Mm. I'm listening to tracks from The Gammak Bass while I'm writing this.
--
The infirmary was just as clean, spotless, and orderly as Martel had ever seen it. Ship scuttlebutt had it, or course, that Firell liked dust even less than she enjoyed going to a kegger in a bikini. That thought - muttered in the ship's tiny mess by tech's mate Wheeler, overheard by at least three or four crewmembers, including Captain Martel - was something that had popped up every time he had seen the tiny Minbari woman in the past day and a half. Not that he wanted an image of Firell in a -
He shook his head and met the eyes of the quiet na'shasu.
"I got a chance to do a basic overview of what you've given me, Singh," he said, clasping his hands behind him. "It's in Drazegha."
Singh nodded, her hand stretched out to one side while Firell, silent, wrapped a bandage around the jagged, bleeding cut. "You wouldn't believe what we had to go through to get this to you. But - I can't tell you how much I appreciate being picked up like this," she replied. "Drazi cuisine was beginning to make me fat."
David nodded. "Glad to be of service," he murmured, almost as an afterthought.
A dark look crossed Singh's face. She bit her lip. "Five years," she said, softly. "God, five years of running around as Meligramta. It's good to hear my name again."
Martel shifted uncomfortably. "Singh, when this is over, Tirk'll take you down to the mess - but I'm afraid we don't have anything but field rations. Then we'll get you integrated into the Liandra's system, formalize your crew assignment for this mission, get you a room. We're full up - you'll have to triple-bunk, most likely with our engineer. We don't even have a single convertible closet."
One of Firell's healers passed Singh a cup of water and the woman gulped it down, gratefully. "Oh, anything'll do."
Martel nodded slowly, and paused for a moment while the intelligence officer drank.
"My Drazegha isn't the best. I get lost on third-person tenses. But what I did understand, Ranger... well, I wasn't aware anyone survived Beta Durani 7," he said.
Singh wiped her mouth on the back of her sleeve. "Nobody did," she said. "Entil'zha sent a team of scientists and salvage experts about a week ago to piggyback a set of transports heading to Urgabzh colony. They didn't meet up with the transports as scheduled a week later - on the way back - and all contact has been lost."
Martel kept his face carefully neutral. "And that's where we come in."
The other Ranger nodded. "You know the territory, you know the stakes, and, if I may be so bold as to speak for Entil'zha, you've extricated yourself from the hands of -"
She stopped, snorted again. "The hands of the Hand. God, I can't even speak English anymore."
"In other words, we're better equipped to turn tail and run if need be. My reputation strikes again, " Martel said, ignoring her last statement. "Where does your friend fit in?"
Singh lifted her eyes and stared longingly at the door. "Can we do this over synth?"
"No, we do this here," the captain said. Martel looked up at Firell, who was tying off the bandage with a slightly annoyed expression. "There'll be plenty of time for synth."
Singh fixed him with a smoldering gaze. "No, Captain," she said. "There's not."
--
The infirmary was just as clean, spotless, and orderly as Martel had ever seen it. Ship scuttlebutt had it, or course, that Firell liked dust even less than she enjoyed going to a kegger in a bikini. That thought - muttered in the ship's tiny mess by tech's mate Wheeler, overheard by at least three or four crewmembers, including Captain Martel - was something that had popped up every time he had seen the tiny Minbari woman in the past day and a half. Not that he wanted an image of Firell in a -
He shook his head and met the eyes of the quiet na'shasu.
"I got a chance to do a basic overview of what you've given me, Singh," he said, clasping his hands behind him. "It's in Drazegha."
Singh nodded, her hand stretched out to one side while Firell, silent, wrapped a bandage around the jagged, bleeding cut. "You wouldn't believe what we had to go through to get this to you. But - I can't tell you how much I appreciate being picked up like this," she replied. "Drazi cuisine was beginning to make me fat."
David nodded. "Glad to be of service," he murmured, almost as an afterthought.
A dark look crossed Singh's face. She bit her lip. "Five years," she said, softly. "God, five years of running around as Meligramta. It's good to hear my name again."
Martel shifted uncomfortably. "Singh, when this is over, Tirk'll take you down to the mess - but I'm afraid we don't have anything but field rations. Then we'll get you integrated into the Liandra's system, formalize your crew assignment for this mission, get you a room. We're full up - you'll have to triple-bunk, most likely with our engineer. We don't even have a single convertible closet."
One of Firell's healers passed Singh a cup of water and the woman gulped it down, gratefully. "Oh, anything'll do."
Martel nodded slowly, and paused for a moment while the intelligence officer drank.
"My Drazegha isn't the best. I get lost on third-person tenses. But what I did understand, Ranger... well, I wasn't aware anyone survived Beta Durani 7," he said.
Singh wiped her mouth on the back of her sleeve. "Nobody did," she said. "Entil'zha sent a team of scientists and salvage experts about a week ago to piggyback a set of transports heading to Urgabzh colony. They didn't meet up with the transports as scheduled a week later - on the way back - and all contact has been lost."
Martel kept his face carefully neutral. "And that's where we come in."
The other Ranger nodded. "You know the territory, you know the stakes, and, if I may be so bold as to speak for Entil'zha, you've extricated yourself from the hands of -"
She stopped, snorted again. "The hands of the Hand. God, I can't even speak English anymore."
"In other words, we're better equipped to turn tail and run if need be. My reputation strikes again, " Martel said, ignoring her last statement. "Where does your friend fit in?"
Singh lifted her eyes and stared longingly at the door. "Can we do this over synth?"
"No, we do this here," the captain said. Martel looked up at Firell, who was tying off the bandage with a slightly annoyed expression. "There'll be plenty of time for synth."
Singh fixed him with a smoldering gaze. "No, Captain," she said. "There's not."
