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Seignur Veeoni’s Private Workroom
Medical Alcove


A chime sounded, irritatingly high in tone, and far too close to his ear.

Jen Sin opened his eyes.

The chime stopped.

Above him was the dark, disquieting blot of a hood. He closed his eyes again and took stock.

He felt—well. Not…overwell. Simply, his head did not ache, nor any other part of him. In a word, he felt rested and wholly competent.

…for values of competence that factored for yos’Phelium pilots.

“Light Keeper,” a large voice said from nearby. “You will wish to know that Karil is coming in to dock within the next twelve minutes.”

Karil? For a moment, his memory drifted. Then he recalled it.

The ships incoming, bearing aid from the Carresens-Denoblis. Karil was podded out with supplies, and it was the light keeper’s honor to welcome her.

He rolled off the pallet and onto his feet. Hazenthull handed him his jacket, and he shrugged into it.

“Tocohl,” he said, as his hands did inventory of his pockets. “Pray allow Karil’s captain to know that I have been delayed, but will be on her dock very soon.”

“Yes,” came the answer.

Jen Sin looked up at Hazenthull.

“I thank you for your service—and your insistence. I do not wish to be abrupt, but I must leave immediately, if I am to arrive on the docks even credibly late.”

“That is not a concern,” Hazenthull assured him, turning to walk with him. “Seignur Veeoni has given you the use of her jitney for this. I will drive you.”

He glanced up at her.

“Surely your duty to the Line falls short of intimidating allies for the use of their goods.”

Her lips twitched.

“Surely, it does not, though it did not come to that. Seignur Veeoni is offended by inefficiency, and stated that it would be extremely inefficient to see you restored, and immediately exhaust you again.”

She looked down at him.

“She did ask that you not disturb her to take your leave.”

“So, the universe is not wholly set on end. You relieve me.”

They passed into the main workroom, where the jitney waited, proclaiming its affiliation for all to see.

“I can,” he said to Hazenthull, “drive myself.”

“Then you would be on the docks unguarded,” she said simply, putting her large self into the driver’s seat. “That would not be wise.”

He paused, considering the large, unarguable bulk of her, and slid into the passenger’s seat.

“Very well, then,” he said calmly. “Let us to the docks.”


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Framed