Leeda came pelting out of the elevator on Qamala's back. As the taller woman made the turn up the landing bay toward their hanger a squad of armed security formed up behind them and followed along.

As they reached the hanger door the blood on the other door was noticeable, as was a trail of blood back into the hanger. There were pools of blood on the floor -- naval fliers called it a `deck' -- and a couple of bodies to their left as Leeda directed Qamala toward the front of the ship where the living seemed to be gathered. Morgan looked like he'd been in an inferno. His clothes were burned to tatters and there was nothing left of his hair. His skin was bright red. Willa had smears of blood all over her face. And Paladin lay like a corpse at the head of the cargo ramp. There was another chap Leeda had never seen before soaked in blood leaning against a tool box.

"What's going on here?" One of the security men called from behind them.

"Nothing that needs your attention now," Morgan snapped somewhat irritably. "A few minutes ago, however, we could have used your help."

"Who are these people?" The same man inquired.

"Colonel Verlag A. Ekhart," Morgan pointed at Willa's prize. "I'm sure you're familiar with the name. Now if you'll excuse us, thank you for responding, but we have work to do," he dismissed the troops.

“Oh good! Doctor, Paladin could use your expert help here. I’ve done what I can, but it isn’t much.” Willa stepped away to let the small woman take her place, and let her eyes take in the woman who was with Leeda. She was quite a striking beauty, but Willa was unable to place her heritage. When their eyes met she simply nodded to her.

A woman with pale hair and dark skin assisted Leeda to the deck with much care. She was breathing a little heavily but not too hard -- Leeda knew the long trip in the elevator hand helped her friend regain much of her wind before they'd arrived. Her violet gaze took in each of those present around the ship -- open, unconditionally accepting, even trusting. She didn't yet speak however, but stood to the side, watching and waiting as Leeda tended to her patients.

"Pardon me, but whose this?" Morgan wanted to know.

"Qamala Sotiris," she offered, with a glorious smile. "And whoever you are, you're obviously hurt. What happened?"

"I felt cold, so I thought I'd warm up in a PMGP cloud," Morgan drawled. Though he could hardly ignore Qamala's sunny smile and exotic beauty, neither could he hide his concern for Paladin. "Can you patch him back up, Doctor?"

Her gaze followed his, watching Leeda begin her assessment of the injured man's condition. "What is a PMGP cloud? Are they common on this station? I'd like to avoid that, if I could. What do they look like?"

Morgan looked at her for a heartbeat. What was left of an eyebrow arched, then he chuckled and pointed to the body holding the weapon. "See that big thing that guy's holding. That's a PMGP. It shoots a burst of plasma about 2 meters wide. He surprised me."

"He-- he shot at you?" The tips of her long fingers covered her lips, but couldn't hide the open horror in her eyes, followed immediately chagrined acceptance -- the woman's face was so easy to read it was ridiculous. "I mean, of course he did, you're hurt! But why did he shoot at you? Was he very angry? Does he hate you so badly, to want to cause you such pain?"

For just a fraction of a second he looked at her as though she'd suddenly just materialized right in front of her. "You're obviously not from around here," he finally drawled. "I have no idea why they decided to attack, other than its what Colonel Ekhart is best at, and he wants something -- or someone -- we have. Rather badly, it seems."

Leeda knelt down immediately beside Paladin, immediately categorizing his injuries, determining which were the most severe, and which could wait for treatment. As she ran her hands over his limbs, checking for breaks to the bones, or burns or contusions hidden under his clothing, she noticed a fine tremor in her fingers. She blew out a sharp breath and pressed her palms together for a moment, the pit of her stomach writhing as if filled with insects. She had never been called upon to help another person like this. She was this man's best hope for survival; she must guess correctly, make the right moves, or he might die. It was a chilling thought. Nothing she'd learned at her university could have prepared her for this.

She closed her eyes, took in a deep breath, and resumed her examination. It would appear, as she had suspected, that the worst injuries were the blasts he'd taken to his chest; they were steadily seeping blood, which was an oddly good sign, with none of the gushing that an arterial hit would create. From the position of the wounds, neither one of them had impacted any of the vital organs. Paladin's breathing was shallow, but steady, and no rattling or bubbling in his lungs, which would have meant a perforated, or perhaps collapsed lung. His skin was clammy and wet. He was probably going into shock, his body unable to regulate its temperature properly. He had numerous bruises, probably a broken rib or two from the impact or the fall, no doubt extensive nerve damage from the location and depth of his wounds, and quite an impressive bump on the back of his head where he'd fallen bonelessly to the deck.

She wiped the back of her hand over her forehead absently, leaving a faint smear of blood that contrasted sharply with her skin, pale with nerves. The absolute first thing she had to do was stabalize him. Halt the bleeding, make sure there wasn't any immediate systemic threat, and bring his pulse and temperature up to an acceptable level. She stood up and looked around, seeing Qamala speaking to Morgan. She moved over to them quickly, not wanting to leave Paladin laying on the deck for too much longer. She heard Morgan's question and flashed him a strained but optimistic smile.

"He's hurt, but none of it immediately fatal. Assuming there's anything like an adequate medical database onboard, here, we should be able to patch him up without too much problem. He has some serious nerve damage, though. That will be a trickier repair. Nothing we won't be able to handle in time." She looked up at Morgan and assessed his injuries by sight, noting the ease of his movement and his eyes and breathing, bright and steady respectively. "You look like you've spent a few too many hours in the sun. I bet you'll be hurting something awful soon enough. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like Qamala to examine you, though, to make sure there's nothing worse wrong with you that adreneline is covering up." She turned to look for Willa, motioning her over as well. "And Willa too, if you wouldn't mind, Qamala. You know Amazons, they love to grin and bear it until limbs start falling off."

“I’m fine, just a bump on the head.” Willa said, but she moved over to the tall dark skinned woman as she spoke.

That open, accepting look became downright enthusiastic when Willa stepped forward. "No Amazon this, but Athenian, surely," she breathed, smiling up into Willa's lovely face. "Born not of the old Earth's Gods, but rather the determination and vengeance of Earth's human women." She took Willa's hand in hers, squeezing it gently. "Well met, Willa. I haven't any of Leeda's medical expertise, but unless you are enjoying the pain from that bump on your head, it may be that I can help you, if you will allow it."

Willa couldn’t help but smile, and appreciate Qamala’s interest in meeting her. “And one of the first lines of Athenians, at that.” she couldn’t help but squeeze her hand in return. “It is a pleasure to meet you Qamala, but I am sorry to say that I am not aware of what race you are descendent of. I’d be happy for any assistance you could give me with the pain in my head. It is certainly not enjoyable.”

With a small nod, Qamala took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Body motionless, but around her tiny motes of light emerged as if from the air about them and began dancing over the surface of her deep caramel skin. The effect intensified through an indrawn breath, and then Qamala reached out to place the palm of her hand in the center of Willa's chest. The dancing motes of sunlight quivered briefly then rushed into Qamala, through her arm, and into Willa's body.

The bump on her head tingled pleasantly for a moment then disappeared, as if it had never been. Willa was suddenly free of not only the pain from the lump, but from the laceration on the inside of her mouth and a ligament she'd strained at some point during the battle and had been unaware of, until just now.

Qamala smiled, the tiniest remnants of that light still in her face, and stepped back. "It is not the first time one of my family line has healed a citizen of Athens, but it's certainly been quite a long time. I'm from Eden, Willa. I'm Magellen."

A look of confusion came to Willa’s face when the motes of light started moving around Qamala. When the woman put her hand on her chest, Willa looked from her face to her hand, still quite perplexed, but she waited to see what would happen. As her body healed and the Magellen identified herself Willa’s mouth actually fell open in shock. She stammered almost in disbelief, “I… I am honored to meet you! Thank you for treating my wounds. Perhaps Paladin could benefit from such a talent.”

