"Or do much else," murmured Rankil with a longing glance to Myrla. "Personally, I believe she's being overcautious." The cart's right wheel caught on a rock as she spoke, rattling her tender noggin until she winced. "But maybe she does have a point."

"Poor Rankil." Myrla extended her arm across the back of the driver's bench, creating a cushion Rankil could rest against. Rankil settled back and kept her eyes closed the remainder of the short trip, meditating away the discomfort.

"We're here." Archell announced their arrival in an excited tone he lowered when he looked back at his cousin's face. "Sorry, Rankil dankle."

"I'm glad to be home, too, Archie," she said in a quiet laugh. "Help Myrla out first. I'll be along in a moment."

"He'll do no such thing." Myrla slid from the cart and extended her arm again. "I've been caring for most all your needs for four cycles now so it's my arm you should lean on. This is, after all, our homecoming."

"So it is." Rankil knew Myrla well enough not to object, besides, Archell didn't seem to mind. He was already to the grotto's door, pulling the latch. He was seldom excited about anything, but this day he seemed ecstatic, one might say deviously so. Rankil wondered what he was hiding.

"Wait." Rankil paused just outside the threshold to catch her breath.

"You all right?" Myrla looked up. Rankil smiled back at her then with a sudden burst of energy, tossed her walking cane to the side, scooped Myrla into her arms, and stepped across the threshold. "Rankil!" shrieked Myrla, still in the air, "Augustus said-"

"No more healer's talk, My. We're home." Rankil placed her on her feet, and then looked about their new home.

"Dreary?" Delighted, she settled into the cushioned chair Archell pushed her toward. "You lied to us, Archie. How unlike you."

"A little clever lie," he said with a grin. "If we'd asked you would have denied."

"Who's we?" inquired Myrla, fingering the curtains hanging over the grotto's glass window. The home was far from sparsely furnished. In fact, it was lavishly appointed, every inch of floor covered by a fluffy rug of some sort. And the walls! The typical dark stone walls had been whitewashed, highlighting the delicate landscapes painted on them. There was a bedroom and a spacious main room with a kitchen, complete with table and chairs. The sitting area they were in was at the room's opposite end, and it was plushest of all, furnished with a pair of large chairs flanked by a small table, a lounger of rich red velvet, and a set of shelves stacked high with precious hide scrolls. There were dozens, no, hundreds of scrolls! And there were blank hides for writing and delicate porcelain knickknacks. But most importantly, Kaelan and Jewel's image which Rankil had saved during her separation from Myrla had been framed and placed eyelevel on the shelves.

"Archie?" Myrla turned to him with tears in her eyes. "Who did all this? Who is we?"

"We would be the lot of us." Harlis stood in the doorway. Medrabbi and Elreese peeked over her shoulder and Genevic stood behind them, waving her arms. "You, my young friends," Harlis took a seat on the lounger, "You have become quite the celebrities."

"Celebrities?" Myrla stood behind Rankil's chair, one hand on her lover's shoulder.

"Yes, celebrities. Your romance has become the stuff of Tekkroon legend as well as trooper Rankil's discovery of the downed spacecraft," Harlis chuckled. "Why that little find has advanced us by centuries."

"You mean you've figured out all those thingamabobs?" Rankil tilted her head with interest.

"Me?" Harlis laughed merrily. "Not me. I'm far too cranky and close-minded for such modish thinking. I leave such doings for others." A small, throat-clearing sound turned Harlis's gaze toward the door. Wikkib had pushed to the front of the crowded doorway and was standing, one hand on her hip, looking expectantly at the Tekkroon clan leader. Her hair was short, all but as short as Harlis's and she wore hide leggings, which perfectly matched the low-cut Tekkroon top she wore.

"Rankil just came from the infirmary. For the Mother's sake, give her some space."

"You both know Wikkib." The grin never left Harlis's face. "Come sit a moment, my love, I'm just finishing up."

"That's good to hear, considering the wait outside." Wikkib pushed the door closed, then shared the lounger with Harlis, placing one hand upon her knee when she sat. "You were saying?"

"I was going to say a word or two about their new home. Plush, isn't it?"

"Very much so," agreed Wikkib. "But, as I have discovered, much of the Tekkroon live in luxury that I, until recently, had only dreamed of."

"It's the utmost in Tekkroon housing, running hot and cold water with drainage, two steam elements for cooking, lanterns that burn piped-in fuel, and best of all," Harlis pointed to the small door at the rear of the main room's kitchen area, "something I believe to be the greatest Tekkroon, quite possibly the greatest Taelach achievement ever-an indoor privy."

