Go to Part Three
“Oy god, can’t you find anything more interesting than that?” Daffy exclaimed with a sneer of disgust as Chekov came out of the dressing room of the clothing store. He wore a rather plain tunic, mostly black with a brown yoke and collar, with dark grey pants.
“I like it,” the Russian returned. “And this is something I would wear again.”
“It fit his excitin’ personality,” DelMonde drawled and beside him, Ruth frowned. Sakura giggled.
“Then you’re paying, bubee,” Daffy informed him. She gave a small twirl. “Whaddya think?”
Del whistled, grinning at her. The chemist had chosen a short, flared skirt in fuchsia with a tunic of sheer fabric, except for an insert of the same color and a drape of darker purple for modesty’s sake. She’d even found shoes of the same darker purple. “You lookin’ good enough to eat,” the Cajun told her.
“Why, you’re like to make me blush,” Daffy retorted, affecting a very bad Southern accent.
“Nothing makes you blush, Daf,” Ruth put in and Daffy stuck her tongue out, which the Antari ignored. “So where’s this nearest den of iniquity you mentioned?”
“Den of iniquity?” Chekov asked suspiciously.
“We’re sailors?” Gollub said, turning back to the navigator. “We’re on leave? What else are we supposed to do but get drunk and pick up cute locals?”
“I not be pickin’ up not'ing but my sweet cher,” Del quipped, bending down to nuzzle at Ruth’s neck. Then he glanced at Chekov. “You on your own, son.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Daffy demanded.
“It means they won’t be doing their usual double-teaming pretty women,” Ruth replied, though most of her attention was on Del.
“Double-teaming?” Daffy stared at Chekov in frank amazement. “Well, well, who’da thunk it?”
“She does not mean it like that,” Pavel said, his face growing warm.
“How does she mean it, bubee?” Daffy wanted to know.
“They used to have this whole routine…” Ruth began, then her voice trailed off under DelMonde’s insistent kisses.
Daffy smacked the engineer on the arm. “Spill, spill!” she insisted.
“Oh, leave them be,” Sakura said off-handedly. “What difference does it make?”
Gollub leveled a steely gaze at the yeoman. “You’re obviously not a connoisseur of gossip and the uses to which it can be put,” she intoned.
Sakura chuckled. “Yes, Uhura,” she said.
“So, since no suitable alternate explanation is forthcoming,” the chemist went on blithely, “I’ll have to stick with my original assumption. Which could end up being a whole lot of fun for you and me, Gypsy.” One green eye winked at Tamura, who started giggling as Chekov’s face grew redder.
“As roommates, we would occasionally go to bars together,” the Russian attempted to explain.
“Uh-huh,” Daffy said.
“And we would – sometimes him, sometimes me – ah – approach two young ladies…”
“Go on,” Sakura said, leaning forward.
“… and enquire about their plans for the evening, and ask if they might be interested in some…”
Daffy snorted and Sakura’s giggle broke into full laughter.
“…companionship,” Chekov finished miserably.
“So it wasn’t threesomes, it was foursomes,” Daffy concluded, folding her arms.
“No, no, we would – ah – eventually – go our separate ways…” the navigator quickly corrected.
“Not always, T-Paul,” DelMonde chuckled unhelpfully.
“He means,” Chekov added, with a glare at the Cajun, “that we sometimes ended up – uh – sharing a hotel room, not sharing the young ladies in question.”
“Still, shtupping in the same room. Kinda kinky,” Daffy mused.
“Not like Cajun wasn’t used to that at the…”
“SHHHH!” came from both Ruth and Sakura.
“…Academy,” Daffy finished with a wicked grin.
“You got th’ devil in you today, cher,” Del commented, chuckling at Daffy.
Daffy shrugged. “Shore leave,” she answered, “and one would think I wouldn’t have to keep reminding all of you.”
“But back to the den of iniquity?” Ruth asked.
“There’s a nice seedy little dive just off the main drag,” Gollub began.
“You have been here before?” Chekov interrupted.
Daffy showed her teeth. “No – but there’s always a nice seedy little dive just off the main drag,” she replied. “Let’s go find it.”
