I must extend hugs, flowers, and chocolates to my co-writers for this part, Ariana and Sara, without whom this thing would have died 2 long months ago. THANK YOU! :)
"Ice Breaker" part three
This is next in a set of Alternate Universe stories that takes place right after my story 'Homecoming' finishes. I strongly recommend reading it first, to avoid getting lost.
*Emphasis marks*
[Indicates thoughts and telepathy]
"Italics are translated from another language."
Flashbacks are indented
~~~~
Walking down the hallway a little slower than she would have normally, Rashelle Drenn mulled over her predicament. [Dumb, dumb, dumb me. Two days here and I'm already horny. How am I supposed to last more than a year? I can't let him get in the way of my job, I barely squeaked past the age requirement to be allowed to come! Would he get into trouble if I asked to have someone else around instead? What if he finds out about my past - he might already know - but then he'd consider me a kid for sure. Not that I'm allowed to try 'n convince him otherwise - damned rules! I could have sex with anyone I wanted to, back home. But I don't want him to get into trouble. I should have remembered to ask Lyta about the transfer thing. Well, I might have time later tonight. First I need to change. My clothes just scream 'Teep!' . . . I need to find a clothing shop . . . where . . . the concierge might know . . . or I could try to use the computer to find out. Ugh! Stupid screaming electronics. I can't believe how used to them I was, I hate them totally now. But it would be the anonymous way to figure out where to go. And since I *do* have a guard now, I can go outside! Finally. As long as I'm not recognised, I should be all right.]
[ ! ]
[What am I thinking?? I can't go find clothes, not with a man along! *growl* . . . Which room is mine? Three more doors - ah yes, the one with the ranger statues on either side - hey! One's a girl!]
Stopping just before her door, she looked at the female ranger, then back to Anderson, [Can I call him Charles? I wonder if he'd let me.] then back to the woman. "Can I ask if you two could switch for a bit? I need another girl for the next little while - nothing personal against you, Mr. Anderson. Or do you prefer Charles?"
A purple-hued flicker of surprise whiskered at the edge of his aura for a moment before he said, "Charlie, if you want. No, please, go ahead. As long as your safety isn't compromised, you're free to do what you want - within reason, of course."
Smiling pleasantly at him and thinking about all the things she wanted to do with him - but wasn't allowed to, Rashelle keyed open the door and went in, the female ranger a few paces behind. "What's your name?" She asked.
"Lauren Kyle, Ma'am."
Rashelle winced. "How about Miss? Or Rashelle, or just Drenn will do too, since rangers seem to like last names." She moved to stand in front of a nearby mirror glaring at it critically. She'd put on a simple cotton travelling outfit - not that she had many to choose from - light brown and quite plain, but sturdy and very functional. In addition to a polished chunk of Jasper held around her neck by a long, narrow braided leather cord, Rashelle had added a vest over the shirt to brighten it, pale tan and embroidered with tiny gold beads that formed three words in an ancient Narn text running down the left side. 'Unity', 'Strength', and 'Joy'. It had been the prettiest - and by far the most valuable - thing she'd owned, but in the past 2 days she'd come to fully realise that is was extremely rustic and outsider looking - the high fashions on Proxima were a long ways from anything she owned. Rashelle decided to change that, and before she was officially seen by the masses of the universe.
"Well, Lauren, I'm supposed to keep a guard with me, but since my current need is a dress - or a suit of some sort, just as long as it looks less . . . colonial . . . than what I've got - for the press conference. Maybe a couple other outfits, too, but I don't want to get extravagant. We aren't *that* rich. I'm going to need a second opinion, but I don't think having a guy come would be appropriate, not until I at least know him better. I don't want to make his wife jealous by letting him see me, but I'm still going to need the opinion of someone more current on the fashion trends than I am."
"Sounds reasonable to me. But he's not married."
Making her best effort to be simply conversational in tone, Rashelle asked, "Girlfriend, then?"
". . . not that I know of," Lauren said, thinking about it. "He's pretty much dedicated to his work, 24 - 7. Which is good, it helps your safety. Especially after the attack on the governor last night - we're glad she wasn't physically hurt."
