Tei nods. "I might be able to talk to some people, set things up."

"What do you want for that favor?" Hugh asks.

"Nothing," Tei says. "Just be out at the northern Narsai'i safe area gate an hour after I send word." She slides a vox-marker onto your tray - an encrypted and untraceable link to a vox address. "Clear?"

"Clear," Hugh says.

Tei finishes her beer and stands up. "Then I'll talk to you later on today." She nods to Zaef. "Good to see you, Zaef," she says, and walks back across the street, giving a wave and a whistle to her men on the street.

"Good to see you too, Tei," Zaef says and waves as she leaves. A couple of men he didn't notice before now leave with her.

He turns to Hugh with an expression reminiscent of eating spink shit and not spink eggs. "10 lats says they try to 'convince' us not to pry any further by beating the shit out of us with a spanner."

"10 lats we drop them before they can start any shit," Hugh shoots back with a grin.

Zaef smirks in reply. "No fun in taking a sure bet, Verrill. Gotta risk if you're gonna gain."

It's down to the wire, and Luis carefully studies the opposition before him. An impenetrable wall to his left, and an obvious trap to his right - only one option remains: straight forward. Exploding off the line, Luis looks past the closest defender and sees Arketta waving her readiness over the man keeping her boxed in. Luis cuts to the right behind Arketta's back, and his defender is struck with a decision of panic: pursue his marked quarry around Arketta's defense and lose sight of his target, or adjust to stop whatever new threat Luis has planned? He decides to eat the delay that Arketta's block has forced upon him, and chases after Luis. Convinced that Luis has a clear opening to do some real damage, the man suppressing Arketta breaks off to attack Luis as well, which is just what Luis was hoping. Luis fires a pass to Arketta, who quickly breaks to the left and separates herself from the defense, jumps up and lobs a lazy jump-shot right through the hoop.

"Yes!" Arketta shouts. "That is thirty points! I believe that means we win."
Sgt. Erikson shakes his head. "Never saw that pick and roll coming." He extends a hand to Arketta. "Good game, Corporal."
Arketta returns the handshake and smiles. "Yes, good game."
“Good game,” Luis echoes. “I’d like to see you try that long shot again with Earth’s gravity. How’re other things adjusting compared to your three-point shot?”
"Like what?" Sgt. Erikson asks. PFC Wallace jogs up, water bottle in his hand. The other seven players on the court gather around the discussion, downing water.
Luis shrugs. “Anything that might cause issues: the locals, the weather, the food.”
Private Anthony shrugs. "Food beats the shit out of Iraq." A round of chuckles and nods goes around the group. "Locals - shit. If Iraq or Afghanistan was this easy, we'd be done in there by now."
"I don't know, man," Sgt. Erikson says to Pvt. Anthony. "I don't know about the locals. Or the...the air. This weird-as-shit bubble-gum air."
"You just need to spend more time on the court, Sir," PFC Wallace jokes. "Breathe the air in, get used to it."
"Still, can't wait for my six months to be up," Sgt. Erikson says. "Another fuckin' desert, just with aliens and weird air."
“What’s your issue with the locals?” Luis asks, then takes a drink from his own water bottle as he awaits Erikson’s answer.
Sgt. Erikson shrugs. "They're aliens. They're all right, but they're aliens." Most of the other players boo and shove him around. "Hey! We're out here, fighting a war against the aliens, and then we're supposed to turn around and be buddy-buddy with them? Maybe after a while, after they stop trying to blow us up, I'll get more friendly, but until then, I'm just gonna keep watching my ass. Anthony, you know what I'm talking about."
"Yeah, I guess so, Sir," Pvt. Anthony says. "I mean, I like it here, it beats the shit out of Bragg or Kabul, but I'm not gonna miss this place when I'm back home with my wife."
"I don't know, Anthony, I think Denise might like a trip here once shit calms down, like what Bolton did," PFC Wallace says.
"Yeah, I'll pass on that, Wallace," Sgt. Erikson says.
“What do you think of Bolton?” Luis asks.
"He's maybe a bit easy on the locals," Sgt. Erikson says, "but he's getting the job done. Not sure about him having locals in the C3."
"He's doing a great job," PFC Wallace says.
“He brought his wife in?” Luis asks with a raised eyebrow.
"And his kids," Pvt. Anthony says. "Gave them a big tour."
"Fuckin' risky as shit, if you ask me," Sgt. Erikson says.
"I was at the Gateway when they went back," Pvt. Anthony says. "They looked like they had a great time."
Luis chuckles at that. “I guess it’s nice enough, but I can’t see it being my first choice for a vacation. Have any of you worked much with any of the locals or the Bashakrans?”
"Worked with, no," Sgt. Erikson says. "We've dealt with the locals a lot, obviously, but the Bashakrans mostly work with the big boys of Delta or the brass. Some of them give us shit, though, like we're just here to play the hero."
"I did a raid with a Bashakran team, they seemed all right," PFC Wallace says.
"Tore the shit out of the Imperials we found, that's for damn sure," Pvt. Anthony adds.
“What were the Imperials up to?”
"Weapons cache," PFC Wallace says. "Beam rifles and those nasty-ass spears."
“Woud you roll with them again?” Luis asks.
"Sure," PFC Wallace says.
"No problem," Sgt. Erikson says.
“What about the Wherren?” Luis asks.
"Poor bastards," Sgt. Erikson says, shaking his head. "I feel for them."
"They were fucking slaves, and now they're stuck here, doing shit work," PFC Wallace says. "I heard the stories of sharecropping and all that bullshit from my granddad, I know what that life is like, and we have a duty to help them get the fuck out of that."

Arketta has been watching Luis slowly get more and more enthusiastic about finding out how much the troops like or dislike Boranai and the Boranai’i, and forget more and more of why they came to the planet in the first place. She cuts into the group and asks a question of her own. “What do you think about the GRHDI?”
“They’re pretty good at their jobs,” PFC Wallace says. “Locals like us well enough, and their culture stuff isn’t a complete waste of fucking time.”
“Yeah, the stuff on local food was probably the first useful document the Army’s ever given us,” Sgt. Erikson says.
“And you have heard of our outfit, Task Force 815, yes?” Arketta asks.
“Yes, ma’am,” Pvt. Anthony says. “Everyone’s heard of your team of badasses, even the locals.”
Sgt. Erikson is a bit more skeptical. “I’ve heard that you’ve started turning native, worshipping the Masters and only speaking Imperial.” He shrugs. “Sorry.”
“No offense taken,” Luis says with a shrug of his own. “But there’s not much truth there. We’ve had to get to know the natives to do what we’ve done, sure. We’re figuring out how the Imperium’s citizens think, seeing how they live, what they have to offer, and how we can fight the Imperium’s government. That means we’ve had to try some of how they live, use some of their tech.” Luis grins at Pvt. Anthony at that. “Eat some of their food. It hasn’t made us less sure of what this fight is, or how critical it is that we win it. It’s about making us all stronger from learning from one another.”
Sgt. Erikson’s eyes narrow for a moment. Just a moment, but Luis still sees it. He juts his chin out and nods towards Luis. “That doesn’t look like ‘trying’ anything, Sir.” The others in the circle become quiet. “And it’s not my business, but your spook friend, Davis, marrying that Imperial, that doesn’t sound like trying, either.”
Luis raises an eyebrow, but stays cool. “On some things, it’s worth doing more than just trying. My implants improves my eyesight, they let me hack computers that would make Bill Gates throw up his hands in confusion, and with them I can fly spaceships like I dreamt I could when I was a kid. That was something I learned was worth doing, at least in my book. As for Davis...I think it was something like that he found a strong, courageous woman who could keep up with and challenge him, and it just happens she wasn’t born on Earth. That’s worth it, too. I should know.” He casts a quick grin Arketta’s way, and says, “You find a woman who can run a pick-and-roll like that, are you going to let her go by just because of where she’s from?”
Arketta grins back and takes Luis’ hand, and he can feel the healing scab on her palm rub the back of his hand while Sgt. Erikson backs off a little. “Hey, who you want to fuck isn’t my business,” he says, “but having a local booty call, that’s ‘trying things out’. Getting your eyes taken out and shacking up with an Imperial, that’s not the same thing, and you saying that it is doesn’t seem right to me. Sir.”
Luis takes a sharp breath and his eyes narrow, but he lets it go. “Part of it is trying new things, the other part is using what works. My implants let me do my job better, so does knowing Imperial or using a beam rifle.” His eyes flash slightly. “And if you imply that marrying the woman I love is just ‘shacking up’ I may have to get her help in knocking you around this court.”
Sgt. Erikson steps up to Luis. "What I'm saying is that you shouldn't try to feed us this 'I'm just like you' bullshit, because you're not."