"Paladin? Oh no, no -- he's in the best hands, honestly," Qamala said, her wistful, post-healing smile directed at her friend as she arranged to get the injured man up the ramp and into the ship. "It's just a small gift, really only good for cuts and scratches. And bumps on the head," she went on, smiling up at Willa again. "But if Leeda needs my help, she knows she's got it."

Qamala turned to Morgan, the question in her soft violet eyes. "She said I should help you if I could. Is that all right with you?"

The big man looked down at his sunburned arms and shrugged. "Yeah sure. Maybe I won't glow in the dark tonight."

"I actually know people who do that," she murmured, closing her eyes and drawing breath again. "But not from injury, I must confess." Once again, the air around her sparkled with tiny motes of pure sunlight, which rushed into her and then into Morgan through the palm she'd placed in the center of his chest. His burned skin deepened into tan and the nerves that hadn't quite stopped complaining about the injury soothed and were quieted.

"I can't help you grow back your hair," she concluded reluctantly, stepping back. "But hopefully it will come back quickly, now.

Since Qamala had turned her attention to other things Willa wanted to make sure that the men who had caused this ruckus were truly incapacitated. She walked over and checked the pulses of the men still lying on the ground.

Teagan was busy powering up the ship when the Doctor and Security team arrived. She gave them a quick glance but did not let it distract her from the task at hand. Once the power cord was installed she headed back towards the cargo ramp, pausing to regard the Doctor.

"I am about ready to do the diagnostics. I will make medical my priority. If there is anything that you don't have in the way of software or databases, make a list and I will see about acquiring it as swiftly as I can. I may be able to download something that will suffice by hacking into the star station." As Teagan spoke to the doctor her gaze swept over the stranger that had remained after the security team had left.

Almost as an afterthought she turned her full attention to Leeda and then towards Paladin, as she affected a bright cheery smile and tone. "It is good that he is not dead yet. Yes?!"

Leeda had returned to Paladin's side, when she saw that Qamala was managing well. She was contemplating the best way to get the injured pilot up and into the ship, thinking about the narrow corridors, when she heard Teagan's question. She shot a puzzled glance at the odd woman and smiled. "Yes. It is very good that he is not dead yet. For one thing, without a pilot we wouldn't get far, would we!" She chuckled and stood, deciding that the best course of action was to use her Telekinetic power to lift and manipulate him. That way, she could be sure not to put too much strain on his chest or shoulders, where one of the wounds had damaged the large muscles. She took a breath and grounded herself, closing her eyes a moment and saying a quick meditative phrase to slow her pulse, let her jangling nerves settle. It wouldn't do to try and lift him and drop him again because her concentration was shot. She was a bit unsure of whether she could lift him all by herself, but she had to try. She knew it was his best bet to avoid further damage that might inhibit his recovery later. She grinned to herself; he'd probably be pretty annoyed with her if he ended up unable to lift one arm over his head.

She opened her eyes agian, and extending her hands out over Paladin's limp form, she focused, and slowly raised him up off the deck. The moment he lifted into the air, she felt the strain of it, her lips pressing into a thin white line as he wobbled slightly, then stabilized. She called to Teagan as she started moving him up the ramp; "You said something about diagnostics of the medical database? Is that something you could do from the med bay? I'd like to know what I'm working with, before I get started and find out I'm missing something vital in the equipment"

"Of course." Teagan gave her a quick set of directions to the medical bay as she turned her attention to Morgan.

"Nice trick," Morgan observed. "I don't know about anybody else, but I think we need some answers. And I think they're probably in that bar we were in this morning." He thumbed in that general direction.

Teagan's brown eyes regarded the big man. Her tone was flat as she spoke. "Perhaps calling down to the bar to speak with Lawrence Bourne would be a good idea. Or, I could page him to the hangar."

"Lawrence Bourne?" Qamala spoke the name like a question, and somewhat loudly. "You know Senator Lawrence Bourne? Is he here, on the station? Oh there's been trouble -- I need to speak with him!"

Teagan's head swiveled to look at Qamala when she said the name of their absent companion. When she spoke her voice was matter of fact. "Master Lawrence Bourne the Third. Son of a senator. The playboy. Prefers scotch Rocks, and enjoys discussing the finer points of interspecies relations. He is also a self proclaimed heavy drinker and gambler, not good for anything."

Teagan's answer brought Qamala up short, and she blinked several times as she processed the information the strange woman had provided. What's more, Qamala's empathic talents were picking up absolutely nothing from her -- though she looked quite human, except for those eyes. Her double-take at Teagan was quite pronounced, and everyone could almost hear the I'll come back to you in a minute as if she'd said it aloud.

"So he is the son of the senator? Does he know where his father is? The senator has been attacked and is in grave danger, and there is a message on a crashed ship and it has to get to him so I can know what's in it!" She paused, and took a deep breath to still the flow of words from her mouth, looking at Willa, Teagan, and Morgan expectantly.

Willa couldn’t help but snort at Teagan’s last comment about Bourne. “Why don’t you go ahead and call him back here. I don’t want to waste all the time it would take to get to the bar and haul his ass back to this hanger. I might not punch him as hard when I see him either, if I’ve had a chance to calm down a bit first.”

Qamala's violet eyes got even wider at this. "Why would you wish to punch him, Willa? What has he done?"

“Because our dear friends here,” Willa put as much sarcasm in that last bit as was humanly possible, “were looking for Lawrence Bourne the Third. They insisted on shooting two of my crewmates, and setting of a grenade at my feet in an attempt to find him. He’ll be lucky if all he walks away with is a black eye.”

Once it was clear that the conversation no longer needed her input, Teagan made her way back onto the ship. "I'll get medical up first Doc."

"But-- I don't understand," Qamala said, looking at the bodies on the deck, then back at Willa in really, painfully obvious mystification. "You said they were looking for him, but they attacked you and injured you... Did Lawrence Bourne the Third bring them here to attack you? Or did he send them, since he's not here...? Is that why you're angry with him over this?"

“I’m not sure what it is like on Eden, Qamala, but out here in the rest of the universe, force is used all too often. When someone wants something, they take it, and if someone else is in their way, that person is disposed of in the quickest way possible. I do not know why these men wanted Bourne, but they thought they could come in here and take him with their guns, and we would do nothing to stop them. For some reason we are willing to protect him, perhaps it is simply the fact that he is part of our crew, no matter how annoying he may be.” Willa paused a moment in reflection, “I am angry with Bourne because he caused pain to myself and my friends, and he is probably off in the bar getting drunk while we are left to clean up his mess.”

Obviously still baffled, Qamala shook her head, then nodded, then shook her head again. "I'm sorry Willa, but I must be clear on this before I act -- you're telling me Master Bourne `caused' you pain, but I'm still not seeing how he did. Was he somehow responsible for the choices of these... men?" She asked, looking around quickly to ascertain that the fallen were men and not robots or automatons of some sort. "I should hate to cause the Senator more distress, but if his son is making these men to shoot those horrible weapons at you, then he must be stopped."

With the patience that she would have shown a child, Willa tried to explain. “Bourne was the cause only in a round about way. He more than likely made someone mad, or owes them money, and these men were sent to find him. They specifically wanted him alive. He did not shoot the guns, or even send the men to shoot the guns, but his actions resulted in these men shooting at us, and hitting two of us, I might add. I do not see that you need to act on this, and I’m sure the Senator has more important things on his mind than his son getting into trouble. If it makes you feel any better, I will promise not to hit Bourne when I see him.” Under her breath and between her teeth she added, “Even if he does deserve it.”

