To their credit, the US Army actually lets Luis, Arketta, and Angel get an uninterrupted 8 hours of sleep before they're woken up (far too early), allowed to eat (not so bad), shower (a long-awaited luxury), pack (quickly and lightly), and then herded topside to a waiting helicopter. That helicopter flies them to an airfield where they're herded onto an airplane, which flies them to a base where they're put on a larger airplane, and it is from this C-130's cargo ramp that Luis, Angel, and Arketta step once more onto the sand at Diego Garcia some countless hours later.

No inflight movie, but a soldier learns to sleep anywhere. Angel's particularly good at recharging his fabled "sleep batteries", but the base in the Indian Ocean has come to impart a feeling of unease to the Delta operator. There's a fair bit of activity on-base, no doubt a result of the Boranai assault their Napai raid helped facilitate.

The three of them stand there, looking at the bustle, then at their orders, which state they are to report to Operations.

---

"Semo!!!" Livia exclaims. She had been reading mission reports in her cramped, sheet metal-and-linoleum office, but the aging PC's forgotten as she jumps up to hug the big Delta sergeant. "I heard it was pretty bad over there. You doing all right?"

---

Hugh's debrief process is by-the-book and relatively straightforward, but he also didn't bring home any heretofore-unknown alien species either. He's thanked for his service, medals are hinted at, and then he's set loose on Diego Garcia with an evening pass. For the first time in a long time, his time is his own.

(OOC: I'm bringing everyone into one thread kicking and screaming. More as I tend to each individual thread)

Hugh does the things he needs to do. Turn his weapons in at the armory - what's left of them. Hot shower. Chow. (Damn, even a near-death run can't make those spaghetti taste good.) Debriefing.

It's over sooner than he thought, mostly because he slips through it all on auto-pilot. It's only when he's driving off the base to the condo that his mind slowly shifts out of neutral back into gear. He strips off his uniform and climbs into his civvies - a white button-down shirt with short sleeves, khaki shorts, boots.

He heads out with his car. Quick stopover at the Navy Exchange for a six-pack, some meat and other crap. It's not really his car, of course, just one he's been assigned for the duration of the Diego Garcia stay. Hugh doesn't know what's happening to his old place outside Mesas Negras. He sent the keys to his brother and asked him to look after it. Hugh wonders how Daniel's taking care of it. But he's not paying rent, so he's probably trashing it up. Not that Hugh cares too much: it's getting to be that anything he might possibly want to hang on to is in storage somewhere, waiting for him to come back. If he ever does.

So, yeah. Steaks. His grill. And a sidearm Hugh forgot to turn in. It's not a big deal. Everybody keeps saying that they need him. There's a certain level of implied latitude that comes with those pep talks. Get it out of your system, Verrill. Until oh nine hundred tomorrow, you're off the leash.

He drives out of the base proper, down a road past the landing strip. Something that doesn't appear in any flight logs is landing right now, a boring old C-130 ready to drop off more urgently needed crap. They can't quite keep up with the ships. Eventually, Hugh figures, they'll just do everything by gateway. This little resupply show is already obsolete.

Hugh takes the car off the road and down into the sand of a beach. It's dark now, but that's okay. The lagoon's waters shimmer dark blue under the headlights of the car; Hugh stops the car and gets out. He hauls the grill out of the back of the car and sets it onto a large stone. Add coal. Add lighter fluid. Add spark. Bam, fire.

While the flicker of the flames casts some more sparse light onto the beach, Hugh grabs the gun out of the back of the car, kicks off his shoes and walks into the water. The surf is soft and gentle, washing about his ankles. He closes his eyes.

There are crabs. Of course there are crabs, it's Diego Garcia. Hugh sees a red crab walk along the beach, at the edge of the fire's glow. He lazily aims the gun at it.

"I could kill you," he says, with no malice. "What the fuck are you going to do about it?"

The crab wisely decides to keep walking, and soon disappears into the night. Hugh lowers the gun, and climbs back into the car. Gun stays inside. Meat goes with him. The coals are white from the heat, just right. He throws the first marinated steak onto the grill and hears it sizzle, smells the smoke that rises where flesh meets heat. Satisfied that his beach BBQ is coming along nicely, he grabs the first bottle from his sixpack and cracks it open.

"Here's to all you dead bastards," he says. He takes a swig, and smiles.

Angel sighs, looking at the base.

