Blackwood had prepared their pilots for situations such as these. The neck-mounted communication device embedded in their pilot suits could detect when the wearer swallowed. All the pilot needed to do to send a discrete distress broadcast was simply swallow five times in short succession. Assuming they weren't totally isolated from the Exogrid, Blackwood would know their location and be able to send reinforcements immediately. As you may be thinking, that wasn't an option right now. All Zenith could do is read labels of alcohol bottles behind the counter. It's all he could really do without moving.
He'd had a chance to try and escape such a position alongside much of his peers during his training. The class instructors had suggested to his class that there was a way to escape, and everyone had a chance to watch every other student's attempt. Every attempt failed, and it continued until everyone in the class had given up. The purpose for that particular, long lesson hadn't made much sense to Zenith until now. As frustratingly contradictory as it was, Blackwood was still helping him in spite of his current status.
"Gone rogue, hm?" The older Valen tossed the PDA back over in front of the rather distracted Zenith, a corner of the hefty device crashing directly into a finger-claw. He forgot to not move for a moment, jerking his hand sharply and letting out a rather displeased noise. "Whoops."
"... Yes, you could say that," Zenith replied with the slightest bite of annoyance. "Not exactly by choice, either."
"Never tends to be." The gun began its retreat from the side of his skull. "Look at me, Apex."
Zenith slowly turned towards the stranger, still failing to recognize him. The man looked nothing like a Blackwood pilot at all. He'd somewhat expected that, though it was still a strange sight to see out here. He had heard of Valen outside of Blackwood in space, but their numbers were so few you'd almost never see them. Especially since most of them were labelled as criminals. Zenith was beginning to realize he fit that category pretty well. He hoped he wouldn't devolve into some violent, unkempt, vest jacket wearing old man the longer he stayed out here.
"Now, I don't particularly give a shit what your situation is right now. I don't wanna hear it, I don't need to know." The stranger's pistol was held just above hip height, still pointed at Zenith. "All I need to know is that you know the terms out here. You rip me off, that's it. You're done. Got it?"
"I fully intend to deliver your goods, sir." Zenith maintained a serious expression, avoiding a smile and really trying to keep his tone under control. It was fairly clear what the stranger meant.
"You better make good on that. Don't think you can just screw me, boy." He pulled out his own PDA, seemingly a regular pilot-spec one from Tango. It was horribly dented, scratched, and otherwise abused, but still miraculously worked. "You're gonna spook my client with that military ship of yours."
"Well, I-"
"No. You're just taking a different shipment. Same payment, but I know the client won't give a shit." The Valen paged around on his PDA a little more, seeming to struggle to operate it one handed, before turning his eyes up at Zenith a tad impatiently.
"O-Oh, yeah, that's fine," Zenith quickly spit out. The stranger rolled his eyes.
"Right." He sighed. "You're moving a bit of scrap tech. Think you can live with that?"
"What kind of scrap tech?" He couldn't help but consider Jewel's advice here.
"Broken and incomplete ship electronics. Easy to explain if someone wants to search your ship." The older Valen grinned at Zenith. "Cargo locker C85 in an hour - here's the key for it." He'd hold out his PDA. It was on a short-range communication screen. Zenith quickly picked up his PDA and brought it up to the other Valen's, a subtle vibration indicating the transfer was complete.
"What's your name, anyway?" Zenith got another annoyed look from the stranger.
"This kind of thing is easier when you don't know. Anything goes wrong, you let the bartender here know." The stranger holstered his pistol, then his PDA, before standing up. "Don't use him as an out, either. He won't talk. Once you're done, he'll pay you here. Any other questions?"
"Mmmm." Zenith was a little amused at the idea of that bartender being a stone wall in an interrogation. Damari were the most often friendly and sociable people in the galaxy, so it was a bit odd to think of them working for someone like this. It especially amused him to think of them as hardened criminal types. "Only question: What's the deadline on this new shipment?"
"Four days, shouldn't take more than half that to get there." The old wolf shrugged. "Other details should be on the shipping bill in the locker." He'd turn and nod to the bartender, the much shorter deer smiling back rather big. The stranger then quickly disappeared into the busy hallway of the rather grody station.
