Crysis had a moment where he wondered if the seven of them, by sheer numbers alone, might draw attention to themselves. Attention wasn't anything they couldn't handle, but they much preferred to go as inconspicuously as possible. He half thought about telling some of them to stay outside for a minute or two and then join them once they'd grabbed drinks and sat themselves down to avoid attracting unnecessary attention, but it was too late for that now.

Fortunately for them, though the place wasn't crowded as much as he would have liked, the great majority of Red n' Black's patrons were gathered around a small table where two men were engaged in a graphics game called Grave Robbers. He cast a quick glance over to watch the man closest to the door command his Scout to head to Kalvulseah and throw one of his opponent's men into the cells.

'Heratrix and Doone, go grab seats. I'll get you both tankards of whatever the local is.'

'Helbrew,' Heratrix answered instantly.

Rokoara pulled a face at the mention of the drink. 'I can't stand that stuff; makes me want to gag.'

'Interesting observation, but I'm getting them for Doone and Hera,' Crysis said with an eyebrow raised. 'You can get whatever you want.'

'Skreem should sit down with us as well,' Heratrix said. 'No offense to you, but you don't look old enough to be buying stuff yourself.'

'Hey...' Skreem started to protest.

'She's right,' Gurgaston said. 'Go and sit down. I'll bring you something.'

With a pout and all the melodrama that only a teenager can muster, Skreem admitted defeat and went off with the other two to grab a table. The other four went to the counter to order, Crysis handing his bag over to Rhama to find change of some kind. He didn't want to use his Halo-Core for monetary exchanges if he could help it.

The barman nodded at them as they approached. 'Evening. What can I get for you?' His horns twitched slightly as the final rays of sunlight flicked off them.

'Five Helbrews, a BlueAle for me, and for you, Rokoara?'

'A BlueAle for me as well,' Rokoara said, pulling her size in to the counter as a woman shrouded by a travelling cloak moved past them.

'Certainly,' the barman said, beginning to pour the drinks.

A cry went up behind them as one of the two men playing Grave Robbers unleashed a surprise attack set up a few turns earlier on Korcanth. The crowd jeered and whooped in delight as the counterattack came out of the blue, the mastermind with a sly grin on his face as the table's projection showed a beam rising from the planet and decimating three of his opponent's major battleships.

'You got anything?' Crysis asked Rhama, who was still rooting around in his pack.

'Why do you have all this stuff in here? And what's...'

'Put it back out of sight,' Crysis said in a violent hiss. The small bundle that Rhama had been about to pluck out of his pack had been swiped from the rock they had found the black gathering at. It needed looking at by someone who knew what they were looking for, and for that they needed to get back to Celestria without being noticed. They did everything as discreetly as possible. That was how they worked and operated; that was in their terms of agreement.

'Is that...'

'Yeah. And I'd rather it wasn't waved around in front of everyone like an engagement ring.'

'Sorry,' Rhama said, her head bowed to hide her eyes which were beginning to fill.

'Don't cry,' Gurgaston said. 'He did not mean any harm.'

Rhama sniffed, pulling her hand out with a little change in her palm but not enough.

'Don't look at me,' Rokoara said as Crysis looked across at her. 'I left most of my stuff back there on the ship before our little escape pod vanishing act. I've got about 100 corvent to my name if you're lucky.'

'Well that's your drink at least, then,' Crysis said, reluctantly pulling out his Halo-Core. He held it aloft to the bartender who was placing the last of the drinks on the counter, and he activated the Core built into the counter. Swiping through a menu or two on his, Crysis waved his over the blue glow from the counter and a quick ping later the transaction was complete.

'Thank you very much,' the bartender said as the four of them took the drinks off the counter. Crysis looked to Rhama and saw she hadn't shed a tear, though there were some there. The chirpiest of the lot, the constant benevolence, always on an emotional knife-edge. Crysis had never discovered why she was the way that she was, but he didn't care. They needed some constant cheer and goodwill where they went.

They carried their tankards over to the oval table the others had managed to snag, where Skreem and Doone were debating the number of ships that the Aldesarian had shot down in their escape, and as per usual, Skreem was bragging a higher number that was almost physically possible. This was something that Doone knew, as he was the one that had checked the levels of the canisters, and how many blasts they had in them.

'Skreem, shut up and drink,' Rokoara reprimanded as she slid a tankard across to her. Skreem looked at it with bulging eyes, taking a slender finger and collecting a lump of the cream that was frothing over the rim of the glass. She tasted it, shrugged her shoulders, and took the handle. The rest of them distributed the remainder of the glasses.

'I want to apologise to you all,' Doone began with his eyes cast down, 'for almost blowing you all up back there.'

'Do I come out of this looking like a badass?' Skreem asked through a moustache of foam.

'Probably.'

'Then keep talking.'

'Skreem,' Rokoara said, 'One day you'll get punched in the face for stuff like that, you know?'

Skreem's eyes bulged. 'Really? Damn, I'd better get my face reinforced then.'

Rhama broke out into rapturous applause before a small laughing fit began. 'They'd cart you off as a biomech if you did that.'

'More likely an Andi,' Heratrix said. 'Not enough components in her to make her a biomech, nor would she have undergone the necessary cycle of...'

'Ok, miss computer,' Crysis said, motioning them all to calm down with his hand, 'we get the picture. Carry on, Doone.'

'There's nothing much else to say, Crysis,' Doone said. All of his eyes were looking in different directions, a clear Merkiosen indicator of guilt. 'I just want to say sorry for almost blowing all your asses into seven different regions of space.'

'Yes,' Gurgaston said stoically. 'Thank you, Doone.'

Their tech man smiled weakly at The Butcher, nodding slightly before hiding himself behind his own Helbrew.

Rokoara leant over to Rhama to stop her laughing so much. Skreem's pigtails were up and pointed towards her in what would have been mistaken for an expression of 'the hell are you laughing at? It wasn't that funny.'

'So,' Heratrix said, turning to Crysis. 'What's the plan now?'

'Well,' he began, 'here's where we stand...'