NationStates Jolt Archive

Continued from this odd little number (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?p=2580949#2580949)

Nathicana stepped out of the Bentley, dressed in a plain but tasteful double-breasted black suit combo, in the latest Dominion cut. Taking the dark sunglasses off, and tucking them neatly into her front pocket, she walked up to the young cadet with a brilliant smile, hand extended in greeting.

"Buon giorno, il mio Cavaliere Bianco. Welcome to the Dominion. Please," she said, gesturing to the car. "For now, consider yourself off-duty, and free to ask any questions you like. I hope to make you as comfortable as possible during your stay."

She took in his bearing, his looks, his reactions, quietly weighing and measuring, as she always did, all behind a pleasant smile that she truly felt.

C/3C Bondayehr catches himself in mid-salute, barely jerking his right hand past his waist before putting back by his side. "Off duty, ma'am? Then.. ah... where do I turn these in?" He taps the large manilla envelope under his left arm. "Orders," he offers in explanation, trying not to look as confused as he inevitably is... it is a foreign head of state, after all. Damn. Every assignment, something goes squirrely. Suddenly realizing a hand has been presented, he shakes it.

"Maledi..." she begins, shaking his hand with a firm but ladylike enough grip. She coughs softly, smiling. "Terribly sorry there, afraid it has been a while. I really should remember protocol better, but when one gets so used to dealing with puffed-up diplomats and other such headaches ... bah. Enough of my excuses." Nathicana clears her throat, taking an authoritative stance, spoiled only by the grin that tugs at the corners of her mouth. "Very well then, Cadet, report in."

Bondayehr nods, comes to attention smartly, and salutes snappily, fingertips to brim of cover, forearm near his side, resulting in a sharp angle. Oddly enough, he seems more comfortable in the practiced motion. "Ma'am, Cadet Bondayehr reports to make a statement."

Nathicana returns the salute, obviously out of practice to a trained eye such as his, but not too shabbily all in all. "Proceed," she says simply.

The cadet drops his salute and untucks the envelope from under his left arm, presenting it with an economy of motion which could be misconstrued as a slight flourish... after all, isn't it normal to just pull out the envelope with the right hand? He maintains eye contact, continuing in a measured tone. "Ma'am, my orders for temporary change of station."

Nathicana nods, taking the envelope, her blue eyes focused on his. She drops her gaze only to open the envelope. "At rest, Cadet Bondayehr," she says, perusing the documents.

Bondayehr immediately puts his left foot to the side, shoulder-width from the right, and folds his hands loosely behind his back, his whole body loosening up slightly. He stays quiet, watching Nathi's actions with an innate curiosity but otherwise remaining passive.

Without looking up, the smile once again tugging at the corners of her lips, she continues to read, nodding now and then at a particular point. "Questions, Cadet?" she asks.

"Hmm." The cadet thinks momentarily. "The usual, ma'am, I suppose. Accomodations, what my duties will entail, such things."

Nathicana slides the papers back into the folder with a smile. "Well now, lets discuss those things on the drive, shall we? I have refreshments in the car, and we've plenty of time to go over them." She starts to put out her arm as she usually does, then seems to catch herself, her smile broadening for some reason or other. "Please, right this way," she says, gesturing to the car.

"Yes, ma'am," Bondayehr responds instantaneously, following Nathi's lead. As she moves, he immediately locks step and falls in to her left, one pace behind.

Nathicana grins broadly while her back is to the boy. Dear lord, everything I'd expected and more. I do hope this isn't all a shock to his system. Reaching the car, she allows the driver to help her in, sliding over apppropriately, and opening the mini-bar. "Can I get you anything," she asks casually, leaving the door open for him to see the assorted bottled waters, juices, and wines, chilled and otherwise, on hand.

"Only if you'll be having anything, ma'am. They took rather good care of me on Nemapogon." He slips off his pack then slips in, closing the door behind him then affixing any safety gear he can find while holding the pack on his lap.

Nathicana snags one of the bottled waters, twisting free the cap. "Please, help yourself, Timofeyev. La mia casa è la vostra, as they say. Now, as for quarters, I thought at first you could stay in the guest house up at the villa, until you got your bearings. Will that be acceptable?"

"Yes, ma'am." The cadet cants his head. "Um... 'vostra,' ma'am? I'm working primarily off of my not-the-best Spanish, here, and it's only a hit-or-miss way of translating Italian." Remembering that part of being a good guest is accepting things from superiors when offered, he gingerly takes one of the juices (the one with the least-identifiable color) and examines the label. "Thank you, ma'am."

"More than welcome, cadet. Apologies - I often lapse. Habit of mine," she says. "Simply put, 'my house is yours'. Voi, e you, il vostro, yours ... I will try and be more mindful of that," she says with a smile, as they head into Devras.

"I'll adapt, ma'am." Bondayehr shrugs slightly as he opens the juice bottle and samples the contents. "Linguistics is a hobby, really, and I need practice anyway... so please don't put yourself out on my account, ma'am."

"Bah," she says, waving a hand dismissively. "Now, tell me about your typical schedule, boy. I'm curious how it meshes."

Bondayehr arches an eyebrow at the use of the term 'boy' but hides it under a quick tilt of his head... thank goodness for fatigue covers. "Actually, ma'am, I thought that was going to be determined on this end. Studying could take up four to six hours a day, depending how these distance-learning people ply their trade. I don't really know. PT should be around an hour or so a day."

"Early riser, I take it?" she says, nodding thoughtfully. "And yes, I have given consideration to your study time. I'll not have this interfere with your education."

"Yes, ma'am, but that is of course fluid. I can wake up at whatever time is required."

"Good then. I start my exercise routine at six a.m. with a decent stretch, then a good run around the property. I see that PT is on the agenda, so I'll expect you to be joining me on that. It's the least I can do to assure both your safety while here, and that I hold up my end of the bargain."

"Yes, ma'am." Must PT with bodyguards or somesuch... makes sense. "Will it just be a run, or will other exercises be involved?"

"I have a small gym that I wrap up with, and there is a pool large enough for respectable enough laps. I won't expect you to keep up with me on things, but I will expect you to do your best and continue to push yourself, as you would back home. All these things are of course, free for your use in your off hours as well, should you want, for work or pleasure. After a decent cool down, I usually have a light breakfast, then it's time for studies. Will this be acceptable?"

"Yes, ma'am." Not about to question judgement.

"Excellent! Your duties, for now, will be light. Consider it an addition to your education. In fact, Cadet Bondayehr, you are the first foreign operative we will have had privy to the goings on of my offices, with permission at least. I'd say this is almost ... historic," she says, taking a long pull of her water. "I'll be introducing you to our own Cadet training program as well. I'm hoping you can give me some insight as to differences in procedure and the like, so long as it does not conflict with operational security of course."

"Very little in the cadet program is restricted information, ma'am, especially that known to a simple second-year like me." Bondayehr chuckles softly. "Of course, I'll respect your OPSEC as well... as you said, maybe things are different here. What are my day-to-day duties, ma'am? Other than studying, of course."

"I figured as much, but then I'm afraid I've a bit of a ... reputation, shall we say. I thought it best to set it out plain, warranted or not. I take it you were briefed a bit on the Dominion and some of the more inherent dangers?" she asks casually. "As for your duties, I will be consulting your files and observing for the first while to better judge where you will serve best. While I trust in the opinions of your superiors, I have always made it a point to make decisions based on my own experiences where I can. Your first duty will be as my personal assistant. We will expand and adapt to that as we go along."

Bondayehr nods. "What will I be tasked with as a personal assistant, ma'am? I have been briefed," he says with equal nonchalance, although it sounds practiced, "and am not overly concerned. I will remain aware."

"That will depend on the day," she says, noting the tone. "You're sharp young man, Cadet. I can see that in the way you handle yourself, and in looking over your files. I'll be frank with you. One of your tasks as you put it, will be to observe, and report the results of said observations. This is not spying, by any means. Your idealism and lack of guile can give me what few here can - a fresh view on our day to day dealings."

"Fair enough, ma'am, and thank you." Bondayehr half-grins gently, pausing for a moment. "I have to say that if someone had told me two weeks ago that I'd be here on assignment I would've thought them mad. I'm still wondering when I wake up, myself."

"I hope this is a welcome change of venue?" she asks, arching a brow. "And please, speak freely."

"Yes, ma'am. I love to travel... experience new and different cultures, that sort of thing. This is just as unexpected and just as welcome as my semester in Sakkra."

Nathicana nods, smiling. "Good ... I was half afraid this would end up more a burden than a blessing. If it ever becomes so, you will tell me, yes?" she says, with no particular emphasis on 'will'.

"Hum... depends on whatever seems to be most expedient to the feelings of the people involved at the moment, ma'am." Bondayehr chuckles. "I can adapt to most any situation, and burdens are to be expected at times. If it becomes intolerable, though, I'll be sure to speak up, ma'am."

"Grazie," she said, smiling as they pulled up to the private lot. "From here, it's a bit of a walk down to the Piazza. No worries, I've people in place, as always." Turning to him, she smiles mischievously. "Ready to go swim with the sharks, Cadet Bondayehr?"

"Well, no way to go now but through, ma'am." Bondayehr grins. "'Sides, humans have always been far more effective predators than sharks."

<<TAG>>

Long read, but definitely worth it.

<I like sharks. So, TAG.>

Having obtained the proper clearance, Treznor pilots the Reploid-built Crusader inexpertly into a three-point landing on the field. He pauses a moment to breathe a sigh of relief, probably no less than the co-pilot or his squad of bodyguards in the back.

Okay, I'll admit it. That was...rough. Dammit, I need practice. I'm no ace pilot.

After gathering himself he taxies the shuttle into the designated hanger and runs through the post-flight procedure before reaching for the buckles and freeing himself from the crash harness. "Thank you," he says to the man in the other seat still shaking his head slightly. "I know I need more work. I suppose an advanced Reploid prototype isn't exactly the best craft to learn on, but I appreciate your patience with me. I won't forget it. Now go enjoy yourself in Devras. It's a hell of a city, but watch your back and keep your identification with you at all times. Just wearing your uniform should make most trouble steer clear of you."

I'm sure las Familias remember the last time they tried to tangle with me, anyway.

"Thank you, Majesty," the man says, bowing his head.

Treznor cracks the hatch of the cockpit and steps out to his half-dozen bodyguards. "All right, boys and girls. I'm ready to go. After you?"

The leader of the bodyguards makes his way to the airlock and checks readings on the outside before opening up. The others file out quietly behind him, rifles at the ready. After declaring "all clear" they file up in two columns as an honour escort for Treznor to exit the shuttle.

For all that I've needed them in the past, I don't think I'll ever get used to this obnoxiousness. Damn the need for bodyguards!

He schools his face to impassivity as he walks through the column, and hears them fall smartly in step behind him as he makes his way out of the hanger. At least they're well-trained.

He nods politely to the driver of the limousine waiting for them. Then he stands around and tries not to look bored as his bodyguards scout the car and driver for any signs of tampering, bombs or tracking devices. Eventually he's allowed to climb in and settle comfortably as the maglev vehicle takes off smoothly and silently.

Damn, I'm in a hell of a mood. I really need this vacation. I hope Nath has her schedule cleared.

"Are you quite certain we're safe here?" the smartly-dressed man said, eyes shifting around the beautifully appointed room. He sat down in the chair offered by his host, settling in with a look of clear suspicion and doubt.

The younger man nodded, smiling confidently as he went to pour some wine. "I've had this place scanned, rechecked, and cleared constantly for bugs and monitoring devices, nevermind the white noise generators. No one will think twice of us meeting, if that's worrying you. We've had more than enough cause in the past, and it's simple enough to claim a visit for clarification of those dealings. An audit, perhaps?"

"Honestly, man. Pull yourself together. I've pulled strings myself for this, and manipulated and misdirected more than a few eyes and ears. We're as safe as anyone can be given our suspicious natures," the woman already sitting casually on the small couch said, her dark eyes flashing. "There are so many different projects in the works, so many little trails to follow, that people have begun to get sloppy. Things have been running smoothly. There is a gentle hint of complacency in the air. The time is ripe."

The older gentleman snorted lightly, accepting the offered wine with a quiet 'grazie', shooting the decidedly beautiful woman a scathing look. "I didn't get where I am today by blindly trusting, Mari." He took a slow sip, nodding in appreciation of the vintage. "Not bad, mi amico. All the same, yes ... I've noted much the same," he said, first addressing his host, then the woman.

"Now, now ... no hostile feelings here. If we unholy three are to pull this off, we need to keep a united front. That, I think, was a lot of the problem with the last attempt. They were all divided, focusing more on their individual interests than the task at hand. Mateo," he said, shaking his head, "Now there was a man who completely lost sight of what was important. So many of us knew he was out for revenge alone. I was surprised he was able to draw so many in with him." He shrugged, brushing the example of failure aside casually, sipping his wine, glancing towards the window, blinds closed, blocking what was usually a spectacular view of the marina and bay.

"So," the woman said with a sly smile. "I take it you've called us for a reason?"

Their host nods, smiling as well. "We've found someone to assist us with the project," he said, drawing it out by taking another slow sip of the wine. "A body double. Not perfect, granted, but close enough to serve our purposes for now."

This is met with looks of surprise and interest, not to mention, a flurry of questions.

"Body double?"

"I'd have thought she was too paranoid for that."

"How did you find her?"

"Can she be trusted?"

He nods and waves a hand at the onslaught, quietly sipping his wine. "True enough. She's used at least one on several occasions when she's gone out and didn't want to attract notice. This one's got her price, apparently." The man chuckled, grinning wryly. "She thinks it's nothing more than standard operations at this point. She was curious about the request coming through another source, but we gave her enough to 'forget' about the irregularity."

"And when it's done?" the woman asked.

"She will be ... removed from the equation. Simple as that. If we can buy her, others can too," the younger man said simply.

The older man nodded firmly, finishing his wine, and taking out a pack of slim, elegant cigarettes. Lighting up, ignoring the look of annoyance the woman shot him, he settled back in his chair, looking more at ease than he had earlier. "Now, as for the ministry. Has anyone run into more problem areas? I've several points of interest to report on my part."

"Pacci is a problem, but he's currently out of the country, and truth, has little power here. His main interest is science, not politics. He's savvy enough, but ..." the woman shrugs. "Still, if we can make this convincing enough, I don't think he'll make too much a nuissance of himself. The other scientists seem to hold him in fair enough regard. And you all know we need them, and Zelgado."

The others nodded, the elder interjecting. "And Ravanelli?"

Snorting derisively, the woman waved a hand. "Please. You both know she's always taken the safest route, and has never had the stomach for the more cutthroat politics. She'll go with what she's told well enough, just to avoid making waves. Far too kindhearted by half, in my opinion. Now, what have you got for us?" she finished, turning back to the older man, while their host listened carefully.

"There are some areas I've been denied direct dealings, as you may well know," he said, scowling in obvious displeasure. "All negotiations with Melkor Unchained I've not been privy to til after the fact. That will be an area for careful dealings."

The younger man's face darkened at the mention of Melkor, though he kept his silence on the matter. "And, what of the other alliance ties?" he said, cutting to the crux of their problems. "She's made far too many close friends there among foreign powers. Treznor and Zero-One I think would be the most dangerous in this, nevermind the Scolopendrans and their thrice-damned intel. I hear we had a leak last time, 'Ris. Is that true?"

She gave him an arch little look, but nodded. "And you'll note, not a damn thing came of it. I think they'll leave well enough alone. They don't have a history of meddling in the internal affairs of other nations. Not on this level at least. Still, we'll need to keep this looking tight to prevent losing our ties. I agree - those first two are our problem."

The room was quiet for a moment as each of them mulled over the facts, and their options. Unsurprisingly to the others, it was the woman who finally broke the silence.

"There's nothing more to it then. We all know the rather miraculous recovery of Emperor Treznor. Whatever method we use has to be more ... final than that, or we run a risk. Not only that, but however you look at it, he is a liability. Yes, this is outside our usual methods, but to maintain control of the situation, and ensure a minimum of meddling, he has to be removed as well." She looked at the others coldly, daring them to deny it. The older man dropped his gaze, scowling, though he nodded his head. The younger merely nodded thoughtfully.

"In fact," she said in an offhanded manner, "my sources tell me he's recently arrived. Terribly thoughtful of him, wouldn't you say?"

Brows shot up at that as well. "Then we'd best get on this," the older man said.

"Agreed," said the younger. "Strike while the iron is hot and all. Their relationship is no secret. Not with how they've been carrying on. If an 'accident' were to happen, it would make sense that both were involved. Our history of not taking part in the removal of foreign heads of state could be helpful, though it's no guarantee. Just one more spin angle for if and when we need it."

The woman nodded, then smiled. "And the new diversion she's invited up to the villa?" she asks. "Do you think the Scolopendran's won't be keeping an eye out for him as well? Surely they agreed to the ridiculous arrangement to get a man on the inside. Who better - no one pays much attention to a cadet, after all. I don't think his removal will cause much of a fuss, but it does make the carrying out a bit more touchy with the additional eyes on things."

"Then we'll have to be just that much more careful, won't we?" said the younger, his face hard and determined. "So ... the rest of the ministry will be biddable enough, are we agreed?" The others nodded, waiting for him to continue. "What of our offworld assets?"

"They are out of touch. Isolated, in fact, for the most part. The newest fleet addition would be an exception to that, but they're still in training. So long as Talethian doesn't raise a fuss, we're tight," said the woman.

"And allies and trade partners?"

"That, I believe, will depend on the nation, and on our success in keeping this believeable and blameless. We cannot afford any mistakes," said the older man. "There's a good many of them who will not be pleased at all, but there's nothing for it. We may end up nearly making the woman a saint by the end of it, but so long as it works in the end ..." he trailed off meaningfully.

"True enough," said the younger. "Ends justifies the means, after all. I can smile and let all the platitudes they like spill from my lips so long as in the end, we've achieved our goal."

Stretching, then settling back into his own chair with a smile, putting his hands behind his head.

"So ... methods. Lets hear everyone's ideas, shall we?"

The rest of the meeting was spent discussing various methods, plans, and the pros and cons of each in calm, detatched tones over a light lunch and more wine.

((Tag-ariffic!))

The day progressed well enough, she showing Cadet Bondayehr a few of the sights in passing, promising a better look when there was time. The tour of the office went as expected, everyone showing more than a little interest in the newcomer, several watching with calculating expressions, all greeting him warmly. Despite several efforts to the contrary, Nathicana kept him no further than arms length when she could, keeping a sharp eye out. When evening finally approached, they walked back to the car, her usual entourage of guards keeping a quiet, unobtrusive watch, most mingling in with the crowd.

The drive back to the villa is scenic, but relatively uneventful, and upon arrival, introductions are made of the staff, and the surprise visitor, Emperor Devon Treznor. Later, while sitting around and talking, mention is made of a recent news report concerning the auction.

Bondayehr looks decidedly uncomfortable.

"Well, it is official ... I have arrived.," she says with a wry grin. "A WN report I suppose is the pinnacle of both insult and compliment in a twisted sort of way, depending."

Nathicana taps a foot, glancing over at the cadet ...

"Sorry, ma'am. Just wanted to help... " The cadet scratches back of his neck.

She drops pretense, and winks at Timofeyev. "And ya done well, boy. Trez, now ... " She clears her throat quietly, looking over at the man in question.

"Thank you, ma'am." Bondayehr says, making sure to stay nice and out of the way.

"Tim, darling ... drop the ma'am, if you would. Makes me sound ... old or something." Nathicana chuckles

"What? You'd deny me my little entertainments? It's not like I stole them to begin with," Treznor says indignantly.

"Fair enough... I get that surprisingly often. My apologies, part of my upbringing. How am I to address you?" Bondayehr asks.

"Alright - no apologies necessary. We'll compromise. In formal situations, feel free to continue. Otherwise, just Nathi or Nathicana will be fine, good enough?" She still hoped this would be more a 'vacation' than work, but there's only so much she could legally do.

"Yes... Nathicana. *shrugs* Idle hands, so they say."

She nods and smiles in approval before turning back to Treznor with a wry grin. "For all I know, Dev, you hired the guy to steal the item to sell to the auctioneer just so you can have that public display."

"I wish I could claim the honour, but I'm afraid I didn't even think of it. Frankly, it never occurred to me that I needed to steal your panties."

Bondayehr idly pretends to be interested in some curio on a shelf as Trez talks. No need to intrude.

"Well true, as I'm certain there's more than one pair at your palace ... " she trails off, grinning.

"I'm sure my folks found 'em and had 'em drycleaned."

Nathicana snickers. "Not quite what I meant!"

Bondayehr keeps hands folded behind back, stands stiffer than looks comfortable, as Treznor crosses his legs and sips a glass of wine contentedly.

"Anyway. Would you have rather that I not be there to make sure someone more unsavoury than myself didn't walk away with them?"

"No, not at all. Timofeyev, do make yourself comfortable. And please, there's plenty to eat and drink - just ask Gianni."

"Oh, I'm fine, ma' ... " His mouth closes with barely audible click. "Hard habit to break."

She arches a brow and chuckles. "Relax. Kick your feet up. Enjoy the ambience. It -is- allowed, you know."

The cadet nods, then finds a chair and sits in it. Finding himself sitting at attention, he mutters something to himself in Arabic and relaxes into it.

"You know, I really ought to ask Shodey about those language slots," she muses.

"Hm? It was concerning me and my inherent stuffiness."

"And .. this is a problem?" she asks, trying to hide her amusement.

"In certain social situations, apparently," he says with a sheepish grin.

"Tell you what, boy ... a bit of advice, unasked for but given anyways. Take it for what you will. Never be ashamed or apologetic for who and what you are. You've permission to be as relaxed as you like. Doesn't mean you have to play it to my personal tastes, but yours," she says, grinning. "Save the 'following orders' for when it's appropriate. Do as you will otherwise, hmm?"

Treznor quirks an eyebrow at the Cadet. "One of the things you should learn is that in the Dominion, informality is often used as a cover for serious business. Lots of things are hammered out in formal settings, but when the wine comes out and the food is served, that's when the REAL work is done."

Nathi gives Devon a sidelong glace. "Yes, there is that too ..."

Bondayehr grins. "Should I be taking notes, then?"

"If you actually need notes, I'll be deeply disappointed with you." Treznor says, as Nathicana laughs softly, and taps her head with a wink.

The cadet shrugs gently. "Well, what can I say? Such things are a bit out of my experience."

Treznor laughs sharply. "The real world rarely gives you the opportunity to take notes. Learn to assimilate on the spot, and you'll go far."

"I do my best to adapt, sir." The cadet smiles, but seemingly to himself.

Nathicana takes a sip of her ice water, casting Devon's glass of wine a brief longing look, then glancing away. "I know you were briefed on some of the ... differences here. I'll tell you now, I doubt they emphasized enough."

"I've been informed that politics here are... maybe less stable than I'm used to."

She grins wryly. "As stable as they are anywhere among cutthroat, back-stabbing, political climbers."

"Alright then, so there's no need to be politically correct or overly diplomatic, I see," he observes.

"I'd beg to differ. Politics are probably far MORE stable here than you're used to. Everybody knows who's on top, and they make sure they have their asses covered. Instability comes during a regime change."

Bondayehr grins. "I'd argue that regime-change instability is the worst kind."

"Ah, there's where it gets tricky. It's all in the delivery. All in what your opponents think you have, or have on them. Presence, boy. Presence. And how to use it." She nods to Devon, eyes a bit hooded. "Yes, well, the less said about that, perhaps, the better."

"And politeness is perhaps overemphasized. Dominion politicians will smile at you like you're their best friend in the world while they stick the dagger in your back," Devon continues smoothly, to which Nathi adds, "And twist."

Bondayehr sighs. "Now, ya see, that's what I mean by instability. I'll just have to play Mr. Paranoid for a while."

Devon offers up a crooked smile. "Once you establish power in the Dominion, you're pretty much settled. It's GETTING there that's tough. It's ruthless, and ensures that only the strongest survive."

"Out of those in the office today, I'll wager I could point out at least seven with delusions of grandeur and an eye on that corner office of mine. It's simply the way of things. And Dev has it pegged, right there." She sips from her glass again, pondering.

"Mmm, I wouldn't worry about any daggers for you yet, Cadet. You're a representative of a foreign power with a lot of muscle behind it. People are going to approach you for all sorts of information and deals and save the daggers for later, once they've decided your usefulness has expired," says Treznor.

"Little do they know that a cadet really is –not- a font for information nor a conduit for deals." Beat. "I mean, really."

"At least you know you can trust us, as odd as that may sound, Tim. For a switch, I've got no ulterior motives there. But as he just said, you're already a hot topic of conversation. I saw more than one of those vultures eyeing you like their next meal. And you'd be surprised what these sons o' bitches can use for a leg up."

"Just because I'm an idealist doesn't necessarily mean that I'm an idiot. Thanks, Nathicana, I should certainly hope you're trustworthy... I am staying at your graces and what not."

Nathicana shrugs and smiles. "Given my reputation, I felt it needed to be said. No insult to yourself, boy. Even I have to be careful, and I know these people. You'll do fine, I've no worries."

"I'll do my best to keep you informed of anyone trying to... hum... use me as a tool. I don't do very well with that."

Treznor grins. "The first thing you have to do is learn to recognize it. But as Nath says, you're a bright fellow. I'm sure you'll pick it up quick."

She nods, sipping her water, and relaxing back next to Devon. "You mentioned an enjoyable semester in Sakkra," she says offhandedly. "I take it you learned quite a bit while there?"

Bondayehr grins. "That'd be an understatement."

"Enlighten me," she says with a smile.

<LOS-Communications to Devon>
{
<< Quite the boy, don't you think? [chuckle analog]

Treznor puts an arm around Nathicana and rubs her shoulder.

<< Very promising. Now if he'll just learn how to relax, he could be dangerous. [grin analog]

"I guess I've enough tricks that I don't have to reveal them all quite yet. Hmmm... what can I do... well, for starters, I can do this." The cadet leans back, closing his eyes, then slumps over in the chair.

<< Shit. Tell me that's a trick.

Treznor blinks. "Biofeedback?" Nathicana however, sits forward a bit, looking concerned.

Bondayehr appears rather unresponsive.

Nathicana gets up and walks over, checking for pulse, holding her wrist near his mouth and nose, feeling for any breathing.

<< No lifesigns at all?

Bondayehr doesn't seem to have any.

"Maledizione, Dev ... what the ..."

"Oh no. He wouldn't have the poor manners to suicide right here in your parlor," he says. Nathicana doesn't look convinced.

Bondayehr blinks and grins. "Quite right, sir." He sits up with an impish smile. "And, yes, biofeedback."

<< Not a damn one. Gods but what I wouldn't give to be able to pull that off.

Nathicana lets out a quiet sigh of relief. "Damn good thing you prefaced that a bit, boy ... how the hell?"

<< Indeed. Talk to Shodan. I bet she can clue you in.

"Just a bit of mind over matter, is all. I can essentially control my respiration, heart rate, and body temperature... among other things. The Sakkrans have quite a few interesting classes."

Nathicana arches a brow, then walks back over to sit down with Devon, nestling in close. "You make it sound simple. I'm quite sure it isn't."

<< I could ask to send cadets to train on Sakkra. Another option. You know I've been concerned about such things, but lord. Surely, with a small, controllable force, such risks would be worth the gains?

"I'm sure it's simple once you know how. It's getting to that point that's the real bitch," Treznor observes.

<< I think our ops need to learn that trick, for certain.

"These ... other things, you mentioned. At liberty to share?" Nathicana asks inquisitively.

<< You're damn straight they do. You know, I think this is actually one time I could get Jas to pay -me- for something. [laugh analog] Could you imagine the look on his face?

"None of them are state secrets, if that's what you mean. However, I've found that it's best to not reveal all one's strengths in one go."

<< [snort analog] He'd scoff and call it smoke and mirrors. Then he'd do his damnedest to learn it.

Treznor grins and toasts Bondayehr. "Good man. Never show all your cards in the first round. There's hope for you yet, Cadet." Nathicana simply nods and grins. "I told you he was sharp, Dev."

<< Slick bastard ... if anyone could wheedle it out, I'm sure he could find a way, aye.
Still ... back to the boy. I'm concerned, at least in one respect.

Bondayehr shivers slightly. "But... yes, getting to that point is rather difficult."

"Are you alright?" she asks, looking him over carefully.

The cadet smiles softly. "Train hard, train well. I'm fine."

<< Aside from him being a babe in the woods?


Nathicana snorts softly. "Gianni, antipasti, per favore. Prego," she calls back to the kitchen, giving Timoveyev another doubting look. "Well, at least we'll have something on hand for in case. I'll not have it said we lack hospitality here."

<< Aside from that. You know how, well, touchy I am about security here. But I've had a nagging worry. It wouldn't be amiss, do you think, to show him one of the escape tunnels, just in case?

"Truly appreciated. As... ah..." The cadet fumbles momentarily for a form of address. "As for what he said, it is accurate."

<< Jesus, Red. If you're worried about that, he shouldn't be here. And neither should you, for that matter. What's going on?

Nathicana grins, nudging Devon lightly in the ribs. "Don't let him put you off, boy. He may be Emperor Devon Treznor out there, but here, he's just Dev, so far as I'm concerned."

<< Nothing, really. No more than any other time. But Dev, I'm not used to looking out for someone else. Just me, here. I mean, there's the staff, but ... bah.

<< Then I repeat, he shouldn't be here. But I'm sure your allies have at least some idea of what kind of trouble he could get into here, and if they were willing to send him into the lion's den I'm sure he'll be fine.

Treznor looks wounded. "I beg your pardon. I afford you the luxury of addressing me in the familiar as a peer, but I am not only Emperor Treznor, I am the Empire of Treznor." He pauses and sets his wine glass down. "And just at this moment, the Empire needs to take a piss. Be right back."

Bondayehr grins. "Well, there ya go."

<< It seemed a good idea at the time, boy. And for chrissakes, I swear. [chuckle analog] What is with you men and always having to announce?

Nathicana chuckles, shifting over as Treznor gets up. "Watch out for that one, Timofeyev. He's a slick one," she says with obvious fondness.

<< Would you rather I just stood up and left without a word?

<< No, no ... smartass.

"Of course... and while we're on the note of forms of address... 'Tim,' please. The whole four syllables is sorta stuffy."

Nathicana grins. "Fair enough, Tim. I wasn't sure," she says, rather pleased he'd spoken up.

"Well, you're the superior in this relationship. You could call me 'hey, dumbass' and get away with it if you really wanted to; I wouldn't mind so much that I wouldn't adapt."

She covers her mouth, resisting laughing out loud at that one. "God damn, boy ... are you sure we can't keep you?" she asks with a broad grin.

"Depends how long the orders read..." He winks. "...ma'am."

"That it does ... that it does, oh fanboy of the Dread Lady," she says with a wink of her own. "Or did I read those brief accounts wrong?"

Bondayehr grimaces momentarily, then chuckles. "Figures something I throw in as a last minute flair for the hell of it just bites back at me."

Gianni finally brings in a platter of assorted antipasto, in addition to a fresh pitcher of ice water, and a new bottle of wine, setting them down on the low table. "Grazie," she says quietly, though still smiling at the cadet. "What 'bites'? I was flattered, boy."

Bondayehr raises an eyebrow at that. "Flattered by the idle ramblings of a cadet? Gee, I didn't know I had so much influence." Grins.

Treznor returns with a sauntering step, whistling tunelessly as he enters the room. "Sorry, got lost on my way. Your architect is great at labyrinths, Nath."

Nathicana gives Trez a sharp look for no reason in particular, then relaxes as Tim speaks. "Aye, good design, this place," she says, then continues. "When surrounded by hate and fear in day to day life, Tim, a few kind words can often make more of an impression than one might think. Gods, I'm getting old and sentimental."

Bondayehr winks. "I didn't hear anything."

Nathicana grins at that. "Smart man. So Dev, anything more you think we ought to burden our young cadet's mind with for now?"

Treznor sits down and helps himself to a healthy portion of the meal. "Is Dominic still cooking for you? I swear, I have to steal that man. And no, nothing comes immediately to mind. Other than to get a good night's sleep tonight. I bet you'll need it."

She shakes her head. "He's mine, dammit. No stealing the cook." She leans over to steal some prosciutto-wrapped melon, savoring it quietly. "And aye ... he's going to be keeping up with me, tomorrow. Want to join in?"

Treznor laughs. "Oh, surely not the full workout. You'll start him light, I hope?"

Bondayehr gets an odd sinking feeling.

"Oh come on now, man. I told you about the safari. I know how they work these boys. Razak's older now, but he's in one helluva good shape. If he's any indication, Tim here will do just fine. Of course 'ease into it'. Not about to be insulting, though."

Bondayehr thinks. Razak. Mobile Infantry... and I'm Aerospace Directorate.

I'm screwed.

"Besides," she says, smiling warmly at Tim. "We've already discussed, yes? It's all good."

Bondayehr nods.

She smiles, satisfied enough with the answer, then leans over to kiss Devon's cheek. "So, do I wake you up, or let you sleep, il mio dolce Imperatore?" she asks, her tone seeming to state more than she's saying. The cadet in the meanwhile, pretends that the arm of the chair he's sitting in is extremely interesting.

"What time do we begin?" He grins in anticipation.

"Start the run at six, boy. Though I think we can handle our warm-ups independently," she says with a wink.

Treznor nods solemnly. "I'll be there with bells on."

"Excellent. Well then, perhaps, if you don't mind, I'm going to show Tim here the guest house, make sure he knows where everthing is. Labrinthe indeed," she snorts, smiling. "Shall we?" she says to the cadet, standing up gracefully.

<< I'll see -you- upstairs, boy. Bells or no, just you be ready. [grin analog]


Treznor nods to both as he swallows a mouth full of antipasto. "Good night, Cadet. If you get lost, just keep turning to the right. Might want to leave a trail of breadcrumbs, while you're at it."

<< Yes, Ma'am! You can count on me! [wink analog]

Bondayehr tears his attention away from the excruciatingly fascinating pattern of the armrest (ah, the joys of biofeedback and chi exercises), then stands up. "Of course... I'd be rather lost otherwise. Good night, sir, and I prefer to keep my hand on the left wall."

<< Hardly ... I always lose count. [wink analog]

Nathicana grins at both. "Two of them, now," she murmurs half to herself, obviously amused. She grabs the tray of food to take with her, nibbling now and then as she leads the way up to the front entry, and down the hall that leads to the outer courtyard.

Bondayehr follows along quietly, still somewhat surprised at the situation he's managed to get into this time.

"You've free run of the place while you're here, you know. No need to be asking for permission, just enjoy, hmm?" she says, walking the short distance across the brick pavers to the guesthouse across the way, it sporting its own beautiful view of the bay, and the city below.

He nods, idly taking in the view and the fresh air. "I'm rather easy to please, so all this is almost a bit much. Still, I do appreciate it... you didn't need to do all this and yet you did."

"You're my guest, Tim. It's what I do for all my guests. You're not putting anyone out, and easy to please is fine. Still," she says, seeming to hesitate as she opens the door and leads the way inside.

"Still," he says as he follows, "you didn't have to invite me as a guest either."

"Perhaps I simply wanted to. Regardless ... wanted to do something," she says with a slightly sheepish grin. "I'm certain I'm skirting the edges of paranoia again, and I've been told that if I'm worried enough about it, you shouldn't be here in the first place, but ... bah. Here." She leads him back to the end of the hall, then opens up a linen closet.

Bondayehr frowns. "If you're worried, then maybe I can help."

"I'm not worried," she insists, eyes flashing in a way that clearly states she'll not accept a challenge on that. "If, and I state firmly that I believe no such situation would require it, if something were to ever go amis, the floor panel here is removable. Tunnel leads straight ahead and down."

The cadet nods, noting the change in tone and stance. "Understood, ma'am. Always good to know emergency protocols. Again--purely just in case--rendezvous points?"

Nathicana nods firmly. "Supply cabinet in the wall of the tunnel, halfway down. Several packs with light survival gear, MRE's and the like." She hesitates, neglecting to mention the concealable weapons. "Rendezvous point is where the tunnel comes out. I'm trusting you here, boy. Not something I'm prone to doing."

Bondayehr nods with a determined look. "Understood fully, ma'am. I shan't let down that trust."

"If I thought you would, I'd not be standing here showing you this," she says with a wry grin, closing the door, then walking back to the comfortable kitchen area to set down the tray. "Truth, just want you to be able to enjoy Devras. It isn't nearly so bad as we make it out sometimes. One simply has to be prepared."

"Of course." Noting the switch back, Timofeyev relaxes. "With the grim emergency briefing out of the way, time to think of... well... less grim things." He grins sheepishly. "I sure hope that wherever I'm assigned they don't get stuck with me as morale officer."

Nathicana chuckles, again bringing a hand to her lips momentarily. "Sorry for that, and yes. Pool's back across the courtyard, up around the back of the house. Towels and everything already there. House is open, but here at least you'll have whatever privacy you need. We're all wired for 'net hookup here, and as you'd probably guessed, it is fairly secured, and monitored to a point. I think I can at least assure your emails are safe from view."

"Further along back behind this building is a trail leading to the stables, though I don't recommend riding at night. I have people watching this place, though you may or may not see them, so be aware, they're just doing their jobs. And last but not least, should you need anything, please, ask. If I'm not available, Gianni usually is, or any of the staff here. Small group, but decent enough folk."
[
The cadet grins. "Thanks for the concern, but I've nothing to hide and don't know how to ride." Chuckles. "My e-mails are all going to be boring messages to my professors, I'm afraid... and thank you for that. Still, I'm more of a 'there's the fridge, feed your own damn self' person, really."

"Well then, just you be sure to take advantage of it, eh?" she says with a smile.

"As long as I don't step on anyone's toes. I'm sorta on a seafood diet, thanks to my unfortunate lack of mass."

"All the more reason for you to take advantage of the fabled Dominion hospitality then." She winks, then turns to go. "Sleep well, Tim, when you get there. I look forward to seeing you in the morning."

"Sleep well..." He grins wryly. "Hopefully I won't disgrace myself overmuch."

"You haven't yet," she says, pausing at the door and flashing him a brilliant smile. "Given past performance, I hardly think you will."

Bondayehr grins weakly. "I'll do my best... I hate running."

"Then for the love, boy, why didn't you say so before? Sweet Jesu. As I said, no one's expecting you to keep the same pace. You do your best, that will be good enough. Now stop your worrying, get something to eat now that you don't have two wicked leaders staring you down, and get some rest." She smiles again, waves, then slips out the door.

He waves, closes the door after, then sets to foraging.

Bondayehr wanders about the guest house in a cursory inspection, getting acquainted with his new surroundings. Finding what little luggage he packed--a backpack and two suitcases of clothing--already stationed in the bedroom, he opens them up and begins unpacking. A week's worth of clothing and two sets of fatigues properly hung up later, he sets up his portcomp on the desk and quickly inserts the omniadaptor plugs into the power outlet and communications port near the desk.

Leaning back in his chair, he folds his hands behind his head and simply ponders his current situation. Apparently he was here primarily by the graces of the Dread Lady rather than for any particular Aerospace Directorate mission... so if he's supposed to relax, then relax he shall.

Pulling up his backpack and opening one side pocket, he takes out a very simple and obviously hand-crafted knife then a whetstone before slowly sharpening the blade, making sure it isn't too sharp... wouldn't do to have it be brittle. It was one of the first things he made in that survival training course last semester in Sakkra; it'd gotten him and Sshraakaa through several very tight spots back in the the Peak of Khess Mountain.

He shivers again, much like he did back in the presence of Nathi and Dev, for exactly the same reason. Damn, that was tough... especially on her. I know the chill in her bones has to be twice of mine. Replacing the knife in its crude leather scabbard, he puts it back into the side pocket. Quickly checking through his packaged survival-kit--instinct since Sakkra--he notes the bandages, field guide, his notes from class and in the field, various medicinal herbs he'd managed to acquire over time, some industrial glue, and the obligatory rope.

Whether she wishes to have it acknowledged or not, the Dread Lady is nervous. He puts the kit back into the backpack. For some reason, I'm a lot more comfortable with this around. Definitely a good idea this time, if just for that. Getting the backpack rearranged just so--enough room left for the portcomp and some extra space--he places it back beside the bed before walking into the bathroom.

One shower and changing into shorts and a Al Mahdi SADB T-shirt later, he settles onto the bed and stares at the ceiling in the darkness. Damn, this thing is soft.

Nathicana makes her way quietly back across the courtyard, rushing just a bit as she takes the stairs to the vine-covered walkway that wraps around the villa. She opens the doors to her room with a smile, slipping inside and then closing them behind her.

Treznor lies naked on the bed, a rose between his teeth. He pats the bed dramatically.

"You wicked man," she says, walking over to the bed, then sitting down on the edge. She runs a finger along his arm, grinning. "Nice touch."

He gently removes the rose from his mouth and dabs a finger at his tongue to inspect it. "Thanks, I'm glad you like it. I think I drew blood, though."

Nathi leans in and kisses him slowly, then murmurs against his lips. "Well then, what can I do to make it all better?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

She works to free herself of her clothing, all the while kissing and exploring with increasing eagerness. "I've missed you," she says simply, nestling in close as the last article is dropped without care to the floor.

Treznor strokes his hands up and down affectionately. "So what's on your mind, Red?"

"Everything ... nothing ... the usual, of course," she says with a smile. "Worried a bit if I've done the boy a favor or not, thrilled to have you here for more than a night, relieved everything seems to be running smoothly, and of course, worried on account."

"Yes, likewise, tell the truth and naturally." He leans over for a kiss. "The boy is fairly repressed, even more so than normal for Scolopendrans. You're doing him a favour, whether he realises it or not. I need this vacation more than I'd like to admit. And you aren't convinced things are running that smoothly, or that something is hiding beneath the surface." Treznor rubs Nathicana's nose gently. "Now give."

"Things have been running smoothly, Dev. Other than the usual clamor over a need to expand - and you know I'm working on that. Damn shame the Mars thing went the way it did. I had high hopes for that colony. Still," she pauses, her brow furrowing. "I can't escape the feeling that I'm missing something."

"I know. We all need to expand. Things are starting to boil in the Empire. I need Hamilton to find me a planet to colonise soon, before the pot boils over.

"My people haven't heard anything of a new threat to your rule, or I'd have told you. I promised, remember? But if you're feeling paranoid, you could always hire Jas to run an audit. He was damned good at it for me."

"Well, now that we're both in the Triumvirate ... you know we've an exploration vessel out there as well. Nothing reported back yet, and it is a joint venture under Trium direction ... still, it offers options." She nods thoughtfully, her fingertips tracing idle patterns along his chest and stomach. "I don't doubt you, mi amore. And yes, I have pondered it. I only wonder if this is a good time for it or not. If there's nothing ... gods, since when have I had problems with indecisiveness?

She sighs. "Perhaps it is time for a change. The Dominion has never been forgiving of complacency. As for the boy ... I hope you're right."

Treznor snorts quietly. "Your people aren't challenging you because they're never sure what you're doing next. If they see you running an audit, they're just as likely to think that you know something is up, and you're keeping them honest while flushing out the dissidents. But frankly, I agree. The Dominion could use a little stirring. I can make a few suggestions on replacements, if you like. As for the boy, he's young and impressionable. You might scar him, but it'll broaden his horizons. That can only be good for him, although if his government takes his learning seriously they'll have that much more of an edge dealing with you."

Nathicana chuckles a bit at that. "I don't think I have the Scolopendrans as snowed as some might think. You recall that last little uprising? I'm fairly certain they had a fair idea of what all went on, despite my efforts to keep it quiet. I see them as one of my strongest allies, and most potentially damaging one as well. We snagged one of their operatives in the sweep. A minor one, but the incident was telling enough," she says with a wry grin.

"The Scolopendrans are a strange lot. I have no idea how their culture breeds such complacency. And at the same time, they're surprisingly deep. If they ever acquired a taste for aggression, I'd be deeply worried. They take their idealism a little too seriously for my liking."

. "Replacements, now. Yes, I'd be interested in hearing your take on that. As for Jas, I can contact him tomorrow. He's always been more than happy to take my money."

"Ah, the mark of a true mercenary. Do anything for the right price. But at the same time he's strangely loyal. Personally, I think he's sweet on you."

Nathicana nods at his thoughts on the Scolopendrans, nestling closer. "I've no doubt, however, that that very quality is what's allowed us to continue on as good allies. Besides, I rather get the impression that my connections benefit them as well. Whatever else they may or may not be, they're far from stupid." She gives him a sly little look and grins at that last. "Why, whatever would make you say that?"

Treznor strokes a finger along Nathicana's hip. "Because loyalty in a mercenary is like ice cream in a fish. Gods only know how it got there or why."

She shivers a little, her grin increasing. "He's loyal so far as my accounts are full. I've given him steady work, after all. I suppose the time I served under him counts for something as well," she says with a little shrug. "We did have some good times, there."

"Bah. He's sweet on you." He nods knowingly. "I think if he were a little younger, I'd have a fight on my hands."

Nathicana laughs out loud hearing that, her hand moving quickly to cover her lips, eyes mischievous. "If you say so," she says with a secretive smile. "And if so, would you defend your claim? You've certainly worked hard enough for it."

He grins and leans forward again. "I've worked this long for it. I'd kill to keep it." He kisses her deeply.

"Mmm ... good answer," she says once she catches her breath, positioning herself rather boldly.

Treznor grins as he takes advantage of the offer. "And an honest one. I'm never going away. You can count on that."

"Even better," she murmurs, settling in with a passionate kiss.

Kicking back in his chair, the rough-looking man with a wicked scar running across his right brow and cheek, put his feet up on the edge of the desk, and casually lit his cigarette. Soon the unmistakable scent of cloves filled the air … much to the annoyance of the dark-haired woman behind the desk.

"So, you’ve got a job for us, do you?" the older man says through the haze of smoke he lets tumble from his mouth, the corners of his mouth turned up in what could be considered a smirk.

"You wouldn’t have come if I didn’t," said the woman, taking a moment to straighten a stack of papers with an irritated tap-tap-tap against her desk. "We need people to keep an eye on the situation in Lavenrunz. This would be a mission that requires stealth, and a delicate touch. Can you handle it?"

He snorts, a stream of curling smoke flowing from his nostrils. "Y’know damn well we can handle it, or you’d not have called," he retorts with a wry grin. "How long we lookin’ here?"

"A minimum of three months. It’s going to take time to gather information. We want this quiet, slow, and careful, unless you run into something that needs immediate attention. You’ll report to me directly, no action to be taken other than what’s required to keep your cover, and what instructions we give you. It’s probably not going to be one of the more thrilling jobs, but we need the best on this – and you’re it."

The man gives her a steady look, not answering at first as he takes another long pull at his cigarette, then tilts his head up and slowly breathes out.

"Lets hear what sort o’ lucre we’re talking here. It ain’t all about flyin’ bullets, and death-defying antics. ‘S not the damned movies after all."

Smiling, she nods. "First off, we’ll be covering your travelling expenses …"

Upstairs
Nathicana slides out of bed, stretches, then snags the covers off with a flick of her wrist. "Come on, Dev. You said you'd join us. I'll not have that boy thinking we're slackers."

Treznor pauses for a moment, then his arm flops over, seeking the covers. A short time later his eyes open and he looks around. "Morning already? What time is it?"

"Five-thirty," she says, stifling a yawn. "Damn, I never do manage to sleep long enough when you're around," she says with a grin. "Not that I'm complaining, mind."

"You're kidding. We've only been asleep a couple of hours." He stretches and yawns. Then he sits up. "But I suppose we must make a good impression on the Junior Space Cadet."

Guesthouse
Meanwhile, the cadet's alarm on the portcomp goes off quite loudly. He blinks, stays still for about two seconds, then leaps out of bed and across the room to turn it off. He then folds up the blanket back in order and starts some pushups.

About a minute and a half of pushups later: Well, there's fourty-two... fourty-three... fourty-four... fourty-five. Good effort for today. The cadet sits down, stretches out his arms, then hooks his feet under the bed to start situps.

Upstairs
"No, I'm not kidding. I promised I'd keep him to his studies, and this is part of it. Damned if I'm going to go back on that," she says, walking over to her dresser, taking out a band and pulling her hair back into a loose braid. "We've got time enough to get set, warm up, and meet him down in the courtyard. Prego, boy."

Treznor sighs and flops back onto the bed. "All right, I'm up. so c'mere and we'll warm up. Shall we start with stretching?"

Nathicana casts an impish grin over her shoulder at him. "That is the wisest choice," she says, walking over and leaning down to kiss him.

Treznor returns the kiss and loses all thoughts of stretching first.

Guesthouse
Two more minutes finds the cadet up and about after sixty situps. Canteen... water... towel... time... Twenty-some-odd minutes to go. Lessee... five minutes to get there... might as well be on the bounce and show up early. After stretching out his arms and abs, he takes a sip of water from his canteen, refills it at the sink, then tucks in his shirt. Yay for the sleep uniform essentially being PTs. Putting the canteen onto his fatigues web-belt and snapping that around his waist, he opens the door and steps out.

Upstairs
Nathicana relaxes for a moment, enjoying ... then shakes her head, pulling back. "Now, signore, or so help me, I'll get the ice." She winks nonetheless, and goes to slip into her usual workout ensemble of loose jogging pants and a tank, sitting back on the edge of the bed to slide on her running shoes.

Treznor sighs and pulls himself to an upright position. Then he stands and yawns again, stretching side to side, then back to front. "All right, I'm up. I don't suppose there's any juice before we start?"

"You know where the kitchen is," she says, beginning her own set of stretching. "Help yourself. Dominic will have a proper breakfast laid out afterwards."

"Oh, and do snag a couple bottles from the fridge, if you would," she says as an afterthought.

Courtyard
Timofeyev shows up to the aforementioned meet-up location fifteen minutes early--ten minutes early is considered on-time in the Aerospace Directorate--and looks around.

The courtyard most likely looks rather different in the early morning light. Trees, flowers, and shrubs grow in and around all in a carefully mixed manner, leaving the view open to the bay, and city below. Lights are on up at the villa, and it seems folks are up and about.

Timofeyev notes the details of the area out of habit and then gets to leg stretches, counting to himself. Calf stretches, toe touches, various others, each beginning with the left leg. A count of ten, then switch to the right with a softly muttered "change over."

Upstairs, then …
Treznor dresses in soft shorts and cotton shirt before slipping on a pair of high traction slippers and snags a trio of plastic bottles on his way out the door. Nathicana meanwhile grabs some towels from the bathroom, and heads down the back stairs to the courtyard, smiling brightly at the cadet already waiting there. "Tim," she says in greeting. "I hope you slept well?"

Timofeyev sits on the ground, knees out and feet together, pulled in close to him as he mutters to himself. "Nine... ten... a stretched groin is a happy groin, two, si--" His brain registers Nathi's presence and he looks up. "Quite well... bed's a bit soft, but I managed."

Nathicana hides her amusement at the quietly muttered words, putting a foot up on one of the benches and stretching a bit more. "We could always have a firmer one brought in," she says. "I'm afraid the guesthouse has been set up more for those used to a bit of pampering."

Treznor strolls onto the courtyard with bottles and towel. "Speak of the Devil, and he shall appear. Catch." He tosses one to Nathicana, then gestures toward Timofeyev.

"No need." The cadet gets up and brushes himself off. "I notice there's a nice couch in there; if need be I'll move to that. How'd you manage?" By his tone, the word 'sleep' was avoided for a reason.

Treznor shrugs and sets his burdens aside as he goes through his stretching routine.

Nathicana snags the bottle out of the air, careful to use some restraint. "Grazie, Dev. And Tim, trust me, it'd be no bother at all." She grins at that last however. "Oh, I'd say I managed fine. You, Imperatore?"

Treznor yawns dramatically. "Kind of restless, actually. Took me too long to get settled. But I'll survive."

"Stop that," she says, stifling a yawn of her own, rolling her shoulders and neck, loosening up. "So, you boys ready?"

Timofeyev nods, looking far too bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for 0600 in the morning. "Whenever you are."

<LOS Communications - Devon>
{
<< Christ ... so help me, it's Razak and Speaker all over again. How the hell do these folks keep it up?

Treznor nods and does one last stretch before standing straight and gesturing for Nathicana to lead the way.

<< Clearly abuse. Idealists, remember? I bet the first thing they learn is "early to bed and early to rise."

"Right then." Seeing Tim has already taken care of his needs, she tosses a towel to Devon, throws hers lightly over her shoulders, and sets an easy pace down along the outer wall of the courtyard, heading back through the trees towards the stables.

<< If not for my augs, so help me, I'd have never kept up with them on that safari. Tim here ... oi. Perhaps it's not too late to save him? [wry grin analog]

Timofeyev follows along, quickly matching step not out of want but sheer habit.

<< Now now, it can't be all bad. I'm sure they put their stamina to good use.

<< [laugh analog] Good gods, man, are you suggesting I put that to the test?

<< [wink analog] I wasn't suggesting anything of the sort. But you did offer to train him, now that you mention it...

Nathicana steadily increases the pace as they pass the stables, heading into the property along the fenceline. Here, the guards that seem to be absent from the house can be seen clearly, all watching closely, stark in their black Dominion uniforms, clearly not worried about stealth or concealment. She keeps tabs on the cadet, trying to judge his limits and choose a proper pace to settle in at.

<< I don't think that was included in the curriculum, boy. Do me a favor though, eh? Keep an eye on him back there.

<< Naturally. I wouldn't be back here otherwise.

Treznor breathes heavily, keeping pace slightly behind and to the left. Timofeyev gets into about an 11-minute-a-mile pace, deciding that his old "213 meter dash" method is not so much fun.

<< You have the most damnable way of doing that, Dev.

<< Thank you. We're a team, remember?

<< I wouldn't have it any other way, mi amore.

Nathicana continues on her usual loop, glancing back now and then to check on the boys. As they near the villa again, she nods with satisfaction. Timofeyev uses mental exercises to try not to get ludicrously bored while running--the absolute worst part--but finds it easier. The loop is a lot more visually interesting than any track. Treznor gets gradually but progressively louder as the the run continues, almost gasping for breath by the end.

<< You gonna live, boy? [grin analog]

Timofeyev slings out his canteen, takes a quick small slug from it, and hands proffers it to Devon, not slowing down.

<< We done warming up yet? [wink analog]

Treznor grabs the container with a nod of thanks and takes a long, greedy gulp before handing it back. "Thanks," he mutters.

Timofeyev takes it, caps it, and puts it back on the web-belt over the small of his back. "Smaller sips will do you better in the end. Doesn't slosh around in the system."

Nathicana slows down to a more gentle pace as they make their way up the curving drive, cooling down. It occurs to her then that she ought to have had her mind a bit more on the run, and less on other things, hearing Devon labor on, and she curses quietly. Ah well. She nods in agreement. "Forgotten, have you Dev?"

<< Give me some time later, boy. I'll give you a proper workout. As for the serious side of that, I do have some things out near the stables that have served well. Much more ... sturdy than what I have in the gym.

Treznor mutters something incoherent.

<< That sounds promising.

"Are you alright?" The cadet glances over momentarily.

"Yeah. Just been spending too much time behind a desk. Consequences of running a totalitarian regime." He pauses and rests his hands on his knees. "We done here?"

<< I think my favorite is the dummy. I can't tell you how many times I've beat on that thing.

<< Excellent. It'll be good to let loose.

"Hands over your head... opens up the lungs." Timofeyev grins. "Sorry... I do this three times a week back home. Reminders become second-nature." Treznor reluctantly obeys, taking long deep breaths. Eventually he relaxes and nods. "Thanks."

Nathicana stops, and walks back to Devon with a look of concern, making note to breath more heavily than she feels a need to, taking a slow sip of her water. "We going to be ok?"

<< Yet another reason I can't help but enjoy this 'new you', regardless of the cause. [hug analog] No holding back.

<< It does make things interesting, doesn't it?

Timofeyev stands back, hands folded on top of his head, simply being alert. Treznor looks around and fetches a bottle of juice. "We shall survive." Timofeyev just grins.

"Grazie, Tim. How've you been holding up?" she asks with a smile.

"Running still sucks," he puts his hands down, his breathing very measured but still heavier than usual, "but the scenery's nice. A lot better than some track... same reason I mostly run inside my apartment building."

Treznor drains the bottle and takes another deep breath. "Okay, what's next?"

"Walk it off, hit the gym?" she says, starting back up the last bit of drive.

<< I've certainly no complaints. Just mind yourself with my equipment here. I've kept it for looks, and for guests. Don't be yanking weights through the walls or anything, hmm? [wink analog]

<< [snort analog] As if.
}

"That sounds much better."

"Hooah." The cadet nods, takes another quick slug from his canteen and then dumps a good portion over his head. Shaking out the water, he rubs his face with his towel and follows along.

Nathicana leads the way, back up the steps and into the house. Heading straight through past the dining room and into the back of the house, she turns left, flicking on the lights as she enters the room. It's a fairly nice setup, complete with treadmill, stairclimber, several different weight machines for target areas, and a set of dumbells and free weights with a bench. "Music available if desired," she says, turning on the fan at the front of the room, and gesturing towards the portable stereo sitting on a shelf in the corner. A drinking fountain is near the door, and the large windows look out onto the pool, and the view beyond.

<LOS Communications - Devon>
{
<< Dear, if I don't give you a hard time, who will?

"What's the selections?" Bondayehr immediately refills his canteen at the drinking fountain before heading towards the free weights.

<< Oh, plenty of people I'm afraid. You'd think I'd get more respect as Emperor, wouldn't you?

"Well, I've got several of my favorite classical artists, one by a local group I've taken a shine to, Method to Madness, some Trapeze Accidents, Kasuo no Tenchi, a bunch of older alternative and classic rock ... " she said, thumbing through the rack of cds. "Come to think of it, a little bit of everything, it seems."

"Eclectic is good. Your pick." Taking up twenty-pound weights, Bondayehr starts performing simple arm curls. Nathicana nods, taking out one of her dubs with a mix of several groups, all with a decidedly harder edge to them. With a wink at Treznor, she takes a station at one of the weight systems, setting the poundage, and settling in to a series of reps.

<< It's your smile. [grin analog] I'm afraid that crooked twist is more adorable than awe-inspiring.

Timofeyev idly looks over at the weight Nathi has assigned for herself She is looking straight ahead, using measured breaths as she repeatedly pulls the bar down in front of her, then back up, weights set at seventy-five. He nods to himself and sets down the twenty-pound free weights back where he found them; taking up ten-pound weights, he begins going through smooth motions resembling some sort of martial art. It isn't readily recognizable which one it is, though. Treznor observes the cadet for a bit as he works on some dumbbells. "That reminds me of Krav Maga."

<< Hmph. No respect even from my own lover.

Nathicana watches, trying to fit what sort of routine this is, and drawing a blank. "Scolopendran, or Sakkran?" she asks, right after Treznor. "Or something else entirely?"

<< And damn. There -is- something about the boy, isn't there? Now why'd you have to go and put those thoughts there earlier, dammit? You should be ashamed.

<< He's young. The best time to corrupt minds is when they're young.

"A mixture of things, really." Turns slowly on one foot, arm sweeping out in what looks like some sort of clotheslining attack, drawing a smooth arc. "Seems to work, though."

"Your own system, then?" she says, laying aside the pretense and watching with interest.

"Essentially." Simple slow jab with his left arm out and back, rolling lightly on his feet.

Nathicana gets a quiet sort of grin on her face, watching him work. "You spar much, boy?"

"That would be why it reminds me of Krav Maga. The Israelis stole everything that works for their martial art."

"I wish." Another slow turn and duck, hands coming up in a block. "I have an astroturf pell I abuse at times, but very few people are interested in sparring. Have managed it once or twice, though."

Treznor chuckles quietly. "You'll have no lack of sparring partners here. Once I'm done here, we'll see what you've been taught."

<< Bah. I wouldn't be your lover right now if I didn't respect you. If you need any reassurance, Dev, I'll happily provide. As for the boy ... please be careful with him. I'd rather he not get broken overmuch while in my care.

Bondayehr decides to ignore that sinking feeling. "Taught? Practically nothing at all."

Treznor snorts derisively. "You know something, or you wouldn't be practicing that kata."

<< I have no intention of breaking him. Maybe bruised a little, but I fully intend to raise his confidence the hard way.

"All self-taught, more imitation than knowledge." Timofeyev grins. "Action without understanding is not wisdom." Treznor nods and completes his set before moving on to the next.

<< I'm fairly confident he can handle it. Boy's got what it takes, or again, I'd not be bothering.

"Details, details ... all of which can be remedied," she says with a smile. "I do hope you boys don't plan on keeping all the fun for yourselves, though." She moves to a station designed to work the legs, again setting the weight, then getting to work with measured repetition.

"I'm open to being lightly beat up by as many people as possible," The cadet shrugs as he puts down the weights, "how else am I going to learn?"

"Something tells me you're not as easy a target as you'd like to make out," Nathi says, grinning wryly, seeming to concentrate on the task at hand.

"More like I have an extremely realistic understanding of my level of ability." Smirking, he moves to a vertical lift machine, laying down on his back after setting it to ninety pounds. "Only fight I've ever truly been in was... hum... six years ago. Double punch to my face without warning, I go down. Totally blown... didn't even get hit that hard."

Treznor shudders slightly, thinking about his latest brush with death. "Anyone can be surprised."

"Never got a return hit in." He pushes the bar up with a determined huff of breath. "That really bugs me."

"Mmm, yeah. I know the feeling."

<< Ah, insight at last.

<< What, the feelings of insecurity and low self-worth?

"And it doesn't have to be 'that hard' if you're caught just right," she says thoughtfully. Timofeyev grimaces and simply works at the machine, not replying. She watches him out of the corner of her eye, simply observing, and continues to make her rounds, ending up with the loose weights, again watching and observing without trying to be obvious. He seems to be thinking too hard to be overly cogent of the situation around him.

<< No. The determination and drive. At least one reason he pushes himself, I'll warrant. I think your reading could be off just a bit there.

Nathicana glances over at Devon, cocking a brow briefly as she switches arms. Failing to complete a repetition on the weight machine after about ten or so reps, the cadet allows the weights to clank down moderately gently, resting a moment before getting up and looking around, pondering what to do next.

<< Well, I'm of the opinion that someone made him feel small and helpless, and he hasn't shaken that image yet. Doesn't mean he's not trying.
}

"Maybe a brief cool-down?" Nathi suggests quietly. "I'm beat."

"Hmmm? Oh, okay."

Treznor sets his weights down and stands up to stretch again. "I'm ready for a little sparring. Who's up first?"

<LOS Communications - Devon>
{
Well, there's definitely more to it that one little fight however long ago. [frown analog] I am -so- not good at this sort of thing. And I'm not so sure I ought to be learning some of those 'nurturing' skills on the dear boy.

<< Gotta learn somewhere. [grin analog]

<< I will if I'm going to be ... yeah. Somewhere.

Nathicana stretches with a little grimace. "Perhaps we ought to give him a bit of demonstration, Dev? Or would you like to go in cold, Tim?" Treznor grins. "I think the demonstration can wait until after the boy gets his feet wet." Bondayehr remains quiet, doing the third element shuffle: A series of movements and stance changes scientifically proven to make the performer less noticeable, especially to people asking for volunteers. Then he gets voluntold. "Er... I suppose you don't mean the pool by that."

Treznor chuckles. "No, but we can always finish there. Probably will, if our fighting takes it usual toll."

"Outstanding." The cadet grins weakly.

"Don't worry, Tim. You'll do fine." Nathi sits down on the weight bench and sips slowly from her bottle, watching the two intently. Treznor steps out of his slippers and moves onto the mat. He does a brief kata to prepare his mind, then turns and waits.

Timofeyev ponders a response, then decides not to. He doesn't seem overly enthusiastic about the outcome. Sighing very softly to himself, he pulls up the velcro straps on his shoes and steps onto the mat in his socks. Watching a real kata being done, he feels even worse.

Treznor snorts and shakes his head. "Stop losing before you start, boy. Think of it as an education. I promise not to break anything important."

Bondayehr frowns deeper. "Yes, sir." After a quick sigh, he does his best to clear his mind with some tricks he learned in Your Body and You.

Treznor nods. "All right. Start slow. Prepare to defend." He steps forward with a pair of simple strikes at half speed.

He opens his eyes, registers the statement, then sees the incoming blows. Too tense to move quickly, he makes a 'meep' noise before stepping back to simply take the hits, hopefully without going down.

<< Damn. I was wrong, Dev. Odd he'd be so doggedly stubborn on some points, and yet on this ...

Treznor pulls the punches so they register, but don't hurt too much. Mostly they serve to push Bondayehr back. Then he settles into a ready stance once more. "Ready now?"

<< He's feeling intimidated. Not that I blame him, given his situation, but he's letting it control him. He just needs to learn to overcome those feelings.

Timofeyev feels like he's dancing. This essentially means that he's ready to jump out the window, cursing himself internally and not really finding any sort of balance. "Hardly. Still..." He raises his hands noncomittally... then seems to become more determined, whispering something to himself before shaking his head and watching Devon intently. Anyone with enhanced hearing notes the whisper to be 'Excellence in all we do'.

<< I'll leave you to it.

Treznor narrows his eyes and moves forward again, same speed and same maneuver. The cadet sidesteps to the right at half-speed, turning on his right heel, presenting his right side towards Devon to minimize target profile. He returns with a half-speed jab of his right arm, left hand still up to defend his face.

Treznor catches the jab and relaxes, smiling. "See? Not so hard. You just need more practice with live targets." He steps back again and moves into a different stance, waiting patiently.

"Not so hard at half speed and someone not looking to do harm," Bondayehr steps back, looking grim.

"No, but we've got to start somewhere, right? For someone who hasn't had any formal training as you say, you're not that bad. You just need to convince yourself." Treznor gestures for Bondayehr to attack.

"Like hell."

<< I suspect that he's also worried about the consequences of giving a foreign head of state a black eye. Literally.

<< How to properly allay that worry, do you figure?

"Cadet, part of your duty is to train. Or have you forgotten?" Nathicana asks in a firm voice. The cadet grimaces. "No, ma'am." Bondayehr quickly analyzes Devon's stance, attempting to pull up possible successful avenues of attack. Treznor scowls, standing with his right leg forward, balancing, left leg behind and facing the side, bearing all the weight, hips forward, hand well out in front. "Sometime today, Cadet."

<< The more confidence he has in himself, the more confidence he'll have in his ability to control himself. It won't happen all at once.

<< I wonder, all the same ...[/size]

"Sir, may I make a statement?"

"You may."

Timofeyev uses Devon's statement as a signal, stepping forward on his left foot to half-speed jab with his left towards Dev's stomach, raising his right arm in potential defense from any counterattack.

"Surprise is the key to airpower."

<< Why the little sneak. [chuckle analog] I love this boy already.

Treznor sweeps his right arm to catch the strike and redirect it as he comes forward onto his right foot to close the distance unexpectedly. "True."

Bondayehr leans over onto his right leg, bringing back his left hand as he covers with his right and tries to hook Dev's leg with his left foot.

Treznor leans back again to catch the hook with the arch of his foot and steps back with a smile. "Good. Now enough of this half speed. Go ahead and hit me. I promise, no recriminations for any bruises or black eyes."

"Err..." Looking over at Nathi, he steps back and sighs. "Training. Right." Bringing his hands up in the traditional pugilists stance, the thinks quickly as he cages his eyes on Devon's face. Normal instinct is to go for the face... but solar plexus can be dehabilitating and not overly harmful. Nodding internally, he steps forward on his left, feinting with his left towards Devon's face while putting his force into his right towards a point five centimeters below Devon's sternum, rolling his shoulders down at the last moment to add momentum.

Treznor shifts to the right to narrowly avoid the strike and snags the back of Timofeyev's shirt to continue the forward momentum beyond what he planned. The cadet feels a throw coming on and pushes off with his feet, throwing his shoulders towards Dev's side. If he had time to define what he was thinking, it would be easily summed up by 'if I'm going down, might as well take him too if I can.'

Treznor is caught off-guard by the shoulder and staggers back. He grins and responds with quick jabs of his fingers, seeking pressure points. Timofeyev winces--but, hell, he's sustained pain from the usual shoulder pressure point for upwards of a minute before--latching on with his arms and stabilizing with his right foot as he brings his left knee up as hard as he can. If pressure points are allowed...

Nathicana bites her lower lip, eyes tightening as she watches, though firmly not interfering. Treznor drops and sweeps as the knee comes up, then rolls away and regains his feet. Timofeyev feels his feet go from under him yet refuses to let go, falling onto his knees as Devon drops and letting go as he rolls away. Rolling on his shoulder, he gets back onto his feet as quickly as possible, rolling his shoulders to get the damned sting out.

Treznor grins. "You fight dirty, Cadet. I admire that."

"D.. sir, may I make a statement?" Bondayehr keeps his center of gravity low.

Treznor eyes him suspiciously. "Speak freely, Tim."

Bondayehr chuckles, noting the instant suspicion. "Dirty's the only way to fight, sir. If one needs to bite, one better bite deep."

"Well done." Treznor glances at Nathicana and winks.

<< Would you like to take a turn?

<< You think I should? I've a lot less finesse than you, and a piss-poor instructor.

"And, honestly, it's the only advantage I've got. Everyone expects the cadet to play nice... but, if I play nice, I get whipped."

Nathicana grins broadly, nodding. "Are you certain you've no Dominion blood in you, boy?" The cadet shrugs.

<< Hey, we all have our strengths and weaknesses. And you probably won't go for pressure points. Besides, it'll help him get over some of his awe of you, I think.

Treznor steps off the mat and slips on his shoes. "Tag."

<< Possibly.

"Now this is hardly fair." Tim snickers. "And I'm hardly one to complain about fairness."

Nathicana takes off her shoes, stands up, stretches, and shakes out her arms and legs, bouncing a bit on the balls of her feet. She rolls her shoulders a bit, and nods. "Life 'aint fair by half. And you did say you wanted more partners, yes?"

"A break inbetween would be nice... but I'll adapt." Grimacing, he rolls out his shoulders again and stretches slightly. "Did you absolutely have to hit pressure points?"

"Oh come on. I went for a little discomfort, not to disable. You'll live."

"Of course I'll live... hrm. Yes, sir. Bitching will cease, sir."

"Need a drink, Tim?" she asks, offering up a bottle.

"No, thank you." The cadet shakes his head.

"Alright then." She tosses the bottle aside, and without Devon's flair, settles into a comfortable stance, knees bent, weight on the balls of her feet, leading with the left side of her body. Meeting his eyes with an unblinking stare, she motions with a brief wave of her fingertips. "Whenever you're ready."

Timofeyev doesn't look too happy with being on the offensive again, but settles into a low stance, slowly spiraling his way in by sidestepping to the right.

Nathicana responds with a careful cross-step, keeping her eyes on him. "Just another opponent, cadet. No more, no less," she says quietly.

<< Typical introvert. More comfortable with defence than attack.

<< [nod analog] We'll see how this goes.

"No argument there... but we've already made it understood I'm not used to opponents, ma'am." Getting within striking distance, he suddenly thinks of something and pauses, far too much weight on his leading leg. "What speed are we working at?"

<< He's trying to lead me. Not going to buy it. Boy's gotta learn to take the offensive sometime.

<< It's just the first day. You can always spank him for it. Your augments are no secret, after all.

"Whatever speed you're comfortable with," she says with a wry grin. "I'll adapt, just as you keep assuring me you will." She ignores the obvious opening he's giving her, and deftly moves back out of striking distance. "Now, quit stalling, and hit me."

<< I'll give him once.

"Some might think that you two are into pain or something, how you keep egging me on to hit you," Bondayehr scoffs, and deciding that if deft moves are the order of the day, might as well go for it... 'sides, starting at full blast means he can stop sooner, more like. Stepping forward with his left leg, he swings around with his right, keeping his left on the defensive as he follows through on his right foot.

Nathicana twists to the right, throwing her weight back on that foot, and stepping back with her left as she brings her left arm up to deflect his blow. She shifts her right arm in defensively, but makes no move to strike back yet. "Good, keep it coming."

Bondayehr notes that the deflecting arm seems hard--too hard--and simply pivots on it, letting his right leg swing out towards Nathi's right, hooking his right arm with Nathi's left using his elbow. His left arm goes down to balance as he pivots low on his left foot, the idea being trying to pull then release with his right arm if his leg makes contact.

Nathicana reaches out to grab the waistband of his pants, trying to pin his arm as she brings her left in and up sharply, pulling with her right and throwing her shoulders with his momentum to take him with her as she goes back onto the mat from the sweep.

Timofeyev eeps but ignores any resulting pain, loosening his right arm to make it easier to extract, rolling his hips to the right to steal the effect of Nathi's grab and also to roll onto his left knee if possible. While he's turning, he swings out his left arm towards Nathi's stomach to get a hit in edgwise as well as to turn him faster.

Nathicana takes the blow square in the chest, letting him twist out of her grip, and rolling quickly into a low stance, grinning. "Slippery devil, aren't you?"

<< Well, if they weren't a secret before, they certainly aren't now.

<< Trust me, they weren't. [wink analog]

<< Smartass. I doubt they've been much of one since Shodey's wedding. God I made an ass of myself there.

Timofeyev gets to his feet. "I try to be. Are you alright?"

"Couldn't be better. Again?" she asks, still grinning, her tone making it clear it -is- an option.

<< [shrug analog] You know why I'm keeping mine a secret.

<< I wouldn't dream of questioning your judgement on that. I did a passing fine job for a while, and so far, what little people know, or think they know, hasn't cost me that I'm aware of.

"Eh, your call. You are in charge of training... ma'am." Bondayehr grins.

"Have you pushed yourself today, Cadet?" she asks simply.
"I suppose, ma'am."

<< You've had how many assassination attempts on you since then?

<< Only the one that was of any seriousness.

Nathicana arches a brow, straightening up. "I suppose is no answer, Cadet. It's a simple matter of yes, or no, and only you can truly be the judge of that."

"True... it isn't one of the seven basic responses. Yes, ma'am."

Nathicana nods, relaxing. "Then that's good enough, wouldn't you say, Dev?"

"I'll accept that for the first day." He grins and takes a swig of water. Then he glances at the clock on the wall. "Damn, I have to make a phone call. I'll have to pick this up again tomorrow."

"Help yourself, Dev. Me, I wouldn't mind a bit of that pool. Care to join me, Tim?" she says, walking over to the fountain and getting a drink.

"Sounds good... but I'll stick to the shallow end." Bondayehr takes another slug from his canteen. Treznor tosses his towel into a clothes hamper and waves politely in farewell before jogging out of the room, and the cadet waves in response, cringing at the complaint from his shoulder. Stupid pressure point.

Nathicana looks over with a bit of concern. "Want me to look at that, Tim?" she asks, folding up her towel neatly out of habit as she walks over.

"Eh, might as well. Have always been a little more sensitive about that one since sophomore year in high school. Real fun stupid jock, right there. At least that breed is almost dead."

Nathicana winces sympathetically. "Sorry about that," she says laying her fingertips along his shoulder, lightly caressing, getting a feel for where it hurts. "I wish we could say the same here," she murmurs quietly. "Afraid there was a lot of 'beat or be beaten' from what I remember of my youth."

"That's sad to hear." The cadet reflexively tenses his shoulders, wincing slightly. "I'm not entirely sure why we seem to be so different."

Nathicana snorts softly. "Nothing sad about it - simply a fact. Wouldn't be who I am today without it, I suppose, for good or ill." She shrugs, using gentle pressure in the proper areas to help ease the pain and hopefully, help him relax. "As for different, why wouldn't we be? And is that always such a bad thing?"

"Just a cadet's poor attempt at conversation." Timofeyev closes his eyes, once again paradoxically forcing himself to relax with mental and breathing exercises.

"Nothing poor about it. Please, share your thoughts." Her touch remains gentle, though she arches a brow at his reactions, admittedly a bit confused.

"Difference is not a bad thing. It simply seems that some states are more stable than others. I honestly don't know enough about it to comment with any sort of authority, really..."

Nathicana nods thoughtfully, carefully continuing her efforts. "I would like to think that this is the most stable the Dominion has been for a long while now. Whether or not that's ego or fact would be better left to a more neutral party, I suppose. Is there anything you want to know?"

The cadet ponders for a moment. "Do you find it difficult? I'm sure it is at times; that is essentially a given. Overall, how do you feel about it?"

"It's a constant challenge," she says, eyes focused on her work. "And a constant worry. Successions here have, by nature, been decidedly violent for the past couple hundred years. I wouldn't mind seeing a change, truth be known. I'm just not certain exactly how to bring that about."

Timofeyev nods, relaxing naturally now. "Wish I could help out with that. Of course, I can't, but the concept is there." He chuckles. "Yeah, your typical goody-goody Scolopendran service ethos. Almost sad, no?"

"It would be were it not successful. As it stands, I'd say no, not sad at all. Our two cultures make an interesting dichotomy, really. Your ethos of service, and ours of self," she says, brows furrowing. "It's true enough. The motto of our nation may as well be 'what can I get out of it', though I suppose 'power, abition, and domination' work well enough as is." As she feels him relax more, she increases the pressure slowly, gently working the muscles taking care not to hurt.

"Well, not everyone back home is a starry-eyed idealist... but a lot of us do have a relatively extreme concept of civic virtue. It almost seems to make us alien to others, really... alien in mind, at least."

"Only to those who don't know any better. That gives you a decided advantage, if you think to use it, of course. I'd say people here, in comparison, would tend to underestimate you on account." She chuckles, shaking her head. "And there I go illustrating one of the differences. Always looking for the angle."

"Underestimation? That I can deal with." Bondayehr smiles.

Nathicana nods and smiles a bit herself. "Idealistic or not, it is never a bad idea to use all weapons at your disposal in dealing with an opponent, least of all those they provide you with themselves, unless of course you know them to be a trap, in which case it wasn't really a weapon to begin with." She blinks, then coughs lightly. "Sorry, have had a few things on my mind of late. I tend to ramble." She works her fingers out more, now working both sides with a gentle touch.

"Ramble all you'd like... I find it cathartic at times."

"Get me going and next I'm spouting Machiavelli, and coming up with exuses for how I run my show here," she says with a chuckle. "Let alone letting slip state secrets."

"Or not... your decision." The cadet looks carefully over his shoulder and smiles. "Thanks."

Nathicana smiles back. "More than welcome. Anywhere else hurt? I hope I didn't tweak your arm with that move."

"You didn't... that's part of the reason I loosened. I'm feeling much better now; thank you."

"Excellent. Pool's out this way, when you're up for it. I'm aware you've a relaxed attitude towards clothing in Scolopendra. Know that here at the villa at least, it isn't a problem either, and if nothing else, the pool at least is most definitely clothing optional. You let me know where your comfort level is, fair enough?" She speaks in the same manner she would about the time of day, simply seeking clarification.

Timofeyev nods. "That's good, because I forgot to pack swimtrunks. I always seem to do that, no matter how much I remind myself beforehand."

"Not to worry. Shall we?" she says nodding towards the door.

The cadet shrugs. "Can't see why not."

Nathicana chuckles for no reason in particular, leading the way out and down the hall. Padding down the short flight of stairs, she begins stripping down, neatly folding her clothes and setting them aside on one of the chairs. "Towels are there," she says, gesturing to a closed cabinet along the wall. She goes over to the outdoor shower and rinses off before getting in the pool, stepping in at the shallow end.

Bondayehr follows suit, acting as if it were the most socially normal thing in the world. Then again, given where he's from, that's not much of a stretch.

"Gianni should be bringing out breakfast," she says. "I don't know about you, but I'm starved." Relaxing her head back against the side of the pool for a moment, her curiousity again gets the better of her. "What's it like back home?"

Timofeyev cants his head slightly. "Pardon? How do you mean? I got that question a lot in Sakkra, but it seems to mean different things to different people."

"Home. Wherever you consider 'home' to be for you. I realize Scolopendra tends to be rather spread out, all things considered, so ... yes. I suppose I'm trying to get to know you outside what dry details are in your files."

He ponders for a moment. "Being a military brat, I moved around a lot, so I consider 'home' to be wherever I'm comfortable at any given moment, really. I'm not overly attached to any certain place. Still... I guess the Apartment counts. Comfortably large, good company. It's in the middle of Stonozka, which has got some nice subterr arcologies."

Nathicana nods as she listens. "Perhaps I can take you back personally," she muses. "I've always wanted to visit, after all. As much as I love Devras, it is rather nice to see new things." She turns a bit to look at him, head tilted to one side slightly. "I hope you find it comfortable enough while you're here, Tim. As we agreed before, please don't be so self-effacing that we end up making you miserable instead."

"As I agreed, I'll tell you if it gets unbearable." Timofeyev smiles gently. "Up to now, I've been and am enjoying myself thoroughly. Unwanted combat included."