"I'm glad too," Rashelle replied sincerely. [Single - hah. First hurdle is cleared. He can be dedicated to me 24 - 7, I won't mind that at all!] "So can we go right now? I don't know where to start looking." She moved out to the balcony and peered over the railing. "Are those shops? Would they have something appropriate?"
"Possibly. Give us a minute to do a once-over and then we can go down."
"Are you going to stand out, in your uniform? Or . . . or how *do* we do this?"
Lauren smiled reassuringly. "There are several hundred rangers in the city, and dozens in the immediate area, mostly because of your arrival. We won't be too noticeable, and the media doesn't have your picture published yet."
Rashelle grinned and went to find her new, still unused credit chit. "This could turn out to be a fun trip, even with the noise."
~~~~
[ I ]
[ am ]
[ the ]
[ STUPIDEST ]
[ man ]
[ in ]
[ the ]
[ UNIVERSE! ]
Burying his face in his arms as he slumped down onto the desk, Zack winced at his own foolishness. [Lyta had no idea that you'd left early! Why'd you just assume!? Stupid, stupid, stupid idiot!]
[Well, at least I *did* think to get the message. Is it too late, though?]
"So how am I supposed to fix this mess," he grumbled to his elbows.
His elbows didn't seem to have the answer, so after a few minutes of waiting, he raised his head again, having decided to admit his mistake and apologize to Lyta. [Maybe she'll forgive me, allow me to stay. I've missed her so much. I want to be the one to protect her. Maybe if I tell her that . . . but I haven't done a great job of it in the past, now have I? I should promise to do better, to be better than - than before. I will promise her.]
He stood up again, looking at his reflection in the blank comm unit's screen. [But what if she refuses to talk to me? I messed up the first impression, that's for sure.]
[I have to try anyway.] He ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to make it behave, straightened his shirt, and went back into the rest of the suite to find Lyta. [She'll be in the kitchen, most likely - where was it? Through there.] An apology was in order, even if nothing else was accomplished.
Zack offered a fast, intense prayer to the Powers That Be that the next few minutes went well. [ . . . and then the next few days, and then the next few months. Do I want to risk jinxing it? God willing, may the next few years I hopefully spend with her go well. May she stay safe and be happy for . . . for ever.]
Zack knew he'd need the help of the almighty to survive his new career.
~~~~
Lyta was standing in the small kitchen, slowly stirring the pot with one hand while using the other to sprinkle in the last of the spices she had chosen. It was just about ready, she could tell that the carrot slices were almost cooked enough. Despite her efforts to tune out everything around her not totally food-related, she still noticed the disturbance and stiffened uncomfortably. [Damn. Already? I still haven't figured out how to get out of our little misunderstanding.]
She bit back an annoyed groan when it became obvious that he was about to come in. Even without turning around, she knew it was Zack. For one thing, his thoughts were leaking like water from a bucket that hadn't been sealed properly.
"May I come in?"
She glanced at him briefly, but didn't say anything. [Please Zack, I haven't worked up the courage yet to say I'm sorry. Go away.] Lyta focused on carefully stirring the soup that didn't actually need to be stirred futher.
He seemed to take her lack of a dismissal as an invitation, so he stepped in, biting back a sigh. He'd known when he decided to come to Proxima that it was going to be difficult, but he hadn't realised just *how* difficult Lyta was going to make it. [On the other hand, it's not like I didn't deserve this. If I gave her the impression I was only here under orders, of course she'd have been mad. Well, I have to start somewhere,] he decided. "What kind of soup are you making?" [Oh, brilliant, Zack. Impress her with your vast wit, why don't you.]
Lyta didn't look up. "Vegetable."
[Well, at least she spoke to me,] Zack thought wryly. "Look, Lyta," he began. "I . . . I checked my messages. I'm sorry - I didn't realize before that you didn't know I was here, well that I was already on my way TO here." He paused, trying to organize his thoughts into something that would make sense. Meanwhile, Lyta had turned to stare at him evenly.
