Salem nodded as Keshin spoke. "In my experience, wars consist mostly of good guys doing bad things. Looks like I'm adjusting to a whole new set of circumstances here." He looked at the projection of the forest around them. "We can set down in the woods away from the bar and drop you off. You should be able to get to your ship without anyone coming after you. After that--"
Al cut him off. "Hey, we got company." The ship's display flickered again, changing back to the neon-colored map of the world. An orange shape indicated a ship heading for them.
"How many ships?" Salem asked.
"Looks like just the one. It's the same ship that was after us before."
"That's Temrash's ship," Salem said, looking at its neon silhouette on the wall. "I guess he's really not happy with me. Al, Keshin needs a seat. Into your hole!"
As Al stood, a rectangular hatch slid open in the floor in front of the ship's outer hatch, revealing a compartment just large enough for a body to fit in. Al walked to the compartment and lay down in it, muttering something about "your face is your hole." At the same time, the control console he'd been using to fly the ship lowered into the floor, and a second chair rose from the floor, back to back with Al's. As Salem sat in the new chair, a series of transparent screens drifted down from the ceiling and arrayed themselves, hovering, around him. The hatch slid shut over Al, and a second later, his voice resonated from the walls of the craft.
"It's so much roomier in here! Feels good to be out of that body!"
Salem smiled. "Okay, call that ship. Let's see what he wants." He looked at Keshin. "This seat's yours if you want it," he said, nodding to the seat Al had been using. "If things get rough, at least you can strap yourself in to this one."
