We will reach Jagg-Ra C in twelve hours

Scott could barely hear the announcement over the hustle and bustle of the ship's common room. He grumbled to himself, and plucked a ball of yonyon fruit from the bowl at his table. Over three dozen people ate, smoked, and slept as they awaited arrival at their destination. It wasn't the noise or the smell of pipe leaf which annoyed him, it was the crush of people. In his years among humans Scott had developed an appreciation for privacy. Of the potbellied transport's five common rooms, his was the least crowded thus the most tolerable.

Felarnian transports traditionally lacked private quarters, though more recent models were designed to accommodate their less traditional passengers. He looked up at his traveling companion, and she definitely qualified as less traditional. Ivory was a human cyborg, trained as a soldier and augmented by a dozen support systems. She was thin and short, even for a human. She was one of Liam's additions to the team. Scott never truly trusted mercs, but Ivory had yet to give him reason to distrust her.

"Okay, I have to ask," she said while he stared at the vastness of space through the viewport beside their booth. "We paid for a booth because Felarnian ships don't have rooms, right?"

He gave an affirmative grunt.

"There aren't nearly enough booths for everyone, so how do your people rest during long flights?"

Scott turned, and followed her gaze to the far wall where a dozen felarnians slept on a collection of cushions. He thought of his childhood growing up with his father and uncles, taking weekly treks into the wild lands to train, and to commune with The Hssai. They each carried their own cushion, a home mound, embroidered with family and clan symbols as well as little messages from his mother, aunts, and his little sister. Scott saw an image of little Patricia playing in the yard of their ancestral home. As he watched the childhood memory was consumed by an eddy of silvery blood, leaving a still corpse in its wake.

"Raven!"

His vision returned to the here and now. Ivory watched him with concern as did the couple sitting in the next booth. He nodded at them, and they nodded in return before returning to their own conversation. Ivory wasn't as easily reassured.

"What?" he grumbled.

"You were growling so loud, I thought you were about to pounce." She shook her head. "Spider and Dr. Ho warned me to beware your temper on this assignment. They said I might have to play interference, but no one had to tell me that. We're all feeling it. Patricia is the heart and soul of Eagle X."

"Don't mention her again." His voice was flat, dangerous, even to his own ears.

"Seriously? Fine." She looked back at the cluster of sleepers. "So you never answered my question."

He looked out at the stars once more, trying to shake memories of murderous nano.

"It is tradition for travelling felarnians to find refuge in the warmth of family and clan," he said, quoting his uncle Raice.

"Really? So the matching markings on their pillows a-"

"Home mounds."

"The markings on their home mounds are clan, and family symbols. I get that." She yawned. "Did you stash a pair in you pack? I'm tired."

"A lot of people would be offended if you just strolled over and tried to join them." Scott chuckled, "It might be entertaining to watch you get into some trouble."

Ivory had joined him and Liam on a few assignments and he'd learned that, though she was small, she was also scrappy and loved a good fight. She had a warrior's disposition. He liked that.

"Well I'm no stranger to trouble, and that looks like trouble."

She made a subtle gesture with her head, and Scott casually scanned the room until he could see the entrance. Five young men stood together in the doorway. They each wore shabby clothes of faded drab colors, and a vibrant yellow headband. The yellow headdress marked them as clanless. Two were warrior caste, but the others had the slighter build of the labor caste. They all carried poorly concealed weapons, and the smallest of the group was pointing directly at Scott. The young man sneered as he caught Scott's eye and the group stalked towards the booth.

"Definitely trouble."

Scott heard the low hum of Ivory's prosthetic powering on as the quintet arrived. The five men all gave him a thorough once over, making it painstakingly clear they see him. Scott, on the other hand, turned away and plucked up a yonyon ball. He examined the piece of savory sweet fruit before popping it in his mouth, affording it far more respect than he showed the five. Their small leader growled, after a second's hesitation the others followed suit.

"Is there a problem?" Ivory asked.

"What are you talking about?" Scott replied.

She'd slid up against the viewport, knees were up against her chest. She looked small, less imposing, but she'd be able to jump to her feet quickly if things got violent. She gave Scott a quizzical look. He shrugged and ate another yonyon.

The table shook as a heavy club collided with the top. Ivory was on her feet in an instant. Scott turned slowly, looking each of the men in the eyes. He stopped at their diminutive leader. Scott raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"This is our booth," the leader declared, his accent was slight but his ths sounded like rs.

"So we're playing that game? Look, buddy, you and your friends can crawl back into your hole. Whatever you're looking for, we've got far more than you can handle."

