For whatever reason best known to Envoy (and there is speculation that she is, indeed, insane), she decided to have her torn out ribs re-inserted before dinner. This confused her Silent-One hosts, but in the end they agreed to allow her access to one of their surgeons who would perform the operation.

As Envoy is being wheeled into the chamber, she spots someone else present along with the staff; Icarus is there in surgical scrubs and looking extremely worried. (His ears are splayed. That is never a good sign). The Silent-Ones present are communicating with each other in formal sign, likely discussing how exactly to go about the procedure.

Envoy smiles reassuringly to Icarus, and says, "You don't have to be here for the surgery if you don't want to, son. There could be a lot of blood and… strange things."

"Stranger than I am?" Icarus points out nervously. One of the Silent-Ones wearing a surgical mask shakes his head and then signs, "He remains. One family member must be present during procedures."

"Oh, I didn't know it was a requirement," Envoy replies, and smiles to Icarus again. "Maybe it won't be so bad! Just some incisions, then pop the ribs in place and they'll be just fine in a few days."

"It is not as simple as that," the Silent-One signs. "The ribs must be anchored in place using biodegradable mesh and adhesive. A little more complicated than just popping them in. It is a wonder you survived their removal."

Another of the Silent-One's present signs to Envoy, "Place climb onto the table and get comfortable. Are you allergic to any medications that we need to be aware of?"

"Well… I suppose that is all needed," Envoy mutters. "Once they're properly in place they should glow a little," she explains as she climbs onto the table and gets as comfortable as one can on such a thing. "I… don't think I'm allergic to any medications," she admits.

The Silent-One who asked the question about medications, presumably a nurse, straps Envoy's legs and shoulders down to the operating table. The other, probably the doctor, asks in sign, "How quickly do you metabolize chemicals?"

Poor Icarus just looks lost in all this. He doesn't understand sign at all. He just sort of stands there and continues to look worried.

"It varies," Envoy notes. "Alcohol seems to take longer than typical for a mammal, and I have no real baseline for neurotropic chemicals."

"The anesthetic will be difficult, then. We will try a local so you can tell us if you feel any pain," the Doctor signs. The nurse bows her head. She goes and gathers a chemical drip plus several intravenous needles attached to rubber tubing that feeds into the drip bag. She pats Envoy's arm, perhaps as reassurance, before she feels around Envoy's right side to find a likely insertion point for the needle.

For all her other differences, at least Envoy has obvious veins and arteries where one would expect them to be. "If I feel something, how should I signal you?" she asks.

"Screaming works wonders," the Doctor actually signs. His ears wiggle a bit, though, so it may have been a joke.

Envoy decides that she's not going to scream in front of Icarus. No need to traumatize him further. Besides, if the pain is bad enough, she can always pass out.

There's a sharp pinch at Envoy's side when the needle slides in. It is quickly followed by an icy sensation as a patch of numbness spreads out from the insertion point. Similar is soon repeated on Envoy's left side. It's odd to have complete feeling in your shoulders, arms, neck, and head, as well as from the waist down … but nothing in between.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Icarus finally asks, "Do you need these?" He holds up a metal tray where the ribs are sitting. It looks like they've been cleaned extensively.

"I really can't afford the time it would take to regrow them," Envoy explains, "not with so many things happening."

"Things that are my fault," Icarus says and frowns.

Envoy blinks at this. "What?" she asks. "What makes you think that?"

"All this mess seems to be happening because of me," Icarus says, "And just because I don't understand them doesn't mean I haven't noticed how interested they are in me." He waves towards one of the Silent-Ones.

"What happened to me is not your fault, Icarus," Envoy notes, feeling a bit odd from the numbness. "It's something from my own past, plus… well, carelessness on my part. I will tell you what happened later."

The doctor signs, "It is time. First incision will be on the right lower chest wall following muscle striation. Please prepare sponges to absorb any blood loss and the speculum." He picks up a rather nasty-looking scalpel and walks to Envoy's right side. It's a good thing she's numb because he wastes no time in inserting the blade and cutting a long slit through skin and muscle. All she feels from it is pressure. She doesn't even feel the slow oozing of blood from the clean cut. As the nurse returns and hands the doctor a strange-looking spreader device, poor Icarus stares in possible horror. His eyes are wide … and the color begins to cycle rapidly between various blues and greens.

"Stay calm, Icarus," Envoy whispers, not wanting to move her diaphragm more than necessary. "They are not hurting me."

