Megan woke up to an empty bed. She still had to reach over and place her hand on the spot before she would concede that Zelgadis had once again left her side. Well, not left her. He would return, but it was apparent the inherent madness that was the family's stock-in-trade was worming its way into the golem mage's heart. She knew he didn't love her less for it. No, it was because he loved that he resigned himself to tailing her sire across Rydin's realms.

              And just what was her father playing at? Frankly, she didn't know. She suspected. She guessed. But she never could put an exact finger on whom he was playing and to what end. This business with her alternate mother, Nine she called herself, and the two that she called shipmates was a big quandary.  What did the Rex really want with them? Probably some measure of satisfaction as their psi, a human no less, had gotten the better of him? Brimstone was kind enough to relay that tidbit of information.  Strange that Zel didn't mention it in passing. Again she suspected that the chimera, much like the quarry he hunted, had a bit of his own agenda in the works.

              She reluctantly left the warmth of the bed and splashed some cold water on her face, trying to wake up. She likewise had a few questions. The feeling that some impending change was thick on her brain. At first she deemed it an Armageddon of some sort, a great ending to the story that was her life, but now that feeling was replace with that of suspense waiting for it to happen. Perhaps that was the feeling that was hanging over all of them, a sense of chaos. You would figure she would be at least amiable to the idea of change, but still it unsettled her.

             She donned her simple shift, finding the light gown easy to wear in the warming weather. Boots and belt followed, along with a frown. She missed Hybrid, but after seeing Nine in near-tears, she felt Hybrid had a duty to perform with her miss- timed mother.

             That relationship in itself was strange. Nine was way younger than Megan, yet she showed all the temperamental moods her dam did. Yes, Megan did know that they ALL were different shifts of a person. None of them came from the same exact time-line as some information was different, most noticeably the relationship between her and Tim. Pending on who's story you heard, the either were a couple or not, but most other major events were the same. But not Nine’s. She was from somewhere way off in left field, a time when Militants easily took the mutant's home planet and enslaved them. 

            Yet despite all the permutations, there was always a Deh Mahr, a creature of chaos and savior of the people.

              And deep inside Megan was a fragment, a sliver of that power that she still couldn't even communicate with. It was like having a parasite hanging just inside her brain, totally ignoring her completely. Of that, she was resigned. Besides, it seemed that the talent would come to bear whenever she was truly in danger, or if it felt threatened. She wondered at times if it were a real entity, like a ghost.

             She was just about to head down the stairs to join Danielle and Renea but caught sight of her leather-on-leather clad sire sliding into the inn.  Of all people she didn't want to deal with. Fine. She would just have to take the back way out. She retreated to her bedroom and opened the window overlooking the backyard and greenhouse. She easily dropped the three stories to the ground then darted into the smaller building, pausing to slide the latch home before opening the cellar door, leading to the secret access to the sewers.

            Timothy made his way stiffly to the bar to slide into the open seat, removing the weathered black cowboy hat to click back his blonde-dyed black hair out of his deep blue eyes. The man tending the bar

seemed way over muscled for the job, making him wonder what had happened of late.  It was hard keeping up on the minor stuff when he was juggling so many problems. He caught a glimpse of Danielle as she peeked at him from the kitchen and he smiled, that infamous greasy charm turning on all by itself. "Hello, Cupcake. How's business?"

              "Slow at best," she replied, stuffing a banana in her face. It may have been suggestive. but she didn't care as she was hungry.

             He nodded his head at the new tender. "Somebody giving you so much heartache that you have heavy handed help around?" He crossed his arms and leaned back, resting against one of the supporting struts that held the roof up.

             "Nah. That's Max. He's security, but he's versatile."

  Even now Max walked out from behind the bar. "Hey Danny, I heard that vamp slayer, or whatever it is, was here last night. What 'appened?"

             "Hell if I know she snapped back." She turned, shutting out any further inquiries. "If you two will excuse me," and off she headed upstairs.

 The muscle-bound man turned to Timothy. "Can I get you a drink?"

  "What slayer?" Tim asked Max.

             But the bartender wouldn't be swayed either. "Tavern business," he insisted. "So, do you want a drink?"

              Tim snorted, seeing his efforts and information temporarily thwarted. "Coffee... you Do have coffee, right?" Max nodded and moved to fetch him a cup while Tim dusted off his hat and replaced it on his head, giving the adornment a cocked turn.

  Max returned with his order. "One gold coin," he insisted.

             The Rex had to shake his head slowly. "Sad to see my status slip so far down the line." But he did pull out a coin to pay, tossing it to the young man before sipping at the brew while he watched the tender intently. "How long you been workin' this joint?"

  "Not sure," the man commented shortly, tossing the coin into the till.

             " ‘Not sure’? Okay.... what about the bar? Is anyone giving my girls a hard time? Other than the ordinary stuff, that is..."

  Now Max turned to stare back at this small, nondescript fellow. "Whose 'your' girls?"

             "Danielle, Renea, and the rest of the vampiric Amazonian lot... along with the mutated kindred." He paused in mid-sip. "I'm guessing you haven't met Megan yet."

  "I... uhm... I'm not sure.. but all of them seem to be doing well.."

             "Good.. good. It's becoming difficult to keep track of them all. I'm almost losing my godlike status around here 'cause I keep slipping."

  "Godlike?"

             Tim smiled slyly. Perhaps the last bit was an exaggeration, but he was testing their new tender, making sure that the man wasn't under cover. So far Max had been.. typical. "I'm not a god, of course.. just some people think I'm close enough to being one..." he paused, seeing the uncertainty in the man's eyes. "They never told you about me either, did they?" 

             He never got a direct reply. In fact he had suddenly lost all interest in the bartender. A woman had quietly slipped into the bar, looking around with a lost look, one that instantly preyed on Timothy's

predatory nature. He tipped his cowboy hat. "Howdy, Ma'am," he grinned. This surely must have confused the woman as he definitely didn't look like any sort of cowboy as the hat was the only traditional garb of western wear he wore.

              The woman smiled nervously at him and nodded slightly. "Hello, sir."

             "Sir? SIR?" His whole dialect suddenly shifted. "No, Milady, I am not a knight, nor am I titled.... well okay I may have a small title, but it means nothing..." As he spoke, he quickly shortened the distance

between them, finding that she was easily his height, looking him straight on, but his overwhelming behavior made him seem bigger.

             She chuckled nervously. "It's a title given in respect. I'm sorry if I offended you."

             "Oh no offense taken at all, Milady. I just wanted to clear the air. No false pretenses here." All the while he managed to worm one arm around her, resting it on the bar as an excuse for support.

            She noticeably stiffened, uncomfortable with a stranger standing that close to her, but she did manage to speak without fear. "And while we are clearing the air, I should tell you that I am probably no more a lady than you are a knight."

             "Nonsense," he crooned, warming to his spiel. "Any female that is as pretty as you are to be a gentle creature and a lady in any right."

             That was the winning line, one he would have to remember. "You flatter me, sir," she smiled. "Might I have the name of the one who so generously distributes praise?"

  "Timothy, and yours?"

  "Myranda. I am please to meet you, Timothy."

  "And I am very please," he purred back.

               She cleared her throat nervously, not liking the unnerving confidence in the man's reply. "Is there something I can do for you?"

              He stared at her a moment, then shook his head violently, as if chasing away a very bad thought. "No.. just.. just come join me for a drink. My treat, of course."

               A young man had drifted into the bar, looking about for someone. "Has anyone seen the vamps?" he asked.

              Tim tossed his head, gesturing to the ceiling. "On the roof, mostly," he replied. "and they're getting kind of noisy up there."

              Indeed the 'path had been keeping close tabs on Danielle since she retreated upstairs. He'd already picked Odin's scent on the wind and knew that they were a couple once more. A better deal for Danielle, he had to muse. It had been quiet for a bit. Tim was only able to glean quiet conversation from them, along with a sense of happiness. It was only a few minutes ago that he had heard another set of feet land on the edge of the roof, then land on the ground just outside the tavern. Whomever owned those feet didn't venture inside the bar, which Tim was thankful for. He wasn't sure if he was physically able to squabble since his last outing, but he needn't have worried. The undeniable accent of Renea's hung thick in the night and the duo were currently sparring outside, just out of normal eye's reach. Both were injured as he could hear heavy footfalls and several grunts and strains. Normally he would have gone out, but, well.. he was the Rex after all. Totally unreliable? Isn't that what Megan had accused him of being, among more basal things?

             Best not to disappoint them then.

             He kept his attentions on Myranda, even as the young man rushed out to join the growing melee. Nope, they didn't need him joining the fray. Not enough room on the roof for one. Besides Max now rushed out to add his skill to the growing blood splatterfest.  "What's your poison?" he asked his new "victim" as he made his way to the bar.

             "Red wine would be nice for now." She barely spoke above a whisper. 

            He brought their drinks, in which he paid for in Del Marian coin. Frankly the money itself was worthless, but gold tendered as gold was honored, even if the place it came from wasn't. The thought only added to his smile as he settled in the seat next to Myranda. "So, what brings you around these parts?" he grinned, holding his glass up to the light before imbibing.   

             She shrugged slightly. "Just wandering. I was tired of staying at home so I thought I'd see what was out there."  Was that gasoline she smelled coming from his cup?  If it was, it didn't hinder the man in any way, as if it were as sweet as the wine she sipped at. She didn't trust this fellow, but then again she didn't trust any strangers. But somehow he seemed to just exude confidence and honesty, even with that haphazard smile. It was like he was trying to be scum, but deep inside he wasn't.

