later.

But it put them in position to target the trio of fighters - once behind, now before her with her most powerful grazers, and they were forced to veer off sharply or suffer their companions fate.

"I need another twenty sec..."The C.S.'s report "Thats a capitol missile..."

The explosion sheared though the shields and momentarily overloaded the viewscreen filters as well as the gravitic and envrionmental systems. There was be other damage as well, but the starcraft was better built than one might guess.

Tora swore as her harness broke and her face hit the control panels -hard enough to make her vision swim and tear open a lip on her teeth. But she could make out the closing icon of another one.

"I think they got tired of wating. Strap in damit! Warlock, I want a no run up jump in...3

...2

...1"

The companion missile detonated as they left the Universe behind - temporarily.

For any one who has never experienced a blind - a No Run Up- DeSitterr Translation before, the experience can be profoundly unnerving. A CS can't experience it, for them it is a grey void, but for any biological consciousness, it is far different. No one can predict what each individual consciousness will experience, but about 75% find themselves reliving their past exceptionally vividly, unable to tell it from reality. Others becoming obvservers or participants in another's memories, with equal vividness. Physical damage has translated through the Translation in rare cases. For an even rarer few comes the brief glimpse of the underlying patterns to many things. The experience lasts only seconds, or it's supposed to.

This one deemed to drag on interminably.

Tora, due to Sha'Do's presence they'd theorized, had never exspereince any other than relive bits of her past, and she'd made may a run up DT - which had no such side effects - and that gave her some immunity. Though reliving most of her past was decidely unpleasant.

Imis felt like hot glass was grinding in his brain. Fragments of memory were flashing across his consciousness at incredible speeds, too fast for him to get a handle on them. Some he recognized, some were unfamiliar. A few, he realized, were of Tokh's experiences rather than his own. The only memory long enough for him to really grasp it was one of these. Tokh was standing in a small, unadorned room, looking down at two bodies lying on the floor. Blood stained the stone floor of the chamber in streaks. Imis stared down at the closer body, not quite able to believe what he was seeing. It had been almost eight hundred years since he had last seen Taem, but he would have known her anywhere. It had, after all, been he who introduced her to Tokh in the first place. The second body was also someone he knew, albiet not as well. It was High Augur Qemas, who had been Tokh's superior for the latter portion of his career in the Ren'Liao.

What in the hell is this? This has got to be why he left the Order. Something happened with Taem and Qemas. But what? What am I seeing here?

Before he could try to take in more details and piece together the situation, everything streaked by and disappeared. He opened his eyes and found himself on the cockpit floor of Warlock. Tokh was some distance to his side, looking even paler than before but slowly rising to his feet.

"We're not going to get much more out of it," Thalev said to the junior officer. "End the interrogation and increase power to the dampening field. Then run a level 3 scan of the construct and determine how to bypass its security measures."

"Yes, sir."

"Estimated time?"

The junior officer paused to consider. "Given the construct's complexity, I would give it twenty days of study before we attempt anything and risk compromising its data core."

Thalev nodded to her. She was a capable officer, so if she suggested twenty days, she meant it. And although time was always of the essence, Thalev was not one to give a shorter deadline on such things unless necessary. "Very well, get started on it, Sublieutenant."

"Yes, sir." She saluted, and he returned the salute to dismiss her. With a turn, she exited the room and began delving further into Jill's make.

Tora was shivering as she came aware, fine temblors sweeping over her body, and she filled with a chill that went to her soul. Those she firmly ignored. It was much harder to ignore the fact that her left arm wasn't working -but her thoughts cleared in a few heartbeats. Her nanos had control of the pain, mostly.

The side effects she'd deal with later, right now there were more important things to deal with. The cockpit was filled with too many alarm lights and chirrups of things demanding attention. Almost automatically she set about clearing them, fumbling one handed for resets and overrides. "War, speak to me! How bad off are things?" Tora asked harshly. First priorities first.

War replied in what had become their private verbal short hand over the years, informing her that their shields relay busses were fused and needed to be replaced. That the DeSitter Translation crystal's emplacement frame was warped but the Tap interface was undamaged. But it'd need a manual reset. That was hours worth of work in and of itself He fell silent for a second then delivered the worst news Tora was going to need to go EVA and be talked though jettisoning the Anti Matter Reactor first. He started to go into greater technical details and stopped.