Scott laughed. Standing on the seat Ivory was almost as tall as the short felarnian, but she spoke as if the height difference meant nothing.

"You ignore me?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't notice you." Scott scoffed then yawned.

The group hissed, the hackles on their leader raising until the brown fur around his neck looked like a scarf.

"Now you insult me!"

Around them people had taken notice. The couple in the booth beside them left their seats to join the crowd at a safe distance. Scott shook his head.

"How can I insult you? You're a clanless wanderer, beneath my recognition." He shoved the club aside and stood.

Scott chuckled inwardly. He'd forgotten how much he missed being around his people. He felt like he could be himself.

"Beneath you?" The leader lowered his voice. "You think we don't know who you are?"

"Who am I, wanderer?" It sounded like a curse coming from his mouth, because to a felarnian being labeled wanderer was one of the greatest insults.

"You're the heir to the broken House of Felinus," the short felarnian whispered. "You're worse than clanless, you're disgraced. Your family name is a curse, and your people died in sh-"

Scott drove his fist into the young man's face so hard that teeth flew away in a spray of blood. He grabbed him by the collar and smashed his ruined face into the table, scattering yonyon everywhere. Ivory launched over his shoulder and plowed into the largest of the group. Two of the young thugs grabbed Scott and drug him out of the booth. He planted his foot in the midsection of one and spun, breaking their grip and sending himself out of melee range.

His hand went to his hip, but the hilt that normally sat there was secured in his pack. Scott admonished himself. To draw his weapon after claiming these men were beneath him would have proven him a liar, another great insult among his people.

His enemies recovered from his spin. One of the young thugs roared and Scott answered in kind. He rushed forward, sweeping the legs out from one as he moved, and delivering a jumping roundhouse to the other. Something heavy struck him in the head and he stumbled back. The fifth thug wielded a collapsible metal staff. He jabbed Scott in the gut, and struck him in the arm cracking the bone. He spun the staff over his head, and Scott backpedaled. The break hurt, but his R.Nano would heal it quickly.

The crowd of watching felarnians growled, and shouted with the ebb and flow of the fight. His attacker advanced, and Scott presented his uninjured side in a defensive stance. Ivory came in from behind, and grabbed the staff. The man growled and she discharged her cybernetic hand, sending a burst of blue energy through the metal. The thug yelped and collapsed, his hand smoking. She dropped the staff, which folded the moment it hit the ground, and jumped on the man Scott had dropped. The thug caught her with a glancing blow as they both went down. She punched him repeatedly with her mechanical fist until he stopped swinging back. One of the gang struggled to his feet, and Scott kicked him in the crotch to take the fight out of him.

Ivory turned to Scott, a bloody grin on her face, and her eyes went wide. Strong hands grabbed Scott from behind. He tensed, prepared to toss his assailant, but relaxed as security intervened. Quickly everyone was restrained except Ivory, whom they mostly ignored. The crowd was dispersed and everyone went about their business. The head of security held the group's unconscious ringleader under one arm like a cub. He was a tall man, nearly eight feet of muscle crowned by a red mane. The lines around his nose marked him as over seven standard decades old.

"I thought I told you wanderers to stay out of trouble," he growled in the Felarnian labor dialect. Scott didn't miss the man's warrior cast accent.

"He started it," squeaked one of the thugs, all pretense of warrior's bravado mysteriously gone.

The guards all looked at Scott. The warriors among them gave him a long appraisal which he returned. A sign of respect for their authority. The few labor caste gave him a quick look and returned their attention to their boss. The head of security snarled and closed the distance to Scott in two swift bounds. The two locked eyes, warriors taking the measure of each other before battle. The older man leaned forward and took a deep sniff of Scott's hair.

"Here." He handed his unconscious burden to the thug recovering from Ivory's stun. "Leave. If you cross my path again, I will mark you in places that everyone will see, and they will know you for the trash you are!"

The young men flinched. Without any prompting they collected their wounded and fled.

"Okay, what was that?" Ivory asked. "I don't speak the language, but that was a lot less than a slap on the wrist."

"Silence, human!" The red haired guard snarled. His common was far better than his labor dialect.

Ivory was smart enough to hold her tongue.

"I know you, boy."

"I doubt it."

"No, you not only look like The General of Lies, but you stand like him."

Scott roared and a security guard struck him in the jaw with a baton. He shook off the sudden pain and another hit him in the shin. Scott dropped to a knee, and the beating began. The guards used their fist and their tools to pummel Scott across the shoulders and back. He heard Ivory's weapon systems charging, and he shouted at her to stay out of it. No longer restrained, he protected his face and ears. Instinct and stubbornness urged him to fight back, but he resisted. This was what it meant to return to felarnian space. This was what awaited anyone with the last name Felinus.

