NationStates Jolt Archive

Mark bursts into laughter. "Well, at least you'd get points for honesty."

"Do not encourage her," Caranthir warns. Mercifully, they board the subway for the trip home.

Andrew and Ceilia find a place to stand and hold on as the subway carries them off. The tour had been interesting and educational to a point for Ceilia and there was much to consider on the ride. She hooked a strand of blue hair absently behind a pointed ear.

Andrew looks off into space as he has a habit of doing. "Where are we going next?"

Home. Or what is serving as home for the duration of their stay. After a full ten Xanthalian days, over eleven standard days, Ceilia and Andrew arrive home from Wakimaishu, Mark in tow at his own insistence, to find Cymrik fully engaged with an ugly younger woman in the bedroom. After the whore leaves, he takes the opportunity to wash up and prepare a drab evening meal. Sitting down with the students, including a still-amused Mark, he asks them about their trip. Mark looks to Andrew. "Mister Reedie's attention was riveted to the experience. He barely had time to talk, he was so busy taking it all in."

"I was more riveted with fear during the lightning storms than with excitement. Still, it was an interesting experience to be among the home of a race I have only seen during my time here."

"I hope you were not too insulted by anyone," Cymrik comments. "Than are notorious for lacking social grace."

Andrew shakes his head. "No there wasn't any problems really."

Ceilia picks at her food not hungry and appalled at the scene when entering their chaperone's home. Eye contact with the man was avoided at most causes to avoid any unsettling flashbacks.

"What about you, Ramaral?" Cymrik asks. "Was there anything that you particularly liked about Wakimaishu?"

"I enjoyed being among a different species and their xenobiology fits the planet exceptionally well. I also had a fairly short but informative conversation with the local governor."

Cymrik nods. "I am glad to hear the experience was valuable. I have scheduled you both for cancer screenings next month."

"Good idea," Mark notes. "I should make an appointment myself."

Andrew and Ceilia share a look. "Why do we need a cancer screening?"

"I told you before," Mark interjects. "The radiation coming off Than is harsh on most humanoids. It's carcinogenic."

"Do not worry though," Cymrik continues. "If you are found to have cancerous growths, they can be removed with minor surgery, so long as they are caught in the early stages. That is why it is important to have regular screening, especially after visiting a place like Wakimaishu."

Ceilia remains expressionless while Andrew starts checking himself in random areas and others that are not so visible to check sings of abnormal growth. "That's just great. They seemed to have left that small part out of the brochure."

"I don't know what they teach you back home, but it's common sense that spending time around a blue dwarf star without adequate shielding is bound to lead to problems. Heat isn't the only thing they generate. Besides, no big deal. I had surgery to remove some cancer after my last visit. A couple hours on the operating table, a half-day's recovery and you're good as new." Mark pats Andrew on the back comfortingly. "You'll be fine. Just relax."

Caranthir breaks his silence to volunteer some knowledge. "The abh are quite resistant to cancer. It was part of the modifications made to their genetic structure. Since they were bred to work in space, engineers foresaw the need to endow them with increased resistance to radiation illnesses."

"Still, they will both be screened," Cymrik declares. "I am responsible for their health, and I want to be certain that there are no complications."

Ceilia looks over at Andrew with a somewhat superior look. "Calm down Andrew, you are acting like a perpetulant child with your constant franting. Show some spirit."

"Well that's easy for you to say with your genetic engineering and long life span, I've only got at the most a hundred years to live. I'd like to see as many as possible without worrying about cancer."

"You are a fool. Cancer treatement is a relatively easy thing these days and can be prevented if caught in its early stages. They know that we have just been to a high risk environment and so will be watching us for any indications of abnormalities."

Andrew grumbles and starts picking at his food again letting the conversation go.

Mark shifts his gaze to Cymrik. "So, who was the woman?"

"If you will excuse me," Caranthir stands abruptly, "I must return home."

"What, now?" Mark looks disappointed.

"Yes, now." The elf has his bags and is out the door in record time, mercilessly leaving Andrew and Ceilia with their perverted guardian and the shameless Mark.

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OOC: We are skipping ahead. You choose the scene and characters present, school, home, or elsewhere. Doesn't matter to me. I'm getting bored choosing all the scenarios myself.

Ceilia sat in class behind the glowing screen of her personal labtop while going over the teachers notes and following along with the lecture. She nibbled at the end of her electronic pen.

Her legs shifted in her midthigh skirt as restlessness began to settle in slightly. Thoughts drifted off towards the stars once again as it had been quite some time since she had last piloted a vessel in space. It was as if she was going through withdrawls from a strong drug.

Sighing absently, her eyes turned back up to the professor as he went on. She mused that an anti-matter mine could explode outside the building and it wouldn't phase him a bit.

Andrew on the other hand was paying a bit more attention in his studies than Ceilia was and had found a seat next to Mark for company.

The atmosphere in this lecture period, on the subject of mathematics, is opressive. Professor Xanadu, a rainbow-colored birdlike creature barely the size of a human forearm, is as uninteresting to listen to as he is amusing to look at. In this room though, the rows of straight-faced, deathly-silent, attentive students and the relentless tapping of keyboards is enough to lull anyone to sleep. Well, anyone except the students and the professor, apparently. The straight-laced attitude of the students gives the whole classroom experience an artificial feel, like watching scenes from a '70s sitcom. Of course, seeing the students before and after school, between class, and at lunch it's hard to believe they could possibly be the same people who sit riveted by their instructors, sometimes for hours on end.

These sessions aren't easy on Mark either, who shows an extraordinary amount of restraint simply by staying quiet for the whole period. Ceilia's partner, however, barely even acknowledges her unless she has a question, an occurance that is becoming more infrequent as time goes on. Xanadu has become a great antagonist to the Abh visitor, so it isn't surprising that Ceilia's blank stare and drifting attention do not go unnoticed. "Ramaral," he calls out in his native tongue, monotone broken by a hint of a screech that seems to creep into his voice whenever he is impassioned or annoyed. "Are you really so well-acquainted with multivariable vector calculus that you cannot be bothered to pay attention? Perhaps you would like to take over."

A slight grin tugged at the corner of beige painted lips. Thoughts of smart remarks and purely showing the teacher up flooded her mind. But restraint got the best of her in the end, not to mention she was trying to put on a good image for everyone. No need to rekindle old flames that still hadn't died out yet it seemed.

"Sĭl poseb voymori"

"English will do," the professor says, "Your Mirfakan isn't good enough for my translator to handle." A small wave of laughter runs through the room, but is quickly cut off; Xanadu's speech is translated into Mirfakan by a device on his desk, and relayed in English by Ceilia and Andrew's translators. "You think that is funny? I doubt most of you have much more impressive English skills. You will all pay attention to the lesson now."

"Sio, Länoĭfnä," the offenders chant in perfect unison. This is obviously old hat to them. Satisfied that order has been restored, their instructor resumes the lecture, writing important equations and illustrations on a desk pad that are in turn projected onto the front screen.

Ceilia lightly taps her electronic pen on the desk hardly amused. She silently wishes that she had gone for her original plan. Oh well. Despite his chastising, it hardly made her pay attention anymore. In fact it probably just added to her disinterest. Time ticked by as she waited for this drag of a class to be finished.

On the other end, Andrew was typing furiously away to keep up with the instructor. Some things got lost in the shuffle but he was still doing fairly well in his notes.

After class, Mark crosses over to speak with Ceilia, who's packing her things. "You seemed pretty zoned-out today. More than usual, I mean. Something on your mind?"

"Pal Lepenew," Ceilia slightly muttered. It was doubtful that Mark would understand any of it but the tone in her voice was enough of an indicator that something was wrong.

"I guess I just have a hard time listening to a lecture from a bird that's all."

Mark dismisses the first part of her response as unintelligible, putting a supportive hand around her shoulder. "That bird isn't much of a teacher, but he's a mathematical genius. You should try to benefit from his tutelage, even if he is boring as hell." Caranthir rises from his seat beside Ceilia and goes to wait by the door.

"Perhaps." She finishes packing her things and heads over towards the door where Caranthir is waiting.

"Ready to move on?"

"Quite," Caranthir nods, and moves out into the hall.

Mark shakes his head and returns to Andrew's side. "Those two are kinda... alike in a way, don't you think?"

Andrew looks up to watch the two head out the door. "Yeah I've kinda noticed that as well. I have concluded that they are either very detached from the world around them compared to you and me or they just have a superiorty issue."

"I think they're just determined to keep to themselves," Mark says. "And a bit arrogant." He smiles. "Abh and elves though, whaddya expect? It seems to be a common affliction for them."

"Maybe their arrogance comes with the ability to live for so long," Andrew remarks dryly. "Let's get out of here before we're left behind as well."

"After you," Mike makes an exaggerated gesture of invitation towards the doorway.

Andrew bows deeply. "Thank you kind sir." He marches off towards the door flaring his arms wildly. As he exits the door, his march turns into a more normal walk as he steps aside waiting for Mark.

Mark takes up a steady gait alongside his companion as they walk along. "So, how did your home world... what was it called?"