"Um," Zack began again, "I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry, and for what it's worth, I wanted to be here, whether you wanted to see me or not. That still stands."
Still Lyta said nothing. Her hand had let go of the spoon but he could not tell yet it if was for good or bad.
"Okay, look, let's just call a truce or something, all right? We'll just try this out, nothing permanent unless you say so, just -uh- see how it goes. If it works, then great, we go with it. If not, well, no harm done, right?" Zack paused again, apparently deciding that he was finished. He stood uncomfortably under Lyta's scrutiny, waiting for an answer.
[ . . . Or I could just let him apologise for me and save myself a cartload of trouble . . .] With a hidden sigh of relief, Lyta walked across the kitchen and opened a cabinet door, pulling out a bowl. "Would you like some soup? I don't know if you'll like how it's flavored - I don't even know if I do yet - but there's enough for two. If you don't object to eating with me," she offered.
With barely a hesitation, Zack smiled. "Yes. . . I'd like that."
~~~~
"Captain . . . not that I want to interrupt them, but there's only an hour left before the conference and I had hoped to nail down at least two primaries for the G- for Lyta before then, and use the time to get them into place."
"I know. But let's wait a while longer, since they've been getting along. Zack has never been one for tact, and probably said the wrong thing at the wrong time at the start. I don't know. But they seem to have at least drawn up the blueprints for a bridge, anyway. I overheard him compliment her cooking when I poked an ear in."
"Standard practice, I guess. En'til'zha never mentioned to me just how close they were before. . . how far might this hypothetical bridge have to go?"
"Lisette, she cooks a whole lot better than I did, or ever will. But at least it shows his manners are intact. They worked together for years, but as far as anyone knew, they never kissed. She knew he cared about her, like a sibling or a daughter at least, but she - this is all to remain a secret, by the way - never pushed him for more, I guess maybe she didn't know how - you've heard as well as I have how Corps-raised people are - but when you-know-who came along, all it took was a few sweet words from him and some telepathic manipulation and she was hooked like a fish. Zack apparently got really angry about that, there was some kind of fight soon after - and they never spoke to each other again. Each one regrets that they started the fight, and each one blames himself that they didn't do more when they might have, but - for Lyta anyway - what's happened in the meantime has burned her against pretty much any romantic entanglements. I don't know about Zack's past - he's read the logs we sent ahead of us, so he knows how she reacted to that one idiot-"
"The fellow in your crew who got tipsy 2 weeks from here, and tried to feel her up?"
"Yup. Apparently Lyta's had time to learn how to pike-fight, but never bothered to mention the fact. Still, he healed in time, and apologised fully. But it was probably enough to keep her steamed. Zack's forwarned, anyway."
"Uh. Well, on my side, I'd only get to B5 a few times a year, so I didn't see Zack much, but there was no sign of a wife or steady girlfriend. Sometimes, there might be some pale-haired empty-brain with big . . . well, an obvious mammal - hanging onto his arm if he was out having dinner, but I never saw the same one twice. Some others in security mentioned that he either never bothers to call them back, or the various she's would get fed up with his workaholism, and ditch him. So I don't know what to think. Maybe he doesn't care about women, or he cares too much about one. I've never pretended to understand the male mind, and I never will." Deveax sighed, slumping down into her chair. "But if I am picked as a primary, I'll be glad to do it, for her or any of them. The beds here are flat!"
Ivanova and Deveax both had to laugh. After they both slowed down to simple chuckling, Ivanova said, "might as well go see if they need a third wheel. If you see blood running back out, it was a mistake on my part."
~~~~
"And then what'd they do?" Lyta was biting back a grin as she asked.
"Well, Lochley of course was denying that there had been *anything* inappropriate going on, Gideon was going nuts trying to find where his other shoe had gotten go, and the poor commander and me were both doing our best not to notice any of it. He confessed later it wasn't the first time he'd caught them, either, but you didn't hear *that* from me."
"Poor Corwin. Always in the middle. No wait! That sounds -" Lyta covered her mouth with her hand, blushing crimson and staring at her empty bowl. "Ok, that didn't come out the way I wanted," she admitted.
