His beard had grown out a ruddy shade of auburn that did not match his coal-black hair. His hair, which he had always worn longer than most Mech Warriors, had become a thick, matted tangle. In fact, if not for his left eye slowly swelling shut and the thin ribbon of blood running down his neck from where Vlad's last punch had torn the top of his ear, he would not have recognized himself.

Carew glanced from Phelan's reflection to Ranna and back. "You are supposed to make him look presentable? I pray, for your sake, that you can work the same magic on him that you did on your command exams."

Ranna's left hand moved so quickly that Phelan only saw a blur as she struck at the smaller man's neck. Carew's right hand came up in an attempt to bat her blow aside, but he missed. She laughed. "You are getting slow, Carew. I could have killed you there, quiaff? I, however, decided to spare you."

The smaller man shook his head. "Just wait until the next simtime when you face me, Star Commander. Still, I owe you my life. As I am so little, I trust a little favor will suffice to redeem it, quiaff?"

"Aff." She smiled wearily. "You wash and I dry?"

Phelan began to feel offended. I wouldn't mind their talking about me as though I'm not here except that they make me sound like a sinkful of dirty dishes."Excuse me, but I have been known to wash myself in the past."

The big-eyed man smiled. "Imagine that! And are you any better at it than you were at defending yourself just now?"

A low growl rumbled from the mercenary's throat. "Well, I do have more practice at washing than I do at getting beaten up."

Ranna and Carew shared a laugh. "Good. You have spirit," she said. Turning to Carew, she asked, "Will you help? It is for the good of the sibko!"

He sighed heavily. "Aff. We use your supplies and your scissors and your razor."

"Bargained well and done."

Phelan shook his head. "Why do I get the feeling the two of you would rather take me to whatever passes for a laundry on this ship and toss me into a washer?" As he saw an expression of enlightenment spread across their faces, he held up his hands. "Honest, I won't be any trouble. Let's just get this over and done with."

* * *

Phelan, dressed in the olive-green clothes Ranna had obtained for him while Carew cut his hair, ran his left hand over his clean-shaven face. Glad to have the beard gone. It made me look too old.Unbidden, the image of his father's bearded face came to him, along with an overwhelming sadness. How long have I been a captive? They must think me dead. I have to get word to them somehow. Why is there never a ComStar Acolyte around when you need one?

With his back against the rear wall of the turbolift, Phelan watched the numbers flash by as the box carried Ranna and him toward the nose of the ship. The number of decks, each marked with its own shield icon, surprised the mercenary. That's twenty decks serviced by this lift alone. To get onto the top dozen decks, it looks like you have to type a code sequence into that number pad. If the lifts on this ship function like those on other DropShips, and don't run the length of the ship to preclude breaching and atmosphere loss, then this one is really big.The thought that it might be larger than a Behemothflashed through Phelan's mind, but he dismissed it immediately as impossible.

The elevator slowed to a stop. Ranna punched a number sequence into the keypad, and each stroke was answered by a melodic tone. The door slid open and she pulled Phelan out of the box. Leading the way down a corridor, Ranna moved so quickly that the Kell Hound had little time to study his surroundings. When she stopped finally, Ranna stood before a door painted with a shield showing another device. Central to it was the silhouette of a wolf's head that looked surprisingly like the Kell Hound crest and the belt buckle Tyra had made for him. Beneath it was a row of five red stars similar to the design of Ranna's earring. She stood at attention and Phelan aped her as the door opened.

"Come in, please." The speaker, a tall, slender man with closely cropped white hair, gestured them into the room hospitably but without enthusiasm. He was smiling slightly, but Phelan took no comfort in it. Something flickered over the older man's expression as his gaze swept over Phelan's swollen left eye and the patch of crusted blood on his ear, but he said nothing.

Phelan followed Ranna into the room, and the door whispered shut behind them. Right hand snapping up to her brow, Ranna stopped just inside the door and saluted the Khan. He returned her salute smartly, then smiled genuinely at her. "I trust you did not mind being asked to conduct this man here."

She shrugged, the gesture coming just stiffly enough to betray a gram of resentment. "As I am not required to perform my duties at this time, I must find new ways to serve."

The Khan accepted her explanation graciously and turned to Phelan. "You look both better and worse than when I last looked in on you."

Phelan smiled politely as his mind raced and tried in vain to match the Khan's voice with any of those that had interrogated him. "I'm clumsy."

The Khan arched a white eyebrow. "Then when Vlad placed himself on report for assaulting you, he was in error?"

Phelan's head came up and he studied the Khan carefully. Is this whole meeting going to be filled with testing and intrigue? What could I possibly tell him that his people have not already drugged out of me?"Were I not so clumsy, I would have either avoided setting him off or I would have avoided his fists."

The Khan's blue eyes narrowed, then his face brightened and he waved Phelan deeper into the suite with one hand. "Forgive me. You have had quite enough questioning in the past months, quiaff? And I keep you standing here in the foyer like some Point being reprimanded. Please come in and meet my other guest."

As he moved forward at his host's invitation, Phelan noted that the Khan's quarters seemed to fit the man perfectly. At first, Phelan thought the rooms sparsely furnished, but then he noticed that everything had been selected for quality, as though the Khan would fill his living space only with the finest. Phelan imagined that the decorations and furnishings were probably the victors of a long weeding-out process. He could easily see this man discarding something before bringing anything new into this place.

A somber gray carpet and warm maroon walls lent the room a studious air. Yellowish light shown down from recessed ceiling lamps, illuminating the glass and gray steel shelving and tables. The couch and pair of chairs looked comfortable but were not matched in either color or design. The shelves held a few mementoes and two or three holographic books, but Phelan could identify none of them.

The only decoration mounted on the walls hung over the couch. It was as large as his own chest, and Phelan recognized the emblem as similar to the shield emblazoned on the Khan's door. The only differences were that this one actually was a shield and there were no stars beneath the wolf's head. Instead of stars, Phelan saw a small square balanced on one point fixed to the shield. Moving closer to it, he made another startling discovery. Damn, that looks like it was pounded out of 'Mech armor!

Any further thought about what the device was or how it was constructed fled from Phelan's mind as the Khan's other guest turned from one of the shelves where he had been browsing. "Greetings, Phelan Kell. It does, indeed, appear that stories of your death were greatly exaggerated."