"You need to go to the medbay first. Your left radius and ulna are broken." The CS said firmly, his tone brooking no objection. Then he turned his attention to the two men. "Our passengers are... fine."

Normally Tora would have caught that slight hesitation, and made something of it. However she was much too concerned about the thought of having to jettison the Anti Matter Reactor. The reactor was a vital and hugely expensive part of the ship and to have to jettison it made her stomach knot up. That would leave them with just the back up and the Tap. Doable but Tora closed her eyes for just a moment. But she didn't want to argue in from of the strangers. It wasn't their business, and quarreling looked bad, looked weak.

"Sim, Gol" Tora address the two by the pseudonyms they'd presented. "Enviro is working nominally. It would be best if you returned to your quarters. I've got a lot of house keeping to do" She struggled to keep her dismay out of her voice and off her face.

"Enviro is working nominally. It would be best if you returned to your quarters. I've got a lot of house keeping to do"

Tokh stood gazing off into space, apparently unaware that Tora had even spoken. Imis paused, briefly considering offering to help Tora with the repairs, but he needed to deal with Tokh and he doubted she or Warlock would want him poking around the workings of what was clearly a highly modified ship.

"We'll do that. Let us know if we can be of any assistance. And don't worry, we'll compensate you for the repair and replacements costs. Think of it as a sort of expense account."

Imis walked toward the door, placing his hand on Tokh's shoulder to lead him out. Although it looked like nothing more than a friend lending another friend a hand, Imis was in fact secreting a substance through the palm of his hand that inhibited the taller man's neurofunctions. Normally Tokh would have fought it off easily, but in his weakened state Imis was betting it would work. No sense in chancing some sort of outburst before he had a clearer sense of what was going on in his old friend's head. Whether because of the neurotoxin or simple shock, Tokh allowed himself to be led back to quarters. Imis then laid him down on his side in his cot and, somewhat regretfully, knocked him out with a quick blow to the back of the neck.

"Sorry, Sim. You need the rest." He whispered as he left the room and went into his own, sitting on his cot to contemplate what exactly he was going to do next.

"We'll do that. Let us know if we can be of any assistance. And don't worry, we'll compensate you for the repair and replacements costs. Think of it as a sort of expense account."

She half waved that off, though it was far more generous than most would have been and at some point she'd have to thank them for it. But not right now.

Tora hurt too much to argue with Warlocks order despite the nanos buffering and obediently headed down to the tiny medbay. She could patch up a cut and even handle adnvanced first aid, but setting her own bones? That she'd leave up to Warlock's programing of the autodoc.
-------------------------

A hologram shimmered into the visual spectrum in the small cabin that Gol was sitting on the pull out bed in. It was of a middle aged human male of no particular memorability. Beside it rotated a second projection - a small icon that pulsed on and off with it's own light.

"I am half of the thought that I should create a sudden instability of the environmental system and render both you and your comapnion permnantly harmless. However that would be acting on a unjustified paranoia." The coment was made in a completely neutral tone of voice. "And that I'd hate to do. So, which reason do you have for pretending to be human. I've heard several thousand in my time, so the odds of it being new, interesting and or satisfying are very low. But that doesn't mean that I don't want to hear it. I'd like to assess the danger to myself and my partner on my own. And before you ask, no she does not know that I am having this conversation with you."

Gol glanced up, somewhat irritated at having his musings interrupted. He didn't bother explaining to Warlock that he had been threatened by demigods in his time, or that an attempt to incapacitate or kill him would likely have a far different result from what Warlock might expect. He also didn't bother to deny that he wasn't human. No doubt his physiological abnormalities had been noticed, and there wasn't really away to explain around those.

"My race is not noted for our propensity to travel. We're rarely seen outside of our homeland. I prefer altering my appearance to receiving undue attention and being remembered by everyone I encounter. I'm sure you understand."

"My race is not noted for our propensity to travel. We're rarely seen outside of our homeland. I prefer altering my appearance to receiving undue attention and being remembered by everyone I encounter. I'm sure you understand."

