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THE DIPLOMAT

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How long was I out?

Iril's eye opened, frantically searching in front of her.

Nothing but the window she had been looking out earlier. There were no more voices in her head. Nothing daunting... nothing... scary...

The sound of something behind her triggered an almost automatic defense response. Spinning around, eye open wide in panic, her one arm up in the air, ready to strike.

Alas, it was only Toffi. Who, by means Iril had no comprehension of, did not even jump or startle at her sudden reaction. Rather, Toffi slowly slugged down the banister to merely gaze upon her.

He looked beat. But could Iril blame him? He had just been through a ton. They had all been through a lot.
The escape from the clearing, the jungle escape, and then on top of that, Lord Ova and AK-47... She wondered if Kallenger was in a similar state, sluggish and slow.

Toffi tried to start up a bout of conversation. Cleaning? Such an odd question. Who was he referring to as "they"?
"I assume if necessary-"

"Yes. 'They' would have."

Iril had no idea what she was talking about, really. She had never really had a "they" to take care of her. When she had awoken, she was already left for the wild to claim. What was it like before then?

"That really gets me-"

Stupid voice box.

"-Thinking about things that-"

Maybe before, she was able to say more than four words at a time.

"-I can't seem tooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo7rfyTD%^Edy-"

...

"Nevermind."

There was subtle irony in the whole thing. She had so much to say and only four words every so often to express it.
Yet Toffi did his best to smile and pay attention... or at least, Iril thought he did. Eventually, Toffi resigned and went back up the stairs to accompany Kallenger.

It was silent down on her floor again. Iril was left to herself. Back to her own devices.

She forbade herself from sending messages outward into the darkness again. Not repeating the previous incident. No way, no how.
Rather, she looked inward. Toffi's question had lingered with her. Deep within her circuitry, deep within her databanks.

"Do... they clean you?"

Who were "they" even?

Who was... she?

Iril had been so busy putting others before herself the whole time, offering herself as a shield to the team, losing an arm, busting through walls and holding down doors... She really hadn't had much time to think about herself in any other way than just... dying.

Now she had all the time in the galaxy.

Quietly, as the hours passed, Iril sat in solace, contemplating. Pondering. Searching herself. Questioning everything she knew. Everything she could figure out about who "they" were. Who she was.

Eventually, as she was just about to resign herself from fruitless efforts, she happened upon a name. A name that was not her own.
For as long as she had known herself, she had been Iril. That was just who she was. It was her name, right? She had seen it on her face in watery reflections before the rust began to gnaw even that away.
Now, she posed her systems a new question.

"Whois Anne?"

---

Q

Kilwen chimed in on her little sing of a song, bringing a tiny smile to her own face.
Just now, after all this time, she was beginning to warm up to him. Maybe this wouldn't be such a horrible idea after all.

"Alright, alright. It was a nice song. We don't need to butcher it. Well, at least I don't need to." She chuckled. Even at her own expense, she found that joking a little really helped the atmosphere.

"But enough of that. Do you mind if I plug myself into this ships computer system? If i'm to satisfy my completely rampant need to know everything that is going on around us this second, I'm going to need more than just my own eye here. We're in a new system. Frankly, that startles me."

It didn't matter if Kilwen agreed or not, Q would just end up plugging her finger into the computers anyways. Now able to access the data ships gather from variables and space around them, she'd be able to run some calculations through her system, perhaps see if she couldn't find anything interesting. The last thing she would want to do is get on the bad side of somebody like KAMPFER of all people.

The goal was to find something interesting, right? Like ruins?
Why was Kampfer at all interested in ruins? Wasn't he like, a galactic emperor? Last thing he would want is for somebody to learn from the past. Otherwise, everyone would just discover how much emperors sucked. Perhaps he was looking for rare items to pawn off, or maybe weird and strange weapons for his collection. Maybe he would just take credit for the discovery to boost his ego.

Fascinating. Though Q had never been off of that jungle planet until recently, it seemed she was able to pick out various calculations and equations out of space with ease. The star of this system is a yellow dwarf... which places the circumstellar habitable zone at about .5 AU to 1 AU meaning...

"There. Let's start with that light-green one. It's in a nice spot, could have life there. In my book, that's worth a shot."

She had her doubts, but then again, she always had doubts. It would take a lot of work to get her to where she needed to be confidence wise.

Why not start here?

Rin snorted. "I don't. Have someone." Not that it matters, he added sardonically in his head. I'm broken and can't be fixed.

The thought made his chest tight. Every beat of his heart seemed to hurt- a dull ache that he had been able to ignore until now.

He pushed open the door and- gently, even while his movements were rough- set Montagne down on the bed. He looked up, eyes landing on the mannequinn with his-

Oh.

Armor's clean, he remarked absently, making silent subdued steps until he stopped in front of it. For a moment he stared up, lost in his thoughts-

That is, until Montagne broke the silence.

He immediately rolled his eyes, smoothly putting on his body armor. His lips slanted into a grimace. "I would rather not have that kind of attention," he flatly stated, grabbing his helmet, but not putting it on yet. He glanced down, tracing the symbol in the middle of the helmet. Vaxur found it in a book, he remembered, tracing the purple image again.

He went to trace it one more time when he froze, eyes wide in disbelief. It became hard to breathe.

"Hell do you want me to be your special person?"

Was Montagne messing with him again? His mind was clearer here than it had ever been since he came to this galaxy; he had done his mami's routine, and he was settled with the promise of a good fight- which was now more of a silent anticipation instead of a thrumming sensory need.

He sounded genuine. He might be lying- Wants you to say yes so he could USE you- but he felt- his hands shook. He gripped the helmet in his hands tighter, the tips of his fingers turning white.

"I killed you." His voice was quiet, low, and... neutral. It was neutral. But try as he might... he couldn't hide the melancholy tone.

Surely, Montagne was just being himself- he didn't really care, right? Only about himself.

He repeated the thought to himself and over. Was it working?

He didn't even know.

Laurent grumbled a little as he placed on the bed. He sits there as he looks at his armor, in which the crew here did a good job in cleaning and waxing the armor. "Well forgive and forgot, I may tease for it for all your days but I don't hold it against even though we are making a lot of money" he says as he walks up to towards the desktop that Queen has in her room and turned it on. "I do truly mean what I say both making money and me being the special someone" he says with a serious manner.

"Come here, since you don't actually have a banking I made one for you" he explains as he gestures him to come over. "I put the account into your name and your password isLaurentisgreat23 and check how much money you have now!" He states as he puts in the info and brings up how much money Rin has now and from the amount of zeros it has around 100,000 credits to his name. "That my friend is from the royalties from the book and it's still slowly going up" he says as he looks up at Rin with a gleeful smile on his face.

Rin almost clenched his hands into fists, remembering in the last second that he was still carrying his helmet. But, $#&%, he couldn't remember the last time he felt so frustrated.

"I don't care," he whined, voice cracking in the middle as he breathed in short huffs. "I can't- no one will take me seriously, the military will- they'll kick me out, I won't be a soldier I need to be-" He pushed a hand on his eyes, letting out a loud sniffle as he aggressively wiped anything leaking from his eyes.

No more crying.