Zenith wasn't sure what to think of the whole encounter. He remembered his lemonade as his nerves would finally cool, taking a sip of it. It had gotten unpleasantly warm during the interrogation-turned-business-deal, making Zenith's expression twist sour. He did his best to swallow it all down as quick as he could. Even after the messy encounter, this weird bar-cafe thing still felt rather comfortable. Eventually, the bartender came right over to him, putting a hand on the counter to lean on.
"Need another drink?" The deer smiled friendily at him. His face didn't say much else.
"Something sweeter this time, please. You knew I was coming, didn't you?" Zenith pushed his glass toward the bartender. The deer swept it off the counter and grabbed one of the handheld drink dispensers.
"Of course I did." The deer pulled the trigger on the drink dispenser, swirling the cup full of a colorful, sparkly beverage. "This is a social drink from back home on Malum. Fruity with a little bite to it. It's real flavorful and mild." He sat the cup down in front of Zenith. It was surprisingly pretty as it spun around in the glass.
"Why's it, well, look like that?" Zenith picked the glass of fancy up, looking at its contents rather curiously.
"Heck if I know. Pretty though, isn't it?" The deer giggled, watching Zenith's eyes flick around as they followed the swirls. "You need anything else?"
"No, not really. Is this your bar?" Zenith finally picked up the drink and took a sip. It was strange - the fruity flavors seemed to wash over his tongue in separate waves, almost completely masking that cheap alcohol taste. The bartender seemed quite pleased with his reaction to the drink.
"Yeah, it is. Nicest place on the station, I'd say." The bartender finally set down the drink spout, starting towards the other end of the bar counter. "Enjoy!"
Zenith never got either of their names, but he didn't particularly care to. Like his employer had said, it would just make things harder if something went wrong. He, at least, had some deniability right now. It certainly saved him an unpleasant evening of looking up the guy's name. Not one to waste time, Zenith finished off his beverage, paid his tab, then promptly left the bar. The less time he had to spend in this place, the better. If a bounty was put out for his head, the last place he'd want to be is a station full of money-hungry pirates.
He burned some time in the Contract Center looking for a job to do afterwards. He didn't have much luck in that effort, though. Maybe the next place he'd be would have more jobs available. Zenith wasn't really sure where he was delivering this package, though. His "employer" seemed confident they wouldn't care about how his ship looked, so it must've been a fairly legitimate looking operation.
Once an hour had passed, he'd head to the ship landing bay and take a walk along the cargo hall. He drug a pneumatic cargo arm on a cart behind him as he searched for C85. The cart was just as junky as the rest of the station, the magnetic tracks frequently jamming up and causing the thing to screech along the floor and pull unevenly. Just as Zenith started to get properly pissed with the cart, he'd locate the locker. He brought his PDA up to the lock panel, the lock panel quickly lighting up green as it would pop open. He tucked his PDA away and reached up, opened the locker, and picked the shipping bill out of it.
The shipping bill suggested that he'd be hauling these parts to a refurbishing company quite some distance away. He'd certainly have more than enough time to pull off the delivery. If Zenith moved fast, he could probably have it dropped off and arrive back for payment before the delivery deadline had a chance to pass.
In interest of not completely destroying his ship, Zenith was taking this delivery route rather easy. The last thing he wanted to do was be at the mercy of a rescue craft's fees in the middle of nowhere, especially with his already limited funds. He didn't want to part with any of his 10,000 credits if he could get away with it. Zenith had even skipped out on picking up any nicer food to bring with him on his ship, opting to stick with the last of his pilot's rations. The cockpit's localized gravity wasn't working properly at the moment anyway, so it's not like he'd be able to store anything too "comfortable." Almost all of the extra space in his cockpit was taken up by the large, electric crate of broken electronics. He'd taken a look inside of it before he'd taken off, and sure enough it was as promised. Signed packing list included - best not steal something.
Zenith learned, during the cargo drop, that he'd been running parts to be repaired for his employer. This wasn't some kind of payment to the refurbisher, it was just running cargo for his employer's order. It was strange - usually you'd just use automated shipping drones - but nevertheless he didn't ask questions. The two bat folks he spoke to in the receiving bay seemed a bit confused about who Zenith was and who he worked with, though Zenith wiggled his way out of that conversation without much issue. Their inspection of the cargo was probably the most nerve-wracking part of it all, though it turned out fine.