Daffy was, of course, correct. It only took a few minutes’ walk to find what could only be described as the aforementioned seedy little dive. It was a small club, dark inside despite the brightness of the day. There were a few locals at the bar, a few more seated at the long counter that surrounded a raised stage. On the stage, a tired-looking woman dressed in a g-string was performing a lackadaisical if admittedly sensual dance. A small screen set into the floor of the stage recorded the credit chips that were processed as her gratuities. When it flashed, indicating another tip, her movements became slightly more animated for a short time.
DelMonde and Chekov both watched for a few moments, then glanced at each other, and each entered a liberal contribution in the accounting computer at the side of the stage. The woman’s face lit with a smile, and she gyrated toward them, obviously appreciating their generosity. Del smiled back, blowing her a kiss, which was interrupted by Ruth’s pulling on his arm. Chekov merely flushed.
“Come on, schmendrick,” Daffy muttered to the Russian and led the small group of officers to a vacant table. When the waitress came over, Daffy ordered a Rigellian-filled hookah, varying kinds of alcohol by the bottle and an assortment of the more benign Haven chemicals; amber, emerald and crystal. Pavel frowned at her.
“I hope you don’t expect me to…” he began.
“I don’t expect anything,” Daffy interrupted. “The candy is for the rest of us.”
“You mean you and Sakura,” Ruth clarified, leaning against DelMonde, who already had his arm around her waist. “Del and I don’t do chemicals.”
Daffy snorted. “Since when?”
“I never…” Ruth began.
“Not when I wit’ her,” Del said at the same time.
“Except for the occasional venus orgy…” Daffy returned wickedly
“… well, hardly ever…”
“Let it go,” Sakura advised. “We’re on leave.”
“Oy you’re all turning into a bunch of nebbishes,” Daffy complained.
Del raised an eyebrow at Ruth, who shrugged back.
“At least she didn’t say ‘Herberts,’” the Antari pointed out.
Daffy opened her mouth, and Sakura poked her.
“Don’t,” the yeoman suggested.
Several hours later, the small group of Fleet officers was becoming rowdy. They were all at various states of intoxication: Daffy and Sakura drunk, stoned and at differing stages of cruising, needing, and flying from the Haven chemicals; Ruth and Del drunk and stoned; Pavel Chekov merely drunk. The Russian had been eyeing the dancer for some time, and when she finished her set, she’d come over to offer a lap dance. Daffy had made quite a fuss about it, exclaiming that with two unattached females at the table, he needn’t pay for something like that. Sakura had immediately obliged, climbing onto the navigator’s lap and starting to gyrate. As Chekov’s face grew redder and redder, Daffy started laughing uproariously.
The bar had grown quite a bit more crowded, and there were now two dancers on the stage, and not a single empty seat surrounding it. The music was louder too, and so, of course, the general level of noise as people tried to talk over the thumping bass line.
Ruth and Del were lost in each other, their kisses and caresses become more blatant and brazen. With the increase in the emotional emanations from those around them, Ruth had wrapped her mind more protectively around the Cajun’s raw gifts, which only served to increase both their desires. Soon, Ruth had followed Sakura’s example, and had climbed over DelMonde, their bodies pressing together as tightly as their mouths.
It was at this point that Daffy excused herself to use the ladies’ room.
The emerald in Sakura’s system was filling her with heat, the amber allowing her to act on the sexual hunger that was growing in her. The crystal magnified the physical sensation of her pelvis moving over Chekov’s obviously responding manhood, causing her to grind down on him in fevered earnest. For his part, Pavel was just drunk enough not to care that this was being done in full view of the rest of the bar’s patrons.
“Ooh, you are so cute,” Tamura breathed in his ear.
“A man does not like being referred to as…” the navigator began.
“Shut up and kiss me,” the yeoman broke in.
With a shrug, the Russian complied. Sakura’s mouth opened, drawing his tongue inside as her hands moved to hold his head to hers. She chuckled at the young man’s start of surprise, then began moving her mouth over his. She felt his response, his hands coming to her hips. She urged him to place them beneath the fabric of her skirt, letting her shawl fall down to cover them. The need was growing in her by leaps and bounds, and her kiss became more aggressive. He returned it, taking over the active role and she moaned beneath his lips. Within seconds, she had forgotten completely where they were.
Want you, want you, want you, Del chanted in Ruth’s head.
I want you, too, was the wordless reply.
We gotta get us a room, cher, an’ soon, or I gonna say t’hell with propriety an’ fuck you right here.