"I-" he cleared his throat, finally putting on his helmet. "I'll see you later." He gave Montagne no time to respond, going through the door and closing it firmly. He sighed, biting his lip.

Focus.

He activated his skates, speeding through the halls. He made a few turns, hoping he was going the right way. This was around where I stopped and went in- there. He skidded to a stop, then paused.

He hoped he didn't look- well. As wrecked as he felt. Hurg.

He sighed, then, opening the doors, skated in.

The Perrygold cargo bay

Even though the small ship was only a transporter but i did have small cargo bay that was transporting goods, however this little area had other uses than simply transporting goods. With one dim light over a man who's face was bloodied and puffed up, who sat on a metal chair his hands tied up. Three men came out of the shadows both men on the left and right these were some tall men, one on the left was a big burly man while the other on right was thin and had elvish features with long ears and pale skin with long grey hair with his hair in a pony tail. The burly man had a buzz cut was definitely one hefty man and was a stark contrast from the other elvish man. The one in the middle with a cigar in his mouth and ball hammer in his hand.

"So Frankie, you @#$% this time" said the man with the cigar with a thick Boston accent. "Oh come on, Cesare! I'm sorry I promise to get the money to you when we land I promise!" cried Frankie who was tied up on the chair. The elvish man who had his eyes closed it seemed smiled and says with a soothing voice "Hm you said that 2 months ago on a similar case and Boss Garofalo was kind that day to give you today to come up with the cash and yet nothing"

Cesare looks at his elven wiseguy and says "Thank you, Donney" He looks at Frankie and says "So instead of having Big Tony here beat the living shit out of you again, let me give you something else for you to remember to get my money" as he approaches him as he taps the hammer on his palm and Fat Tony chuckling knowing full well what's going to happen. Donney turned to the side not wanting to see as Frankie begged Cesare to stop, but his pleads turned to cries as the bone shattering slam hit his knees, breaking his legs. "LISTEN ME YOU SACK OF @@#$, I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR BS AND SO YOU ARE GONNA GET US OUR MONEY AND IF NOT I AM GOING TO SHOVE YOU INTO THE NEAREST AIRLOCK AND SEND YOU INTO SPACE! DO YOU GET THAT!!!????"

Frankie was sniffling, tears going down his bloody face as he shook his head in understanding what the Don was saying. Cesare smiles and gently taps his face and says "Good, now that we have an understanding, rest here for the rest of the trip, we'll come pick you up" as he pushes him back having the chair and Frankie slam onto the solid ground with loud *poof*

The three men left poor Frankie in the cargo bay in the PerryGold as they made there way back to the cabins more specially suite 5 first class but they would have to pass the peasantry cabins first. As they pass, they look into one of the rooms and see's an Eclou about spare with some kid. Cesare stood and watch and leans in towards Fat Tony and says "Hmm I hadn't good Eclou on my lap, if catch what I mean and she is tight" Fat Tony smiled and says back in a low tone "Yeah she looks good, pretty good in bed I bet as well" as he nudges the Don's arm and both men went laughing while Donney just waited since women wasn't in his interest. Fat Tony looks at Donney and says "Ah come on man, when will you stop taking in and why not give it to some board? " Donney just huff and says "I don't care for that, can we go please" Then they continue back towards there suite and see a short burly man playing some stupid game. Cesare took a moment and stared at him as if he recognized the man, but then he continue back towards there first class suite. It was much bigger than the lower class cabins and so they all took there seat and Cesere pulled out a cigar and light it and then he broke the silence "I think that man was one of the men who swindle use back at Alvan V" Fat Tony looked at Cesare and says "Oh? What do you want to do, boss?" as he shoves a half save corn dog down his mouth. "We don't anything now...later we'll have a talk to him" he says as he puffs on his cigar and leans back on his comfortable seat. Fat Tony ate his corndog and read the holopaper and Donney was on his portable holoplayer and watching some movies.

Cargo Bay: The Perrigold

It had been mere minutes after the noises of the mobsters died down, leaving near silence in their wake. The lone light above the prisoner dimmed to a dismal nothingness, leaving their eyes to adjust to the darkness of the cargo bay.

In the darkness, the general rustle of objects shifting in flight and the tricks the mind play on the eye when presented to a dull and still situation might have given a slight sense of life, but they always died back down as one blinked or focused elsewhere.

Strangely, despite the trickery of still boxes and silent cargo, one object did in fact, start to move. A three foot tall cube covered in a sheet slowly rose from it's spot on the floor and slowly hovered about the spaces in between crates and containers. Beneath the sheet, a red-orange glow and a low-pitched hum broke the illusions and dull background sounds. The mysterious cube circled about, as though it was looking for something... or someone. By some miracle, it didn't encounter the prisoner in the cargo hold.

A series of green lights flickered above the box, creating a holographic image of an eye, which spun in a circle before swapping into a nasty looking gun. From beneath the sheet, the light screeched: "EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINAAAATE!" The cube shook itself, imitating the sound of quiet gunfire.

Getting no response, the cube returned to where it started. The holographic gun dissipated and in it's place, the holographic image of a young woman appeared. Her face had only a left eye, and where the right eye should have been was simply, the letter "G". The image whipped around, checking the surroundings, and then proceeded to speak from the cube.

"Hey! That was the signal! The coast is clear!"

An adjacent crate shuddered, followed by the sounds of a safety hatch releasing and air pressure escaping. The crate's door swung open, followed by two figures stepping into the cargo bay. One stood tall at seven foot five, the other much shorter, at about four foot three. The tall figure was a deep purple color, and would have been impossible to spot in the dark confines, save it was for the vibrant colored spots and specks on it's body that lit up in the dim light. The other was of a very fine and polished near-golden color, reflecting every bit of light and radiantly shining it back.

"That wasn't the signal we agreed on." The tall one said in a very soothing voice. "You were supposed to start beat-boxing, and then I would come in with the rap I've been preparing while Little H here performed the synths for us."

The smaller figure communicated it's indifference through a series of tones that sounded like error notifications stacking on top of each other.

"What?! You need more time to practice?? ... Alright, I get it. You're just not used to it is all. We could all use some practice, anyways".

"Then give us a beat, Irin! Something simple to start, something to get this party started!

The tall figure placed her hands on her chest. There were a few clicks, and then a muffled electronic beat began to sound from her body. Bobbing her head to the sound and slowly moving her hands, the beat went from muffled to crystal clear. The patches of color on her body also lit up and faded to the undertone she set.

The glow under the sheet began to hum, growl, and scratch as it made up ways to fit the rhythmic pulsing. The holographic girl swapped for a party-light that twirled green speckles about the cargo bay, turning the room into a miniature rave. The small figure began to blab it's endless gibberish, resulting in high and low pitched pings and pongs, electronic screeches, and the sound of multiple system errors.

Colliding together, there was a strange techno groove pulsing through the cargo bay. A typical travel for the stowaway crew.

The Perrygold

It occurred to Ketin with startling force that not only was there no need to look up to meet this burly fellow's gaze - (Figuratively, since the man had not opened his eyes at all since opening the door. Actually, he had assumed upon his approach that the man was blind!) he was actually looking DOWN at him!

The man was a Space Midget!