Arketta sticks her arms in between the two men, and pushes them both back. "Okay, I think that you both should not be talking to each other for right now," she says. "Right, Luis?"
Luis holds Erikson’s gaze for a moment, then responds to Arketta without turning. “Sure.”
"And do you have anything else to say? Sir?" Arketta asks Sgt. Erikson.
Sgt. Erikson takes a step back away from Arketta's hand. "I said my piece."
"Good." Arketta drops her hands and steps in between Luis and the other soldiers. "Now, I have one more question. Do you think things would be better off on Boranai without the GRHDI or Task Force 815?"
"No," Sgt. Erikson says, and leaves it at that.
"Things would certainly be bumpier with the locals," PFC Wallace says.
Arketta smiles. "Good. Thank you for your time, and good game." She offers her hand to shake.
PFC Wallace and Pvt. Anthony shake her hand, and after a second of glaring at Luis around Arketta, Sgt. Erikson shakes her hand and looks up to say, "Good game, Corporal."

Once the other soldiers have dispersed, Arketta and Luis walk over to the picnic benches set up near the blacktop of the green zone basketball courts. Arketta holds Luis' hand as he sits down next to her. "I think that we should introduce basketball to Atea, what do you think?" she says in Imperial. "Maybe we can have Atea versus Narsai'i games."
“Maybe. A court doesn’t need too much room,” Luis says.
Arketta pokes Luis in the side. “And while I love it when you stand up for us, but you don’t need to jump down everyone’s throat,” she says. “I can defend myself when need be.” She flexes an arm with a smile.
Luis grins back a bit with a tinge of guilt. “Sorry that didn’t end well. I just...he didn’t get it, and he was punching my buttons.”
Arketta puts an arm around Luis’ shoulders. “I know, Luis. And I love that you’re not just taking it anymore. I much prefer this new, confident, take-no-shit Luis.” She gives him a peck on the cheek.

Luis looks at Arketta, then down at his hands. “I just don’t know here he got off, saying I’m not like him. I’m still the same person, no matter what Congress or the Pentagon or Erikson want to believe.”
Arketta takes Luis’ hands. “Oh, Luis. No, you’re not.” Luis looks up at Arketta, shocked at what she just said, but she holds his hands up between the two of them and continues. “You had your eyes taken out and a vox grafted to your brain. You’ve become a real leader, a strong man that can stand up to anything. You’re engaged to me, a former Turai who tried to kill you with a needle.” Her smile peaks at that comment. “And you just volunteered to spend some of your morning doing stretches and exercises with Interceptors and spending some of your week thinking you’re a space ship. You’re not who you were when I first met you - and you need to know that’s okay. I love you because you’re not who you used to be. You’re someone better than that. You used to be afraid of taking charge, of stepping out of Hugh’s shadow. You were alone and lost. And now, look at yourself. Can you say that who you are now isn’t better than who you were before you first stepped through the Gateway?”
Luis thinks about Arketta’s words for a long moment, interlacing his fingers as he thinks. “No, I can’t deny that I’ve changed, but I’m still the same person. I may be all those things, but that doesn’t mean I’m not the same kid my parents raised, and it pisses me off when people seem to think that being one stops me from being the other anymore and judge me for it.”
Arketta nods. “That is true, your past is still your own, you didn’t stop being a Narsai’i because of what has happened. But who you are now has as much to do with what has happened since we first met as it does with everything before that, yes? I have seen you struggling with that, how far you have come, and I just want you to know that I think that this Luis Stanhill, the one that’s the hero to the resistance and scourge of the Imperium, is the better one. It’s the one that I love, anyway. He’s still Luis Stanhill, but he’s not the same one from before.” She furrows her brow. “I think that’s what I’m trying to say, at least.”
Luis eyes Arketta. “I think I see what you mean, but it’s hard to just let go of the Luis from before, especially when so many people apparently seem to think that not still being him makes me unworthy of being allowed to even claim to have ever been him, or to have any connection with him at all.”
Arketta leans against Luis. “How is that different from them rejecting you altogether?” she asks. “If they refuse to accept who you are now, what does it matter who you were then? And why would you let those people have any say in how you see yourself?”
Luis considers that for a moment. “I guess I shouldn’t. But it’s hard, because as much as I don’t want to listen to them, I’m reluctant to totally lose that other Luis.”
“Well, the good parts are still there in the new Luis, there’s just a lot more to go with them,” Arketta says. “You still have your parents and your memories. But maybe you should let the rest of old Luis go, so he can stop getting in the way of the new Luis.” Luis feels her grip on his hands tighten - a sure sign she’s nervous about what he might say next.
Luis squeezes back on Arketta’s hand. “Sounds like something worth thinking about,” he says. He smiles at her. “You have any advice on how to let a past go?”
Arketta laughs. “Yes, don’t think about it so much,” she says, giving Luis a shake. “Spend time with people who care about you, and just do what you want to do, and stop worrying so much about what the others think.”
Luis smiles, nodding slowly. “Sounds like good advice.”
“You are a good man, Luis. If your government is too focused on how you’re not who you used to be, when who you are is so much better, then I say fuck them. They are wrong.” Arketta starts to tear up. “You are the kindest, smartest, best man I have ever known, and that you are willing to forgive someone like me, who you know has caused so much pain and suffering, and let me spend the rest of my life with you is all that anyone should ever need to know.”
“Thanks,” Luis says. His voice gets raw as he wraps his arms around Arketta in a hug. “It means a lot to know that there’s someone in my corner through all this, and given that, it doesn’t matter what you might have done in the past. I may have changed for the better, but I know you have.”
“Oh, Luis.” Arketta leans into Luis, and they both sit together on the bench in each other’s arms for a good long while.

While Hugh, Hunter, Davis and Swims-the-Black were meeting with General Bolton, Angel was taking care of business of an entirely different type. Boronai being such a relatively remote outpost, the local markets were entirely dominated by one Pan-Industrium - Haar'aiesh, in this case. Not a Faxom-Io market, but not an insurmountable problem, either. At Angel's behest, Gorlan had provided him with the vox codes for the local business leaders of both Gate City and Spire City, and while his teammates were talking with soldiers and generals, Angel was talking with the business community, delivering the message that Faxom-Io has come to town, and that he wanted a meeting. Those that were interested should meet him at a place of his choosing - inside the green zone, of course. Some of the businessmen groused about the Narsai'i knowing about the meeting, even through indirect means, but all agreed to meet in two hours.

And while Hugh and Zaef were out on their adventure, they came. A nicely carpeted third-story conference room of one of said local business leaders' office served as the meeting place, and Angel, dressed in sharply-cut Imperial semi-casual attire - some kind of strange hybrid overcoat that's half sport coat and half trenchcoat, long but open in design, with a dark blue tone that offets the matching yellow shirt with gold highlights and matches the blue of his loosely-fitted Imperial slacks. A more relaxed attire, appropriate for both the desert and the intended tone of the meeting.

Which, once the businessmen start to arrive, is shot to Hell almost immediately.
"What is Faxom-Io going to do about shipments of goods?" Hosa Onpero demands. "It has been months since we have had routine deliveries of products besides basic staples."
"Yes, the Bashakra'i are far too concerned with security to fulfill the local demand for products," Sais Arlasa adds, with a murmor of assent going around the room. The dominating mood of the room is one of uncertainty and doubt, feeding into fear: the fear of the last eight months of relative famine with shipments of consumer products cut by more than half, the fear of potential Narsai'i restrictions on what can be sold, the fear of the unknown in general. It's not an unreasonable fear.
Angel holds up a hand, letting the protests ebb away for awhile before talking. "I know the uncertainty bothers you - it's been a problem for us as well. But we're trying to get together, act as a block to make sure your concerns are heard. And we're pursuing...other avenues to get goods to you. Ones that should be more palatable to security. What are you short on?"
Another cacophany of voices rises up. "Voxes!" half of the room shouts, "Clothing!" another half, "Skimmers!", "Cogitators!", "Furniture!", "Construction materials!" It seems that everyone is short on everything.
Angel frowns. The usual needs of a country at war, plus other luxuries. "Alright...let's iron out the important things first. Essentials, commodities. Things we can ship in bulk."

The rise of noise increased again, but this time a single voice cut through it like a Turai sword. "Excuse me," an athletic-looking man in his forties shouts. "Excuse me." The room quiets down. "I believe Mr. Kesh was speaking about staples, not next season's vox lineup."
Angel nods at the man. "I don't think we've had the pleasure, Mr...? But you're correct. We can sort out luxury skimmers and kitchen finishes when people aren't starving, or dying of preventable illnesses."
The man stands up from his seat and walks towards the front of the room. "Vosa Nakloni." He bows to Angel, then continues. "As for supplies, fortunately, the situation has not degenerated to that point, Mr. Kesh. The Narsai'i are keeping us fed, both with our staples as well as their own, and we are receiving...adequate replacements for our own medical supplies - something that I believe that you, as co-owner of Kesh Pharmaceuticals, can also help with. As for clothing and other such basics, those, we are running dangerously low on."
Angel nods. "I'll see what I can do." He sits, leaning back. "Though the question becomes how, and for what - while I'm disinclined toward profiteering, I very much doubt you all would appreciate me flooding the market with cheap goods in the name of charity."
"No, but that is a question that is worth asking," Nakloni says. "We had almost a dozen different brands available on Boranai prior to the invasion. We are willing to pay a fair market price, but our concern is if we can have a fair market. How can Faxom-Io prevent a monopoly and price-gouging all by itself?"
Angel allows himself a small smile. "I can assure you that your markets will remain healthy, and with ample competition. I'm here to facilitate your economy getting back on the right track - not buy it out. Besides, the...unique...circumstances we find ourselves in means Faxom-Io cannot bring its full weight to bear. There will be plenty of room for local competition. We want to be partners, first and foremost."