Ruth giggled. Kinky. I like it.
The engineer growled, devouring her mouth, his hands moving to her skirt, pushing it up over her hips. Ruth broke the kiss, letting her head fall back as her body arched to him. His head bent, and he pulled down one side of the tube top with his teeth, preparing to give her breast the same treatment as he had her lips. Her hands were working at the front seam of his slacks, his organ growing harder with each touch of her fingers.
Sweet honey angel, I on fire! he groaned to her.
Me too, Goddess, Del…!
“All right, break it up!” a loud voice barked above them.
“You too, we don’t allow public exhibitions here!”
Pavel tried to break away from Sakura’s passionate embrace at the obvious voice of authority that was addressing them. The yeoman snarled a protest and pulled his head back to her.
“Miss Tamura…” he tried to begin, but his words were muffled by her insistent kisses.
“I said, break it up!” the voice bellowed again. “And I mean right now!”
“Miss… Sakura…” Chekov tried again.
“Bishounnen, fuck me!” Sakura breathed.
“That does it!”
Tamura gave a cry of anguish as she was pulled away from Chekov’s lap. Pavel tried to stand up, but was hauled to his feet by a large, uniformed hand clutching at his tunic. He became aware of a hissing noise, then another uniformed figure was being thrown back against a wall, seemingly by some invisible hand. Then Ruth’s voice was screeching and DelMonde was roaring and chairs and tables were flying. The last thing the Russian saw was a wooden club coming down at his head.
“Public indecency, intoxication, lewd and lascivious behavior, assaulting a police officer and resisting arrest,” the uniformed officer reported to the desk sergeant.
The sergeant, a large, bored-looking man, raised his eyes from his statboard and favored the four disheveled people before him with a sour glance.
“What do the prisoners have to say for themselves?’ he asked gruffly.
Sakura Tamura was practically glued to the side of the officer next to her. “Gods, but you’re strong,” she breathed. The man was clearly uncomfortable, trying both to edge his body away from her writhing and keep a hold of her as well.
“I apologize, Sergeant,” Chekov began. “We are Starfleet officers on shore leave and…”
“Shut the fuck up, ya fuckin’ moron,” DelMonde growled at him.
“Del, I can’t focus…” Ruth was whispering. “There was something in the Rigellian…”
“She’s the one who was half naked,” said the officer who had his hand firmly on her arm.
“Yeah, but she is Antari,” another uniform chuckled nastily.
“An’ what th’ hell that mean?” Del snarled threateningly.
“Watch your tone, boy,” the sergeant warned.
“… or maybe the drinks…” Ruth was continuing.
“Sergeant,” Chekov began again, “I’m certain this can all be settled…”
“With a call to your captain?” the officer who held him drawled.
“No, that really won’t be necessary,” Pavel returned hastily. “If there are fines to be paid…”
“Mister…” the sergeant said.
“Chekov. Ensign Pavel Chekov.”
“Mr. Chekov, these are serious charges. If you had all simply heeded the officer’s directions to curb your behavior…”
“He grab her in places no officer should be grabbin’ a woman,” DelMonde interrupted harshly, pointing to the man who stood next to Ruth.
“That was an accident,” the man replied, his face reddening.
“Like I be believin’ that,” the Cajun snorted.
“I didn’t mean to throw him across the room,” Ruth tried to explain. “There’s something interfering with my control.”
“We’ve also got a complaint from the owner,” the officer continued. “Several pieces of furniture were destroyed, along with glassware and a rather expensive pipe…”
“Which wouldn’na happen if you keep your damn hands to yourself!”
“You keep quiet!” the sergeant snapped.
“What’s your name?” Sakura was murmuring. “You’re not married, are you?”
“Sarge?” the officer asked helplessly.
“Really, if there is any restitution to be made…” Chekov rejoined.
“What ‘bout restitution fo' his grabbin’ her?” DelMonde demanded.
“I think we’d all better calm down now…” Ruth announced, her fingers going to her temples.
“Is that a threat, Miss?” the sergeant glowered.
“I told you, something’s screwing up my control…”
DelMonde shrugged away from the officer who held him. “Cher, you all right?”
“No, I’m not, there’s some kind of pressure building up in me…”
“Take her to holding,” the sergeant ordered.