Her empathic gifts worked perfectly clearly with Willa, she didn't need any help to know that the Athenian was getting exasperated with the Magellen's questions. It disturbed her that the big woman could become angry with someone over something that wasn't really their fault, and then invent lots of `maybes' and `probablies' to justify it -- but there wasn't really time to go into that just then.

"Willa, I think I may know why those men wanted the younger Bourne," she simply said, opting to change the subject and hoping Willa didn't get angry with her, too. "And it doesn't have anything to do with him getting drunk or owing money." Her expression grew bleak. "Anastius was right -- the leaks about that message flew faster than the ship that carried it. Whoever was paying these men wanted the younger Bourne to hold as leverage against his father. Probably because they're trying to find out the same thing I am -- where is Princess Aldeborahnn?"

Morgan opened up his duffel bag and pulled out an armored jacket, a gun belt and two knives. He pulled tucked one blade in his boot and hooked the other one in place down the small of his back. Then pulled on the jacket and strapped on the gun belt. "I don't really care about any of that." Morgan said dryly. "I'm going to talk to Lawrence - give him a chance to explain why we got shot up on his account."

Intrigue, it always made Willa’s skin crawl. When someone asked a question like ‘Where is Princess Aldeborahnn’ to the crew that was about to start a mission to find out the answer to just that question, there was reason to wonder. Who was this woman; she certainly knew a lot. Was she reinforcement in case the gunmen didn’t succeed? Why hadn’t she been at the initial meeting with the Senator? Of course Willa couldn’t ask any of these questions, without giving her suspicions away. Instead she just shrugged her shoulders and replied, “Could be. I certainly don’t have a firm grasp on all the ins and outs of the life of Lawrence Bourne the Third.”

To Morgan, she said, “I’ll tag along, I’d love to hear this.”

I thought this ship was being dispatched to find Aldeborahnn. Doesn't that mean you have to care?" Qamala asked -- somewhat rhetorically, and with that same air of innocent inquiry she'd maintained all along. "Or perhaps more accurately stated -- are being paid to care?" She gazed at Willa, sober, worried. "You don't have to know anything about that man's life or how he's chosen to live it, but you do have to understand who's going to be shooting at you as soon as they find out you're all involved in this. At least, if you intend to live through it."

Willa shrugged again, “We’re already being shot at. To be honest, it doesn’t really matter who is doing the shooting, as long as we are better at it. But it is time for Bourne to rejoin us here in the maintenance bay. He can get shot at along with the rest of us.”

"While I agree that all parties need to be here as soon as possible, I suggest there is a better way to go about it," the Magellen replied, expression changing from concern to outright worry. "And, with respect, it surely does matter who is doing the shooting, and not only because you're obviously not better at it!"

She whirled in place, pearlescent robes swirling about her legs. "Hello? You -- computer woman!" Qamala shouted. She hadn't been introduced to Teagan, so only had a descriptive phrase for her. "You said something about paging this Bourne person? Instead, see if you can get the station computer to issue a security alert for him and have him escorted to this landing bay by station personnel. Can you do that?"

At the call for 'computer woman', Teagan paused in her assent up the cargo ramp and turned to see who was being addressed. When she saw the stranger's violet eyes upon her she stopped and turned around fully to listen to the conversation, processing all of the words and none of the emotion as it gushed forward. In response to the question, she nodded her head. "Yes."

Then Qamala turned back to Willa. "That will get him here as soon as he can be gotten here, and you won't be abandoning the wounded and non-combatants to the next group of armed thugs who wanders in here."

To Morgan, she said, "You mentioned some title or rank for that man in charge of the mercenaries -- a `colonel'? Ekhart? Doesn't that mean he has more men at his disposal? Is it reasonable to assume they'll be here as soon as they realize the first group wasn't successful? With reinforcements?" Her gaze expanded to include them both at that point. "You can act like you don't care all you want, but the fact is that if you don't get this ship out of this landing bay as fast as humanly possible, you're likely to be dead before the mission even begins."

"Yeah. If he has men, they'll be here shortly. He has about 5,000 men who all pretty much owe their lives and luxuries to him." Morgan replied. "But, if we don't know why they are after us - or Bourne - then we don't really know what it'll take to get them off our backs. Right now, if we don't do that; we won't be able to save anyone." He looked around, "Last I heard, this ship wasn't ready to fly -- it doesn't have anything on it. We just can't fill her tanks and take off; not after being in mothballs like this. So, while Teagan and Jacob get the ship ready, and the Doc get's Paladin back up. I thought that I would go and talk with Larry, beating the necessary information out of him if that's what I need to do. Willa, you coming with?"

Her temper was beginning to get the better of her. The ship was so run down that she wasn’t even sure it was possible to get it off the ground, let alone get the systems up. If they managed that, there was no telling if the damn thing would even hold together once they got it out into space. She knew that the mechanics were working on getting things up, and had tried to help with that, but it seemed all she was really good for was getting blown up. So she was going to continue to do that until she was able to get to the bridge and find out what software needed to be installed. At the rate things were going that was still not going to happen for another couple of hours. The lack of any coordination was really beginning to grate on her nerves.

“Last I counted 4 down compared to one down does make us better at fighting. We don’t need some person who isn’t even part of this mission coming in here and telling us how to run things. How wise is it to issue a security alert to the entire station telling the 5000 or so men who want to kidnap Bourne where he is? I don’t trust security on this ‘station.’ If we need to call security, I’d rather it was to this maintenance bay to guard the people trying to fix the ship, at least they have a good defendable area. Let’s go get the lazy bastard, Morgan.” Willa turned and headed towards the door with a pistol and stun rod in hand.

Teagan absorbed absolutely every word that was spoken, and had it been required could have spoken it back with every single syllable precisely in tact. "Morgan. Willa. If I may have one moment of your time before you depart." She looked at each of them with her flat eyes as she began her track back down the cargo ramp and headed towards the side of the hangar.

"Morgan, you are correct, the ship is not ready. However, I am in desperate need of your help and Willa's to get the fuel nozzles off of the ship in preparation for replacing them. I had also counted on Paladin's assistance, but in his current condition, he won't be able to assist, I'm sure that Lawrence will suffice. If you would permit me to call a security team, to escort Lawrence Bourne the Third to our hangar, I could do so in a discreet manner." Her eyes turned to regard the stranger once again. "The stranger has indeed provided a better solution to our current dilemma."

As she spoke she continued towards the doors. "If we shut these doors, I can secure them and it will help provide us some cover from any more unwelcome visitors while we begin the necessary repairs. In the interest of self preservation getting this ship up and running, is the most critical action item. Lawrence at this point is more expendable than this ship. Please." There was no plea in her voice, only the facts as she saw them, with a pleasantry that seemed appropriate placed at the end.

"You'll have al the help I can provide," Qamala said quietly, though her inner doubts about getting involved with these people were as plain as day upon her face. "Despite your hasty assessment of the matter, it turns out I am part of this mission, as of about ninety standard minutes ago. Feel free to confirm that with Senator Anastius if it pleases you.

"Qamala Sotiris," she said, introducing herself to Teagan. "I know nothing about ships or machinery, but I have quick hands, and I can learn."

Willa reached the door as Teagan said she needed their help to do the maintenance required. She slammed the butt of her stun rod into the metal of the door with a loud resounding crash as she leaned her head against it. The droid was right of course. Now was not the time to let being slighted get the best of her. Willa took a few deep breaths ignoring everything else that went on behind her. She stood there for a few minutes, then turned, put her weapons away, and said, “Fine. Let’s get this ship off the ground.” To Teagan she said, “Be subtle about the security detail. We don’t want him to die before we can sell him.” and as an afterthought, “Don’t repeat that to him.” She turned to the button by the doors and pushed it to close them.