"Yeah, I did suspect that that dream I had where the general was all 'Nice work specialist, here's a suitcase full of cash, a beach house in San Diego and the phone numbers for all the Laker Girls was asking a bit much.'" He lets Arketta go ahead of him, cracking his neck after the long flight. He grins at the woman as they walk.

"At least they're giving you a glimpse of the authentic Army lifestyle."

"Perhaps they are holding our cash and gold-plated limousines here for us," Arketta jokes. "But probably those that sent us want another round of those dreadful reports. At least we might discover how Captain Verrill and the sergeant fared."

Angel, Arketta, and Luis spend an inordinate amount of time in the hallway right outside Operations. Their orders say they're to report to a Lt. Colonel Gibbons, but apparently "the Lt. Col. stepped out for an emergency and he'll be right back won't you please wait outside". "Right back" turns into 15 minutes and those turn into just long enough to where you figure it's time to do something about this, and wouldn't you know it HERE comes the Lieutenant Colonel. He's a squat man, suited to a desk, with a sort of gruff walk that puts him at home in a newspaper like Spiderman's Daily Bugle. A suit trails the officer looking like someone ran over his dog.

"Those orders better not have my name on 'em, sergeant," Gibbons says. He soon follows up with a "Dammit."

The suit continues down the hallway after giving Arketta a subtle but suspicious once-over.

"So you're the Checkmate team, and they didn't even let you spend a whole day on US soil," Gibbons continues, tsking as he scans the papers. "Just not right. All right, sergeant, you and your team are to report to hangar 4 at 1530 hours. Why they told you that you needed me to tell you that, I have no idea. Get outta here, sergeant."

A quick glance shows that it's 1500 hours - definitely falling under the "hurry up" portion of the Army's motto of "hurry up and wait".

Gibbons opens the door to Operations, pauses, and tells the trio, "And if you need anything while you're here, you tell 'em Gibbons said to give it to you." He nods to himself, seemingly satisfied that some vague personal favor from him is equal recompense for saving the planet.

Hangar 4, 1525 hours

Davis and Ngawai are the first ones in the spacious hangar. The doors are open, letting in the breeze off the ocean. There are about two dozen metal folding chairs arrayed in front of a whiteboard and desk. The rest of the hangar is taken up by aircraft parts - not even a full airplane.

Davis' hand rests idly on the pack with the ansible. His other arm is around Ngawai's shoulder. The ex-bounty hunter has flipped the chair in front of her around, and is resting her feet on it.

Luis, Angel, and Arketta arrive to see the spook and Ngawai there, along with a smattering of other officers. It's a very brass-heavy shindig, whatever it is. There are even a few British and Russian uniforms, not to mention an inordinately high amount of suits.

Hugh spots Luis and the others as they're just outside the hangar. For once, Semo isn't there ridiculously early. Luis has just a twinge of terror - they didn't get SEMO of all people, did they?

Angel thanks Gibbons with a quick "Thank you Sir" as they leave, heading to the hanger. He looks at whose there, and more importantly, who isn't.

"Tell me we're waiting on people?"

Catching Livia in his arms, Semo scoops the diminutive woman right up off the floor. He's grinning so hard, his face is threatening to break. Despite the bandages peeking out from under his clothes in various places, he feels great right now. "I'm fine. Hell, I'm better than fine now that you're in my arms! The Turai didn't fare so well, and we lost our share as well."

"Have you heard anything about the rest of the Delta team? We had different assignments, and I only saw the captain once we got over there."

"God, it's good to see you..."

---

Uncharacteristically, Semo scuttles into the hanger for the briefing at the very last minute. A quick glance around the room shows him that the entire Delta team is there. He gives a deep sigh of relief. Making his way over to his teammates, Semo wraps his arms around the whole group and gives them a hug. "Good to see you guys. Anyone know what this mission is about?" he asks softly under his breath.

"Not I," Arketta replies. "Although it looks pretty important. Is Mellish late? I understand Swims-the-Black, not seeing him outside here, but I haven't seen-"

Arketta reads Semo's look and gets it immediately. "Ah. Oh. Damn. We lost Jonnoperest as well, but Brinai and her rebels have him."

Hugh's looking better than when he stepped through the gateway, by a matter of degrees. His uniform is freshly cleaned and pressed, his boots shiny, his chin freshly shaved. If he had any inclination towards the tactical use of face cream and make-up, it might even have covered the rings around his eyes. Within the limits of the grooming standards, it's impeccable, but it still speaks to a distinctly unrelaxing stay so far.