  "So how you like Rydin then?"

  "Actually I'm not very familiar with this place."

               How could that grin get any wider? "You must be lost already then. Perhaps you need a guide to how you around the city?"

             Even Myranda could hear the grunts and thunks and clash of metal outside.  How could he just sit here and ignore the battle outside? It seemed he was purposely ignoring to carnage outside as if making it point. "I think I can find my way around thank you," she replied with a smile that was almost as fake as Tim's.

              "Are you sure?" It seemed he couldn't get any closer without touching her, yet he managed that trick very well. "I mean walking around her unguarded is just asking for trouble. There are wicked things like vampires and demons and mutants all around the place. You would be an easy snack for most, I would think."

              "You would be surprised, but no. thank you for the offer, though."  She wouldn't admit it, but she believed she would trust the vampires and mutants and demons than this stranger. 

             Still, to his credit, he continued to try to sway her, but unbeknownst to her, he did this without using his telepathic powers. To the Rex, it would make the victory sweeter if he didn't have to cheat. "But I tell you it's dangerous out there. Can't you hear that fight outside?" One couldn't BUT notice the flipping, contorting and flying of bodies into various things. "This can be a vicious place," he added with

conviction. "I couldn't sleep soundly knowing an innocent like you was roaming those wilds unescorted and unprotected. Please. You must be careful.  There are all kinds of villains out there in the world."

             She almost giggled. This Timothy was quite animated and adamant that she finally had to relent. Besides he was becoming way over melodramatic, even managing to muster up tears of sadness in his mockingly bright blue eyes. He even had grabbed both her hands in his acting stint. They were remarkably warm, and strong, though he applied no pressure nor seemed to want to hinder her movement, should she have chosen to yank her hands out of his grip. "Very well. Even though I assure you that I am not defenseless, I would be honored to accept an escort."

 Now he smiled at his ill-gotten victory. "Thank you, Milady. You have made a wise choice."

               But even as Tim wallowed in his victory a shadow stretched across the table from the corner. The creature that emerged was taller than Tim by at least two feet and seemed to be compiled of both metal and flesh. A red glowing disk set in one of his eyesockets seemed to pulse with a strange energy. This man- and loosely termed as a man, took off his same style tan cowboy hat and thwapped Timothy upside his head with it. "Knock that off. It's embarrassing."

              Apparently Timothy did know this creature as he winced, then turned around. "Oh. It's you. I thought you were tailing her."

              "I was, but it seems she gave me the slip, again."   Tim looked between his "victim" and his "attacker" "I suppose introductions are due. Myranda, this is Brimstone, my.... uhm.. associate. BS, this is Myranda. She's new here."

              Again the woman shifted nervously in her seat as this piecemealed metal man turned to look her over. "Please to meet you, Brimstone."

             The cyborg replied by tipping his dusty hat, revealing an unruly mop of brown hair. "Ma'am. Is this creep bothering you?"

               She hesitated, not sure which of the two evils she should side with. "Not... entirely."

              The smile Tim beamed announced that he had won the war.   The 'borg just rolled his good eye skyward, then pulled up a chair from one of the tables, sitting down with them. Since the chair was much

lower than the barstools, they all were now about equal height. "So did you catch that big ol' brawl outside? At least one of the girls is tangling it up big time. Blood everywhere.."

              Tim was busy trying to give BS some sort of sign, as if he didn't want to dwell on that thought just yet. As a distraction, he turned to Myranda.  "How long do you plan to stay here?"

              She watched as the monstrous metal man scooted over to get a better view through the window of the melee outside before turning back towards Tim. "I haven't decided yet. A night or two, perhaps." Actually she was thinking of slipping out that night if she could convince him she would be staying longer and distract him long enough to escape.

              The steel-enhanced man's arm started beeping. He moved, tapping his left forearm, where a piece popped up as if on a spring. "She's movin' again," he announced, then stood up, donning his hat once more, pausing to tip it once more to the Myranda. "Take care, Ma'am."

             The Rex also stood, watching as his newly found companion took that second to slip away from him and out the front door, somehow bypassing the battle royal outside. "Ah me, to have loved and lost so quickly," he smiled, then followed Brimstone out the door, both men easily slipping by the bloodbath to attend to their business.

            Nine had darted into the Tavern, hoping to lose the two men tailing her. What she stumbled into probably was the strangest scene yet. Weston, the 'dead guy' seemed far from dead as he was passionately intertwined with a sultry dark elf. "Whoops, wrong door," and the mutant darted back out into the crowd. It really wasn't the kiss that bothered her, though it was very odd to see. It was more the fact that she didn't Want to know. Something that bizarre had to be frowned upon by someone somewhere and Nine didn't need to be called forward as a witness. She liked the wraith, and frankly, he looked happy.

She, however, wasn't happy. In fact she frowned as she ducked, just avoiding Claw's searching gaze. When she had hired the reptilian duo, she hadn't expected them to take the task That seriously, especially since they weren't being paid for the job. She figured the would have grown tired trying to tail her around town; but she should have known about reptilian tenacity. Finding no other recourse, she clamped her hand over her eyes and scurried back inside the pirate's bar. "I'm sorry," she apologized as she felt her way along the wall, then the counter, taking refuge behind the solid furniture, ducking down among the new cases of stock needing to be put up. "I see nothing. I know nothing. I don't wanna even know a thing...."

            From the drow woman, she got a chuckle as the woman didn't understand the mutant's position on things. What she also got was Amae walking into the darkened bar, hearing the girl's mutterings. "Nine?" she called out.

            "Yes," she replied, still hiding behind the bar with hand still over her eyes.

            Amae followed the voice, peering down at the petite woman from over the counter. "What's wrong with your eyes?" she asked.

            Nine just pointed to the corner. Amae turned to stare at the strange duo, even getting a wave from the drow now sitting on the wraith's lap, her arms still around Weston. "Oh.. I see." Again she leaned over the counter. "Uhm... Nine.. I understand what you must have seen, but it's okay now. They're just hugging."

            "Are you sure?" The girl had already lifted her hand partly, peeking out with one eye. It didn't matter as there was no way she could see them from her position on the floor behind the bar. "I mean I don't wanna have to admit to something under oath and get somebody in trouble around here." She did pull herself up some to glance over at the couple. The dark elf, a drow Nine had heard the species called in unkind discussions, smiled back at her. She would guess that Weston was smiling, though it was hard to tell since most of that slick black hair covered his face. That and he still didn't look all that animated.

            Amae didn't seem upset by the pairing either, a point that did help the hyper mutant relax a bit. She now turned to her Captain. "You didn't see two dragons out in the street, did you? Gold ones? Possibly in human form?" Not that Nine expected Amae to know a dragon in disguise as they had easily fooled the mutant and her heightened senses, but there was no telling.

            The girl just shook her head, wondering what trouble her new recruit had gotten herself into this time, especially with dragons. Fearing she would never get a straight answer from Nine, she turned to Weston. "I'm relieved that you've finally opened up to someone for a change."

            "I dunno," the drow woman Fae grinned back. I think the rest of the crew might still freak."

            "That is entirely possible," Weston agreed, his head giving a sluggish nod on his barely animated body. "Not to mention Ril."

            Now the drow's demeanor soured. "Yes. I will have to find him soon. Also you are still being whipped at the next meeting.

            "Whipped?" Nine stood straight up. It was amazing how quickly she traveled the path from depressed and withdrawn to agitated. "Why? What did he do?"

            "Probably nothing," Amae sighed, trying to make light of the whole affair. "Lots of people are getting whipped. No big deal."

            "He protected me." Fae confessed. "He is being whipped for something I would have done if I could have gotten there fast enough."

            "I attempted to kill Felix, the cook."

            That made Nine sit back a bit. "Well.. taking out the one person that feeds you... yeah.. I can see that can be a bad thing...."

            Fae's ears were twitching, downright pissed about the whole thing. "He poisoned me."

            Nine turned to see what Amae's take was on the whole scenario. The girl was waving her hands. "I stepped back weeks “Go, and I'm the captain! I'd pardon all the crummy sailors up for a whipping if I didn't fear being called a softy."

            The smaller girl just shook her head slowly. "I'd never make a good Captain. I'd end up killing off the whole crew and sinking the boat, just for spite. I don't know how you manage it."

            "I don't," Amae smiled. "Lana and Zigg do the disciplining. I just stand and model."

            As Nine drifted to the keg for her first drink of the night, Ataru drifted in, looking like he'd been torn to shreds. At least his shirt was torn to shreds. "They're at it again! That's three spars for Crow and Sonya tonight." He likewise headed to the bar. grabbing a bottle of tea, biting off the cork.

            Amae saw this a fit time to introduce the two. "Ataru, have you met Nine?"

            It was always shaky, these introductions. Nine didn't quite know what to do. For most of her life, she was never "introduced" to anything. You were sent someplace. You showed your referral papers to whomever was in charge and you went to work. Simple. This topless, well- muscled man that had seen quite a few battles was an unknown to her. What he did then took the edge off. "I've seen her, yes. Met, no." He extended his hand out in a clean and crisp manner. "Name's Ataru."

            It was this clean decisive, no-nonsense manner that assured the mutant more tan anything. "Nine," she grunted back, grabbing the outstretched hand with confidence and giving it a firm shake. No frivolities. No difficult gestures to master. Perhaps he would wonder why she was still wrapped in the thick cape. all the other womenfolk in the tavern were baring quite a bit of flesh, even the intrepid Captain, but Nine was not as open. Perhaps Ataru saw the flash of muted silver from Nine's dress when she extended her hand, but not much more than that did the mutant offer.