He took the opportunity to have the refurbishers take a look at his ship as well, getting a quote for a bit over 9,000 credits to sort out all of the electrical issues. That seemed like a lot until you considered many of these places had never worked on Blackwood ships before. He paid to have some basic work done that seemed urgent (at least from what they told him). Luckily, that only took an hour or so. Soon after, with his questions answered and the delivery receipt card tucked in his jacket, he started his way back to the nasty pirate station with the nice bar. Bar cafe? Zenith hadn't bothered to even remember the place's name. He'd have to look out for it this time. Hopefully he wouldn't get a gun against his head again.
The flight back seemed far longer. On the way there, Zenith had been tuned into the frequencies Jewel had said the cargo pilots chattered on. It was pretty good entertainment listening to them share stories, joke around, or even play spoken games with each other. He hadn't chanced broadcasting on a busy, public channel - he could risk being identified or even located that way. It was far more enjoyable just consuming it like radio. The two days trip to the refurbisher had been without hearing his mother, even when tuned to listen across the whole network. He had hoped he'd at least hear her once on the flight.
The rest of the flight back was equally uneventful, unfortunately. If his mom was out on a job, she wasn't broadcasting. At the very least, though, he had heard Jewel joining in on the games and chitchatting several times. She was far cruder over the radio than she had been in person, much to Zenith's surprise. Some of those cargo pilots would even play instruments on the channel, sing, or just tell elaborate, comedic, fictional stories to get the channel to erupt with laughter. It was like a 24/7 radio show in a lot of ways. He'd wonder why some of these people didn't just pursue careers in entertainment a few times.
His second time at the station went much the same way, though he was far less lost this time. He jogged directly to the cafe-bar-thing, remembering this time that it was called "Tower Latte and Pickles." Completely insane, nonsensical name. No wonder he hadn't remembered it. Didn't match the Decor, and honestly, the sign wasn't even lit up. Maybe it was just an old sign for a prior business, he wasn't sure. Regardless, this time the deer was a bit preoccupied when he entered. Zenith sat down at the bar and waited, taking a better look at the establishment this time. The back half of the room seemed to run much like a restaurant, the occasional waiter rushing around to deliver food or a platter full of drinks to a table. It was still shockingly clean in here, too, another employee regularly taking a walk around and wiping up messes.
"Apex, welcome back!" Zenith turned toward the voice to see the deer behind the counter beaming happily at him. He'd even poured him a drink - the same strange, fruity social drink he'd had the last time he was there. "You've been safe in your travels?"
"Of course." Zenith opened his chest pocket, pulling out the delivery receipt card. The bartender quickly grabbed it and looked at it under the counter, then tucked it into a pocket in his apron.
"I see you've got a tab to be paid!" He smirked, pulling out a payment terminal from a different spot under the counter. The bartender started keying in what Zenith imagined to be his payment.
"Seems I do. Is he around, by the way?" Zenith slid his PDA off his belt, unlocking it and swapping over to the device's wallet.
"Not today." He looked up, holding out the terminal with a little light blinking on it. "Any particular reason you ask?"
"I'd just like to speak with him, is all." Zenith touched his PDA to the blinking payment terminal, receiving a payment and confirming it with a hardware keypress. 8,000 credits, bringing him up to around 17,000 total. Discretion must've been pretty important. The deer tucked the terminal away.
"Mmm." The deer drummed some fingers on the bar counter as some of the customers that had arrived before Zenith began to leave. His wandering gaze snapped back to Zenith as he spoke again, catching the Valen in the middle of a sip. "Could you help me with something in the back, Apex?"
Given how coded their speech had been the whole time, he wasn't sure if this was a discrete invite to the "boss's office" or a legitimate request. Regardless, he'd nod in response, replying simply with a "Sure" and standing up. The bartender smiled wide in response. He flipped up the bar flap and slipped out into the rest of the establishment, beckoning Zenith to follow. Of course, Zenith would follow behind, albeit with a fair bit of caution and distance.
The two went into a stock room, the door for it only a couple seconds walk from the bar. It was a fairly large, shelf-lined room with a pair of doors at the end of the hall - one for a fridge unit, one for a freezer. The particular shelves they walked up to were stocked quite high with various alcoholic beverages. Each section of the shelf marked in a language native to the Damari - a language Zenith couldn't read, but at least recognized.
"Could you grab that?" The deer pointed towards some drinks on a high shelf. "Normally we'd have a ladder down here, but some animals were in here the other night and broke it."