"I've worried about that now and then. I make a living reading people, boy. I meant what I said about pushing you, if only to hold up my end of the bargain and help see you successful in your training. Still, my ulterior motive was to offer more enjoyment than work if I possibly could," she says with a grin.

"So the orders were your work." Bondayehr grins. "I suppose it's safe to assume you're also the 'anonymous benefactor' as well, given the evidence."

Nathicana nods, her grin broadening. "Of course. Impressed you picked up on that. I'd hoped."

"I never sent my formal form of address to the benefactor, of course having no means to contact in return. Only person involved that I sent it to was you while transferring the package." The cadet grins wider. "Gave yourself away with that one... intentional or no."

"Correct on all counts. You'd be surprised how often something seemingly obvious gets missed by folk. Thought I'd at least keep up the appearances to finish the game, though I saw no need to keep it hidden in the end. Unfair to have you be the only one out of the loop, don't you think? Being my champion and all," she says with a wink.

He shrugs. "It seemed like the right thing to do at the time."

"And you were the only one to publicly say that. Caught my eye, that did. I'm more used to folks finding a way to shoot me down, not save me - though I've finally learned there are exceptions."

"Well, there you go for Officer Traning Command. Officer and a gentleman..." He chuckles. "Well, I try, at least. It started out mostly as just a protest... sorry that it turned out to be rather expensive for you."

Nathicana grins wryly. "As I told Shodey, it was rather a markup from the six bucks I spent on them originally. Just goes to show, there's some stupid bastards out there with no sense of reality. And please, don't worry about it. Rather that than be wondering what sort of sicko was doing what with my unmentionables," she said, wrinkling her nose in distaste. "Thank you again, for that."

"I did my best to draw it out with relatively small increments. Unfortunately..." An eloquent shrug.

"Unfortunately, the world is full of idiots, and folks who can be bought," she says, shrugging. Noticing Gianni quietly setting out the contents of his tray on a table in the far corner, she smiles. "Got an appetite Tim?"

"Haven't eaten yet, and as we said last night, I should stay well fed and enjoy the hospitality."

"Damn straight you should," she says with a smile. "No need to wait for Dev. If I know him, he'll be busy for a while anyway. He knows his way well enough around here, and the staff will take good enough care of him in the meantime."

"Good. I wouldn't want to put anyone out."

Nathicana swims lazily across the pool, climbs out using one of the ladders, and retrieves a couple of soft, oversized towels from the cabinet. She wraps herself up in one and waits for Tim to join her. "Bah - told you before, you're not putting anyone out."

Bondayehr again follows suit, accepting the towel with a short bow. "Thanks. But, hey, being overly concerned is a national trait."

Nathicana snorts softly, making her way to the table, assuring Gianni that all looks fabulous. "The only possibly way you could 'put me out' as it were, would be to make me worry that you're not taking full advantage of my hospitality," she says with a mischievous grin, settling down in one of the chairs and sneaking some bacon.

"Oh dear, we can't have that." The cadet sits down and smiles at Gianni, looking at the assorted foods. "Thank you, sir."

"My pleasure," Gianni says with a short bow and a charming smile before heading back to the house. Nathi pours herself a glass of juice, then digs in, delicately, yet to the observant eye, eating far more than one might think usual for a lady her size.

"Please, help yourself, Tim. He who hesitates is lost."

Timofeyev does so with relish, simply registering Nathi's large portions as a fact without overanalyzing.

Later that day .... shall we say ...

Timofeyev wonders why the hell he's being taught aerospaceframe performance in an introductory course. Looking over his teacher's online syllabi, he finds that all the courses are essentially taught the exact same way, no matter what the title or audience.

"Oh, joy..."

Nathicana glances at the clock on her desk, and stands up from her chair with a yawn, stretching. She glances out the window towards the guesthouse and smiles. Enough work for the day, I think. Time for some relaxation. She walks back to her room, slips on a pair of comfortable hiking boots and puts her hair back in a tail. Tugging on a cap and grabbing her jacket and shades, she walks down the back stairs, comfortable in her denim capris and simple black t-shirt. She crosses the courtyard quickly, then knocks on the door. "Tim, you there?"

Bondayehr looks over at the door, then closes the top of his portcomp after saving his most recent bit of work. Getting up, he stretches in his dark blue cargo pants and charcoal-grey T-shirt with a prowling tiger on the front before sitting on the bed, slipping on his beater pair of combat boots and lacing them up. "Enter!"

Nathi opens the door, peeking her head in first before walking in, smiling. "Up for a break?"

The cadet wraps the top of his laces around his calf once, then ties them off comfortably tight and tucks the laces into his boot before working on the other one, making sure it's laced to comfortably conform to his food. "Sure. The ramblings of my aerospace professor is beginning to spin my head."

Nathicana arches a brow. "I'm not interrupting, I hope," she says, looking over curiously. "Last thing I want is to interfere with your studies. I promised, after all."

"Nope." Pull tight, wrap around, tie, and tuck in. "I just don't know when to stop, really. Started working ahead." Standing up, he smiles. "'All work and no play,' as they say?"

"Makes Tim a dull boy?" she says, grinning wryly. "We'll have to make sure that doesn't happen. Playtime and work can balance well. I'm living proof. Hell, this nation is living proof of that. Shall we?" she says, tilting her head towards the door.

"But of course," returning the grin with a bit more enthusiasm. "I mean, I did come a hundred or so million kilometers to get here; it'd be most unfair not to take advantage."

Nathi flashes him one of her brilliant smiles - the kind she uses when either truly pleased, or trying to get something. Opening up the door, she gestures grandly. "After you, my dear Cadet. Up through the house and out to the drive. Dominic is waiting with the car."

Timofeyev goes as directed, snagging a beat up hat off a table and placing it on his head as he steps out. "Heh. Just can't go out now without a cover."

She chuckles, following along behind. "When going downtown and not on duty, it's been my preference as well, come to think of it." Once they get to the car, Dominic is indeed waiting as she said. He opens the door to the Bentley with a courteous smile and a friendly "Boun giorno," waiting til they get settled, assisting as needed.

Tim responds with a chipper 'thank you' to the driver as he settles in, again getting properly situated and secured.

Nathi gestures to the mini-fridge. "As always, at your disposal," she says, leaning down to get a bottled water for herself, pausing to see if he wants anything with a questioning look.

Timofeyev experiments with a different fruit juice he can't identify this time. For some reason, he just likes trying odd stuff. "Thank you."

"More than welcome." She pauses, taking a quick drink. "There - we should have a nice view now and then as we drive," she says, pointing out to a glimpse of the city and bay through the trees as they pull onto the winding road that leads down.

The cadet appreciates the view, sipping idly from his juice bottle. "Well... it's something citrus. I still don't know what it is. Very nice countryside... quite a bit nicer than topside back home, that's for sure."

"Oh, the juice?" she says, blinking. "Afraid I seldom think much of it. That one there I think is a tangerine blend of sorts." She settles back comfortably against the seat, crossing her ankles and stretching out. "Grazie - I've always loved the view from here. So tell me, what's it like where you live?"

"Mostly I live along the upper subterr levels--the old Caves of Steel--which have large open volumes and lighting as near as possible to Terrestrial standard to keep away that 'claustrophobic' feeling. Lots of greenery and agro-arcos... er... hydroponic-farm arcologies... so it's a decent place. Pressure's more comfortable than topside, which will always probably be on the light side. Topside isn't as 'barren' as it's made out to be; it's more like steppes... the Ukraine doesn't have anything on topside."

Nathicana nods, obviously working over some things as he describes. "Must be quite the engineering accomplishment, that. I don't think I've ever seen quite the like. And it doesn't bother you being under all that ... well, rock and such, however comfortable and open?"

"Well, it was built to withstand the force of igniting the methane that used to make up Titan's atmosphere." Bondayehr chuckles softly. "'Sides, if it comes crashing down, then whatever panic there is won't last long and the inevitable survivors will dig their way out, adapt, and repair. It's not something anyone really finds worrying about... and if it bugs them enough, then they either go topside or Ringside."

"You folks are the most damnably tenacious lot I think I've ever met, you know that? Seeing your people at work over in the Shogunate a while back, the experiences I've had working with some of your leaders and all ... You're an amazing group," she says, smiling. "I doubt anything would keep you down for long."

"We don't have much of a choice, really." The cadet shrugs. "What you could call 'our ancestral homeland' disappeared without a trace... and, oddly enough, part of it was around here. Not that I know about it, being colony-born, but still... we don't really have much of a physical past to fall back on. The only direction is forward."

Nathi arches a brow at that. "Around here, you say? And ... disappeared?" Nathi is clearly curious, and confused all at once. "Now there's something to look into ...

"And, isn't it hard not having such a history? I don't think my people would be the same without ours." She ponders for a moment. "Then again, perhaps that wouldn't be such a bad thing sometimes."

"Well, until you learn to look at ninety degrees to reality, you're probably not going to find anything." Bondayehr smiles slightly. "We have a history; it is simply now more real in our memories and our records than in monuments of stone. Probably the assimilation of the kzin helped a great deal with that, given their oral tradition... and, as you've broached the subject, what's your history like?"

"Long ... long and often bloody, though truth, there's much more to it than that," she says with a wry grin, still watching him intently as she files away her questions and brings her knowledge of the Dominion to the forefront. "We weren't always a united country. You go back far enough, there wasn't much organization. After that, it was a matter of warring city-states." She pauses, taking a slow sip of her water.

"Something like pre-Garibaldi Italy or the Germanic states under the Holy Roman Empire?" Bondayehr watches back curiously, interested in the subject.

Nathicana nods. "Rather like. The Catholic church has always had a strong presence here as well, though we managed not to get involved in the silly papal disputes of the day. The Inquisition however, was alive and well. Perhaps too much so. Their methodology and effects I think are felt today, in some ways." She shakes her head, moving on.

Timofeyev nods quietly, listening intently.

"There was a period of unification during the Renaissance, and the Dominion saw a huge leap in advancement then in culture, as with many other nations of the day. We've always prided ourselves in our culture, our arts ... as we go through Devras today, I'm sure you'll be able to pick out many of the various influences that shaped our country over the years. Invaders, settlers, trade and the like - all have had a hand."

Bondayehr nods. "I bet it'll be fascinating... I've always been interested in that sort of thing."

Nathicana smiles. "Then I'm doubly happy to be able to show you," she says, taking another long drink. "Not everyone has an eye for such things. They see old buildings and frescos and the like and think 'hm, that's nice', never seeing past to the beauty of how it all blends together ... the richness of the culture that's spawned it all." She gets a content, sort of faraway look in her eyes as she speaks, then blinks, blushing slightly.

"Perdone mia - I tend to ramble on, I'm afraid."

"Odd, you've mentioned that before." The cadet smiles warmly. "Wasn't a problem then, isn't a problem now. Please go ahead."

They reach the outskirts of the new city, the buildings here a modern reflection of the architecture and feel of the older part. She chuckles softly, shaking her head. "You are far too kind, Tim. As you wish. I suppose it was a matter of course, given the hardline rule of the church and that of the Doges, and subsequent leaders, that a dictatorship became the style of choice for rule in the Dominion."

"Replacing a religious totalitarian state with a secular one?" Bondayehr pauses for a moment, then blushes slightly. "No offense. Just... how I analysed it."

Nathicana pauses again to sip at her drink. "Given our colorful and varied past, that is the very reason the Dominion was chosen for a name, to encompass all the many groups and heritages that made up the nation. Power was gained by those able to take it, and those unable to hold, were thrown down. It has been that way for the past hundred and fifty years or so. As for the church, it grew weak, and was rife with corruption. It was simple enough to topple."

"Each new leader has either taken or been given a title at their ascendance to power, and that title has in some way been connected with the Dominion for the length of their rule. Transitory, yes, but it has served a purpose."

"I see... but what keeps battles for succession small enough that they don't impact the nation as a whole? Again--just curious--what keeps the various political blocs in the Dominion from balkanizing... or is it more of a sense of apathy among the average citizen, which forces potential new leaders to go for internal government intrigue?"

Nathi chuckles softly. "It is not in our best interest to shake up the entire nation. History has shown us this. We rule here by strength, intimidation, and no small amount of awe. Those in positions of power are all working both to keep the nation prosperous and stable, and to get themselves a bigger share of the power. Given that, there isn't a lot of trust among the various 'factions'. We work keep our citizens employed, happy, and successful. Those who involve themselves in politcs know the score. Those who don't tend to be working other angles. There are many, many aspects of this nation that would be ... difficult to lay out properly. Ordered chaos, I sometimes call it. It isn't perfect, but as you can see, it has managed to work for us."

"Well, it is a different form of government than I'm used to..." The cadet shrugs, smiling gently. "But, as you say, it works. The idealist part of me... which is rather a lot, by the way... does hope you come up with something a bit less iron-fisted sometime."

Nathicana laughs, clearly amused, though there seems to be something in her eyes that hints of something hidden. "Bah, I'd hardly call this an iron-fist, boy. Certainly, when I came to power, it was no different than my predecessors. I eliminated the competition and those who were a threat. It was necessary for stability," she says nonchalantly. "But since, we've enjoyed an expansion and a success that none had achieved before me. The populace is content, the ministry is working well together ... a far cry from some I could note. But since, we've enjoyed an expansion and a success that none had achieved before me. The populace is content, the ministry is working well together ... a far cry from some I could note." The car pulls to a stop at the same small lot it had on his arrival. The driver gets out, and waits for her signal to open the door.

"True, it's seems stable at the moment..." Bondayehr frowns. "There's just not an effective power succession or transfer. Things go well for X years, in systems like these, and then the society goes through the trauma of a power struggle. With such a break in continuity, it's difficult for any organization, from a club to a nation, to meet its potential."

Nathicana nods in agreement. "Aye, but with such a long 'tradition' and such a deeply ingrained pattern of behavior ... " she spreads her hands and shrugs. "We shall see. I've had thoughts concerning it all. I can only hope for the best, that way." She glances out the window to Dominic. "Ready for the gondola?"

Timofeyev nods. "First time for everything. Lead the way, Nathicana."

Nathicana knocks on the window, and Dominic opens the door. She slides out across the seat, accepting the offered hand, and turns to wait for her guest.

Timofeyev slides and slips out boots first, leveraging himself out as he readjusts the hat on his head. "Thank you, sir," he says as he nods to the driver, stepping back to get out of the way of the door.

Dominic responds with a nod and a smile, gently closing the door behind. "Grazie, Dom. We won't be needing you for some time, but please, keep an ear out for if Devon needs your services." The large man nods. "Of course," he says simply, getting back into the car. The canale is but a few short steps down from the lot, a red gondola already puled up to the wall.

"Steady getting in," she says, stepping lightly and accepting the hand of the gondolier. She takes a careful seat, and waits for the cadet to join her.

Bondayehr looks down at the boat, then along the length of the canal. Thinking for a moment, he steps carefully onto the gondola, balancing with his arms and being sure not to push off with his other foot as he brings it in as well. Newton's Third and all, of course. Sitting down next to Nathi, he moves with more speed and less care, but still seems to have complete control.

"Nicely done. My last guest managed to take a spill, of you can believe," she says with a smile. "Piazza San Bernardi," she says to the gondolier, who responds with a nod, pushing off with his long pole and steering them smoothly down the canal.

"It's tricky getting into small boats," Timofeyev grins, "but a simple application of high-school physics and one stays dry. 'Sides, I've always been good on boats for some reason. Decent balance, I guess." He looks around at the scenery as it passes.

Devras is, as she'd said, an eclectic mix of cultures. The architecture varies from place to place, echoing the styles of Italian Gothic mingling with high Renaissance, which flow seamlessly into Byzantine and Romanesque. No few areas show a strong Muslim influence, especially about the windows and doorways. Walkways paved in red or grey paving stones and brick seem to be the norm, though the colors of the buildings vary wildly.

Bondayehr obviously notes the Arabian flair among the doors and windows, smiling to himself. "Well, that looks familiar, for sure."

"I understand you also have a varied, rich culture in Scolopendra," she says, clearly relaxed, enjoying the views. "From discussions with both Speaker and Razak, it would seem you have been able to take many cultures, native and otherwise, and incorporate them fairly smoothly."

"It's curious how that happened, from what I know of the history of the cultures. I know from just things I've read that we're a lot different from most other historic cultures that have Islamic and Arabic pluralities."

"Sure, the old Islamic empire of the European Middle Ages was pretty open, but after Europe gained superiority it turned rather insular. It seems to have shifted back to openness during the revolutions."

Nathicana arches a brow curiously, shifting position a bit to face him more. "So tell me. How did that all come together like, from what you know? I mean, the lack of a nudity taboo, one would think, is a big indicator that the Islamic influence was somewhat different from what might be considered the norm."

"Depends really who you ask, really. The history books are rather vague about it--being concerned more with recording secular events--but we've actually got some interesting sixty-plus-year-old conspiracy theories about that." Bondayehr grins.

"Ahhh ... now those I've always enjoyed. Besides," she says with a wry grin, "We both know history books can be misleading, being generally written by those who have won the conflicts entailed. Much, I would think, has been lost to the ravages of time that would have made a damn fine read on account. So please, enlighten me, if you would - conspiracy theory or no."

"Fair enough. Back before Scolopendra, there was a multinational conglomerate of megacorps called the Capricorn Group. It's well known that to keep the insular Arabic populations--the cheap labor--of North Africa and the Middle East in check, they basically bribed the imams to support their economic hegemony. During the revolution, those same imams changed tune and began supporting the goals of the revolution. Doesn't take a soothsayer to see the possible connection to a big account bust by revolutionaries in... Venice, actually."

Nathi grins, nodding. "Sister city in a way to our own. Say on ... "

"How the conspiracy theory goes is that the various leaders of the regional revolutions formed a little cabal called the Ghostwriters. Knowing full well that how Islam went the region went, they paid off the imams with stolen Capricorn funds, keeping them in control until truly fervently idealistic imams would replace them. So, the historic zeal of Islamic Arabia was slowly turned to a more secular bent."

"As concepts of civic virtue and liberal enlightenment became more widespread, religion began to lose its control. Power moved from the imams and the Islamic orthodoxy--already established in Ridyah and Mecca, both Scolopendran strongholds--were finding themselves marginalized. Still, with more liberal imams in power, they allowed themselves to adapt with the culture."

"Slick," she says with another nod, obviously intrigued. "These changes ... how were they accepted by the populace? I can see the motivations of those controlling and hoping to control things, but what of the 'people' factor?"

"That's the beauty of it. The same people who had been controlled by faith for years just for the power of a few were suddenly controlled by the same power for the good of all, and, ultimately, themselves. Once the first-generation revolutionary imams were replaced, religion and secular society worked in concert, with religion becoming more and more open-minded. Faith in the churches became faith in the state, and as time progressed and people moved, it became pandemic."

"Odd thing is, it was run by a few idealists--if the Ghostwriters theory is correct--and so it was a sly form of empowering the very people they were manipulating. A very liberal goal with a very conservative implementation strategy."

Nathicana laughs, applauding softly. "We are not so different really, our two nations. In intents and methods, it seems we vary wildly, yes, but it least on the surface, we share some similarities. Catholicism, as I mentioned, once held sway here and was brought under the auspices of the state via corruption and greed." She looks at him with a smile, considering.

"I wonder if the belief structures inherent in the two faiths had anything to do with the paths taken. You've given me much to think of, just with that. I thank you."

The cadet grins with just a touch of mischief. "That's the trick, you see. We don't see ourselves as much different from everyone else because we can always find some sort of similarity. While on the surface we may seem alien, it's simply the result of how we apply things. It's our ability to find similarities that allowed us to assimilate the kzin, as well as our understanding that assimilation works both ways."

"I have always thought that perhaps people have missed looking past the military might of your nation to see the keen minds, rich culture, and, dare I say, damn smooth operators you people have running the show there. I count myself lucky to have you as allies, though truth, you would make a most delicious challenge as an opponent," she says grinning back at the cadet.

"Any of those who mistake your idealism and statesmanship for weakness are in for a surprise." Her own thoughts touch briefly on recent events and quiet meetings, and her smile increases. "Adaptation, assimilation ... most excellent, boy."

"We do our best." Bondayehr smiles. "So far, it seems to have worked out. I only hope I'm a sufficient representative."

"Good god, man," she says with surprise. "You still doubt? I'd not be bothering if you weren't. You people have fascinated me for some time now. I find you a most excellent example Tim, and I'm quite pleased to have you here. Now ... stop worrying," she says with a wink. The open area of the Piazza San Bernardi comes into view as they pass under the shadow of one of the many bridges that cross the canales. "Nearly there," she says.

Hes hrugs. "I'll do my best to work on the worrying. It's a bad habit."

"It isn't a bad habit, just one that needs watching, I suppose. If I didn't constantly worry, after all, I'd have long ago found myself deposed and dead cat-quick. I guess 'dont' worry' is a rather useless turn of phrase, when one thinks about it," she says with a shrug of her own. "Perhaps better put - you're doing an excellent job. Worry as you will, but at least accept that."

Timofeyev chuckles and nods. "All right, I'll accept that... I won't worry to no cause. Fair enough?"

"More than fair," she says with a smile. "Ready to stretch your legs a bit? There are several ristorantes along the Piazza, if your appetite is piqued, and many of the sights I rushed you past that first day are along here as well. What's your pleasure?"

"I don't know the area." Bondayehr grins. "Still, walking’s always good, and food is better."

The gondolier poles them up to the wall, again offering a hand if desired to assist their disembarking. Nathicana palms off some money to the man as she accepts the help, flashing him a brilliant smile, and murmuring a thank you for the ride as she steps out. She walks off a couple of paces, waiting for Tim, her eyes picking out several of her operatives among those people walking about the Piazza.

He nods to the gondolier with his standard "thank you, sir," then steps lightly out of the boat without help. Catching up, he looks around at the scenery. "So what's the history of this?"

She thinks for a moment, getting her bearings as she looks around the large expanse of grey paving stones of the Piazza. The large rectangular area is lined on all sides by buildings, broken by the entries from the canals, save the one which leads into another large area, similarly paved and line. From there, it empties out onto the Canale Grande, that leads drains into the bay. The architecture here is as varied as the rest, though here, it is a mix of both the very old, and the very ornate. The Piazza is, as is usual, filled with people, though not uncomfortably so. The many shops and ristorantes that do business here have tables and chairs out front for their patrons to enjoy. Now and then, street musicians can be seen and heard entertaining groups of people with their talents. All in all, an eclectic mix of sights, sounds and aromas.

"The layout here goes back quite far in history," she says, starting out with a casual pace. "It is recorded as having been started in the ninth century, with leaders adding or changing as they saw fit over the years. There," she says, pointing to an impressive building towards the back of many domes and spires, reflecting Byzantine and eastern influence, "is the Basillica di San Bernardi. The eastern side there, is the Libreria Sansovino." The two-storied structure sports a Romanesque design with orderly round arches one next to another.

"Here we have the Torretta delle Ore." She gestures to a beautiful clock tower depicting the signs of the zodiac around its large clock face, and sporting detailed carvings along its facade. "And there, the Doge's palace," she says, pointing out an opulent building showing marked Islamic influences, its walls shining white in the midday sun. "As you know, the government buildings are along the west side there, as well as several smaller points of interest. Each have their histories, and highlights," she says, smiling proudly.

He nods appreciatively. "That's the second time you've mentioned Doges. I get that they were some sort of leader... but what, exactly?"

"That would be the highest office in Devras, that would," she replies. "The Church may have had the influence, but it was here the purse strings were held. They ruled here for over a thousand years, influencing the control of trade and business throughout the Dominion. At the time, the ruling families would all vie for the title. This was the true seat of power, hence, over the years it became the capitol while Corinth, where the Church based its influence, was pushed aside."

"So, economic control leading to political control."

Nathi grins wryly. "Follow the money, so they say."

Timofeyev shrugs. "Reality of the world we live in. Proper economic control means control of resources that can be applied towards real physical and psychological power."

"It's all about control, aye. And how to use it properly." She looks around at the others milling through the Piazza, thoughtful. "Here, you don't see it so much, yes? People, walking around, going about their daily business, looking content enough. One would say, on the outside at least, it looks little different from those democracies who've criticized us."

"The bottom line is that the truth doesn't matter. The psychological power you mentioned is a key, and one can wield it in many ways. Allow them enough of the illusion of freedom, and they won't clamor for the real thing. A strong hand, only when necessary.," she says, chuckling softly.

"True. Note that my democracy has not been one of them." The cadet grins. "As for the illusion of freedom, all freedoms are privileges granted by the government. Total freedom is anarchy, ultimately harmful to the society. No freedom is a dystopia, and the people will eventually rebel against the state or simply fall apart."

"Only when freedom and restriction are in balance does a society have the strength to expand." He blinks and grins a little sheepishly. "At least, that's what I get out of my studies."

"Oh, I've noted your government's stance on me and my rule, and it has been appreciated," she says with a secretive smile. "As for all that other ... what do you believe?" She fixes him with a steady look, still smiling, but intent. Obviously, not expecting textbook answers.

Bondayehr returns the steady look, locking eye contact. "Exactly what I said. History has proven it. From what I've seen, you appear to have hit that balance, just in a different way than we have."

Nathicana nods. "Well answered, and flattering as well. I'd like to think we have a balance here. Only time will tell." She ponders for a moment, breaking eye contact to glance at their surroundings. "Care for lunch now or later?" she asks simply

"I'm on orders to eat as well as possible. Now works for me if it works for you."

"Excellent. In or out - or any other preferences?" She guides them towards some of the shops and ristorantes, the delicious aromas stronger here.

He savors the smells with a smile. "Either way I look forward to the conversation. Which would you prefer?"

"I find myself looking forward to it as well," she says, tilting her head slightly with a quiet smile. "It's seldom I get to enjoy things seemingly so ... normal as this. I admit, I play it more loose than many I know. I hate feeling trapped or unable to do as I like, regardless of the security issues." She sits down at one of the outdoor tables, though she notably chooses one near one of the building's support columns. She chooses the chair nearest, and sits with her back it as she scans the crowd. "Will this do?"

"Of course. Support column for cover, seat chosen for maximum situational awareness." He takes his seat with a smile. "So, what do you recommend?"

"Well, that depends entirely on your tastes," she says, accepting a menu from the waiter that seems to appear as if summoned. "Grazie. Any preferences?"

"I have a passing acquaintance with pastas," the cadet also accepts a menu, looking over it carefully, "and something aquatic would be good... calamari is a must."

"Always good, that," she murmurs, looking over the menu thoughtfully. "Some of that, perhaps a plate of mixed antipasto ..."

"Hum... the--" he pauses for a moment, saying in his head and adding the proper accent before continuing in passable imitation of Italian "—tortelli di patate con ripieno di piccione sounds interesting. I've never had pigeon before."

Nathicana smiles, nodding. "Not bad, cadet. And excellent choice. I think you'll enjoy it. Me, I think I'll go with the tagliolini con astice - lobster sounds good right about now." Looking over the list, she arches a brow. "And to drink?"

"Ahh..." Tim flips over the menu a few times, scanning quickly. "I'm not seeing that listed; maybe my eyesight is just getting worse."

She leans in closer, turns the menu over and points to the selection on the back. "Waters, the flavored sodas are nice, juices, pop, and of course the wines."

Timofeyev grins sheepishly. "Yeah... oops. While wine sounds nice, I don't really know my way around them. I'll settle for the flavored soda... what do you recommend?" He decides to leave unsaid that he's abstaining because his host is.

"I've always liked the peach," she says, "Though all the fruity flavors are nice too. There's the chocolates, coffees and other sweet candy styles ... In fact, think I'll have one of those m'self."

"Peach sounds good."

Nathicana smiles, laying her menu down. "Man after my own heart," she says. When the waiter returns, she smoothly lists off their order, requesting also a pitcher of ice water. "A habit," she says as the man walks off. "I've always found it soothing."

Bondayehr returns the menu with a quiet thanks. "Eh... to me, means to an end, sadly enough. Need to stay hydrated, drink water."

"That too ... that too," she replies, nodding in thanks as the water is promptly brought out and poured. She takes up her glass and settles back more comfortably in her chair, turning to the cadet with a little smile. "So, Tim. What else can you tell me of your homeland?"

"What else would you like to know?" The cadet grins.

She laughs softly, then winks as she takes a slow sip. "Why, everything of course. Knowledge is power, after all. And even were that not so, it is still desirable."

"Well, you probably know that it's made up of dotted surface cities all connected by the Caves of Steel. What seems to be less known is that we've got our section of Titan thoroughly burrowed out in a series of tunnels that would put any ant colony to shame, connecting undersea cities and such. Mining assists the expansion of living space; we build more tunnels as we can."

Nathicana arches a brow at that. "Just how expansive are these tunnels? And is it only your cities they connect?

"Like I said, the upper Caves of Steel complexes are these huge burrowed-out spaces ranging from five hundred to one thousand meters in height, enough room to stack levels and sublevels of arcologies and parks and habitats and whatnot. Lower tunnels tend to be smaller, as they're turned to habitation on a per-need basis, but we have a rather large complex of these tunnels that looks kinda like a highway map. Again, the tunnels are more forms of habitation than connection... they basically make up the 'small towns' of Scolopendra. At first, all habitation was underground until the ignition, then we moved to the surface as we adapted the atmosphere."

The dark-haired woman nods thoughtfully, clearly working over something in her mind. "Given that you mentioned undersea cities and all, and the vastness of the complexes ... Have any other nations availed themselves of your experience with this sort of engineering to your knowledge?"

Timofeyev grins. "Generally anyone on the Ring--Khenala, Freod, the like--have availed themselves with the experience of the Scolopendran Terra-Engineering Directorate. Other than that... no, not really.

"Excellent," she says, smiling. "One more thing to look into when I've a bit of time, then. I know Tsaraine recently was working with underwater living environments and the like. As yet, we've limited our expansion to the land, and above. Adaptation ... " she muses it over, obviously pleased with whatever it is she's envisioning. "Thank you, Tim."

The cadet nods sideways graciously with a smile. "You're welcome, Nathicana. Anything to help."

The antipasto and calimari are brought out, small plates placed in front of each for the partaking, by the efficient and smiling waiter who bows, and whisks off again as quickly as he appeared. "Ahh, grazie," she murmurs at his departing back, helping herself to some of the oil-packed vegetables and a slice of crostini. "Careful about that 'anything', boy. Would hate for your idealistic nature to get you into trouble," she teases. "Please, help yourself."

He nods and does so. "Then I'll just have to amend the statement to 'anything within reason.'"

Casually dipping the bread in the spiced oil provided, her eyes flickering now and then at their surroundings, taking note of people as they pass, and those she's either recognized or tagged as their unofficial 'escort'. "I'm not certain I could ever get used to being underground for an extended period. Still, the idea has merit. And damn straight, 'within reason', boy. I don't care where you are, that rule should hold true. Always leave yourself a loophole."

"You did mention something about 'smooth operators.'" Bondayehr munches on some fried calamari. "You'll have to give me time until real life experiences beat my youthful idealism out of shape."

Nathicana gives him an odd look as she quietly munches her crostini. "Truth, I hope you manage to hang onto it, boy," she finally says. "Idealism is not stupidity after all, nor is it an undesirable trait - simply rare, around here at least."

"Pollyannish idealism blind to the realities of a situation isn't desirable," the cadet half-smirks, "and I'm glad to say I've gotten past that point."

"We were all innocent once," she says, her eyes fixing on the appetizers in front of them. "Nothing to be ashamed of. Life has a way, it seems, of making fools of all of us now and then, regardless of 'youthful idealism' or no." She takes another glance around, then samples some of the calamari. "Mmm ... excellent stuff, this."

"Innocence is weakness." Timofeyev turns grim for an instant, then seems to brush it aside. "I'm glad to be off with a portion of it."

Nathicana gives him a sidelong glance, then takes a slow sip of her water. "Would you then say that there is no time and place for such?" she asks cautiously.

"Only in the protection of childhood. Even then, it usually just gets lost anyway." Bondayehr frowns. "Wishing upon stars and pretending that the white-hat 'good guys' always win is simply false action. Those who do so not knowing better are victims of their own inexperience. Those who do so but know better are fools."

"Protection indeed," she snorts to herself, taking another drink, brow furrowing slightly. "I won't lie, my dear cadet. There are times when I long to remember what that innocence was like, and find that I can only touch on it for the briefest of moments in dreams that most often end in--" She cuts off abruptly, looking away out across the Piazza. "Still, they say 'if ignorance is bliss, ‘tis folly to be wise'. One can't help but wonder how different this world would be were not such choices necessary." She looks back to him and nods. "Still, you are right. If wishes were horses beggars would ride. And those who go around with their heads in the clouds are bound to fall in the pits that lay about their feet."

Their lunch is brought out on a platter skillfully balanced by the waiter, and served with his customary efficiency and pleasant smile. He pauses long enough to ask if anything else can be brought, though he glances at each with a look more questioning than his query warrants, picking up on the mood.

Timofeyev shakes his head slightly. "Thank you, sir... but I don't need anything else."

Nathicana shakes her head with a brief smile. "Niente, grazie." The man gives them both a short bow, smiles, and goes back to tend his other tables.

"I'm sorry to have broached the subject." Bondayehr frowns slightly at his food. "I didn't mean to spoil the good mood. Still, it's a product of our culture. Innocence only earns a stab in the back by someone wiser, and so knowledge is a defense... besides, idealism tempered by realism. One can use idealism--often misconstrued as innocence--to spur one on to improve the world. One uses realism to achieve that goal. Or so we try."

"Boy, don't dare apologize for frank discussion. Again you illustrate our similarities. And again I find myself questioning why it is we are so very different all the same." She takes a bite of her meal, nodding appreciatively at the taste. "I can only surmise it is our intent. You try, Tim, and you succeed. Look at your nation and tell me that is not a brilliant success."

"Godel's Undecidability Theorem." Tim smiles mischievously and starts in on the pigeon. "Mmm. Excellent."

She pauses, another forkful halfway to her lips. "Now there's one I'm unfamiliar with. Care to share?"

"It is impossible to determine the existence and values of all variables that define a system from within that system. Essentially, the scientific proof of 'truth lies in the eye of the beholder,' assuming the beholder is outside the system." He grins wider. "I exist inside the system and thus am not a reliable source of information."

Nathi chuckles, grinning broadly. "Or so you would have me believe, at least. So help me, if we trace history back, I would not be one bit surprised to find we have common ancestry, my nation and yours. And given what you've told me, I'm only that much more convinced. No wonder they watch me so closely." She winks, taking another bite and savoring it slowly.

"Well, we both had Italy, or at least one of its multiversal analogs." Tim shakes his head, then takes another bite. "That whole broken-reality thing is an entirely different matter."

"I've heard some rather ... interesting theories involving that," she says thoughtfully. "And I'm trying to think which of you people first mentioned it. Speaker, Shodey ... hmm."

Timofeyev shrugs. "I don't know much about it. It's rumored that the OPO spooks deal with it, but for me... hell, I grew up with elves and aliens and extraction campaigns and the like. The kzin, which are widely regarded as the first multiversal anomaly... hell, one of my best friends is a kzin. She's back in Stonozka studying law. It's the first generation that's really put off by it."

"Adapt and live," she says with a smile. "I've had to do a helluva lot of adapting since we broke out of our relative isolation. Not everyone has been pleased with what we've done, and how we've done it, but then, they don't really have to be."

"Well, we've done our best to adapt, I guess."

Nathicana nods. "And done rather well with it. I'm still poking and prodding ... and granted, carefully managing it all here. We made such advances, so far, so fast - albeit with the help of our allies. I only hope is hasn't been too fast."

"If it is, I'll go out on a limb and apologize on behalf of the motherland." Bondayehr chuckles slightly. "We do tend to be somewhat enthusiastic with sharing."

"Actually, your people have been smart about it. Enthusiastic, yes, but cautious. I can appreciate that." She smiles warmly, mixing up her soda with the straw provided. "They have never taken me for granted, that I've seen, unlike others. Regardless of the gap in technology, they have shown me respect in not handing over all their secrets." With a shrug, and another smile, she sips at her soda, eyes sparkling.

"It may not make sense, but I would rather have that and mild denial of technology and information than to be handed everything as if I were a child lacking the capacity to properly use it, thus presenting no threat."

Timofeyev grins. "Well then; we get to maintain technological superiority, you get to feel honored, and everyone goes home happy. Excellent."

"Maintain? Interesting," she says with a wink and a chuckle. "We shall see."

"Well, we're not going to give up a head start, that's for sure... but one can never turn down a worthy challenge given in good faith." Bondayehr grins, raising his glass slightly in salute."

She grins back, mirroring his salute. "To friendly rivalries, eh?"

"Best kind there is. Kam pai." Tim clinks his glass against Nathi's.

"Salut," she says with a smile.

The cadet seals the informal toast with a sip. "Heh. This mirrors conversations at the cafeteria back home, complete with odd toasts."

Nathicana sips hers as well, watching him over the top of her glass. "How so," she asks curiously.

"Well, general banter on topics of interest ranging from politics to forms of recreation, oftentimes punctuated by toasts to the strangest things. Usually it's simply silly things like spoons or some momentarily useful tool; other times it's more like this."

"College students... go figure."

She smiles and nods. "My ... education was somewhat different, it seems. As a ward of the state, my curriculum was strictly set out, and my advancement to other things, dependant on my performance. We do have several academies, and many schools of higher learning. Those who can afford it attend. Those who cannot work for what the state provides." She shrugs, drinking again slowly. "You enjoy your schooling?"

Timofeyev ponders for a moment. "I'd have to say so... especially with all these unexpected jaunts to foreign countries. I've always been interested in cultures and history and international politics; however, I've also been around aerospacecraft all my life and so am fascinated by them too. People like to joke that I'm a rocket surgeon with interests in most everything."

"It's good to have varied interests. Balance, and all. Never limit your horizons, Tim. One never knows where one's path may lead. Look at me," she says with a wry grin. "No one back in that little neighborhood would have ever thought the quiet girl next door would have risen to rule this nation." Let alone, do the things I've done, she can't help but think quietly.

Bondayehr notes the wry grin and decides to go out on a limb. "For that matter, you probably also never thought such things either. Of course," he says, watching carefully, "it all depends on whether it's fulfilling or not." He takes a sip from his glass.

"No, actually, back then ... I didn't." She idly stirs her drink with her index finger, the ice cubes clinking softly against the glass. "I don't remember much from back then, really. It was long ago, and much has happened since. But I know this - I may as well have been someone else entirely for all the difference." She sucks the soda from her finger absently, then takes a slow sip.

"Fulfilling? It has been. This," she says, gesturing with her free hand, "All this is mine, and I earned every inch of it with blood, sweat, and tears." Her expression hardens, though she smiles. "There's much I do not remember, but I remember clearly the day I decided to make this my goal. And I'll be damned if I'll let anyone take it away from me." She sets down what little is left of her drink, and takes another bite of her meal, her eyes again scanning the area.

The cadet folds his hands with his elbows on the edge of the table, resting his lips against the right hand he has cupped over left fist, watching intently. "It shows."

Nathicana looks over at him, her expression at first, suspicious, though she covers it quickly. "How do you mean?" she asks quietly.

Tim gets his elbows off the table, smiling disarmingly. Part of his training is reading expression. "The way you watch the crowd, the way you carry and handle yourself. You are constantly alert and vigilant... that is not the way of the complacent."

"We've already touched on this," she begins, her eyes clearly weighing and measuring him as she speaks. "That 'innocence' was taken from me young, and there was no room for weakness, nor time for mourning its loss. I grew up fast, and learned my lessons well. Complacency in my position, is death; constant vigilance, the only option." She takes another bite of her meal, chewing slowly, swallowing deliberately. "Nothing in this life worth having comes without cost. This is the price I pay for what I've gained - I can live with that."

"If you find it an acceptable tradeoff, then that's all that matters, really." Bondayehr eats a little more of his food, returning the careful watching. "Everything does come with cost, admittedly, and it is the prerogative of the one to ensure that the trade is profitable."

Nathicana nods, takes up her drink and finishes it, again, making her scan of the area seemingly without thinking about it. "It has been acceptable enough, and it is what I expected," she says, setting her glass aside. "Still ... that doesn't discount the possibility for change, as you mentioned earlier."

"Of course not." Slightly uncomfortable with the change of mood in the conversation, Timofeyev thinks about how to unbreak it... because, obviously, he must have broken it.

"So tell me, Tim. Given what you have seen and heard of this place, I'm curious. Your perspective would be helpful here. We've both spoken of change, and hopes for the future," she says, idly toying with another of the crostini. "Realizing that you have limited info, nonetheless, I'm curious what you would to do change the way of things here."

"We've barely scratched the surface." Tim gets that 'walking on needles' impression. "I don't know what people think, what they want and need, what they dislike. I don't know the needs of the state. Without knowing the angle of the people and the angle of the state, how can I even posit a guess as to how to balance them?"

Nathicana smiles warmly. "Completely hypothetical, dear boy. This isn't a test. Truly, was simply curious as to your impressions. I already noted you lack all the information necessary for a completely informed decision. Still, if it makes you uncomfortable, you needn't answer. I understand." Finishing her plate and turning back to the calamari, she quick-glances, then looks back to him, still smiling. "Your lunch - I hope it meets with your approval?"

"The question doesn't really make me uncomfortable. I simply can't give anything even close to a reasonable answer. For all that I know, suggesting a different way of running, oh, the legal system for example, might make as much sense as asking everyone to wear the opposite gender's underwear backwards." At the question, he nods with a smile. "It was excellent. Thank you."

She laughs at his chosen analogy, putting her fingers to her lips out of habit. "My pleasure, Tim. Truly, your company is thanks enough."

Timofeyev nearly blushes at that. "Glad to oblige in that regard."

"You've given me a lot to think about, and reminded me of things that needed reminding. I've enjoyed every minute of it," she says truthfully, her smile increasing. "Poor man, you've been put in a terrible spot here by me and your superiors." She grins impishly, reaching for her water.

"Doesn't seem so terrible." He finishes off his peach-flavored soda and looks back at Nathi with his characteristic somewhat sly half-smirk. "Unless, of course, I'm mistaken."

Oca! That boy is adorable when he smiles like that. Goddammit, Dev, you bastard ... Of course it was Devon's fault. It always was. She chuckles, shakes her head, and takes a long, slow sip from her water. "Well, I had hoped at least it wouldn't be so terrible," she says with a grin. "So if you don't find it so, so much the better."

"Eh, it's meeting expectations." He keeps smirking, then winks. "Then again, I naturally have high hopes for places I visit."

She arches a brow, smiling back with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "We ought to at least see if we can't exceed expectations, however high you may have them set," she says, looking him over again before glancing about, going so far as to shoot a quick wink to one of her watchers, still smiling broadly.

"I'd have to say the same of you, so far. I'd expected much, given your performance with the auction, and your background. I've yet to be disappointed."

"Exceeding expectations is always a good goal to set." Smirk and beat. "I'm glad I haven't disappointed. I wouldn't say it's a constant fear," he grins slyly, "but as you've already seen I'm somewhat self-conscious. I think I'm making progress on that."

"I'd say so," she says, still smiling. "Still, I think you're only self-conscious some of the time. Do you have any idea how many folks right there in those offices," she says, nodding to the government building across the Piazza, "who would be sweating bullets sitting where you are right now?" Her smile is amused, though perhaps a touch wistful. "You're going to have folks talking."

"Let them talk, as long as it doesn't sully your reputation." Bondayehr grins. "Besides, it's improper form to worry overmuch about the host... trust, really."

Nathicana truly does laugh then, though not at him in the least. Il dio, boy ... you worry about my reputation, and it being .. sullied?" She stifles her laughter again with fingertips pressed to her lips gently, though her shoulders still shake with mirth. "Either you don't know my 'reputation', or you're being far too kind, my dear cadet. As for the worry on your part," she grins at him mischievously. "I'd have thought you'd gathered by now; I'm the most dangerous of the bunch." She gives him a quick wink, hoping to let him know she jests, at least in part.

Timofeyev just smiles. "Then it's good that I'm on your side."

"Likewise," she says, smiling back.

"I'm honored." The cadet bows slightly in his seat.

"Bah," she says, leaning over impulsively and giving him a chaste, gentle kiss on the cheek. She sits back in her chair, the smile refusing to leave her lips. "Well ... now what shall we do with you, hmm?"

He is somewhat surprised but hides it quickly. "Well, I'm currently at your service." Characteristic smirk. "Your call."

Nathi shakes her head and chuckles, the mischievous grin increasing for some reason. "Oh no ... we're on free time right now. You're 'off the clock' so to speak."

"I understand fully, but 'Stranger in a Strange Land' applies here. I'm quite content in your company, talking and sightseeing and what not."

"Good book, that," she observes casually, scanning the Piazza, though more intently this time, considering, pausing now and then. "Then, since we're here, why not take in a few sights? The Basillica di Bernardi, perhaps?"

Bondayehr nods. "Works for me. Take advantage while I can."

"Alright then," she says, delicately dabbing at her lips with her napkin, and waving over the waiter. She slips him some cash with a few murmured words, to which he merely nods professionally, palming the money and putting it away in the pocket of his apron. Standing smoothly, she stretches just a little, again smiling. "Shall we?"

The cadet stands up, pulling on his floppy fedora. "But of course."

Treznor storms into Nathicana's office, brushing aside aides and security personnel with disdain.

Nathicana arches a brow, carefully fixing her expression to one of neutrality, though her eyes flash with irritation. "Something I can help you with, boy?" she asks dryly.

Timofeyev looks up momentarily from his nearby desk without lifting his head, then immediately continues shuffling paperwork as if nothing is going on.

Treznor snags a chair and sinks into it. "Yeah. I need a lift to Io. None of my ships are fast enough, and the Crusader doesn't have jump capability. I don't care if it's on one of yours, S.H.O.D.A.N.'s or Scolopendra's ships, but I need to be there now."

Timofeyev perks his ears at the mention of 'Scolopendra' and 'ships.' Picks up a simple form and starts filling it out.

Nathicana glares at Treznor outright. "Dev, don't be stupid. What the hell do you possibly think you could accomplish up there right now? It's a disaster! Hordes running amok, Imperium forces on the rampage ... hell, my own forces are in the midst of trying to evac some of Creeds folk as we speak."

She picks up her glass of water, sipping it slowly, and fixing Devon with a steady look. "Don't even think about it."

Treznor leans forward and taps on Nathicana's desk. "That's exactly why I need to be there right now. I can't let Creed and the rest of the mystics abandon Io. Melkor is determined to scoop up the entire domain without so much as a by-your-leave, and he's not responding to polite requests for discussion. I have to be there to press our Alliance rights, and it has to be now before occupation becomes a fact."

Nathicana tilts up her chin in that imperious way he's so familiar with, her jaw set stubbornly. "No, Dev. I know it's touchy right now, and I know we need to do something about it ... but I'm not letting you go haring off to play hero up there right now." She pauses, taking another sip as she watches him. "Have you been able to contact the Mystics?"

Treznor frowns a little deeper. "No, the Mystics haven't responded to me. I suspect they may be a little preoccupied. Damn Creed! And I'm sorry, Red. If you won't take me, I'll have to find another way. This is too important to leave alone. This isn't about playing hero, this is about not letting Melkor take whatever he wants whenever he wants it. We don't have a choice."

"There are other ways," she says, frowning right back at him. "There are always other ways. We just have to stop and think them out." She sits her glass aside, out of the way of things. "As for you finding another way, I think not. If I have to come across this desk right now and beat your ass into submission, so help me I will. I am not letting you go up there."

Timofeyev grimaces, pauses, frowns... then continues working.

Treznor glares angrily, his voice rising in pitch. "Then how do you expect to solve this!" He stops abruptly and relaxes slightly, rubbing the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb. "I'm sorry, Red. And sorry to you too, Tim. That was uncalled for. Arda has spun out of control with the UE falling apart, and my promises to Speaker about keeping Melkor contained are in danger of falling to pieces.

"I need Creed to hold onto Io for us, and I don't know how to do that without talking to him personally."

Having been addressed, the cadet looks up. "With all due respect, sir, you run an empire. You must have at least one advisor you can send to do the job."

Nathicana blinks, both brows raising at his tone, then her eyes shift to the cadet. She chuckles and nods. "Just what I was about to suggest.

"You've got good people working for you, Dev. And frankly, they're a hell of a lot more replaceable if you get right down to it."

Treznor opens his mouth for a moment, then closes it and leans back. "Gods, who do I send for that? My top ambassador is an idiot, which is why I chose him."

Timofeyev shrugs. "Someone who isn't an idiot, for a start, sir. Probably someone with a skillset similar to your own."

"What about Ben? You trust him, he's savvy ... " Nathi stands up, and walks around to his side of the desk, her face concerned. She leans in, and kisses Devon's cheek. "You've been stretching yourself thin as it is with all of this."

Treznor scowls. "Ben is the one I depend on to hold the nation together while I'm away. With these Almarthi or whatever of Melkor's..." His voice trails away thoughtfully. "Son of a bitch."

Nathicana sits back, waiting for him to continue.

"You remember the hubub a few years back in the Slaglands, before we settled our differences? Weird goings on in the archeological digs?"

"Quite - Pacci hasn't been the same since, I'm afraid."

"Neither has Ben. He got sucked down into whatever weirdness was happening underground. I'm told Pacci learned to move things with his mind. Ben learned to phase. Now that I think about it, there's no one better qualified to land on Io and talk to Creed."

Nathicana snorts. "You don't really believe that stuff, do you boy? Pacci gave me his report, but ... honestly now. Some of those claims ..." She stops and looks at him curiously. "You're serious about that, aren't you?"

"There's no one I trust more than Ben. Not only do I believe what he told me, I believe what he showed me. He walked through the door to demonstrate. I don't mean he opened the door, I mean he walked through the door itself. He's been trying to teach me how to do it, but the best I've done is enter a mild Zen state."

Nathicana just looks at Devon for a moment, then gives Timofeyev a sidelong glance before going on. "I'll ah ... well damn. Even better, yes?" she says awkwardly.

Timofeyev shrugs. "I've heard tell of OPO or even civvie psions doing similar things. I guess it's possible..."

"My biggest concern is energy weapons. He can't be affected by physical threats, but we haven't wanted to know what might happen if he gets hit with a plasma bolt or something. Who knows what's being used up there?"

Timofeyev clears his throat somewhat nervously. "Err... if I could make a suggestion?"

"Well, from the weapons we've been purchasing, you ought to have some idea, yes?" Nathi shakes her head. "Christ. The more I learn, the more I realize how little I know ... " She looks up at the cadet questioningly.

Treznor looks at Timofeyev expectantly.

Timofeyev "I remember there was a TYCS defense op over the SLAGLands; if they were dealing with the paranormals that taught your advisor, they probably shot everything they could at them. I know that post-op analysis would register what was effective against what."

Nathicana laughs softly. "He's showing us up, Dev," she says with a grin. "Why don't you make the proper requests there and get that boy prepped to go. I'll make the arrangements for the transport."

Treznor tenses up for a moment, then relaxes again. "All right. I'll prepare instructions for Ben. I'm prepared to offer the Mystics and their people safe passage and land of their own either near the new NDA island headquarters or off my own shores. Will you back the NDA offer?

"I intend to bring them under our umbrella of protection, even if they decide not to inherit Burninatonia's membership."

"I'd already hinted as much through my offer to help evacuate," she says thoughtfully. "It seemed the proper course, though I've no idea what Creed's reaction will be, nor that of the other Mystics. If you remember, they were an ... odd bunch, to say the least."

"Yeah, I noticed that. A fractious lot, too. I'm surprised Creed pulled together as much support as he did. We'll have to see. So long as one of them agrees to pursue claims to Burninatonia territory, I'll give them whatever they want."

Nathicana nods, her brows furrowing slightly. "I'd rather we held onto whatever we can salvage there. I'm still rather annoyed that Lancaster gave the Imperium land up there, but ... if we can't drive them off, we can at least try and contain them for now."

Treznor stops and ponders thoughtfully. "Cadet, I'd like you to relay a personal message to Supreme Emperor Speaker-to-Animals. I'm formally requesting transportation for my Minister of Intelligence, Benjamin Vitner, to be couriered from Devonton to the Bone Caves of Io, or as close as Scolopendran ships can take him. Please coordinate with Menelmacari elements already in the area for the security of the courier. Speed is of utmost priority."

Treznor turns back to Nathicana. "In for a penny, in for a pound. TYCS is already mobilised in the area, so if Konrad decides to enforce the blockade, they're most appropriately placed to do something about it. I'll send along a communique informing that peacock that I expect safe passage granted through the blockade."

Timofeyev nods. "Yes, sir." He then looks at Nathi, waiting for Dev to finish. "I'll need access to some sort of secure communications."

Nathicana looks at the both of them for a moment, clearly thinking things over. "I can get you that right here, Tim," she says, gesturing to her own computer. "As for clearance ... I've already been guaranteed that my forces will not be touched. I would think, all things considered, it would be safer and less obviuos, if one of my own were to rendezvous with the Scolopendran ship to shuttle Ben to the surface, don't you?"

Treznor shrugs. "I'll let you work that out with Speaker. We're at something of a standoff here. But if Speaker is willing, I want him visibly supporting this. Melkor has been crowing about how weak the Triumvirate has become. Let's see what he does about it."

"Heh." The cadet grins humorlessly at the mention of Melkor crowing. "That's what he thinks. I'm sure we won't let you down, sir."

"I have every faith that you won't, Cadet."

Sitting at Nathi's laptop, he looks over it for a split second before identifying standard i/o methods. Expertly maneuvering the cursor over Nathi's Raphael's St. George and the Dragon (http://vr.theatre.ntu.edu.tw/fineart/database/painter-wt/raphael-06x.jpg) desktop, he locates and opens up communications protocols. Tapping in an authorization code provided by Advisor Kommetrez just in case, he quickly types up a message back home.

* - * - *

--<Transmission Type: Encrypted Communique, IntraTrium Leader Level>--
-<Sender: C/3C Timofeyev M. J. Bondayehr, FSSADOTC>-
-<Destination: Supreme Emperor Speaker-to-Animals, FSS>-
--<Subject: Request from Emperor Devon Treznor>--

Sir,

Emperor Devon Treznor of the Empire of Treznor requests transportation on a Scolopendran vessel to Io for an advisor to try and negotiate the situation. He believes that such an effort would be a show of solidarity to rebuff current Ardan overconfidence concerning our resolve.

I know this isn't coming around the usual channels, but I am following a direct order from a Triumvirate head of state.

Very Respectfully,

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/nationstates/scolopendra/timofeyev_bondayehr.gifCadet Third Class Timofeyev Bondayehr
Scolopendran Military Services, Aerospace Directorate
Federated Segments of Scolopendra

--<End Transmission>--

* - * - *

Office of the Supreme Emperor
Executive Apartments, Stonozka, Titan

Speaker-to-Animals raises a furred eyebrow as the computer embedded in his desk beeps at him. Tapping on the alert notification, his slightly curious look deepens with a gentle rumble of thought. Hrrr. What is Nathi contacting me for at the moment? Not the usual authorization...

Opening the message, he fails to stifle a chuckle.

--<Transmission Type: Encrypted Communique, IntraTrium Leader Level>--
-<Sender: Supreme Emperor Speaker-to-Animals, FSS>-
-<Destination: C/3C Timofeyev M. J. Bondayehr, FSSADOTC>-
--<Subject: Re: Request from Emperor Devon Treznor>--

Cadet,

Tell the Emperor his request is granted. Nemapogon will send a shuttle upon confirmation, then form up with Arrow and Falchion in a courier group.

It is good to see that you are making friends in high places. Networking is the key to aerospace power. [at this point, Speaker represses the urge to type ";)"]

Cordially,

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/nationstates/scolopendra/speaker-to-animals.gifSupreme Emperor Speaker-to-Animals
Chief of State
Federated Segments of Scolopendra

--<End Transmission>--

Alkanphel smouldered with fury as his fist tightened around the small, palm-sized datapad that had been meticulously reciting intelligence findings from around the region. The small device was smashed in his crushing grip, its components falling on the floor, some bouncing about for a short disttance before coming to rest, electricity still cackling in some places. The voice stopped.

The Warlord cringed with rage. An NDA member had been trying to subvert Arda, actively and directly. The Imperium had shown nothing but kindness towards the NDA, on account of the Dread Lady. His mind raced. He reckoned that the NDA's string-pulling would either have to end now or be monitored closely. Imperial spies had been watching them closely, but obviously not closely enough.

What he needed was a sympathetic entity, deep inside and in close with Nathicana. Unfortunately, secuirty was tight as always thus some sort of covert deployment was altogether too risky and if revealed, would vastly discredit the Imperium in their eyes. National sovereignty was a much revered concept in their alliance, so a way must be found to acheive this end without violating it. Sending a spy, at least in this capacity, was not an option.

He pushed his brows together, deep in thought. Idly, he lowered his hands and dropped the larger compontents of the datapad on the surface of his desk. He'd have to see the Dread Lady. Quickly. Wasting no time, he composed a message--a text only transmission straight from his desk.



Greetings, Dread Lady Nathicana. I am Lord Alkanphel of Melkor's Imperium, and I have been ordered to contact you immediately to conference on several rather important matters, the nature of which I will not divulge in this message. Indeed I greatly fear that agents of my enemies are abroad and as such do not feel comfortable discussing this over any sort of channel that could possibly be read or otherwise intercepted by unwelcome parties.

I desire to speak with you in person, at once if possible, or at the very least sometime in the immediate future. I await your reply.

He sent the missive off and opened a drawer in his desk. A console was opened and he pressed a button. A gruff voice with a thick Easterling accent answered. "Yes, Sir?"

"Order my shuttle prepared to launch, and get me a pilot. I'm taking a trip tonight."

"Yessir. Preparations to leave are undeway."

He clicked the device off and folded his hands in front of him. Now he waited.

Lord Alkanphel
High Warlord of Lord Melkor's Imperium, First Counselor to Melkor Himself
http://people.vanderbilt.edu/~darion.c.smith/alkanphel1.jpg

Timofeyev raises an eyebrow. Lord Alkanphel, eh? Morgoth's little bitch? Oh yeah, well ch'rowl you, you imperialist tool, and skull-ch'rowl that armored Cthulu-wannabe you sleep with right in the eye for me and mine. "Err..." The cadet coughs, then frowns. "Message for you, ma'am, from one Lord Bitchwipe of the Imperium."

Damn. I slipped. Oh well.

Nathicana looks over with an expression of alarm that slips to amusement that quickly goes to her standard calm neutral expression. "I'll ah ... just take that then, if you don't mind, Tim," she says, quickly walking back behind her desk and waiting for him to vacate the seat. "Il Dio, you've got quite the attitude there." She can't help but grin at that.

"My apologies, ma'am." The cadet leaps up, pausing for a beat, face grim. "They are everything we are not... everything we are gladly not. Shall I step out?"

"I understand, boy. I also understand that politics is not about morality - whether one thinks it should be or not. No need to apologize, or leave as yet. If you could, however, head back to your desk for now ... " she trails off, her brow furrowing, concern showing through the calm facade.

Bondayehr nods. "Understood completely... and good luck. IntRelate and SIS agree he's a tricky bastard." Sitting at his desk, the cadet returns to paperwork, muttering invectives in his mind against the infidels.

Nathi sits down, scanning over the brief missive, her frown increasing. "Merde," she murmurs, biting her lower lip. "Gather your things, Cadet. There's been a change of plans." She begins typing, at first slowly, her lips moving as if reciting to herself, then building in pace as she nods, seeming satisfied.

The cadet nods, shuffling the paperwork into a neat pile and inserting it into the top drawer of his desk, locking it as he'd been directed earlier. "What's the sitch, ma'am? Then again... scratch that, none of my business. What do you need me to do?"

Nathicana clicks on the 'send' button, reaching for her glass of water, then drinking it quietly for a moment, her face still a mask of concern. "No, no ... " She begins clearing her desk, organizing papers, putting others into an attache, all with a hurried, nervous air. "I simply need you, and Devon, out of the offices for the day. Unexpected visitor. I won't be needing an assistant for it, after all."

She looks over, her expression quickly shifting to a confident smile. "Nothing to worry about. Consider it a day off, hmm? Though I'd prefer, if you would, to keep to the villa."

Timofeyev doesn't even attempt to hide the concern... although, it has a respectful tint to it. Protecting her troops. "Acknowledged and acting, ma'am. With your leave..." He begins to move slowly towards the door.

"Hold up, boy. I'll accompany you. We've a few hours by my estimation. And ... I need to brief Dev on a few things. I'll take you to him, as he'll be heading that direction as well," she says, leaving no doubt that her earlier threats of beatings would commence if the man argued with her.

Having not been threatened earlier, the cadet simply stands by the door at rest--feet shoulder-width apart, hands loosely clasped behind his back--and nods his acknowledgement, quietly waiting.

She gives the place another quick glance, nodding slowly as she satisfies herself that all is in order. Picking up the case, she strides purposefully to the door. "Don't worry," she says, smiling again. "We'll have them here and gone before you know it. Business as usual." And with that, she accompanies the young man out of the office.

If you call this usual, the cadet mutters in his mind, I'd hate to see what you find extraordinary.



My Lord Alkanphel, I admit surprise at this request. All the same, if you have something that weighs on you so heavily, of course I can make the time to meet with you. There are, in fact, things I would discuss with the Imperium as well.

I shall clear your arrival, and look forward to our meeting. Let us hope we can quickly resolve whatever issue is troubling you.

--Nathicana D'Aquisto, Dread Lady of the Dominion.

Alkanphel immediately rose from his seat. He adjusted his cufflinks and brushed off some invisible dirt from the front of his impeccably clean, custom fitted suit. He cracked his neck and reached down again to that drawer-console, punching up the Launch Pad again.

"I'm on my way down now. Make your final pre-flight checks and be ready to go when I get up there."

"Yessir, we'll be ready in a few minutes," came the reply. Alkanphel stowed to console and locked it up. gathering a few things, he made his way out of the large room and began walking through the "special" corridors accorded for people of power such as himself--its clean shiny walls and bright flourescent light a sharp contrast from the dark, rocky tunnels that the commoners and the orcs used. Finally he ascended to the launch pad, where a phalynx of guards guarded a set of double doors. They nodded to the Warlord, and engaged the mechanism to open them. Alkanphel strode through, and made his way down the stairs from the observation deck, passing several laboring Uruks on the way.

Before him, his sleek black custom-made Chronos Executive Shuttle waited, its engines purring quietly. With a nod to yet another set of guards, The High Warlord stepped into the craft and disappeared. Behind him, an aide shut the door and the launching bay opened up. Moments later, the small craft burst through the opening and out into the sky, speeding towards Devras.

Alkanphel slipped into a reverie and cleared his mind for the upcoming ordeal.

Lord Alkanphel
High Warlord of Lord Melkor's Imperium, First Counselor to Melkor Himself
http://people.vanderbilt.edu/~darion.c.smith/alkanphel1.jpg

Nathicana sat behind her desk, sipping from a glass of her ever-present ice water. She glanced out the window, to the view across the Grande Canale and the bay beyond. Chiavare ... short notice, insistent ... this won't be pretty. She swung back around, fingertips nervously tapping against the mahogany desk, forcing herself to adapt an air of relaxed neutrality.

Alkanphel stepped in and pushed the door shut gently behind him. Behind his back, his hand quickly searched for a lock on the door, which was engaged quickly as he cleared his throat, the timing of his introduction muting the sound of the lock. "Greetings, Lady Nathicana," he began. His demeanor was markedly different than in the past, as his aura did not seem to include the usual terrifying quality. He smiled a bit. "Good to see you again."

The maiar wasted no time. His mind reached out to hers as he furrowed his brow slightly. He passively scanned her thought patterns, attempting to isolate her emotions. "We have much to discuss, and I'm afraid its not all entirely pleasant. Indeed I greatly wish our meetings could more frequently involve matters of mutual content... but alas this may not be the case," he said, dropping his small case to the ground at what he deemed to be his seat.

Nathicana kept her mind calm as the different possibilities raced through it. The obvious, Io, was foremost in her mind, and her emotions flickered from worry, to confidence, to ... fear? She rose gracefully, a warm smile spreading across her face as she extended her hand in greeting. "A pleasure, Lord Alkanphel, I assure you. Now, what seems to be the trouble?"

Alkanphel folded his hands in his lap as his efforts continued. It would be a long process, but he was confident he'd get what he wanted out of the Lady. "A number of things. First, Io. Treznor is invoking 'alliance rights,' and seems to be hell-bent on stopping us from saving the Hordes from their oppressors. Seems to me that no one would want to interpose themselves in a situation like that without a very specific agenda. His actions speak pretty loudly against us"

Nathicana nodded thoughtfully, reaching for her glass of water again. "Care for anything?" she asked casually, waiting for him to respond before continuing. Alkanphel holds up his hand and shakes his head at the offer, so Nathi continued. "Io is a place I'd hoped to confer with you about as well. I'm afraid your forces there have been less than ... open in their communications. Though I assure you, your agreement to allow us to pass unharmed was most appreciated."

The Warlord heaved a sigh. "Ahadi loves to play it close, and so does Althalon. But neither of them trust anyone up there farther than they can be thrown. We're taking this all with a grain of salt."

"Well, it has been a rather touchy situation, you have to admit. Quite frankly, I agree with our alliance standing, if you must know. Regardless of leadership, those are the people our charter covers. We must look out for our own, don't you think?" Inquired the Dread Lady.

Alkanphel 's brow furrowed. Not at her comment but as a reflection of his concentration. He was making very sure that she didn't know what he was up to, lest the whole plan be thrown into chaos. He had found what he was looking for, at last, and he grinned. "Indeed, but You might be interested in this next bit."

Nathicana arched a brow. "Well then by all means, do share," she said, a ripple of apprehension running through her.

Alkanphel carefully, subtly, began to influence her emotions. He tried to calm her down a bit. It was a test, to see if he could do it. Searching intently for any outward signs of relaxation, he continued.

The man tightened his jaw. "We think this is another coalition type effort, only more thoroughly thought out. We beleive an attack is coming to Io. It's been weighing heavily on my mind lately, and is part of the reason Althalon has been selective about what he answers and what he ignores. We're seeing how this plays out."

Nathicana schooled her face to an expression of calm surprise, somehow feeling more confident about the situation. "On Io? Surely you jest. It was an uprising gone awry, that. Lancaster seems to have overstepped his bounds one time too often. I realize it is a hard land, and calls for hard rules, but ... I'm afraid he set himself up for this fall. A coalition? No, this was revenge, pure and simple." Shrugging, she took another sip of her water. "It matters not to me who runs the show there, so long as they are competent. Such successions have been a way of life in the Dominion for years."

Alkanphel grinned a bit. It had worked, from as far as he could tell. Perhaps it would help ease the next blow. "We beleive no other than Devon Treznor to be involved with this effort. He's contacted a number of Ardan states with a request to have them turn against Lord Melkor."

The Warlord paused. "Hence our apprehension of his actions"

He leaned back in his chair and folded his gloved hands over his lap. He kept his link with the Dread Lady's mind open. He made it rather difficult for the woman to pay attention to anything else, if that was even a possibility given the circumstances of the meeting.

"Oh for chrissakes, you have got to be f..." she began, her eyes flashing angrily, and that chilling flash of fear running through her again. "There is nothing to gain from him doing such a thing. What possible reason do you have to suspect that? Your contact is obviously lying," she said, sitting back in her chair, fixing him with a steady gaze.

Alkanphel reached down to his case and opened it quickly. He draws out a folder and tosses it on the table. "That is a copy of a communique received by none other thatn Lord Sauron concerning the matter. He may be a deceiver, but he does not lie to his Lord." He grinned smugly and severed that link with her relaxedness, instead taking up the reins of anger. He lifted a brow and watched her closely.

Nathicana tilted her chin up imperiously, lips compressing for a moment. She layed her hand over the folder and drew it in, scanning over the contents, her brow furrowing. "A communique such as this could have easily been faked," she murmured, fingertips taping against the edge of the folder, not meeting his gaze.

Alkanphel locked his eyes on the woman and forced her to meet his gaze. "This was not faked. We've got similar intel from agents in Rukemia too..." he trailed off. He leaned forward a bit and clasps his hands instead on Nathi's desk. He smiled coldly. "All the pieces are in place. Don't tell me you haven't noticed that he doesnt take a liking to the Imperium." Alkanphel said as he attempted to manipulate her anger, which was a delicate operation. if it were directed at him, he would fail. He gestured to the folder. "Read it."

"You claim Sauron to be a loyal servant. I would suggest he has more reason to betray than would our dear Imperatore ..." she looked up at him slowly, her grip on the folder tightening, jaw clenching. I have no idea what you're talking about, Alkanphel. He has always been quite thrilled about the contacts I'd been able to make with the Imperium, and he'd no sooner betray me in this than he would cut off his own arm. Your fellow alliance members, methinks, grow jealous of our good standing. The NDA, I understand, is the first group to enjoy such favors outside of the Arda alliance. I believe, the pieces point more closely to dissention and plotting in your own ranks, not ours."

Nathicana read on, the corners of her eyes tightening. Focus, dammit - do not get angry with this man. Find your center ... christ, why is it so hard to think?

Alkanphel watched her intently and let go of her anger. It was clouding her judgement. "Why would Sauron make this up, then? What purpose could it serve? Were he truly trying to subvert Morgoth's rule, then he would say nothing. Furthermore, there is a direct bond that exists between Melkor and Sauron--were it not for Melkor Sauron would have no physical shape. Overthrowing him of course is not an option."

Nathi took a slow breath, again reaching for her water, sipping slowly. "As I said, and as you yourself noted not too long ago, there are those who view us with suspicion and hate, and would enjoy seeing us thrown down. Think, man. I myself assisted with the Fyreheart discussions. Why in god's name would Dev...Emperor Treznor be working to throw it back into chaos? Our alliance has never been one of meddling. It's bad for business," she shook her head. "I won't claim to know the minds of your underlings and fellow Ardans. I'm certain there's an angle to it, or they'd not be doing it."

Alkanphel smiled warmly, knowingly. It was time to set his plan in motion. He casually sought out whatever feelings the Dread Lady had for him personally. His charisma seemed to gradually increase, his aura taking its full affect on the woman. "Have I ever lied to you?"

Nathicana looked at him, her eyes narrowing slightly for a brief moment, then she smiled pleasantly. "No more than I have to you, to my knowledge," she said, her smile increasing. She ran a slender fingertip around the rim of her glass, her gaze dropping briefly, then looking back at him with a mischievous expression. Switching tactics, is it? Damn, the first time I saw him, I knew he'd be a challenge to go up against. I thought that was my game ...

A little shiver of anticipation ran through her, as she slowly lifted the glass to her lips for another slow sip. Alkanphel snickered and leaned back. The Effect continued. Subtly, he prodded her along even more. "True enough, but it can't hurt to keep an eye out, no? Surely you're not the only one who's good at slick subterfuge."

I wonder ... would such tactics keep him distracted? Could I buy him off with a bit of ... Nathicana looked him over thoughtfully, unconsciously rubbing a stray droplet of water from her lips with her fingertips, slowly. "Surely not," she murmured, "Though I'd like to think I'm one of the better."

Alkanphel grinned a bit, and reached up to brush something off his collar. As his hand fell to the desk, it rested on her hand. As soon as physical contact was initiated, his charisma reached its zenith. "Indeed this we imagine to be the case as well, but you must remain vigilant. You can't admit its not at least possible."

"I ..." she began, her breath catching, surprising herself at the way her pulse raced at his touch. "Ever vigilant ... always said so." She shifted her hand under his, stretching it slowly, not making any attempt to move it away. "What do you plan to do about this ... misunderstanding?" she asked quietly, her eyes intent, for several reasons.

Alkanphel does not move. A glint shone in his eye. "We've not yet decided. We learned this rather recently, and I figured contacting you would be a good first step. Before we took any serious action one way or the other."

"And what ..." she shivered, in a way that had nothing to do with fear."What could I do to help put your mind at ease, and assure you such slanderous talk is just that?"

He adjusted his gentle grip on her hand, his fingers re-settling themselves on her skin. He chose his words carefully. "What I need from you right now is your assurances that you're not hiding anything from us. What I need is your cooperation."

Nathi nodded, flashing him one of her more charming smiles. She turned her hand under his, til their palms met, then gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "But of course. Have I not always been cooperative?"

Alkanphel leaned forward a bit more. His gaze was stern, yet oddly comforting at the same time. "These are trying times. You've always been one of our better contacts and I can't afford to lose you at this moment."

"Then," she said softly, leaning in as well, "Trust me in this. Have I ever steered you wrong?"

"No, but I fear your feelings for your closer allies may blind you from the truth. Your fondess for Emperor Treznor might yet cloud your insight as to his true intentions."

"It never has before," she said quietly. "Business and pleasure ... they seldom mix. When they do, 'tis pleasant, but no more than that. My feelings or lack thereof for the Emperor, have no bearing in this. I could say just as easily that your longstanding alliances blind you," she finishes, smiling slyly, her thumb gently caressing along the side of his hand.

Alkanphel looked down and feigned vague surprise. He lifted a brow, and stirred in his seat. He pushed himself to the brink of his power, unable to contribute, at the moment, more than a terse answer. "Indeed."

Nathicana gasped lightly, a part of her mind trying to tell her that something was very wrong here. She pushed that tiny thought aside with hardly an effort, her gaze intense. Lifting his hand, she drew it towards her, pressing her cheek against it, then lightly kissing his palm, saying nothing.

Alkanphel slowly moved his hand up her jawline, his fingers tracing slowly up it as he leaned in closer. His eyes flashed faintly as he smiled once more. Like her, he too said nothing, still feigning pleasant surprise, he was for all intents and purposes utterly speechless. Nathi sighed softly, her pulse racing. "Turn your thoughts away from Dev ... no more unpleasant talk," she murmured, rising slightly from her chair to lean in close enough that he could feel the warmth of her breath over his lips.

The Warlord smiled a bit as he cradled her with his hand. "Of course," he said, pretending to be every bit as much under her influence as she was his. 'Do it...' He thought. 'You know you want to.. come on... ' The thought was echoed in her mind as well, though it was decidedly not his voice telling her to do it. It was her own.

"Put all this ... behind us, yes?" she half-whispered, softly brushing her lips against his, pausing, then kissing him.

Alkanphel leaned slightly into the kiss, vastly pleased with himself. his hand slid behind Nathi's head and kept their lips locked. He slowly rose and motioned her up with his other hand, curling a finger under her chin, never breaking the kiss. Nathi rose the rest of the way from her chair, leaning in across the desk, stretching up on her toes. Her left hand she pressed against the desk for the sake of balance. The right, she slid slowly down along his arm, up to his shoulder, then neck, letting her fingers brush softly along his ear.

He reached down once she had risen, putting a hand on her wasit and pulled gently, coaxing her up onto the desk, his other hand running through her hair slowly, ruffling it a little. Nathicana followed without hesitation, not even pausing to think as she climbed up onto the desk, the folder containing the incriminating messages heedlessly scattering. Her kisses grew more hungry as she knelt there in front of him, her other hand moving up til both arms rested lightly around his shoulders.

Her own nature worked against her as he deftly maneuvered both her body and mind, her thoughts focused simply on the moment and her need to please, and be pleased in turn. What lingering doubts had flickered through her mind were systematically squelched, the room soon echoing the sounds of quiet sighs and whispers.

Some time later, Alkanphel scoops her up and sits the two of them back down in his chair, not keen on compromising his back by any further leaning. He grinned a bit and ruffled her hair, kissing her lightly on the forehead, then closed his eyes and sighed heavily. He rests his chin in the crook of her neck, pulling her up onto his lap. "That went rather... well.." he said, still a bit dazed. Nathicana shifted her hips, straddling his with a wicked little grin, pointedly ignoring the nagging sensation that had begun tickling at the back of her mind, simply enjoying the moment. She nodded, murmuring something in agreement, then paused, almost seeming confused.

Alkanphel caresses her absently, and arches a brow. "Is something amiss?"

She frowns slightly, shaking her head. No ... no, I wanted this. This was my idea, wasn't it? "I ah ... no, nothing," she says with a disarming smile. "That unpleasant business earlier ... I hope we've come to an agreement?"

The Warlord smiles a bit and stirs, kissing her deeply to take her mind off the unwanted ihibitions. "I cannot make that decision myself but I'll inform the Boss of your position." He winked. "I think I'll put in a good word." His answer seemed to satisfy, and Nathicana closed her eyes, savoring the kiss as she shifted her hips teasingly. "Good," she murmured in between kisses. "I would hate for our partnership to suffer on account of a ... misunderstanding."

Alkanphel nudged his nose with hers and grinned as he clasped his hands around Nathi's shoulder and stared into her eyes. "Indeed. It would be rather tragic to lose what we have."

"I must admit, I never saw our dealings taking quite this turn," she said with a soft chuckle, the slightest hint of questioning in her expression. Alkanphel raised his shoulders in a slight shrug. "Who knew?"

Nathicana shook her head slightly as if to clear it, instinctively feeling she was missing something important ... but not being able just yet to put her finger on it. "So ... from here?" she asked, leaning back a bit to study his face. "The situation on Io. Will the Imperium be holding back while we attempt to get things settled?" Alkanphel nodded quietly, then yawned. "We've got to keep up appearances though. You know how that goes, I'm sure. Konrad was a bit hasty, that much I'll admit. But.. given his orders I can understand."

She smiled, her turn to feel quite pleased with herself. "Of course, of course. And these ridiculous charges against the Emperor ... I hope those as well can be smoothed over in time?" Alkanphel nodded again, faintly. "Surely..."

"I'd say our time was well spent then, wouldn't you?" She stretched, then slowly slid out of his lap, turning around to lean across the desk and fetch her glass of water. Alkanphel nods vigorously. "Indeed it has. Should I tarry much longer, I'm afraid Melkor will grow suspicious of me. I'm to report back soon," he said as he stood and stretched.

"Understandable," she murmured after taking a long drink, then quietly retrieved her things, unashamedly getting herself pulled back together as if nothing were out of the ordinary. He slowly went about dressing hismelf, careful as always to maintain his impeccable appearance ere he left. He ran a hand through his hair, which had been pretty throughly disrupted. He smiled again as he put his gloves back on. "The longer I saty here, at any rate, the less likely I am to leave within an acceptable timeframe," he said with a wink.

Nathicana had to laugh at that, shaking her head. "Well now, we couldn't possibly have that now, could we?" Alkanphel snickered as he took her hand, and bent down to kiss it. "Of course not," he answered with a chuckle of his own. "Of course not." He stoops to pick up his case, then bows. "Always a pleasure, Lady Nathicana. Tonight, perhaps, even moreso." She does her best to act the part of the lady, at least for this little exchange, drawing herself up to her full unimposing height of 5'6, and then straightening her jacket. "I look forward to continued amicable relations, Lord Alkaphel. I assure you, the pleasure was mutual."

Alkanphel bows again and makes his way to the door. Once he reaches it, he lays a hand on the knob and turns around, abesntly keeping his hand where it is. "I trust you'll have a pleasant evening. I myself must return to Angband, by sharp contrast," he finished as he deftly unlocked the door.

"Oh, I think I can almost guarantee a pleasant evening on my part," she says with a secretive little smile. "Safe travelling, my Lord."

Alkanphel opens the door and slips out, quite intentionally leaving that folder where it fell. Perhaps she'd look at it again later.

Morgoth and Alkanphel sat in council in the Throne Room of the Dark Lord, the fire of the Balrog Guards' bodies filling the room with a faint orangish light--the only real source of light in the room. The Dark Lord towered over the room, larger in stature even than the massive Balrogs, seated grimly on his throne of rock and iron. Through the relative darkness, Melkor's eyes burned a seraing red, cutting through the dlackess like an eerie beacon at his Warlord, Alkanphel--who's eerie white eyes met his Lord's gaze.

Morgoth spoke, his voice filling the massive hall. "So tell me... did you succeed?" he asked, intently. His eyes continued to burn.

Alkanphel nodded faintly. He spoke almost with a hiss. "She was a difficult mind to break. Several of my manipulations backfired slightly, but aside from that, it had all gone as planned."

Morgoth nodded, and he was glad, for his servant had carried out his wishes almost to the letter. "Excellent. I'm most pleased to hear this."

Alkanphel held up a cutioning finger. "There was one possible complication, My Lord." He paused, searching for the right words. The Dark Lord stirred in his throne. "I sensed another presence inside her.. something.. something was already growing. I beleive she may have already been pregnant."

Melkor scowled and slammed a massive fist on the armrest of his throne. The impact caused several smaller rocks and stones to fall loose from the ceiling. He drew in his breath. "What of it?"

Alkanphel tightened his jaw and grinned wickedly. "I don't think she knew it was there."