            Amae had been in a blissful mood, and finally told Nine why. "I forgot! You missed my wedding! I got married earlier tonight!"

            "Wedding?" the shorter woman slowly looked her new commander over, perhaps a bit flustered. "Why are you here? Don't you have some... celebrating to do?"

            That brought a brighter blush and a bubble of giggles from Amae. "We celebrated earlier tonight... if you know what I mean. My husband Amidamaru is at home recuperating."

            Ataru chuckled. "From the sounds of it, you nearly killed him."

            "He DID make it back, didn't he?" Fae further teased.

            As the crew further tried to embarrass poor Amae, Nine took advantage of the situation to duck away from them, drifting momentarily to the window to peer outside, making sure that her escorts hadn't figured out where she was hiding. That type of take the crew were currently engaged was not for her. She would never have a husband, nor any sort of caring relationship. There were no more like her, not counting that insane alternate universe pack that creeped her out more than inspired her. No human would have her. Probably no non-human either.

            "You believe me, right Nine? I didn't kill my husband." Amae was foundering in her arguments and looking for a sympathetic ear.

            "Well, it would be stupid to kill him off the bat, unless he was worth a lot of money from the start."

            Ataru had to chuckled again, this time at Nine's insights. "Not one for the whole 'love and marriage' thing, are you?"

            "No." she replied, a pensive mood slipping down around her, isolating her from the merriment. "I don't have that option."

            Sonya and Crow barged into the tavern, nearly arm in arm, battered and bruised beyond belief. It was apparent that the spars they had endured had no instant healing spell to correct the damages, something that Sonya had insisted on. thankfully it was no weapons also or both combatants could have come up missing limbs. The bar milled about some as Weston took leave of his new love. Amae helped bandaged Sonya's injuries, stemming the blood flowing from a multitude of wounds Sebastian refused any sort of doctoring. One Amae was done playing nurse, she took up a stool next to Nine as the girl refilled her drink and settled down to listen in on the crew. "I haven't seen you around for a while, and you haven't been doing much with the crew. Anything wrong?"

            "Well." Nine turned to look the woman over, as if trying to judge something about her. "I've got a few... family problems. Nothing for you all to worry about." It was the best way she could phrase things without bringing out too many questions. It didn't work.

            "Hey." The Captain rested a hand lightly on the girl's arm, feeling the muscles twitch underneath. It was strange, but under her fingers it seemed the whole limb was different, as if everything was hooked up wrong but still worked under the girl's skin. Was this what being a mutant was? "Just to let you know, your problems are our problems. You're a part of our family now. We'll do whatever we can to help you."

            "I... I don't think you all can help me much." She snorted and dropped her head as that very problem overwhelmed her once again. "Heck I can't do a damn thing about it, actually. Just prepare for the worst."

            Now Amae brought her hand to rest on the girl's shoulder, finding once again a contour and shape that wasn't... normal. She ignored this, seeing the very real human emotion's on Nine's face. It was a deep struggle. "There's never a time in our lives as pirates when we can do nothing. We can damn well do something. We can hide you. Smuggled you away. Do whatever is necessary to keep you safe."

            If Amae was trying to cheer Nine up, it seemed to have a reverse effect. The girl slumped even further in her chair. "There's no hiding from him. He'll hear me... and he'll come get me.."

            "Who?"

            Crow seemed to always pick the worst times. Still bloodied and halfway broken, he yelled out, "Anyone for a spar?"

            She looked up at the man, giving him such a sour look it should have curled the man's beard. She had tried to hold back the emotion, but it had bubbled up and out before she could stop it. Groaning, knowing she'd just stepped into it again, she ducked her head back in towards Amae, feeling just a bit more comfortable talking about her problems with the girl than dealing with Crow. "Rooslan," she confessed. "My old commander."

            "We can hide you from him and his men," she insisted. "Just give us their names and they'll never bother you again."

            Nine looked up at the girl. These people had no idea! And it riled her up, almost as much as any challenge from Crow. "Not when He's done doing what he's doing! He's gonna be a friggin' super-duper telepath. He'll just seep into my brain and Make me crawl back to him!"

            Crow had caught Nine's glare and sat back a moment before re-issuing his challenge for a spar. Sonya answered by slapping a slice of beef to the man's face. "chill out and just hold this thee," she insisted before drifting over to Ataru, bullying the man around to tend to her needs.

            But the big man wouldn't have any of it. "What are you glaring at me for!?" he snarled aloud. "WELL?"

            "It's obvious," Sonya insisted, once again slapping the dead flesh against the man's eye. "She thinks it's a stupid idea. Not keep this on your face or it's gonna be bigger than your ego."

            If there was a chance to break up the tension between the duo, it was as Claw entered the bar. Nine growled. "There's one of my bodyguards," she groaned.

            Amae moved to stop the man approaching, but didn't see the white robed fellow to be anything like the threat the girl had made him out to be.

            As Amae moved away, Crow roared out again. "Nine!" he commanded. "Answer me!"

            She inhaled, drawing herself up and around. “I said I don’t wanna spar! Are you deaf? Did Sonya knock your ears clean off?”

            “The question is; are You deaf?” he snapped back. Both of them looked like roosters squaring off before a cockfight. “I asked what you were glaring for. Now answer the question!”

            Sonya rolled her eyes skyward. Ataru mimicked the big man’s voice mockingly before slipping out of the tavern. Claw seemed outright entertained as he watched the scene unfold. Only Amae tried to diffuse the situation. “Sebastian. Please. Do not cause a scene.”

            But Nine had the figurative bit in her mouth. Even as she stood on her chair to be eye level with the larger man. “Well if I was looking at You, then the answer’s friggin obvious. You irritate the living piss outta me!” With that she turned and slammed her full weight behind her fist, smashing her knuckles into the table. Tears welled up as the frustration overwhelmed her and she leapt off her chair and bolted from the bar and out into the street.

            Amae looked at the table, seeing that Nine’s fist had dug into the oaken boards, causing an imprint at least two inches deep. Sighing she rushed out after the girl while Crow gestured to the crowd, clearly just as frustrated with the mutant girl. He found no sympathy as Sonya withdrew her assistance with his swelling eye, throwing the slab of heavy meat at his face. “Stubborn ass, “ she grumped.

            Amae tried consoling Nine as the girl had taken only a few steps into the road before dropping and landing roughly on her butt as she wallowed into a crying fit, sobbing so bad she was barely able to breath. “Don’t mind Sebastian,” she crooned, even as the girl tensed at her touch. “He’s always been Sensitive about people looking strangely at him.”

            “It’s not my fault!” Nine managed to spit out between gasps.

            “Of course it isn’t,” the Captain agreed. “He doesn’t mean what he says....”

            “I don’t mean that Knothead in there. I mean all of this! Me! I just wanna go home, but if I do, he’ll have me carved up!”

            Claw slipped out onto the veranda, keeping just within earshot of the conversation. He watched as Ataru appeared at the duo’s side. “Did Crow shoot off his mouth again?”

            But the leader of the pack finally began to see what really was on Nine’s troubled mind. She patted the girl’s head, trying to calm her down. “I see now. Perhaps one day you can go home, when they stop wanting to exploit your abilities.” Amae was still a bit foggy as to What Nine’s abilities were,

but she felt the premise was still sound.

            But Nine was shaking her head violently. “Don’t you all see? If I manage to escape, Rooslan will take it out on you! You’ve all just become targets because of me. I didn’t mean....” and she broke down again, slipping further into a sloppy sobbing depression.

            Crow elbowed his way into the conversation. “Alright, let me an Nine talk alone.”

            “Why,” Amae snorted back. “She’s not upset with you....”

            “I said... let us speak alone.”

            The Captain stood slowly, dusting off the road dirt. She didn’t look directly at the burly man, but her warning was clear. “If you make her leave, I’ll whip you myself.”

            He waited for the throng to go back inside, noting that the white robed mage chose to continue his vigil on the porch. He inhaled. “Nine. Come here.”

            She stood slowly, obviously at odds with his commanding tone. “What?” she replied, in kind.

            Sebastian’s tone was notably quieter as he wanted an answer, not hysterics, which he was sure to get if he pressed her. “What is your problem? I asked for a spar and you glare at me like a freak.”

            Perhaps it was because he was a tad calmer that she was able to express herself, even though she paced nervously and gestured wildly. “Because that seems to be your overall solution to everything. Fight. Fight, fight, fight, fight. Well some of us don’t wanna fight. We just wanna go back to the way things were; when we were casually ignored in mixed company. Why can’t we do that?”

            Crow gathered that the “we” she was referring to was her kind, not the issues between him and her. “Fighting is not my solution for everything. I don’t like to fight. Sparring is not fighting, it is just for fun and practice.” He paused, trying to judge her mood, finding it very difficult as she seemed to stew in a multitude of emotions. “I think you and I meed to wipe the slate clean. Especially you. You hold grudges like no one I’ve ever seen.” Now he turned and made his way back to the doors. “The choice is yours, ‘cause I don’t really care if we’re friends or not.”

            She charged, storming right up to the taller man as if to punch him in the back or slug him in the head; but she pulled up at the last second, shaking as if she almost couldn’t stop herself. “You have No idea, do you?” she hissed. “Not even a glimmer as to what I am!” If Crow had turned to answer, she may well have struck him then, but he ignored her.

