Most people agree that there are only three things guaranteed in the Empire. The first, of course, is taxes. The second, obviously, is death. The third is -- is -- waiting. Though in truth it's not all the Empire's fault. Space travel did a lot to bring back the lost art of waiting by, in many ways, returning the galaxy's people to a bygone age when it took time for things to happen. One's neighbors were not simply a two minute transport away. The next planet over was days away -- perhaps a quarter of a year away or more.

Waiting. For some it took weeks to Star Station Regillus; for others more many weeks. And all that time there was a lot of waiting.

Star Station Regillus turned out to be a derelict old Imperial VF-11 series fleet carrier. Well, derelict was probably an over statement. While it was true that the VF-12 was now the Naval standard of technology, that hardly made the VF-11 series of the same ship out of date. Not by civilian standards anyway.

Not surprisingly, as you debarked you were met by a Myri slave with long snow white hair who wore the traditional diplomatic garb of the Empire: A white smock and trousers over which a full sized white toga with a gold and yellow border had been carefully folded and fitted like a fine suit. The shoes were black low quarters shined to mirrored perfection.

With a proper and respectful Imperial bow the Myri introduced himself as Kasius Bruno, The Senator's aid, and welcomed you Star Station Regillus. Then he escorted you from the passenger holding area adjacent to the landing bay to The Strip: A massive tread walk system that circumnavigated the carrier's ring.

The Strip was made up of twenty treads. Two huge treads fifty meters wide flew by in opposite directions at almost ten kilometers per hour. These big treads, or Strips as they were called, were lined by two smaller treads on each side. Each was about two meters wide. The ones closest to the Strip moved slower; a little over six kph; the one outside that moved slower still, only four kph. And next to that was a walkway ten meters wide. Thus, to quickly circumnavigate the landing ring, one simply stepped on the slowest moving tread, then the next slowest, and then onto the Strip where you could whiz around the 8 kilometer circumference of the ring in slightly less than an hour. If you missed your corridor or pylon elevator down to "Central" or whatever, you had only to "down tread" into the center walkway, then "up tread" to the Strip headed in the opposite direction.

And, because it could take a half an hour to get where you were going, there were amenities to be found on the Strip. Small kiosks where you could buy lunch while you waited, or a drink -- take your pick of racial preferences, alcoholic or not as it pleases you -- or you could download the latest copy of the news to your PDA hand computer and sit and read while you traveled.

Ever the polite Myri, Kasius offered to purchase you a drink while your rolled along on the Strip. It was ten minutes to the pylon elevator, he assured you. Have some refreshment.

"Central," as many know before arriving, was mostly officer country when the Star Station had been a fleet carrier. Today those accommodations had been done over to provide apartments, flats, and studio units for the station's more or less permanent middle and upper class citizens. The working classes and poor, meanwhile, lived in "the ring". A much noisier and busier part of the station.

As it was nearly two kilometers from end to end, Central too, had Strips. One set in each direction per deck. But since the run was shorter, here there was only one up tread per side, and the Strip chugged along at a more stately, and quieter, six kilometers per hour.

Before leaving you in your room, Kasius had given you a credit card. The Senator, he explained, was paying for your entire visit.

The room turned out to be a studio apartment equipped with the usual accommodations. Bed, kitchenette, wall computer useful for entertainment, news, research, getting directions and what have you. And, strangely enough, a small domestic serving robot that not only kept things tidy and stepped and fetched, but also had the annoying habit of knowing more about what and where each of you were supposed to be at any given time than you did -- on those rare occasions that it mattered. Unfortunately, and much to Teagan's disappointment, the little robot had no visible Jack port, and absolutely refused to allow her "play with my nuts" to gain access to the Jack port Teagan knew was inside the access cover.

Once settled into your rooms, you waited.

And waited.

Oh, there were things of interest to bide one's time with while waiting. In fact, save for areas around the port and starboard landing bays and the bridge wing, most of the Station seemed open to you. In fact, Star Station Regillus was a veritable city in space. You could buy all manner of goods and services -- some not quite legal, to be polite about it.

And there were all kinds of races here -- very different kinds of minds than Leeda was used to. Not just because of racial difference, but temperament. These weren't the well ordered minds of the highly educated -- though there were some of those. And they weren't just unfamiliar alien minds -- though there were plenty of those too. No, what was striking about the station was the general crudity, even anger she found in these minds. En mass, violence, bigotry and unrestrained lust hummed just under the surface of the collective mind -- and sometimes bubbled up into the open. More than once on her first journey down the Strip to her rooms she felt not just those familiar feelings of being looked at as a child, but lusted over because of it. And it didn't get any better as she awaited The Senator's pleasure. This was definitely not the civilized and cultured world of Imperial academia.

Master Lawrence Bourne the Third also found himself just a bit out of his depth. This was not the back alleys of New Union City on Midgard where, if things went ill he could race back home to the mansion. Here they played for keeps; and he quickly discovered he didn't even know the rules of the game.

For the others things were a mixture of the old and familiar, and the new and unpredictable. Unlike many mining stations, Star Station Regillus, which was owned by the Tyrus Mining Corporation, was run far more like a real business enterprise than an underground operation. Compared to some places they'd seen, things here were downright dull.

And still, they waited.

Requests for information from Kasius Bruno were always returned by the infernally polite Myri with: "The Senator is pleased to see you have come," or: "The Senator is looking forward to finally meeting you," or: "The Senator is sorry to keep you waiting," but nothing else.

Until just about every body's patience were frazzled from the lack of information and the growing certainty that their little tin can valets were spying on them. Then one morning said valet awoke them to make an announcement.

"You are expected in the Day Breaker's Bar at 2563868.8855. Kasius Bruno will be waiting."

By now, everyone was probably familiar with The Day Breaker. It was a very nice casual bar and restaurant in Central with a very hot looking Rigellian named Mnnrumma -- or however it was supposed to be pronounced -- that worked the bar. It also, most everybody knew, didn't open till 2000. Why were they being taken there 7 hours before opening? The ambulatory coffee can couldn't answer that. It simply repeated: "You are expected in the Day Breaker's Bar at 2563868.8855. Kasius Bruno will be waiting."

Sure enough, he was there. As were a few others. He welcomed each as they came in, offered coffee or tea or whatever and begged all to take seats. More were coming.

Until finally there were seven -- plus Mnnrumma (or however the hell it was pronounced), who looked like she'd much rather be asleep. Kasius stood and politely cleared his throat. "Thank you for coming, and for being so patient while we waited for all of you to arrive. There is some time before you will meet The Senator. An hour at least. You should get to know each other. Allow me to introduce... "

There was a rapid feline clicking sound at half open door. A Zarr sat there, its tail swishing back and forth, in irritation or curiosity it was hard to say. "Itth tthiss barrr opentth?" It managed around its fangs. The language of choice here on the Station was the human tongue commonly spoken in the Neutral Zone. It didn't fit well in a cat's mouth, no matter how big that cat was. And this Zarr was a big cat.

