Commodore's Log: Rooslan, Nicholae; April 29th, 2003:

     I have finally gotten the macro frame sufficiently repaired to begin running basic functions again. This includes the memories of my previous logs and the ability to write new ones. And so I have begun. While I have limited time to compose this, I must state some of my findings.

    The project has succeeded far more than I could have ever dreamed. It is true that the original intent of placing her under such stress was to see if her power could grow strong enough and precise enough to tear objects on the molecular level, I have discovered something even more fantastic than a walking nuclear generator. It would seem that my little pet project can rip the very gap between time and space itself. The possibilities of this are endless. If her power can be harnessed and stabilized, it could be the very edge we need against the Chronos. The commercial and military application would be virtually limitless. If I can return to home world with Nine under proper lock and key we can turn the tide of this war back in our favor. It is also most fortunate that the planet Del Mar is so far from our ever shrinking border....it might be a few years before they could be within striking range. But if it takes me that long, so much of our empire will be gone that it would be hardly worth saving. Still I must not give up on this, it could be our last hope.

     Unfortunately without the proper drugs my powers have waned and faded.....still I hold out hope that I will find a new source to manufacture the source of my power. I have located a psi named Timothy.....he seems to be from this dimension's Del Mar and his own DNA and strength may be useful to me. He was weak when I discovered him, and has steadily grown even weaker. I have been keeping a close eye on him....his death might be my salvation....and the salvation of all the militants.

+++++++++++++++++

            It took Megan a few days to track down her errant uncle. In fact she has lain in ambush for almost a full day before the cyborg crept into the Red Dragon Inn during the early morning hours. Brimstone suddenly found a knife at his throat as she twisted his biological arm up behind his back. "Ah.. Megan." He didn't chuckle but his voice showed he was quite amused with his niece. "About time you showed up. I suppose you have a few questions."

            "You got That right, Tin Head. Just what the hell is going on around here?"

            "Oh, quite a bit. Nothing too unusual, at least for us. Can.. can you lighten up on that grip? You're cutting off the circulation."

            She did, warily, and he shook out the limb. "Let's start with my darling father."

            The bitter venom in her voice was not lost on her uncle. "Take it easy on him. He's been through a lot. 'Course he won't admit it. He just keeps smilin."

            "Misses Emily that much?"

            "Even more than I thought he would. He's been out flayer hunting every night ever since. I've done my fair share, mind you. Can't have those mind suckers hanging around us. Too much of a good thing, you know; but he's gone way overboard.."

            Megan looked down at the floorboards visible in the faint moonlight. “And it was a flayer that did Emily in?”

            “Pretty sure. Of course we have no idea why, and with no cold hard facts, conjecture abounds. Nobody know for sure if, who, or why someone would set a flayer on Emily. As to what happened with all the power she housed after she fried it? Who knows. You didn’t get a surge, did you?”

            “No. Just a painful nightmare and the overwhelming feeling that she was dead.” Megan had been wondering that herself. Did all that energy just dissipate into the heavens? Did somebody managed to suck it into a container? Who would know? And that made everything following that much more confusing. “What about the baby?”

            That seemed to bring the mechanical man up short. “Another ‘I don’t know’ type deal. Tim told me to let him handle it.”

            “And you’re letting him?”

            “Well granted I was all for squishing it’s little brains in before it turned on us and devoured us whole, but.. Megan.. There’s something else being tested there, and frankly I’m not sure that it involved just us. Besides, Bree shows no apparent signs of immediate possession. Maybe Dusk needs time to settle in.”

            “Bree?”

            “Yeah, that’s what Danielle calls the thing. Tim seems to like the name.”

            “He would. Sounds like a name for a fast food cheese dip.”

            That brought a chuckle from the cyborg. It seemed that her uncle needed that bit of laughter to rally his mood. “Does, doesn’t it? Ah.. Could be worse. In fact, it is worse. Tim may not be around much longer to take care of her.” 

            “Ah, so it IS true. He’s burning out that body, isn’t he?”

            “Yep, and I can’t find a replacement either.” He stood up and headed to the root cellar, gesturing for his niece to follow. She did, cautiously of course. One could never fully trust either the ‘borg or the psi, but she didn’t think he would club her once they were out of sight of normal folk. Not right off the bat, at least. He worked his way down the stairs, past quite the collection of wines and ales laid up by Renea and the bar owners. Pickle barrels and hanging halves of game left for curing lined the other wall, but the ‘borg ignored them. He reached the end of the cellar and reached up, pushing on the end of a support beam. Suddenly the back wall of the room swung inward, exposing another section. Brimstone lead the way, twisting around several racks laid out with various guns, ammo, and a plethora of drugs and chemicals. Neither mutant needed additional lighting; Brimstone’s softly glowing red eye emitted enough glow for both their gene-engineered cat-like eyes to see. He gestured to his hidden stash. “I try not to deal directly out of the bar. I have a small shop on the seedier side of Rydin where I can do most of my wheelin’ and dealin’. Seems plasma weapons are the thing this year.” He pushed on past this larder, again reaching the end of the room, this time slipping an arm alongside a display cabinet to trigger the release mechanism.

            This second hidden door opened out into the sewer system flowing under Rydin proper. Megan clung to her uncle’s side, seeing several vagrant looking creatures, possibly undead, stumbling along this foul underground pathway. “Don’t worry. Seems there is this unspoken understanding that nobody sees nothing down here. If you think about it, it makes perfect sense. More than likely neither person encountered would want to admit being down here, so the mass of moving bodies just flowed around each other, not saying much at all. Just the splash of privy water.” Brimstone took off at a fairly brisk pace, one that Megan could keep up with. They twisted and turned in the dank foul moldy air, occasionally stumbling over a rat, reptile, or dead body. At one corner, the cyborg stopped short. “Ack.. Almost forgot.” He reached back and grabbed the collar on Megan maroon cape, giving a hard tug and tearing it free from the rest of the fabric. Before she could protest, he turned the stitching inside out, exposing a small metal fragment barely the size of a grain of rice. “Rooslan’s work. That guy is almost as bad as Tim.”

            “Ain’t he one of those time travelers that hang around with that Nine chick?” She took the tiny metal fragment then reached into her belt pouch, drawing out her traveling meal of cheese and bread, inserting the transmitter inside a wedge and setting it on the ground. The rats were on the offering immediately, devouring the food, metal and all, and were quickly gone within a minute.

            Brimstone nodded, seeing that Megan wasn’t playing stupid when it came to those people. “I have the feeling that little trio is about as close knit as our family. I’d almost play odds that Rooslan is one of Tim’s unforseen offspring in that dimension, except I can’t sense any sort of mutant vibe on him. Speaking of offspring,” he now turned to gaze down at her, the ominous red eye. “You and Zelgadis; you two doing okay?”

            “Of course,” she snorted guessing where this conversation was swinging.

            “So... well.. Uhm... You two have been.... uhm... intimate, right? So are there any future mutants coming along?”

            Megan stopped short, waiting for Brimstone, whom had taken five more steps when he realized his niece was no longer in tow. He turned around, not sure what to do, or if what he had said had somehow insulted her. He Had tried couching the question as best he could, but he wasn’t getting any definite emotional resonance off the girl. “Is it still that big a deal?” she asked him.

            “Well... no.. not so much as well... I’m just.. curious. He Is made out of stone, right? All over, right?”

            “Brimstone!”

            He held his hands up in submissive gesture. “I was just asking! I don’t know these things. Not like I can read your mind.”

            “Well, Mr Smarty-Pants; Yes we do, and no, I am not. Does That answer everything?”

            He scratched the back of his head. “Well, not Everything, but enough.” He then put his hands back into the pockets of the tan trenchcoat and turned, heading down the maze of damp caves. He gave a slight smile at a stray thought. “You know, Tim’s become rather... obsessed.. With that Nine chick.”

            The ‘borg had thrown the image out as bait, seeing if Megan was ready to take that hook. If nothing, she nibbled at the bait. “How obsessed?”

            “Enough to be supplementing her current income. Wouldn’t it be strange if they hooked up again? You could be talking to yourself in a few years.”

            “Gods I hope not. Didn’t they originally try to kill each other?”

            “Understatement of the year. In fact I think they would Still try to kill each other if they met face to face. I’m thinking that’s why our real intrepid leader has taken a leave of absence.” He rubbed his chin in thought. “Wonder if Nine is up for the job?”

            “Not if she has any sense,” Megan spat back, a bit irked that both Tim and Brim would both so easily side with the militant raised monster. Her mother, in any form, was bad news.

            It wasn’t too soon when Megan noticed a change in the scent of the air. “The sea? This thing go all the way to the wharf?”

            “And farther.” He finally reached his destination and once again reached around some rocks. Another doorway swung open and Megan darted in around the bulking mass, smelling the cleaner outdoor air filtering down the passageway.

            “Megan!” But Brimstone’s warning came too late. The mutant girl suddenly found herself slammed up against the wall, pinned by the chest with the horn of a massive Rydin dragon. It was easily 30 ft in length, greyish black in color, and very upset. It reared up, planting two well- muscled paws on each of her shoulders, then lifted his nose, slowly sniffing her face and chest. Megan didn’t move, letting the creature gather her scent, even as Brimstone reached over and slowly stroked the drake’s back ridge, just as second beast, smaller and rustier in color, joined the inquiry. Finally the grey one licked Megan’s face, leaving a long slimy trail across her nose. Brimstone chuckled, relieved. “They must have caught you scent off of me.”

            “But where...?”

            “Somebody left 3 dragon eggs to hatch in the basement of the bar. The first hatching went nutzo. Probably was ravenous and just tried to eat the first thing it came across. I had to put it down, but I saw the shards from the other two shells. It took me about three days and twenty pounds of good beef to win the other two over. They make great watchdogs.”

            “I can see that.” She gasped in relief as the drake finally dropped back down to all fours and turned to Brimstone, trying to push his way in for some attention from the cyborg. Megan paused again, then looked at the cave wall. It seemed familiar to her. That and the smell of sea water. Then it hit her. “We’re back up the mountain?”

            “Yeah, this was the bottom half of my bar.. All that was left after the top half slid into the ocean. It’s a great place to store stuff, and the kids like the height.” He gesture for her to follow once more as they were now flanked by the dragon pair. The passageway seemed to wind back down, even farther than where the sewers had run, before they came across the solid metal door. At this portal, Brimstone had to extend his palm over a scanning device, which beeped several times before the massive bolt slid back allowing the duo to enter. The dragons seemed content to stay out in the hallway, playfully gnawing on each other.