He had to work with all his mind to keep from bursting into a fit of delighted giggling upon the sight of this guy - it was not often that one with so diminutive a stature as himself was able to look upon another at eye level - let alone to meet someone who was actually shorter than he was!

Instead, the broad smile that he had already greeted the man with merely twitched slightly, as his whole brain vigorously focused on making himself look as perfectly normal as possible. Normal for him, anyway.

And, as it usually went with people that he didn't know very well, it worked out just fine. Nothing out of the ordinary!

Though, he did find it rather odd how the gentleman just went ahead and let himself in - mentally, he focused in on Nirix's eyes and tensed up slightly. It was the unconscious instinct that kept sharp what reflexes might save the man's life if his dear friend was too hasty with the blade.

Though it was indeed unconscious - for consciously, he could not comprehend of his Nirex actually hurting someone, let alone killing them! That would be awful.

So the little man stepped in and plopped himself down on the floor - Ketin backing up to allow for his entrance - and then following suit.

He wanted to play a game? That sounded just fine - how convenient that Kete had just been wondering what to do with himself. He liked this guy already - and was particularly transfixed by the bushy black mustache on his lip. His own kind having been the descendants of genetic engineering intent on producing ideal 'products', there was of course not a hair on Ketin's body besides his head - and, of course, his ears and tail. Mustaches and beards had always interested him - mostly because 'how could anyone possibly deal with it?' It seemed terribly inconvenient to Kete. Wasn't it itchy? And what about when he ate? There had been times where the Fox was so blasted by the drink that he'd found himself struggling to coordinate the food with his mouth - that was bad enough without having to deal with a whole other head's-worth of hair falling all over his lips!

Despite this fixation however, Ketin Clarke gave little indication that his attention toward the man might be focused anywhere but on his words as he explained the game. That did not mean that he seemed actually focused though - clearly this kid was scatterbrained or absent minded at best - but cognitive and alert, at that's what counted. He would certainly be a good partner to play this sort of game with.

The smile morphed into an eager grin, ears flicking. "Oooh, I remember now! It's been a real long time but I think I've played this before!" He said enthusiastically, effortlessly swiping as much as he could of the rules and strategies of the game from his new friend's mind without the slightest indication. Ketin would not go digging in memories - but he could fudge the morals enough to cheat at holo-games. No harm in that. He had, of course, never so much as heard of this game.

He was just turning to Nirix, intent on beckoning her over - when he found that she was muttering something about not wanting to play - she wanted to go do some training instead.

Well, Kete admitted to himself, that was fair. It wouldn't be very nice to try and force her into an uncomfortable situation that she didn't want to be in if there wasn't a really good reason...Or he didn't particularly feel like causing that kind of trouble at the moment. He had done enough to make her squirm for the time being. She deserved to go think and clear her head. Especially after -

No, no - no need to go thinking about the vast majority of things that had happened over the past couple of weeks. Let the good memories stand out, let the bad ones and awkward ones and uncomfortable ones slip into obscurity. There we go. The process was, of course, automatic and subconscious.

She looked at him apologetically - he looked back with a warm, reassuring smile. No need to worry~


Eva was being quiet.

Where had she gone off to...?


They were alone in the room now - though Nirix had not closed the door behind her, having left in something of a rush - and Clarke saw no particular reason to go shutting it now.

This wasn't one of those kinds of games.

Refocusing on the holographic display before him, Kete gave it a half-predatory glance and rubbed his hands together.

"Alright, let's do it. It's been a while but I'm pretty sure I used to be awesome at this game~!"

Then he proceeded to make the worst possible move he could make.

It was followed by another terrible move.

Then another.

He lost the game in record time.

It was a crooked, parted helpless sort of expression with which Ketin stared down at the board following this awful defeat. He could only give a few airy chuckles, before adding with voice light and up in pitch "Hehehwell, there goes all my boasting~" He said, good-humored in his defeat. An ear flicked. The tip of his tail, which sat heavy and fluffy off to his side, twitched.

Then he resolved himself, and set his shoulders. "Alright, let's give it another shot. I'm sure I'll do waaay better this time!"

And, just as he was finished making his third stupid move of the second game, a peculiar song came over the shipwide intercom. It, after all, had not been shut down when the monitors were - and Kete would have found no humor in giving them a reason to deactivate something like that.

It was in some language that Ketin had never heard before - Ketin was barely fluent in a myriad of languages, for plucking intentions and meanings from the mind and connecting them with words was a piece of mental cake. And, while there were relatively few languages in the Galaxy now that Standard was so standard among the talking folk of the living worlds, that didn't mean there weren't still more than anyone could hope to count. So it was no particular surprise that Ketin could not understand a word of what was said in the song - yet it interested him nonetheless.

There was something strange about it. Disregarding the usual strangeness - why would they suddenly play this song over the intercom, which was clearly not intended to be used as any kind of entertainment system?A substitute for the monitors? No, they would only have broadcasted something like that if it were an emergency.

But it was not that which Ketin found to be truly bizarre - it was the emotional background noise that accompanied it. It was distant and vague - like trying to make pictures out of white-static on a disconnected monitor. Like staring into the darkness until things began to move and creep within the shadows of the mind.

He was hit with an almost nauseating wave of nostalgia - not good nor bad - but, when it came down to it, most nostalgia was bad for Kete.

Outwardly, he appeared to be thinking deeply and intently on his next move - but inwardly, he was back on The Lost Station - looking up at the face of the man who believed himself to be president of mythical Earth. It was curious how nostalgia worked - because it was not at all President Hawking Johnson that had left any impression on him at all upon departing the station. It had been Cai - the first entity to occupy his brain, long before little Blue Ghosts came creeping into his head.

Computer Artificial Intelligence - Keeper of The Encyclopedia Galactica. The first of his kind - an intelligence created by men - mere humans who sought to achieve some sense of godhood through their mortal coils. Cai - that snarky, sarcastic thing - he remembered how it felt to look for the first time upon an entity of pure thought - a machine so complex that it not only imitated the living mind, but became alive. It had always hurt him that Cai was forced to express himself only through simple text. He had so much more to offer - but Kete had not been able to stick around.

He had left Ikarus there too - the android with his ridiculous fashion sense - his friend who had been so loyal to him.So loyal, and in the end, Kete had run off - left him, left Cai - just to keep running from his responsibilities.

And the subconscious went to work again - any thought of how peculiar that song had been was washed away. He listened to it absently, but focused intently on the game - so intently, in fact, that he actually made a couple of good moves.

And when the song was over, he was able to relax his focus, and proceed with making an awful mess of a strategy that might have shaped up to be pretty good if he had stuck with it.

A few minutes later, he was back to his normal self. Factory reset!

"Say, I really like that hat you got there. are you a detective? You look like a detective. Do you solve mysteries? I'm really good at solving mysteries. I'd make an awesome sidekick if you're in the market~" He said, making another hopelessly stupid move.

Some people walked by the room - three men. Kete didn't like any of them - they had the mental stink of cruelty on their minds and he wanted nothing to do with it. He averted his attention. Looked through other eyes - let other minds be his extensions - and let them go out of range. That was better.

"You're pretty good at this game...You must have been playing it for a real long while, huh?" He went on - barely giving the man time to respond to his first flurry of nonsense, and paying no attention to the fact that he was really quite terrible at making conversation, because he was a hyperactive little @#$% who seemed to sporadically spout stupidity from his face.