The only sound Icarus makes is a bit of a gurgle as the nurse dabs away the oozing blood. The doctor inserts the odd instrument and spreads open the incision. As the muscle pulls away the bluish stripes of Envoy's remaining ribs come into view. The doctor sets the spreader lock, then selects another probe from the table and begins his exploration to find the point where the rib was broken off.

Envoy is glad she's never had to go to a dentist. But at least with them you can't see them poking around inside you.

Nor do you see them pushing organs out of the way and making disturbing squishing noises while doing so. It's still not painful, but Envoy has a feeling she may know what it feels like to be pregnant, what with all the moving around in her insides. The doctor jabs the probe and Envoy feels a bit of a twinge. It appears he stuck it in the hollowed-out center of the broken point for the rib. The doctor then waves Icarus over.

Icarus moves closer, though his movement is reluctant and stuff. He holds out the tray and the doctor selects the rib he believes is from that side.

"The hollow probably needs to be vacuumed," Envoy mutters.

The nurse sets aside the bloodied sponge and pulls up a thin metal tube. She looks as if she's stepping on something near the table and soon there is a sucking sound coming from the tube itself. She inserts that into Envoy's side and proceeds to vacuum out the hollow portion of the rib connection. It feels rather … odd.

Envoy makes an odd expression to go with the sensation. Still… better to not have loose tissue in the bone cavity. Who knows what it'd turn into, after all.

The nurse withdraws the suction tube and then the probe. The doctor quickly comes in behind her and inserts the broken rib and lines up the fractured ends. He lifts one of his hands up to sign, "Tell your son to hold this rib in place. I need to get the mesh."

"Icarus, you need to hold the rib in place for a little while so the doctor can secure it," Envoy tells Icarus. "Just use your fingers, it'll be fine. So long as it looks bright blue it's in place."

"Uh, okay," Icarus says nervously and sticks his gloved hand into the incision and lightly wraps his fingers around the rib to hold it. The doctor lets go and walks over to one of the cabinets to collect some materials. That's about when things start to feel odd… Envoy's vision starts going blurry, like she's seeing double. No, it's not double at all. She's seeing herself as if she was standing over her own body while it is being worked on. She also feels something in her hand … no, it's Icarus' hand. That's when it dawns on her; she's somehow seeing through his eyes and feeling what he does. This realization only makes the situation more disturbing, because she starts 'hearing' the various parts of Icarus. She can hear the thigh-speed, nearly indecipherable chatter of the crystal node in his mind as it communicates with seemingly hundreds of other smaller slave-nodes within his body.

Bits of the 'conversation' seem to cover complex formulas on gravity itself and maintaining stable balance of force. Other fragments seem to talk about the probability field itself, though exactly what makes no sense whatsoever. Nor do the faint lines and waves that start floating across her vision, radiant patterns seemingly coming from her own body.

I'm in contact with his interface, but… so many nodes! Envoy thinks, wondering if it's all just due to the direct contact. Maybe I really should get a scan of him to see where all of the implants are, especially if so much effort is being put into maintaining a balance of forces.

The chatter gets worse as the communication seems to sync better with Envoy as time passes. Soon it's a chaos of information, so much information, about everything going on in the immediate area. Now and then she feels like she heard a hint, or perhaps a suggestion, from one of the subsystems about altering some parameter of the local environment. Whether any alteration occurs, though, she does not know as she never hears the answer. At this point Envoy barely notices her own body due to all of the chaos. It all comes to an abrupt end, though and her attention snaps back to normal. She sees Icarus drawing back his hand and the doctor wiping some blood off his own. "You may suture this side shut," the doctor signs to the nurse, "The bone has been set and the adhesive has hardened. It is time for the next one."

Envoy blinks to refocus on things. She almost says the sutures won't be necessary… but knows that telling a doctor something like that will just get ignored. Does Icarus hear all of that chatter himself? she thinks. I'll have to ask him…

As the doctor is cutting on Envoy's other side, the nurse quickly learns that the sutures aren't needed because as she's holding the wound closed, it is already healing shut. Her brow raises as she watches this, but she doesn't seem to make any move to complain. The muscles are once more spread and the doctor 'roots' around looking for the fracture point.

Envoy makes an odd expression again, but at least the local anesthesia is still working.