"Well, Sarge, if I read my brass right, it'll involve going somewhere with patchy intel, lacking fire support and an exfil route that'd make any sane man take his chances with jumping off a cliff. We - in our good-natured stupidity some might mistake for valor - have proven annoyingly adept at returning from those kinds of missions. So it stands to reason that we now own them until the end of all creation."

If Hugh smoked, he would take a big drag from a cigarette right there.

"Or it's peace-keeping at the Horn of Africa. Either way, I'm game."

admiralducksauce wrote:

"Not I," Arketta replies. "Although it looks pretty important. Is Mellish late? I understand Swims-the-Black, not seeing him outside here, but I haven't seen-"

Arketta reads Semo's look and gets it immediately. "Ah. Oh. Damn. We lost Jonnoperest as well, but Brinai and her rebels have him."

Luis gets the look's meaning about as Arketta does. The sinking feeling of grief over loosing a good teammate like the Hammer is spiked through by the guilt that comes whenever a Name off the List comes up. Jonno. At least everyone else made it home who wanted to, his team and Davis'. Or so he's given to understand from what little gossip he's picked up so far. Bloody jet lag.

He's letting ruminations on "hurry up and wait" and Army transport quality scour Jonno from his brain for the moment when Hugh makes his arrival. He looks..not well, frankly. They all look a little worse for wear, which is distressing given Hugh's prediction of further action with no rest. But...it's a war now. When that bugle calls...well, that's the kind of duty that goes on the other List. Still, Luis is willing to let others do the small talk for now. Unitl this meeting starts, he doesn't have to worry about where they're headed, not like he will once the brass lay this...whatever it is on them.

The congregation around the folding chairs settles down as a small group of officers and besuited men and women enter through the hangar's side entrance. General Hogue and Lt. Colonel Gibbons are among them, and seeing them side by side, you almost think they could be related. Walter Simmons is in the rear of the group; he hangs by the side door as the rest of the detachment arrays itself in front of the assembled Deltas, agents, and officers.

A woman wearing a crisp navy blue suit with an impressive ID badge affixed steps up to speak. She's tall and thin, with an early-lined face that suggests her build stems from being too busy to eat rather than a devotion to exercise. Her voice is strong and stern; Davis would guess she's not Agency, but rather something with a more political background.

"Thank you for coming today. I know many of you have traveled a long way to get to this little island - some of you farther than the human mind can fathom." There's a light twitter of sympathetic laughter. "Let me introduce myself. I'm Samantha Barnes, diplomatic liason for extraterrestrial contact with the Gateway Research and Homeworld Defense Initiative. That's a big title that up until recently didn't mean much, seeing as how the Gateways were being kept secret. With the success on Boranai and first contact with not just one, but two truly extraterrestrial species, it is the Initiative's recommendation that now is the right time to make the galactic situation known to the public."

TWO extraterrestrial species? If the various jumbled SNAFUs in transport had conspired to bring the team together earlier, they might have compared first contact stories, but there's not a single person sitting in the hangar that the news doesn't surprise.

Barnes continues, quieting the sudden murmurs with palms up. "Please. I intend to answer all the questions I can, but first, let's continue and get everyone here up to speed on the situation. The liberation of Boranai is ongoing, but reports indicate that the system is locked down. Two space Gates are blocked by captured Needleships. The Gateport is blocked, and the Gateway at the base of the Spire is being kept on a near-constant connection with the rebel ship Atea. This can't go on forever, and we'll need a way to safely relieve the forces that are stationed offworld. Every new connection brings with it the possibility of the Imperium slipping in a connection to one of their portals. We will need to set up communications with the Imperium to discuss potential diplomatic solutions as well, as we have many prisoners. Currently these prisoners are being held on Atea for the time being; that needs to change."

"Operation CHECKMATE was an unqualified success. The Imperial Cortex was declassified and its top secret contents broadcast to our agents. We are still sifting through the intel, but initial reports are good. During the course of the team's exfiltration, they were split up. Each element managed to make first contact with a different alien species. Agent Davis" - she motions to Garrett, who draws the eyes of everyone - "encountered the... Groi species, which are known to the Imperium as the Masters. They abducted humans from Earth thousands of years ago to be their warrior-slaves. The Groi created the Gateways, the "frisbee" artifacts, and more. They have sent an ambassador here on a survey or fact-finding mission in order to decide if we, as a people, deserve their assistance. I would like you all to welcome Ambassasdor Chauncey of the Groi."