"I am afraid not, my friend Sazzith," Kasius bowed politely. (He was always bowing, it seemed.) "A private affair for guests of The Senator."

The tail swished violently once, then returned to its snaking pattern, Sazzith's eyes looking each of them over curiously. Finally, that long feline tongue snaked its way around Sazzith's lips. "Ttthenn I gill gisstth yitth ttthe ggrrorning, Katthiuss," it chewed out. Then he (she?) lazily stood and padded off.

"My apologies, friends," Kasius smiled apologetically, bowing (again!). "Where was I. Ah yes. I am instructed to introduce you to yourselves."

He turned a hand toward the little girl most everybody by now had surmised was probably an Eldyri. "May I introduce Dr. Paayt. And this," his hand moved on, "is the Paladin. Some of you may know him by reputation, at least." Again the open hand moved, the other hand holding the sleeve of his elaborate toga. "Master Lawrence Bourne the Third; Jacob Marrin; Willa Brown," who was so obviously an Athenian it seemed to ooze from her finger tips. But Kasius was already saying "Teagan Ryleigh." Here was a strange bird. The pretty young woman with the camera eye had entered the bar, sat down -- almost completely ignoring everyone else in the room, and that was that. "And last but not least," Kasius genuflected, "Morgan Henely." Another interesting looking individual. He too had a cybernetic eye and was otherwise just plain huge and mean looking.

Mission accomplished Kasius looked around the room proudly. "I will leave you here to get to know each other while I accomplish other business for my master. I will return to escort you to him presently. And of course," he motioned to Mnnrumma -- or however it was pronounced -- "`it is on us', as you humans say." And with that, he made his way to the door.

"Fan-tastic!" Lawrence said to nobody in particular with a clap of his hands and an anticipatory rubbing of them together. He found the nearest serving...thing.

"I'll have a scotch rocks," he ordered while removing a platinum cigarette case from his white dinner jacket. "Make it a double. And while I'm thinking of it, what does this little island of livability offer by way of entertainment, hmm?"

He lit up and took a drag, and let the smoke escape as he talked and gestured with his smoke.

"Gambling? Rock throwing? Paint drying? Hmm?"

Teagan's head tilted slightly as she watched Lawrence and the others, with her flat brown eyes. Each word that they said, each motion that they made, filtered into her conscience to be tucked away for later review. Mimicry was her way of fitting in on most occasions, so every stray gesture or word could be invaluable in the future and she made sure to catch them all.

Leeda ignored the extravagant man and his rambling conversation with himself for the most part, looking around the room at the other guests instead. By and large their minds were as expected, based on their external appearances. The man who had been introduced only as the Paladin was a mixture of impatience and curiosity, but his emotions were otherwise very restrained. He was used to discipline, of a sort, it would seem. 'Master' Bourne was all bluster and sarcasm on the surface, but there was some complexity underneath that she couldn't see immediately. She considered pushing deeper, but decided not to; no use pissing these people off when she had no idea why they were all here to begin with.

The only strange exception to the normalcy was the young woman, Teagan Ryleigh. She was strangely still, on the surface. The emotions were there, but completely restrained. It was unlike anything she'd felt before; instead of the ebb and flow of normal reaction, the sensation of adapting to the situation, the different aspects of her personality clicked, like pieces of some complicated machinery. Everything fit perfectly, worked as it ought, but not organically. It was so perfectly ordered that it couldn't possibly be natural.

Leeda withdrew and moved to the other side of the room, unnerved. She didn't want to push any deeper, as she hadn't for the others, for the same reasons, but the woman made her nervous all the same. She stood with her hands linked in front of her, unable to find appropriate seating. The senator knew she was coming; the least he could have done was provide her with a stool she wouldn't have to clamber up on like the child she resembled. She dismissed these thoughts, not wanting to miss a single thing that happened, observing the others carefully. She'd come this far on the word of a man she'd never met. If nothing else, she was going to go home with a good story to tell the other professors.

Mnnrumma -- or however it was pronounced -- slid Lawrence's drink across the bar. "It would not be a good idea, Master Lawrence Bourne the Third," she said softly. "To get drunk before you meet The Senator." Her voice was sultry enough to make his knees weak. It was also noticeably not human. With every word it sounded like she was hitting three harmonics at once, given her voice an unexpected musical quality

"Honey," he replied smoothly around the cigarette in his mouth while scanning the crowd for something interesting, "my father's a Senator and I need a few stiff belts before I can be in the same room as him."

The young socialite took the glass offered and sniffed at it, eyeing Minna-rimma-bing-bong over the rim.

"But enough about government affairs," he returned with practiced charm. "Perhaps when this bit of business is done you and I can discuss the finer points of interspecies relations?" He let it hang a moment while he took a sip and then added, "Diplomatic relations, of course."

Willa looked around at her companions, wondering what the rag tag group could have been gathered for. She stood up and moved away from the smoke that Lawrence's cigarette was creating, and began to pace in between the tables. She had only been on the station for a day, but that had been too long of a wait for her even. After the precision with which the Athenian’s ran their ships anything more than an hour or so seemed an eternity.

She stopped in front of Paladin, and held out her hand. “Willa Brown, I saw you outrun an imperial fighter last year. That was some fancy work. I hope you don’t mind, I jammed their signal.”

Paladin laughed at the joke, a quiet chuckle, thinking about the need for alcohol when talking to politicians, or shortly thereafter, if nothing else. He looked at the tall and beautiful Willa Brown, and extended his hand, grasping her wrist, and getting a feel for the muscle underneath it. "Well, thank you for the compliment, and if I was in that old 'MJ- deuce' then I thank you for the assist. I prolly needed every bit of help and luck I could get my fingers around." He colored the response with a smile, a bare upturning of the corners of his mouth.

"Nice to meet you, Willa."

With a short laugh Willa replied, “Yeah it was the 'MJ- deuce'. That’s what made the feat so amazing. I didn’t think she could hit warp, let alone spin around that asteroid with such grace. It’s good to meet you too.”

Paladin nodded, and leaned up off the wall, as he released Willa's wrist. "You should let me buy you a drink, Willa, its the least I can do. Even though our host is paying, its the thought that counts, right?" He nodded at the bar and walked over, standing beside Lawrence, though he spoke to the Bartender.

"Coffee for me, Ms mumblegrumble if you please." He covered his mouth with his hand as he spoke her name, hoping to muffle his botched attempt.

Walking over to the bar with him Willa replied, “That is very kind of you!” with a hint of frivolity in her voice. Turning to Mnnrumma, “I’d like a fenlin juice please.”

Over at the bar, the Rigellian ran a long, slender finger over Lawrence's cheek and made a purring sound, though her lips didn't move. Then her eyes flicked toward Paladin and Willa. "You're cute, son of Senator Bourne. But I think it's them you're supposed to be charming. Not me. I'm just here to serve drinks."