            Inside resembled the lab of some mad scientist. Brimstone Obviously had several projects going on, but what he lead her to were several large vats. Megan peered in closer, seeing what looked to be a sequential cloning project. There were four bodies total in various stages of development, ranging from infant to almost 2 years of age, each one floating almost lifeless in a thick red nutrient goo. “Tristan’s, I assume.”

            “Yeah. Got some really crappy cell samples from your old man. I probably should have started this mess earlier, but I figured there had to be at least one plant still functional to raid. No such luck. Unfortunately these are real fragile. I don’t dare speed up development any faster or they decompose just like your old man. I needed another year at least.”

            “What about putting Dear Ol’ Dad in cryostasis? At least putting his brain on ice.”

            “He won’t sit still for it. I’ve already approached him with this. There are times I swear he’s just as stubborn as your mother.” He gave another wry smile. “Guess you were damned by both sides.”

            “Yeah.. You could say that.” She stared at the tanks, a strange thought slowly worming its way into her brain. It was a stupid idea. A Really stupid idea. But the more she chewed on it, the more it made sense.

            And it scared her.

            The argument was outside. Odin and Danielle were at it again, almost nose to nose as Renea played referee of sorts, figuring that neither would throw a punch while the new girl Jill was too close to be damaged. "As far as I'm concerned, we were nothing!" the bulking hulk of Odin roared. "I couldn't be the man you wanted so I lost out. The End. It's over and done. You will refer to me as Odin, and what happened back at the Inn stays there." He only turned briefly as Jill shuffled
nervously, giving her a curt nod in acknowledgment, momentarily calm; but that facade faded when he turned back to face the tall skinny ebony haired woman. "So if you have anymore oh-so-smart comment, say them to me here and now!"

            "Yeah.. I think I did have a few more things t'say, and you know what? I'm gonna feel pretty good saying them!" Renea and Jillian just watched, heads turning back and forth while taking in the verbal tennis match. Finally the vamp tapped Jill's shoulder. "I'm gonna go check on the bar. Do be careful. Odin's powerful; the most powerful this.. yada, yada, yada. And he likes to

remind everyone about it all the time." With that, Renea took her leave.

            Megan was oblivious to all the bluster outside, narrowly avoiding Odin's backside as her concentration was on several pieces of paper loaded with scribbled calculations. She just walked into the bar and took up her perch, setting the paper on the counter and pulling a napkin from the nearby holder to continue the equations. The bartender was new, but the long and lanky build of the girl suggest that she came from the same stock that Renea and Danielle hailed form. "Hey there. Y.y.y.you nnn.nnn..nn.need anyfing'?"

"No," the mutant answered simply, her attention filly on the paper."

            The girl nodded her head, feeling a bit awkward since she didn't know the strange sort girl. "Wwww.ww.w.ell alrigh'."

            The handsome image of the swordsman Goury spotted the moody mutant and was at her elbow with his blissfully unaware smile. "What's up, Meg?"

            "Oh, problems, Goury. Great big migraine sized problems." She looked up from her work just in time to see Tim making his decent from the rooms upstairs. "Ah, and there's the kingpin of all migraines."

            The Rex would have replied to the sour comment, but instead decided to answer the scream coming from the kitchen by vaulting over the railing with some surprising speed and grace and rushing to the rescue. The bartending girl had tried to fetch a glass, but had dropped it, fragments shattered all over the floor. What had startled her was the large python coiled up on the shelving. "Oh for Teeth's sake!" he giggled, reaching up and carefully sliding the reptile off the shelf, then handing it to Morgaine as she stood in the doorway, seeing the carnage her legless friend had caused.

            The Soothsayer just draped the serpent around her neck and over her shoulders. "I take it you don't like snakes, Sydney?"

            The tall trembling creature shook her head violently. "Nooo.. I ddddon't like them."

            "Sydney, is it?" Again the Rex's shmooze-o-meter clicked into gear as he stared pouring on the charm. "It's okay. Snakes are quite useful. Downright friendly when handled right." Megan moaned, seeing her father was once again on the make, trying to seduce his way into trust. What concerned her further was that Zelgadis was shadowing the psi, staying within striking range of the deposed Del Marian ruler. Apparently her boyfriend had decided to attempt to keep her errant father in line. One hell of a job, she mused; especially if she went through with what was slowly germinating as a plan.

            Goury could see that plan weighing heavily on her. "What's eating you?" he finally asked.

            "An idea. A bad idea. So bad that I should not have even thought of it." She flipped a suspicious glare at her sire once more. "But it makes sense.

    And Megan had a right to be flustered.  Her father had already managed to sidle up next to the tall raven haired bartendress, twirling a lock of her hair around the fingers of his right hand as he poured on the slick.  "How long have you been working here?"

    "Uhmmmm.. abou'. ttttt.t.t.t..two w.w..w.wwwweeks now."  She was grinning sheepishly, though did glance at Megan, seeing the mutant's face flushed red with unbridled fury.

    Tim also kept a wary eye on his daughter.  "Don't worry about her," he assured his new prey.  "She's just jealous."

    "Stop that!"  The chastisement came from Zelgadis who brought the flat of his blade down on the psi's head.

    "Ow!" the Rex protested in an over dramatic style, then snapped and arm out to catch Sydney. She had jerked backwards, not expecting a sword to come winging down, and had almost fallen off her seat.  Tim was in instant chivalric mode.  "Here, let me help you to a better seat."  He escorted the girl past Zel, sticking his tongue out at the golem mage as he walked by, then sat his trophy two seats closer to his daughter to make eavesdropping easier.

    "So Meg."  Goury now tugged at the mutant's shoulder.  "What's going down?"

    The sigh set the tone.  "Brimstone gave me the scoop.  Tim's burning that body real bad.  He's not gonna last that much longer."

    The swordsman looked the psi over. Even he could see the crow's feet around the eyes, the lack of color and tone to the skin, and the gray hairs worming their way through even the dye job he vainly insisted on. He even had a phantom twitch to the left side of his face, as if a warning of seizures to come. He'd heard how Megan's family tried to cheat time. "I take it he doesn't have a replacement anywhere?"

    "Brim's working on one, but its not old enough to house him, not for a year at least. I.... I think I've got a temporary solution, but Zel's not gonna like it.  Heck, I don't even like it."  She had tried to keep her voice down. For now, Zel seemed preoccupied, whapping the back of Tim's wandering hand as he tried to inch around Sydney's shoulders. "I can house him," she whispered.

    "WHAT!?  ARE YOU NUTS?!"

            “SSSSSssssshhhh!!” Megan waved her hand, trying to keep Goury quiet, but her chicken- scratched paperwork flew all about.

            Timothy snagged a leaflet in mid air and looked it over, turning it upside down and such before seeing the meaning. “Oh... this is rich. Zel, you need to have a long talk with your girlfriend. I think she’s finally flipped.”

    Nicolae Rooslan gritted his teeth as Goury's shout rang out.  He pulled the receiver from his ear, one of a few that were planted on various members of the entourage, then rubbed the back of his neck.  This was not good news.  It would ruin far too many plans. 

            Sydney just sat and watched, then slowly turned to face the psi with a blank stare before smiling and pulling her curly black hair out of her eyes. “O d.d.d.d..dddd.don’ fink’ I goh’ y’ name y...y.y.yy.yyyyyet.”

            “It’s Tim, Sweetie.”

            “Watch out Sidney,” Goury warned. “He can be a dirty old man.”

            “That’s not true,” the psi protested. The argument would be the fact that Tim didn’t look old, but the Rex preferred the road more difficult to confuse and he poured the shmooze on. “I’m just too well loved by everyone. I wouldn’t harm a fly. I’m as pure as the driven snow.” He even batted his eyelashes, fluttering them for the lady.

            “And I’m the Pope!” Goury spat back, beginning to see how exasperating things could get with the psi around.

            “Goury! This is serious!” Megan pulled on the blond swordsman’s arm, spinning him back around to face her, even as Zelgadis edged his way in close to hear what nutcase idea his beloved had in mind. “If I don’t do something soon, he’s gonna be a gonner!”

            ‘Gonner’ was trying to suppress a giggle as Sydney fished out a handkerchief believing that all his eye fluttering was do to a lash in the eye. Apparently the girl wasn’t too sharp, which to Tim made the gesture that much more endearing. “It’s just a twinkle,” he explained to her, though he did use the cloth to wipe back tears of laughter. What Megan had in mind; and he knew this because he had lightly scanned her, was just too insane even for her.

            Her friends seemed to agree. “I hope you’re not Really being serious about this,” Zel objected, looking his most dower yet.

            “Do you know of any other mutant willing to carry him around in their head? Especially him? I’m the closest kith and blood to him.”

            “I don’t like it,” Goury snorted, crossing his arms, almost mimicking the golem mage’s soured look. “There has to be another option.”

            “I don’t like it either, but I Need him. I need that psi power of his.”

            Tim’s smile blossomed further. “Oh. Gee. You’re not doing this out of love?”

            Her head snapped around and she hissed. “Love?! You?! You.... you....” Try as she might, she couldn’t even begin the string of foul descriptive phrases locked up in her brain.

            The Rex just smiled on, turning to glance at the dour stone demon at his back. “You wanna try talking some sense into her?”

            The chimera snorted. “I think killing you would be vastly easier than to find any way to sway her mind once it’s set.”

            While Megan fought with her momentary lack of speech, Lina snuck into the room, creeping up on Goury and poking him in the ribs, making him jump. She pulled back the hood of her cloak, exposing the platinum blond curls, looking more the siren than the child. She also sported a dour expression, mostly since her friend Damien seemed to had vanished from the planet as she couldn’t find him. Tim tried to cheer her up, wiggling her fingers at her in a friendly wave, beaming that greasy smile all the while. She did acknowledge him with a curt nod, but not much more encouragement than that. Thwarted, he returned to socializing with Sydney.

            Once her sire turned away, Megan was finally able to speak, but the fit of rage had passed. “We can’t kill him, Zel,” she reminded her paramour. “We need him. You see how the magic thing is going.” Indeed it was not going well. Megan had not trouble reading the incantations will all the reflection in tone needed, but once the power was summoned, it seemed to develop its own whim, taking out trees, buildings, whatever it could touch. Healing spells almost ate through the “test subjects.” Attempts to conjure souls brought forth raging uncontrollable wraiths and demons. Forget the dark magic. It ran amuck, and almost took Megan in the process.

            “So why do we meed him so much again, exactly?”