Thankfully it is. The second replacement goes much like the first, though this time Icarus isn't asked to help. The young hybrid seems quite happy to just step back and stay out of it this time. Without the noise of a link, Envoy discovers what seemed like a minute or two was likely more like half an hour of time to get the bone in place and the mesh cemented down to hold it fast as it heals. That too, is soon done and the wound is being closed. The doctor pulls off his gloves and signs, "That went better than I expected. Your metabolic regeneration rate is quite impressive. Now I understand why you did not die from the removal."

"Thank you for performing the surgery," Envoy tells the doctor. "I don't imagine you get too much practice replacing ribs."

"No. Nor do I get a chance to examine such a strange creature as yourself. I assume you know you lack any form of a reproductive system," the doctor signs. "Are all your kind such? And if so, how do you reproduce?"

"I am the only specimen of my kind, although a similar race can be found on Behemoth," Envoy notes.

"Curious," the doctor signs, "I believe your body is capable of supporting a secondary life … a child, but no matter. Perhaps I will have more time to study you in depth later. You are expected to join Born-In-War for the evening meal, soon."

"Thank you, I look forward to the meal," Envoy says, then smiles to Icarus. "You were very helpful, Icarus, thank you. I think we'll have a lot to talk about after dinner though – but nothing to worry about."

After the surgery, Envoy finds that the feeling in her sides is taking a fair amount of time to return. Given how much poking and prodding there was, this is probably a 'good thing', as it gives more time for tissue to heal so there will be no pain.

The nurse ushers Envoy and Icarus off to a recovery room, which is nothing more than a ten foot by ten foot room made of concrete and metal with a single bed in the middle for the patient to recover on. The nurse insists that Envoy lie down. Poor Icarus, though, just ends up pacing around the bed looking worried by the time the nurse leaves her to recover.

"Why so anxious, Icarus?" Envoy asks. "Are you wondering about the results of your blood test?"

"No, I'm just … that was … really weird," Icarus finally says. "Your insides are squirmy."

"Squirmy is good for insides, on the whole," Envoy points out. "It's when they stop being squirmy that you need to worry. I was able to hear your crystals when you held my rib, by the way. And how do you feel about maybe having living Silent-Ones relatives?"

Icarus stops mid-step, his right foot hanging midair. "I'm, er," Icarus says as his ears splay, "I don't know? Would they want me? Would they try to kill me? "Would I … fit in? I don't think I would; I feel weird around them here. They've been nice to me I think, or at least I think they're trying to be. But it just makes me feel that much odder."

"Really?" Envoy asks, a little surprised. "Under other circumstances, would you want to spend time with them? Maybe even just to learn things?"

"If they were nice to me, I wouldn't mind spending time with them," Icarus agrees and finally lowers that foot. "I just … I like the family I have now. I don't want to lose that."

"You could have more though, too," Envoy notes. "Families can be big, sprawling things that span generations and continents."

"That's scary," Icarus admits. "So … I guess their tests found living relatives," he says, "They asked me if I would submit to a lineage test and I agreed to it. They told me they already knew I carried the blood of the people, they just wanted to know which line."

Envoy nods. "It was very quick. And you do have living relatives, Icarus – Great-great grand-nephews and nieces," she notes. "You've already met some of them, even."

Icarus turns and stares at Envoy, wide-eyed. "I have?" he asks, "Who … ?" The hybrid has to pause at that and his tail puffs out. "People here?"

"You are Born-In-War's great-uncle, apparently," Envoy notes. "It isn't anything to be worried about. They'll probably offer you a mask, out of… well, to show you're part of the family, I suppose."

Icarus blinks at that. Repeatedly. "I guess that explains all the examining they did of me when I got here," he admits. "They made copies of my, uh, spot patterns. They also swabbed spots on my cheeks and wrists, but I don't really know why. I guess looking for proof of relation." The mask comment causes his ears to skew as he says, "I would be expected to wear a mask? Why?"

"Custom," Envoy says, and ponders about the swabs. "They were probably getting samples from your scent marking glands," she suggests.

"I have scent marking glands?" Icarus actually asks. He rubs his cheeks vigorously, then smells his hands. "Bleagh!" he remarks a few seconds later.

Envoy giggles at his reaction. "I thought such things would be vestigial at best in Silent-Ones and Khattas, but I could be mistaken. They may still be used by the Silent-Ones as signatures or other identifiers."

"Great, I have built-in stink producers," Icarus complains, "I wouldn't want to be identified by this!"

"Everyone has some sort of odor-producing glands," Envoy points out. "You're half human too, so you probably have armpit glands."

"Do you have stink glands?" Icarus asks.

