As the group followed Major Chance through the ship, they had the opportunity to notice the crew of the Nostromo in action.  They were a busy bunch, as were most crews attached to large starships.  People moved with a purpose and nowhere was there someone not doing something.

For the most part they seemed too preoccupied with their duties to pay much attention to the wandering newcomers.  But it was evident that Chance had a special status among them as the crew who did take notice were unanimously pleasant or positively inclined towards her.  There was many a nod, smile, or quipped greeting from those that they passed.

It was difficult to figure, if one was the figuring sort. Clearly, they were not prisoners, not exactly. Yes, they had been confined to quarters once the debriefs were completed, but the personal space was no prison cell. To those who had served on a starship before it was challenging to know that the small, single-bed affair with a window was likely more than many of the enlisted Imperials enjoyed below decks.

"We're here."

The quiet, strange woman's whispered statement was spoken only moments before a voice from the pinnace crew came over the loudspeaker.

**All hands secure stations, docking procedures.  Close aboard in five-oh-two.**

It was touch and go once they made daylight and exited the cave.  The not knowing as to when a sniper might decide to separate their head from their shoulders created a thick, slowing tension.  But as they drew closer to the air/rafts and the seconds turned to minutes it became the general consensus that there either was no sniper or he'd decided to leave them alone.

Teagan stood close to Keese, arranging herself to help support the proud woman in his arms.

The sun was behind them as Gunnar, Aurora, and Teagan made the climb up to the cave.  Their shadows were shrouded titans silently stalking the mountains afore them, sliding liquidly along the jagged blue rock face. 

Gunnar pondered if this was a tactical advantage, being silouhetted to any watchers from the cave.  Probably not, he figured.  Nothing had really broken his way yet in this entire misadventure, so why should it start now.  The sidearm in his hand was some small comfort.

Keese was contemplating the nature of curiosity while watching his erstwhile employer Sheeba No Ghadi - a name he now considered about as unlikely as the human female herself - as she prepared a second satchel similar to the one she'd left in the cube chamber.  Overnale's ruddy sun broke south of the cave entrance and the unfettered light caused his right ear to twitch as it warmed his face.

Adam sipped from the glass of water he'd been given.  He forced himself not to gulp - he didn't want to give these jerks the pleasure.  He'd asked for something to drink an hour ago.

"Mr. Finch, I don't believe you're being totally forthcoming about your associates," the detective, a stubborn ignorant man named Meng, said.  "Tell us more about this IISS Scout you claim was in the room during the illegal artifacts sale."

Adam did his best not to shatter the glass on the table when he put it down.  "I told you," he said through clenched teeth, "Her name was Teagan Ryleigh, or so she said.  She wasn't part of the transaction, which I've already said was legally arranged.  She said she was following a signal."

The air/raft was uncovered but Keese was still comfortable in his vacc suit.  Sheeba had insisted that he wear it despite the helmet not being fitted for a Vargr.  The helmet was sitting on the rear seat while the doctor wondered where they were going aside from Sheeba's vague answers.

Pythus was well west of the downport, he knew that.  It lay in the middle of a wide valley where the great northern and southern mountain ranges of Overnale seemed to stretch out towards each other, one trying to reach the other.  Between the two cities were four thousand kilometers of rich plains holding nothing but agriculture. 

In short order Sheeba No Ghadi and Keese arrived at the downport.  They had to wait half a minute at the ground traffic gateway while a 400-ton yacht was settling down on a huge concrete landing pad not a hundred yards distant, slowly lowering its bulk among the other streamlined ships.   When the thrusters died the caution was lifted and they were allowed to proceed on their way.

In the room, visions were clearing.  The ringing in the ears of the occupants was replaced with a still silence that followed the abrupt exit of Ms. Honey Love.  Adam Finch lay on the floor by the window, hands wrapped around a single silver stiletto heel.  Teagan Ryleigh stood over him, semi-enthralled.  Gunnar Ivarsson climbed to his feet a couple of meters away, scowling and fingering his weapon. He didn't holster it.

By the door, in the bathroom, Aurora Valence lay on her back with her patron, Odan Kudra, laying on top of her.  He was also n his back, still clutching his case of money.

"...."   there was a murmur over the noise of the outside air from the tangle of bodies by the bathroom.

"fuck."