"Martine of the Hyde System."

"Right. How did the Abh gain control of it? Was it a diplomatic venture, or a military one?"

"Well technically I suppose it could be called a military venture. Some of our defensive satellites were destroyed by some Abh ship. Even now we don't know what it was and it seems they rarely use it unless it's a stealth mission. Anyways, Count Roc Hyde offered an alliance treaty with the Abh but Lord Dusanyu didn't accept the offer. In a few hours, Roc surrendered the planet and he himself became the official of our planet for about three weeks."

Andrew took a moment to watch where he was walking. "I guess the good point was that no one died in the effort."

"Sounds rough," Mark says, falling in behind Andrew to make room for a group coming up the hall towards them. "Didn't the public resist?"

Andrew half-heartedly smirks. "Why do you think Roc only lasted a single month?"

A slight joke and the humor had passed. "It wasn't an easy decision for the government. Fifty rockets and twenty lasers against an entire Imperial fleet would surely have cost many lives. Not to mention that the Abh have been known to remove part of the atmosphere if a ground battle isn't all that well."

"Why would the Xanthalian government ally with people like that?" Mark wonders aloud. "You know, a lot of people here weren't happy about allying with the Abh. The government gave us an impressive propaganda campaign to win us over, but I'm not the only one who wonders at the moral implications of aligning ourselves with an Empire that would use those kind of tactics to win territory."

"That is simply what an empire is. It doesn't matter whether or not it is the Abh or some other race. Still, I would say that the Abh treat their citizens better than some empires do. Whether they are conquered or allied with them, they receive the same status and can even become part of the Abh if they wish."

Andrew half chuckles. "In fact with our current Count, our planet has received far more attention and status than ever before. The economy has recently hit an all time high now that things have calmed down back home."

"How... fortunate for you," Mark comments dryly.

Andrew notices that Mark isn't exactly thrilled purely from his tone. "It is like every form of government though. They all have their positive and negatives. I remember some of the old folks saying how much they wish they could travel through space on their private ships and there is always the grumblings of merchants wishing they could be private companies."

"And there's no reason they shouldn't be allowed to have their own ships and businesses, provided that they're properly regulated. But the point is people should be allowed to choose their affiliation and their government. It shouldn't be imposed on them without their consent."

"I suppose you could say that is a form of regulation albeit a strict one. They can still travel aboard the ship and choose their destination, they just can't pilot it."

"The form of government on our planet is democracy. We hardly ever have dealings with the Empire. Only a few times have they come in force to the planet and that was during attacks by outside forces. Rarely do the Abh pass laws that has any bearing on us land-dwellers. For the most part they keep to themselves and we keep to our own. Now, planets that are not self-sustaining, I imagine that they have far greater dealings with the Abh than we do."

"Yeah, yeah," Mark says dismissively. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Alright then, here's a question for you? The Socialist Republic controls four systems. They couldn't all have started out within your realm. Somehow the different species and planets all had to be brought in to a single government and national identity. That didn't just happen over night, did it?"

"Well, Kanell is a new addition; it was uninhabited and claimed by the Republic. As for Mirfak, the Thanic nations, and Trasnia; all three governments spent months negotiating the details of the Treaty of Xanthal. The Union itself was quite peaceful, with Xanthalian governors and institutions replacing existing establishments over several years. To say we all have a single national identity though may be a bit of an overstatement, albeit one my government likes to make. Which isn't to question the country's integrity, but... well, you came to Wakimaishu with us; it's not the same as Renku, from the buildings to the demographics to the attitude of the people. Freeland and Megukuga are also culturally distinct. We don't even all share a first language."

"Well don't you live in a little Utopia."

"Utopia is a fiction. There is no utopian society. What's important is that my people make their own choices. Our government is owned by the people, not the other way around. Nobody here must make their decisions at gunpoint, and the Xanthalian govenrment would never assimilate another society without the consent of its residents. We're driven to improve our own society, not to posess land or space or chase some grand vision of power and glory."

"To each his own then I suppose." Andrew let the conversation drop and focused his attention forward as they continued to walk along.

"Indeed," Mark assents.

Mark and Andrew continue their walk to catch an after school snack. Having hung around Mark for most of his stay, Andrew has developed a taste for the fast food industry and has steadily been swayed over to the "dark side".

Ceilia and Caranthir on the other hand tend to remain away from such places and have taken to strolls as a form of relaxation and simply to enjoy the quiet. Still, the walk for a park where it is quiet is in of itself an adventure fighitng the crowd and trying to catch the underground transit system when it is not so congested.

The young elf appreciates the park, but he appreciates Ceilia's company more than the inevitably futile attempts to capture nature's beauty in a square block of grass and trees surrounded by the constructs of humanity. He's learned a lot from her since they first met almost two months ago: his understanding of the Abh and their empire is greater, and he's even made a good start learning the Abh language. Caranthir has also formed a quiet respect for the Empire's way of doing things, though he still seems uncomfortable with the idea of royalty. He tugs on the hem of her shirt to pull her attention from a nearby playground down to him. "Abriel," he asks tentatively, "May I refer to you as Celia?"

Her small adventure had calmed considerably as she had grown accustomed to the way the Socialist Republic went about their daily lives. There were differences great and small between both governments and nations but when it came down to dealing with people at hand, their differences seemed trivial at best to the Abriel. Perhaps that's why the Empire never cared how people governed their worlds so long as it was beneficial to their citizens. Ceilia was smiling as she looked over at the playground when she fealt the slight tug at the hem of her sleeve. The question was somewhat surprising. Through the course of her stay, her instructors had either been calling her Ramaral or Ceilia and never thought different of a classmate calling her either one. Hadn't Caranthir always called her by her first name?

"Of course you may. Caranthir, have you not usually referred to me as Ceilia?"

Caranthir looks repulsed by the question. "Of course not. It's disrespectful to refer to someone by their first name without permission." "Not that you would know it spending time with Mark," he adds, with a note of apology and annoyance.

Her lips purse in a slight frown for a moment. "My apologies Caranthir and do not be overly annoyed with Mark. Yes he can be a bit. . . forward at times but I imagine he doesn't mean anything by it. At first it was a bit disturbing to be called by first name but I guess only because I was not used to it. Almost everyone back home is called by their first name among friends. The only exception to that rule is royalty and nobility of course."

Ceilia had been looking up at the sky for the majority of the conversation but her gaze eventually finds its way back down to Caranthir. "You may call me Ceilia."

"I am honored," Caranthir bows deeply. "I have been considering-" He is cut off abruptly by a metallic screech and series of crashes eminating from beneath their feet; dulled, but still audible, through the ground, which rumbles perceptibly for about a second. Those around them look confused, searching with eyes and ears for the source of the disruption, as does Caranthir.

Ceilia's elvish ears perk up as well with a slight twitch. Confusion gives way to frightening realization of what that sound could possibly mean. "Do you think something has happened in the public transit below us?"

"It is possible," Caranthir replies, his brow furrowed in worry but his tone level. "However, there have been very few major accidents involving underground trains of the type that run in this city."

Inwards she relaxes slightly but her expression remains the icy calm facade that she has been known to wear during her stay. Only her tone ever lets it be known that something could possibly be agitating her. "Perhaps we should investigate if there is a access tunnel nearby."

"That would be highly irrational," the elf points out. "If there was an accident, it will doubtlessly be very dangerous. Professional rescuers will respond."

"They will respond but possibly not nearly in time for everyone. I am going to head down there and see if there is a problem. You can wait here for me if you wish. I will not force you to come with me but I will return." Ceilia turned to start heading for the nearest access tunnel.

"Ceilia!" Caranthir grabs at her garment but misses. He chases after her on his short legs, calling desperately. "This is foolish! You could be hurt! Wait!!" He trips on a root and falls on his face in the grass, emotions swirling through him as tears begin to drip down his face. "Please..."

Ceilia turns her head as she starts to run. "Don't worry Caranthir. I'll come back for you."

She turns her head back to the front and begins looking for anyway down below.

She runs several blocks before coming to a subway station. Midafternoon traffic is moderate, but the area above the station is crowded with people and a loud alarm is clearly audible eminating from below. Ceilia's path down to the station is blocked by two police officers standing at the surface entrance, keeping the gathering crowd at bay. "Ni olĭn, ni olĭn! Nosĕn sĕlior ĭnkäl şĭn nähĕn-ösäl! Ĕsti värekäl!"

A young woman tries to push past, looking desperate. "Öslänyö wäl ĕsti älĭmäl! Ĕksi wä ĭnkäl trm!"

She is repelled gently, yet firmly by the officers. "Ni olĭn. Länžete ĕsti vi."

The other officer looks over the crowd, repeating the warning over the voices of the onlookers. "Ĕsti värekäl! Ni olĭn! Länžete ĕsti vi!"

Ceilia's translator does not relay any of this, confused by the many loud conversations going on at once.

Ceilia translates the gist of of the conversation in her mind. Something terribly wrong has happened with the train terminal and the police have it blocked off. It seems that the police respond quite well much to her surprise. Looking around, she quickly surmises that there was no way she could push her way through the mob and two guards stand firm on the stairs.

