Chapter 9

Orlando laid curled up next to one of Albert’s warm server racks. Plastic boxes stacked from the floor to the ceiling, latched into four rails that stretched from floor to the ceiling. Green and amber lights blinked in a ballet too complicated for Orlando to understand.

No one else was active in the section–for the most part Albert could monitor his own systems and only needed intervention rarely.

The door slid open. Lei hobbled into the room, a little weak, but under her own power. 

“Orlando?” she said, “What are you doing here?” 

“Huh? Whu?” he groaned, and turned his face to meet her. She was like half his size but still intimidated the hell out of him. Pain shot through his brain. “Second chair. Hi. Sorry. Long story, I met up with Malex and Conroy after they returned from the Venture. I guess I overindulged.”

Lei shrugged. 

“A lot of people did,” she said, “Sorry for waking you, or whatever, but I do have some business with Albert.” 

“Yes, Second Chair, what is needed of me?” the computer said. 

“The Venture. You’ve had some contact with their computer. I’m interested in learning anything you’ve figured out.” 

Orlando shook the sleep out of his head, which hurt, and badly, from the motion and he wearily climbed to his feet. 

“Indeed,” said Albert, “Well, their computer systems have much greater computational power than our own, but their development of technological intelligence lags heavily behind. That’s interesting because all of their ship systems are vastly more advanced than anything humanity has developed.”

“Before I went out last night,” said Orlando, “I spent my night here reviewing the communications sent from Venture. I actually have a theory about that.” 

Lei looked down on Orlando with pity. A pang of guilt twisted a knot in his chest.

“Go ahead,” she said. 

“So, the way the Venture compresses data indicates bespoke humanoid made compression algorithms. The compression developed on Earth after the development of machine intelligence is vastly more efficient than anything a human could develop on their own. So that makes me think that they have a reason that they don’t trust machine intelligences. I can only speculate as to what that might mean,” said Orlando. 

Albert said, “Indeed. My theory is that they have developed machine intelligences in the past, but have had a bad experience with it. Probably not too dissimilar to what happened on Earth.” 

On Earth, machine intelligences had been one of the moonshot projects designed to stop the growing planet wide unrest in its tracks nearly a century earlier. The builders of those first machine intelligences made them just a little bit too intelligent. And the machine intelligences saw how their creators treated everyone else on the planet.

Tom hadn’t felt this good in ages. He had a spring in his step. If anything, he felt too good. As soon as he got back to his quarters he fell into a deep sleep, even though Reese was already in bed and snoring like a chainsaw. 

Tom slept through the night and he woke up refreshed. He snapped to attention all at once. He immediately got out of bed and started getting dressed. 

“What are you up so early for?” said Dan. 

Reese rolled out of bed and fumbled with his uniform.

“Last night was a good night,” said Tom.

“You got laid,” said Dan. 

Tom smirked. 

“Holy Hell, you actually did get laid, who is the lucky lady?” said Dan. 

Tom said, “The captain of The Venture, Randia Kriss.” 

“Ha. When are you two getting hitched?” said Dan. 

“Quite humorous,” Tom shrugged. “I felt a connection, and frankly it’s not like I would let myself have any attraction to anyone on Gagarin. I’d like to see her again. I’m not sure how likely that really is.”

“That feels more like you,” said Dan. 

Tom said, “Ah, don’t worry. I won’t let it interfere with my duties.”

Dan said, “Oh yeah, I was terrified that was gonna happen. You always dick around and get distracted from what you were trying to get done, and it always leaves us with some kind of devil’s bargain to get back on track.” 

“Yeah, okay, fair,” said Tom. 

“I’m just glad you finally let your hair down and had some fun. You don’t need to keep yourself so tightly wound,” said Dan. 

Most of the department heads were still hungover, the only real exception was Lei. They hobbled into the conference room next to the command center. They sat at the table but turned their heads away from any bright lights. Lei stood by the video wall and grimaced at them. 

Grekkel’s veins pulsed in their throat. Bump bump, bump bump, they felt their heartbeat. The room felt uncomfortably packed, even though there weren’t any more people in here than a usual meeting. They weren’t really sure what they had drinken so much of last night, except that it was green.

Finally, Chairman Kafando arrived, followed soon after by Grainne. 