"Uh.." Zenith searched a bit, and the deer did his best to help point it out better. "You after the, err, Cinnamon Vermillion?" It was a large bottle with a rather lush red look to it, gold foil covering the sealed top. Fancy stuff. Seemed like this wasn't really an invite to talk.
"Yep!" The deer stepped aside and Zenith moved more in line with the drinks. He stood up on his toes to get a good grip, carefully sliding a bottle off the end of the shelf.
"You really shouldn't wander into rooms with strangers," said the voice of the old Valen. Zenith turned around with the drink, finding the deer standing beside the one who'd just spoke, the Valen still lacking a name. "Surprised, hm?"
Zenith regained his composure. "Wasn't expecting you to just sneak up on me, that's all." He was getting a little frustrated with how often he was letting his guard down. Zenith handed the beverage off to the bartender. They just smiled at him and ran off with it, back towards the bar.
"It wouldn't have been a surprise if you hadn't immediately went for the bottle," the older wolf chuckled. "I do appreciate someone who gets the job done quickly, though."
"Thanks." He'd pause for a brief moment, before getting a bit curious. "Why do you, well, do what you do?" Zenith repositioned himself a bit, giving himself a slight bit of an advantage towards the door out of the room if a quick exit became necessary.
"How respectfully vague." The wolf grinned. "Makes money, why else? It's not free to live out here. You're lucky you've got an efficient ship. How 'bout you, hmm?" He folded his arms.
"It's probably more complicated than you'd care for." Zenith shrugged, but the wolf shook his head.
"What I said out in the bar a few days ago was just a show for the bug-brained types. I do my best to get to know other Valen out here - the ones that don't try to screw me, that is." The wolf smiled, though it still felt a little aggressive for some reason. It was probably just the way he looked, but then again, Zenith wasn't too certain.
"Well." Zenith looked toward the ceiling for a moment, considering what to say. There was a non-zero chance there would be bounty hunters looking for him eventually. This guy didn't seem adverse to doing that kind of thing, but then again, all he knew was that he did some kind of trading. And, well, probably kills people who lie to him. The storage room was so dark that he wasn't sure if anyone else was in the room, either. How's some incomplete truth? "You know. Blackwood banned me from Alpha. The usual."
"Ah." The wolf nodded. "You break those behavior laws? That's how I got sent off, anyway," he'd chuckle. Breaking those "behavior laws" was one of the worst things you could do back on Alpha - breaking the Societal Trust. Stealing, maiming, espionage, murder. An incomplete list of things that broke the Trust, all things that could get you sent off planet or, for more extreme wrongdoings, executed. Zenith tried his best to not look at the older Valen judgmentally. He'd never do such a thing himself. He'd never consider it, not for a second.
"Well, they thought I did. That was enough for them. Couldn't fully prove it, so here I am." Zenith was frowning a bit now, thinking just a bit about his actual predicament.
"Real shame, isn't it? Such a nice place to live, if you can fit their ridiculous standards," the other Valen shrugged. "Now, I work. And, know what, I like my work. It's messy, but it's a hell of a lot more fun than what I was doing before." His wandering gaze locked back onto Zenith's face. "Can't tell me you aren't enjoying the freedom out here?"
"I- well..." Zenith sighed frustratedly. There really wasn't much else he wanted more than to get out of this hell hole of a space station and go home.
"What?" The wolf's eyes narrowed, head tilted just a tad. "Oh, you mean to tell me you were falsely accused or something?" He laughed. "You don't have to lie to me, kid. Those rules might be unfair, but I know how thorough they are."
"I'll earn my way back there," Zenith proclaimed. "I don't want to live out here alone."
"Then make some friends. Some real stupid optimism you've got if you think they'll just let you back." The old wolf shook his head. "You know how long it's been since they let someone back on planet after banning 'em?"
"...No?" Zenith felt a bit insulted, only because he had been. His ears tilted back a bit.
"They haven't ever done it. They will never do it. Not how they operate," the older Valen claimed. Zenith clenched his fists.
"How many people have been banished off planet then? And how many have tried to go back? You know those numbers? Or-" Zenith's tirade was cut off early with a raise of the old Valen's hand, other arm dropping to his side.