"Mmmm," he replied with a sly smile. "My kind of woman." Mnnrumma -- or however it was pronounced -- smiled at him. It might have been purely platonic. He doubted it.

Leeda couldn't hold back a chuckle at Lawrence's gentle rejection. She got the sense that he didn't get turned down too often, and it had been deft enough that she couldn't help but be impressed. She walked to the bar and smiled. "I've changed my mind, miss, I think I'd like a fruit juice after all." She cut a sideways look at Lawrence and quirked a smile.

"Mmmm... " The Rigellian purred again, still eying Lawrence out of the corner of her eye. "I have sheeyot -- straight, fermented, and distilled." She eyed Leeda speculatively. "You look like you could use a shot," she decided, managing to reach four harmonics on the statement. Planting a pony glass in front of Leeda, she filled it with the sweet liqueur the Eldyri produced and exported themselves. There were many imitations around; none managed the almost syrupy smooth sweetness of the real thing.

Leeda grinned and took the glass, admiring the emerald green color before turning it up to her mouth, letting the liquid inside slip down her throat smoothly. The burn was subtle, spreading warmly in her stomach, but the the aftertaste was pure sheeyot, bright and almost floral. She sighed happily. "Thank you. I think I did need that."

"I think you did too," the Rigellian drawled with a wink.

* * *

Morgan sat nursing a cup of coffee and taking everyone in. These people were way more what he was used to – well other than Bourne. Bourne seemed like ‘his mother’s’ people, and he had hoped to leave that life. He regarded his situation, ‘Dude, you’re going to work for a Senator. How’s that different? What are you doing here?’ He asked himself.

‘You’re hungry.’ Was the answer. He had left the money that had come with the life his mother offered him when he had left her. He had few marketable skills and knew that he didn’t have the discipline to make it in the Fleet. He was a spacer and this seemed like a good chance to get back out there.

Paladin? Had he heard of him before? The name rang a bell; but it a faint bell. He emptied the bottom of his coffee and got up to walk over to where Paladin and the Athenian were talking.

He adjusted his cap and walked over to the pair. “Hi. I’m Mor.” He said warmly. He seemed to take up more space than he needed and was dressed casually with a flight jacket over a black t-shirt with jeans and work boots. He had a black cap on his head. He was tall; an inch or two taller than the Athenian. “Nice to meet you.” He said extending a callused hand to both.

Willa sized him up then clasped hands with the man who had just introduced himself, “Hi Mor, it’s a pleasure to meet you. What do you think we’re here for?”

Paladin extended his hand, and grasped the man at the wrist. "Hi Mor, good to meet you."

The kid shrugged, "I heard it was adventure, danger and loot." He said with a smile. "But, I have no actual information. I am - however - about to go out of my head with boredom. I swear, I think I ran every inch of this place before I got the call to show up here." He looked at Paladin and Willa, "Either of you know the score?"

“I wasn’t enlightened as to what this is about by those who sent me. But my own eyes tell me we look to be some sort of crew. Though I’m not entirely certain how the playboy here fits in.” She tilted her head in Lawrence’s direction.

Paladin looked over at the man identified as Lawrence, then at the rest of those assembled. "Never a very good idea to assume a man is what he appears to be." He said, in between sips of his coffee. "I would say theres a job offer pending, and we are being watched at this very moment, by the one who will make he offer. There is a doctor here, so it would seem that there is a high chance of injury. That usually equals good pay. Judging from the 'out of the way' location of this station, and the types of people who operate out of it, its probably illegal. Which, curiously enough, also usually means good pay."

With an arching of her eyebrow Willa replied, “Hmmmmm… Well, it should be interesting at the very least.”

Mor nodded, looking around at everyone else and wondering just what they did. Clearly Paladin was the pilot (right down to the cool pilot name); he was muscle, probably so was Willa. He saw no one who might be a captain and he wondered if this ‘Senator’ was going to take that role. “I’m going to go and mingle, see who’s who and all that.” Mor said and was off with a nod.

Paladin watched Mor wander off, and glanced at Willa. It is an interesting mix of people, no doubt." He sipped at his coffee, and added almost as an afterthought. "So, what were you doing, out in the Neutral zone, watching Imperial fighters chase down rickety old freighters?" He grinned into his mug, awaiting the answer.

Willa nodded at his statement as she turned, leaned her elbows against the bar, and looked around at the people in the room again. She laughed loudly and merrily at his last question. “You have a set of titanium ones, don’t you?” Her voice softened and she leaned over on one elbow to face him. Looking him strait in the eye she said, “I was on Athenian business, and you’re damn lucky you were on your way through and not stopping there.” Her lip quirked up and eyebrow raised, “Else that fighter wouldn’t have been the only one crushed between two asteroids.”

Chuckling, and holding his mug at waist level now, he leaned his elbows on the bar. "So you had two reasons to jam his transmissions, then? I can respect that. I'll still stand by my thanks, all the same. Being pressed firmly between two heavenly bodies doesn't seem so bad to me, though." His voice was light, and though his green eyes never left hers, it plainly wasn't asteroids, he was speaking of.

Her smile spread to the rest of her face as she held Paladin’s gaze. “That can indeed be a delight. Perhaps one day you will get to experience it.” Willa raised her voice just enough to be heard and looked over his shoulder. “I bet Lawrence has had a few interesting experiences with heavenly bodies.”

***

Jacob sat somewhat apart, uncomfortable in his dirty coveralls. He should have bought new clothes, but wasn't comfortable spending money he didn't have too. Even though it wasn't his money, he had spent so long without that frugality was ingrained. He shifted his bulk in the chair, hearing it creak beneath him and hoping it was sturdy. His fingers itched for the electronic toy he had left in his quarters. It wasn't really designed to do anything special, but it kept his mind and his hands busy. Looking up, he realized the only other person still sitting at the table was the young woman who had been introduced as Teagan. Jacob smiled at her. "Hi," his voice was surprisingly soft for such a large man, "I'm Jacob" Not sure what else to say, he offered his large calloused hand, waiting for a response

The pretty woman that had been introduced as Teagan took a moment to look at him, before affecting a smile that, to the best of her knowledge, resembled the one he now wore. She took his hand, familiar with the custom and shook it lightly. "I'm Teagan Ryleigh. My old crew called me Jack." Her voice held a hint of personality but her intense brown eyes didn't mirror the color that her voice held.

Jacob blinked at her tone and smile. Not that she seemed unfriendly, just off a little. Still, it was conversation with a pretty woman, which was good enough for him. Time to look for a connection. "My buddies used to call me Tiny, but I always hated it. Do you prefer Teagan or Jack?"

Teagan blinked and allowed the smile to fall from her face. Her head tilted ever so slightly to the side as she considered his question. "Jack takes less effort to pronounce. It is one syllable instead of two, it is more efficient. Teagan has a melody of sorts, I think, a more musical quality that appeals to some." She continued to regard him in a focused manner as her head lifted back into it's appropriate place.