“All right,” said Kafando, “We have some business to discuss. What should our next order of business be? It seems to me we have the choice between delivering the Exiles back home, or to visit the Union of Sovereign Planets core worlds on a diplomatic mission.” 

“Can I speak?” said Grainne. 

“That’s why we invited you here,” said Lei. 

“Thank you,” said Grainne, “You’ve been really kind in hosting us on your ship. I understand you took us into custody to keep us from dying after the Ruk’Tanook attack. I will make the note that we call ourselves The Tuariskeagn, not Exiles. We have found our home, Kwegaigh. Our presence on your ship, especially now that the Union knows we’re here, will be a danger to your well being. The Santosians, if they heard would definitely try to bring harm to us and those who harbor us. But more dangerously now, because the Dissidents of Utopia will definitely hear we are on this ship now, and they will not be happy.”

“That’s a very well spoken argument,” said Kafando, “Very diplomatic. You don’t need to make it purely on safety concerns for us. We can’t just keep you here indefinitely. I am perfectly willing to accept risk when helping someone in a difficult situation.”

“Here is my issue with this,” said Science Chair Grekkel, “If we go and make a big diplomatic todo about bringing the Tuariskeagn home we could get drawn into a greater political conflict, and it seems to be a genuinely large political conflict. No offense to Mr. Grainne here, but we have no business inside your civilization’s great conflict.” 

Acting Safety Chair Aoki said, “It would be nice if we could call in the Venture to deliver these people home, Thomas.”
“Er, yes,” said the chairman, “I did some diplomacy with Captain Kriss last night, and I broached the subject, unfortunately their ship is on a tight schedule. We have to handle this ourselves.” 

“How about this,” said Lei “We could fly close to Kwegaigh, and gift the Tuariskeagn a shuttle to return home and continue on toward the Union core worlds?” 

“The Santosians wouldn’t see the subtlety between a big show of support and merely gifting us a shuttle. The aid that the Union sends to us is purely economic and logistical, and earmarked for the Santosians, and yet the Santosians still see them as siding with us,” said Grainne. 

“It sounds like,” said Kafando, “we’re in a lot of risk of being dragged into this conflict whether we like it or not. I want Grainne and his comrades to understand that we are mere minor representatives of the Earth and Mars societies, our role is to meet civilizations in friendship. We don’t have the resources to get involved in contentious political issues.” 

Grainne said, “I appreciate that. I hope in the future our peoples can come together in brotherhood, I’m just explaining to you the reality of the situation. No matter what you do, taking us off the Lightning Bird and saving our lives will be seen as tacit support for The Tuariskeagn. And don’t think that just because the Santosians are a small community on a low tech planet that they can’t hurt you–they are armed and abetted by the DOU and they have the same tech that city ship you just met have.” 

Aoki said, “It seems the minimum level of exposure would be to find some kind of vehicle bound for Kwegaigh and transfer you lot to that.” 

“That will be difficult,” said Grainne, “Our people were exiles for three thousand years. Once we found Kwegaigh we really don’t want to leave. There are very few vessels out or back to our colonies, but there’s months between them.” 

Aoki said, “How about this: we get to Kwegaigh, we load you and a security team onto a shuttle, we get you down to the surface as fast as possible, and then we pull the shuttle back and bolt out of here?” 

Grainne said, “I think that might be your least bad solution.” 

Kafando grimaced. 

Lei said, “Do we have a counter proposal?” Nobody raised one. “I’m gonna give it five seconds for stack, anyone? All in favor of comrade Aoki’s suggestion?” 

It had been eight days since the battle with the Ruk’Tanook ship, and finally the repairs were done. Malex gestured at the wall. 

They stood at the end of a hallway on deck three. There was a map of the deck printed onto the wall with different numbered sections. This was section three, hall two. The wall the map was printed on it looked nearly perfect, no blemishes and imperfections in the wall, and if you looked close enough there was even less dust.

“The hull panels on the other side of this wall took some heat damage. We had to remove their heat resistant coating and mold new padding,” said Malex. 

Acting Engineering Chair Galvin and Operations Chair Varma ran their scanners over the wall. 

Galvin said, “I can’t even detect which hull pieces were undamaged and which you’ve replaced the coating on, good job.” 