Archell laughed at the young couple's astonishment. "Augustus doesn't want Rankil walking too much."

"Are we the only ones with such luxuries?" Rankil felt unworthy her new accommodations.

"No," said Harlis, "but you are among the first. Currently only new constructions have such advantages, but with a quadrupling in the building rate there'll soon be many living as you are."

"Quadrupled building rate?" exclaimed Rankil. "I know the Tekkroon population is growing but-"

"You were incapacitated in the infirmary for over three moon cycles." Myrla reminded her. "A lot happened in that time."

"That much?"

"And more," said Wikkib. "The clans are converging, becoming one force, but Myrla will update you in due time, I am sure. Harlis, I say we leave the updating to others and say our good-byes."

"But-"

"Your dinner is waiting at home."

"Oh, then perhaps we should go." Harlis, her eyes lit with clear amusement, followed Wikkib to the door. She helped Wikkib with her cloak, then on the threshold with one hand low on Wikkib's hip, turned. "If anyone had ever told me Serpent gentlewomen were such delightful hotheads I would have encouraged Recca to join the Tekks long ago. Seems we both have our hands full, trooper Rankil."

"I know just what you mean." Rankil kissed the hand Myrla rested upon her shoulder then greeted their next visitors, Medrabbi and Elreese.

Elreese held out two loaves of black bread to them. "May your home always be filled with Tekkroon bounty," she said, and then motioned to Medrabbi, who produced a crystal of aged Gretchencliff wine from her cloak.

"And may your life be overflowing with the Mother's spirit." Medrabbi placed the crystal and bread on the dining table. "We won't monopolize your time. We only wished to see you settled."

"We are overwhelmed by the generosity," said Rankil. "Thank you."

"Yes," added Myrla. "Thank you ever so much."

"You're quite welcome." Elreese took Myrla by the arm. "Have you seen the bedroom yet?"

"I haven't had the opportunity."

"Well, take a moment now." Elreese whisked her into the bedroom and pulled the divider curtain. "Is your shoulder healing okay?" she whispered.

Myrla pulled back her collar to show the new inking. "It hardly hurts at all."

"I don't see any places I missed. What does Rankil think of it?"

"She hasn't seen it." Myrla took a second to peer about the room. It was a pleasant space, and she looked forward to the night.

"She hasn't seen it?" remarked Elreese in surprise. "Has the new already worn off?"

"No," said Myrla with a faint blush. "But there's little privacy in the infirmary."

"Say no more. Medrabbi spent more than enough time there herself when we were young." Elreese glanced about. "It is a nice space. Big enough for a cradle should you take a notion."

"Maybe someday. I think Rankil and I need time to ourselves first." Myrla smoothed the double bedroll over the sleeping platform.

"How different things would be had the Serpents not reclaimed you when they did." Elreese tossed the new hull pillows to the head of the platform.

"Hestra has good raisers now," replied Myrla with a bit of sorrow in her tone. "She doesn't remember either of us." Rankil's soft chuckle rose from the next room, lifting her spirits. "I suppose it's for the best."

"You say that in a most reflective, resigned manner," Elreese allowed, resting her backside against the clothing box. "There will be other children should you want them."

"We know."

"Reesie?" Medrabbi poked her head through the curtain. "You ready to go? I've a meeting at dusk."

"And I suppose you'll be wanting your dinner first?" Elreese jerked her thumb toward Medrabbi and rolled her eyes. "Broadbacks are walking stomachs, aren't they?"

"Taelachs are a large breed." Medrabbi tapped her chest. "Some bigger than others."

"Or at least we think we are," teased Elreese. "Come on, we'll eat in the common mess tonight."

"But, Reesie," whined Medrabbi, "I'm never sure what I'm eating there."

"Like you take the time to taste." Elreese gave Myrla's hand a squeeze then followed her partner out the door, waving farewell to Archell and Rankil as she went. Genevic appeared before the door could close.

"Up to a couple more visitors?" she asked in a happy voice.

"What took you so long?" Rankil beckoned her friend inside. "Haven't seen hide or hair of you in the last cycle. What's up? Single life got you down?"

"Who's single?" Genevic stepped inside, pulling along quiet Isabella. "I couldn't let my junior bunkmate beat me to the draw." She held a box in her other hand which she dropped in Rankil's lap. "A get well gift from your squadron."

"Very funny." Rankil held the contents, a helmet, up for the others to see. "Whose bright idea was this?"

"I dunno." But Genevic's smile revealed her own doings.

Rankil couldn't help but laugh. "I suppose I could wear it during mounted maneuvers."