Zack's mouth avoided smiling, but his eyes showed it anyway. "If everyone was able to speak without mishaps, there'd be no need for diplomats. Then we'd both be out of a job. May I take your dishes? I'll need to figure out where the scrubber is hidden sooner or later."
"Are you trying to get me spoiled again," she asked in amusement. "All these fancy modern gizmos that do the work for us?" She scooped up both of their dishes for him, instead.
"For now." He smiled gently at her, both much more at ease with the other after their hesitant conversation had gradually opened up. "But if you refer to me as a mother hen again, Lyta, I might have to prove it."
"I don't want to interrupt-" Ivanova began from her spot by the door. When they both were looking at her expectantly, she continued, "but you've got to scoot in a few more minutes, and I was hoping to talk with you before you have to go. Privately, if you wouldn't mind, Zack. Deveax still needs to go over a few things, too."
Nodding, he took the dishes back from Lyta, and went back into the kitchen. Ivanova walked slowly over the the huge, bright window that covered one whole exterior wall of the dining area, admiring the view of the sunset.
When she did not speak, Lyta began the conversation for her. "It's quite pretty, isn't it. We both mentioned how different it was, the color. I am used to blue, he to a patchwork of green and buildings. . . but you're not here for the sights, are you. How long will you be gone this time?"
"It's a four-day interview. Then I'll be staying back at the base rather than here if the mob has died down - the brass would rather let the rangers cope with the reporters than 'wasting' their own manpower on it. Almost enough to make me wish I *hadn't* been so attentive towards gathering data on Teep. But I've managed to wiggle room for the latents - all that came forward to me, anyway - to remain nearby and check back every 2 or 3 days. Some of the data they brought back might not be totally accurate, just observations, or assumptions, but they'll be around for a little while, each one, to get you to 'assist' in fixing things. Listening, really, but after that skirt comment, I know there ARE ideas they got wrong. Ideas I got wrong, too. Over the next few weeks, we can move the spaces apart, so they can be weaned off the music like they're supposed to. It wasn't easy to arrange. Some of them, the brass wanted to transfer right away to other posts. But I'll be able to keep most of my crew intact. Commander Stelz will be able to return, her leave is almost up, and she's going to bring the new baby by so I can meet him before then. Lyta . . . please? I know I heard it this afternoon and the extra exposure will be very bad but it'll be four DAYS!"
Lyta sighed, closed her eyes, and found the strength to concentrate on what Susan needed while she leaned wearily against the window. "It's ironic. The best part of our home, the one thing we were willing to give up so much for, is so addictive. Makes me wonder if we really had a choice about giving up electrical power. About giving up the ability to leave. Unless I go with them, no active who's been there for any length of time will be able to leave again. And when I finally do get back, I *never* want to leave again. Maybe my attitude will change in time, but . . . I don't know. Hell, maybe we'll find a way to make it portable, carry the addiction outwards. At least then, some could travel if they wanted, and not go insane."
"So . . . um . . . can I ask what you talked about?"
"Just broke the ice, mainly. Some small talk. Some big talk. And . . . I managed to say it."
" . . . what'd he say?"
"He didn't. After a few seconds of silence, he started a new topic. But I could feel him, Susan, I could feel the rage and worry and fear and the self-doubt that *I've* made so much worse since he got here, I could feel all of it. I - before I said it - I wanted to scan him. Then I became so ashamed of the very notion, that I went right the other way and I said it. Didn't mince words, either." Lyta was very still for a few seconds. "I think that just upset him more."
Ivanova looked uncomfortable, but didn't say anything.
"I remembered after the fact that I'd always held my tongue around him. He was as surprised at my language as what I actually said. But I won't apologise for swearing. It was the only way I could honestly describe . . ."
"Byron was a manipulator. You needed time to get out of his traps, it all."