There was one alternative though. She circled back around the mob to the side railings leading down to the station. With a firm grip in a quick hop, she vaulted her self up and over the side railing and down onto the stairs behind the officers where she proceeded down the station.

The officers, occupied with the crowd, don't even seem to notice. Unfortunately, having defeated one obstacle, she faces another almost immediately: the metal screen over the station entrance is shut and locked in place. She can see into the station, which is decidedly unremarkable besides the fact that it has been evacuated, but she can't proceed any further.

A fist pounds the gate in frustration. She growls out loud though it is doubtful anyone can hear her. One last look through the gate to see if there is anything she can see then turns around to head back upstairs. She pushes her way past the two officers and through the mob.

The officers exchange a look, but don't try to stop her. As she stalks out, two police hovercraft touch down on the scene and sirens approach from the distance. Help does indeed seem to be on its way.

Ceilia finally makes her way from the noise of the sirens and shouts back to where she had left Caranthir. She was a bit sullen with her ears drooping slightly. "I am sorry to have worried you. . . . let's go home."

She finds her companion sitting on the ground, his clothes grass-stained and his eyes red from crying. He sniffles a little as she approaches, and stumbles to his feet, keeping pace with the frusterated abh. "Are you alright? What happened?"

Her eyes for the most part are still focused down and a few feet out in front of her. "There seems to have been an accident down in the substation. Security was already on the scene keeping citizens back and I found that they had already locked a gate to keep anyone that got past them, out."

"I..." he trails off. Caranthir is glad that Ceilia was prevented from putting herself in danger, but he doesn't want to anger her by expressing it. Instead he extends a hand up, trying to grasp hers.

A little limp but still her hand turned towards Caranthir's to allow him to close his hand around hers. "I guess all we can do is watch the news and see how it all turns out."

Caranthir doesn't answer, opting instead to hold onto her tightly all the way back to the house where she is living with Cymrik.

The last person that Ceilia really wants to see at this moment is Cymrik. Instead she doesn't acknowledge his presence and only waits until Caranthir is ready to leave and then she plans on heading up for a bath and then straight to bed.

Sensing that he's not wanted, Caranthir retreats, returning to his own home to watch the news Ceilia very nearly became a part of.

Ceilia only finds unrestful sleep that night and Andrew seems to be MIA at the moment though she is not all that worried about him. In an environment like this, he can blend in easily enough with many of the locals.

Dawn brings a new day and a momentarily lapse in dreary mood from Ceilia. The sun shines bright through her window which promises to be relatively peaceful day. Today is a day off for the students as their classes have progressed steadily. The Abriel finds a small amount of comfort in Caranthir's company and the small quiet places within and without the large city. Ceilia grabs a robe that is hanging near a chair and pulls it over her shoulders. She peaks outside to see that Andrew's door is close meaning he must have came in late last night. However, curiousity doesn't get the best of her and the boy is still sleeping. She made a mental note to remember and ask him what happened last night.

Breakfast comes and goes with Ceilia just finishing hers up when Andrew finally crawls out of bed and down the stairs to the table. What's ever left over is free for him to eat as Ceilia's appetite has diminished during her stay. Andrew lets out a yawn as he scratches the back of his matted hair. "Good morning."

"Good morning Andrew. You seemed to have been out late last night."

He dumbly nodds still half asleep. "I got turned around during the evening and kinda lost my directions. But I did manage to find some local hangout that some of our classmates were at so I just fell in with them for awhile. I had one of them show me back home."

"Well at least you are mixing well with the natives."

Andrew plopps down in the chair across from the Abriel and sighs. "Excuse me...highness, do you think we could go shopping today? I sort of promised my parents I would bring them back a souvenir from Xanthal."

A strange request but it was something to do during the day. Ceilia's cocked brow slowly lowered. "I suppose that would be alright. I will call Caranthir and see if he would like to come with us and help shop for your souvenirs."

Caranthir sounds less than enthusiastic about the prospect, but when Ceilia excuses him he insists on attending them. They agree to meet at the city center subway station. The Oleenk subway system has reopened, after being taken offline for most of the afternoon on the previous day. Several routes that would normally use the track where the crash occured have been cancelled, others diverted. Initial reports indicate that a damaged section of the magnetic rail caused six coaches on a passing train to lose levitation and fall onto the track itself. Several injuries were reported, none fatal. Emergency rescuers assisted passengers in leaving the train and walking to safety.

Ceilia eventually learns of the fate that had befallen the unfortunate train and is pleased to hear that there were no fatalities though she doesn't show it. She simply sits off to the side with her legs crossed.

Andrew has finally fully recovered from last nights activities and is more himself though some would argue that it isn't much of an improvement. He leans back with his head against the window while trying to think of what would be worth bring back to his parents that would show some symbolance of the Socialist Republic. Fortunatly enough for him, Ceilia excercised a bit of forsight and had Caranthir come along. An elbow on a knee and his chin in a palm, "Hey Caranthir, what do you think would be a good souvenir? I was hoping I could find something that in some small way would show the uniqueness of Xanthal."

"Uniqueness..." he muses. "I will need more information about your criteria. Do your parents have any hobbies or tastes that would impact a potential suggestion?"

"Hmmm..." He scratches the side of his cheek for a moment while considering possible ideas. "My mother has always enjoyed gardening and my father has always enjoyed foreign music."

Caranthir scratches his head. "Finding music recordings should be easy. A unique gardening tool may be somewhat more difficult." He nods. "A plant of some type, perhaps?"

"Perhaps. How difficult is it to transport a plant out of the Socialist Republic? I really wouldn't want it to be damaged on the journey home."

"I was considering seeds." Caranthir corrects.

Andrew looks up a bit sheepishly. "Oh. Well I hope there will be a variety of seeds to choose from. As far as music, whatever is popular in Xanthal will be good enough for my father."

"Hm," the elf acknowledges, but his mind has already moved on. "Botanical supply outlets are rare in Xanthal. It may be easiest to find them at a general store. Musical recordings should be available at such a location as well."

Ceilia shifts her weight slightly. "Then that should be our destination. We can conquer shopping in one fell swoop."

Andrew cocks and eyebrow. "This isn't a military manuever highness, but your enthusiasm is appreciated."

"The decision should be yours, Mister Reedie," Caranthir declares. "We can go to more specialized stores if you wish. It will take much longer, but the items you have to select from will increase."

"Well I suppose we could go to a specialized store for the seeds and then hit a popular general store for the music. I would be positive that mainstream music would be readily available there."

"Alright," Caranthir agrees. "Please wait here a moment." He walks away from them and begins speaking with a subway information officer.

The two stood off to the side waiting for Caranthir to return with tickets. Andrew tries to picture what possible plant seeds he can buy while Ceilia simply curls a loose strand of hair behind her pointed ears.

Caranthir walks back to Andrew and Ceilia. "There is a botanical shop in the southern area of the city. A route 32 train will bring us closest. Shall I lead the way?"

"By all means, please do."

They make their way through the station to another platform, where they sit and wait for their train. The digital sign over the platform is in Mirfakan, but it's easy enough for the visitors to discern that their train will arrive in about ten minutes, leaving them time to talk, if they wish to use it.

The group talks of different things and nothing at the same time. It mostly consists of small talk until the train arrives to whisk them away. They slowly fall in line with the rest of the crowd and board the car though this time lucky enough to actually aquire a seat for their comfort.

Caranthir grabs a seat next to the window while Ceilia sits next to him and Andrew sits across from them.

The ride is uneventful and relatively quick. They emerge on the street in the southern metropolitan area, which is essentially indistinguishable from the business district south of Andrew and Ceilia's temporary residence. The two of them have learned that most cities on Renku are built roughly in the shape of a target, with packed, sky-scraping downtowns in their centers, then alternating rings of commercial and residential zoning. Some cities have industrial parks taking up all or part of a ring, but on Renku, the preference seems to be that production facilities, especially particularaly large, hazardous, or dirty ones (though "dirty" by this planet's environmental standards is a relative measure), be removed from urban areas and linked to them by commuter railways.

They walk a couple of blocks, passing a number of shops and a school, before their destination comes into view. It needs no pointing out, as the only greenhouse within a hundred kilometers, but of course Caranthir informs them anyway. "That is our destination."

Andrew and Ceilia both take the greenhouse in as they approach the doors. Gardens are not unknown to the Abh as they have many in their orbiting cities. Still, it was a rare trip to the ground world and a first to say an actual greenhouse.

Andrew looks mildly excited. "Let's see what they have to offer. It looks promising."

There is a wide array of plant life growing in the building, from small flowers to bushes and trees. It is an interesting sight, but for the most part nothing they haven't seen before in one place or another since they arrived in the city. In any case, they aren't given an opportunity to look very long, as Caranthir leads them to a corner aisle where bins and packets of bulbs and seeds are stored.

Andrew still manages a brief chance to look at all the vegetation though somewhat disappointed that there was nothing that really stood out. They moved over to the seed packets and he started rummaging through them. "Hey Caranthir, do you have a favorite flower? You know, to help me get an idea what I should get my mom."

