Out in the sticks, the Pan-Galactic situation was a little different. They weren’t subject to defensive house lockdown because these weren’t areas of signal attack, but being disconnected from service centers had its drawbacks. Everyone was further apart. Things felt more like they could dissolve at any time, including civilization and levels of living support. Most resource aid was directed to population centers under martial lockdown, where the mysterious broadcast portals overtook all other media. That made sense enough, while in the outer fringes, support was something people did for each other; this was where Leiv Gruun decided to go doing things here and there for a while.

Yrenn Tiche picked up some open volunteering as a door usher for the banquet. She had first scoped out each volunteer station – reception, green room, Ops 1, and Ops 2. She’d somehow not met Margeaux’s path along this circuit, but she had gotten a handy WLS logo tote bag; the data chip necklace was inside, and she kept the bag within sight, a distinguishing ribbon tied to one strap.

She finally spotted her cousin Margeaux within the banquet hall, sprucing up table decor and talking to the stage techs. Yrenn Soleil felt a rush of kinship and confidence at this sight. Continuing to help out, she watched for the right moment that a volunteer should approach an organizer.

“There’s a tech in Ops 2 who wants to discuss the banquet amplification and broadcasting with you,” she said, finally venturing forth. Ops 2 was actually destaffed during the banquet, which she learned from errant questioning. “May I walk you there in order to help catch our person?” This moment during the lead-up was exactly when that sort of issue should be addressed directly. Margeaux swiftly agreed and walked in that direction with Yrenn, who scooped up her bag. Matching gaits as they moved felt so familiar.

Sitting in a plush recessed hallway chair, seemingly reading, Derringer saw the two women hustle along. That was definitely the friend. He was washed and happy. After spending a brief yet sexy time together, Karma led her talk forthwith and was already gone, skipping out on the rest for probably a good reason. She was doing well and so was he. Right where he needed to be, and good to go.

Approaching Drift X across the parking lot, there were three people sitting on the ground by the rear hatch. Even from here, they appeared strange, bright and motley. A couple more steps and she recognized Rosy Glow, human-sized but still enrobed in flowing colors of the sunset too diaphanous and effulgent to be mere cloth. The other two were unfamiliar, and neither looked like Dragon Food. One appeared to be wearing extraordinarily greasy coveralls, a thick layer of fine particles stuck to them, a respirator over the face, and a ballcap that read ‘Give It A Little Mo.’ The third was wearing the fluffiest harlequin outfit Wendel had ever seen, which also looked very smooth and was constantly wiggling in the breeze. The three had the impression of being both tall and short, very large but not that large, and they rose unsteadily but exuberantly as she neared them.

“Hi!!!” Rosy Glow beamed. “We figured you’d be back soon.”

“You figured right,” replied Wendel with warmth. “What can I do for you folks?”

“It’s really a matter of what we can do for you,” said the harlequin, face patch makeup wiggling with expression. “Rosy Glow informed us that you and this fine ship have recently been of great service, and it is not our way to let people go unrewarded. We don’t work well with human forms of currency, though our exchanges are ironclad, or better, of golden weave. You are a Starweaver, are you not? I have heard of you lot, you’re clever, quick, and kind.” This entity paused for a moment, hands clasped with a look of rapt interest. “Please excuse my lack of introduction! I’m the one who jiggles things to make them all fit, so call me The Jiggler.” The Jiggler curtseyed courteously, in a way that looked like they weren’t entirely sure how.

“And I’m GreezMo. I’d shake your hand, but I live inside of an engine.” The gravelly respirator-voiced person waved a grimy glove. “This is a nice ship.”

“Its name is Drift X.”

“Drift X,” intoned all three, nodding with appreciation.

“So, you’re here to return a favor?”

“Yes, maybe we can help you accomplish something. These two were the most interested in coming along. Is there something you would particularly like?”