"Time, and three dead - murdered! - babies. Plus how many more? He had always been fond of women, Susan, but I was this 'only love'. His only love that he never had to *pay* for the privilege! But I told Zack it. All of it. I finally admitted to him that he was right. Admitted to him what Byron was, what he had been and what he had done to me. A - a damned slian'od melw fwe hiq'vne jfow bastard who used me, and that I was equally a fool for not seeing it in time, for not heeding Zack's warning, for . . . for everything. I was so mad, so mad at him, at Byron, at everything here that hates me for what I am, I couldn't talk any more after that."
" . . . oh."
"After, he started to mention about some of his work. He - oh god."
"What?"
"He was - he was using a metaphor. About - oh it's a stupid example. But he . . . he asked me, if I hadn't left, if I hadn't held the group together long enough to find Sanctuary, and the war - it would have come anyway - if there might not have been a place for so many to go. To be safe. Oh god, Susan, I thought he was talking - but he wasn't, was he? He was pointing out how much was saved. That would not have been saved, if I had stayed with him on Babylon 5, and - and . . . "
Ivanova kept her silence.
"At least I think he was. I . . . I guess I should talk to him, afterwards. We - the envoy - are all meeting here afterwards, when we've gotten an idea of what to do next, before we go to bed. I'll talk to him afterwards, if he lets me. Ask if that's what he meant. But I agreed with him. Stupid metaphor, but I agreed with it. I was embarrased again, and wanted to move on. Then we started talking about what he'd done - some little recent adventures, things that had happened. Like the Hill Concert - he was able to attend, to listen, instead of working that night. It must have sounded wonderful. And . . . well . . . after a while, you came in."
"So things are getting better?"
"I hope so. I'll work hard, at my mission - and repairing the fence with him." She eased the connection between them, and the beauty of the music faded back to nothingness as Lyta opened her sad brown eyes again. "We should go - you said something about Lisette? Would I be able to talk to Zack even before then? I might have had to leave known space to save all of Teep's citizens, but they're safe now and I want so much to make amends with him. If I can."
"Deveax wants you to try to nail down some primaries, before the conference, or at least narrow down some that you don't want. You're taking at least two. Sheridan's orders."
"Ok." Lyta was back to being calm and quiet again, and followed Ivanova back out into the main room, then they separated - Lyta to the office, Susan out of the suite, to her own room to pack.
~~~~
"Well that could have gone better," the old minbari sighed her comment as she sunk down to sit cross-legged on the floor, glancing down her nose up to the various others who took seats on chairs and couches, or choose to remain standing. Marrat was already notorious for her distain of padded furniture. At 120 earth-years, she was the oldest of the envoy members, at least of the species that bothered to count age. . . how old the two Fidgies were was anyone's guess.
At that moment, the pair of avians in question were twitching their way about the room, trying to find a comfortable perch on which to live up to their nicknames. Members of a species that never held still unless asleep or very sick, their constant fidgeting during the press conference had made more than one reporter lose concentration.
Much to the secret delight of the envoy members, of course.
"It could have been worse, old one. Be thankful to the gods it was not," a brakiri retorted, in his own language, but the concept he laid open for anyone stronger than a latent to see.
"Marrat, Ecathe, speak english!" A human sitting between them ordered. "SPEAK english. Talk in trade, talk in trade. Both of you. Or have you tossed your minds away like small children?" Levi Steele was a patient man, but he had little tolerance for petty bickering, even more so after the terrible day he and Shannon had gone through. None of the delegates were much different, and so the group as a whole restrained their frayed tempers.
The whole of the team had begun to gather in the main room of Lyta's suite, to go over the latest events, and to talk in general. They clustered in the center, beginning by sharing useless small talk, until a sweep of the area showed only a few listening devices that were quickly dismantled by the rangers who circled the perimeter, staying near their protective charges but out of the way. The mood of the multi-specied crowd of journalists had been gauged by all of them as mostly hostile, partly avaristic, with only a few points of genuine welcome. Their mission here was not going as well as the team had hoped, but it only took a few minutes for them to recognise that it could have been much worse.