            Crow for the most part got the third degree the second he stepped back into the bar. Sonya had ribbed him, asking the large man to donate some blood as she was too weak to hunt. He brushed her off. Amae was on him immediately after. “You didn’t upset her, did you?”

            “She was already upset,” he replied darkly.

            “Did you ease it or amplify it?”

            That he wasn’t sure of. “I’ve been trying fer a while to get her to stop holding a grudge against me,” he confessed before growing sour again. “It’s up to her now. I don’t care anymore.”

            But the Captain seemed to know better. “You say you don’t care, but you know as well as I that you do care very much on how others see you.”

            “No I don’t” But he saw that Amae doubted him. “Don’t believe me? Fine.” He drew the flintlock from his belt and shot the leg out from under the wine rack, sending a multitude of bottles crashing to the floor.

            Amae shook her head at the mess. “Why are you angry?”

            “I’m not angry,” he insisted. “I just don’t care. You thing I’m paying for those drinks? I’m not! You know why? Because I don’t care.”

            After Crow had disappeared back into the bar, Claw picked up the challenge as she was right next to him. “Let it go, Nine.”

            She turned, focusing her ill-kept rage at her hired help. “And you, you overgrown long-toothed reptile. You think you can make Rooslan back down?” 

            “Maybe. I won’t know until I try.”

            She tossed up her hands just as Ataru resting his on her shoulder. She jerked sideways as he’d punched her, rubbing the spot where he had lightly touched her. Ataru didn’t think ill of her reaction, figuring she was still a bit uptight. “Crow is a bit of an asshole.”

            “That bully? I knew that. He just bugs.”

            She now leveled that intense gaze at the man, becoming more interested as Sonya walked up behind him, draping herself over the man’s bare shoulders. “I wanna feed,” she insisted.

            Ataru obliged, sticking his arm out and letting her bite deep into his veins. If nothing, the strange ritual pulled Nine out of her doldrums, filling her with curiosity. “You’re her thrall?”

            He shrugged his unhindered shoulder. “From time to time.”

            “Then you’re human?”

            “Demi.”

            As the vampire drank his blood, he seemed to slip into a painful state of unconsciousness, Ataru’s eyes glossing over in a sort of twisted extacy. Seeing him unable to answer, she turned towards Claw. “Demi-human? What’s the other half?”

            “Dunno,” Claw replied.

            Nine skirted around the duo, not wanting to break up this frozen statuary of painful bliss they both seemed intertwined in. Now that she had vented, ridding herself of the almost daily roller coaster ride of manic depression, she was entering the final stage, one of quiet numbness in both mind and spirit. She made her way down the street as basic survival instincts kicked in with her mind disengaged. The instincts wanted shelter and safety. The body took her ‘home’ to her cardboard box in the alleyway. Claw kept a good arm’s-length away, stopping only when Nine crouched down and crawled into her den. “G’night, Claw,” she called out blandly before settling down to sleep.

Nine was walking along the wharf, trying once again to find the pirate ship. She swore quietly to herself as she was beginning to think that the crew was toying with her sensibilities. If they only understood the current pressures she had. Rooslan would sure come looking for her once his powers were back up to snuff, and she didn't want any of her new crew members dismembered by her old commander. But neither did she want to return to her home world encased in dry ice and carved up for DNA soup. Perhaps Weston understood her situation best, but learning hand to hand combat would do no good against a man whom could telepathically freeze your bones stiff, or telekinetically lift you off the floor then slam you face first back into it. She pouted. It would be better if she Didn't find them. All her presence did was endanger them.

A sudden wave of energy wafted right through her, causing her to pull up sharply, catching her breath as she thought it was Rooslan coming to claim his prize. What ended up drifting through the fog was the body of a large Spanish galleon. Not the pirate ship, she noted, as this rigg was in a sorry state, covered in barnacles along the bottom of the hull and sadly in need of a paint job. Yet the rig had a presence about it. Nine rested her hand up against the bow and she could have sworn it shuddered at her touch. Curiosity took over. She slowly walked the length of the ship and found the gangplank still down. Carefully she stepped up on the wooden planks, calling out in the thin fog. "Ahoy!!"

No answer.

Soon she was onboard the broad decks, notably ill kempt as mold and seaweed were sprouting and growing from various cracks and crevasses. Other than the invasive flora, there seemed to be nobody else onboard, yet there was still this little tingle in the back of Nine's brain. She made her way to the boathouse, the massive wheel lashed into place undisturbed for some time as mildew had sprouted up, eating away at the white and red paint that had once decorated the steering mechanism. The galley was also empty. Cabinets and storage spaces where stocked well with goods, but much of the food was spoiled and rotten. The living quarters were also abandoned. There had been a scuffle at one time as one of the doors hand been torn... no.. kicked from its moorings, a clean small footprint still evident, imprinted in the face of the door where it lay several feet further down the passageway. Silk and satin clothing that hung in the closets were also water-damaged. Whoever had owned this boat must have been planning on a trip, but something had gone wrong.

And there was still that overwhelming sense that something was still on board.

            She checked every cubby hole, but found nothing alive, not even rats which would have found all this abandoned food quite a paradise, even in its less than perfect state. Yet even as she found rooms empty, she had this eerie feeling that someone or something was watching her very intently.

            She found her answer near the bottom of the boat. Almost in the center of the frigate's belly she found a small room locked up with a heavy metal door and rounded locking wheel. Definitely very out of place on the old oak galleon. She turned the wheel, feeling the bearings hold briefly as if someone on the other side of the door were holding the locking mechanisms in place, but it gave and swung open, showing Nine the treasure it held inside.

            And indeed it was a treasure. Nine had heard in passing of something called an Eitheir ship, a vessel that had metamorphic capabilities. The control panels and electronic monitors, coupled with the long bench like padded chair and accompanying cranial electrode cap told her volumes. This was what Randall and her had been driving at in their experiments, a vessel that responded to mental thought and ran on biologic electrical impulses. She ran her hands over the instruments, recognizing many of the components that Militants had installed on their ships. Okay, it may not be the exact style, and after looking over the language boards, there may be some loose translating needed, but if this ship was anything like what she'd heard in rumor, she had just found her way home!

            Then came that voice, the nagging one deep inside her that sometimes doubled as a conscious, sometimes as an antagonist. What it brought up was a valid point. "What about your friends?" this alter-ego of Nine asked. "You can't just take this ship and run."

            "Of course not," she argued with herself, speaking out loud. Not like anyone other than the ship would hear her, and it wasn't up to the quarreling stage. "All I have to do is round up Randall and jump this mudhole..."

            "And what about your pirate friends?"

            That brought the mutant up short. Of course. If she were to leave, or if Rooslan even suspected that she had the means To leave, he would either hold them hostage or torture them before killing them, or at least attempting to kill them. She had a feeling that between the vampires and werewolves and wraiths that populated the Dark Dream that Rooslan would have a handful... unless he was able to hype up his abilities using mutant blood. Especially Tristan's, being he was both ‘pathic and 'kinetic. No... the crew wouldn't have much of a chance. They may get a shot or two in, but not more before he clamped down on them.

            What had been a delightful find just became her albatross. Her mind churned and an alternate plan slowly and reluctantly formed in her brain. She knew what she had to do....

            She had scuttled into one of the less visited taverns, noticing the place was abandoned as all the liquor gone, along with the folks; and a "for rent" sign hanging askew in the window. She had been looking for Randall all day and was dead tired from the effort. Already her mind was running. What if the commander had already sunk his claws into Randall and was using him as bait for her? What if Randall had found a way off the planet and left her? What if....

            A loud rumbled droned outside, and then the tall blond image of the scientist ambled into the dark room, blinking as he tried to adjust to the change of light. 'RANDALL!" Nine squealed in delight, rushing over and enveloping the tall man in a painful bear hug.

            "I thought I saw you in here," he gasped, trying to wriggled free. "I've been trying to catch up for blocks."

            "C'mere," she grunted, releasing his ribs, only to wrap her hand around two of his fingers and jerk him right out of the bar, running down the road towards the wharf with him unwillingly in tow.

            "But my ride!" he complained, trying to stop her by dragging his feet.

            "Later!" she shouted back, almost giggling at his efforts to slow her down. She wove through the crowds, almost wrapping Randall around a post, a horse and a carriage. As they hit the far end of the dock, a strange fog rolled in; odd as it was early afternoon and a happy breeze kicked up the dust. It should had easily dissipated the condensation, but it lingered. Suddenly she stopped short, right in front of the prow of the great Spanish galleon lying fallow in the water. She smiled and slapped her hand against the wood grain. "This can get us home," she announced.

            The fog seemed to part a little and the massive shape of Marek stepped forward. "Leaving so soon?" he asked.

            She looked between the two men. Well, it wasn't like a big secret of a plan, at least not this part. "It's an Eitheir ship. It's a ship built to obey mental commands. A spaceship. Doc, this is what we've been working towards the whole time! A ship that can fly under biological command! Okay, this one's a bit abused, but it can get you... I mean us off this rock..

            "Really?" The scientist was scratching his head, looking the vessel over. He didn't seem very convinced. He turned to look the bigger man over, recalling having seen him several times at the Red Dragon Inn, but didn't know he was a friend of Nine's until now.

            As it was Marek slowly looked up the side of the ship. It didn't seem That big compared to the hulk of a man. "You make it sound as if traveling is a very difficult task."

            Nine now turned to her elected guardian. "It's not the distance, it's the time and place problem. This thing can bypass Both those handicaps." Again she thunked her hand on the wooden prow. It sounded damp and waterlogged.

            Marek smiled down at her through the fog. "Ah, the limitations of not having magic on your side."