"Well, no," Envoy says. "I smell like milk, unless I'm out of the sun for too long and then I suppose my skin begins to smell like spoiled milk."

"But you said everyone had them," Icarus points out then waves his hands about. After he calms down, he asks, "Uhm, so, are they happy I'm related to them?"

"I don't know, but they've suspected it all along," Envoy notes. "Apparently the spot patterns are semi-hereditary too."

"I won't have to like, marry one of them, will I?" Icarus actually asks.

"Well, I doubt that," Envoy says, shaking her head. "I'm pretty sure Silent-Ones go out of their way to find mates as distantly related to themselves as possible, in order to forestall too many recessive traits building up… "

"Oh good!" Icarus says and looks relieved.

A knocking comes from the door, then one of the twins sticks her masked head in, then followed by the rest of her. "Dinner is ready if you are feeling well enough to eat," she signs.

"I'm starving," Envoy says, and may not be exaggerating – it's been seven days since she supposedly last ate, and she's had to do a lot of healing in that time, and has lost who-knows how much blood.

"Then please, you and Silver-mane should follow me," she signs and slips back out of the room.

"It drives me crazy when they do that. All fingers, no words. I have no clue what that meant," Icarus complains.

"Dinner time, Icarus," Envoy notes, hopping off of the bed with just a big of a wince. "You'll need to learn Silent Sign then."

"As long as they don't make me mute, I guess," Icarus grumbles as he heads for the door too. When he reaches it, he does actually hold it open for Envoy.

Envoy smiles at Icarus' manners, does one last check to make sure she doesn't have blood or anything showing, and then leaves the room.

No blood. No obvious signs of where she was cut open, even. Out the door they go.

The walk to the dining hall is brief and they are accompanied by Rising-Star and Setting-Sun. And of course the pair continue to do the 'actions in tandem' thing as they enter. Envoy can just barely make out Icarus muttering about how creepy that is as they follow. The dining hall is actually rather impressive; it's a room that's about twelve foot high and instead of support columns on the sides, they're made to look like armored Silent-Ones holding aloft the ceiling above. The center table looks like it could easily seat a dozen people, but only five spots have been prepared. Already sitting at the head of the table is Born-In-War, looking as solemn and impassive as ever. "Your son will sit beside me here," he signs to envoy and motions to the chair on the right of him. "You will sit beside him. My daughters will sit opposite."

Guiding Icarus to his seat, and trying not to let the martial decor color her attitude, Envoy mainly notes the absence of Mrs. Born-In-War, and decides not to try and bring it up during the dinner. She's sure there will be more private-time with the man, after all.

Icarus sits down. His upper body remains still, but with how his tail lashes about he's obviously nervous to be here. It doesn't help that Born-In-War's masked face is tilted slightly to the side and the Silent-One is staring at him. The two daughters dance and slide into their seats with mirror-perfect moves.

They need boyfriends, Envoy thinks as she watches the duet. Then she wonders where that thought even came from. "Icarus tells me you serve very tasty meals," she offers to Born-In-War.

"He is a very polite guest," Born-In-War replies in sign, "Our meals are nothing special. Before the meal is presented, I would like, however, to take care of a small matter first."

"Of course," Envoy says. "For convenience, would you mind if I provided you with a voice so my son doesn't feel as awkward at not understanding Sign?"

"Ah, of course. I forget that he does not understand us," Born-In-War signs. He reaches down and raps a blunt claw tip loudly on the table top, presumably to summon a servant."

"I can translate for you if you wish," Envoy notes. "That glove is a bit cumbersome, isn't it?"

One of the unmasked servants Envoy met briefly earlier enters the room carrying a small box. The small female takes it to Born-In-War and dips her head in deference as she presents it. "It has its difficulties," Born-In-War agrees, "Particularly during meals." He takes the box and then dismisses the servant with a brusque wave of his hand.

Envoy eyes the box, looking for a lens or similar.

The box has no lens on it. Born-In-War opens it and lifts out an almost-delicate looking finely crafted mask made of silvery metal The patterns on it are peculiar; it bears outlines of spotting and the traditional Silent-One tear marking, but it also has unexpected elements such as a star-point positioned roughly where Envoy's own horn is, and even a slight adjustment to the lines of the nose so that it looks like a mix of Silent-One and Envoy's own facial features. "We would be honored for you to accept and wear this for the remainder of your stay with us," he signs to Icarus and then looks towards Envoy for translation to the boy.

