Vael flexed his fingers in the new gloves and smiled.

His sweets were laughing together in the kitchen, making breakfast. He had the unspeakable pleasure of bathing them both late last night and sleeping between them. At their insistence, he showered while they cooked this morning. Zayn all but ordered him to wear the new Pilot gear.

"We deserve to see you all tricked out, don't we?"

He could deny them nothing, so here he was, all tricked out.

He swung the new blades in their scabbards over his shoulders and shrugged into his new coat. Leaving the bedroom, he heard Selene squeal.

Quickening his steps, he stopped in the dining room.

"What did you do to our Peach, Pretty?"

"Poor Mini can't boil water," Zayn laughed, turning away from the sink where a frying pan was smoking, "and she wanted to try making omle....Lords!"

"Oh, Vael," Selene sighed, those stormy eyes raking over him with admiration and more than a little lust. "You look spectacular!"

He laughed, unable to help preening a bit as they stepped forward and looked him over.

He was dressed in Kestryl colors: black, teal blue, and silver. The coat, boots, gloves, pants, and shirt were all black with teal seaming, and all the fastenings, zippers, buckles, and buttons gleamed silver. The skin suit didn't stop at his collar but went all the way up his neck to his chin.

Zayn traced a finger down one of the hilts sticking up over his shoulders. "These are new, too."

"New wrist and hip blades, upgrades to my guns. I've got a shotgun and a rifle, too but I left that on the rig."

"Lords, you look so yummy," Selene murmured.

"Careful, Peach," Vael growled. "We've errands to run."

She pouted beautifully and he gave in to the urge to bite that bottom lip. She yelped, giggling and he caught her up against him to kiss it better. Zayn whined playfully and Vael wrapped an arm around him to bring him into the embrace for a kiss too.

"So needy," Vael purred, nuzzling their cheeks lovingly. He released them and gave them firm swats on those luscious asses. "Get on, now. We'll grab breakfast at Betsy's. Get dressed, ten minutes, or I'm leavin' without ya. Hustle, sweets."

Fifteen minutes later, they were heading down the road to Betsy's. His sweets laughed and joked with each other while he strolled between them, breathing in the sweet aroma of their mingled scents and their happiness.

How did he ever live without this?

Zayn grew quiet when they sat down at their table at Betsy's. She greeted them with a cheerful smile and left a carafe of chocolate with mugs then bustled off for their rolls.

"Somethin' amiss, Pretty?" Zayn asked, filling his mug.

"No, I just...I wasn't very nice the last time I was here."

"Oh, never you mind that, Pretty," Vael smiled, serving Selene, then himself. "Betsy won't hold a grudge, besides, you were mad at me, not her."

"I was mad at both of you, I'll say," Zayn muttered, blowing on his steaming chocolate. "And it was so stupid of me."

"Not at all," Vael said. "You had every right to object."

"To what?" Selene frowned, cupping her mug.

"I was seekin' ease from Betsy," Vael explained with a pained wince, "and Zayn took offense."

Selene sat back. "You were sleeping with her while courting us?"

Vael took a deep breath. "I wasn't courtin' you yet," he clarified. "Zayn can explain in full, but Roamers often need to take the edge off. People like Betsy make themselves available to us to do just that, with sex.

"I was damn edgy when I started courtin' Zayn, and I didn't wanna scare him off by draggin' him into bed right away. I've not been to see her since he expressed his discontent with the arrangement."

Selene arched a brow at Zayn who shrugged, sipping his chocolate.

"Honestly, as a Roamer, there's no guarantee he'll never need to seek out someone like Betsy again, especially on the road," he remarked.

"Not that I'll be lookin'," Vael muttered.

"That doesn't mean you wouldn't be needing," Zayn pointed out. "And I don't want you to feed the Taint by resisting that need."

"Taint...what taint?" Selene was alarmed and confused.

"Later," Vael murmured when Betsy came back with plates, forks, and their platter of cinnamon rolls.

"Can I get y'all anything else?" Betsy asked, keeping her attention on Zayn and Selene.

"No, thank you, Betsy," Zayn smiled at her and sighed when she left.

"I need to know what you're talking about," Selene hissed while Vael served the rolls.

Vael tore a piece off his roll and dipped it in his chocolate.

"Well, you know about the Foul Clouds, don't you Peach?"