Melkor looked down a bit to the Maiar, his eyes burning with rage. "Did you kill it?"

Alkanphel laughed. "Come now, Melkor. What servant of yours would I be if I hadn't? I'm nearly spent, as that effort took more of my power than the mind trickery. My link with her mind had to be severed midway through, but by that point it probably didn't matter," he concluded.

Melkor wasn't happy, but given the circumstances it could have gone worse. All they could really do now was wait and see where this went. If what Alkanphel was telling him was true, the Maiar's essence would have killed the embryo. Unfortuantely, none of them had any way of knowing exactly how old it was, but it couldn't have been too terribly developed. If it was yet in early development, its chances for survival were low.

"And did you learn anything of note?" asked Melkor.

Alkanphel heaved a sigh. "Not really, no. Nothing we didn't already know or suspect."

The Dark Lord shook his head. "Pity. Very well, Alkanphel. I'm vastly pleased with this, and certainly hope all goes according to plan." He waved a hand dismissively. "Now begone. We've got a war to deal with."

Melkor, Lord of Darkness
He who Arises in Might
Emperor Eternal of the Imperial Dominion of Melkor Unchained, Lord and Master of Arda
http://people.vanderbilt.edu/~darion.c.smith/melkor.jpg

Nathi walks up the front steps of her villa, still looking over a group of papers in a folder. She walks in the door without looking up, her brow furrowed, looking rather distracted. Treznor looks up from his glass of wine as Nathicana approaches, listening intently to make sure she's alone.

"Dev," she says, still not looking up just yet, walking in towards the dining room table. "Some things we need to discuss, mi amore."

Timofeyev concentrates on the side of his plate, deciding that any assertion of presence would be inadvisable. Treznor frowns and sets the glass down. That doesn't sound good. I wonder what's boiled over. "Sure. Here or elsewhere?"

"I'm sure I can find something to do elsewhere..."

Nathi looks up from the papers, thinks for a moment, then shakes her head. "No, no ... you're fine, Timofeyev." Walking over to Devon, she closes the folder, then lays it on the table next to him, and pulling up a chair. Treznor glances at the folder quickly, then back at Nathicana. "So, what's up?" She chooses to answer in the more quiet method they have, moving on to other conversation in the room.

<LOS Communications – Nathicana>
}
<< You look wiped. What have you been doing?

The cadet nods, again trying to make himself inconspicuous.

"I apologize for chasing you boys out of the office earlier. Couldn't be avoided, really," she says, reaching for the pitcher of water, and pouring herself a glass with a mostly steady hand. "Did the rest of your day go well, I hope?"

<< Meeting with Alkanphel.

Devon nods. "I think so. I've been regaling the young Cadet with some of the finer points of Dominion lifestyle, as percieved by an ex-patriate."

<< Oh hell. Tell me you didn't meet with him alone. What did he want?

Bondayehr nods with a neutral expression. "Quite well." No need to bring up constant worry.

Nathi takes a slow sip of her water, closes her eyes briefly, and breathes out a quiet sigh. "Good, good ... Studies going well, Tim?" she asks with a pleasant smile.

<< Of course I met with him alone. I've never shared my meetings with the Imperium. Too damned delicate, and you know it, boy. What he wanted ... well, in part was to show me that information and ask me what I knew about you selling them out.

<< Which is none, of course. Gods, I knew it was too good to be true.

<< I wouldn't say none, mi amore. All the same ... it was an uncomfortable space to be in, nonetheless.

Timofeyev relaxes and half-smirks. "Of course. Joyous equations spinning through my head concerning airflow and Swiss mathematicians."

<< Granted. I presume he wanted to confirm your innocence before deciding on a course of action. I'm going to have to put my defenses on alert. Oh well. I suspected Sauraman wasn't quite as legitimate as those fools in Rukemia claimed. Now, why don't you tell me what's really bothering you?

Treznor shakes his head with a rueful grin. "Math. I hate it. Always have."

"It's what I get for going into engineering," Bondayehr shrugs with a smile. "Knew what I was in for, and have always been decent at it."

Nathicana chuckles, then takes another slow sip. "So I've seen from your records, boy. Just want to make sure all of this isn't interfering with all that."

<< Well, if you'll note, those papers contain intel from agents inside Rukemia as well, boy. I spun it to the best of my ability, and kept the topic on Io as much as possible. I've been told that the Imperium may be backing down there, and been granted assurances that the case developing against you could possibly be put aside.

<< I'll take a look at them later, but I consider them suspect. Frankly, Arda was always the most dicey of the entire plan, which is why I kept it flexible. In the meanwhile, I've got other tricks to pull. What conditions did Alkanphel place on putting aside the case?

"I wouldn't let it. That much has been agreed on." Smirking grin. "Have to admit, the change of atmosphere has done well for me, at least."

Treznor observes Timofeyev with a wink. "The food certainly agrees with you."

"You do know I'm under orders to eat, right? Everything from full-star colonel down."

"With good reason. But I'm sure a month of Dominion food will bulk you up nicely."

"I know I've enjoyed having you here as well, il mio cavaliere bianco," she says with a wink of her
own. "I hope Dominic has been able to keep you properly stocked up, at least. We do rather pride ourselves on hospitality, after all."

<< Now there's where it gets ... odd. [frown analog] My meetings with the Imperium have always been strictly business, you know. Pleasant enough, though in the case of Alkanphel, a touch intimidating, though always the epitome of polite manners.

<< So …?

The cadet smirks brightly. "It'll take effort at this rate to ensure that the bulk fits properly."

Nathi laughs quietly at that, putting her fingers to her lips out of habit, and grinning. "Well, the way we've been working you in the mornings, I doubt you'll have much trouble with that."

<< This time he started as polite as ever, then hit in hard with the info on you ... then he took a different track entirely. I admit, I was furious with the bastard. And then, well ... the whole mood of the meeting changed. One thing led to another, and ... [shrug analog] Damndest thing, that. Not a tactic I'd ever thought to use there.

"As they say, constant vigilance."

<< He seduced you? [laugh analog] Now there's something I never considered. He must have been quite a, er, handful. No wonder you look so tired.

She nods, her brow furrowing slightly. "Aye ... constant vigilance. That's the second time today I've heard that phrase used," she says absently, refilling her glass.

<< Never you mind all that. It's just ... After, he let it all go far too easy is all. It's bothered me. Christ, Dev, I'm not so vain as to think this piece of ass is worth as much as he could be potentially giving up on Io, or with you. You know how the Imperium works. Unless this is something he's cooked up on his own ... I don't know.

"I'd hazard that the first instance wasn't under such jovial circumstances." Bondayehr frowns slightly in concern. "Anything worth talking about?"

Nathi gives the cadet a wry grin. "Given your earlier reaction to that note, I'm not so sure you'd care to hear it all," she says, taking another slow sip.

"Understood. My apologies for prying."

Treznor blinks in surprise. "You knew? You didn't say anything to me."

<< Could he have contaminated you somehow? Slipped you a mickey, or even found a way to bug you?

<< Something just isn't clicking right. And no ... no ... I don't see how. [frown analog] I'll have the office scanned, and everything from today just to make sure. Other than that ... no idea.

Timofeyev raises an eyebrow. "Knew what? I just received a message meant for Nathicana here with no context. Forwarded and properly dropped."

She snorts, waving a hand dismissively. "No prying. It was a matter of timing, that. And ... true enough, though I note your reaction was, well - priceless." She can't help but grin.

"Good man, Tim, keeping even that little inconsequential bit quiet. Having Dev poking around down there today would have been unfortunate."

Bondayehr smirks. "If only you could hear what I was thinking... 'Lord Bitchwipe' was extremely tame in comparison. At least it's good to know I'm not in trouble for slipping that much." He shrugs. "OPSEC is everyone's responsibility. Wasn't asked, so didn't tell."

"I'll let it pass. This time." Treznor gives Timofeyev a mock glare. "But yes, if I'd known I probably would have raised hell."

<< I'm not comfortable dealing with the Imperium, never have. And with my efforts to pressure Melkor into withdrawing back into Arda where he can be contained, my paranoia is just that much worse. Having Alkenphel show up like this tonight isn't just coincidence. I think you need a full security sweep. He may have left behind more than just...fond memories.

"All the more reason to maintain OPSEC." Timofeyev grins.

Treznor snorts. "You're a credit to your military. I wish half my cadets were that quick."

"The less hell raised, the better."

"Well, there you have it. Impromptu meeting with one of the Imperium Warlords. Nothing too out of the ordinary, no, but ... " Nathi looks at Devon for a moment, a half smile on her lips. "Definitely the less hell raised the better. He was none too pleased with the current situation."

<< Aye, and they seem to be aware of your misgivings, somehow. I covered as best I could, put a spin on it to make a dervish look stationary. [snort analog] Smartass. Just because you've not covered your ass well enough in this is no reason for me to be taking the heat. Next time you can bloody well sit there and smile and work like hell for some answers. The 'fond memories' would be moreso if the whole situation didn't feel so damned ... odd.

Treznor grins wryly and picks up his wine glass again. "Of that I have no doubt. I don't think he's had to deal with putting out that many fires at once, certainly not in living memory."

"Poor dear." The cadet mutters smugly.

Devon sighs and reaches for the folder. "All right. May as well see how much damage he's willing to show us."

<< It was a risk I had to take. At the very least it showed them they're not invulnerable on home ground. The possible benefits far outweighed the risks. Anyway, I'll be pleased to hash it out, but he chose you as an intermediary. Obviously you're still too valuable to alienate or punish. The obvious question then is why, and for what?

"No love lost there," she says, grinning at Bondayehr. "No surprise, either." To Devon, she points out a couple things, then says, "His argument for Sauron seemed well-founded. Tied, apparently. Claims overthrowing Melkor would kill him as well. Helpful little tidbit there, I suppose, were one to manage it."

<< Well, I'd say the efforts on Mars have snowballed frightfully fast. I'll give you this - you've made yourself a convenient scapegoat, at least. My doings were never questioned. He did indeed make clear, whether by flattery, or fact, that the Imperium sees me as a value. Perhaps that interlude was intended to strengthen that tie, thinking a bit of dalliance would buy my loyalty?

Treznor shrugs noncommittally. "I had to work with what Rukemia provided me. Obviously, Rukemia wasn't nearly as clever as they thought they were, and now they're paying the price. It'll take a miracle for them to survive this. But all of this is hearsay, based on the word of trusted lieutenants. They weren't able to unscramble my encryption to get positive confirmation of source. This can be spun easily enough, were he to use it against me."

<< Too easy, too pat. Anyone paying attention to you would know you like your creature comforts, but to think that you'd be swayed by a single demonstration of carnal delights would be insulting. It could be Alkanphel giving into his own base desires, but again that doesn't fit. The Imperium isn't that subtle, but they're methodical once you understand their goals. There's something we're not seeing yet, and I don't like it.

"Mia caro, I spun like a top, believe you me," she says with a devious little smile. "I think my arguments were sound. They seemed, at least, to satisfy." Her brow furrows again at that, and she looks thoughtful, idly taking a sip from her water.

<< So it's not just me then? Truth, Dev, back there at the office ... I'm still not sure if it was him seducing me, or the other way around. It got ... confusing at times. Granted, more the pressure of the situation was just getting to me. It's not every day I have a meeting quite like that.

Treznor drums his fingers against the table as he pours over the document. "There's not enough here to incriminate anyone, but there's enough to plant a seed of doubt. If I were really keeping my allies in the dark as I've suggested to Rukemia and Sauron, this could be meant as the first gambit to renew old hostilities and suspicions between us."

<< [grin analog] Not every day, no. But not unknown. Oh well, we can wrack our brains about it all night and not come any closer. We'll just have to keep our eyes open for the trap and wait to see what comes next. Sooner or later we'll see enough of the pieces for the pattern to fall into place. Then it'll be a matter of who can react quicker. Put the Dominion on alert, and I'll do the same with my Empire. That's all we can do for now.

"What are you getting at," she says, coming out of her reverie. "I did what I could to sow such seeds of doubt about their own organization while polishing you up a bit. Unsure how effective it was."

<< Goddammit, that's the last thing I want to have to do. Folks are nervous enough without be gearing up like that too.

"Well, that's the whole point. I did my best to undermine the confidence and loyalty of the Arda alliance, and Alkanphel could have decided to return the favour. Give you hints and whispers that he knows can't be proven, but we all know are true. Make you wonder what else I'm not telling you. Remind you how they've always been honest and honourable with you, unlike some of your so-called friends. It wasn't that long ago that you and I were waiting for the other to invade or otherwise attack."

<< Granted, but Alkanphel just raised the stakes. Your security personnel need to be extra alert for hidden threats. More work for Marik, naturally, but that's his job. And dammit, Ben should already be on Io. I should be there, not him.

<< We've been over this. And now, with these new threats, it's even more important you stay away from those sorts of situations. [long pause] I believe you're safe enough here, Dev. You don't think that ...

Bondayehr raises one hand slightly. "If I could interject something... 'honest' and 'honorable' certainly don't belong in context with anything Ardan without a negative modifier involved."

Treznor grins at Timofeyev. "That's your next lesson, Cadet. Just because they're your enemy doesn't mean they can't behave by their own codes of honour. If nothing else, the Morgoth Imperium tries to be very scrupulous about observing the letter of the law, if not the spirit. They dealt with the NDA in good faith, and had I not stuck my nose in no doubt would have continued to do so until it ceased to serve their purposes."

<< Whether I do or not, do you really want to take that risk?

Nathi is uncaracteristically quiet, nodding at the statements, her brow furrowing again.

<< I'd rather have you where I can keep an eye on you.

The cadet grins. "Ah, that may be true. But one must also recognize the effectiveness of propagandizing one's enemy as worthless and honorless."

"Truth is nothing ... appearance, everything," Nathi murmurs quietly.

"Naturally. It goes with the territory, and both Alkanphel and I have been attempting to capitalize on that. To some degree it works; there's always someone willing to believe the worst."

<< That's flattering, Mom, but I'm a big boy now. I don't take risks without thinking them through first. [grin analog]

"The only problem is the people who are willing to believe are already biased in the first place and are not often the ones that need convincing."

"No, but mob rule transcends rational thought. Get enough people together who are willing to chant aggressive propaganda, and otherwise calm, rational beings will throw away critical thought and march with them. As Nath says, appearance is everything. Sometimes truth is just a matter of saying it frequently enough."

"Look at the snowball effect going on with Mars," she says offhandedly. "People are crawling out of the woodwork for a chance to take a potshot at the Imperium. Too many noses still bloodied from his arrival, and far too many willing to jump on the bandwagon regardless."

<< Dammit, boy, I'm serious. Think for a moment. I've somehow manged to become everyone's golden girl here. They'd not bring down my supporters - some I would daresay within their own ranks - by taking actions here. You're safer where you're at. I'll increase the security. Marik has already boosted it annoyingly since the Lavenrunz incident. I'm certain he'll be thrilled to take it a step further.

Timofeyev frowns. "Control subjective reality and essentially control reality. O'Brien may have had a point, but objective truth still exists. Even if Big Brother and INGSOC shout doubleplusloud that he can, O'Brien can't disobey the law of gravity and walk on the ceiling. Mars is just people now having an excuse to do what they already wanted to do."

"There are more nations on Earth giving serious thought to mobilizing against Arda now. I've been stirring that pot since the beginning of this campaign, and people are willing to at least think about it. But there are two assertions that I'm working against: one is that Melkor is invincible, and the other that the Triumvirate is weakening. Neither of them are particularly true, but people believe it because they're hearing it enough." Treznor shrugs eloquently at Timofeyev. "That's the difference between physical law and social dynamics. Politics is never about what is true, but what you can make people believe is true."

<< I'm not sure if I'm flattered or annoyed. Either way, I'm not leaving right away. Matters are secure enough in Devonton that they can do without me a few more days. After that, I will need to head back to make an appearance. I don't want national confidence waning because I'm hiding somewhere safe.

Nathi idly toys with her glass, a secretive smile playing across her lips.

<< I know, I know. Don't mind me, mi amore. I admit, having you here again like this, I've been feeling selfish.

"Just because we don't go about stomping smaller people we're suddenly weak." The cadet sighs. "Well, it will give us something to work against."

"Speaker was rather interested to hear a few things I had to say on that, Tim. No worries there."

Bondayehr smirks. "Oi... here I am, wandering about in the intrigues of the important and powerful. Who would've thought, eh? Oh well. While looking weak is bad, at least we aren't."

Nathi snorts. "We all started somewhere, boy. But then, we've been over that." She smiles warmly at Timofeyev, shaking her head slightly. "It isn't everyone who thinks that, and those who do, it merely serves our purposes to let them have their delusions. I've no fear for the Trium."

"I do." Wry half-smirk. "It's sorta going to be my job."

"Fair enough. How about 'I have great confidence in the Trium'. You're not the only ones keeping an eye out," she says with a wink.

The cadet grins. "Good to know."

Treznor chuckles quietly. "Believe it or not, the primary reason I started stirring this pot was for the protection of the Triumvirate."

"It's not like you have a history of causing trouble, as far as I can tell from what IntRelate and SADOTC crammed into my head."

"Not that anyone could see, no. Like I said, Cadet. It's all about what you can make people believe."

Nathicana settles back in her chair, quietly listening to the interplay as she runs the past day’s events back through her mind, pondering, looking for the trap she can’t help but feel has been laid out. She feels a shiver of apprehension rush through her as she glances at Devon.

Bondayehr goes for his usual half-smirk again. "I'll agree with the fact that one does have to play the political game, but the idealist in me isn't going to let it lie that easily. It's only through a proper set of ideals that one doesn't get into Minitru-esque forms of information and reality control."

Treznor shrugs and slips the papers back into the folder. "Hold on to your idealism, just don't let it blind you. Melkor is the enemy, but not because he's incapable of honourable behaviour. He knows his strengths and uses them to devastating effect. We just have to remind people that he has weaknesses, as well. And that's what this is all about.

"Is there anything else, Nath, or are we done here? I know you haven't had dinner yet."

Nathi wave’s a hand at Devon, quietly dismissing the idea of dinner as she pours herself another glass of water, then sips it slowly.

The cadet frowns slightly. "If I thought Morgoth was just a dishonorable cad, I wouldn't wear the uniform."

Treznor grins at Timofeyev. "No, but from your earlier statement it leads me to believe that it colours your thinking. That invites mistakes, and the gods know we make enough of them without needlessly hindering ourselves."

"Of course it colors my thinking. Denying it would simply be asking to making such mistakes. Knowing that I'm biased, though, allows me to take that into account."

Treznor nods sagely. "And that's the whole point. So long as you're aware of your bias and can step outside of it, you're a step ahead of most everyone else."

Timofeyev smirks. "Huzzah."

Nathicana perks up at that. "Speakig of being a step ahead ... I've some security arrangements to make."

Nathicana excuses herself from the table, stopping in the kitchen to grab a dish of chilled grapes from the fridge. She pads quietly up the stairs to her office, and curls up comfortably in the leather office chair behind the desk. Pulling out her laptop and accompanying dataplug, she jacks in, taking immediate comfort in the cool disconnected feel of a blank c-space environment. This day had been … vexing.

Floating there in the void, her avatar curled up in a comfortable pseudo-lotus position, she calls up several documents for reference, displaying them within easy ‘reach’. She works on first one missive, then another, detailing the plans for the office scans, the requests for additional security, orders to have the nation, and hence, the military branches, put on alert. One, she shoots off to several anonymous locations. All are heavily encrypted.

And one by one, responses begin coming in. Verifications, clarifications, requests, reports … She files through them one by one, replying as needed. One in particular gives her pause, and her brow furrows.

Sorry, girl Got us a really big job right now, taking up all our time and resources. Afraid the Black Company won’t be available for a good bit.

Luck with your situation. Keep it sharp.

-- J

Goddammit … Jas, I need you.

She leans her elbows on her knees, hands going reflexively to rub her temples, eyes closed as she goes over the options presented thus far.

The military route was being dealt with as efficiently as she had come to expect. She was aware many assumed the Dominion to be a weak power due to their outwardly peaceful façade. This served her purposes well. Let them believe what they want. We know the truth of it. This of course, led to other thoughts, and she proceeded to quickly work up another missive, using standard Triumvirate encoding.

To the Triumvirate Council, First among Equals

I wish to give you notification of a mobilization of our forces around the Dominion, and in our waters. The current situation has us nervous to say the least, and given recent happenings, we feel it in our best interests to make a show of force, not unlike the operations going on at present above Io, in fact.

No actions are planned at this time, nor, we pray, in the future. We felt it best to alert you to avoid any undue nervousness on your parts, and assure you of our continued peaceable intentions. There are those who see us as weak, or at the least, unprepared. We hope to disabuse them of this notion, and in doing so, preemptively discourage any thoughts of meddling that might be going around.

With respect, and warm regard,

--Nathicana D’Aquisto

That being done, and the other arrangements being handled to her satisfaction, she had one last transmission to make. One on a more personal note.

Shodey – things are going to look a little crazy here for a bit. All the activity with Io and the Imperium and all, well – it’s stirred up some interest. Had a visit today from one of the warlords concerning it. Probably nothing, but I’m not taking chances.

You’re going to see an increase in security, and a good bit of military activity. It’s nothing to worry about, and we’re not planning any crazy stunts – just a simple show of force here. Flexing our muscles as it were. The old ‘don’t start nothing, won’t be nothing’ bit. In addition, I’m going to be keeping myself to the villa for a while. Out of sight, out of mind? But seriously – will be in touch. Have a lot of work to tackle here, and just didn’t want you to worry. Last time I did that, I brought out your whole fleet if I remember … [grin analog]

Please, don’t mind the extra personnel. I know you can take care of yourself, but … one looks out for family, eh? Keep yourself safe and well – my love to you and Barry.

--Nathi

Leaning back to rest on the crimson velvet fainting couch that was suddenly there, she stretches and goes over her handiwork once again. Ah, sis, how far we’ve come on things. If you only knew just what all I’ve been up to … I swear, either you’d spank me or congratulate me. Possibly both.

And that’s when it hits her, sitting there thinking of Shodey. An additional bit to the solution of removing Devon from the Imperium’s eye, the beginnings of which she’d been mulling over for a while.

Calling up old data packets, current missives, and making new intel queries, she begins a subtle manipulation. Compiling facts, working in dates and times to the best of her ability, she begins building an elaborate case, in keeping with points she’d made earlier to Alkanphel. The memory of that meeting sends a shiver through her again, part pleasure, part chill fear, part nervous worry over the nagging feeling of missing something vitally important that she can’t yet seem to shake. Piece by piece she hacks data, manipulating the contents, altering time/date stamps and setting up her own version of events and happenings.

Don’t let the right hand know what the left hand is doing … mmmhmm … bit of subtlety here … careful prodding there … It all fits. Couldn’t have played into my hands better, I think. Dev might approve, might not … regardless, covering his ass on this one. Be damned if I’ll let them get their filthy claws on him. Not if I can do something about it.

Sending several documents to her printer, she relaxes a moment, clearing her mind, then reluctantly jacks out, and shuts down the system.

“God I hope this all turns out better than I fear it will …”

The order came down the line, and Marissa del Vecchio, Minister of Internal Affairs, smiled. She’s played right into our hands. Still, a nagging doubt. Why? Does she suspect? Or was there more to that meeting than we’re being told?

Her efforts to monitor the Lady’s office had been met with surprisingly staunch resistance. No one had ever called her on it, of course – that would be considered … rude. Still, she had yet to secure reliable surveillance inside the room, or at the home. She suspected Marik to be the key there, and as yet, she had not found the man’s price. Now, with these new developments, their timeline would have to be moved up – and fast.

Assurances were sent back, orders were passed on, and a select group of soldati were assigned to bolster that night’s security detail at the villa. All was coordinated with the dear lady’s quiet protector, Marik, who had also received orders to acquire the additional personnel.

Marissa felt certain after that discussion that this was indeed a reaction to recent events and the visit from Alkanphel. Marik seemed pleased to finally be protecting the woman as he felt should have been done all along. Validation at last, is it? she thought with a chuckle after he’d left her office, on his way over to handle the sweep of the offices that had been ordered.

Of course, Donatello had to be contacted as well – such increases in operations cost money, and Calfa was after all, the Minister of Finance.

“I take it you’ve heard?” she asked as she closed the door behind her, her expression intent.

Donatello nodded, his face a mask of concern. “Does she know?”

Shaking her head, a smile spreading across her face, the woman chuckled. “I don’t think this has a damn thing to do with us. I do know it’s going to benefit us greatly. I’ve already made the first moves in stepping up our timeline. The soldati involved have been carefully screened and briefed, as we’d previously discussed. We’re tight, there, Don. Thanks to Spooky, our comms are secure as well. We’ll rid ourselves quietly of those participating in the op over the next week or so. No one is expecting trouble from inside, so far as anyone can tell … And even if, we won’t get a better chance than this.”

“We need to brief Calabrese,” he murmurs, his brow still knit with concern, though his eyes hold a hungry gleam. “He’s going to want to keep abreast of the situation.”

“True enough. And he needs to prep that double. With Nathicana tightening security, she’ll be holing up at her villa anyway. It couldn’t be more perfect. She’s done it before often enough not to draw attention. It gives us that much more time to frame someone with the act, then get rid of them at leisure.”

Donatello nodded, taking a slow breath and relaxing a bit. “I’ll take care of it,” he says, pulling out his pack of cigarettes and pausing to light one. Slowly exhaling, away from her, he nods again. “You keep taking care of your end, and I’ll get to working on mine. I think Cesare will be pleased.”

The woman flashes him a vulpine grin as she heads for the door, opening it with a nod.

“Consider those requests taken care of,” he calls out as she leaves, then yells at the aide across the hall, “And Toni – I’ve a project for you.”

In an ridiculously encoded message for Devon's eyes only:

[code:1:380810e9f0]
The file you have requested is complete and ready for impliminatation. Transfer over ether is far from secure, however. A copy has been provided to Marcus at the Hack embassy in the Dominion.

I'm sure it will live up to your ever demanding standards.

M.[/code:1:380810e9f0]

Speaker-to-Animals looks over his intelligence advisor's shoulder at the missive, folding his broad arms. "What do you think, Janus?"

Janus Garbo looks up at his boss, afro shaking slightly with the movement, and shrugs eloquently. It was his job to be paranoid, and a good deal of Garbo's time as of late had been taken up with that damned Dread Lady, the Intelligence Section's VIXEN network in the Dominion, and the constant back-and-forth love-hate relationship in his mind concerning those particular subjects. Ever since her little purge, Garbo was sure to have SIS on the pulse of her empire, keep tabs on what people were having for breakfast so he could be prepared for such in the future. VIXEN wasn't hit overly hard; most of the operatives captured ended up as 'disappeared'--presumed dead--anyway, caught by random chance... but that common-Ivan Tascini just had to blow cover... which meant VIXEN going underground, getting quiet, slowly rebuilding.

And in the meantime, they had a lot to look after. The Dread Lady getting closer to Arda. Trading openly with the enemy. Having long conversations with grand poobahs of the Imperium itself... and yet, she turned around and assisted with information. The orange one looking over his shoulder--so honorable but maybe too forgiving--had told him that Nathicana gave him forward intelligence back in the Outsets.

Now... now she was useful. He'd drop a line every so often, asking for information, and get something back. Ardan technology. Ardan policy. Ardan plans. After cross-checking it through MISSION every possible way for accuracy and validity, it always turned out to be grade A intelligence, and not in a counter-intel way either... there were some big things in there, not the kind passed out to make enemy spies content and not probe for more. Oh yes, that was the first angle Garbo tried, that the Dread Lady was a conduit for misinformation at best and misleading but accurate intelligence at worst, an attempt by the inferior Ardan 'intelligence' agencies to direct his actions. Yet, in that regard, she seemed clean.

"It seems clean," Garbo says, sure to qualify his statement. He was never sure about much of anything, but especially not Nathicana. He was paid to be paranoid; it was his duty to be paranoid. It was a long tradition of Intelligence Advisors from the past. He was the dirty underside of Scolopendra, the quiet guard of the more idealistic, free to do what was necessary to ensure the greater integrity of the ideal. He was also the repository of the oral history of SIS, even from back when it was the Revolutionary Coalition Operations Office. Oh, they'd learned from the mistakes and practices of the big names of the past; the historic professionals of the Military Intelligence sections; the cold warriors of the KGB, CIA, and NSA; even the oppressive OSA. Oh, they'd learned. There were no documents pertaining to the first truly successful RCOO culture-op; now it lived on in popular legend by its codename of Ghostwriter. The only 'proof' of the reality of Ghostwriter, the effective use of an entire religion to actually support some of the higher ideals it espoused in a secular format, was all stuck in Garbo's head, passed down from his predecessors, on back to the Great Mother of SIS, Letia Krane.

Then there was the File Cabinet of No Return, the one place where any secret too dangerous to let anyone else know could be kept in complete security. That was truly seedy stuff, some of it so underhanded that even a hardened cynic like Garbo didn't like looking through it. Contingency plans against allies. Standard operating procedures for plausibly deniable SIS actions ranging from blackmail to assassination to culture destabilization. Juicy information just asking to be abused, that could ruin lives and topple empires.

Janus thinks momentarily to himself that Nathi's folder was rather full at this rate.

"It seems clean?" Speaker frowns, not exactly enjoying Garbo's expertise but valuing it highly. He may be a sparkling example of Scolopendran idealism, Garbo thinks, but Speeks is not a fool. "'S what I think, sir. She's got a definite reason to mobilize... although I've got a sneaking suspicion there's a bit more behind it than just Treznor's sneaky dealings."

They always come in pairs... that's how they breed. Garbo was slowly working on the WHEELER network, but seeing how Nathicana and Devon were close (to say the absolute least), he made sure that WHEELER grew slowly and very, very cautiously... certainly they'd compare notes on something as insidiously unexpected (by most) as infiltration by the Scolopendran Intelligence Section.

Speaker nods. "Stay on the lookout. I will send an appropriate response."

"I'll tell you if anything odd happens, boss." Garbo turns back to his desk with a smug smile. One thing I am sure of... she may know that we're there, but she has no idea how deep we go.

* - * - *

Good luck. If you need our assistance, kzaw-tzobu, just ask.

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/nationstates/scolopendra/speaker-to-animals.gifSupreme Emperor Speaker-to-Animals
Chief of State
Federated Segments of Scolopendra

The next day was full of business that had to be dealt with, and it seemed everone needed more of her attention than she was able to give.

Nathicana went over her notes thoughtfully. This would be a gamble, no doubt about it, but … with the current intel coming in from Mars, and her discussion with Devon earlier, she felt she had no choice. All of the information was complete – as complete as she could get it at any rate. Her explanations were sound. The evidence was overwhelming.

Now was the time to act.

To Lord Alkanphel of the Imperium:

Greetings from the Dominion. I realize we have but recently met, but I feel that perhaps another conference may be in order. Your information did indeed give me pause, and I have had my people working tirelessly to confirm it. We have come up with some rather interesting results that I think you would be interested in. I myself was quite surprised, and I must thank you for so promptly bringing your findings to my attention. It is greatly appreciated.

Please, do let me know at your earliest convenience if you can manage the trip, or barring that, where copies of our findings can be transmitted over secure lines. This is not the sort of thing I think either one of us would like to have floating about freely.

Respectfully,

--Nathicana D’Aquisto, Dread Lady of the Dominion

The thought of facing him again, and so soon, sent a shiver through her. Decidedly not one of pleasure. She remembered all too well the other meetings, and though the scans had come back negative, the fact that this last one had been so … out of the ordinary still disturbed her.

What is your game, Alkanphel? What am I not seeing?

Shaking her head, she went back to her work, eagerly awaiting the response, and dreading it all at once.

I'd like to tag this for future reference

Lord Alkanphel, the sole High Warlord of Morgoth's Imperium, sat at his desk, his gloved hands steepled before his face. His brow lowered in conentration as he eyes the communique laying on the desk right below him. His hands pulled apart, and he drew a pen from his inside jacket pocket. Jotting something down, he dropped the piece of paper into a small slot, where it was whisked away to some other part of the fortress.

He contemplated the transmission. She wanted to see him again, so soon? He most certainly did not take the transmission for face value. He highly doubted that the Dread Lady would act to Emperor Treznor's detriment in any regard. That much had been made clear when he made his first subtle proddings of Nathicana's emotions--the nature of her reaction to anger spoke volumes about her fierce protectiveness of the man. Eventually, however, she seemed to forget about him so perhaps there was yet some hope.

Nonetheless, he would have to go see what this was all about. Lord Alkanphel was the only one of Morgoth's servants that could come and go as he pleased--and often trusted in the Maiar's powers to keep himself from harm. Still, he would be paying the Dark Lord a visit, before he left. They had some more business to discuss before he was to leave.



To: Nathicana D?Aquisto, Dread Lady of the Dominion

I must say I'm rather interested by all of this. I must confer with Lord Melkor and depart at once.


Lord Alkanphel
High Warlord of Lord Melkor's Imperium, First Counselor to Melkor Himself
http://people.vanderbilt.edu/~darion.c.smith/alkanphel1.jpg

"Who?" The cadet’s expression is priceless.

Nathicana sighs, rubbing her temples quietly. "Alkanphel, Imperium Warlord."

"Lemme guess... I can file this under 'special circumstance training.'"

"Damn straight, you can," she says with a wry grin. "You up to it, boy?"

"We were discussing what to do with you while we both attend this meeting. We think you'll be safe enough in attendance. But NOT as a Scolopendran military cadet. That would convey the exact opposite of what we want to say," Treznor says.

Timofeyev sighs. "If nothing else, I'll be able to chalk up another world personality I've had the... pleasure of dealing with." The cadet grimaces. "And whaddya mean, 'not as a Scolopendran?'"

Nathi shrugs and takes a sip of her ice water. "This is about convincing the man that we have no ill intent towards the Imperium. There's no love lost between your two nations. No secret there. I'd rather not put his back up."

Treznor grins and shoves a small box across the table. "I mean the last thing Alkanphel needs is to hear that the Non-Democratic Alliance is friendly to the Imperium while having a representative of Scolopendra and the Triumvirate watching over the proceedings. So congratulations, Cadet. You have been granted a field promotion to Lieutenant in the Treznor Special Forces, effective immediately."

"Yay." Bondayehr looks down at the box. "Point noted. I don't like it, but I see the reasoning involved. Just in case it isn't a given, I promise to keep my trap shut."

"Sure, it's uncomfortable, boy ... but hey. Small sacrifices for the greater good?" Her eyes sparkle with no small amount of mischief, then she winks at Devon.

"Good man. I was hoping I wouldn't need to remind to you keep your 'Lord Bitchwipe' comments to yourself. For the evening, at least, you are serving as my bodyguard. Nath has never been seen with one while I have, so that's why I'm pressing you into service." Treznor winks back at Nathicana.

The cadet grumbles, peeking inside the box. "No fair, using my ideals against me. Of course, that's the point. Anything I should know about our dear, dear guest? Should I stack his candy bars three high in a pyramid of alternating directions, or not breathe, or not think?"

Nathicana's brow furrows a bit at that. "Not think? Well, I ah ... truth, he's always been quite polite. Rather amicable sort to deal with, actually."

"Not think it is, then. I won't trust a smiling Ardan further than I can throw him." Points to his lean arms. "Note that I probably can't even pick the vrelt-eater up."

"Get yourself pulled together there, boy. It's almost time," she says, nodding. Trust them? Surely he jests.

"Well, let me get into character."

"On the hop, Lieutenant."

"On the bounce, sir." Not a correction, just a response as he gets the uniform on, quickly smoothing it to the requisite military perfection.

"Just in case, I'm establishing my legend as Lieutenent Mikhail Jeffreyovich. That's part of my name, and not well known either. 'Tis true enough."

"I'll remember that. Fall in, and let's go grab the tiger by the tail.

Nathicana settles herself behind the conference room table, indicating for the men to make themselves comfortable in whichever manner suited best. "Acknowledged," she says in a calm voice.

<LOS Communications - Devon>
{
<< Well ... here we go.

<LOS Communications - Nathicana>
{
<< Relax. We've never run a tighter op.

<< I know. Still ... I'm glad you're with me on this one, Dev.

<< Like I'd be anywhere else. [grin analog]


The cadet turned Lieutenant figures that if he's a bodyguard, he should stand by the door. Parade rest, good view of the room. Getting into position, he stiffens for a moment and then relaxes as he works through his Sakkran concentration exercises, soon taking on the slightly sleepy posture--but deadly alert gaze--of a professional trooper.

Alkanphel calmly strides into the room with a cursory glance to its inhabitants--a dismayed look passing over his face as his gaze falls upon Devon Treznor, his jaw tightening slightly. He peers over at his shoulder at the young man as he passes, walking to the table without a word. He sets his case on the ground next to the chair and sits, folding his hands over his lap, then clears his throat. "Now, then what is this business I was summoned to discuss?" he asks, his aura of power and terror returned in force, not docile as it was with the previous meeting

Jeffreyovich doesn't react to the Maiar's presence, simply staring off into the distance as is appropriate for proper parade rest.

"My Lord Alkanphel," Nathi says in greeting. "Thank you for coming, and so quickly."

The warlord tilts his chin downward in a half-nod of acknowledgement. "Due to the nature of my activities I'm quite often idle. It's no trouble."

"We wished to address your concerns, and the recent intelligence material you delivered here on your last visit. Obviously, such accusations have caused us great concern."

Alkanphel 's gaze slips once again to Treznor, his eyes flashing white with rage for an instant. He looks back to Nathi. "Surely though he would not be present were our findings deemed correct by yourself, no? What trickery is this?"

"There is no trickery on our parts, I assure you. However, upon an intensive search for answers, we have uncovered treachery most foul. Perhaps you would be interested in seeing our findings?" Treznor tightens in anger briefly, then relaxes as he focuses on the Void. He lets Nathicana do the talking.

The maiar leans forward a bit and nods reluctantly. "Do tell."

"I can do better, my Lord. I can show you." Nathicana brings out a datapad, her chin tilting up ever so slightly in that imperious manner she tends to take on. She slides it across the table to Alkanphel, her expression neutral. "Please, take a moment to look over those messages. I think you'll find them to be the same your Lord Sauron recieved. However, if you would, note the time/date stamps and the points of origin."

"We were able to break the codes on them without much trouble, seeing as it was an NDA protocol used. Imagine my shock and dismay to learn one of our own was setting us up." The information oddly enough, all points to United Indiastan."

Alkanphel glances over the data casually, scrolling through the contents of the datapad with his finger. He tapped his chin in thought, and sighed. "Really, then?" He appears unimpressed and sets the datapad calmly on the desk. "Indiastan is an ex-Ardan, and though he is no longer in the alliance, has generally proven to still be on-side, as far as we can tell. Might I trouble you for a motive to all of this?"

Nathicana nods, her brow furrowing. "I had wondered that myself, until more information became available, and we started to put the pieces together."

Alkanphel lifts a brow. "Oh? You unraveled all these mysteries in what.. one, two days? Most intriguing."

Nathicana chuckles softly. "I've had my eye on our newest recruit for some time, boy. We always try and monitor them for the first while, to assure ourselves of proper behaviour. I'm surprised they were able to slip this by us. Obviously, I've been slipping."

Treznor stirs quietly, but says nothing.

Alkanphel stares at the Dread Lady intently, and his anger raises slowly. His aura begins to carry an odd sense of foreboding, and gives all in the room the feeling that something very bad will happen unless he's calmed quickly. "And what makes you think I'd beleive this over Lord Melkor? And Sauron? What of their counsels--which I have of late come to trust more than yours?"

<< Tag. I'd like to field that one, if I may.

<< Be my guest.

The young man near the door looks lazily at Alkanphel as if he were telling a very mildly interesting story.

Alkanphel 's brow furrows as he rolls his eyes back and to his left, indicating the cadet by the door. "And furthermore, why is he here?"

"Just your average meatshielding, sir."

The warlord snorts with contempt. "Meatshielding with ears."

Nathicana takes a slow sip of her ice water - her own method of calming her nerves, as it often had. "That would be Emperor Treznor's man," she murmurs. "Perhaps he can give you a proper answer here?"

Treznor glares at the Lieutenant before speaking calmly. "Because while Nath may be convinced of her invincibility, I'm not. Ever since the last two attempts at abduction, I've allowed my bodyguards to keep an eye on me. If you object, then say so."

"If you don't want to believe the evidence Nath has moved heaven and earth to uncover, then don't. If you want to drop a lucrative market and alienate the only parties who have been maintaining a neutral voice between yourself and the Triumvirate, that's up to you.

"On the other hand, somebody knows your methods and has been watching you closely. There's plenty more evidence to back up her assertions. Most of it surprised the hell out of me. I didn't even know Indiastan was conducting operations on Io."

Alkanphel peers at Treznor, his rage growing greater. "When that 'lucrative market' is plotting openly against you, things like that tend to mean less and less. Lord Melkor is this close," he holds up his fingers scarcely an inch apart, "to washing his hands of the NDA." He snorts and leans back. "Frankly, I dont blame him" Alkanphel shakes his head. "tsk tsk.. This still doesn't sit. I see no motive."

"Nor would I, given the limited information you've had to work with," Nathicana says, her eyes flashing. "Now, are you willing to hear us out, or do we call this meeting adjourned?"

Lt Jeffreyovich tilts his head slightly in the other direction. Maybe it's to work out a kink in the neck, maybe it's to see the Ardan's hands better. His face remains as bored, expressionless, and yet oddly alert as it has throughout.

The maiar folds his arms over his chest and his demeanor seems to lessen. "It would certainly be a waste of time to come all the way here for so little, I guess. So go on."

Nathicana gives him a curt nod, then continues. "Io, as you know, has been of great concern to us, given the recent fall of Lancaster - a fellow NDA member in good standing. Indiastan showed up there on the pretense of assisting in evacuation proceedings, with never so much as a 'greetings' or 'by your leave'. While normally, this wouldn't raise brows, their answer when questioned, for our own piece of mind, was surprisingly terse."

"We were told, between the lines, to mind our own damned business and stay out of theirs." She took another short sip of water, one brow arching up. "Would it surprise you to know that they have been supplying arms and equipment to Creed, and apparently making motions to secure a piece of the pie up there, rather than assist with the humanitarian efforts?"

Alkanphel shakes his head. "It matters not. They will not hold out against Althalon's army. But frankly, it doesn't surprise me in the least. I've dealt with worse," he says, his eyes flashing again with that keen white light.

Nathi smiles softly, nodding. "Then perhaps their activities on another front might interest you," she says, sliding over another datapad, this one containing surveilance findings and clipped bits of transmissions apparantly detailing Indiastan's run against Santa Barbara. All indications point to an internal operation. No mention is made of outside influences.

<< Ah, the coup de grace. I know how to answer his overall question. Keep hitting him with evidence, though, until you're out of it.

Alkanphel peruses this data as well, leaning back with a sigh after a short while. "That part didn't take us too teerribly long to figure out, given that we already knew it wasn't us, and Indiastan was the only one in the area with access to those devices. It will be dealt with."

"Well I can tell you, it was one helluva surprise to us. Had we not been monitoring, it would have escaped our notice entirely, until it was too late. Do I truly have to do the math for you here, Alkanphel? Or are you too caught up in some blind personal vendetta to see the facts?"

The warlord nods a bit, and gestures broadly to the two of them "Yet another reason for us to sever our arms trade with alliances that clearly can't keep their members in-line." He snickers. "Humor me. I'd like to hear this."

"Much of this is recent information, and hardly subject to an alliance who allows civil war to break out in their provinces in not one, but two nations," she says, glaring. "We thought it at least polite to bring this to your attention before taking action on our part. Perhaps I was amiss?"

Treznor snorts quietly. "This from an Imperium that is quelling not one, but two rebellions from your alliance? That's rich."

Nathicana blinks, looking over at Devon, then chuckling quietly. "Out of my head, boy," she murmurs.

<< Good god, man! [laugh analog]

Treznor chuckles and sits back.

Alkanphel shakes his head. "We're not 'quelling' anything, you half-wit. Both cases are an example of a weak leader allowing his population to go beyond his control. Fyreheart and Rukemia mean nothing to the combined might of Arda. They were scarce more than cannon fodder for the Imperium, surely you can't be so blind as to not see this. If we were interested in 'quelling' a rebellion, we would have done so by now. Had you a working pari of eyes and ears, you'd be well aware of the fact that Lord Melkor is attempting to do nothing but extract his men and capital from those countries."

Nathicana takes another slow, steady drink of her ice water, clearly reining in her irritation. "Fine and well. I'll note my efforts there were at least, at the time, appreciated. But enough of that little mess."

Lt Jeffreyovich continues to watch the tirade with disinterest. Methinks someone doth protest too much.

Alkanphel is uninterested by all this subtle posturing against him, and he smiles a bit. "So, tell me of this motive I've been asking about. What reason would the Indiastani have for doing this, hmm? Treznor here has clearly shown he possesses both the malcontent with the Imperium and the means to do what both he and I know he has done. Indiastan perhaps only has one of those abilities, if either."

"The point here is, we have a nation who has been working quietly to destabilize the NDA from the inside. Stirring up trouble against the Imperium, incriminating the Council, and one of our strongest members in the process, working through subterfuge and treachery every step of the way. As for reason, think for a moment. The NDA has enjoyed a working relationship with the Imperium that no group outside Arda has of this date, to the best of my knowledge."

Alkanphel snickered. 'Bingo,' he thought. He Casually brushes some invisible dirt from his breast and sighs. "And what do you plan on doing about this?"

<< All right. I'm ready.

<< He's all yours, boy.

"Reason enough for some to feel a touch of jealousy and nervousness perhaps? Was it not you yourself who cautioned me about those looking to throw us down?"

"Indiastan is the only one with holdings or interests on Mars. They're our newest member. Clearly, in hindsight, they joined for the sole reason of plotting our downfall. Perhaps I don't know how the Imperium handles such traitors, but I can assure you, we in the NDA do not suffer them lightly."

"Note also the timing of their application - after the Imperium had made their most generous offers. Coincidence? I think not."

Alkanphel 's gaze slips to Treznor again and his jaw tightens at the 'plotting our downfall' part

Treznor shakes his head. "It goes deeper than that, I think. Not long ago, Indiastan called in our help to handle a civil war. Per treaty, we dispatched our Joint Forces to assist. Those forces are still there. If they're needed anywhere else, it's going to take them a long time to move. They represent assets and resources we can't quickly commit anywhere else.

"Look at the communication record for Mars. Indiastan has a digital record of me instructing them to perform the attack on Santa Barbara.

"The NDA is in a unique position in history. We're friendly and trading not only with Arda, but the Triumvirate. We have tremendous influence. Even if Indiastan fails to take us down, they can maneuver to take advantage of our position. By taking me down, requiring my position on the Council to be filled. You're not the only one here being betrayed, Alkanphel."

Alkanphel , again, appears unimpressed. "You've failed to answer my question, both of you."

"As to what we're going to do?" she asks casually.

He nods a bit. "Yes, that."

Treznor shrugs. "We have provisions for that in our treaty. The Council will meet, discuss the evidence and decide what to do about Indiastan. Expulsion is the most likely punishment. After that, we wash our hands of it."

So impatient... with so many questions asked, the lieutenant thinks to himself, how can one answer all of them in one sentence of ten words or less?

"I'd think the same question could be asked of you, Alkanphel. What are you going to do with this information?"

Alkanphel raises a brow. "Just expulsion? This, coming from the mouthpiece of the Dread Lady--who said not but five minutes ago that she 'wouldnt suffer traitors kindly.' This treatment seems pretty kind to me, given the weight of your allegations. He shrugs. "I am not the one that makes that choice, Lady Nathicana. Lord Melkor will decide."

"We are bound to uphold the laws we ourselves implemented. If not, we lose our legitimacy," she says with a quiet smile. "After that ... " she spreads her hands and shrugs, as if to say 'who knows'.

Treznor snorts. "We're not an alliance of war, Alkanphel. We never were. We could punish Indiastan with the forces we already have in the area, but that would be...inelegant. I'd prefer to merely reveal the depth of Indiastan's treachery, and let those nations duped by them exact their own retribution."

Alkanphel laughs. "Indeed. So you're expecting me to beleive that you've got the Indistani plotting against you and you're just going to," he spread his hands, as if freeing a bird, "Let them go? I'm not buying this."

Treznor grins. "We've suffered no direct harm. We're being used as a cover, and I intend to remove that cover from them. I think that will be more than punishment enough. There are a lot of nations who have lost an awful lot in the mess they've created. I think they'll have something to say about it."

Lt Jeffreyovich stifles a yawn. Maybe some people just don't think the way you do.

"So you think that by expelling Indiastan from the NDA that it somehow will stop them? If it is your downfall they seek, they will attempt to do so from without as well as from within."

"I don't see it as 'letting them go' so much as 'tossing them to the wolves', really," she says. "As Emperor Treznor pointed out, there are several I think, who would be most displeased with them. Perhaps the Imperium has lost their taste for such activities, deigning to become more like those of us working to promote a more peaceable existance? Now that we're aware of the threat, we can counter it. And take such methods as are appropriate to the given situation."

Treznor nods solemnly. "As the Dread Lady says, 'tossing them to the wolves.' As for stopping them, they operated under the cover of darkness. I think they'll be hamstrung when operating in the light. If people know what they've been doing, they'll make sure they can't do it again."

Alkanphel scowls. "Not in the least. But this seems to be little more than a consolation prize to me. Your apparent lack of interest in doing anything more than 'tossing them to the wolves,' seems to indicate that something is yet being held from me." The warlord snorts. "Furthermore, the only one that would be angry with them--since you're obviously not--is the Imperium. This is trickery. Its a diversion."

Treznor frowns in return. "So what would you have us do? Violate our own treaties and declare war? Pay attention, Alkanphel. The whole purpose behind this alliance of ours is to avoid things like that. Not Santa Barbara? Not Menelmacar? Not any of the other nations of Mars who have shed blood over Indiastan's meddling? I think your vision has gotten very narrow, sir."

Bathing in blood is so last year...

Alkanphel appears perplexed. "And they were within the parameters of this 'treaty' in plotting against you in the first place? The treaty has already been broken, Emperor Treznor. Your lack of interest in pursuing the Indiastani menace leaves me wholly unimpressed."

"Read our Manifesto, man. I'm surprised you've dealt with us long enough without knowing what we're about. We authorise war only in self-defence. Indiastan hasn't invaded any of our allies. They've set me up and they're attempting to undermine us, but they haven't invoked anything that would force us to mobilise. That isn't to say I'm not going to make them pay for it. But it does mean I'm planning to further weaken my alliance in a pointless war.”

Alkanphel waves a hand dismissively at the coment about Menelmacar and Santa Barbara. "Theyre all blinded by their lust for land. It won't matter a bit to either one of them, most likely." He shrugs slightly. "But who knows?"

"Lack of interest? Trickery? Bloody hell, man, we found the leak, we're in the process of plugging it, we've cleared the name of my fellow councilmember and faithful ally, and you sit there, no more willing to take action, and dare accuse us?" Nathicana slaps her hand down on the table, a bit more forcefully than she means. "If anyone is unimpressed here, my Lord, it is I, for having thought the Imperium to be less blind."

Definately one to talk about 'lust for land.'

Nathicana sits back in her chair, idly toying with the few splinters she'd managed to raise on the table, quietly sipping her drink as she scowls.

"Nobody has said the Imperium should march on Indiastan either. Your response is entirely up to you. But Indiastan relies heavily on trade and international goodwill. If no one is willing to deal with them again, you'll find them shriveling up like grass in the hot sun."

<< [sigh analog] I think we're done here. He doesn't want to believe it; he'd rather be mad at me. I don't think he'd buy it if we presented him with a literal smoking gun.

Alkanphel nods curtly and adjusts his ascot. He stares calmly at the Dread Lady, and keeps off of Devon for the moment, trying his ibest to keep from flying off the handle--which wouldnt be good for anyone, himself included. "Indeed. But the fact remains that in my mind, the pieces don't seem to fit. Furthermore, what makes you think that with our losses on Mars, we could even begin to strike at them? Clearly this is what you're getting at, in as many words. You said it yourself, 'tossing him to the Wolves.'"

<< There are other wolves out there besides the Imperium. And not all of them fight with teeth and claws.

<< Blind, arrogant hypocritical bastard. So help me, Dev ... And true enough.

But... you're the Imperium. You can never run out of resources, out of forces. You are destined to victory with your large and great might, which is great and mighty in its largeness! The lieutenant resists the urge to scratch himself out of boredom, remaining alert.

"My concern is not prodding you to action against them, Alkanphel. It is a matter of setting the record straight so that we can deal with this issue, and hopefully, move on. We have enjoyed an extremely good working relationship. One that I believe has been a mutually beneficial one, and one that I have worked hard to initiate and maintain. I would not have put such effort into something out of sheer frivolity, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let some bastard foreign power fuck it up for me now."

Nathicana takes a deep breath, aware that her temper is getting the better of her. She settles back again, taking another slow sip of water.

The NDA I know would be regaling me with plots and plans for how to deal with the Indiastani once they're gone from the alliance. Curiously, I find this element lacking in your explanation of the "facts."

<< Like I said, he's already made up his mind. I'm sure he'll make his report to his lord, and that he'll slant it as heavily as possible.

<< Then perhaps I need to pull together a formal report and distribute it to the other warlords as well.

<< If you think that will help, then go for it. It'll make us look desperate; that could be good or bad, depending.

No plots of your own? Need to rely on others for direction? Oh, how the mighty have fallen indeed.

Alkanphel reaches into his case, and pulls out a small blank sheet of paper. Drawing a pen from his inner jacket pocket, he scribbles a short note and slides it across the desk. It reads: "He goes or I kill him before I leave the room."

"What need have we for plots and plans when the truth serves us better? Maledicalo, man. It isn't as though every waking moment I have is devoted to manipulations," she says, rubbing her temples tiredly. "Either you will accept the facts that we have worked so hard to uncover, or you will not. We will be making them known to others as well. I thank you for at least initially bringing the problem to my attention, but ..." She pauses, arching a brow.

Treznor shakes his head sadly. "We just learned of the extent of this treachery, scrambling hard to figure it out and prepare our findings for you, and you're complaining that we haven't then outlined a plan for making it all better? Your mind was made up before you entered the room, Alkanphel. I think we're wasting our time talking to you."

"What opinions I have on the matter have little bearing over what the Imperium ends up doing. I will present these findings to Lord Melkor, and he will decide an appropriate course of action."

Nathicana looks over at Alkanphel curiously, glancing first at Devon, then at the young man near the door.

<< There's something going on I don't understand. Alkanphel's taking great umbrage at our young man over there. We need a distraction to get him out of the room.

<< Let's see.

Treznor quirks an eyebrow. "Is there a problem with the Lieutenant? I wasn't aware he'd said anything."

Alkanphel heaves a sigh. "I'll not get into it at the moment. My reasons are my own."

He's obviously cowed by my sheer physicality.
Rawr.
I'm huuuuuuuuuge.

Treznor frowns, pondering. Then he nods. "Lieutenant, if you'll wait outside. Inform the rest of the squad that we won't be long."

Lt Jeffreyovich stands at attention, turning professional suddenly. "As you command, sir." Right-face, smartly stepping, facing movement, opening door, stepping out, closing. Now to find the squad... heh. What a puss. He waits outside the door, as ordered. No one ever specified how far.

Alkanphel 's demeanor lessens greatly. He sinks back into his chair and closes his eyes, gathering his thoughts. He spoke in a low voice. "Now that that security breach waiting to happen has been dealt with..."

Nathicana arches a brow, carefully containing a smile. "You were saying?"

"...I can now offer my real opnion on all this. Perhaps I may yet be persuaded to beleive these allegations, though it will take some time."

The warlord draws in his breath slowly. "But some show must yet be made to Lord Melkor--rightly or wrongly--that the NDA is still on-side."

"Such as?" she asks quietly, again sipping her water, eyes focused on the warlord.

Treznor leans forward, hands on the desk as he frowns. "What sort of...show?"

Alkanphel sighs and shrugs. "Alas, I do not know, for this new twist was altogether unforeseen ere I departed Angband. This 'show,' I'm afraid, will have to be up to you. The problem is, no matter what I say he won't beleive it unless he sees you do something too."

<< I don't like the sound of this 'show' bit.

<< In for a penny, in for a pound. We've got to see this through, depending on what he requires to satisfy him.

Treznor sighs and leans back. "Gods, if I had their leader here I'd cheerfully strangle him myself. I don't know what kind of show we'll put on for you, but we're going to have to have some time to figure it out. Like I said, we just figured out what happened. Retribution is an afterthought."

Alkanphel nods a bit. "Indeed. But until something serious goes down, Melkor will only suspect misdirection." He stares again at Treznor. "And he'll continue to plot against you, Emperor Treznor, until his plans are fully wrought."

"As Emperor Treznor already mentioned, our own forces are stretched a bit thin at the moment. It will take some time."

<< God dammit, I need that bastard Jas on this.

<< I'll triple his price. Offer him that.

Alkanphel nods slightly. "Indeed. We'll be interested to see how this goes."

Treznor drums his fingers on the table as he thinks. "We'll have to delay the Council meeting, at least officially. The fact that we have the Joint Forces in Indiastan at present gives us some leverage, at least in terms of military action. I'm still loathe to go to war; it violates everything I've worked for. But we'll see what we can come up with."

Nathicana nods, pondering thoughtfully. "Covert ops," she murmurs, one finger idly tracing patterns across the tabletop.

<< It isn't price - he's on a job already. I tried to contact him last night ... and you know his honor code. Not a peep on what he's doing or for whom. Just that I'll have to hack things on my own this time.

<< And Ben is on Io. Damnably poor timing, all of this.

Alkanphel holds up his hand. "War in this case is not a necessity. I'm sure you can think of something else that would accomplish the same end. The NDA has always proven adept at that."

Treznor nods to Alkanphel before he glances at Nathicana. "Regime change?"

Alkanphel nods slightly, but says nothing for the time being.

The dark-haired woman has a sudden thought, and her lips turn up in a smile. "Would, perhaps, this 'show' need to neccessarily be one against Indiastan itself, or would Lord Melkor be appeased, do you think, through other legitimate gestures?" she asks softly.

Alkanphel hikes a brow. "Such as?"

"I'll note that such 'arrangements' have been looked upon rather well in the past, after all ... As for what," she says with a grin, "Leave that to me."

<< Share?

<< There are always opportunities to be taken advantage of, Dev. We only need find them.

<< Right. We'll talk later, then.

Alkanphel grins. "I'll be quite interested to see, in the end." He nods. "Quite interested."

Nathicana smiles broadly at that. "As will I," she admits with a wink. "I take it for now, we have an accord?"

The warlord slowly extends his hand over the desk. "Indeed"

Nathi flashes him one of her more charming smiles, extending her hand and giving his a firm yet ladylike squeeze. "Excellent."

Alkanphel stands and extends his hand slowly to Devon with a snicker. "Excellent indeed."

Treznor reaches out and gives a firm handshake. "We'll be in touch."

Alkanphel nods faintly and reaches to the floor to retrieve his case. "Of course."

Treznor steps to the door to open it. He spots the Lieutenant outside and gestures sharply to beat it. Then he adjusts the gesture for Nathicana to precede him. "After you."

Lt Jeffreyovich beats feet silently then disappears behind the edge of a convenient recess in the wall.

Nathicana gets to her feet, smoothing her skirt. She smiles warmly at Devon, then steps out into the hallway, her eyes flickering in both directions. Seeing all as it should be, she nods to herself. "Allow us to see you to your car at least," she says politely.

Alkanphel advances towards the door, and clasps his hands behind his back, his case dangling from one hand as he waited for them to file out. He studied The two closely, noting even the slightest subtleties. Unsure as to who the comment referred to, he arched a brow slightly and glanced towards Treznor with a slight shrug, as if he expected him to answer.

"My Lord," she reiterates, clarifying her comment, and keeping her demeanor businesslike.

Alkanphel 's eyebrows shoot up and he clears his throat a bit. "Ah, yes of course. My apologies."

"I hope that our next meeting will be under more ... pleasant circumstances," she says, smiling as she accompanies him down the hall and out to the waiting car.

The warlord shakes his head, vaguely dismayed. "As do I. But all to often the only times we really communicate is when something is amiss. Pity, that."

"Such is the way of things on occasion," she says, shrugging. "Pleasant travel."

Alkanphel sighs and nods. "Such is all too often the way of things, it would seem," he says, climbing into the automobile. He winks and snickers. "And yet, not always."

Nathicana merely nods, stiffening somewhat. She watches the car pull away from the curb and head in the direction of the airport, accompanied by several others - security, of course.

Lt Jeffreyovich follows with well-studied silent steps, barely close enough to hear in the empty hallways. Hiding behind another recess within earshot of the door, he smirks to himself from where he's ensconced, listening to the voices and footsteps recede in the opposite direction. Ah yes, more pleasant circumstances. Like a barbecue, clambake, or perhaps the execution of a few warlords. Any of the above would be most pleasant. Mmmmm, clams.

"Well ... I don't know about you, Dev ... but I could sure as hell use a drink."

The cadet steps out from behind the recess in the wall. "So... who's going to yell at me for thinking?"

Treznor blinks. "Was that the problem?"

"Can you think of anything else I did?" Bondayehr shrugs as he steps forward.

Nathicana glares at the both of them, briskly making her way back down the hall towards her office, clearly expecting them to follow, and sharp..

Bondayehr grumbles to himself as he follows. "'Security breach'" my ass. How am I a security breach when the boss is standing right there?" He waves an arm at Devon.

Treznor follows at a slightly more sedate pace, lost in thought.

"Oh, I think I'll just report what I've heard to the Emperor... who just fragging heard it..." Getting over himself, he notes that the people he's with are somewhat less than amused, and so shuts up.

Nathicana turns sharply, picking up on what the cadet just said. "You were listening, weren't you?" she says softly, fixing him with a penetrating gaze.

Treznor sighs. "Pardon me, I think I need a shower."

"I was told to stand by the door, and so I did." Bondayehr stiffens but gets an oddly determined look on his face. Do the crime, do the time. "In short, yes."

Treznor shrugs. "I wouldn't have expected less. If I thought that would be a problem, I'd have sent you to fetch coffee or something."

Nathicana looks over at Devon, concerned, yet turns back to the cadet with a smile. "Now that's the spirit, boy. Never pass up an opportunity."

"To get sweet intel? Hell yeah, never pass up an opportunity."

Nathicana nods in approval, then goes back to walking, pulling open the door to her office, shrugging out of her jacket, folding it neatly, then going to the mini-fridge behind her desk. "Anyone else care for something?" she calls over her shoulder.

"Well, if I pissed off Lord Bitchwipe enough to get sent out, I think that calls for a minor victory celebration." The cadet folds his arms and thinks for a moment. "I probably don't want to know what was on the paper."

Nathicana grins wryly, pouring three glasses of one of the red wines she keeps stocked. "I came away from there feeling rather glad I wasn't walking out alone, shall we say. Goddammit, but I can't take another one of these this week." Her eyes go to Devon again, obviously concerned. "Don't worry. We'll figure a spin."

Timofeyev gets quiet for a moment, pondering. Hrm... this is some important stuff. I should probably forward it to Advisor Garbo at the first opportunity... but, of course, I need secure communications out...

Taking up a glass, he continues to think, being rather blatant about it. Not like he cares--for all they know, he's just faced his own mortality... Pfft. Been there, done that. Anyway... I can't just ask now. Proximity is too soon, and they know I've been listening. Definitely high up NDA stuff that they probably don't want Intel Section snooping about in, even helpfully. Lessee... I could encode it in my homework to Ronam... send it to Amark and have him forward it to the Advisor...

<< Now I know why you were so distracted after the last meeting. I get the feeling I've missed something. I hate that, dammit.

<< He was much more charming yesterday somehow ... [scowl analog] And as for missing something, I'm not sure.

Bondayehr thinks of coding schemes and ways to mask the information while making it apparent to his roommate what to do with it. He finally settles on using a matrix-based coding scheme; pi-Buckingham theorem had a lot of matrices in it, so he could get away with it by hiding the encrypt keys to the transposed Caesar box code he could put in the writeup. For his roomie, he'd just use keywords in the e-mail from the field training guide and such that would alert him to something, then direct him to use an anagram code on a particular portion.

The young man shakes his head, returning from his reverie of simplistic (by modern intelligence standards) codes. Looking around, he notes the silence. "Blatantly stupid question, I know... but is everyone alright?"

Treznor shakes his head and smiles. "I'm fine, thanks. Like I said. I think I need a shower. Please, excuse me." He heads off for the nearest bathroom.

The cadet sips some wine, then gently puts the glass down. "Hrm. I've probably got... things I'd best be doing myself. Homework, and all." He says it with a bit of worry, keeping it indistinct whether it was the work that worried him or something else.

Nathicana kicks her feet up on her desk, snuggling back into the comfort of her chair, sipping her wine. "Fine on my end," she says, her eyes telling a different story entirely. "And you, Tim? I apologize for putting you in that situation, but silly me, thought it'd be safer overall."

"Err..." The 'lieutenant' looks down. "In the wrong uniform."

She chuckles. "Feel free to change," she says, taking a long sip this time.

Bondayehr shrugs and does so, getting back into more comfortable clothing.

"Go ahead and get done what you need, boy," she murmurs, clearly in deep thought as she tries to figure an angle on this whole mess.

Timofeyev nods as he steps out. "May your claws always be sharp, Nathi." While he'd taken a shine to that from hanging around Law-Student and the Sakkrans for so long, he figures it's an especially appropriate parting now.

The Apartment of Überness

--<Transmission Type: Unencrypted Civilian Correspondence>--
-<Sender: Bondayehr>-
-<Destination: The Apartment of Überness>-
--<Subject: Exercise exercise exercise--More Ronam Homework--Exercise exercise exercise>--

Hey, man. I finally finished that book... quite interesting, all the schemes and conspiracies in it. I truly liked how the curator of the Louvre got the protagonists onto the lead towards the Mona Lisa... quite tricky, that was. Just like it says in the FTG: "Silent Det No." Can't have everyone just shouting out where they're from; it'd be a security violation or something.

Rrr... I hate all this math. I swear, I can just watch my Intelligence Quotient drop as I do it.

*a bunch of math follows, with a write up*

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/nationstates/scolopendra/timofeyev_bondayehr.gifCadet Third Class Timofeyev Bondayehr
Scolopendran Military Services, Aerospace Directorate
Federated Segments of Scolopendra

--<End Transmission>--
The roommate frowns, looking over the rambling message. What the hell? This makes practically no sense... "Silent Det Number?"

Something clicked. Wait a minute, he read that book last month. The guy used anagrams. Copy and pasting, he opens up a YutLink page on anagrams and clicks the execute button.[code:1:83bd6ba6af]DE LINEN TOST
DE LINEN TOTS
DE LINEN STOT
DE LINENS TOT
DE LINNETS TO
DE LINNET SOT
DE NELIS NOTT
DE LINES NOTT
DE ELSIN NOTT
DE LIENS NOTT
DE SILEN NOTT
DE LENIS NOTT
DE TINSEL NOT[/code:1:83bd6ba6af]That doesn't mean anything. Scrolling down, he finds some phrases. "NOT ENLISTED," "NOT IDLE NETS," so on and so forth. This is just gibberish... Reading over the message again, he frowns.Rrr... I hate all this math. I swear, I can just watch my Intelligence Quotient drop as I do it.Why'd he spell out IQ? No one does that... He blinks. Intelligence doesn't fit into that anagram... Intel does.

Opening up a blank text file, be begins to tinker.[code:1:83bd6ba6af] NO SILENT DET
- INTEL
= NO SDET
NSDT OE[/code:1:83bd6ba6af]
Hrm...[code:1:83bd6ba6af]NOSE DT
NOT SED
TO SEND[/code:1:83bd6ba6af]
Amark blinks with understanding. Hell, he was talking about how he got to meet with Advisor Garbo and such, all the briefings with his new orders. "SEND TO INTEL?"

* - * - *

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/nationstates/scolopendra/executive_apartments.jpg
The Executive Apartments

Garbo sighs. The cadet was a good inside man, but... gads, the risks. Sending valuable intelligence data with no real encryption, just a few hidden-in-plain-sight matrix keys that formed a visible-message template when applied to the rest of the meaningless math. Then that over the writeup... and this is what advanced cryptanalysis had come up with. If Dominion intelligence had seen it, then they'd be able to crack it. Easily.

Damned cadet. He's betting that if he hides in plain sight... then again... He chuckles to himself. Who hides things in anagrams anymore? Not only that, who hides a key in the open? It's so obvious and simple and insecure, no professional would ever think of it. He reads over the decoded message.
[code:1:83bd6ba6af]SIR I LISTND TO A MTNG BTWN DLN TREZ AND ALKANPHEL OF ARDA DLN AND TREZ R SLLING OUT INDIASTAN N TRYNG TO CALM MELK I WAS SNT OUT EARLY BUT KEPT LISTENING ARDA NEEDS "ACT" THAT NDA IS "ON SIDE" N DOES NOT NEED TO B AGANST INDSTAN COVRT ACTN MENTOND POSBL TGT UNKNWN[/code:1:83bd6ba6af]
Garbo looks up from his screen, across the office at the portly figure of Advisor Spoilsport, who was fiddling idly with some trade reports. An "act," eh?

A casual phone conversation ...


“I heard you were taking in the Opera tonight?”

“Most definitely. I hear it’s getting rave reviews. Not to be missed.”

“Plans for dinner as well, I take it?”

“Oh, we’d talked about going out for some coffee and some pleasant conversation after. Care to join us? We've a couple extra tickets.”

“I think I could clear my schedule, yes.”

“Excellent – we’ll pick you up then, shall we? “

“Of course. Keep me updated on any change of plans. Ciao!”

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

Elsewhere, in a quiet warehouse in one of the modern buroughs of Devras …

“Recap for tonight’s activities. Tag and bag - lethal force to be used only as a last resort. Primary threats, targets A and B, though we’ve been informed that her wolfhound will most likely be on site. We’ll be changing out the previous shift at oh-dark, and I want Spooky up as soon as your counterparts are clear. Check your equipment boys and girls, this is our last meet before the show.”

It had been a long day, as expected, reviewing all the operations currently going on in and out of the nation. She had kept largely to herself when she could, aside from those meetings and hushed discussions that had been necessary. As the quiet Dominion night settled in, after the usual pleasantries over dinner were done, and each had separated to wrap up the last businesses of the day, she found herself walking in the courtyard. She looked across the way, out to the guesthouse, a dozen different thoughts on her mind.

”Siccome la casa brucia, riscaldiamoci,” she murmured, making her way to the door and knocking.

As always, the cadet was more than respectful and accommodating, his wry grin seeming to quietly invite and encourage thoughts she’d attempted to suppress.

Why? What’s different here than any other exploit? What, his age? The situation? Christ, alliance status? None of that has ever given me pause before.

Of course, she knew the answer, and it had been one that had weighed on her for some time. Settling down. Children. A family. Her brief memories of such things held no room for the lifestyle she’d grown accustomed to, regardless of how Devon not only never held her penchant enjoying herself against her, but encouraged her in it. She now stands there, casually leaning against the interior wall that helped divide the front room from the entryway.

Sante Maria madre del dio … this is not the way a future mother should act. Damn you, Devon. Of course it was his fault. It always was.

Timofeyev stretches, twisting the kinks out of his neck. "Well... now that all the work's done, I guess I've got time to veg. That's a new concept."

Nathicana glances over at the cadet and shrugs. "Time for work, time for play," she says with a smile. "Balance, you know."

"Explain that to the good Doctor Ronam," the cadet half-smirks. "I find it wonderful that he purposely assigns more work than is feasible for a single student, forcing his class to work as a group... of course, I lack that luxury. Then again, latest report from home says that he nixed it to the entire class, so I'm not alone in my struggle."

She frowns slightly at that. "Do you require a group here to work with? I'm sure it could be arranged ..."

The cadet shakes his head with a smile. "Don't worry, I've got it covered. Instantaneous long-distance communications are a wonderful thing. Gotta love networking."

"Excellent," she says, then grins impishly. "Are you quite certain you wouldn't consider a job in the Dominion on graduation, boy? God knows I could use someone like you."

"Who knows... I may get assigned to be a military liason to an IntRelate mission to the Dominion." Return grin. "I know that if I put that on my Form 24 dreamsheet, I'd probably get it, given experience and all... and liason isn't an uncommon first assignment for bloodspots."

"Can't say as I'd disagree with the choice," Nathi says, still grinning.

"I'll admit, I wouldn't mind working here."

"Shall I put a few good words in for you? It's not as though I'm without at least some contacts, after all ..."

Bondayehr grins. "Apparently, it worked once..." Winks.

Nathicana puts on an air of innocence, blinking and smiling pleasantly. "Why, I've no idea what you could be referring to, boy."

He grins, steepling his fingers and taking an analytical air. "First the anonymous bankroll, then the mysterious orders to be a liason when--as far as I can tell--it's never been done before... doesn't take a mystery novel writer to make the connections here."

She laughs, settling back in a chair and putting her feet up. "Of course not. Can't blame a woman for using what she has to get what she wants though, can you?" she says with a sly wink.

"No," the cadet half-smirks in his usual way, "I guess not."

The dark-haired woman tilts her head, considering for a moment, a curious little half smile playing across her lips.

He figures it'd be impolite to pry and so doesn't ask aloud. Hrm, I wonder what that means. Gotta be thinking of something.

"You just can't help it, can you?" she says quietly, still looking at him with that amused but curious smile.

"Pardon?"

Nathicana laughs softly, her hand reflexively going to her lips, delicately pressing as if to stifle the mirth somewhat. Timofeyev looks to the left, then to the right with a brow furrowed slightly in thought. "Something I said?"

"That, for one," she says, smiling more broadly. "I think in part, it's that innocence that's so damn appealing."

He is thoroughly lost at this point. "Err... well, I'll admit that I am rather naive about a lot of things."

"Ahh ... is that what you call it? I suppose that makes sense, to a point. How else to explain the winks and grins I've seen so often from you, though nothing more." Nathi arches a brow slightly, still looking rather amused, though in a far from mocking manner.

"Look..." the cadet chuckles, "you're talking to a guy who put a five-dollar bid on your underwear just to make an idealistic point. It doesn't get much more naive than that, I think. I hope."

She does laugh at that, her hand once again moving to stifle it somewhat as her shoulders shake. "Gods, when I saw that," she says between continued laughter, "You caught my eye with that, boy. Unassuming Scolopendran Cadet, playing the white knight for the lady in distress, against hopeless odds. And you succeeded in the end, regardless of situational advantages. Idealism doesn't necessarily equal naive, all the same."

"I guess not..." Bondayehr grins. "I never expected to succeed, at the beginning. It was just a protest, really. I'm still glad I was able to help more than my original thought of 'hey, that's not nice.'"

"Sometimes, it's life's little unexpected turns that are the most fun to explore," she replies, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

"Tell me about it." The cadet grins. "Didn't expect the semester in Sakkra, and that turned out well. Didn't expect this, by any means."

Nathicana puts her feet back down, and leans forward, elbows on her knees, still grinning mischievously. "And this," she says, one brow going up questioningly, "Would you say so far this is turning out well also?"

He nods. "I'd say so. At least this doesn't have anything to do with Survival In The Wilderness. Fun class, ultimate bitch of a final exam."

"Lets hope you don't need a 'final exam' on the 'Survival in the Political Waters of the Dominion' bit. I'd say you'd do rather well, from all I've seen. Going to make a formidable opponent, boy," she says, studying him again, smiling in approval. "Among other things."

"Thanks," Bondayehr replies with a slight shrug. "I do my best."

"Even when you're not meaning to," she murmurs with a slight shake of her head, the smile never leaving her face.

"Well... I wouldn't know about that... but I guess that's the entire point of doing things well unintentionally." Is again somewhat lost.

The normally confident woman gets up from her chair, takes a step forward, then hesitates, biting her lower lip absentmindedly. "And intentional things," she says quietly. "As you've said, one ought to put ones best effort into those, obviously ..."

Timofeyev cants his head slightly with a curious look. "But of course."

"Damn. So much for good intentions," she mutters, leaning in and kissing him soundly.

The cadet is, for all he goes on about situational awareness, caught entirely by surprise--complete with soft "mmrff?!" noise--and not at all sure how to proceed.

Nathicana has at least the good grace to look slightly ashamed of herself. Slightly. She draws back a bit and grins, shrugging. "Couldn't resist," she says, her only explanation for the time being.

"No complaint," Timofeyev shrugs mildly in response, "just ... completely surprised." He manages a mildly sheepish grin. "Naive, dontchyaknow."

"Mmmhmm," she says, her smile increasing at what seems an invitation to continue. She leans in again, this time giving him an opportunity to respond. He makes a better show of it this time, at least having a bit of warning first. Of course, there are slight misgivings in the back of his head, mostly concerning chains of command and fraternization rules. The woman herself has several thoughts going through her head at the moment, none of which she's particularly paying much attention to, all things considered. Still ... she finally draws back slightly again, a questioning look in her eyes.

Noting the questioning look, Timofeyev's first instinct is to allay alarm or guilt. "Again, no complaint." Secondary objective is to establish motive. "Just curious though... ah... what's going on and why?" Okay. I'm sounding like an idiot, but the one who asks is a fool for five minutes. The one who doesn't ask is a fool forever, or so they say.

"Why ... well, now, that is a good question." She ponders that for a moment, then chuckles softly. Aye, with all manner of crazy answers at that. "I recall the story of a philosophy class professor asking one question on a final. 'Why?'. The one with what he felt was the best answer was 'Why not?'. As for the rest ... " she shrugs, and smiles. "Your idealism, naivete, wit, and that decidedly adorable smirk of yours, I've found rather ... inviting."

"Oh." He blinks as things begin to fall into place in his head with visible realization. Well, damn. Light dawns on marblehead. "I'm flattered... really... but I must remain cogent of my overarching duties." Which, if they're prescribed by Nathicana here, are almost irrelevant... Beat, and a transition into the standard Scolopendran stress response of overthinking. "What are potential repercussions? I'm afraid the fraternization briefing didn't cover extranationals, much less independent leaders."

Nathicana shakes her head and chuckles softly, pressing two fingertips lightly against his lips. "First, you think too much. Second, there are no repercussions unless you choose to make some. Third, I believe part of your 'duties' were to enjoy yourself," she says, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. "Now if this falls under that heading ... " She trails off deliberately, not making any further moves for now, simply watching and smiling.

But... but... thinking too much is what I do... Bondayehr's mind buzzes. Way back in middle school he read a college-level introductory psychology textbook which had a section that glossed over the Freudian concept of the internal struggle between id, ego, and superego. While ludicrous to imagine three different people yelling at each other inside one's head, he gets an understanding on why the theory may have come about.

Essentially, the id is arguing for agreeing. The superego is countering with arguments concerning regulation and propriety. The ego... is off remembering introductory psychology.

The id decides to go for an end rush in an attempt to flank the superego's concerns about fraternization along the chain of command. "Question..." the cadet broaches, mouth much dryer than he'd noticed. "Do you classify as a superior officer?"

She shakes her head again. "I'm not in your chain of command, boy. Not really, for all intents and purposes. You're here on leave by your government as a favor to mine, and thus, me. No more, no less."

Timofeyev sighs as he calls upon what he learned in the Sakkran 'Your Body and You' class, gently forcing himself to relax. The id cackles in glee as the superego gets its arguments swept from under it, leaving only the standard Scolopendran moral code of 'I don't care what you do or who you do it with, just as long as you don't do it in the streets and scare the horses.' The ego shrugs and decides to play along.

"Well..." he says slowly, "then there isn't a problem, is there?"

"Not from where I'm looking," she says, her smile increasing.

"I can't see anything myself either," Timofeyev grins, "with that cleared up."

Nathicana straightens, holding out her hand invitingly to the cadet. "Win-win ... always the best scenario," she says.

He accepts the offered hand in the slow manner of one who has run out of options, or at least can't think of anything else to do. "Agreed..."

She gently takes his hand, guiding it to her waist, then reaches then for his other hand, drawing him up from his seat, again guiding his hand, placing it on her hip. Timofeyev stands at a distance that'd probably seem rather risqué ... in maybe the nineteenth century, as she slides her hands up along the cadet's arms, up along his shoulders, gently drawing him closer, leaning in for another kiss. He swears to himself that he'll never live it down if he blows this (and, conversely, knows that he'd always wonder if he took the safe route and avoided the situation) and so leans in to meet, senses hyperaware to take cues from Nathi. In his mind, he hopes that his skill at adaptation can make up for relative inexperience.