"Enough," snarled the head of security. His red hair hanging heavy with perspiration.

The assault stopped and Scott fell to the ground. His body was a throbbing nerve, pain shooting throughout. He laid there, and committed the sensation to memory. It had been a long time since he felt as beaten and defeated. He saw an image of his father, General Arthur Felinus... Rex of the Clan of Feylorn, head of The Felinus family, and traitor to all Felarnia. Scott shook away the memories before they came flooding in.

Ivory gave him a hand getting to his feet. He shrugged her off and sat down in their booth. He took one of the surviving yonyon from the table and flicked it across the room, hitting one of the other passengers. The man spun around with a snarl that died on his face when he saw Scott was warrior caste. Scott Felinus might have been a disgraced outcast but he was still a felarnian warrior down to his sore bones.

Ivory returned with two ice packs and a fresh bowl of yonyon. She tossed one pack to Scott and put the other over her eye, which had already begun to swell.

"Right, so can you explain why we just got our asses kicked?"

"I got my ass kicked, after we put some cubs in their place."

She laughed at that, and after a moment he laughed too. He took the ice pack and placed it on his shoulder. The coolness eased a lot of his tension, and his nano dealt with the rest.

"My father was once revered by my people. He was a great general, a warrior among warriors, and he led our clan to prominence," Scott said. He wasn't sure whether he was talking to Ivory or the fruit balls. "During the Great War he was feared and respected by his enemies. Over a hundred Canamar Knights sought him out to challenge him in single combat. Any knight to claim his head would have instantly been granted lordship, but none succeeded. He was the embodiment of felarnian greatness.

"When he pushed for peace with the canamarians, many feared he'd gone mad. They were our sworn enemies, and as a teenager I was consumed with defeating them. I don't know what happened, what changed him... and I never got to ask. Through the pushback of the other Rexes and the war machine that was our armies, he brokered peace. The Hssai of Canamar gave the Knight Lords their blessing and for the first time in centuries the fighting was to stop."

Scott paused, not ready to remember what came next. Ivory sat across from him watching him but saying nothing. She nodded, and patted his hand reassuringly. Her sympathy angered him, made him feel weak.

"The treaties were to be signed on Canamar," he said as he snatched his hand away. "But instead of the peace my father promised his ship was full of death..."

"Wait, wait wait. Your father is General Death, The Demon Cat of Canamar?"

His hand was around her neck before she could react. It would have been easy for him to squeeze, and snuff out her life.

"Don't say that again."

"Let m... me go." She leaned forward, her cybernetic fist just barely brushing his temple. Her arm's weapons vibrated with energy.

He wondered who would die first... he wondered if anyone onboard would care about a dead outcast and his human companion.

"Never again."

He released his grip, and she punched him in the side of the head. She sucked in a lungful of air and leaned back against the seat. Ivory slid up against the viewport, putting herself as far away from him as possible.

"I'm sorry for being an asshole, Ivory. How can I make this right?" she said in a ridiculous imitation of his rumbling timber. "Kiss my ass, Raven," she replied to herself.

"Stop."

"If that will make it better," she said, again using that silly voice. "Maybe later, big boy."

He raised an eyebrow and she laughed. He couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Spider and Dr. Ho warned me about this too." She rubbed her neck. "Fair warning: if you grab me again, I'm gonna shoot you right in the testicles."

Scott smiled. She was felarnian in many ways.

The rest of the flight was quiet. Ivory produced a deck of cards and they gambled for credit chips until the transport reached the space dock in orbit of Jagg-Ra C. They grabbed their bags and made their way to the docking corridor where those disembarking went through a security check. Scott warned Ivory that the guards might try to start more trouble, but they all ignored the pair as they followed the line.

The head of security waited at the exit, arms crossed and face grim. Scott didn't avert his eyes like a labor caste whelp or a clanless outcast. He kept his head high and held the old man's gaze. When they were finally face to face the red maned felarnian nodded, and let him pass.

Scott felt a twinge of pride in that moment. Honor and respect, things he'd grown up holding in high esteem, were hard to come by for a Felinus. His father saw to that.

They stepped through the door, and were set upon by men and women wearing tan and read uniforms. Scott tossed his assailants back, as a man put Ivory in cuffs. He roared, and the two women in front of him roared back. Both extended collapsible staves.

"Scott Felinus, son of Arthur Felinus, you are to come with us."