"Tiny does not seem to suit you. It is obviously meant as a jest of some sort. You are a big man." Her tone was flat as she pointed out the obvious to him.

Jacob looked at her for a moment, non-plussed. He wasn't sure what was going on. Was she a robot? Was this some kind of act to get him to leave her alone? He decided to play along and see what happened. "Yeah, that's why they called me that and why I hated it. It made me feel even more fat than I am. I like Teagan, so I'll call you that, if it's OK." He waited for a moment, wondering what her reply would be.

"That is a good choice and will work effectively when you want to get my attention." Teagan paused and allowed, her interpretation of a friendly smile, to illuminate her face. ...but still her eyes were void of emotion.

"It is unfortunate that you hate feeling fat. I would calculate you to have an approximate BMI of 34.7...which while only slightly obese, is still obese. Getting taller isn't a likely course of action, but there are steps you can take to reduce your BMI through exercise and diet." Her tone was matter of fact and her face still held the remnant of her smile.

Leeda turned from the bar to look around the room again, the comforting taste of the sheeyot lingering on her tongue and giving her a measure of courage. Interestingly, but unsurprisingly, the combat types had clustered together, striking up conversation and exchanging tales. The odd girl and the large man were engaged in conversation, but she could sense confusion from Mr. Marrin. So it wasn't just her who sensed there was something off about Teagan; Leeda couldn't tell if that was reassuring or not.

As the Eldyri moved through the room, Jacob laughed. Like his voice, his laugh was softer and higher pitched than expected from such a large man. "I suppose I could at that, Teagan. Since I won't be getting any taller, that is." He shrugged, raising his glass of water. "It just hasn't been worth the effort. Easier to be fat than lose the weight, I suppose." He took a sip. "So, why did your last crew call you Jack? It doesn't seem to fit very well."

He walked over to Eldyri – who was conveniently near the bar. “Hello.” He introduced himself to her, “I’m Mor. I’m glad you’re with us.”

Leeda looked up at the man. "Hello, sir. I am Dr. Paayt, you may call me Leeda." She smiled and cocked her head. "You're very large, for a human. Is that natural, or do you claim one of those heritages that value genetic manipulation?"

"No ma'am." Mor replied, "I'm just human, Doctor. May I ask how old you are?"

"I am 29." She considered the bar stool next to her, deciding to hitch herself up onto it. "Looking up at you was giving me a crick in my neck."

Morgan smiled, and sat down next to her. He pulled a pot of coffee over and poured himself a cup, "Would you like one?" He asked, "What brings you out here?"

Leeda nods and takes the cup with a smile, regarding Teagan's continued conversation with a wary eye. "Same as most of us, I'd think. Strange man sends me a message, cryptic, promises adventure... well. I haven't had much adventure in my life." She sipped the coffee carefully, looking down into it and swirling the cup, a sad quirk to her lips. "None that I wanted, anyways." She looked up and tilted her head, expression returning to something more neutral. "And you? What did you think to get out of this strange excursion?"

'Bourbon Man.'? Morgan heard, there's a name likely to stick. He thought ruefully; then returned to the Doctor. "Seemed like a good idea when I was contacted." He said, "I like space; I guess I miss it."

***

Teagan sat with her hands clasped in front of her on the table and was satisfied that she hadn't alienated the large man. Her internal clock was ticking away and he was slowly moving up the ladder of sustainable conversations that she'd had, proof that her methods of integration were working to some degree. "I have the ability to communicate with computers and machines, and the name stuck."

Jacob's dull eyes suddenly lit up. He sat forward in his seat, much more animated. "You work with computers? I love," his face fell slightly, "Well, loved working with computers and electronics. Did you have formal training or were you a do-it-yourselfer." If she liked electronics, even as odd as she was, the conversation would be so much more interesting. He hadn't had anyone to talk to about electronics for years.

The pretty brunette cocked her head again. Her mind scanned through the possible responses to that question, the data was a mix of her own memories, and things that others said to her or about her. She started speaking in her usual tone, but after that as each sentence changed...so did the inflection of her voice, mannerisms and level of enthusiasm. "I was top of my class at the Academy." Her voice slid to one of awe. "I'm brilliant." Her dulcet tone became excited. "I'm fucking amazing." ...and last it became a bit dull and droning, "My enhancements allow me the ability to become one with any system or machine. I am a force to be reckoned with."

Even Jacob's delight at finding another person interested in electronics couldn't prevent him from being creeped out by Teagan's strangeness. He sat back slightly and looked around for a rescuer. Realizing he was being rude, he made himself look back at the girl. "Um, that sounds like formal training to me." He struggled for something else to say, but could only come up with, "I took some classes, but was mostly self-taught."

"You look like a bourbon man," the bar tender murmured, setting a shot glass on the low table between Jacob and Jack as she passed by. Her musical voice was back to its usual three harmonic range. "One who needs a stiff belt or two," she smiled, heading back towards the bar. "Now where did my would be boyfriend head off too... " She murmured to nobody in particular as she went.

Teagan had been regarding Jacob when the bar tender arrived. She listened to the woman intently and gave Jacob a long look as she classified him, among other things, as a 'bourbon man'. Jacob Marrin aka Tiny. Fat. BMI 34.7. Loves...well loved computers. Self taught. Bourbon Man. When she spoke her tone was flat. "Do you hate being called Bourbon Man?"

Paladin laughed, hard. He had been trying to keep his cool, but that tore it. Straightening himself up, and rubbing his thumb into the inner corners of his eyes, all he could say was, "Mechanics......"

Teagan's emotionless brown eyes swung to regard Paladin and her head tilted slightly as she scanned him with her right eye. She took her time as she looked at him and the Athenian standing close to him. When the stare was a few heartbeats past being comfortable, she flashed him what she assumed to be, a friendly smile.

Catching the bartender's quip, Lawrence nearly choked on his drink. With that smooth patter he advised, "Boyfriend, well..." He checked his expensive watch, "Perhaps for a night or two, after we meet with the Senator about...well, about whatever it is we're meeting the Senator about. But don't fret, my nubile little attendant. I've never been one for commitment, you see? Slow and steady may win the race, but fast and erratic can really hit the high notes when properly applied, you know?"

He leaned in conspiratorially when he said the last and slid his empty rocks glass onto the bar as a signal for a refill.

The Rigellian took his glass and gave him another with a quirky smile on her face. "That has to be one of the most positive patters for `one night stand' that I've ever heard," she observed. "I think I'm impressed."

"Mmm," he answered around a sip of his new drink, while pointing with the index finger of the hand holding it. He swallowed and added with a wink, "Wait until later for that."

Flushing slightly at the laughter and attention, Jacob shrugged self-consciously. "I don't really drink bourbon, so it probably isn't a good choice." He raised the glass of water slightly, "Water man would probably be more accurate, although I prefer Jacob," he took a sip then added, "Or Jake if you prefer."