            Randall was thumbing his chin, deep in scientific thought. "The question is how do we locate the dimensional coordinates of our home?"

            "No," Nine corrected. "The question is what do we do about Rooslan?"

            "Ditch him?" Marek suggested.

            "I can't leave him here. He'll take it out on everyone here that I might even think of as a ... friend.." Why did she feel like she was choking on the word every time she said it? Did she Really have any friends? Of that, she was cloudy at best.

            Randall had a more compassionate idea. "If we could somehow subdue him we could take him home too."

            Marek was trying to wave the fog down as it seemed to be swirling about even thicker, obscuring each other. A few magic words and it dissipated... some.. as if something were fighting the magic. Frowning a bit, he dwelled on the concept of coordinates. He pulled out a crystal ball and wiggled his fingers over the globe, drawing up the image of what he knew to be DXB. "Nine," he whispered, trying not to break the spell. "Is this it?"

            Nine squinted. "Dunno, that don't quite look right.." and she stepped forward.

Arcs and sparks started leaping from the globe to her and back, sending a sharp tingling sensation up Marek's arm. The image in the globe wavered, them popped and went dark as if a lightbulb had burnt out. Nine gave him a wry smile. "Now you know why we don't rely on magic all that much. especially around DXB.” She turned back to Randall. "Besides, I think the ship can deduce the coordinates from me. Once I get inside the heart of this thing, we'll merge."

            "Will you still be able to separate yourself from the system when you are done?"

            That had been a pivotal point in their construction of their machine. The "engine" had to be able to disengage himself or herself from the vessel if need be, to mingle in reality and realign him or herself again to life. To be trapped in a machine unable to escape would be suicidal, especially for a combat ship. No, Nine and her kind was just a bit too rare to waste needlessly. Besides there was the other nasty truth. "Doc, I'm.... I'm not sure I can go, not with Him roaming around out there half mad and way too dangerous. We gotta take him out first.... unless you go in the ship . You can bring back reinforcements and rescue me, if I'm still alive."

            Nine was heartened and disappointed with Randall's reply. "No. We gotta take care of him before we leave. I won't risk him getting the upper hand if I leave. If he becomes as powerful as Brimstone fears, you won't be able to hide for long."

            She put forward her best false front. "Oh, don't worry about me. The pirates say that can hide me for years. Besides, I got this dragon watching over my hide." She gave Marek a playful poke in the kidney, this time not trying to puncture the organ. Besides, he was so thick with muscle she doubted she Could do him any major damage. "I.. I just wanna make sure You're safe. You ARE the brains of this team."

            "I am?" Then the scientist got a hold of himself. "We I do have an idea on how to possible stop, or at least partially subdue the Skipper."

            "Poison?" Marek suggested helpfully. "Delphin root sedatives? Or is that Crofst root?"

            "It's that doohickey you've been working on," Nine guessed.

            "Yeah. I managed to modify a med scan to read his psi frequency at long distances. The only problem is I need a clean line of sight to use it."

            The mutant girl tossed up her arms. "Fat luck. You see how crowded this place is?"

            "Technology," the bigger man grumphed.

            Nine turned on the guardsman. "Dude! Doc is human! He can't read minds! Heck I can't read minds either. I'm just lucky to sense him coming. Besides, you see how your little magic tricks wibble around me. Imagine that up against a hyped up super version of me!"

            Randall barged back in, mainly to diffuse the argument before it became physical. "I think I can use that reading to program a variable frequency wave generator. We can use it to generate a counter force wave to cancel out his psi energy.”

            Marek grunted. "My niece should have let him die." He slowly made is way along the length of the boat, giving it the once over, all the while feeling the boat staring back.

            The mutant girl snorted then spun around, grabbing Randall's upper arm. "You promise me. If that bastard gets me, you take off in that ship. You do not try o take him down by yourself. If he kills me, you beat feet. You hear me?"

            "But I don't plan on that happening...."

            "Promise me, you jerk!"  

            She was on the verge of tears again. Randall didn't know what to think, if she was angry, or sad. Probably afraid, but as with every mutant he'd ever encountered, they didn't show fear. Not readily. "I will," he finally promised, if just to calm her down. "But only as a last resort. I don't plan on letting him take you out."

            She slowly relaxed, then released his sleeve. He could see that she was still upset, but she was already putting on her 'game face', that one of bullheaded determination. "Well I guess if you need to get a bead on him, we need to lure him out." She looked down the wharf as the fog rolled back a bit, hoping to pick out her nemesis in the crowds. A futile effort at best.

            "Maybe we could recruit someone else to be the bait."

            "Like who? We all know who he wants."

            "How about that Tim guy?"

            She gave a violent shudder. "That guy gives me the creeps... but if he IS a psi, and Rooslan Did use him for a template to begin with. I suppose we'll have to be nice to him this once." She sure didn't seem happy about this prospect.

            "I don't like it, but he has the tools to do the job."

            She grumbled reluctantly. "Fine, I guess we need to find the creep... I mean our new.. associate."

            That nervous ninny of a girl poked her head in the tavern, wondering what the big hubub was all about. There were a lot of pirates and even some other seafaring folk milling about. Crow already had one of the hefty flintlocks leveled at some poor fool's head. Sonya was drinking heavily at the bar, fuming. Lana seemed to be just gathering herself as if recovering from some sort of fright. Even as Nine peered about, somebody tapped her on the shoulder. "What's going on there?" Ataru asked.

            He nearly got a fist in the face as Nine whipped about. "Jesuit Criste! Don't DO that!"

            "Sorry," he shrugged. He'd momentarily forgotten how wired the woman was.

            Nine quickly forgave him and turned back to peek inside again, seeing that the huge man Fallon and reached into the fray and grabbed Crow's opponent by his sword arm as the man sidestepped the gun and advanced with his cutlass. Crow followed suit by re-aiming and shooting the man in the head. It smarted, as Nine knew firsthand, but not as lethally deadly as believed. "Crow's at it again," she relayed to Ataru. "Looks like everyone is in a bad mood. I'm wondering if I need a beer that badly."

            Her answer came from Crow as he spotted her from across the room. "Somebody explain to that bitch Nine why I'm fighting!" he roared out.

            That made the mutant need that drink. She followed Ataru inside and took a seat next to the man. As they settled down, one of the pirates she hadn't been introduced to yet tried to get an order. "I need another rum so be so kind and jump to it, please."

            Sonya gave him an evil eye instead. "Get yer own run, Alex, then kiss my ass!" She then jumped off the counter where she sat and abandoned her post.

            "How about Fallon already beat me to it?" he retorted.

            "Because he has two things you don't," she snarled back. "A personality and a penis."

            Nine got up and skirted around Alex, waaaaaaay around Sonya, and headed straight for the tap, pouring herself one, then returning with another and stuffing it in Ataru's hand. "Here."

            The man nodded. Apparently he wasn't a beer drinker, yet he took the offering from her and sipped slowly. They watched silently as the cutlass wielding stranger was shot down and dragged from the floor. The doors blew open and yet another fool; obviously the brother of the first, came roaring in, armed for bear with two flintlocks at the ready. The second kill came at Fallon's hands as the big man leapt in the air, whirling with such speed even Nine's eye had a hard time keeping up with the action. Soon there was another body and lots of blood splatter. "So," Nine commented coldly. "They both lost that spar, right?"

            Apparently she caught the eye of the Alex fellow that Sonya had brushed off so rudely. He made his way over to her, eyes all smiles. "Hello, Miss. Are ye new crew?"

            Ataru answered first. "No, ya daft bastard! She's been on board for some time now!"

            "Shut it!" Alex snapped back. "I didn't ask ye!"

            The look Nine gave the young fellow was cold at best, already having deduced a few things from his mannerisms. "I'm not Quite new, but new enough, I guess. Who are you?"

            The charm was turned back on. "Who am I, Miss? Well I am Ensign Alex Kent, and I assure ye if you keep that cold harsh stare up, I won't buy you a drink like I do all the new crew."

            Now she knew who this guy reminded her of: Timothy. She held up her mug. "Already got a drink."

            Sonya slipped up behind Alex. "All crew get free drinks."

            That charming way fell quickly. "I know that, Sonya. Just shut it," he hissed between his teeth, trying to hold the smile in place. That Timothy did better, Nine decided. This guy was a poser in comparison, but he did nod to her as he saw his trump card had been trumped and his smile wasn't nearly as endearing. "Aye, I see. Well, have fun, New Crew," and he retreated, never even getting her name.

            Nine gave a slight nod herself, a sign of rank recognition, even though she wasn't quite sure what rank Ensign was on the command ladder. Once Alex was out of normal earshot, she turned back to Ataru. "So, who was that guy exactly? I mean, he hit on me, the creep!" She may have been put off by the man's intent, but she also got a funny feeling she'd stepped on some serious toes with her subtle rebuff. At least she thought it was subtle, compared to how she normally dealt with such advances. Even now Alex was being rescued from his doldrums by a sultry dark drowish creature that almost draped herself on him, perking the man's interest intently. On the other end of the bar, yet another skirmish broke out, Fallon bearing his gun down on yet another stranger while Sonya tried to separate the duo. Tensions were up and down.

            Ataru snorted, watching the action as well. “Alex? Pay him no mind. He’s just a skirt chaser around here.”

            The guns had fired and now the men resorted back to bladed weaponry. The man and the mutant just watched as if it were nothing more than a really active play. “I gathered that,” Nine replied. “Just warn him that this ‘skirt’ bites back.”