"Does your planet have any laws governing what plant life can be imported?" Caranthir asks.

Andrew stopped rummaging for a moment to think. He shook his head slightly. "No not really. Just as long as they are not controlled substances such as alcaque, opium, marijuana, and others of that nature."

"Odd. Are your people not concerned about potential damage to the biosphere?" He asks the question as he browses through the store's selection.

"I was only hoping to get a plant for her to put in a pot to place inside the window pane. There should be little interaction with other plants, if any. Our garden has been setup so that all plants are isolated from the outside world. That's how we are allowed to transport plants into our garden."

"I see," the elf replies. He picks out a small packet of seeds, labeled "nävĕ" and hands it to Andrew. "That is 'nah-veh,'" he says, accentuating the pronounciation. "It is similar to an Earth fern. It will grow in the spring and fall annually. They usually live for several cycles. The plant is native to Freeland. It should adequately serve your purpose. The instructions for planting and care are printed on the packet. Consider translating them a test of what you have learned here."

"Thanks Caranthir. This should do the trick." Andrew takes the packet and looks it over in his hands. The only thing left to do now was pay for them. He took his merchandise over to the nearest counter and presented the seeds to the clerk and waited for the total.

"Kasna Quinaulti," the clerk, a young male xanthalian, says cheerfully.

Andrew hands over his I.D. to be scanned.

"Winej." The clerk hands back the card and the packet of seeds. Caranthir stands by with a faint expression of satisfaction. "There is a small general store in this area. Would you like to shop there for a recording?"

Andrew takes his seed packet and stuffs it in a pocket and returns his I.D. to his wallet. "I suppose that would be best since it is so close by. Lead on Caranthir."

"Of course, Mister Reedie," Caranthir says theatrically, playing off the other boy. As they leave, the elf gives a concerned look to Ceilia, speaking in a soft voice that her sensitive ears can detect while remaining inaudible to Andrew. "He is spending too much time with Mark. Andrew is picking up his bad manners."

Ceilia looks puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"He is too forward, and he refers to everyone by their first name."

"Oh that. I think he is just finally starting to relax. I mean at first he never went out and the next thing you know he comes home far after I was asleep. You should have seen the mess I was looking at during breakfast." She finishes with a half smile as they start to leave.

"Hmm," Caranthir says, with an expression of disapproval.

All three walk out the door and head down towards their next destination in search for popular music in Xanthal. Ceilia looks down while they walk. "What's with the look?"

Caranthir leads them to a sizable store that resembles a Wal-Mart in configuration and in the variety of items it offers. The elf, unfamiliar with the place, heads for the electronics area.

Ceilia and Andrew both keep pace with him but Ceilia is not used to having someone ignore her questions. She keeps by his side and her tone remains low enough for no one else but Caranthir to hear. "What was the expression of disapproval for?"

"Here we are," Caranthir says, pointing ahead to a rack of CDs. Something then occurs to him, and he adds, "Is this format acceptable?"

Andrew looks over the CD rack while scratching his cheek for a moment. "I suppose this will do. Now I just need to comb through the racks and try to find a CD for a few genres. Hopefully something classical and then something more popular with people our age." He methodically begins to move through the CD selection taking time to note the authors and try to decipher the titles of songs.

With a little help from Caranthir, Andrew is able to pick out a copy of Göstäv Holst: Nähĕne and DeJa Playä: Bögä Hĕnebäl. The latter has a ridiculous-looking emerald than on the cover, plastered with absurdly large fake jewels and wearing a generic metal chain barely disguised as gold around its shoulders.

Andrew picks up both CDs and looks them over. He tries to supress a laugh with the rediculous picture of the than on the front cover. What dumbfounded the boy the most was trying to picture the than he normally saw dressed in different forms of jewelry. He looks over at Caranthir slightly. "Are there thans that normally dress like this?"

"Not that I am aware of," Caranthir says. "Rap is a childishly self-centered type of music. Nevertheless, regrettably, it is popular amongst my peers."

"Well if this is what's popular amongst your peers, then I am inclined to buy it." He checked the cover one last time with a smirk and walked over to the clerk. He laid out the items and reached back into his pocket for his I.D. while the total was brought up.

"Dek quinaulti," the clerk announces.

Andrew forks over his I.D. to pay.

As they leave the store, across the street a couple of uniformed police officers are leading a disgruntled-looking Jaffa to the corner. They sit him down on a curb, standing over him quietly, on guard but not aggressive. Caranthir notices them and nods towards one of the officers, who offers a smile in return.

Ceilia notices the slight exchange of facial gestures between the two. She looks down at Caranthir questioningly. "Is that someone you know?"

"No," he says simply. "I am only showing my respect." He continues walking down the street. "Are you returning home now?" he asks.

She simply shrugs. "I suppose so. We've accomplished what we set out to do now. Did you have something else in mind, Caranthir?"

"Not as a group activity," he answers.

Andrew clears his throat slightly. "Well I've got all that I came here for so I think I'll start heading back now if that's alright with you two. I leave the princess in your care Caranthir."

The elf looks confused. "The... I..." He looks over at Ceilia, not understanding Andrew's gesture. "What?"

Ceilia's eyebrow was halfway cocked. "I believe he took the remark about not doing anything 'as a group activity' to mean that you didn't want either of us around or just didn't want him around for whatever it is you had in mind. Personally, I don't pretend to understand humans. They all seem so complicated."

"It seems even I could use practice in my use of English," he says, looking discouraged.

It was her first genuine smile in some time. "Mistakes happen. So what is it, or was, that you had in mind?"

"I was planning on returning home to study. Remember, our history class assessment will be conducted next week."

"Then let's head back so we can prepare for the assessment. We still have the better part of the day to study so might as well make the best of it."

Caranthir looks flustered, obviously not having expected this reaction. "I am not accustomed to group study," he begins, then stops himself. "Well, perhaps we can both benefit from a combined effort. Must you retrieve any items from your house before we go to my family's apartment?"

"Perhaps it is my English that is getting bad. I was only stating that we should leave to head back to our lodgings to study unless you intended to study here."

"Oh..." Caranthir looks hopelessly lost now. It's almost funny to see the elf, usually so assertive and collected, left at a loss for words.

Ceilia lightly pats Caranthir's head with a smile. "It's alright. Come, I shall lead you home so you do not further lose yourself than you have already become."

Caranthir looks indignant. "I am quite capable of reaching home myself." He trots off towards the subway station.

Ceilia laughs quietly to herself. No need to hurt Caranthir's pride any. She calmly walks towards the subway station to get a ride back to her end of town.

OOC: Been sitting on this one too long.

IC: When Andrew arrives back at the house where he is staying, he is greeted by an unusual and more than a little alarming sight. The street in front of the property is lined with protestors, holding signs written in Mirfakan ("voyi kăs Äb," "zĕke eästi onsa wämki eäso sĭläl.") and milling about in a well-organized pattern. They talk amongst themselves in low tones, but seem to be behaving.

On the sidewalk, between them and the house, stand four KGB Länbögä in full uniform, watching diligently but not interfering. In yards and through windows all along the block, the neighbors and some passers-by amuse themselves watching the scene. Cymrik is nowhere to be seen, but the porch light is on despite it being late morning, which would seem to indicate that he is in the house. Nobody takes notice of Andrew, who is still a block away.

OOC: I'll have to see what we're doing with Ceilia and where she is. I imagine she would react rather interestingly.

IC:

Andrew hasn't exactly become proficient in Mirfak but he has learned enough about the language to know that these protestors are here because of Ceilia and himself. As plainly as he could translate, the gist of the message was the they wanted the Abh to go home.

Just as he was about to head around and try to get inside from the back, he remembered that Ceilia would be far easier to recognize as an Abh than he. Afterall, he was nothing more than an average lander. So Andrew stayed out of the way and waited for Ceilia to come home.

As the sun continues the slow climb to its zenith, the protester's numbers increase and a camera crew from a local private news station shows up. They are just beginning to set up their equipment when Ceilia arrives.

Andrew was sitting on the curb when Ceilia finally walked up. "Ceilia wait! I don't think you should go that way."

She looks slightly confused. "Why? What's wrong?" Her eyes move off to the distance towards their current dwelling. There she spots the number of protestors and the newly arrived news crew. The look of confusion is replaced by indifference. It wasn't like this is the first time she had ever experienced the protesting of Abh pressence.

"Come on let's circle around the back. They might not see us go in that way."

Her hard heels click as she walks down the street towards the front door of their home away from home. "Come on Andrew, where is your sense of adventure. Surely we won't be the fierce Abh if we hide from protestors and go sneaking in through the back door." She continues on her march towards the protestors and eventually through them.

Andrew can only sigh and shake his head wondering how he ever got into this mess. He still had his honor though and wouldn't let anything happen to the princess if he could.