“We need to find everybody here some body armor. Morgan, can you see if you can find anything in these cupboards?”

Morgan listened to Willa, and while he agreed with her -- he pretty much wanted to put a bullet in LB3's head and send him -- and the mercenary looking for him -- back to where they lived. "There's nothing here." He said, "I know a guy who can sell us some body armor and personal weaponry. I was on my way there when I got shot."

He turned and looked at Willa, "Until Paladin wakes up, you're the boss. Where do you want me?"

“We need some protection on the rest of the crew.” she said with a sigh. “We need you here to help, but I think that is more important. Find your guy as soon as possible. Then hurry back here. Thanks, Morgan.” The last part was said with true sincerity.

Morgan nodded and left to get what personal weapons and armor he could find. He was still ready to bring Lawrence in. He either needed a good ass-kicking or he needed off this rock more than any of them.

Willa had noticed that Ekhart was awake as she past him, on her way to the ship so she returned to the tool box he was leaning against, still bleeding. She squated leaned down and grinned at him. “Morning Sunshine! How’s your head doing? Mine is all better now, even after that concussion grenade that you threw at me. So let’s have a little chat. Tell me who hired you to kidnap Bourne.”*

She started walking back towards the ship, then Willa remembered something that Juice said. She ran back to the doors and reopened them. “I’ll be right back!” she shouted, then yelled at the top of her lungs, “JUICE” as she ran back to the bay that she had first met the woman in.

Jacob had been tinkering with a couple of settings waiting for power to come on. When it came on, he held his breath, waiting for the security system to activate. After a few minutes, nothing happened and he relaxed a little. Heading back to the ramp, he stuck his head out. "Hey Teagan, good work. Looks like the system is down. I can fiddle with it later. I don't know squat about ships, but I can help with electronics or heavy lifting. Where do you want me?"

About twenty minutes after she left, Willa returned with a big grin on her face, pushing a floater full of electronic equipment. “Teagan, I got some new toys for you to play with, and there is more to come. Looks like this bird may be space worthy sooner than we thought.” As quietly as she could, Willa asked Teagan to check with the Senator about Qamala’s claim to be part of the crew, then she continued towards the ship and saw Jacob’s head peaking down the ramp, “Jacob, you don’t have to worry about the security system frying anybody yet. I have a new panel here for you.” She pushed the floater up and into the cargo hold and handed him the panel and wiring that was still hanging over her shoulder.

Jacob took the box with a grin around his stylus. "Thanks, Willa. This should come in handy. I guess we should have asked a few more questions when we got started, huh. Did Juice say where the panel was on the ship? Save me some searching."

Her faced turned a bit red at Jacob’s question. Willa replied, “Uh, no. I didn’t have a chance to ask.” With a smile she continued, “But she should be here soon, if you haven’t found it by then, I’m sure she’d tell ya.”

Jacob shrugged. "No big deal. I can hunt for it during flight if necessary. We don't need a security system to fly, after all." He headed back into the ship.

Willa found Teagan in the ship, just finishing up with bringing the medical systems, or what was left of them back online. She explained that she had already called the Senator and was waiting for him to get back with her. ...and that she had discreetly placed a call into security to escort Lawrence back to the ship. After Teagan promised Willa to let her know as soon as she heard from the Senator, she resumed her diagnostics on the rest of the ship. Fretting over some issues with the router.

The diagnostics on the four main systems went over without much of a problem. The bridge system, engine control system, teleporter system and the fire control system, all seemed to check out fine. The problem was that the router was too small, and ran way to slow for all of the systems to communicate efficiently with each other.

While she was finishing everything up, she received a message from the Senator, and went to find Willa, to discreetly deliver the news. "Qamala is an ambassador from Megellen. She will be joining us on the mission for as long as she chooses. He didn't specify what her role or function would be in all of this."

“Thank you for checking on that Teagan. We need to get those fuel nozzles taken off. It is going to take all of us to do it though. We should start that soon.”

"We'll need two cranes, and with two of us on each nozzle we can have the job done in four hours. ...but we still need to procure the nozzles - rated for 6 Gees." Once she passed on the details of what she needed to Willa, Teagan walked over to Jacob and handed him a router from the cart of supplies that Juice had sent over.

"Can you get this router installed while I work on the outside repairs?" She looked at him with her emotionless eyes as she waited for his reply.

"Sure, Teagan," Jacob responded. "I should know enough about electronics to do that much. Maybe the ship won't even blow up when I'm done." He was pretty sure she wouldn't respond to the joke, but couldn't resist trying. It felt so good to be working with electronics again, even under the circumstances.

The mechanic blinked her eyes once, then twice as she processed Jacob's words. "Blowing up would be bad. Replacing the nozzles will reduce our chances of that happening. The router doesn't interface with anything that will make that a possibility. But. When speaking of such delicate matters, it is always good to check." She smiled brightly. "Yes?!"

Jacob laughed softly. Nothing like a straight man, or woman in this case. "Always best to check, Teagan. Especially when I'm new around ships. I'll get this put in." Whistling to himself he headed off to work.

“Willa walked over to Qamala and held out her hand. “Welcome aboard. I’m sorry that we got off on the wrong foot. Can we try again?” She smiled, the woman seemed pretty reasonable.

For her part, left to her own devices and knowing Leeda was focused completely on her patient, Qamala had simply wandered around the bay examining what she saw with the same accepting, inquisitive air she'd given almost all of it. Thus she was there when her purchases arrived, and Leeda's, and was able to instruct the deliverypersons (Myryi, both of them, but without the garishness that had marked them on Durakaan) to place the bundles, and Leeda's plant, off to one side for later.

Of course, if they ever decide to check on things and put me to work, I should be dressed for it. Where are those `work clothes'...? She found one set of coveralls in dark blue and the `work boots' (which looked uncomfortable but Leeda promised her they'd be all right), and the `stockings' for her feet, which Leeda had recommended after she discovered Qamala had no callouses on her feet from such things. She stripped naked in the bay, then put on the items of clohting happily because they reminded her of her friend, completely unaware of any body modesty taboos that might be broken when she did so.

And so that's how she was dressed when the Athenian woman returned, her hand held out, a friendly smile on her face. Qamala smiled back -- Willa had seen a similar smile on her little sister's face once, when she she'd returned from her first year at the Academy, but never since.

"I'm sorry too," she said, taking Willa's hand in both of hers. "There's an urgency driving me in this, and at times it's almost unbearable. It makes me do and say things I normally would not. I have a lot to tell you, all of you -- but you're right, we must get the ship out of here first."

“I’d love to hear all of it, but yes, later, underway.” Willa smiled. I’d love it if you could give us a hand with getting these fuel nozzles off. I see you are dressed for it already.”

Morgan always felt a little dirty when he dealt with people like Morris. He always paid a little more than he would ordinarily have to and he hated the feeling that any extra information he gave out could be for sale if the right person put enough money or the right kind of pressure on him. And so, he had said very little and he had over bought. Two and a half of everything (people he thought would be rough on their gear got three sets; people who he thought would be gentle got two), to throw his numbers off. He even special ordered three squad-portable pulse cannons that wouldn't be here until 15 standard cycles - to obscure when they were leaving. He paid up-front for them - and so he didn't mind leaving them here in case they came back to pick them up. (He actually paid for them in the hopes that it would keep Morris happy and not running his mouth.)

Lastly, he had paid bribes to several other people along the way. Keeping the wheels greased and moving was as important as getting the ship up and running. The less this looked like something a distinguished Senator would run and the more it looked like profiteering -- the better their chances of keeping on the DL. He guided the hover carrier into the bay. He flashed the lights to let the ship know he was back. Then proceeded to unload everything -- long arms in the weapons locker along with the extra personal weapons. He handed out the small arms as ordered by each person (or selected by him based on what he thought they would be comfortable with if they had given him no selection). He did the same with the body armor. The heavy stuff went into the armory, along with the extra sets and the rest went into personal quarters.