A small smile twitched the corners of the hologram's lips "That is actually one of the more honest and likely answers I've ever gotten. Do you wish the use of the med bay? Your associate seems to have had an unusually severe reaction to the Jump. There is nothing in the data to indicate violent reactions but even the semi catatonia he was exhibiting is considered unusually rare. CS’s do not experience the inter-consciousness phenomena." Warlock explained, his manner relaxing ever so slightly. And he seemed honestly concerned over 'Sims' reaction.

Tora sat on the diagnostic bed, her left forearm strapped in to the regen machine, her other filled with a heavy mug of nutrient right broth. "Are you sure we have to space it? The back up is barely enough for minimal and running the tap constantly isn't good for the junction crystal." She didn't have to say how expensive that was. Only two things on the ship cost more.

"I can keep the containment field solid for maybe five hours, but the bottle’s crystal has not one fracture but dozens." Warlock replied negatively. "I know you've never done the procedure, but it's within your capabilities. Even doing most of the work primarily with your right hand it should only take about ninety minutes. Your arm with be minimally useable in two hours” Another mug of broth floated over on tractor beams. “Drink this as well and then take a short nap.”

Warlock already had his small remote robotics cleaning up and repairing what he could. But he had no larger remotes available to him.

"Do you wish the use of the med bay? Your associate seems to have had an unusually severe reaction to the Jump. There is nothing in the data to indicate violent reactions but even the semi catatonia he was exhibiting is considered unusually rare. CS’s do not experience the inter-consciousness phenomena."

Most of Sim's injuries are psychological, but it couldn't hurt. And the med bay will likely have medical restraints. Can't be too careful.

"I suspect that he mostly just needs sleep, but it would probably be wise to give him a more thorough checkup. And there may be some pharmaceuticals I can use to help him rest. I'll have to tend to him personally, of course. I don't doubt your competence, but I'm the only one on board familiar with his physiology. Despite your best intentions, the drugs or medical treatments you would attempt might have unfortunate consequences. "

Despite your best intentions, the drugs or medical treatments you would attempt might have unfortunate consequences. "

Warlock nodded at that. It was logical and it wasn't as if he wouldn't be observing. Discretely of course.

The CS took a moment to 'check' on Tora, noting that she was mostly asleep as she sipped at the second mug of broth.. "Tora is just in a regen cuff, I'll move her so you can have access. Repairs as they stand will probably take about seven hours or so."

Gently the hiligram in the med bay chivvied Tora up from the diagonstic bed, telling her that she'de be more comfortable in her own cabin and that he'd wake her in an hour or so.

Finisheing the warm soup she nodded, and cradling her left arm, stumbled to her suite.

Imis lifted Tokh from the cot and carried him with no apparent effort to the med bay. Laying him down on the bed, he activated the restraints and began an extensive checkup, using both the instruments in the bay and physical tests for various neuron and muscle responses. Most of it was for show, his OATS system had already told him almost everything he needed to know about his friend's condition. A few of the tests he performed were genuinely useful, however.

The most important work he was doing was not visible. In his head, he was using a function of his memory implant to sift through every memory that might be relevant to the vision he had experienced during the jump. He wasn't coming up with much. Nor could he think of any logical explanation for the scene. The obvious answer was that Qemas had killed Taem, and in a rage Tokh had then killed Qemas. But a number of things made that unlikely. First of all, Guanyan intra-species murders were so rare as to be almost unheard of, and Qemas would not risk his position in the Church by committing one. Nor would Imis have thought him capable of such a violation of Church doctrine. The man had been faithful to the point of zealotry. Second, if a high-ranking Church official like Qemas had been murdered, there would have been a very public and very forceful display of justice for the killer, and Tokh would most certainly have been executed.

When he had come to the conclusion that he did not have enough information to piece together the vision, he decided that for the time being he would have to let it go. He could not jeopardize the mission by bringing this out in the open now. But he would keep an eye on Tokh, and request supplemental reports from GRIN the next chance he got. As a Master of the Elic'jum'Toh, he could count the number of entries in GRIN's massive database that he did not have clearance for on his fingers, though some of the more critical items would require approval from the Emperor.

I've got to be very careful around him from now on, Imis cautioned himself. His mental defenses were very strong, even for a member of the Society, but it was possible that Tokh would catch some flickers of surface emotion and deduce that Imis had shared his memory. Absolute control would be necessary for the rest of the mission.