But he was charming, too - in his own way.

---

Toward the lower rear of the Perrygold, not far from where stardrives rumbled as they propelled the passengers through the Galaxy, robots were having a private rave.

Though, not too private - because they had two guests.

One was a man who'd had the snot beaten out of him and a leg broken - and he was presently lying on his back, still bound to a chair - though where they had acquired a chair down here was an utter mystery.

This individual had gone mostly ignored - but it seemed that there was indeed a second guest to the party, and this one was both conscious and actively trying to go unseen.

It had gone well enough for them until, startled by a crescendo in the beat, they started, and proceeded to stumble clumsily into some crates, toppling them with quite a ruckus. At very least, they managed to dive behind said crates...though curiosity was the overcomer of all, and it was not long before someone was peering over the edge of one crate, watching with indefinably wide eyes at the scene of preposterousness that was unfolding in the cargo bay.

Though that particular corner was cloaked in shadow, the person appeared to have bright red hair that was something of a fluffy mess - though it was still up to speculation at that distance.

And, of course, if spotted, the hidden individual would immediately duck back behind the crate as though it might erase the memory from the mind of the one who had noticed this mysterious and ill-fated, terribly clumsy presence.

---

The HMS Skadi

The room that Rin came bounding into was not the same one he had so awkwardly left after his initial encounter with the Queen's closest soldiers. Or, at very least, it certainly did not seem to be the same room. How could it be?

The doors would slam open and Rin would enter expecting to see a wide, flat expanse of ice and four poncho-clad soldiers standing nearby - instead he would, if his reflexes failed him, go crashing smack-dab into a great, solid wall of ice hardly ten feet from the door.

He was in a clearing - and there were multiple paths that branched out in different directions. Looking up, there was the ceiling - and it would be quite hopeless to climb the sheer cliff face that these walls created.

When they had said that the terrain of this room could be changed, they hadn't been kidding, apparently.

The whole, vast plane had been transformed into a fantastic rendition of some deep glacial caves and cliff complexes. Narrow passageways with dizzyingly high walls would open up into smooth walkways carved into the walls above what might have been a disconcerting height. The great, domed ceiling allowed for the complex to vary in composition - for there were wider-open areas as well. Long, sweeping hills that crashed gently up against glacial boulders, some places where one might have felt as though they were in some wonderful field atop an arctic wasteland. And there were caves below - places where the ice formed stalagmites as obstacles, with low ceilings and only darkness within.

This was a most formidable training ground indeed.

And a most interesting one.

Some seconds after his entrance, there would be a high whistle from somewhere above him. It was Dal, peering over the edge with a wide, catlike grin on her face.

"Better set them knives of yours to stun, kid!" She called to him, "Now let's see how many bullets we can put in 'ya!"

And, as if solely to get him moving, there was the rifle - she already had him like a fish in a barrel. It was a high cliff, but nothing for that kind of weapon. His only advantage was that, given the thing's weight and size, it was fairly slow to heft and aim down at him - he would have time to escape down one of the pathways...If he was paying attention.

Really, this varied and treacherous terrain was something of an advantage to Rin - since he would have plenty of tight corners to use in hunting the soldiers down, plenty of means of escaping an ill-fated attempt. But the soldiers knew the layout - that was their big advantage - and likely, being mostly ranged, they would be hiding out or standing guard in places with wide lines of sight and plenty of range and open space. And, of course, Dal was up there on top of everything - she was going to be his biggest problem, since she had the best vantage point, would have little trouble moving quickly around the 'arena', and it would be all kinds of a pain in the behind to figure out how to get up there at all!

Somewhere, Tsuan could be heard. "Let the games begin~!" He cried - his voice echoed, but his position was only vaguely discernible from it. There would likely be an element of luck if Rin were to try and track him down solely on that (clearly playful) taunt.

And so, indeed, it was immediately clear that Rin was going to be put to the test.

---

The Diplomat

TiredtiredtiredtiredtiredtiredTIRED - Great Space Allmighty she was TIRED!

Royanna had never been so tired in her life. She was exhausted. There was nothing left in her. She was a husk.

And yet, she had to remove a bullet from her only friend's shoulder.

Friend.

Since when did Royanna S. Kallenger have friends?

The idea was preposterous. She was a woman of the people, of the Empire - not subject to such petty things as 'friendship'.

And yet, as she hefted the bulk of Christofer's weight across the room toward the medical bay, she found that there was even a sense of fondness for the robot that had assisted them since the jungle. She liked the thing. Was she simply personifying it? Maybe even she was not immune to that sort of quirk - but, no. Iril seemed to have a real personality.

Well.

She had already gone mad, right?

Toys in the attic.

Off the rails.

Exile.

Criminal.

Murderer.

Oh Space. She was a Murderer!

And yet, even as this sickening, gut-wrenching sensation of dread and misery and hate settled into the pit of her stomach, Royanna Kallenger found that she was not particularly interested in any of it.

She didn't care. About the Devil Eye, about 47, about herself, about the Empire. None of it mattered. Not now.

Not while this person, this thread of life to which she clung and shouldered - not while Christofer was bleeding out.

She was tired - but she was going to have to focus. There was simply no other way.

But...She had already proven herself a miserable failure in most respects. She had failed her mission. Failed all along the way. Nearly failed at keeping the idiot next to her from killing himself in some emotional fit. The sort of breakdown she'd had back there - oh, she was going to regret that. It was going to take some serious backpeddling to regain anything resembling dignity after so stupidly, so pathetically pouring her heart to him, ranting like a madwoman about reasons to live and all that nonsense. Emotional nonsense.

And yet she could not deny that there was emotional nonsense inside her. She'd thought to have disposed of such things long ago - but no, here they were, resurfacing now when - on, when she needed them most.

But it was all too hard to think about. She was going mad - she knew that - but none of it mattered, none of it! Because for all she knew Christofer might be dead - she might just be dragging his limp corpse through the hallways of this three-century-old starship, deluding herself into the fantasy that he still lived.

They were at the medical bay now. This was it - this was the end of the line. Done and done. No more running. Their energy was depleted and no amount of adrenaline was going to rouse them from the barely-conscious stupor that they were both in - him even more than her.

But there were no sophisticated auto-docs in the Old Empire. They took their equipment very seriously indeed, but the resources had been far too limited for that sort of thing - medical professionals had still been deeply valued in those days. One needed a doctor for these sorts of things.

And here she was - Ex-Agent Royanna S. Kallenger, proficient in intelligence gathering and cold-blooded murder both under the authority of the Empire and her own rapidly dissolving psyche - moderately skilled in medicine, able to remove a bullet if she needed to, if she could keep her eyes open.

If she passed out, he would die. She was sure of it.

She had no choice.

No choice.

No rest for the wicked, she thought bitterly as she looked down at the blood-soaked body of her only friend in the Galaxy - of the only person who meant so much to her that she could not conceive of life without him. Madness! But it was true, and here she was, and the room was spinning...