            “I think that would encourage him more,” he snorted as Nine spun around on her seat.

            Even Ataru could see her flinch at each firing of the flintlocks and at every audible slice. The stranger was quickly dispatched and the bar thinned, calming the mutant more, but not pulling her out of her own doldrums. In fact watching the fighting seemed to depress her as she shook her head and turned back to Ataru. “Actually I was hoping to run into Weston. He said he would show me a few hands-only attacks. Not that it would help me against that animal, but at least I can protect myself.”

            “You mean you came into the bar without a weapon?”

            She shook her head, tapping the hilt somewhat covered by her cape. “But Hybrid here is a bit.... unstable.. And unreliable in close quarters.”

            “I can show you how to snap an opponent’s neck. It’s quick and sudden.” He reached out slowly and spun her around, bringing his arm across her chest and gripping her jaw, holding her shoulder back with the other hand. He felt her tense up, her muscles like rocks, even under the thick cape; but she didn’t fight back. In fact it seemed she was fighting herself Not to tweak out. “Of course I won’t but you can feel how a quick tug here would dislocate the vertebrae,” and he released her. She shook like a dog trying to shake off a flea, then resettled herself.   “So this ‘animal’....?” he asked.

            “.... wants to cut me up into itty bitty pieces and sell me to the highest bidder,” she finished for him. “Not to mention he can go romping around in my brain any time he pleases.”

            “So why not bury a bullet in him?”

            “Because the illustrious bastard just got his hands on some high quality telekinetic DNA. Now he can just mentally grab the bullets and throw them back.” She turned, catching the big man Marek making his way through the bar. “Ah, my bodyguard arrives. Ataru, this is Marek. Marek.. Ataru. Ataru was just showing me a few hand to hand techniques, just in case you’re not around to protect me.” It was plain that she was indeed miffed that Marek hadn’t been around since that morning, leaving her unguarded all day.

            Even now Marek stole sheepish glances at her, unable to meet her stare. “I need to talk to you,” he said, his voice unsteady.

            “Really.” She squinted at him with one eye, then turned back to Ataru for a moment. “Be back in a sec..” and she grabbed Marek’s bicep and dragged him over to a quiet corner. “What?”

            The dragon hiding in the man’s shell rubbed the top of his head, the hair already growing back. He was clearly nervous. “Uhm... Nine.. I.. I can’t work for you anymore.”

            She stared at him, her jaw slightly askew. “It’s the money, isn’t it? I KNEW it!”

            He flushed as Nine’s outburst was loud enough to draw the attention of the bar. “No..it’s not that. Please, don’t raise your voice...”

            Better said than done. “So I guess your high and mighty promises don’t mean squat! And what about Claw? Don’t tell me that overgrown reptile gave up the job too! You all are gonna let Rooslan GET ME!”

            Nine was clear upset about that prospect, but Marek tried to calm her down. “Will you slow down for a minute?” he begged. “I am trying to tell you something and you’re making me more nervous than I already am.”

            “About what? You just Quit! You can’t Possibly be nervous about that! You’re Done!”

            “I didn’t quit,” he corrected.

            She paused in mid-tirade, then turned to face him, still flushed and now confused. “Run that by me again?” But before he could continue, and idea crossed her mind. “It’s the money, isn’t it? Here,” and she flipped back the cape, showing the slinky metallic dress she wore underneath as she fished in the pockets, looking for the coins that seemed to appear almost on a daily basis. “Hell, it’s only My life on the friggin table,” and she flung a handful of pressed coin at him.

            The big man let the money lay where it fell. “No.. It’s not the money. I’m just worried I’m going to mess up.” He reached out and grabbed one of her hands, a soft gesture on his behalf, and catching her off guard as well. “Nine, I am worried that the feelings I have for you will cause a problem.” He blushed badly. “There, I’ve said it.”

            She looked up at him, then down to her captured hand and slowly pulled back. He let her retreat, but was not prepared for how dim-witted Nine could be about social affairs. “So.. You hate mutants after all then.”

            “Gah!” Marek shook his head in a clear negative. “No.. Quite the opposite.”

            Again another one of those factual absorbing awkward silences, followed by that eye squinting once again. “Are you telling me that... you’re sweet... on me?” She seemed to disbelieve that fact on several levels, even as he nodded ever so slightly. Now the confused look seeped in. “And this is gonna be a problem?”

            He nodded again, almost relieved that she could see his way.. Or so he thought. “That’s why I’m leaving,” he sighed and turned to leave.

            Only to have Nine once again blocking his path. “I don’t get it. I would think it would be easier to watch me if you at least liked me, you dolt! Ever heard of vested interest?”

            Again he shook his head. “You Obviously know little, and you do realize that you can’t stop me if I want to leave.”

            “Of course you can!” She was once again angrily stoked, again with an underlying fear running underneath. “That’s why I wanted you as a body guard. You can do magic. I can’t. You can change into a big fire-breathing dragon. I can’t. You can fight a psi. I sure as hell can’t!” Tear were beginning to well, even as she tried to blink them back. “So leave me to that monster! Fine! When I’m dead, then you’ll know what an idiot you were!” She stepped aside and gestured for the man to leave. “So go. And make sure to tell that worthless uncle of yours that he don’t need to come round neither! I don’t need him mooning over me either!”

            “He is not my uncle,” Marek growled, but saw that Nine was way beyond listening, much less listening to reason. A strange smile came across the big man’s lips. His plan had worked. She was so right. “I am merely taking a leave of absence.”

            “Fine! Whatever! Go drown!” and she turned and made a bee-line straight for the keg.

            He rolled his eyes and followed after her. “But you’re leaving anyhow, so what’s the matter?”

            She finished the full mug before turning and laying into him again. “You are Such an idiot! I’m NOT leaving. I Can’t. I’m going to throw Randall’s ass on that ship out there and make sure he gets his hide off this rock before Rooslan kills him just to spite me. Yeesh, how obtuse do I need to be around you guys? I thought YOU were smart enough to figure that out. You were standing right there!”

            Marek snarled as he cracked his knuckles, growing irritated with all her yelling. “You know what? I think I’ll save Rooslan the trouble.”

            That was all the incentive Nine needed. She flipped off her cloak, tugging at the wiring that held Hybrid to her back, releasing the blade. “Fine!” she barked.

            “Fine!” he answered her.

            A sudden flash of red and the white robed visage of Claw shimmered into place, just in time to see the room back away and the two dragon kin squaring off in the center of the room. “Back down!” he barked at Marek. “You make one move on Nine and you’ll answer to me!”

            “Back off!” Nine snapped at the dragon mage. “You’re next on my list!” But she was having problems already. Hybrid may have been free to fight, but he was eluding Nine’s grip, sliding along her back, keeping out of reach as he seemed unwilling to fight. The whole business just made Nine madder.

            “Keep it down over there!” This came from Alex whom had seemingly lost his chance with the woman as was drinking away his frustration.

            Claw was confused as to why Nine was combating his son. “But you asked us to be your bodyguards. Now you’re through us away?”

            “Oh old man, you are So behind. Junior here quit!”

            Marek was still on his guard, just in case Nine managed to catch her weapon. “She is the most unreceptive pirate I’ve ever met,” he insisted. “I promise I won’t kill her, Dad.”

            “Unreceptive?” she snapped back, the voice raising a few more octaves. “You expected me to sleep with you?” Without a weapon, Nine fell back to the hand to hand techniques and drew her arm back in an attempt to slug him in the face.

            “That will be quite enough, Marek!” A woman appeared suddenly between the two combatants, startling Nine and causing the big man to physically cringe, showing fear of this new person. Apparently with just cause. She easily reached up and yanked the big man down to her level. “Do Not lay a hand on that woman or I will destroy you! Now leave.” Marek obediantly retreated, tearing away from her and running out the door.  

            Now the woman slowly turned to face Nine, whom had backed away from her and was standing next to Claw. Even the mage was a bit on edge, his hand resting at the ready on the hilt of his blade. “Child. Come here,” she demanded.

            Nine knew that she was outclassed, but it was bad enough she had to put up with the commanding tones of her superiors in the pirate hierarchy. She sure as well wasn’t going to take it from some strange woman, even if this demanding woman made Claw edgy. She instead stood straight up, titling her head back in defiance. Bad move. The woman gestured and invisible hands grabbed at the mutant and dragged her over to stand in front of the powerful woman. “You must be confused as to what has happened between you and my son. I will explain. I told him to end it swiftly.”

            Nine struggled in her magical grip, breathing heavily in both effort and fear. “End What?” she spat back. “There was nothing To end!”

            “He had feelings,” she answered the girl in a quiet tone. “I told them they were inappropriate and not to be had, thus I lent him a way out.”

            Alex had moved, heading over to break up the entanglement of females. Ataru moved to intercept to man, seeing that Alex was drunk, and that this was not a fight for the pirates to mire themselves into. Besides, he was watching Claw. The wizened white robed man whom had taken a protective stance over Nine was not objecting to her handling by this magical woman. Ataru suspected that this had been planned to some degree and to let it play its course.

            As it was Nine’s fear was fading and that simmering anger was coming to a boil again. “Jesus on a stick! What the hell is wrong with you all? I just wanted somebody to protect me!”

            “And had you not bickered, he would have stayed and protected you,” she smiled back at Nine. “But now he’s gone.”

            She looked between Claw and this woman, trying to gather her wits about her, and failed miserably. “You know what? I don’t care! You all are Fired! I don’t need this crap now!” She wiggled in the magical grip, then dropped down as if she were oiled up, and slipped free of her bonds. When she hit the ground, the turned and bolted before the woman could once again ensnare her, crying all the while.