As the two of them approach they are quickly spotted by one of the protesters, who alerts the others with a shout. The KGB officers tense up a bit, ready to act in case there is a confrontation. Fortunately, their concern is unwarranted. As Ceilia passes by she gets a lot of dirty looks and a few shouted insults, but nobody dares to lay a hand on her and they reach the house with no real problems. Cymrik greets them at the door, summoned there by the noise of the crowd. "Welcome back. Where did you go?"

Ceilia passes through the crowd largely indifferent and sometimes with a slight smirk on her face. Andrew follows close behind with his eyes darting from one side to the next on edge for fear that someone might strike him or worse, her.

They move inside and close the door behind them, ignoring the protestors. Ceilia finds a chair to sit down in then crosses her legs. "No where in particular. Andrew wanted a few souvenirs for his parents so we went with Caranthir to a few stores and bought a few items for his mother and father. Basically just an ordinary day. How was your day Cymrik?"

Andrew has already gone to his room to put away his few items. He peaked out the side of a window every so often to look at the protestors.

The ambassador raises his eyebrow. "I woke up, made breakfast, told the people outside that they could not march in the yard, and was reading when you came home."

"So a normal day for you then." She absently flicked a strand of long blue hair behind a pointed ear.

Andrew came out into the room that the other two were in. He was somewhat nervous. "Do you have any idea how long they plan on being out there?"

"I expect they will be gone by tomorrow," Cymrik says boredly. "I would have warned you if you hadn't left before I awoke; this is Da Eąsąkăl, Remembrance Day. By the Xanthalian calendar, it was one hundred and twenty-seven years ago today that your cousins in the greater Abh Empire took the Aellis star system, bringing about the Age of Disunion. Undiplomatic nationalists like to use this day to tout their isolationist beliefs and scapegoat our current problems on the Abh, as well as foreigners in general. Since you living here is public information, it is not surprising that some of them would sieze the opportunity to broadcast their message of hate directly to you."

Ceilia leans back comfortably in her chair and lazily closes her eyes clearly not effected by any of this. "Really? Remembrance Day? Even now our ancestors live on Andrew."

He let the curtain fall to the side covering the window again. "I wish I would have known that before we left, but at least it will only last a day."

"Right, one measely day so just try to relax Andrew. If you need anything, I'll go get it for you."

Cymrik sighs. "Well, you kids do what you want for food. I am going to finish my book." He turns and walks out of the dining room, then pokes his head back in. "Oh, that boy you go out with called. Mike or Mark or something. I told him you were not here." With that, he disappears into his bedroom.

Andrew gets up looking somewhat surprised. "Mark? I wonder what he wants..." Reedie leaves the room and makes a quick call to Mark to see what's up.

Ceilia just remains inside the room lounging back.

"Yo, Andrew!" Mark picks up. "Your house is on T.V., man!"

Andrew doesn't exactly share the same enthusiasm as Mark. "Yeah, it seems it's some sort of Rememberance Day for your nation. I guess this is an oppurtunity for some citizens to show their dislike for the Abh Empire. Hey, what channel is our house on anyways?"

"Aww," Mark chides. "Don't take it personally. It's a historical fact that Ceilia's ancestors stole the Aellis System. It's a matter of moving on. Some people just haven't; I don't know if they feel like they're paying back some debt to Old Xanthal or just looking for a way to promote their political agenda. You'll just have to deal with it and be glad you weren't sent to a less-tolerant city. Hang on." "ląnpr!" Mark's voice shouting in the background, at someone off the phone. "va netăkăl kəląl mor ab kəl?" There is a short pause, then, "Just local news; should be right there. Why, you wanna see yourself on T.V.?"

"It's not that I want to see myself on the T.V., I was just curious about what they were saying."

Andrew shouts over to Ceilia. "The local news has the demonstration on if you want to see."

He turns his attention back to Mark on the other end. "Thanks. So what do you got planned for the rest of the week?"

"School," Mark says, sounding surprised. "Big test next week, remember? Gotta be prepared. Unlike you, my continued attendance at our school requires that I do well. After all, Xanthal's got the best schools in the region!" There's an unmistakable hint of pride in that last statement. "You got something in mind?"

"Yeah I remember the test. I was thinking more along the lines of what to do on a day off. We've done everything from shopping to museums to fast food, I was hoping to see something of Xanthal that was a little more relaxing where I can just sit back and watch."

"What, you wanna veg?" Mark ponders this. "I guess you could watch a movie or a play or something. Whaddidja have in mind?"

"Uh I dunno." Andrew scratches the back of his while trying to come up with something. "Does Xanthal have a national sport or pass time that everyone goes to?"

"Baseball and soccer are the main things," Mark replies quickly. "You wanna go to a game?"

"I guess either one would be fine. We really don't have those sports on Martine so soccer or baseball would be something new for me. Which do you like best?"

"No sports? What do you do in your free time? Ah, well. I'm a wrestling fan myself, but that's illegal in Xanthal. If it's between baseball and soccer, I prefer soccer; but baseball is the favorite throughout most of the country. Depends on your personal tastes I guess. Anyway, I think professional baseball is in season in this province right now. If you want the full-blown experience, that's probably where you wanna be. I hate the big stadiums personally; hardly relaxing, if that's what you're after. The alternative is an amature or community league. You can probably see either soccer or baseball if you wanna go that way, but you'll be missing out on the sound and fury of the pro experience. But if that doesn't bother you..."

"Oh, Martine does have sports. Just not baseball or soccer." The other end of the line goes silent for some time while he mulls over his options. "Well I guess baseball then if it's popular and in season. When is the next game?"

"Beats me. You're a big boy, look it up."

Andrew chuckles. "Gee and here I thought you were a useful source of information and could help me out. Man was I wrong. Well was there anything else you wanted to pester me about other than that I'm getting my fifteen seconds of fame? You think some girl on Xanthal might think I'm hot because my house is on T.V.?"

"Maybe," Mark says thoughtfully. "Put on that suit you wore when we visited Government Square last month and grant that cute reporter girl an interview. She's a bit old, but you don't mind a woman that's got a few years on you, right?"

"Not at all. It's experience that matters, right? Maybe I'll take you up on your advice so keep watching and see if I put the moves on her."

Lafiel looks over to the side of the room to see Andrew smiling while he talks with Mark. What are those two idiots talking about now?

"I wouldn't miss it," Mark snaps back wittily. "Hey; if you decide to go to a pro baseball game with that crazy-ass allowance my tax dollars are helping pay for, get me a ticket. In fact, get one for Caranthir, too. I need to drag his ass away from those books of his before he sheds his corporeal body and becomes some sorta omnicient god. Good luck with the reporter babe!" With a definitive click, the call is ended.

Andrew hangs up the phone. Wait, how am I supposed to get tickets? "Hey Ceilia, do you know where the phone book is?"

"How am I supposed to know? Ask Cymrik."

"Nah, it wasn't that important. I was just looking for the number for the baseball stadium around here."

"Well if you want tickets then you could just ride the public transit to the stadium and purchase your tickets there."

"Oh...ok. Did you wanna come to?"

The Abriel sighes and rolls her eyes. "Do I have to help you with everything Andrew?" She gets up from her relaxed position in the chair and moves towards the door. "Do you want me to hold your hand as well?"

The two head out the door and back through the throngs of demonstrators towards the subway station.

As they walk through the streets they do get more attention than usual; whether because of their being on television or because of the nature of the holiday. It's nothing blatant, just the covert stare, looking away when Celia tries to meet their eyes, the occasional whisper between friends on the other side of the street, and other subtle actions. They also recieve a good deal more attention from the police; wherever they go, there seems to be an officer keeping a casual eye on them. Ceilia seems to be the center attraction of whatever block they pass, and not in a good way.

Ceilia and Andrew finally make their way into one of the subway cars. "Do you think you should have worn your tiara?"

"Don't be foolish. I have no intention of hiding my identity. Besides, I believe the ears and froch would still give me away no matter how I dressed."

Andrew leaned back and blew out a long sigh. "Yeah, I suppose you're right."

Their ride was fairly silent as they waited for the train to stop close to the stadium.

When they arrive the huge ampitheater is closed and apparently unoccupied. Only the ticket counter is open, staffed by what looks to be a human, except for some very odd ears where a normal person's would be: plastic and triangular, not unlike a cat's, but obviously artificial and much thicker, as though encasing something. It finishes serving a than, then welcomes them as they approach. "pąr ιəf! wą ąrki əlĭvi sĭle?"

Andrew and Ceilia walk up to the ticket booth and smile back at the clerk. "Do you think we should get a ticket for Cymrik?"

Ceilia shakes her head in disgust. "No. Why?"

"I don't. Just to be nice I guess."

"No way. Just get four tickets for you, me, Mark, and Caranthir."

Andrew turns around to the window. "Gon, kaləl."

"Please specify the language I should use when addressing you." The response is devoid of feeling, though the clerk keeps a pleasant smile pasted on his face.

Andrew looks curiously at Ceilia who only shrugs back. "Um, Galactic Standard please."

"Standard English selected. Your previous request was not recognized. Please rephrase it."

"We would like four tickets please to the next baseball game."

The clerk extends his hand. "The price is twenty quinaults."