"You, nassieback, with your head?" Commander Stiles's voice called through the cracked doorway. "Mind if I come in?"

"Please." Myrla pushed Rankil back into her chair when she attempted to emulate Genevic's attentive salute.

"Sit down." Stiles pointed to her splotched tunic and leggings. "It's my off day and Annya is having me fade out our grotto's walls. Seems to be all the rage." She glanced at the new apartment. "It does create a nice effect though. One might call it airy. But enough of me, how is my fissure-headed trooper doing these days? I had heard you got home. Thought I'd check in on you."

"I'm much improved, Commander Stiles." Rankil drummed her fingers over the helmet. "Was the gift your doing or Genevic's?"

"Not mine. Wish it had been though." Stiles snorted her amusement. "Pretty damned hilarious, unneeded though, considering what I came to tell you."

Rankil frowned. "Now I know I'm down for a while, Commander, but Healer Augustus assured me that I'll be the image of health in a few more cycles. Please don't-"

"Your place among the Barrier is secure," blurted Stiles before Rankil could finish the plea. "In fact, I've come to deliver your transfer orders."

"Transfer orders?" Rankil's hand flattened against the helmet. "But-"

"But nothing, junior." Stiles's eyes flickered with mischief as she handed Rankil a scroll. "As soon as Augustus releases you for the lightest of duty you are to report to Technician Maeminya aboard the star craft. Seems she wants you to try and fly the thing."

"Me?" Rankil sat a little taller in her seat.

"You and one other." Stiles produced a second scroll from her cloak and passed it to Genevic. "Seems Rankil's reputation is well-known. Maeminya insisted on a copilot who could tolerate the pilot."

"Now that's a tall order, Commander." Genevic winked at Myrla then grinned at Rankil. "But I suppose I am up to the job."

"And it will keep you both from the battlefield." Stiles added. "Your women will appreciate that."

"To think," Myrla whispered in Rankil's ear. "You'll be flying."

"Who'd have thought?" Rankil tried to stifle a yawn, but it escaped anyway, alerting all present to her fatigue.

"Visiting is finished," said Myrla in a tone that no one dared argue with. "Rankil needs her rest."

"Time we were going anyway." Genevic drew Isabella to her feet. "Well, partner," she clasped Rankil's hand. "I'll be seeing you soon."

"For new training," said Rankil with a light sigh.

"Never ends, does it?" Genevic drew Isabella to the door, taking her to the home they could now without fear of separation enjoy as a couple.

Stiles glanced at the dwindling daylight when the door opened. "Annya should be expecting me for dinner about now," she said almost absently. "Try not to rattle that head of yours, Rankil." Then her face changed to full military decorum. "And, junior, don't go running off on any more challenges. They're bad for your constitution."

"I'll keep that in mind. Goodbye, Commander Stiles."

"Later, j-So long, Rankil." Stiles closed the door behind her.

"You have many good friends, Rankil dankle." Archell made his way to the kitchen. "Myrla, if you can get her to the bed, I'll fix a tray so she can be fed." He squinted. "Dawn brought some cheeses yesterday and Abbyegale dropped by with a pot of soup just before I left to get you."

"You're a blessing, Archie." Myrla followed Rankil's slow walk to the bedroom and helped her undress, assisting with her boots and leggings. Then, with her love safely in a nightshirt and between the blankets, she permitted herself a trip to the new privy. She had once used an experimental flushing privy near the Gretchencliff colony square, but had never dreamed the technology could be used on a wide-scale basis. The idea delighted her so much she had to pull the water release chain a second time, laughing aloud at the sound. She emerged from the water closet, washed her hands in the kitchen basin then returned to the bedroom. A dinner tray was waiting on her bedside table. "Where's Archell?"

"Gone home," replied Rankil through her mouthful of dark bread. "Said he'd stop by tomorrow after choral practice."

"Then we're finally alone?" Myrla dropped to the bed and removed her boots.

"Hello, what's this?" Rankil pushed her tray to the side and stared hopefully at her love's back.

"Your dinner will get cold." Myrla loosened her hair from its binder. "Rankil?"

"Huh?"

"Eat."

"How can I when-" Rankil sighed when Myrla stepped behind the dressing screen. "Prude."

"Am I now?" Myrla peeked around the screen, exposing the shoulder bearing her tattoo.

"Hey! You had my symbol inked!"

"Yes, and you'll have mine as soon as you're healed." Myrla stepped from behind the screen with a frumpy winter shirt hiding her curves. "Ready for sleep?"

"No," mumbled Rankil when Myrla sat on the side of the bed and began eating. "You know what I am ready for."