Teagan nodded her head before reaching out for the shot glass, that he indicated he wouldn't be drinking. She brought the glass to her nose and then her lips before throwing it back. The wince that crossed her face was undeniably human. When she spoke again her voice was a bit pinched. "Jake is one syllable. Jacob, Tiny and Bourbon Man are more complex and less preferable."

Seeing that Lawrence had 'Target lock' on Ms. Mumblegrumble, and wasnt going to respond to attempts to pull him off target, Paladin hoisted his coffee mug in salute to the Mechanics before he turned back to Willa. "I wonder if there are any flight simulators on this heap. It might prove interesting to see if you could leave me squished between two asteroids."

I doubt you will have time for flying games," Kasius Bruno injected with syrupy politeness, re-entering the bar. "Our transport will be here shortly, so you still have a few minutes to finish your drinks. Master Jacob," he turned to the big man. "I have taken the liberty of bringing you some new clothes, since you did not procure any yourself during your wait. Please change. Meena?" He addressed the Rigellian bar tender. "May I have a small cassai while we wait?"

"Of course, Kasius," she veritably purred.

Jacob flushed again. He hadn't even considered buying new clothes. Over the years he had gotten used to wearing clothes as long as possible. Buying new ones when his old ones weren't worn out seemed wasteful. Of course, if he had thought about it, he would have known better, but he didn't. With his head down he shuffled forward and grabbed the clothing. Then he looked around for somewhere to change.

Willa gave Paladin a smile and shrug that said, that’s no big feat, and then turned her attention to The Myri.

Lawrence stepped over to the functionary and inquired, "So, Mr. Bruno was it? What's on the agenda for our little tete-et-tete with the Senator, hmm?"

The Myri gave Lawrence a puzzled look. "Forgive me Master Lawrence," he apologized, bowing (again!). "But I am not familiar with the human `tete-et-tete', so I cannot answer your question."

"A private conversation," the debutante explained, "unless you're at a swimsuit party at New Yale, in which case the meaning expands a bit."

Teagan's flat brown eyes turned to regard Kasius. "A tête à tête is a conversation, most of the time serious, between two persons, but it can be used in a more light manner like tête à tête amoureux (a conversation between 2 persons in love). It depends on the context." Her head swiveled to regard Lawrence for a moment before returning her gaze to the Senator's aid. "Unless the senator has a proclivity for men, then I would assume the former."

At the mentioning of that possibility, Lawrence flashed a raised eyebrow and pursed lips at the brown-haired monotone in a 'rowr' gesture.

"The usage would be incorrect in either case, as there are, in fact, seven of us here to speak with the Senator." She grinned at Lawrence. "I'm sure it was not your intent to dismiss your companions, sir." She sipped from her mug, hiding her smile, but here eyes shone above the rim.

"Companions," Lawrence deadpanned behind a confused semi-smile. "Um...right."

He slugged half his scotch and turned back to Kasius, apparently seeking an answer to his previous question. "Well?"

Paladin listened to this back and forth with detached interest, he had his own question, but waited till the Myri either answered, or juked around it again. In the meantime, he half turned to the bar, and set his mostly empty coffee mug on it.

"Well I... " Kasius stopped mid stride, trying to absorb the deluge of information he'd just received in about five seconds flat. Myri's weren't quite bright at the best of times; repartee was quite beyond them and one sure way to confuse them. "I, uh, assume he wishes to see you to discuss why you're here," he finally finished brilliantly.

Lawrence paused at the answer, then lightly clapped Kasius on the shoulder and turned with the servant to address the entire group. "He's great, isn't he folks? Just remember that the nine o'clock show is always different from the seven o'clock show. He'll be here through Thursday. Take care of your bartenders and waitresses and they'll take care of you. Good night."

That bit of comic theater done, Lawrence gave up on trying to get something useful out of the Myri and returned to his spot at the bar while finishing his second scotch.

"Speaking of which," he said to Mambo-jambo while sliding his empty glass across the bar to her with a faux-serious mein, "I'm almost at proper 'meet the Senator' depth. Another drop of ballast ought to do it."

Seeing that Lawrence was quite done, Paladin seized the moment. "Kasius, are you allowed to tell us where this transport is taking us? I assume its off-station." The last was added to forestall Cpt. Obvious from answering that way.

As Paladin was speaking said transport pulled up in front of the half-open door. It was a grav cart similar to those carts that were wont to run around fairs and carnivals.

"I think you're going to have to face The Senator with the ballast you've accumulated, lover," the Rigellian drawled, taking Lawrence's empty glass from him.

"Ah,' Kasius indicated the cart. His wits were slowly reassembling themselves. "No, Master Paladin, we are simply headed to my master's offices, which is in what I understand used to be called the bridge wing. If you will, please... " He gestured toward the waiting cart. "We must go."

They weren't common, but during their stay everyone had seen at least one of the grav carts making their way down the center of the corridors. Most were laden with cargo, not passengers.

They whizzed down Central toward an elevator shaft, then sat motionless as they dropped from Central down into "the wing" via a huge cargo elevator. Then they were off again. Paladin, who'd been stationed on one of these things, surmised they were headed toward the massive bridge. Officer country indeed. As a military ship, if you weren't an admiral, consul, tribune, or better, you were rarely welcome in this rarefied air.

And rarefied it remained. As they flew along, the scenery became finer and finer. Rather than paint, the walls were paneled with fine hardwoods. Plaques and paintings hung from the walls and statues sat on plinths at intersections. From the tone and nature of the art work it looked not only like rich country, but Imperial rich country.

Morgan looked around, doing his best to seem nonchalant about the trappings of this place. He had only seen this kind of luxury on raids -- when they were taking it back to the Serpent for selling. And, while his head was running the numbers about how much these paintings might fetch, his conscious was busy telling him that that life was behind him.

When they reached what would have been the consul's quarters, the cart came to a stop. There were no guards. In fact, they were quite alone. "We are here," Kasius assured them. "And I see we are expected." He indicated the door in front of them, which politely opened as he approached it.

Inside the light was very dim. Mute and direct evidence that the occupant was Duranaki, not human. The windows on the opposite wall provided most of the light. Sun light reflected off the face of the asteroid they were orbiting. The art in this room was even more garish than that in halls. The desk, which was several meters away, faced them, not the windows. A loud clock ticked on the wall. A relic, obviously, as it was mechanical rather than atomic. It was also distinctly Duranaki, for the bezel plate was carved up into fractions of the day, rather than hours. And it was approaching 9999, the end of the Imperial day.

As the door closed behind the last of the little band, Kasius coughed politely. A tall, thin figure entered the room. His hair and skin were as white as the toga he wore, and in the simple act of entering the room, his presence was so commanding it seemed to suck all the air out of it. His dark eyes caressed the group, gleaming as brilliantly as the heavy gold chain and pendant that hung around his neck; then he went over them one by one as he slowly made his way to the center of the room, back lit by the windows.

"So," he said softly, in a voice so deep it seemed entirely too big for the frail body it came from. "You have come. All is now up to you."