A round of satisfied mutters goes around the room, while Nakloni smiles and winks at Angel. "Good, that is very good, Mr. Kesh," he says. "And how do you plan on delivering larger items and luxuries, like skimmers or cogitators?"
"We have distribution channels that will be more acceptable to the Bashakra'i security folks up and running soon that should allow for larger items to be brought in at a reasonable pace, once the essentials are taken care of."
"Well, we have lists ready to go, I believe..." Nakloni turns to the assembled businessmen and women, who nod in assent. "If we send them to your vox right now, how soon can the first shipment arrive, and how many freighters would that be?"
Angel thinks for a moment, running some very basic numbers through his head, and then his vox. "At least three freighters. It will take several days. Given the gate traffic you're already experiencing, security issues, and the military slowing everything down, I'd give it a week and a half and be happy when it's early."
A much happier sound spreads around the room. Apparently, many of them were expecting it to come much later, Nakloni included. "That would be excellent, Mr. Kesh," he says, smiling. "If the numbers we put together are correct, that should be enough to cover our basics needs for at least another month or two." He turns back to the room. "If there is nothing else..."
"Will our existing pricing contracts be honored?" a woman asks. "Or any other contract?"
"The contracts you made were with Haar'aiesh, not us, and there are complicating circumstances to shipping in the goods you need. They may need to be renegotiated - which will be done on a case by case basis - but I'll do my best to honor your existing pricing agreements and other contracts. If nothing else, it cuts down on paperwork."
Some are not happy about that - there's obviously a few sweetheart deals in the mix - but nothing substantial. Nakloni turns back to Angel. "Then in that case, I believe we are satisfied."

Nods and words of assent are heard, and the businessmen and women all file out of the room - all except Nakloni, who still stands before Angel, hands behind his back.
Angel watches them file out, saying a few reassuring words to a few who still look concern, before turning back. "'We' are satisfied but I assume 'you' are not?"
"Oh, I am very satisfied, Mr. Kesh," Nakloni says. "I have long preferred Faxom-Io's high end lines to Haar'aiesh, and the change in pan-industrium should keep people on their toes enough for some interesting business opportunities to present themselves." He takes a seat. "I just had some questions for you that you might not have been comfortable asking in front of the others. See, I control most of the business in this section of Boranai, and, given the factionalism that still divides the Spire's businesses since the Narsai'i invasion, I will be the one that you will be most directly dealing with, and I would prefer to know more about this supply pathway." He pours himself a glass of water, then continues. "How did you arrange such quick delivery, for a start? My estimates put the first possible delivery through the Bashakra'i at a month, at best."
Angel nods. "A good question. To be blunt...I know people you don't."
Nakloni laughs. "Keeping your secrets your own, then. How about this, then: Why did the Narsai'i let you in?" He takes a drink, and puts the glass down, and this time he stares back at Angel, the humor gone from his eyes. "I have no love for the Imperium, Mr. Kesh, but I have no interest in becoming a slave to the Narsai'i. The Viiam'i believe that they have no intention of enslaving my people, but I know that intentions and results can be very different things. I need to know if I can trust you, if you have completely sold yourself to the Narsai'i military in exchange for access."
Angel chuckles, despite the man's seriousness. "Asking the same question using slightly different phrasing doesn't do much for my willingness to answer. But I'll indulge it. I got through because the Narsai'i don't have a choice in the matter. They'd likely prefer to run the show themselves, but they know that if they don't want to be a hopeless technological and economic backwater, they need people like me. So they deal - or they will once they think about it long enough to raise an objection."
"Ah, you really have them in a tight spot then, eh? That, I understand - and applaud. It seems the Kesh family lives up to its reputation. I will have my assistant send you a message with our first order within the hour." He stands up and bows again to Angel. "Good day, Mr. Kesh."
"I look forward to it." Nakloni turns and walks out of the room, leaving Angel alone with his thoughts and glass of water. Once Nakloni has left the room, Angel shakes his head, downing the water in a single gulp. "Holy fuck Rivera, what have you gotten yourself into?"

As they sit or stand near the two Humvees in the Boranai’i afternoon near the northern green zone checkpoint, Hugh, Luis and Hunter take in the lesson in planetary ecology that Boranai provides: Just because the outcome is similar does not mean there are not significant differences in the details. The persistent hint of that odd bubble-gum smell in the air (a byproduct of ancient microorganisms, according to the Keeper reports), the Boranai’i day is a full four hours longer than on Earth, but with the sole star in the system dimmer than that of Earth, the planet is merely a hot desert for the most part, rather than uninhabitable. This also takes sunglasses from being an absolute necessity to be able to cut through the brightness and glare of the desert surroundings to merely a comfortable luxury.

Elsewhere nearby, Angel, Davis, Swims-the-Black, Arketta and Zaef stand by, ready to spring into action in the event that this meeting turns into an ambush right away. The soldiers either sit in the Humvees or on the benches nearby, or are walking patrol around the vehicles. Children play in the road down the block and a few pedestrians walk by across the street - business as usual in the shops near the green zone and nothing to suggest any kind of drastic ambush, which is just enough to engender suspicion that’s exactly what’s about to happen.

A skimmer flies back from its second lap around the block and settles down next to the convoy. The soldiers immediately rush towards it and take up positions, shouting for the driver to shut down the vehicle and keep her hands where they can see them. As Hugh, Luis and Hunter are about to be rushed away by their escorts and squawks come over the vox from the various members of 815 on overwatch, Hugh sees through the clear dome on the skimmer that the woman behind the driver’s wheel is Tei. She gives Hugh a relaxed nod towards the soldiers, more "can you call off your goons" than "see you in Hell".

Hugh holds up his left hand balled into a fist, the universal sign for 'Hold up.' He then keys his vox. "All units, bogey is a friendly. Hold your fire." He steps forward, beam rifle slung across his chest. "Let me guess, you're here to take us to the real meeting place."
Tei smirks at Hugh. "Aren't you clever. You didn't really expect that the Viiam'i would just let you lead your Narsai'i friends to their door, did you?"
Hugh smirks right back. "No, but I did expect that they would honor the choice of meeting place. If they didn't want me to bring my friends, all they had to do was say that up front." He looks to Hunter. "Best kept in mind for future deals. For the sake of some goodwill, we'll come along."
Tei looks at the group. "I assume it's going to be you, 'Stan-hill' and the other one coming with us." She points at Hunter. "You're the only ones not shitting your pants."
"That's the deal," Hugh confirms with a nod. "We'll stay armed, though - after all, we don't know where you're taking us and how many friends you have waiting for us there. I hope that's agreeable."
Tei nods. "That's fair - as long as you leave your voxes and any tracking devices behind. It's not just for us - when I engage the EM shielding, it'll fry anything with an antenna. 'Stan-hill' will need to plug this in -" she tosses Hugh a small device that looks like it would fit into the jack in Luis' neck, "- and put a shield over his head."
"We're not wearing trackers, you can scan us if you want," Hugh says. "And we'll need at least one vox with us to call back in case there are strategic-level decisions to be made. We will keep that powered off and out in the open, though, so you can confirm we're not bugging the meet. If we do need to call in, we will tell you so you can shuttle us away from the meeting point. Okay?"
Tei digs around in her pocket and fishes out the small ring of another vox from her pants. "Got you covered." She cocks an eyebrow. "Well?"
Hugh's eyes narrow. He should insist on testing that vox, but things are tense enough as is. "Fine by me. Let's go."

Hugh turns to Hunter and Luis. "Last chance for second thoughts, guys. Anyone got an overwhelming feeling of incoming dread I should hear about?"
“Nope,” Luis says, shaking his head then points at the blocker (which he recognizes as a debugger set to monitor and supress traffic). “Pass me that, will you?”
Hugh tosses the blocker - rather carelessly - to Luis’s waiting hands. “Major Brand?” Hugh asks.
“Existentially, yes. But my situational awareness doesn’t read anything particularly hinky.”
“That’s good,” Hugh says, “mine’s looking for the buffet line still.”

Tei tosses the vox into a small silver bag and slides that back into her pants as the three of you remove your voxes and climb into the back seat of the skimmer. Luis' SMG is not a problem, while Hugh's beam rifle fights for space with Hunter's machine gun and the shield sitting in the back seat - it looks just like a motorcycle helmet without a flip-up visor or any provision to see out of it at all, but with Luis' antennae already disconnected at the hardware level, he simply puts it on the floor. The door, simply a movable section of the clear dome over the top of the skimmer, slides and locks into place, and almost immediately you're off. Tei takes the skimmer up about 20 meters in the air and flies north into the bulk of Gate City before your view of the outside world abruptly goes away. The skimmer's clear plastic dome goes opaque in an instant as small strips light up in the roof to illuminate the interior.