Violently she slammed both hands down onto the edge of the raised bed, though only to steady herself and keep from collapsing. This was getting bad. Worse. She had to do something, something. Force herself to breathe, to keep standing. Force herself with shaky hands to reach behind her to the belt, at which were holstered several more pre-sterilized syringes of that wonderful and terrible drug B-2. There was no time to bother with the tourniquet. It was agony to strain the muscles of one arm enough that she could hope to hit a vein - if she was lucky.

She was lucky.

And the rush of clarity was instantaneous.

The drug went flooding through her body, invigorating her with life - she could run and jump if she wanted! She could cry out to Space and Time and - and she could get that stupid bullet out.

She went to work immediately. Her hands were steady now, as precise as the instruments which she took from the kit. A quick reference to one of the smaller monitors - how nice it was that they all actually functioned - to reference which anesthetic would be safest to use on someone like Christofer - there was only one dose, but that's all she would need. They would get more.

Though...With what money?

Her funding would surely be cut off. No more Imperial assets. No more flashing her badge and instantly paying via aethernet transaction. She was going to have to get some cash if they were going to live this new, fugitive, exile's life she had started for them, forced them into - forced him into...

It was very unlikely that the injection would have any adverse effects on Christofer - but luckily the ceiling-mounted sensors were sophisticated enough to give a good, early alert to rapidly changing conditions. If something went wrong on the pharmaceutical end of things, his system would be purged of it within minutes.

Though, if something went wrong on the bullet-removal end of things. If he lost any more blood -

Of course, how could she have forgotten that! Even with the drug-induced clarity, she had failed to recognize the screeching of the alarm that was insisting the patient's lack of blood was getting more than simply dire.

But it was a simple matter - a test for blood-type, and a synthetic compound injected that would rapidly increase the rate at which new blood cells were created for the duration of some days.

Back to the bullet.

It was a long procedure, but she could handle it. As long as she had her drugs, Royanna could handle it.

Though, as the pesky thing began to allow itself worked to the surface, her hands were starting to shake again. There were shadows in the corners of her vision - another dose? No, she was close now - yes, there it was. She held the bloody little bullet in her hand for an instant, scowling at it, then tossed it disdainfully over her shoulder. It Tappatappatapped and rolled to the wall, and stopped. Royanna was already working on closing up the wound.

She was no medical professional - but this was something she could handle - especially with the tools she had at her disposal. It was that side-passion for Imperial history that was coming in handy now - they had used adhesive, regenerative patches back then, which could be applied over a wound to seal it shut. Over time, skin would grow over the patch, and it would dissolve.

Granted, the reason they had stopped using the things was a drastically increased risk of cancer - but that risk was more than outweighed to Royanna at this particular junction. Besides - cancer was easy to cure these days.

She'd had to cut away the fur around the wound in order to access it - so it was not difficult to apply the patch - though it was a good thing she had knocked him out, because it would have hurt something fierce given the sort of pressure she had to put on it.

That was another reason they had stopped using them - often soldiers would apply too much pressure and do more damage still - but Royanna was confident enough in the operation to pull it off.

And then, just like that, she was done.

Royanna found herself staring down at him, staring glassy-eyed at where she had wrapped the shoulder in clean, white gauze...which had, of course, become immediately stained. She was trying desperately to think of anything she might have forgotten - but those shadows at the corners of her eyes were threatening to engulf the room now.

Surely she was finished.

She raised a wrist weakly to glance at the time on her communicator, only to remember that it was not only broken, but lost completely. Oh well. The anesthetic would wear off when it wore off. Anything else?

Surely she was forgetting something.

The bullet was out. The wound was dressed. The blood-level issue was accounted for. The ship was on autopilot. As impossible as it was, it seemed that everything...

That everything was going to be okay.

Her shoulders sagged then. She fell into the chair set next to the bed, then hunched over the table - over Christofer's still-breathing form - and nuzzled into the fur. It was still encrusted with dried blood - but it might as well have been a sentience-foam mattress.

And then she passed out, as her body once again began to suffer the withdrawal effects of the drug that had given her the focus to pull it all off. The miracle drug which ravaged the body and sucked at the soul - but it sure as Space worked.

In the last microsecond before the blackest and deepest of sleeps fell over her like a ten-ton blanket of frothy ecstasy, she remembered what it was that she had forgotten to address.

Oh, right - the Empire is going to kill us.

And then she slept.

And for this time, at least - there would be no haunting nightmares of elven-faced assassins or dying men. Just blackest sleep - and it was magnificent.

Rin turned sideways, skates skidding on the floor until he was about a couple of feet away from the great big ice wall that seemingly appeared in the span of a few minutes. For a moment he stared, confused.

Finally, his memory started working. Amazing, he thought. Just like at the base. He blinked at the whistle, lifting his head and squinting at Dal-

... Oh. That rifle. Was.

"Now let's see how many bullets we can put in 'ya!"

... He should really move.

His head whipped around, looking for a quick escape. Scanning- down there!-

"Let the games begin~!"

He hopped smoothly into the nearest passageway, almost letting out a small "eep!" as he slid down. Though he wasn't expecting its steepness, he eventually let himself be carried down, more into the dark, and there was the exit-

He slid into a dark cave, crouched, the only light coming from his blades. He warily set his knives to stun, the glow of plasma fading from both his skates and his weapons with the lessened output of power.

It's a good thing I can still see, he said to himself silently, eyes scanning the terrain, gaze lingering on the sharp, dangling icicles above him. Seeing in the dark is even better than seeing in the day.

He looked around once again, then scowled. Still hate cold. Ugh. He let out a huff of irritation before skating off, occasionally ducking or going around stalagmites, searching for a way out... and wary of any soldiers he might encounter.

Nirix almost smiled at Wick’s comment yet let no emotions slip onto her face. Her purpose was clear as was her mind. Sparring didn’t require emotions anyway, only action and the bare minimal of thinking. Her eyes stared, never waving from her target, analyzing his appearance and commending it to memory. He was tall, taller than her by a least an entire foot, but he was also very human. Human’s had many weak spots, many vitals that she merely had to touch with enough force to end them. Though his height would be a problem, Nirix excelled at taking down opponents who had an advantage over her.

It was fun to conquer a challenge.

She moved quickly, her goal to catch him off guard in her speed and flourish of movements. Her right fist moved to punch at Wick’s cheek but with her speed, it would be almost too late when he noticed that it was a feint. Her second fist aimed for his diaphragm, and then there was another and another until he hopefully doubled over and the last bit of air would be choked out of his system.

She moved as if she was attempting to kill him. Nirix wasn’t of course, killing him would’ve been too easy, mercenary or not. But it surely looked like it. Waiting for him to respond, the Eoclu eyes had lost the warmth and were replaced with something else; an odd mixture of the purpose to win and deadly intent. It was no doubt unnerving to see but it did promise Wick something.

This would be one very good spar~

As did most fights, the sparring match began suddenly. Wick moved to dodge the first fist, though it was clear once he had that it wasn't the woman's true intention to hit him with it. A feint. Okay then, he began to think.
Stepping just barely out of the way in time, her second fist caught him in the side with a greater force than he had anticipated. Wick grinned. Whoever this woman was, she knew how to handle herself in a fight. Taking to the offensive, Wick swung a jab at the woman's torso followed by a grab towards her right wrist. The woman's fist connected dead center of his stomach as he approached. Wick exhaled, though avoided doubling over. Doing so would leave him exposed to all sorts of things, virtually ending the match before it even began.