Nathicana moves slowly, taking her time to soothe and guide. She kisses him softly, never rushing, as she trails her hands over his shoulders, one sliding up along his neck to gently cup the back of his head. He eases himself mentally into the situation, slowly allowing himself to enjoy it as he returns the kisses, continuing to follow his partner's lead. Finding the will to do so, he slowly moves his hands from where Nathi placed them and slides them up her back, working on massaging along her shoulders. These muscles are -still- far too stiff...

She smiles between kisses, rolling her shoulders under his hands, her own fingertips rubbing and caressing. You are an evil, evil woman ... she can't help but think as she continues to explore, pulling him just a bit closer.

Timofeyev tries to work out the stiffness he feels under his fingers, but finds it an exercise in futility. Not like any tension I've dealt with before... almost like it's just made of denser stuff. After deciding it isn't worth the effort, he just goes to simple massages as he continues to ponder and link ideas in the back of his mind.

Nathicana gently leads and guides with a patient, practiced air, quite thoroughly enjoying herself. "Nice," she murmurs quietly. The cadet shrugs slightly, always having considered himself as being somewhat less than 'nice' given his light build. And the play continues as her kisses gradually deepen, her hands wander.

He presses slightly closer with the attentions but keeps his lips closed--albeit not firmly--for now, just enjoying the moment and the extremely rare closeness. Downside to being cordial and distant all the time, I guess... She senses the hesitation, and slows things a bit, concentrating more on her continued soothing caresses as she stretches under his hands, enjoying it all.

The young man idly wonders how he got himself into this as he lets his hands wander. I wonder how I'm doing. Hell, I wonder what I'm doing. He’s still very careful to stay aware of cues from her. Working together is essential after all. Or something. I'm probably overthinking this again.

She murmurs soft words of approval, taking her time, assuring him with words and actions, articles of clothing slowly finding their way to the floor, piece by piece. He finds himself thinking along strange lines as he gently caresses, exploring her curves with his fingers as his free hand caresses in near-random patterns along her side. Hrm. Wasn't briefed on Dominion sexuality... then again, it's almost a non-issue back home. Go figure. Might as well be polite... when in Rome... heh, Rome. Go figure. He matches and returns the kisses, slowly becoming more comfortable.

Nathicana blinks as a sudden thought crosses her mind. Il dio ... I don't think this is all just a matter of shy ... Smiling mischievously, she pauses her kisses long enough to draw back slightly, and just look at him, her hands still slowly caressing, encouraging him. Her smile broadens, though she doesn't say a word as she leans in again for another kiss as she traces the lines of his ribs along his side.

Timofeyev cants his head slightly, looking back curiously albeit with a small smile. Leaning back in, he kisses a little more enthusiastically, finally relaxed now that his superego has been appeased--his actions have a not-entirely-selfish purpose. Being polite--go figure. He shrugs off the firmness under his fingers as just further evidence of Nathi's athletic nature, even though it doesn't quite feel like muscle. I probably could've figured that one out myself, he thinks with an internal chuckle at one particular hint from her hands. The last vestiges of clothing eventually fall away.

Well, he thinks with a barely suppressed gentle gulp, into the unknown.

She looks at him questioningly as she continues her efforts. The cadet probably wouldn't be able to answer a question if there were one, so simply looks back down curiously, while the back of his mind maintains the commentary. Jeebus, the things you do out of politeness, Tim. Not like there's any complaint, really...

Oh yes ... damnably evil woman ... she thinks to herself, grinning at his expressions and reactions. Eventually, she nestles in against him, pressing her body close, then whispers, "Perhaps a more comfortable location?"

"As you wish," he offers in response, content with practically any human contact, given how rare it is.

"And what do you wish, Tim?" she asks quietly, drawing back to regard him with a serious look despite her smiles. She continues to gently caress, working to soothe and encourage. Timofeyev returns the favor in kind, idly stretching against her hands, but bows his head slightly in thought for a moment with a slight frown, eyes dropping to rest on her shoulder. This is the sort of question one should be able to answer. There is of course the animalistic response... which I've suppressed so effectively as to make voiceless. Can't even think of it, really. Don't want to offend the host, and I'm in a bit far to just turn around at the moment. There's the typical emotional need for -some- sort of closeness, of companionship, but it's countered by my usual fear of the same due to inexperience and, if not comfort, at least my acclimation to my usual state of 'alone.'

He looks up with what he hopes is a disarming smile. "Would you believe I don't rightfully know?" Well, honesty hasn't fragged me too badly. Yet. Might as well stick with it.

Nathicana nods, gently caressing the side of his face, smiling in return. "That's fair enough," she says softly. Am I doing the right thing here? Little late if not ... She takes his hand and backs away slowly in the direction of the bedroom, head tilted questioningly.

He follows closely, again trying to push overthinking into the back of his mind as he knows quite well that it's too late to make a graceful exit, and even if it were possible he's simply too curious... Yep, I'd definitely wonder. Might as well, then... try everything at least once.

She leads him to the bed quietly, thoughts flickering back and forth in her mind, some perhaps mirrored in the questioning look that occasionally flashes in her eyes. Climbing as gracefully as she can onto the bed, she stretches out and motions for him to join her, smiling encouragingly. "You know, boy ... the entire purpose of this is to enjoy yourself. While I realize this might go against your self-effacing ideals, I'm giving you whatever permission you think you need to do just that."

"Oh... I am enjoying myself," he replies as he follows closely, climbing up to rest with her, "but... I truely haven't allowed myself to enjoy myself this way." That was an oddly-constructed sentence. "It's more of a matter of having never learned to more than anything else."

Her smile increases in anything but a mocking manner, as she nestles in closer, her hands once more wandering gently, trying to soothe away any doubts or hesitations. "Well now, there's the fun of it, you know," she says, tracing a fingertip along his ribs. "It's not so much a 'how' as just ... well ... trying whatever comes to mind. Whatever feels or you think might feel good, really. It all comes together in the end."

"We've already established that I think too much." He flashes his usual half-smirk, although this time it's a bit more wry than usual. To his credit, he does manage to let his hands wander idly, gently feeling as he snuggles close. "As I've said before, I'll adapt."

Nathicana arches a brow at that. "Adapting, is it?" she asks quietly, her hand resting against his hip as she props her head up against her other fist. "That's a new one ..."

Timofeyev nods as he continues to idly caress along her side, fingertips slowly drifting up and down her ribs. "Of course. Life--from what I've been told and what I've seen--is one steady string of adaptation to a fluid, dynamically changing environment. With each new situation--expected or no--the individual adapts to it."

"This ... isn't something you have to do," she whispers quietly, unsure of herself - something she's unused to. She doesn't stop her hand from wandering, though, her fingertips tracing along the lines of his muscles, palms rubbing soothingly over his skin.

"I know that." He looks curiously at his hostess, in the change in mood. "Just because I have to adapt to a new circumstance doesn't make that circumstance good or bad. It just happens. Either I adapt to it now, or I run away and try to avoid something that is frightening in its mystery but probably isn't worth getting overly concerned about in the first place."

The woman looks over, brow arched, and clearly confused. "Truly, in all my days, I've never met someone quite like you," she says with a little smile. "Christ, boy ... I had men bidding millions for just a pair of my panties. And here you are, laying naked along with me here on this bed ... and talking logic." Her smile increases, and she chuckles softly. "You are truly one of a kind."

"Isn't the irony delicious?" The cadet winks and grins. "I'm not going to dispute the 'one of a kind' thing... because, ah, there's really no point. Still, it's when I'm not logical that things tend to go wrong... so I overthink." He shrugs with a smile. "Yeah, I'm nervous, I've never done this before. That's irrelevant; I'd be nervous whether it was you or any other female lying there. Simple fact is that this is the situation I'm in and this is the situation I need to react to."

Nathicana nods slowly, her smile increasing again. "The irony isn't the only thing that's delicious about all this," she says with a sly wink of her own. "As for reacting," she murmurs, leaning in closer til her lips brush against his, "Far be it from me to stop you."

Timofeyev responds with a quiet kiss followed by a grin. "I don't think I'm in over my head quite yet," he murmurs before kissing again, shifting a little closer as his hands begin to caress more firmly.

She melts in against him, drinking in the kiss with a soft little sigh of pleasure, body moving against him, in all manner of pleasant ways, touching, caressing, stimulating, and most definitely, not questioning.

Timofeyev grins and kisses soundly, then snuggling close. Apparently the short conversation did him some good to get over worries, because he moves more assertively, mirroring her movements. She notes the shift, and does what she can to encourage it, murmuring softly, growing more bold again in her touches and caresses. Eventually, when it feels right, she gently presses his shoulders back against the bed, taking the more superior position.

The cadet has learned enough about Nathi's musculature to know that resistance would probably be ineffective... and, besides, he's now honestly enjoying himself rather than simply allowing or forcing himself to. She guides, and the cadet follows along, keeping a careful control on his body. While he never trained in this exact sort of biofeedback, the principles of concentration were essentially the same. Still, he doesn't let the concentration reduce the pleasure of the experience; rather, he prolongs it, thrilling at the sensations.

She smiles between kisses, murmuring quietly now and then in her native language, wrapped up in the sheer pleasure of it all, both impressed and greatly pleased at his stamina. Natural ... good god, but this is ... She lets her thoughts ramble on, losing herself in the moment as she feels the sensations build again, her body tensing, kisses growing more deep and searching. He doesn't think much of anything, concentrating on the delightful sensations and his reactions.

The time slowly passes, neither paying much heed as the minutes slip by, too wrapped up in the experience, both enjoying themselves thoroughly. Bondayehr shivers again, working hard to keep his concentration as he enjoys the continued sensations yet beginning to feel a slight fatigue in his muscles. Wow, they're right... this is an exercise. Nathi kisses him deeply, then draws back enough to murmur softly against his lips, punctuating her words with tender kisses. "Go on … Let yourself go."

The cadet chuckles softly against her lips, replying with a soft whisper. "Unexpected advantage," he pauses for a soft kiss, "of previously demonstrated biofeedback." Permission received, he lets go of his concentration, simply letting the sensations build naturally as he kisses again. "Unexpected," she breathes softly, returning the kisses, "And sweet christ, good ..."

Some short time later, they lay there, nestled comfortably with an air of blissful contentment. She holds him close, protectively, one might say, murmuring quiet words of assurance and pleasure, taking comfort herself it the closeness. He snuggles comfortably in her arms--protective or no--resting his head gently against her shoulder, nuzzling and gently kissing from time to time.

Nathicana closes her eyes for a while, simply savoring it all as her hands idly stroke and caress along his back and sides. "Bene grazie," she finally murmurs, kissing lightly against his forehead.

Bondayehr shrugs slightly, smiling, then tilting his head up to kiss her chin gently. "De nada," he whispers cheerfully as they both work to maintain a comfortable closeness. "You did that on purpose," she murmurs, placing soft kisses along his cheek.

He nods gently as he rests on his right side, left hand idly wandering over her side. "That I did," he replies softly, punctuating with gentle kisses, "no complaints, I hope?"

"I'd be a fool to complain," she assures him, shifting slightly under his hands, smiling between kisses, her own hands idly exploring the lines of his body once again. "You," she murmurs, a mischievous light in her eyes, "have a natural talent, there."

Timofeyev blushes just a tiny bit as he smirks back, breaking into a grin. "Natural, hell. I'll have you know I worked damned hard to master those concentration tricks. Was even more fun that my teachers weren't even human."

"Jesus, boy," she chuckles, shivering lightly in a very good way. "I'd say I've just been well rewarded for all your hard work." She tilts her head so she can look at him, a decidedly pleased smile on her lips. "And you ... all well?"

The cadet chuckles, looking up and kissing her softly. "Oh, quite possibly." Another kiss. "Make that definately." She sighs softly, part in pleasure, part in relief. Her smile broadens with each kiss, and she cuddles up contentedly. "Good ... good ... I'd worried," she murmurs, punctuating her words again with soft kisses.

Timofeyev cants his head slightly. "Why?"

"Ah, now ... there's a fine question," she says with a soft laugh. "My decidedly hedonistic nature never gave me pause before, why should it now?"

He shrugs with a smile. "Can't answer that one, sorry. I am sorry for having you worry, though."

Nathicana kisses him soundly at that, only drawing back again when she's satisfied he knows she's not in the least bit needing an apology. "My issues, my choice. If anything, I should be apologizing to you. Taking a good, honorable, upstanding boy like yourself and not only exposing him on a day to day basis to Dominion politics, but the turning around and corrupting you further." Her eyes twinkle with mischief all the same, and she kisses again for good measure.

He returns the kiss, then raises an eyebrow. "Corrupt how? I'll admit, I've gone through some new experiences... but corruption?"

"Well, I ah ... " She has the grace to blush slightly. "This, for example," she murmurs, unsure quite how to phrase.

Timofeyev thinks for a moment. "What, the sex?" He grins. "I apologize for the naivete, but I'm really not seeing anything here. It was--at worst--a morally neutral act between two consenting adults."

She nods, grinning back, and looking a good deal less ashamed than her words might lead one to believe. "Oh, I know, I know ... things have just been so damnably, well ... confusing of late. And no, before you even go there, most definitely not your fault." She seals that statement with another kiss.

He returns the kiss, then nods, shifting comfortably as he nestles close. "I know it's none of my business, but if you care or need to share, I'm willing to listen."

"Change," she says simply, her tone putting additional weight on the word. She stretches, then snuggles a little closer, contentedly. "It is difficult, after a lifetime of living and believing one way, to try and adapt to a new way at times, especially, when one hasn't a clue how to go about it."

Timofeyev ponders that for a moment, then nods. "Change--or, at least, no worthwhile change, in my experience--comes easily. One not only has to overcome the situation but also the inertia of one's own personality, but it is often worth the effort."

"True enough. Still, this has only served to remind me that despite thoughts to the contrary ... I have no idea how to go about settling down and acting the part I've said I would." She leans her head in against his, hands continuing to stroke and caress, occasionally kissing lightly.

"Very rarely is it that anyone really does. Usually their 'idea' is simple imitation of others... which is only applicable if the situation is similar." He smiles, lightly pressing back against her head, stretching under her hands while his own wander. "All adaptation has to be tailored to the situation... perhaps what 'idea' you had to achieve the goal was unrealistic."
That seems to give her pause, and her brow furrows slightly. "This is never going to work," she murmurs quietly, seemingly to herself as she nestles in closer.

Timofeyev shakes his head gently. "I'm not saying the goal is unreal," Especially not knowing what it is, "just that the action plan may not be. Don't take my word too much to heart--I don't know the situation--but it's not usually the goal that's the problem, it's the implementation. Using idealists as an example, they used to be failures in the past because their implementation was as idealistic as their goals, unsuitable for current reality."

She nods. "One day at a time on it, I suppose."

"But of course." He snuggles close, offering a gentle hug.

Nathicana hugs back, chuckling softly all the same as she shifts against him. "Again, grazie," she murmurs. "Time will tell. Perhaps I simply need a better frame of reference for it all."

"I'm sure you've friends or such who can offer advice."

"I'm not so certain those I'm closest to have any better an insight than myself," she says, grinning wryly. "Honestly, now. I can just see that discussion. Hell, I'm not entirely certain Dev has a clear idea on how it all ought to work." She pauses, looking over at him with an arched brow. "Truth, now. Do I strike you as a particularly maternal type?"

Timofeyev ponders for a moment, watching Nathi's face. "Hmmm ... at first glance, no. The read has to be taken in context, though, and with the realization that not many people enter into such a situation with a pre-made maternal 'type.' My mom had to adapt to it, and even now she's not exactly a paragon of maternal nature."

Nathicana arches a brow questioningly. "You'd not know it from what I've seen on how you turned out," she murmurs, "Granted, a good deal of that being your choices. Nurture versus Nature and all that argument, which opens up an entirely different can of worms, I suppose." She doesn't seem offended in the least, merely accepting of the assessment.

"Well, being overly maternal can be just as much a fault--if not more so--than being insufficiently maternal. The whole 'overly protective' and 'never let go' aspects. 'Sides, we're talking about personalities... hardly static entities."

"True enough," she says with a quiet sigh, then shakes her head and smiles, softly kissing him again. "Back to present ... at least I've no more concerns here."

"I'm glad to hear that," he replies with a kiss, "I'd hate to think I'm inadvertently causing any stress."

"It's not as though I need worry about that other as yet anyway. And as I said before, you, my dear cadet, are causing anything but." Her smile increases as her hand teasingly strokes along more sensitive areas.

Timofeyev chuckles softly with a grin, shifting slightly closer in response to her teases. "That's good to hear."

She nods, the look of mischief increasing. "In fact," she murmurs quietly, "if you have no objections ..." She trails off, letting her movements speak for her once again.

"None on my end," he grins, leaning in to kiss gently.

<<end scene>>

Treznor lies peacefully on his bed, dreaming. His dreams are vague and incoherent, as most of his dreams tend to be. He's calm and content for the moment, which is all he ever asks of sleep. Then, the dream takes an abrupt turn as it comes into sharp focus. He's lying in another bed from another time. He's with another woman, someone who isn't Nathicana. Her name was Lisa. He remembers her well. She was a member of a delegation to discuss a World Court in Jarlsberg. He doesn't remember which delegation she belonged to, only that she was a very willing and enthusiastic partner.

Until she died.

Treznor wakes up with a start, eyes wide as he remembers Lisa's face slack not with sleep, but in death. She'd gone into anaphylactic shock when they'd gassed the rooms...

Gas!

He sniffs tentatively, confirming the presence of a mild nerve gas pumping silently into the room. He frowns and focuses his attention, listening for anything out of the ordinary. He hears the restless shifting and creaking of leather-clad bodies just outside his door.

Assassins! Then, Dammit, can't I ever have a quiet vacation, just once?

He slips quietly from the bed, disentangling his legs from the sheets. He starts to reach for his clothes, but thinks better of it. He may not have time. Instead he re-arranges the pillows and blankets before slipping over to the door to await the inevitable.

He doesn't have long to wait. Eventually the door opens and he holds his breath. Four black clad figures storm in to surround the bed, weapons raised. A fifth follows behind a little slower, and Treznor moves.

He was pretty good at hand-to-hand combat before S.H.O.D.A.N. rebuilt him. Nowadays he'd give good odds at being able to fight a Kzin to a standstill. He steps up behind the fifth man and yanks his head down to a comfortable level where he can wrap his arms around the neck and twist slightly. There's a sickening crack, and the body falls limp.

It takes a moment for the sound to register to the others, but Treznor is already moving. He steps up to the nearest operative, a short woman with luscious curves. He strikes her square in the center of the chest, feeling her ribs cave in under the impact. Her eyes go wide and a short cry gurgles from her mouth, but he's confident the strike successfully stopped her heart. She's dead before she hits the ground.

Shock has impeded the remaining three, but the farthest one is quick enough to get a weapon into position. Treznor twists to the left, dodging and coming up behind a tall assassin so he can bend one of the fellow's arms back far enough to break it. His accomplice fires, and there's a smell of ozone in the air as Treznor registers a surprising electric shock jolt his system.

UV rifles! Low power, meant to stun. But these aren't Treznor ops, they're Soldati! Gotta be special forces.

The man he's using as a shield has gone limp, his nervous system overwhelmed. Treznor picks him up bodily and throws him at the one who had fired. The distraction is sufficient for him to drop and roll out.

It's a wise move, as the last of them has gotten his weapon up and is firing blindly. He's screaming incoherently, liberally laced with curses in his native tongue. Treznor comes out of the roll next to the Soldati he'd punched and snags a baton from her belt ring. He throws it toward the man still firing, but doesn't wait before he grabs a firearm from its holster and rolls again.

The man firing screams in pain as the flying baton shatters his shin. He goes to one knee, his finger still holding down the trigger. The UV bolts score the walls and ceiling, scorching expensive tapestries.

Oh boy. Nath's gonna be pissed. Treznor raises the handgun and calmly squeezes the trigger twice. The remaining Soldati jerk as the slugs hit just above the vest line, and they drop.

Treznor throws himself against the door, slamming it shut and stepping to the side again as he catches his breath. His internal clock tells him only six seconds have passed.

Shit. Nath, what's happening here? Where are you and are you all right?

He counts to ten and notes that there appear to be no more Soldati coming. The villa is soundproofed well enough that the shots should have been muffled before the sound carried too far. But he can't rely on luck too far. These people are due to check in, and he's got that long to get moving.

He pauses to re-arm himself and pick up spares. He also grabs a headset from the assassins...he pauses to correct hiimself. Kidnappers. It occurs to him that he's still naked, but that's a secondary concern. He steps over to the wardrobe and lifts the bottom slightly until he feels the catch. Then he swings it away from the wall, revealing the hidden passage in the back.

Now I just have to hope they haven't sealed these off. And that she wasn't caught off-guard. Only one way to find out. He sets off at a half-run, trusting in his enhanced memory to guide him to Nathicana's bedroom.

OOC: This is very well written. In particular, I praise you, Trez for making the fight realistic and you Nathi for making the love scene so tasteful and yet intriguing.

ooc: Thank you - however, can't claim credit on that one. was co-written, as were all character interactions here. It's been a lot of fun working with my fellow rp'ers on this, and there's no way I could do it without them. Scolo and Trez just rock, and Melkor - bastard! Really threw some interesting wrenches in the works with some fun rp potential. Looking forward to where this could go.

"What're you doing, dear?" Brigadier Croft's smile is entirely predatory as she leans over a simulated desk, cooling pad pressed firmly to battered cheekbone.

"Just tying up some loose ends, dear." Senior Advisor von Saucken replies. Her smile is, conversely, entirely insincere.

"Be seeing you." The Brigadier's shadow pops out of the mindscape, leaving a hint of honest sweat and a slight tang of blood.


{Private diplomatic transmission}
x Renate von Saucken (Senior Advisor)
o Nathicana d'Aquisto (Dread Lady)

Dread Lady,

I hope this letter finds you well.

For some time, the Advisory Board has been debating closer relations with the Alliance, beyond co-alliances with Alliance members. I myself find that we had best renew out fleeting acquaintance. For various reasons I am at present well suited to travelling in a diplomatic capability, perhaps to the Dominion, the Empire of Treznor or a secure neutral location.

As I send this letter, I am also sending a letter to Emperor Devon Treznor, mostly identical in content, the text of which is appended.


Bashed-up back expertly kneaded in realspace.


{Private diplomatic transmission}
x Renate von Saucken (Senior Advisor)
o Devon Treznor (Emperor)

Emperor,

I hope this letter finds you well.

For some time, the Advisory Board has been debating closer relations with the Alliance, beyond co-alliances with Alliance members. For various reasons I am at present well suited to travelling in a diplomatic capability, perhaps to the Empire, the Dominion of Dread Lady Nathicana, or a secure neutral location.

Furthermore, there is a matter of technological exchange between the Empire and the Co-Prosperity Sphere.

As I send this letter, I am also sending a letter to the Dread Lady Nathicana d'Aquisto, mostly identical in content, the text of which is appended.


Simulated warm leather through thin khakis merges with brutally expert treatment of muscles turning into a gentler touch. Fingers rapidly tap out a chord on a keyboard, logging out.

Come May, I am so out of here. If this doesn't pan out I'll hunt Tcho-Tchos with the tigers or go native in Lavenrunz. Or something! At least I'll find out if that was Treznor while his CV was perforated.

She rolls over on the massage table, predatory smile meeting no longer quite as insincere one.

-tag- *grumble, grumble* :?

Treznor cautiously opens a hidden door from the corner of the wall and peers out cautiously. He hadn't seen anything from the spyholes, but that didn't mean there couldn't be hidden traps regardless. After a moment he steps out and makes his way toward the main bedroom. He pauses to adjust the pants he'd picked up from a supply cache in the tunnels. What is it about Nath and her insistence on dressing her soldiers in hot leather outfits? This is starting to chafe.

When he peers in the room, he can see Nathicana curled up contentedly under the covers with none other than the cadet, the both of them sleeping soundly.

The Emperor stops and stares in surprise. Okay, I was teasing her about it, but...well hell. The more the merrier. The vixen. He chuckles inwardly, even as he clears his throat loudly and deliberately. "Ah, excuse me."

Timofeyev yawns and looks up. Analyzing the voice in his mind, he quirks an eyebrow. "Yes, sir? How can I help you?"

Nathicana stirs, then stretches, leaning up on one elbow to look at Devon with a decidedly devilish grin. "Morning already? Seems dark still ..." She registers the clothes, and her grin fades, one brow arching up.

<LOS Communications - Devon>
{
<< Forgot where you packed your things?

<< Sorry, didn't have time to pack.

"Well, I really hate to interrupt you, but we've got a small problem. I doubt we have much time. Get dressed. I brought weapons for everybody."

Nathi curses quietly in her native language, disentangling herself with surprising speed, though care, and getting out of the bed. She dashes without further comment down the hall and proceeds pulling on her things as quick as she can.

<< Brief me.

Timofeyev hears "problems," "time," and "weapons" in quick succession, causing him to go into Sense of Urgency Mode. He rolls out of bed immediately, then begins to quickly assemble his survival gear with an oddly determined look. It's fast, but not panicked or even seemingly worried. Looking up, he gauges the others heights. He has them beat by four inches.

"Grab my clothes," he says in an oddly firm voice as he nods to the closet, "Concentrate on dark colors." He immediately slips into a set of BDUs, shoves his feet into his boots, and quickly just draws off the laces and ties. The cadet looks at Trez's leather pants. "Ditch those."

<< You've got five dead or disabled soldati in my bedroom. They used UV rifles. My guess is they wanted me alive. They've already been to your rooms, so I can only guess they're searching the area now. It won't be long before they think of checking here.

Treznor watches the Cadet quietly, sizing up his actions and response time. Then he nods and tosses a rifle on the bed. "That's a UV rifle, set for stun. It's got another setting for kill, but why waste the energy? And I would, but there's not much else to wear. I didn't stick around to get dressed. Talk to Nath about her leather fetish."

<< Then they won't be expecting me back there. I need my things ... dammit, my comp, those files ...

<< I wouldn't count on it. We can try, though. If it gets too hairy, we'll just have to trash it and run.

Nathicana takes the time to lock up the doors quietly as she pulls on her shirt, avoiding the windows. She comes back into the room, glances at the men, and gets to pulling out clothes as the cadet had said.

Timofeyev grabs a pair of cargoes from the closet and tosses them to Treznor. "Elastic waistband. They'll fit." He then grabs his portcomp, flings it unceremoniously into his backpack, and slings the backpack. Taking up the rifle, he checks the safety and the sights before carrying it lightly. Walking to a mirror, he covers the butt end of the rifle with a shirt and breaks the mirror, a shard falling onto to the dresser.

Opening a side pocket of his pack with ease, he pulls out his tube of glue and immediately glues the shard of mirror to the end of a pencil, tilted at an angle. A few seconds to set. "Whoever takes point gets this."

Treznor struggles out of the leather pants and dons the cargos, feeling slightly foolish but electing not to complain about it. "That depends on where we're going. Nath wants to go back and get her laptop. Too much sensitive information in it. I've been lucky using the tunnels, but I don't know how much longer I can trust that luck."

Nathicana winces at the break, though she looks over curiously. "Wrong damn cabinet, Dev," she mutters quietly. "More appropriate gear available once we get back down the tunnels." She merely nods firmly at his comments, jaw set stubbornly.

Treznor shrugs. "Your call, Dread Lady. This is your territory."

"Soldati?" she says to confirm. "You're certain?"

He nods quietly. "Yeah. I'm sorry."

"Tunnels first, then safety, then arguing." Looking around, he slings the rifle in the crook of his elbow. "Kit, check. Pack, check. Camo, check. Let's move."

Treznor steps over to the window to check outside from an angle. Seeing nothing, he nods. "Clear. We may have a few more minutes."

Nathi takes up her own weapon, giving Bondayehr a curious glance. "Indeed," she says, her expression smoothing, emotions carefully tucked away as she nods towards the hidden exit at the back of the hallway.

"Whoever knows the tunnels best gets point." The cadet proffers the mirror-on-a-stick. "Use this to look around corners."

"Understood." Nathicana takes it, holding it in her teeth as she opens the trap door, peering down the ladder. The tunnels are dimly lit, quite bare and utilitarian in keeping with their purpose. She uses the mirror as intended, and seeing nothing in either direction, puts it back in her teeth, and slides down using the handrails. Landing lightly, she immediately moves away, and readies her weapon, keeping alert.

Timofeyev takes a defensive stance by the trap door, readying his weapon to his shoulder and keeping a view of entry points as he nods towards the door. "After you, Emperor."

Treznor gestures to Bondayehr. "No, Cadet. After you. I want you both where I can see you."

The cadet continues to scan doors and windows. "Asset being defended gets center. If you are the Empire of Treznor, then you are going first."

<< No time. Get your ass down here, boy.

<< Coming!

Devon sighs and steps forward. He grabs the Cadet by the belt and lifts him one-handed, before dumping him in the trap door. "I don't have time to argue with you. Now git."

Timofeyev drops down the ten feet, stretching out in flight and compressing on the ground before rolling to the side. Checking both directions and finding them clear, he waits. One-handed. Strength noted.

Treznor climbs down after, making sure to close the trap door and dog it before hopping to the ground. "Okay. Go."

Up above, black-clothed soldati make their way across the courtyard, spread out and quietly relaying messages. The absence of the five has been noted, and the group is now on high alert.

"I've got to get that comp," Nathi says quietly, biting her lower lip.

Treznor shakes his head as he double-checks the charge on his rifle. "And how do you propose to get past whoever's after us?"

Timofeyev squeezes a contact on the cuff of his right sleeve, and his smoke-cloud grey digitized camouflage takes on the earthen tone of the tunnel. The color, combined with the lack of an easily definable outline from the pixellated camouflage pattern, makes him look like he'd be extremely hard to pick up from a distance.

The Emperor blinks and smiles. "You'd make James Bond proud."

Nathicana pauses, uncertain, her eyes flickering back and forth between the men, and the tunnel leading back towards the house. Too risky. Going to get one of them killed at that rate. The camo change gives her pause again. "Jesu ... why didn't I pack stealth suits down here?"

"James Bond is a crock. No one can do everything." The cadet looks back down the tunnel in both directions. "This is just standard issue chameleon camouflage. Low power draw, a lot lower than fancy Predator active camo."

With an angry curse, the dark-haired woman stalks down the tunnel, pausing at the first turn and using the makeshift mirror device to check for any trouble. Seeing it clear, she gestures to the others, then proceeds forward. Need time to change, time to get out ... going to have to collapse it. Dammit, of all the nights!

<< Hey, easy there Red. One step at a time. First we get out of here, then we worry about damage control.

<< I have everything locked up, encoded, but Christ, Dev, even so! If it were just me ...

Timofeyev keeps to the opposite side of the tunnel to Nathi, keeping his line-of-sight open as he follows with careful and surprisingly quiet steps. He keeps the rifle at low-ready, aiming fourty-five or so degrees down.

Treznor hugs the opposite wall, rifle cradled in his arms for a right-handed trigger pointing back the way they came. He keeps his eyes and ears peeled for any sign of pursuit.

A group of five soldati break off to cover the guesthouse entrance. The element of surprise has, they believe, gone out the window. One tries the door carefully. Finding it locked, he breaks out the decorative side window with a gloved hand, clears the glass, and reaches around to open the door.

<< We don't even have enough intel to know what's happening. It could be a coup, or it could be a setup. I do know some of your people are in on it, but I don't know who and that's the important part.

"Dammit, Dev, I know. It just makes all this worse," she grumbles, forgetting herself and speaking aloud as she reaches the next corner and stops to check again.

Timofeyev blinks slightly but doesn't let it bother him. Survive first.

"Clear," she says, going forward and heading straight for the cabinets containing clothing and supplies.

Bondayehr walks past Nathi, taking a position to cover the tunnel, down on one knee. "Food. Camouflage. Positioning gear. Backpacks. Light tarps if possible. Blankets unnecessary. Keep the load light as possible."

Treznor pauses at the corner while Nathicana selects the equipment she wants to use. "Where are we going once we finish with your office? Do we head for the capital and squash this or do we bug out and work from Rhea or Devonton or wherever?"

"Emperor... let us burn that bridge when we come to it. Concentrate on getting out first."

The older man grins. "That's the point, Cadet. How we get out depends on where we're going. We have a goal to focus on before we can make an effective escape. I don't need blueprints, I just need a direction."

Nathicana nods, quickly shrugging out of her things and into the more serviceable standard Dominion camos and a sturdy pair of boots. "You said we've dead back at the villa, yes?" she says as she works on the laces.

Treznor pauses briefly to reflect. "Four dead, one incapacitated. He was taken out by a rifle blast, so I didn't wait around for him to wake up again."

"Single-handedly, I presume?"

The Emperor shrugs. "They weren't very obliging."

Timofeyev nods. Not good leaving one alive. If he reports single-handed takedown, that doesn't do much for covering our strength. Too late now; adapt and survive.

"Chances of getting back in, then out again, without them finding either these tunnels, or us, are slim then. This is my fault for being unprepared. As the cadet has said, the important part is getting out. I hope my encryptions hold." She stands, grabbing three packs, tossing one to Devon. "Basic survival gear as previously discussed. Nothing fancy, but will serve our purposes. Food enough for five days apiece." She opens another cabinet to display a rack of handguns, several rifles, and ammunition. "Take your pick," she says, taking two of the smaller for herself.

"I suggest leaving me a rifle." The cadet's gaze doesn't break from scanning the tunnel. "I've little experience with pistols."

Treznor catches the pack and slings it over his shoulders as he watches the tunnel. "Grab me as many pistols as you can. Faster than reloading. And nobody's perfect, Red. Stop kicking yourself for missing something we all overlooked. It won't help us get out of here."

"Understood." She empties a fourth pack unceremoniously onto the ground, keeping only the foodstuffs, taking the remaining four pistols and retrieving as much ammo as is reasonable, quickly packing them away. She grabs one of the rifles, then shrugs on her pack, slinging the other casually over her shoulder.

Bondayehr looks at the UV rifle in his hands. "This is an energy weapon... any chance it can be set to overload?"

Treznor ponders. "Not that I'm aware of. It doesn't carry a battery charge, it carries a miniature fusion generator. You're probably familiar with them by now. I've never heard of anyone figuring out how to overload it; it would require dumping all the fuel at once, which is designed to be difficult."

"Damn. Would have solved the computer problem. Got any grenades in there?"

The soldati make their way through the guesthouse, covering each other as each room is systematically searched. Finding no one, and evidence of recent occupation, orders are sent out over Channel Spook, and the rest spread out to begin canvassing the property.

Nathicana says nothing at first, her scowl increasing, then turns to speak. "No, no grenades. Lets move. Knowing my people, we're running out of time. We need to get clear so we can collapse the tunnel. The noise will certainly draw attention, but hopefully, we can get clear before they find the exit point."

Treznor pauses, grabbing the headset he'd picked up and listens to it. "Okay, they know we're awake. They're starting a general search."

"Scopa ... I knew it. No time."

"Your lead. Go."

She nods curtly, and heads out again, leaving the security to the men while she concentrates on keeping the gear straight and checking the way ahead.

Timofeyev keeps scanning the corridor. "How quiet is this weapon? If it's UV, hopefully it lacks muzzle flash?"

Treznor whispers, "The UV laser burns a path for the electrical charge. It has a significant flash; nothing subtle about it. It just isn't noisy."

"No noise is good."

The trio reach the end of the tunnel without incident. Ahead, another ladder leading up to a point some fifty yards outside the property line. Nathi climbs up, pausing to press her ear to the hatch, her brow furrowed. "Anything on the channel, Dev?" she asks quietly.

He shakes his head, forgetting it can't be easily seen in the dark. A second later he says, "Sorry, no."

Nathicana turns the locking mechanism in the hatch, and carefully pushes it up and open slightly, wincing and repressing a cough as a slight stream of dirt, grass and leaves trickles down. Blinking, she uses the mirror device again to scan the surrounding area as best she can. The view towards the road is blocked by the bushes growing there, but other than that, no movement can be seen.

Pushing the hatch open the rest of the way, she climbs back down. "Up you go. We're about fifty yards south of the property line. We've got a bit of cover up top, but not much. There's a road to the west, and the view is blocked there. Once you're set, I'm blowing the tunnel."

"I have point." The cadet immediately takes the rifle in one hand and starts up the ladder.

Treznor climbs up without argument and lets the other take point. He sweeps the area, senses alert and weapons ready, then moves to follow.

Bondayehr comes to the top, pausing underneath to get his weapon ready and then pops up, scanning the area with weapon at the ready.

Nathi moves quickly to the wall on the right, lifting up the cover on an insignificant-looking box, and with a muttered curse, hits the button. Farther back up the tunnel, at the first bend, the ceiling and walls collapse inward, the explosives set along the ten foot stretch going off cleanly. The tunnel is soon choked with debris and dust. The soldati above cannot help but take notice.

Seeing no one, the cadet leaps up the last few rungs into a low crawl on the ground. Entering the brush, he crawls to the rim of the nearest ridge, head twisting to keep situational awareness before peeking over.

Treznor pops out and keeps low, following the cadet into the brush and hits dirt, rolling to the left immediately and coming up ready to fire. "Clear," he whispers.

"Check the oppokite direction," the cadet breathes. "Wouldn't do for enemy to flank." The other man nods quickly, continuing to search.

Soon the channel is alive with quick reports, most movements delivered in code, though the general alarm is obvious. What Bondayehr can see from his vantage is a group of six soldati parked along the road. They are scanning the area intently. Shouts of alarm can be heard in the distance, though none others sound close by.

Nathicana climbs as quickly as she can up the ladder, pausing as she peeks her head out, then keeping low as she looks around cautiously, moving to join the others.

Timofeyev holds his rifle sideways, low against the ground, using the ridge and brush for cover as he lines up. Finding a power select trigger with his thumb, he readies to pump up the juice. "Can the weapon blow that truck?"

"If we get spotted, we can take them all with minimal effort." The cadet makes it clear he's not going to blow cover.

Treznor glances at the rifle in his hands. "Yeah, on full power it ought to ignite the fuel tanks."

Bondayehr slides the power select to the opposite end. If it was on low power before... "Pray that they don't kee uk. Clear in your direc?"

Devon makes one last check. "Clear."

"Nathi, closest wilderness?" he grimaces as he uses sibilant 's' sounds.

"North," she says softly. "Closest means to the border too."

Timofeyev looks up, finds the Big Dipper, and follows its tail to Polaris. "Got it."

"Damn... need to cross that road. Stay low." The cadet backs away slowly from the ridge, then gets into a low quiet run westwards while still using the ridge for cover.

Treznor quirks an eyebrow at Nathicana, then copies the cadet's maneuver.

Nathicana merely nods, following along, pulling a pistol as she goes.

The cadet pauses at times, dropping his hand in the "get low" gesture before low-crawling back up to peer over the ridge, trying to ensure a clear path to the road.

Back at the villa, the all clear is given from both buildings. Many converge near the stables, the area in which the explosion seemed to originate. Orders are sent out for reinforcements as it becomes clear that their quarry have given them the slip. The search spreads further, the fencelines soon bristling with activity.

Treznor whispers harshly, "They're broadening their search. We're running out of time!"

"I can kee that." The cadet crawls down from the ridge. "We're making a break for the road. Crossing it, then going overland to the north."

Those guarding the road look agitated, scanning the area nervously, guns at the ready. Nathi bites her lower lip as she looks at both. "Taking out the vehicle?" she asks quietly.

"On it." Bondayehr closes into position and sights on the fuel tank. "Get ready to run acrok the instant it blowk. Ten kecond count. Ten."

<< We can both run faster, I know. But I'm not leaving the boy behind. Get yourself across as quick as possible. Cover us from over there.

Treznor tenses and scans the area, picking his path and choosing his targets ahead. "I've got the two in the middle."

"Nine. When we hit, we run acrok and cut north. They won't expect uk to get nearer. Eight."

"Seven. I'll hit the vehicle... six."

Nathicana readies herself, nodding. "Two on the right."

Timofeyev counts down. "Three. Two. One. Engage." Gently squeezing the trigger, a bolt of light lances out towards the vehicle's gas tank.

Nathi fires off several shots, grimacing as the flash lights up the night, soon after shielding her eyes from the loud and painfully bright explosion as the jeep goes up in flames, taking three of the soldati with it. Shouts of alarm sound from different areas of the compound, and shots are fired from the fenceline as commands are issued, and the operatives begin to converge on the area.

Devon exhales and fires, taking out one of his two targets. Seeing the other one incapacitated by the explosion, he leaps over the embankment and makes his dash across the road, following his planned path and sweeping his eyes to check for surprises.

"Move," Timofeyev breathes, looking after the two before following along himself while turning the weapon back to stun. "Run north," he whispers, "with all due speed. Uke ridge for cover."

Three. Bondayehr doesn't allow himself to think about that. Survive first. Deal with myself later.

Nathicana makes her dash as well, squeezing off a few more rounds at her targets, putting them down as they try and recover from the blast. She keeps herself close to the cadet, firing back in the direction of the fence and the shapes moving there.

"Back off," the cadet breathes, "grenades. Eye contact; don't kay too cloke."

She nods, dropping back behind him, intent on covering as best she can. I'm responsible for all this goddamned mess. Damned if I'm gonna get either one of these boys killed out here tonight.

Timofeyev runs like one used to silence in the woods, keeping his rifle at the ready. "You two make takedowns here on out. I'm too flashy. The terrain will make echo. Hard to track."

Treznor keeps his head swiveling, memorising the terrain and sorting it as quickly as his brain can manage. He feels the beginning of an ache begin to form behind his eyes, and he puts it aside.

The soldati that had been patrolling along the fence are soon pounding across the ground, running down the road in an effort to round up the trio. Commands are issued further south along the roadway to be ready. Shouts sound through the trees from what seems several different directions, most in the native Dominion tongue.

Nathicana for her part keeps on, her eyes darting back and forth nervously as she looks from side to side, pistol at the ready. She tries to ignore the sick feeling that's been welling up in her stomach, concentrating instead on trying to keep track of the shouted orders, and isolate any close movements.

Bondayehr wants to get a look over the ridge, but knows speed is of the essence at this point. "Dev," he whispers, "watch fore-left. I have ridge. Nath, drag."

"Dev," the cadet continues as he remembers something, "headket. What are they kaying?"

"Still under orders to immobilize if possible," Nathi says numbly, from what she's gathered in her own listenings. "Converging on the site, some moving up from the south, others spreading west." As an afterthought, "Getting sloppy ..."

"Keep north, then. Watch out for the wekt-moving team."

Treznor nods. "They've converged on the site of the attack and spreading out from there. They haven't picked up our trail yet."

"Exactly. Can the talk and up the walk." Bondayehr speeds up, the plan pretty much set from here on out.

Treznor maintains a steady pace, dropping the pretense of the tired old bureaucrat as he scans the area. This is too easy. We're getting confident from our successes too far. Where will Murphy strike?

Keeping alert, Nathi keeps the watch up from behind, her jaw set stubbornly as she starts turning over options in her mind. There aren't many. She lets her anger build and push her forward rather than fall back into bemoaning the current situation. Time enough for that later. Get clear, get help ...

The noise of pursuit seems to fade, the further away from the road they get, though the random crashes, shouts, and occasional weapons fire is enough to work on their nerves for some time.

As the party gets further away, putting distance between them and the villa, Bondayehr slows down to a jog, and then to a brisk walk, using hand signals to show it isn't fatigue but planning. Entering the foothills of the northern mountains of the Dominion, he leads them around the hills rather than over, making sure to keep the densest forest canopy above, pausing at times near clearings to reacquire Polaris.

Coming to a stream that runs roughly north-south, he traces along the nearest bank under the trees, not stopping, taking small sips from his canteen while walking. Other than pointing out things of interest and directions, he keeps quiet. Past the leaves of the trees, the sky slowly lightens from the black of night to a royal purple, slowly moving up the scale to an ox-blood purple-red.

Finally, he shakes his canteen--check your levels--and when Devon's turns out to be empty, he points towards an overhang on the opposite side of the creek caused by erosion under a tree, its roots keeping the roof up. Indicating and then catching the canteens tossed to him after a momentary lack of understanding, he waves them over to quickly cross the shallow stream as he ducks down beside it and fills the canteens from a rapidly flowing current. Crossing the stream himself, he grabs some dead bracken and moss from the riverbank and strews it over the tree-roots in an unusually natural-looking curtain.

Sighing, he redistributes the canteens, then sits down in the close space, untying his boots then properly tightening them up as he speaks softly. "We've been on the bounce for about four hours now; at our pace, that makes around twenty clicks walked. Take into account our route, call it fifteen. That makes a search circle... around six-seventy-five square kilometers in radius, and they're expecting an arc south of here."

He pulls the laces tight, wraps once around his leg, ties off before moving to the next boot. "They were sloppy for spec-ops; looked like average troopers. Soldati I think you called them." The cadet looks up at Nath for a moment. "Plus, if they send five in to take down one target..."--he looks up at Dev--"that's unprofessional for a snakecrawler. Especially seeing how they were taken down by one... no matter how strong you are. If we're just talking low-rents like that, we don't run much risk of getting snatched up if we keep low. Substandard equipment, substandard training."

Tighten, wrap, and tie. He crouches back on his haunches, folding his arms over his legs as he looks on the two with an odd, distant grimness. "Well, we're out of immediate danger. I'm pretty sure I can help support you two in the wilderness, and if you've got any advantages that would help me help you I'd be glad to know them. Hardest part of surviving is having to fight a sense of lonliness; luckily for us, we have a little team here so we'd best act as one.

"We need a plan. The lack of spec-ops and presence of security suggests an inside job, so we should assume that above-ground Dominion resources are not an option. I don't think there's a Scolopendran embassy in the nation; and if they came for you"--he nods to Devon again--"then whoever's in this is probably watching Treznor assets. Depending on how well known your relations with S.H.O.D.A.N. are known"--he nods to Nathi--"we should expect that route to be covered as well by the adversary."

The cadet frowns. "Options? Ideas?"

Treznor pulls up short at the hand signals, putting away his canteen for the fifth time in an hour. His stomach is growling at him, and he knows what that means.

Damn, been pushing pretty hard. Already used up that lovely meal from last night. Let's hope Nath packed something with high calories in here.

Once they stop underneath the roots of the tree, he struggles out of his pack and hunts through it. A moment later he brings out a handful of MREs which he barely takes the time to unwrap before wolfing down. He nods to Bondayehr to let him know he's listening.

"At the risk of bragging, those weren't low-rent soldati in my room. Those folks don't get issued UV rifles; Nath doesn't use them widely. They went down because they were expecting me to be knocked out with gas, and were caught by surprise. I didn't bother to get dressed to meet them properly, you see. Their behaviour and reactions said special ops."

He pauses to wolf down another bar before he continues. "The coordination of the troops also suggest a high level of organisation. I don't know the code names they were using for reference, but it sounded like they were pretty systematic about their sweeps. Their response times to the truck explosion were good, too. Someone has either duped or subverted the household guard; it has to be an inside job. The only question is who and how widespread has it gone, and we can't answer that by reasoning it out. Not enough datum." He rubs the bridge of his nose again, trying to will the headache away.

Between the stress of the past week and this...some vacation this turned out to be.

"As for what I can do...Scolopendra may be aware of the fact that SHODAN rebuilt me, but as a general rule the fact that I'm augmented is supposed to be a state secret. I'll clue you in, but I want your word that the details go no farther than us. No ELINT transmissions to your boss on the subject, got it? The fewer people know what I can do, the better my chances of surprising and surviving assassins.

"Now then. As you've probably guessed, I'm faster and stronger than the average human. I've got improved resistence to toxins and poisons, and I resist damage and heal faster than normal. I can change my skin colour at will to blend in with my surroundings when necessary. I've also got some metal in my head that aides my memory and enhances synaptic functions. And it all comes at a cost, some of which I'm paying for now."

He opens another MRE and chews contemplatively. "You're right about our options. Someone who can attack us like this already knows a great deal about us already. They'll know to watch my people and my assets. They probably also know about most of the agents I've got operating under cover. They'll be watching for a dash to the Tempest since Nath always runs to SHODAN when things get hairy. Given your involvement, they'll probably also be watching Scolopendran assets. We need another alternative. Callas, maybe?"

Nathicana follows on, now and then, a stray thought of surprise breaking through the numbness. Shouldn’t I be taking charge here? Of course the reality of the situation tends to drive home one simple fact every time she gets to questioning.

I’m in no fit state of mind to do so.

She keeps up the pace without problem, more grateful for her augments than she has been in a long time now. Unexpected sounds, picked up on enhanced ears cause her to start on occasion, continually feeling for a good while that the pursuit is closer than it seems, given the odd echo. This however, is not a time to voice such misgivings, nor to bemoan the sudden shift in fortunes.

Silent running. Keep it together.

The woods normally would be something she’d enjoy, having always taken some measure of comfort in the peaceful quiet. As it was, she hardly noticed her surroundings past what was required to navigate through the twists and turns, and often unsteady footing in the dark. As the night slowly fades, giving way to the still light of morning, she starts to look closer at her companions. The cadet, who has been tirelessly and efficiently leading them with what seems a quiet determination, continues to do so. Devon, his back to her as she keeps up the rear, is unreadable, and she makes no effort to communicate in the quiet manner they have between them, preferring the silence.

It isn’t until the stream that she truly starts paying mind to her surroundings. Blinking in confusion, she once again goes along with the directions of the young Scolopendran, trying desperately to gather her thoughts and fight down the emotions that have slowly been building now that the pace has slowed, then stopped. She huddles at the back of the crude shelter, watching Bondayehr quietly, registering somewhere in the back of her mind that this and previous skills are likely the result of the training they’d spoke of before.

Sakkra, he said. Final test was a bitch … God I’m hungry … Soldati, going through my things … my house … maledicalo, I hope the encryptions hold. I need to go back …

Her ramblings are cut off as the young man speaks, replaced by more cogent thoughts.

Four hours, already? Didn’t seem that long. Yes, yes … soldati indeed, though I’m certain some of the better. They don’t know about Dev. No reason to suspect he couldn’t be overtaken easily enough. Besides, less expensive to replace when the job is done, no doubt. No, they wouldn’t have taken risks of being found out if … oh God. Marik, were you in all that mess?

Nathi’s face begins to register a play of emotions, slight, but noticeable after the long period of blank neutrality. She nods as Timofeyev sums up his abilities, knowing full well there’s no bluster from the usually self-effacing man. She notes Devon’s ravening appetite, ignoring for now the insistent rumblings of her own stomach. As for a plan, she continues to listen carefully as Treznor speaks, her expression slowly hardening, lips compressing tightly.

“If I know my people, they will have the airport and any other major exits carefully watched, as noted. The who for now, doesn’t matter so much as the knowledge that we can no longer trust any Dominion patrols or operatives we should come across. Ruling here has always been a matter of playing ‘King of the Hill’ in a manner of speaking, and I’ve just been pushed off. I’m going to assume the worst from here on out.” Her stomach rumbles loudly again and she mutters a vehement curse under her breath, looking more angry with each thing pointed out..

“As for abilities, I too have certain enhancements, though nothing on the scale of Devon here. Stronger, faster, toxin extractor for ingested poisons. Simple, effective. At the very least, you won’t be needing to worry about us not keeping up,” she says matter-of-factly, though frowning. “My training is a bit rusty, though I managed to brush up a bit on safari not too long ago. Had good teachers there, though I can’t hope to match them. Basic first aid, a general idea of the lay of the land and border checkpoints, and knowing how to blend in should we head into a town.”

“Options are slim,” she says with a scowl. “Shodey is a clear target, and damned if I haven’t made things more difficult with all the enhanced security and scrambling of forces last night.” Nathi sighs, rubbing her temples for a moment before continuing.

“So, no Shodey, no transport, no easy border crossing at checkpoints. An Embassy Scolopendra does have, and as noted, will bloody well be watched, as with others, no doubt. Besides, most are in the Old City part of Devras, and we all know how bad it could be to get cornered down there amidst all the island blocks and canales. We’re safer away from Devras whatever we do. We’re a good distance from the border. To get to Callas, we’ll still have to get through Dominae. Luckily, they’re about as corrupt as here, so if we can manage to get hold of some funds … Goddammit! Nothing!” she finally breaks out with, balling up her fist and hitting the ground next to her as her anger gets the better of her finally, her infamous temper showing through.

“The dealing, the maneuvering, all the months of careful planning, and things have been running smoothly, Dominion’s been quiet.” Her facial expressions darken by the moment, blue eyes flashing dangerously, speech speeding, rising in volume, her accent becoming more pronounced. “Next thing I notice is you acting awfully pleased with yourself, then out of the blue, I get hit with a pissed off Imperium Warlord, and accusations … I’m covering your ass left and right, you’re making poor decisions, not covering your tracks, and now I’m sitting out here in the woods with nothing but bare essentials, everything I’ve ever worked for up and fucking gone, and you’ve got the nerve to be sitting there, calmly eating, discussing our bloody options as if we’re sitting down for tea?”

It isn’t rational. In her mind right now, it doesn’t have to be. The strain of the past few days has taken its toll. She’s been hurt, and deeply, and so, as she’s often done, she lashes out, and at the most convenient target. In the blink of an eye, she launches herself across at Devon, hauling back her right fist, then letting loose with a strike, her left hand grasping for his shirt.

“You son of a bitch, you’ve ruined me!”

Treznor frowns as he watches Nathicana grow increasingly agitated and hostile. When the outburst comes, it doesn't surprise him overmuch; nor does he defend against it. He takes the punch at full strength and falls back, lip bleeding and mouth aching. The headache, which was already bugging him, flares into new life.

"I suppose I did!" he snarls, then stops and fights for control over his temper. He glances at the cadet, shaking his head. Don't be a hero, boy, he thinks, wishing he could speak to him the way he does with her. Training or no, she'll kill you. Don't interfere.

Then he turns his full attention back to Nathicana, who still has his shirt in her grasp. If she hadn't, he would have fallen to the ground. "And I'd do it again," he continues quietly. "You know damned well why. So if you want to hit me again, do it. Do it as long as you want; no one will stop you. When you're done, maybe we can see what we can do to get the Dominion back for you."

Timofeyev takes a few instants to assess the situation, not having the metal-augmented nervous circuitry of the Dread Lady nor the improved axons of the Emperor. The situation becomes a sort of standoff before he can even react, so when he does, he goes by instinct.

Leaping to his feet--or, at least, as much as he can in the confined space--he does NOT do the traditional 'get between the adversaries' body block. Having to quell Sakkrans will make a man unlearn that. Instead, he remains ready to assist. "If I could add something... it'd be great if you two don't kill each other. The paperwork on fatalities is a fearful thing to ponder."

Nathi tightens her jaw, cursing fluently between clenched teeth, quite literally shaking with rage ... and a need to refuel. With another growled curse, she tightens her grip, then shoves Devon back away from her, right hand clenching and unclenching as if she's still uncertain about taking him up on his offer.

Treznor glares at Bondayehr, mostly angry with himself for letting this get so far out of control. "Stand down, Cadet!" he says with over ten years of experience as an absolute dictator to lend authority to his voice. Dammit, she almost had it. Then he steps forward and throws a punch at Nathicana with all of his strength, not even bothering to be subtle about it.

The cadet thinks momentarily about the stone knife in his pack before stepping back and blinking at the order, but the thrown punch is just a bit much for him at the moment. "Hey now!" Blocking or getting between the punches is out of the question with the auged, but he can at least try to separate them at the shoulders.

Nathicana blinks in surprise, reacting instinctively to try and block with her left, while going in with a low kidney shot with her right, swearing furiously in her native language, her focus, for now, entirely on Devon and her anger. He lets her block while he shrugs off the Cadet with a heave, inviting Nathicana to take advantage of the hole in his defenses.

Timofeyev gets thrown off Dev but retains his grip on Nathi, center of gravity thrown off by his backpack and going down but nonetheless trying to use that momentum to pull Nathi away for a moment. She reaches back to take hold of the cadet as his momentum yanks her back momentarily, prying his hand off her shoulder as she bulls in for a solid blow to Devon's midsection.

Treznor twists slightly to one side, giving Nathicana the satisfaction of a solid blow while attempting to minimise the damage of it. All the same, it hurts like hell, and he grits his teeth against it. He sweeps his leg out for a trip, knowing that however much this is going to hurt, he's committed now.

Bondayehr loosens up for the fall and turns to take the fall on the side of the pack, uncomfortable as all hell but not knocking the air out of him. He works to regain his feet at where he is, scrambling as quickly as he can.

Nathi stumbles, her forward momentum taking her headlong into Devon, both fists flying. Her anger and loss of balance makes her movements clumsy and off target, though nonetheless delivered with as much power as she can muster.

Treznor reaches out to snag Nathicana's wrists, clamping his hands around them and holding on for dear life. He can't match her strength, but he can redirect it's fury. Let her expend her anger on him without killing anyone else, and he'll be satisfied. He hauls back and brings them both to the ground with her on top; a position he would normally appreciate, but not now.

The cadet sees one person trying to beat the hell out of the other. Normally, his training says, let people beat each other up a little under stress. Other than a few black eyes, it shouldn't be a big deal. Unfortunately, augs make everything different and the last thing the group needs is dead members. Still, as Nath is occupied, he slips his arms under her shoulders and tries to put her in a Full Nelson, pushing back with his legs to try and peel her off. If it doesn't work, then at least she won't be able to make contact against Devon as well.

Nathi lets loose with another string of expletives in her native tongue, too wrapped up in the tussle to think in other terms, and furious as hell at anyone trying to stop her at this point. "Vaffanculo!" she curses as she twists sharply to the right and subsequently, the dirt 'wall' of the overhang. She throws her weight, albeit awkwardly, from the shoulders in an attempt to free at least one of her hands and dislodge the cadet.

Timofeyev feels his fingers slip, arms following suit as he's flung against the wall, backpack hitting hardest and portcomp in backpack hitting him hard in the back. The portcomp is designed to be run over repeatedly by thirty-ton armored vehicles; he isn't. It hits flat against the supporting frame, though, so there's just a loud thunk as he hits and falls to the ground.

Treznor maintains his hold on Nathicana and rides it out, watching her eyes as she struggles to kill him with her bare hands, praying the cadet wasn't hurt too badly. We can't afford to carry him across the wastes! She keeps focused on Devon with a murderous gaze, her eyes starting to tear up as she works to gain better leverage, twisting her wrists to break his grasp, though her efforts seem to be weakening. Chest heaving, her stomach feeling like it's twisted into knots, she continues her string of curses and accusations, thoughtlessly assaulting him with things from years back to present, hitting him verbally while restrained from connecting physically.

Bondayehr gets up with a grimace, looks at the two, and shakes his head with a loud sigh. "Fuck this. When you feel like surviving, get back to me." He walks around the two, unslings his pack, and roots inside for his kit. He mutters to himself in Arabic, checking Nathi's and Dev's packs, collecting the rations and counting them up, including the few Y-ration bars he stocked in his survival kit. He then opens a small vial and starts mixing a thick paste in the lid using a little water from his canteen. He looks up occasionally, watching Nath wind down as he mixes up the pungent paste.

Nathi makes a few half-hearted last attempts to get loose before bowing her head against Devon's chest, fists still clenched, but no longer trying to hit him. He slowly, gradually lets go and reaches around to hug Nathicana, making quiet soothing noises. She only resists for a few moments before hugging back, saying nothing.

Timofeyev watches them get things under control, waiting until the paste gets to the right consistency before grabbing an MRE, moving over, and setting it beside Nathi. "You haven't eaten yet." Looking to Dev, he presents the paste. "Topical anaesthetic and blood vessel constrictor. It'll minimize bruising."

Treznor strokes her back gently, then says cautiously, "Feel better, now?"

She nods, not meeting either man's gaze. She disentangles herself from Devon, quietly taking the MRE and settling in against the back of the overhang to eat.

Treznor thanks Timofeyev and accepts the paste, sitting back to avoid making anyone feel crowded. "I don't suppose you've got a good, solid narcotic in that bag, do you?" He dabs the paste at his lip, which is already swollen slightly.

Nathicana glances over at Devon, her eyes tightening as he tends his lip. Then she gives the cadet a sidelong look, watching how he moves, looking quietly for any sign of damage. "Northern border," she says finally in a low voice. "Slight bearing to the west. Shortest route. Hit the town of Torino on the way to acquire supplies if clear."

Bondayehr seems to move like he usually does, capping the lid to his vial of pungent green powder. "I've counted the food supply; we started out with twenty days of Dominion MREs and three days of Scolopendran Y-Rations in my kit here. Devon ate two of the MREs, so that leaves us with twenty-one man-days of food. Three people would normally make seven days; that'll get us about two-hundred-ten to two-hundred-eighty klicks. According to the map..."

He pulls out a map from one of the backpacks, unfolds it and begins to read it expertly. "The border is straight-line two-hundred-thirty klicks away; if we make good time we can do fourty kilometers a day. Call it thirty just to play it safe... and from my previous estimate, we don't have enough food. We'll definately have to hit Torino and probably suppliment our stash along the way... hrm..." He pauses for a moment, then continues. "You two being aug'd posthumans explains the tremendous food intake, too. If we split the rations up so you two each get one-and-a-quarter and I get a half, that should work out... especially if I extend our supply..."

Mumbling to himself for a moment, he traces diagrams on the map. "Looking on the contours, we can transition west until we hit this river, then follow it north to Torino. After Torino, we keep to the river until the border. That should make it about three hundred kilometers or so, maybe one-twenty to Torino. Food supply shouldn't be an issue, but I still don't want to go over three man-days of food a day. It'll give us a buffer. If we've enough for seven days and can get a good fourty klicks out of eight hours of movement, that leaves enough time to pitch camp and for me to augment our food supplies. Three--call it four--days to Torino, picking up additional food along the way. Yes, this we can do."

He looks up. "Well, we can continue pressing on today, but I suggest getting about three to four hours of sleep here before continuing. I'll take first watch of an hour and twenty, as I've neither been pummeled nor sapped my strength. Then Nathi for an hour-twenty and Dev gets last shift. Fair enough?"

"First off," she says in a low, husky voice, "mi dispiace. I'm sorry, Timofeyev. For not having seen this coming, for putting your life at risk, and for that last bit there."

"Secondly," she continues, her voice gathering a bit more strength as she shifts her focus away from herself, "now that you have taken care of us, and seen to it that I ate, you will let us take a look at you and make certain there are no bumps or bruises or anything out of sorts, and then you will eat. The both of us have kept in shape, and I'm given to understand the extra would be needed only if we truly push ourselves hard. I'll warrant we'll hold up just fine. That being the case, I will hear nothing more of this 'half ration' thing from you, is that understood?"

She still huddles back against the wall, looking far less confident than she usually does, though her eyes still hold a challenge.

"I'm damn impressed with how you've carried yourself, and with your obvious skills. I know I'm out of my element here, and I thank you for being so on task. So long as you two are fine with the rest schedule, it's all good with me, but by damn we'll do this with as much 'team' in it as we can. I'll not have you taking on the burden of feeling a need to babysit the both of us - whether you feel we need it or not."

Timofeyev looks up from cutting half of a dark green Y-ration in half with his stone knife; the dense waxy material has a consistency usually reserved for gub'mint cheese. "What, you don't think I'm going to eat?" He laughs slightly with a half-smirk. "The idea is that I feed myself... but, hey, if you want to conserve rations, that's fine too."

Nathicana gives him a level look, brow arching slightly at his rations. "Fine and well. Now the other part of that?"

"Well..." He looks around, peeking outside the curtain of moss. "It's about the right time, just before dawn... dew is at its peak... hold on a moment." He gets very quiet, then locks his eyes onto something outside. Hardly breathing, he slowly leans out of the curtain. The cadet flashes his hand out, taking hold of something, then slowly draws back, holding something maybe ten centimeters long, shiny, and dark in his fingers. "Annelids, for one. We're lucky we didn't scare 'em all off."

Nathicana scowls, about to say something about checking him over when she realizes he's not just blowing it off. Both brows go up slightly as she watches him, not stirring from her spot until he mentions 'annelids'. "What the hell?" she sputters, eyes going wide. All manner of things flash through her mind, none of them pleasant, and all revolving around conversations with Shodey.

Bondayehr shrugs as the thing squirms between his fingers. "Once you get past the texture and the whole slithering bit, they're not bad. I actually picked up a taste for 'em way back when--the trick is not to chew, like oysters." With that, he pops the thing into his mouth and swallows quickly.

Nathicana half reaches out as if to stop him, a look of horror on her face. "Il mio dolce Jesu!" she manages ... then stops, and thinks. It didn't add up. Unless Scolopendran physiology was much different than she'd come to see - and she'd seen quite a bit - the usual links did not compute. Her lip curling up slightly, she proceeded with the next logical step. Clarification.

"You can't possibly mean what I think you mean by that, so why don't you tell me exactly what the hell you just ate in terms I'll better understand."

Timofeyev raises an eyebrow. "Annelid. A worm. Actually, that was a nightcrawler, to be exact. Rather high in protein and minerals."

"Tastes pretty good once you get used to them. Like oysters."

The woman shudders. Goes to say something, and shudders again. "I ah ... gods ..." She swallows awkwardly, repressing another shudder.

"I never did like oysters."

"Hrm." The cadet seems to think of something, turning very much more distant. "Neither do I. Drastic times, of course."

Nathi is grateful for anything to take her mind off last night's events, not to mention the road ahead. "Per favore," she says quietly. "If it isn't prying ..."

"Hm?" He shakes his head and looks up.

She draws her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around, then resting her chin atop. "What you were thinking of just then," she replies.

"The recent past," he replies simply, then returns to what appears to be his survivalist mode of grim eagle-sharp awareness.

Nathicana nods slightly, withdrawing a bit more, then remembering her earlier question. "Lets see it then," she murmurs, gesturing for him to come over, then clarifies. "Your back."

Timofeyev closes his eyes and pauses his breathing for a moment. "Two bruises, each about six centimeters long and one wide, set eight centimeters apart, centered over my"--he counts with his lips moving silently--"eighteenth and nineteenth vertebrae. Skin deep." He opens his eyes.

"Probably from my backpack when I hit the wall. Otherwise, I'm perfectly healthy."

Nathicana blinks. "Just like that," she states more than asks. "I don't suppose you could use any of that paste?"

"I don't need any," he replies simply, "and it's best saved for deeper wounds."

She frowns all the same. "I'm sorry, Tim," she says quietly. "Wake me when it's time." With a sidelong glance at Devon, a tightening of the eyes at seeing the result of her punch, she curls up where she's at, resting her head on her arm and closes her eyes. Not doing a damn bit of good here. Rest for now. Refuse to be the weak link later on.

The cadet nods without a word, unslinging his rifle and holding it at ease before turning towards the opening to the stream, watching and listening intently as he vigilantly scans the area back and forth with unnerving attention and precision.

Earlier ...


Cesare Calabrese was furious.

“What do they mean ‘we still don’t have them’?”

Marissa del Vecchio was pacing the floor of the warehouse where they had set up shop, her vulpine face fixed in a scowl. Dontatello Calfa sat perched nervously on the edge of the portable camp chair, listening intently to the reports as they came in over Channel Spook.

“Patience, Cesare,” Calfa said, lighting up another cigarette. “It’s not even been an hour yet. We have all the roads covered, and the only place they can turn is into the wilderness up there. You’ve got two soft leaders and an outlander cadet with no supplies, and no solid idea of where they’re going. Our people will pick them up quick enough.”

“She’ll make a run for where she thinks it’s safest. Double back down along the road, try to get in touch with SHODAN, no doubt. Barring that, make a run for her shuttle. We have both those locations locked up tight. She’s not going anywhere,” Marissa said with a dismissive wave of her hand, trying to appear more relaxed than she felt. “She’s a creature of comfort. And you’ve seen the decadence Treznor surrounds himself with. There’s no way they’d try an overland trek, especially so unprepared.”

Calabrese was not convinced. “There’s something we’re missing. You know damn well how meticulous that bitch is about things. As for the Emperor, I suppose the report of five down, four of them permanently, escaped your attention? Not so soft as we’d –“

“Shut it,” Calfa snapped. “They’ve found a tunnel.”

The other two walked over quickly, listening, leaning in to see the readout as other reports scrolled up in text.

“It’s been collapsed. They’re tracing it now.”

It didn’t take long from there, given the location of the apparent explosion down below, and the location of the blown up jeep, to find the exit point to the tunnel. Reports came in with confirmation, new developments, and soon the search was on for other possible tunnels.

“So much for ‘lacking supplies’,” Marissa remarked dryly.

Cesare shot her a venomous look, taking up a Spook com device and sending off a brief message. “Get those choppers up. And I want that office, and the rest of the house, searched thoroughly. Bring everything back here. No ‘independent study’, capeche?” Receiving confirmation, he tossed the handheld bit of equipment back onto the table and began a slow circuit of the nearly bare shuttered office.

As time passed, more reports came in. Dominic, Gianni, and Melina, staffers at the villa, had been subdued by the gas without incident and were currently being monitored, additional measures to be administered as needed. Two other tunnels had been found. In one of them, a collapsed man had been found as well – Marik, sick from a reaction to the gas he’d ingested, and with a broken ankle from his fall down the ten foot drop into the tunnel. That tidbit of information had brought a wicked smile to Marissa’s face especially.

A portable computer had been confiscated along with a box-worth of files; a surprisingly small amount of information to what they had expected. Thus far, no backup discs or anything of the like had been located, much to their disappointment.

The search was spreading out from the villa in a more easterly direction, towards civilization, with less emphasis to the north, and little to the west. Thermo was being brought in to assist, and the choppers were up, making methodical passes.

“They have supplies. Given the other packs that were found, they’re relatively well equipped to survive several days out there …” Cesare and the others bent down over the map that now lay spread out over the table. “But which direction?”

“Salerno is a possibility,” Marissa mused, pointing to a spot just up the coast to the northeast. “As is Modesti to the south. Port cities, sizeable enough to not attract too much attention.”

Cesare shook his head. “She ordered the ports under a tight watch herself. She knows damn well how tight security will be there.”

“You don’t suppose a run for Corinthe, perhaps?” Donatello offered. “True, it’s the long overland route, but she’s allies there from Tsaraine with the pipeline project and all. It’s far enough away to not be thought of as a prime spot for running to …”

“Noted. We’ll have things watched there as well, though how she thinks she could make that long of a trek with what little she has is beyond me,” Calabrese muttered. “There’s the smaller towns along the way – damn, this is going to stretch our resources. At least we have the cover of mobilization to hide behind.”

“Northern border,” Marissa said simply. “It’s the shortest, most likely route, whichever path she takes to get there. True, we have them locked down tight, but I suggest we increase the patrols regardless. Monitor all known accounts, make note of any sizeable transactions from ATM’s or banks in the more likely towns.” She paused thoughtfully, fingertips tapping lightly against the map. “Vassili, Salerno as noted, Calligari, Torino, Rinaldi, Biondello, Deora … increase military presence there, make sure they’re trustworthy troops. Spin the trio as foreign agents attempting to replace the real deal if we must. Put our agents in place there and at the most likely border crossings, and in the meantime, continue with our original plan with the double.”

She waved a hand at the smoke that drifted her way from Calfa’s cigarette, glaring at him slightly. “We have Marik. We have her computer. We have some files, and we have the nation at our fingertips. Leave the pitbull to me,” she said, the corners of her mouth once more turning up in a wicked smile. “Get our people cracking on the rest of the info, keep scanning the house for more, keep it nice and quiet, let the double make brief appearances as needed, and work the spin on anyone who pries too closely.”

“That jeep will need to be explained. No doubt, anyone happening to look up will have seen it from the city, let alone the noise of it. We’ll need to get in touch with the papers and put a spin on that preemptively. Accident, routine patrol, faulty tank or the like … whatever is most believable,” Calfa noted, his brow furrowed in thought. “I’ll get my people on the money trail. It is our specialty after all.” He looked up, glancing at the both of them. “That is, if we’re in agreement as to how we’re going to proceed?”

Cesare nodded, still staring at the map. “And for when the questions come, as come they will … more spin,” he said quietly, his eyes taking on a harder cast. “We’ll blame the Imperium.”

“What?!?” Marissa whipped her head around, looking at him like he’d lost his mind. Calfa merely arched a brow, tossing his cigarette down and crushing it under his shoe against the cement floor.

“Who better? With all the politics going on of late, those quiet, hasty meetings with Alkanphel … who better to rally her allies against? We’ll use it only as a last ditch resort, of course. If the situation with the Imperium can be remedied, I play on doing it. Loosing that trade, and the officer’s training was … disappointing, to say the least. In the meantime, we watch, we wait, and we keep our options open.”

Marissa grudgingly nodded, pulling up a chair and settling back in it after taking a small plate of food from a nearby tray, and a cup of coffee from the large thermos sitting at the end of the table. Calfa shrugged, then got up to help himself as well.

“Nothing to it for now but to wait, then.”

Cesare busied himself with sending out the new orders - several with the additional tag of ‘Nathicana has instructed us’, coordinating with Giancarlo Torino, Defense Minister, as far as could and had to be done. He was not firmly in or out of their camp, and would need to be treated with care.

This will work out yet. And damn anyone who thinks they’ll stand in my way.

Approximately an hour and fifteen minutes later, gauging by the movement of the stars in the sky, the cadet risks a look at his watch, visible by the slowly growing light. Finding it to be about the right time, he looks back into the hollow and shakes Nathi's shoulder. "Your turn. If you need any hints or tips or help, please ask." Professional to the core, it seems.

I had a dream last night
The world was set on fire
And everywhere I ran
There wasn't any water
The temperature increased
The sky was crimson red
The clouds turned into smoke
And everyone was dead
– Just Another Day, Oingo Boingo


She is running. Hard and fast, through the dark. There is no clear direction, no landmarks to note. All she knows is that she doesn’t dare stop.

There are sounds in the dark; gunshots, angry shouts, pained cries that echo through the blackness. And there are the voices. The whispers. The insidious suggestions and sly promptings that tease the corners of her mind. The worst are those words that tug at her in her own voice.

The ground seems to sink beneath her feet, sucking at them like a cold bog, slowing her progress as much as the unseen obstacles that snag at her clothing and tangle her steps. Even the air is heavy and thick, carrying the distant smell of oily smoke. It pushes her back, pushes her down, as if guided by some unseen will that beats against her brow with a menacing gaze.

She stumbles over something large and not entirely solid, going down hard up to her forearms in cold, foul-smelling water. Struggling to her knees, she rubs her face furiously against her shirt sleeves, trying to wipe away the muck and slime. As her vision clears, she becomes aware that she can see again. An angry red glow grows steadily all around. The smell of smoke now heavier, nearer.

-The woods. But it isn’t, quite …-

She takes a quick survey of her surroundings as she struggles to her feet, dripping wet and shivering from the chill. The glow of flames now flickers as it grows brighter, casting odd shadows, seeming to make the trees dance. And then she sees what it is she stumbled across.

And she screams.

The body lays at an odd angle, face upturned, staring blankly. ”Why did you leave us?” comes the voice that belongs to that body. The lips move, now sightless eyes still fixing on her accusingly. Dominic.

A few hasty steps back, and her thighs hit up against a fallen tree. She yelps, glancing quickly to see what she’s run into, and her eyes fall on another casualty, staring up at her with a betrayed expression. ”You didn’t tell us how to get out, Nath. Why? Wasn’t I always loyal?”

-Il Dio, no … no, Gianni-

As she stumbles through the muck and underbrush, more faces stare up at her accusingly. More haunting words and questions tumble from dead lips. Ministers, aides … Else lays in a tangle, her blonde hair free from her usual conservative bun. ”You just had to push, didn’t you? Couldn’t be content with what you had.”

The source of the flames is clear now. Her home, the villa, the property around it, burning. The flames lick up through the trees, the crackling sounds and the heat now obvious.

“They’ll find us, you know. We don't have enough to make it out. You were sloppy. Should have been where you were supposed to be, not off screwing around. Could have at least salvaged a few things.”

She whips around to see the cadet, leaning casually up against a tree, his face expressionless as he watches the flames, never so much as glancing in her direction. “Poor leadership,” he continues. “Poor planning. You said yourself it’s a survival of the fittest here. So much for your claims of ‘constant vigilance’.”

No words come. Hearing the thoughts that had been pounding their way through her head come spilling from his lips only seal her voice away more firmly.

“Should have followed your instincts, Red,” comes another voice, and she cringes, not wanting to turn. “You told me that first night something was bothering you. You let yourself get caught up in the game and forgot to keep an eye on the pieces.” He steps around her, fingertips gingerly feeling at his lip where she’d hit him earlier, and wincing.

“And you have the nerve to tear into me, tell me I got careless? Gods, woman, look around you. What the hell have you been doing?”

At least tell him you’re sorry … tell him something … anything …

Shots ring out, off to the left, behind. A grunt. Wheezing cough. A roar of pain. Suddenly, everything seems to be moving slowly, each action picked out in sharp detail. The cadet is knocked back against the tree, then slowly slides down along the trunk, a look of resignation on his face, a dark stain left behind the light bark. Devon pitches to the side, his face twisted up in agony, clutching his chest even as she sees the light fade from his eyes.

“Your turn,” she hears a voice say, a firm hand gripping her shoulder. She turns, the sick feeling that's been building welling up in her stomach …

And wakes to see the cadet next to her, calm, cool, professional. She looks up at him with eyes wide and haunted, pauses a moment to get her bearings, then nods. Nathi gets up without a word, though her gaze lingers on the sleeping Devon. She takes out her handgun and settles in behind the opening, feet against the floor, hunched and leaning over on her knees, staring out of their shelter at the lightening sky.

Timofeyev frowns internally at the look in Nathi's eyes. Not a good sign... traumatic shock. Emotional. Lack of readiness to die. As paradoxical as it may seem, Bondayehr knows full well that the most successful survivors always understand and, oddly enough, accept that death is very much a possibility. It clears the mind and lets one do what they must to stay alive.
An estimation being made, the cadet cheats as he stretches out, lying on his back, crossing his feet and resting his arms over his chest. I never sleep fully on my back... I need to be up at a moment's notice, just in case. Letting his breathing deepen, he works against the gnawing worry in his stomach to fall into an extremely shallow sleep.

That's when he remembers the downside to shallow sleep when it's already too late. Extended periods of rapid-eye movement, strange disjointed dreams with no plot and no connecting themes; the random connections of disparate thoughts with no verifiable connection to events past or present.

And yet... he remains lucid.

Brushing away the balloons streaming out of the steam-vents in the dance-floor, Bondayehr politely excuses himself from discussing politics with Elizabeth I and Al-Mahdi and hums to himself to drown out the renditions of HMS Pinafore belted out by the masses of nineteenth-century aristocracy dancing over the vents through the inflating multicolored spheres of rubbery plastic floating up to the ceiling. With more important things to do than enjoy the generally benign dream--they always seemed to be more playful when in the waking world he was stressed beyond belief--he wanders out onto a balcony, smelling of salt-water and the pulsating crash of the ocean finally eliminating all but the rhythm of "A British Tar" from his ears.

Now is not the time to merrily join in with lips curling and cheeks flaming.

Waking life is the time to act. Now, during inactivity in reality, is the time to think and plan more fully.

Treznor open his eyes from a deep, dreamless sleep to darkness. After a moment his eyes adjust, and he realises that it's his time to take a shift. He waits quietly, listening to the world around him before sitting up and stretching. His muscles are mostly loose, only a bit tight from the uncomfortable makeshift bed and slightly sore from where Nathicana had struck him.

He looks around to find Nathicana staring off in the distance, lost in her own private world. A moment's study of her body language tells him that her world is populated by demons at the moment. Probably feeling guilty about hitting me, he muses. Justifiably so, but hell. I brought it on myself.

He stands up, noting her slight reaction to his movement as well as the stirring from Timofeyev, then walks over to Nathicana and squats down next to her. "Dammit, Red. When are you going to learn?"

Timofeyev looks up at the clock tower striking the time. One and a quarter chimes. "Well, I might as well get up now..." In reality, the cadet stirs and barely opens his eyes but makes no move, not yet. Understand the situation first. Then act.

Nathicana hears the shift, then sighs quietly as Dev joins her. Damn stubborn man. "You needed the rest," she says simply in hushed tones. "I've heard a chopper at least three times over the past hour. They're broadening their search, I think. The last one seemed closer, but far enough off there was no visual. First I barely heard at all." She doesn't meet his gaze yet, still scanning, still in the same position.

"You need it more than I do. Unless S.H.O.D.A.N. plugged speed-healing into your body the way she did with me." Treznor reaches out to hold her hand. "You're cold. Come here."

"That's bad," Bondayehr mutters. "Give me a moment." Although he remains motionless, his mind goes into action mode, trying to gauge threats and develop counters.

Nathicana takes Devon's hand, giving it a light squeeze, then leans over against him a bit. Hearing the cadet, she glances over. "We'll be fine. Get your rest - you're going to need it."