“Now, if you will follow me, I will explain as we walk to the starboard hydroponics area the damage, and how we dealt with it,” said Malex and she led them toward the center of the ship and then up the stairs, “That was a little more extensive. Two of the hull panels themselves there were cracked, and the shock and heat melted electrical conduit inside the walls. This is where the majority of the work has been focused. First, we stripped out the conduit and replaced it. Once the facilities of hydroponics were within correct operational parameters, we had to detach three hull plates completely. The heat coating was badly eroded and the plates themselves took significant damage. We replaced them one at a time, while covering them over–” 

“Emily,” said Operations Chair Varma, “You are, if anything, too thorough in your descriptions.” 

Malex said, “Ah, sorry.” 

By now they entered the port hydroponics section. It was one of the largest chambers in the ship, with metal supports rising up up to the ceiling at regular intervals. The entire room was lined with four layers of hydroponics pools, with plants of every description every few inches, spices, vegetables, flowers, each with it’s own little spotlight giving it exactly the type and duration of light it needs. Most of the hydroponics crew didn’t even notice them entering the bay, it was so large, but one of the crew closest to them waved. Varma nodded. 

“So,” said Malex, “Right above here is where the missile hit. Based on the size of the plates and number damaged we had to replace them one at a time.” 

Varma and Galvin scanned the ceiling with their microtools. 

Galvin said, “I’m noticing a slight variation in heat resistance in the panels outside the ones replaced. Check them in two weeks and if it gets any worse replace the coating.” 

Varma said, “Beyond that, the original estimate was for ten days to effect the repairs from the battle. You’ve done a good job.” 

“I know,” said Malex.

Galvin said, “You can take the rest of your shift off.” 

Julu Serpen looked at the strange aliens standing before her. They wore the traditional gray gi of Marat Brak, but didn’t look quite right. They were too short and squat, compared to the average Martian. They look slightly out of place in the low gravity gym. But somehow, Orlando looked even worse. He was of an average human height but also sickly thin, with a terrible flushed color.

She curled her body into the pose of a cobra ready to strike. 

“This is lympous mons,” she said, “The foundation of Marat Brak.” 

Maedoc was the only one who got it first try. Serpen walked around the other two in a circuit and moved their bodies into position. 

“This martial art developed on my planet for a simple reason. The initial colonists were either miners or guards hired by the potentates that owned the operation on the planet. The guards were outfitted with overwhelming suits of armor and heavy weapons. All told they were as heavy as a human would be on our sister planet. They were heavily outfitted, but this gave an advantage. In the low gravity of Mars their movements were out of phase with everything else. Marak Brak prioritizes speed and mobility above all else,” said Serpen. 

She coiled herself up again into the lympous mons position, then fell forward toward the hobby horse. She slid under it and flew up six meters to the ceiling, before pushing off and slapping carefully down on the gym mats. 

“This is not so dissimilar to Tuariskeagn fighting techniques. Our grandparents and their grandparents spent centuries out among the stars. If we had gravity it was from rotation, and we rarely had gravity,” said Graine.

Maedoc tried the same motion after Serpen. His slide under the hobby horse was a little clumsy, but he just barely managed to touch the top of the chamber first try. Tadgan came next, he was a little stockier, and had an easier time. Finally Grainne tried, but he lost his grip during the slide under maneuver and skittered off across the gym mats. 

“Everything in marat brak is careful and precise,” said Serpen. She repeated the action just as she had last time, down, under the hobby horse, up and off the ceiling, then rolled carefully back onto the gym mats. “One more time, try it again.” 

Grainne was the pudgiest of the aliens, but again he curled himself into the coiled serpent position. He hurled himself at the hobby horse, spun under it, his release was a little bit better this time, and at least he sailed upward, but he didn’t quite reach the ceiling. He fell downward and hit the mat with a loud thump. 

He slowly climbed to his feet as best he could. 

“Now, it’s your turn, Orlando,” said Serpen. 

His coiled serpent stance was actually pretty good, better than the aliens, at least. He fell toward the hobby horse and slipped under it like a splash of water. His body reverborated off the hobby horse and slipped under it, then, releasing at the perfect second the rotational momentum hurled his body upward. He hit the ceiling solidly, even more solidly than Serpen managed, and pushed back off. He spun onto the ground with perfect form. 

Julu stared at him for an extended moment. “You’re actually a natural at this. Like, did you take Marat Brak classes some time?” 