Canette LHS 257, Ovain Empire
In the forest of Canette, Arena walked the ground in her armor set, still full of rage with fire flickering on her flame designs on her armor pieces and sword. Her emerald green eyes having a tint of flame flickering in them. As she came out onto an open field she can see a dark figure approach from the opposite side of the forest. His red ghostly eyes flickered as it stared at her with a large blade on it shoulder. Arena clenched her teeth as her hands balled into a fist and yells out “Nocturnus! What the hell do you want!” as flames came out from her back as she summoned her sword into hand as she continues to approach him. The large black Knight continue his march towards her, adjusting his massive blade and replies “Lord Arena! My Lordship has sent me to seek you out and bring you back dead or alive”
Arena got angrier and says “I don’t give damn in what that stupid @#$% wants especially from the dog who is sent to get me! If she wants me so badly she can come and get me herself! Now out of my way!” By this time Nocturnus and Arena were standing in front of each other only a stone’s throw away from each other. Nocturnus gave a huff as he adjusted himself into attack position, bending his knees and have the sword in both hands ready to swing. “I can’t let you leave without fighting me first, Chaos Lord” he says calmly. Arena gave an angry scowl at him and swung her sword in the air as she took her position with her sword arm extended behind her and her hand in front and states “I can’t wait to kill the Champion of Darkness!”


Lord Arena pulled the first punch by snapping her fingers, a sparks appeared around the black knight and soon and large explosion happens. He cuts through the smoke and see’s Arena dashing towards him intending to cut through him. Luckily Nocturnus is quick with his large blade, he blocks her attack with the flat part of his sword causing her to flip over him and stab in the back. Her attack glanced off his armor, but the strike left a crack in his armor which brought a smirk to the Lord. Nocturnus grimace and swung the large blade around and yet again, she jumps, but Nocturnus goes to garb her leg and slams her down on the ground, cracking it. He stabs her with his sword as he says “With this!” and then a ball of dark energy launches from him as he releases his blade from her back as the black burst of energy hit as he finishes “You die!”

Arena rolled on the ground and flipped back with a smirk on her face and says “Not a chance” as she dashes towards him. Nocturnus spins around and lunges his large blade towards, causing her to be defensive as she grinds her sword against his shooting out sparks and rolled out and charged as they both began to clash swords between each other. The large black blade of darkness clash against the curved sword of chaos. Sparks fly between the blades as one blocks as the other attacks. Both parry each other but are quick enough to recover from and block there attacks. The clash between strength and speed are at ahead. Both beings powerful in their own right seemed to be at equal footing and so one and the other wait for the one to make a mistake. Arena uses a series of flashy flourishes upon Nocutnrus in which causes the black knight to stumble a little as he blocks those strikes and Nocturnus comes back bashing his shoulder into Arena and head butting her so she can be dazed but his attack are telegraph by a large swing she either dodges or defects the hit that is meant for her. They both go at until the night, both suffering blows upon one another, Arena all hot and fiery as blood trickles down her body while the black knight breathes heavy from exhaustion as holes and dents appear in his armor.

Yet even with sustained injuries they still go at it, swinging their swords at each other using their own tried and true fighting techniques, Arena remaining close and using the black knights momentum against him as the black knight knows he just needs to get lucky once. They still continue to clash and spark out with there blades and once the clock in a city off in the distance strikes midnight, this dance sonata ends. Nocturnus bashes Arena back giving him more distance, both individuals tired of their fight as the Champion of Darkness points at Arena declares “YOUR END IS NEAR, ARENA!” as he charges her down with the intent in striking her from up under from how he held the blade with one hand. “TIME TO SEE CHAOS OUTSHINE THE CHAMPION OF DARKNESS!!” as she charges him for a penetrating blow to the gut after she would parry his up and under attack.

However as both parties began to strike, Nocturnus switched his hand and went for a over hand attack, Arena followed that sword as if it was slowly motion. She was prep to parry if it came from below not from above! She tried her best to raise her sword to catch the incoming attack, but lifting felt so heavy and slow, as the slowly came closer to her, her eyes went larger and larger and before she knew, she was stuck in her tracks, with a large heavy blade at least 4 inches with in her shoulder. The black knight retracted his blade from her shoulder which sprayed blood and swung his blade to the side also going in 4inches into her gut, he let out a yell as he put more power into and with hips and wrist, he sliced the Lord of Chaos and Destruction in half! Causing blood the spilled as both half’s of the Lord fell to the ground and Nocturnus laughing like maniac. “MWHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA I DID, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA I DEFEATED THE DIMENSIONAL LORD OF CHAOS AND DESTRUCTION!!!! MWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!”


For Arena her life flashed before her eyes…her second lost and this time it costed her life. She slowly began to crawl away as she can only hear the laughter of the knight and her own inconsistent breathing. She realized now she was in no shape in defeating Z, she had no chance, she didn’t even have a chance to fight one of her colleagues. Everything in her past, from highs to lows, from victories to defeats, everything accumulated to this. The one thing that Lords follow is Fate and Fate alone is what determines when a Lord dies or not. There was so much for her to do, yet none of will come to past as she feels her life slipping away. She crawled only a little before she raised her hand on last time as well as take her last breath and stare into the bright moon of the planet. She soon laid limb on the grassy knoll. The Lord Arena, the Lord of Chaos and Destruction was no more. Yet it her death proves that in life everyone dies...no matter how power, rich or poor, or humble. No needs a clairvoyant to see that in the end everyone dies, to some its sooner while to others its later.

Nocturnus goes and grabs both pieces and says “My Lordship wanted me to bring her back in one piece…I know she had dealt worse before..” as he takes both pieces of Lord Arena and returns to laughing Lord Ova, glade she was able to put down Lord Arena, without even lifting a finger and now her plan can be put into motion…to destroy all the variables of this galaxy.

Speed was her ally and as such, Nirix used it well.

Wick's fist had indeed touched her, hard enough to bruise really, but she had moved so fast that it seemed like once he had punched her she disappeared only to reappear before him to deliver a series of powerful kicks. One would knee him in his torso, the next to his face to get him to stumble and finally, her leg arched high into the air, only to be brought down upon him with a powerful force that normally sent her opponents slamming face down into the ground.

Yet that was only when she was facing an opponent that was somewhere around her height. Wick was way taller than she, and Nirix nearly remembered this too late. Her kicks would still be somewhat effective but not as much as she had hoped. If anything, her foot would slam into his shoulder and land a quite painful blow against him. There would be a bruise and possible swelling, and Nirix would make sure to apologize for it.

But as for now, she was too focused on winning, too focused on gaining some kind of leverage against her opponent. She was relentless, merciless in a sense. Nirix would come at him again and again until he either admitted defeat or she, herself could not move anymore.

It was said that it was her sheer amount of persistence and determination that made her such an effective Assassin and Wick would witness these traits first-hand.

