When Myitt responded to Al, he laughed and caused his form to appear on the wall of the craft. He looked as he had when he was in his android body- the long hair, the mocking grin, even the tuxedo. His display made it look as though he were standing just outside the wall. He bowed towards Myitt. "'sup. I'm Al, resident Furka-goer, dance machine, runner-up in the Miss Beatboxing Universe competition three years running, occasionally high, and president of the Existentialist Disco Zombies and Booze fan club," he said. He turned to Ossanlin. "I'm a lot of things, actually, but that's probably the first time anyone's ever accused me of being a hitman. If I'd been trying to hit you with the ship, I would have really hit you. You don't spend decades piloting a space roller coaster without getting good at hitting small, fast moving targets. Sorry about that. It's a little embarrassing for me to fly somewhere I don't want to."
Salem had nearly completed his morph, and had to respond in thought-speak. <Ship's got a blind spot when the hatch is open,> he explained. It was so nice to be able to address a whole group with thought-speak for a change. <Excuse Al. He was designed to be nuts. It's kind of the thing to do in Furka, apparently. And yeah, sometimes you've just gotta make do with what you've got. Unlimited resources would make life less interesting. Even so, War Prince, it's rarely wise to make a judgment call on the number of people you're up against.> He took a deep breath and looked around the closet. He'd completed the morph. He could feel the bird's mind under his own, but he'd spent enough time in this morph to be used to it. Without hesitation, he reversed the process. <Nothing will cause someone's demise as fast as underestimating an enemy. That's why I make it a point to always be overprepared. In my line of work, the risks are too great to do otherwise.>