            “Oh because he’s the strongest psi on the planet? And he knows crap that we haven’t even fathomed? Plus we would be able to at least keep tabs on him, if not totally in check.”

            “And your power?” Goury added with a glimmer of insight. “We would have access to all that chaos you carry inside you.”

            “But I don’t Have any abilities that he could bootleg. And he’s gonna be in the back seat anyhow. Like Tristan was with him.”

            Zel grumbled. “Yeah.. We all saw how well that went...”

            “HEY!” Megan poked a finger in the golem’s chest. “Somebody LET Tristan out, and it sure was hell wasn’t Tim, which is why I want him under lock and key until he can stand firmly on his own two feet.”

            The erstwhile bad guy only vaguely listened to the prattle behind him as he continued to become acquainted with his new prize. “So, Sydney. Where are you from originally?”

            “Oh...... uhm.. Born in Poland. rrrr.rr.rrrr raised in Blackpool, England. Same neighborhood as R..r.r.rrrrr...” She had to pause to attempt the name again. “... r.r.r Renea.”

            “Ah, so you got sucked into Rydin as well? Fell through a magic portal or something?” He’d already inched in, once again taking up a lock of her hair and twirling the ends around his fingers.

            Sydney was a bit uncomfortable by really had no where to back away to. “I d..d.ddd.dd dun’ fink Renea w.ww.w.wwwwwould wan’ me t.t.ttt’ tell you allll.. Abou’ m’self.”

            “Oh you can tell me. I’m a good friend of hers. I even protected to bar for her the other night. See this scar?” He pointed to a random mark as he had dozens of nasty scars from a myriad of fights. “I was stabbed with a scimitar. It almost killed me.”

            She leaned in close to examine the red mark. “I beh’ it d..d....dddd dinn’t hurt, did it?”

            “Hurt? Well it did, a little, but I’m from tough stock dontcha know.” He puffed out his chest in mock heroism.

            Lina snorted. “You are such a liar,” she grumbled.

            Zel was still brooding about Megan’s insane idea. “I don’t like it.”

            His girlfriend pouted, but managed to reign in her emotions, as long as she didn’t look directly at Tim. “Look, I’m not totally sold on this either, but I’m running out of options quickly. Do you know what the dynamic duo have been doing? Hunting Flayers! Oh they managed to clean six of them out of Rydin this past month, but if we don’t leash him in, some lucky flayer’s gonna get a Happy Meal!”

            “Well how long can we keep Tim going if we lock him up?” Goury knew this was a tenuous idea, especially with the psi right there overhearing the whole conversation, but perhaps the pis would have more sense than his daughter.

            “With pumps and shunts? Maybe six months, which leaves us six months short of the minimal goal. Also if we wait longer, he might not transfer well, especially if he’s too weak.”

            Lina agreed. “Psions are useless when their minds are weak from lack of use.”

            Megan turned to look the spell caster over. “Can You carry an extra mind?”

            The platinum blond shook her head. “Too difficult, but perhaps we can contain him in a vessel?”

            “Stuff his mind in a jar? Then every yahoo on the planet would be trying to capture it? No, I think he needs a defensible position. Especially him.”

            She turned to gesture at her dear old dad, and paused at the sight. Her father was practically in the woman’s lap, his hand entwined in her hair, the other hand slowly caressing her bare shoulder. “Us mutants are very tactile,” he explained to Sydney whom sat through all the attention, not sure if she would be enjoying his touches or not. His very presence so close seemed to resonate within her, causing goose bumps to roll down her neck and back.

            “What kind of a mutant are you,” she breathed quietly.

            “Oh I’m harmless. Just a psi. I do a little light reading of the brain. Nothing... drastic...”

            Suddenly a boot, Megan’s boot, winged across the room and caught Timothy right in the jaw, causing Danielle to jump up with a squeak and Tim to tumble off his chair and hard on the floor in a crumpled black heap. Sydney looked down at the man, then up at Megan, adjusted her shirt as it had ridden up somehow, then slid over the bar top and advanced on the mutant. “That was..m...m.m.mmm.m.mmmmean!” She even wagged a finger violently at Megan whom just stood, dumbstruck. “I...I..I’m in ch.. Ch..chchchc charge! Dun’ d..d.dddddddo thah’ again!”

            “Yeah!” Tim groggily echoed, his head still spinning. “Don’t do that again!”

            All the heir apparent could do was stare, gap jawed at the duo as Sydney helped the Rex to his feet. Megan gestured, first accusingly at her sire then towards the heavens as if the gods were once again toying with her. Still unable to come up with a vocal reply, she just turned on her heal, the unbooted one, and limped out into the road. Zel sighed and followed his beloved, giving a shrugging of his shoulders as he departed the crowd.

            The bar was crowded when Nine first arrived, but the room had quickly emptied as various crew members departed for assignments, leaving the mutant to help herself to the bar. Already her temples were pounding. She found that a stiff drink twice a day held the pain at bay. She assumed it was withdrawal she was suffering from. No long on Militant drugs to temper her emotions or enhance her psionic abilities, her body was trying to keep levels up on its own. That wasn’t working well. It had been weeks since she was able to create any sizeable kinetic thrust and her temper was getting shorter by the day. For now, the quiet room and thick brew calmed her.

The only other person in the room now was Zigg, so she filled her mug and made her way over to join him at his booth; but she paused, burrowing her hands down the sides of the dress and into the pockets. She’d discovered several odd coins earlier that morning and figured the bar could use the cash. The material of the dress felt so thin, yet it was unbelievably tough. What had Randall called it? Mithril? Her old shipmate had encountered some of the stuff working at the local foundry and spoke quite highly of its attributes. Still, it didn’t hold in heat well and she pulled the threadbare cape around herself as she sidled up to Zigg’s table. “So how ya doin’ t’night?” he asked, that joking smile almost permanently grafted onto his face.

Much like her father’s, except a bit more believable. “Better. At least nobody tried to kick my noggin in, or push me off a boat today.”

That made the joker faced fellow laugh. “Ya broke yer nose, didn’tja? Iffn it don’t heal straight, ya could always get someone ta rebreak it and try again.”

“Oh no! Even I have a limit when it comes to pain. By the way, where’d the other wharf rats run off to?”

            “On ta differn’t jobs, I guess.”

            “Ah… job… right. I was supposed to get with Miss Emily of that, but I haven’t seen her since….. well…since I was officially inducted into the crew. What do they need me to do, other than tend bar.”

            “Well.” He thumbed his chin a moment to collect his thoughts. “Work the boat when we sail, and try ta recruit more crewmen.”

            “I’m working on that. I just can’t seem to sway Randall to join. I think he gets seasick.”

            “I know a cure for that; sail the ship with him tied to the mizzen mast for a month or so.”

            “Oh I can’t let you do that! He’s a norm. You’ll kill him fer sure doin’ that.” Already her language was beginning to shift, picking up the sea-side accents. “Besides, I’d like to know what it’s like to be on the ship afore I go hawking it to would- parishioners.” She paused to take a few swallows of ale. “So what will they train me as? Frankly I’d be more content scrubbing boards and scraping barnacles. I’d get into less trouble.”

            “Well I’m bein’ taught under Belle to be First Mate, but Dragon might be lookin’ fer an apprentice.”

            It wasn’t the position, but the person’s name that caught her curiosity. “Dragon? Is he really a dragon?” Her spirits lifted a bit. In fact she was downright hopeful at the prospect of meeting another proper sentient reptile.

            “Nah. Dragon’s just his name, though he can change into one. Near as I c’n tell he’s a demon, I think, or a really strong vampire. He’s the Gunmaster. He registers and maintains the weapons on the ship.”

            Now she knew what had been nagging at the back of her head and she just about kicked herself. The slightly built fellow sitting in front of her Was a vampire himself. In the crowded rooms before she wasn’t able to pick out a clear scent, but now in the empty bar she finally got the sickly sweet smell identified. Not that it mattered, but it was a good thing to know. “Demons. Vampires. What else you got on this ship?”

            “Oh let’s see: a wraith, a Day walker.. that would be my daughter, a werewolf, some elves, and a midget. Just about everything.”

            “And they all get along, more or less? No intra-species grudge matches?”

            “For the most part. There have been a few conflicts over the ladies, but that happens most everywhere you go. I’ve been in more than my fair share for Sonja.” The bloodsucker seemed to drift a little as he leaned back in his char. “That was after I found out Melody didn’t want me at all.”

            “Sounds like a high- seas soap- opera.”

            “Sometimes it is.” The undead swordsman sighed. “At least it didn’t effect our daughter.”

            That perked the mutant’s curiosity once again. “The crew…. They look after the little ones?”

            “I do.. and Zagg does.”

            Nine snorted as she finished her first round. “That’s good.. having a family to look after you. Dunno what happened to mine. The Military found me wandering around in the streets when I was real young. I don’t even remember that far back, but they took me in. You could say I was raised by them. Still there are days I wish I could find some of my kin, ya know?”

            The vampire nodded in agreement. “My original family was killed durin’ a war. I hear ya on that one.”

            Again another snort escaped the petite girl. “I haven’t known a year that I Wasn’t in some sort of war or skirmish somewhere. It’s just a business for me. Part of a job. Transport the troops. Take possession of the planet. Establish a presence, then move on to the next.”

            Zigg tried to lighten her mood, seeing her sort of spiraling around a depressing drain of thought. “You know some of the crew still have family, but they don’t want to be found by them. Did Lana tell ya about her uncle?”

            “Not really. You’re really the only one I’ve had a chance to blab at.”

            “Well the lass would practically make a pact with the Devil ta keep away from the guy.”

            “All she has to do is give the word and I can eliminate that problem for her. I like that girl. She’s got spunk. I saw her fight that Sebastian guy. Took as well as she gave, and that guy sure can dish it out.” Again that pensive look strayed from Nine’s eyes as her own failings weighed heavily on her mind.

            Zigg rested a hand on her shoulder. “Not everyone can stand toe to toe with him. He and I got a bit of a feud goin’ on at the moment. He deeply wants to be stronger than me.”

            She gave the fighter a strange look. “But you’re a vamp. Don’t tell me he’s one too.”

            “He’s a werewolf. Ours is an inherent hatred.”

            The light clicked on in her head. She hadn’t lost to a norm! It was a changling! A mesomorph! Suddenly her thrashing didn’t seem all so bad. “Okay, then all I need to remember is stay out of the path of destruction when the two of youse are in the same room.”

            “We keep ourselves civil while in the Tavern.”

            “So nobody thinks to hire assassins? That would be the next logical step if you couldn’t get to your foe personally.”

