((Yes totally join us Blue! You can be whatever you want and you don't even really have to worry about reading a kajillion pages, just jump right in as if you were walking into a bar of people you didn't know, all of whom may or may not want to destroy you, depending on how good you are with words
))
"Ardiss is going to need Kandrona if she's going to wait five days for a host," says Corliss. "I have a spare but I can't afford to give her all of my supply. It looks like the portable generator in that little makeshift pool has run out of juice, so she should be okay for two and a half-ish days. Besides, Myitt's gone to see if she can stay with us. She should be back within a day or so.
"But Ardiss," he continues, addressing the computerized pool Ardiss is in, "you should know that if you stay with us you probably won't receive a new host. At least not right away." He watches most of the bar leave to participate in some kind of sparring match, and he grins at the bartender. "I'll have another pint, please."
---
Deep underground, not terribly far from the Space Bar, there's an efficiently run hive of Yeerk separatists.
Grey tunnels of rock, partly blasted, partly dug by Taxxon, partly revived from an old mining operation that had already existed--the whole complex took a long time to build and stock and takes a lot of energy to run.
It takes even more energy and forethought to move such an operation elsewhere.
Rocky hallways hum with the energy of the force fields that are occasionally required to keep such a structure intact. People, mostly human but Hork-Bajir, Taxxon, Gedd and even a few other creatures far stranger, walk or scuttle through the base, going about their business. Their lives.
There's a room off of one of the hallways, near one of the metal dropshafts. The door is unremarkable; black, standard Yeerkish living metal, but older--almost laughably like one of the sliding doors out of a 1960s human science fiction drama.
Behind it is the war room. At least, one of several.
In this room there are only two people. One is Myitt, who appears to have actually taken a shower--if her noticeably cleaner hair is any evidence. Her jacket is still just as messy, sewn and patched, and her injured arm has had actual medical treatment, sitting in a sling.
The other is a boy no older than 15, very Irish, pale with freckles and red hair. His name is James O'Reilly, and he's pretty smart for 15. But the person talking is Reven Five-Nine-Nine. He is wearing an unassuming faded black uniform, and he is the closest thing to an official leader that this very cooperative operation has.
"I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation," says Reven, looking up at Myitt from his seat at the side of a black metal table. "As I've said, even if this Ardiss creature has had her memories altered, even if all of her memories were erased, there is always the very small--"
"Infinitesimally small," Myitt interjects.
"--but very real risk of a relapse. And as it stands, she is sitting at an irreputable bar filled with anyone who could've been watching and might want to extract what fragments of Tara's memory she has left."
"Rev, I get that it's dangerous, that's why I'm here," says Myitt, irritated. "She's in good hands right now. Corliss is there. My friends are there. Besides, if she's taken here as quickly as possible we can keep her under observation before she's allowed to receive a new host. I'm pretty sure that's what Temrash will want to do, judging from his opinion of us keeping her imprisoned here."
"And you expect me to devote our resources to keeping a security threat alive within the walls of this facility?" Reven demands.
Myitt paces, frustrated. "No. But none of us can bring ourselves to kill a helpless prisoner. Isn't that one of our tenets that makes us, you know,
different from the Empire?"
"Yes, Myitt, but I think it's clear that she can't be allowed to live. Unless you can ensure that her memories are entirely wiped, and that she still doesn't receive a host." Reven crosses his arms. "I can't allow Ardiss to remain here. Myitt, we've grown up together. I trust your judgement. But do not let that creature leave that forsaken place if there is any chance she knows where we're located."
Myitt considers this. Temrash
did supposedly wipe all of Tara's memories from Ardiss' mind...
"What about the host? The human girl, Kara?"
"She can stay here, if that's what she really wants," says Reven.
"She doesn't have a home, otherwise," Myitt says flatly.
"Then see what she says, if she agrees, we can try to find someplace for her to sleep."
Myitt nods faintly. "Thank you, Reven. I'll see what I can do."
Reven smiles a little, looking much older than 15. "Just be careful out there. I don't understand why you like that place so much."
His sibling grins and nods, stepping back out and along the hallways toward the docking bays.
As she climbs into her ship, a mechanic friend of hers grabs her attention. "Myitt, your ship checks out okay, but there's a weird heat signal coming from the lower hull," says Geltran, a male Hork-Bajir Controller. His Galard is quite good after years of practice. "You should check out your ship's logs, I ran a diagnostic on it. Hope it's not space mites."
"I'll take a look," Myitt says, taking some of her tools back from Geltran and wiping grease onto her blue jeans. "Thanks for helping me keep this hunk of junk flying."
"Anytime," says Geltran with a Hork-Bajir grin that would scare even the most hardy of teenage horror movie fans.
Myitt checks her systems and lifts off, reading the ship's logs carefully as the ship rises vertically through a black cylindrical tunnel, out into the thin atmosphere of their moon.
