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"I'm out! Leave a message."

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[Bel lay back, with that quiet reminder that things are over. Will have been over for years, possibly, when they go back.

Elena was a damn good Admiral. Studied under Tung, with a strong eye for strategy and more sense than should be wasted on a mercenary crew... Quinn would be good as well. Far more in the little Admiral's pace, she would take the wilder missions, and be more sensible in other ways.

But it would be different, the electric spark of possibility, of Nexus changing events would simmer out and steady into what it had been. What it needed to be: taking the usual jobs for the usual pay, to keep everything floating.

Three years, Miles had vanished for the first time, not a single word back. No missions, no orders, not even a status or position check. They'd wondered what they were doing, what had drawn them so deeply that this arm was left to hang.

Things would go well. They'd probably actually live to retire, with a cushy pillow of funds.]

Oh, it'll be fine.

I damn well hope so. It would be a waste otherwise.

[ He can't sense what's going on in Bel's head, but ... well, it's not hard to guess at the shape of it. ]

You're going to be so deep worrying about your own ass, dear. As you should.

Just so. Here or otherwise. Lost to the maelstrom of politics...

Fortunately, you've enough charisma or luck to have a few rocks to shelter against, here and there.

Ah, not luck. Good people.

Damn straight.

[Bel could leave it there... but they haven't quite felt like sleeping yet and the light is back on.]

Tung used to comment on that. Said it was your best quality when [How DID he put it... oh yes.] your alligator mouth overloaded your mosquito ass.

[ That seems like precisely something Tung would say. Miles claps a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. ]

Meaning I've bitten off more than I can handle? Or that I suddenly sprout enough teeth to defend myself from the people I've annoyed?