Andrew hands the clerk his electronic card to swipe.

The clerk does so, and returns the card with a bow, handing over the tickets with his other hand. "Thank you for your patronage. Have a nice day."

Andrew collects the tickets and his card. Now it was time to head back home. They proceeded to head back towards the subway station and waited for the next car to arrive. Once it arrives, they climb back inside and take the ride back to the stop closest to their house. From their they take the long walk back.

The day of the game dawns chilly and cloudy with a steady rain saturating the island. In fact, it has been raining for three days straight, and it's only thanks to modern drainage that the lower regions of the city aren't flooded. There were even problems with the subway a couple days ago, something about clogged drains in some areas, but that was quickly resolved. Nevertheless, it is a dreary, lazy morning. Even Mark seems to be affected; the normally chipper boy acting uncharacteristically subdued. Caranthir seems to enjoy the weather, but only a friend's trained eye can tell through his stony demeanor.

They and their foreign companions stand before the stadium, appearing as four black dots from above, each sheltered beneath his or her own umbrella. The plaza is the same as it did a week ago, but does not appear nearly so welcoming as it did in the sunlight. As they draw closer to the domed building where the game will be played, they are swallowed up by the crowd of people sifting steadily inside. Caranthir takes ahold of Ceilia's hem as the mass of people flows around and past them, something that he has taken to doing whenever he is nervous about something. Mark takes note of it and smiles. He raises his voice slightly to compensate for the murmer of the crowd as he takes ahold of Andrew's arm and closes the socially polite distance between himself and the Abh princess. "That's not a bad idea. I'm sure nobody's going to get lost, but I'd like to try to stay together anyway."

The rain seems to not effect Ceilia at all as she simply has gotten use to the changes in atmospheric conditions. It's almost a surrender to the elements than enjoyment. She follows Andrew and Mark inside the stadium where the crowd of people threatens to swallow them up. The princess feels the slight tug on her dress as Caranthir takes hold but doesn't say anything.

Mark almost startles her as she was looking around the stadium. Her first time in a baseball stadium. She allows Mark to take hold of her arm, though he was probably lucky that she was already not in a decent mood having been debriefed on the rules of the game. It did not sound at all interesting to her. Her remark came back somewhat sarcastically. "Oh sure, that's the reason why you are tugging on my arm."

Andrew on the other hand is more excited as it sounds like a version of a sport he used to play back on Martine. He was never very good but it was still fun playing. Sights, sounds, and smells wash over them as they walk along and letting Mark lead the way.

"Hey, it was you who offered me your arm," Mark defends himself. "I just wanted to get closer to you. Er, walk closer. You know what I mean." He wisely decides to shut up.

As the quartet proceeds into the stands, Andrew and Ceilia get their first look at the field. It is ringed in an oval pattern by a huge stadium seating area with comfortable-looking, yet practical chairs, probably enough for at least ten thousand people; though at the current rate it seems unlikely that more than half will actually be filled for today's audience. The field itself is covered in real turf, and is virtually identical to the classic American baseball diamond. The shape of the stadium indicates that it is also used for soccer matches. Whether the roof is retractable is unclear, but it is certainly closed at the moment, and massive lights that are literally painful to look at light the huge area from the upper walls and rafters.

Unlike more "refined" entertainment venues, there seems to be no restriction on spectators talking amongst themselves here, as more and more people file in the noise level only increases. Mark takes another look at their tickets and begins marching up the stairs towards the bleachers highest and furthest back. Apparently they hadn't exactly paid for front-row seats.

The noise begins to drown out any background sound while Andrew and Ceilia follow behind Mark. The shape and size of the arena is peculiar to both foreigners and they still don't know what to quite expect from this match given the actual appearance of the field. Ceilia's ideas of sports mostly come from zero-g rooms like jousting or dodgeball.

Andrew looks back behind them as the field appears to be getting further and further away from them. "Do you think we'll be able to see anything from up there?"

Caranthir raises an eyebrow at Mark, who replies with just a tad of edge. "You'll get the idea. Anyway, that's what the big screens ar for." He points to the four gigantic televisions suspended over the field, arranged to form a box shape, each facing out in a different direction. They take their seats and wait for the game to begin.

Ceilia and Mark both take their seats. A froch isn't much good with out its appropriate port so Ceilia focuses on one of the large screens to watch the game.

The Abriel notices a few of the players start to take the field and throw a round object around. "What are they doing?"

"Warming up, I think they call it." Mark speaks hesitantly. "I mean, that ball is what they play with; some people have to throw it, some have to catch it, and others have to hit it. Since their speed and coordination are important to scoring points, they need to be at their best. Or at least, that's how I understand it. I'm pretty sure it helps them avoid muscle injuries, too."

Caranthir chimes in with a helpful summary of the rules, pointing out what he's referring to with his hands as her goes. "That is home base and that is the pitcher's mound. The pitcher throws the ball over home base, where the batter, from the opposing team, tries to hit it. If it fails three times in a row, another batter takes over. If it hits the ball within the boundaries, it must proceed as far as he can along the bases; first, second, and third. If it makes it back to home base, its team scores a point. The runner can be thwarted if tagged with the ball or if the person guarding the base it is running to recieves the ball, or if the ball is caught after it is hit and before touching the ground. If it is on a base when the play ends though, it remains there. Another batter takes over, and it can attempt to proceed further during the next play. If a batter succeeds in hitting the ball far enough to exit the field, all the people on base, including the batter himself, automatically score. Once three batters and/or runners have been removed from play, the teams switch offensive and defensive positions. This cycle repeats nine times, and then the game concludes. Of course," he adds, "there are other rules, but I believe that adequately describes the basic premise of the game."

Mark's description is only mildly useful which draws Ceilia's attention over to Caranthis. She pays close attention to the rules and goal of the game. After the explaination is finished, she looks perplexed. "What? That's all there is to the game? And your citizens find this...interesting?" She tries to phrase the question so as to not sound condenscending or sarcastic.

Caranthir's gaze narrows, challenging the princess. "I suppose you would rather watch jousting? Some of us prefer to engage in nonviolent activities during our leisure time."

Mark sighs. "Easy, killer. This is supposed to be fun, remember?"

Hardly backing down, her eyes narrow in return as she stares down at him. "I was hardly insulting your traditions here, only clarifying the interests of your people. Excuse us warriors for wanting to hone our skills before going off to a battle and it's not like anyone ever gets seriously injured in jousting."

Andrew thumps his head in his palm before looking over to Mark. "Maybe next time we'll just leave them at home?"

"Bah," Mark says with a mischevious smile. "They totally like each other. They're just too immature to deal with it."

Caranthir crosses his arms. "The day you know how I feel better than I do will never come."

"Dude, settle," Mark rolls his eyes. "Don't make me give you a time out."

"As if you could," Caranthir glares. Mark glares right back. Then Mark puts the elfin child in a headlock. "Oi! wą leutkosi!"

"sĭl prəsi tepląl!"

"yĭli, yĭlsi! trmĭni!" Mark lets his friend go. Caranthir looks disheveled, well-combed hair and pressed shirt ruffled by the exchange. He occupies himself smoothing them out as best he can while the announcer begins a long monologue in Mirfakan, presumably some sort of introduction to the game. It can't be too important, because Mark doesn't translate.

"If that's love, then I want no part of it."

Ceilia crosses her arms and legs while Mark and Caranthir tumble about. She just stares straight ahead at the field.

Mark leans closer to Andrew while Caranthir sits awkwardly between him and Ceilia. "If that boy were a decade older, he'd be head-over-heels for her. What do you think?" As he asks the question, the two teams begin to line up on the field facing one another.

Andrew looks over at the two who are sitting crossed armed and basically ignoring the pressence of the other. He looks back to Mark and shakes his head. "They do look alike but they same completely opposite. It seems like everything is dramatized with them. I mean I don't know half the time they seem the best of friends and other times it seems like they could just go at it until one of them was dead. What makes you think Caranthir would be interested in the Princess?"

"Let's just say I'm a good judge of people," he replies with a wink. Mark eyes the players on the field, raising his voice for Ceilia to hear. "We're about ten seconds from everyone in this place starting the national anthem. As foreigners you're not obliged to sing, but it's considered respectful to stand. Make of that what you will." He and Caranthir rise with the crowd as the instrumentation begins to play over the loudspeakers.

Not to be disrespectful, Ceilia and Andrew both rise with Mark and Caranthir. It was tradition, afterall, to be respectful of others' national identity. Especially an ally's. Neither one knew the words to the anthem so Andrew stood there with his hands behind his back clasped at the wrist while Ceilia saluted in typical military fashion.

While the mega screen depicts a graphic of the Xanthalian flag, everyone sings, choosing various poses: military salutes, Nazi-style raised arms, hands on hearts, visor salutes, and simple rigid posture with hands at their sides covers most of the audience. The teams adopt the latter stance. Then everyone takes their seats again and the game begins.

Ceilia and Andrew take their seats and focus in on the game, or at least the mega screens. They watch as the pitcher winds up and delivers the first few tosses of the game.