Simmons opens the side door and Chauncey strides in. The Russian emissary literally jumps out of his seat. Semo's taken aback, a little weirded out, but otherwise deals with it. For Hugh, however, the golden androgyne looks too similar to the Imperial Avatar that held Greene at knifepoint all those months ago.

Chauncey's clearly adapted to a physical means of communication. Its English is passable, although lacking in human inflection. Perhaps its broadcast telepathy only goes so far, or only handles so many people.

"Greetings," the Groi remote says without moving its dead-doll mouth. "My purpose here is to observe your planet and determine if a trade agreement and treaty against the Imperium is profitable to us. I will be visiting several sites around the planet in the coming months and am excited to learn all I can about how this offshoot of your species has fared in isolation." With that, the Groi is content to step back next to Hogue and Gibbons.

"Um... okay," Barnes regains her composure. Even she's not entirely comfortable around the alien avatar. "Thank you, ambassador. Chauncey's people are trapped in a sort of orbital bunker of their own making. They seek freedom to explore the universe, as we do, without being run down and killed by the Imperials. The second alien species, the Sheen, have been known to the Imperium and the Groi for some time. They are an artificial intelligence that revolted and gained independence from the Imperium several centuries ago. Sergeant Stanhill, Specialist Riviera, and Private Quis established first contact with them. In contrast to the Groi, the Sheen appear willing to offer their immediate assistance so that Earth may resist the Imperium's attempts at genocide." It seems Barnes is laying it on a little thick for Chauncey. If YOU don't want to deal, there's these other guys over here who do... Plus it's convenient that the Sheen delegate isn't here to confirm or deny the liason's words.

"That brings us up to now, ladies and gentlemen," Barnes adds. "The Homeworld Defense Initiative, along with each of the officials and representatives sitting here, will be informing Earth that we are not alone. Captain Verrill, Agent Davis, and your team - we would not be at this historic junction without your skill, your determination, and your sacrifice. America and the world will want to meet you, and the GRHDI sincerely hopes you would agree to interviews or press tours or whatever medium you find comfortable. After you're back from leave, of course." Barnes smiles quickly but brings it to a cacophonous halt with, "Now. I'll take questions?"

"Can you go back to the part about leave?"

Angel's question is frank and straight enough to induce everyone with any sense at all to reconsider the whole 'interviews' part of the plan.

Lt. Colonel Gibbons steps forward to answer Angel's question. "30 days EML plus whatever annual leave you want to tack onto it, son."

Environmental and Morale Leave... probably classified as such to get through some loophole, or maybe offworld operations officially qualify now.

The briefing quickly disperses. The officers in attendance split off into small groups, chatting animatedly about what's going to happen. Some look a little sulky, as if they expected to keep the biggest advancements the world has seen all to themselves. Once the briefing is over, Davis leans over and taps Hugh on the shoulder. "I've got something you'll want to know about. Care to join me?"

"Of course. What's the situation?"

"It's about the sphere I brought back." Davis looks over at Ngawai, then back to Hugh. "It's a direct line to the Emperor."

"You're shitting me," Hugh says. "Red phone hotline to the chief bastard himself? How the hell did you figure that out?"

"It's hooked into whatever he's plugged into, it's how he uses the avatars. I picked it up, and bam, we're talking to each other in our heads. Instant communication over any distance. I kept it under wraps until now because, well, would you trust anyone else with that?"

"It's captured enemy tech and we have a protocol for that, Davis. We could have had our best diplomats working with the emperor since you got here. And the side pocket of your ruck isn't what I'd call secure storage."

"I've got him talking, Hugh. We saved each other's lives back in that quarantine zone, and I think I'm making real headway here. If I turned it over to the brass, they'd give it to some dickless negotiator who Kao doesn't respect at all. I'm about to tell Hogue, Gibbons, Barnes and even that smug bastard Simmons, because he wants us to return the August Keeper's family to him on Napai, and I think that's something we need to do. It might even get us some breathing room on Boranai."

"You get credit for spilling that plan before acting on it," Hugh says, "because I don't like it. I trust that son of a bitch as far as I can move an anvil by sneezing at it. I mean, sure, family reunion, that sounds harmless - but I think you're drinking your own Kool-Aid there, Davis. You're still flying high from everything you've achieved - and you did do a hell of a lot right, don't get me wrong. But I wouldn't be surprised if he's using that 'Everything's going my way' feeling of yours to work an angle."