PERRYGOLD CARGO BAY

There was the crash of crates and boxes in the background that made a noise in stark contrast to the music that was being made. As the sound resolved, the beat coming from Irin ground to a halt. The holographic lights swapped back to the image of the young woman, and the constant sound of error messages pinged itself to a halt with nothing to work off of. As the others looked at her in confusion, Irin slowly pulled her hand up to her face, covering her eyes and making a digital sound which was the equivalent of a sigh. After a few seconds of silence and bemused looks from her companions, her voice lulled a sense of calm into the noiseless void.

"G, baby. Onomatopoeia is well and good in music, but you can't just put it anywhere you please. I gave you a few spots here and there that would have been perfectly acceptable to add a crash or a drop, but you were way off."

"Hey! No! Wait! That wasn't me! I would have known if I had done something like that! Honest!" The light beneath the sheet flickered rapidly and nervously. The holographic image clasped it's hands together as if it was pleading for forgiveness from her friend.

Irin folded her arms, giving a sour look towards the floating box. "Then who else was it? I was the backing beat and Little H was the main synths! You were secondary and SFX, so I don't know who else could have made that crashing sound... Unless maybe you didn't do a good enough search of the surroundings."

G's holograph seemed taken aback and embarrassed. The red glow beneath the sheet shined brightly."S-Sure I did! I... I... alright i'm going to... double check... then..."
"And Little H and I are coming with you this time. This kind of stuff got us thrown off our last ride, remember?"

The box said nothing, rather, it slowly floated back into the clear area of the cargo bay, with the bulky Irin and skittish Irih in tow. Quietly, they all searched around for a sign of some other presence, dimming their lights. Eventually they stumbled upon the man tied to the chair, unconscious.

"... T-To be fair... He's knocked out and not moving... I didn't see him..." G mumbled quietly.

"Hm... that still doesn't answer our question as to who made the noise..."

Irih quietly beeped and ponged, giving her thoughts on the matter. G gasped and Irin nodded in agreement.

"You don't really think that, do you Irih?"
"Little H has a point. This could be the cause of the sound. This poor, probably innocent, and random stranger we have no prior knowledge of could be a victim of an act of violence... and the perpetrator could very well be in this cargo bay..."

...

...

...

The robots shot evasive glances at each other. The tension pressuring each of them to turn around, yet none of them wanted to. It would have been completely silent, if not for the piercing drone of the engines.

Irih could finally take no more, and to the sound of error upon error, she quickly scuttled behind some boxes... and crashed into the red-haired mystery fellow. Her random screeches and beeps grew rapid and alarmed as the force of the impact knocked her body onto it's side, her three legs flailing and trying to find ground as her single arm slowly extended from her chest and did it's best to correct the imbalance.

"There! Behind those crates! Corner em, G!"
Irin leaped over a tall box, skillfully landing on the other side with a loud resounding bang. She donned a fighting stance as her colorful outer lights brightly glowed with courage. G's covered box whirled around various other obstacles, skidding to a halt and blocking a possible exit path. The holographic image of the young woman intimidatingly grew to it's largest, grinning viciously at the mystery person. Slowly (yet no less quietly) Irih had corrected her position, and her single extending arm was waving about in the air defensively. Together, they formed a triangular blockade, each ready to leap at any attempt of escape.

"Alright, you fiend! You've got thirty seconds to explain yourself, or my friends and I will justly deal with you as we seem fit! Right?"
Irih beeped and blarped in agreement, spouting various sounds akin to software related failure.
"Yeah! What she said!"

Yep. This was definitely a typical travel for the stowaway crew.

Each blow hit its mark on Wick. He doubled over from the strike to the torso, only to be kicked in the face. The last kick was half a second away from striking him when developed instinct kicked in.
He reached out, though not with his hand. Wick pushed on her leg with the force of his mind, moving it away from his shoulder. The woman's leg scraped across his arm, pulling hairs off as it went along. With a pained yelp, Wick shifted into a crouching stance facing the woman. He swung another hook, his fist meeting with the Eoclu's side.
So she's fast, has a sword, and enough martial arts skill to beat anyone to a bleeding pulp. In fact, I bet we wouldn't still be going if that kick to my shoulder had landed. I can't do that too many more times Wick thought, the tingling sensation of an onsetting heading beginning to make itself known. He began to size his opponent again, seeing her no longer as just a normal traveler but instead as a deadly fighter.
She's too good to be a mercenary. Guys like me usually can't move as fast as she does. Still, she wouldn't have skills like this for no reason. Just who is she?

After they finished singing, Kilwen let out a light laugh and looked over his shoulder and says "Ah don't be like that, you have a pretty good voice. Hell if you want I can teach you to improve on your singing, you have talent!" as he went ahead looks forward paying attention whats ahead of him and also looking on the galaxy map as well as the system map in where to go. He heard her ask in about plugging herself in and says "Sure, knock yourself out" as he continues to focus on the maps and driving the ship. Kilwen was in heart and by just ages of doing it, a wander. He really hand no goal but to survive and not be a victim to his younger colleagues ambitions...unlike a certain someone

Then he heard Q's suggestion and was brought up to him, luckily what they were looking for wasn't to far away. He a thumbs up and says "Roger that, Q" and boosted towards the planet, trying to get there as fast as they can so they can be finish with Kampfer's task even though he could care less for them. "Entering the atmosphere" he says as they begin to descend as fire engulfs the ship but not a lot since it was a bit then as well as the ship rattling a bit, but that was to be expected. The planet itself was similar to old Mars, but the difference was that in some parts it had pockets of jungle. As they slowly descended, Kilwen turned on the scanners and detected a few ruins and decided to make a landing where it would not take them too long hit a few sites than move on the next area on the planet. "Easing into the landing..." he says as he carefully lands the ship upon the sandy red planet. Once a big jolt was made, and the the orange horizon of the planet can be seen, Kilwen gets up from his chair and says with a smile on his face "We landed" as he opens the hatch. Kilwen had no need to worry for about oxygen, because of how Dimensional Lords are since they can just keep on going by absorbing the energy around them and from there own realms. In this case, Kilwen was taking in the energy from the planets orbit as well as magnetic field, which felt quiet usually strong. He looks back at Q and says "Don't worry about me about the oxygen, I have my ways in surviving, so come on pathfinder, we have ancient ruins to discover" as he walks towards the planet's surface.

H M S Skadi

It was, of course, very quiet in the ice cavern, tucked away in that expansive training facility within the heart of the great vessel - that first mighty warship of what very well might become the greatest empire the Galaxy had ever seen - in its’ humblest larval stage.

It was not ‘lost technology’ nor ‘forbidden technology’ - but it was certainly ’strange technology’ - some combination of the sciences and engineering known to mankind and the forces known only by the Queen and her people. It was a fascinating concept - that this whole, great and varied landscape could be built within the mere minutes that Rin had been absent from the training chamber.

But while some things could be explained via exposition and others by monologue, some things were best left unexplained for plot convenience. This was one of them.

Very quiet, save for the young Nyran’s breathing, the sound of his skates on the icy floor - a distant breeze that might have hinted at a way out and back into the open layout. It was dark - no artificial light to guide the way - though here and there, around the base of a hanging stalactite he might have caught the ambient glimmer - the merest hint of a point of light. There was the faint sound of great, glacial structures as they creaked under their own weight, while remaining ever as sturdy as solid stone. The occasional drip drip of insignificant droplets as they fell in rhythmic precision from the ceiling.