A moment later, Tei nods behind her at the group. "Hitting the EM blocker now." Everyone's hair stands on end for a moment, and Luis gets a slight headache even with his antennae off, but it passes quickly. All the while, you can all feel the skimmer juke and turn - Tei is obviously trying to shake off whatever tail the military has put on her. After a few minutes of the rough treatment, the skimmer's flight settles down and it's a few more minutes of smooth flight until you all feel the skimmer come to a stop and hover down to land.

The back door and driver's door slide open as Tei turns around. "We're here. Keep that plug in, 'Stan-hill', and don't try anything clever."
“No problem,” Luis says.
“I’m taking point,” Hugh says. “Major Brand, you mind bringing up the rear? I want our firepower hanging back a little.”
“Makes sense to me. I’ll keep an eye on dead angles.”

Tei climbs out of the skimmer first, with Luis, Hugh and finally Hunter following her. She's landed you in a courtyard of sorts - more like a skimmer parking area, with several other skimmers sitting on the ground nearby. She leads you up a flight of stairs, and it's just now you feel the weight of exactly how many eyes are upon you. The stairs lead up the middle of an open courtyard in between two hab blocks, an area with benches and a few children's toys on the ground. You can hear families talking through open doorways and see the normal detritus that day-to-day life leaves behind - but mostly, you see everyone staring at the three of you. Not all of them look like they're guards, but not all of them have to be. Adults, kids, the elderly, every eye in your immediate vicinity is staring at the three interlopers into their little haven.

You stop on the third floor and walk a few doors down before Tei motions for you to wait outside. "I'll be back in a minute." She presses the panel to slide the door open, which shuts behind her.
“Looks like a little exclave to me,” Hugh says. “Wonder who these people are that they’re cooped up here.”
“Dunno,” Luis says, “But it suggests the locals at least don’t think they’re dangerous.”
“You ever done any drug interdictions?” Hunter asks, “Dangerous all depends on who you are.”
“Can’t say we have,” Hugh says. “I’m the Herald of Fire, though. Does that rate as dangerous?” He gives the children a ‘Hey, kids, do your parents know you’re out here watching us?’ smile.
The kids run back to a walkway between the two habs and peer over the edge, smiling at Hugh as the door slides back open and Tei steps out. "Okay, go on inside. I will be out here."
Hugh nods as Luis takes the first step inside and quickly follows him. Hunter lingers a second longer and gives Tei a glance, she simply narrows her eyebrows and nods towards the open doorway, impatient for him to get inside, before he follows the rest of the group in.

The inside of the hab doesn't conform to any sort of "secret hideout" stereotype - in fact, it looks just like every other Imperial hab Hugh and Luis have ever been in. The front door leads into the kitchen/dining area/living area combination area, with a couch and seats, a table and chairs, and the cooking area. It's obviously kept scrupulously clean, there's no dishes, cups, clothes or anything else out of place, a model of military-like cleanliness.

What it's lacking, however, is a person inside of it. There is an uncomfortable pause for a moment as the possibility that this is one giant trap flashes across everyone's mind before a man turns the corner from the bedroom and steps into the room - a man Hugh and Luis recognize instantly.

CIA Agent Paul Sturgis smiles awkwardly in his grey T-shirt and loose-fitting Imperial pants. "Hey, guys. Err...would you like something to drink?"

Hugh raises an eyebrow. “Well, fuck me.”
Luis’s face forms a “WHAT?” that he is momentarily unable to enunciate. Finally, he manages to get out a single word. “...Sturgis?”
Hunter takes into account the neat surroundings, the Narsai’i features, and the countless encounters he’s had with clandestine and covert operatives. “Let me guess. Off the books extracurriculars with The Company?”
Sturgis looks surprised at the suggestion. “Uh, not quite.” He motions towards the kitchen. “Seriously, do you guys want something to drink? We’ve got juice and protein shakes in the cooler.” Sturgis walks into the kitchen, pulls four glasses off one of the many open storage shelves, pops open a panel on the counter-top, then pulls out a plastic container of a red fruit juice. He looks subtly different than Hugh and Luis remember him appearing when they last saw him - it must have been at least eight months ago, at the final prep for invading Boranai. He looks more athletic than before, and there’s a tattoo running out of his sleeve and down his right arm to his hand. But his hair is still the same short cut and his English still has that hint of Midwestern accent, not an Imperial one.

“I think...” Sturgis sighs and stops pouring drinks to brace himself on the counter, “I think I owe you guys an explanation as to what I’m doing out here - and why you don’t know about it.”
"We're all ears," Hugh says. "And I'll have some of that juice, please."
Sturgis carries the four glasses back to the table and sets them down before taking a seat himself. “Well...after the team that Onas and I lead captured the Needleship at the Boranai outsystem gate, we were ordered to hold position until we were relieved. That was two weeks later, and by that point in time...” Sturgis pauses to take a drink and ponder his next move, “well, by that point things were moving pretty fast on Earth and Boranai. I was told to stay behind on Boranai and wait for further instructions - and that’s the last I’ve heard from Earth. After a week of waiting, I decided to get more involved in helping stabilize relations between our military and the Boranai’i - and then all of a sudden it’s almost a month later, I’m wondering if I’m ever going to get word from Langley again, and then Brinai dials into my vox. She had heard that Boranai wasn’t doing too well, and said she was sending Onas back to Boranai to help out. And...”

Sturgis stops mid-sentence, looks back behind him towards the rest of the hab, then back at his glass. The business-like, get-the-job-done demeanor that Hugh and Luis remember is gone from his expression. “Okay. Let me start over. On the Needleship. Onas and I were playing gin, just bullshitting and passing the time, when I asked him about his life back home on Atea. He said he didn’t have much time for one, and when I joked that a guy like him should at least have a girl back there waiting for him, he replied, “Guess I haven’t found a man willing to wait around.’ And...well...fuck.” Sturgis looks at the others at the table, then just starts going point-by-point. “Okay, look. I’m a homosexual. Have been since I was a teen, just never told anyone, ever. And we connected on the Needleship, and then again when he came back to Boranai. We’ve been working and living together for seven months, and got married a little over a month ago, and that’s why I didn’t tell you, or Barnes, or Russell, or anyone else what I’ve been doing with Onas and keeping things on an even keel with the military and the Boranai’i.” He sighs and looks Hugh, Luis and Hunter in the eyes in turn, trying to read their reactions.

Hugh’s face reads like a combination of a shrug and a “Wait, that’s it?”, which is somewhat impressive when he’s moving neither his shoulders nor his mouth.
Hunter buries his face in his palm, relieved at least that there’s no terrible secret society to deal with, just one that dare not speak its name on Narsai. “It pains me how much sense that makes.”
Luis raises an eyebrow. “So...you’ve been running some deep-cover local network because you weren’t willing to tell anyone back home you were gay? You couldn’t have...just left that part out of the debrief?”
“And said what?” Sturgis asks. “I’ve been secretly working with the Bashakra’i for the last six months on an unauthorized operation because...you forgot to put me in your new address book? It’s not like they wouldn’t have noticed, either.” He raises his right hand to show the long scar across his palm and the portion of his tattoo winding down the back of his hand and in a ring around his ring finger. “Besides, you know what Russell would have done even if I hadn’t married Onas, you’ve worked with him. I’d be banished Earth-side just for working this operation without his say-so.”
Luis exchanges a glance with Hugh. “We’ve done slightly more than just work with him. How much have you heard about the situation Earth-side?”
“A fair amount, but we’re a week or so behind here, that’s what Onas is reading now.” Sturgis gets up and walks back towards what is probably the bedroom. “Onas, you can come out now.”

The Napai’i soldier follows Sturgis out of the bedroom, and instead of his usually gruff demeanor, the most eye-catching thing about him is the White Sox button-up jersey and blue jeans he’s wearing. “Brinai has sent us her collected information on the Narsai’i attempts to destroy the GRHDI and smear your names,” Onas says. ”The attacks are cowardly, but effective. I told Paul that I believe you can be trusted, but I certainly would not say the same for any other Narsai’i.” He takes Sturgis’ hand as he speaks. ”You have no idea how hard it was to convince him to even do this.” Onas gives Hunter a curious - and slightly threatening - look. ”But I do not know who this is. Stanhill, Verrill, can he be trusted?”
“Barnes hired him to translate what we’ve been doing into a doctrine they can teach others if the Congress can be convinced not to shut us down,” Luis says. “So far, he seems all right.”
”Yeah, he’s on the level,” Hugh adds.
”I should mention he’s not fluent in Imperial,” Luis says.
Onas bows slightly to Hunter. “Apologies. I was not aware that you do not speak Imperial.” His voice is deep, unlike his accent, which is miles better than that of Brinai or Bello. “I was just giving Stanhill and Verrill my thoughts on the attacks against the 815 and the GRHDI - and asking if you can be trusted.” The inquisitive look returns. “Can you be trusted?”