            The smile Zigg gave betrayed more than simple joviality. The man had a slight mean streak. “The last nine I dispatched myself. Most were after Lana.”

            Again the would-be psionic grunted. “sounds like I’ve got a full- time job.,”

            “You and everyone else. The Captain thinks of Lana like a daughter.”

            “That’s good. I can only hope that you all would come to my aide if one of My problems showed up on the dock.” Nine didn’t mention that Rooslan could be packing more than just a temper when he did.

            “Rule 9 on the application. All Crew are ta be treated as family, and yer no different.”

            “Oh I beg to differ. I’ve Very different.”

            Zigg didn’t need to be a mind reader to see that Nine was still worried about her past possibly catching up. “No frets. Only one guy I ever faced in serious combat made it out alive, and that was after a dropped a military compound right on the bastard. Some say he just can’t be killed. But now I’ve got a crew behind me so not much will get past me.”

            “So in other words; don’t spar with you. You’ll grind me into dust. Check. Note number two for my brain.”

            “Oh I don’t kill in a spar. I use spars as a way to try out new stuff I haven’t done before. It’s just practice.”

            But Nine didn’t see things that way, and she became quite animated by Zigg’s cavalier attitude. “You don’t think sparring is serious? You can get hurt! Besides you all got this magic thing surrounding you. I can’t rely on that. magic doesn’t want to work right around me. That’s why I don’t really wanna spar at all.. but I guess I gotta…” She fetched herself a refill as she ranted, needing more liquid to drown out the pain as it once again began to build up inside her. “I’m so out of shape, and my powers ain’t on par either. It’s like I’ve got some sort of psionic hay fever. Everything feels stuffed.”

            “Well hey, if ya ever wanna give it a shot, I can show you a few pointers. Zagg can help you too. He’s a master in unarmed combat.”

            “Maybe soon.” She didn’t sound very committed as she settled back down in the seat, letting the alcohol perform it’s own “magic”. “I’ve got some stuff I gotta work on first before I try getting back into any sort of ring. If I’ve lost my talent, I’d be nothing more than a quick healing punching bag for you all.”

            The swordsman gestured to Nine’s blade as it peeked over her shoulder. “I’ll help you with that, if you wish.”

            “With Hy?” She reached over her shoulder and grabbed the sword drawing him forward before turning him and grabbing the sharpened edge tightly before pointing the hilt end towards Zigg to examine. “Hybrid sort of.. found me. He’s a bit bulky for me, but he seems to be worth wielding..”

            Zigg looked the sword over, noting it seemed to be a combination of two blades crossed twice, once at the hilt, then again halfway up the shaft. One looked to be made of gold, the other obsidian. Of course those weren’t the proper materials for a bladed weapon, but he couldn’t fathom what kind of material they could possibly be. All the while Hybrid was growling, or at least making some sort of raspy metallic grinding noise that could be readily taken for a growl. That would also explain why Nine held him tight, even as the edge bit into her hand, causing blood to run along the shallow groove. “Seems to be a bit unbalanced,” he commented. “But even a piece of glass can be a weapon.” Nine let go of the blade, but instead of falling to the floor, the sword spun around in mid air. At first Zigg thought it would run him through. Instead it retreated, zipping around Nine’s skirt to slam up against her spine, still growling as it knocked the wind out of her. “I don’t think yer sword likes me too much.”

            “He’s just being an ass,” she coughed then responded in kind, slamming her back up against the padded bar, efficiently pinning the blade against the counter. “Knock it off or in the closet you go,” she warned.

            Zigg pulled out his weapon of choice, a long sword with a jewel encrusted hilt. “This was a gift for being best man when Dragon wedded Belle.”

            “Cool beans,” she commented. His weapon seemed much more the tool than Hybrid, perhaps explaining why her bi-polar blade was being such a snot.

            “Yeah,” the punk-dressed vampire agreed as he re-sheathed his prized possession. “Took me a bit ta learn ta use it though.”

            Nine tossed her head, gesturing towards her own weapon as it struggled. “I’d sell him but I don’t think whomever bought him would like him much.”

            ‘I might, if he didn’t wanna run himself into my chest.”

            Finally Hybrid relented and ceased his struggles, allowing Nine to fetch a refill of beer. “You drink this stuff?” she asked him, watching as the door to the bar swung open and the lupine techno dude, Edward, made his way into the bar, notably displeased with something in the tavern.

            “Not since I became a vampire. Now I have to drink the blood of a drunken woman to get my booze.” Zigg also noted the werewolf’s entrance, though did nothing further about it.

            “Must suck to be you then,” Nine mused, quite smug in the use of punnage then changed into a more inquiring type of stand. “So, you have a preference in victims? Gotta be a woman?”

            He shrugged his shoulders. “I just think they taste better. It’s a vamp/ gender thing.”

            “Well I should warn you not to try and sample me then. Not just because I don’t like to donate blood. It’s more that my mutated blood might do bad things to you.”

            “Oh I don’t feed on the crew. Lana let me once, but only because I was about to die. That was a favor, more or less.”

            “I told you she’s a spunky one. I’d be sorely put out if something happened to her.”

            Zigg became quite softened. “She was my first friend since I was spliced from Zagg. Everyone else just wanted me to die in a bloody gruesome.”

            Change of venue, Nine decided, then turned to the normally calm, tall, dark animorph. “And you? Gotta preference in victims?”

            Apparently she’d intruded on his train of thought. “Wyrmspawn,” he was muttering,” just lovely. There had to be wyrmspawn…. Oh..” He sputtered when he realized that the question had been directed at him. “Victims? What do you mean by that, exactly?” Now instead of being perturbed, he looked offended.

            Nine pulled her legs up, sitting yoga style on the barstool, the skinny knees jutting out horizontally from under the metallic folds of the dress. She managed to pull her cape out from under Hybrid and drape it across her legs. “Well, don’t your kind go slaughtering norms when you.. you know.. change?”

            Zig now caught what the girl was implying, not only of the lycanthrope, but of himself as well, and it made him raise an eyebrow. “I ain’t killed anyone by feedin’ off em,” he insisted calmly, though wondering where the girl had picked up that sliver of mis- information.

            She could see she was losing points on both fronts. “Okay. I’m officially confused. You Are a vampire, right? Drink blood, right?” Zigg nodded slowly. “Okay, just how much blood Do you need to drink? The full eight pints every night?”

            “Oh no! Maybe that much in four or five days!”

            “Okay,” Nine sighed, absorbing yet another fragment of correction. “So you don’t need a complete blood transfusion every night.” Now she turned to the wolfman. “Don’t you have to maul innocents every full moon?”

            He drew back. “My kind don’t kill anything except the enemies of Gaia. We only hunt Wyrmspawn and the like. Certainly not innocents.”

            Nine dropped her head. “Man, I’m so lost here. Can’t I get like a Rydin visitor’s handbook? It would be so much easier. And what’s a wymrspawn? Ain’t that supposed to be like a dragon?” A sudden concern came to her. If the dog-man thought she was one of those creatures….

            “No. The wrym is an ancient spirit bent on corrupting and destroying toe world using things like toxic waste, leeches, poison, Barney, etc., etc. Kuthulu.”

            “Kuthulu? Isn’t he that squid guy? That would be something I’d worry about; rolling around on the high seas in a boat. That would make me bait, wouldn’t it?”

            The image brought a chuck from both vamp and werewolf, breaking up some of the tension. Zigg looked the girl over. “What possessed you to think I needed to take in that much blood? I drink actually very little, except after an intense workout or fight. Ya don’t need to eat till yer about to burst every day, do ya?”

            “Well, that depends. Much like you, If I expend energy, I need to replenish it, and I have an extensive metabolism. I used to have to move big things. Really big things. I even have to eat like rotted stuff to keep me all balanced. It’s sickening to watch at times.” She watched as the doors to the bar opened slightly and the lithe form of a woman slipped in. Most of her was covered by a warm, fur-lined cloak draped over her head. The glowing emerald eyes gave her a predatory appearance. Nine was more envious of the clothing as it was zounds different from her thin tattered fragment of a cape.

            Zigg saw his chance. “I must be off,” he announced as he gave Nine a light bow in respect, one that was mimicked by the mutant herself.

             One eye was kept on the woman as she reached the counter, pulling back her hood and allowing locks of reddish gold to cascade down her back. “Is there a tender?”

            “I guess that would be me.” Nine was up for the challenge, but by the time she hand turned around with the drink card and pricing guides in her hand, the lady had left. Thwarted from her sale, Nine took a drink herself, leaving yet another one of the strange coins from her pocket in the til before she turned her attention back to tall, dark, and lupine. “So, you hunt bad guys. And I bet they must be icky bad guys to boot. No grey area for you to worry about.”

            “Yep,” the man smiled back. Nine was almost sure she saw fangs. Even though the man didn’t look the least bit wolfish, the mutant’s nose told her tales of where this man had been. Unlike the sickly sweet death smell of a vamp, this one had been in forests, on beaches, in deserts, and in the hulls of interstellar freighters, all hints carried on his person that Nine could discern. “We’re the world’s antibodies,” Edward continued, ignoring Nine’s stares. “Some of us may be a bit too zealous at times, but it’s understandable. Heck, you were just having a conversation with a creature that unnaturally clings to life by stealing the life out of others, willing or not. They can be the most vile monsters of all.”

            Nine bit her lip, the sat her cup down. “I’ll kindly ask you not to talk ill of my shipmates. So far they have been warm and kind to me, and that’s rare enough. Besides, I’m probably more vile than any vamp. I’ve killed too,” she gave an indignant snort. “Guess that would make me a bad guy in your book.”

            “Not true. Most things kill. It’s the things that don’t die when they are supposed to that are the problems. Vampires aren’t evil because they kill. They are evil because the cheat the most fundamental laws of the cycle.”

            The mutant now crossed her arms over her chest, giving the much larger hunter a cold stare. She wanted to tell him how she herself felt she had cheated death, somehow surviving a crash that killed most of her crewmates. But that was the past. What she had to assure was Zigg’s future. “You plan to take my fellow shipmate out of the picture? Cause if you do, I’m gonna have to defend him, you know.”

            He looked her over, wondering just how serious he should take this runt of a girl. Randall seemed to have some sort of respect, and there were hints, slips, that this Nine creature was much more than just Randall’s torturous traveling companion. “You think my rocket launcher would still be full if I had planned to do that? No. This place is not where Gaia lives. It is a rift; a space where the worlds have apparently chosen to collide. I am merely here to map the portals and rifts.”