“That not a good idea jus’ now,” Del muttered.
“I thought I told you to be quiet!”
“Oh, god….” Ruth moaned.
“Oh god…” Sakura groaned.
“Boizhe moi,” Pavel sighed.
After the explosion of the desk, filing cabinets and front window of the stationhouse had been cleaned up, the four Starfleet officer were taken to separate, electronically reinforced cells.
Before she made it to the bathroom, Daffy found the chemicals in her system reacting most interestingly to a handsome young Free Sailor who offered her a hit of the local stimulant – and a no-strings attached quickie. Annoyed that she hadn’t thought to invite another male to the party, she took him up on both. They found an empty storage room and she gave him a fast, passionate ten minutes, then headed back to her original destination.
The aftermath of an obvious brawl registered on her senses as she returned to the bar’s main room. It took her a few moments of dazed staring before she realized that her compatriots were nowhere in sight. Blinking, her mind beginning to race from the stim, she approached a bouncer who was righting tables.
“Hey, bubee,” she said, tapping the large man on the shoulder. “What happened to the people who were sitting here?”
He jerked his thumb back to the bar. “Ask th’ management,” he rumbled.
Frowning, Gollub made her way to the bar, rapping on it to get the attention of the bartender. “Hey,” she shouted over the resuming noise of the rest of the patrons, “did you see where my friends went?”
“Goddamned Fleeters,” the middle-aged woman snarled. “Breakin’ up my place and makin’ me call in the cops…”
“The cops?” Daffy repeated. “You called the local authorities?”
“Hell yeah!” the woman blazed. “Damn near fuckin’ in public, then throwin’ my bouncers all over the damn place! Who th’ fuck you think I was gonna call? Babysitters?”
“Uh, yeah, right.” Daffy tried to slow down her thoughts. “So where did the cops take them?”
“To fuckin’ let ‘em rot in jail, I hope!”
“Yeah. And where exactly would that be?”
The woman gave her a hard look. “Five blocks east, three south. Fourth precinct. You a Fleeter too?”
“Who, me?” Daffy lied.
“Somebody’s gotta pay the tab, ducks, and you ordered.”
Daffy’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “Yeah.” She took her credit chip off her waistband and handed it over. The bartender processed it, then turned a suspicious glare on her.
“This says you ARE a Fleeter,” she accused.
“Small galaxy, bubee,” Daffy replied, then hurriedly retrieved her chip. “Five blocks east, three south. Fourth precinct. Thanks,” she said, and turned, pushing through the crowd of people in the bar.
Once outside, it took her a moment to orient herself to planetary compass points. Her brain was working at far too fast a rate for her to form any truly coherent plan. So she fell back on instinct.
What do I need to storm a police precinct? Security. Right. How likely is Bwana to authorize that? And how much trouble will we all be in if he finds out what they did? Geveult, I’d like to find out what they did. What are you gonna do, then, Ensign?
No, wait. Not ensign. Groupie. Security. Cobra.
So where’s the snake likely to be?
With Kam.
And where’s that?
The most expensive hotel in town.
Without another thought, Daffy raced back to the main street to find a planetary geo-locater that would tell her where the nearest five-star hotel was.
“Come on, come on!” Daffy muttered at the comm unit in her hand. She had found the hotel, and requested a link to the room given to Takeda Sulu. “I know you two are screwing like crazed weasels, but open the damn comm link!”
After ten minutes and several more tries, a very irritated Kamikaze snapped, “What!”
“Hi, Kam,” Daffy said breathlessly. She raised her voice a fraction. “And hi to you too, Cobra! Listen, I hate to bother you…”
“No, you don’t,” came Paget’s annoyed response, sounding farther away.
“Yeah, well ordinarily…”
“What do you want, Daf,” Sulu growled.
Daffy took a deep breath. “Well, see, we were at this bar, me and Cajun and Gypsy and Mensch…”
“Spike!” both voices automatically corrected.
“Whatever… and Chekov, and…”
“Chekov?” came another unison exclamation.
“Yeah, you know him, short guy, cute butt, puppy-dog eyes – he sits next to you on the Bridge, Kam…”
“I know him. What the hell is he doing with…”
“We thought he needed an adventure,” Daffy returned. “Anyway, we were at this bar and I had to pee and I swear I wasn’t gone ten minutes and…”
“How much smoke had you done?” Paget wanted to know.