"Are you kidding me? That trade-off's not going to happen within ten miles of anywhere. I've already checked, we can move the Boranai gateport gate into the desert by next week, and we do the trade out there. Face the gate away from the city and back our forces out at least 100 yards. Worst case scenario, they throw a sunball through the gate and try to invade, and we just blow them to pieces and drop the gate into the sand." Davis smiles. "Trust me, I've thought of this."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Hugh says. "Because I know we can cover for that. My point is, what the hell do we know about the keeper and his family? And who told us what we do know about them? I'd need to see that covered before I sign off on this. I want to know what exactly we're giving him."

"Well, you any good with kids?" Davis asks. "We can check the Cortex for the information on his family, and if you want to question them, I think we could do that together."

"Hmm," Hugh says, sounding unconvinced. "We'll do that, yes."

"I know that this is rather...weird," Davis says. "That's why I want you in on this. I need you to double-check my plans. So, you ready to go talk to the brass?"

"No time like now," Hugh agrees.

Davis finds an opening to get at Barnes after she's talked with most of the other people. "Miss Barnes, may I have a word with you? You might want to get Hogue, Gibbons and Simmons over here, too. This is important."

"Ah, Agent Davis, Captain. Of course. General? The agent has something he'd like us to all be in on.. you, the Lieutenant Colonel, and agent Simmons too." Hogue eyes Davis with a hint of suspicion, but Hugh's presence eases him. Simmons does a fairly good job of keeping a poker face.

"It's about the sphere," Davis says. Ngawai unshoulders his back and hands it to him. "It's actually an ansible."

"An eff-tee-ell communicator?" Barnes asks. "What makes you- no, I have the distinct feeling you're about to explain. Come, let's have a seat over here." Samantha leads the assembled officers to the now-vacant folding chairs.

"And guess who picks up on the other end? The Emperor himself," Hugh adds.

"Were you talkin' to him when you were conducting that little 'test' in Carlisle's hangar?" Gibbons asks. He's -almost- got an eye twitch going.

"Yes, sir, I was. I know I violated protocol, but I needed more time to establish a rapport with the Emperor." Davis sighs, then continues. "When the angle beast attacked me through the ansible in the quarantine zone, it also tried to kill Kao - the Emperor. We fought it off together, and I think I'm making real headway with him. If I had told you that it's a direct line to the Emperor when I brought it in, what would have been done with it, Colonel?"

"People who are more qualified than you or I would make that decision, son," Gibbons replies calmly, getting his initial rage under control quickly.
"Perhaps the President, perhaps the UN, perhaps someone who is capable of making policy decisions."

"I think the main question here is, about what have you been talking to the Emperor... Kao, is it?" asks Barnes.

"Mostly the philosophy behind the democratic process," Davis says with a smile. "We were too busy trying to keep each other alive in the quarantine zone to give much else away. He knows we made our way out of the Black Gate, and he guessed that we found the Groi on the other side. However, the reason why I'm bringing this up now is that he has a request that I think we can leverage. The August Keeper of Secrets' family was on Boranai, and he requested that we return them to Napai. I told him I'd work on it. I think that we can use this to get some breathing room on Boranai."

Hogue interrupts. "Captain, did you know about this?"

"Agent Davis just told me myself, Sir." Hogue grunts in response to Hugh's reply.

Samantha seems to be rolling something around in her head before finally speaking. "I appreciate the initiative you took in establishing this rapport with Kao, but I hope you realize you should not have withheld this intel. If you truly have the Emperor's ear, I think we can use you as an intermediary to build trust with a diplomatic corps we'll need to assemble."

"That depends on if he'll talk to any of them," Davis says.

"If I may," Hugh cuts in, "there are a few details I would like to hammer out before we attempt to contact the Emperor again."

"Yeah," Hogue agrees. "Our operational focus may very well shift significantly."

Hugh continues. "The Emperor's request regarding the keeper's family needs to be evaluated more closely. We don't know enough about those people to just hand them over. Second, we don't know how the ansible might interact with the gateway or our technology. It should be kept in a hardened vault until we're sure it's not dangerous. And third, if we go with the assumption that we can get the Emperor to agree to a cease-fire - I'd like to know if there's anyone in a position to continue to threaten us even then. Other factions, chain of command issues, mercenaries, risks like that."