<LOS Communications - Devon> {
<< Mi dispace, mi amore. Truly sorry. You shouldn't be out here, either one of you right now. And I shouldn't have hit you like I did.

>> Like I said, when are you going to learn?
}

"Helicopters bad. Opposition already has more mobility than we do, mobile sensor plats aren't going to help. Hrm... visual ID threat minimal if we stay under cover as we have been. Sonic, seismographic detection minimal." Bondayehr continues muttering to himself.

Treznor shrugs and lets the cadet amuse himself. He wraps his arms around Nathicana to let the heat from his body warm her. Then after a moment he realises he's hungry again and fumbles in a pack for an MRE. "It's all right, Red. No one blames you for anything. You can stop castigating yourself," he murmurs.

<LOS Communications - Nathicana] {
<< You have nothing to be sorry for. You've staged a coup before; so have I. You know what it requires. Whoever did this studied you carefully, noted weaknesses and took advantage of the situation that cropped up. You're only human, Red. You can't cover everything.

<< Besides, you've sparred with me before. I've taken worse beatings from you in practice. You're a woman of passions, as the Cadet found out last night. You've done nothing I didn't consent to, or provoke.

<< Now I'm rested and mostly healed. You aren't, and you'll be no good to us if you don't get some rest. We'll need you when we move out.
}

"Yes, bad. It's all bad," she grumbles, showing a touch of spirit. "But you wearing yourself out isn't going to help. If I hadn't already put our forces on alert ..." She stops, then nods, keeping the rest of her thoughts along those lines to herself. Don't worry them more than neccessary. She snuggles a bit closer, leaning her head on Devon's shoulder. "It's a big area. They can't cover it all. Not how they'd like, I'm sure. Not without calling serious attention to what they're doing. Please, rest."

<LOS Communications - Devon> {
<< I know. And knowing doesn't seem to help, regardless. I'm still sorry. Still ... time enough for regrets later, I suppose. And if not, I won't have to worry about it anyway.
}

"Hold off on food," Timofeyev announces. Dry, professional. "Trust me on this one. Wait for us to get on our feet again... biggest threat is thermographic. Have to mask IR signatures. Good thing we're planning to stick to the river."

Treznor shrugs gently and puts the half-eaten MRE away. Never tried this before. Then he reaches up and snaps off a portion of root from the tree and starts chewing on it. Yuck.

<LOS Communications - Nathicana> {
<< Apology accepted. And yes, time enough later. You're not alone, Red. Make it a strength, not a weakness.
}

"If they get a heat sig, we're fragged. It's the primary way to see through canopy cover. I've seen enough gunship gun-camera footage to know that. Hrm... don't eat that. At least, not like that." Timofeyev sighs internally. And they tell me not to worry about babysitting, and they're putting unknown objects in their mouths? Jeebus. "Anyway, counter for IR tracking is cold mud. Masks our signatures, they don't see us, we get to keep living."

Nathicana arches a brow at the root-eating, then grimaces, shivering at the talk of mud. Already so cold ... "Still can't discount the need for rest. Sounds were all still well away to the south. There's time. The woods are thick ..."

"If we hear them again, it's better to be safe and uncomfortable than sorry and well-ventilated. I get the feeling they don't particularly want to take us alive."

Treznor shrugs gently. "I'm the weak link here. The enhancements to my body make me glow like a spotlight. Speaking of which, if I don't keep eating something, I'm going to suffer for it. But S.H.O.D.A.N. gave me the ability to handle...alternate food sources. You two get some rest. I'll work on cover."

"Well, if you're a CHON converter, then that makes life easier. Less need to worry about the Universal Edibility Test... not like we have time for it. What cover are you planning?"

"These are survival packs. There ought to be thin thermal blankets in there. Properly coated with mud on one side, they ought to serve the purpose just as well without giving us hypothermia."

"Good thinking. Be sure to get leaves and twigs to put on them as well, then. Make-shift Ghillie suits."

Nathicana turns to give Devon a steady look, her usual expression of weighing and measuring. "I can help," she offers, knowing what the answer is likely to be.

"You get sleep." Said simply with an odd tone of experience-based authority.

Nathicana turns to the cadet, her chin tilting up slightly. "Only if you do as well."

Treznor nods gently. "Right, I was thinking of using them to keep our bodies warm, and just putting mud over the top while we sleep. A canopy would work, but wouldn't help us as much." He shakes his head gently. "No, three pairs of hands will work faster than two, or one. Let's get this done, then the two of you finish resting."

Timofeyev sighs. "Note the 'as well.' Leaves and twigs in the mud. And fair enough." Sitting up, he rolls onto his feet, ready to move.

Nathicana merely nods, getting to her feet slowly. The sick feeling she's had hasn't gone away, and with the prospect of overhead searches looming closer, she doesn't figure it will.

<LOS Communications - Devon> {
<< I'll do what I can. Grazie, mi amore. When we get out of here ... [laugh analog] Deja vu.
}

Timofeyev thinks for a moment, looking over Dev and Nath. "You've already said you're a spotlight, and you just got off shift. I've got biofeedback-based temp control and optical camo. I'll take care of it."

Treznor grins at Timofeyev. "You rest. I just woke up after uninterrupted sleep, which is more than either of you can say. Once we get the blankets set up, you both go back to sleep. I'll stay wrapped up in my blanket and keep watch. We all need to be at peak performance when we move."

<LOS Communications - Nathicana> {
<< Indeed. We gotta stop meeting like this.
}

He takes another bite out of the root, trying not to make a face at the taste. "Besides, I need to fuel up, and it's going to take a lot of this to equal an MRE."

Nathicana puts her hands on her hips. "Team. No one's out there to pick it up anyway. Not yet. You want this done fast, and everyone rested, 's the quickest way to go, yes?"

"No one is out there yet. Murphy is a right bitch, 'e is." The cadet begins to think that his rationing estimations are in error and begins plans to just feed himself. Given previous resistance, though, he decides to keep this plan to himself and leave the rations to the others.

Nathicana mutters some rather choice imprecations under her breath, though without the usual force to them, stalking to the entrance, and peering out. "Less talk, more action. Wasting time." After a quick scan, she ducks under the moss and steps out, already snagging bits of things to add to their camo.

Timofeyev follows suit, concentrating more on running to the river and collecting mud.

Treznor digs blankets out of the packs and sorts them out, keeping under cover of the canopy in case of any IR sweeps.

Last night while on routine patrol, six soldati were killed when the vehicle they were riding in exploded. Authorities are still investigating the incident, however all indications are pointing to a malfunction in the gas tanks.

The tragic mishap took place disturbingly close to the private residence of none other than our own leader, Nathicana D’Aquisto. In response to queries made by this and other news agencies, the Lady released this brief statement:

I was very disturbed at all the commotion last night. The explosion rocked me from my bed, and had myself and the staff fearing for the worst. The soldati patrolling the property were in quite a stir over it all, nonetheless, were soon able to calm our fears with the report of what had actually happened.

Our hearts go out to the families of those noble guards taken from us in the line of duty. Full honors will of course be bestowed, and the expenses for a proper service and burial taken care of by the state, as is fitting.

--Nathicana D’Aquisto

The names of the victims are being withheld until such time as their families can be properly notified. Efforts are already underway to determine the exact cause, and ascertain whether or not this was caused by a design flaw in the patrol vehicle. More details as they become available.



“Well, that part is out of the way,” Marissa said dryly, folding up the paper and setting it aside. She and Donatello Calfa had taken turns with short naps between the two of them, Calabrese having left a couple of hours earlier to look into other matters. “How are the staff dealing with the overnight change?”

Calfa stifled a yawn, then took a slow sip of his juice before answering. “About as well as one could expect after a dose of gas and a decidedly unorthodox leave-taking by the Lady,” he said with a wry grin. “They’ve been left with implicit instructions to ‘keep up appearances’ while she supposedly moves to a different location on the premise of safety issues and security. Dominic and Melina seem to be rolling with the punches, or at least have the sense to keep quiet about their thoughts. Our assurances of their safety are all well and good, but suspicions of ‘not right’ aside, no one likes to play decoy.” His brow furrowed as he took another slow drink.

“Gianni could be a problem. He was in a right taking over her not giving him so much as a hint. We’ve got him under tight surveillance. I don’t think he could sneeze without us knowing, but still … he may need to be eliminated.” A slight grimace, indicates his distaste for that. “Damn shame - solid man, there. Loyalty being a rare commodity and all. Speaking of which, the double is working out fine. Took the money, no questions asked, following directions to the letter. She apparently enjoys these stints at the villa, ‘living the high life’, she called it. Fool. Else we can deal with at the office. She's used to Nathicana's schedule being sporadic.” Another pause, then “And your end of things?”

“Marik is being treated down at B-9,” she says casually, reaching over the table to grab a pastry. “We’ve had to keep him sedated and strapped down. Bastard fought like hell. Even injured and sick, he managed to kill one and injure three others.” She was impressed in spite of her dislike for the man, and it showed. “He seemed to think he still had a chance to get out. Never got a chance to hit his failsafe. And you’d be surprised how many weapons that man manages to conceal …”

“And the files? The computer?” Calfa asked impatiently, taking out a fresh pack of cigarettes and tapping them against the heel of his hand.

“The files have been fairly standard for the most part. There hasn’t been much news to be found in them, though we’ve managed to track a few more loyals through them after adding a few things up. The computer, now … that’s been a bitch. She’s got layers of encryption to break through It’s not one of ours, nor anything standard for that matter. We suspect Zero-One tech,” she admitted grudgingly. “A team in I-2 has that project. They’ll alert us as soon as any progress has been made."

“And the incident from last night?” he prompted, exhaling slowly, his now lit cigarette held casually over the ashtray. This earned him a dirty look.

“Yes, yes … they found a safe hidden in one of the walls. And the bastards screwed it up somehow. She’d rigged it to burn, and burn hot. There’s nothing left worth going through. Papers, discs, tapes, even photographs, judging from the remnants … complete loss.” Marissa replied in terse tones.

“Does Calab—“ he began, stopping when the door opened to reveal the third in their traitorous trio.

“Yes, I’m aware,” he said, face like a thundercloud. “Still no word on them from this end, I take it?”

“None.”

“I’ve had patrols around the immediate area increased,” Calabrese said, stalking over to study the maps again. "That damn woman is constantly doing what’s least expected. What could be less expected than heading back into the midst of things here? You know what a thirst for vengeance she has, know what happened last time …” He trailed off into murmuring to himself, scanning back over the latest reports.

Calfa and Marissa both exchanged looks, pausing before she finally responded. “That could draw more attention than the increase in chopper patrols already has.”

“Patrols that thus far have turned up nothing,” he snapped.

“It’s a large area, Cesare. These things take ti—“

“We don’t have time, ‘Ris. It’s a damn good thing we were already mobilized or this would have been an instant disaster. She’s gone to ground. Must have, somewhere, somehow. They got past us, I’m sure of it.” He began pacing as he had in the early morning hours of the raid. “How long before allies attempt contact and expect a more personable answer? Without that comp, unless they go through more open channels, we’ll not even know they’ve done it. And Emperor Treznor’s people? How often do you think he goes without getting in touch? It’s still early enough in the day, but we’re running out of time.”

Marissa nodded in response. Calfa said nothing, continuing to smoke – much to her annoyance. Still, she wouldn’t let it lay. “Don’t discount the areas we’d decided on previously, Cesare. She’s proven herself resourceful, and damnably lucky whether it be through her own methods, her allies, and others she’s surrounded herself with. We can’t afford to leave any possibility unwatched.”

“Of course,” he said, taking a seat and bending over the map again, and settling in to await new developments.

The phone in Nathi's office--more precisely, the one on her desk--rings.

A dark-haired woman walks in from the other room, settles down in the big chair, grinning, and picks it up after clearing her throat. "Yes?"

The cyberspace spectre on the other end frowns. That doesn't sound quite right. "Hey, sis, just checking in. Is everything alright?"

"Of course. Just getting set for a quick swim. After that bit of commotion last night, and the work this morning, I think I deserve it. All well with you?" The woman checks some cards on her desk, running reference, nodding as she makes connections.

Unexplained explosions on her doorstep and she's readying for a swim? Either she's gotten a lot more carefree in the past week or isn't living up to her paranoia creed... Something just doesn't click in Shodey's mind, and she lets it bother her, turning it around.

"We could be better."

"It has been ... trying of late. So many things going on, so much to worry about." The woman's brow furrows. Gotta wrap this up soon.

She didn't pry. This is getting worrisome. Probability of something out of sorts approaching unity... theories. Just an odd day... 25.171 percent. Personal concerns... 11.613 percent.

Working off of voice analysis (tremulation, harmonics, voiceprint, intonation, consonant-hold, teeth-click, tongue-click, sibilance)... probability that this is not my sister is 72.182 percent, even taking into account error accounting for connection and potential illness.

"That is the way of things, it seems."

"Well, with the current situations and all ... But, I'm still hoping for a peaceable resolution. Hopefully this will blow over and we can go back to business as usual. Truly need to get together after things settle a bit." She winces. Oh, lame, lame ... just get her off the phone and go.

"Peace, unfortunately, is not an option. Titan's been hit; we're currently maintaining a media blackout to prevent panic. As a fellow Councilmember of Yut, I thought you deserved to know." I'd never address my sister this way... let's see the reaction.

"Jesus Christ, you're kidding me?" Pause, panicked expression, a cell phone is fumbled for, and a button on a direct dial for the specified 'emergency line' pager is hit. "I ... oh dear God ... How? What happened? Who did it?" The woman's lips moved in a silent prayer as she waited anxiously, terrified and completely unsure of how to proceed. We've never had problems before ... simple job, they said, no problems, we'll cover you. Lord save us, peace isn't an option?

Not the right reaction. No anger, no silence, no control. "You know what to do. Proceed to Emergency Contingency Rainbow and stand by for communications from TYCS. I will inform Combined Services command that we have a National Contingency Black on your end. Do you confirm?"

The woman pauses, her heart leaping up in her throat. I'm not qualified for this. This shouldn't be happening. She flips through her notes all the same, eyes wide. Nothing. Oh shit ... "Yes, I ah ... I understand what needs done. Need to get the m--" She breaks again, trying to calm herself. "I have to go. Will await further communications. I'm so sorry ... have to go. Be safe, Sh...sis." She quickly hangs up, biting her nails, curled up in the chair. Merda. They're gonna kill me.

In cyberspace, S.H.O.D.A.N. frowns deeply. The first thing any leader does is to confirm a lack of NC Black. Confirmation equals death, and no one is going to say "yes, I'm dead..." Probability of Nathi being compromised nears unity.

Insufficient information to analyze further. If someone's hurt my sister and tried to replace her with this double... Eyes flash infrared, the color of hot, dark coals.

Turning around, she flashes a message.

<Communications to TYCS, TYSS, Council of YUT--MAX ENCRYPT>

{
>> High potential of National Contingency Black in the Dominion. Status of Dread Lady Nathicana d'Aquisto unknown. Status of Emperor Devon Treznor unknown. Suggest maintaining overwatch to ascertain situation due to uncertainty; if they are not dead yet and are in captivity, they will most likely be killed if we take noticable action.

>> Most likely related to explosion "incident" outside d'Aquisto's villa earlier today. Recommend IMMEDIATE survelliance from regularly-scheduled Voyeur overflights.

>> Additional action is not recommended at this time.
}

http://www.womengamers.com/dw/sshock2_rev.jpg
S.H.O.D.A.N. v3.0 : MCP, Q01
Cetagandan Duchess of Marilac



The pager is picked up by Marissa back at the warehouse. She wastes no time in getting up and heading for the door. "Trouble at the villa. Code from Yasmin. Will report back when I know what's going on." Both men get to their feet, questions on their lips as the door swings shut. "Il mio dolce Jesu," Calfa mutters under his breath, reaching for his cigarettes. Calabrese, on the other hand, slams a fist down on the table, then picks up the QE device.

"So help me God, if those three aren't found in the next hour, we start making examples. One from each unit, chosen at random. I trust we'll have no further delays." Sitting back in his chair, his fist wrapped around the communicator tightly, he glares over at Calfa, daring him to say anything. Calfa, for his part, quietly takes out another cigarette, lights it, and says nothing, making a show of monitoring the incoming reports.

((OOC: Tag))

“You stupid bitch,” Marissa snarled, striking the dark-haired woman again, careful that her blows never touched her face, or an area that couldn’t easily be covered up. Yasmin wailed, shrinking back further into the corner of the office where she’d curled up. “What did I tell you about Gianni screening calls? That’s his bloody job, woman! What, you thought you could just handle it? Do you really think you’re good enough to pass yourself off to those close to her?”

“I … I don’t kn—I mean, I didn’t thi—“ she stuttered, grasping for a better explanation than what she’d already given in the minutes previous.

“You were hired to be a pretty face, Yasmin. A voice for those rare times it becomes a necessity. Who the hell do you think you are? Got yourself all set up here, started getting delusional?” She emphasized her words with another blow to the woman’s ribs, rewarded with another yelp and renewed whimpering.

“You’d best hope you’ve not outlived your usefulness, girl. You think I’m bad?” Another strike. “If you’ve screwed this up, she'll show you pain enough to wish you were never born!” She drew back her hand for another blow, Yasmin flinching with a shriek of terror, curling up more, her hands raised in a helpless gesture of defense. With a derisive snort, Marissa backed off, going to sit in the comfortable leather chair behind the desk, ignoring the sobbing woman in the corner as she ran though this most recent information.

Titan hit. Media blackout. Instructions for procedures given, confirmation for another requested … unsure at this point just what the response was. Damn that woman! She wasn’t sure which she meant more with that; Nathicana, or the whimpering Yasmin off to the side. Shit, we’ve got trouble.

Getting to her feet abruptly, she snapped at the double. “Get yourself cleaned up and under control in case we need you. I’ll be back.” Walking briskly to the door, she paused and glared back over her shoulder.

“And don’t even think about touching that phone.”

"Tell me you're kidding."

"No Sir," Jennifer replied. "The Emperor missed the last two of his scheduled checkpoints, and no one in Devras has seen or heard of him. I directed the pilot who came with him to get in touch, and she's been politely but firmly rebuffed. Same with our embassy. The Emperor is apparently 'indisposed,' off on a spontaneous sailing trip with the Dread Lady."

"Son of a bitch." There was a pause on the line as Ben Vitner marshalled his thoughts. "This is precisely the sort of stunt he's been known to do in the past. But this war has been brewing too long; he would have at least stayed in touch. What do our deep cover agents say?"

Jennifer ticked off a mental note. "Devras is locked down tight, ordered by the Dread Lady herself the day before that explosion. Their operations are hindered, but a few of them think there are unusual undercurrents in the top brass. Nothing confirmed, but they think the Dominion is playing it even closer to the chest than normal. Something has happened, and they don't want anyone to find out."

"The pieces themselves aren't damning, but put them together..." Ben mused.

"That's why I called you, Sir."

"Well, I'm waiting for a monster army to knock on my door. I kind of can't get away. Alec is going to have to keep doing his job speaking for the Empire. In the meanwhile, scramble Alpha Team and get them ready to insert into Devras. Run up a list of the current movers and shakers in the Dominion and pick out your favourite candidates for a coup. I may not be available for chitchat shortly, so use your best judgment. It's in your hands, Jen."

"I...understand. Good luck, Ben," she replied quietly.

"And to us all." There was a click, and the line went dead.

A while later, back at the warehouse, a heated argument had been building …


“Which is exactly why I had my doubts about this ‘double’ to begin with!” Calfa growled.

“And what better option did you provide us with?” Marissa’s scowl had increased if anything, as she sat back in her chair, arms folded.

“Stop it, the both of you,” Calabrese snapped, only to have them both turn on him with withering stares. Marissa was the first to speak, Calfa shutting his mouth with an audible click.

“You dare sit there and tell me to hush after that rant over Spook? Dammit man, we can’t afford to alienate the militzia! You know well enough how close we’ve kept this. We don’t have the majority firmly behind us, only those small factions you just managed to insult and stir up. And if you think that when it word gets out, which it will, that they’ll take sides against the rest with that sort of attitude on our end, think again. You’ll find yourself on the receiving end of a little nighttime visit faster than you could say ‘go’.”

The younger man glared at her, his lip twitching as he mastered his reaction. “And just what do you propose we do about it?” he finally managed from between clenched teeth. “If we back down, we appear weak. If we go forward, we risk mutiny, or so you’d have me believe.”

“Simple. We report you’ve been replaced for speaking out of turn, and hand the ops over to Calfa. While a bit less bold than he ought to be sometimes,” she said with a tight smile at Dominic, “He at least operates with a level head and is less likely to cause trouble. You’re far too volatile, Cesare. And as much as you’d like to be able to get away with what she does that way, we’re not there yet. Caution, careful stepping. We’ve had far too many slip-ups as it is. We can’t afford any more.”

“Until we get that computer cracked, there’s not a damn thing we can do about some of this,” Calfa muttered. “Without having more knowledge of some of the protocols she’s kept so damn secret, some of the lines of communication we’re missing … dammit, if Titan truly has been hit she’s got a load of info sitting waiting there that she has no idea about, and we can’t yet get at. Our fleets?”

Calabrese shakes his head. “Both homeside, wouldn’t have seen a thing. Still …” he ponders thoughtfully. Perhaps those in contact with the Mainframe have a better idea. Get Talethian on the line. We need to talk. As for SHODAN ... I'm at a loss. We need Nathicana, plain and simple. In the meantime, fix what you can with the soldati working with us,” he offered grudgingly, not liking it one bit.

“I’ll take care of it,” Calfa offered with a glance at Marissa, who nodded in return.

“Now, about that computer and the files …”

Finding another shelter for the night in a thick, overhanging bush, Bondayehr leads the party in a hook around before crawling in. "This will cover us for now; hrm..." He pauses a moment in thought. "Okay, remember that you're both cleared to finish off your ration-and-a-half for today. I'm going to go get take-out. Now..."

He unshoulders his backpack, unzips the main pocket, and pulls out a dull brown case spattered with matte earth-tone paint. Opening it up, he pulls out a small similarly-colored book and tosses it over to the other two. Bound with low-contrast brown paper, it is a survival guide annotated and marked, obviously well-read. "Study this. I'll be quizzing you on water-gathering and purifying methods and stealth procedures when I get back." Snapping up a flap on the side of his pack, he extracts a mean-looking stone knife. "I'll be back soon."

* - * - *

Slow, careful steps through the forest, crouching, hands on knees. The tracks in the soft ground get fresher, obviously the work of some cloven-hooved animal. Looks a lot like deer.

Of course it's deer, with that distinctive four-toed imprint--two big horns, two little eyes--but that's not up for debate in Bondayehr's mind. He knows it's a deer, he knows it's close, and he knows how he has to take it.

Feet carefully feeling for twigs--not a sound. It's heading back towards the river, for water... there it is. Slowly get prone, reduce profile. Squint... can't let the whites of one's eyes give one away. Mouth closed tight. No allowance for the flash of teeth. Get closer... push-up, move, settle. Push-up, move, settle. Push-up, move, settle.

All instinct by now. The Sakkrans made sure of it.

Antlers. Just what I needed... a male. New strategy. Push-up, move, settle.

Ears twitch.

Absolute stillness... not even a breath.

The buck returns to lapping up water, its paranoia sated for now. Push-up, move, settle. Ten meters. Stay there... stay there... seven meters... minutes pass, slow low-crawling through the brush with nary a sound.

Five meters. The buck lifts its head and looks the opposite way, lazily looking around. No better time than now. The cadet slowly lifts himself up onto one arm, carefully gripping his knife by the blade between his thumb and the side of his forefinger. No thought, no doubt. Simply visualization, a very slow intake of breath, mind watching, willing the blade to slip through the air and lodge in the base of the animal's skull... Your Body and You, collecting will and concentration as the arm slowly moves back.

Release. The deer turns its head as expected, the knife making a soft thwwww as it cuts through the air, and then lodges neatly just above and anterior to the first vertebrae, slicing through arteries, piercing the back of the trachea, neatly nicking the anterior portion of the spinal cord. The deer jumps up almost comically and then falls to the ground, twitching ineffectively, legs spasming.

Not clean, but not the point. The cadet leaps up, running to the stunned body. Head flailing--be careful, antlers sharp--grabbing the flat of the antlers, one combat boot stamped down on the throat spurting oxygen-rich red blood. One hand down on the leather grip, extract the knife, hold the head in a semblance of still as the knife plunges down again at the base of the skull, guided by tight fist. Feeling it go limp as the life leaves it.

A nearby tree, a young birch. Timofeyev runs his hand over it, feeling the bark easily peel off. Hrm... Mongolian... Struck by an idea, he returns to the river, grabbing a sharp bit of slate. Long grass and a small loose branch later, a servicable tomahawk. A few minutes later, the cadet is in possession of the small tree, chopping off branches and bundling them together, using the smaller, greener twigs to bind the whole and finally to tie the front legs of the deer to the trunk. Lifting up the trunk on his shoulders--urk... heavy bastard--he starts out at a jog back to the hiding place, mind remembering back to his favorite field weapon from Survival in the Wilderness.

* - * - *

The cadet crawls back into the opening, throwing down the carcass and immediately releasing its bonds. "Okay, no quiz for now. Rather, make a fire in the middle of this clearing; the foliage above our head will disperse the smoke a bit and make it very difficult to see from the air. While I field-strip this deer,"--after removing the buck's genitalia and throwing it aside, he slices the knife under the skin and turns it up, cutting through only the hide and not the hair--"I need someone to strip the bark off that tree trunk over there. After that's done, get as much water as you can. When the fire's going, I need a pit made about half a meter across and maybe 20 cm deep; then get some rocks that we can put over the fire. I won't be sleeping tonight and we'll be a lot better off in the morning for it. I'd be much obliged if you could rearrange your watch shifts for me."

He peels off the flesh of the deer with his fingers, gritting his teeth with the effort and yet taking care to take it off quickly, soon making a deer-glove. Putting the hide to the side--"We'll need that"--he cuts away the diaphragm and rolls the carcass over, letting the entrails fall out naturally. Excising the anus, he reaches in and draws out the lower intestine; then pinches off the ureter and cuts it before taking out the bladder and carefully tossing it aside, being sure not to get urine on meat. Reaching up into the chest cavity, he excises the lungs and heart. "Do it quickly and there's venison in it for ya."

Treznor snags the booklet on survival tactics and skims over it briefly. A few moments later he offers it to Nathicana. "Back to school, eh Red?"

Nathicana nods, opening up the book and settling in as comfortably as she can to read. "I sort of remember bits of the basics, but it's been a long time, and truth, it's been more urban training on my end." She looks up, brow furrowed. "Certainly seems in his element out here ... still, should we be letting him go off like that?"

He grins and settles back. "Do you want to stop him? Besides, we were talking about him and his confidence levels before. I think those concerns are presently moot." He unwraps an MRE and takes a large bite. "I'd rather be in the city dodging bullets than dodging search parties in the forest. I say we let him do what he does best and follow his lead."

"Surprising change," she says, taking one of the MRE's and going back to reading, not eating just yet, opting instead for a sip of water. "You'd hardly know him for the same in a lot of ways. Damn impressed." She reads quietly for a bit, then pauses again, setting the book in her lap and giving Devon a steady look. "What do you think our chances are, realistically?"

Treznor shrugs. "We've dodged search parties before. The longer we stay free, the better our chances. I also note that they're not beating the bushes with everything they've got, which means they're still playing games. There's no other reason for them not to send an entire division or two to circle the area and close off our escape. All we've seen are individual teams."

"They're being watched as well, no doubt. I'm not sure whether that's a good or a bad thing, considering who all's likely to be. Been running through names in my head as to who ... it's a long list." She reluctantly opens up the MRE and sets to eating, her nose wrinkling slightly now and then despite her growling stomach.

Treznor regards her quietly. After a moment, he clears his throat gently. "We haven't had much chance to talk, especially since your, ah, outburst. You know I'm not upset with you, and I don't blame you for anything that's happened. I also know that you do anyway. But beyond that, how are you doing?"

Nathicana drops her gaze, looking out of their shelter. Never could fool him with small talk. "I'm fine," she says, looking back over with a half-smile. "Tired, stomach's a little jumpy, but other than that ..." She shrugs, trying to look casual as she studies him. "How about yourself? Not upset or no ... you didn't need those extra blows. I am sorry, mi amore."

Devon grins. "I'm tougher than I look. You ought to know." He reaches out to touch Nathicana's hand. "Sometimes you need to vent, and it doesn't always come at a convenient time. Who do you know on this planet better suited for you to vent on than me? Apology accepted, moving on. I just want to make sure you understand that."

Nathi takes hold of his hand and gives it a squeeze, nodding quietly as he speaks. She gathers up the book and the food, and shifts over closer, slipping her arm around his waist as she settles in next to him. "Not so long ago I couldn't wait to kill you. Now I don't know what I'd do without you," she says, leaning her head on his shoulder as she nibbles a bit more on her rations. "Crazy how things turn out."

He nuzzles her hair. "I never thought it would work out as well as it has. Especially when I thought I'd lost you before I'd even begun."

"Still amazed I didn't see it. Just like I didn't see this latest." She finishes the MRE, washing it down with another mouthful of water. "So much for my supposed powers of observation, hmm? So now what? I mean, if...when we get out. Had hoped for some quiet time so we could, well, settle a few things. I could very well have a lot of time on my hands ..." She looks up at him with a tired yet mischievous smile. "Can I stay at your place?"

Treznor laughs quietly. "I'd be offended if you didn't. Once we get somewhere clean and safe, we can take a look at the intel and figure out what our options are. We can guess all we want, but we can't really decide on any actions until we have solid datum. I trust my people have started looking into it by now. You've got other friends as well. I'm confident that this is not the end of the Dread Lady, figuratively or literally."

Nathicana chuckles softly, nestling a bit closer. "You've another half to eat, boy. Can't have you n--" She stiffens, augmented ears picking up the sounds of approach. Putting a finger to her lips, she quietly readies herself for a fight or flight situation ... relaxing with an audible sigh as the cadet returns, deer in tow.

"How the hell did you manage that?" she says in surprise, once he's gotten through his instructions.

Timofeyev takes out the deer's heart, then turns over the deer's head to the side, indicating a slit along the front-right with his knife, inserting and extracting to demonstrate. "Thrown knife, five meters." He then cuts open the deer's heart, prying it open to check for worms. "Healthy bugger. Dead now. I always get the best lessons out of this."

Treznor watches with interest. He's gone hunting before, but only for sport, never survival. He correlates what he sees with what he'd just read and takes mental notes.

Nathicana looks more than a little green at the procedures, odd as that might seem. She busies herself with gathering things for the fire, then works to get it started, having remembered at least that much from previous training.

The cadet takes up the liver... looks at Nathi preparing a fire... looks at Devon doing nothing but watching. "With all due respect, sir, I can teach you all this in detail later. Water, please, and on the bounce."

With a knife ... at five meters. She mulls that over in her head between muttered curses as she tries to get the flint and steel to work proper for her. No sense wasting the matches if we have time here.

Treznor stirs out of his reverie and moves to fetch the water. "Sorry. Lost in thought."

<LOS Communications - Devon>
}
<< You alright, Dev?

<< Yeah, no headache. Just spaced out for a second, I guess. I was flashing through that book and comparing it to what I was seeing. Sometimes it's easy to get caught up in it.

Nathicana glances over at the two, one brow arching up slightly, then turns her attention back to the task at hand. "About damn time," she murmurs, sheltering the tiny flame she finally manages to produce, ecouraging it to spread. Once she's satisfied, she looks around, then settles in to work on stripping the bark off the trunk - well away from the cadet's work area.

<< And to think I passed up additional augs. [grin analog] No wonder you blew through that so fast. Tell you what, if he does quiz us, feel free to pass me the answers via this medium, eh?

<< Cheater! 'k.

Bondayehr cuts open the liver, exposing purple tissue. "Well... no worms... but it does have a liver disease. Meat's still good; organs are probably not wise to consume." He wipes off his knife and holds it over the fire Nathi built, burning away any pathogens it may have picked up as he tosses the liver to the growing pile of organic detridus beside him. "Actually, Nathi, please make that trench I was asking. That's where the water can go... line it with the bark afterwards to minimize seepage."

<< Damn straight. I lack your advantage. Head's already too full of things, and I admit, I'm having a harder time focusing. I'll catch it up. Won't become dead weight.

<< It's not all sunshine and roses. Sometimes I have to sit back and try to digest information overload. I remember everything now. It takes some getting used to.

The cadet stands up and pulls down some vines of the foliage above, putting smaller birch branches between them to make a place to hang things over the fire. He then cuts the limbs from the deer, deftly cutting meat from bone before hanging the meat over the fire.

Treznor finishes with the water and goes to assist with the trench, pulling a small e-tool out of the survival pack to assist in the work.

"Understood," she says quietly, casting around for something to dig with. Finding a suitable rock, she works without thinking, flexing, then breaking it to get a sharp edge. She looks up with a blink, then tosses the two pieces aside with a sheepish look, going to her own pack to pull out a similar tool. Dammit, moving too slow. Head out of clouds, back on task.

"Okay," Bondayehr begins as he starts cutting through flanks and ribs, "here's the plan. I'm going to cook as much food as I can; it'll stay fresh longer that way. We're going to pour some of the water into the trench and add some heated rocks; then put the bones in there to make it soft. I'll be going on a fishing expedition later because that will become useful as well."

Treznor glances at the fire, checking for smoke. "Would two hands be more useful than one? Or three?"

Timofeyev shakes his head. "I've got tasks for you in the meantime. Mostly, it'll have to do with wrapping the meat in the metallic liners of the MREs. They're multi-ply, so you should be able to wrap up most of the meat." The scent of cooking venison begins to permeate the chamber; the cadet checks the meat over the fire from time to time and removes it as it finishes cooking, replacing with more.

"How much of this is Scolopendran, and how much Sakkran training," Nathi asks as she works on the pit and trench with Devon, watching the cadet work when she can with a curious expression.

"Well, I'm sure Scolopendran military survival training covers this." The cadet goes back to slicing meat, carefully dividing his attention between carving and cooking. "This is all college-level Sakkran training."

Nathicana arches a brow. "College level," she murmurs, finishing up the pit and stepping back. Dammit, I'm filthy, she notes, scowling slightly. Bark. Line the trench and all, she remembers, gathering up what she can and getting to it.

"Surprised me. Now, get some rocks and put them in the fire with the entrenching tools; that's what we're going to use to boil the bones." Bondayehr places finished meat on a clean tarp; soon the whole deer has been reduced to bones and a pile of meat. The cadet sits down heavily and starts scraping hair off the hide, not seeming to notice the loud protestations of his small intestine.

Nodding, she starts gathering some rocks, cleaning them off as best she can, then sitting them carefully in the fire. She takes a moment to tend it, keeping it hot and well-fed. "How are you holding up, Tim," she asks nonchalantly. "You've been working awful hard after a long march, and you've said you've a long night ahead." She leaves the rest unspoken for now, waiting to hear his response.

"I'm operating well enough under the circumstances, I think;" he says with a shrug, "and I've been through much worse than this. I'll eat when I go fishing; for now, though, I have more important uses of my time."

Nathicana pokes at the fire with a stick, shifting the rocks around a bit, and merely nods, letting it drop. I'll be watching you regardless, boy. "Dev, pref on first or last watch?"

Treznor yawns and stretches. "I'll take last watch. And don't you dare try to pull double duty, young lady. I'll put you over my knee and spank you, wilderness or no." He winks.

Nathicana starts to scowl, then shakes her head, chuckling. "It would be interesting to see you try," she says, giving him a sidelong glance, showing a sign of genuine amusement in her expression. "Don't worry about me. I feel I could sleep for a week given the chance."

<< Get me out of these woods, into a proper bath, a solid meal, and a decent night's sleep, and I'll show you 'spank', boy. [wink analog]

<< When we get out of this, I suggest we all three spend a few hours soaking in my tub back in Devonton.

<< All three, eh? Come what may, I can't say as I have any complaints whatsoever about that arrangement. Surprising young man in many ways.

<< Hmm...we'll have to discuss that later, when we can waste the energy on it.

Timofeyev thinks for a moment. Well, they're talking. But not working. Sucka sez 'e wanna help with work, sucka's gonna get work. "Who here is any good at cleaning hide? If I can delegate this, then I'll just start fishing now and it will go faster."

"I've been hunting before. I don't know if I have your mastery of the skill, but I'll take a stab at it."

Nathicana looks more than a little relieved at Devon's offer. I don't think my stomach could take that right now. "What else can I do?"

"Fair enough." He tosses the sliced deer-glove to Trez. "I'd offer you my knife, but I'm illogically particular to it. Nathi, take care of the rocks. When they get hot, put them in the water and put the bones in there. Also, wrap up the meat as I directed earlier."

Treznor removes a field knife from his outfit and picks up where Timofeyev left off with delicate care to make up for his lack of experience.

"I think they're set," she says with a bit of confusion. Thought I was doing just that. Still, she makes no further comment, using the tool she dug with to transfer the rocks over, standing well back from the steam. When she's finished with that, she gingerly gathers up the bones with a decidedly sick expression, and gets them into the water as fast as she can. Scopa ... it's going to take more than a bath to get this smell off, I swear.

Timofeyev nods. "Outstanding. I'll be back." Grabbing some upper-leg meat, the cadet disappears back out of the brush, munching as he goes along.

"Well, at least he's eating," she says quietly, settling in to start wrapping meat as directed. "Did you see how easy he made that look? So help me, Dev, if all this pans out I'm going to work like hell to see if I can't steal that boy away from Scolopendra. Idealism we can deal with. Tenacity, leadership, adaptability like he's shown - that I could use."

He grins. "Steal away. I'm sure he'd rather be grabbed by an ally than someone else."

Nathicana snorts derisively. "Fat chance of that. Honorable, that boy. If nothing else, I could trust him not to stab me in the back. Damn sight more than I can say for a lot of my people."

Treznor nods solemnly. "Checks and balances. There's a price to pay for everything. The question in my mind is what happens if the bubble bursts and his idealism gets compromised?"

She ponders that for a moment, continuing to divide out the foil pieces and wrap the meat, setting aside each finished package in a neat pile. "Having never been much of an idealist myself," she says thoughtfully, "I'm not sure I could guess. We've had chances for a lot of thoughtful conversation in the relatively short time he's been here. If nothing else, I believe he's the sort one could trust to do the right thing."

"So long as one knows how to get around that oftimes annoying habit ..." she adds with a grin.

Treznor smirks. "I'm sure you could trust him to do what he feels is the right thing. How would he react to, say, some of the shennanigans we've been up to of late?"

"Well, that's sort of what I meant by 'right' to begin with. And," she says, smirking. "I don't think he'd approve at all. Hence the need to keep certain truths more quiet. That holds for just about anyone, given any given circumstance. I've no illusions, Dev. But you have to admit, that boy's something."

"No, no argument there. But it does bring up the question of his trustworthiness. He's only trustworthy so long as you carefully filter the information he receives, otherwise you can be fairly certain he will stick a knife in your back, if only indirectly."

"Fair enough, but think for a moment. That's the risk we take with all of our allies, some of the more upstanding of them perhaps more than others. Would you cut those ties for a bit more security, or simply work to assure the proper information gets through instead? As you said, checks and balances. Besides, I think they're more forgiving than we might tend to give them credit for. That, or understanding of the mutual need as well."

Treznor nods and tugs at a bit of gristle. "Granted, but governments tend to be a little more practical than individuals. It's one thing to make friends with idealists. It's another to invite them into your web and not expect them to learn something they won't like. It's just a thought. I like the lad, don't mistake me. But is the risk worth the benefit?"

"I wonder," she murmurs thoughtfully, her brow furrowed as she mulls it over. She takes apart another foil bag, continuing to wrap, starting to hum quietly to herself as she works, then stopping as she remembers the need for watchfulness.

taggity tag tag taaaaag

The cadet returns in short order with several decent-sized fish and no more venison--apparently his skill at catching live bait paid off--and puts them off to the side. After indicating to Treznor to put the scraped hide over the fire, he sets to work.

Oddly unresponsive, he takes up the birch trunk and quickly sets to carving it down, working it into a decent (if not slightly rough) horseshoe-like bow. Setting that aside, he quickly cuts open the fish, finds a particular bladder-like organ, and tosses them into the steaming water, then removes the bones to cut them in half, scrape out the marrow, and fit their now pliable structures over the bow. Then he takes some tendons from the deer carcass, places them in a depression in a largish rock, and uses another rock to grind them up into fibers. As he does this, the proteins in the bladders begin to boil away, the proteins dissolving into a sort of colloidal goo.

Scooping out the goo with the entrenching tool, he mixes it with the tendon fibers until he makes a sort of sticky paste. Slathering it over the central section of the bow--until it is a finger thick--he then adheres the cut sections of bone to it, fitting them snugly together and making a slightly crude (but certainly mean) looking compound bow. Finally retrieving the birch bark from the trench, he glues it on over the rest of the bow with the fish glue, smoothing out the lines and taking care that the parts fit together well. Finally, after several hours of work, he sets it carefully to one side to let it dry.

"I'm rushing it a bit," he says finally, "but it's a traditional Mongolian compound bow. Seven-hundred newton draw weight, three hundred meter effective range... if it were my done-right one over my bed back home. This one probably has a four-hundred newton draw weight and a one-to-two hundred meter range. Good enough... beats most firearms we can expect to meet, plus the advantage of near-silent takedowns, no muzzle flash, and I can fix it easily if it breaks." Standing up and supressing a yawn, he grabs some hide and cuts it into several long, narrow strips and one broad strip. The broad strip he wraps around the center of the bow as a handle, and the long strips he twines up into a bowstring. "I'm not going to add it yet; the bow should dry for a day first. That gives us time to make arrows."

Finally, he settles back and grabs one of the deer's smaller vertebrae. Cleaning it out and experimentally poking his index finger through it, he carefully carves an improvement to the natural notching of the vertebrae's ridges. "The bow is so powerful, it needs both a special grip and this ring to use it to its full potential. I think it should serve our needs well."

”Parli la vostra parola d'accesso, per favore.”

Vasco took a long sip of his cappuccino, running his hand through already tousled hair with a nervous jerk. They had been working nearly nonstop on this project for hours now. How long had it been? A day? Going on two? He was losing count.

Angelina was collapsed on the couch over against the wall, getting a brief and much needed nap while Javier worked on more caffeine solutions for the group, and Emilio covered their progress, (or more appropriately, lack thereof) with that bitch of an IA minister, del Vecchio.

”Parli la vostra parola d'accesso, per favore.”

“Yo, Aglietti – you want a hit?” Javier asked from across the windowless room.

“Sure – heavy on the cream and sugar,” he muttered, tossing down the last of the strong drink with a slight grimace for things to come. Javier had always been shit with coffee-making.

The room currently was a bit cluttered with takeout boxes from various Devras establishments – the team had more important things on their mind than neatness. The four work areas held the unmistakable markings of each occupant. M.C. Escher prints, family pictures and various puzzles were prominent in Javier’s, while Angelina’s corner sports an odd mix of plants that she’s kept green with special lamps, Geiger pics, and a sci-fi calendar showcasing the talents of several artists. Emilio’s area was a study in magazine and newspaper clippings, printouts from websites and other odd bits on various conspiracy theories, strange happenings, and unexplained phenomenon. Vasco was still amazed the man was lead on the team considering how he carried on at times. Still, he couldn’t deny Emilio was surprisingly brilliant at times with the leaps and connections he made. Even with the crazy ideas he had.

People carted off into the night sure, but to become cyborg soldiers? Pfft. And that was one of his better ones.

His own area seemed fairly tame in comparison. An assortment of coffee mugs with various designs or witticisms, an Ansel Adams calendar showing vistas in black and white, rows of reference books, discs, trade magazines and assorted odds and ends – cables, tools, cards and drives, projects he’d been working on – and a framed photo of his fiancé.

”Parli la vostra parola d'accesso, per favore.”

Vasco shook his head, turning his attention back to the task at hand; getting past the security measures on the odd laptop in front of him. He’d thought there was something, a couple hours back. Some flicker of activity aside from the login screen that they had finally managed to get to after two other barriers. And here, he was stuck. With that damnably pleasant soft voice, cheerfully asking for something he was not prepared yet to provide.

Voice recognition. Of all the damned …

”Parli la vostra parola d'accesso, per favore.”

He called up various sound files on his own computer, thanking Javier for the coffee as the man brought it over, then went back to trying to salvage what they could of the few discs found tucked away in the office. They had isolated likely words and phrases and names from short recordings caught by interoffice surveillance, public addresses, and other surprising bits IA had provided. Now, it was a matter of finding which would do the trick.

Files cleaned, noise levels reduced … I think this is it. He held down the control key, clicked the control key on the laptop, and ‘play’ on the soundfile. Nathicana’s voice came through smoothly, quoting one of her often heard phrases.

” È migliore da essere temuto che amava, se non potete essere entrambi.”

The screen changed, a graphic popped up of an animated woman looking surprisingly like the Dread Lady shaking a finger and grinning impishly.

”Sono spiacente, quello non sono corretto. Parola d'accesso, per favore.”

Again the cue for input. In the background, the program that had been running since the first security measure was bypassed ticked off another section of files transferred over QE lines and deleted from the hard drive.

Vasco swore under his breath, pulling up another soundfile. Well, lets try this again.

”La verità è niente. L'apparenza è tutto.”

The screen changed again, showing once more the animation.

”Sono spiacente, quello non sono corretto. Parola d'accesso, per favore.”

Cue for input. Another few sections transferred and deleted.

Vasco ran both hands through his hair, then took a long drink of the coffee, pulling a face at the flavor. Dammit, that man has got to learn how to do this right. He pulls up another file, readies it, and repeats the process.

” Adattisi e viva; sviluppisi stagnante e dado.”

This time the screen went blank for a moment. Vasco held his breath. Then the typical hourglass icon and a simple bar meter appeared, already most of the way filled up.

”I'm sorry, your attempts have failed. Transfer at eighty percent.”

“Transfer? Shit – what transfer?” he said out loud. Javier and Emilio both hurried over to join him, looking over his shoulder.

“What happened? What’re you talking abo—“

”Eighty-five percent.”

“Oh hell – what did you do, Aglieri?”

Vasco stared in horror at the screen, fingers tapping out various stop sequences, trying to disrupt the transfer.

”Ninety percent.”

He went for the shutoff switch.

”File transfer in progress. Request denied. Ninety-five percent.”

Angelina sat up, rubbing her eyes and looking over with concern as the three men tried desperately to stop the inevitable.

”Transfer complete. Thank you for your patience.” The last of the files were transferred, one relatively small sound file was sent off in another direction, and full purge of the hard drive was initiated automatically.

As the team from I-2 starred at the slim computer, faces pale, the screen activated again, showing Nathicana in a small video frame, smiling malevolently.

“Even if from beyond the grave … I defy you. My secrets are mine to keep.” And with that, the screen went black, coming back to a simple C:\ prompt and flashing cursor.

“Remember that eventuality we discussed over lunch a while back?” Emilio said hoarsely after a long, uncomfortable silence. Angelina and Javier looked at him, nodding. Vasco felt physically ill, though he managed a shaky nod of his own. “It’s time. Make your arrangements quickly. We only have about an hour.”

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

In a pre-arranged directory, the files were transferred to the Zero-One system. Via the secure line, the small secondary file made its way to S.H.O.D.A.N.’s in-box, tagged ‘urgent’.

The soundfile itself would seem to have little meaning to the uninitiated, other than being Nathi reciting parts of Psalm 23 in Latin. To Shodey, the imbedded message hidden within tiny bits of added noise would be easy to see.

“Nam, et si ambulavero in medio umbrae mortis, Non timebo mala, quoniam tu mecum es. Parasti in conspectu meo mensam, Adversus eos qui tribulant me.”

[code:1:6bcac718c2]Security breach. No contact means dead or unable to comply. Coordinates for possible locations as follows:

<series of alphanumerics>[/code:1:6bcac718c2]


Translations: Say your password, please. //It is better to be feared than loved, if you cannot be both. // I’m sorry, that is not correct. Password, please. // Truth is nothing. Appearance is everything. // Adapt and live; grow stagnant and die. // Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. Thou hast prepared a table before me against mine enemies.

S.H.O.D.A.N.'s local avatar sits in front of the desk, leaning over conspiriatorially as she taps the manilla file placed there with a single long, grey finger. "This is the list Nathi's computer provided me after a long string of unsuccessful access attempts. I've checked them through both Voyeur surveys and what she's told me personally; there are several safehouses and more than one prison on the list. Others are government offices, the old ones that probably have spacious basements." She grimaces slightly, looking into the brown eyes of the man sitting across from her. "I decided it would be polite to tell you, seeing how you probably have a vested interest."

Intelligence Advisor Janus Garbo leans foward, taking up the folder with an air of practiced indifference, and flips through the information. "Quite. If there was an NC Black situation, we're sure that Cadet Bondayehr would report it to us immediately. Instead, he hasn't even made his regularly scheduled reports... which we're equally sure he'd make after that meeting with Alkanphel." He mirrors the electronic intelligence's frown. "Given the proximity of Treznor, D'Aquisto, and Bondayehr as of late it stands to reason that they're all in the same situation."

S.H.O.D.A.N. nods. "I know that the information may not be actionable, but I also know the 'semper fidelis' attitude of the Scolopendran military..."

"Advisor Hawke is already chomping at the bit to send in Mygalomorphae Macrothele in to pull an extraction," Garbo replies emotionlessly, "but SMISO-MM doesn't go in unless they know exactly where the objective is so they can do it by the numbers. If it were in their job description, we could send in Antrodiaetidae. Surveillance is key to their role... but the time factor is a problem. Unfortunately, we can't send in the Mobile Infantry Special Operators at the moment, not to run checks on places that may or may not have what we're looking for."

"It bothers you too, hmm?"

Garbo grins wryly. "The kid's turned out to be useful, useful like your sister except without the admittedly uncomfortable feelings I get from knowing she's essentially in it for herself. While I know he couldn't reveal anything really damaging to us under Dominion scrutiny..." He frowns. "The thought of him going through that isn't really comforting either. I could send some Alphas to go in and run a search, but with how tight their security is it'd be risky at best. You don't have any tricks in mind, do you?"

The avatar seems to think for a split second. "Remember how we originally obtained intelligence on the Sky Furnaces from the inside?"

"The brain beetles, ya. Nice ploy, that wa..." Garbo blinks. "You'd use that on your sister's country?"

"She's my sister, Janus. She just downloaded her most private, controlled files into my system because the laptop I gave her was being hacked--rather shoddily, too--I won't learn anything dirty about her that I don't already know."

"Yeah, just remind me that you're holding out," Garbo replies laconically. "Still, doesn't sound like a bad idea. How long will it take you to cook up a batch?"

"Given the beetles natural to the Dominion... two days to deployment."

"Right." Garbo frowns. "I can have Antrodiaetidae down within the hour, Alphas in within the day. Maybe they'll be able to pick something up, just in case. I'll also have the VIXEN network keep an ear out for any word."

S.H.O.D.A.N. nods. "Acceptable. I'll keep you informed so our operations don't mix unfavorably."

"Good." Garbo pauses for a moment, then eyes the avatar warily. "I do have just one question, though. You know about the VIXEN network in a bit of detail and yet haven't sold us out. I'm thankful for that, but sometimes wonder why."

"I'm looking out for Nathi," she says simply, "and after that issue with Agent Toscini it was rather obvious that, nationally, you are as well in addition to your own self-interest. I owe a debt of gratitude to your people as the savior of my own; I owe the debt of family to my sister. As long as the two do not conflict, there will not be a problem."

"Which means," Garbo half-smirks, "if SIS ever has to act and use the information that it has..."

"Hopefully it will never come to that." S.H.O.D.A.N. frowns and stands. "I'll do my best to make sure it doesn't, but that is all I can promise at the moment."

Garbo shrugs, falling back into practiced nonchalance. "Fair enough."

Nathicana watches Devon lay out the hide as directed, then settle in for his shift in sleeping. She didn’t like the cadet being up all night, but given the circumstances, wasn’t going to argue with him on it. If he stumbles, I’ll bloody well carry him tomorrow.

She observes Bondayehr work, not wishing to disturb while examining some thoughts of her own. Each step they’d taken today had brought them that much closer to Torino, and after that, the border. The cadet had seriously increased their supplies, and with the bow he was making, she imagined that keeping said supplies stocked was not going to be much of an issue. Less worries. Things couldn’t be as bad as she’d thought earlier. The talks had helped. Having time to think had helped. Even the march, the bit of manual labor involved in assisting with the project at hand had helped get her head a bit more clear, and look at the situation more realistically.

Still, she thinks, watching Timofeyev combine the decidedly noxious mixture (to her senses at least), He has proven himself more than just resourceful. There’s no doubt he’s saved our asses more than once already with his knowledge and quick thinking. If our luck holds, and we keep as we’ve been doing, we just might make it out of here. Oddly enough, the thought surprises her as she realizes it’s the first time she’s thought seriously of the possibility since they’d made a break for the woods.

Nathi listens to his explanation, nodding where appropriate, but otherwise remaining quiet, brows arched inquisitively at the ongoing work. Just like it’s nothing. The thought is accompanied by a hint of wry grin, though she watches him closely for signs of exhaustion. Going to wear himself out if he tries to keep this up. Won’t help anyone then. Will see what we can do about it in the morning. No doubt we need this, all things considered. No good to slow him up now.

He keeps a sharp ear out for any approaching threats. The time spent already in such pursuits had served to help her differentiate true danger from the usual sounds of the woods, though she was in no means feeling secure about it.

The night slowly passes, and she finds herself calmed and comforted somehow by the quiet sounds of the forest, the black velvet of the night sky littered with stars, the steady work of the cadet, Devon’s quiet breathing, and the crackle of the fire.

Thoughts turn to more personal things as she glances over at the sleeping Emperor. Their past. Their possible future. The plans they had discussed. The probability now of any of them coming to fruition. Family … Shodey … Memories of her own brief childhood bubbling to the surface. The mother and father who’s memories she’d kept hidden away for so many years … And how far she’d strayed from the roots they had laid down.

As Bondayehr takes up the bow again, explaining the grip and ring, she nods again, stifling a yawn of her own. Music remembered from long ago comes unbidden to her mind. Snatches of one of her father’s favorite classical pieces.

Confutatis maledictis
Flammis acribus addictis,
Voca me cum benedictis.

Oro supplex et acclinis,
Cor contritum quasi cinis,
Gere curam mei finis.

Lacrimosa dies ilia
Qua resurget ex favilla
Judicandus homo reus.
Huic ergo parce, Deus,
Pie Jesu Domine,
Dona els requiem.

Without thinking, she murmurs bits and phrases to herself, humming very quietly on occasion as the minutes tick away. Appropriate.

She glances over again at Devon as he starts to stir, knowing instinctively her watch is over. Not wishing to have any discussions over fair shares or pushing oneself, she quickly gets to her feet, and walks first to the cadet. She offers what she hopes is an encouraging smile, reaching out to lay a gentle hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly, merely whispering “Most excellent”. She then walks over to the waking Emperor, exchanging a few brief words concerning the quiet watch, kissing him gently, then curling up to sleep.

The night passes uneventfully, much to the relief of all, and morning finds them rested well enough – all but the cadet – and re-packing their gear in preparation for the next leg of the journey.

Translation:
When the accursed have been confounded // And given over to the bitter flames, // Call me with the blessed.

I pray in supplication on my knees. // My heart contrite as the dust, // Safeguard my fate.

Mournful that day // When from the dust shall rise // Guilty man to be judged. // Therefore spare him, O God. // Merciful Jesu, // Lord Grant them rest.

In Earth orbit, the Scolopendran Free Trader Shanghai drifts lazily through the void just as simple physics and orbital mechanics predict. The doors on the side of the quadfurcated pod slide open, exposing three Scarabs in their individual airlocks, slipping out with the silence of vacuum and the smooth grace of applied gravitics.

Aboard one, three Scolopendran Mobile Infantry Special Operators--members of the counter/insurgency training, guerilla warfare, and asymmetrical warfare division known as Mygalomorph Antrodiaetidae ("Trapdoor Spiders")--check over their composite slugthrowers, inserting drums of caseless electrically-ignited ammunition and chambering rounds.

Not that anything identifies them as SMISO-MA. They wear what appear to be standard camouflaged fatigues of the kind that can be found the world over, the only difference being that it seems to have a series of rigid plates underneath, jointed so as to not limit movement. Helmets, goggles, visors, backpacks... they could be special operatives from any nation.

That, of course, is the point.

"Okay, Spiders, listen up." A green-suited 'pimento'--a SMISO rear controller--holds onto a ceiling strap in the red-lit cargo hold of the shuttle as he looks over a comppad. "I know this's been drilled into you since you got drummed up, but here's the sitch. Your team is going to be dropped in the plains northwest of Devras, transit to the northern end and bunker down in the hills to the north. Observe the major roads in and out, check the buildings that you can from that position. We're deploying low-vis high-altitude drones above the target area; they'll orbit in the cloud cover and coordinate with you."

The Spider team nods its assent as one, grimly continuing to check their weapons and equipment. They don't ask about the rest of the operation... they don't need to know.

The Scarab shuttle rears up a mere ten meters off the surface of the sea west of the Dominion, slowly fading from sight as its mimetic hull takes the shade of the sky and water around it. Below radar cover, it slips past an uninhabited bit of coastline unnoticed, barely clearing the treeline.

"Okay... extraction point in ten. On the bounce, Spiders."

The troopers nod, then flicker away as their fully mimetic thermoptic camouflage warms up, turning them to mere shadows in the bay. The lights inside go out before the rear door opens up as the shuttle slows to twenty kilometers per hour a single meter over the ground. Ten seconds after the warning, the Spiders roll out of the back and over the ground without a sound as the shuttle accelerates and pulls up, looping around as a shade in the air to leave the area.

The three Spiders pick themselves up--never coming to a stop--and start jogging to their destination.

* - * - *

Cadet Bondayehr yawns again as he mindlessly starts packing the venison into his backpack. Downside to killing this thing is carrying it... oh well... price one pays... gotta get arrows... can make those tomorrow... water... need to keep up with that...

He blinks as a bit of foil-wrapped venison flops to the side, snapping him back to full alertness for a brief moment. It simply won't all fit... Frowning to himself, he splits up the remainder between Nathi's and Devon's packs equally. Sloppy, Tim, sloppy. Pondering to himself, he looks over to his survival kit--damn, have to make room for that too--and displaces enough venison so it will fit in his pack. Opening the kit up momentarily, he opens up a plastic bag and removes a few long grass-like stems with leaves before sealing the bag carefully, returning it to the kit, and replacing the kit in his backpack. He puts the plants in the left breast pocket of his fatigues, chuckling softly to himself. "Thank you, Led."

Treznor spends the majority of his shift huddled against Nathicana for warmth, watching dark corners to keep his night vision from being degraded by the slight moonlight visible through the canopy of the trees, and also keeping an eye on Timofeyev. After watching the young man yawn for what had to be the twentieth time, he stirs and carefully shifts Nathicana to ensure she won't wake up when he moves. She opens her eyes briefly anyway, but promptly goes straight back to sleep.

Good, she needs it. We all do.

He stands slowly, giving his body time to adjust to the now-unaccustomed motion before moving up quietly behind the cadet.

"Yes?"

"You're doing a good job, you know," Treznor says quietly. "I don't know if either of us have actually said it, but we're both impressed. We couldn't have come so far without you."

"Thank you." Bondayehr looks up momentarily from his work with a wry grin. "Somehow, though, I get the feeling that you weren't sneaking up behind me to tell me that."

"I was, in fact. I also wanted to suggest you pack a little less in your bag and a little more in ours. It's all right if we carry the majority of the weight. In fact, I'd prefer it."

"You're already both carrying... what... " The cadet thinks for a moment longer than he probably should. "Two each, complete with food and ammunitions supplies?"

"We're also built for it, and between the two of us have more sleep than you do. You're young; you'll adapt. I know that. But even the young need time to recouperate. If I didn't know how futile it was, I'd suggest you catch what sleep you can now. Instead I'll suggest you offset the disadvantage you're putting yourself in by giving us more rested folk a greater share of the weight."

"I've already pocketed some bay leaves to keep me alert through the eight-hour march tomorrow. I should be fine; as I'm the tired one, the less encumbered you two are the better you can react to threats."

Treznor sighs and squats down on his heels. "Look, this isn't about machismo. This is about making the most of the resources we have on hand. Whatever tricks you have for keeping awake, you'll need for staying alert. There's no need to compound the problem. I've been watching you for the past hour, and I know you're doing your best. But part of leadership is knowing when, and how, to delegate.

"You have skills we don't, skills we'll need to get out of here. Focus on them, rather than carrying your fair share of the weight."

Timofeyev grins wryly. "There's a reason I'm a cadet, the whole 'learning when to delegate' bit. I'm not doing this because I think I have anything to prove; I'm doing it this way because it should be effective. How I see it, I'm the one that screams 'best target' due to lowest reaction times, et cetera. Even more so tired. Encumbering others simply creates additional viable low-mobility targets, which is the last thing one wants to do in small-unit tactics."

"Tim, you know as well as I do that if they find us in the condition we're in now, a few seconds reaction time isn't going to do us much good. They'll surround us and pound us with heavy firepower. Even with her superior mods, Nath can't survive that kind of punishment. Our best bet is to not be found, and you're our best chance for that."

Treznor stands and brushes dirt from his hands. "Think about it."

Timofeyev rests his head on one knee and sighs. "Honestly, I've never had to deal with something of this magnitude before. You do understand that, with that statement, you are saying that the political power of two nations are very much dependent on me." He looks up wryly. "Now, y'see, this is a weakness of totalitarian systems.

"No pressure, but it's all on me."

Treznor snorts. "Nath and I will pull our weight. And I didn't say you're our only chance, just our best chance. Don't buy more trouble, Tim; we've got enough to deal with as it is. Just focus on doing your job, which as I mentioned has been exemplary. Let the rest sort itself out. That's all I'm saying."

"I am trying to focus on my job," the cadet snaps, then grimaces. "Sorry... but, honestly, anything I can do you can learn from the survival book in that backpack. If it will make you feel better, fine, I'll reapportion the load--seeing how morale is partly my job as well--but... ah, screw it. I'll just get to rearranging it now."

Treznor reaches down to pat Bondayehr's shoulder. "Nobody's perfect, especially me. You do what you think is best, but don't forget to take other people's advice into consideration. I'm not trying to browbeat you into anything, I just know you're tired and you have plenty more to worry about than how much weight you can handle. I wanted to remind you that until we get out of this wildnerness, we need you unencumbered to do your best."

Timofeyev tenses his shoulders instinctively, a subconcious response taught by a single incident. "Understood." He begins to transfer mass from his backpack to the others, trying to be more or less fair.

Treznor walks back to his spot next to Nathicana and arranges the blankets to reduce his heat signature once more. I hope he took that the right way. He'll figure it out, sooner or later.

Nathi woke, curled up close to Devon, shivering lightly, and feeling oddly calm. Morning, it seemed, had come all too soon. Even on the hard ground, she felt like she could have slept at least a few hours more. Seeing Timofeyev up and going, she quietly confirmed with Dev the young man’s lack of sleep, as he’d noted would be the case.

She gathered the canteens to fill them for the day, taking the opportunity to do a quick spot-wash at the stream, the cold water shocking her fully awake. Once back at camp, she studied the map, pointing out from reference and from memory the most likely successful approaches to Torino, consulting the cadet for his opinion. She made silent small talk with Devon across their private line, more just a veiled assurance that all was as well as it could be than anything.

Their course agreed on and set, the group headed out on their trek with what had become the usual steady pace. Twice during the march, choppers passed nearby, once near enough to force them to take cover. Nothing came of it, their efforts at camouflage and choice of cover paying off once again.

It’s rough enough going, as expected, though they seem to make a decent pace. Nathi kept a quiet eye on her companions as they pressed on, concerned with the cadet especially.

If I make an issue of it, it could do more harm than good. He’s already shown his desire to be more than self sufficient, taking care of us as well. Judging from what I’ve seen before now … I’d almost say it’s what’s keeping him going.

She contemplated that as she marched, making a brief note to Devon concerning tonight’s watch and her determination to let Bondayehr get a full night’s rest. Nathicana forced herself to hold back at any perceived stumbles on account, repeating a silent ‘if it were you’ reminder when needed.

The occasional checks were made to maintain course, and roughly eight hours later, their destination was in reach – Tornino. A bustling city of roughly 43,000, it was spread out, the forest often running right through it, broken up only by the roads and waterways. Several farms dotted the landscape surrounding, where trees had been cleared and crops were already being tended and planted, though it was far from an agricultural center. Tourism was the main cash crop here. The architecture and culture of what remained of the older part of the city, the mountains and nearby skiing resorts, all served to draw visitors in.

Now of course, the roads were watched, Dominion soldati patrolling them vigilantly. Fortunately for the tired band, they lacked the numbers to cover every eventuality, and as expected, the landscape seemed to work to their advantage. Before any attempt was made at entry, shelter was once again sought for a much needed rest.

“Will see what tomorrow brings,” she murmured, taking a quick swig from her canteen. “Give us time to observe, plan our next move.”

Vincent DiGardi whistled as he pushed the rubbish cart through the silent halls of the villa. He hit a particularly high note as he paused to empty a wastebasket in an office, going horribly off-key as he did. Then he straightened and continued on his journey, making his rounds as the replacement janitor.

The old janitor had suddenly decided to go on holidays with his family, thanks to an unexpected windfall. Not terribly subtle, but TMInt had stressed speed most of all. The top brass wanted to know why the Emperor was out of touch, and what was hiding behind the Dominion's mobilisation. So, a few bribes here, a little persuasion there, and Vincent found himself a new job in the most sensitive location in the entire country: Nathicana's villa.

More whistling, something from the old days before the nation had become a Dominion, and more rubbish went into his cart. He made his way slowly, meticulously through the villa, searching for any sign of the Emperor or the Dread Lady. Thus far, his search had been fruitless.

The villa showed signs of recent renovation, an item that had him curious. It wasn't suspicious per se; Nathicana was a rich woman by any standard. She could renovate the villa every month and barely notice it. But in the spy business everything was datum, and Vincent's nose was twitching. Some of the work looked rushed, and that did not compute.

Still whistling, he opened the door to the Dread Lady's office and stopped dead. Nathicana looked up from her desk and glared at him. "What is it?"

Vincent bobbed and scraped in submission. "I-I beg your pardon, Lady. I came to collect the trash. I didn't think you would still be..."

She frowned, looking particularly lovely as she did so. "You're not the regular janitor. Where's Julius?"

"He...ah...took holidays, Lady. I'm his replacement until he returns." Vincent held his hand over his chest, bowing repeatedly. Every time he came back up, the tiny camera on his collar took a digital picture. He could get in fifty low resolution photographs before the disk was full.

"Very well; carry on and get out. I have work to do." Nathicana lifted her nose briefly, then turned back to her laptop and appeared to dismiss him from her mind.

"Yes, Lady." Vincent hurried in and fulfilled his duties as quickly as possible. The camera caught an oblique look at the laptop screen; it probably wouldn't come out, but the IT wizards back at TMIint might get something useful out of it. Then he scurried out as fast as he could.

Wow. I wonder what they'll say about that back home. I can't wait to see how these turned out.

Twelve hours later...

Jennifer frowned as she poured over the photographs with the department heads. "Can't we improve these pictures?" she complained.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," said the head of the Quartermaster branch. "We're talking about a camera the size of a pin head. You're lucky these are in colour. My people are working on enhancements, but I don't think you're going to see much improvement."

"All right," Jennifer conceded as she went on to the next photograph. "Jerry? You're the Dominion expert. What do you think?"

"Well," Jerry drawled as he contemplated another image. "If this woman isn't the Dread Lady, she's a dead ringer. Of course, she's sitting down so we don't have an accurate estimate of her height. Her body type is the same and the bone structure of her face matches within acceptable parameters. She could be a body double with extensive plastic surgery, but we don't have enough data to suggest it one way or another. From the evidence currently available to us, I'd say she's the real thing."

"I was afraid you were going to say that," Jennifer groused as she sat back and threw down the rest of the images. "But if she's there, where's the Emperor?"

Silence fell over the room. No one had a good answer to that.

"Hmm," said a quiet voice from the corner. Everyone looked to the speaker.

"Yes, Mary?" Jennifer said impatiently when it became obvious the woman wasn't going to continue.

"Well, look at the pitcher on the desk," Mary replied slowly, peering at the photograph in her hand with a magnifying lens.

"Yes, it looks like ice water. The Dread Lady always keeps ice water stocked at her desk while she's working. It's in her profile."

"I believe it is," Mary said, then tossed the photograph over to Jennifer. "But she isn't drinking it."

"What?" Jennifer snatched the photo and stared at it. Sure enough, the pitcher was full. "So what?"

"So if she was working, wouldn't it show signs of someone drinking it?"

Everyone rushed to grab a copy of a photograph showing the pitcher. Everyone agreed that yes, it was full.

"We're grasping at straws here," said Roger, leader of the analyst's department. "A full pitcher of water doesn't mean anything. Maybe she just had it refilled. Maybe she just sat down to work. Maybe she's just not thirsty. We can't jump to any conclusions over it."

"No," Jennifer agreed. "But something is wrong, and the Emperor is missing. Keep looking, folks. This is top priority. We've got teams standing by to mount a rescue, but we don't know where to send them. We need answers, and we need them now."

She gazed around the room, meeting the eyes of each department head. Some maintained eye contact, some didn't. Nobody was comfortable, least of all herself.

"Get to it," she snapped, and the room emptied quickly.

Ben, how do you do it?

tag, promised to be a good read. It better be..... :wink:

The cadet puts down his backpack wearily, then turns to spit out the bay leaves he'd been chewing on as natural stimulants.

It had been a rough march. Despite managing to look decently awake starting out, his eyes slowly projected more and more from their sockets, casting broader shadows, larger bags under his eyes. He stumbled down a hill or two, but quickly recovered, taking the utmost care that his new bow remained safe.

Arranging everything just so in the shelter, Bondayehr nods to his comrades before first sinking to his knees and then face-planting in the dust, instantly asleep.

And still, his mind works on a plan for Torino...

Rumors had been flying ever since things started falling apart on Io. When the Imperium suddenly withdrew their arms deal and cancelled the Academy deal, discussion had grown even hotter. The mobilization of Dominion troops and efforts to prepare for what seemed to be a fear of invasion had folks not only worried, but wondering just what in the hell their leader had been doing. Most were not privy to the action behind the scenes. To them, much of this seemed to come out of the blue.

With a few strategically dropped comments, observations, and questions, the rumors exploded in a flurry of discussion and conclusions.

The Dread Lady had made a terrible mistake somewhere along the line. She was hiding. War was on the horizon. Her fault, some muttered quietly. A bit of treachery on her part, perhaps. Poor judgment at best? There had been quiet meetings in the last week, rather close together with none other than Alkanphel of the Imperium. Obvious connections were made. Had a diplomatic effort fallen through? Were they more a target than one might expect, or was something more proactive on the horizon? The explosion – no one really bought the government’s spin on that story to begin with, or at least, no one who took such issues seriously. A terrorist plot, perhaps, or a botched attempt on the Imperatora even. Such things were not unheard of, though they had enjoyed relative freedom from such violence for some time now.

Rumors abounded about her current relationship as well. It was, at this point, no secret that she and the Emperor of Treznor (had he really once been a citizen?) were rather close. To those involved in government positions, this was a simple truth. What did come as a surprise was to hear whispers of a recent falling out between the two. He had been here visiting when it had all hit the fan. Her volatile temper was legendary, after all. Had she finally driven him off with it? There were several reputable accounts of his leaving, to destinations unknown. His transport had been left behind. Possibly he had gone to their neighbor, Callas, where both leaders had been known to visit on occasion. Those looking had no idea, and it was clear it made them nervous. The man was damnably hard to track when he chose not to be found.

Memos, directives, instructions – these never ceased coming in as they always had. If the tone of them seemed a bit off or strained, most dismissed it as stress given the current situation. Others didn’t seem convinced. As always, the movers and shakers were examining what evidence existed. Eyes and ears were out in force, hoping for any new tidbit of information.

The Ministry was working frantically, depending on which department you asked, to keep things running as smoothly as possible during these difficult times. Marissa del Vecchio of Internal Affairs reported a small group from one of the Intel offices going rogue. Names and descriptions were circulated, and it was made known that an official search was going on for the four team members. Bernardo di Medici in Trade was desperately trying to assure trade partners that the recent security measures would not negatively impact the flow of goods to and from the Dominion. Calfa of Finance was in a taking over the cost of the mobilization and the funds being diverted to tracking down the escapees. Evangelista Ravanelli of Public Relations was nearly beside herself in trying to answer questions and soothe as best she could while not overstepping her bounds.

Meanwhile, in secret, the trio of collaborators continued to plot and fret over the fact that their quarry had still managed to elude them. In a basement room of the B-9 complex, Marik continued to recover. The questioning had already begun. Thus far, it had been met with stony silence, and continued efforts to break out. It had been decided that he was strong enough to initiate more stringent methods of information extraction. The loss of the computer had not gone over well. Still, there was nothing for it but to continue on and hope for the best. Much hinged on a contingency plan they had been developing in secret as the original had by now been dashed to bits. One bite at a time, it had been decided. Security had most definitely been blown. To what extent remained to be seen.

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

Nathicana winced at seeing the cadet go down. A stab of guilt seemed to make her stomach clench. She’d watched him push himself like that, seeing the exhaustion … and hadn’t said a word. With a muttered curse, she dropped to her knees next to the young man, turning him over gently and working to make him comfortable with a minimal amount of fussing. She shrugs out of her overshirt, finds a relatively clean spot, and wets it down with water from her canteen.

“Ah, Dev … he’s had it,” she murmurs quietly, dabbing away the grime from the day, hoping her efforts will help soothe in some way. “Why don’t you grab something to eat, then get some rest. I’ll take first. Besides, need to go over the map, ponder a plan of attack …” She looks over at him and tries to smile encouragingly. “Half way there, at least.”

Public phones a possibility, but a risk … and I’d have to steal the cash for it anyway. Break in and use a residence line? Steal a cell phone – but damn, those are easily monitored. Who would I call? I’m certain the embassies are being closely monitored. They probably have risk numbers flagged … Again, break in, email? Still leave a trail, but possibly. Goddammit, I should have kept up on cryptography.

Grabbing a packet of the deer, she settles in, keeping an eye out as she eats, trying to go over possibilities, ignoring the sick feeling that just won’t go away.

The night passes uneventfully, Bondayehr eventually waking up and taking the last watch shift despite inevitable protest. "Doesn't matter that I didn't get any sleep for one night; you can't make that up. Now that I've gotten some decent sleep, I'm fine."

Daylight comes and Timofeyev prepares for his plan, washing himself clean in a secluded portion of the river and carefully shaving his cheeks with his knife, leaving some stubble on his chin and a vestigal mustache. He ruffles his hair up a bit to change his appearance as much as he can... which isn't very much.

Returning in washed-off fatigue pants and grey shirt, he folds up his fatigues jacket and stashes it. Rooting through his backpack, he grabs a set of shorts he usually uses for sleeping and puts them on; they have the usual Scolopendran fixation on utilitarian cargo pockets and so make decent Bermuda shorts even if they're made with an oddly soft green material. "I've got a plan for inside the city; I think we should meet up back here at 1700. Remember to hook-back and lay low if you think you're being tailed. See ya later."
Slipping into the city from a portion of forest that mingles with it, he easily inserts himself into the midday crowds, following the cardinal rule of how to not be noticed when one is not where one should be: Act With A Purpose. If one doesn't gawk or sneak, but move assertively as if one were meant to be there, then one is never questioned. Whenever he sees a patrol, he just follows the crowd in a different direction as if that was always his intent, or steps into a shop or restaurant with a sense of purpose.

"Ismahlee," he universally introduces himself with a thick Arabian accent, taking the head waiter or the barkeep or the person behind the counter to the side, "alala... perdon, Ana la tet kalam al Ital--"

"Do you speak English?" is the usual reply, delivered with a crisp Italian accent.

"Aiwa," Timofeyev shakes his head enthusiastically, "nala... yes, a very little. I need to contact... alalala..." he waves his hand in thought "a biz-ness partner." Broad grin. "Am young, but moving up! Silly, left phone at home... but have... alalala... tips for boss! May I use phone?"

The first few times he tried, the waiter or barkeep or cashier would chuckle softly and say "no, we have no phone" or "no, we can't let you." To this, Bondayehr would simply smile and bow slightly, hand quickly flourishing from brow to lips to heart. "Shoo kran... thank you for listening. "Sabah Al Kair." He'd smile and leave, not worrying.

Ah, not a problem. I'll find a truly hospitable one yet. He steps out of the shrouded green glass door of a pub and right into a patrol, bumping into the shoulder of one of the soldati. "Perdon!"

The soldier rattles something off in Italian which probably equates to Watch where you're going, asshole! Bondayehr says "Perdon" again before walking assertively back into the crowd and grumbling "yo dije que lo siento" under his breath. Just like an Italian... albeit speaking Spanish.

Finally, in a bed and breakfast on the main street--entered due to another swift change in action thanks to an incoming patrol--and entered into his usual spiel. The woman behind the desk smiles, nodding at a booth over to the side. "It is my courtesy guest phone," she says carefully, not wanting to confuse, "and I'm glad to help such a polite young man."

Bondayehr bows shortly with a soft motion of benediction. "Imnsallah! Many thanks!"
Typing in a long international number committed to memory, he waits patiently as the phone clicks. C'mon... pick up...

Halfway across the world, a communicator *breeps*, announcing an incoming call.

*breep* "Huh?" *breep* "Vrelte!! I get no rest in this damnable place!" Ssrrakaa shuts off the rest cycle in her heat chamber, and steps out. Wrapping a robe around herself, she answers the audio-only comm. "Cadet Ssrrakaa reporting." After spending twenty straight hours in flight-combat sims, she was hoping to get some quality downtime in.

Timofeyev winces. He knows that voice, and it isn't her happy voice. "A bad time, old friend from Khess?" He lightens the Arabic accent a bit.

At the sound of the familiar voice, she loosens up a bit. "Ah! Well, it has been some time. How does this cycle find you?"

"Out in the wilds again, but never out of trouble." Bondayehr chuckles wryly. "Two business associates and I are on a retreat. Maybe you have heard of them since I was assigned to the Dominion?"

"Indeed. I have been trying to wrangle a bit of free time to see if a meeting could be arranged. Things here are getting a little odd, and I need a bit of R&R, and who better to look up? I've earned a good two weeks vaca time."

"Outstanding. The negotiations I am in are very quiet, because caution is always beneficial." C'mon... how can I hint this? "As you know, the stakes in my work can be high. Almost as high, if not higher, than Khess itself."

Ssrrakaa gets the feeling something is being .... unclear. Better feel this out. Something is odd. "That is a high stake indeed. The Hhoular would be pressed to better it."

Good, got her attention. "Hard pressed indeed. It is a matter of missing accounts, possibly gone to a competitor in Callas." I hope she remembers geography. "My associates and I are taking a quiet riverside stroll to find them..." Okay, direction established. Anyone tracing the call knows where it's from, so next bit is safe. "I am calling from Torino now. Have you seen the news from the Dominion?"

"Weeeellll...the newsfeed tends to stay on all the time. I have my prompter set on the Imperial Wavelength to keep track of nations the Empire deals with, so the answer is 'Yes'. Seems the Dread Lady has her hands full in these tumultuous times, but i'm sure she can handle the rough waters." Callas. River nearby from Torino to. Looks like my leave is now planned.

"Yes. The tulmult certainly makes business hard... soldati wandering the streets, asking for papers... it makes it hard for one to do legitimate business. It has been good talking to you, friend, but as it turns out my associates are somewhat dependent on my skills; they are unused to bargaining in the wilds of business. I should not keep them waiting long."

Whoa! This sounds really poor. Better get a hot-foot on this. "Ah, then you must tend to your associates before they make you lose your shirt. Hrr hrrr. May the next cycle find you in good spirits." Hope he picks up on that one.

"Each day brings with it new hopes and new threats." Acknowledged and understood... now be on the bounce. "May the signals of the trailblazing guide you to your goals." Thank whatever runs the universe for Orderman Rraakaa and his notes!

*click* *dial tone*

As the line is severed, Ssrrakaa shuts off the comm device and purges it's memory. She has written down the vital info on a sheet of rice-paper, and begins running through a mental checklist of needed, yet inconspicuous, supplies.

Timofeyev opens the booth and bows shortly to the woman again, thanking her once again in a thick Arabic accent before stepping out, back into the crowd.