***

Adelia took her seat in the Enclave chambers and smiled graciously at several aristos that passed below her box. Collette joined her a few moments later and their Roamer guards arranged themselves around and behind them.

Today would be a pivotal point in her quest to remove Eudora.

The proof of Zay's parentage and the Matron's scheme to steal him should be enough to tip the balance more in Adelia's favor. One of Vigo's Roamers delivered copies of Zayn's papers early this morning. Adelia had to be very careful with that information. It had to be placed carefully to gain the most from it, and it had to be delivered from an unimpeachable source.

She cast her gaze around the chamber, weighing her options.

Four of the aristos that voted against Lord Erik were now firmly on her side, and the remaining were Eudora's most hardcore supporters. Adelia was considering how to break their allegiance carefully.

Eudora glared across the chamber floor from her box, and Adelia's smile grew. She nodded to her mother, lazily working her fan.

The last few days were tense. Every day Eudora attempted to intimidate her in some way. Adelia took note and made certain to never allow herself to be alone with the Matron. Witnesses -reliable ones, mind- were crucial to her strategy.

"Order," the Chamberlain pounded his gavel from the raised dais at the center of the room. "I call this session to order."

The podium he stood at was carved of a single piece of marble and showed its age. Windemere was among the first Steads established after the Blighting and stood as a beacon for others to follow for almost five hundred years. Adelia had no intention of allowing Eudora to bring it to ruin.

The room quieted and the Chamberlain went through the process of roll call and reviewing the previous session. Adelia watched Eudora seethe over the loss she suffered all over again.

"Now then," the Chamberlain cleared his throat. "First on the agenda today, we have a proposal brought by Her Ladyship Matron Eudora Windemere to increase the rents on merchants in the Stead market by ten percent to build revenue for repairs to infrastructure. Is there a second?"

Adelia arched a brow when silence answered.

The Chamberlain cleared his throat again. "The proposal is tabled. Next up-"

"A moment, Chamberlain Robarts," Eudora interrupted, rising. "I would request a review of the proposal before we move on."

Robarts blinked up at Eudora. "Your Ladyship, as we all know, a motion or proposal must be seconded to go to review. Unfortunately, I must respectfully deny your request."

"How, then, do my fellow aristos expect to cover the cost of resurfacing streets?" Eudora challenged. "Keeping our parks green? Keeping the streetlights on? Paying for fuel and our Guard? Tell me."

"I have a counter-proposal, Chamberlain Robarts," Adelia spoke up. "I propose we redirect a tenth of the Enclave's working revenue to a secured account monitored and disbursed by Your Honor. The funds would more than cover such costs so long as fair and open bids are allowed.

"We cannot favor certain contractors but must use those who have proven themselves both skilled and efficient."

Robarts' brows rose. "A bold proposal, my Lady. Any second?"

"I second Lady Windemere's proposal and Brann will match the Enclave funds," Lord Erik called out.

"Any calls for review?" Robarts lifted the gavel. "All in favor of Lady Windemere's proposal to generate funds for infrastructure by diverting ten percent of Enclave revenue, matched by Brann."

Adelia watched green lights flicker around the chamber. More than three-quarters of the aristos voted.

"All opposed," Robarts called.

Half the remaining boxes flickered red. Adelia noted Eudora and her cohorts among them.

"Motion passed," Robarts slammed the gavel down on the podium. "My Lady, please submit the details of your proposal by this time next week."

"I will, Your Honor, and thank you."

"This is an outrage!" Eudora screamed. "Her proposal is a desperate attempt to garner favor. Can you not see that?"

"The proposal has merit," Senator Iker stood. He was an unexpected ally, but Adelia made a mental note to have him for tea. "By putting forth the funds ourselves, we spare the merchants the burden of paying for work they have no say over. It is quite brilliant, I'll say. Iker will join Brann in matching the Enclave."

"And who is to say garnering favor is so bad a thing?" Senator Shiel spoke up. She was an older lady, her silver hair elegantly wrapped and pinned into a bun at her nape. Her allegiance to Adelia had nothing to do with Eudora and everything to do with Brann. "It is not as though such favor is undeserving. Young Lady Windemere has been a dear friend to my daughter in a trying time. She is a sterling example for the next generation of aristos. I will be matching Enclave funds as well."