            Claw came up next to the sorceral woman and rested a light hand on her shoulder. “Let her go, Janis. We’ve done what we could.

            Nine sat in her oversized cardboard box, sulking. The light rain matched her mood, making everything blurry and damp and slick. Bad enough that her guards had up and left her, but her attempts of bringing the Eithier ship on line had been miserable. She couldn’t translate the strange language for starters, and the trial-and-effort method had given her more shocks than results. There was no way she could get the ship to accept anything other than her command. It was like the damn thing had reached out and grabbed her brain and adapted everything to cue to her brain waves. There would be no way that Randall could pilot the thing.

            Then he showed up.

            The long lost commander Rooslan just simply came up, walking in the drizzle, the black slicker keeping him fairly dry. He stood next to the rickety domicile. “So this is what you’ve been reduced to.”

            Nine stomach went cold. Slowly a shadow drifted over her soul, knowing that death was imminent. It was that knowledge that allowed her to reply in that devil-may-care attitude. “Well, you know. Life sucks.”

            He sighed. “Are you ready to come along all peaceful and quiet like?”

            Her answer was clear enough. She pulled the wraith’s hatchet from her belt and rolled to her knees, throwing the weapon at her most hated enemy. She never had a chance as the blade wobbled and shot past Rooslan’s ear, almost clipping a female captain that had staggered drunkenly down the alleyway, lost and confused. And now a potential target. Nine rolled again, pulling Hybrid from her back, the blade eagerly taking to her grip, anxious to finish its job on the commander. She stood between Rooslan and the confused woman, determined to keep the civilians of this town as safe as possible.

            The electric shock that blasted from the stick held in Rooslan’s left hand dropped her like a ton of bricks. The commander rushed over to the fallen body, sensing that he had only moments before her friends showed up on the defensive. He attached a small device to Nine’s arm and punched the preset code. Both Rooslan and his prize faded from view.

            The woman Captain stood, shaking her head in disbelief at the visage. “Oye, man. That’s not nice. Not at all!”

            Claw had just turned the corner, having tracked Nine to her brooding warehouse. He was going to attempt to take some sense into the girl when he saw Rooslan crouching over her prone body. Before he could act, they had both vanished. His own stomach dropped realizing that he’d failed his hyperactive charge miserably.

            Zelgadis had been tailing the Rex through some very thick brush on the northern end of Rydin for well over an hour. Of course why he even bothered to follow Megan's sire around gave him something to ponder. Frankly he didn't know, save for something in his gut that told him to, as if following unspoken orders. And he was very good at seeking out targets.

            Tim finally arrived at a clearing, more like a brief thinning of the forest. There was a madhouse of gadgetry hooked up. Nothing had any rhyme nor reason to it, and even odder was the combination of both science and sorcery, electrical applications mixed with scrawled incantations. Zel had thought that none of Megan's kind could perform any sort of magic without it going haywire.

            It didn't. The thin dark figure stood just below a full sized pentagram drawn into the earth, flipped a switched, then uttered an incantation. The circle came to life, flickering a moment as if indeed it Would go haywire. Instead in settled down, opening up a somewhat stable portal. Timothy flicked his wrist to glance at a plain watch on his arm, then stepped into the vortex.

            The most bizarre thing about the whole scenario was that the Rex had used a shamanistic incantation.

            Well, one little portal wasn't about to deter Zelgadis. He waited a moment, then followed the mutant to points unknown.

            And it was indeed unknown. The journey was a little rough and the magics more or less spat him out into the very fine grain of a sand dune. There was no vegetation at all. Nothing but the wind carved boulders of sandstone and the soft mounds surrounding them. There was an identical setup on this side, the same mish-mash of wires and wizardry. A mirror image of what he had just seen was holding the gate open on this end. There were two sets of footprints in the sand, showing that Tim had met somebody on this end, and both sets quickly moved from the heat of the day and into the caves just north of the site.

            Zel remained calm, at least on the outside. He had seen worse, but the lack of cover and location of his target bothered him some. He would have to follow the trail, though who would live in such a barren land? Tim was known to keep strange company. Frankly if he was meeting Satan himself, Zel wouldn't have been all that shocked.

            The chimera almost got it right. He carefully crept into the shallow cave and peered around the corner. Tim was facing almost an exact copy of himself, except the fellow was younger, healthier, and didn't bother to dye his straw-blond hair black. Tim was shuffling his feet some, though to Zel this was a ploy. The man didn't act all that nervously. "You Did bring the required items, didn't you?"

            "Of course I did," the blond copy replied. Even now he fished around in the pockets of his tan fatigues, then tossed several silver packs, which Tim caught and pocketed without a second glance. Then the military man tossed a small flat black object at Tim, which he caught and opened, revealing the item to be a small palm-sized computer. "You didn't tell me she was coming here, Tristan," he accused the Rex.

            "I didn't know Where she was going."

Well that was interesting. This Tim clone had somehow mistaken the Rex for the body he housed himself in. So who was this one? Could he be a Tristan as well? This one had the same arrogant bearing, but held his temper in check. "And Megan?"

Again Tim rolled his eyes and Zel half expected them to drop out of his head. "For Teeth's sake. Let it go already. I did. She's not coming back. She is no longer a threat to your little empire. Okay?" He folded the calculator sized laptop and tossed it back at the blond twin of himself. Zel did note that the psi had left his index finger on the device about a hair longer than necessary, almost rubbing the underside of the machine with his finger. "Yep, everything in this deposition is true." He tucked his hands into the pockets of his black leather duster. How did the man kept from sweating in this heat? Zel had to wonder. "You should just leave her alone. Seems like she's settling down just peachy."

            Wasn't it Megan that warned Zel once that the word "peachy" was Not the phrase to use when describing a mutant’s mood? Apparently it didn't calm Blondie down any. He seemed outright livid. "I don't want her here either! You will find a way to get her off this rock or I'll cut your supplies. You hear me, grunt?"

            Tim stiffened a moment, but didn't reply. Instead he snapped a salute, then turned on his heel and headed out of the cave.

            Zel thought seriously about charging into the cave and eliminating what surely was trouble, especially if it involved a Tristan. He still had occasional nightmares of his fight with the psychotic mutant and he still saw the pain in Megan’s eyes, no matter how much she was suppressing the event. But then again Tim was playing both sides of the field, and if Zel was to bet on a winner he was sure that Tim had the upper hand, so he kept silent and followed discretely behind the psi even as he stepped back through the machine.

            Zelgadis felt it the second he stepped back on Rydin soil. Something was seriously wrong. Even Tim was on point, craning his neck as if he could see the danger. Suddenly the psi broke into a hard run, even though he was bleached out white. Zel now knew it wasn’t so much Timothy dying from a burnt out body, but from him placing incredible strain on his body. The teleporting machine even sapped the golem mage’s strength some. He could only guess that it took a large tole on the mutant’s misaligned metabolism. Still it was difficult keeping pace with the psi once he was on the trail. The Rex didn’t even slow when he hit the crowded wharf, almost losing his footing on the damp boardwalk. Only when he reached the head of the alleyway did the psi come to a stop, seeing Nine sprawled out on the cold damp earth as if dead.

            Randall was on his bike cruising along the wharf when he caught the image of the fallen mutant sprawled in the alleyway from the corner of his eye. He quickly turned, almost dumping the vehicle, then ran down the narrow passageway. "My God! Nine!"

            As he reached her, the concerned scientist was joined by the Rex who arrived on the scene at the same time. He was very pale and out of breath, yet the psi's concern was clearly on the girl. "Teeth and Talons," he wheezed. "What did that bastard do to her?"

            "I don't know," Randall confessed. She had several long cuts running down her arms, legs and torso, all which had been roughly stitched back together. She was missing quite a bit of bio-mass, making her look anorexic at best. Her pulse was highly erratic and she was unresponsive on all levels. What concerned the scientist the most was that Nine's healing factor wasn't kicking in at all. If unattended, she may well die from lack of blood and severe trauma. "She needs serious medical attention. What did that butcher do to her?"

            The psi's brow had furrowed darkly. Even the mere human of a scientist could feel the anger burning around the pale man. "He harvested her. Took everything that is her. Squeezed as much viable DNA as he could without killing her. Looks like he even took an ovary." He gestured to the only vertical slit just over the wing of the pelvic bone, just left of her navel.

            Randall reached down and scooped Nine into his arms. She was too light, too fragile. "Tim, do we have any sort of medical facility for major trauma?"

            He nodded. "Follow me."

            The hike through the sewers wasn't good, but at least it was quick. It seemed that Tim know the ins and outs of Brimstone's secret lair, much to the surprise of the cyborg whom opened the stony entrance when he heard the Rex pounding away outside. "Teeth and Toenails," the 'borg whispered when he saw the limp, pale body in Randall's clutches. He stepped back a moment to allow them inside, then quickly lead them down the myriad of paths to his "study," more like a madhouse of test tubes and electrical gizmos. Randall draped her carefully on what served to be an operating table while Brimstone pushed in an overstocked crash cart. Apparently he had done this type of work before.

            Tim was the odd man out; not knowing how to handle all the medical gear and not having the scientist's in-depth research of Nine's physiology. He sat down in one of the form fitting chairs, watching as the two men scurried over the body, hooking up IVs and administering a plethora of drugs to stabilize her. BS perched a small box on her brow and frowned at the results. "She's miss-firing all over the place. Synapses are all scrambled up."