            “You... you’re ... mapping the place?” For the first time that night, Nine was completely blind sided. “So that means you can leave here anytime? When are you going? I... I can pay you to take me and my friend Randall out of this rat trap! I.. I can go home!”

            Edward found himself backing away from the girl. She was damn near giddy at the prospect of returning home. “Woah! Waitaminute! Home for me is probably way differently than home for you.”

            “But You’ve got a Map! I can help! I’m sure I can supply power to a ship again. Just think about all that free fuel!”

            Well, there was something that Randall probably was trying to hide. Not many humans could channel enough power to turn an engine. But still to get this creature back home was nearly impossible. “I’m not sure Where your home is. I know a few stable gateways, but there is no guarantee that one of them will get you where you need to go.”

            Nine had paused in mid-celebratory dance. “But... but you can Look, can’t you?”

            To look at her poised on the edge between manic and depressed, he couldn’t quite shove her into that emotional pit. “Yes, I can look.”

            “Thank You!” Her mind pulled away from the deepening edge and she bounded up and kissed the wolf man on one cheek. “You are such a doll! I gotta go tell Randall! He’ll be tickled pink!” and out into the street she cavorted, skipping at a frantic pace to find her partner in crime.

Cruelty in motion (odin)

            Megan dragged herself into the Red Dragon Inn, having been out "shopping". She dumped the heavy burlap bag on the counter, allowing the contents to cascade out, much to the chagrin of Danielle whom was already nursing a snit with Jill. "That's not what I meant!" the younger girl whined as she tried to defend her actions, her eyes tearing up in frustration. "I just snapped and got all defensive."

            Danielle forgave the argument as the mutant took most of her attention now. She remember this child and how she didn't like the gruff girl much at all. Yet, to earn a coin: "Yer Megan, right?"

            The petite woman was looking over purchases, not even bothering to look up. "Yeah. Megan. That's me. Look, can I have something to drink? Unleaded even?"

            The bartendress paused for the moment, and like the typical tower of attitude, folded her arms. "Such as?"

            Megan still didn't look up, flipping an oversized clip in her hand, testing the weight. "How about orange juice? That's good for me, isn't it?"

            "Only one way to find out." Danielle reached into the overhead cupboard and drew out a glass then headed to the kitchen, only to return with the juice. "One gold."

            As the mutant sorted through the booty, she reached into one of her pockets, drawing out a handful of silver and copper and stacked them in front of the tender. She still didn't look up, which made her jump as a metallic hand suddenly reached around her line of sight and picked up an old ball and cap pistol. Brimstone turned it over in her hand, frowning. "You actually paid money for this antique junk? I could have gotten you a way classier weapon."

            Jill blinked. Was she imagining things or did the hulking cybernetic cowboy just come out of nowhere. A look to Danielle proved that the tall bartenderess didn't know either. Megan wasn't impressed. Instead she yanked the pieces away from her uncle. "Right," she snorted. "At the risk of putting myself in debt to you again? I don't think so." She took several swallows of juice, somewhat surprised that Danielle hadn't tried to spike the drink with poison, but figured it to be merely an oversight and continued to pick through her haul.

            "A stun gun?" Now the metal man gave a snort, gfawing at the device. That snort came up short as Megan demonstrated the override mechanism, sending a high voltage running through the `borg's body. BS's frame stiffened, then fell backwards, landing with a thud on the floor.

            Only then did Megan smile, pocketing her new toy and turning to find Danielle, seeing she was now serving the errant blond sorceress Lina whom seemed to want to keep to herself. "Either of you seen Tim around?"

            "Somebody call for me?" The Rex made his way down the stairs, still a bit stiff but full of smiles. The smile broadened further when he spotted Danielle, even wiggling his fingers in a playful wave as she blushed back at him.

            Megan looked from her sire to the tall robust woman, then back again, rolling her eyes in disgust. "Don't tell me you're chasing Her skirt too!? You. you. scum!"

             Whatever she had wanted to ask of the psi would have to wait as she slid her purchases back into the bag before stepping over Brimstone's body and storming out into the street. Still he kept up pretenses, leering as Danielle curled a finger, gesturing for the psi to join her. As he approached, she ran a finger down his chin. "You can turn that off now. It's daughter business."

            Well, he toned the charm down but he did slip into a more serious mode. "I suppose it's time for me to take her back."

            "No. she's not here." Danielle leaned in closer, making sure that no one else was eavesdropping. She knew that Tim took this subject very seriously, even if he didn't show it. The only other conscious body was Lina, and it quickly looked that she would join the `borg. The small girl with the flowing blond hair had added a red powder to the glass of vodka and seemed to be quite taken with the concoction. The bartendress nodded, seeing that they could speak quietly in peace. "My sisters are taking care of her."

            “And there's been no sign of possession?"

            She shook her head.  "Nope.  Unless you find some kind o' oddness in teething, albeit a bit too soon.”

            "No.. no."  He let a small but serious smile escape him, in relief. "Woman, you have earned my indebtedness.  You know that. Whenever you need my services, you ask."

Danielle reached up and grabbed his bottom lip, letting a sly smile dance on her lips.   "Don't call

me `woman' again and we'll call it even."

Tim had to give a broader smile.  "Sure, Sugar. I won't degrade you by calling you a woman

again.   Beside's its `your majesty' nowadays, isn't it?"

            That took her smile away and she let go of his lip, dropping her head.  "Not anymore.  Just plain ol' Danielle again.   Hopefully forever."

            The psi could hear the hurt. But glossed over it.  "Well, titles are just that, titles.   Anyhow, back to the grind." He now turned to his cybernetic counterpart as the `borg was still out on the floor.   Lina was on the floor too, the concoction she had composed sending her senses for a loop. Danielle looked on a bit uneasy. She was fairly sure the both of them had a crush on her at one point, so she stayed back in case they did decide to come to blows. Tim crouched down and poked at various parts on the metal man's body, taking the liberty of lifting a few choice items from several pockets. Only then did he open a small access panel and peer inside. "Fried him good," he grunted, then pulled a few loose wires from deeper within the casing, using them to jump the burnt circuits. "She shorted the main circuit board. Cute toy she picked up there."

            Suddenly BS's body jerked and he sat up.   "Rattled my teeth too!" he added, then reached up.   How Tim found the leverage to help the heavier man to his feet was ever stranger, but soon BS was towering over most of them again.

            Danielle took a deep breath.   "You alright?"

            "I'll live.   I always do.   Megan's just got a bit of a temper. Gotta watch her a bit closer, I guess."

            Tim snorted.   "Any closer and you'll end up a manhole cover.   Did you see what she was packing?"

            It amazed the bartender as to how cavalier the duo were acting, being the girl had almost killed the `borg, and had tried to get rid of Tim on several occasions.   "Yeah, she's a real bitch on wheels, isn't she? Just what the hell is she anyhow?   A mutilated poodle or something?"

            The psi turned and stared at Danielle.   "She's a mutant.  Just like me and Brim. Didn't you know that?"

            She shrugged, still not quite sure what being a "mutant" detailed as she saw no common thread between the trio. "I left my crystal ball at home," she retorted.

            "It's not like it's tattooed on our foreheads," Brimstone pointed out to the psi.   Timothy just grumbled and sipped at the drink in his had. Where That came from, not even Brimstone knew because he was sure the hand was empty just moments before.  Best not to dwaddle on what surely was something the `borg really didn't want to know.   Seems Megan's arming herself for bear," he noted offhandedly, shifting the focus of the conversation, especially since Danielle had moved off to gather some fortifying drink of her own.   "Does she knew what she's hunting?"

            "Not yet," Tim replied.

            "Do you,"

            A wry smile.  "Not yet."

            The metal man rolled his good eye.   "This is the most ambiguous war we've ever gotten ourselves into.   How'd this mess start again?"

            Tim grinned and sipped.   "We showed up here."

            BS rolled his eye again, then shouldered his own belongings. "Well I guess it's my turn to tail her since you've got that stone of a guardian shadowing you." He nodded, settling his battered cowboy had square on his head then turned out into the street.

            The bar was now abandoned.   Danielle had slipped off for more than a snootful.   Lina had gathered her wits somewhat and dragged herself off to bed as well.   He helped himself another round of vodka .  "You can come out now.   It's safe. relatively speaking."  There was movement or reply, but Tim wasn't tricked.   "I suppose you overheard my daughter's harebrained idea?"

            The deep recesses of the room had hidden Nicolae Rooslan very well, but he stepped forward, knowing there was no way to hide from the psi, even in his weakened state.   "I can't say.   I wasn't paying attention.  She's not my concern, you know."

            "Oh, I know.   Nine is.. and I am, in a roundabout way.   I suppose you wouldn't heed any warnings I would give you concerning That powderkeg, would you?   But then again, that's what you've been after all this time: the powderkeg."

            Damn the Rex.   He was already several steps ahead of the game, and Rooslan needed the upper hand.   "Perhaps situations are not so Desperate as there in your time and dimension. We are not simply doing this for our own amusement."

            Tim sighed.   "I know.   You need a leash.   Your grip is slipping and you need to lock her down.   This is not a simple task of just wrestling her to the ground and clamping a muzzle on her.  You break her an the game is over.   If she slips the leash you can kiss your planet goodbye." He gave another smug smile.  "I suppose you haven't thought about just Asking her, have you?   Our women folk have been known to do stupid things, usually in the guise of thinking they're doing something for the greater good." He folded his hands in his lap.   "Works pretty well, most of the time."

            "Ask her?   Why would I ask her?   You don't really think that would work, do you?   I doubt she'll like what we have planned for her."

            "And what DO you have planned?   Take on DXB?   From what I've heard, you pretty much have that planet under wraps.   No, its something even bigger.." The telepath closed his eyes, already beginning to worm his way around the commander's defenses.   Oh the guy was good, having been trained to shut out psionic probes, even having gone through the drug treatment program to enhance any natural ability he possessed; and Tim's body Was slowly deteriorating; but the Rex was the best DXB had to offer. Not, this was old hat for him, like slipping into a warm water bath.   He easily slipped around, gathering a bit of this and that.   He came across Rooslan's plans for the cross-dimensional version of the Deh Mahr. Brutal.   Literally breaking her down and siphoning off each viable strand of DNA to enhance an army of dimensional ripping suicidal fanatics, which is what they would have to be to think of using that power.   The whole idea played like some evil giddy school boy plotting and scheming to divide and conquer the universe.   There was only one segment in the man's brain that Tim couldn't quite figure out. "What's Chronos?" he asked allowed.