Lawrence's frame locked up upon hearing the Senator's voice, as a sudden shockingly surprising realization struck his consciousness head-on. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, but there the man was. No, not the man - the ghost.

It was him. It had to be. But yet, it couldn't be.

The young rake's survival instincts kicked into high gear along with his racing thoughts. If it was him, then this entire situation was far deeper and more complicated than a simple business negotiation. His mind worked at putting the pieces together, but he knew that there wouldn't be enough time or available data to work out the thickness of layers there had to be to make this real. He had a sudden feeling of being in way over his head.

If this was really that Senator, then their lives were in serious danger. They - or at least he, judging by the apparent ignorance of the others - now had information that they were probably better off not knowing. The final realization he had before recovering his better self was that his father was a bigger douchebag than he realized.

Lawrence's haughty and relaxed exterior returned, but his eyes and ears were open, and very alert.

Paladin moved with his back to the wall, his green eyes quickly surveying the room. "You are The Senator, then? Perhaps its up to you, to give us your job offer."

Honestly, Morgan had always hated the Duranaki. Sure, they were the top dogs around here; but they were also pompous and annoying. He spoke cryptically, as if everyone were in on the secret ... and that only made him more annoying. He didn't answer Paladin's question, which was like strike three. He crossed his arms and found his annoyance growing.

Jacob sighed quietly as they entered the extravagant house. Not that long ago he worked in places like this, although the memories were harder to dig up every day. Almost unconsciously he started looking around for the security systems. They had to be there, it was just a question of what kind and how sophisticated.

Teagan listened respectfully to the man, memorizing his voice while at the same time trying to comprehend his two short sentences. Her eyes followed a similar path as Jake's did as she scanned the room, the occupants, furniture and the doors.

Jacob's eyes wandered over the security systems as his fingers started to itch. He knew better than to actually go over and exam things, but he really wanted to see how everything worked. "Outstanding," he muttered as he considered the coverage of the system as well as the lethality. It was similar to systems he had installed long ago, although much more sophisticated of course.

Leeda crossed her arms and regarded the Senator closely. "I'll have to return to my people and tell them that the Duranaki inclination towards theatrics is still alive and well." She met his dark eyes with her own, and wondered at the contradition. High-caste skin with the low-bred eyes? It was a mystery. And a Duranaki with a mystery was a creature to be wary of.

The rudeness of the others irked Lawrence mightily, and he considered that he might have a profitable role to play here after all. Perhaps he could facilitate, mediate, and in that sense help the Senator move this along in a more dignified manner. If this really was that Senator, then he'd be intelligent enough to see, understand, and possibly reward.

He made sure his dinner jacket was buttoned and pulled down properly before stepping two steps forward, slowly, and inclining his head with a, "Senator, if I may?"

Turning to address the group he came with, Lawrence spoke plainly, without the cool front and shiny veneer of the wealthy cad he had played earlier. His eyes tried to convey to them a need for everyone to inject a little respect in their tones and no, he's not kidding.

"Gentlemen, ladies, allow me to introduce...Senator Anastius of the line of Isaias, former Consul Committee Chairman and member of the Emperor's Privy Council."

Turning back to the Senator, Lawrence said, "I greet the Senator on behalf of our group and thank him for the honor of his hospitality. I must say that you look surprisingly well, considering...well, considering."

Considering that you're supposed to be dead, he didn't say.

The Senator almost smiled. He did take as many steps forward as Lawrence had, however, and as he jad so many years ago, he took the young man's hand, covered it with his other, and shook it slightly. And as had happened when Lawrence was a boy, the sleeve of the Senator's toga fell over both their hands before he let go. "Young Lawrence Bourne," the elder statesman murmured. "So you are your father's answer to my call for aid. You have grown into a fine looking --- man, I think you say it -- since I met you in the rotunda." Then he turned his attention to the rest.

"Be welcome, all of you. Friends of Senator Bourne are welcome in my house." He indicated the conference table. "Kasius, serve our guests. With your father at my back," Anastius led Lawrence to a chair near his own. "I have no doubt that we will succeed."

The experience was surreal. It was as if he'd been transported back ten years in time to that day on Durakaan. He'd remembered with stark precision the way the man's bony hand felt as it grasped his own - Anastius had been the only Senator who had bothered to honor him with the human gesture of shaking hands, and he never forgot it. To have it happen again, under these circumstances, left Lawrence feeling slightly odd and unsure.

The fact that he had borne witness to the explosion that had - or rather, hadn't - taken this man's life and in the process cut short a promising future for the Empire only added to the sense of disorientation. Lawrence wasn't used to flying this blind. He wanted to ask the obvious question on his mind, but that would technically be disrespectful of their host. Besides, he thought, one of these uncouth louts is sure to ask.

"Thank you," Lawrence said with a nod before he took his seat. "Senator...I'm not entirely clear on what, exactly, we're supposed to be succeeding at. What assistance have you requested of my father?"

Great, just fucking great. Paladin thought, as his eyes immediately started to try to find the fastest way out of there. The Savior of the Empire, alive and apparently well. When little people got mixed up with large people such as these, they had a way of turning up dead, succeed or fail. Well, you've spiraled right into the gravity well this time, Paladin.

Teagan paused for a moment before doing, what she calculated to be, the most socially appropriate thing to do and followed the Senator and Lawrence. Seeing that the others were still posed in a defensive posture near the door, she tilted her head a bit and spoke to them in her flat tone. "Leaving might be more dangerous than staying." ...and with that, she settled into a chair near the yet to be categorized Lawrence.

"They may leave if they wish to," Anastius murmured taking the head seat at the conference table. "All of you came of your own free will; you can leave of your own free will," he gave those huddled at the door a pointed look. "You will be neither harmed nor hindered -- but perhaps you would at least like to hear the answer to Master Bourne's question."

"Yes. Please." Leeda's words were scrupulously polite, but her tone was frosty. She didn't trust the Duranaki. She didn't like them much either, but she didn't trust them, and that made her nervous. She'd gotten herself into the very heart of the den of one of the craftiest members the race, and she didn't like the feeling. "I'm very curious to hear what could possibly drive a Duranaki to request the help of anyone, let alone an Eldyri. Of course your circumstances would dictate discretion, so I assume that's part of it...?"

Paladin moved to a chair and settled into it easily, reclining somewhat into a practiced, relax posture. "Sure, no sense coming all the way out here to turn and leave before the sales pitch is made." His manner, and his words, belied the warning alarms that were sounding in his mind.

"Very astute of you, Doctor Paayt," the former Senator murmured. He looked at the others expectantly. "Lieutenant Brown? Will you be leaving or sitting?"

With a stiff slight bend of her torso, Willa replied, “My orders are to serve you, Senator. I apologize for my lack of manners, standing here by the door like a child seeing her first starship.” She walked to the table and sat in the chair on his left.