Just over half of the species in the Alliance were glad to know where the missing people had gone, and wanted them back - mostly, however, by force. The transferred population had led to a shortage of telepathic mediators in many places, and various companies were suffering from bad deals. Several vocal ambassadors had gritted their teeth when reading out a prepared welcome speech, radiating hostility all the while. A few members of the audience, however, just wanted to let things carry on normally, not concerned about the 'telepath threat'. Lyta had been glad that there were still some species who didn't let telepathic abilities interfere with their culture. The pak'ma'ra, for instance.
Holding her hand up but not speaking out loud, Lyta got everyone's attention. [The first item we're going to discuss,] Lyta sent to all her fellows, [is how fast the trackers get implanted, and of what sorts. I am NOT going to allow the threats of kidnapping to become a reality! Your comments first, however.]
Various conversations died down over the next minute, as the speakers turned their attention to the entire group. Lyta had stated to them several times on the Sophocles that they were not to make their own, or anyone else's, abilities apparent as a potential weapon, discouraging them from being obvious about conversations held telepathically. Besides, it wasn't fair to the normals in the delegation, or to any latent not strong enough to broadcast words to another latent.
"Comments, anyone? The speaker holds the rod." Lyta held up a lightly carved piece of wood, about an inch thick and just over a foot long. Various appendages were promptly reached out to have it handed to them.
Narrowing her eyes at the common need to be the first to talk, she handed it to the being on her left, closest to her. "It goes orbital in direct. Everyone says their piece, then we open it to free passing for discussions. No talking otherwise!" She glared down a few who had opened their mouths to speak out of turn. "We follow the code until our tempers are cool. Ijssel, you are the first this time."
Smiling slightly, the middle aged minbari woman grasped the rod, then turned to face the majority of the group. "I would advise that any outings - regardless of purpose - be curtailed until the security network is fully in place, including guards, tracking implants, and emergency beacons. I was quite troubled by the threats made tonight. The beings present had all been pre-screened, so it seems unlikely there will be a warmer reception from a general population. Indeed, what happened to Lyta yesterday could only be the beginning - the Seers said before our departure that we would not all be returning. I, for one, would prefer to prove them wrong! Caen?" She handed the rod to the next person, a Brakiri whose hands were even more callused than her own.
"We will need to decide by the end of the night how to handle the requests for personal interviews. The barrage tonight was . . . intense. And now I see that special little smile of yours is out, Alexander. I think I shall enjoy hearing your ideas on that subject."
Several others glanced at the mischievous upturn of Lyta's mouth, then focused again on the next speaker. Zack Allan had to shift his position slightly, in able to catch her expression in the reflection from a mirror. He stood a few paces behind her, a protective near-hover that earned Lyta a few telepathic 'elbow in the ribs'. The other delegates had agreed to follow her lead on that particular issue, however, and quietly waited to see what happened between the two of them.
None of them were stupid enough to provoke anything, not after what had happened to Lyta so recently. Most were still undecided - Lyta among them - as to whether or not she should consider eventually pursuing a relationship with the gruff human. But they had plenty of time to decide, and to eventually act. One thing the citizens of Teep had been forced by circumstance to learn was patience, and a great deal of it.
There were exceptions to the rule, of course. Several hands and paws twitched anxiously, waiting for their turn to speak, as one by one each member of the delegation said their main concern or observation, then passed the rod on. The real action would occur after the first circuit was completed, and the free-for-all began. Lyta held out until she was the last one, hearing what the others all had to say. Concerns over the needed visits to other worlds, observations and worries about the political and personal alliances that had been formed or broken the past few years which would complicate their task, and small matters, such as room changes that were required - Shannon Ramsey and Levi Steele were undecided as to which one of their two suites to keep, since they had planned on staying together having a second one was unnecessary - and a few observations made about certain reporters, favored for or against their presence because of behavior. Only three of the team kept silent, instead just watching and listening to the rod as it made a circuit around the room, eventually ending back in Lyta's grasp.
"First," she began carefully, "tomorrow will be a day for all of us to be visited by the doctors for implants. The short-range trackers are already prepared, yes?" Lyta glanced at Deveax, who nodded. "Good. The other options will be ready within the next day or so. You WILL use them. All of you. As for your concerns about privacy, please be reminded that you each have been issued a jammer recovered from Tunnel Four, and that if you allow it to meld right to your skin, the control is completely voluntary."