"Cool it. I don't fuckin' know if they'll let you back. Clearly, that's what you want. You can't just buy your way back in. Don't get thinking that working for me is gonna get you ahead." The wolf folded his arms again, letting out an annoyed exhale.
"Sorry." Zenith looked away, sighing. "I just need to fix the rest of my ship, then we're done."
"Right." The wolf nodded. "Other than the pickup for those parts, which you'd be paid similarly for if you're interested. I have some slightly messier work for you to do in the meantime, if you've got working weapons still."
"Dirty or just messy?" Zenith's brow furrowed, looking annoyed yet again. "I'm not going to just kill random people for you, if that's what you're asking."
"Of course not. Wouldn't ask you to. This is a little pirate gang, all public record. Normally, asking one person to take out a small fleet of ships would be a big ask, but I know what those fighter ships can do." He let out an amused chuckle. "Should be perfect for you. Win some points with the more "legit" crowds in space, earn some hard cash doing it."
"What've you got against this group in particular?" Zenith narrowed his eyes, fairly suspicious of the request.
"They've stolen quite a few of my drone transports at this point. It's a real bitch to get anything of value anywhere in this part of the galaxy cause of these guys. That's why I'm paying you so much to run my errands." He grins. "Take those losers out and I'll personally pay to have your ship fixed."
Admittedly, Zenith had never been in any real combat. He'd done plenty in the sims, but that was with a fully working ship. He wasn't sure which parts of his fighter had compromised defenses at this point, nor if the shield was even working correctly. It did seem like it was, but there was a few odd sounds while making that drop-off that indicated that something might be off.
"I'll deal with them after I pick up your parts. Got some things I need to address with my ship first."
"Makes sense." The wolf nodded. "Less I need to pay for, I suppose," he'd laugh. Zenith couldn't help but smile a bit, even if he didn't really like this guy.
"Unfortunately." Zenith shrugged. "When's that pickup supposed to be ready?"
"You've got a week. Just stop in the bar then. My guy out there will give you the pickup details. I'm sure it'll go smoothly." The old wolf grinned. "See you around, Apex."
"Same to you." Zenith turned and left, heading out the door he came in. He needed a break from this crap, and he'd barely gotten started.
A week was plenty of time to deal with the more glaring issues with his ship. He'd taken the SENTs to a nearby mechanic's station. It was a massive complex with sleeping accommodations on the opposite end of the station. There were guards stationed throughout, largely composed of a hired Delphi militia of some sort. Zenith wasn't super familiar with how that kind of thing worked, though he'd seen those teams a number of times in his travels - a bunch of armor plated possum dudes running around with guns. It was surprising how many of them there were, especially compared to groups from other planets.
He was getting a bit sick of sitting in restaurants, cafes, and what-not whenever he had time to relax. Instead, he opted on this particular day to take the long walk around the station. He far preferred a hallway full of forest noises over a bunch of strangers afraid to talk to him. The choice to play terrestrial environmental noises in a space station was certainly a little strange, especially with no accompanying visuals. There was something comforting about it after a while, though. After a fair bit of walking, he stopped to sit on a bench to enjoy the view of space from the large hallway windows.
"You mind if I sit?" It was a voice he didn't quite recognize. Sounded like a Damari, and it was. She was a fair bit shorter than Zenith, wearing what looked to be like a near-black and red accented space suit. A fairly high-end one that was almost definitely reliant on shield tech. It was rather similar to his own in that way. She had on a thicker maroon jacket too, two shallow pockets on the bottom. Zenith nodded and moved over on the bench a bit for her.
"What's wrong with yours?" He'd ask as she sat down. She shrugged.
"Something with the directional controls. They're still trying to replicate the issue," she snickered, looking out the window as well now. Ships were coming and going from the mechanic deck from above, the employees of the station pulling off elaborate maneuvers in the distance to test their work. It was quite entertaining to watch - a bit like going to an airshow.
"How'd you manage to get here with your controls all busted?" He turned to her curiously. She smiled in the pleasant way that Damari seem to always do.
"With a lot of effort!" She laughed, and he couldn't help but grin. "Took twice as long as it ought to have. I was about ready to pass out when I got the thing landed."
"No kidding," he amusedly chuckled. "I'm surprised they're struggling to see it."
"Same here, dude!" She shrugged. "Happened out of nowhere, so who knows if they'll be able to." She turned back to the window, relaxing a bit and leaning back against the wall behind them. "How's yours?"