There was no warning - unless he had noticed what was wrong with the picture and preemptively prepared for the worst.

clickaclickaclickaclickaSNAPSNAPSNAP!!

With great bursts of sound akin to the popping of a rifle, the tiny points of light abruptly and near-simultaneously detonated. Stinging, but otherwise harmless shards of ice exploded and flew with whipping force in all directions, and a fine, icy powder accumulated in small clouds - and the stalactites began to fall. They started from behind, but grew closer at an alarming rate - followed by the deeper crumbling sound as the caves collapsed in upon themselves - leaving Rin only one way to go - and he would have to go fast. Even as he moved, it seemed that the detonators were equipped with motion sensors - there would be no allowing them to fall ahead of him.

And Rin would have been booking it for hardly a few seconds - perhaps around one hairpin turn or another - before a likely much-welcomed sight would find him - up ahead was the light which could only mean an exit to the tunnel. Would his escape be so soon in the chase?

There was a figure standing in the light - silhouetted, but given the bulk of the figure it was clearly Sands. A pair of goggles on his face were the only definite feature, glowing in stark contrast to his form. He was waving one hand energetically, as though greeting Rin from afar.

And then, as the Nyran approached, he may or may not have noticed the row of tiny lights ahead, on the ceiling, crossing his path and standing between him and the soldier.

It would be impossible to move so fast as to beat it - the ice collapsed. The light was extinguished, and the figure of Fellerton Sands disappeared. A cruel trick - but Rin would find he was not quite doomed - for the caves were extensive, and if his reflexes were hot enough, he would easily avoid colliding with the ambush rubble and continue instead down another path.

And the chase would, most likely, continue. Rin versus The Ice Caves!

Rin had been looking around as he skated, cautiously keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. He frowned, considering. He'd have to be on high alert at all times- there couldn't be a moment of hesitation. His instincts had to be in its highest peak.

Said instincts were screaming at him to look up. His head shot up, quickly scanning the ceiling. Those pinpricks of light- they didn't look- natural-

His helmet lit up, sensors focusing on the tiny lights. He let the lenses zoom in and-

$#&%- He skated faster, hoping that he wasn't too late to-

clickaclickasnapSNAP-

He cursed under his breath, then sharply turned, away from a deadly projectile that stabbed right into the place he was just a second ago. Half a breath later he saw Sands out in the distance, waving. He also saw the row of lights, lining up for some serious explosions. Nope. Not pulling a stupid.

He shot out sideways just as the path ahead of him collapsed into icy rubble. Need to find a way out, he thought to himself, blades skimming the floor, helmet scanning the terrain for- for some form of-

He moved closer to the wall, fingers brushing against it occasionally. A few seconds later his scanners blinked at him, making him pay attention to a certain section of the cold interior. He stopped, then tapped hard against the wall.

No echo.

Wall is pretty thin here... lighter, too. Must be made of ice instead of all rock. He went to touch it again, to analyze it further- then tensed, looking around him.

Could there be traps around the places wherein the rock was thinnest? It was possible, he grudgingly admitted to himself. He wasn't going to underestimate these soldiers.

And...

His instinct went haywire around Sands. Generally, his instinct was that of a faint brush of mind, a suggestion, something gently guiding him to the best action. Even with groups considered as just enemies in his head, it was just that- stronger perhaps, more of an impulse, a strong urge, but not- not individualized- not like this.

Only when it came to his family. To his team.

Instinct gave his mother much leeway- he could never really tell if she was behind him or not. When it did acknowledge her (as in she was right in front of him, full view, impossible to hide) he always felt warm. Safe. Like a protective hug.

His instinct treated Vaxur like a playful trickster- suggestions with the strength of teasing pokes that were hard to ignore. Commander Wyr was an overwhelming presence, but not suppressive- like a fog, with lights leading to one path.

(Montagne was... strange. It was a stabbing feeling, around the area between his neck and shoulders, like teeth clamping down on prey. He didn't know what to think about that.)

But perhaps, since he took it upon himself to treat these soldiers as part of a personal unit... His instinct has done what it could to make it easier for him to synchronize with them in the future...?

And his instinct started with Sands. It was a fierce buzzing around his ears, akin to the aftershocks of exposions. He would be ready for the feeling, now.

He wondered how his instinct would react to the rest of them...

Arnaldo looked at Ketin with a puzzled face or what ever Arnaldo's stone chiseled face could muster up as an expression. "Fox boy, you must be mistaken, I have no hat" said Arnaldo as he won another game, "You seem to be preoccupied at the moment with the three men behind me, would you like to investigate it?", Arnaldo knew there were three men behind him because of the vibrations they carried with them. He could tell that one of them was very...heavy-set and they all carried a smigden of gusto with each step. Arnaldo rose up, turned off the holo-board, pocketed it, and waited at the door for Ketin. "I am also in no need of sidekick nor do I want one and I am not a detective.." said Arnaldo almost sputtering out the word 'anymore', but his trained subconcious kept that away. He thought to himself "You are doing it again, whenever a sentient being shows you an iota of care, you begin loosening up, keep it together". Arnaldo pulled out his side arm and said "What did you do to the main room?", with a cough following the word 'room'.

She missed.

Nirix couldn't get over that she had missed. She hardly miscalculated and to miscalculate something like that, her kick should've landed. Something was off. Quickly her mind backtracked to what had happened. She had hit him two out of the three times and then at the last second...

His fist went to slam into her side once again but this time, Nirix caught it. Her hand wrapped tightly, firmly around his knuckles and the instinct to snap his fingers to end this fight was strong but Nirix was too caught up in thinking at the moment. Her eyes flickered to his for a brief second, searching for an answer that she would probably not find. Was it a setup? Had she really miss judged?

No, her form had been perfect, if a bit risky. She had left sizeable openings but still...

"Venavis, stop. This fight is finished," Nirix made a show to take a jump back a few feet away from Wick. Bowing low at the waist, she stood up and turned on her heel to collect her weapon. The feel of the sheath back in her hand allowed her to relax and ignore the unease at the whole ordeal of her misstep. It had not been natural and Nirix was starting to believe in some kind unseen use of foul play.

She would try not to dwell on it but definitely keep it in the forefront of her mind in case some issue was to arise.

"You did well, though I am sorry for any of the injuries I may have caused you. I would suggest you soak in a hot bath to relax your muscles and that should help with some of the tenderness. Regardless, you have my thanks for allowing me to participate in sparring with you,"

Smiling, albeit shyly, she added.
"Aneth ara, I am Nirix by the way"

Wick couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt upon seeing the change in Nirix's body language. His use of power didn't feel very fair in hindsight, but he wasn't sure whether or not to say anything at this point. The match had gone well otherwise, and he seemed to be making progress in at least getting the eoclu to trust him more.
"Nirix. That's a lovely name. If you don't mind me saying, anyway." Wick managed to compliment her, picking himself up off the ground. Nirix was right. She had left sizeable bruises where her punches and kicks had landed, and he'd need to carry himself off to a shower of some kind.
"I'd uh... I'd hate to keep you if you have somewhere to be. But maybe we could get a drink later? Or something like that?" he asked. Wick wouldn't be surprised if she said no, considering she had no obligation to say yes, but the company would be appreciated.