Some of what he bought -- he thought -- was rather fashionable. While what he got for himself was more functional, but less attractive -- and a bit more protective. Lastly, he managed to carry the larger items to where they needed to go. It never hurt to have mechanically enhanced strength when your job was 'lugger'. After everything was in place, he reported to Willa.

"I'm back." He said, at attention but without a salute, "Where do you need me?"

“Morgan, let’s get these nozzles off, then I need you to go fix the mess Lawrence made of our supplies. He only ordered booze and caviar.” Willa rolled her eyes and shook her head. “At ease, by the way.”

"Aye." He said with a nod and went off to fix the nozzles.

"I'm ready," Qamala smiled excitedly. "How do we begin?"

As he walked toward the back of the hanger the roar of a huge electric motors grew closer and closer, then slowed down as it reached there hanger. He (and everybody else) could see the end of a crane boom through the mostly closed door. Juice slid through the door and lit a cigarette as she walked up under the ship. "God damn," she cackled, looking Morgan up and down. "Nice armor, but it looks like you put it on after somebody tried tah use you as a fuckin' cigarette lighter."

Upon arriving back with his mother (and after several fights in public or at a work place), she had insisted that he see a therapist for (what she called) anger issues. He heard that therapist's voice in his head now, The right response isn't always to assume the worst and attack someone. Several retorts went through his mind, but he kept those to himself and gave her a life hates me nod and smile. Then he continued on ... taking off the nozzles like a good worker bee.

He looked over to Qamala and said, "You might wanna get some gloves for this kinda thing." He was wearing a pair of well worn, heavy work gloves and carried a belt of tools that seemed to match the gloves in their abuse.

With a startled glance at his gloves, then her bare hands, Qamala said, "Oh. Right! Thank you!" and scurried off to pull a pair of gloves and a tool belt similar to Morgan's from the cabinets. It took her a moment to figure it all out, but then she sprinted back across the bay in time to lend whatever amateur help they needed.

“Perfect timing, Juice.” Willa walked over to the doors and opened them, moved the crane in, then re-closed them. She moved it over to the fuel nozzles and left it there while she walked up the ramp and yelled, “Jacob, Leeda, Juice is here. If you have any questions about the ship, I’d ask her now.” Back outside the ship, she called everybody together and they began the long process of removing the two old fuel nozzles.

Teagan started with Qamala and Morgan, indicating the process that needed to be followed to get the nozzles off, quickly and efficiently. Once she was confident they had no more questions, she joined Willa on the other side to do the same. When the new nozzles arrived she took a break to examine them immediately to make sure they would be sufficient, before resuming her task.

Jacob stretched out his arm, cursing under his breath. He could almost reach the circuit board with the tip of his fingers. There should be plenty of room, but one of the custom modifications apparently needed some extra space and the ships owner decided to use this particular conduit. Now he had to reach around a bulge to try and realign a circuit board that was loose.

Once he had the router put in, Jacob had found numerous minor electrical problems that needed fixing. He pulled bad wires and reran them. Some of them were fine, but were handling too heavy a load. Since that meant a higher risk of fire, which sounded really bad in space, he replaced those also. He had plenty of time, since the others were busy with the mechanical problems.

Otherwise it had just been a case of tightening connections and replacing old components. It wasn't exactly brain work, but it was nice to be back at work again. Of course that was before he found himself stretched out full length on the floor stretching his arms and squeezing his not inconsiderable bulk into too small a passage trying to tighten a screw. Images of being stuck here didn't help his temper and he cursed and grumbled around the stylus.

Finally he seated the screwdriver with a sigh of relief. He pushed the autodrive on the handle and smiled as the screw turned in. Then he cursed again as the driver slipped. No longer content with cursing under his breath, he spoke loud volumes on the parentage of the ship, the screw and the screwdriver. Reaching back into his memory, he drug up curse words his grandfather used to say and spewed them forth on the head of whomever had mutilated the ship as he tried to force his bulk a few centimeters further in.

Finally, with a heave, he managed to tighten the screw enough. It might not be perfect, but it would stay. With a final curse, warning the circuit board of what would happen should it slip again, he backed out of the shaft. Or at least he tried to. With one arm stretched above his head and the other at his side, he couldn't get any real traction to pull himself out. He couldn't really pull with his feet, they had no purchase, and his arms had little leverage.

As he struggled to get free, he realized how hard to breath it was wedged like this. Thinking of the looks on his new shipmates faces if they found him here, suffocated like a beached whale, Jacob redoubled his efforts. Pain flared as a sharp edge on the obstruction tore the side of his shirt and his skin underneath. Growling to himself he jerked backward, leaving a decent chunk of skin and a trail of blood on the deck. Sitting down back in the hallway, he panted for breath while making sure noone saw his little adventure. As he struggled to his feet, scrapped, sore and red-faced, he swore this time he would go on that diet.

As Teagan walked out of the hanger she saw Lawrence walking up toward them, flanked by four Thavan guards. She hadn't specifically ordered Thavan to pick him up, she supposed that someone -- probably The Senator -- had made sure then it was Thavan rather than regular Station Security to see that the young dilettante made it back to his ship in one piece.

Juice followed her out, a cigarette hanging out of her face. The mechanic hadn't really intended to hang around, but she'd kind of gotten caught up in the flow. The urgent need to revive the ship and be gone, and 'the shoot out', as all the station personnel were already calling their scrimmage Ekhart's men, was "the most excitin' fuckin' thing to happen around here in a decade."

If he needed to chain smoke before, this just clinched it. Lawrence pulled another smoke out and lit it, then used a twist of his wrist to gesture with it at the dead bodies.

"Anyone we know?" he asked.

Juice had been about to say something to Teagan. "Eh what?" She half turned and asked.

Lawrence put the hand not holding something burning to his head and wondered what the hell he was doing there.

He explained slowly, "I was just asking my Myri friends here what the deal was with Captain Crispy and friends, my dear au jus. I've missed some excitement, it seems."

Once the nozzles were removed Willa got some water, and took herself a sit down against the back wall while Teagan went to look at the new nozzles. From around the corner she heard the aristocratic tones of Bourne outside the door. She slid up along the wall into a standing position and walked to the doorway. Leaning her back against it, and taking a long drink of her water she looked him in the eye with her own green ones then in her most sultry voice said, “We missed you darling. It’s too bad you weren’t here. You could have helped us dispatch of the people that came to kidnap you.” Sauntering over to him, she placed her hand on his chest, licked her lips and continued, “But we saved the best part for you. You get to clean up the bloody mess.” Her dirty glove closed around the front of his white jacket as she turned, and pulled him forward into the hanger.

Teagan walked up to Willa and placed a hand on the arm that was holding Lawrence Bourne the Third, Son of Senator Bourne. She blinked her eyes once and tilted her head, her voice as flat as usual. "He is worth one million denarius, you are getting him dirty. And don't break him. Please."

Then Teagan flashed a bright smile at Lawrence, gesturing over towards what he referred to as Captain Crispy and his friends. "They were seeking the Son of Senator Lawrence Bourne. They were angry. I accidentally burned them and then they were shot. Our Pilot is severly injured." She lifted her head again. "I'm glad you are not dead yet."

"As am I, my dear," Lawrence returned politely. Then he slapped away the hand of the dirty miscreant untidying his jacket.

"And you can clean up your own mess, thank you, after a lesson in courtesy, perhaps." He made to say something else, something suitably biting to the rude, deserving woman, when something that he'd missed kicked him in the brain.

He brushed at the dirt on his jacket as his expression turned from annoyance to confusion. "Did you say that they were here to kidnap me?"