“Well, I’m well aware that I was brought in as a compromise, a neutral recorder of how things are. The longer I’m out here, the better a picture I get, but the more likely the odds are that someone will accuse me of going native. Ultimately, I have to find the truth, and translate it into a form that the Earthside military culture understands. This could be difficult. I think I can be trusted. But right now I’m mostly worried about getting the folks back home to trust me.”
Onas’ expression darkens as Hunter finishes speaking. “That is not what I asked. I agree with Brinai and Bello - if the Narsai’i wish to get rid of their best assets, that just means more for us. What I want to know is can you be trusted with Paul’s secret - the organization we’ve built and his becoming a Viiam’i?”
“Anonymity is not something I have a problem with,” Hunter replies. “Sources need protection, and this is a situation where a lot of things are better left shadowy. I am curious what exactly the Viiam’i are, though.”
Onas rolls up the sleeve on his right arm - revealing that not only does he have a matching tattoo trail running down his arm to a “ring” on his ring finger, but a very impressively detailed image of a chistled-looking man in Turai armor standing in protection of three Imperial citizens while explosions go off in the starry sky behind him. “The Viiam’i are an honor society that pays tribute to Viiam Manketani, a Turai that single-handedly stopped a pirate attack on Vou Anns more than five hundred years ago. The men who live in his image - honorable, brave, homo-sexual -” he stumbles over the word, “- and skilled fighters are invited to join. I was a proud member of the Viiam’i when I was in the Turai, and I deserted when what we were being forced to do stopped being in line with what Viiam would have done.”

Hugh’s facial expression makes clear that he listened to half of that and doesn’t intend to remember that part, either. “So, everything’s cool now?” he asks. Luis looks exasperated as Hugh clumsily tries to change the subject, but waits for the answer to the question.
Hunter thinks for a second, and asks, “You said that you deserted when you felt that the Turai were no longer in line with the ideals of the Viiam’i. How do honor societies work in the Turai, and how does allegiance to the society differ from allegiance to the Turai?”
“There was...disagreement.” A moment of sadness passes over Onas’ usually stoic face. “But I believed in the values that Viiam did before I joined the Turai, it was not just an excuse to get together with the men, drink and tell war stories. My allegiance was to the Viiam’i values, not the Hand that Guides and killing unarmed civilians.”
“I regret that you had to be in that position. Do many Viiam’i feel the same way?” Hunter asks.
“Not as many as I would like,” Onas says.
“Is that kind of honor society common?” Luis asks.
“For homo-sexual men, no, but there are others in the Turai for like-minded individuals. Most of them are more concerned with advancing their members up the ranks, or inducting their members into the Khiraba.” Onas looks like he ate a whole lemon with the word “Khiraba”.
“What are the more idealistic societies? And is there any sort of contact between active Turai and those who’ve gone over?” Hunter asks, thinking about means of splintering a fighting force of over 200 million.
“I will work on putting together a list, if you want,” Onas says. He looks less than pleased that this has turned from Sturgis’ big moment to be honest about who he’s become to a Q&A about Turai society, and gives Sturgis an apologetic look. Sturgis squeezes Onas’ hand in return before Onas looks back to Hunter. “And I can only say what happened to me - no. There is no contact. Ever.”

“I understand. It’s good to actually know who you are, and what you’re about.” Turning to Sturgis, Hunter asks, “and I’m fairly curious about how you came to join the Viiam’i. It sounds like you’ve been doing some pretty deep soul-searching, lately.”
“Onas inducted me as part of our marriage ceremony,” Sturgis says, and rolls up his own right sleeve to reveal a slightly different version of the same tattoo that Onas has. “He told me about Viiam’i values on the Needleship, and I asked to join on the spot.”
“Which was the first time Paul was honest about who he is,” Onas adds.
Sturgis smiles awkwardly. “Onas, Jesus fucking Christ.”
Onas puts an arm around Sturgis’ shoulder. “I am proud to see you become a better man, Paul. I will not hide that.”
Luis smiles at the two of them and says, “I’m glad that you two found each other.” However, the grin turns into a slight frown as he continues. “I can understand why you might be worried about how Russell or some of the others would take this. Have you been back to Earth since?”
“Well, no. But I had some of the Bashakra’i help me ship all the stuff out of my apartment to Boranai,” Sturgis says. “And I get all the White Sox games the same way, so, it’s not like I’ve needed to go back. But one of these days, I want to take Onas to a game at Comisky Park, so I’ll go back eventually.”
“Well, things have a habit of moving from impossible to inevitable pretty quickly back there. I don’t think it’ll be that long before you see one of those rare Chicago summer days that almost make the winter worth it.” Hunter smiles.
Sturgis smiles and nods. “Let’s hope so.”
“One question I am thinking about, though: what I report will probably contain some fragmentary truths that fit with what people already know. How well-known is it that the hidden power on Boranai are Viiam’i?” Hunter asks.
“Pretty well known, that’s been our cover,” Sturgis says. “Almost everyone thinks we’re just two disillusioned Turai.”
“Instead of just one,” Onas adds.
“Tei and a few others are the only ones who know the truth,” Sturgis finishes.
“That’ll work.” Hunter nods. “I mean, it’s more or less the truth. And sometimes more or less is the best you can get.”

“Okay!” Hugh suddenly says, loud enough to get everyone’s attention. “So you two are in a gay honor society thing, and a couple. Well, that’s great for you, I wish you all the best. Major Brand, I’m sure all that’s fascinating fodder for an anthropology study by a bunch of coked-out grad students. But, please, can we get to the part where we talk about the security situation on Boranai? That’s what we’re here for, after all.”
Onas narrows his eyes at Hugh, but Sturgis stops him with a light elbow jab in the side and a look that says Relax before he can say anything. "Well, we would know," Sturgis says. "What do you want to know?"
“How many Turai are still camping out in the mountains and what’s their supply situation?” Hugh asks.
"No more than two or three dozen," Sturgis says. "We've been doing a good job keeping the Boranai'i from resupplying them and the Army's been stopping their raids, so they're probably not doing too well. Actually, Onas estimates that one of the reasons that raids and ambushes have been happening less frequently is that they're running out of chamakana rods. Pretty soon, they'll be down to rocks and sharp sticks."
“That’ll only do so much to slow them down,” Hugh says. “This is the hard core crowd. They’ll always be in supplies because they think nothing of watching us and raiding for what they need where they think they can get away with it. I doubt we’re going to see another Hiroo Onoda, but still, this is a long-term problem. Two dozen is too much for my comfort - we may not ever be able to find them all, but two dozen is too much. I think we should start an effort to bring them in. Do you have any leads on where they might be hiding out?”
Onas continues to glare at Hugh, leaving Sturgis to do the talking. "In the badlands in between Spire City and Gate City," Sturgis says. "Aside from that, no idea. We think they move at least once a week. We do know that there's people here that can make contact with them, but I don't know if even they know where they are at any point."
“Alright, then we reach out to these people, see what we can dig up. I don’t want to leave two dozen Turai with a serious grudge running around the periphery of this place, and I sure as hell don’t want them to hurt anyone just because we thought tracking them wasn’t worth the hassle. We pull out all the stops for this one.” Hugh looks at Onas. “You got something to say to me here or outside?”
"Yes," Onas says. "Outside, in the other room."
Sturgis turns to shut Onas down. "Onas -"
Onas smirks at Sturgis. "Do not worry, Paul. I will try not to punch him. You continue to brief Stanhill and...Brand, I think." Onas stands up and motions for Hugh to walk into the bedroom.

After the two of them leave the room, Sturgis turns back to Luis and Hunter. "He's not wrong, though, we've been trying to make inroads with them, but they're not going for it. We're prepping a last offer of surrender for sometime in the next few weeks."
Luis watches Hugh leave, a slight frown on his face. Hugh’s reaction to Sturgis’ personal revelations is as disappointing as his reaction to meeting Junior again at Mesa Negras. However, there’s other things to worry about for the moment. He turns back to Sturgis, and says, “What happens if they don’t take the offer?”
“How long can they feasibly last out there before starving or giving up? What are their odds of raiding and living off the land?” Hunter asks.
“There’s nothing out there to live off of except for scrub brush, the occasional spink colony and the taranteks,” Sturgis replies. “They can live off the land, but it won’t leave them in any sort of fighting shape, and they know it. That’s why we’re making this final offer. If they don’t take it, we start turning up the pressure on the contacts that we know they have and making them choose between the Turai and us. Most of them should crack, and then we just keep turning up the heat until they either turn themselves in, we get a break in our search for them, or they do something desperate.”
“How does desperation manifest itself with Turai?” Hunter asks, curious for reasons large and small.
“How does desperation manifest in any fighting force?” Luis says. “Except that this bunch has already self-selected to be more radical, so I’m guessing it could tend more towards the bad end of the scale.” He turns to Sturgis, “Right?”
Sturgis nods. “Pretty much. We’ll be letting the Narsai’i military know when we start applying pressure so they can keep their guards up and be ready for any last-ditch attacks - or suicide efforts.”
“Forces go bad and weird in lots of ways. Now, bearing in mind that we’ve heard a lot about ‘dead-enders’ before in very different contexts, what’s their likelihood of getting food or support from relatively silent parts of the population?” Hunter asks.
“Not good,” Sturgis replies. “Once the locals realized that we’re just as interested in keeping the planets together as the Imperium is and we’re not here to burn the galaxy down, the support for the Imperium vanished pretty quickly. Plus, word might have gotten out over what Rav-Samal Hopalon said at the meeting, and the people here aren’t interested in being burned alive.”
“If they don’t take the offer, what do you think’s the timeframe going to be for waiting ‘em out?”
“Not long, we were thinking the same thing that Hugh said,” Sturgis says, nodding towards the bedroom. You can hear muffled shouting in Imperial through the wall, nothing intelligible, though. Luis spares it a glance, and the frown returns. Hunter furrows his brow as Sturgis continues. “We’ve let them hang around out there long enough, it’s time to take care of that problem once and for all. Then we can completely focus on establishing a Boranai’i democratic government and getting them on the road to making decisions for themselves.”