Finishing up his physical examination, Imis injected Tokh with an anti-swelling medication from the med bay's stores. It wasn't really necessary, as Tokh's body had already mostly recovered from being banged around during the jump, but Warlock was undoubtedly watching and a little misdirection never hurt, in Imis's experience.

Then he slapped the other man lightly on the face, releasing a slight stimulant and the antidote to the neural inhibitors through his palm as he did so. "Wake up, Tokh."

The taller man stirred. "The pilot. Is she alright?"

"She's beat up, but she'll be okay. The ship's in pretty bad shape though, it's gonna need some serious repairs. We'll be dead in space for a few hours. Nothing to do but wait."

That last bit was a code they had been using for centuries. It reminded Tokh that they were under constant surveillance.

"Well in that case, I'm going to meditate for a while. I'll be in my quarters."

Just under two hours later Tora finished checking the environments suit and reluctantly cycled though Warlock's airlock. He'd been adamant, the cracks simply weren't going to disappear, and the containment field was becoming harder and harder for him to keep stable. The reactor had to go.

She took a moment once she was out to savor the endless vista of deep space. Then she turned her attention to 'breaking the seal' - opening the portion of the ship's hull that would let her begin detatching the reactor from the interior connection. Part of it would have to be done with minimal power available to the ship and that meant a time with reduced environmental and no aritficial gravity. Warlock was able to warn their two passengers with plenty of time to accomodate the zero g and other reductions.

It took her just over an hour and a half to free the reactor and place it in the missile shell that would take it away from the ship. Warlock was there talking her through it, and she was very glad for that as she would have taken far longer than than merely ninety minutes. Hopefully it would be well away before it fractured through.

Which happened just as planned- a full AU away from the ship. Tora hadn't bothered to watch for she'd discovererd a problem as she went to close ther hull up. The damage to Warlock's hull had been greater than they thought, even with her in- person inspection.

"Warlock tell our guests that this is going to take a bit longer." Tora said tiredly as she reentered the ship to get the equipment she'd need for the further repairs.

Imis and Tokh accepted the news that they would be stuck for a bit longer without any real surprise. Imis returned to resting in his quarters, but Tokh decided to investigate the psychic phenomenon that had been bothering him ever since he had met their new pilot. Sitting cross-legged in his quarters, he closed his eyes and shut out as much of his physical surroundings as he could considering the vibrations of the ship. Reaching out with his mind, he spread his consciousness throughout the entire vessel. He ignored Imis's familiar, blocked-off consciousness and concentrated on the rest of the ship. The odd, somewhat reflective sensation he had come to associate with mechanical sentiences permeated the entire hull. He quickly identified it as Warlock and dismissed it as well.

Sweeping the ship, he quickly came across the remaining consciousness. Tora's mind was still locked up tight, but the walls around her psyche did not seem quite as complete as before, perhaps because of the physical and mental stress she was under. He reached mentally for that annoying blankness and felt around the edges of it. No obvious weaknesses, but he could get more of a sense of her than he had been able to in the cantina. There was something vaguely familiar about the structure of the mind underneath. He searched his memories, as well as the Ren'Liao databases still stored in his head. Nothing specific, but he was sure that he had felt something similar before. Then it came to him. Some centuries ago, he had been assigned to eliminate the leader of a pirate group that had set up their headquarters just outside of Guanyan space and was harassing the Church Navy. The pirate captain had been what Guanyan doctors called "fractured," which meant that his consciousness was split into more than one distinct personality. Tokh had heard Human doctors refer to it as Dissociative Identity Disorder. The familiar sensation he was getting from behind the impenetrable blankness surrounding Tora's consciousness was similar to how mind of the captain had felt. That might explain why I don't feel any active resistance. The dominant consciousness isn't resisting me, someone else in her head is. Perhaps without her even knowing.

He knew there was nothing to do about it now, but he would watch Tora carefully for any sign of instability. Anyone or anything could be living inside that head of hers.

Tora spent the next fiftey seven hours straight lugging the heavy - not to mention buky - equipment necessary to attempt to safely regow a starships hull in space. Normal was to have a hull regrown by yard dogs at a certified space dock witl lots of immoblie, expensive equipment she didn't have. Warlock was stretching their resources to the limits to get a pactch done that would handle the stresses of even a standard FTL jump.