Willa’s eyes narrowed and hardened as she looked into Lawrence’s. “Yes, the three dead men in that bay, were here to kidnap you.” She poked him in the chest on the last word. “Thus the personal, armed, escort back here. You say you have no skills? Well, then you’ll start at the bottom, by cleaning up your own mess.”

He just smiled around his cigarette at the silly person, having been brought out of his thoughts by her outlandish suggestion. "Heh heh...No, I don't think so," he chuckled with a shake of his head.

Paladin emerged from the ship, trying to keep his legs under him. Barechested and one armed, he caught sight of Willa, Teagan, and Bourne, and strode over to them, unceremoniously pulling the cigarette out of Bourne's mouth, dropping it to the floor, and grinding it out.

"Oh, and Larry? Theres no smoking in here, there are half a hundred things in here that could catch fire. Fire consumes oxygen. Being as we are on a space station where oxygen is a finite quantity,Fire Is Bad. Do try to use your head for something other than keeping the rain out of your neck."

He then turned to Willa, and asked, "Where do we stand? How can I be the most help?"

Lawrence looked around and then shook his head and walked off, heading back towards the exit from which he arrived. If they were going to force him onto a ship with these louts, the least they could have done was arrange for his bag to be brought down. The service here is terrible, he griped to himself as he tried to remember the way back to his room.

“Where the fuck do you think you are going?” Willa shouted and ran in front of Bourne, blocking his way. “Didn’t you hear me? There are people on this station who want to kidnap you and hold you for ransom. How pleasant do you think that will be? There won’t be any caviar and martinis for you there. Not to mention you’ll be beaten and truly held prisoner. You think being with us is going to be bad? Being held hostage would be 100 times worse, but if you insist on being obstinate we can work on making it that bad for you.” During the last sentence Willa drew her pistol and leveled it at his chest. “You can go with us together or in pieces, Lawrence, the choice is yours.”

"Well, well, well," Lawrence replied in a calm and smooth counter to her tirade as he placed his hands in his pockets and struck a relaxed pose despite the extreme sphincter clenching that seemed involuntary whenever he'd had a gun pointed his way. "Now we see how things really are, don't we. I wonder if those people out there we're supposed to be stopping are standing around pointing guns at each other." He sighed. "Almost makes me wonder if I'm on the wrong side."

Slowly, because while he was pretty sure she wouldn't shoot you never really did know with these hot-headed types, he withdrew his PDA from his jacket pocket.

"I'm going to get my bag from my room," he explained patiently. "Then I'm going to check on a supply order I placed. If you'd like me to help, I'll be happy to order you whatever you like while I'm at the requisitions office."

He paused with his finger poised to enter whatever she might need. He hoped that some kind of mood-steadying pharmacological was included.

“The gun would be unnecessary if you would use your brain occasionally. The only place you are going is back to the hanger, where we can keep an eye on you. Morgan will take care of the rest of the order, he already knows what we need, and will stock us with more than booze and snack food. I’m sure we can find someone who isn’t in danger of being dragged off and ransomed to get your bag for you. Thank you for bringing up that point, the rest of us will need our stuff as well, but we have way too much to do in this bay to waste time retrieving personal items. Now, turn around, go through those doors, find some coveralls, and start moving those dead bodies to a pile by the door.”

To those who make gambling a hobby of choice, like Lawrence Bourne III, there is an axiom that you not only need to know the odds, you need to know the players. Knowing the probabilites of certain outcomes is key to managing your bank, but you must also be able to judge people. Many a game had been turned on it's head by a player who failed to act in the manner you'd expect. Being able to read people and situations is almost as important as knowing the rules of the game inside-out. And Lawrence had made quite an art form out of reading people and situations, to the point it was a survival skill.

The gun being pointed at his chest was a major threat. But when he considered that these people had already killed and suffered casualties in order to ensure his safety - crazy foolish that someone would do that for someone they didn't even know, but done nonetheless - he viewed that gun in front of him as more bluster from a player-hating woman not getting the level of respect she probably felt entitled to receive by someone she didn't understand than an actual threat against his life by someone who was willing to kill him herself rather than see him captured by someone else. No, even for her, it made no sense.

Then again, he thought, this whole business with the Empire seems to have given more than a few people some rather crazy ideas. Meh, I like my odds. Besides, she totally messed up my jacket, so screw her.

"Move them yourself," he answered her with a disinterested shrug. Then he turned around and gave her his back, her bluff clearly called.

After Bourne turned his back on her, Willa lowered the pistol. As long as he didn’t try to leave the company of the crew, she wouldn’t threaten him with it again. She re-holstered it and folded her arms, standing between the hanger and the rest of the station. “Paladin, sorry about that, Lawrence seems to think he is going to wander around by himself. The power is up on the ship, the fuel nozzles are about to be replaced, and it sounds like the refueling should begin in a matter of minutes. Jacob is working on getting a router installed inside. We still have to do a systems check, self check, and diagnostic of the bride. Ships weapons and defenses need to be taken care of, and we still need to decide if we want to put extra fuel cells on the outside of the ship, just to start.”

Paladin watched the showdown, and Bournes flat refusal to be of any help, then the rundown on the progress made while he had been indisposed. "He's not our prisoner. If he wants to continue acting the ass, let him, we have other problems, and not enough hands to see to them."

He looked around, and saw juice had returned, and nodded to himself. "I can get to work on the diagnostics, and pre flight sys-checks, since Im not going to be much use anywhere else for a long while. I think we should opt for fuel pods, on the load out, if we get into a shooting fight, its not likely to be won in this ship. We may outrun them, but were not out shooting them, and outrunning means using more fuel."

As he turned to go back to the cockpit, and get to work on that, he stopped and looked back at Willa. "Good work." He said simply.

Willa simply nodded in reply to Paladin’s instructions and praise. But inside she was feeling an odd sense of joy at his acknowledgement. She shrugged it off as relief that he was up and well.

"You're what they fuckin' wanted?" Juice looked amazed, then shook her head, blew a big cloud of smoke from her newly lit cigarette, and turned back to Teagan. "Made for a full six gees," she said fishing around in her coveralls for something. "Plus the standard twenty percent overpressure." She finally pulled out a small x-ray scanner, handed it to Teagan, then grinned broadly -- it wasn't a pretty sight. "But that's not the good part." In her illiterate, colorful way of speaking, the ugly mechanic then launched into an explanation of `the good parts' of the new fuel nozzles that included formulas and time pressure curve models that would have sent most engineering academics running for their note pads and calculators. Juice had observed that high performance engines like the ones on their ship sometimes blew out regulation nozzles under extreme conditions. She'd come up with a solution, and had incorporated it into the nozzle's she'd built.

It was one of those things Teagan had never really thought about, having not worked much on high performance drives for small ships before. But Juice's explanation made head smacking sense. And as she worked the formulas in her head, those two made sense. Was the ugly woman right or not? That would take real data and a full blown computer model to figure out, and Teagan had neither. She also didn't have a lot of time. But running some quick simulations in her head quickly told her that the worst that could happen is that Juice was right, at which point these nozzles had been designed to prevent a blow out. Or Juice could be wrong and they'd have an extra measure of protection against that eventuality at, quite probably, the worst possible time.

Meanwhile, as Teagan and Juice went over the fuel nozzles, the roar of two huge fuel browsers could be heard headed their way.

Teagan had been watching the exchange without comment. "She will run fast when I'm done with her. Very fast."

Morgan jumped down from where he had been standing and casually walked over to where Willa, Paladin and Bourne were standing. "Nice to see you back up, sir." He said to Paladin.

Paladin stopped, and gave Morgan a nod in acknowledgement, he was about to resume his trip to the cockpit, when he stopped suddenly. "Morg, why is everyone calling me Captain? Was I nominated for something while I was out?"

