"Just watch me," a young Tserri voice says.

"You'll regret it," answers another.

"They'll carve my face next to his," insists the first young voice.

It's tempting to ignore them, but I realize that I'm picking up their conversation in the war room. Two young male Tserri are sneaking through the otherwise empty room. The one member of staff assigned this undesirable shift has left to answer their biological imperatives, leaving none to witness their trespass.

Recognition dawns on me, I've seen these youths before. One, the heckler, is Jetanda's descendant. As for the other, I have access to his arrest record. The instigator of this unauthorized expedition is the child that had recovered Noorun's exotic weapon and used it against one of the nomad's pets. The file identifies him as Han, an orphan.

Just as I send an alert to the closest member of security Han opens the panel that conceals my physical form from sight. He reaches both upper claws inside the small enclosure and removes me from the wall. My senses shrink to the meager few ubits around me. Once more I am nearly blind and almost completely helpless.

Han doesn't hesitate, stuffing me inside his loose shirt. Up close I can see that it is badly mended, torn and repaired many times. It is stained, though otherwise clean, thankfully. I could think of worse places to be.

His small frame darts from the room, ducking and weaving adroitly between articles of furniture. I can hear his partner in this escapade trailing behind us.

A voice I recognize as Donna's stops the youths in their mad escape. The high-pitched growl of my abductor answers her, and she replies with something unintelligible. I really should learn these creatures' languages. My reliance upon the translation software is a mistake that I plan on rectifying as soon as possible.

I don't understand what they discuss, though her tone seems stern enough to please me. I do hear Yosip's name mentioned by both parties. Unfortunately, Donna seems to relent upon hearing whatever excuse the youths create, and she sends them on their way.

I can just barely hear her saying my name as the youths make their escape. At first she sounds puzzled, but before I lose track of her I'm sure that she sounds frustrated. Trouble that I will have to deal with at a future time, no doubt.

They move more slowly after that, and it is some time before they stop. When at last Han draws me forth from his shirt we are within the equivalent of an alleyway. This small passage winds behind the residential structures that surround it, allowing access to vital systems without disturbing those dwelling within.

They lift an access grate free from its moorings. The bolts which should hold it in place are mere shams, heads attached to the panel with their shafts missing. They climb inside and replace the grate behind them.

The space behind the panel is cramped. It shows signs of crude enlargement, as well as habitation. This must be where Han sleeps and stores his few possessions. Jetanda's grandchild fidgets and makes some demand of the other. Han offers me to the other, though he refuses to touch me.

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They discuss something for a short while, leaving me upon the floor between them. Yosip's name comes up repeatedly during their discussions. Han gets rather worked up under the continued cajoling of his friend. Finally, Han banishes the other from the small dwelling.

Han tucks me away under a dirty pair of trousers once he's alone. A short time later he begins to snore quietly. Tired out from his adventure, no doubt.

My options are limited. I could attempt to start a fire, by converting ambient energies into heat and focusing it at the trousers above me. It surely would cause attention to be directed my way, though it may prove dangerous to Han. I do not believe he deserves to be harmed for this little adventure, so some other plan must suffice.

It is possible to create enough light that I might be spotted through the grate. I don't think it likely that anyone would see such a display, hidden as we are in this alcove, but low odds are better than nothing. Remembering how Yosip employed me while awaiting rescue, I use flashes of light rather than a continuous emission. Smuggler's code is yet another language that I need to learn.

My attempts to draw attention to myself work a little too well, however. Han wakes up and pulls my flashing form free of the fabrics which fail to fully conceal me. He rubs at his quickly widening eyes with the back of one claw. He chirrups something incredulous before hopping up and searching around his small den.

Han quickly finds what he seeks, a tatty leather pouch. In a quick movement he sweeps me into the ragged container, blocking any light I can emit. I cease my efforts, knowing when they are no longer of any use.

The youth carries me for some time, bouncing upon his hip in the cursed leather satchel. I know not where he takes me, nor could I truly use the information if I did. It is at times like this that I truly miss having my own body.

With little else to do, I begin plotting the next batch of wine I wish to brew, to replace the batch ruined by my absence. I fear that the albulb brandy currently in production will suffer the same fate as the last with me missing from my post once again.

The species of kelp that we raise for food has starchy roots that might make a passable base. With a little something else for flavor it could be palatable. I'm still debating with myself whether to use albulb again or try something else when young Han begins grunting with exertion.

There's a metallic scraping sound, followed by more grunting, then a sharp click. Whatever he's doing, Han is squeezing himself around me. His breathing, though heavy, is nearly silent, like a tired meso-predator hiding from a hunter at the apex.

The heavy tread of metal on metal resounds from somewhere nearby, muffled slightly by Han's body and the bag in which I find myself. I hear a familiar voice complaining to himself. Yosip is close! I can feel Han tense even further around me.

What does the youth think he's doing?

Around us, higher dimensions interact with our base reality, releasing energies that the mechanisms around us channel into thrust. We begin moving.

Yosip says something to himself in his deep and grating voice, which causes my captor to tremble. Again the sounds of Yosip pacing can be heard. It seems to be more than young Han can handle.

Han pulls me free from the confines of the leather pouch and into a cramped darkness. I emit a small glow, only enough to illuminate the tiny space. The gentle light reveals a crafty look upon the furry face of young Han.

He pulls back the lips from his fleshy maw, revealing twin rows of sharp, white teeth. These he clenches together near seamlessly in what I assume to be a sign for silence. Surely it isn't a threat; attempting to bite me would cause him more harm than myself.

I happily comply with the youth's request, unable to make sound as I am. I can increase the level of light I emit, and do so. A mistake, perhaps, as I return unceremoniously to the cramped confines of the leather carry pouch.

A familiar rasping voice fills the exterior of our hiding spot, and I hear much metal clanking.

Han whispers to himself the first words that I recognize, "Shit, shit, shit." That word I hear often enough to know, even without my software.