Adelia's brows went up as one after the other, aristos voiced their support and committed to matching the Enclave's funds. Eudora sat in silent fury while control of the Enclave continued to slip through her fingers.

***

Lord Abraham Iker was painfully thin. He was not lean and muscular like a Roamer, just devoid of any excess flesh anywhere. His graying hair was sparse, and his light gray eyes were sharp and piercing with a touch of sadness.

He sat on the edge of the comfortable chair Adelia offered him and held his teacup just so, pinky at a rigid angle.

"I do thank you for your support, my Lord," Adelia smiled, offering a plate of small cakes. "Though I must say I was quite surprised to have it."

Iker selected a piece of white cake with poppy seeds. "I must apologize, my Lady. The Matron has held me in her grip for over three years now. When my dear friend Lady Shiel informed me of your crusade, I simply had to act."

"I see," Adelia settled the tray of cakes and retrieved her tea. She sat back on her lounger, sipping the fragrant brew thoughtfully. "And what does the Matron have over you, if I may ask?"

The man swallowed hard and peered anxiously around the room. "The truth is, I was a rather wild young man," he muttered, a ruddy cast blooming in his hollow cheeks. "My indiscretions led to a child, which I have supported throughout her life. She came to live with me here in Windemere a year before her majority when her mother died."

He sighed, resting the teacup on his lap. "I loved her mother, sweet Peggi," he whispered, "but my father forbade me to marry her. He arranged a union that would benefit Iker. My daughter Lorayn is older than my son, Natan, and...well I wanted to name her heir."

"Did your wife know of this?" Collette asked.

"Oh, yes," Iker nodded. "I was never ashamed of Lorayn, or my love for Peggi. My wife accepted our marriage as I did, a necessary duty for our families. She even agreed to make Lorayn my heir.

"Lady Iker was the last in the Dansin line until we had Natan, and her family holdings make a more than adequate inheritance for our son. This way, we preserve both our bloodlines and our family estates. It is a perfect solution."

"And what did Eudora do to skew this solution?" Adelia asked.

His eyes fell. "She said she would reject my daughter as a member of the Enclave," he said quietly, "and my son. She said she would ruin them both and have them turned out of Windemere."

"Hm," Adelia frowned. "And why did she threaten this?"

"She did not want me to publicly claim my daughter or legitimize her by making her my heir. The Matron wants my son to inherit everything, and she wanted to wed him to you or Lady Collette. She threatened my son because he and my wife agreed with my plans for Lorayn."

"Well," Adelia smiled, "neither Lady Collette nor I have any interest in marrying your son, Lord Iker. And you will be thrilled to know that the answer to your troubles is quite simple."

His light gray eyes flashed up to her, with hope shining through. "Is it?"

"My brother, Zayn has a man in the Stead, Reeves, is his name, and a banker, Klasse. Both were instrumental in allowing him to break free of Eudora. Between the two, they will file whatever papers you require and help you protect your children's majority and their inheritance. That," Adelia stressed, "is the easy part."

Iker swallowed. "And what is the hard part?"

"Publicly claim your daughter. You and Lady Iker must stand united, and she must file papers at once to secure your son's claim of Dansin."

"But, the Matron..."

"Will lose her power over your family," Adelia finished. "She's becoming more and more ineffective because more and more of your peers have lost their fear of her. If my young brother and sister can break free of her, surely a mature gentleman like yourself can do the same.

"And my Lord," Adelia leaned forward, "I will stand with you. I will place your children under my protection."

Iker blinked slowly. "Why would you do this for me?"

"It is the right thing to do, however, my reasons are multifold, my Lord," Adelia held him with her eyes. "Eudora is a fraud, and my younger siblings have recently uncovered proof of at least one heinous act that I must bring to light."

"Oh?" Iker frowned in concern.

"You see, Eudora stole Lord Zayn from his parents. She's spent his entire life demeaning him and even attempted to sell him to mercenaries when he was a child. I cannot allow such an act to go unpunished."

Iker's eyes widened in horror. "Good heavens!" he whispered.

"Quite. I have proof of the theft and copies secured in safe locations with people I trust. You, my Lord, are the first peer I have told. We must proceed carefully, as you may surmise. Eudora will do anything to hold power. Whatever you imagine, the danger cannot be exaggerated. We must disseminate this information quietly and quickly."

"How do you suggest we do that, my Lady?"