"If I may interrupt?" a ranger began carefully. He, along with numerous other rangers, had stiffened ever-so-slightly at the mention of jamming device.
"Yes?" Lyta asked, one eyebrow arched at him.
"Jammers - If my memory serves me correctly, Tunnel Four was the name given to a vorlon resupply base that you . . . resupplied . . . at during your travel. Is there any danger from Vorlon tech we should be made aware of? I know the reports say several people were killed, and many injured, by left-behind equipment on the outpost."
Lyta nodded at him gently. "The deaths are remembered by me as well - I was there, as you may have heard, and did not escape unscathed myself. But no, the jammers are simple - well - simple compared to some of the trinkets the first ones left - devices that control any energy input or output from a small area. We have learned to modify them to specific frequencies, a very useful thing when attempting to hide the energy signature of a shuttle being hunted by the former Psi Corps. Their main use is to ensure privacy in conversations - you need only set one to stop the audio wavelengths from leaving. They are not a threat to you, or to anyone else."
The ranger nodded, outwardly satisfied. But nearly every ranger in the room was wondering [what else do they have that they haven't told us about?] and worrying. Nearly every ranger . . . but then Zack Allan wasn't exactly a ranger. He briefly entertained a mental image of Lyta in a traditional magician's costume, pulling rabbits out of her top hat and doves from her sleeves, one after another after another; then he focused on the conversation again.
It was all the actives could do not to burst out laughing. They recognised Zack's emotional connection to Lyta, and all she could do was continue on with her idea of how to set up the personal interviews, and try not to blush.
[Costumes,] Aaron Massey commented across a coffee table to Rashelle. [Well, since they seem to have made up . . . ]
His tiny smile faded as his fellow teep glared at him icily. [Don't - you - dare - even - joke!]
[Sorry,] Aaron apologized.
[Both of you be quiet,] a Centauri reprimanded.
Attention was quickly returned to their leader, the momentary flicker of teasing tucked away again. Smiles of various types had appeared on most others present as Lyta finished putting her idea out. "So, any thoughts on it?"
The first to make sound was Jane Fidgie, her jewel-pierced feathers trembling as she shook with laughter. Her mate, also known by a nickname for ease of pronunciation, was John Fidgie, and he was laughing so hard his pinions had a difficult time holding onto the back of the chair. "Nestlings?" his translator squawked. "You would let nestlings be the first? John thinks Lyta Alexander was not impressed by the mature journalists, no, he does not." He kept laughing, his own jewels tinkling as they swayed against each other.
"I think it good idea as well," one of the two drazi stated firmly, his partner nodding in agreement. "Children more open to following our rules, and might have . . . better questions. And, as you pointed out, easier to remove from location should they become trouble. Smaller mass."
Various mutterings offered a vote for or against Lyta's idea. Turning, the redhead glanced at the uniformed members of the gathering. "Do you have any comments on it? We welcome outside information. Any advice will be listened to."
"Aye, but will you follow it?" Deveax asked wryly.
That brought more snickering, at least from the Envoy members.
"Only if it pleases us, my friend. Only if it pleases us." Lyta grinned.
Deveax shrugged. "They would have to be screened, like any other, but it can be done. I can have a list ready by noon tomorrow, if you want, for your perusal. We just need to check through the request lists, narrow it down to the publications that are based in schools. I'm guessing grammar, then secondary, then the college and university levels?"
Lyta nodded. "The youngest first. With a check to ensure they aren't puppets for a major publication. ISN can sit on it's rump for weeks, after that little 'exclusive' they claimed was accurate. So. Anything else on that topic right now? No? All right, then around the circuit. Ijssel's suggestion, to curtail all outings until the trackers are in place: who's for? Ah. And against? . . . Ah . . . now for the fun part: reasons?" She passed the rod onto a nearby limb, one of several reaching eagerly.
[This could be a long evening,] Lyta mused to herself as the discussion/arguments began.
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