"Do you know a Colonel Eckhart?" Morgan asked Bourne. "Because that's the guy who was tasked to come down here and grab you. It would be good, before we decide just what to do with this guy, if you could give us the downlow on why."

"It doesn't ring a bell," the prisoner answered, clearly annoyed at his predicament. "Is he one of the meat popsicles there on the deck?"

"I know why Ekhart wants him." The voice was soft, almost tentative, and came from someone neither Bourne nor Paladin recognized. She was dressed in work coveralls which still looked fairly new. Her pale hair was pulled back in a scarf, dusky skin lightly covered in perspiration from their labors. Her eyes, however, still sparkled like she was having the time of her life. "Willa thought that information could wait, and I agreed. Up to now it's been much more important to get this ship off the station as soon as we can."

Morgan had been working for the past two hours with this woman, more than once obsessing over why Ekhart would be after Bourne and she had never once offered the information. Apparently, you're not in the need-to-know on this. He thought. "Well -- can we know now?" He asked with a hint of spite in his voice. "Oh, sorry." He turned to Paladin and Lawrence, "Paladin, Lawrence -- this is odd-alien babe, Qamala. Odd-alien-babe, this is our captain Paladin and our quartermaster Mr. Bourne. Now, please, give with the information."

She apparently didn't "get" what the spite in his tone was for, for she smiled at him as if he'd just told her he loved her. "If you wanted to know, why didn't you just ask me? It's not a secret -- I just don't want to have to repeat it five times, is all."

Morgan's mouth flattened out into a grimace, "Qamala, would you please tell us why the leader of 10,000 armed and fanatical space marines is after my friend Lawrence?"

She said, "of course," with that same glorious smile, then turned it on Paladin and Lawrence. It didn't seem to occur to her that neither man was interested in smiling back. "It's good to meet you both. I wish it could have been under better circumstances."

Some flicker of Morgan's irritation from her peripheral vision caught her attention, but her smile never wavered. "Oh, all right. So impatient! Colonel Ekhart was hired by some organization called ITI to kidnap you, Lawrence, to hold and use as leverage against your father in order to gain information from him about the Princess Aldeborahnn's whereabouts. Unfortunately, your father never got that message. He was attacked and forced to flee for his life, and the ship that carried that message to him crashed on a moon somewhere -- The Twins? -- and evidently the information about that message was leaked because it looks like half the known galaxy now wants to know what's in it. Whoever gets their hands on Aldeborahnn is going to be able to control a lot of what's going to happen here in the near future. So it's a very important message."

Qamala paused then, and finally drew a breath. "I have to find her too. Aldeborahnn, that is. And that's why Senator Anastius said I should come with you all, on your ship."

ITI. "You mean, 'We ship your trips across the starry sky' ITI." He said, in a sing-songyish way of singing their jingle. Then he turned his attention to Bourne.

"How did you piss off a shipping firm?" He began, "Nevermind. Look -- you have a choice: you can ask us to turn you over to ... ITI ... and we can give you (and Ekhart) over to them. In which case, we sail into space without having to worry about Ekhart and his fascist space marines. OR you can throw in with us and we pop a cap in the Colonel's over-deserving head and we all run. Which, really won't be a big deal ... if everyone knows about the Princess ... what's one more group of people looking to stop us." He paused, "Basically, the universe hates us and either way you cut it ... it hates you too.

"Either way, we have got shit to do. So, you coming with?" He said directly to Lawrence.

Before Bourne could answer, Willa replied to Morgan. “Of course he is coming with us. Senator Anastius sent him along with us because he is vital to the success of this mission. And the sooner we all begin to accept that the better. Now, let’s get out of this hallway and into the hanger so we don’t hold up the fuel browsers.”

"So much for 'not our prisoner'," Bourne snorted. He turned halfway back around to speak to his would-be warden over his shoulder. "If I decide to get on that ship it's because I choose to do so. And the sooner you begin to accept that, and get it into that bedpan you use for a skull, the better.

Leaning towards Bourne a tad bit threateningly Willa quietly said, “You really don’t have a choice in the matter. Anastius said you were going with us, and you are going. The rest of this crew may not care,” her face broke out into a nasty leer “but I do.”

Lawrence rolled his eyes and turned back to the others, giving her his back again. "You are so beginning to bore me," he breathed.

Teagan had been watching the exchange without comment. "She will run fast when I'm done with her. Very fast."

Paladin listened, intently, to everything trying to get caught up on the info they had learned, while he was down. "It sounds like we have some matters to discuss, before we get this Lady out into the cold black. I would suggest we have a brief meeting, to get everyone on the same page, before we leave." This last part, he directed at Larry, wondering if he would wander off and not return, if that was the case,it wouldn't surprise him in the least.

"Good idea. I've kept Leeda -- Dr. Paayt -- informed of the discussion so far," Qamala nodded, turning her attention to the man in the white jacket. "If you know where your father or the princess are, Lawrence Bourne, you are in even more danger than any of us may know, but you can tell us all that later. Please, until then won't you stay near the ship? For your own safety if not for ours?"

Lawrence nodded and replied, "I can, but that doesn't solve my problems. There are things in my bag, which is back in my room, that I must have if I'm getting on that ship. Also, I've requisitioned some supplies and I need to see to their delivery. I had offered my assistance in supplying the ship as well," he added to Paladin, "but this harridan behind me refused my offer at the point of a gun. Now, since it seems cooler heads are prevailing, I again offer to help out with the requisition process."

"So..." He raised the PDA in his hand and prepared to make notes. "Anything special you need?"

"I got some of those cards while I was on my way here earlier," Qamala said, pulling her scarf off her hair to wipe her face with it. "For the kind of food young Magellen need, and water. Should they be turned over to you?"

"He's got a point, Cap'in." He said to Paladin. "We all have stuff we left back where we were staying. Either we make arrangements to get it picked up or we decided that we can throw it all away. All things being equal, I'd rather not do that. Pretty much everything I own that's not on me is back in that room."

Teagan had been hovering nearby, listening to the conversation as she gave the nozzles one final scan. "I must have my black book. That item is not disposable."

"Would you all trust the Myri, Kassius, to see to it?" Qamala asked brightly. "I'm sure the Senator would lend us his services, especially considering the heightened danger. Shall we have the excellent Teagan put in a call?"

“This is ridiculous!” Willa said a little too loudly. “We are as disorganized as a pack of cats. Not every detail of what happens needs to be analyzed and voted upon. We clearly need someone in charge to run things. In most crews that responsibility would fall on the Pilot, but since Paladin mostly works alone he may not be interested in that much responsibility. I am the next logical choice because of my training, but Morgan also seems to have good leadership abilities. Let’s get the whole crew together and decide this once and for all. Things will run so much more smoothly.” Under her breath she added, “I hope.” To Thavan she asked, “Would you mind sticking around in case this one,” she pointed at Lawrence, “decides to leave again?”

"Our orders were to escort Lawrence Bourne to this hangar. Our orders do not include what you do with him after that," the Myri Thavan said expressionlessly.

"Does that mean you won't hang around and take Colonel Ekhart back to Senator Anastius with you?" Qamala asked sweetly.

"Our orders were to escort Lawrence Bourne to this hangar. Our orders do not include picking up another prisoner."

Lawrence snorted in humor at the suggestion. "She," he indicated with a jab of his thumb behind him, "better pull that gun out again if she thinks I'm following her anywhere."

Turning around, he explained nonchalantly, enjoying her emotional state now, "You simply don't have the temperament, hon. You're hot-headed, rash, bullying, and your people skills, well..." He smiled condecendingly and shook his head, "weh-hell, they're just not there. There's more to leadership than telling people what to do, my dear."