            "Clear out of the way!" Randall shouted, bringing up defibrillation paddles and charging them up. "We gotta get some bare skin."

"On it," and the 'borg produced a set of industrial strength sheers. It still took some effort, but he managed to pull the Mithril composed material off her hide. It had probably saved her life. No way Rooslan was able to get into the vital organs without trying to tear the metal.

Randall nodded, seeing some luck finally peeking through the mess. "Set up 100MG epinephrine." He poised the paddles on her chest. "Clear!"

The body convulsed with the charge, but then everything flatlined. Both men scurried once again, readjusting their materials to the change. Only Tim remained somber. "You should let her go," he muttered.

            "No way!" Randall barked back. "She's more than just a co-worker!" He held the paddle aloft, allowing BS to get away from the charge. "Clear!"

            It was like something finally got kick started in her system. The heart fluttered a second, then took up a steady beat, weak but consistent. Her wounds suddenly began to clot and close as her healing metabolism ignited. Only Timothy remain dark. "You should have let her go," he insisted as he stood up, redonning the black cowboy hat. "she'll be nothing more than a shell. She's been broken."

            "We'll see about that, Tim," the scientist growled then turned to the more co-operative metallic man. "We have any O type blood?"

            "I'll check the stock," he replied, then opened the doors. What stood beyond the portal were two large Rydin type dragons. Very young but already reaching the ten foot mark at the shoulder, they jostled for position, parting the ways only when Timothy walked past them, then Brimstone. A few minutes later, the robotic man returned with eight plasma bags. As Randall set up the supply lines, BS looked over his charge. "She's still sloggin. These scars should have mended by now. Man, he just about sucked her dry." He pulled a light blanket off one of the shelves and covered the girl up, more for modesty's sake. Never could tell who else would show up on the doorstep. Even as he tended to her needs, the 'borg got the same dark broody face. "See what Tim was harkin' at now. You're commander must've meant for her to survive, so he can come back for more."

            Randall seemed just as concerned. "We need to stop him before he does this again. I have a plan that might work to stop him. If I can get the Skipper's PSI frequency, I can jam or neutralize him."

            "Right." Brimstone obviously didn't believe him and was still sour as he rolled back and eyelid, looking for any sort of response. "What the hell happened to all those pirates and dragons and stuff that was supposed to be guarding her? Weren't they supposed to hide her at least?"

            "She didn't want to be hid." This came from Claw as he stepped into the room from a shimmering ball of soft red light that appeared just to the left of the bed. "She preferred her box, I think."

            "Well I can see how well you did Your job," the metal man snorted.

            Now the white robed man growled. "I admit it was my screwup, and you better be damn sure I'll help get this Rooslan."

            "But I don't think it's all his fault," Randall interrupted. "I think something happened to him in the crash and it just warped his mind."

            Did one of Nine's eyes just flutter? Brimstone reached into the crash cart and pulled out a tangle of wires and a cranial harness, gently placing the apparatus on her brow. He looked about, but failing to see a socket close enough, elected to plug the powered device into his own chest. As he studied the machine, he talked. "Well, I can tell you that Tim is plenty pissed. He may well warp Rooslan around a building a few times, mind or no mind."

            "But I want to try and save him. I don't wanna take the Skipper out unless its a last resort."

            But the big man just frowned. "Tim's right. There's barely anything moving around in her brain. Like he mindwiped her." He now straightened up to stare down at Randall. "Just how many times does your precious leader have to destroy somebody afore you realize he's got to be put down?"

            Now the older man Claw drew himself up, clenching the staff tight in his hand. "My choice is clear. I must tack down this fledgling and blast him ten ways into oblivion. It's the only thing I can think of to make up for my mistake."

            "Well you better hurry. Tim's about ten steps head of you. Course all of this may well kill him too. Not that I would mind All that much, but.. well... he's the last of the heavy hitters."

            The dragon mage frowned, the dug into his pocket, drawing up the coin he procured from Nine. "Here. Consider this a refund. Now, do you have anything of Tim's I can use to locate him? Or do I have to do this the hard way?"

            Now the 'borg leveled a strange gaze at Claw. "If you can't feel him ranting and raving like I can, then you really Are a sorry excuse for a reptile." He sighed, then gestured to the two dragonlings still standing in the hall, watching all the exchanged with wide innocent eyes. "Take one of the kids. They got a noseful of him."

Randall watched as the men shuffled about, one preparing for the hunt. "Look, the Skipper is as much a victim as Nine. Somebody sabotaged our propulsion unit and I think whatever that was also drove him mad."

            "Yes! We know the back story," BS barked. "Still doesn't give the man the excuse of trying to cripple us. Nine didn't go around blasting everyone to kingdom come, did she?" He suddenly snatched the cranial scanning device from Nine's brow, violently throwing the equipment into the wall before holding his hands aloft. He looked as if he would tear into the room, his jaw set in anger. He didn't. Instead he turned and rushed from the room, pushing to two oversized lizards aside.

            Claw watched Brimstone storm away, then turned to the scientist. "You wouldn't happen to have anything of Rooslan's now, would you?"

            "No.. not really. He had become very reclusive in the last couple of months."

            A soft moan wafted from the table. Randall rushed to Nine's side, seeing that there was indeed some faint signs of life in the mangled body. "Nine?" he asked shakily. "Nine.. are you still in there?"

            Claw watched with a brow raised, then looked about the place, his gaze resting on the two dragons in the hall as the jostled for position. Apparently they had also heard the groan as both of their tails were wagging. "Who are they?" he finally asked.

            "Brimstone's watchdogs, I think." Randall's attention was keen on Nine's face, looking for any signs that she would come back to them.

            The dragon mage just snorted. "It's a sad day when our race is used as mere watchdogs." Claw suspected more though. Surely these mutants that claimed dragon blood wouldn't be so cruel to such young drakes.

            But the man's attention was turned again. Nine had erupted in a coughing fit and had rolled over on the table. Randall was right there, making sure she didn't fall out of the bed. Suddenly her eyes opened, showing what he had feared. She was not the same defiant creature that her breed had become. It was total devastation. No confidence at all, just wide-eyed terror and pain and confusion, all floating on despair. Randall gripped the sides of her head and made her turn and look at him. "Talk to me, Nine."

            She was long past talking. She couldn't even if she wanted to. What she had just gone through was just too expansive and intense. All she could muster was a blank stare.

            Claw looked the scene over, biting his lower lip. "I'd try something, but I don't know if she'd have the same bad reaction to magic that Megan does."

            "I think it would be alright," Randall answered quietly, his own options having run out. "I think one of the pirates used a healing spell on her after she lost a spar. It seemed to work okay."

            "Hmm... then it's worth a shot, but if I try now she'd just freak out and try to get away as fast as she can. I don't wanna risk it in her weakened condition. Maybe we should try putting her to sleep first."

            Randall reached under the cot, noticing that Brimstone had extra hardware on the gurney. Restraints, most notably. Not a common item on emergency room gear, and it made the scientist wonder just what Brimstone needed restraints on his gear for?

            Another coughing fit from Nine seemed to dislodge something in the girl's lungs, though breathing still seemed an effort for her. She laid back down on the cot, closing her eyes from the activity fluttering around her. As Randall tied her down, Claw rested a hand gently on her brow. "I'll tell you right now that her mind wasn't wiped. No matter how powerful that psi was, it is impossible to completely wipe a mind clean. Fragments of memory and personality will always remain."

            "So you can help reconstruct her mind?"

            "I can." He watched as the man pulled the straps abnormally tight, almost cutting off the girl's circulation to her limbs. "You're a scientist of sorts. Didn't you know all that?"

            "Actually medical matters are not my specialty. I know how to handle emergency situations like this, but not much more." He buckled the straps in, Nine never having put up any sort of fight at all, something that worried the both of them. "Okay, she's ready."

            Claw walked over to the head of the cot and drove his staff into the ground, angling it over her brow. The mage placed a hand to either side of the crystal nestled within the confines of the claw at the end of the staff. It began to glow a deep but faint red as he began his chant:

Ancient Gods of the past, I call upon thy power

            Powers which govern time itself

                    Obey the ancient covenant and follow my will...

            A beam now drifted from the gem and brushed Nine's brow. She grunted a bit, as it the contact stung her skin, but she didn't open her eyes. Claw continued weaving his magic:

            Eternal power to Dragon's soul

            Your power to become mine to use

            Let the crystal within my staff be our means of

            Restoring this young girl's mind

            Let it be the gateway for our power

                and the vessel in which your power resides

            I grant thee a portion of my own infinite life energy

                 to become yours to use

            Divine Restoration!

            The beam drew brighter, as if to bore a hole in the girl's head. Randall had waited with baited breath, expecting to see the arcs and sparks of magic gone awry.

             Nothing.

            Apparently Nine's mutant defenses were no longer. The spell was able to penetrate her hide and work its way inside. That's when Claw saw his mistake, even as the body convulsed and she screamed out as if burned. The reason Nine seemed catatonic was not the effects of a mind wipe, it was her own body trying frantically to surpress the searing pain the memory brought. Now the agony came rolling back through Nine, causing her to contort and scream. Only a needle filled with morphine brought her ordeal to pass and the body fell limp once more.

In that flash of reawakening, Claw caught something. Two bits of information that were of great concern:

            One: Rooslan didn't attack her with a psionic blast. In fact the man had no empathic or telekinetic abilities at all.

             Two: Since Rooslan didn't have that ability, somebody else must have told him that she was in a vulnerable and unguarded state.

              Somebody had turned traitor.