Adelia smiled. "By using a resource Eudora uses herself."

Iker looked away and started when he met Vigo's golden gaze across the room. Turning back to Adelia he asked, "What would you expect in return?"

"Stand with me when I make my move to claim Matron. You have seen my proposals are not for personal gain but for the good of the Stead. And pass the word." 

Her smile became predatory.

"I will not rest until the Enclave is populated with free-thinking peers of principle who give a shit about the future of our Stead, not Eudora's blackmail victims nor her sycophants."

Iker drew a deep breath and nodded. "Lady Windemere, I am your man."

***

"Right," Quyn gazed at his Pilots. There were twelve in total, including Vael.

They worked in pairs in six to eight-hour shifts each.

"Vael and Jink installed a new bubble cockpit spec that they believe will give you a lot better range of visibility on the trails. I want you all to take a spin 'round the Concourse and get a feel for it. We roll out day after tomorrow. I want all'a you comfortable with this spec before then. Got me?"

"Got you, Boss," they answered.

"Get on then."

The Pilots scattered to their assigned rigs. Vael and Jink joined each group, demonstrating the salient points of the new spec. Soon, the rigs were pulling out and edging through the inner gates to the paved road that looped the Stead between the two walls.

The Concourse was primarily used to keep incoming rigs queued while waiting to dock. Roamers also used the Concourse to test new specs and to race. The races were usually between younger Roamers in their personal rovers, but crews were known to challenge each other in full-size rigs.

Quyn monitored their test drives from the depot, chuckling occasionally at their antics. He had a rowdy bunch on his hands, for certain. It seemed the bubble spec was well-received.

Yet another point in Vael's favor. Quyn spotted him jumping down from a rolling rig and waving them on. He opened the com directly to him.

"Vael."

"Ears on, Boss."

"Go sit in with Parson."

"Copy."

Quyn clicked off and switched the channel.

"Parson."

"Ears on, Boss."

"Pick up Vael," Quyn ordered.

"Copy, Boss."

Quyn was certain Parson had no idea this was his final chance to roll out with Kestryl.

***

Vael jumped up on the side of the battle rig when it slowed in front of him. He waited for the Copilot to open the door and step out to swing in and down into his vacated seat. Parson blinked at him as he nodded to the Copilot.

"How'd ya like it, Kit?"

"Sweetest spec, ever, Vael," Kit's dark brown eyes were sparkling. "Won't no dogs nor mercs be sneakin' up on us now, I'll say."

"Yeah sure," Vael smiled. "Stand to, now."

"Copy."

Vael pulled the door shut and pressed down the long handle to seal it. He didn't acknowledge the Pilot until he had the harness secure around his chest and hips.

"Parson."

"Well," Parson shook his head, "I took ya for a Ginny. Ya could'a told me you was a Copilot."

"Yeah sure," Vael agreed, examining the display before him. "Mind the dip."

"What?" Parson jumped as the front of the rig dropped into a deep dip in the road.

"Any Pilot that ever drove in Windemere knows the Concourse is smooth," Vael went on, checking readings on his console and flickering the heads-up display on and off. " 'Cept for where the slabs laid for it meets up. Over time, there're dips every few metres. You learn the feel of 'em. Here comes another."

Parson grunted when they hit another dip too fast and bounced the rig.

"You're a smart ass, y'know that?" Parson growled, gripping the wheel.

"That could be," Vael nodded. "But if I was a vindictive smart ass, I'd not warn ya about the dips, would I? And here's another."

This time Parson slowed before he hit the dip, but not enough to prevent the sharp drop.

Vael shook his head, making some adjustments on his console.

"Whatcha' doin' there?"

"Mind the road," Vael told him when the rig drifted. Lance took his eyes off the road trying to see Vael's console. "I'm doin' Copilot shit. You do the Pilot shit. That's how this works."

Pardon growled again, correcting course, and saw the next dip in time to slow down enough to ease through it. "How'd you get Copilot? What're you fourteen? Fifteen?"

"Seventeen."

Parson sneered. "Gotta be bangin' the boss."

Vael shook his head. "Didn't you study up on this Clan at all?"

Parson smirked. "One Clan is much like any other, ain't it?"

Vael shook his head again.

"Parson." Quyn's voice crackled through the console.

"Ears on Boss," Parson answered respectfully.

"Pull in."