"Then I thank the Commander, your mother, for sending you," Anastius murmured. "We have worked together on many issues. Master Marrin," he turned back to the two remaining by the door. "You will have ample time to examine the security systems of this station later. Please do take a seat.

Jacob nodded. "Sorry. I didn't mean to get distracted." As the big man sat gingerly in a chair he motioned to the wall. " I like what you have done with the place." His voice was confident and firm now that he was in his comfort zone again.

"And you too, Master Henley -- unless you wish to see your mother the Consul butchered in a similar fashion to that of your late father. An eventuality I hope to prevent -- ergo, the reason you are all here."

The worst thing about meeting the 'Savior of the Empire' was that Morgan was pretty sure he didn't think it much needed saving. Still The Senator's words grabbed his attention, forcing him to relive that day. He had watched his father lose his ... manhood ... for lack of a better word that day. The way he begged, disgusted Morgan; he hated himself for feeling that way about his father. That the last memory of his father was so poor. His thoughts ran to his mother, he thought that she might hold up better than his father had. But, his mind raged at the thought of her being so rudely treated. He looked this Duranaki in the eye, "You have my attention." He took a seat and wondered just how long this quest would take to kill him.

"Thank you," Anastius murmured. "I will try not to bore you with the internecine intricacies of Imperial politics. But to understand why you are here I must at least lay the political landscape before you."

He rose and walked toward the windows, hands behind his back, brow furrowed. "As I am sure all of you are at least tangentially aware of by now, Aldeborahnn, heir to the the throne of the Empire through the line of Aureleous, the one you humans somewhat erroneously refer to as the Princess, has been kidnapped by some unknown party. What you are probably unaware of is the consequences of that act."

He turned suddenly and jabbed a long finger at Lawrence. "Did you know that your father was attacked not two days after you took ship to come here?" An eyebrow winged skyward. "And you, Lieutenant," he came back to the table and put a hand briefly on Willa's shoulder as he continued passed. "You were in warp, so you can hardly be aware that the 5th Fleet attacked and destroyed the Athenian assault group patrolling Sigma Beta in the Donovan sub-sector. The deaths thus far reported number nearly two thousand. The Athenian High Command has held an emergency counsel. Your mother and her fleet are in route to, uh, `address' this outrage." Willa knew that to be standard code for a military action.

He turned to Teagan. "Are you aware, Doctor Paayt, that the Mon'dabi Federation is preparing an assault on Yyvaan? Since the Empire is effectively incapacitated, and as your people have no apparent military might of their own, the Federation believes your planet to be a ripe fruit, ready for the picking. And," he continued, walking around the table.

"The Ackálians are also arming. Long have they preyed on the fringes of the Imperial borders. And as Emperor Trægen's rule has weakened, their predations have become more bold. Now they plan to attack and control the entirety of Sol Sector. And, to be frank, little stands in their way -- as I'm sure you realize -- uh, Paladin."

He retook his seat and steepled his fingers in front of him. "And that is not all. The Medraas are entering into alliances with the various pirate bands here in the Neutral Zone. Once the shooting wars start, each band intends to carve out fiefdoms of systems that are defensible. The PAC is divided amongst itself. Each faction has purchased the loyalty of one or more MERC companies to support its cause, and its claim on certain systems, or to protect its holdings. So powerful is PAC's pull, even some highly respected Imperial officers loyalties have become suspect -- at least, that is as reported in ISIA's reports. The INIS has different data to report to the Emperor, of course."

The old politician sighed and put his hands on the table. "It does not seem you have fathomed this yes, but everyone of you, including you, young Lawrence, have reason to hate the Empire. You have been wronged by it in one fashion or another, and now you do not trust it, as you do not trust me. And that, my friends, is the glue that binds you. That is why I brought you here.

"The Empire as we have known it is dead. Whether Aldeborahnn is seated as Empress or not is irrelevant. What she will rule over will be an Empire markedly different from the one that exists today, if she rules at all. How different? That I cannot say.

"All I can say is that you, the seven of you, are unique in this drama. You have no love of the Empire, but in your heart of hearts I doubt any of you wish to see the chaos and devastation the absence of its influence would initiate. That sets you apart from every other effort to find Aldeborahnn. It puts you in a unique position.

"This, my friends, is why I summoned you. Not to protect the Empire, but to be instrumental in ushering it its next incarnation; to be a bridge to the future, which will come," he emphasized with the jab of a finger. "Whether you choose to participate or not."

He sat back and let them absorb that for several heartbeats. "You have questions, of course," he finally announced. "I will answer them all as best I can. At my age, and in my position, I gain no advantage from secrecy."

Willa nearly jumped out of her seat when she heard that close to 2000 of her sisters were dead. Only her strict military training kept her ass planted firmly to the chair. Her face grew bright red, as her jaw clenched. She barely heard anything else of the Senator's speech after he said that her mother was on her way to engage the 5th Fleet. Her mind snapped back into focus when he sat back down in his seat next to her. She spoke with bite when she said, “I’m sure you have a grand plan for building this bridge Senator. What will our part in it’s construction be?”

Morgan sat quietly while he thought all this over. He sat forward, "You seem to have this plan thing covered, I'm guessing you have gear for us and some kind of ship. When do we leave? And, where do we go?" Saving a princess. That was something you only ever really heard about in stories. He was as excited as he could remember being since he left the Dreaming Serpent.

The old politician smiled at them both. It was a strange visage painted on the classic haughty face of he who was once the second most powerful individual in the Empire. "Yes," he sighed, looking the full measure of years he had seen -- and that was well over a hundred. "You have your ship and gear. Whatever you require. It is here on the station for you. But... " A sadness filled his eyes as he looked at Willa. "I cannot save your mother. Nor can I save yours," he looked at Morgan. "I have a strategy to preserve the hegemony of the Empire in some form -- and even that final form I cannot foresee. I can only promise that, if you will do what each of you does best, as a team we have a chance at preventing the largest blood bath in galactic history. And perhaps some of your loved ones will be spared. If you do not... " He looked down at his hands. "I can guarantee all will die, and billions of other innocent souls will as well.

"The choice... " He looked up, and his eyes met each of theirs as he went around the table. "The choice is yours."

Her duty was not to the Empire, it was to her family and Athenian military. She owed this man nothing. Willa was just about to get up when she realized that her last orders had been to do what he wanted of her. But that was before so many lives had been lost. She was floating out here in the middle of nowhere with a crazy old man who probably had a hand in creating the very problems he was trying to fix now. Again she almost stood, Mother would have had time to send me a transmission if she had wanted me to come back though. She slumped back into the chair defeated. Willa Brown was part of this mission and she knew there was nothing she could do to help her mother, her fate was in her own hands.