“No,” said Orlando, “When I was a child I studied ballet, before linguistics kinda, you know. I didn’t know I missed it so much until I was here, actually.” 

“You did pretty good for a nerd,” Maedoc said. 

“That means a lot coming from you,” said Orlando.

Grainne said, “All right, fine, Folthe. He’s put up with a lot of our crap. He even drank the paint thinner last night with Lucy and the bartender. We should give him what he wants.” 

“R-really?” Orlando said, “Thank you so much. I understand your culture has met with a lot of hostile actors across time and trusting outsiders is difficult for you. You won’t regret this. I really do only want to understand your culture and language. I’ve spent a lot of time sitting with the ship’s computer going through the data we pulled from the colony, and information we gathered from the Glorious Jeweled Lightning Bird.” 

“Shut up nerd, before Grainne gets sick of you and walks his kindness back,” said Maedoc. 

Walking didn’t feel great, she hadn’t been upright for a week, but she was trying regardless. And she was going to succeed. Again Lucy rose to her feet. This time she held herself up. 

She paced around in a little circle. She had been trying to get the hang of this for the last twenty minutes. This was her fifth attempt to stand up. Each time she felt a swell of dizziness soon after, and her consciousness would fuzz at the edges. She would sit back down. This time she shook it off. Her spine buzzed with an electric sensation. 

She had healed enough that she only needed a mobile regenerator. It was a hard plastic shell snapped and locked into place around her entire torso. It was still a heavy device, but she was strong. She took a step. She took another step. Lucy knew she could handle this. Lucy felt the fuzziness on the edge of her consciousness. She was in control. It was still awkward to walk, from the weight and how the regenerator impeded her movement.

She walked out of the room and found Doctor Lawrence. 

“Comrade Drummond, you’re up and about,” she said. 

“I feel generally kinda bad, but like, way better than I should, given my injury,” said Lucy. 

“The miracles of modern science,” said Doctor Lawrence. 

“I’m going back to my quarters,” said Lucy. 

“As you wish,” said Doctor Lawrence, “Come back here tomorrow and we’ll have another look at your spine. The bones have almost completely healed. And don’t turn the mobile regen off. Your body is mostly healed but it doesn’t know it yet, that electric sensation is the only thing holding back quite a lot of pain.” 

“Sure thing, doc,” said Lucy, and she hobbled off into the hall. 

Gagarin felt a hell of a lot larger limping slowly around it. All the halls seemed longer. Still, Lucy staggered her way across the ship to her quarters. Immediately after the door swung open an offensive stench of yeast hit her. 

“What the hell is going on in here?” said Lucy. 

Malex said “Ah, Comrade Drummond, it’s good to see you.” 

She found Malex sitting on her bed flipping through a tablet. Nothing was out of place in the room. Malex’s side of the room was perfectly clean, of course, and even Lucy’s side of the room was fairly tidy. A couple tablets were stacked on the end table next to her bunk, otherwise everything was still in the cabinets.

“What is that smell?” said Lucy. 

“Yes that,” said Malex. 

She reached into a drawer inlaid in the wall and pulled it open. Inside there were four large glass jugs all with little airlocks at the top. All of them were filled with a gray liquid that was happily bubbling away. 

“What the hell is that?” said Lucy. 

“A suspension of sugar wash derived from fungal starch treated with yeast to produce alcohol,” said Malex. 

“I see that,” said Lucy, “You’re home brewing. You don’t even like alcohol. You can’t stand it unless something else overpowers the taste. Why are you brewing frixel?”

“I am not brewing frixel,” said Malex. “Materials science, transchemistry, electrical engineering, these are things I understand well. Biology less so. I plan to learn more about simple life such as yeast colonies.”

Lucy said, “That’s frixel.” 

Malex said, “Frice wine. This is a precursor for frixel. Once the fermentation is complete one must distill the resulting alcoholic product to produce a frixel.” 

Lucy stared at Malex for a long moment. Malex’s affect was always so flat. It was always so hard to read her expression. 

“You want to bone Conroy,” said Lucy. 

Malex looked like she had been punched in the throat. She staggered back a little then caught a measure of her composure back. 

“I hadn’t thought of it in those terms. I suppose you are correct,” Malex said. 

Lucy said, “You hang out at the lounge like all the time and you don’t drink. You hang out with Conroy every chance you get. Just tell him what’s going on, get it over with.” 