The game isn't very exciting, even for someone who likes baseball. The home team is pummeled in the first inning, after which the score is 0-5. Mark groans, leaning back and closing his eyes. "How predictable."

Caranthir has his smug face on again, which doesn't suit his young, delicate features. "Tersa is the most poorly-ranked team in its league, yet you always appear disappointed when it loses a game. Why do you insist upon... what do you call it?"

"Getting my hopes up?" Mark suggests with a raised eyebrow. Caranthir nods. Mark sighs. "I dunno. Loyalty, I guess. They are the home team."

"Its success or failure does not reflect upon or affect you in any substantial manner," the elf replies with a note of exasperation, "yet you continue to allow Tersa's performance, something which you have no control over, to influence your mood."

Mark smiles wryly. "Well, yeah. It's a matter of association. I feel a personal connection to Tersa. So when they win, it's like I'm winning. I get to share in the victory." He opens his eyes and glances over at Caranthir, who doesn't seem to be registering any of this. "Oh, forget it. You're just not the type to understand." He rises from his seat, looking down at Andrew. "Let's go hit up the concession stand. Your treat, rich boy."

Andrew was enjoying the banter between the two before he realized that he was paying for food and drinks. "Well I guess so since your hard earned tax dollars are funding this little venture. Ceilia do you want anything?"

The young princess shakes her head slowly. "No food at least. I doubt anything here is cooked suitable to a healthy diet. Just a cold drink for me. Lemonade if they have any."

Andrew nodds that he has the order then turns to Caranthir. "Caranthir? You want anything?"

"Eenoos," he replies, without hesitation.

"Of course," Mark says with a smile. "C'mon, Andrew, let's leave our pointy-eared friends to their indignation." He bounds off down the steps two at a time and leaves the stands, heading into the outer hall.

Andrew heads down the stairs after Mark. He finally catches up to him on the way to the outter wall. "Hey Mark. What are Eenoos?"

"I'm surprised you don't know," Mark clucks. "Oh, well. You've probably seen people eating it. It's a flowering plant, but when someone orders eenoos to eat, it's usually not served with the stems still attached. It's more or less Renku's answer to a salad."

"Oh, well I suppose that makes sense for someone like Caranthir to order one."

He walks alongside Mark, glancing off to the side at various people walking by or sneaking a peak at the game everyonce and a while. "So I take it the home team here doesn't win too often."

"Not for the last decade, anyway," Mark explains regretfully. "They used to be decent, but somehow along the line they've just stopped picking up good players. As for Caranthir... I have no idea how that guy stays fat with all the greens he eats. He must be eating lard whenever nobody's watching." They stop at the concession stand and look over the menu. The standard fare of nachos, hot dogs, burgers, and other junk food is complemented with a rather lengthy list of healthy choices. There's no alcohol for sale. "Get me some nachos," Mark says with a grin. "And a Diet Coke."

Andrew looks back as he is nudged forward. "You enjoy tormenting me don't you."

He patiently waits his turn before heading up to the concession stand. Muttering under his breath, god I hope you speak Galactic Standard. Looking over the menu one last time, he greets the clerk. "Hi. I'd like a thing of nachos, a diet coke, an Eenoos, a lemonade, a burger, and a coke."

Mark crosses his arms and leans against a support beam. Andrew is a good kid. He's picked up some attitude during his stay, but Mark has never liked the quiet, unassuming type anyway. It's also good to see that Andrew has gotten over his jitters being around Ceilia.

The woman doesn't speak English very well, but she seems proficient enugh to get his order right. Mark grabs his and Caranthir's orders, leaving Andrew to carry the rest as they start back around the stadium's outer hall towards their seats. "Torment? You wound me, sir. It's a simple matter of economics. That being I'm broke and you're not."

Andrew grabs Ceilia's drink and his order. "And I assume you believe that I hold the entire Empire's coffeurs in my back pocket?"

He looks around the concession stand. "Any Ketchup around here?"

Mark points with his thumb, the only finger not occupied holding something. "Hurry up, we're missing the action." He says it with a touch of sarcasm.

Andrew quickly dabbles out a bit of ketchup, mustard, and a few other condements before scurrying after Mark. "Do you come to a lot of these games?"

Mark continues the conversation as they trot along. "Eh, no. Seeing them in person isn't worth it; you can just watch 'em on the computer."

"Oh, from the way you were acting I assumed you were a big fan and came to a lot of games."

Andrew starts the long climb back up the stairs to where they are sitting. "I always thought that you were missing something when watching a game on the holonet or computer instead of being there in person."

"Well..." Mark hesitates. "That's true, but I don't wanna shell out five quinaults a week just so I can be here in person."

"I guess that is a little steep for an every week thing."

Finally making it back up the stairs, Andrew plops back down into his seat. He hands out the lemonade to Ceilia. "Here you are your Highness."

"Salad," Mark announces, plopping the dish in Caranthir's lap as carelessly as he can without causing the flower petals to fall out of the bowl. He sits down and begins devouring his nachos with gusto. Caranthir looks like he wants to say something, but instead begins munching on one of the flowers in his dish.

A very catlike neko from the visiting team makes home plate on all fours as Tersa's outfielders return the ball to the catcher just a tad too late, making the score 1-7 in the bottom of the fourth inning. Supporters cheer, but most of the stadium remains abuzz with normal conversation, mixed with a few sighs and groans.

Ceilia took her lemonade with a slight nod of thanks to Andrew. She slurps on it through the straw and looks over at Mark devouring his nachoes. With a shake of disgust, she turns her attention back to the game at hand just in time to see the four legged creature scamper across the plate.

Andrew picks up his burger and munches down on it. Ceilia looks over from the corner of her eye. "You do realize that is unhealthy and there is no telling what they put on that."

"I know exactly what's on it since I loaded it up. Ketchup, mustard, pickle, and onions from the condement stand. All very good when mixed together."

The Abriel shutters and goes back to her lemonade.

"Earth food kicks ass," Mark says through a mouthful of chips and factory-processed cheese sauce.

Her lip sneers and she rolls her eyes. "No, I think it goes straight there. The food has to clog your arteries just by looking at it."

Mark laughs, but ends up choking on his food. Coughing heavily, fragments of chip fly from his mouth. It's fortunate the seats ahead of them are unoccupied. He swallows the rest and takes a long drink, eyes watering. When he's finally recovered, he grins at Andrew. "Probably the closest thing to a fart joke you'll ever get out of the princess. Make a note of it."

"Grow up," Caranthir says crossly.

Andrew laughs with Mark but covers his food slightly while he finishes his coughing fits. Andrew nodds his head in accord with Mark's assesment.

Ceilia looks shocked and appalled at the two. "How dare you suggest that I would stoop to a level as to make a crude joke about bodily functions. The notion is absolutly absurd."

"Please princess, he meant nothing by it. Only that he was impressed that you quipped back at him with a joke of your own. That's all."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, pointy-ears," Mark replies snappily. Caranthir hangs his head in despair.

The home team wraps up with decent fielding, ending the game 2-9. As the players shake hands with their opponents and march off the field, the stands empty quickly.

Andrew stands up and stretches his back. "That was exciting. At least they held off the opposite team for the rest of the game."

Sighing, Ceilia uncrosses her legs and gets up out of her seat. "Everyone is leaving, we should do the same."

In their time in Xanthal, both Andrew and Ceilia have become acquainted, in a few cases even friendly, with natives besides their administrator-appointed guides. Walking down the hall after the end of the last class of the day one late afternoon, Andrew is joined by one such friendly acquaintance; an athletic selonian girl one grade below him and four years his junior. She has a rather unique appearance, resembling a 200-centimeter tall sea otter. Because of her fur, she also lacks clothing. She's an active and down-to-earth kind of gal, but she also seems to be a bit lonely; probably because her kind usually live in large packs, but she lives alone with her father. She goes by the name Kahnja.

Walking on all fours and looking up at Andrew with a fanged grin, she interrupts her own monologue about her accomplishments on the student swimming team to venture a question. Kahnja can speak a bit of English, but her thick accent, limited vocabulary, and bad grammar embarass her, so she usually speaks in Mirfakan. "ąbląn ălfą sĭląl vĭzi usιumąl. sĭl wąmki uk ąsti rəsi 'yĭli' mes wą ąski ĭf uk ąsti putąlosi peputąlos splăşiąl?"

"Your abh friend seems a little agile. Do you think she would say 'yes' if I asked her to join the swimming group?" Andrew's translator relays.

Andrew smiles when he sees his little friend scampering over and greets her when she falls in beside him. "That's a good question. I'm really not even sure she knows how to swim. I don't know her that well myself but you can always ask her. I doubt she will mind."

For Ceilia, despite the acquaintances she had made, there was still the fact that this was not home and this was the land world. Both facts bothered her throughout the duration of her stay but it could not be read on the emotionless Abriel's face. Still, she did try to make the best of things since this was her mission for a little longer.

When they meet up with Ceilia, Kahnja is quick with her request considering her earlier bashfulness. "Miss Abriel, can you swim?"