Leeda paled, mouth tight as she contemplated the news she'd been given. "You've told us of these events, Senator, freely and without condition, and I thank you, but I must contact my people, speak with them, now, not later. I cannot give you an answer until I have confirmed your story." She took a few steps forward and glared up at him. "My people are stronger than we appear, so if you look to scare me into participating with your little drama, please, consider that we repelled your precious Empire with little effort. We have nothing to fear from any lesser power." She paused and looked away, eyes unfocused. "Still. If what you say is true. It would be... it would be quite an adventure. Something no Eldyri has seen or done before." She laughed quietly and shook her head, looking back at the Senator. "My curiosity is powerful, sir, you judged me well in that at least."

I have dispatched a message to your Counsel Of Elders through intermediaries," Anastius murmured. "They should have it by now. And," he turned to Willa, "I have also sent messages to your commanders advising at least caution, if not outright discretion in dealing with the fleet. I know Admiral Marcia. She is a capable commander. I cannot think why she would attack an Athenian battle group. In any event, your mother should intercept the transmission once she drops out of warp. That will be several weeks from now I have no doubt."

Leeda inclined her head to the Senator, a small sign of thanks."You live up to your reputation as a man of action. I appreciate you going out of your way to intervene, even in so small a way." She was actually sincere in the sentiment; she knew the message was a risk of exposure for him, one she hadn't expected him to take. She turned to Willa, and put one hand on her arm, gently. "I am sorry for your loss. I know the Athenians value the clan as much as any Eldyri."

Willa nodded, "Thank you." she said quietly to Leeda.

Paladin sat back, his right eyebrow furrowing. This had been a ton of information to process quickly, no doubt exactly what The Senator had in mind. At least two things in all this troubled him, and neither of them was what 'should' have troubled him, apparently. One he could address, the other he wasn't so sure of.

"I can't help but notice, you didn't mention compensation." He said dryly.

"That is true," Anastius drawled. "That is because I am paying for this operation. My resources are not unlimited, but they are certainly deep enough to fund your operations for as long as is necessary. In addition, I will pay a survivor's bonus of on million denarii upon completion of the mission. It can be deposited in an account of your choosing or in cash in the form of aureus or solidus bullion." He shrugged. "I really don't care."

Paladin looked at the floor between his knees, to keep from going googledy eyed. When he looked back up, he was cool as the other side of the pillow. "Mr. Senator, you just hired yourself a pilot. Where to we pick Aldeborahn up? And where do we drop her off?"

Teagan listened intently as matters were discussed. She could tell that they were of the utmost importance and that the circumstances were dire. For her the decision was an easy one, and not one that came from an altruistic place. "The choice is mine. I choose to go. I have no place else to be." An abrupt and beautiful smile erupted on her face as she made her commitment to the Senator who simply nodded his thanks.

Jacob listened, stunned, to the Senator's presentation. He had never considered himself wronged by the Empire, just by the Thavans. Still, he certainly didn't feel all that loyal to the Empire either. The scenario rolled around in his head as he considered the possibilities. In the end, his decision was easy. "I'm in. I don't know how much use I can be, but I'll help where I can." Left deliberately unsaid was his hope he would, at least for a time, be able to work with sophisticated electronics again rather than the second-hand stuff he had been using for the last seven years. Again, Anastius only nodded in acknowledgment and looked at the next in line.

Survivor's bonus. That left a lot of room for the Senator to go back on his word. "How about if you agree to pay all of us, live or die. Certainly everyone here has someone who could use the money. That way, there's less room for misunderstandings." Morgan countered.

That did get an honest smile out of the aged politician. "I want you to live and succeed, not die, Master Henley. But your concern for survivors is valid. So I will meet your offer part way. I will pay a survivor's benefit of three-quarters the value of the payment you would receive if you had lived. That's seven hundred fifty thousand denarii to the beneficiary of your choice -- which you must name before leaving this station. You may change that after the fact, of course, so long as I am assured it is really you who are changing your named beneficiary. There are accepted security standards for such transactions. Will that suffice, master Henley."

Morgan knocked twice on the table in agreement. "I'm in."

"That's the spirit!" Lawrence encouraged from his seat, looking pleased for the group. "Yes, I'm sure you'll do just fine. Good luck, to all of you."

Anastius regarded Lawrence for a few heart beats, his coal black eyes boring into the young man like laser beams. "And just where do you think you'll be going son of Senator Bourne?" He asked pointedly.

Lawrence hesitated with his mouth open to say something, and then he came out with, "...Home?"

He took in the looks the Senator and the others were giving him and quickly got defensive. "Now look..I mean...come on! I mean, look at me? Do I look like the adventurous type? Seriously. I can't even spell adventure. Just as Ms. Tinglek, my fourth grade teacher."

He shook his head and waved his hands emphatically. "No no no no no...I'm more than happy to put the resources of Bourne Intergalactic at your disposal, just not this resource."

Morgan smiled, "Common m'man. It'll do you good. By the time we rescue the princess, you'll probably have a scar or two -- and you know how the ladies like scars. If we succeed, then everyone will know what a big hero you are; and if we fail, the Empire and most everyone else burns - and you'll already be too dead to take the blame. So -- that's really a win/win proposition. Besides, The Senator is paying for this -- so he'll be stocking your liquor cabinet with the finest wares this place has to offer. What else better do you have to do?" There was only a little irony in the kid's voice.

The Senator listened to this interesting, and very human pitch with an arched eyebrow, but opted to say nothing.

Bourne replied with a sarcastic, "Oh, gee, let me think. Um, I don't know. Live maybe?"

Willa snorted derisively, “Of course the playboy doesn’t want to come, he might mess up his clothes. Let him go, I’m sure his Daddy will be more than happy to take him back when he comes running home with his tail tucked between his legs.”

Lawrence pointed at her. "Yes! Exactly! About the clothes part, I mean," he added much less emphatically. "Daddy, I'm sure will be most disappointed in me, but then again, that's par for the course."

Seeing he wasn't getting anywhere, he tried reason. "In all seriousness, what is it you expect me to do here? I'm not qualified to do much of anything, really...unless saving the Empire requires a lot of heavy drinking and gambling, in which case I'm your man."

He broke out laughing at this, but cut it off when nobody else did.

With a sigh as preface, he said, "Take it from...well, take it from everyone who knows me. I'm not good for anything. Your chances of survival would be much better served by leaving me out."

With the respect he reserved for speaking to such people, Lawrence added to Anastius, "I sincerely apologize, Senator, but I simply do not see what it is that I personally bring to the table, or why my father would have sent me other than possibly writing off a liability."

Wordlessly the old politician pulled a piece of paper out of the folds of his toga, unfolded it and read it. It looked as though he was deciding something -- or perhaps re-considering. Finally, he refolded the paper and put it back. "Young humans seem to have the same predilection for focusing their lives on irrelevancies as do young Duranaki," he observed. "Lawrence. Your father did me great service, and perhaps before the end at the cost of no small sacrifice. I will do him one now: You are going with them. You have great skill, if you would but use it. And you will use it, Master Bourne, to serve them as you would serve me -- for indeed it is the same thing.

"I thank you all for coming, and for your service to our common good." He stood up. "Your ship awaits. The necessary documents will be brought to you before you leave."

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