"Copy."

"Boss Kestryl is Sweetlocked to his second, Holis," Vael told him.

"Sweetlocked," Parson scoffed. "Don't mean he can't get some on the side. You're young and tender. I'll do ya, teach ya a few things."

Vael rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't fuck you with a mad dog's dick. You like to talk mad shit then turn all mealy-mouthed meek when Boss has eyes on ya. You're an arrogant lick boot, I'll say."

Parson threw him a leer, his dark eyes flickering gold. "I'll lick ya, all right, little man. You're a big'un for your age. Bet yer hung like a horse."

Vael shuddered, never so glad to get out of a rig. As soon as they pulled into the depot, he released the harness and opened the door, swinging out to the ground before the rig came to a full stop.

Quyn arched a brow at his glowing eyes and grim expression. "Nice ride?"

"Rig's rollin' smooth, spec is tight," Vael muttered.

Quyn nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. He waited for Parson to park the rig and climb down.

"Let's see your work card, Parson."

"Yeah sure, Boss."

Quyn pulled his tablet from an inside pocket and scanned it. "Remember when I told ya to work on them manners? I'm revokin' your hire," Quyn told him. "And, just so you know, I honor my Sweetlock and my son is a tenured and valued member of this crew, not anybody's fucktoy, least of all mine."

Parson choked when Quyn held out his voided card. "Son!"

"We got no room for a man like you on this crew," Quyn pronounced. "Get on, now."

Parson's complexion darkened and his eyes shimmered gold. Holis stepped up beside Quyn and Vael hovered nearby.

"Had to run to Daddy, huh, little boy," Parson jeered, snatching his card from Quyn's hand.

"I got ya Daddy," Vael growled back, eyes flaring amber, "hangin' low."

Parson snarled and lunged. One of Vael's new daggers appeared in his hand and sang through the air. The other man howled, falling back.

"Now, Lance," Quyn said calmly, "Vael don't carry tales, even those by rights he ought'a. I heard you myself that day on the Boss rig, and you left your com open today. We all heard ya bein' a right ass to a highly respected and tenured core member of this crew.

"You got a chance to walk away with a scar. You keep runnin' that mouth and Vael's gonna take chunks out'a ya that you'll miss. I can't say that he'll be the only one."

Parson pressed a hand against his cheek, and blood seeped through his fingers.

"Think it through, Lance," Holis warned. "You got no advantage, here." He nodded behind him.

Parson twisted around and saw every Kestryl Pilot poised with a weapon in hand.

Snarling, Parson stomped away, leaving a trail of blood behind.

"Ya should 'a kilt him," Jink growled, dark eyes spitting golden sparks.

"Nah," Vael, cleaned his dagger and put it away. "That'd get us a Quorum inquiry. We got a schedule to keep."

Pride swelled in Quyn as he watched his son leave the depot.

That, he thought, is what a Boss would say.

***

Vael stalked all the way through the depot and the Market. He was furious, seething.

Lance Parson was a pure asshole, and he was glad Quyn rejected him.

His words were spoken in malice and ignorance, but they disturbed Vael more and more as he walked.

He couldn't help but wonder if Parson's view of him was common. Was that what they thought when they met him? Vael took pride in his work, his skills, and his place on the crew. He knew he earned his rank and all his knowledge by paying attention and learning from people that knew their shit.

It pissed him off to think his fellow Roamers could believe he fucked his way to Pilot. His dog was snarling, raging within him.

Vael took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Parson was an ignorant ass with nothing to recommend him outside of his Pilot skills.

Nothing he said meant anything.

He knew nothing about Kestryl and didn't bother to learn.

He didn't matter.

Feeling only slightly settled, Vael opened his eyes and made his way to Betsy's. He and Zayn went for their tests that morning while the Roamer guards Tara and Dasha took Selene to the Tween.

He focused on what he was certain would be a marvelous evening and nodded thanks when Betsy left him a tall glass of tea. Thoughts of his sweets eased the anger from him, leaving him mellow and resigned. If people thought he was blowing Quyn for the privilege of driving Kestryl rigs, they could eat a dick, as his Boss would say.

He knew his worth.

Vael was taking a long drink of his tea when he spotted Vigo and his sweets across the street. He stood and waved.

The man stopped and nodded back. Vael beckoned and after a moment, they came. Vael hailed Betsy and smiled when the three Clanless arrived.