Using a deep, masculine voice, Envoy repeats Born-In-War's offer to Icarus. In her own voice, she adds, "It does look very stylish."

Icarus' posture shifts as he stares at the mask, looking worried. "I would be honored," the boy finally says, then sits up a bit more so the mask can be set in place, should Born-In-War choose to do it.

Envoy watches closely, trying to get an idea of just how nervous Icarus is. The last she wants is for him to feel threatened and cause something to happen that he might not mean.

Born-In-War dips his own head in a brief and unusual show of deference to Icarus. His next movement is slow and careful to not alarm the child as he lifts up the mask and carefully places it over Icarus's face and sets the hold-hooks to their proper positions behind the hybrid's ears. Born-In-War's fingers even lightly trace down Icarus cheek as if trying to reassure him that he is no threat.

"Welcome home, Silver-Mane," Born-In-War signs after drawing his hands back.

Envoy repeats the words in the voice she's given Born-In-War, and reaches out to squeeze Icarus' hand as well. Then it hits her. Home?

Icarus reaches up and feels over the metal now covering much of his face. "It fits really well," he remarks to Envoy, the hit of nervousness still quite present. It also then hits him and he asks, "Home?"

The Aeolun looks to Born-In-War, and says, "I'm sure he means that you are always welcome here, Icarus."

"Of course. You are family, and as such our home is also yours, should you wish to make use of it," Born-In-War states. "Even if you are not entirely of the People and would not be recognized as such under our law, it does not mean we cannot choose to extend the invitation ourselves. The same goes for your adoptive mother; she is welcome here. We have no desire to tear apart the family you have now."

Envoy feels a bit better after relaying that.

The twins turn to look at each other and smile. It's the sort of smile that comes when siblings seem to realize there is another family member upon which they can heap torment.

This look does not escape Envoy's attention. "I suppose I can offer to babysit your girls if necessary then," she tells Born-In-War.

"We cannot, however, offer any genetic grafts to make your mother look more like us," Born-In-War notes. "But the staff have been instructed to treat her as one of the People in most matters." Envoy's offer earns a dismissive wave from the Silent-One. "I have servants to tend to that, and their mother when she is with us."

Envoy translates, and then says, "I'm sure we'd both like to meet your wife sometime. Is she also a diplomat?"

"She is. She currently serves as the representative of the People to the Celestial Empire," Born-In-War answers. "She has been busy as of late since the incident at their Life Dome."

"Perhaps we will meet her when we visit there," Envoy notes.

"Ah. Are you well thought of by them? It is difficult for tourists to visit their life dome currently," Born-In-War asks.

"I have a certain relationship with them," Envoy admits. "As I do with the Expedition. Can you tell us about your ancestor, Fearless-Eye?"

"Some, from what I remember being told of him," Born-In-War signs. "He was part of an elite group of Titan pilots who tested the latest in weapons and armor technology. I cannot go into the particulars of what he tested and I am sure you can understand why, though. He also fought in several skirmishes with the other groups on this world during his lifetime."

"Is there any information about his disappearance?" Envoy asks. "Or was he on a secret mission at the time?"

"That matter was classified," Born-In-War signs. "But it is my understanding that he was investigating rumors of new weaponry being developed by humans. What sort and where are unknown to me. It appears, though, that you may be able to answer that question."

"Perhaps, if you're willing to give us a ride back to our lair," Envoy suggests with a hopeful smile.

"I intend to. I wish to see the place that one of my line calls home. I hope it will be up to expected standards," Born-In-War signs.

After translating, Envoy wonders what expected standards are. She supposes she'll find out when Born-In-War sees the place…

"I will also want a full report on what you have been teaching him," Born-In-War signs, "Formal education, as well as social, including mating etiquette."

Envoy coughs on the translation. "There's… etiquette?" she asks. "I… didn't think the issue would come up for some time yet… "

"His reactions to the servants implies otherwise. But no matter, it is not of importance yet," Born-In-War signs.

Icarus' stomach gurgles loudly and the hybrid grabs it in a futile attempt to stifle the sound.

"He's led a very sheltered life," Envoy admits, rubbing the back of her head. She tries not to rumble in sympathy.

"I believe we should eat before it gets much later," Born-In-War signs, taking the hint from the hybrid's sudden outburst in noise. "And I also believe that one of the first things Silver-Mane needs to be taught is our language so that translators are not necessary."

"I agree," Envoy says. "I'll start teaching him as soon as possible. He is a very quick learner."