“Getting a democracy going, that’s a whole ‘nother kettle of fish, and something we might have have a separate conversation on down the line. Figuring out ways to keep democratic processes from just reflecting existing power conflicts is always a bitch to work out in situations like this.” Hunter speaks a little louder to muffle the shouting in the other room. “Beyond that, there seems to be the issue of the informal economy. How dialed-in to that are your shadowy folks?”
“If you mean the off-the-books stuff, Tei pretty much is a good piece of that all by herself,” Sturgis says, nodding towards the front door. “Convincing her to join up was one of the things that’s made this all possible.”
“How’d you swing that, actually?” Hunter asks, intrigued.
“She was at the meeting and heard the whole exchange between Onas and me and Hopalon,” Stugis says. “And she approached us after the meeting, and said that we had the right idea and that she wanted to help. Something we said about working with the Narsai’i to improve the lives of all Boranai’i, instead of letting the Imperium come in and sweep everything clean struck a nerve, I don’t know, maybe she saw that she’d have to completely reinvent the illegal side of her business from the bottom up, maybe she’s tired of the life and wants to do something better with the rest of her life. But she’s been indispensable - a little over-protective, actually - and she’s one of the few people not in this hab right now that knows who I am.”
“So the location switch-up and the ride on the way in...?” Luis asks.
“Her idea, yeah,” Sturgis says with an awkward smile. “She just wanted to make sure that the Narsai’i don’t know where we are, sorry.”
Luis grins. “Well, no harm no fowl, and it may help you to keep your origin secret if that’s going to remain important to your operation.”
“Yeah, and another reminder for me to stay on a heart-healthy diet. Do you worry about them trying to root you out more fully once the insurgency’s finished?”
“A bit, but once the insurgency is handled we can go further underground, or maybe even head off Boranai entirely,” Sturgis replies. “Onas has petitioned for a two-person cabin back on Atea, and Brinai told me she’s fast-tracking the transfer paperwork. We’ve got enough groundwork laid here that we should be able to get by with weekly visits once the insurgency is done, if it comes to that. Hopefully, Bolton keeps his hands-off approach going, though. I like this hab.”

“From a broader scope, you’ve been doing a lot of work to ease tensions between Narsai’i and everyone else here. What do you think we could learn from it as we go forward?” Hunter asks.
“Keep the people in charge at the Pentagon and Langley the fuck away from it,” Sturgis says. “I know the hell that Bolton went through to get Bashakra’i and Boranai’i vetted for his staff, not to mention all the ruffled feathers Onas and I have had to smooth back down after Pentagon brass or CIA spooks roll through Boranai, kicking down doors, pushing around shopkeepers, and terrorizing families looking for ‘traitors’ and ‘spies’. It’s not an imagined problem, the insurgency is proof of that, but the way the Narsai’i leaders look down their noses at the Imperials - it’s damn near cost us this planet more than once. Barnes and Davis need to get the GRHDI put in charge of off-world relations fast, or the next planet might not go so smoothly.”
“We’re trying to get that,” Luis says, “But it’s been hard, especially since those same types are currently doing much the same song-and-dance to Congress and the press.”
“And what are you guys doing in return?” Sturgis asks.
“Trying to find people to speak up for the other side,” Luis says. “Get the story out there about the real scope of things, and the need to work with the Bashakra’i on an equal basis. But it’s a hard sell.” He shrugs. “After hearing about Bolton’s family, I was actually thinking a fact-finding trip out here might be useful if we could get one put together.”
“And how’s that working out for you?” Sturgis replies.
Luis sighs and says, “Not great.”
“Then you need to do what you need to do to get this done,” Sturgis says. “This is the future of our world, Luis. We can’t let short-sighted bigots fuck this one up, not now. It might be time to escalate and roll with the punches. Tell Davis and Barnes that.”
Luis nods. “I will.”
“And...err...” Sturgis nervously scratches his head. “Let them know what’s happened to me. I think that they at least deserve to know what’s going on.”
Luis nods again. “Do you want me to carry a letter or something instead of just telling them?”
Sturgis just stares at Luis for a moment, trying to think of what to say. “...or I could just tell them myself, I guess. Onas and I will vox them when we’re done here.”
“All right. I think they’ll get it,” Luis says. He throws a glance to the wall before continuing. The shouting continues on the other side. More than others, I hope, he thinks.
Sturgis nods, and looks at the wall behind him for a moment before turning back to Luis. “So, more juice?”

Onas lets Hugh enter the bedroom first. It, like the main living area of the hab, is kept scrupulously clean, the product of having two military men living under the same roof. One half is given over mostly to Sturgis' things, a mix of memorabilia from his military and CIA days and more items from his beloved White Sox. A picture of Sturgis in body armor is side-by-side with a picture of Sturgis in the stands at a game, and his medal display case sit next to an autographed baseball in its own display. Onas' things are mostly things from his travels working for Brinai, knickknacks and odds and ends from dozens of planets, but even the Turai deserter has his armor and medals on display. On either side of the bed, a vox holodisplay and charger sits on a bedside table, both with multiple voxes slid onto the stand.

Onas waves towards the panel to slide the door shut behind him. "Paul told me about the Narsai'i attitude towards gay men, but I did not believe that someone from the 815 would act that way," Onas says in Imperial.
“What, you think I’m giving him shit because he’s gay?” Hugh answers. “I don’t care what people do in their private lives. Do the job and that’s enough for me. But get one thing right, Onas, I’m not your friend. Doesn’t mean I don’t like you or Paul, I like you guys just fine. I just don’t give a crap about your domestic situation, especially when I’m here to make sure people stay safe and alive. I’m not here to catch up with your personal lives over a cup of tea. That may make me an asshole who can’t keep it down when other people make small talk, but up until an hour ago, I thought this place was only held together because two mystery men have been keeping the peace with an unknown agenda, which means shit can explode at any time when they stop playing nice with Team Narsai’i. So I think I’ve earned being a little on edge here.”
"That is spink-shit, Verrill," Onas shouts back. "I saw your face, you were only acting out when Paul confessed that he was gay. This is not about being our friends, this is about you failing to be a decent person. Confessing that was important for Paul, it took a lot of bravery, and you could not even pretend to not be disgusted with him. Boranai'i security could wait five First-damned minutes for Paul Sturgis."
“No, it really couldn’t,” Hugh spits back. “You all but lured us here just so Paul could come out? You could have fucking asked us to come for personal business. Instead, you hijacked an important conversation about protecting the people of Boranai for your personal affairs.” He stares a hole through Onas. “And if you imply that I’m a homophobe or a liar to my face one more time, we are taking this outside outside.”
"Paul is giving Stanhill and your other friend - Brand - the information we prepared right now, Verrill," Onas says. "And as for how we brought you here, we weren't sure if we could trust the 815 - specifically, we were not sure if we could trust you."