Ssrrakaa peels off her robe, and begins packing a light bag with some essentials. Some clothing, a suit of light Chamo-Web armor, the tomahawk made of obsidian she made during her and Timofeyev's final exam, which involved spending two weeks in the Khess Mountain Ranges with literally nothing but the clothes on their backs.

Having packed a bag, she keys up her comm unit again, and prepares to call in some favors. "Kheel, it's Ssrrakaa."

"Ssrrakaa! Long time no hear. Are you finally taking me up on the offer of dinner?"

"Not yet, but perhaps later. Right now I am cashing in the favor you owe me."

"Vrelte. Okay, since you helped me pass the final exam, i'm yours. What's up?"

"Do you still pilot those Reptavian dropships?"

"I do. Oh no..you want me to airlift you somewhere, right?"

"Yes. Meet me at the garage in 1 hour, and we'll talk. I need to get my newt out of storage."

"Will do. See you then."
*click*

Good. The Newt should have the rest of what i'll need. Good thing I keep it tuned up and maintained. She hoists up her bag, and exits her room. Locking up and activating the security measures, she heads for the garage.

She didn’t like that the cadet had taken up part of the watch, and though her face shows it, she lets it pass, not even muttering under her breath as she usually would. There were other things occupying her thoughts more pressing than her companion’s stubbornness. All her efforts at trying to piece together a plan for the day had fallen flat. For each option she grasped at with a desperation that hardly seemed surprising to her anymore, reasons cropped up why she shouldn’t, or why it just wouldn’t work. She was resigned at this point to whatever was to come – last night she’d come to grips with that. Still, she hoped for her companion’s sake at least, that they would still get out of this in one piece. And that meant her not screwing things up.

When Bondayehr returns from cleaning up, she breaks out of her current reverie with a questioning expression. His no-nonsense delivery and announced plan causes her brow to crease, and she opens her mouth to protest, lifting one hand as he pads off in the direction he’s chosen … and again, she slumps back without responding.

I’ve lost it.

It wasn’t a new realization, just a simple acceptance of what she’d known for some time now. There was more than one reason the cadet had taken the lead early on, and her inability to take charge even then, and her quiet acceptance for the most part of it all had simply solidified it.

Chi tace acconsente. Well, if nothing else, I can get in and at least try to get an idea of what’s gone on since we’ve been running, snag something besides MRE’s and meat to eat, and see what sort of options might be available. It’s that or sit here.

With a quiet sigh of resignation, she gets to her feet and rummages through their collective packs until she finds what bits she thinks she needs, then heads towards the river to get herself cleaned up as much as possible. The cold water serves to bring her sharply to her senses, and she makes the process move along as quickly as she could. Despite her best efforts, it wasn’t satisfactory. Then again, for someone who had almost obsessive-compulsive tendencies where clean and neat came into play …

She mutters half-heartedly to herself as she tries to dry off, squeezing as much from her hair as she could. Her teeth chatter as she pulls on the black tee-shirt and cargo pants, numb fingers fumbling for the zipper as she gingerly walked back to camp. She was still trying to remain aware of the surroundings, listening for any sounds that didn’t belong, and second-guessing herself on a good many of the ones she thought did. Nathi sits down quietly to pull on socks and boots, biting her lower lip as she argues silently with herself.

If I don’t, I do nothing, waste time, simply sit here. If I do, could make the difference between capture or not. But what if … no, can’t think that way. Must do something. What was he planning? He never said … maledicalo, what did he have in mind? And Dev … dammit got to get them both out of here. No more sitting. Get up and move. Now.

Surprising herself with her response, she gets out her knife, takes hold of her hair, and measures it out to a length just above her shoulders. Her hands tremble slightly, her lower lip quivering as she fights back the beginnings of hot, angry tears.

Vanity, thy name is woman … oh, bloody hell just get it over with.

Holding it taught, she draws her knife through, long raven locks falling to the ground around her feet. She continues with the next section, and the next, trying to at least get them to match up. By the time she’s finished, her hair is just off her shoulders, the ends a tad unruly, and a good eighteen inches shorter. Nathi runs her fingers through her hair, glancing down at the pile of hair at her feet with an expression somewhere between horror and disbelief.

“Well … so much for that,” she murmurs quietly, brushing off any stray strands and wiping her knife against her pants before tucking it away again, and gathering up as much of the hair as she can, keeping it nice and neat. She ties it up with a strip of cloth hastily cut from the hem of a shirt. Selling, if it wouldn’t draw too much attention, was always an option if she came across the right salon. Waste not want not. Finally, she turns to empty out a pack of any suspicious items and make room for whatever she could bring back, and tucks the bundle of hair inside.

Last, and after a bit of consideration, she takes a bit of the darkest charcoal left from their carefully hidden fire and crushes it into a fine powder, then tests a spot on her arm. Good enough. Using the bit of mirror from the tool Timofeyev had fashioned back at the villa, she carefully applies the black along her eyelids, blending it up from the crease of her eyes to the brows in a style she’s seen many youth use when going for the darker, brooding look. Careful not to get it in her eyes, she uses a bit of shirt over her nail to blend a bit along the outside of her lower lid as well. The end result, between oversized clothes, chopped hair and the stark black has her looking nothing like her usual self at first glance. And hopefully, that first glance will be good enough.

“Ti amo, mia caro,” she says, kissing Devon gently and putting on what she hopes is a confident smile, forcing herself not to fuss with her hair. “Be safe. I’ll see you soon.”


She had studied the map, and drawn on what she’d remembered from past visits to the area, so finding an appropriate way in wasn’t too difficult. The forest blended into the city at several points, and given the area, hikers were common enough. Shifting her pack, she makes her way towards the open market. Crowds to blend in, and tourists just waiting to be tagged.

The first patrol makes her blood run cold. Dropping to a squatting position up against the building, she tightens the laces on her boot, head down and intent on her work. The soldati move past, giving her no more than a cursory glance. All the same, she lets out a slow breath she’d been holding without meaning to after the last of them passes.

Market is busy, as expected. And as usual for such towns, the crowd is a study of many different cultures and nationalities. Even during a time of unrest and turmoil, folks were going about their business, foreigners were still enjoying the sights, and if people were put off by the patrols, they soon got over it once the soldati were out of sight. It was clear enough, even if the government was nervous, the people overall, were not.

And why should they be? We’ve had relative peace for longer than I can remember. Policy of keeping the populace content … maybe too content?

It doesn’t take long for her to find her mark. He is looking over a stand of hand-crafted pipes. Meerschaum, she notes no few of them to be, the stone still glistening white, waiting to be used long enough to acquire the traditional deep red color associated with them. Quite the craftsman, she ponders, her eyes roaming over his wares now and then as she takes measure of the blonde, smartly-dressed foreigner who is too engrossed in his shopping to take notice.

She doesn’t think about it, just does it, knowing that thinking will only get her in trouble. His wallet is out of his pocket and into hers before he even has a chance to shift his attention between one pipe to another, registering only another slight bump, much as what he’s felt on occasion all day when pushing through a particularly crowded spot.

Nathi made her way purposefully past the vendors of trinkets and crafts, heading for the stands of produce, casually flipping through the wallet, removing credit cards and cash and ID. Palming off the rest into a trash bin, she spirited the useful bits into various pockets.

The selection is surprisingly good, even this early given the warmer climes to the south and the trade from other nations. Blood Oranges, apples, some grapes, all find their way into her pack, paid for with her ill-gotten gains so as to avoid drawing undue attention. She snags a paper from a nearby magazine stand and scans the recent events with a furrowed brow. Nothing. Or at least, nothing she can really use.

The bank of payphones however, she can.

Coins inserted, dial tone achieved. She hastily punches in a number committed to memory, one of many possible linkups. As expected, the message kicks in.

“You have reached Animal Control. Our usual office hours are from nine am to five pm, Monday through Friday, and Saturday, ten am to two pm. Please leave a detailed message at the sound of the tone concerning your problem, and a number you can be reached at, and we will get back with you as soon as possible. Have a nice day.”

Tone. “Si - Lucia Castellani, with two strays who’ve been hanging around the place. The other day we set off a cracker that had them running for the border, but I expect more problems. Out of town for few days visiting family near Perugia, so I won’t be reachable. Please see if you can’t bring them in before they cause any more trouble. The neighbors have been as concerned as I.” Handset replaced in the cradle, call disconnected, palms nervously wiped against cargos.

Il Dio, I hope you got that Jacobian, you son of a bitch.

She slips back into the crowd, both more nervous and a bit more confident than she’d been before. Managing to come across a salon who deals in wigmaking, she comes out several sovereigns richer, and feeling more than a little ill afterwards. A few more stops for this and that, the lure of a few creature comforts simply too much to resist, and she’s heading back to the outskirts, Mango gelato in hand.

I’ll share … probably … damned if I'm going to take any cussing for the soap.

Even feeling better than she had earlier doesn’t keep her from watching carefully for any signs of a tail, nor from doubling back not once, but twice, just to make certain.

Returning to the campsite, the cadet meets up with the Dread Lady, both looking moderately pleased with themselves. After some light-hearted banter, they keep up the semblance of a normal conversation. "So," Nathi begins, "what did you do today?"

The cadet shrugs and grins. "I called a friend."

Nathi raises an eyebrow. "You ... did what?"

"Walked into a bed-and-breakfast, picked up a phone, and called a friend. You?"

"Ripped off a guy looking to buy a pipe, got us something besides meat to eat, checked with animal control, and bought me a gelato." Nathicana grins sheepishly. "Mango. Want a taste?"

"Excellent... and yes, please." Bondayehr looks up at the sky. "From how she was talking, we can hopefully expect results tomorrow as long as we stick with the plan to follow the river north."

Nathicana arches a brow. "You're serious." Statement more than question, eyes casting about nervously.

"Yes, yes I am. One of the important parts of wilderness survival is contacting the people who are going to haul your ass out."

"And I suppose it didn't strike you as important to let the rest of us know?" All delivered in an uncharacteristically quiet voice, brow furrowed.

"Call it a spur-of-the-moment plan." Timofeyev looks over with a slightly raised eyebrow, slowing slightly at the change in tone. "I think we all forgot to brief each other on activities; nevertheless, we're all the richer for it."

Nathi nods, looking away. "At least you seem to be able to depend on yours." She opens up her pack, and offers up the contents after passing over the gelato. "Too much meat, not enough other. Been feeling ill. Tin of coffee, some mint tea along with the fruit."

Timofeyev grimaces. "I should've warned about that. If you've still got money, I can wander back into town and get some vegetables and bread. That should keep us better-balanced... especially seeing how I'm the least identifiable person in the group."

Nathicana grins wryly, pulling out a round loaf of heavy wheat, a bag of carrots and long green beans from another pocket. "I couldn't resist the fruit. Didn't say I had nothing but. And," she says, patting a pocket on her borrowed cargos, "Decent soap. And yes, we've a bit more cash."

"Never mind then." The cadet registers the shortened hair, but is unsure how to address it. When in doubt, change subject. "Well, then, more data from my end." He pauses for a moment, staring at the ground to collect his thoughts. "I figured that any outgoing calls to Scolopendran government or the Trium would be monitored as a matter of course, so I called a friend in Sakkra... my best friend anywhere. I had to hint quite a bit, but she's got the idea." The cadet grins with something a little past determination. "She'll do whatever it takes to help.

"It wasn't very hard to pose as a foriegner..." He slips into Arabic, speaking with a grin. " لا تفهم معظم النّاس لغة النّبيّ "

The woman looks at him thoughtfully for a moment, then nods slowly, a half smile creeping onto her face at the change. "I just ... damn, I wish I wasn't endangering someone else on this, Tim," she finally says, her voice tired and resigned. "It's bad enough having the two of you on my conscience. As odd as it is to find I have one." Very dry tone.

"Not like you planned it, right? Yes, I know how it is. Have to slog through alone, not impose on anyone else." He locks his eyes onto Nathi, face growing hard. "On Khess, if I hadn't imposed, I would've died. If she hadn't imposed, she would have died. We are a team. Relying on each other to survive is what we have to do."

"Adattisi e viva ..." she murmurs, dropping her gaze for a moment, then looking back to him. "I understand. We have done as needed, and we have done well. It doesn't mean I have to be happy about it." Another pause, considering. "Perhaps, if the time is ever right, you will tell me of this test. It would seem I am already indebted to your friend, by all accounts. Moreso should this pan out."

"Probably sooner than later. It'd make a good story, but I'm pretty quiet about it." A momentary silence as if to reinforce the point. "In fact, you took breaking OPSEC better than I expected. Still, Dev has to be briefed and for some reason I don't see him as taking it very well. Been wrong before on that, could be wrong again."

Nathi bites her lower lip nervously. "What's done is done. There was no point arguing it. I trust that you would not take actions that would deliver us into unfriendly hands. You've shown good judgement before, and beggars can't be choosers." She ponders a moment more. "The easy solution is that I gave you clearance. He needn't know the difference. If your actions lead us out of this mess, tutto e bene. Ends justify the means."

"Sorry, no can do. 'Integrity First.'" Bondayehr grins sheepishly. "Not only are you dealing with a pie-in-the-sky Scolopendran, he's a cadet to boot."

"Oh for the love o' Christ, man ... must you honest types make everything so damn difficult?" She says it without much heat all the same, tone still tired, though her brow arches in irritation. "If you say nothing, you're not lying. And, my gelato if you don't mind."

"Oh, sorry." He hands over the gelato, untouched. "Honesty and do-gooderness is how I got in this mess to begin with. Don't ask me why I haven't learned to drop it yet. I must be insane or something." He grins mildly.

Nathicana shakes her head, lips turing up in a wry grin. "You've obviously not been in the Dominion long enough," she says in a dry voice, spooning up some of the cold treat and holding it out to him. "May as well get in a taste or so help me, I'll finish it. As for Dev ... do what you think is best. He can bloody well deal either way."

Timofeyev takes the offered spoon and accepts the taste with a nod. "Thank you. You do of course know that he'll get the truth if he asks."

"I do. Like it or not."

Ssrrakaa took the time to stop at the Military Complex's personnel offices to fill out a leave form. All the pertinent data was there, save for R&R destination, which was simply listed as 'Gone fishin'. Plausible deniability was important, after all, in order to prevent international incidents.

Her next stop was the personnel Depot, where her personal Newt transport was waiting. She signed the requisite forms for that as well, and then made her way to her Newt. Removing the dust-cover and folding it up into neat triangles, she gave an examination to her stalwart steed.

Matte black titanium plating with a liquid resin coating (to prevent rust and dampen EM emissions, of course), all sensor equipment retracted, and wheel plates lowered (to prevent thievery). She ran a clawed hand along the plating, humming a soft tune to herself. Kheel did a wonderful job customizing you. The fact that it was his military engineering final exam was a bonus, as he feels indebted to me, when I should be indebted to him. But one does not need to tell 'him' that, yes?

This Newt was significantly smaller than the standard Newt, but was far more efficient in its use of power. This made for a considerably smaller amount of troops that could be carried, but then this was considered more of a 'Special Ops' transport, so the loading of a full platoon was not needed. Speed, both on land and in water, was increased, and the standard propeller blades were replaced with magnetic propulsion for underwater use, as well as concentrated water stream engines.

Early sonar and radar detectors were included in the sensor suite, which would detect those types of sensor before they had a chance to detect the Newt. Increased maximum depth was also a modification, allowing a diving depth of 750 meters.

Making her way to the access hatch, Ssrrakaa climbed in and activated the craft. "Kheet, status." Immediately the sound of the Kastaa Power-Works Cleen-Burn 32 engine humms to life with a swift THRUMM, and then idles down to a barely audible humming sound.

A soft male voice sounds in the transport. "Status is nominal, Ssrrakaa. There is blockage in vent 4, however. Sensors indicate it is organic in nature. Shall I purge?"

"No, Kheet. I'll investigate." She leaves the craft, and heads to the rear left, where a movable plate seems slightly ajar. Lifting it up, she spies a Flewt nest, with eggs. Hrrr...this will not do. Hmmmm.....but I can't let them just lie in the depot; they'll get crushed. And I must leave now, so I can't wait for the mother to return. A quandry.

She carefully removes the nest, using her claws to snip apart the dried adhesive holding the nest there, and returns to her craft. "Kheet, heat up the infrared basking lamp to 75 degrees farenheit. We have guests."

"Acknowledged." A warm, red glow eminates from the rear of the transport, to a large piece of slate on a raised surface. Some quick-dry adhesive is affixed to the bottom of the nest, and Ssrrakaa places the nest on the edge of the basking stone. She holds it there a moment until the adhesive dries, then sits in the pilot's chair and performs a pre-operations system check.

The check complete, she grasps the wheel and maneuver's the Newt to its destination, the Hreer Shuttle-Port, and her accomplice, Kheel.

The Deal

The cafe was not busy at the time, since it was in-between the lunchtime crowd and the dinner rush. Shifts were changing, so the conversation between Ssrrakaa and Kheel could be had without interruption.

"It's a simple hotdrop into foreign territory. You don't even need to stop to unload me. Just drop me in the river at a very low altitude and speed, and i'll be on my way."

"You make it sound simple, but what about defense crafts, anti-air batteries and the like. i don't wish to be shot down before we even get near the LZ."

"Not to worry. It seems that a fair amount of the patrol crafts are concentrated on internal regions. I hacked into a comm-sat, and noted positions of defensive arrays. You fly in at 10 meters when we get close, slow down and drop me, and shoot up for orbital insertion. That'll get you out of range before they can react."

Kheel does the logistics in his head. "It could be done. But what if I get commed by the local government?"

"I'm sure you'll think of something. You always were good at obfuscation. But i'd definitely cover the markings on your reptavian, and mask the V.S.S. with some heavy-duty EM in that area. Think you can pull it off, or should I wait until later to cash in my chit?" She gave Kheel a sinister look at that.

"No, no. I can do this. It may cost me my bars, but i'll do it. It would be the Shame of the Empire if I welshed on a debt of honor. Very well. Load your craft into the Nomenclature at Hangar 7 here. I'll do the rest."

"Excellent. This meeting is now adjourned. Time is of the essence."

Treznor wakes up suddenly, aware of how quiet the world has become. He restrains himself from sitting up, instead looking and listening before moving. Nothing. There's no sign of Nathicana or the cadet.

Oh well. I should have known they'd have plans. I just wish they'd shared them with the group. He sits up and stretches, aware of how much he's pushed himself of late. Of course, I could have mentioned my assets in Torino. Pot. Kettle. Black.

He surveys the camp briefly, noting small changes here and there. Something out of the ordinary catches his eye, and he kneels down to inspect the strands of hair he finds on the ground.

Oh, Red. I can't imagine what that cost you.

He notes the pattern on the ground, confirming his suspicions, and follows her trail out of camp. So why did you take it with you? Nathicana might be vain, but carrying her shorn hair around with her didn't make much sense. He'd just have to ask when he saw her again.

He moves to the stream where he does his best to clean up. Toward the end he strokes his whiskers, already filled in to what would once have been two weeks' worth of growth. The consequence of a high metabolism. I suppose it'll work in my favour. He shrugs and wades back out, drying off and dressing with care. According to the digital clock that came with the supplies, it was just past noon. Best to approach from the west. I probably won't get back before nightfall. That should help. At least I don't have to worry about getting lost anymore.

He ties his lengthening hair back to the best of his ability and sets out toward his intended destination, the western side of the city. After an hour's trek he reaches the first hint of civilisation, the southern suburbs of Torino. He keeps away from main roads, doing his best to stay out of sight and avoid any official inspection. Eventually he finds what he's looking for: an older model truck left unattended. The vehicle was clearly run-down and worthless, so the owner clearly felt it wasn't at much risk. Plus, crime was practically unheard of in the Dominion, what with the nine million soldati acting as national police. After removing all official identification, he easily pops the ignition and begins shifting gears.

Barely ten minutes pass before he reaches the first point check. He expected it, what with the heightened security. The only thing left is to gamble on his assumptions. He laboriously rolls down the window to speak to the young soldati who flags him down.

"What kin ah do fer ya, young man?" he asks in his best country Dominion accent from his childhood.

"Identification, please."

"Me? Ah'm Raniero Amocacci. Been a while since ah come off mah ranch. There been a accident? Who got hurt?"

"No, Sir, there hasn't been an accident. This is just a routine check. I need your papers, Sir."

"Papers? I left th' deed t' mah ranch back home. Din't figure ah'd need it t' go inta town. Do I gotta go back fer it? Ah need ta get back 'fer that blamed cow keels over an' kills 'er calf."

The soldati recoils slightly at the suggestion of disease. "Sir, I need your personal identification papers."

Treznor frowns slightly. "What'r you talkin' 'bout, young man? I ain't never needed no such foolishness afore. 'Course, the doc always come out t' me afore, but it ain't been that long!"

A line of vehicles was starting to queue up behind them, some of the drivers waving angrily. Treznor grins internally. You could always trust Dominion folks to be impatient. The soldati was shifting uncomfortably, and his sergeant comes over to find out the reason for the delay. A moment later, the sergeant addresses Treznor directly.

"If you don't have identification papers, you'll have to come with us."

"What fer?" Treznor demands hotly. "Ah don't hold with no ruffians! Ah'm a God-fearin', law-abidin' citizen, an' I got a sick cow on mah ranch what needs medicine! Now you just step aside young man afer I run ya over!"

"Sir, threatening a law-enforcement official is a punishable offense," the young soldati announces, stepping back to bring his weapon to bear. "Step out of the vehicle now."

The sergeant sighes heavily, looking back over the line of angry motorists waiting their turn and gestures briefly to the younger man. After another quick conference, the sergeant steps forward. "Don...Amocacci was it? Obviously it's been a while since you've been to the city."

"A little while, ah admit. Not that long, ah'da thought."

"Things have changed, Sir. You must have personal identification papers. It's part of the new system that allows us to bring crime to a standstill, and protect ourselves from foreign troublemakers."

"What? Them Callas folk been stirrin' up trouble 'gain?"

"Not just them, Don Amocacci. But I see you understand, we must have proof of your identity. You say you have a deed to your land? Is there anything else to prove you are who you say you are?"

"Well, Momma died when ah was young, and mah father left th' ranch t' me. Ah got some pictures of us when ah was young. Mebbe the Doc can show somethin', too. Ah'd have ta hunt around fer it. Never hadda prove ah was myself afore."

"All right. I'll believe you for now. But you're going to have to present those documents. You need to come back tomorrow or the next day to get a proper set of identification papers. Do I have your word on that?"

"Awright, y'got mah word. Ah'll be back just as soon as ah kin get that cow back on 'er feet. Thank ye, Sir. Yer a gennelman."

The sergeant waves him along, and he coaxes the truck up to speed with a horrible grinding of gears. A look at the fuel gauge tells him he will have to stop before long. His options are to pick someone's pocket, mug someone or steal a new vehicle. He decides to wait to see what opportunities presented themselves. He doesn't know how much time he has, but rushing will only compound his problems. However much time he has, it will be enough.

Treznor tromps wearily back into camp after nightfall, taking care to announce himself before he get shot. Timofeyev waves slowly with a smile, and Nathicana glances up with concern from where she's sitting. "I was worried ..."

He stares briefly at Nathicana's hair before sitting down to catch his breath. "Sorry. I woke up and everyone was gone. Figured I should do my part to further assist in our escape. Did I miss dinner?"

"There's plenty," she says, nodding to the pack. "Help yourself."

The cadet continues to make arrows from bits of wood and stone, carving with his knife. "We've all been pretty busy with doing our parts."

Treznor reaches over to rummage through the pack, making small noises of surprise. "Honey, you did the shopping! That was so thoughtful! I guess I should have thought of that while I was out."

Nathicana grins wryly. "What a time to get domestic, hmm?" She gives Bondayehr a brief glance, but doesn't draw attention to it.

Devon pulls out something savory and starts chewing on it. "So, who wants to go first?"

"Well ..." Nathi starts in hesitantly, eyes shifting to the cadet again. "I've put the word out to Jas. No idea how that's going to go down, though."

Timofeyev raises up one wooden arrow-shaft, stone arrowhead attached with a dab of the industrial glue. Centering just so, he carefully sets it down next to a growing pile of similar missiles.

Treznor nods as he chews, waiting for more information to come forward.

Bondayehr picks up another chunk of ex-trunk, beginning to whittle it down with careful slices of the ever-useful stone knife. Each slice elicits a soft ssshhhcccrrrk from the wood and a curling shaving falling to the ground.

"We've got some funds, though I've no idea how quick the cards will be cancelled. If you've been in town you know how tight the patrols are ... still, it wasn't so bad that additional trips would be out of the question if needed." She shrugs. "Not as though I couldn't lift some more, I'm sure."

The Emperor nods and reaches into his pocket to pull out a wallet. "Here's my contribution to our funds. I see great minds thought alike, again. I only kept the cash, though."

The cadet notes silently to himself that the ideal of "will not lie, cheat, or steal" and the ideal of "when in enemy territory, live off the land" are conflicting. Decides not to worry overmuch about it as he puts a dab of glue on one end of a dangerously sharp rock.

"It seemed prudent at the time," she says, drawing out the remaining cash to toss in. "As you can see, Tim's been busy as usual." She bites her lower lip slightly as she says it, though she turns her attention to one of the oranges, peeling it meticulously.

"Yup." The aforementioned Tim carefully positions the rock atop the new wooden stick, adjusting it to fit just so.

Treznor watches the cadet closely for a few minutes, observing body language and making some guesses. "I guess I should assume you weren't out hunting deer, Tim?"

"Nope. We have enough deer." Grins, then puts the arrow down with the rest.

Devon sits up straight. "Okay, you're insufferably pleased with yourself. Your turn to share."

Nathicana mutters something under her breath about 'insufferably honest to boot' and continues to peel her orange.

"Fair enough. I did my best to arrange extraction with a very good friend in Sakkra, a nation that I'm pretty sure Dominion intelligence wouldn't be too worried about checking on, as compared to Scolopendra or Zero-One or the Triumvirate government."

Nathi pauses in her peeling, watching Devon's reaction from the corner of her eye. He blinks and ponders this for a moment. "Okay, you're resourceful as hell, but I can't believe you've got ties to Kraah or his offspring. Who exactly did you contact, and why?"

"Cadet Sshrrakaa, Sakkran Imperial Stellar Navy. You see all this fancy shit I'm doing now?" He looks up. "You can blame her for me still being alive to do it for you."

"Okay, that's cool. I presume you had some sort of code worked out with her. What will Cadet Sshrrakaa of the Sakkran Imperial Stellar Navy be doing?"

"I have no idea. I just hinted as to our position and course--as I'm sure everyone else has when talking to their spooks--and she said that we should expect something next cycle. I'm not sure what she has planned."

Treznor frowns and considers this for a while. "She's a cadet. Cadets are traditionally incapable of wiping their own asses without orders, present company excepted. Bearing in mind that she's some sort of wilderness genius, how can she bring assistance from the Sakkran Navy?"

"My contact was sketchy at best, though if they manage, they'll be looking from Perugia, up along the Callas border, then backtracking to Torino if we don't show, or don't make contact." Nathicana doesn't look pleased with it, but again, there's more a quiet resignation about it. "I think our cadet's inventiveness is our best bet, from what I can see so far. And Jesu Christo, Dev ... this cadet has been saving our collective asses so far."

"Granted, and so I've stated. But other than our young friend, cadets usually have very little influence in their respective militaries. Unless Cadet Sshrrakaa is related to somebody important, I'd like to know what she can bring to our assistance. Given that Tim doesn't know precisely what she has planned, what is she capable of?"

"Enough," the cadet says simply.

Nathicana breaks up the orange into roughly thirds, and offers them up to her companions. "Enough will have to be good enough. No amount of worrying here will change whatever has been set in action."

Timofeyev accepts a third of the orange with a slight bow of his head. "The Sakkra are an honorable people. Sshrrakaa and I owe our lives to each other..." He sighs and peels off a slice of orange, examining it before putting it in his mouth and chewing slowly.

Nathicana arches a brow, again curious at the reference.

Treznor shrugs. "No, but I'd like to have an idea of what to expect. For my part, my people are aware of our situation. I'm assuming they're being watched too closely to actively assist us, but they've been given orders to make things as difficult for the conspirators as possible. Since I had to pass through several checkpoints to get to a contact, it's only a matter of time before Intelligence catches on."

"You did ... maledicalo, Dev," Nathi says, paling somewhat. Timofeyev sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. I suppose the whole 'avoid the checkpoint' idea eluded you... aaaaaaaaiiya.

"It confirmed what I suspected. We're not being hunted directly. Whomever took control doesn't have absolute authority. It'll take a while for the information to filter back to those in the know, and then they'll be sending covert agents on our tail."

"A cycle, you said ... does that mean a day?" she says, turning to Bondayehr. He nods as he leans over to pick up the bow, other hand taking up an arrow.

Treznor reaches for more food. "That brings me to what my agents will be doing. I'm going to appear in security cameras a few more times in Torino over the next few days. Also in Modesti, Salerno and Vassili. And again, spreading out from there over the next few days until the three of us have been sighted, well, everywhere." He pauses to swallow his food. "Everywhere but Devras, anyway."

The cadet tests the draw of the bow, aiming it well away from everyone else. I wish I had a watermelon.

Nathi reaches up to fuss nervously with the ends of her hair, brow furrowed. "No guarantees ..." she murmurs quietly, then perks up at Devon's explanation. "You've had people in deeper than I thought, boy."

Devon winks at Nathicana. "They're not in that deep, they're just in useful places. I'm not hiding them that well; they should all be marked by Dominion Intelligence. That's why I can't use them to get out."

Timofeyev takes aim due northward at a tree trunk maybe thirty centimeters thick, then exhales slowly. The tree trunk becomes a point in his vision, his body ceasing to exist except for the muscles of his arm. He slowly brings his arm back, bending the bow back further and further, much further than his wiry frame should theoretically allow.

"I've been letting Pellegrino and del Vecchio keep tabs on that sort of thing," she says, failing to mention how she'd not paid several of those reports the attention they may have deserved. She does however watch the cadet, her eyes flashing towards where he's aiming, first thought that something's amiss.

Treznor continues to eat, waiting for the cadet to finish his exercise.

Enough. The strength of the bow requires a different grip, thumb and forefinger on arrow, bowstring hooked on his thumbring, other three fingers curled around the string. Peeling his fingers away, he lets go of the arrow and turns his hand, letting the string fall from the ring. The bow's arms whip forward, reversing the extreme horseshoe shape, sending the arrow straight through the trunk with the hiss of spliced air.

Treznor pauses chewing as the arrow impacts, a corner of his mind calculating the force necessary to drive the crude arrow straight through the tree truck. "Ah, nice shot."

Devon's calculations are around the order of a hundred and fifty pound draw. Shaking his arm out, the cadet gets up and starts towards smaller trees, bending them down and breaking them at the trunk with stomps from his boots.

"So, you're being awfully quiet this evening, Tim. What are your thoughts?"

"Scopa," Nathi murmurs, glancing from the target back to the young man, letting Devon voice one of the questions she's had as well.

"I don't know how Ssh' plans on finding us," he replies, "but I'm going to do my best to help her." He keeps arranging the fallen trees as he speaks; they look as if they were blown about by strong winds. "This is going to make a marker used by Orderman Rraakaa, an ancient Sakkran pioneer. She'll recognize that it leads to that trunk." He points. "The hole through that trunk points along our course."

Treznor looks around. "Clever. Even if Dominion Intelligence sees it, they won't be able to read the message right away."

Nathi nods thoughtfully, watching him work, finally working on her orange. "And you say this training is ... standard, in Sakkra?"

"Maybe not standard." Bondayehr stands back, looking at his work. "Ssh' and I took it to the next level... which is how we got the special honor of getting to take on Khess Peak."

Nathicana starts to ask, then pauses, her brow furrowing again. Devon, however, speaks up. "You're doing an excellent job of not saying what's on your mind, Tim. So please share."

Timofeyev looks over with a slight smirk. "As you know, Sakkra is an island chain off the coast of South America. As makes sense with such volcanic island chains, it has a very high central mountain range, the Khess Mountains. Khess Peak is the tallest one there. Sakkrans don't do well with high altitudes and low temperatures... we were so good, the university decided that Khess was the only challenge worth our time."

Nathicana nods and scootches over closer to Devon as she listens.

"Oh... and the best part is that we were literally dropped on the Peak with nothing more than the clothes on our backs. They granted her a thermal bodysuit just to let her live more than, say, an hour or two."

"Madre del dio," she murmurs, both brows going up.

Bondayehr sits down, grabbing a bit of venison and sticking it between two slices of bread. "Yeah. Real fun from the get-go, and it only got better from there..."

"How long did it take you to get down, and how long did you spend in the infirmary after?

"Hang on, I'm getting to that part." Timofeyev shoots Devon a look. "This is my story, dammit, and I'ma gonna tell it in full. Anyway..."

Treznor grins and nods.

The Reptavian transport bearing the markings of Hreer University descends slowly on the snowy ground at the mid-level area of the Khess Mountain Ranges. The hatch opens, and Professor Kraal shoves the pair towards the hatch. "This is your final. Survive for two weeks and place a marker on the top of the tallest peak. The clothing on your back are your only supplies right now. Good luck!" The pair are shoved out of the transport, and Sshrrakaa watches as it ascends back into the air, and engages its thrusters.

Sshrrakaa looks up the mountain. And up. And up. "Vrelte! Why did we have to excel?" Timofeyev keeps from pitching into the snow, and actually forces himself from watching the transport. "Well, this is a fine one we've gotten ourselves into. What we get for excellence in all we do."

"Let this be a lesson. Never excel at anything. Hrar!"

Timofeyev looks at Sshrrakaa with a wry grin. "Heh. No way out from this point but through and on the bounce." He kicks some snow away, ignoring the chill as best he can. "At least water's not so much an issue."
Looking up the mountain, and to the left from their facing direction, a low flying grouping of dark clouds seems to be forming. "Water, no. But we can't just shove it into our faces. That'll be brain-freeze for certain.

Sshrrakaa starts scratching around at the ground, removing frozen soil with her sturdy claws until she hits a solid object. A jagged stone slightly bigger than her palm.

Timofeyev nods. "We can worry about that after we worry about sheltering from that storm." Timofeyev points. "Proof God hates us. Oh well... let's get moving, keep heat up and gather what resources we can."

"Shelter. That will be good. Movement keeps the thermal suit working. Shall we go for a direct approach, or something more circumventing?"

"Hrm." Timofeyev looks around, then points towards some sickly looking brush. "If nothing else, we can gather some wood from there that we can make into tools later. After that, we haul ass towards those rocks. They look like the kinds that usually conceal caves and such."

"Agreed. At the very least, we can build a fire with it." Sshrrakaa moves to the brush, and begins breaking off the larger twigs, gathering them under her arm.

"That's the idea." Tim collects what he can, stuffing smaller bits of kindling into his pockets and scraping off the hardy moss--looks like a medicinal type that they described in class--that grows around the limited foliage. "Could be useful."

Sshrrakaa digs at the ground below a bush that looked like it at least had some time of duration before the cold killed the top of it, and rips out some roots. Taking a look at them, a sticky sap oozes out of it. "Good for poultices. Also for mending torn skin. Good, good.

Timofeyev nods. "If you can grab me one of those sharp rocks as well, I'd be much obliged." He looks around, the wind picking up to blow his hair around a bit. Mustn't let my teeth chatter. Would be unfair to the cold-blooded one. "After the storm, we'll worry about food. It won't do to catch food if we get caught in turn."

"Sounds good."

Sshrrakaa goes to the area strewn with loose stones. Gotta keep moving. Gotta keep moving or the suit will shut down. Vrelte, my hands are chilled! She finds some pieces of shale, chipped and serrated. Very sharp. "These should do, yes?"

Timofeyev goes out a bit to look over the next rocky outcropping towards the peak of the mountain, following it up with his eyes. Enthusiasm is the key to airpower, cadet. Keep your head. Looking over the terrain, he spots an area that looks wind- and water-carved enough to have caves.

"Excellent." The human nods. "I've spotted some probable shelter, this way." Sshrrakaa walks slowly and carefully over to the indicated area. Shelter! Excellent! I can get out of this ridiculous wind!

Timofeyev leads the way, silently cursing the fact that his slight frame precludes him from keeping heat in his hands and especially his fingers. Clenching and stretching his fingers, he makes his way over the terrain, looking back at the Sakkran every so often. "Keep on the bounce, we're almost there!"

"ARRRR! I should have taken cooking classes! The greatest hazard would be a souffle falling!" The wind picks up a bit, and begins blowing snow-drifts all about in miniature tornadoes.

Timofeyev falls back to Sshrrakaa, knowing that at least he's warm-blooded and can warm her a little that way as he helps the saurian through the snow. "Heh, but at this rate you can look 'ard to all the basket-weavers. Think about it, next semester you can treat yourself to easy classes." There is a crack and a slight shift under his feet; he freezes instantly.

"Oh Vrelte!" Sshrrakaa wishes that she were hollow-boned at this point. The ground shifts again. "Amen to that, sisteeeeeeeeeeee--" And it gives way, the human curling up protectively to tuck and roll when he hits bottom.

Sshrrakaa goes limp with the fall, going feet first. She tucks her arms and legs into her torso and shifts her weight to initiate a spin. She hits a slope on the way down, and rolls down it quickly, bashing into more than a few stalagmites along the way.

Timofeyev hits and rolls with a gasp, following along through the battered rocks. Hitting the bottom, he rolls onto his stomach and coughs a few times before looking up. "We all whole?" Sshrrakaa groans a bit, and unfurls herself. She stands, and shakes off the dust and bits of stone on her. A cursory inspection is done with legs and arms shaking.

"I am in one piece..." Then she inspects the thermal suit. "...but the suit is non-functional. I'm sooooo screwed!" Timofeyev grimaces, getting to his feet. "Get a grip on yourself," he says more forcefully than he intends, "if you panic now we're both fragged. Keep yer head and we'll figure it out. C'mon, on your feet!"

"Rrrr...panicking? No. Stating a fact? Yes. This weather is far below our optimal torpor level. I'll be a Sakkra-cicle if I leave this cave, and that is required for the placing of a marker at the peak. "Well then, a silly marker isn't worth a life, neh? This is 'Survival in the Wilderness,' let's get to surviving, then." Bondayehr speaks more to calm himself than anything else.

Sshrrakaa looks back at the hole they had fallen through. Snow begins falling through it, and the wind creates an eerie echo. But there is a slop leading up to it. Steep, but climbable."At least we can leave here when the storm breaks."Timofeyev nods slowly. "Right. 'Till then, let's get a fire going." "That sounds pleasant."

Sshrrakaa throws down the bundled twigs that were collected, and looks around at their surroundings. A dark cave. Fairly roomy, with stalctites and stalagmites being seen frequently. Timofeyev takes up the twigs, sets them up, and puts his kindling in before fashioning a simple bow-style firestarter and getting to work. "Once we find a routine, we won't be too bad off. It's just two weeks."

"Yes. Two weeks. Not too long." Sshrrakaa begins gathering up stones to place around the fire. If they absorb heat well, they'll keep the cave warm for longer periods of time. Timofeyev gets a spark going, and soon soft yellow flames begin to consume the wood. "Heh. No problem." Leaning back, he gives the fire room to ventilate and Sshrrakaa room to place her stones. "So. What now?"

Sshrrakaa looks around after placing the stones about the fire. "That looks like a good, steady flame." She checks around the walls surrounding the cave, and finds them to be moist. She waves her hand at Timofeyev. "Look at this." Getting up, Bondayehr steps over and looks at the tiny droplets on the wall gleaming from the flickering firelight. "Condensation. Humidity."

"Yes, but from where? In this weather, the air is supposed to be too dry to allow for it. Hmmmm...." Timofeyev blinks, then watches the steam of his breath curl from his nostrils, collecting with the dew on the wall. "Oh... damn. I have a sneaking suspicion..."

There is the sound of some manner of shuffling in the distance of the cave. The echoes make it hard to tell from how far and where, exactly. "...and that would be it." Looking down, Timofeyev spots one of the stony cones broken in Sshrrakaa's fall and grabs it by the short end, fashioning a makeshift club. The sound of snorting could now be heard, and it didn't seem very far off.

Sshrrakaa extends her dewlap, showing purple. The scent of cinnamon begins creeping through the air. Timofeyev looks at Sshrrakaa, sidestepping to give her space, and latches his eyes onto the darkness, hoping to see through to whatever makes the noise.

The shambling begins to take on a form as the light from the fire reaches it. Long, slathering snout covered in dense white fur, with an impossible number of teeth jutting out from the sides. Timofeyev grimaces, grip tightening on his stone club as he readies it against his shoulder. It's heavy and hard to wield, but should do decently. He calms himself, forcing himself to concentrate for when action is needed.

Heavy sets of claws are seen on the front legs as the creature continues forward. Tiny sunken eyes with a pair of curving horns right behind them, and long tufted ears flicking around. Sshrrakaa whispers low, and her eyes open wide. "Vrelte! A Hhoular!"

"Fight or flight?" Tim asks quietly, trying not to shake. "We're damned if we do either. It has poor eyesight, but superior hearing and smelling ability. If we whistle or yell, it may disorient it."

Timofeyev ponders doing something exceedingly stupid as he tightens his grip on his club, legs tensing for action, lungs taking in a deep breath. His jaw sets. "On your lead." Sshrrakaa pinches her nostrils closed, and presses her tongue against her palatte, and lets loose with a long, high pitched whistle.

Timofeyev breathes in just a little bit more, then lets out a kzin-worthy roar in his best command voice, diaphragm projecting the air, discordant noise rumbling down and up the cavern. "SSSSAAAAYYYFU'LLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" He runs forward, tensing his chest and swinging the club with all of his might over his head--either it will run or it'll get a nice tolchok if the club lands.

The Hhoular shakes its head at the horrible noise coming from everywhere at once. It begins slashing at the air with its paws, trying to find the source. A thick, heacy tail swishes the ground to the right and left of it. The club hits, and the head of the beast lowers a bit, and then it roars with a deafening sound, as row after row of teeth shine in the firelight.

Timofeyev knows the club is a lost cause and lets go, jumping to the side and landing with a roll. His eyes flash back to the fire, towards the shale. The Hhoular sees a flash of movement from its tiny eyes, and charges at it in a full charge.

"Vrelte! Move it, Tim!" Sshrrakaa begins running at the creature, arms raised up, claws bared.

Timofeyev moves as he can, managing to avoid the sharp bits but not the creature's swipes with its blunt head. Taking a blow full to his side, the human is picked up and thrown up against the wall with a thud, falling off onto the ground, coughing as he turns to look at the beast baring down on him.

Sshrrakaa manages to catch up to the charging monstrosity, and bites down fully on its tail. Timofeyev coughs up a little blood, grimaces, and starts scrambling for some of the sharp pieces of shale. Move, damn you, move!

The Hhoular roars, and wheels around to face this new foe. It sees Sshrrakaa with its tail in her mouth, thrashing around. A swift lunge, and the Hhoular catches her in its jaws.

Timofeyev gets back to his feet and grabs two bits of shale, not overmuch concerned with the sharp edges as he turns to see the mayhem. "Ssh!" He runs back to the scene, pouncing to try and land on the beast's back, shale like daggers in his bleeding hands. The Hhoular shakes Sshrrakaa in his jaws, resulting in a keening screech from the Sakkran.

Timofeyev stabs the shale bits into the creature's throat, wrapping one arm and his legs as best he can around the thing while continuing to stab madly at the base of its neck with shale in his free hand, cuts in his hands bleeding freely now.

Sshrrakaa finds herself fading from consciousness, but not fully. The pain from the teeth tearing into her chest and abdomen keeps her awake enough. With a final effort, she plunges her hand claws furst into the only sensitive spot she can see on the beast; it's eyes. The eye gives way under her claws, and she continues pushing her arm in, with the Hhoular now yelling and keening in high-pitched tones. It's shaking wildly. Finally, with its throat slashed and Sshrakaa's claws burrowing into its brain, the beast drops, and ceases to breathe.

Timofeyev rolls off the creature and stumbles over to the Sakkran. He can't help but a quiet "god damn it" upon seeing the extent of the injuries, but immediately sets to helping her arm out, looking over the wounds. Her suit is shredded to the point of being little more than threads, and her blue-tinged blood is oozing from several dozen puncture wounds. The breathing is slow, but steady.

Oozing blood... that's not so bad. No major vessels hit. "You're gonna be fine... I'll be right back." Running and scrambling back to the snow, he washes his hands in the snow, then runs back down to the fire to warm them up quickly before running back to his injured friend.

"This is gonna sting, Ssh... sorry." He carefully looks into each wound, gingerly using his fingers to see what he has to, making sure that there's no foreign material in it. Let puncture wounds bleed if they aren't heavy. "You're clean, at least... you'll make it. Can you move?"

"Hrrrr...can I move....you are right. Your God hates us. Hrrr *cough cough* HWARRK!" A little blood is spit out.

Timofeyev helps Sshrrakaa crawl closer to the fire, making sure the wounds stay out of the dirt, sometimes spitting his own blood out of his mouth. "Bastard's got a sadistic streak, at least. It's lucky I'm technically a deist." Tearing away strips of Sshrrakaa's useless suit, he wraps them around his bloody hands. "Okay, new priority: Keep you going. I don't want you moving any more than you have to. This is going to be a more permanent shelter than first planned."

*Cough hack* "I don't think you have to worry about me moving much. I think some ribs got a little tenderized. Even breathing is painful. But at least I can speak of it."

Timofeyev takes more strips of fabric, this time of his own shirt and sets them on some flat shale, then puts the roots Sshrrakaa found earlier atop them. Crushing them into a pungent sticky paste, he wraps it in the thin cloth. "Always a good sign," he says, applying the poultice to her wounds, "I'll skin big ugly over there to stop the draft, then get some steam in here. I can at least make it as comfortable as possible for you... and at least we won't be having to look for protein anytime soon."

"Hrrrr... at least the fire is warm.....must rest..." Her head begins to droop a bit, and comes to rest on the ground.

"Right, but I want you conscious for the next few..." He grimaces, checking her vitals before doing anything else.

"Conscious....mmrrrr....OW! That's tender there!" She almost jumps up, but decides against that as a sharp pain reminds her of some bruised ribs.

"Heh. Sorry. Wasn't the intent, but at least you're awake. Keep talking." The human moves over to the massive beast and, after fashioning a crude handle from more torn cloth, begins to carefully cut its hide from its body. "You know the drill--need you to be level before you can rest. Comas are bad."

"Has anyone ever asked the comatose if it's bad? I bet they enjoy the break from waking life. I think the human author Mary Shelley said it; 'Life is little more than a collection of anguish.' If that is the case, I am very much alive."

"Remind me, if we ever meet in the service as superior and subordinate--for the sake of argument--never to make you morale officer," Timofeyev chuckles dryly as he works. "They certainly look blissful, but who knows? Look at it this way: What if they're conscious, but completely devoid of instrumentality? Locked inside their own skull, not even seeing the darkness of closed eyes? Total deprivation. Ain't gonna go there, or let you."

But wasn't sense deprivation an old remedy for stress anxiety disorders around the late twentieth century? Not that i'm morbid, but it is curious."

"For very, very short periods of time. Same idea as meditation, but without the concentration. Still... the mind needs"--the human grunts as he pulls away some hide--"stimulation. It needs something to do... or else it builds it. Then you get..."--another grunt, followed by slicing--"psychotic breaks, schizophrenia..."

"Which explains the music of the early twenty-first century."

Timofeyev chuckles. "That it does, that it does. 'Course, some would say that about any time period." He peels away the skin of the animal, gauging it against the entrance to the cave. "'Course, I always thought the best stuff on such deprivation were some sci-fi anthology shows done around the 1960s or so."

Sshrrakaa watches as Tim compares the furry hide ripped off the Hhoular to the cave entrance. She then spies the mass of meat lying there, and salivates slightly. "You mean such as Outer Limits? The recordings still make the rounds at the University."

"'Twilight Zone' far surpasses 'Outer Limits' in writing quality and moral dilemmas," Bondayehr responds. Noting Sshrrakaa's response, he carves off some of the meat and hands it over on his way towards the cave entrance. "They had one with some guy stuck in a town all by himself, who of course didn't know who he was or where he was. Turns out he was a guinea pig for the capsule jocks at the time. Long-duration spaceflight and all."

"That sounds absolutely appalling. I must remember to look up this Twilight Zone if we get back."

"'When,' Ssh, 'when.'" Timofeyev sets his jaw as he starts pounding the makeshift cover into place--I'll scrape it later...--with careful blows of rock on rock, using smaller shards as nails into the softer yet still stiff soil. "But, ya, Mr. Serling could spin quite the tale."

Sshrrakaa starts shifting her weight about, and lays on her side. "Urgh...this is an unfortunate turn. By my Ancestros, how does this happen? The University usually makes sure these areas are safe from predatorial life."

"Well, if it's their smeg-up, then they can hardly hold us accountable for not being able to put a little flag on the mountaintop." Bondayehr shrugs stoically. "We'll just get you fixed up, then fake the rest. Lessee... humidity." Returning to the fireside, he tosses a little more wood on the fire before getting to work on digging a pit. "I think fighting off that... thing and excelling should still get us at least a B-minus."

"Rrrrr...a b-minus. My sire would not be pleased, but better alive and a b minus than dead with an A."

Timofeyev chuckles, continuing to dig. Making a decent-sized hole, he runs back outside to grab armfuls of snow, ignoring the cold, then depositing them into the pit. Kicking a few rocks into the pit to heat the snow, he puts more rocks around the fire.

Sshrrakaa begins to get an idea. After seeing Tim working hard to keep the fire going, she props herself up a bit. "If you could do me a favor, try severing the Hhoular's head from its neck, and bring it to me."

"Alright." Tim walks over to the aforementioned beast and starts to carefully slice through its neck, severing what muscles he can. Finding the spine resistant to his crude implements, he sighs, takes up the stone club again, and brings it down on the spine, letting pent up aggression power him with angered wails of frustration through clenched teeth. After sufficiently pulverising the bone and exausting himself, he pauses before slicing the spinal cord and bringing the head over to his friend. "One Hhoular head, as requested."

"Thank you, Tim." She proceeds to use her claws to sheer off the meat around the head, and puts this aside. Then all the messy bits inside the head are remove as she satisfyingly plunges her claws into the brains of the beast, and casts it to the other side of her. After a period of excavating the skull, she places it on top of a slab of shale, and puts it into the fire.

"Not a problem..." Sighing, he kicks a few more rocks into the now steaming water before sitting down heavily. After running a finger along the inside of his lips, he gets back to his feet, obtains more snow, and begins to munch on it, letting it melt in his mouth and rinsing before spitting more bloody water out. "Bleah." Dumping the remainder of the snow into the steaming pit, he sits down again.

The meat and grey matter of the skull have, by this time, been burned off. The slate that it rests on is poked off the fire before the skull itself can char. "Now we have a serviceable bowl, with a little more work. Like filling in the holes."

"Right. I should've thought about that. I can fill the holes with... hrm..." He lies back, staring at the rocky ceiling. "Okay, mind going blank. Shouldn't have gone nuts with the club."

"Not to worry. If some fairly smooth stones can be found, they can be lodged into the holes. Then we pack it down with some of the soil around here, and cook it for a short time. Like pottery. Heh heh. Or we could pound some of the beast's bones into a powder, and with some water make a serviceable paste with it."

Timofeyev nods. "Right, right. All basic stuff I know. I'm tired, and I've got work to do."

"Then rest a bit. I promise not to exert myself, and you have done much already." She drags herself to the carcass, and manages to hook it by the neck with her claws. She then drags the carcass the rest of the way to her. Picking up a pair of stones, she wrenches a bit of vertebrae from the creatures neck, and sends it into the fire to cook off the mushy bits.

"Alright. You know how bad I am with overworking." He sighs and turns to lie on his side, resting on the stony ground. "If you need anything, just throw something at me or something."

"It is a deal." she says as she hoists up a stone, and pulls the verterbrae from the fire with a stick. A swift smack sends bits of bone flying, but more was crushed than flew off. A few more softer whacks, and a powder is made.

Timofeyev dozes off, thinking about how he's going to have to cook that meat when he wakes up before it spoils or anything.

A week passes in the quietude of the cavern. The bones of the Hhoular litter a corner of the cave, the now-smoked meat of its bones evaporating as the days progress, keeping the two fed and supplimenting the hardy mosses that grow on the walls. Bones find themselves incorporated into tools, forming h andles for blades of shale and obsidian found deeper in the igneous rock of the cave. Sshrrakaa puts the finishing touches on a tomahawk made of obsidian, with a handle of bone, using gooey extracts from boiled entrails, and the entrails themselves, to bind the head of the axe to the handle. Timofeyev finishes knocking an edge onto his obsidian knife, bone handle already becoming polished from constant attention. After days of helping Sshrrakaa grow stronger, applying what simple poultices he could, he looks over and sees her wounds decently healed, her moving almost like her old self. "Nice head-cleaver you got there, Ssh'."

She hefts it aloft, and feels for weight and balance as an exploratory swing is taken. She is satisfied with the results. "Thank you. I do feel a world better. The aches are only a nuisance now." She sits again by the fire, and pushes her hands up next to it as she puts the tomahawk down. "Our stores of food will be depleted, despite the careful rationing."

Timofeyev looks over at the neatly stacked pile of meat, much smaller than could be hoped. "Too true. Too bad the damned beastie had to have that liver disease. All those nice edible organs wasted."

"It was a shame." She then picked up a crude satchel. But at least its stomach was serviceable. Now we will not die of thirst, yes?"

"No, but it'll still be damned annoying if they have to drag our emaciated bodies out of here in a week." Timofeyev scratches lightly under the biomonitor collar. "Or mine, at least. I can't hold fat reserves to save my damned soul." He looks over at the makeshift hide tarpaulin covering the entrance to the cave. "Hrm... too bad your thermal suit got fragged. We could still go for it. I've been out there a few times for wood, and the wind's died down a lot."

"That is good news indeed. Perhaps we can yet place the marker atop the peak? Wouldn't that be a coup! To succeed despite all that Nature throws at us. HRAR!"

"True... true... but, like you said, it's past your torpor level and I sure as hell can't drag you even if I am the exothermic one in the party." Bondayehr pauses for a moment. "Exo... thermic... hrm... I think I may have an idea on how to accomplish that."

Sshrrakaa leans in towards Timofeyev in a conspiratorial manner. "Do tell, do tell."

The human leans in with a grin. "Well, think back to basic thermodynamics. What's your problem? You don't metabolize enough to maintain internal temperature. You need an external source for that. Mammals like me metabolize so much that we radiate heat. If we can channel that by keeping it from escaping into the ambient sink..." He waves his hand to indicate the general environment. "We have a fighting chance. I left the fur on that hide; that gives us insulation."

"Hrrr...yes. But then there is the problem of coverage. How much do you think can be covered with that hide?"

"That thing's big, even compared to you. We can cover most of your natural heat sinks, especially if we incorporate fabric from by fatigues. They're designed to keep in heat when necessary as well, although they're not the best at it."

"It sounds workable." Sshrrakaa absent-mindedly strokes the skull-bowl she made earlier in the week, and then looks at it. An examination shows that the skull is roomy enough to fit on her head with room to spare. "I have an idea. I'll need to shear some fur off an end, but I can line this skull with it. That should keep heat from escaping from my head."

"Outstanding. I'm probably going to be mostly covered as is by whatever suit we work out, which works well... if my scalp heat-sink stays within the system, we'll have less useless loss."

"We should prepare. Climbing spikes will be needed for the sheer surfaces. Those can be fashioned from the ribs and claws of the Hhoular."

"Right. I'll fashion a simple harness out of something so I'm not an encumberance. My web-belt should work for that... only wish I had two."

"We will make do with what we have." She begins sifting through the scattered bones, and finds 2 pairs of claws. "These will aid in the climb. Shall we gather what we can, and go?"

Timofeyev nods firmly. "We might as well make the attempt. Water, and enough meat to keep us going. In this case, the fact that protein converts to carbohydrates and then ATP inefficiently works for us. Added heat."

"Then it is good. The one time I am glad for inefficiency. Hrr hrrhrrr!" She pokes the sealed eyeholes of the skull-bowl open with her claws, and the nostril-holes as well.

"Especially seeing how it's mine." The human winks as he starts collecting the portions of hide not covering the entrance, thinking how to incorporate it all into a Sakkra-suit.

Sshrrakaa unties and pulls off the strips of cloth that served as bandages, and inspects them. "These are still serviceable. Perhaps stitching?"

Timofeyev removes his fatigues jacket. "And these things have lots of threads on them." Using one of the smallest bones from the creature, he fashions an acceptable needle. "I'll just get another set issued when we get back. I don't think the colonel is going to hold this one against me."

"If he does, just explain the benefit of a live, out-of-uniform cadet rather than a dead one in regulation gear."

"'She.' And I've a spare anyway." Bondayehr grins.

"Ah!" Sshrrakaa lines the skull with some bits and pieces of fur.

"You do know this is a crazy idea, right?" Carefully pulling the seams from his clothing, Timofeyev begins to stitch together bits of fur in a sort of giant poncho shape. I can adjust this later to fit need.

"Crazy, yes. And we're crazy for not running down this mountain with our arms waving around like a pair of frightened Guats." Sshrrakaa finishes stuffing the skull, and puts it over her head. Still a bit loose. Need to stuff it some more.

Bondayehr takes simple measurements of Sshrrakaa using what used to be the sleeves to his fatigues and a bit of burnt wood. "This is going to work out."

"I should try to slim down back to a size 16. I'm definitely heading for Kastaa after this!"

"Bah. All muscle. No problems there." Chuckling, Tim shakes his head as he applies the measurements to his work. "I need to bulk up to something more than a sixty-eight centimeter waist."

"Well, a diet of Pashan bread will do that. My sire once had a recipe for it. Lots of meats. It was more like a dinner pastry, really." She finishes stuffing the skull, and tries it on again. Ah! A snug fit. Very good.

"I'll have to try that. I can do puerco pibil or salmon onagi." The cadet checks the poncho against the Sakkran's back. "Yup, looks like it'll work."

"Salmon....mmmmmmmm. This will be quite ridiculous looking, yes? A hunch-backed polar bear. Hrr hrr hrr."

Timofeyev shrugs. "Whatever works. Hope you don't mind carrying my sorry carcass."

"It will not be any problem. As long as we survive this, let us never mention it again."

"Heh." Tim smirks. "That means one less story to tell the kids I'm never gonna have. How about 'never mention it again except under dire circumstances.' That at least gives us an out."

"Agreed." Sshrrakaa begins collecting the parts they'll need for the trip, and places whatever will fit into the make-shift satchel.

Timofeyev makes a rudimentary harness by stretching out his web-belt as far as it will go--thank goodness this thing is actually made for this--clipping it closed, and putting a half-twist in it. He also manages a makeshift snorkel out of a bit of bone with the marrow removed. "Just in case."

"Of course." Sshrrakaa looks up at the slope leading out of the cave. The wind has indeed died down, and hints of blue sky could be seen. "It looks as good a time as any to start."

"Right then." Slipping his arms through the loops of the web belt, he motions to the Sakkran to don the simple harness. "Just like a backpack. I'll tighten it on this end to make it more comfortable once you settle it on your shoulders. It's just gonna be one long piggy-back ride."

Sshrrakaa maneuvers into position, squatting down on her haunches to allow for easier access. "This will be the first time a Sakkran could ever be called a fur-bearing critter. Heh heh."

"And I'm getting relegated to space-heater duty." The human chuckles as he braces against Sshrrakaa's shoulders, then lifts himself up into position, wrapping his legs around her waist and using that grip to tighten the harness until he can hang more easily with less pressure, arms wrapped as far as they can around her chest. "Good thing we're all friendly, neh?"

"Good thing I know better, or i'd think you were propositioning me. Heh heh heh." Sshrrakaa raises back up, and tugs on the Hhoular-fur poncho slowly, fastening where appropriate. The skull is fitted on again, a flap of fur covering the neck area. It fit a little snug around the shoulders, but was quite a good design overall. "How's it fit for you there?"

"I don't think the results of propositioning would work out too well," Tim snickers. "Fit? As well as can be expected, given the situation. Still, a wonderful example of symbiosis."

"Alright, let's get to it, then." The climb up the slope was not noticably hindered with the weight of Timofeyev on her back. Reaching the exit, she took a deep whiff of air, and exhaled. "Ah, nice." With all the wood used for the fire, Sshrrakaa would have to find some manner of walking stick to help make the climb a bit easier.

Timofeyev huddles under the poncho, chuckling to himself as he preps his bone snorkel with one arm. "Up periscope!" Poking it out the side of the poncho's neckhole, he balances it on his lower lip for just in case he needs it.

Looking upwards, the sky appears relatively clear. No signs of impending storms are seen, and so the climb up the slope begins. Approaching at a bit of an angle for easier progress, a tree with half its limbs dead comes into view. A birch tree. Excellent. Easy to peel, and the wood is strong. A particularly thick branch is snapped off, and peeled as Sshrrakaa makes her way up the mountainside.

"I heard a snap. What's up? Sorry to bother, but I sorta can't see."

"Just making myself a walking stick. It'll help give me a little more balance, and I can prod it ahead of me to investigate for sink-holes." As she says this, she begins poking the ground in front of her, and connects with solid ground.

"Outstanding then. Tell me if there's anything I can do other than generate heat."

"Keep talking. The heat escaping as you exhale keeps the air warm and humid in there." A small rivulet comes into view above their heads. It appears from behind some stones, travels a bit in a winding fashion, and sinks into the ground again. Some small fish seem to be swimming upstream of it. "Tim, do you remember talking about Salmon earlier?"

Tim chuckles. "Great, I'm a humidifier too. Huzzah... and salmon? Yeah, I can make a mean grilled salmon. Salt it, put some water on the griddle to keep it from thawing out... mmmmm. Why?"

"I see some salmon swimming upstream. It is spring, which makes it spawning season. Hold on a moment, I may move swiftly."

Timofeyev holds on tight. "Permission to go 'yee-hawww!' if the spirit moves me so?"

"Permission granted." Sshrrakaa makes her way up to the rivulet, and crouches down. The salmon are not moving at a frantic pace like they normally would in peak spawning season, and there are fewer of them than there normally would be. But patience will yield the reward, so Sshrrakaa waits for a moment, one arm cocked for action, the other stabilizing the pair. After a few minutes, the arm shoots out with great speed, arcing over the water to spear a salmon in mid-leap. "Hrar! We have a snack!" Sshrrakaa rises up, and hoists the still-struggling salmon in the air like a trophy. "Poke a hand out, and see what you can do with this, yes?"

Timofeyev does so, sticking one hand through the other side of the poncho's neck hole. "Ready to receive... fish, I guess."

The salmon is placed in Tim's hand, and Sshrrakaa debates trying for more, or continuing the climb.

"Um... I'll try to make sushi out of it, but no guarantees." Tim sputters as the wriggling fish slaps him in the face. "Die already, damn you!"

"Hrr hrr. I think i'll tryto follow the rivulet for a spell updtream. WHo knows where it would take us." Sshrrakaa begins the ascent up the mountain again, feeling the small stones and sediment beneath her feet. The rivulet vanishes into the ground again after a short distance. "Hmph."

Timofeyev leans back in the harness, using his new obsidian knife to carefully fillet the fish as best he can given the situation. "Now if only I had some sesame seeds... some nori... some veggies... and a bamboo roller mat..."

Sshrrakaa pokes and prods with the staff as she continues her trek. If the rivulet went underground, there could be sinkholes around here. A few more experimental probes later, the ground collapses two feet in front of her, and falls with a loud *splash*.

"Whoa. Sitch?" Timofeyev braces, legs tight around Sshrrakaa's sides.

"Sinkhole. Drops into an underground river. Better be careful, or we'll be catching our death of it." She circumvents the hole, probing about with the staff. The ground seems firm enough, but the sound of creaking from the dried-up trees in the area still make her skittish. SOme were just beginning to bud. Even in this desolate place, life thrives.

Timofeyev proffers a raw fish fillet through the neckhole. "Well, here's some sushi. I don't have a stove or anything, but it looks good."

"AH! Excellent. The freshest one could ever hope for." She takes the salmon fillet and puts it between her teeth, munching slowly to gain maximum flavor. The traveling continues for another half hour, when the sun begins creeping it's way to the other side of the mountain. "We may have to camp soon, or something. Sunset is coming, and travelling this terrain in the dark is not wise."

"Right. We can wake up whenever it's warm enough tomorrow and keep going."

Sshrrakaa begins breaking dead branches from pine trees into smaller parts, and casts them down. "Prepping some kindling for a fire. I wouldn't want to face the night without a warm blaze going." Sshrrakaa gathers branches with dead pine needles on them together. Several longer branches are kept in one piece. "I'll try to construct a crude lean-to against that boulder there."

"Outstanding." Timofeyev pretends he can see 'that boulder there' as he munches on a little Hhoular meat. "So, how are we going to arrange accomodations for the night?"

"We could use this fur as a blanket of sorts. If all the fasteners are undone, it should keep us both covered. A lean-to should keep wind and such off, and an appropriately-placed fire will cast additional warmth on us. Sounds good?"

"Works for me. Seeing how my fatigues jacket got incorporated, we'll both be needing some form of coverage."

The Sakkran/human hybrid moves about, Sshrrakaa assembling a lean-to out of larger bits of pine before using the rest to start a fire, snapping and popping at the greener wood but still burning quickly, putting forth a good amount of heat. Lined with stones to absorb and later radiate warmth, the makeshift shelter is complete. Sshrrakaa unfastens the poncho, squatting down as Bondayehr loosens the harness, allowing the human to step down easily. Huddling together to maintain warmth, they arrange themselves under the lean-to. Finally lying down under the blanket-like poncho, they stay as close as needed for mutual warmth.

"Well, it feels good to at least be making the attempt." Bondayehr sighs. "I'm here if you need me. G'night, Ssh."

"Good rest, Tim."

It had been a few days since leaving the safety of the cave. Sshrrakaa and Timofeyev had managed to survive this long, with slight hardship. Eating root vegetables and small game along the way, gained from their tracking and trap-setting skills, they keep up their energy. Sshrrakaa breathes heavily after scaling a fairly sheer surface. The wind fought her the entire part of the climb. "How you holding up, Ssh?" Timofeyev continues to hang on, adjusting his center of gravity to try and make it easier on his friend.

"This is getting pretty exhausting. The surfaces are becoming ice. I find I have to use my claws on top of the tools we made to keep a grip." To accentuate that point, a slight mis-step sends her sliding a foot, almost making her lose balance. Timofeyev keeps himself from going "eep," but he does hold on tight. "How far away are we?"

Sshrrakaa looks up. The clouds coalesce at this height, so visibility is not too great. The vapor clings to the fur-stuffed skull, forming little ice-crystals near the eye-holes. "Best guess, i'd say about 75 meters, give or take."

"Well, here's how I see it. We grit our teeth and keep going or we start going back down now. We stay here, we're probably dead. We make it to the top, we get off this damned rock."

"Indeed. Better check your harness, i'm feeling a touch of slack around my left shoulder. Slight imbalance." Timofeyev nods, tightening his legs around Sshrrakaa's waist as he tightens the belt a little more. "I've never seen canvas stretch, actually. First time for everything. Now, you're the propulsion on this rig so it's your call: We keep going?"

"We keep going." Sshrrakaa feels around for the next hand-hold, glad that the fur coat covers her fingers a bit, up to the claws. The hold is good, so she pulls herself up a bit, feeling with her foot claws for a good grip while moving her other arm upwards. For 10 feet, she makes good time. On occasion, she punches little holes in the ice with her claws if a grip is not to be found. "Right. You're doin' just great.

We'll make it."

"I hope so. I'm not saying it's a certainty until we get there. Murphy's law and all." The wind whips a bit on her left, and she presses herself against the ice wall.

"Fair enough. Still, it's my job to keep up morale, at least." After a couple minutes, the wind dies down a bit, and the climb continues.

"Glad you're no heavier. It would make this quite difficult otherwise."A small vertical chasm serves as a climbing surface as Sshrrakaa jams her hands and feet into it. It continues upwards for another 12 feet before coming to a stop. A small precipice is there, so Sshrrakaa decides to take a short rest.

Timofeyev braces his legs against the wall, lessening the amount of weight the Sakkran has to carry while she's resting. "If this were more timed, I could sing cadences or something. Or maybe I should anyway."

"If you sing cadence, you may have to do it quietly. Don't want an avalanche at this stage of the game, yes?" She looks upawrds at the ice-wall, praying it's as solid as it looks. "True... that would be rather anticlimactic."

'Do we have any food left? I need to keep up my strength. The cold is creeping into the fur at this height."

"Sure. I've got some random bits here." Rummaging in the satchel, he comes up with dry bits of meat. "I can fast safely, so take as much as you need."

"Do not fast. The heat levels will dip. Eat more." She takes several hunks of meat, and places then in her mouth, chewing slowly on her rear teeth. A smoothed river stone is tossed down her throat after the meat, to aid digestion.

Timofeyev nods and munches on what he can. "The longer we wait, the harder it will be to get back to moving." Feeling a breeze penetrate the fur, Sshrrakaa hopes it won't get worse. "True, true. We continue then." She turns slowly and searches for hand and foot holds. Finding purchase, she continues upawrds.

"You aren't ticklish, are you?"

"Not that i'm aware of. You up to something?" Slowly, hand over hand and foot over foot, she climbs. Somtimes sidling along until she finds purchase again, sometimes climbing straight up. The wind and cold do not help with this, as she feels her metabolism slowling a little. As she climbs, she begins doing a chant meant to provide bio-feedback energy. By force of will, she will make herself capable of generating at least a little heat. Timofeyev starts shifting his arms as best he can, using the friction to generate additional heat. "This is why."

A soft sound much like "Hrruuuummmrrraaahrruuuummmrrraaahrruuuummmrrraaa" is heard. Almost as quiet as a whisper, she continues the rhythmic chant. After a few minutes, she feels warmth spread from her insides to the outside.

Timofeyev pauses momentarily, then keeps up the motions just in case they actually are helpful.Her pace picks up a bit as she moves her arms and legs with greater speed. The wind is no longer even noticed, for now. The cloud-cover breaks finally. "I can see the top." "Outstanding!"

Deciding that time is of the essence, since she does not know how long the bio-feedback effect will last, she foregoes subtlety and punches her hand and foot claws into the ice. Bits of ice rain down as she climbs, occasionally getting in her nostrils. A hard *SNORT* and the ice is blown free. Timofeyev holds on tight, not particularly caring for the helpless feeling. Still, he gets the idea and also helps with biofeedback, drawing warmth from his core and moving it to circulate as close as possible to Sshrrakaa.

Sshrrakaa feels the warmth eminating from Timofeyev. It certainly increases the heat inside the fur suit, and she takes advantage of it. Moving with strength and agility, she climbs the last few meters swiftly. Feeling around a lip of a precipice, she reaches her arms out to their limits, and feels a solid purchase. A grunting hoist up, and Sshrrakaa finds nothing left to climb. In a hushed whisper, she mutters out. "We made it." Timofeyev holds himself deathly still, just letting that sink in. "Shit..." he says softly, "where's that damned marker?"

She raises her arms high in the air, and bellows out loudly. "hhhHHRRROOOOAAAAAAAA!" The ice they were climbing vibrates a bit, and falls off the face of the mountain. The roar of the start of an avalanche echoes for a good while all around. Timofeyev pokes his head out of the poncho and watches the white cascade down the mountain. "Well, there you go Ms. Don't-Call-Cadences-Loudly." Shrugging, he takes in a deep breath and bellows "AIR-POWAUH!" before laughing with glee.

"Hraaa! I only didn't want that to happen UNTIL we got up here. Do we have any of those bone shafts left?" Timofeyev hands his snorkel up through the poncho. "But of course."

"Good. Now we attach a scrap of some cloth to it, and that is our marker."

"Hrm... hold on." Working out of what is already a rather well-sliced grey undershirt, he hands that up. "This'll do."

Sshrrakaa takes the scrap of cloth and flods a part of it over the bone shaft, then sticks a bone sliver through it to hold it in place. Then the marker is stuck into the ground with a small grunt. "It is done!" "Whooooooooooooo! We claim this land in the name of US!"

"Heh heh. The soveeign mountaintop of .... uhhh...what? Ah, forget it. Let's get off this Ancestor-forsaken place." She prepares to remove her collar. "At the same time now. That's the signal." Timofeyev leans back into the harness, bringing his hands to his neck. "On three. One... two... three." Sshrrakaa removes the collar, and waits for their lift down. Timofeyev sighs as he removes the wedlock device, still laughing. "Oh, by jingo, what will they think when they see us..."

"We will find out soon enough. Perhaps they will shoot us thinking we're some animal?"

"They'd better not, dammit. I'd have to make a posse of the pantheon and righteously beat their asses then."

"Ah, it would be delicious irony, though. To go through all this, just to be wasted at the end by trigger-happy folks." As she finishes her statement, the whine of turbo-thrust engines can be heard coming from below. "Me thinks our ride is here."

A light and a soft repeated 'beep' of notification went off in a sub-level control room of I-6, an unassuming building on the outskirts of mainland Devras. The bored-looking operator turned lazily to the panel of small monitors that showed video feed from the sectors he was responsible for dealing with - just like countless others in this location and elsewhere.

There were reasons for the security cameras situated in specific, visible places, and others not so visible, throughout the Dominion. The software running on the vast network employed the latest multi-biometric security technology. Fingerprint scanners. Face recognition. Mobile ident equipment. Huge databases of records for both Dominion citizens, and those the government has an interest in keeping tabs on while in country. Different locales employed different methods, but one and all eventually filtered through to the Internal Affairs intel department.

This time, however, the operator nearly spat out the latte he'd been sipping. Red flag - immediate attention required. Nervous hands fumbled quickly for the comm button.

"Red flag, I-6, operator 212 reporting. Treznor sighting in Torino."

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

"Incredible," Marissa commented, viewing the footage again. "Son of a bitch just waltzed right through a checkpoint. You call that security, Giancarlo?"

"Well perhaps if you'd seen your way clear to inform me of just what was at stake, and what the hell you were up to before now," the Defense Minister snapped back, "We might not be so behind in the game."

"We couldn't be sure th--" she began in a placating tone.

"Damn you, woman, if it meant avoiding war with the Imperium, you don't think I'd have walked into her office and then handed her over myself? We're strong enough in our own right, but Christ! Even with our allies, we would take some serious hits here, and given the latest, they have more than enough to hold their attention on several other fronts as it is. Could have had this over and done with, settled down, Imperium soothed over, and bloody Calfa could stop screaming at me over the constant money drain."

Calfa snorted at that, glaring back at Torino. "And if I didn't keep up the act, people would ask even more questions than they are now. Besides, it is costing us a fortune to --"

"Enough, Don. Back to the business at hand," said Calabrese, pausing to take a slow sip of the juice he'd poured earlier. "They're in Torino, or at least, Treznor is. The chances of them being separated are small, all the same. It's a safe assumption. How much do we need to cover that area, Gian? And how fast can you get them there?"

"I'd recommend implementing full martial law in the area. Strict curfews. Easier to see who's out and about. Start in five klicks out, infrared scans from our air support, no more damn screwing around. You want cover? Use the excuse of that team you've been looking for. I can have increased air there within the hour, and three companies there and started within the next two or so. Heavily wooded, going to take some doing." At the looks of questioning and hesitation that he received, he quickly continued. "You're out of time. It's now or never."

"Do it," Calabrese said, his face hard. "I want them brought in. Do what you have to, but I'd prefer alive if possible, the less damage the better." To the others, "We'll keep that contingency plan in mind. If this works out, we'll have perhaps a better."

Marissa's phone chirruped, and she quickly answered it. A few terse words were quietly exchanged, her expression growing dark.

"Treznor sighting in Vassili," she muttered, putting away her phone with a snap.

Calfa looked incredulous. "But that's what, ninety or so kilometers away from Torino?"

"Confirmed?" Calabrese said, leaning forward intently.

"So it seems. Not a clear shot, but they're going over the footage now, and will send a copy on to us."

"Scopa ... Still, the footage there in Torino ..."

"Can we afford to take chances?"

There was an uncomfortable silence as they all pondered the implications. It was broken again by the cheerful ring of Marissa's phone.

"Yes?" she answered sharply. Her jaw tightened as she listened to the caller, ending with crisp instructions to forward on the evidence, as before.

"Salerno," she said, again putting the phone away, her tone leaving no doubt as to what she was referring to.

"Sweet Jesu ... three sightings? Those sons of bitches!" Calabrese said, slamming his fist down against the table.

"Wait - think now. Either they've contacted help, or Treznor's people are operating on a scheduled plan. If the former, the cat is out of the bag and we'll have to move fast. If not, they're grasping at straws. I still say our best bets are the borders, especially the Callas one. All three of those cities are those we'd already decided were a risk, so we need to concentrate efforts there as best we can. Go with the public story of the missing team as suggested, brief the soldati involved as to the real targets. Giancarlo's right - we're out of time."

"Yes, and any large concentrations are going to draw the eyes of certain allies and enemies like nothing doing. You know this," Calabrese countered, a resigned scowl on his face.

Giancarlo nodded, then gave him a questioning look as he spoke. "Can't be helped, man. You've got to act. This just gives us additional targets, and it's going to spread us out a bit more, take a little more time. Still doable."

Calabrese gave them each a measuring look, Calfa and del Vecchio both giving subtle nods in return.

"Make it happen. In the meantime, get that damn Yasmin in here. She's going to be making that speech a little early, I think."

Sshrrakaa drives the Newt into the rear-loading cargo door of the Reptavian aero-space drop-ship, and listens quietly as the hissss of the door closes shut. Good. I better run another diagnostic and full system's check. While that's going, i'll check the onboard supplies.

"Kheet, run diagnostic cycle alpha."

"Acknowledged." The Newt's AI program ran through several cycles, from navigation control to defensive counter-measures.

Sshrrakaa went to the rear of the transport, and checked several bins for their contents. Some were empty, but a few had thermal blankets, dried meat rations, some utility blades and fishing line. One had a gravity-compass; useful for areas of high magnetic irregularity. Sshrrakaa stowed her pack inside an empty bin, and sealed it shut. Kheet had completed the alpha-level diagnostic. "Check all submersible capabilities."

"Acknowledged."

She could feel the pressure build a bit as the Newt sealed up and became airtight, then pressurized. The mag-drive and water-stream engines were tested, as well as early detection warning systems. Other functions were also run through their processes, and everything seemed in readiness.

If my sire hears of this, there will be the Pits to pay! Her thoughts drift a bit to the image of her sire, Admiral Shaar, and her stoney countenance. Everything was a serious matter at all times with her, and insubordination was something she despised. And this, while not literally insubordination, was definitely out of order.

"Hey, lady. You all set back there?" She wakes from her reverie, and replies. "Yes, I am. ETA?"

"Lift-off in 5. Getting ready to jockey into launch position now. You'll be at the target LZ specified in a few. Catch a nap, and leave the rest to me. I'll warn you when to get ready."

"Sounds like a fair deal to me." She left the pilot's chair, and headed back to the basking area. Looking on the nest there, she began wondering if she would bear a clutch of her own someday.

"The Pantheon willing....."

She felt a slight jerk as the Reptavian used its VTOL turbo-thrust engines to lift off, then a slight feeling of inertia as forward momentum was gained. Looking at the Hhoular skull helmet that she kept from the ordeal on the Khess Ranges as a souvenir, she gets that feeling of danger looming over the horizon.

Now i'm committed.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the pilot's compartment of the Reptavian, Kheel shuts off the internal PA system, and brings up his helmet HUD. "OKay, baby. Show me what we got."

Trium Comm-Sats and GPS systems are patched into in an unobtrusive manner, showing a display of ships, shown as yellow blips, in the target area near Torino. Okay, let's see if we can establish some pattern in their movements. "Display static defenses and sensor placements." Blue pips are brought up on the helmet HUD.

Okay, let's see if we have any holes here. Something a single ship can sneak through. Hmmmmm..... looks like forces are building near some metropolitan districts. Even money says that's near where i'm heading. The Reptavian leaves Sakkran airspace and heads out into International space.

As the hours slipped by, more reports of sightings filtered in, the pattern showing an ever-widening circle all expanding out from a central point – Devras. From there, not a whisper of the trio. The question was of course, was it a decoy, was it to spread them thin leaving Devras open, was it meant to make them think one thing while being in fact the other … the discussions were heated, the opinions were varied, and on account, additional deployments were delayed.

The forces operating within and around towns all over the Dominion increased their activities, openly patrolling in force, initiating seemingly random searches regardless of the early hour, including a list of ‘safehouses’ provided to them by the conspirators. Working through the Internal Affairs agency, other more secure locations were gone over top to bottom on the offhand chance the trio was being sheltered by sympathetic parties within the government and Intel agencies, the searches beginning where and as they could, and dragging on, much to the annoyance of Marissa.