Davis nods. "I agree with the first and third points. Hugh and I are both interested in interviewing the individuals the Emperor told me to find. We should talk to them in a non-threatening environment, and check the Cortex for any information on them we can find." He looks to Ngawai. "How do you think the chain of command will react to a Boranai cease-fire?"

Ngawai crosses her arms and sits back. "They'd follow orders, but the public'd probably go spinkshit until the right spin was put on it."
"They're not gonna just let us KEEP Boranai."

"No, but maybe we can get some breathing room for now, use one of the kegs in the Spire to build another gate or two so we can have secure transport. As for the ansible, if it interacts with the gates or anything we have, the Groi didn't let on. It's how the Emperor's avatars work and it's probably how the Groi avatar works, too. So, Miss Barnes, what do you think? If we get on finding what we've been told is the Keeper's family, we can start hammering out the details of the transfer with the Emperor tomorrow. There's also the issue of making sure the Bashakrans aren't abusing our POWs, too. No need for an Imperial Abu Ghraib."

"I quite agree, Mr. Davis," she replies, "but it is the Initiative's view that we do not currently have the infrastructure to properly handle the xenohuman prisoners. Right now we're looking at detaining the prisoners on Atea with oversight from our agents."

"Our big advantage is that we're better than the Imperium," Davis says. "If we can rebuild Boranai fast, get the people on our side and show the Turai that they have nothing to fear from us, things will get a lot easier. That should be our number 1 priority."

"The rebels aren't going to want to talk," Simmons finally interjects. "The Emperor hasn't listened to them, and I don't think the rebels have faith in our ability to find a diplomatic solution."

Davis narrows his eyes at Simmons. "Maybe we should try asking them that first, before writing them off. The rebel leaders I've dealt with so far have been more mature and reasonable than you give them credit for. If their leaders believe that diplomacy is the best way out, then that should get us a long way towards getting the rest of them to go along."

"I'm with Davis on this one," Hugh agrees. "Frankly, I see a chance for negotiations because we've actually gotten shit done. We've upgraded a barely existing terrorist campaign into a full-blown guerilla war. I'd negotiate with us before this gathers more momentum."

"All right," Hogue says. "Gibbons will put the ansible under guard until Ms. Barnes and the GRH... D... the Initiative has a plan. We need a better acronym if we're going public, Barnes. 'Gruddy'? That's not going to sit well."

"I'll have a few suggestions next time, Sir," Hugh says. Goddammit, that Bachelor in Communications might just pay off.

"Will I continue to have access to it? If I'm going to negotiate the details of the exchange with the Emperor, I'll need the ansible, or whoever else will be handling it will."

"We'll expect you to help transition the Emperor to... whoever will be handling the 'face-to-face'," Barnes says. "It may be you, depending on where your handlers want you. There's a distinct lack of Langely here with Sturgis offworld."

"I will be talking with Langley about that very issue soon," Davis says.

"Mr. Davis, if you'll come with me, we'll put this ansible back where you found it," Gibbons says.

"Ah, Captain," Hogue says. "Things around here are going to be crazy no matter when you take that leave. You might as well take it sooner rather than later."

"I gathered as much, Sir. Expect my request first thing tomorrow morning," Hugh says.

"Let me personally thank you both for the out-fucking-standing job you and your team did out there," the general adds. "Have a good time."

"Thank you, sir. Oh - I'd like to let Kao know what's going on before we put the ansible in storage, if that's alright with the Initiative," Davis says.

Barnes rubs the bridge of her nose. "Sure. Just... is there a way to listen in?"

Davis shrugs. "Sure. Just plug in a radio mic."

A confused-looking staff sergeant soon shows up with a microphone, which gets interfaced with the ansible much like Davis did back on Napai.

Davis keys down on the mic. "Kao? I've got some movement on the Keeper's family. And you're on speaker, I've got some other people here listening in."

*You've finally told them about our secret rendevouz in the moonlit park?* the Emperor jokes.

Davis laughs. "Yes, our trysts are now somewhat public knowledge," he says. "I've got some people here who are very interested in working out some details for a temporary cease-fire over Boranai, at least long enough for the Keeper's family to be found and traded."