“Of course!” Hugh shouts. “That’s the license for everyone to fuck with me these days, isn’t it? Trust! Fuck you, Onas. I’ve been bleeding for this war since day one. Do not ever play these games with me again. I’m sorry that I ruined Paul’s big moment there, really, but it’s taking a lot out of me to continually deal with people who think the best way to interact with me is to lead me around by the nose, feed me false and confusing information, and then act like I’m the dick when I try to cut the crap and actually get something done. You either trust me or you don’t, but you do not, I repeat, you do not waste my time with games. This war’s too big and too important for any of us to not deal squarely with one another. Do I make myself clear?”
"Then maybe you should have remembered that when you betrayed your team and betrayed us," Onas fires back. "I talk with Davis, Stanhill and Barnes. I know that Brinai, Bello and I are not the only ones who do not trust you, your own team does not trust you right now. No one is sure where your allegiance lies, Verrill, and that means we cannot trust you. If you don't want to be treated like you're untrustworthy, maybe you should stop acting untrustworthy."
“I made a mistake,” Hugh says. “I’ve admitted that much, it was damn near the first thing I did after I made that mistake. But everyone’s acting like I’m some sort of turncoat or mole who sold you down the river for personal gain. Well, let me set this straight -”
Onas interrupts Hugh. "You did it because you thought it was the right thing to do. That is how almost all traitors are recruited, Verrill. And as far as I have heard, you have not said once that it was a bad idea to trust a man like Simmons. Davis did not say why he thinks there is this trust problem, but I know why Brinai, Bello and myself do not trust you - you only apologized for the action, not why you made that decision. You sold your team out to a man you knew was out to destroy your team because you thought that giving him the information he needed to finish off the 815 and the GRHDI would somehow save your team - or save yourself. And we cannot trust someone who is willing to be blinded like that. If you care about this war so much, Verrill, then why don't you stand opposed to those on your planet that are so willing to destroy the only reason things have gone so well?"
“Because it’s the right thing to do!” Hugh snaps. “Yes, they are out to destroy 815 now. But we cannot fight a war against the Imperium and the people who run our military at the same time! This isn’t some black and white morality play, Onas! The Pentagon isn’t evil! Some of their people have agendas, some of them are just misinformed - we can fix that! But it requires someone who’s willing to compromise. I chose the wrong way to do it, I shouldn’t have trusted Simmons one inch, fine! I was wrong about that! But if in all this I’ve made at least one move that convinced someone that they can work with 815 and the GRHDI, then that’s something good, at least. You see Major Brand out there? He’s helping us bridge that gap, and I say without ego that I’m the reason someone in the Pentagon thought it was a good idea to send him with us. And I am not impressed with the idea that unconditional belief in the rightness of 815 members is some sort of requirement here. This isn’t a fucking purity test, Onas. They may be wrong. I may be wrong. At the end of the day, we have to figure out some way to work together. Nobody else here wants to do it, so I tried! And it eats me, it fucking eats me, not just that I dared to try and make a mistake, but also that I’m the only adult in the room who even thinks it’s necessary! Everybody else, it looks like to me, is fucking content sticking to what they have, ‘this is our club house and we’re always right inside this club house’ kindergarten bullshit. We have to think farther than that, Onas. And that means approaching the people who are against us in good faith, sometimes.”
"There is approaching your enemies in good faith, and then there is blindly turning over information to people you know want to destroy you," Onas shoots back. "You did not even think about the fact that Simmons was clear about his intent from the beginning. You were only thinking about keeping in the Narsai'i military's good graces. Yes, we need to work with the Narsai'i, but that does not mean that we simply roll over and give whoever asks whatever they want. They might not all be bad, but there certainly are a lot of them that are, and your insistence on making nice with the people who want us Bashakra'i treated as disposable soldiers, the GRHDI disbanded and the 815 in prison is why no one trusts you, Verrill."

“I know why you don’t trust me, Onas, you’ve said it often enough,” Hugh says. “What I’m telling you is that you’re all latching onto the mistake I made as some sort of justification for why talks with the Pentagon are doomed and blind loyalty to 815 above all else will save the day.”
Onas looks at Hugh like he just crossed his eyes at him. "No, Verrill, we're not. We just don't see much of a point working with the Narsai'i military until they realize that they are not the center of the galaxy."
“They will not realize it,” Hugh cuts in, “unless we can explain it to them in a way they will understand.”
"Because that has worked out so well," Onas says sarcastically. "They are telling your people that the Imperium is a few dozen lightly populated worlds, that they could defeat the entire Imperium in open combat without us. This, despite your efforts and despite them having thousands of soldiers on the other side of the Gateways. They know the truth, and they are still lying. That is not a lack of understanding, that is the Narsai'i lying in order to take command. What is there to explain to them? When will it be enough, Verrill? They have already threatened your teammates and supposed friends with banishment from your world, they spread lies and rumors about you being Imperial spies to your own people, and they have even tried to have you and Swims-the-Black killed! When will you stop defending these people who have made it very clear that they want you gone and don't care how it happens?"
“When I’m dead,” Hugh counters. “I swore an oath, Onas. I have stretched it as far as I can, acting out here on my own, disregarding orders and telling people back home what I think. I will fight for them even if some of them want me gone. I am very aware of their flaws, because I’ve gotten burned for it, but that does not mean I will ever give up on them. I do all this not because it’s easy to just go along with what the Pentagon wants. It’s not easy to be loyal to people who seem determined to ruin me and sabotage the most important fight in the history of this galaxy, Onas. It’s not easy. It’s hard. But I’m doing it because it’s hard, because it has to happen. You have no oath to them, you can give up on them all you want, but I do. We have a saying on Narsai, you know. My country, right or wrong; if right, to be kept right; and if wrong, to be set right. But my country, right or wrong. That’s what I’m doing. And if that’s not compatible with your goals, then that’s the way it is, I won’t fault you for it. But I want you to understand me, Onas. Why I’ve done all this when it would have been far easier to say ‘Fuck it’ and give up on them.”
"I understand, Verrill, I swore an oath once as well," Onas says. "But you are confusing the oath and your world for these people that want to destroy you. I left the Turai and fight the Emperor's forces because I swore an oath to protect and defend the Imperium from all dangers, whatever they may be - but that does not mean I have to be blindly loyal to the leaders of the Imperium. If the Emperor is wrong, then I will fight the Emperor until my last breath. If your planet makes you swear allegiance to the leaders, not to the people, then that is not an oath worth keeping."

“Our people choose their leaders,” Hugh says. “What would you have me do? March on Washington, fight my way to the President and tell him things are gonna have to change around here? You fight the Imperial leaders because there is no way to convince them.”
"Isn't that what Barnes and Davis are already doing?" Onas asks. "They are loyal to your planet, but are willing to be disloyal to those who are putting themselves ahead of your planet's best interests. In the Bashakra'i, loyalty is earned, not given, and these men have done nothing to earn any loyalty from us, Barnes or Davis. What you are doing is putting your loyalty to these men who have done nothing to deserve your loyalty besides holding a rank higher than yours ahead of the loyalty to the people who are fighting alongside you."
“You act like I’m taking my marching orders from Simmons or Russell,” Hugh says. “Believe me, I know exactly where my loyalties end and the greater good takes over. I’m not there to convince Simmons or Russell, Onas, I know that cannot be done. But there are people there who deserve my loyalty, and I will do what I can so that they can lead the way. To totally abandon the Pentagon and merely say ‘Well, we are loyal to Earth, not the government’, that’s treating them like children who can never be expected to make a good choice of their own.”
Onas looks confused. "That is not what Davis and Barnes are doing, as far as I know. And who are these people in your military that deserve your loyalty that you keep talking about?"
“What, do you expect me to have a list?” Hugh says. “Here, I’ve been through the Department of Defense top to bottom, these are the six people we can trust. It doesn’t work that way, Onas. It’s an organization. You feed it the right input, the right people will rise to the top. It’s hard and it’s long-term, but it’s the only way transformation will happen.”
"And how has that been working out for you?" Onas asks.
“Believe me, if I had something concrete to point out in that direction, I would have gloated about it ten minutes ago,” Hugh says. “Doesn’t mean it won’t work. But it takes effort and time and I feel like I’m the only one who’s willing to invest that.”
"Just because you want it to work doesn't mean that it will, either," Onas shoots back. "Davis, Swims-the-Black, Stanhill, Barnes, Brinai and Bello all seem to think that the only way to get the Narsai'i military functioning is to make a stand, fight back against these people and say 'No' to their attempts at control, and if you do not think that I know what I am doing - and I have had a lot of experience with issues like this, as you well know - then do you think that all of us are wrong? And are you going to keep sabotaging what we are trying to do if it disagrees with you?"
“Nice set of loaded questions there, Onas,” Hugh replies. “What do all of these people have in common? They’re not officers in the United States Army. They don’t know how these officers are trained to think. So, yes, on this topic, I think all of you are wrong.”
Onas can't believe what he just heard. "I know what Davis and Barnes did before this war, they worked with your military officers often, and Stanhill was in your military - but what are you saying? That you are the only one in your team that can possibly know what your military is like - or that you are putting your loyalty to your military that is trying to destroy you ahead of your teammates?"
“I am saying that I’m the only officer of the United States Army on this team, Major Brand aside. I don’t discount that the others have worked with them, but I’m the only one that is one, went through their schools, learned what they learned, learned to think like they do.” Hugh snorts. “That doesn’t mean their insights are worthless, but I do know what I’m talking about here, and I think they’re wrong on this issue. Am I going to sell you all out to the next Simmons to come along and order me to? That’s the question you’re really asking, Onas, isn’t it? And the answer is hell no. I have had that mistake drilled into my head so many times now I can never forget what it was like to make it. That will not be repeated.”