            ".. Stay.. Out of .. my head." That same training that failed Rooslan from stopping the mental ravaging helped him in a more physical way.   Despite the intrusion, he was able to lift the pistol in his hand and fired.   Tim had gotten the heads up as a backwash of bad vibe through Nicolae's brain and had moved, but the gunshot scraped into his shoulder, causing the psi to drop to the ground, not so much in pain, but in defensive training posture so that a second shot couldn't score.   The wound was superficial at worst.   Freed of the mental intrusion, Rooslan staggered to his feet, swapping out once clip for a tranquilizer set.   Now he was in the superior position.   "Sorry, but I can't really have you going and blabbing this around you know.   Besides, you're almost dead as it is.   Why don't you just give up?"

            Tim countered with his own concussion devices, thanks to Brimstone and his hoard of toys.   Several of them popped in flight, shaking the bar, but were not really close enough to do any damage. Cursing his luck, the psi dove behind the bar, just as Rooslan shot at him, one small tranquilizer dart thunking into the wood grain before the weapon jammed up. The commander likewise rolled for cover under one of the tables, hoping he had time to clear out the chamber. He wince as the table top seemed to explode in a fiery fury. Tim had found a cache of vodka bottles and was making Molotov cocktails. The psi had his own run of bad luck as one of the bottles he attempted to lob exploded mere seconds from his hand, showering him in a reign of fire, singeing his greasy hair and sending him scurrying further down the bar.

            That’s when the front door caved in and Brimstone frown at the scene, watching the two men trying to shoot each other in the flaming tavern. “Not in Danielle’s bar!” he roared out as he stormed into the flames and fire, unaffected. First he grabbed Timothy by the collar and literally lobbed him out the front door. He turned just as Rooslan managed to load the second clip. “And You! If you wanna pick a fight with the creep, do it outside!” He reached down and grabbed the commander by the collar and pitched him out into the street as well.

            Both men laid in the street before Rooslan drew his arm forward, narrowing his gaze. “Please. Just come along quietly...”

            Tim woke not too long later, his body easily conquering the poison used to trank him. It did leave his eyeteeth aching though, but he seemed to be back at the bar. Things were a bit blurry after being shot in the street, but the psi didn’t need to ponder too long, especially with the white envelope facing him, propped up on a napkin dispenser. As he opened the envelope, Brimstone stood up behind him. The borg had been trying to buff out the fire damage all night, but paused to see what the letter would say. He hadn’t interfered, even when Rooslan returned with the unconscious psi draped over a shoulder and deposited on the counter. There was no reason to. Instead, he read over Tim’s shoulder:

            “Dear Mr Timothy,

                         Killing you would have raised too many suspicions, and we couldn’t have that. Instead I have simply planted a small explosive charge at the base of your brain where it connects to your spinal chord. If you mention anything about Chronos, try to remove the devise, or if I die, then it will detonate. If you behave, it will harmlessly disarm in five years.

                                             The Commodore”

            Tim snorted as he pocketed the letter. “He didn’t even call my by my rightful title. That would have been proper.”

            Brimstone was a bit more alarmed. “He doesn’t know you only got about six months to live, does he?”

            “Nope. And it wouldn’t matter. He’s a raving lunatic. Seems he’s been through the supplemental psionic training program, the one where they take the enhancers. San when a Norm goes through the program. Mutants have a hard enough time holding onto their sanity, and they’re born with the talents. Emersing yourself in unstables is just stupid.”

            “But he didn’t tell you to take on Nine directly, did he?”

            “Nope.”

             “So....”

            “DNA. He got a viable sample.”

            The ‘borg truly was nervous now. “But it’s not yours, it’s...”

            “It’s Tristan’s.” Tim sighed and reached back into the pocket, pulling out the note and balling it up before tossing it into the fireplace. “We are so screwed.”

            Brimstone was shaking his head. “But there’s no way. If we can’t make you’re samples clone, he surely can’t contrive any sort of army....”

            “He’s using the DNA to reinstate his own psionics. He’s bound and determined to drag Nine home. But maybe you’re right. If we can’t use it, it’s doubtful Mr. Control Freak can.”

            BS sighed and sat down next to the smaller man. “Even if he did get Tristan’s DNA flowing, at least he can’t use the kinetics. He wasn’t trained that way.” The blood draining from Tim’s face told him different. “He Is just a psi, like you, right?” The Rex dropped his head, then moved his hand over the salt shaker on the counter and closed his eyes. The small glass container wiggled a bit, then hesitantly rose a few inches before dropping back down roughly. That alone told Brimstone everything he needed to know. “We are so screwed,” he agreed.

             Nine had been wandering for days, looking for her missing piratic shipmates. None could be found at the bar, and when she finally mustered enough courage to meander down the fog- encrusted pier, the ship was gone. As far as she could tell, they had left on some grand voyage without her. Very well, she snorted to herself. She would go see if she could find Randall.

             That particular search also came up empty and Nine was famished from the effort when she came across an expansive Inn, the building reflecting a Victorian Renaissance look. Roses were if full bloom about the place, the scent wafting down the hill towards her, beckoning her to come and rest a while. It Was late in the afternoon, and her legs ached. Very well, she would go see. As she drew closer to the building she could see the huge bay windows, the rich oak accents, the porcelain vases holding fresh cut flowers; all too prim and proper and dainty for the roughly raised mutant. Oh her dress would cut the mustard, but her bedraggled hair and dirty face probably wouldn't let her through the door and she thought about turning back, until she caught the wafting scent of meat roasting in an open pit. Now she Had to eat. She adjusted Hybrid, the sword seemingly just as spellbound by the place as she was, and trudged up to the main door.

             The fellow waiting at the door seemed harmless enough, even after Nine craned her neck to see if the doorman was holding some sort of weaponry behind his back. "Welcome to the Thorny Rose," he smiled pleasantly. "May I help you?"

             She briefly looked over the dining area. Not much in business, save for the table in the middle of the room where several people gathered, most garbed in traditional dessert wraps. The Celt was easy to pick out in that crowd with his red mop of hair and thick accent, but for the most part, its was a calm and relaxed atmosphere. Now the question would be if they would allow her to rest. "I. uhm.. was just looking for a place to crash and a bite to eat."

             "I see. Well, rooms are three gold a night, and that would include three meals a day. I'm sure there is still warm food left for you." He opened the doubled oak doors, allowing her to enter.

  And she was just about to step inside when she paused. Other than the gauche handing from the man's hip, she hadn't seen any other weapons. "Do I have to leave my sword behind?"

  He looked the petite girl over. "No. You seem to be the warrior type, so I cannot ask you to disarm yourself. However, you'll be expected to not draw it inside and harm anyone or anything here. If that happens the faeries will be called upon."

  "You mean those little fluttering butterfly looking people?" She hadn't seen one, but she'd heard them in passing and guessed that was what they looked like but held her fingers apart at a six-inch measure to visually explain what she had assumed.

  The doorman nodded. "Only these faeries are carnivorous and have no problem eating problem people. Of course You are not a problem person, right?"

             "Oh no! Don't need to be eaten by fairies. Nosiree!" and she stepped quickly inside, half expecting a swarm of the little boogers to descend on her if she dawdled.

             As she paused inside, waiting for her escort to give her the tour, a huge bulk of a man ambled up the pathway and tried to duck into the door behind her. Unfortunately his shoulders were too wide and he literally wedged himself in the doorway. In his struggles to extricate himself, he accidentally wrenched to door off its hinges. Blushing deeply in the dark shadows of his hood, he wrested himself free, doing substantial damage to the portal. Nine was already on point, totally off her turf, when the behemoth of a man destroyed the doorway. She almost pulled her blade, but she remembered the fairy warning. Besides, the doorman was already moving to intercept the intruder. "Ahem. Excuse me. I'm afraid that you will have to pay for that door."

             The ogre of a man pulled back his hood, revealing a clean-shaven head. "How much?" he grunted.

             "Fifty gold," the doorman sighed.

             "Fifty!? For That little door?"

             "I will have to replace the frame and hinge too," he noted pointing at the damage. "This was a fine door, I'll have you know."

             "I didn't break the door, it's just your people make them so flimsy. I can't help it if I don't know my own strength."

             The man crossed his arms. "The money, please."

             Behemoth glared down at him with cold smoldering black eyes. "Patience," he spoke softly, then rummaged on his person, fishing up a heavily coined pouch and tossing it at the doorman. "Seventy five gold," he grunted. "Buy yourself a real door."

             Left to her own devices, the petite girl moved around the dining room, looking for a place to park herself. Though the place was definitely not for brawlers, she still wanted a tactical advantage, and took a table located above and in the recesses, behind one of the thick brocade curtains. The place setting was lush as well. Real silver utensils couched porcelain plates, resting lightly of fresh linen napkins. A tall crystal vase held a full red rose, its scent almost overpowering. But this beauty was only halfway appreciated. Nine needed food. Already she was beginning to shiver, trying to generate heat, and she wrapped the tatter blue cape tighter around herself, but it wasn't helping. The conversation at the next table didn't distract her enough. The central idea was that the beautiful woman seated as the center of attention needed to travel in the Arabic lands and needed a male personage to pose as either her husband or father. The language wasn't too hard for her to follow, nor was the idea, no matter how antiquated. Funny how times change, she mused.  

            Her attention swung to the flower. Of course she knew it was not an appetizer, but the doorman was still having words with the hulking grumbling monster at the door and no one else seemed to be attending to the dining section of the inn. She reached out and plucked the rose from its clear foundation and began pulling of each petal to slowly chew on them. Soon she had nothing left but a thorny stalk and that she even contemplated consuming. As it was, the doorman was busy trying to catch up on the other customers. One of his kitchen help she assumed, or maybe one of the Arabic woman's entourage, brought the exotic lady a plate brimming with fruits, dates and biscuits, accompanied with a bowl of hot stew brought by the steward. The bulk of man that had damaged the building now folded himself into a seat. His cloak covered the high back of the chair, allowing all to see the fresh pressed white shirt.

             Suddenly the red haired Gaelic man was at her elbow, holding a cutting board displaying several well-stacked sandwiches. "Gae ahaid. Ye luik lak ye neid ait."

             Drooling she took the platter then fished out the coins she needed. She planned to stay at the plush place for a few days; expanding her search further into Rydin proper, and the strange coins that continued to appear in her pockets every morning would help pay for her venture. "Smells great! What is it?"

             After having spent some time in the Red Dragon Inn owned by a British vampire with a thick Cockney accent, the man's speech wasn't hard for her to discern at all. "Rast bif, tairky, ahnd haim waith same chiddir chase ahn same braid."