"We have drugs that can disable vocal chords temporarily. He may be more motivated to learn if he lacks another way to communicate," Born-In-War offers. The Silent-One then raps his claw on the table-top again to summon the meal.

"Why would you have something like that?" Envoy asks in shock. "That won't be necessary. I learned without having to be mute."

"To keep prisoners from communicating with each other," Born-In-War answers. The servants return, carrying numerous skewers of several sorts of meats, all cooked in various ways and from the smell, with various marinades. They even carry in a variety of odd-looking vegetables, so it seems even a primarily carnivorous race dabbles with vegetables now and then. The servants place the food out on the table in a spiraling, artistic, layout without a word.

To Envoy, it all looks delicious. Enough so that she, for now, doesn't follow up on asking just how often they have prisoners. She actually looks to Icarus, who has eaten with the family before, for guidance.

Icarus holds out his hands and the servants come around and fit a series of sharp-looking metallic claws attached to finger-coverings over each of his fingers. "It works like knives and forks … sort of. Cut and skewer," the hybrid tries to explain.

Envoy blinks at this, and presents her own hands to the servants when they get to her.

Envoy soon finds herself with hands that have feline-like pseudo-claws affixed to them. The joints are very articulate, at least, and her fingertips are free so that tactile sensation is not lost. "Please, enjoy," Born-In-war signs. The elder Silent-One then uses his own 'claws' to cleanly slice away selections from the meat offering and place them on a plate that was just set before him. It's rather bizarre to watch; part of it is primitive, the claws working as they would have before the species discovered civilization, and yet the delicate grace by which is fingers move betray manners and civilization. Every movement is precise and clean.

Very carefully, Envoy starts selecting things for her own plate, and watches to see what Icarus takes – mainly to make sure he gets enough vegetables.

Icarus, naturally, predominantly selects from the meats. In fact, he has yet to even take a single vegetable…

Envoy clears her throat, and then sets several vegetables onto Icarus' dish herself.

"Are you married?" Rising-Star signs questioningly to Envoy after she has selected some food.

Icarus makes a small 'bleah' sound when the vegetables are placed on his plate. Born-In-War then actually signs, "The drugs would also stifle complaints." His ears wiggle a bit, though, in apparent amusement.

Pausing in the middle of cutting some meat, Envoy is a bit taken aback, but answers, "No. I haven't had a chance to really think about such things. Always on the move and such."

"Do you have any close companionship, then?" Rising-Star asks next. "He needs a male influence."

"Well, Mr. Thorndike has been helping out," Envoy notes. "And I have a very… dear… friend who is unfortunately on another world right now. He would be my long-term relationship partner."

"Species?" Rising-Star asks with her free hand while she eats with the other. One thing can be said for sign, you can talk with your mouth full.

"Unique, like myself," Envoy replies, after swallowing a good helping of food. "He usually appears as a black, bat-winged Khatta."

"Ah, feline. An acceptable male role-model," Rising-Star signs as she nods approvingly.

"He is a very gentle soul," Envoy notes. "And a good ally. I hope to create a local body for him soon."

The comment about a local body earns a lot stares from the Silent-One's at the table, but none of them question her further on it. Icarus is just busily eating. Too fast, really, because at one point he burps loudly, then has to cover his mouth as his ears flush red.

"All things in moderation, Icarus," Envoy says, before stuffing her own face. She has a lot of missed meals to make up for.

Dinner goes mostly uneventful with the Silent-Ones asking a few prying questions about Envoy herself which she manages to deflect reasonably well. They actually don't ask too much more about Icarus, something that probably makes them both more comfortable. At the end of dinner, Envoy asks to use the medical bay again to check how well her sides are healing (she leaves out the part where she wants to examine Icarus too), and the pair are escorted back. They are then informed that when they want to be escorted to a guest room to just press the call button near the door.

"Watch this," Envoy says, as she sets the scanner and then steps into it. She doesn't bother removing her clothes though, since she doubts the scanner will be troubled by them. She stands with her feet in line with her shoulders, and her hands spread out and away from her body.

When the scanner triggers (and Envoy finds herself dealing with the blinding flash again), Icarus says, "Wow! You have really weird bones. And squirmy stuff. And … I'm not sure what that is, but okay." He moves in close to the screen and peers.

Envoy steps out to join Icarus at the display, and shows how to rotate and zoom in as she checks her ribs.