“I don’t know, a couple of pipes full.” She paused. “You know, the BIG kind…” She heard Sulu’s snort.
“And what else?” Jeremy asked.
“Gypsy and I did some amber…”
“Oh god,” Sulu groaned.
“… and some emerald…”
“Jesus!” was Paget’s reaction.
“And some crystal…”
“Daffy…”
“And different kinds of liquor, I don’t know, and like I said, I wasn’t gone ten minutes… oh, before that, Gypsy was giving Pavel a lap dance and Cajun and Men – Spike were all over each other.”
“She was giving him a lap dance?!?" Sulu interrupted.
“It’s a long story, and she doesn’t have ‘property of Kamikaze’ stamped on her ass anymore so give me a fucking break,” Daffy retorted. “And I get back from the head and the place is a mess and the bartender said she’d called the cops and…”
“Cops?” Sulu asked.
“Local authority?” Jeremy put in.
“Yeah, but I don’t know what happened and I sure as shit can’t call Bwana and I need some help and you’re both in Security and…”
“Daf, how can you screw things up so badly so damned quickly,” Sulu muttered.
“Hey, it wasn’t me!” Daffy protested. “I just went to pee – and other stuff.”
“Other stuff?” came the joint response.
“Oh, don’t get your briefs in a bunch,” Daffy sighed, “not that you’re likely to be wearing any right now – unless you’re playing some kind of dress-up kink which I do NOT want to know about…”
“Daf, where are you?” Sulu broke in.
“I’m at a comm station about four blocks from your hotel, and the precinct they’re being held at is… um…” She did some quick calculation in her head, and almost immediately lost track of it. “I can’t figure that out right now, but if you get here, I’m sure we can find it.”
“Daffy, now’s not such a good time…” Jeremy said slowly.
“Kam, just untie him and get your asses down here!” the chemist snapped. “This is an emergency! Don’t do it for me, do it for God and Clave and friendship!”
There was a few moments of quiet whispering and grumbling on the other end of the link, then Sulu sighed heavily. “We don’t have uniforms with us, Daf,” he said.
She made a face. “So beam back up and get some!”
There was more grumbling and Daffy heard “Goddamnmotherfuckingsonofabitch…” then, “Fine, you stay right where you are. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Thanks, you guys are life…” the comm clicked loudly closed. “…savers,” Daffy finished wryly.
Then she settled down to wait, praying that she didn’t chew the insides of her mouth raw.
“Why is it so bright and noisy in here?” Pavel Chekov complained to no one in particular.
“Pavel, are you all right?”
Chekov raised his head at Yeoman Tamura’s breathy voice. He was seated in a force-field-shielded cell and could see Sakura pacing in the cell next to his. There was a lump on the back of his head and the light and sounds and not inconsiderable pain were exacerbating his already dour mood.
“No, I am imprisoned and a peace officer hit me on the back of the head with his club,” he returned. “I am far from all right, Miss Tamura.”
“He be fine, cher,” DelMonde’s voice drawled from the other side of the force field that separated Chekov’s cell from the engineer’s. “His head harder than cement.”
“Gods, I am so hungry,” Tamura moaned.
“I am certain if you ask, the officers will allow you something to eat…” the Russian began.
“Mere de duin, it not that kind o’ hungry,” DelMonde said, his tone filled with disdain..
“Oh," Pavel replied, flushing. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry there is no way I can be of assistance,” he offered half-heartedly.
“Not half as sorry as she is, I be t’inkin’,” the Cajun returned. “Though why she pick the likes o’ you…”
“Any port in a storm, Del,” Ruth Valley put in. Her cell was on the other side of Tamura’s and her voice sounded far away. “Sorry, Pavel,” she added contritely.
The navigator only muttered disgustedly.
“Babe,” DelMonde called to Ruth, “how we gettin’ out o’ here?”
“I don’t know,” came the reply. “My head is buzzing.”
“I not noticin’ anyt’ing more’an…” the engineer’s voice stopped. “No, I not noticin’ anyt’ing. Ruth, it quiet.”
“What do you mean?” Chekov put in. “The noises from this Cossack station ...”