“You know… I actually can think of something.” Wendel glanced to see someone staring from next to his vehicle, and waved. He waved back and turned to his own business. “I wonder if you could help. It’s difficult getting around the PGI these days, and it’s also a little hard getting in touch with people. I’d like to find one or two.” It was an easy answer. “First, Leiv Gruun.”

The three Kao-Sidhe in human-approximate form looked back and forth at each other, exchanging nods. “We’ll help you,” said GreezMo.

“We want to help,” said Rosy Glow.

“We believe that we can,” concluded the Jiggler. “Unusual routes are possible, via byways. But when I say unusual, we really mean it – you might not be the same again, though you,” in particular, “would be okay.”

“Probably very okay,” Rosy Glow said encouragingly.

“Those are the odds for many of the jobs I’ve taken,” said the captain, considering but nodding.

“In usual human chronology, it might not ‘take’ more time than your normal travel,” the Jiggler continued.

“We could actually make really good time,” added GreezMo eagerly.

“Seems like you know how,” Wendel responded, looking convinced. This uniquely capricious moment was seizing her, and she didn’t mind right now. “So, what do I/we do?”

“Can you think of a place where your ship can inconspicuously shrink out of existence into alternate dimensions?”

Captain Wendel furrowed her brow and looked into the corners of her mind for a moment. “I think here’s fine,” she said. “People see a lot of things happen in this parking lot. Want to come inside?”

“Honored,” chorused the Kao-Sidhe. In they all went, and if anyone noticed shortly afterward when the hot rod cargo carrier shivered and shrank out of sight standing place, then the story was theirs to tell.

“That sounds perfect. Okay if I ride in the back till we get there?” The lad punched a pretend sequence into the dash between the buttons.

“No problem. Won’t be very long, I know a place in Betacort,” replied the Captain. Toller poked his way to the hold, mussing his short black hair with a hand. A moment where looking presentable was not required. He took a seat on the floor against the wall, as he felt the smooth action of the ship’s low-altitude scoot. He dug into his pocket and brought out the slip of paper with thirteen words written on it in three lines.

parboiled generous diverticulated immediate
crystalline veracity conjugation aorta sphinx
keratinaceous quorum zenith wander

Maybe someone could make sense of it, but he didn’t want to try. She said he could bring this seal to the management to run it through their system, if he wanted, and they would let him in. He’d have a place to stay, and get to receive the finest schooling the Pan-Galactic Imperium had to offer. Tell them, full ride with dorm. She said her younger brothers would be in school with him, and that Cristobal was very close to his age. She said it all carefully, without commanding him in any way, only that this was possible and that he may go if he liked. Her even, careful tone communicated trust in whatsoever he felt he should do or say, and her penetrating gaze gave him her opinion that this may be something that he, or she, or they, would very much like to happen. Toller worked on memorizing the words in order, in case he lost the slip of paper. Sometimes even pants get left behind.

Wendel spoke over the com, “I’m parking now at Diner Vertris. Serious comfort food, order whatever you want. I know I will!”

The diner had simple booths, and the walls were muraled with vertrisian foliage. They shared an appetizer, took their time over an entree each, and then got dessert. Chuckles between comfortable silences, and gazing through the window onto a sunny afternoon. Halfway through dessert, Toller put down his fork and said, “Hey, I’m going to split and walk around for a while. Be just myself again.”

Wendel slowed her chewing as she read his look, quirking her mouth in a smile. “Going to enjoy terra firma? I can understand that. We had a long and distant voyage.” The Captain pulled out her cash folio and slapped a stack of bills on his side of the table, which the boy pocketed. “It’s enough for a backpack, supplies, and a fare. You know my CD signal.” She also produced one each of four different contact cards. “You can use any of these to get in touch, depending on your area and your order of business. Anytime, whatever I’m doing, I’ll get back to you ASAP.”

Toller chased together one more pile of jungleberry cobbler. “I believe you. Thanks.” Delivering the bite to his mouth, he tapped the table with his hands as he stood, scooting out of the booth. He walked through the door and past the windows, meeting glances with Wendel as he headed away. Smiling, she quietly finished her dessert, and then finished the rest of his.