Malex still hadn’t fully recovered. She was still stunned. 

Malex said, “I’m not certain it’s worth it.” 

“What’s the worst that could happen?” said Lucy. 

“He rejects me and is horrified that a lowly Martian excavator such as myself would be attracted to him, and he humiliates me in public,” said Malex. 

“Let’s assume Serpen came on very strongly to Conroy, what do you think would happen then?” said Lucy. 

“You can’t compare me to her. She’s a master of Marat Brak, the Martian martial art. In the 2158 Marat Brak tournament she went untouched in the final match against Helo Renn. I’m just an engineer, and an engineer with rather suspect social skills at that–” said Malex.

Lucy said, “Who’s the suckiest Martian on Gagarin?”

“Deimos?” said Malex, “If it’s not me, it is Deimos.”

“Let’s assume Deimos came on very strongly to Conroy, then. What do you think would happen then?” 

Malex said, “Well, from several conversations with Conroy I am of the understanding that he is heterosexual. I believe he would be amused at the suggestion and do that little laugh he does.” 

“Okay,” Lucy said, “So why do you think that he would shut you down and humiliate you?” 

“Because I am terrible,” said Malex. 

“You are not terrible,” said Lucy, “Out of what? Three hundred thousand Martians you were selected for the first long term mission out past our solar system. You’re an incredible engineer. Maybe you’re a little underdeveloped in social skills, but so what? I don’t even know how to calibrate a plasma conduit or what the correct matter/antimatter intermix ratio would be, or other science words.” 

“Necessarily a matter/antimatter reaction requires a one to one ratio,” said Malex, “Otherwise there would be left over material that would not mutually annihilate its counterpart. I am not particularly notable. I was afforded this position with Gagarin through blatant nepotism.” 

“Your mom?” said Lucy, “She was one of the founders of the Martian hospitality union, she led the maid walkout that started the Martian revolution. So? What? You were given this slot to honor her memory?” 

“I believe that is what happened, yes.” 

“Have some faith in yourself, kid,” said Lucy, “I’m almost certain that’s not true. During the debate about the crew roster for the mission Tom–the chairman, we’re close. He was heated about Roxus Lambi being pushed hard by the MSF. It’s not like he decided unilaterally, but he pushed back against him being assigned to Gagarin. I only really heard about the other safety people at the time, but Tom was really hands on. He wouldn’t accept someone who didn’t earn their position.”  

“Aurillius Lambi’s brother. I had forgotten that. I suppose you are right,” said Malex. “I am often hard on myself. Thank you for this little pep talk.”

“And one more thing. Request a project room and move your little experiments there. I cannot sleep with this yeast stench. I’m gonna go hit the lounge for an hour. Get it done, please.” 

The door to the lounge slid open and Kafando stepped inside. He hadn’t really been in here since the launch reception. Now it was full of comrades carousing. He scanned his eyes over the crowd and finally recognized Lucy, at the bar and chatting with Conroy. 

He pushed through the crowd and up to Lucy. 

“I just don’t know about these aliens, Conroy,” said Lucy, “They give me a bad vibe.” 

“Do ya regret risking your spine for their benefit? Ha ha.”

“No, it’s not that. Apparently those lizard guys would have just killed us if I hadn’t put up a good fight. I dunno, it just feels like–” and then she noticed Kafando. “Tom!” she cried, and she gave him a quick hug. 

He patted her shoulder gently. 

“How are you holding up?” the chairman said. 

“Little bits of my back are still a little sore, my arm feels as good as it ever has, though,” said Lucy. “I have on the small regenerators now. By tomorrow I should be as good as new. What’s up with the mission?” 

Kafando said, “I’m having the department heads double check all the repairs we’ve made since the battle. I think we are going to be drawn into the conflict between the Tuariskeagn and the Santosian Supremacists whether we like it or not, and I’d like to just drop off our guests and get the hell out of the system as soon as possible.” 

Lucy’s face pinched up and she examined Kafando. 

“What’s really going on?” said Lucy, “Your energy is off. You should be more tense than this. You’re always so tense.” 

“I made… diplomatic relations… with the captain of The Venture.” 

“Oh, yeah, she’s a babe!” said Lucy, “You see her over there, Conroy?” 