The talk with Yasmin was filled with apologies, explanations, and more hysterics than any of them had patience for or wanted. The woman could keep a clear head once focused, but the S.H.O.D.A.N. incident had shaken her, and the subsequent ‘talks’ with Marissa hadn’t helped. Cesare took it upon himself to play ‘good cop’ to Marissa’s ‘bad’, soothing the double’s fears, convincing her of the necessity of the coming days, and making certain she understood how important it was for her to keep it together.

Giancarlo was furious, wanting to do something, anything, operating under the belief that the Lady had sold them out. Plans were in disarray, and he was a man of both action and order. It was becoming more clear to Calabrese that if the Defense Minsiter were not given his head more, or Nathicana was not found soon, he could very well be facing a coup himself before even officially taking power. Without full military backing, the entire venture would fail – history had shown that time and again. More complications to add to an already muddled mess.

Calfa had resorted to smoking almost non-stop as the hours slipped by, a decidedly haunted look taking over his features. The money all this was costing the nation had become the least of his worries. The more sightings came in, the more pale his face seemed to become, often pouring over the reports with trembling hands, muttering quietly to himself about things like ‘a history of uncanny luck’ and ‘a dire thirst for vengeance’. Marissa watched her compatriot’s gradual descent quietly, harboring disdain for both men and their apparent inability to choose a course and hold to it. Still, she was hard-pressed to know the proper course to take as well, and it irritated her even more than Calfa’s constant smoking and mutterings.

The appearance of Antonio Pellegrino, Minister of Central Intel in her office first thing in the morning didn’t help matters.

“What the fuck is going on, Marissa – and I want the truth, damm your eyes, not whatever cock and bull story you and your people have been floating around,” he said sharply, tossing down a thick folder full of photographs, printouts, transcripts and phone records down on her desk.

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

Meanwhile, Nathicana and Treznor finish listening to the recounting of Timofeyev’s rather harrowing final exam, the conversation between them kept along the private link they shared. The three of them speak quietly amongst each other for the time they had remaining, gathering their gear together, and dividing up the watch.

Over the course of the night, the occasional distant roar of tank engines, shouts, and chopper flight can be heard. Any surveillance shows increased and continued activity in and around the town. Come morning. The arrival of additional forces well outside the town boundaries is noted, though numbers and locations are hard to judge. Forces are closing in – that’s clear enough. What isn’t clear is whether or not the noose is tightening, or if they’re well enough outside to have slipped it.

Given the situation, and the understanding that Sshrrakaa will be looking for them along the course already laid out, it is decided to hold steady, keep aware, and be prepared for the worst. At this point, there really isn’t much else that can be done.

Weapons out and ready, additional clips within easy reach, and the remains of their encampment concealed as best they can, the trio heads out along their plotted course. The cool light of morning filters through the trees, raising a light mist along the river in spots – an idyllic setting for a deadly game of cat and mouse, with the mice running nearly blind.

At least we should be able to hear them coming, Nathi muses quietly, scanning the woods intently.
Concessione del dio quella è così.

The Reptavian drop-craft flies at an altitude of 15 meters over the ocean's surface at a speed just short of breaking the sound barrier. The sattelite-hacks show constantly updated information on the target area. Ship travel and airborne patrols would have to be avoided, or at least kept at range.
Kheel turns on the comm between the drop-ship and the Newt in his cargo pod. "ETA 1 minute and counting. Prep for hot-drop on my mark."

Sshrrakaa scrambles from her resting area after making certain everything was secured down with a quick visual examination, and straps herself into the command chair. "Copy that." The interior is pressurized, and rendered air-tight.

Kheel spies the land ahead of him, and reduces speed somewhat. A tributary is noted on the mini-map of his HUD, showing the route to be taken. He pilots his craft upstream of the Po river, and kicks in the VTOL engines after reducing speed to 100 kph. "Here it is. Mark!"

The cargo-pod opens up its lower bay doors when water traffic seems sparse, and the Newt transport drops out, hitting the water with splash and sinking like a stone. The reptavian immediately seals up the cargo doors and continues on its way, angling straight up after a short time. The 'wings' of the craft fold into itself, and the primary thrusters are engaged in full, allowing for an orbital insertion. I hope that the timing was right. I should be out of the atmosphere in a few.

Meanwhile, Sshrrakaa felt a stern jarring as the Newt made it's intrusive entrance into the river. Diagnostics were immediately performed, and everything was nominal. "Kheet, engage early sensor warning systems. Keep at the river's bottom until stated otherwise. And punch up a map of the travel path to objective."

"Acknowledged."

She then activated the water-stream engines, and accelerated slowly forward up to a speed of 20 knots. On occasiona boat would coast slowly overhead, and the early warning system would sound with a quiet *pweep*. At that point, the engines would be shut off, all sound within the craft would be silenced, and the Newt would be allowed to drift to the bottom slowly. Air recyclers would be shut off as to minimize sound in case sonar sensors were employed.

The sensor warning system would track the craft silently until it was out of range, and then the Newt would resume its course. This took upwards of five hours of cautious piloting before the border of Torino was noted on the map as being within range.Radar was useless underwater, and a satt-hack could be detected. The only choice was to get a visual on the area.

The Newt was allowed to drift once again to the river bottom, where it would anchor itself down. Sshrrakaa steeped into the exit hatch, and sealed it up. The hatch was pressurized, and then water was allowed into the area. She took a deep breath, and then swam upwards much as a gator would, using her tail to propel herself.

Her nostrils being situated on top of her head was an added bonus in this case, as it allowed minimal exposure for her, while allowing her eyes to take in everything around. It looked like armored vehicles and aerial patrol craft were fanning out around the city, and traffic was backed up due to roadblocks going into Torino. If this isn't a sign i'm on the right track.....I'll keep going upstream. She allowed her eyes to wander over a bridge on the river, with armed patrollers walking along it.

She slowly goes underwater again, and returns to the hatch of the newt transport. Water is drained out, the hatch is pressurized, and Sshrrakaa dries herself off briefly before resuming her seat. I'll get out of immediate range of those patrol crafts and continue my search on foot. Hmmm....should be daybreak soon.]

15 minutes of slow traveling later, Sshrrakaa once again decides to surface, to see if any other signs of her being on the right track are seen. Being cold-blooded, she doesn't show up on IR devices, leaving more room for mobility. The ground is sniffed at for a while, and her eyes scan the area for clues.

After a time, she catches a tell-tale scent that is immediately familiar from some shavings on the ground. Ah-HA! They were here. Looking about, she spies the arrow lodged into a tree. She walks up to the tree trunk, and notes the direction the head is pointing. Deliberate, yet clever. Mmmm-hmmmm. Good fletching on the shaft. It's a shame to have to do this... She grasps the arrow by the shaft and snaps off the tail-end of it. The head is also grasped, and snapped off. Gotta cover tracks, after all.

She returns to the Newt once again, and progresses onward until she spies a grouping of rocks on the riverbank. I'll park there. The transport is driven up the marshy bank until it gets clear of it. Then she angles it against the rocks, and parks parallel to them. The cabin is depressurized, and she rummages through some of the containers in the cabin, pulling out a length of some manner of tarpaulin.

The craft is nearly shut down completely, leaving only the AI onboard active. Then the tarpaulin is placed over the Newt, and secured via stones, or tied to the Newt itself. A packet is pulled from the pocket of her camo-web suit, and pressed against a raised area of the tarp. The packet is inserted into the raised area, and then pinched until it breaks. Chemicals ooze out of the packet, and the tarp seems to shift color until it mimics the texture of the stone next to the craft. That'll hold for a time. Now to get back on track.

Dammit, it all tasted so much better last night …

Breakfast was not sitting well, and on account, Nathi trudged along with her head low, distracted. The thorough manner she had been keeping watch with had degenerated into a concentration on the path ahead and keeping her stomach settled. The scent rising up from the trail where they’re stepping however does draw her attention, and strikes a chord – mint. Lower leaves have been trod upon and bruised in their passing, leaving a sweet, fresh smell in their wake. She quietly snags a couple quick handfuls of the leaves as she moves past, stuffing them in her pockets, then taking a couple out to chew on as they continue on.

Whether it’s her inattention, or the rushing of water in the river nearby masking the noises, she doesn’t hear the soldati patrol until it’s too late. Several bullets zip through the brush around them as the squad leader yells, “Che cazza - la desiderano viva!”

“Porcoddio … stay close!” she says, pulling out her handgun as she tries to gather her companions in while scrambling for cover.



Translation: “What the fuck – they want her alive!” // “<insert blasphemy> …”

Bondayehr grimaces silently, rolling on his shoulder to behind a tree as he unslings his bow. Pulling a bow from his makeshift hide quiver, he draws the bow, sights a target, aims... releases with a soft breath, arrow slicing through the air, noise drowned out by the gunfire.

A slow gulp--keep it together, Tim--another arrow pulled, drawn, target acquired, release. Drop down low, crawl over to a rock away from the others; pull, draw, slide up over rock, bow level with the top, acquire, fire, drop down.

Treznor plods along, watching Nathicana covertly and trying not to worry as he observes her behaviour. He doesn't recognise the plants she stuffs in her pocket, but he suspects it's medicinal.

I hope this isn't a continuation of the other night. Damnit, Red, this is no time to be nursing an ulcer!

He sighs and sweeps the area to distract himself from that particular problem. Seeing nothing, he concentrates on putting one foot ahead of the other. The countryside is spectacular, but it's getting old. He's ready to return to civilisation.

My Momma didn't raise no mountain goats. Dammit, I've gone soft. Too much time spent sleeping in feather beds. Raul would kill me.

When Nathicana shouts out her warning, he's caught off-guard. His first instinct is to throw hiimself to the left, and does so just as the soldati begin firing. He stifles a curse as he feels the shock of two slugs entering his body, one at the hip and the other just below the collarbone. His arm goes numb, and he drops the rifle he'd been carrying even as he swings behind shelter.

"Ah, shit."

With careful deliberation he pulls out a handgun and takes aim with his right hand. Cursing his inaccuracy with it, he squints down the barrel and slowly squeezes the trigger until it jumps in his hand.

<LOS Communications - Nathicana>
>> Well, that could have gone better. Where to?

The trail runs along the river for a time, and Sshrrakaa keeps her nose low to keep on the scent. From time to time, she would see well disguised trail markers, letting her know she was on track. She went along at a decent pace on all fours, attempting to minimize her outline in case something around might catch her unawares.

Her tail sweeps the ground behind her, to mask visual tracking. Her marker-glands keep open during this time, and ooze a waxy secretion from below her fore-arms and on the sides of her clafs. On occassion, these are rubbed on the ground to mask the scent of the ones she was tracking, in case blood-hounds were brought into use.

After a time, she hears gunshots in the distance. Rifle fire! Slug throwers from the sound of it! Vrelte! She keeps on all fours, and trots towards the location of the sound, veering off the trail she was following for the cover of heavier brush.

The cadet seems to melt into the surrounding forest before she cam get a firm fix on him, and Devon goes diving off away from her as she ducks back behind a group of thin trees, muttering a quiet but vehement stream of profanities under her breath. Flashes of movement and the faint sound she recognizes as Bondayehr’s bow comfort her somewhat. Squeezing off several rounds, she tries to get a bearing for where her companions are in comparison, and sees that Treznor has dropped his rifle, even as the message comes across the link.

<LOS Communications – Devon>
{
<< How bad, and until we can take these bastards out, I’m not certain. Seeing as they’re to the north … river is still headed west … don’t want to get our backs right up against it. Dammit Dev, please tell me it’s not bad. I’ll be right there.

Biting her lip in concentration, she stops rambling and quickly turns back to the soldati, still yards off but attempting to close the gap. Her brow furrows as she takes a steady aim, going for the head shots and other areas she knew would be less protected, dropping two of them. Thanking Shodey once again for the augments, she darts across the space separating her and Devon, ducking low, face set in a fierce snarl as she fires several rounds again. She quickly takes out the empty clip and reloads with a snap as she puts her back up to the tree next to him, looking the man over.

“Aw, Christ, Dev …”

Treznor blinks as he sees watches the dust jump on the jacket of one of the soldatis. High and to the right. He switches to the next target and fires. The man drops with an arrow through the neck, completely spoiling his aim.

Damn, that kid is dangerous.

<LOS Communications - Nathicana> {
>> It's not that bad. I can't use my right arm and I'll limp, and I think the bullet in my shoulder went straight through. Bleeding has already slowed; I'll live. S.H.O.D.A.N. does good work.

>> I can't see how many there are. Do we need to retreat, or can we take them down?
}

Bondayehr pokes his head up, eyes squinting as his cover melts him into the rock, counting the number of bodies with arrows in them. Four shots, four down. Movement--spear. He checks Nathi and Dev's positions. Cover inadequate... fire arcs good, though. Devon wounded. Making a decision, he drops back down and low-crawls along the left side of the moving soldiers, working quickly to get to another outcropping of rock on their left flank.

Slowly move up, take aim... release. Thwip of an arrow, in the meat of one's arm. Dammit. Drop down, notch another arrow, come up... target sighted... release. The flint-tipped arrow lances out, its low velocity and sharp tip spoofing the thinner side body armor of another soldati, going down with an arrow in his kidneys.

As the firefight continues, Sshrrakaa trots up to a thick tree. She peers around the side of it, and spies three figures under cover several yards off. One is a female, the other two are males; all human. The familiar scent of Tim comes to her nostrils, but she doesn't yell out. She spies him using a bow on the soldiers firing on them. Duck, load, draw, rise, fire. Very good, Tim. Another of the human males, unfamiliar, seems down and wounded.

The soldiers appear to be getting ready to rush their position. She barely spots a pair coming around in an attempt to flank the three. She takes a deep breath, exhales silently, and then activates her melanophores. As her skin starts to blend in with the background, the camo-web suit shifts and changes with it. She looks again, and sees the soldiers belly-crawling towards her area. She allows them to approach, remaining silent and hidden.

One rises up against her tree, and she holds her breath. A rifle is brought to bear around the trunk, and sights on the Tim's group. No choice now.... Swiftly she brings up her hand, with the claws jutting forward. She locks her fingers as she jabs at the soldier's exposed neck, then quickly pulls it back. A gurgling sound is heard, and the soldier drops fairly silently.

The other hears the soft thud behind him, and sees his fellow with his neck nearly gouged out. He opens his mouth to yell out, and finds a large, scaley fist shoved forcefully into it. The fingers uncurl and lodge themselves in his neck. A loud Gack! Ack! is heard before the interior of his neck is laid open to the elements.

Dammit! That was noisier than needed. I hope the sound of gunfire covered it. She pokes her head out a brief moment again, and withdraws it. She mimics the call of a wren, hoping it gets heard. Two more soldiers. Hmmm...

Coordinates are yelled out, the squad leader sounding near panicked as around him his men go down. He crouches down with his back to a tree, his communicator clutched tightly in his hand.

Don’t let them see me … don’t let them see me … just hold out til the others get here. Can’t be that long … there’s cover … Il mio dolce Jesu …

“Hurry,” he whispers, reiterating his coordinates as loudly as he dares. “Took us out too easy.” He winces as his eyes wander over the body of one of the soldati taken down by Bondayehr’s arrows. “Got more than just guns …”

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

Nathicana squints as the last of them go down that she can see, sure she saw, and possibly heard, something out of the ordinary, but not sure quite what. She listens as the opposition’s guns go silent, straining to pick up any hint of movement.

<LOS Communications – Devon>
{
<< I think it’s taken care of … I didn’t track them all, trying to hear …

She looks around trying to catch sight of Timofeyev, laying a gentle hand along Devon’s back, careful not to touch anywhere painful.

Treznor winces in spite of Nathicana's tender touch.

<LOS Communications - Nathicana> {
>> You've got better ears than me. I know I got one, and Tim got another. Given how quiet it's become, I suspect he took out more than a few. That last one sounded like he got another throat shot.

>> We've been in this position too long. We'd better move.
}

He gets down on his belly, consciously blocking out the pain from his wounds and begins to worm his way toward heavier cover. He keeps the handgun cradled against his chest to keep it clear of dirt or debris.

Timofeyev hops up, bow at the ready, squinting eyes flicking back and forth, trying to find life amongst the bodies.

The squad leader sees the shade of the trees move--wait, no, it's just splotches of color--pistol goes up--

Bondayehr catches a flash of pink flesh, releases, and drops. A gunshot rings out along with a scream; looking up, the man rolls about, clutching his bloody fist and forearm, arrow straight through, pistol tossed away. Notching another arrow, Bondayehr lies low as another pistol fires blindly--there, someone shooting from behind a tree, firing blind. Extend arm, draw, aim... *thwip* through the back.

Slinging his bow and unsheathing his knife, he high-crawls around the distracted squad leader, coming up behind before pulling back his head and placing the extremely sharp knife up against the man's throat, easily drawing blood. His lips practically against the soldati's ear, he whispers quietly. "We were wounded in the last spate of gunfire. You will return with your captives. Tell them."

From behind her tree, Sshrrakaa spies the remainders of the group of soldiers either dying or already dead. She sees Bondayehr sneak over to a tree to the north, and stop, drawing his knife. Ah. Must've been one hidden. Better check on those others. She crouches down and grabs up a comm from onr of the soldati she killed to listen in on them.

She lets her skin return to its natural tone, and crouches down on all fours to avoid getting shot. A downed log provides cover for her as she quietly approaches and announces herself.

"Your ride is here. How is the wounded?"

Nathi nearly leaps out of her skin at the sound of gunfire and screams of pain, her face growing pale as she glances about, trying to locate the source. She keeps her gun at the ready, admittedly distracted with keeping an eye on Devon, her brow knit with concern.

Movement, out across from them in the underbrush. She can’t see the cadet … and hesitates, not knowing if it’s friend or foe. A glimpse of a face peering through a mask of red … “Oh bloody hell.” Her stomach tightens again with worry as she peers out from behind cover, trying to spot any more trouble as she moves along in a crouch close to Treznor.

<LOS Communications – Devon>
{
<< I think Tim's hit.

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

Vasco gasps and tenses as the cadet takes him from seemingly out of nowhere, his throat tightening as he swallows reflexively, wincing at the feel of the sharp blade against his skin. He tries to respond, voice coming out a choked whisper at first, eyes wide as he catches a glimpse of Bondayehr’s bloodstained face so near his own.

“Scopa … si … si …” He lets his gun slip from his shaking fingers, grip tightening on his communicator, then begins to speak. “Gli obiettivi si sono feriti, essendo fissando. Richiesta annullata. Stiamo portandoli dentro. Codifichi mercoledì.”


"Targets wounded, being secured. Request cancelled. We're bringing them in. Code wednesday."

What's Wednesday have to do with anything? Damnit... can't take him prisoner, can't knock him out with his helmet on... can't let him scream out again... Extreme situation calls for extreme ethics. For the good of the many. "Miercoles es un dia mala para ti," Bondayehr whispers quietly as he clamps his free hand over the man's mouth, blade drawing to the side and down in a quick slice, silently opening the throat and jugular. Leaning the dying man forward without a sound, he jabs the knife into the base of the soldati neck, severing the spinal cord.

Gingerly prying the communicator from the dead man's hand, he turns it off before standing up. "I hope someone here knows what Code Wednesday is, because I'm sure we're made."

Looking over at the sound of the Sakkran's voice, a truely relieved broad smile breaking from under his crimson face, he lets out a sigh and droops a little. "Ssh. You made it. Long time no see, amiga."

She hadn’t expected to see the Sakkran … not here, not right now at least, and her words cause Nathi to flinch again, though she has the presence of mind not to pull her gun on their rescuer.

“He’s been shot, but he’s doing surprisingly well. Said the shoulder seemed to pass through. Hip unknown status – haven’t had a chance to examine. I think Tim’s been hit as well, but I barely caught a glimpse. Grazie, cadet. Molto grazie,” she says with an expression of infinite relief and gratitude. Bondayehr’s voice causes her to whip around sharply.

He’s up … he’s speaking … good good ... Il dio, he looks like hell. Nathicana lets out a slow breath, then tries to help Devon to his feet. “Got to get you out of the dirt, and all of us moving here, boy. On the bounce, as they say.” Looking back over to Timofeyev, she nods in response to earlier queries, looking him over from a distance as she explains.

“Wednesday. After that old rhyme about the days of the week and children. ‘Wednesday’s child is full of woe’ … means trouble. Need to move fast. You good to go, Tim?" she asks with clear concern. "And you, Cadet Sshrrakaa – how far to your transport?”

Nathi quietly grabs a couple more leaves, chewing determinedly, firmly pushing down the feeling of queasiness to tackle the situation at hand.

Bondayehr blinks once or twice, swaying loosely just a little. "You kidding? I'm fine." Looking down, he frowns at the fresh corpse. "He,"--he looks around at the area littered with bodies--"and his pals aren't."

Kneeling down beside Vasco, he closes the man's still wide-open and fearful eyes with his palm, then straightens him out and folds his hands over his chest. Seems right.

"Right, on the bounce." Standing up, Timofeyev blinks at the sudden head rush. Moving through it, he takes no notice of his blood drying on his face, still bleeding from somewhere on his front-left scalp. "Lead the way, Ssh. Introductions can wait until we're behind armor."

"Tim! Long time, and you look a frightful mess. But indeed this is not the time to exchange pleasantries." She inspects Treznor's wounds quickly. "He can be moved. I'll pick him up and we can backtrack a bit. About half an hour's travel, i'd say, unless we put a hot foot on it."

Looking upon Nathicana, she offers a short bow. "Greetings, Sirrah. Judging by the bodies here, it seems you all did quite well for yourselves."

She wipes the blood off her hands, and gingerly cradles Devon in her arms. Talking quietly, she attempts to reassure him. "You would slow us down with your wounded hip. My apologies if this insults your honor." She then turns, and starts off back the way they came at a brisk trot.

"Tim, you simply MUST tell me your adventures since last we met. It seems that the training has paid off here."

Grabbing an automatic slugthrowing rifle and several magazines from a dead soldati as the party moves out, opens the breech, a round popping out, but no matter. He checks the breech and the barrel--they're clean despite being dropped--drops the magazine, taps a new one on his hip before inserting it, deactivates the safety and pulls the bolt back, chambering a round and locking it. No forward assist... fair enough. He holds it at low ready, eyes scanning the area.

"In time, Ssh, in time. Right now, I've got the blood of around ten people on my hands for the past week and I just want to go the hell home."

Nathicana watches with concern as the Sakkran takes up Devon, but nods firmly. “He can bloody well deal,” she murmurs, snagging a rifle and ammunition herself, but slinging it over her shoulder, preferring her handgun. She also takes up one of the communicators and tunes in, listening intently.

“We’re behind lines. Forward movement would likely have taken us straight into them. They’re closing the net, using the river as a natural barrier to put our backs up to. Reinforcements are coming in hot – it’s time to hoof it, and as fast as we can manage.”

Turning, she eyes Bondayehr, giving him a quick once-over. "If you stumble, I carry you, no arguments with that head wound of yours, however slight it may or may not be,” she says to him in a tone that leaves no room for them to begin with.

I’ve done this to him, she thinks to herself, inwardly wincing even as her expression goes cold, eyes tightening as her stomach takes another turn. Now isn’t the time for regrets. Would regret it a helluva lot worse if they get hold of us, and with another innocent in the mix to boot, now. I’ll do what I can to help him through this, if he’ll let me, once we’re safe. Been killing for so long now, suppose it’s second nature. Sure as hell isn’t what’s got me near to hurling … dammit, what the hell is the problem?

“I’m taking rear. Lead on, Sshrrakaa.”

Timofeyev raises a glossy eyebrow, bright oxygen-rich red. "Head wound? What head wound?"

As the adrenaline high begins to subside, he starts to feel a prickling sensation along the top-left of his forehead, stinging slightly. Shit... when the guy fired... if I hadn't dropped... Feeling his stomach sink into his boots and his hands beginning to shake on his weapon, he fights off the anxiety with a grimace, forcing his attention on keeping a patrol of the area. See it through, dammit, see it through. Only two unencumbered fighters right now, don't need zero. God-fucking-dammit, Tim, keep it together.

Concentrate. As his vision sweeps through the trees, he slowly drags his right thumb across the knurled grip of his reappropriated weapon, counting every individual crevice.

Treznor limps up to Timofeyev and peers at the wound. "Scalp wound, just a scratch. You know how they look worse than they are. Put pressure on it, and you'll be fine." He pauses and grins. "At least you didn't get shot in the ass. Now let's get moving."

The human cadet laughs humorlessly, in a pitch maybe just a tad too high. "Of course it's just a scratch. I'd be dead otherwise. Now do you want me to try and shoot the people that might want to come out of the woodwork or talk to you?" Another humorless high chuckle.

"Santa Maria, madre del dio! Che cazzo voi li pensa sta facendo?" Nathi snaps at the both of them, eyes wide with disbelief, obviously working herself up to a righteous fury. "The hell you think this is, a bloody picnic? Let the nice lady carry you, Dev - you'll slow us up, and damned if I'm getting my ass shot on account. Now move!"

"Holy Mary, mother of God! What the fuck do you think you're doing?" .... (as if that weren't fairly obvious)

"Veya con su ojos, mujer," Timofeyev snaps back as he continues moving at a jog, "eses pies jodendos mios estan corriendo! Ese es que pienso, tu mierda-comiendo puta!"

Blinking for a moment, Bondayehr blushes slightly (not as if anyone could see it, or as if he could turn any redder). "Oi, that was uncharacteristically vehement... still, anger is good. Thanks." He sets back into keeping a watch out for the party as they move, finding it surprisingly easier.

Subtitles: "See with your eyes, woman, these fucking feet of mine are running! That is what I think, you shit-eating whore!" (of course, remembering, that that particular word for 'whore' is probably the dirtiest word in all of Spanish)

Treznor glances back at Nathicana, eye quirked at Timofeyev's outburst.. "Stava entrando in scossa. Che cosa lo pensate stavate facendo?" Then he nods to his erstwhile nurse. "Sorry about that. Let us away."

Translation: "He was going into shock. What do you think I was doing?"

The dark-haired woman’s eyes flash angrily, face paling further as she tilts her chin up in her usual imperious manner, jaw clenched.

“Me ne fotto, il figlio puttana,” she mutters between clenched teeth, quickly brushing past the lot of them and heading in the direction Sshrrakaa had indicated. She spits out the leaves she’s been chewing on and replaces them with some fresh.

Oh come on … surely this stuff works better than that. I am not going to toss my cookies right here in front of the lot of them, and especially not after all that. Goddamn men and their goddamn tempers… will drop back in a minute to keep an eye on the goddamn cadet.

The hypocrisy in this of course, manages to escape her.

Timofeyev frowns, shrugs, and follows along near point. Will apologize later... not now. Sure hope I didn't go off and ruin things... He shrugs, working out his neck and adjusting his grip on his rifle. Not to worry about that now. Will find out later.

Sshrrakaa continues the brisk pace slightly ahead of the rest. her nose is to the air and her ears listen for sounds of pursuit, aerial or otherwise. "Can we keep the invectives to a minimum? It makes for difficult concentration." Her eyes scan the skies on one side, and the ground on the other. So far, she sees no sign of pursuit.

"Good. If we keep at this pace, we should do fine for now." She crouches down on all fours, and sniffs the ground, searching for the trail she left.

Concentrating on the pace and listening in to the communications flying back and forth, Nathi slowly drops back to the rear. She glances occasionally at her wounded companions, the tightness around her eyes increasing when she does.

“They’re concentrating to the northwest, but not limiting the search,” she says matter-of-factly. “Coming up on the ambush site now. Won’t take them long. Have to keep an eye out for the path ahead. This close, they’re going to be closing the net. Bringing in the group they have on the other side of the river. Uncertain how far off they are from our current.”

She strains to hear any movement or sounds that would indicate another squad between the sounds of pounding feet and the rustle of packs, waiting anxiously to hear they’ve reached the transport.

I hope she has better medkits than we have in the packs. Still … they’ve both been through worse. It’s all good. Get them cleaned up, and Trez if we can up to Shodey as soon as possible … and I need to know what’s been going on. Is it too late? They’ve had days …

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

“Doesn’t matter. We’ve pegged them.”

“What the hell do you mean, Cesare? We haven’t caught them yet, and they’ve already taken out an entire squad,” Calfa shot back, taking out another cigarette and lighting up.

“Just how do you think they’re going to get out of there, Don? Look at the location. We have the bridge secure. They’ve got their backs up against the river, and there is no safe way to be swimming that at this time of year, with all the spring runoff. It’s running swift and deep. They’ve got to be making a run for the border, given the location. We have that area covered well enough, and they’re getting the choppers up with their IR tech. Given coordination, we’ll know well enough where they’re at soon. Just a matter of time. They’ve got nowhere to run now.”

Calabrese tipped back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head with a look of smug satisfaction.

“You wait, Don. Give it another hour, maybe two … they’ll be flying them home and we can all sit down and have us a pleasant little chat. Get Marissa to check in on our dear ‘Dread Lady’ here, and check the progress on that speech she’s supposed to be giving soon. No screw-ups on this. Get the leaks out to the press as we’ve discussed.”

The older man nodded, his brow furrowed in thought as he left the office. Calabrese shook his head and chuckled as the door swung shut.

This was going to be a very good day.

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

Marissa thumbs through the folder Pellegrino had tossed onto her desk, maintaining a very carefully neutral expression. She was surprised the man had been so resourceful, in spite of the fact he had an intel division to himself. There was more to this than she’d like to have had out. And if he knew …

“Have a seat, Antonio,” she says, her expression calm but serious. “We need to talk.”

After fifteen minutes, Sshrrakaa comes up to the face of a stony shape. "Ah, here it is. Kheet, begin operational sequence and open the hatch." A low humming comes to life, and Sshrrakaa tugs on the stone before them, and it gives way beneath her claws and takes the shape of a length of fabric, which she begins tucking and folding.

The hatch of the Newt transport opens. "Everyone in, and arrange yourselves quickly." She enters the transport after the tarpaulin is folded, places it in a case. "If you need food, it is in the storage chest in the rear. Medical kits are in the overhead compartments." She leaps into the pilot's chair, and cues up a sequence. "Kheet, seal the cabin when all three passengers are secured, and pressurize for sub-aqueous insertion."

"Acknowledged."

Bondayehr leaps onto a seat and pulls down a medkit. "If you don't need someone to operate any weaponry, I'm going to take care of the wounded." He does his best to ignore the oozing he feels over his nose, the dry feeling over his face. "Sides... I don't think they're expecting an APC."

God, are we actually going to make it?

The unusual camouflage registers in a blur as she scans the surrounding area as everyone boards. Stepping gingerly onto the craft, Nathicana fights off a wave of nausea, assisted in getting past it with the sight of Timofeyev again putting himself last.

"The hell you will. I want no shaking hands on that boy. Of the three, I'm uninjured, and you're going to sit yourself down and let someone else take care of you for a change, capiche? If you insist, help me get Dev settled, then get yourself strapped in," she says, starting to do just that with as much care as can be managed while hurrying along.

"We're all yours, cadet," she calls up to Sshrrakaa, settling in next to Treznor and starting a cursory examination, doing what she can to clean around the wounds. "We've done this often enough before, mi amore. I'll try to be gentle," she says in a soft tone meant only for Devon.

"You," she says to Bondayehr, "take one of those pads and apply some pressure there. Given your response I'd say it's superficial, but I'm going to want to have a look at it anyway. On the bounce, boy." She smiles tiredly, trying to take any sting from the comments.

"I've got training in combat first aid and--" Bondayehr sighs, seeing pre-emptively that it isn't going to work, and so hands over the medkit. "Fair enough."

Sitting down, he folds his hands in his lap. His right knee starts to jog, and then his left as he gets to thinking. One head rush later sets him blinking. "Y'know," he says slowly, "I think I'm going to ride the combined symptoms of blood loss and a rather extreme anxiety attack out on the floor here."

Carefully getting to the floor, he slips himself into the storage rack underneath the seat and straps himself down with the cargo webbing, removing his cover and staring at the hole tearing along the top left of the brim.

He takes a pad, but neglects to use it as ordered.

As I thought ... that can't be easy.

Nathi finishes securing the steripads to either side of Devon's shoulder, then pauses to retrieve a blanket, which she quietly lays over the cadet. She takes his hand that holds the pad in hers and guides it to his wound, pressing gently.

"A little pressure, Tim. Stay with me, boy."

She sits back down with Devon, carefully getting back to work on his hip, wincing reflexively as she looks it over.

"You know, even though I watched you do it, I still can hardly believe how you put that bow together," she says conversationally, as if all of this is the most natural thing in the world.

Perhaps with some different thoughts, a little distraction perhaps ...

<LOS Communications - Devon>
{
<< How're you holding up, mi amore?
}

Treznor settles into a crash couch and lets Nathicana tend to him. He's supremely happy that SHODAN enabled him to block pain, or he never would have made it this far. His body is already trying to tell him he's pushed it too hard.

He smiles at Nathicana as he responds.

<LOS Communications - Nathicana>
{
<< Medical attention would be good. I'm in no pain, but I'd like to be able to use my arm again. Hard to do when the supporting muscles are damaged. And I can't tell you how embarrassing it is to have been literally shot in the ass. I think that's a tale I'd rather the kids didn't find out.
}

Timofeyev hears the attempt at idle conversation and realizes that it's an attempt to calm him, but he discards it. This is going to happen eventually. I may as well adapt to it now. Sighing gently, his response has nothing to do with pressure or bows.

"Where have my manners gone? I said I'd put off formal introductions until later, and I think now works. Dread Lady Nathicana D'Aquisto, Emperor Devon Treznor, this is Cadet Sshrrakaa. Cadet Sshrrakaa, this is Dread Lady Nathicana D'Aquisto and Emperor Devon Treznor.

"With that done, there's very little more I have to do."

The combined effects of anxious tension, a slowing of the mind due to mild anemia, fatigue and drain from having pushed himself much further than his body can nominally go, and a realization of mortality--certainly the second time, but this one more severe than the first--draw him in deeper and deeper. Not having any need to resist or help, having no immediate purpose, he allows it, gently drifting off into unconsciousness.

Sshrrakaa turns her head around the seat. "Dread Lady, Emperor Treznor. A pleasure and an honor. As for offensive ability, this craft has none. I sacrificed weapon hardpoints for defensive measures and ECM capability, as well as other performance-enhancing mods. In the extreme rear of the vehicle is a warming station, in case anyone is suffering from shock or cold. Just mind the egg and nest next to the warmers."

She turns and faces front again, and checks the status of operations.

The smooth voice of the craft's AI chimes in. "Pressurization complete. Ready for insertion."

"Ok, Kheet. Take us back into the water over the rock shelf; the way we came in. No sense leaving tracks."

"Acknowledged."

The craft shifts slightly before the suspension kicks in, and angles itself on the stone shelf, and quietly submerges into the river. At the river bottom, the water-stream engines kick in, and the transport begins making its way back from the direction it came from.

“I am indebted, Cadet. Grazie. Molto grazie,” Nathicana says with a grateful but wan smile, even as her eyes shift with concern to Bondayehr. The rest of what’s running through her mind stays where it is for now, her throat taking on that familiar tight feeling of pent-up emotions welling to the surface. Taking a deep breath, she lets it out slowly, finishing applying dressing as best she can to Treznor’s wounds, brow furrowing again in concern.

<LOS Communications – Devon>
{
<< Hang in there, boy. First, out of danger. Then I’ll see if we can’t contact Shodey. You’ll be in good hands. As for that other … gracious, we haven’t even conceived and already you’re plotting what secrets to keep? Of all the things they oughtn’t know, I’d think this was a minor matter of ego at best. Still, as you wish. I won’t tell them you got shot in the ass, and you don’t tell them I’m anything less than a paragon of virtue. Fair enough? [grin analog]

<< I think I’ve done all I can here. Now I need to go see to Tim. He’s lost a good bit of blood, and I’ve no idea yet what that wound looks like. Buzz me if you need me.
}

She slings the kit over her shoulder and gets up only to kneel next to Timofeyev, gently scooping him up in her arms, then carrying him back to the warming pad Sshrrakaa mentioned. Taking care not to disturb the nest and egg, which she arches a brow at curiously, she lays him down, and begins to carefully examine his wound.

Not deep … good … good. The boy has someone looking out for him. Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum …

Careful of the wound itself, she cleans around it as best she can with one an antiseptic wipe, then gently applies the dressing. She pauses now and then to monitor his breathing, nervous about any trauma to the brain. As she ponders the dilemma of sleep, her eyes scan the unfamiliar surroundings, widening appreciatively at the sight of the skull that she knows instinctively was from the tale Bondayehr had shared with them.

I know he needs rest … he seemed coherent enough, but if there’s a chance … As gently as she can, she checks for any dilation of his eyes. Still unsure, she takes out her canteen and a shirt from one of the packs, wets it down and begins to softly wash the blood from his face.

“Timofeyev,” she says, taking one of his hands in hers and giving it a squeeze. “I need you to stay with me, boy. Just until I know you’re ok, or someone who knows more than me tells me you are. Can you do that?”

Urrrrrrr... what now?

Alerted by the gentle brushing motions and the feeling of warm moisture on his face, the rather tired cadet slowly forces himself back awake despite the rather comfortable and content-making heat of the chamber. With a sigh that sounds like it's been building for the past few days, he half-opens one eye with a wry yet gentle half-smirk.

"No rest for the wicked, eh? It's a scratch. I'm not making any bad real-estate deals yet. Still... if you need me, I'll keep active."

He works to sit up. "Okay, what can I do?"

Nathicana lays a firm but gentle restraining hand on the cadet, shaking her head slightly with a soft laugh. “I know it’s just a scratch, but lay still anyway, please. You’ve been through a lot this past week. I’m concerned, I know you’ve lost a bit of blood and could be a touch light-headed on account. Devon’s got some help that way, and I think he’s going to be fine, but … ah bloody hell, boy. I’m out of practice, I’m having a harder time thinking straight than I should, and I don’t want to screw this up any more than I already have.”

Her brow creases with consternation, concerned over both men, irritated she can’t do more, and angry at herself for the lot of it. “Please, can you stay awake just a little while longer, then I promise, you can sleep as long as you want.”

“Destination and time estimate, Cadet Sshrrakaa?” she calls up to the Sakkran. “And communications – what options do we have that way? I need to contact Rhea …”

Treznor grunts as he lies back.

<LOS Communications - Nathicana>
{
<< A little tender loving care and I'll be fine. Barring that, SHODAN should be more than up to the task. I'll live, Red. You see to our hero.
}

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Cadet Sshrrakaa. Now, if you'd be so kind, the moment you feel it's safe kindly contact your nearest fleet elements and request an official diplomatic escort for Devon Treznor and party. I doubt Dominion forces will be able to draw a bead on this craft if it's tricked out like you say, but be prepared to yell for help if they break through your ECM. The way this has been running, I doubt they'll be willing to push it hard enough to piss off your government."

The Sakkran cadet angles her head from the side of her chair. Her eyes and mouth poke out.

"Time estimate is about 3 hours until rendezvous point at current speed. I'm going at 1/3 power to keep power signature low. The comm suite has wideband receiver/transmitter, laser-pulse comm, sat-comm and A/V transmission abilities. Aside from the laser-pulse comm, i'd advise radio-silence until we leave the area. Don't want anyone triangulating our position form intercepted transmissions, yes?"

She pokes her head back, and keys in a countdown. "Kheet, you have control. Follow prescribed course, and commence silent ops if early-warning system detects something."

"Acknowledged."

Sshrrakaa removes her headset, and the AI pilot kicks in. She gets up from her chair and walks to the overhead storage compartments, pulling out some manner of foil pack. Placing it on a plate, she walks over to Treznor, and breaks a seam on the plate. The smell of cream of mushroom soup becomes thick in the air.

"You must be famished. Pre-fab stews are in that compartment. Feel free to eat, I can always restock from the PX. As for contacting fleet elements, no-one knows i'm out here save one person, and that is who the rendezvous is with. After we return to the homeland, or are at least in safe hands, I can contact anyone you desire. But for now, radio silence may see us all alive in the next cycle, yes?"

Despite resisting, the cadet is easly pushed back into lying down. "Of course I'm light headed--I've lost a good cup of blood over the last hour or so and am therefore suffering extremely mild anemia. Nothing I can't work past, though, with effort."

He settles into dealing with being prone with a frown. "Fine. At least let me help you with the first aid. What's the situation?"

Looking past Nathi, he waves to Ssh. "Yup, human blood is most certainly red. Thanks for playing the cavalry."

Treznor tries not to grab for the soup too hastily. "Well, it's your ship. I'm sure there won't be any repercussions from your people, given the circumstances. If there are, Nath and I would be happy to discuss it with your Emperor. So long as we all come out of this intact, that's all I really care about."

He tackles the soup vigorously as he can with one hand, sating his body's urgent need for fuel. He remains quiet for some time as he methodically works to demolish the supplies.

"It's not the Emperor i'm worried about. It's my sire. If she finds out what I have done, my hide will make a lovely sash for her robes, i'm certain." She returns to the overhead compartments, and procures two more of the foil-packaged insta-meals on plates, bringing them to the Dread Lady and Tim.

"You will need your strength to heal up appropriately, yes? And what use is it to have friends if you cannot aid them when they are in need? Or vice-versa? No, these things are not taken lightly."

She lays down the packages, and inspects Tim's wounds. "Hrrrmmmm...definitely red. Of course, it is a result of your blood using an iron-base, if i'm correct? They do not appear serious, but concussion can not be ruled out. Perhaps a bit of hot Paroo to get the blood flow going and keep you aware for a time?"

"Ya, iron-based hemoglobin." Timofeyev gently fingers the scabbing scrape just below his hairline. "Pistol round graze... really, an air-scrape. All shear force, no pressure... so no concussion. Broke a lot of blood vessels, but that's to be expected with any head or facial wound." He demonstrates with his hands, apparently at ease with it now. "And, yes, please. Paroo would be appreciated... but on second thought, grab sugary juices. I need to rebuild my heme, not chug stimulants."

She nods thoughtfully as the Sakkran speaks, wondering not for the first time why she seems to be thinking entirely too slowly. Looking back to Bondayehr, she offers an apologetic look, and starts to say something, when the smell of the soup reaches her nose.

Her stomach lurches, she drops the cloth she’d had clenched in her hand, and looks around with an expression of slight panic. Seeing what seems to be the head aboard this ship, tucked back behind the warming station, she makes a quick lunge, stumbling to her knees and supporting herself as best she can with both hands, and promptly throwing up.

Aw hell …

Timofeyev blinks and sits up rapidly--Okay, not bright... whooooaaaaahhhhhh--pauses for a moment to let the head rush subside, then just keeps sitting, looking up at Sshrrakaa with a wry smile. "It's been a rough week."

Sshrrakaa nods, and begins to go get some mango juice, when the Dread Lady's sudden run for the lavatory catches her attention. "Is it motion sickness? Hmmm... I suppose it's been rough for all of you." Deciding it must be an odd human custom, she shrugs and gets a juice container.

"But i'm sure that the telling of this week of which you speak will be quite fascinating at the Minstrel's Club, over some strong wine, yes? Consider it an invitation." She hands the squeeze-pack of juice to Tim, and squats down.

Treznor glances over at Nathicana as she kneels over the bucket and frowns. Edgy, emotional, mint, sensitivity to food...gods, what timing.

<LOS Communications - Nathicana>
{
<< Hey, Red. Once we get to Rhea, how about you check yourself into the good doctor's care? I think we both need it.
}

<LOS Communications – Devon>
{
<< I’m not the one with a bullet in my ass, dammit. I’m just stressed, my whole schedule’s been thrown off, been worried sick about the lot of us, and I’m ready to strangle with my bare hands whoever’s behind this. Nerves are shot is all.

<< Shut up, eat your dinner, and leave me alone. Bad enough with everyone watching.
}

Trying to not think about the rest of them for a bit, Nathi just goes with it, eventually slumping back a bit, cleaning up, then curling up miserably with her knees up to her chest against the back of the warming station, not really feeling much like talking, and not trusting her rubbery-feeling knees to get up just yet.

Well, at least I didn’t loose it back on the trail. Gotta remember. Make sure our rescuer doesn't get in trouble ... Dev patched ... Tim checked ... get back home and ... Impalement. That's something we haven't done in ages ...

That thought does little to settle her stomach, so she closes her eyes and tries to think of more pleasant things.

Knowing Nathi, it probably won't do to make a fuss. Pretend nothing's up. Timofeyev half-smirks as he pops the top to the mango juice. "Aww, you remembered my favorite. As for the Minstrel's Club," he takes a long, slow, draw, "I'm going to have to become more comfortable with the blood of, oh, eight or ten people on my hands first before I go off on the minstrel circuit about it."

He sighs. "Extreme situations call for extreme ethics... and while it's not ideal, that's life for ya. Can't stop trying, all the same..." He looks off, obviously speaking more to himself than anyone else. "Jeebus H Hyskos, I'm not looking forward to the paperwork on this one."

Wry chuckle. "At least I'll get hazardous duty and combat pay."

"Well, that is how life is. But I know how your culture holds its ideals. Very different from mine. Eight or ten people? That is a stain indeed. But as my sire would say, better their blood on your hands than your own. Little comfort to you, yes?" She stands, and adjusts the IR lamp to a lower level of radiance. "That should make you a bit more comfortable. I will return."

She turns and heads back to the pilot's chair, looking in on Devon as she passes to make certain he's comfortable. Sitting in the chair, she puts on her headset. "Kheet, punch up passive sat-scan of the area. Highlight mechanized units airborne and land-based. Triangulate positions and heading, and see if you can listen in on some of their comms in a discreet fashion. Route them through several relays."

"Acknowledged."

The wind-shield puts up a holo-display of the area for 50 miles around. Heli-units seem to hold a perimeter around highlighted ground units, forming a circle around their previous location that seems to draw ever tighter. Some seem to be overhead at that moment, but early warning systems don't register any underwater scanning sensors in the area yet.

The bridge that Sshrrakaa passed under on the way to the rendezvous comes up on the map, and is 10 miles away from them. Ground units seem to be crossing it at a good speed, and veering off to the search area from both sides of the river. Good. Our avenue of escape hasn't been sussed out yet. "Kheet, keep tabs on highlighted units. Log movements and formulate possible future movements."

"Acknowledged."

Sshrrakaa gets up again and returns to the wounded. "Now then. Perhaps I should be informed as to what got you all into this sticky situation, yes?"

"Even money says the 'superior stability' of totalitarian politics." Timofeyev flashes a wry half-smile at Devon--mere teasing. "But, honestly, I don't know. My first clue was being rudely awakened and told that there were armed soldiers out to get us. Fun experience, that."

Topside, the Dominion soldati carried out their orders, oblivious to their quarry slipping out through an avenue not closely monitored – there had been no need, given their information. The forces coordinated, slowly closing the gaps, working along both sides of the river, in case a crossing had been managed. Frustrated messages were relayed between squads turning up nothing where they thought there should be something. Occasionally the conversation would get quite heated before discipline again took hold.

Hearing the cadets speak so plainly about the deaths sobers Nathi further, and she winces visibly at the responsibility of it all. Her first thoughts of ‘trying to help’ or ‘making it up somehow’ simply serve to remind her that it was those efforts that got him all this to begin with, which in turn, only makes her feel worse.

I think I need to stop helping.

She gets to her feet slowly, gripping the edge of the warming station for support, and doing her level best to draw herself up in her usual imperious manner. Given the circumstances, the effect is rather less than desired.

“It’s my fault,” she says quietly, not meeting the eyes of her companions. “In our little game of ‘king of the mountain’, I got pushed off. These two had the misfortune of getting entangled in it. I don’t know who, I’m not sure exactly how, but the why is as plain as can be. Welcome to succession, Dominion style. It’s never pretty.”

She winces, making her way to a seat and slumping down in it. “Since it seems we have time, I suppose we ought to fill you in. It’s the least we can offer in the beginnings of recompense for you putting yourself in harms way for us – friendship or no.”

And with that, Nathi launches into the story – what parts of it she knows, giving her companions ample opportunity to share their parts of it however they wish to share it.

Sshrrakaa listens in on the Dread Lady's tale quietly, interrupting only occasionally to clarify points as the transport continues on. The bridge is passed under, and signs of water pursuit are still not seen.

The telling of the tale takes some time, and it seems to pass quickly. When it is done, the cadet nods her head. "It seems that you were, indeed, toppled. This is an unfortunate turn of events, and one that i'm sure my government will be interested in. The only possibilities as to who initiated this are, of course, those who would get the greatest gain from it." A soft *bweep* sounds from the cockpit, and Sshrrakaa offers an apology as she stands and makes her way to the front.

She takes her seat, and looks on the mini-map on the HUD. Possible movements from Dominion troops indicate that their presence is still undetected underwater. I should be thankful that they aren't particularly thorough in the face of unforeseen possibility. Heh. No complaints here. Fishing vessels are noted overhead, and the AI pilot Kheet angles their path to avoid fishing nets from trawlers.

The extraction point past the international water boundary shows at the edge of the sensors, and Sshrrakaa sends a laser-pulse comm to Kheel, who hopefully is still in orbit. "Gull, this is Newt. 1/2 hour to point. Will come up and await you. Over."

A short wait, and then a response. "Newt, this Gull. Acknowledged transmission. Will arrive on time. Prep up some brew for me, will ya? I need a drink."

Hrrrr...that male. "Acknowledged. The kettle is on. Over and out." She stands and returns to the group. "Dust-off will take place in 30. We're nearing international waters. When we pass the boundary, we'll surface and get some fresh air. Sounds good?"

After assisting with the storytelling and listening to Sshrrakaa's analysis, Bondayehr nods. "Right, but the moment we surface, there's a chance Dominion aerospace or naval assets will see us. Whoever's in charge has the military under their thumb, and I don't think they'll have any problem with firing on an unclaimed craft off their border. We need aerospace support other than whatever our ride is."

Leaning over, he grabs over his backpack and works out his portcomp. Working quickly, he discharges a standard data storage crystal and tosses it to the Sakkran. "This has my personal direct-transmission codes from Intel to the Scolopendran command staff. You can probably sat-hack it through to TYCS or Zero-One, which can then send assets to protect us. There's always an Expeditionary Force in Earth Theatre; response time is easily ten to twenty minutes."

Sshrrakaa catches the crystal, and gives it an eye-ball. "Sounds good. Usually there are Empire ships in the area as well, but they tend not to hang around long, being on patrol and all. Hrrrmmmm....let's make some magic. Hrr."

She returns to the piloting compartment of the transport, and opens a small hatch on the dashboard. There is a data crystal recpatcle there, and Tim's crystal is placed inside the slotted space, connecting with the small place-holders in it. A laser-pulse comm is hacked into the sattelite system over their area. Using the transmission codes in the crystal, Sshrrakaa sends a comm-hack.

"Cadet Sshrrakaa, Sakkran Stellar Navy. Carrying three including Cadet Bondayehr. Expecting dust-off in 25, requesting TYCS escort for insurance. Coordinates sent via encrypted packet contained in transmission. Ping response, please." She logs their expected surfacing coordinates, and copies them into the transmission. The transmission is then sent via Satt-Hack, routed to TYCS Command.

"It is done."

"Thanks. Now all we can do is wait."

The hacked com-sat links up to a TYCS Voyeur multipurpose command-control-communications-intelligence-surveillance-reconnaissance (C3ISR) satellite, which relays back to the temporary TYCS Earth Theatre HQ aboard the supercarrier TYWS-SCV Aspidochelone, loitering in Earth orbit after the destruction of Space Station Valhalla.

TYWS-SCV Aspidochelone
Strategic Department, Information Control

A senior spaceman looks up at the blinking indicator on his display, then arches an eyebrow. "Er," he turns his head slightly, eyes locked on the message, "sir... unscheduled transmission from the Voyeur net. Origin is VY-12-77 Papa, currently over the Dominion."
The lieutenant commander on-duty in the SDIC looks up from his noteputer. "Hrm?" SDIC, buried deep within the supercarrier and far from the bridge, resembled somewhat the design traditionally associated with fictional spacecraft of eras past and listening posts: a central command officer with stations situated radially. Unlike those, however, this is a generally dark place, walls covered in switches and consoles, monitor farms extending from the ceiling like flat-footed spiders, displaying information at a glance. "Unscheduled, you say?"

"Yes, sir... it's unscheduled, but it is identified and cleared. Code reads as... Cadet Third Class Timofeyev Bondayehr, Scolopendran Aerospace Directorate. Sat-hack origin coordinates put it as inside the Dominion."

"Hrm." The lieutenant commander frowns; like the other fleet orange-belts of Military Intelligence, they'd been briefed via telepresence by the CINCTYCS himself that the Dominion was a double NC Black zone; the Dread Lady, Emperor Treznor, and a Scolopendran cadet by the handle of Bondayehr were missing and thus were priorities. They'd been briefed because any contact may be an emergency situation and there just wouldn't be enough time to verify through TYCSHQ.

The officer gets up and looks over the technician's shoulder, quickly reading the message with barely-flickering eyes. "I see. Patch that through to the boss. Maximum priority.

"Oh," he says as an afterthought, "ping-reply."

"Of course, sir."

Control Room

"Sir... you'll want to see this." The communications technician rips out the small, thin leaf of paper from the coded teletype and hands it down to Fleet Admiral Charles, acting commander of the Third Expeditionary Force while Sky Marshal Pandousco was down in the Shogunate. The Fleet Admiral reads over the slip quickly, then mimics something he's seen from Gregor many times.

He pushes a hand through his hair, albeit his is short, straight, and thinning. "Well, I'll be. FlightCom, launch four squadrons of Excaliburs and two Loki gunships, standard mod. Orders are to haul ass to the coordinates Comms here is providing now and loiter. Additional orders will be provided en route."

The flight command officer nods. "Acting, sir."

"Comms," Admiral Charles continues, "strike up a memo for whoever's running the Dominion at the moment:"

* - * - *

Dominion military authorities:

In light of the recent conflict, the TYCS will be engaging in previously scheduled exercises off your border consiting of medium aerospace assets. This is standard procedure.

Luck in all your battles,

Fleet Admiral Jim Charles
Acting CO, 3TEF
TYWS-SCV Aspidochelone

* - * - *

Twenty-four bladelike Excalibur aerospace superiority fighters slip from bays along the sides of the massive ship as two gull-winged Lokis sporting the bulbous porcupine-like gunship pods detach from one of the supercarrier's blocky "wings," forming up and then burning at best possible speed towards the rendezvous point. Multi-function displays light up with the Admiral's face, eliciting a few chuckles.

"So, boss," says a fighter-jock colonel, "what's the sitch?"

"No joking matter," Charles responds grimly over quantum entanglement. "There's going to be some lonesome Sakkrans at your waypoint, and you're to escort them back to friendly non-Dominion territory. Any opposition from Dominion aerospace forces is to be... dissuaded."

"Oh... kay. Ours is not to question why..."

"You're escorting two Triumvirate heads of state. Despite the news from the Dominion, there's been a coup. This has been our first contact with them since then. Don't blow it."

The colonel blinks in his flight helmet. "Yes, sir! C'mon, jocks, it's time to play the cavalry!"

The formation speeds on at blistering speeds, not bothering to contact Dominion air control.

Kheel watches as the countdown timer oh his HUD clicks down to 0, and angles his Reptavian for atmospheric insertion. Entering the atmosphere, he could see plasma licking at the shape of his craft as turbulence jars it about slightly. The initial entry stage is passed, and Kheel begins using his airbrakes to slow the craft down to a more acceptable speed, and angles himself upwards slightly.

After a proper angle is reached, and the plasma stops corruscating over his ship, the VTOL wings unfold, and his speed drops dramtically. Ok, lemme check my coordinates. Hmmm...seem to have over-shot a bit. Ooh, looks like i've got some company down there.

His radar screen shows the TYCS crafts flying formations around the target area. Wow, look at all them. Sshrrakaa must have someone important with her to warrant this level of activity.

Using the turbo-thrust jets on the wings of the reptavian, he banks swiftly and drops altitude until he he hovers over the emerging Newt transport. Pontoons are deployed from the sides of the transport, and the craft descends slowly. A gun placement drops down, showing two multi-barrelled rotating weapon placements. The barrells rotate and swivel.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Prepare for surfacing, Kheet."

"Acknowledged."

Sshrrakaa ticks away the seconds as her countdown hits 0, and begins surfacing within international waters. The sound of water rushing is heard slightly as the craft rises from the watery depths. After a time, she rises up from her seat, and afixes a comm headest to her head. She checks the access hatch, and tells Kheet to "Pressurize cabin, undo sub-aqueous seals. Give me readings on the outside."

"Atmospheric temperature is 65 degrees, wind north by north-west at 15 kph. Sparse clouds. Four squadrons of TYCS fighters and two gunships are in the vicinity. Scheduled drop-craft is also present. Advise."

"Maintain radio silence for the moment until visual confirmation is made, and prepare to open top hatch." She yells to the rear of the transport. "Our ride is here. Get yourselves ready for some slight bumpiness." She picks up a pair of macro-specs and awaits at the hatch.

The two Loki gunships settle in to the sides of the Reptavian, the hundred-meter gullwings hovering at a respectful distance as their multitudinous weapons arrays scan the skies. The twenty-meter Excaliburs perform combat air patrol in a wide circle around the area, scanners constantly alert.

"... The hell?"

Several thoughts ran through Giancarlo's mind reading over the message, yet he knew that if the TYCS wanted to run said exercises, they were bloody well going to run them.

Just as we're closing in ... coincidence? And if we did take issue, who would our fleet support? Would be a slaughterhouse up there if it came to blows, would lose our space assets if they turned. No win.

Nathicana had kept the standard military and the Dominion space assets as separate as possible, even going so far as to move Admiral Talethian into a new ministerial position over them, and promoting himself to Defense Minister.

Shortly after that Mateo incident, he mused, brow furrowing.

He had to admit, she'd done a fine job compartmentalizing things, keeping the shakeups to a minimum. Her reputation for coldly eliminating any problems rather than hassle with them, he was sure, had been no small part in that. Of course lately, they all had thought they'd seen cracks in her usual hard facade.

Giancarlo twirled a stylus between his fingers, brows furrowed in concern. Seeing Calabrese work over the past day had done nothing to relieve the nagging doubt that had been growing in his mind. His initial reaction had been one of outrage, being a rather patriotic soul at heart. But the longer the search dragged on, and now this from the TYCS ... the less inclined he was to believe what he'd been shown and told. He wasn't always the quickest mind, but he was steady if given time to think, and right now he was thinking things added up rather differently than he'd previously believed.

"Calabrese can kiss my ass," he finally muttered, sending off a quick return message, and forwarding the initial and his response to the Dominion fleet.

To Fleet Admiral Jim Charles of the TYWS-SCV Aspidochelone:

Acknowledged. We appreciate the backup, and your courtesy. Please advise should you require anything from our forces. They have been made aware of the situation - expect full compliance.

General Giancarlo Torino
Dominion Minister of Defense

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

Those aboard the Dominion ships observed the Trium vessels set up and deploy, with no small measure of respect, and a general feeling of comraderie. Many of the same ship designs were theirs to navigate now, and they had indeed come to view themselves as worlds apart from their Earth-based compatriots. These were allies who had been out exploring the stars while they themselves had only been dreaming of such lofty aspirations. They were also the same allies who had enabled them to do the same.

Though the fleet remained in readiness, the manuevers were monitored and speculated on, and no more. Even before the order came through, when the Lokis began their run, there had been no concern amongst them. Not for these allies.

At least, not until proven otherwise.

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

"Bumpy?" Nathicana asks with a sick sort of expression. She secures herself firmly in her seat, having watched the preparations in silence. It was out of her hands, and right now, she only wanted out.

They wouldn't fire on their own allies. I know they wouldn't. God, I hope they wouldn't ...

Her knuckles go white as her grip tightens, eyes going a bit wide as she glances at her companions, though she tries to smile reassuringly.

Sshrrakaa waits at the bottom of the ladder as the transport finishes depressurizing, and then climbs up and opens one topside hatch, then the other. As she ascends to the top of the transport, she is greeted by a wave of mist from the reptavian's VTOL engines, which forces the nictitating membranes on her eyelids closed.

She waits until the dropship lands on its pontoon floats, and waves to make certain she is seen. "Kheet, we have visual confirmation. Fire up the water-stream engines and prepare to move out."

She climbs back down the ladder, and heads for the pilot's seat. Rocking motions are felt as the craft ambles forward on the waves, and then a light jarring and bumping as it ascends the ramp leading into the cargo bay. "Gull, we are confirmed."

"Roger that. Securing and preparing for lift. Afterwards, i'd like a reward for waiting around for you. Over."

"Reward, Gull?"

"Kansee tea at the cafe in the homeland in two days time."

Bastardaire! He's got me by the tail. "Copy that, Gull. Just get us home. Over and out."

Mag-clamps secure the craft to the cargo bay, and Sshrrakaa returns to the rear of the craft near Treznor. "We're heading back to Sakkra territory to get you medical treatment, food and rest. All else takes a backseat to that. Is this agreeable?" Her stance indicates arguments would be fruitless. The Reptavian lifts off, and begins the journey back to Sakkra.

Nathicana sinks back with a quiet sigh of relief against her seat. She nods, eyes closed for a moment, then opens them to look at Sshrrakaa and smile tiredly.

"We are in your capable hands, cadet, and again, I cannot thank you enough. The two of you have gotten us this far, I see no reason to take issue now. One request though, if I may," she says, glancing with concern at Treznor then continuing with a note of hope in her voice.

"I don't suppose you know if Shodey has an avatar where we're going? If not, if you would please when you are able, I need to speak with mia sorella, S.H.O.D.A.N. A relayed message would more than suffice."

Sshrrakaa puts a clawed hand to her chin in thought. "Hmmmm...a S.H.O.D.A.N. avatar..... avatar..... AH! I remember. Last place I heard one was seen was at Eeorouh Aerospace Industries, but I believe one is in 'residence' so to speak, in the third tier of the city of Guuah. Some of the cadets tend to have a bit of a betting pool going as to when the avatar will next make an appearance, and where."

"I could contact them when we get back, and get the news on the latest appearance. I would not venture there until you are fully rested, though. Seems Guaah attracts the seedier denizens of the Empire, and some are quite hostile."

Timofeyev carefully makes his way to the nearest window or viewport and whistles low. "Daaaaaaymn. Two Loki dropships sporting 130AC weapons pods. I sure hope your air forces don't get any silly ideas, Nathi, 'cause if so they're not going to like the result."

At the mention of the Gestalt, Bondayehr perks up. "Had her over for tea, as you've probably heard. I never thought the historic S.H.O.D.A.N. would have a preference in teas, much less said preference being peppermint. I'm sure we could contact her via all the Ticks escorting us if we had to."

* - * - *

Sakkran Reptavian, this is Colonel Makepeace of Alpha Squadron, 43rd Triumvirate Expeditionary Wing. Us and the dropships Aspidochelone-Seventeen and -Hundred-Ten are going to make sure you get back safe and sound. Please transmit flight plan data and fall into formation between the Lokis.

Kheel replies to the comm, munching on a Paroo tree twig as he does so. "Copy that, Colonel Makepeace. Transmitting flight plan now." The flight plan is keyed up, and sent via encrypted data packet to the 43rd Squadron. "As we near target, eyes left for a lovely view. Over and out." The flight plan shows a passing by of the Galapagos Islands, during the bloom season.

The Reptavian banks up and falls into formation with the pair of Lokis. The swivel-mounted cannons retract into their housing.

"Grazie," Nathi replies to Sshrrakaa, looking out at Bondayehr's comment and smiling just a bit at the sight of their escort.

"If they do, I buy another fleet, and crew it with more prudent individuals," she says offhandedly, trying to appear less concerned than she feels. The topic soon changes.

"I remember flying one of those ... Xeruyu's nonetheless. Damn, but that is a thrill, jacking in there and just ..." Her words trail off as she watches them in flight.

"Beautiful," she murmurs quietly, snuggling back into her seat a bit. Then what the cadet says hits her.

"Tea with ..." Nathicana blinks, then grins. "You just tell me what I need to do - or our good rescuer here - and get us patched in, Tim. I've become entirely too dependent on my usual means of communication with my sister-in-mind. Consider myself reminded to learn alternative methods."

Timofeyev nods, makes his way back into the cabin, and retrieves his portcomp from where he left it on the seat. Even without being connected to the Newt's and Reptavian's parasite tac-comm systems, its own meager transmitter easily has the range to reach the Lokis outside... still, standard EM shielding prevents it, so Bondayehr hooks it up to a commport.

A few deft taps and he gets Colonel Makepeace's flight-helmeted visage. Seeing how a flight helmet is a fully-enclosed part of the suit with a massive visor with cameras and helmet-mounted displays affixed to it, and the sun visor is currently down, practically no facial information is displayed. Saluting the portcomp's integral vidcamera with a wry half-smirk, he starts in as professional a voice he can manage under the conditions. "Cadet Third Class Bondayehr reports in to make a statement, sir."

The colonel laughs. "Jeez, kid, take it easy." He's still sure to nod in acknowledgement of the salute. "We're all equals 'till we're out of combat. What's your statement?"

"Hey, it makes me feel important, sir. Anyhoo, the Dread Lady and Emperor Treznor are safe. Thought you might like to know that, seeing how we have quite the escort."

"Excellent, cadet. We'll be doubly sure to protect your ass now." The helmet bobs slightly with a chuckle. "That it?"

"Yes, sir, and I ain't reporting out. Gonna check in with the flight engineer of one of those gunships to see if I can't get a message relayed to higher up."

"Fair enough, kid. Enjoy the ride."

A few more taps and reconnections, and a different helmeted face shows up, one with visor up and oxygen mask unlocked, hanging to the side. Under the helmet is a dark-skinned female with high cheekbones and a well-defined if not angular nose. "Flight Engineer First Lieutenant Djarteeli, Aspidochelone-Seventeen."

Another wry salute, snappy but no attempt to maintain bearing. "Cadet Bondayehr, ma'am, requesting trans-hack over to the YutLink. We're trying to get a hold of S.H.O.D.A.N. on Dread Lady Nathicana d'Aquisto's authority."

A curt nod on the other end. "I'll see what I can do for you, cadet." The image shifts as she leans forward, flicking a few switches. "A/V transmission set through the Voyeur network and relayed to the Earth Theatre Fleet. Should get to her from there."

Bondayehr nods. "Thank you, ma'am. Standing by."

"Patching you in." The screen then changes to the traditional insignia of Zero-One of two bars, one white, the other black.

"This is Cadet Bondayehr to Queendom of Zero-One assets requesting permission to speak to... uh... Master Control Program S.H.O.D.A.N.. I've got the Dread Lady here too and I'm sure she'd like to talk as well. If any sort of verification is needed... ummm..."

The cadet thinks for a moment, then snaps his fingers. "She likes peppermint tea, without sugar."

<CommandSpool, QACF/HCR White I.C.E.>
{
[Voyeur(12-77-P)] >> patchTrans(protocol(TYCS), timestamp(32A81C), encryption(ROMEO), type (AV)) {This is Cadet Bondayehr to Queendom of Zero-One assets requesting permission to speak to... uh... Master Control Program S.H.O.D.A.N.. I've got the Dread Lady here too and I'm sure she'd like to talk as well. If any sort of verification is needed... ummm... She likes peppermint tea, without sugar. } // maintaining connection

>< Interesting. Queen S.H.O.D.A.N. warned us to be on the lookout for any messages concerning her sister's party, and this would classify.

[returnTrans()] << "This is the mind of the Queendom Armed Conflict Force Heavy Cruiser White I.C.E., flag of the Earth Theatre Fleet. How are you, Cadet Bondayehr?"

>< dataCollect(trans, voice modulation, visual parameters)

>> Uh... [ACTION: Rubbing bandages on forehead] I've been better... ... ...I do apologize, but I'm not sure what the proper form of address is for a warship.

<< [laugh analog] "There is none. If it makes you feel better, sir will suffice. I am contacting Queen S.H.O.D.A.N. now."

[S.H.O.D.A.N.] << codeTrans(priority+++, code(ULTRAVIOLET), subj(Nathicana))-msg{You may wish to see this, our Queen. Patching you through currently.}
}

* - * - *

In the not-quite-reality of Rhea, a grey form perks up, wiry multicolored hair flowing at the movement. "Outstanding."

* - * - *

The QACF insignia on the cadet's screen is quickly replaced by S.H.O.D.A.N.'s well-known digital avatar, grey face covered in slightly darker grey symbols peering out from a mass of cables and wires which could perhaps be called hair. Seeing Timofeyev through the 'eyes' of the portcomp, she smiles. "Cadet Bondayehr. Been taking care of yourself?"

Timofeyev's eyes flicker towards the quick dressings on his forehead. "Your wit is as quick, dry, and sharp as I last remember it, ma'am. I've been taking care of a lot. People don't react well to bullets."

The avatar's face turns serious very quickly. "Status? How is Nathicana?"

"She's the least wounded of the bunch... unscathed, tho' her hair is shorter--self-inflicted. I got grazed in the forehead and so I've lost a bit of blood but nothing else. Devon is complaining about being shot in the ass and apparently the shoulder too; his arm's out at the moment."

"I'll need to fix him," S.H.O.D.A.N. seems to mutter to no one in particular, "but no surprise there... I always manage to have to fix Nathi's boyfriends. Is Nathicana available?" Back to complete seriousness, maybe bordering on worry.

"She's right 'ere and wants to talk to you." Half-smiling, Timofeyev hands his portcomp over to Nathi. "It's for you."

Watching the cadet, Nathi can't help but chuckle. And still he has that adorable grin-but-not of his. I was hoping we'd not taken that out of him with all this.

She does however sit forward expectantly as the conversation progresses, grimacing and self-consciously fiddling with her hair at the mention of it. Smiling, albeit tiredly in return, Nathicana leans over and kisses Bondayehr's cheek with a murmured "Grazie" as she takes the portcomp.

"Ah, mia sorella," she begins, her eyes already misting up as she half sobs, half laughs with relief. "My God, I can't tell you how good it is to see you, and I am so sorry it's once again trouble."

Taking a slow breath, and centering herself, she again tries to straighten her hair, fidgeting with it occasionally as she continues. "Destination coordinates you can get from our escort no doubt. I'm fine, promise. Worried about the boys is all. It was a complete surprise, Sis. I'll need to get caught up on current events before I can make any educated guesses as to who's responsible ..." She trails off, looking a little pale.

"Please, if you could," she says more quietly, glancing at Devon with a clear expression of worry. "You've already done so much, I've no right to ask ... yet I'm asking. Besides, I'll need to know he's in the very best of hands while I take care of this mess."

Her face hardens for a moment. "Somehow."

<LOS Communications-Devon>
{
<< No worries, mi amore. We'll have you taken care of in no time. Meanwhile ... anything you need?
}

Treznor chews his food carefully, trying to make sure he doesn't spill anything as the craft moves out of atmosphere. He watches the interaction without comment, focusing on his body's needs for the moment. As Nathicana speaks with her sister-in-mind, he looks up and winks.

<LOS Communications - Nathicana>
{
<< Hey, give me credit. I'm tougher than that. If this was going to kill me, it would have done so back on the ground. It's just damnably inconvenient. I told you she builds good.

<< Just remember you're not alone, Red. I'll do everything in my power to help you get this straightened around, however you choose to handle it.
}

S.H.O.D.A.N. looks visibly relieved as Nathi starts speaking, nodding gently. "Of course, sister-in-mind. I'll help however I can." Not visibly, she quickly checks in with the TYCS. "I'll direct my avatar in Sakkra to meet you and put the ETF on standby in case you need anything else; I can have the Bitstreams of Mercy on-site within the hour.

"The catching up goes both ways, sis," she says with a little sigh of relief, "you may have seen something that might help once we compare notes with SIS and whatever else we can find. I've been directed to inform you by my Scolopendran counterparts that they've deployed SMISO special operatives inside the Dominion to look for you; they can either be extracted or set to poke around and try to find those responsible at your discretion. Now that I'e relayed that message..." The avatar's face turns a bit more resolute. "The resources of Zero-One are at your disposal should you need them. The insects that tried to harm my family are not going to enjoy the consequences of their foolish actions."

<LOS Communications-Devon>
{
<< I know you're tougher. I have every faith in my sister's abilities. I know you're going to live. And I'm going to worry if I want. So shush and let me take care of you if I can. Going to have to develop those compassionate skills sometime or other. [wry grin analog]

<< As for the rest, I appreciate it. But until I have a better idea of what's going on, I've not the faintest idea what even to ask for. All I can say is the more I think on it, the less inclined I am to give up without a fight.

<< There are always ways. I need only find them.
}

Nathicana notes the sigh, and tilts her head down for a moment. "I'm sorry to have worried you so, mia sorella. Had I been more vigilant ..."

S.H.O.D.A.N shakes her head on the screen, smiling gently. "Happens to us all.. trust me. I'm just glad you're alright."

"Other than a touch of nerves, I'm more than fine. It's the boys I'm concerned about. I am already indebted to you for more reasons than I can count. And from what you say, and from what I can see here," Nathi gestures, including her current ride and their escort with a mixed expression of gratitude and irritation - the later at herself. "I am also more indebted to my allies than I had ever hoped to be. You say there are already friendly forces in place? If so I would indeed appreciate their assistance in whatever capacity they can offer. If I've learned anything this past week, it's that this is no time for my stubborn pride."

"I'll relay that, then." The avatar nods. "To update you, this is what it looks like on the outside: They are operating a body double who keeps quiet. The angle is that something has gone wrong with the Imperium, covering up the mobilization. A few ministers have been doing most of the speaking."

"Which ministers?" Nathi asks, her eyes narrowing. "The double I probably should have expected. Marik has a contact I've used before. Not the brightest, but she's done well enough on looks to keep up appearances. As for the Imperium ..." She trails off, brow furrowing thoughtfully.

"What was most interesting were those who covered for you on the Triumvirate Council after I passed around the National Contingency Black warning. Discussing the trade of FTL drives we have di Medici talking to us directly. Seeing how their cover story was that you were at the villa and you have a direct connection from there...it rings rather hollow."

"I'm helping SIS process signals intelligence intercepted by SMISO on the ground but anything truly incriminating has been hard to catch thanks to your discovery of quantum communications." The avatar chuckles wryly. "Congratulations."

Nathicana nods, pondering quietly for a moment, clearly running some things over in her mind. "Well, he is my Trade Minister ... and he's been damnably dependable so far. That's the problem with Dominion politics. One can never be sure that what one is seeing is the truth. Either way, I think it's both a good and bad thing I've kept such a tight rein on things." The compliment does draw a wry smile, and she bows slightly. "Grazie. We have found that rather handy, yes."

"I'll brief you better in person. What's happened on your end since then?"

"They infiltrated using the increased security measures. It seems an entire shift must have been used, which points to IA. Whether or not it goes to the top, I couldn't say. Considering the methods, and the fact we're still alive," she says, speaking more assertively as she goes along, seeming a bit more herself as she works things out in her head. "Whoever is behind this is someone who values image, or we'd already have met with a spectacular demise, no doubt. Quiet, and with as much support as possible. A bloodless coup - risky, not unheard of, but not a common approach."

S.H.O.D.A.N nods with a slight frown. "I doubt they have any data where I can mine it to confirm, but I can try if we have to. How did you manage the escape?"

Nathicana nods in the direction of the two men. "Dev did the waking. They were using gas ... I wasn't where the expected me to be, or doubtless, things would have been less pleasant. After that, we used the tunnels, shot our way past the guards on the road, and headed north. Without our very resourceful cadet here, I'd hate to think how it might have turned out. Granted there's much more to it, obviously, but best told when we've more time for it." She grimaces slightly, reaching out to steady herself a bit against the seat. "I hope you have something for an upset stomach, sis. For once flying just isn't agreeing with me."

"Of course." S.H.O.D.A.N. smiles gently. "I'll be sure to have it ready for when you land. General physical checkups probably wouldn't be a bad idea either after living off the land for a week."

"Aye, but we lived well. I think it was hardest on our idealistic young man there. He was forced to not only keep up with us sans augments of his own, but look after two terribly out of practiced people. I'll have one hell of a report to send to Speaker and Razak on the boy, let me tell you."

The avatar raises one glowing-green eyebrow. "Intriguing. I'll make sure you have the best three rooms on Bitstreams. I heard Devon's the worst case; what exactly should I prepare for?"

"He took a shot to the shoulder, looks as though it went through clean enough, but he can't use it presently. The other shot caught him right square in the ass, left cheek. Bullet still lodged. Timofeyev had his scalp grazed by a bullet, lost a good bit of blood, but otherwise seems fine. Me, a bit of nerves and a touchy stomach," Nathi says, smiling softly. "How in hell I'm ever going to ever make all this up to you I'll never know, sis. You've already gone above and beyond, more than once. If I didn't know better, I'd say it's about high time I settled down here."

Shodey chuckles. "You never have to make up for family, silly. Seeing you get out of all of your adventures intact is payment enough." The avatar smiles genuinely.

Nathicana looks a little misty, though she quickly blinks it away. "Aye, family. Now that's a tie I'd never expected. Nor could I be more happy and honored to have, mia sorella. As for adventures, to steal a phrase ... I'm getting too old for this shit," she says with a wry grin.

"Oho... I won't argue that." S.H.O.D.A.N. chuckles. "I'm lucky I don't have a gastrointestinal tract... I do believe I'd have a chronic ulcer by now."

Nathicana winces a bit, looking sheepish. "Oi, don't be saying that. It's bad enough as is, dammit. In all seriousness though ... I can't thank you enough. As for your earlier sentiments, I couldn't agree with you more, but first things first. Facts first - then revenge," she says, her expression growing dark.

S.H.O.D.A.N nods, eyes sliding down the scale through yellow to a firey orange. "Quite."

"It won't be easy this time, not with so many eyes watching so closely. I may need to adapt." Nathi scowls at that, though there's a hint of what might be relief as well. "Enough of that for now, though. I'll see you soon then, sis. Please, pass my thanks on to those who ought to hear it, as well as my apologies for causing such a stir."

The avatar nods again. "No one's blaming you that I know. Everyone just wants to ensure stability. I'll pass along your thanks, though." Shodey smiles gently. "Enjoy your flight."

"Well, if they were, I'd not blame them. The Dominion is my responsibility. I obviously misstepped - something I hope to remedy. I have a thought on how I can manage it, but I'll save it for when we're face to face ... and in a more private setting," she says quietly, glancing briefly towards Devon, then back. "Grazie, my sister-in-mind. Until then."

Shodey nods gently. "See you on the ground. You're in good hands... so please try to relax a little."

Nathicana nods in return, trying out a more confident, reassuring smile. "I will."

Handing the portcomp back to Bondayehr, Nathi thanks him quietly, then again nestles back into her seat to do as directed. "Grazie, Timofeyev," she murmurs, closing her eyes. "I feel much better now."

Timofeyev nods as he politely closes out the connection, thanks the gunship flight engineer for her assistance, and closes the lid of the portcomp before replacing it in his backpack. Blinking slightly at the swimming lightheadedness caused by high-altitude flight, he curls up in his own webbing seat, yawning softly.

The reptavian drop-ship angles its trajectory to make atmospheric insertion right over Sakkra territory. The cold, silent vacuum of the Void always fascinated Kheel, which is why he signed on in the I.S.N. as a pilot. He double-checks the mag-clamps in the holding bay to make certain they are secure, and keeps pace with his TYCS escort.

At the appointed window, he folds the maneuvering jets back into the body of the transport, and does a diagostic on the fold-out stabilizing wings. Satisfied that everything is in order, he comms ahead to air-traffic control at Kastaa Airfield.

"This is Gull to Air Traffic Control. Have an emergency situation here. Need clearance for passengers requiring medical attention. Requesting a med team with knowledge of human biology present." A hissing crackle, and then a response. "This is Air Control, Gull. You are cleared to land at shuttleport 7. Full E.R.T. will be waiting for you. Over."

"Copy that. ETA 5 minutes. Over."
"We copy. Over and out."

The dropship makes its atmospheric insertion, and applies the airbrakes to slow its fall. The in-ship comm comes to life. "We're going in. Everyone hold onto their ass!"

Timofeyev dutifully sits up (albeit slowly) in his seat and hooks up his crash harness.

* - * - *

Outside, the gunships and fighters spread out to give everyone more space for the reentry maneuver. "Okay, here's the plan. We level off at a thousand meters for CAP while the Reptavian lands. Once it's on the ground, we announce objective met and return to 'Chelone." Fighter pilots and dropship commanders nod their assent, guiding their vessels along the paths indicated by their onboard navigation computers.

Bah.

Treznor grumbles quietly and makes sure he's ready for maneuvers.