He turned back to the others while he adjusted the drape of his jacket and threw in, "I'd sooner take my chances with the mercenaries, I think."

"That would be an exciting adventure," Qamala agreed, eyes sparkling. "But likely a very short one. For you. Besides," she added, patting him on the arm affectionately, "they don't know where your father is, or the princess. If you want to find out, you'd do better to stay with us."

Willa sighed, “Oh, right. Myri. Teagan, can you call up to The Senator and ask if Thavan can make sure Lawrence Bourne does not leave the hanger, until the ship departs the station, and that he is onboard her when she does? Then he can take Ekhart into custody. Also, if you could see if The Senator can arrange for everybody’s personal items to be brought to the ship as well, I’d appreciate it.”

Paladin turned, and walked over to a toolchest, that had a two foot section of deck plating on it, and using his good arm, hefted it and dropped it to the floor with a horrid and echoing BANG!!!!! "Everyone just wait. Just hold on." He tried to sort this out in his head, and everything that needed to be done was maddening.

"Number one, Im going to assume that no one has anything in their packs that they need this instant? If not then it can fucking wait. Number two, I was going to suggest the subject of leadership, at the meeting. Number three, If Larry doesnt want to be on our crew, my guts tell me we're better off, and then itll be between The Senator, and Larry Senior, and not us. In the meantime, stop trying to rile one another and slowing down the process of getting the hell off this shit hole of a station. Now, I will assist Larry getting our final shopping done. The rest of you, get back to those nozzles, when everything is ready, we will meet up, and hash out what needs to be hashed. Dismissed!"

Teagan remained where she was, her task almost complete. "We'll need about two more hours to get these on. And I need clarification. Am I to cancel the call to the Senator? Requesting that our belongings be delivered and asking permission to take Lawrence Bourne the Third, son of Senator Bourne a hostage?"

"Just delay it, till cones are mounted, Jack, if you would." He said without preamble.

The brunet nodded her head in understanding. "Morgan? Can you take this one?" She indicated one of the nozzles in her hand. Then she headed back towards the crane to begin the tedious business of mounting them back into place.

Willa didn’t move.

Jacob came down the ramp, moping his brow. "Hey Teagan," he called as he reached the floor. "That router is in and I..." His voice trailed off as he saw the crowd still gathered together. The cranes were there, a grav trailer loaded with the new, two story tall fuel nozzles, and behind them two massive fueling vehicles waited for all the traffic to clear so they could begin fueling the ship. He could feel the tension from across the room, but that wasn't what stopped him. Standing beside them was a group of Thavan. Jacob's jaw tightened when he saw them and he fought the urge to go back into the ship. Scowling, he stomped over to where Teagan was working on the nozzles. "I got the router in and some other electric stuff done. Where do you need me?" Even as he spoke, his eyes never left the Thavans.

"Thank you Jake! Great work Jake!" Teagan said with a lot more enthusiasm than one might have expected. "You are a valued member of this crew. I think we have things covered out here. Have you tested all of the ship's systems through the router? If so...Paladin or Willa may need you for something."

Paladin turned towards, Bourne, his head inclining back towards the ship. "Can you make notes on that thing while we walk? Ive got to get into the cockpit to start preflight checks."

"Of course," Lawrence replied smoothly, and he and Paladin started on their ay.

Qamala shrugged and turned to follow Teagan and Morgan, since that had been her assigned task before that outbreak of Erisian-level discord.

Morgan nodded, "Well, I guess he decided he's the captain after all." He said quietly, then grabbed the nozzle and started to reattach it. "Two more hours of this fun and then - if we're extra lucky - we get a staff meeting. My heart's a-twitter."

"Oh, really?" Qamala paused in the work of twisting the thing into place, once again looking at Morgan like he'd just given her her heart's desire. "A `staff meeting', you said? Is it so wonderful, then? What happens? Is that personnel type staff, or are actually talking about the ones made of wood? Am I invited?"

Morgan looked her up and down, trying exactly to determine just what in the hell she was talking about. "Staff meetings are the best." He groused, "First, its for people, not wood. But, you all get to sit down and listen while people either tell you how things are, or you get to hear people argue about how things are gonna be. They never are as short as promised. Other than that, they are the stuff that dreams are made of. Especially with everyone getting along so well together." He gave her a look, "People don't do irony where you come from - do they?"

“Yes he did.” With one fell swoop, Paladin had undermined everything Willa had been trying to do. He had essentially taken any authority she had at all and destroyed it. She moved into the hanger and out of the way of the fuel trucks unsure of what to do. If she simply followed his directions, she was showing that she could be walked all over, but if she tried to defend herself, she would again look the hot head.

Morgan watched as Willa stalked off. There was no doubt that she'd just been crushed by Paladin -- and while that hurt -- that was also the law. It's all good to argue and express your opinion, until Captain says 'so'. Then it was time to do. He knew how much she stung and he knew there was nothing to be done about it. Not until this 'leadership' meeting. He hoped that things would be settled easily, peacefully. But, he would be ready should someone decide that the time was right to draw down. When that time came, he would need to decide which side (other than his own) he wanted to be on. Mutiny was the kind of crime that (normally) you only got one shot at.

"Leadership will be determined at the meeting. Until then, it stands to reason that the Pilot is in charge." Her emotionless eyes looked at Morgan and then Willa as she helpfully agreed with them. Completely missing that Willa was troubled

“Jacob, would you mind helping with the fuel nozzles?” She found Juice and asked about getting outer fuel tanks.

"Yeah, sure," Jacob responded absently. Age old hurts and memories danced through his brain as he stared at the Therans. Shaking himself, as if trying to dry off, he forced the memories to the background and moved to help with the nozzles, making his not unconsiderable strength available.

"Alright," Juice called to her two crane operators. "Let's get this shit over with or you all are gonna be late for dinner!"

The cranes swung around the the fuel browsers roared into the bay, one heading for each wing. And right behind them came two more vehicles, each carrying an empty wing mounted tank, providing them another twenty days of endurance. That was the good news. The bad news was, as all the fliers knew, they'd have to be ejected before they entered an atmosphere. Left hanging under the ship they'd either burn up, explode from the heat of re-entry, or both.

Once all the equipment was in and out of the way, the cranes swung round to hook onto the huge fuel nozzles so they could be lifted into place. Meanwhile, on the bridge Paladin started his workups. First each system had to be put into self test mode. Once he was certain each individual system was operating correctly he started working his way through a full diagnostics work-up. Flight control, navigation, engineering tie in and thrust control, warp control, targeting and weapons systems, life support, transporter station relay, communications, sensor systems, the heads-up display and 3D imaging system. Every system had to be gone through in detail to make sure there were no fault codes, no erroneous readouts and that everything was "talking" to everything else.

Meanwhile, other vehicles had pulled into the bay carrying food, medicines, equipment, and weaponry. Since Paladin was busy on the bridge, Willa was the next obvious choice to take charge of seeing that everything had showed up not only as Juice had ordered it, but that it got properly stowed as well.

Finally free of medical emergencies (Colonel Ekhart's injuries had been much easier to deal with than Paladin's), and with the ship's systems finally active, Leeda found she had time to use the wi-fi connect to the station's library databases to download copies of the information and programs she needed for the AutoMed and for her own special needs. They didn't have everything she wanted, but it would have to do for now. She made a mental note to herself to fill out the rest of her requirements when they got to a more modern world. While the data transfers were going on, she had time to clean. Paladin may not have understood the capabilities of modern surgical methods to create and maintain a sterile field, but he was right -- the place did need to be cleaned. And it gave her time to make sure Colonel Ekhart stayed sedated until his disposition was determined. She wasn't really finished when the call came for their first ever staff meeting.