Normal this wasn't. Warlock talked and coaxerd Tora though it, but even with her enhanced stanima she was exhausted. And had neglected eating to the point where said enhanced metabolism had burned nearly twenty pounds off of her - twenty pounds she didn't have to spare - and stressed her system in ways it could barely tolerate.

But a patch that had not only met but even exceeded Warlock's safety parameters had been laid over the damage, safely sealing it away untill the real deal could be done by professionals.

Tora fell, collapsed all but, unconscious in the pilots chair a half drunk mug of broth spilling on to the floor. She was so deeply asleep that Warlock - his volume amped up as loud as he thought their passengers night not notice - couldn't wak her. Nor could Sha'Do at the moment.

It was like leaning against a wall and having suddenly disappear. With no warning, the uncomfortable blankness on the edge of Tokh's consciousness was just...gone. And that meant one of two things: Tora was unconscious...or Tora was dead. Tokh ran to Imis's quarters and stopped just long enough to tell him that something was wrong in the cockpit. The two men made their way quickly toward the front of the ship to investigate.

The same bland human male image that Warlock had used earlier blocked their way and the low drone of a nano swarm added weight to the negative look on his face. Both men could see that the blast door to the cockpit was firmly red lit.

"I don't have psi sensors available and I know you haven't bugged the command deck so I don't know what brought you hareing up here so quick" His eyes were fastened on Tokh "But Tora is just asleep. I estimate that she will sleep a minimum of twenty hours. Once she's awake we can continue on to Haldirion."

The C.S. hesitated a second "But if you could carry her to the med bay I'd appreciate it." Her weight loss was dangerous and he wanted to get her hooked up to a monitoring system better than was available in the cockpit.

Tokh moved forward, but Imis reached out an arm and blocked him off. "I'll do it."

The taller man glared at him. "The hell you will. I've got it handled, soldier boy."

Imis winced internally, both at Tokh's tone and his use of the term 'soldier boy'. While it was not technically correct, it was still not something he wanted said in Warlock's hearing. And he doubted the CS had missed it. "I insist, Sim."

Tokh maintained his glare a moment, then backed down. 'I insist' was code. It meant he had reasons beyond the obvious for wanting to carry Tora. Imis walked into the cockpit and lifted her without much effort, placing one hand under her knees and the other across her upper back. As he adjusted the latter arm, he softly brushed the exposed back of her neck and, using the same secretion system he had used on Tokh earlier, administered a small cocktail of immuno-boosters and antibiotics. He knew Human physiology well enough to know that extreme fatigue could shred their immune system and leave them vulnerable to all kinds of latent bacteria or infections. Hopefully this will keep her healthy until she can regain her strength.

Walking as quickly as he could without jostling Tora too much, Imis carried her to the med bay and placed her carefully on the bed and then addressed Warlock.

"Are there any repairs that still need to be done, or anything we can do for the Captain? No point in just sitting around if there's work to be done."

Imis would definitely recognise that her body temperature was high, well over a hundred and two, and despite the fact that her clothes were all but falling off of her with the weight loss, she was still far heavier than a human of her height and build should be.

By the time he had laid her in the medical bays diagnostic bed however her face and neck were flushed and beginning to swell. Warlock brushed off the question by 'Gol'.

As Imis laid her down she began to have noticable trouble breathing and the projected diagnostics showed a severe anaphylactic reaction. Tora spiraled from sleep to porfound unconsciousness almost instantly. Her blood pressure dropped rapidly and her breathing went even more profoundly irregular. Her heart rythm too was affected

"Damn it what is she having a reaction to? Her immune system is dumping mast cells by the kilo titer.!" Warlock snarled as he struggled to make sense of the readings he was getting. His tractor beams lifted a hyposprayer full of epinephrine"

"Don't just stand there get that into her." He demanded as another tractor beam brought out a oxygenation mask and compressed O2 cylender. "Her nano packs should be handling this but they are acting like they are overwhelmed."

He projected a comparative set of diagrams of her 'normal' data - which wasn't very human normal -and her current readings - it was easy to see the differences.