"Vigo."

"Vael," the man returned his smile. "Leavin' soon?"

"Couple days. Join me?"

Vigo's brows went up but one of his sweets took a chair and sat. With a sigh, the other joined her, and Vigo did the same.

"What can I get, you, milord?" Betsy spoke only to Vael, not even looking at the three Clanless.

He frowned. "Whatever my friends would like, Betsy."

She cleared her throat. "Um...I, uh.."

"Now, Betsy," Vael braced his arms on the table. "I love your chocolate, the rolls, the stew, and you got the best tea I ever had. Just the bees, all the way around. It'd be a damn shame to stop comin' here cuz you refuse to serve people I consider friends. Wouldn't it?"

She swallowed. "But...they're...Clanless," she whispered.

"They are their own Clan," Vael growled, "upstandin' enough to work for Lady Adelia Windemere. And for me."

"Vael," Vigo said quietly, "there's no need."

He smiled, eyes never leaving Betsy. "'Course not, Sir Vigo, cuz Miss Betsy here is just waitin' on your order." Vael arched a brow at the other Roamer. "I suggest the hot chocolate."

"I'll take that," one of the Twins said, "we all will. And you said she has rolls?"

"Cinnamon rolls," Vael nodded, "fresh and hot. Damn tasty."

The other Twin moved her hands and her sister smiled. "Yeah sure. We'll have that, please, Miss Betsy."

Betsy swallowed again and finally turned to look at them. "Right away, and...I'm sorry."

When she left them, Vigo shook his head. "You're riskin' far too much."

"What risk? My Clan's got rep and clout, well-earned, I'll say. My pop would smack me if I didn't use that power for good. You are a Clan, y'know. You just need to submit articles to Quorum to be official."

Vigo sighed. "To do that, we need a standin' crew's Boss to endorse us, and sponsor us for five years."

"Yeah sure. I'll ask my Boss."

Vigo blinked. "No, I couldn't-"

"You won't, I will. It's been years since they shaved ya head, ain't it? Dontcha' think it's 'bout time ya stopped carryin' around shame for doin' right by your sweets? What the fuck, man."

Vigo frowned. "I was never ashamed," he said evenly.

"Then do the damn thing," Vael shrugged, lounging in his chair when Betsy returned with the rolls.

"Vigo we could," his sweet took his hand. "If Quyn Kestryl will speak for us, and we already have our Lady's support."

Vigo took a deep breath. "Is that what you want?"

"We want you, always," she answered. "You are our love, but you are also a bitchin' Boss. The time's far gone for us to step out on our own. S'what we planned to do anyway."

Vigo stared at the other Twin, watching her hands move. When she stopped, he laughed, and her sister smiled.

"Yeah sure," he turned to Vael. "Speak to your Boss. And, Vael? Thank you."

Vael grinned. "My sweets need battle and weapons trainin'," he said. "Drivin' lessons too. I've increased your rate to compensate you. Don't refuse, damn it, Vigo. I am not in the mood."

Vigo closed his mouth and kept it closed when Betsy returned to leave three mugs of chocolate and four plates. When she left, Vael grabbed a plate and a roll.

"'Sides which, I can afford it. Now, seein' as you'll be under Kestryl for a while, maybe we can help trick out your rigs."

"We'll take it!" the speaking sweet laughed when Vigo's mouth dropped open.

"Vigo, are ya ever gonna tell me the names of your fair ladies here?"

Vigo blinked and nodded. "Sante and Simone Alonzo, Vael Kestryl."

"Ladies," Vael nodded, and they smiled. "Alonzo...from down south?"

"Yeah sure, out'a Perez," Sante agreed. "We met Vigo on a joint run with DeCosta to the southern coast. We knew he was ours at first sight."

"Never been that far south. Hear tell it's awful pretty down there."

"It is," Sante confirmed. "Riddled with mercs, tho,' much worse than here. They use the water to escape and not enough of the Clans run boats. Damn shame. They could own those bastards if they bothered."

"Hm," Vael finished his roll and downed the rest of his tea. "Well, I gotta get on. This is on me, so don't bother. And tell your people I appreciate 'em. Step into Quorum tomorrow with your petition. I'll see ya there."

Vigo nodded and watched the young Roamer he was coming to admire more and more stroll away.