*Good. Mysterious newcomers, I am Kao, Emperor of the Jade Imperium of the Thousand Worlds. But then, you knew that. Contact me via the ansible in 10 hours' time and we shall speak on this cease-fire.*

"Sounds like a plan," Davis says. He releases the transmit button, then suddenly has a realization, and looks at Gibbons. "I'm going to need to hold onto this until then. Something bad might happen before then, and this line needs to stay open."

Davis sees Simmons give Barnes a look, but it's Hogue that speaks. "Nothing bad's going to happen before then. This artifact's going under lock and key. We'll rig up a cellphone to it or something in the meantime, I don't know. Gibbons, have your people work it out."

"If they're monitoring this from the other side, they just heard the Emperor planning a cease-fire with the Narsai'i, and I don't know how pleased they would be with that," Davis says.

"If the Emperor can't hold his shit together for ten hours, we want to talk with the people who CAN," Hogue replies.

"Oh, you mean the Imperials that won't negotiate with us under any circumstances? Yes, I'm sure they'll be very glad to talk to us. If this all goes south, we might have to go back in there on zero notice and pull him out. He'd be the ultimate asset, but we won't get the chance if the first time we hear he's in trouble, he's had his head beamed off." Davis turns his intensity down a notch. "All I'm asking for is ten hours. After that, it's all yours."

"You're talking like this is up for debate, Mr. Davis," Hogue says softly.

"I'm just looking at this strategically. If there's others listening in that don't want him negotiating with us, now's the time that they would strike, and if they kill him, we're back to square one. No, we're worse off than that, because whoever replaces him probably won't be interested in talking with us futher than the point of a gun. If you won't let me monitor it, just... just have someone there, listening, in case?"

"We're the Army, Davis, not the Marines," Hogue smirks. "We'll have a 24/7 watch on that thing."

"Alright, good. Mind if I say my goodbyes for now, in private?" Hogue nods to Davis.

So far I'd wager that thing's got some addictive qualities, Simmons thinks, watching Davis plead for the ansible like Gollum. At least as bad as World of Warcraft...

Barnes excuses herself. "Agent, Captain, officers. We'll coordinate for the ansible interface tomorrow. If you'll excuse me."

Davis nods to Barnes. "It was great to meet you, and I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot of each other later on." Davis pulls the microphone jack out of the ansible's surface and takes it in his hand. *Kao? We're alone now.*

*Yes? Has it been ten hours already?*

*No, but I just want to tell you to watch your back. It wouldn't be the first time I've come close to something actually beginning to work out and then everything goes to Hell. Just...be careful, alright?*

*My nemesis tells me to be careful. Truly the universe has gone mad these last few days. Do not fret, Davis, my Avatar is online again.*

*Just protecting an asset, that's all,* Davis says. *If anything does go wrong, do you remember that woman we were with, her name?*
*Don't say it, just if you do remember.*

*Yes.*

*Leave a message for her on the Cortex. I'll find it.*

*You have left some trap and now regret your actions?*

*More like I'm worried that someone on your side might be setting a trap for you. I didn't get where I am without thinking ahead. This is just in case something should happen to either of us.*

*A riddle to ponder, then. Who would possibly want me dead? Very well, I shall keep your codeword close, Davis. Good night.*

*Good night, Kao.*

Davis puts the ansible back in its rag and hands it to Gibbons. "Thank you, sir. I'll be around for a few more days, then back to the States for leave."

"All right, son." Gibbons takes the bag and Simmons escorts the officer towards Carlisle's hangar.

"Oh, and Davis," Hugh says on their way out, "my family calls me Hugh. Until I see you at the table on Thanksgiving, it's Captain Verrill."

Davis nods with a smile. "Sure thing, Captain."

Davis and Ngawai fall behind as Hugh walks off the tarmac. The spook kisses Ngawai. "Well, what do you want to do now?"

Angel ponders the officer's last statement to him, chewing it over in his mind.

Two weeks paid vacation...

He briefly considers talking to the Captain or the spook about this turn of events, but they're busy having a conversation in serious sounding voices. The kind of voices that leave you on some alien planet stalking invisible psychopaths through the woods.

Angel heads in the opposite direction.

Unimpeded by orders, battle plans or the security of being alone in the Universe, Angel heads towards the barracks. This is a base, which means somewhere, there is beer. And perhaps an impressionable flight nurse.

A dark part of his mind, the part that didn't get the memo about self-preservation, wonders what Arketta is up to. And how hard it would be to obtain a case of green bodypaint.