Project Boussh: Epilogue: Antilles/Celchu '04 By "Prophet" Kristy and Majick The shock of Admiral Cracken's arrival and Kristy's abrupt promotion to Captain in New Republic Intelligence (!!) had fairly well eclipsed the depressing atmosphere of the gathering's beginning. Kristy still felt Alison's loss deeply, but apparently it had finally sunk in that the passionate New Yorker would rather see celebration than mourning. Besides, she and Morwen practically lived for dancing; and Mike was giving in nicely to peer pressure and playing a fair amount of decent dancing music. And, unlike many of their American counterparts, most Mendellian men could actually dance. Kristy concluded a rousing polka with a Mendellian, laughing breathlessly, and permitted the winded boy to deposit her back near Mike's computer setup. Morwen arrived at the informal Terra Group gathering point shortly afterward, and Kristy couldn't resist teasing the lovely Turkish woman that her evil twin now also outranked her. But both knew their friendship wouldn't be affected, and soon they were deep in plans to teach their new Mendellian and New Republic friends the Playford dance Korobushka, enlisting Whistler to search the vastness of the Internet for music. "So who should we draft?" Kristy surveyed the scene. If she hadn't been there herself, she never would have believed what she was seeing. A hundred people or more were gathered in the wide outdoor courtyard of the Palace, enjoying the balmy equatorial evening (a bit humid for Kristy, but definitely better than the snow up in Idaho). A bonfire blazed in one corner, surrounded by Ewoks and a few others, including Wes Janson, whose increasingly drunken efforts at what AFW called the "Hyper Ewok Dance of Joy" were cracking up the New Republic commandoes watching him. Mike's DJing equipment occupied another corner (and where had that come from? Had he sent Cubber on a quick run to London for it?), blaring out music of all shapes and sizes. A fair number of people were dancing; others were gathered in conversation groups, telling stories of the battle, if their hand motions were any indication. Mendellia's corps of cooks and servers were out in force, supplying the revelers with generous amounts of food and drink. "How about the Morris dancer?" Morwen replied in her softly accented voice. Kristy laughed out loud, drawing a curious glance from Myn and Kirney, who were slow dancing nearby. Kristy shook her head at them, smiling at how stupid she felt. In all the rush, she'd quite forgotten the initial reason for starting off on this most improbable of missions. Looking around, it seemed most of the others had, as well. She *knew* she'd felt like someone was missing. She'd been blaming the nagging feeling on Alison. She turned her attention back to Morwen, who was watching her curiously. "Sorry, I wasn't laughing at you, I was laughing at me. After this fuss . . . we forgot Quiara!" Morwen grinned back. "I just realized it myself. I know we've been involved, but..." "Well, where is she? This party's for her, when you get right down to it." "I don't know. Invitation lost in the mail?" "We'll complain to Prince Thayer." *Speaking of whom, I haven't seen him or Becki in a while...* Kristy tucked up her skirts and started to lead the way to the nearest entrance to the castle. "But first, we have a campaign manager to find." "You're bossy now that you have rank." "You want KP duty, don't you?" "...Isn't that PK?" *** Kristy knocked on Quiara's door, Morwen already having noted that no light shone out from the room beyond. The two waited, and when no answer came, Kristy began to worry. The last thing they needed was for Quiara to be kidnapped again. Right out from under the noses of all of Terra Group, and many of the New Republic's elite, no less... Suddenly, though, a light voice, barely heard, came through the door. "Come in." Kristy swung the door open, and the two friends stepped into Quiara's room. Morwen pointed towards the French window, which stood open, its curtains billowing in the cool night time breeze. Framed in the window, still clad in the torn, sleeveless jumpsuit in which she'd returned from the _Admonitor_, was Quiara. Kristy and Morwen stepped through the French window in a rustle of archaic skirts, and stood either side of their friend. The three young women looked out at the night sky, and down to the party going on below them. Despite the clamor, it was a strangely peaceful moment that no one particularly felt like breaking. "Are you going to join us?" Kristy asked, after a few minutes. "I suppose so," Quiara replied. "I'm just still trying to take it all in. A lot's happened recently," she added. She shivered, and rubbed her bare arms. "Tell us about it." Morwen slipped her arm around Quiara's waist, and hugged her. "Good to have you back, Q," she said. "Good to be back," Quiara replied, with a smile. "I have so many thank-yous to say, I don't even know where to begin." "Coming to the party would be a start," Kristy suggested, with a laugh. Quiara looked down at her clothing. "I'm hardly dressed for a party," she replied, gesturing at the rumpled flightsuit whose sleeves had been torn off for makeshift bandages. "So I'll get you a dress from the museum," Kristy replied, with a mock serious frown. "My hair's a mess," Quiara replied. "I can help with that," Morwen said. "It's a party, girl. Now quit stalling," Kristy ordered. Morwen gave her an amused glance to remind her of the conversation they'd just had over their new ranks. Kristy returned it with a wink. *** A short while later, the three ladies stepped elegantly back into the courtyard. Morwen, easily the best dancer of Terra Group, was instantly snagged by one of Page's men, and whisked off into the centre of the dance floor. Kristy and Quiara grinned at one another, and then Kristy felt strong arms encircle her waist. "You're back," a deep Australian voice said. "May I...?" With a helpless look at Quiara, Kristy allowed herself to be drawn back onto the dance floor. Momentarily, Quiara was alone, and then: "It's good to see you again," came a familiar voice. Quiara turned, and smiled in spite of her nervousness as Wedge stood in front of her. He extended his hand, and led her onto the dance floor. Thankfully, the viennese waltz quickly gave way to something with a much more sedate tempo. The dancers abandoned ritualized steps in favor of swaying to the music and one or two of the couples swayed to their own time. Quiara relished the feel of strong arms around her, the feeling of safety they engendered allowing her to completely relax for the first time since her kidnap. ***** The next morning came, and time for goodbyes with it. Many of the partiers looked a little the worse for wear, but everyone was cheerful, if a little sad that things had to end. Quiara stood with Kristy, Wedge, and Tycho, thanking the two pilots, and their comrades, for taking the time to help save her. "I don't suppose I could lure you back in another four years, could I?" she asked, a little wistfully. "Four years? You mean for your next election?" Tycho asked, with a raised eyebrow. "I still think you'd make great leaders," Quiara replied. Kristy nodded vigorously at her side. "I think we're safer fighting what's left of the Empire," Wedge said, with a laugh. He reached out, and put his hand on Quiara's arm. His face grew serious, and then: "Thank you for having faith in us." She smiled. "Thank *you* for rescuing me. And I'll still run a campaign. People need an example to try and match, and I think you're as good an example as I'll ever find." Wedge smiled, but didn't say anything. Stepping forward, he embraced his campaign manager, then his Terran host. He smiled at the two women again, before he and Tycho walked off to the Pulsar Skate to catch their ride home. "Will we ever see them again?" Kristy asked, as the ships began to lift off. "Maybe," Quiara replied, a mischievous grin on her face. "He didn't say 'no', after all..."