Ceilia had her head in the stars so the question from Kahnja startled her as she was suddenly beamed back down to earth. "Swim? Yes, I can swim. Why do you ask?"

"If it pleases you, you may join our school's swimming group. I invite you." Kahnja speaks politely, though the synthesized speech of the automatic translator makes even poetry sound a bit rough.

Besides Caranthir, Kahnja has most likely showed Ceilia the most respect during her stay in Xanthal. The politeness of the invitation touches the Abriel. She curtly bows her head in response. "I accept your invitation. When and where should I go for the swimming group?"

"Thank you for your acceptance," the furry girl replies, getting up on her hind legs and executing a convincing bow before allowing herself to fall back onto her front paws. "I am going to the meeting now. You should come to meet the group. Andrew can come, too," she adds, looking over at the human.

Ceilia looks over at Andrew and then back at Kahnja shaking her head. "There is no need for him to tag along. I imagine he has other responsibilities to attend to himself. I will accompany you to the meeting without his assistance."

Kahnja looks confused by this. When she was a pup, their burrow was ruled by a single female who directed the males, but she hasn't observed this pattern in human culture. The blue-haired lady speaking for the boy seems inappropriate by the standards she's been taught, but she just assumes Ceilia has the proper social authority. These are foreigners, after all; they have their own pecking order. "Okay. Good bye, Andrew." She flashes her fangs at Ceilia in an easygoing smile and leads the way down a side hall at a slow, waddly gait. "Andrew said you live in space stations. Do they have water for swimming there?"

Without word to Andrew, Ceilia walks easily along with Kahnja. "Yes but not only for swimming, we also use water for demonstrating to adolescents some of the ways of working in space. Water is used as a sort of training tool for getting young candidates used to the weightlessness. But we do have rather large pools for swimming. Swimming is a wonderful form of exercise."

Kahnja is perplexed, but the expression only sort of transfers in a readable way to her alien features. "If you live in space, why would you have to simulate weightlessness?"

Ceilia smiles politely. "We do live in space but all of our homes have artificial gravity so there is a sense of weight although only about a half to two-thirds of what the gravity is on your planet. For many humans that join Star Forces, being in a pool is the best way to get their feet wet on experiencing zero-gravity. It would be cruel of us to throw them in a vaccum without the proper training so we have concluded that putting recruits in pools is a safer alternative."

Kahnja isn't entirely convinced of the logic of that, but she isn't about to challenge the ever-imposing Ceilia. The two of them enter a lecture hall crowded with students. They are congregated in smaller groups, ranging from three or four to over a dozen. Ceilia catches a glimpse of Mark sitting on the podium at the front of the room, chatting with five other students gathered around him. There are other familiar faces in the crowd, but none the Princess is personally acquainted with.

Making their way to a back corner, Khanja introduces the Abh to the group sitting around on the floor there; some stretching, some just loafing. One, a portly, distinctly Asian-looking human young man, looks up and smiles at Ceilia as she approaches. The rest, two dark-skinned xanthalians, boy and girl sitting side by side, three tan xanthalians, all boys, and a pintsized miniature elf, either don't notice or deliberately ignore her. It's a reaction that Ceilia has found not uncommon since she arrived; many seem less than excited to welcome an Abh into their midst.

"Everyone," Khanja says in a squeaky, slightly-accelerated introduction that for her indicates happiness, "I brought someone with me who wants to swim with us!" One of the tan xanthalians mutters something under his breath that Ceilia can't understand. The other two smile politely. The two black ones nod, then go back to talking to one another in Mirfakan.

The human, observing this, pushes himself off the ground onto his feet. "Hey, welcome!" He walks forward a few steps, taking Ceilia's hand and shaking it. As he does so, he leans in to speak confidentially. "Don't mind them. The Sugitas are cool, they're just more interested in talking to each other than anyone else. Bokkai is sorta passive aggressive, but it's Flitch you'll have to watch out for. He likes to amuse himself at other peoples' expense." He backs off a step, bringing his voice to a normal level. "I'm Drew. Nice to meet you." Khanja beams, displaying the full length of her dangerous-looking canines.

Ceilai's gaze fell on everyone as Drew introduced them and their small quirks. She didn't look all that impressed with Flitch. There were afterall a number of individuals like them within the Empire itself. Dealing with his kind was not an extraordinary task. Still, there was the good grace that someone other than Kahnja was pleased to see her joining the swim group.

"Thank you Drew and it is nice to meet you as well."

"zəke əsti voyi?" the usəlf whines.

The tanned xanthalian that was muttering earlier looks over to reply. "vwi ləvąl kąs təp."

"wą borąl!" The little person hops up and down like a child throwing a tantrum.

The tan xanthalian stands and executes a shallow bow, introducing himself in formal fashion. "ăd wąl əsti Bokkai Yosano."

The other tan xanthalians rise and bow as well, one after the other, both going slightly lower than Yosano, but not much. "ăd wąl əsti Gyukudo Sugai."

"wą əsti Yoshii Hara."

The black xanthalians don't stand at all, throwing introductions at Ceilia during a break in their conversation. "Tomi Sugita," the girl says. "owąri Tomi."

"Ken Sugita," the boy follows. "owąri Ken."

"Flitch!" the pint-sized elf sounds off with a broad smile, jumping up and down, apparently through complaining for the moment. "hąne mĭfsąl!"

"vwi əvąl," Drew scolds. "Sorry," he says to Ceilia.

Ceilia kept up with their introductions as best she could but her Mirfakan was still not what it should be. The short elf child seems a bit energetic for the princess's taste. Apparently he would be the one that requires a constant task to keep his mind occupied. The rest seemed indifferent to her pressence except for Flitch. His comment was only partially understood.

Drew's remark was easier to decipher which made her question what Flitch had said. "Be quiet? Why? What did he say?"

"He... er... complemented you on your chest," Drew says bashfully. "You can usually just ignore Flitch; Silmeria knows he hardly ever has anything important to say. He'll try to get you worked up, but if you react you'll just encourage him."

This exchange is beyond everyone else as far as Ceilia can tell, and Khanja is quick to move them along. "sĭle əsti təpąrkąl voyi?" Everyone gives assent with a nod or a quick verbal reply. Kahnja then looks to Ceilia, apparently feeling confident enough to try a single word in English. "Ready?" It's understandable, at least.

The Abh were different then some races when it came to remarks about their bodies. Every Abh was attractive in some way having been created for life in space. Complements or criticisms did not phase them, especially when it came from someone whom they thought very low of. Her face was expressionless but something in her tone was almost mocking as she answered Drew. "In the Empire, there are punishments for such remarks. But since we are not in the Empire, let him look and I shall deal with him myself if he ever steps out of line."

Glad to be moving off with something to do instead of being on display like an exhibit, Ceilia nodded her head at Kahnja. "Ready."

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger," Andrew says defensively. "You Abh have all the attitude I've been told, don'cha?"

The sun hangs low in the west as the group sets out for the neighborhood pool, obscured by a blanket of white clouds that stretch from horizon to horizon. Kahnja takes the lead with Sugai; Ken and Tomi follow, deep in conversation. Behind them Drew and Ceilia walk together, Yosano and Hara close behind. Flitch rides on Yoshii’s shoulder.

"Nonsense. A messenger hasn't been shot in the Empire since the days before Emperor Dashnu. We are far more sympathetic these days. Now we merely imprison them and only bring them back out for our amusement. I think of this as progress from the days we use to torture them instead of use them as amusement."

Ceilia really didn't care if Drew realized she was being sarcastic. Certainly her tone didn't betray it but playing on rumors that foreigners had heard of the Abh was always an interest of hers. Perhaps a sadistic one, but fun nonetheless.

Drew frowns. "Progress, huh." He drops back to join the trailing group, leaving Ceilia to walk alone.

Satisfied with herself that yet another one had been frightened off, Ceilia was content to walk alone in the group until they reached the public pool. Afterall, if someone took a remark about an "anxious" person personally; then she saw no reason to further the conversation with them. Especially if they were easily scared off.

It only takes about fifteen minutes to reach to pool on foot. It is nothing complicated; a well-kept rectangular concrete construction 20 by 40 meters with a sloped bottom that levels off on both ends at 1 and 4 meters respectively and a walkway running around the edge. Machinery off to the side operates the pumps and filters that keep the water clean. Not far from it are showers and changing rooms for those that want to use them, though many of the patrons don't seem to mind changing out in the open, and several just swim in the nude. The place is busy now with students and workers who have finished their day. Khanja, who doesn't have clothes on anyway, just dives in. Flitch swims in the shallow end in his underwear, Ken and Tomi strip and leave their clothes in a pile on the ground before jumping in, and Yosano wades into the shallow end fully clothed. The rest of the group heads for the changing rooms.

Ceilia wasn't exactly sure what she should do at the moment. It seemed that these people had no particular code of conduct when it came to swimming attire and the Abh of the Empire were not exactly bashful about their bodies though swimming typically was done in a bathing suit. For the princess, she thought it best to at least inquire if there were any swimming suits around that she could borrow.

Seeing a few others head into changing rooms, she walked off after them to see if any were lying around.