I'm already holding onto it, thankyouverymuch. Damned soldati, firing live rounds. Why the hell did they have to shoot me in the ass?

Getting the situation from Kastaa, S.H.O.D.A.N.'s above-ground avatar requests landing permission for a shuttle from Bitstreams of Mercy in orbit while she settles a Shodeyvette outside Shuttleport Seven, hopping out and scanning the skies.

Meanwhile, in a brick-shaped Zero-One shuttle, the Bitstreams S.H.O.D.A.N. avatar sits alongside several android doctors, equipment prepared for the worst just in case.

The reptavian drop-ship hits the atmosphere, and the ship jars a bit. Air-brakes and reverse thrusters dutifully timed help slow down the craft and ease the jarring, and the newt transport shakes a bit, but holds in place in the mag-clamps.

After a few minutes of teeth-chattering shking from re-entry, the craft angles its trajectory upwards, and the maneuvering wings unfold. Thrusters on the VTOL wings kick in, and the Reptavian banks a bit, and dips its wings at its escort. "Good flying, 43rd. ETA to Sakkran airspace; 1 minute." Keys are deftley punched, and a HUD mini-map pops up in the windscreen of the Newt. Tyhe voice almost has what could be considered a southern drawl to it. "Hope you don't mind a sensor hack, Newt. Just showing our guests where we're at."

"And if I minded, would that stop you?"

"Probably not. Anyway, here's where we're at ..." A red blip shoots across the mini-map, with a speed dialogue underneath it reading Mach 3.7 and dropping fast. It's over open ocean. "...and here's where we're heading." The map zooms back, and the shape of the island chains of Sakkra come into view. "ETA is less than one minute before we're in home territory."

Several red blips coming from the island chain show themselves on an intercept course with the drop-ship. "Looks like we got an escort from home. 43rd, you are clear."

"First Squadron of the Fourty-Third Wing, get it right," Colonel Makepeace chides with a jovial chuckle, "but we'll let you take it from here. Let's get out of here, jocks."

The TYCS forces peel off, changing to a course back towards Aspidochelone.

"Oh bloody hell," Nathi mutters as she secures herself in her seat. She fishes out a couple of mint leaves from her pocket, chewing determinedly as she holds tight to whatever's handy in a futile attempt to lessen the shaking.

Christ almighty, just let it end! The minutes it takes the craft to make re-entry seem to drag on for an eternity, and the maneuvers shortly afterwards make her stomach lurch - clearly evident from her expression. She stubbornly refuses to say anything aloud, already irritated at her earlier weakness, though her lips move slightly in what might be anything from a litany of curses to a fervent prayer for relief.

"ETA is less than one minute before we're in home territory."

The words grab her attention, and she looks towards the cockpit expectantly.

"How soon do we land?" she asks in a much weaker voice than she intends.

Sshrrakaa hears the Dread Lady's question, and notes a touch of something odd in her voice. I guess I would be a little wierded out if it was me going through all this. Mmm.....

She looks at the map, and has the rudimentary transport AI begin a countdown. "Looks like it'll be about 8 more minutes. We have landing clearance already at Kastaa Airfield, and all civ traffic has been cleared out. Can't approach hot, though. It'd be a bit heavy on the ears ground-side."

In short order the Sakkran escort takes up formation around the Reptavian. Two wings of manned Swatter aero-space fighters form up on either side of the drop-ship. The comm comes in throughout the transport. "This is Captain Llhaab of the 13th. We have you in sight and confirmed. All traffic is cleared and ERT's are standing by. Welcome home, Gull."

===

"Molto grazie, Cadet Sshrrakaa," Nathicana murmurs, tilting her head back against her seat, one knee nervously bouncing. "And to your partner."

Just a bit longer. Keep it together. Gods, so many to thank ... so many are going to know. How the hell am I going to clean this up with all that to deal with as well? The double ... If I can just get back in, nice and quiet and get her out ...

She tries to distract herself with thoughts along those lines, quietly plotting and planning, focusing on her home's floorplan, those of the public offices, and ways she could utilize the assets available to infiltrate them.

The reptavian ship, with its escort, comes into visual from the pilot's seat. Landing struts are lowered, and the craft banks and slows down to a hover with a whine of its turbo-thrust fans. Red and yellow striped vehicles await at the landing pad.

ERTs look ready to go. "Sshrrakaa, apprise the ERTs of what to expect. I'm patching you through now."

"Thank you, Kheel." She waits a moment, and then addresses the comm when the indicating light comes on. "ERT, we have two with gun-shot wounds, one possibly with a concussion. Also one that may be suffering from exposure and P.T.S.D. Please advise."

"Copy that. Do not let anyone there move; we have to determine the seriousness of the wounds. Make sure everyone is aware."

"I copy. Over and out."

Sshrrakaa then returns to the cabin. Emergancy Response Teams are waiting. Don't move; they want you to remain as you are." The reptavian lands with a soft jarring, and the sound of the mag-clamps releasing can be heard. "Ah, we're here." She trots back to the pilot's seat. and throws the transport in reverse. It descends down the cargo door of the reptavian when it opens, and comes to a stop, the side hatch opening with a hiss.

2 Sakkrans and a human enter, wearing the red and yellow striped uniforms. They take a look at Tim's wound, and check to make sure he has no visible signs of concussion. Nathicana is given a warm blanket, as well as Treznor.

The human addresses them."Names EMT Sclessinger. You seem safe to move a bit. Come with us and we'll get you stabilized and to the medical facilities."

Treznor accepts the blanket and assistance. "Stable? I'm a little wobbly on one leg, but otherwise pretty stable. Pleased to meet you, EMT Sclessinger. I'm Devon, and the gorgeous young lady is Nathicana. Hands off, though; she's with me." He winks broadly, for Sclessinger's benefit and Nathicana's both.

"One thing I would urgently request when we stop moving is some shaving cream and a good razor. I'd forgotten how much a beard can itch."

"Perhaps we should go to S.H.O.D.A.N., wherever she is," Bondayehr suggests as he stands up.

Snapping out of her reverie as the warm blanket is handed to her, Nathi gratefully wraps herself up in it, then blinks, trying to take in all the information at once, cursing herself for being so slow.

“I ah … yes, Shodey said she’d be waiting. Please, take no offense,” she says hurriedly, hands up in a placating manner. “There are simply some special circumstances here that require her personal touch, if you will. And I … I would like to … to see …”

Nathicana blinks back the tears that have, for no reason she can fathom, started to slowly fill her eyes, stammering slightly as she tries to keep it together. “Per favore … mia sorella,” she finally chokes out, forgetting entirely she’s not likely speaking to a Dominion native.

Sclessinger proceeds to put his hands on Nathi's shoulders as she shakes. "It'll be fine. Meeting the Gestalt can wait for a moment. We have to make sure you're all in good health first." He looks up at one of the other ERT members, and gives a soft nod.

The Sakkran ERT member holds a comm to his mouth "P.T.S.D. for certain. See if you can get Ariim Zzaaid here for a quick triage."

A staticky "Copy." comes from the comm, and the others are escorted out to the waiting vehicle. A limp from Devon gets the attention of the other ERT tech. A slight head-motion from side to side results. "We'll get you shaved and cleaned up at the hospital."

"No offense," Timofeyev offers, "but the Gestalt has been patching people up since before most of us were born. I heard distinctly that she has a medical ship in orbit and resources en route."

He thinks fast. Augments, secret. Can't do to have normal docs checking up... "The Gestalt will also be able to secure these two in orbit. As long as they're planetside, the conspirators may work to get them. Their safety is currently my duty and we are pretty sure that the conspirators lack any sort of space assets."

He looks over at Nathi, speaking quickly. "Por favor, hable con su hermana-en-cerebre y informela que ella necesita usar superioridad. Superioridad tiene sus adavantigos."

Treznor stops for a moment and nods to Bondayehr. Then he hitches himself up to catch Sclessinger's eye. "If you please, the Dread Lady and I are accustomed to seeing the Gestalt as our primary physician. While I'm satisfied as to the competency of your qualifications, I believe Nath would benefit from swift intervention by her sister-in-mind. Consider it a formal request from the Empire of Treznor. The sooner S.H.O.D.A.N. can be here, the better."

“No, no ospedale! Che cosa non capite? Ho bisogno della mia sorella, pronto!” Nathicana starts to say angrily, speaking quickly as she digs her heels in with a strength that does not fit her stature at all. She stops just short of grabbing the well-meaning Sclessinger by his wrists and tossing him as she hears the cadet’s words. While definitely not her language, it is close enough that it gives her pause, and she reasons it out with a blink and a nod.

<LOS Communications – Shodey>
{
<< Sis, I don’t know if this is going through, but if so, I need your help – they’re trying to take us to a hospital, and so help me God, if they won’t let me wait for you, I’m going to bust some heads right open, and then they’ll have plenty of work to keep their hands occupied.
}

Taking a deep breath and attempting to regain her center, she draws herself up to her full unimposing height of 5’7”, her blue eyes glittering with undisguised threat. She shoots Devon a rather irritated glare.

Goddamn diplomatic son of a ...

“As the highest-ranking uninjured party here, I demand that you escort us to S.H.O.D.A.N., immediately. No arguments, no trouble. While I appreciate your eagerness to assist and do your jobs, I assure you that we will be in the best of possible care there. Were this not a matter of state security, I would be most happy to release myself and my companions to your most excellent care – however this is not the case.”

She fixes Sclessigner with a firm, unblinking gaze. “Contact your authorities if you must – I’m certain they are by now aware of Shodey’s intent. Tend us as you must to uphold your ethics while in transit, but be assured, our destination is my sister-in-mind, not your hospital, or I will tear this transport down around your ears and use your broken carcass for my next hood ornament. Clarity achieved?”

Oh gods, not now … not now … Nathi represses the urge to wince as she feels her stomach take another lurch, hoping the tightness around her eyes will be translated as more a glare than distress. That’s all I bloody need – deliver a haughty speech, then promptly loose my lunch all over their shoes. Not terribly awe-inspiring …

Sclessinger holds his hands up over his head in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. No need to get all worked up. I acquiesce." He picks up his comm, and speaks. "Tech Sclessinger here. Do we have confirmation on the shuttles ETA?"

A moment passes, and then the comm crackles to life. "Yeah, we got confirmation. ETA in 2 or less. Trium over-ride has been authorized. Get them on that craft, and then it's out of your hands."

"Copy that. Sclessinger out." He puts the comm back in the pocket of his trousers, and gives a thumbs-up to Nathicana. "You're cleared. All of you. But walk slowly for now while you're in our hands. It'd be my skin if you stressed yourselves on my watch." Sheesh! Foreign officials always gotta gimme a hard time.

Sclessinger guides Nathicana to the hatch, while the Sakkrans allow Devon and Timofeyev to lean on them if they need to as they make their way out. The sound of a landing craft is heard outside.

Sshrrakaa clucks a bit. "Tim, you really need to take better care of yourself, you know. Don't make me come and give you a scrub-down with bubble-bath!" Sje waves a finger in an admonishing fashion. "Hee hee."

Nathi sighs with audible relief, and nods, slipping into a near perfect picture of mild-mannered compliance. “Grazie, Medico Sclessigner,” she murmurs, snuggling a bit more of the blanket around her and allowing herself to be led as meekly as she can manage. “Please forgive if I sound a bit snappy – it has been a trying time for all of us.”

She keeps a watchful eye on her companions, the cadet’s teasing turning up one corner of her lips in a half-smile of sorts. “Cadet Sshrrakaa – again, my heartfelt thanks. Please, if there is anything I can do in return, don’t hesitate to ask. I won’t have any reprisals for your admirable efforts on my conscience if I can avoid it …”

Treznor accepts the shoulder to lean on, trying not to allow too much weight to bear down on the tech while favouring his injuries. "Sorry 'bout that," he says quietly, knowing Nathicana can hear but attempting discretion anyway. "Like I said, the best thing for her is to see S.H.O.D.A.N. Just don't make her angry. You wouldn't like her, when she's angry.

"Once we're patched up and safely on home ground," he says in a normal tone of voice. "Everybody's invited over to my place for beer and barbecue. A 'thank you' for your excellent work."

Nathicana's mild demanor drops in the blink of an eye at Treznor's jibe, her eyes flashing angrily, clearly building up for a scathing response ... which she chooses to deliver over more private means.

<LOS Communications - Devon>
{
<< Look here, gimpy ... I'll thank you to keep your criticisms to yourself. I did apologize after all. Smug son of a bitch - you spend the past few feeling like I have and see how well you keep your temper in check. Lucky you do have a bullet in that smart little ass of yours, or I'd bloody well knock you down on it.
}

She continues moving along with an almost ... sulking expression, trying to catch sight of Shodey over and around the shoulders of the others.

The airfield has an ocean breeze bloing in from the south, smelling of salt. The shuttleport is a large circular disk about 30 feet off the ground level. A red and yellow striped craft is the, with ERT markings on it and lights flashing. Clouds roll over the area lazily, and the sound of seabirds could be heard. Several ERT med-techs of varying races watch the S.H.O.D.A.N. shuttle settle down.

To the side of the shuttleport's landing area sits the clean, distinctive lines of one of S.H.O.D.A.N.'s 'personal' shuttles, probably attached to the avatar assigned to Sakkra. One of her grey-skinned avatars stands next to the Shodeyvette, spotting the party and waving.

The doors of the brick-like utility shuttle open before it even lands, white-plated humaniform android avatars of Zero-One doctor minds hopping out, followed immediately thereafter by another S.H.O.D.A.N. avatar, which diverts to talk to the ERT teams.

<LOS Communications - Nathicana>
{
<< There she is. You want me to do the talking?
}

Finally spotting Shodey, Nathicana immediately looks more relieved. "Mia sorella ... grazie," she says, eyes already welling up with tears.

<LOS Communications - Devon>
{
<< Please. I'm ... yes, please.
}

<LOS Communications - Nathicana>
{
<< No problem. You just relax and leave the driving to us.
}

Med-Tech Sclessinger, as the only human abouts, greets the S.H.O.D.A.N. avatar. "Evenin', Ma-am. We're ready to transfer care of the patients to you. Just imprint on this pad, and they're all yours."

S.H.O.D.A.N. (2) jogs over to the party, short purple cape flapping slightly, looking vaguely exuberant. "Outstanding... good to see you all again," she says with not a small amount of emotion." She takes the pad and quickly scribbles a bar-code like signature, lacking fingerprints.

Sshrrakaa , in the meantime, taps her comm unit. "Kheel, you won the bet." The sound of a whooping Sakkran can be heard through the staticky comm. "Whoo hoo! 50 teeth in my pocket!"

Treznor raises his good arm and waves back to SHODAN. Once they get within easy range he says, "We're glad to see you. We've got a lot to talk about."

"I can see," the Sakkra-avatar says wryly, "and you stop moving. A stretcher is on its way."

Med-Tech Sclessinger looks at the pad, and seems satisfied. "Looks good to me. What we have here is a possible latent concussion..." He points to Timofeyev. "...caused by high-velocity projectile to the cranium. That one ..." Points to Devon. "...has a butt full of lead, and a wounded arm. Possible nerve damage. The last patient may be exhibiting symptoms of exposure and P.T.S.D. I didn't perform a thorough examination.

SHODAN (2) grins almost humorlessly. "Thank you, Medical Technician. I have the situation under control from here. Please leave me to my work."

Nathicana hugs the blanket around her more tightly, rubbing out any stray tears as she keeps herself out of the way but waiting close by. She seems to have lost her earlier anger, and now watches with an expression of concern as she listens to the tech.

<LOS Communications - SHODAN>
{
<< She's also chock full of mint leaves. I think our little girl is preggers.
}

<LOS Communication to Treznor>
{
<< Wonderful. That simply confirms my suspicion that you will all need check-ups. Are congratulations in order concerning you? [grin analog]
}

"We're a little time sensitive here. The sooner we can get under way and back in contact with Alliance heads, the better."

The android-doctors run down the ramp connecting the shuttleport to the ground carrying a simple webbing stretcher as promised, quickly passing the Shodey avatar and standing beside Devon, stretcher at the ready.

<LOS Communications - SHODAN>
{
<< Normally I'd say "damned straight," but this time I can't be sure. The timing is damnably curious. The cadet may have interrupted my plans for an heir. It's not a problem; I'll get her the next time. [grin analog]
}

<LOS Communications - Treznor>
{
<<
}

Treznor lies down somewhat unwillingly.

Sclessinger gives a sloppy salute. "thank you, Ma-am. Come on, boys. Back to HQ for some food and a game of canasta." The med-techs shut off the lights, and the transport's engines come to life as they pack up their gear.

"Tech, remember what I said. You and Sshrrakaa are both invited to my place for beer!"

Nathicana catches Sclessigner's sleeve as he passes, just long enough to delay him. "Thank you, again. Truly."

S.H.O.D.A.N. (1) runs down the ramp, having cleared the area of technicians, and falls into the party alongside Devon's stretcher. Producing an odd-looking medical scanner from a bag hanging from her shoulder, she quickly begins to start tests, checking pulse, blood pressure, and the like.

Sclessinger nods his head. "I might take you up on that, if I drank and ate meat. Devout vegetarian and all." He then turns to Nathicana, and nods his head again. "No problem, Miss. Just doing my job."

S.H.O.D.A.N. (2) simply walks up to Nathi and hugs her tightly.

<LOS Communications - Nathi>
{
<< I've missed you.
}

Treznor peers at Bondayehr. "Vegetarian? I didn't take him for a Scolopendran."

Sshrrakaa emerges from the hatch of the Newt transport, and blinks her eyes at the sudden brightness of the sun in contrast to the darker environs of the transport.

Timofeyev kzingrins teasingly at Treznor. "Flesh is good."

Nathicana smiles for a moment as she hugs back rather tightly as well, then breaks down into quiet sobs, simply nodding in return.

Treznor shakes his head and smirks at Bondayehr. "Wiseass."

S.H.O.D.A.N. (2) loops one arm around Nathi's shoulders, supporting her as the varied party makes their way up the ramp to the medical shuttle.

Timofeyev chuckles, following along. "Beats 'leadass' in my book."

S.H.O.D.A.N. (1) flashes a mildly annoyed look at the cadet before returning to treating Devon.

Treznor squirms in the stretcher, wincing slightly. "Ooh, that does it. I'm gonna kick your ass. With one arm behind my back, as it were!"

Sshrrakaa spies the med-techs packing up to leave, and waves at them in a farewell manner. She looks about as her eyes adjust, and spies the group being loaded onto a S.H.O.D.A.N. transport.

"Tim, try not to be a stranger, yes? Give a girl a yell once in a while."

Timofeyev looks over his shoulder and waves frantically, trying not to topple over at the resulting headrush. "But of course! Same goes to you, yaknow. I owe ya."

Nathicana gratefully accepts the support, making one of those half-laughs as she tries to reign in the tears hearing Bondayehr's quip. She pauses to wave back at Sshrrakaa, hearing her call out. "And you, cadet - don't forget what we said about help. Can't thank you enough."

"I'll keep it in mind. When my Sire finds out about this, and she will, oh lordy!"

S.H.O.D.A.N. (1) holds Devon down gently but rather firmly.

<LOS Communications - Devon>
{
<< You can do that when you have both arms. The damage does not look very difficult to repair, but I do not need you to meddle with pointless movement.
}

Timofeyev chuckles. "I dunno. I think having at least two heads of state argue in favor of your continued existence should make the Admiral see reason."

"One would hope, Tim. One would hope," replies the Sakkran.

Nathicana winces at Sshrrakaa's comment, but merely nods in return as she continues onto the awaiting shuttle. Gods I hope it doesn't come to much trouble ...

Treznor gives S.H.O.D.A.N. a wounded look. "I didn't necessarily mean right now."

"Hell, if nothing else," Bondayehr offers, "I'll see what strings need to be pulled to get SMISO to extract you so you can come be a hero in Scolopendra or something. Beats being a suitcase."

S.H.O.D.A.N. (1) looks down at Devon dryly. "I know. Now stop moving before I decide that exposing yourself to gunfire voids your warranty."

Treznor settles down with a mild grumble. "Not like it was my idea, anyway."

S.H.O.D.A.N. (2) helps Nathi into the shuttle, followed by the androids and the other avatar tending to Devon.

"I may have to take you up on that. Shaar is not known for benevolence. She's a hard woman."

"Shut up and let the lady work, Dev," Nathi mutters testily, keeping close to her sister-in-mind.

Sshrrakaa scratches her head, and seems a bit dejected. Then her head lifts up again. "Make certain you don't exert yourself until you're fully rested. I know you tend to strain yourself beyond reasonable limits."

"I'm just shot, not dead," Treznor complains. "I'll be fine. I have every faith in SHODAN's ability to keep me alive. It's not like it's the first time, right?"

"Right. I'll get on it as soon as I get home." Being sort of the odd man out, he stumbles up into the shuttle himself. "And yes, mother, I'll take care of myself," he says back with a wry yet oddly happy grin, sitting on the deck of the shuttle while waving. "May you always walk on warm sands, Ssh."

"May you walk on warm sands, Tim." With that, Sshrrakaa retreats into the Newt.

<LOS Communications - SHODAN>
{
<< I guess I need a favour from you. May I have your permission to access your c-space network? I need to make some phone calls. I've been out of touch for far too long. I didn't have much time to catch up on the news the last time I was in town.
}

Nathicana glances around, trying to keep an eye on both her companions. She motions Timofeyev to catch up with them, holding back slightly herself. "How you holding up, boy?";

The shuttle door closes, latching with the hiss of the cabin pressurizing as the androids settle Devon onto something not unlike an ambulance's mobile life support unit, strapping him down securely.

<LOS Communications - Devon>
{
<< Of course.

}

The Bitstreams-assigned avatar draws down a magnetic datajack from the ceiling and affixes it above Devon's eyebrow.

S.H.O.D.A.N. (2) helps Nathi into a seat then sits down next to her.

Timofeyev turns around, sitting on the floor out of the way, and smiles weakly. "Situation nominal, Nathi."

S.H.O.D.A.N. (2) looks up momentarily at the cadet. "And you have some explaining to do."

Timofeyev blinks. "Me? What'd I do?"

"Thanks, sis." She looks over at the cadet with concern, however, then back to Shodey. "Got to keep an eye on that one. He could be nearly dead on his feet and wouldn't admit to ..." She stops, arching a brow.

S.H.O.D.A.N. (2) frowns darkly. "I think you know just who you did."

Timofeyev turns a particularly unhealthy-looking shade of green.

"Um ... you know, that boy there just ..." Nathi’s eyes widen a bit as it clicks into place, then she rolls them heavenwards as she slumps back in her seat. "Oh for chrissakes."

Timofeyev then promptly decides it's not really worth being conscious at the moment and forces himself to pass out with a gentle 'thunk' as he collapses lightly against the sealed pressure door.

One annoyance down, the Sakkra-assigned avatar turns to Nathi. "Are you alright? Other than the obvious, of course."

Treznor blinks in surprise. "What? Why does that require explanation?"

Nathicana nods, looking mildly annoyed. "Of course I'm fine. Just a touch of stress from this past week is all. It would have been much worse if not for the cadet there."

<LOS Communications - Devon
{
<< What the hell was all that about? Last time I checked what I did and who I did it with was my own damn business, [b]not the topic of idle chit-chat with my sister.
}

<LOS Communications – Nathicana>
{
<< Good question. I'd like an answer myself. She was just asking about whether or not to congratulate me.
}

<LOS Communications - Devon>
{
<< Congratulate you? For what?
}

<LOS Communications - Nathicana>
{
<< On becoming a father.
}


Nathicana pauses, her eyes going wide as she looks over at Devon as if about to say something ... then shuts her mouth with an audible click.

S.H.O.D.A.N. (1) doesn't pause in her work on Devon, deftly inserting a needle into Devon's arm and hooking him up to an artificial blood feed with additional nutrients and repair nanites in it. "I simply worry about my sister is all."

"Regardless of whatever crimes the boy may or may not have committed, he may have overextended his resources. May I suggest you at least have someone check his fluids? I wouldn't be surprised if he's dehydrated and malnourished. He's been pushing to keep up with augmented folk," Devon explains.

S.H.O.D.A.N. (2) looks over at the boy crumpled in the corner. Eyes narrowing a little, she measures heart rate and respiration by miniscule movements. "Eh, he seems comatose, but electromagnetic spectrum shows standard neurological activity, so I suspect biofeedback. He'll live."

Treznor peers at SHODAN. "Fine, but it hardly warranted that kind of talk." He sighs and relaxes his head. "Look, you two talk it over. I really need to make a phone call." He reaches up and plugs himself into c-space.

Nathicana nods slowly in agreement, not meeting anyone's gaze in particular. "Please, mia sorella. I've seen him push himself to the brink of collapse, and then some."

S.H.O.D.A.N.(2) looks over at her sister-in-mind with a concerned look. "If you say so."

<LOS Communications - Devon>
{
<< Surely not ... I mean, honestly now ... Oh GODS this is NOT how I wanted all this to go.
}

<LOS Communications - Shodey>
{
<< Go easy on the boy ... it's not his fault, after all. It's mine.
}

<LOS Communications - Nathicana>
{
<< Why not? It would have happened just before this started. First me, then Tim. And then your behaviour and physical symptoms...I suspected this morning. Figured I'd wait until we were safe to discuss it, which is now. Be happy, Red. It's what we've been wanting. It doesn't change anything, just adds to the mix. [smile analog]
}

S.H.O.D.A.N. (1) takes advantage of Treznor's cyberspace-induced anesthesia to turn him over and retrieve a long pair of sterile tongs from the equipment rack, deftly removing any bullets that lacked the impetus to leave the body.

Treznor uses the skills SHODAN and Nathicana taught him long ago to make a c-space connection to more mundane communications lines. After establishing a secure link, he contacts his personal staff, Intelligence and War ministries simultaneously to check in, hear the news and issue orders. Nearly an hour passes before he closes the final connection.

Nathicana nods in response to the private conversation, sniffling a little and toying nervously with her rather shortened hair. "Nothing has gone how I'd hoped it would these past couple weeks. Well ... almost nothing," she murmurs quietly, watching Shodey work whilst leaning in against her other avatar, never batting an eye at what some might think rather strange.

S.H.O.D.A.N. (2) gets up quietly and moves over to the cadet, setting him upright none too gently (nor harshly) while pulling something out of a side bay that looks like a plastic leech. Affixing it to Bondayehr's neck, she makes her way back to Nathi. "Emergency blood replacement system, adapted from the usual human emergency triage kits. It should have enough stimulants to kick him out of whatever self-induced unconsciousness he's in at the moment."

Sitting back down next to Nathi, she offers another sisterly hug. "What matters is that everyone is still alive and thus things can still be repaired."

Nathicana hugs back and nods quietly before responding. "Thank you again, mia sorella."

"You're always welcome, sis," Shodey replies quietly.

"I don't suppose you can tell me anything of what's been going on in the Dominion this past week, by any chance?" Nathi asks, less casually than she'd hoped, and for now, avoiding the other topic on her mind while she tries to work a few things out.

Timofeyev is brought back to the world of the awake despite his best efforts to the contrary. "Uuuuuuggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh."

"I had the oddest dream. I dreamt I was stuck on a Zero-One shuttle and S.H.O.D.A.N. herself was pissed at me and--" he opens his eyes. "Well, shit."

Nathicana winces and looks rather sheepish.

Timofeyev thunks his boots together weakly as he lets his head roll back against the door. "There's no place like home. There's no place like home."

S.H.O.D.A.N. (2) doesn't even bother looking at the cadet. "They've been extremely quiet about it. It has, for all intents and purposes, been business as usual. They did try to access your laptop... but they failed, of course." Impish grin. "I have your information stored quite safely on Rhea."

Nathicana's eyes open wide in alarm nonetheless. "I'm glad our backups worked," she murmurs. "My thanks again for that. Quiet ... quiet ... as I was saying earlier to Dev. Going for a near bloodless coup. But which ones ..."

<LOS Communications - Shodey>
{
<< Well, if suspicions are correct, perhaps it's best to get checked up and get on with whatever course we need to take. [sigh analog] Please, whatever the case is, don't hold this against the boy.
}

Timofeyev gingerly feels the leech-like thing against his neck and feels his stomach lurch with a mixture of anxiety and chemical stimulation. He figures it's not worth complaining.

<LOS Communications - Nathi>
{
<< Why not? He simply made himself yet another thing for you to worry about and take care of in what was already an extremely stressful situation.
<< And there is no debate: You and Devon are certainly getting check ups.
}

<LOS Communications - Shodey>
{
<< He didn't make himself anything. His being there, his being at risk, hell, his sleeping with me were all my fault, not his. Trust me on this one - he's not the type to ever want to complicate things for anyone. I don't know what we would have done without him. It's his efforts that got us out as well. I owe him, sis. Big time.

<LOS Communications - Nathi>
{
<< [blink analog]
<< All right, that's twice I've done that in the space of half an hour related to the same individual. Fess up. }

"There are three major culprits as far as SIS and I have been able to discover from observational, human, and signals intelligence: Calabrese, del Vecchio, and Calfa. They've been seen the most often arriving and departing at singular locations outside of government matters; also the fact that they have motive, opportunity, and funding--verified through transaction logs--lends support.”

"Torino may be involved, but the connection is tenuous at best. He controls the military and so it makes sense that he be on board for a coup, but seeing how the Dominion military did not even try to prevent the TYCS from extracting you when they knew the game was up adds uncertainty to that analysis.

"The actual conspiracy seems rather small; control over individual units seems to have been maintained using fear tactics such as decimation. The conspirators do seem to know that there is an SIS presence but we do not believe they know of the presence of Scolopendran special forces. It would be a small matter to have SMISO or my own Shadows pick up some of them for questioning."

"Those ... goddamn sons of ... " Nathicana yanks off the blanket, getting to her feet, and scowling darkly. "When I get my hands on ... I was going to put him over the new station, damn his hide! And that bitch del Vecchio ... after promoting her in that last coup, this is the thanks I get?"

Timofeyev feels very, very ill, fighting down the waves of nausea with quietly mumbled Sakkran mantras. Looking in a cabinet next to him, he sorts through additional plastic leeches, labeled only by barcode. Weeeeeeeeeak. Which one is the non-doped-up pseudoheme?

<LOS Communications - Shodey>
{
<< What's to fess? Boy caught my attention with his white knight antics in that damn panty auction, and I thought I'd try and do something nice in return with a pseudo 'vacation' of sorts since he won't take any sort of reward ... Hell, I saw potential there.

<< So I ended up spending a lot of time 'round the boy. [shrug analog] It's not as though I planned it, just sort of ... bah. As for the rest, his survival training, clear thinking and resourcefulness is what helped get us that far, and did put us in touch with Sshrraaka.
}

Nathicana pauses, looking to Bondayehr with concern. "You going to be alright, boy?"

S.H.O.D.A.N. (2) sets her jaw, eyes flashing red. "The Council of Yut has been appraised of your disappearance and there is a general understanding that they want a stable Dominion under your control. Should you need it, the TYCS will probably provide military support."

Timofeyev grins weakly. "Of course. The stimulants in this derm are getting to me is all and I can't read barcodes."

<LOS Communications - Nathi>
{
<< I see. [frown analog] I suppose I'm being too hard on him, then?
}

Nathicana nods firmly to Shodey, trying to pull all the information together in her mind. "Aw hell, Tim ... don't you start. You get sick, then I'll get sick, and pretty soon ... " She shudders. "As for that other, sis - the last thing I want is some military action. I've no idea how my people would respond to that. I need them to trust our allies, not fear them ... there has to be a way here. I just need to think."

Timofeyev nods weakly. "Understood. Will do my best." Drawing up his knees and resting his head on them, he concentrates on fighting off the sensations in his stomach; constricting his esophagus and dulling his perception of his lower abdomen.

S.H.O.D.A.N. (2) nods. "Simply mentioning the option. The reality of your disappearance is unknown except among the top leadership of the Triumvirate; they've held that information in the strictest confidence."

"Anything you can do for the nausea, sis?" she asks, even as she goes to kneel down by the cadet. She fishes some of the mint leaves out of her pocket and offers them over with a wry smile. "Well ... they did help me a bit ..." Turning back to Shodey, she nods. "I regret having caused so much trouble. Their efforts are appreciated."

"Hell, I suppose I ought to check in with them," she muses, brows furrowing in thought.

"Last time I checked, you weren't part of the conspiracy," Shodey says consolingly, kneeling down with Nathi. Fishing a particular leech out of the pile in his hands, she swaps it with the one on his neck. "This one is just straight artificial blood." She then carefully puts the rest away and goes over to the medicine cabinet.

Timofeyev looks up slowly, accepting the mint leaves with a gentle nod. "Never mind any more medications, ma'am, please. Any more and I'll just lose track of it all." He slowly munches on the leaves, returning his head to his knees.

S.H.O.D.A.N. (2) shrugs slightly and returns to Nathi's side.

Nathicana turns to Shodey and smiles, albeit a bit weakly. "Doesn't matter. Ought to have kept on top of things. Let myself get distracted. Still ... first things first I suppose. Time?"

<LOS Communications - Nathicana>
{
<< Um. Bill tells me the war effort is in full swing. A lot of Wysterian nations are coming into the fight, including the Grendels. There's no way I can divert much to pressure the Dominion. But we might use this war effort to pressure the conspirators. I'm also getting news from deep cover operatives in Devras. Interested?
}

S.H.O.D.A.N. (1) finishes what emergency surgical work she can do on Devon, wounds cleaned and temporary bandages applied. "We're about to dock with Bitstreams. You're all going to get individual observation rooms while I diagnose and treat you."

<LOS Communications - Devon>
{
<< Spill it, boy.
}

"Understood, sis. Grazie," Nathi says, growing more serious again.

<LOS Communications - Nathicana>
{
<< Reports are still sketchy, but it looks like the conspiracy is being limited to the very top levels. This isn't a popular uprising, it's a careful, surgical strike. Apparently, they're not doing anything to trash your reputation or burn bridges behind you. They're using your body double to maintain order.

<< Intel suggests the folks we want are Calabrese, del Vecchio, and Calfa. They've got security locked up tight; my folks are still crunching numbers to assess the possibility of a black ops strike. Of the three conspirators, Calabrese appears to be the least active. I'd put my money on him being the key to the whole thing.
}

Nathicana nods sharply to Devon. "Second confirmation. So help me, I'm going to make those bastards pay."

A very gentle bump announces the successful docking of the shuttle inside the hangar of the medical ship. "Nathi, Cadet, I'm going to take you two to observation rooms while Devon is taken to surgery. Are you mobile?" The question is directed more towards Timofeyev.

Nathicana looks first to Devon, then the cadet, both with concern.

Timofeyev gets to his feet very carefully, gingerly keeping his center of gravity with his backpack in mind. "Yes... I'm as mobile as I have to be."

"Here ... let me help," Nathi says softly, holding out her arm to the man.

"Don't worry... Dev's surgery is mostly just patching holes with stem cells which will be induced into reforming musculature and some nanite-driven bone repair."

"Sis, I trust you implicitly. You know this. What worries I have are just ... the usual," she says with a wry smile. "I know we're in the best of hands.

Timofeyev half-smiles as he gently declines the arm. "I gather we're going to different places, so..." Blinking, he woozily tilts backwards, just barely catching himself in time. "Aw, hell." He accepts the arm with a weak smile.

Nathicana chuckles and shakes her head. "You're as bad as I am sometimes boy, I swear. Remember what you told me back there on helping each other? It goes around."

"Mmmhmm, yeah, yeah. No lectures, please."

Nathicana nods, letting it go. "Ready, sis. Lead on," she says, taking some comfort in helping her companion, feeling much more at peace now that she's finally where she feels safe.

<LOS Communications - SHODAN>
{
<< Well, that's a mess. Is it safe to come out, now?
}

<LOS Communications to Treznor>
{
<< I'd prefer it if you stayed still long enough to mend. It shouldn't take overly long.

>> Okay, just give me a hollar when the timer dings, okay?

<< [soft chuckle analog] Of course. }

>> How's Nath holding up?

Nathicana looks more concerned as they make their way to their respective rooms. "I'm sure it's all fine," she murmurs, biting her lower lip absently.

S.H.O.D.A.N. gives Nathi a gentle sisterly hug. "Of course. You're safe now."

Nathicana hugs back and offers up a smile. "I know ... just didn't expect all this."

"Things very rarely go as expected," Shodey replies with a soft smile.

"Aye, but this ... hell, of all times for something like this ... Not how I wanted it. I'm still not certain it's what Dev thinks, but ..." She looks at Shodey, brow furrowed. "You know we'd talked about children and all before, and you know the complications there. I just wanted things more ... orderly?" she finishes lamely.

SHODAN suppresses a chuckle. "So did I, and you know how that turned out. You're just following in the family tradition."

Nathicana shakes her head and laughs softly. "Well I suppose that's comforting ... in a twisted sort of way." She glances back in the direction Treznor had been headed. "How's Dev holding up?"

"A little bit of bio-organic spackle and he'll be fine." Shodey chuckles. "Actually, he's more concerned about you at the moment, having asked a remarkably identical question."

"Bah ... I'm not the one with an assfull of lead. I suppose we ought to get this done so the boy can stop worrying about that at least." Her expression doesn't look very enthusiastic all the same.

Arriving at the room, the examinations proceed apace, covering every physical aspect of bodily function imaginable. The process is simliar with Devon and the cadet, albeit slightly different as the former is examined concurrent with other treatment and the latter is blissfully unconscious at this point. Health determined and Devon healed to a point where additional movement will not cause additional harm, Shodey collects the two in one of Bitstreams' lounges.

"The good news is that you are both extremely healthy minus some purely understandable flaws. Devon's musculature is recovering quite well from being shot, and Nathi was only suffering mild stress-related symptoms."

Treznor stretches experimentally and rotates his arm. He winces slightly at a twinge. "Much improved. Thank you, SHODAN." The dark-haired woman smiles with a bit of relief. "Indeed, mia sorella. Bene grazie."

"There is additional news of interest. Nathi, you are indeed pregnant. Fraternal twins, it appears."

Treznor blinks. "That'll make things interesting. Now for the policy-making news."

Nathicana blinks. And again. "... Madre del dio." She smiles nervously, glancing first at Shodey, then Devon, not quite sure what to say.

<LOS Communications - Devon>
{
<< Well ... you wanted heirs. I'd say you're getting that, with a vengeance here. Christ - I can hardly imagine one, let alone two!
}

S.H.O.D.A.N. looks over to Treznor. "Yes, you are genetically the father of one. The other..." She frowns slightly. "Is not exactly human. Genetically, it appears as a sort of extremely advanced evolutionary progression from an Awakened metahuman, but genetic precursor information indicates the strain to be relatively ancient. My current hypothesis is that it's Maiar in nature."

Nathicana looks at S.H.O.D.A.N. sharply, her face going pale. "No ... no, not possible."

"I'm afraid it certainly isn't Cadet Bondayehr's."

Shodey. sits down gently next to Nathi. "I've cross-checked the results repeatedly. I don't have any other explanation."

Treznor frowns, mind racing. "Maiar? What does that mean? I don't understand," he says as Nathi slumps back in her chair, her expression unreadable and not meeting his eyes.

S.H.O.D.A.N. gently hugs Nathi protectively. "Generally ancient psionically-aware species similar to the Noldor. The only place I know of where they seem to occur with any regularity is Arda."

Treznor scowls furiously. "How is that possible? How could both be in there?"

"Any circumstance not directly explainable by science as it is currently understood can only be attributed to magic," Shodey replies with a frown, "which simply means I don't exactly know. If it is Maiar, some sort of thaumatologic or psionic explanation is certainly probable."

Nathicana turns her head towards Shodey, hugging back quietly as she works things over in her mind.

<LOS Communications - Shodey>
{
<< This is bad, sis. This is really bad.
}

SHODAN hugs Nathi just a little tighter.

<LOS Communications - Nathi>
{
<< Talk to me.
}

"What danger does it pose to my child?"

S.H.O.D.A.N. thinks for a moment. "None, I believe. As Nathi cannot carry to term and so I have to extract them anyway, the sooner I extract them the sooner I can be certain that there is no threat."

"Do it. Now. Then we can figure out where the hell it came from." He slumps back, one hand supporting his chin while the fingers of the other drum frantically on the arm of the chair.

Nathicana winces at Devon's voice, trying to take comfort in her sister’s embrace.

<LOS Communications - Shodey>
{
<< I'm not sure what to say. This wasn't supposed to happen.
}

SHODAN frowns slightly at Devon. "That is not exactly your choice to make at the moment."

<LOS Communications - Nathi>
{
<< Just tell me what you think happened. Help me understand.
}

Treznor opens his mouth to retort, then stops and closes it again. He goes back to brooding.

"I ... Dev, you know I ... I mean, when ... Just please ..." Nathicana eases back from Shodey, casting a quick sidelong glance at Devon, then nodding quietly.

"What we all have to understand," S.H.O.D.A.N. says quietly, "is that no one in this room willed it to happen. Feeling guilty or being angry at each other will not help."

"What?" Treznor asks, perhaps a little more sharply than he intended. He moderates his voice a bit. "Do you know how this happened? I don't want anything to happen to our child."

<LOS Communications - Shodey>
{
<< You're both going to hate me, I know it.
}

Nathicana takes a long, slow breath, lets it out equally slowly, then nods again, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, not meeting either person’s gaze. "I have a fair guess."

Treznor sighs deeply. "Look, I'm not upset with anyone here. But the Imperium just cut ties with the NDA and tried to run us off Io. There's been heavy fighting around Jupiter and my entire region is mobilising for war. The timing on this is damnably bad. If the Imperium has found a way to strike at us personally, I need to know."

"Well I hardly know how a child can be seen as a 'strike against the NDA'," Nathi responds testily, glancing up for a moment.

"Did I say it was? But it could be a strike against us, retaliation for our meddling in the Imperium's plans for expansion. Now that Sauron's ratted me out, which isn't unexpected, Melkor is going to want to hurt me any way he can. I can't think of anything more personal. It threatens you and our child."

Nathicana rubs her temples with one hand, the other reaching out to take Shodey's and clasp it for support. "Well I can only think of one possibility," she says in a tired voice. "You know what went on the week before all this mess well enough. It hasn't been so long that you've forgotten, though I admit, it hadn't been foremost in my mind whilst dodging patrols out in the woods."

SHODAN squeezes Nathi's hand gently.

<LOS Communications - Nathi>
{
<< I'll never hate you for anything. Support is what family is for.

>> Thank you - that means the world to me. I've a feeling I'm going to need all the support I can get with this.
}

Treznor tightens his fingers into a fist. "Alkanphel." SHODAN quirks a fiber-optic eyebrow. Nathicana doesn't speak, simply nods her head slowly.

"Destroy the fetus before it can do any more damage."

Nathicana does look up at Devon then, looking alarmed. "No, that's wrong," she starts to say, surprised that her distant religious upbringing elicits such a strong response.

S.H.O.D.A.N. frowns mightily. "That can be done... but based on my own experience, it doesn't necessarily follow that 'like father, like son.'"

"Why? It's unnatural, a creature of evil. The only thing to do...the only sane thing to do is to destroy it! How could it get there when you were already carrying my child? There can be only one purpose for this, Nath, and you know it."

"I am much more interested in punishing the criminal than his crime," the avatar says softly, eyes slowly shifting to a fiery red.

Treznor stares at S.H.O.D.A.N., refusing to back down. "And how do you know his 'crime' doesn't have a deeper purpose? How do you know it isn't intended to kill Nath, or worse? At the very least, to stab us in the back when it gets the chance? We can't take the risk. The thing is a menace to us all. It must be destroyed!"

Nathicana tries to come up with logical answers for all of that, looking between Shodey and Devon with clear indecision. "Christ, Dev ... I mean, we don't know that ... it's not ..." She flinches at his continued arguments, paling further.

Treznor turns his attention back to Nathicana. "How do you know? Are you willing to take that risk with my...with our child? Can you trust anything that Alkanphel has touched?"

"I tried to destroy my child using that exact same reasoning," S.H.O.D.A.N. says very quietly, "and it was fallacious reasoning indeed. Imagine my guilt when it turned out to be the most innocent mind I have ever experienced."

"And let me remind you before you speak in absolutes," she continues coldly as she holds Nathi protectively, "that apparently Alkanphel had to touch my sister to do this."

Treznor glares at S.H.O.D.A.N.. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. Stop twisting my words. Did Alkanphel put a child in you? Did someone threaten your pregnancy for their own plans? How can you begin to compare this?"

Nathicana squeezes Shodey's hand tighter and leans in closer. "It isn't right, Dev. None of this is, but killing a child on a suspicion ..." She shakes her head, then leans in against her sister-in-mind, and starts to sob quietly.

"No, Alkanphel did not, but another force of 'evil' did. Yes, it was contrived to someone's plans. I can compare this because there are definite parallels."

"It's not a child, it's an abomination. There's nothing natural about it."

"Interesting," Shodey murmurs darkly, "that is what they said about Asa."

"Stop it, the both of you, please," Nathi says quietly. "The last thing I need is for the two people I love most arguing with each other over something that's my fault."

"Nathi is right, this gets us nowhere. If you can kill it now when you have no proof, you can kill it later when you do. You are and will be in complete control of its fate for years to come. Wait, see, and act on real evidence instead of eliminating potential prematurely."

Treznor thrusts himself out of the chair and paces irritably across the room. "You're insane! You're going to risk your life on principles! You're risking everything on some archaic notions of morality! Think about this clearly for a moment, will you? Why would Alkanphel do this? What reason could he possibly have, except to strike at us? I can't imagine how this...thing could be anything but a threat!"

S.H.O.D.A.N. ignores the rant for the moment and looks at Nathi. "How is this your fault?"

Nathicana looks up at him, regaining a bit of her usual fire. "I don't know, Dev. But despite all the other horrible things I've done, I do know this is wrong. It's a child, for chrissakes." She tilts her chin up slightly, in that familiar imperious manner. "And it's my choice." Looking to Shodey, she looses a good bit of her resolve, however.

"It's .. difficult to explain, sis. It still doesn't make sense, really, but I know exactly what happened. Just didn't expect anything like this to come of it."

Treznor goes red in the face, knuckles white and ready to explode. He stands motionless for a full moment, then turns and stalks toward the door. "Fine. I'm going to bed. I'll see you both later."

Nathicana half stands to stop him, looking more than a little lost.

<LOS Communications - Devon>
{
<< Please, mi amore. Don't leave me now.

>> I...don't think you want me around, right now. I'm not very good company.

<< Fine. Go then.
}

Nathicana sits back down, turning away from him to face Shodey, her eyes bright with tears, stubbornly fighting them back.

"Perhaps..." S.H.O.D.A.N. says softly, eyes returning to green, "perhaps this was the intent."

Treznor pauses at the door and turns just enough to look back. "Then he succeeded. Brilliantly." He goes through the door and closes it quietly.

Timofeyev, after parting from Nathi on the way to observation, relies on the other S.H.O.D.A.N. avatar's help to keep him going long enough to make the short journey. Dutifully undressing when asked to, he lies down on the examination table and promptly passes out again.

He's in worse shape than originally thought. The most obvious harm--the wound to his forehead--really is no more than a scratch, but the loss of so much blood so quickly brought about mild anemia. Practically all of his upper-body musculature suffers from strain-related damage, having been pushed far beyond its physical limitations repeatedly. Very little can be done about it short of switching plastic leeches out and letting medical nanites do their work.

Several hours later, Bondayehr wakes up slowly in what feels to be a soft bed with clean covers and such. His eyes refuse to focus, and he has no problem with that; what is more annoying is that his face itches and he lacks either the motivation or the energy to move his arms to do anything about it.

"Welcome back," a naturally low feminine voice says. "I hope your sleep went well."

"Ugggghhhhhh..." The cadet replies intelligently. "How are the oth--"

"Shhhh." Grey fingers trace over the top left of his forehead. "The initial healing of your graze was intermittent at best due to all the stress you've been through. It will probably scar quite badly. I can fix that for you."
"Doesn't bother me any," Bondayehr croaks before coughing slightly. Feeling a straw offered against his lips, he takes a short drink of water while his eyes bring S.H.O.D.A.N.'s face into focus. "Thank you, ma'am."

"'Shodey,' if you'd like."

"Okay. Still, I earned it and it's partly my boyish good looks that got me into this mess. I figure that if I'm painful to look at perchance this won't repeat."

The electronic intelligence sits beside the bed, sighing softly. "That is not exactly true and you know it."

Timofeyev manages to shrug underneath the sheets with a weak half-smile. "I'm joking, mostly. I would like to keep some indication of it, though, because I did earn the facial experience."

"Perhaps something not immediately noticeable, then?"

"That works. Now, how are the oth--"

"I've ran tests on Nathi and you've been cleared."

"That's a relief. Now if there's any way for me to make up for what ha--"

"She's done nothing but support your case and explain how important you were. I'm afraid I made a snap judgement on insufficient information... I'm sorry. It was not right to do that to you."

"Oh." The cadet blinks. "Okay."

"I'd also like to thank you for bringing my family back to me. They say if it weren't for you... If you ever want or need anything, just ask."

"Eh, no problem." Timofeyev manages another slight shrug. "It's in the job describtion to protect and serve."

S.H.O.D.A.N. sighs with a wry smile. "You simply do not accept much of anything beneficial to you, do you?"

"No... not really." Bondayehr half-smiles. "It's been my experience that they tend to backfire."

Nathicana doesn’t say anything for a good while, blinking back the tears that seem to keep welling up as she sits quietly with Shodey. She dampens the commlines as best she can, instinctively withdrawing as she tries to center herself. When she finally does speak, it’s in a quiet, strained voice, without meeting her sister’s eyes.

“Per favore, mia sorella … Timofeyev. How is the boy? And please, the truth. I know damn well he’s not been doing as well as he claimed. I think he’d drop dead of exhaustion before he voiced a word of complaint sometimes. Was a close thing there, especially at the end. I don’t think we’d have made it without him.”

S.H.O.D.A.N. simply hugs Nathi gently as the other remains silent, cradling protectively in her grey-skinned arms. At the question, she cants her head slightly.

"Physically, he could be better, but he'll recover soon under my care. Mentally, he's far too self-effacing for his own good. Otherwise, I'd say he has far less to worry about than you do."

Treznor walks quietly through the corridors of the Bitstreams of Mercy, guided in part by helpful directional lights leading him to his assigned quarters. He barely notices the twinge in his hip where he was shot, as his mind is embroiled with conflicting emotions.

The child is a danger to everyone and everything. Why can't they see that? I won't have the succession to my Empire tainted because they won't look beyond some obscure notions of morality.

His thoughts continue on this vein for some time until he reaches his bunk and strips down for a shower. He revels in the luxury of hot water and soap, taking extra care to shave his face clean for the first time in weeks. He's amazed at how thick it's become; he's never allowed more than a day of growth since before he staged the coup that signaled his rise to power.

At some point, it occurs to him to wonder when his focus shifted away from Nathicana. The implant chip S.H.O.D.A.N. implanted in his brain gives him no choice but to recollect everything he thought or said.

His child. His Empire. Time was when he would have given it all up if she had wanted him to, if it meant he would have her again. Now that he has her, his goals have shifted focus toward the preservation of his creation.

He looks into the mirror and stands tall. "Devon Treznor. Emperor." The face is the same one he's seen in the mirror for decades; perhaps a little better preserved than it has any right to be. But he realises he doesn't recognise it anymore.

He pats himself dry with a towel and climbs into bed. It takes him a while to fall asleep.

“Well, considering his current state is on my conscience as well, aye .. it all weighs rather heavily when you get down to it.” She laughs humorlessly, rubbing a bit at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m not accustomed to this goddamn guilt thing, sis. It doesn’t suit me for some reason, but damned if I’ve not found myself in positions to accept it lately. I’ll want to see him before I go, if that’s alright.”

Nathi gives S.H.O.D.A.N. another quick hug, then sits up straight, falling back on her usual methods of gathering herself and putting forward a strong front, as she always had tried to do. Ever since that day when the soldati had come, taking her away from everything she’d ever known, she’d sworn to be strong, keep her tears to herself as best she could. Concise, clear, get to the facts. Emotions detached or muted til later. Deal with the business at hand – she had work to do. One slow, deep, cleansing breath … and then for it.

Now if only her stomach and the rest of it all would cooperate as they were supposed to.

“I said ‘my fault’ because frankly, sis, it is. I don’t know how much you know about our Imperial involvement of late, but suffice it to say, we’ve been the both of us running a rather dangerous game – and not always with the other’s knowledge. When certain situations came to light a week ago, Alkanphel requested a meeting. Nothing out of the ordinary, this – I’ve met with him several times before. Always cordial, always businesslike. Believe it or not, the Imperium has been one of the more amicable nations to deal with that way.” Nathicana’s brow furrows as her mind runs over the many deals and meetings she’s had with the Imperium and the warlords, the strangeness of the meeting in question only becoming more clear on account.

“He arrived, and as usual, I met with him privately. I’ve never trusted my ministers to handle such delicate dealings – frankly, half afraid something like this recent bullshit would happen. So much for forethought,” she says, looking more distraught and confused as she goes back through that evening’s events.

“It was strange, Shodey. He walked in and he lacked his usual … what would you call it … ‘menacing’ feel. Truth, he’d never threatened, but that is not a man you tend to sit easy with at the negotiating table all the same. We began talking, he presented his concerns, and of course they were about Devon and his activities. It was hard to think, not having had much time to prepare for this, and not at that time entirely sure what all the boy had been up to.”

Nathi ponders thoughtfully, looking down for a moment as she absently bites her lower lip. “I can’t remember exactly who did what first, but it seemed natural enough … seemed a perfectly logical thing at the time. A distraction, diversion to take his mind off of Devon, hopefully influence him enough to get him to come around … and damned if he can’t be rather a tempting son of a bitch once you get past all the bluster and intimidation the Imperium seems to exist for. I’m still not sure who started it. And you know, even he seemed surprised, as I think on it, but he was quick enough to go with it all.”

Shaking her head slowly, she shrugs helplessly, looking to her sister-in-mind as if she might have the answers. “It’s nothing I’ve not done before, though rarely enough, and never with any of my Imperium contacts – I had no need to, and it never seemed the correct approach with them. Always very businesslike, though pleasant enough. I’m still not sure why I didn’t question it more right then. It seemed at the time …”

“Enough of that,” she says, dismissing it with an irritated wave of her hand. “What’s done is done. The rest is simple enough. One of the security shifts was obviously compromised – the extent of which I’m not sure. They tried gas at the house, obviously thinking the cadet wouldn’t be much of a trouble. Thanks to your engineering, Dev was able to get out of there, retrieve Tim and I, and we made our escape through the tunnels.”

Nathicana relates the rest of the ordeal with as much detail as she can manage, using it all to keep her mind off the present unpleasantness, then lets out a long, quiet sigh. “I think that catches you up to where we are now …” She finally relents, slumping down in her chair, her elbows resting against her knees, head in her hands, eyes closed tiredly.

“I still say it’s wrong,” she whispers. “Whatever he says to the contrary.”

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

“We’re looking for three of them .. in all this mess?” The tall man shook his head in disbelief, watching the chaos from the eaves of a quaint ristorante near the outskirts of Torino. “Look around, man. They’re fucked if they’re still in the area.”

“Aye, and we have our orders in spite of it. We know she was here at this phone, and how long ago. Logical locations on the outskirts have already been overrun by the military, but there’s still hope they slipped the noose. We know where they’re headed, after all. Just need to plot a course there ourselves, and keep updated with Cezanne’s tracking of the militzia’s movements,” responded another, scowling darkly as he sipped his coffee.

“Most likely course is up along that high bend in the river, then a straight shot up to Perugia. Contact our counterparts there and have them begin infra-red scanning along a two-kilometer stretch, centered on the most likely path, given the terrain. We’re shorthanded, we’re running under a high risk of discovery by the government, and we’re just going to have to deal. Jas mentioned pulling in a few favors that way, but frankly, I don’t have much hope for it. Still, it’ll be our hides if we don’t do everything we can … however limited that is.”

“On it,” murmurs the first, taking out what at first glance looks like a small cell phone and quietly discussing the plans over the QE connection in a language most notably not native.

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

Marissa schooled herself to a quiet calmness, meeting Pellegrino’s eyes with a decidedly defiant gaze of her own, having told him all she felt she could for now. His own dark gaze was furious, to say the least, and he scowled across the desk at her with undisguised animosity.

“What the hell were you three thinking? Arrogant bitch, we’ve never had it so good in this nation as we have under her leadership. Have you any idea the events you’ve set in motion here? Have you given a thought to our future plans, how our relationship with our allies could be affected by this?”

“I can assure you, we have it well in ha—“

“Oh do you now? And I suppose you thought the assassination of a foreign leader made sense as well? Christ, woman, you people truly need to set your sights a bit farther than just the seat of power here. You could bring down a good bit of Wysteria on our heads for this if it gets out, never mind the damn Triumvirate for destabilizing not one, but two member nations. So help me God, I ought to shoot you right now.”

The woman stared back at him with a clear challenge in her eyes, her gaze unflinching. “And just what would that solve, Antonio, besides making you feel better for having let this progress as far as it has under your very nose? You think soothing your ego will help matters?”

“Where are they now?” he demands in a dangerously quiet voice.

“They’re being gathered in as we speak,” she says, her eyes glittering. “After that, we have a little speech the ‘Lady’ is going to deliver. It’s unfortunate they are going to meet with a rather untimely accident soon after, once we get things cleared up with the allies we already know have been stirred to action.” Marissa pauses, then smiles coldly. “And you, Antonio, are going to shut up, sit back, and let us finish this with the least amount of bloodshed, headache, and complications.”

Shooting her an incredulous look, he starts to speak … and stops as she slowly draws a folder of her own, confidently sliding it across the desk towards him. “It would seem that extracurricular activities abound, my dear Pellegrino. Several of which I’m quite sure several of our fellow ministers would take a personal interest in – most especially di Medici, Calfa, and the good minister of Devense, Torino.”

Fixing him with a hard gaze, she sits back in her chair, unable to hide her smug satisfaction.

“Still want to play hardball, boy?”

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

In and around the resort town of Torino, the militzia was busily closing in on the locations plotted out by last reported sightings, and the natural barriers that existed there. Tempers flared as the minutes went by, imbedded operatives growing more desperate to find their targets … though no trace of them aside from the slaughtered squad, and several sets of occasional tracks, along the riverside was turned up.

Giancarlo began to quietly filter down to his more trusted underlings orders to keep the Triumvirate forces actions quiet and downplay them even further than what they had been. He had strong suspicions, especially after they’d monitored the small craft being escorted, though they were uncertain of its point of origin. Orders for closely monitoring any alliance vessels in the area were passed down, with the understanding that no hostile action was to be taken. Reports to their earthbound counterparts were kept neutral, and ‘business as usual’.

We’ll see just how this pans out. Enough playing the fools for those bastards.

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

Cesare sits in the makeshift office they had set up in the warehouse, across from a quiet, nervous-looking Yasmin – the double they had used to some effect. Once they had Nathicana in their grasp, and they were able to force the compliance and information from her they needed, the woman would no longer be of use. And if the bitch wouldn’t respond, they would follow through anyway, using the excuse of foreign agents. But for now …

“You understand what you have to do tomorrow, yes? Been practicing the speech we’ve prepared? Your bearing? Remembered your lessons, this time?” He smiles warmly, encouragingly, and she responds in kind, pitifully eager to please.

“Yes, of course! And after this is done, I get my full payment, yes? Job complete?”

“Quite complete,” he replies, smiling more broadly. “You made things difficult there at the start, Yasmin, but I think this performance will take care of that little indiscretion. Now, you say you have it down. Show me.”

The woman rises gracefully to her feet, clears her throat, and settles into a disturbingly familiar pose, chin tilted up ever so slightly in an imperious manner, blue eyes flashing. In a clear voice, she begins to recite a short but concise speech, Cesare gently correcting her in spots where she seems to fumble, or lose her focus.

Excellent. I think she’ll do just fine.

The Maiar sat atop a dias in an otherwise empty room, his hands steepled before his face. He stared through his hands at the palantir some few yards away, brooding silently. He stood without a sound, and carefully removed each of his gloves, tucking them into his jacket pocket as he strode towards the dormant seeing stone. A shudder ran through his body as his fingertips started to glide over the smooth surface of the stone, and he drew his jaw and closed his eyes.

The palantir came to life slowly, swirling clouds giving way to bright lights and then, finally, the shadows gave way to light and images could be perceived. Alkanphel opened his eyes and leveled his gaze at the ancient device, and he began to perceive what he had already come to suspect. A fight between Nathi and Devon was played back to the Maia as if it were tape recorded, followed by a smattering of images and assorted scenes from the pair's preceding adventure.

And then, he saw the second child. His eyes widened suddenly and he scowled angrily as he began to perceive what he had only just begun to fear: one of them was not his. His knuckles were white against the palantir, as the fire slowly died from it. Slowly, he pulled his hands off of it, and drew back to his dias, where he sat brooding for several days.

His next move would be pivotal. Under these new circumstances, the Ainur realized that his actions now would make or break this whole situation for him.

Eventually, he risked a grin. Perhaps his fondness for Nathi was to pay off. Slowly, he drew his gloves from their resting place and put them back on. Taking up his stylus, he began to write.

Soon he would be leaving for Devras. But first, the necessary contacts must be made.

Lord Alkanphel
High Warlord of Lord Melkor's Imperium, First Counselor to Melkor Himself, and CEO of the Chronos Corporation
http://people.vanderbilt.edu/~darion.c.smith/alkanphel1.jpg

Utilizing a vehicle lift on the shuttlepad, Sshrrakaa watches as the Shodeyvette takes off, with her friend and his associates aboard. Spirits be kind to you, Tim. I feel the trouble is just beginning. She decides that she should keep tabs as best she could on all three of them, even though she felt fairly certain the Dread Lady and Emperor Treznor didn't need her looking over their shoulders. All the same......

She comms a farewell to Kheel, and makes a 'date' with him at the cafe for Kansee tea and meat-wafers. She then gets to the vehicle lift, and descends to ground level for a scenic drive back to Hreer, which would take about five hours or more.

Later that day, she returns to her rooms to freshen up and take in some time in the heat chamber. She rest the egg and nest she rescued in the chamber with her, and closes her eyes.

A couple of hours later, a soft *bweep* comes from her automated messenger, and she leaves the chamber to investigate.

[code:1:239057b7ad]
Transmit: TYCS channel
Ident: Admiral Shaar
Encryption: Maximum
Auto-confirmation sent
Subj: Report

Cadet Sshrrakaa,

I have discovered, through TYCS channels, about your 'extracurricular activities'. If you value your prospects of being in the I.S.N. you will compile a report and have it sent to me under the same encryption standards as this message you now read. Make no mistake, i'll have your guts for garters if a report is not filed within an hour of you reading this message.

Admiral Shaar
T.O.D.S.[/code:1:239057b7ad]

Sshrrakaa trembles a touch, but quickly voice-types out a report, making sure not a single detail is missed. After double-checking it, she sends the report.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Admiral Shaar sits at her desk awaiting the response. She got the auto-confirm message, so she knows a reply should not be long in the making. Patrol routes are mapped out, and responses sent along the chain of command for more mundane duties in the I.S.N.

Finally, the report comes in, and she opens it up through the Imperial Decryption Servitor. Then she reads it thoroughly, hand on her chin.

It seems much is amiss in the Dominion. How could that girl take such a task on herself? This would be more of a job suited for a Skeen detail. That she performed this task, and succeeded, is surely a testament to her instincts and training. But that doesn't mean I have to like it. She comms her aid. "Put a snooper on the Imperial Newsfeed, with attention paid to Dominion goings-on."

"Acting, Sirrah."

"And while I have you, tell the crew of the Tiamat that I want that ship ready to fly in one hour. Full ammo compliment."

"Acting, Sirrah."

Shaar leans back in her chair, and steeples her fingers. I better find out what in the Pits is going on, and how it could affect the Empire. Her finger shoots out to comm her aid again. "And get me one of those damn S.H.O.D.A.N. Gestalts or Avatars or whatever the vrelte they call themselves on the horn A.S.A.P."

"Acting, Sirrah." At this point, the aid's voice sounds a little strained.

Warlord Althalon heaved open the heavy set of double doors to Lord Alkanphel's chamber, and peered into the rather darkened room. Slowly, the light instensified, and the man could actually see. He blinked a few times, and chuckled as he saw the Maiar.

"Hello, Lord Alkanphel. I trust you're doing well?" the Easterling inquired. "It certainly feels good to be back on Earth again. Those dreadful holo-comms piss me off after a while, besides."

ALkanphel stood slowly and turned to ALthalon, extending his hand. "Indeed, I am well. I thought you'd enjoy this change in scenery, plus holo-comms lack the intimacy needed to discuss matters with this sort of..." he paused. "Gravity." He turned sharply, and calmly strode to a small wetbar where an assorted manner of liquor could be found. He gestured for the Warlord to make himself more comfortable. "Please, do sit. You'll do well to," he advised Althalon.

Konrad nodded and sat down on a small, red and black couch. He sighed contentedly and stretched out his arms, resting them on the top end of the couch. He smirked. "Alright then, out with it!"

The Maiar sighed as he turned around and handed Althalon his drink: scotch, on the rocks: Alkanphel had noticed long ago that both Althalon and Foreign Minister Reaven shared much the same preferences with their liquor--though Reaven had always consumed it in much more... volume. He sighed. "I've been trying for days and I've found that quite frankly, there is no way to say this in a roundabout way, or 'sugar coat' it, as the case may be." He drew in a breath as Althalon's expression floated between curiousity and concern. "Lady Nathicana is pregnant with my child."

The contents of Althalon's mouth were expelled instantly in a rather sudden and one could say almost violent manner, creating a shower of liquor in front of the man. Alkanphel calmy drew a small hand towel from the counter and reached down to clean it up. Althalon could do nothing save stare at the wall dumbly as Alkanphel continued. "As I'm sure you're beginning to understand, this has a number of far reaching and and potentially very pervasive implications."

Althalon nodded slowly, still staring at the wall.

Alkanphel put the towel back and began to pace slowly. "Your recent acquisition of the Xaosis Board of Directors plays an important part in this puzzle: we all have been made aware now that the DLN is actively seeking ways to 'mend relations' with Lord Melkor's Imperium."

The Easterling could not supress a chuckle at this. "It would seem that Nathi got a bit more than she bargained for."

Alkanphel nodded. "Precisely. Only problem is, she seems to have a sceond child. Don't ask me how it's possible, but it would seem to be the case. The second one, incredibly enough, is [i]not mine, but I would assume it to be Devon Treznor's."

Althalon scowled. "I hate that bastard."

Alkanphel waved his hand dismissively. "As do I, Warlord Althalon, beleive me. Perhaps at some point we will be fortunate enough for someone to make the mistake of placing us in the same room again, in which case I will finally be allowed to slay the silly prat with my own two hands. But that's neither here nor there. What I need you to do is round up the Marshals, and have them and yourself accompany me to the Dominion so that this issue, along with the Xaosis exchange, can be discussed appropriately. Normally I would travel alone, but I feel your presence..." He paused. "For at least part of the conference, would help to establish our gratitude for having received the Xaosis terrorists."

Althalon nodded. "I'm sure it won't be lost on them. They're a sharp bunch from what I've seen. But I think you're been glossing over a rather important detail so far. Regarding this child, might I be so kind as to inquire: 'What the hell?!'"

Alkanphel chuckled. "Shortly after our relations went sour with the NDA, I went on a little excursion to Devras to...ah..." he paused for a moment. "Speak my mind."

Konrad grinned. "So your mind told ya to fuck her?"

"Bah. It's more complicated than that. Much more complicated." He levelled his gaze at Althalon. "Which brings me round to my next point rather nicely. I want you to turn the Xaosis Board of Directors over to Menelmacar."

Konrad appeared incredulous. "Why the hell would I do that?!" he aasked. "It makes no sense."

"Or does it? I don't mean '[i]turn them over['/i] in the sense that one might peacably turn over intelligence findings or wanted men. I'm sure, under the circumstances, they wouuld be agreeable to stage some sort of special forces interdiction to retreive them. Once Sirithil has the Xaosis Board, and has learned of their fate, she will quite likely be furious with Nathi and the DLN. I'll leave you to ponder the implications of that, coupled with my own plans for the Dread Lady which I'm sure should not be too hard for you to guess, having known me for some time."

Althalon's eyes widened as the thought for a moment, aided perhaps by the power of Alkanphel's thought. He grinned broadly and nodded his head vigorously. "Yes... yes I think I like it."

S.H.O.D.A.N hugs her sister-in-mind gently. "It's wrong at the moment, I'll admit, but it doesn't do to take more risks than necessary. As Alkanphel is involved, I do agree with Devon that there is a risk, though I am doubtful it is as dire as he thinks. Nevertheless, the sooner we can get the fetuses into seperate in-vitro tanks the sooner we can minimize what risk there is."

Nathicana returns the hug then blinks, looking up at Shodey with mixed surprise and a bit of regret as she unconsciously rests a hand along her stomach. "So soon? I ... I mean, I understand, but ..." She pauses, brow furrowing slightly, and nods. "No, I suppose you're right. This is just all so ... so ... well, sudden."

"It is," the avatar replies with a tired look, "but then again I didn't expect you to be carrying anything psionically active. Now or a little later wouldn't matter under normal circumstances, but the fact that it could potentially be manipulated from a distance is a variable which piques my paranoia."

"Psionically ..." Nathi begins, her brows furrowing further. "Now wait a minute. Explain, because I know I'm missing something now."

"The one that's probably Alkanphel's is Awakened. Psychic. Magical. Whatever you'd like to call it." S.H.O.D.A.N. smiles wryly. "Lucky for you, I just happen to be the Office of Psionic Operations' chief scientist of the occult and metanormal, so it should not be a problem."

Nathicana nods slowly, recalling what Shodey had mentioned earlier about the 'how' of it all, a quiet suspicion growing in her eyes. "I ... see. Gods, sis - is this something I'm even going to be able to handle?" she asks quietly. "I'm doubly glad of your assistance now. This sort of thing is completely outside any Dominion realm of experience I can think of."

Shodey pauses for a moment, tapping her chin with one long finger, then looking down to see the suspicion. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Nathi doesn't answer immediately, running over the events of that evening in her mind again, schooling her expression to one of telltale neutrality.

The avatar smiles wryly. "I get the feeling you are."

"Well, regardless, damage is done. Question is, what do we do now?" She takes on a more businesslike tone, reflexively tugging on her shirt to straighten it needlessly.

S.H.O.D.A.N. frowns slightly. "First order of business to isolate the fetuses. I can rig a sort of psionic Faraday cage around the one using the same technology as the OPO's psi-amps in order to prevent it either transmitting or recieving anything metanormal. It will be passive and thus completely harmless, so don't worry about that. The next step is pondering revenge." The avatar's eyes and fiber optics slowly slide down the visible range towards orange.

Nathicana looks concerned nonetheless, all of it being rather unfamiliar to her. "I trust you, mia sorella. Implicitly. I'm willing to take at least this phase of it all as you suggest. As for revenge ... there are too many unanswered questions just yet. I need to know why."

Shodey frowns mightily. "I am not overly concerned with why. No one coerces my family, especially as I know what it is like to be... used."

Nathi chuckles softly, and shakes her head. "I'm not entirely sure it was coercion, sis. Like it or not, it's not as though I've never done the like before. I've more than enough doubt, even given the evidence. With all the pressure I've been under lately, it isn't such a stretch." Giving her sister-in-mind a steady look, she speaks with a quiet firmness. "You may not care about the reasons, but I do. I need to find out for myself."

"As long as I can assist in the interrogation. I strongly suggest avoiding being alone with that... insect for any reason at any time."

The woman gives Shodey a slightly irritated look. "And just how do you figure I'd get any meaningful answers that way? I doubt he'd be very forthcoming while observed. I recall the last meeting between he and I with others present - it didn't go nearly as well as I'd have liked, even considering the circumstances." She gives the avatar's hand a gentle squeeze, regardless. "I appreciate your concern, sis, but I'm a big girl."

"At least allow me to observe somehow. We've dealt with Alkanphel before, and I just want to make sure he's acting legitimately. If he's meddling where he doesn't belong--and he has in the past--then we need to know."

"Damn your logic, woman," Nathi murmurs, half-smiling. "Proposed methods? I can give you a direct link to my security system - as if you couldn't easily hack it yourself - for starters."

"That would be useful. The biggest dilemma is coming up with some way to detect metanormal activity, which cannot be done with completely nonsentient machines..." S.H.O.D.A.N. again taps her chin. "I swear, if I heard two years ago that I'd be thinking about these kinds of things... the best I can do is either set up a ward or establish memory runes that I can examine later. It isn't perfect, but it should be able to detect anything out of the ordinary."

Nathicana arches a brow at all that. "Wards and runes? Christ woman, I didn't realize you were into the whole pagan thing," she says teasingly. "Still, what all do such ah ... measures affect, and what would we have to do here for it?"

S.H.O.D.A.N. chuckles. "You're not the only one who has had an interesting week, sis. I'll tell you later... but the runes would essentially record the effect of any psionic activity within their range of effect. It would just take a few hours for me to set them up with the proper materials and psi-amperage in wherever you plan on meeting him. Unfortunately, it isn't something that can be sped up much."

"Well, given you have an avatar there in Devras, and given I've more than enough reason to insist on any meetings being there, for my own sense of security ... it could work," she says thoughtfully, obviously intrigued with Shodey's hints at her own exploits.

"I can't begin immediately, for obvious reasons. Now that we know what we're going to do concerning both your children and your office, how shall we get get your nation back?"

"I've a few thoughts there," she says, giving her sister-in-mind a sidelong glance. "I'll need help though, of the quiet sort. This has been relatively bloodless so far, and the nation has remained stable. I see no need to upset that with force if I can get what I want with trickery."

Shodey nods. "Quite understandable."

"I caught notice in a paper I picked up yesterday that I'm to be giving an address of some sort shortly. I need to get more info on it all, but I think there's an opening. Considering their push earlier, I'd bet my boots they think they have me beaten, and are going to proceed as such." Absentmindedly tapping her fingertips along her knee, she nods. "They're using a double, yes? I simply need to find a way to replace her and remind them just who they're fucking with."

The grey-skinned avatar chuckles with a smile. "And how do we plan on doing that?"

"First off, more info. But I can't help but think if a very public speech won't be the perfect opportunity to shut them down quick, then deal with the aftermath from more a position of power. They could hardly take me out right then and there with so many eyes on me ... and perhaps, with the proper backup from some reliable allies watching over their shoulders?" Nathi says with a rather wicked smile.

"Special operatives are on site and more can be inserted," Shodey replies slyly.

Nathicana nods slowly, her smile broadening. "If they've stayed true to form, they're keeping her at the villa. What I need now is current intel, hopefully a timeframe, and your kind assistance in coordinating and getting me in there. Think we can do it?"

"Of course we can." The avatar grins broadly.

"Right then," she says, her expression sobering somewhat. "In that case ... I think it best to take care of the little ones. If anything god forbid should go awry, I want them safe. Perhaps if I could jack in during the process and give myself something to work on? I've been ... horribly disconnected for too long."

S.H.O.D.A.N. stands up slowly. offering a hand. "Of course."

Nati smiles though it doesn't quite match her eyes, taking the offered hand and rising slowly. "Grazie, mia sorella," she says simply.

* - * - *

The procedure is quick and deceptively simple, ending with two tanks resembling largish cylindrical coolers with various machinery addenda to them housing the 'fetuses,' no more than tissues at the moment. As Nathi continues to work, S.H.O.D.A.N. places the two in opposite ends of seperate rooms--There are only two forms of paranoia...--and quickly jury-rigs a passive psi-amp around the one containing the Nathi-Alkanphel fetus using fine wires and materials requested from Bitstreams' stores. Hooking it up to her avatar, S.H.O.D.A.N. then sits down and begins humming odd, mild little tunes, softly chanting sounds that may approximate words but the ideas they describe are far beyond temporal imagining. The protection, binding, and ward runes are made of chalk, but the material does not matter in such things. After several hours, the in-vitro container and the area surrounding it is covered in abstract, arcane figures and lines, a reason-in-chaos rendering of cabbalistic ideas. Spooling out some more line between her avatar and the psionic Faraday cage, she starts in with another set of wards.

Absolute and insufficient.

* - * - *

<Communications to Admiral Shaar>
{
<< You rang?
}

http://www.womengamers.com/dw/sshock2_rev.jpg
S.H.O.D.A.N. v3.0 : MCP, Q01
Cetagandan Duchess of Marilac

Using an A/V terminal, Shaar sees the grey-skinned avatar on-screen. As for herself, she looks like a very large and angry reptile trying extrememly hard to keep from going rabid. Her voice issues forth in a low rumble. "Yes, I did. I know you have some manner of relationship with the Dread Lady of the Dominion, so I assumed you would have some answers."

"I have the Imperial Newsfeed keyed to events in the Dominion. A public address from the Dread Lady is scheduled for feed-cast. At the same time, I have a report here from Cadet Sshrrakaa detailing her unwitting rescue of the same Dread Lady. Question one: If the Lady is making a public address, how can she have been rescued from her lands at the same time? It smacks of something strange indeed."

At this point, Shaar's dewlap is fully expanded, and shows a deep purple hue. "Question two. Who is responsible for this? My hatchling could have lost her life in this, and had that happened, someone would be made to pay!"

A deep, deep breath is taken, and then the Admiral continues, somewhat calmer now. "Third question, and my final one for now. Something is amiss, and I now have a personal interest in it. I am certain the TYCS in whole knows what is occuring. What happens next? I have scheduled the Tiamat to travel to Dominion space, and I will be aboard her. I want to know what to expect."

<Communications to Admiral Shaar>
{
<< [broad smile analog] That is indeed something strange. I have full faith that all answers will be made known at said public address. I'm sure you'll find it quite interesting indeed. It is a tale of intrigue, conspiracies, and suspense suitable for telling at the Minstrel's Club.

<< Answer two. [cant of the head with an innocent smile analog] Why, the conspirators behind the strange something, of course. Had there been no conspiracy, then there would be no need for your extremely skilled hatchling's professional heroics and its attendant risk.

<< Third and final answer. The Council of Yut--including the honorable Emperor Gorrm--has been made aware of the situation for some time now and the matter of maintaining operational security has been theirs. You can expect the Third Triumvirate Expeditionary Fleet to be running maneuvers while investigating the loss of Valhalla but otherwise our forces in the area are simply winding down from alert in the Ardan Conflict. Nothing is happening that another warship or two is needed to stabilize.
}

http://www.womengamers.com/dw/sshock2_rev.jpg
S.H.O.D.A.N. v3.0 : MCP, Q01
Cetagandan Duchess of Marilac

The response from the Avatar is not what Shaar was expecting. She cocks her head so one eye can focus. " The Emperor has not mentioned any of this to me! I would think this would warrant my attention. I'll speak with the youngster soon enough."

She rears back, dewlap still fully extended. "The answers provided are circumventive. I smell a cover-up. I'll get to the bottom of this myself. Admiral Shaar, out." She shuts off the terminal and yells at her aid. "Get me Emperor Gorrm on secure channels at once!"

A few moments pass, and the face of Emperor Gorrm comes up on the terminal. "Admiral Shaar. Is there a good reason for this address? I am busy on Sslaa 5, you know."

"I know, my Emperor. But something is afoot. The Dominion is about to have a public address from the Dread Lady. The same Dread Lady of the Dominion who my hatchling was involved in extracting. 2+2 does not equal 6, and I smell a cover-up. The S.H.O.D.A.N. Avatar is circumvetive with answers..."

The Emperor Gorrm glares through the terminal. "I am fully aware of everything surrounding the goings-on in the Dominion. Steps have already been taken by the TYCS, and we do not need to interfere with them."

Shaar looks like she had the wind sucked out of her sails for a moment, as her dewlap retracts and her eyes widen. "But my Emperor, action must be tak...."

At this, Gorrm's crest raises fully, lifting his crown off his head and sending it clattering to the floor. "I am not in the habit of repeating myself. Stand down, Admiral!" He breathes deeply, and closes his eyes for a moment. "Or i'll have your rank for going against the Emperor and the Empire. Are we clear?"

Shaar blinks nervously, her neck making swallowing motions as her dewlap retracts into her neck. "Abundantly, my Emperor." She bows her head low, almost to the ground.

Gorrm rears back. "Good. The TYCS can handle this, so we do not need to commit Imperial resources to it. Just watch the news-feed, and all will become clear. Afterwards, take a short vacation. You are obviously overworked and stressed. Emperor Gorrm, out." The terminal shuts off from his end.

Five seconds later, the entire Titan Orbital Defense Station veritably shakes under Admiral Shaar's yell.