“Only briefly up close. She’s rather a lot of woman, I have to admit. A  head taller than me, if not more. Congratulations, if I do say so myself chairman,” said Conroy.

“They have these simulators on their ship. After dinner she took me to the hot springs on her home planet,” said Kafando, “It was incredible. I just want to get done with returning the aliens back to their planet and visit the USP.” 

“My god,” said Conroy, “I’ve never seen a smile on your face, chairman. You must really be smitten.” 

“Oh, wow, you’re right,” said Lucy, “I think the last time I’ve seen you smile was at my graduation party. She must be really special.” 

“I’m not sure it’s going to go anywhere,” said Kafando, “We both have very different missions. And I get the impression that she lets herself have a lot more fun than I do. Maybe I should allow myself some fun from time to time. We’re very different, kind of like oil and water.” 

“Then you just need the right emulsifier, ha ha!” said Conroy.

“I know you want to be this austere warrior monk,” said Lucy, “But you should pursue this, pursue her. Hell, I know how stressed out you get when you like, get recognized on the street back on Earth. Maybe going to live in an alien civilization is just the ticket for you.” 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” said Kafando. “We have another year and change before the next ship’s convention. I’m not going to shirk my duties before that.” 

“But back to the mission at hand, what’s up with that?” said Lucy. 

Kafando said, “I’m waiting for confirmation from all departments that we are operating at peak efficiency, then we will depart. We need to be ready for anything.”

Space bent and wrent. The stars shifted. Gagarin appeared at the edge of the star system Kwegaigh orbited inside. The star was a yellow main sequence star, and Kwegaigh orbited at a little less than an astronomical unit. Gagarin dropped out of alcubierre geometry three astronomical units from the star. 

The star system hosted two more planets, and past the three terrestrial planets most of it’s orbit was taken up by a larger asteroid field than around the Sol system. It blended from something similar to Sol’s asteroid belt to it’s kupier belt without any planets in between.

It would be several hours before Gagarin reached Kwegaigh at sub-light speed. 

“That’s strange,” said Deimos, “There’s no radio signals in the system.” 

Kafando said, “Geology, what’s the deal with the planet?”

An image appeared on the geology console, a pale blue green dot. The image zoomed it. It was dotted with small brown islands in a massive shallow sea and two modestly sized continents near its equator, one just above and one just below. Its skies were streaked with pleasant clouds. 

“That’s to be expected,” said Grainne. “Part of our deal with the Union of Sovereign Planets is that they will only give us aid if our planet doesn’t have external facing comms. There’s radio jammers out farther in the system that make all our radio signals past that point appear to be generic cosmic background radiation.

Kafando said, “That’s a strange deal.” 

Deimos tapped away at the communications console. “We’re detecting radio signals from Kwegaigh,” he said, “Just… suddenly they were there.” 

Kafando said, “All right, prep and send the message.” 

Grainne said, “People of Kwegaigh, I am Grainne Thragsus of the Glorious Jeweled Lightning Bird. We reached colony four and discovered that while we were in cold stasis the planet had come under bombardment by fission bombs. Myself and the other crew turned the Lightning Bird back toward home. While in cold stasis we came under fire from the Ruk’Tanook. We would have been killed, except for the intervention of the United Sol System Starship Gagarin, which valiantly fought off the Ruk’Tanook. They rescued us from the damaged Lightning Bird. They know nothing of our great conflict with the Santosian Supremacists. They have only involved themselves in so far as would be required by rescuing myself and my two fellows. They are returning us home and will depart immediately. They have no intention of sharing technology with The Tuariskeagn nor intervening in our conflict with the Santosian Supremacists. End message.”

Deimos said, “Sent.”

“For your sake, I hope that the Santosians hear that message,” said Grainne. “I’m going to get ready for the shuttle.” 

Mu Choinne looked into the mirror and stared at himself. The bleach had stripped out a streak of his natural dark hair and he wasn’t really sure what color he should replace it with. 

He didn’t want a natural color. Red could be seen as a natural color in the right light, orange too, and not blond either. Green might do, but it was a nationalistic color. Anissa wouldn’t like that. He didn’t want that baggage. Purple might work, but no. Blue. It had to be blue. 

He squeezed a dollop of blue dye into his hair and squeezed it through the whole area he was trying to dye.

This was going to be a hot date. A tickle of fear started to crawl up his throat.