The mesh and adhesive holding the ribs in place are fairly visible on the screen. She can also make out the crystalline latticework of the ribs already starting to fuse the ribs back to the points at which they should be attached. The connections still look pretty fragile, though. It may be a day or two for them to reach full strength again.

"When you were holding the rib in place, I was able to listen to your crystal network chatter," Envoy tells Icarus. "Even see through your eyes. If you're up to it, want to be scanned? I'd like to see just how many nodes you've got, so I can check you again later to see if they are spreading or multiplying as you use your abilities more."

"I chatter?" Icarus asks, ears splaying. "I don't hear anything."

"Hmm, yes, that's a bit worrying… " Envoy notes. "But then, I don't hear my crystals yet either. Would you let me scan you to see what you've got in there?"

"Do you think there is something wrong with me?" Icarus asks. He gives the scanner a worrying look but in the end sighs and steps behind the screen.

"No, but you are more complex than your predecessor… " Envoy says, and starts the scan once Icarus is in place. "Watch out for the flash… "

Icarus closes his eyes just in time as the flash triggers. The scanner screen is actually blank for several seconds as it seems to be having difficulty processing the feedback. The screen then begins drawing out his skeleton and the shadows of all his internal organs. What appears is actually quite beautiful. Twelve had numerous optic cables and metal interconnects … Icarus does not. Perhaps it was the passage of time, but Icarus' bones have what looks like glowing veins snaking through them instead, connecting hands, feet, chest, and even spine together. Instead of being cut into bone, the the crystalline parts of his hands are shaped exactly like the bones they replaced. It isn't just his hands and feet that show sign of crystalline grafting, his sternum has a starburst glow in its center and faint lines run along each rib. Even his spine shows evidence of crystallization, each small 'spur' along its length seems to glow softly in the scan. His skull seems to mute what crystal control structures may be within, but there is a faint outline of a device that looks similar to the three dimensional snowflake-like crystal Envoy removed from Twelve.

"Oh my, how pretty!" Envoy says with a smile. "Perhaps your long incubation made all the difference, allowing the crystals time to interconnect. It's a shame Dr. Daedalus isn't around to see… "

The scanner even seems to pick up the activity within as the images of the crystalline parts seem to cycle and shift color regularly. The way the light seems to move around the tubes looks almost like blood flow. The screen goes still, though, when Icarus steps out and around so that he can see himself. "That's me?" he asks. Boy can his eyes get wide!

"Can't see much into the skull, but there are likely crystal elements in your eyes as well," Envoy notes. "I can see them shift color, and your visual field picks up lines of force." She taps at the shape barely showing through the skull. "This is your Interface Crystal, I think. It's… problematical. I'm hoping Morpheus and Cypher can help to cut off external access to it. I nearly accessed it accidentally while working on the Gravy Boat."

Icarus holds up one of his hands and turns it over as he looks between it and the picture on the screen. His head tilts and thin lines of light creep along under his skin, barely visible beneath the thin later of white fur. The comment about his head, though, seems to get his attention back. "There is something wrong with my head?" he asks. "Am I going to die?"

"What? No, nothing wrong," Envoy says, shaking her head. "I just don't want anyone who can use Sifran technology to be able to get into your head."

"But, not many people can do that anyway, right? Just you and Morpheus?" Icarus asks.

"We can't assume that," Envoy says, frowning. "Dr. Von Bronson is still alive, barely. And he's tried to replicate Dr. Daedalus' work and created a new hybrid… Number Fourteen. Using artificial Sifran crystal."

Icarus steps back as his ears go flat to his head. "The one who wanted to make me to be a weapon is still alive?" he says as his voice wavers in fear. "And he has continued making those like me? There is another one made of fake versions of what is in me? Did you rescue him?"

"I couldn't," Envoy admits, not meeting Icarus' gaze. "When I broke the doctor's control over him, it broke his own control over his power. It was… chaotic and dangerous. Von Bronson tried to kill me with Fourteen."

"He's dead?" Icarus asks, his voice barely a whisper. It's the hybrid's turn to look down at the floor and rub his neck uncomfortably. "Was he … aware? I mean, like me? Did he feel or was he … less?"

"At the end, I think he was aware," Envoy says. "His mind was controlled by Von Bronson all of his life, with cybernetic implants. When he was losing control of his power, he told me to leave." At least, I hope he was losing control and not just trying to end himself, she thinks.

