When Xiao Yan appeared on screen, that scrawny girl who followed him around was gone. In her place stood a nineteen year-old supervisor with a datapad in one arm, a purple-framed visor over her eyes, wearing a stunningly well-filled white blouse and a formal dark blue skirt both threaded with silvery veins. Next to her stood Tim. He’d grown tall, and had filled out with muscles, though not as heavily as George. Also, the background looked like a comfortable living room, not an office. There was a comfortable couch, and framed pictures of both Tim and Xiao Yan… “So I hear congratulations are in order.” Remian smiled. “Well done.” “Thank you, thank you.” Xiao Yan bobbed her head. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Xiao Yan always did have a thing for freeing slaves, and when it comes to that, there’s nobody in this world who can compare with you.” Remian reflected. “Maybe, but even without that, we get along very well.” Tim mused. “Half the time it’s like she can read my mind, and t

Talking to Ermine about it was the first thing he did upon arriving at Sky Haven. Remian brought it up before they even left the docking bay. “It wasn’t me.” Ermine said half-defensively. “It was those scholarship students of yours.” “Scholarship students?” “Why, yes, these are the children who studied starship engineering through your scholarship. While it doesn’t actually make any difference, technically they’re now working for you, not me. I set them up with their own shipyard, gave them a whole lot of space and some funding, and let them run their own shipbuilding company. They called it Starbright Shipyards.” “Their own company?” Remian eyed her sideways. “I was trying to raise them the way you would. That’s your style, isn’t it? Let them start their own gig and then support them from behind?” Remian thought about it for a moment. “Okay. But we can’t just leave them to their own devices completely. We need to provide oversight.” “Oh, I do keep an eye on them. I also offer t

There was quite a bit of panic among the young entrepreneurs of Starbright. To begin with, up till now, they hadn’t actually completed a single truly functional Space Turtle. In theory, and according to computer simulation, their designs should be fine. Physically building the ships, however, was a whole different story, and there was always something somewhere that went wrong. “That’s why you need a professional crew.” Remian summarized. “Meanwhile, you guys need to focus on the designs, adaptation of technology, and such.” That last bit was a bigger pain in the neck than Remian cared to admit. Putting together different parts from different manufacturers within the same civilization required a lot of adjustment, tinkering and know-how. Putting together different parts from different civilizations was nothing short of agony, in his opinion. Given the time limits, it seemed likely they would have to reverse-engineer entire components and design poor imitations that would be compatib

Remian and Phoebe took some time to get dressed in modern local fashion. What was modern local fashion? Armor and hand weapons. Everyone wore those. Remian easily found a fitting suit of black leather jacket and pants at a Starport shop. Phoebe had a bit more trouble since the shop assistant kept crashing into things and forgetting what he was saying, but ultimately she managed to get a matching suit of black leather, except with a skirt attachment on top of the pants. For a hand weapon, Remian did indeed strap on the Sword of Truth to his side, although he felt it was redundant since he could form Psi Blades at any moment. Phoebe picked up a tripartite staff, conveniently slotted behind her waist in the form of three smaller parts linked with chain. They also bought new Visors and comms lines with X7K connectivity speeds, with which they could finally see the myriads of Augmented Reality advertisements, flashing signs, street signals, incoming messages, etc. Compared to the clean

“Go, go, go!” green light flared in the bay of the Dropship as the floor fell away. George and twelve other figures were unceremoniously dumped on the ground nine feet below. They landed with heavy impacts. George staggered, realizing the gravity on this world was at least twice what he was accumstomed to back home. For a moment, he regretted leaving his Frame back on the ship, but they were here to clear the bandits out from a city center, meaning tight spaces, narrow access points, and needing to take care to avoid civilian casualties. Or at least, that was the plan. George and his squad had been deposited on the outskirts of the city, at the very border of a suburban district. “Incoming!” someone yelled. George crouched as something exploded; the ground shook and chunks of dirt flew through the air. “Get to cover! Return fire!” George called, even though he wasn’t entirely sure where the attackers were, exactly. The guys diving behind nearby garages and a public toilet clued hi