             "Ah, all my favorite four legged foods," she tore into the tray. Now the doorman was at her other elbow holding the bowl of hot stew he had promised earlier. "Dair!" he pouted, stamping his foot a little. "You didn't have to do that. I already had food for her. She just took it, using her bread as a sop to suck up the liquid before stuffing it in her maw. Her only distraction was the big guy. Apparently he was a mage of some sort, able to conjure a drink with a flick of his wrist, even as he watched her uncouth table manners. With his hands free, the steward was able to draw up a heavy leather-bound book he carried under his arm. "So, Miss. How many days will you be staying?"

             Now she was able to speak between mouthfuls, already slowing down. "A few." She pushed the pile of coins at him. "Until I find my friend."

             He gauged the strangely marked coin before collecting them. "Enough for three nights stay," he nodded. "What name can I list you as?"

             "Nine," she grunted, once again attacking the stew.

             The ogre-sized mage now paused, overhearing the name and turning in his chair slightly, looking the petite girl over. Could this be the insane creature his niece Mevlina talked about?

             "Nine?" the steward repeated, making sure he had not misheard. "That is a unique name. You have room 21, 3rd floor. The key is in the door."

             "Thank you." She didn't look up from her meal, the stew's warmth finally rekindling her insides, making the cramping go away. But something warmer was on her mind. "I don't suppose you have any. let's see.. what would you call them here. Bitters? Spirits?"

             "Drinks? Oh yes, we have many exotic brews. What kind would you prefer?" He closed his logbook after carefully writing her name in the pages.

             "Warm. Alcoholic or better preferably."

             "I'll bring you some honey mead then," he bowed slightly then headed to the kitchen, his eyes sweeping the dining area, making sure all were satisfied.  Nine once again checked the place over. Save for the hulk in the corner constantly checking the watch, there was no tension. No fights. No challenges. No gunshots. She rubbed the beaded lump on her brow. Perhaps she didn't want the pirate's life after all. Maybe this was more her speed. Then she smiled. No, it wouldn't happen.  She wouldn't be that lucky. 

             Soon the sandwiches and stew were gone, save for a few halves she had hoarded into her carrying pouch for later consumption; and she wiped her lips, feeling a bit out of place, even when doing "civil" things. The steward returned with a warm mug of mead, which she cupped her hands around, taking in the warmth through her fingers. It didn't smell potent, but it was warmth and not the alcohol that she needed now. She even allowed the cape to slip down off her shoulders, showing off the thin and revealing off-beige dress.  Soon she was yawning and stretching, finding she needed rest. She gathered her things, doubling up the cape before folding it over her arm, then headed upstairs to her assigned room, marveling at the plushness of the inn. She also felt the big man's eyes and yes it unnerved her a bit, but he didn't follow her. She made sure of it, taking time to pause and caress the scrolled woodwork, or stopping to look over one of the big landscaped oil paintings. She wondered if this was what the cruise liners looked like that she propelled along the interstellar shipping lines. 

             True to the steward's word, she found the key in the ivory handle. She opened the door to reveal a spansive and fully furnished wing, along with a very soft bed and fresh sheets. She was damn sure there were no roaches in THESE mattresses. She closed the door and locked it, propping one of the high-backed chairs against the handle only as an afterthought before literally diving into the bed, wallowing in the overstuffed pillows. Soon she was snoring like the exhausted freight train she was.

             Nine opened the door to the tavern, expecting not to see anyone as she hadn't stumbled across a crewmember all week. Yet the room was teeming over with brigands and she stood in the doorway, gawking. "You look lost," a bedraggled military man commented, looking the petite woman over.

             She never looked back at him. "Dumbstruck, actually. I thought these guys sailed off without me."

             "Sailed? Whom are ye with?" the man asked.

             "Those guys," she pointed, seeing Amae waving at her from across the room. Nine made a bee- line to the bar, thankful for finding she hadn't been deserted, at least not for long. As she navigated through the crowds, she noted Lana in the corner, looking absolutely dejected, and Crow once again bellowing at her from across the room. "How long has he hassling Lana?"

             "Oh no. We're all just trying to console her. Lana's husband is going off to war." That was news to the mutant as she had no idea Lana was married. She turned, keeping her eyes averted from Crow, making sure not to start anything, and found herself staring at a new face; a girl much in body and build like herself, save for the 5'8" height. "This is Reena," Amea introduced.

            Nine nodded, even as Reena waved back offering a friendly smile; but once again her eyes slid towards Crow as he suddenly dropped his tirade and moved towards Lana, muttering an apology that he obviously didn't want to make. "Something about that guy just sets my teeth on edge," Nine complained. "How about a beer to start the numbing process?" She didn't slam the brew down like normal. Instead she sipped at it, watching the drama unfold between the black clad fighter and the bereaved widow. Was her husband already lost to the rampages of war? She wailed on as if she was already widowed and nothing Crow said seemed to sooth that ache. Never one for tearjerkers, she turned her attention back to Reena as the woman watched on, leaning against the bar next to the mutant. "So, you're new? They start training you yet?"

  Before the taller girl could answer, Amae held up a finger. "Don't answer that!'  

  Megan rolled her eyes. "Unless you're training her for the oldest profession, she would have

nothing to be embarrassed about."

  "Oh no, no. I was only worried as nobody has trained her yet. It would have embarrassed me."

  Before Amae could elaborate, Crow had turned and was staring at the mutant girl. Nine could

feel it, even before he spoke. "Nine," he called out.

  She inhaled sharply, figuring this was yet another challenge in the wind. She turned slightly to

look the larger man over. "Yes?"

  It was a gruff voice, but not a challenging one that spoke now. "Can I talk to you for a

moment?" He was being nice, like he usually was, but he knew Nine to be a fast judge that took spars for more than what they were. He figured that even if he were nice, she'd piss on him. Right now she looked spooked enough, guarded at best. Even Reena moved out of the girl's way, unsure of how the high-strung woman would react. 

            Nine drained her beer and placed the empty mug on the counter, as if she'd decided something. "Sure," she agreed and made her way through the crowd to him, stopping just short of his striking range.

             He spoke to her softly, but with the usual sharpness he could never curb. "Just what is the problem you have with me?"

             The words almost tumbled out, but she caught them, almost biting down on her lip. She really didn't want to isolate herself further and if she had left her emotions taken over, they probably would have keelhauled her. It took almost a minute to figure out how to say what she wanted to say tactfully. "Only one thing, really. You keep pushing Lana about for no reason that I can see. The other reason you can't do anything about. That one is my problem alone, and I'll deal with it.. eventually."

             The man rubbed his chin a bit. Nine gathered it was not in thought, but much like her tongue biting, a way to stop hurtful emotional words from tumbling out unchecked. "Hm.. when was the last time you saw me push Lana' round and not apologize?"

             "But that's the rub. Why push her around in the first place? I would thing that after a while of being pushed there would be.. resentment." She looked back over her shoulder at the sobbing girl and Amae attempting to console her. "She's just a norm, you know."

             "Okay." He was already losing his patience, but he tried again. "Then when's the last time you saw me push her around?"

             "You mean other than just now?"

             "Guess so." Again he had a grip on his chin. "Tell me something, Nine. You ever make mistakes?"

             She almost laughed out loud at that one. "Oh big ones. Great big earth-shattering ones."

             "Hm.. See, that's weird, because you seem to hold a grudge against me for mistakes I make, yet you admit that you make them too. Look, I apologized. Lana doesn't hold a grudge and she's the one who it happened to. What's your excuse?"

             As Crow laid out the situation, a large hulking figure made his way into the bar. Nine recognized him as the door- wrecking brute from the plush Thorny Rose Inn. That coincidence was too close to her for comfort but she had to deal with irate shipmate first. "I. err.. look that's My problem.. don't fret about that. I'll. forgive it."

             She knew she had used the wrong word and she couldn't take it back. The disgust in the man's eyes told her she'd blown any chance of repairing this mis-understanding.  "I hope so," he grunted. "Keep holding grudges against everyone who wrongs you and you'll eventually have no friends at all because you'll be angry at all of them. You've admitted twice that part of this is your problem. I don't have any time to waste on a person can't forgive."

             That was a fair bit of wisdom, Nine thought. Pity he didn't understand what was at stake. The mutant watched past Crow as the seven footer was now trying to wash some blood off his face, Amae trying to give him verbal directions on locating the streaks. That whole scene made her more nervous, but she wouldn't be able to do much until the officer let her go. "I never had any true friends to start with Crow. Only acquaintances, but like I said; my problem is my problem. It's me. You just showed me it was me, that's all." She squirmed a bit, not wanting to let even a half-admission squeak out. "Look, are we done for now?" She knew the man was still cross with her and that this "chat" hadn't soothed anything. Besides, the big guy at the bar was too close to her shipmates for comfort.

             Crow sighed, his hands on his hips. "Until you can forgive, yeah .. we're done."

             "Aye, aye, sir!" She gave a sharp salute, then whipped around the larger man's frame, navigating back to the bar to take up a seat next to the behemoth now drinking a bottle of vodka at the bar. She aimed her finger to poke him right between the ribs, hoping to make the man twitch. Instead of what she had deemed as fat, she found hard bound muscle and she groaned inwardly. Pick her to find the wrestlers in the crowd. In fact the man seemed blissfully happy, staring down at her through glazed eyes, smiling. Now that she had his attention, she had to lure him out of the bar before he did any damage. "Why are you stalking me?" she insisted.

             He shook his head slowly. "I don't stalk people."

             Nine wasn't daunted. "Well, let's look over the evidence. I go to a ritzy inn. You show up minutes later. I come to a scummy pirate bar. You show up again a few minutes later. Doesn't That sound like stalking? Okay, who are you? Who are you working for?"

             Again he shook his head. "The person I was looking for is now… indisposed.”

             Even her sword Hybrid seemed unnerved by the way the sentence was phrased. Strangely the weapon hadn't made a peep during her discussion with Crow, but now it seemed quite upset, shuffling about on her shoulder. Nine clamped her left hand down on the edged blade, holding him back but cutting her hand in the process.

             The man's eyes darted down as blood dripped through her fingers and onto the floor. "I only came in here because they would not discriminate against someone wearing blood. You've no need to be scared, miss." He went back to his bottle, taking a long swallow as he kept one eye on the nervous woman.