“No, ya dumb fuck, I mean in my head.” The Cajun moved into Chekov’s line of sight. He was pointing to his temple. “In my head,” he repeated for emphasis. He stood, obviously deep in thought. “Ruth,” he called again, “you taste any sapphire in that bourbon we drinkin’?”
“I wasn’t drinking bourbon,” Ruth replied. “I had…”
“Some kinda fancy liquor,” Del was musing. “Saki, honey, what were you drinkin’?”
“Who knows, who cares!” Sakura groaned. “I swear by all the Buddhas, if I don’t get a man soon…”
"An' T-Paul, you had too much vodka to be havin’ a hangover this soon.”
“And the blow to the head has nothing to do with it, I suppose,” the navigator snarled.
“Did the vodka taste funny is what I askin’,” DelMonde shot back.
“With what Miss Gollub was adding to it, how would I know?”
“Del, you don’t think…?” Ruth began.
“My head’s quiet, babe,” the engineer replied. “An' you buzzin’ like you got a hornet’s nest in your pretty brain. And Saki here is sufferin’ more than jus’ a hit or two o’ amber an’ emerald account for.”
“You think our drinks were drugged?” Chekov demanded, rising to his feet, immediately regretting it.
“It fit,” the Cajun muttered.
“You think you got sapphire,” Ruth was saying, “and I got – what, some kind of stimulant?”
“An’ Saki obviously got her some venus…”
“What about me?” Chekov insisted.
“Well, how you feelin’ son?” Del asked. “I mean other'an your usual dumb-fuck self?”
“At the moment, I’d like to wring your annoying neck,” Pavel shot back.
“He doesn’t seem much different,” Ruth mused.
“But what account for' his hangover when he still drunk?” Del wanted to know.
“I do not have a hangover!”
“Your head hurtin’ somethin’ fierce…” DelMonde ticked off on his fingers, “you sensitive to noise an’ light, you in a worse mood'an usual, you gettin’ angry pretty easy…”
“And just how do you know that?” Chekov demanded. DelMonde cocked his head, his eyebrows rising and the Russian subsided.
“So I be t’inkin’ maybe a l’il bitty bit o’ ruby.”
“What’s that?”
“It make you mean, son,” the engineer informed him.
“It’s an aggression enhancer,” Ruth explained.
“Why would even the Havens want to create something like that?” Chekov mumbled.
“It good fo’ the fights,” Del said. “You know, professional boxin’, wrestlin’, non?”
“Isn’t artificial enhancement illegal?”
“Not fo’ Haven fightin’.”
Chekov muttered something in Russian. Sakura came close to the force-field that separated them.
“You sound so sexy when you speak in Russian,” she breathed.
“Shee-it,” DelMonde swore, shaking his head. “Ruth, if it is venus, we gotta get her some help, fast.”
“I know, I know, but I can’t think!” Ruth returned, her voice getting a little shrill.
“You aren’t going to destroy anything else, are you?” Pavel asked warily.
“How the hell should I know!” the Antari returned. “Didn’t I say I can’t control it?”
“Maybe that not such a bad idea,” DelMonde mused. “Might not be bad at all if you blow a hole in this here wall,” he went on, thumping the shared back wall of the cells.
“And add jail-breaking to the list of charges?” Chekov pointed out.
“It not gonna be exactly intentional, son,” the engineer argued.
“So what do you plan to do?” the Russian went on. “Aggravate Miss Valley until she explodes – not that it would be terribly difficult for you.”
“Or you could jus’ keep runnin’ your mouth off,” Del shot back.
“Will you two shut up?” Ruth begged.
“Hell, that be enough t’ make anyone explode…”
“Clever talk from the man who’s so-called gifts have led the known universe to refer to him as a foul tempered son of a bitch.”
“Least I got some kind o’ personality. Boy, you dull as th’ day is long.”
“And you, Noel, are crude, impulsive, filthy, manipulative, lazy…”
There was a sudden increase in air pressure great enough for even Chekov to feel, and Ruth shrieked as the back wall of the jail burst into dust, knocking Pavel, Sakura and DelMonde to the floor. DelMonde grinned as he got back to his feet. “Nice work there, T-’Paul.” He walked through the disrupted field, grabbing the navigator’s hand. Ruth was already approaching, grasping Sakura’s arm.
“I didn’t mean to…” the Antari began.
“Later, cher,” the engineer said. “Let’s get th’ hell outta here.”