"Just a little of everything," he sighed. "Only getting the structural stuff fixed properly. It's a bit expensive to do it all, unfortunately."
"They're making you guys foot the bill now?" She turned back to him, looking rather surprised. "Doesn't Blackwood pretty much print money?"
Zenith shrugged. "Well, yes, they do, but... Not much I can do with that out here. For a few reasons." He considered the best way to continue his thoughts without explaining too much.
"Things get complicated, I getcha." She turned back to the window. The two sat quietly for a bit, enjoying the ambiance of the forest noises. There were occasional bird noises, seemingly mixed in randomly. It sounded quite nice, but there was surely some Ventara that would be driven crazy by that.
"What do you do for.. work?" He turned and asked, struggling to come up with how to phrase that without it sounding like he's spent his entire life on a planet. She chuckled a bit.
"That's a pretty personal question," she said with a smirk. "I used to work at a restaurant. Now, well, it depends on the day. Odd jobs, contracts. Sounds like you're doing the same kind of thing."
"Pretty much." He knew it wasn't the best idea to reveal that you run cargo to random people, especially without an escort. "You have much experience with fighting pirates?"
"Mmm." She looked back towards the windows, watching the erratic ships fly around. "I've had to deal with a few of those types before." Her ears would perk and she'd nudge him, pointing at the window. "You see that ship, there?"
Zenith leaned over a bit to try and see where she was pointing, spotting the ship she meant. It was a pretty agile little ship, though a decent bit bigger than his own, basically spinning around instead of going close to straight. He couldn't figure out the make of it. "Oh, is that yours?" He laughed.
"Yeah, it is," she snickered. "Think they've reproduced it now." From all the distance, it was still clear that the ship's engines were angling themselves extremely erratically. The movements it was making looked pretty vomit inducing.
"Pretty clearly broken," he'd snicker as well. "But, yeah." Zenith turned back to the stranger. "I might have to do some dogfighting soon, is all. Just curious if you've ever done anything like that. Your ship certainly seems equipped to do that."
"I try to avoid it," she admits. "It's good to avoid fights like that if you can. Especially if you're just going back for revenge." She looked back at him, though more curious than anything else.
"It's nothing like that. Just a job so I can get my ship fixed, really." He shrugged. "I've got the training to be able to pull it off, but it's a lot easier with someone helping cover your back." Zenith did have some doubts of his own skills, partially because he blamed himself for letting Olwen get killed. There wasn't anything he could do about that now, though.
"I have been a little bit bored lately." She sat back again, grinning up at the Valen. He'd notice she had a knife secured to her hip opposite of him. That was in addition of the sidearm holstered on the side closest to him. Not a super common sight - usually one would opt for one or the other. "Could be entertaining. I'd be happy to lend a hand, I suppose. You've gotta show me how good of a pilot you are, though. I'm not flying into a battle with some egomaniac. You've gotta actually be good."
Zenith laughed. "I was top of my class, you've got nothing to worry about." She rolled her eyes.
"Heard that a dozen times before. Prove it, and you've got someone to cover your ass. If you're as good as you say, you'll be far better than I am." She shrugs. "I'm not gonna stick my neck out for some goofball."
"Hey, I understand. Once we're out of here, I'll show you how I take care of an asteroid field. How's that sound?" A confident smirk spread on his face, the deer snickering softly.
"Sure, we'll see." She gave him a plenty playful punch on the arm, turning back to the window. Zenith's gaze followed suit shortly after, watching the deer's ship get towed back into the maintenance bay by a tug.
"Hey, what's your name by the way?" Zenith turned half ways back to her. She smiled at him, though she had a bit of an amused look on her face for whatever reason.
"Cyrus." She stood up from the bench, turning to hold out a hand for a shake. Zenith promptly shook that hand, standing up as well.
"Apex." The name still stunk. She grinned wide at hearing it. He could feel the kind words coming already.
"Giving me a nickname, huh? Should pick something a bit less nerdy next time." Cyrus snickered. "You due for a meal?"
It had been several hours since he last ate, the question making his hunger (somewhat literally) painfully obvious. "Heh, yeah. Probably overdue."
"Come on, then," she'd wave him on forward as she started off down the hall, Zenith quickly catching up. "I know some things off-menu we can get."