             Nine was certain now that he was an assassin, and she was paranoid enough to believe that the man was toying with her as she was the next target. Very well, she would give him a target. "Fine," she barked. "You stay here and recoup. I'm outta here." She gathered her thin, moth eaten blue cloak and folded it over her arm, still keeping a firm grip on Hybrid. She knew if she released him now, he would have buried himself to the hilt in the man's chest, and that would not have made a good impression. Besides, that would endanger too many of her shipmates. She slipped out the door and took several steps into the street before darting back into one of the recesses of the brick building standing next to the tavern. She would wait, then follow the bulk of a man and deal with him on her own turf and terms.

             Those terms were lost as the man never emerged from the front of the inn. In fact Nine had waited all night for the assassin mage to surface, only to become very chilled by morning's light. A peek in the tavern revealed that the monster was gone, bringing Nine's spirits even further down in the dumps.

Nine sort of slumped into the Pirate's tavern, exhausted after spending the week looking for her

shipmate Randall, but finding not hide nor hair of him anywhere in Rydin proper or roaming the outskirts. The bar was quite full, but there were a few familiar faces. That Weston fellow, the one she'd been told was dead, was laying quite lifelessly in one of the booths It appeared he was being questioned by another fellow, flanked by a strange looking creature, the stench of life after death heavy in the air around it as she scooted by. The man ignored her, having sought out Weston as a possible accomplice. "Would you like to learn a useful ability?"

Apparently Weston wasn't having any of it.  He never moved. Heck he didn't even look like he

was breathing, and you couldn't see his eyes for all the long thick black hair that covered his face. "No," he declined. Lana had spotted Nine and waved her on, bekoning her to come closer to the bar even as she gave Weston's new friend a wrinkled face. "Nothing disgusting, Levrick," she warned the man and his ghoulish thrall.

             Undaunted, Levrick moved onto Ataru, another sizeable fighter whom growled nervously. "What the hell is that?"

            The mage smiled   "Well, my freind, this is the Ghoul's Touch." He moved his arm outward. The creepy creature standing next to him mimicked the movement. draping it's long nails over Levrick's arm. With a grin, Levrick brushed Ataru's arm in the same gesture, and the man limb when limp, lifeless, and paralyzed The rest of Ataru was not affected and he jerked backwards, flailing the limb by rolling his shoulders, trying to resuscitate some life back into it. He swore as he bounced off the counter and sending a pile of dishes cascading to the floor. The mage raise his hands, as if feigning innocence as to the man's current condition. "Calm yourself, friend! I only brushed you. The sensation should leave in a few seconds."

            Nine was not swayed either. She just gave the spectacle a wider berth as she made her way to the bar. Besides, if there had been real foul play, she assumed the pirates would have all been up in arms. No, she had bigger worries on her mind. Lana greeted her with a smile, and that did ease the mutant's mind somewhat. "How are ye tonight, Nine?" the spunky buccaneer asked.

            "Frankly I'm in a foul mood," she admitted. "I can't Randall anywhere, and I'm really worried about him."

            "He's missing?" Lana knew well what it was like to have a friend go missing, and she could see Nine fretting over it badly.

            "Yeah. Come to think of it, I can't find that pitiful excuse for a commander either. I hope they haven't skipped off the planet and left me for dead. Rooslan would do that too, you know. He hates me that much."

            Of that Lana didn't fully understand. She didn't know much of Nine's past, other than it wore heavy on her, and made her somewhat bitter and course to deal with at times. But she knew what Nine needed. Even before she asked, Lana gestured to the kegs. "Help yourself."

"Thanks."  Nine snagged a mug and poured whatever the tap had to offer. Lana saw what a

mess the girl was. She hadn't bathed in over a week, and the beer that slopped over the rim and onto her arm wasn't helping matters. She was about to suggest a trip to the necessary room when a familiar shadow snuck into the bar, causing the pirateer to bleach white. Nine saw the girl turn ghostly pale and instantly narrowed her eyes, looking to see what was causing her comrade such distress. "What's the matter?" she asked, not seeing anything out fo sorts.. well out of sorts for this tavern.

            "N-nothing," she stammered. "Just someone I knew once. I was.. surprised ... to see him... that's all."

            Nine probably would have made an issue of it, but just then the object of all her worries from the past week just walked into the tavern, all smiles, as if Randall hadn't been missing at all. Nine plunked her mug down, vaulted over a chair and slammed right into the scientist's chest, hugging his midriff tight, and knocking the wind clean out of him. "Uhm... Nine.. I can't breathe..."

            She let him go, only to grab his arms tight and shake him. "Where the Hell have you been!?” She was dangerously near tears, but Randall thought it best not to point that out as she already had a grip so tight he was sure it would leave bruises. "I looked EVERYWHERE for you! I thought Captain Bupkiss left me for dead!"

            "I've been working on something in my workshop

            "But I went BY your shop! Several times!"

  "The owner let me set up a little work center in the back of the building. I may have been so

engrossed in my work that I didn't hear you in the front."

  Through all this exchange, Nine kept one eye on Lana. Despite what she had said earlier, she

was still washed in fear, her hand trembling a bit as she served the tall, dark man a shot of rum.  Weston seemed concerned as well as the corpse jerked to his feet and made his way awkwardly along to the bar. "Are you alright?" he asked Lana, looking over the object of her concern with a baleful blue eye.

            "I'm fine, she insisted as she gestured for introductions. "This is... an old friend of mine, my father's first mate, Derek. Derek, this is Weston." The man gave no reason for the distrust and even tipped his server well, but it was plain that they shared some history. Even the perfunctory handshake did nothing to mull the tension. 

  Seeing things more or less in hand, Nine turned to her shipmate, releasing his arms, then

grabbing his elbow and dragging him over to the bar. She made sure to leave on top of the register two of the strange gold coins that seemed to magically appear every morning in the pockets of her dress. Once she poured the two brews, she handed one to Randall then settled herself into on of the seats. "So, what's this thing you're working on?"

   He hesitated. "I.. I want to save it as a surprise. I think you'll really like it, but I still need to do a

little more work on it."

            "Oh I HATE waiting!" she pouted, swinging her legs with mock-impatience. She had champed at the bit for six months while Randall worked on the propulsion project. She had wanted to sink her teeth and talents into something worthwhile. If only she had only known that his machinery and her power would have landed them out of their element. As it was she wanted any gadget Randall could cough up. "I hope it's good, whatever it is, cause I'm losing on other fronts." Normally she wouldn't have risked it, but most of the bar was preoccupied. She placed one of the wooden serving spoons in front of her hands and closed her eyes. The utensil seemed to vibrate as if fighting gravity, before suddenly shooting off across the table and dropping off the end.

           "Wow!" Randall never ceased to be amazed by even the smallest of mutant talents, but he also knew what the full extent of her influence over energy entailed. Obviously that was waning.

           She had opened her eyes then sighed as if expecting something different to behold. "Sometimes the spoon explodes, literally combusting. I've pretty much lost all control and have no real punch anymore. I'm damn near useless now. I'm almost... normal. Even if we got off this rock, there's a good chance that your project would be sunk and I'd be discharged from the service, provided Rooslan doesn’t just shoot me dead first." Her eyes flicked back to Lana and them men. There had been a question posed by the stranger. Would Lana return with him? The answer was a resounding no, but still she chased after him when he left with her answer.

  Nine's bitter words did something to the scientist. "I won't let him do that," Randall insisted.

  Now the mutant turned to face her former employer, again with that strange expression that

carried much more than one emotion. "You would, wouldn't you. You really would try to stop him, even though he can cook you brains." Shaking her head slowly as if in disbelief, she took her empty mug back to the barrel for a refill. 

This time Randall followed, trying to find the most tactful way to express his feelings. "It is not

 your fault, what is happening to you now. I will always do what is necessary to help a friend."  

  "I appreciate that, Doc, but I'm not sure hoping you can help and actually being able to help are

 the same thing." She paused, having caught a strange scent, one that had been wafting around her for some time. She spun in a circle, inhaling strongly, finding her nose wanting to bend into her shoulder. "Ewww is that me? Yeesh!" Now she turned, glaring at the room filled with people. "And NONE of you could say that I reeked? Some shipmates you all are!"

  Nobody replied. Daunted at this turn, she went again to refill her beer then slumped down back

 at the table and mentally added "bath" to her list of things to do... soon.  Randall stood across from her, then finally decided to show her his other new toy. "Nine, I need your help with something." He drew out a small silver laser pistol and sat it carefully on the table. "It was in that empty tavern the other night when we had to get out of the snowstorm. I thought it prudent to carry a sidearm, but.. well.. I'm a lousy shot. Perhaps you can give me a few pointers?"

  Nine eyed the piece. Small, but then again, it shot light, nothing heavy or projectile. she picked

it up and moved it about in her hands, judging the sighting, size and balance. "Nice score. .. sure, I can show you a few tricks."

Not wanting to either upset the pirates by using conventional weaponry, not wanting to

 accidentally shoot holes in walls of their tavern, Nine headed out into the woods, finding a clearing isolated enough to keep from doing too much damage. She took the weapon first, adjusting a few of the sights before taking aim at an old stump, drilling a hole about 1/4th of an inch from center. "Wow!" Randall had commented again. He'd seen her shoot, and she was very adept at a plethora of firearms. She had to be since she commanded many of the pulse cannons that lined the ships she used to pilot. It was more ingrained instinct than talent, augmented with enhanced senses. Still, it was a marvel to see, even if she thought the performance was off par.

Even now she grunted in disgust at herself before handing the gun back to Randall. "Now... 

stand like this." When he planted his feet, she proceeded to position him, pulling his weight to and fro as she adjusted his arms, hands, feet, and legs. Finally she got him lined up and hand him pull the trigger. The beam of light barely hit the log, cleaving off an inch from the left edge. She growled and once again positioned him, even climbing up to look over his shoulder and down the length of his arm to make sure he was lined up. His second shot missed completely. "Randall!" she hissed. 

"I'm sorry!" he whined, half expecting her to belt him one. 

            But she didn't. Biting her lower lip, she once again lined him up. "Again," she insisted.

            This time he hit, maybe an inch from her own mark in the stump. "There!" she nodded. Randall saw a hint of smile there, and he relaxed inwardly as well. She had been so down on herself that he'd come up with this ploy.... well maybe not so much of a ploy as he really wasn't that good of a shot.. but a means in which to reboost her ego and make her feel like she could still do something. He wondered if Rooslan applied the same methods, beating the girl down only to make her climb back up again. Randall's way was just a bit gentler, that's all, and it seemed to be working. She cupped her hands around his, patting the back of his hand with her fingers. "You just keep practicing like that.. and keep that elbow up.. and we'll make you a marksman in no time.

  To hear her say it, he almost believed it was possible.