Onas shakes his head. "And I think that you have your answer - we don't believe you."
“That’s your problem,” Hugh asserts coolly. “I’ve told you all you need to know to make your decisions about me.”
"And we have," Onas replies. "I will be replying to Brinai's message once you leave - I recommend you avoid coming to Atea alone in the future. We can't trust you on there by yourself."
“Fine by me,” Hugh says. “For what it’s worth? You’ve given me no reason to trust you, either, Onas. I’m still going to do what I can to make the Pentagon see that they need to work together with the Bashakrans on the same level, but I’ve had enough of your little inquisition. You have a good life with Sturgis, Onas. I don’t expect to be seeing you again.”
Onas shakes his head. "You should spend more time talking to your friends instead of looking down at them. You're going to be seeing a lot of me, very soon. Barnes has asked me to lead the first quads of Bashakra'i to work with the Narsai'i trainers, and I agreed."
“Why?” Hugh asks. “You don’t trust them.”
"I don't trust your military's leaders," Onas shoots back with a glare. "I have talked with many others in your military that are more than trustworthy. There is a difference between thinking that we should fight against your military's inept leadership and wanting to abandon the Narsai'i altogether. Not even Bello thinks that."

Hugh starts laughing. “You really don’t get it,” he says. “By working with their trainers, by showing them that you can be relied on, you working to change their leadership."
"These are not picked by those leaders, this is not their idea, it is not supported or even known by others in your military," Onas cuts in. "This is for if Barnes is successful in preserving the GRHDI."
Hugh’s expression darkens again immediately. “Working around them again, then. I see.”
Onas shrugs. "What would you suggest we do? They do not want to work together. We have to work together if we are to survive this war. We do not have time to wait and hope like you think we should. So, we are doing what works."
“I’m not waiting and hoping, I’m working,” Hugh says. “Why do you think I reached out to so many people in the Pentagon? Why did I make a speech in front of Congress? I’m not twiddling my thumbs, Onas. And by doing what ‘works’ now, you are going behind their backs. You’re not giving them a motivation to work with you.” Hugh sighs. “The thing is? I can see where you’re coming from on this. You need cooperation now and this is the way to get it now. But we could do far more if we put in some work with the Pentagon. That’s what I’m trying to do, what I’m trying to get off the ground.”
"And they rewarded you by trying to kill you and have you banished from Narsai," Onas replies. "I think that shows their intent very clearly."
“You can’t win if you don’t play,” Hugh says. “If we don’t try, they will likely not come around soon enough to matter. If we try, yes, we can fail. But one of these days, I will get to mark up one in the winning column. And that’s what matters.”
Onas smirks. "And you said you were not waiting and hoping. You did try, you did fail. I agree with Barnes - they have made their position quite clear, and it is a position that will kill us all. So, we make them irrelevant. They can either work with us, our way, or they will lose."
“I’m going to try again, and again,” Hugh says. “Until I get my message through somebody’s skull. If you’d rather give up, fine, your call. But don’t chastise me for trying.”
"Then don't be surprised when trying to take both sides simply means no one trusts you," Onas replies.
“I’m not surprised,” Hugh says. “Pissed off? Yeah. But I know better than to be surprised.”
Onas shakes his head again. "You know, Verrill, when everyone that's smart and experienced with your government and your military is telling you you're wrong, maybe you're just wrong."
“Or maybe I don’t know the right people yet,” Hugh counters. “Whatever. I’ll see myself out.”
Onas' eyebrows raise in concern over Hugh's statement. "Yes. The others are probably waiting for you in the kitchen."

Their interview on the status of Boranai done for now, Sturgis gets Luis and Hunter more juice, and the conversation settles down into a more cordial tone as the three men try to ignore the shouting match going on in the other room.

Luis asks Sturgis for the details about his wedding to Onas, who reveals it to have been a very simple and subdued affair on one of the observation areas of Atea, with just Brinai, Bello, and several other of Onas' friends on the station in attendance. They then hopped through a few friendly worlds to end up on Aikoro for their honeymoon, where they passed through the now-rebuilt Gran's Hope before spending a week hiking through the mountains and forests. Luis also asks about the situation on the Needleships, which Sturgis reports as going along fine, if getting something of a reputation as a shit post where nothing ever happens. Navy and Air Force personnel are still rotated through there to be briefed on Imperial ship technology, and engineers are still looking through them trying to figure out what Narsai can copy or steal, but it's becoming clear to everyone that Narsai has a lot of catching up to do before industrial espionage becomes a possibility.

Hunter, for his part, presses on with his search for ideas, and floats the question of how the CIA could maybe be better integrated. Sturgis has one answer: get rid of Bob Russell. As Russell is currently in charge of all off-world CIA operations and is one of the ringleaders of the effort to sabotage the GRHDI and Task Force 815, not to mention views all off-worlders with contempt if not outright hatred, having him be the leader of CIA off-world operations is creating problems on dozens of levels. Sturgis can't think of what else there is to be done until someone better suited for the job replaces Bob Russell.

After a few more minutes, Hugh stomps out of the bedroom, followed by a mildly-less-tranquil-than-usual Onas. Luis shoots Hugh a sharp and cold glare, and Hugh continues his stomping across to the other side of the room, where he leans against the wall by the door and says, "You guys done here? I think we should leave." His message clearly sent, Luis and Hunter give both Sturgis and Onas warm congratulations on their matrimony and wish them luck, and Hugh follows suit, but more curt and coldly.

Tei is still waiting outside the door, and follows the three men down to her skimmer. She pops the doors open with a spoken command from her vox, and all four of you climb in. Tei re-engages the blackout shield before lifting off, and resumes her zig-zag pattern in the sky as she takes the very, very long way back to the green zone
Hugh is still sitting there in stony silence, as is Luis. Neither man is looking at the other or saying a single word. Hunter gauges the situation, and opts to see how the silence evolves. Five minutes in, it becomes clear that it's time to take a different tack. Turning to the two of them, he starts into his new path of inquiry.
"What the fuck?" Hunter asks.

"Certain people keep insisting on reminding me that I'm not trustworthy," Hugh says. "We were made to jump through hoops by people who are supposed to be our allies; that's one surefire way of pissing me off. But I can't be trusted, so it's perfectly fine to keep me in the dark, lure me to a meeting in God knows where and preach at me when I tell them their shit is counterproductive. So, there's your answer, Major Brand."

Luis turns from the window as Hugh speaks, anger rising in his voice. "So the fact that you feel slighted gives you the excuse to throw something Paul was obviously worried about telling us back in his face? We had to jump through hoops because she," Luis nods at the front of the car, "saw he was worried how people might take this. You basically proved she was right to worry. You thought the personal stuff got in the way of finding about who our mysterious benefactors were and co-ordinating Bornai's security? We know who they are, and why they didn't tell us sooner. You couldn't let your little snit go, so when the security issue actually did come up, you ran off with Onas to shout about something that sounded awfully like personal stuff."

Hugh glares at Luis, but doesn't have a good riposte for that; after a few seconds, he sharply turns away and bangs his hand down on the seatrest in frustration.

Hunter shrugs. "I'm holding back judgment on how they came to get where they are, but I can't blame 'em for acting how renegade Turai would be expected to act."
"The trust issue, though, is something I'm obligated to figure out, because frankly it's a ticking goddamn time bomb when we start coordinating more ambitious or larger-scale operations. Let's talk soon, Captain Verrill."

Hugh snorts. "If you know which wire to cut, Major, I'm all ears."

"Tei," Hugh calls to the driver's compartment. "I need to call Sturgis."
"Don't think so," Tei replies. "Heard your shouting match with Onas - I think the whole hab block did. We don't need your Narsai'i prejudices, thanks."
"Yes, I want to call him to apologize," Hugh says. Then, scratching off Number 4 in the 2011 Top Ten Rarest Words From Hugh, he adds "Please."
Tei thinks for a moment, then tosses the shield bag with the burner vox to Hugh. She flips the skimmer into autopilot for a moment and looks back to Hugh. "You'd better be telling the truth. Paul is a good man, and he's been afraid of the Narsai'i finding out about who he is for as long as he can remember. If half of the things he says the Narsai'i do to homosexuals is true, then I'm not so sure that your people deserve saving." She turns back to the controls. "Paul deserves better than that."

After a moment's thought, Hugh grabs a vox and dials in to Sturgis and Onas's residence. Sturgis picks up the connection on the third ring. "Hey, Hugh." He sounds a bit confused. "What's up?"
"Hey, uh...Paul," Hugh says, already sounding shaken out of his thoughts. "Listen, about just now, I'm - okay, I guess there's no better way to put it, I'm sorry. You zigged when I thought you would zag and...I was an ass about it. I didn't mean to rain on your parade there. It was stupid. I was stupid. So, look, however you want to live your life is fine by me, and I really need to thank you guys for keeping the peace out there." He takes a breath. "Okay, I'm done, go."
There's a long pause and a few deep breaths on the other end of the line before Sturgis answers. "Thanks, Hugh. That means a lot to me. You guys are sort of my last real link to Earth, so knowing you're okay with...me, that means a lot."
"Okay," Hugh says. "Okay. So, I'll see you around."
"Hopefully we'll be able to hold a block party soon, I'll make sure you get an invite," Sturgis replies.
"Thanks, I'll definitely...be there," Hugh says. "Okay. Thank you for, you know, picking up. Goodbye, Paul."
"Goodbye, Hugh." The connection cuts off.

Hugh turns back to Luis and Hunter.

"Sorry, had to take care of that. Go on."