Icarus continues to look downward. His breathing is slow and almost forced. It also starts becoming noticeable his hands are so tightly clenched his arms are shaking. "Why? Why would anyone do that to someone?" he asks through clenched teeth. "Just because … just because we're not born normally doesn't make us any less real. I feel. I have dreams. I was trapped in a dream for an eternity. And … that was made to try to be pleasant. What kind of horrible world did that … monster have Fourteen in?"

"He won't be allowed to do it again," Envoy says. "Now that I know he's alive, and he knows about me, I'll have to find him. At least he doesn't know about you. He thinks I did the gravity effects at the cafe." She holds up her now-golden-scaled arm, and notes, "I even used some to defend against Fourteen."

"I feel like I should do something," Icarus says, sounding helpless, "Go after him myself. Show him we are more than just … fleshy weapons." He throws his arms up out of frustration and then runs his claws through his silvery mane. When he seems to finally calm down a little, he asks, "So you can do everything I can now?"

"No," Envoy says, and taps the skull on the screen. "Your Interface Crystal gives you a lot more control. I don't have one, so I have to do all of the calculations myself, and I have limits."

"So do I," Icarus admits, "I get … tired. I … " He looks up as he thinks about something. The hybrid then walks back behind the screen. The static image of him becomes animated once more. His jaw sets and he clenches his hands. All around him the air begins to shimmer and warp, making it as if he was being looked at through water. A readout down the side of the screen starts spewing out metabolic information, such as his heart-rate spiking to over two-hundred and caloric burn pushing to ten calories a second, meaning in about four minutes he'll have burned as much food energy as a normal person consumes in a day. His skeleton on the screen also practically glows like a star.

"What are you doing?!" Envoy asks in alarm, turning to the scanning platform. "You'll burn yourself up!"

"I want to understand how to increase my limit," Icarus says through gritted teeth. "Which means understanding what happens." The ripple around him abruptly stops as Icarus relaxes … and his heart-rate immediately drops like a rock, from two-hundred-plus back to around sixty within thirty seconds. "What happened?" he asks.

"You nearly died, that's what," Envoy says, sounding almost angry. "Your metabolism was racing four or five times normal speed! This is why we have a battery, Icarus: you need to use an external power source for big things."

"I'm part one of them," Icarus counters and waves towards the door they came through. "Shouldn't my body be able to handle fast metabolic rates? Wasn't that why one of them is my father?"

"For short bursts, yes," Envoy points out. "Silent-Ones are descended from hunting cats that could sprint very quickly for short periods, by literally pushing themselves to the brink of death. Just because you can do it doesn't mean it's safe: remember, your creator didn't really care if you died. He thought of you as just a step in a larger evolution."

"I need to understand my limits so I can protect you," Icarus finally blurts out. "That … that monster hurt you! While I sat in comfort you nearly died." The hybrid turns away from Envoy and folds his arms across his chest and looks down. "I don't want to lose you," he says, "You're my family."

"Icarus, when we were separated I was shot in the head at point blank range with a pistol," Envoy points out. "Von Bronson experimented on me, cut into me… but it does not matter. I can take it. And I do not want you to be facing off against Number Fifteen – I don't want you to have to kill someone."

"It does matter. You shouldn't have to bear everything on your own!" Icarus argues even as he remains facing away. "I know the meaning of a family, and we're supposed to protect each other."

"We can do that, Icarus," Envoy says. "I can do some of the work myself too, and you are much stronger than Fourteen was, I think. I store a lot of energy in my own cells, but I'm not made for releasing it like you can. And there are two of us, and we have allies. But I don't want you… I don't want you to end up like me. I'm responsible for a lot bad things that I'm still trying to get over."

Icarus turns his head, looking back. Though the mask he still wears mutes his expression, his eyes are still clear and they are worried. "Responsible, or blaming yourself for?" he asks. "I know I'm … young, but you do not seem like you have an evil heart and would do bad things."

"You don't have to be evil to do bad things, Icarus," Envoy says with a slight grin. "Even saints have regrets. I've made mistakes, and others have suffered for them. And there's a part of me that could do a lot of bad things, I think. I have to be very careful about using power."

"And you are afraid I could do a lot of bad things too?" Icarus asks, "And need to be careful as well?"

"Everyone should be careful about wielding power," Envoy states. "No matter how noble your intentions, things can get out of control without you even realizing it. Already you're seeking more power, when you've barely realized the power you already have. You're half human, and humans can become corrupt from power. I'm half dragon. I can corrupt power itself."

"I won't be corrupted," the hybrid claims.

"That's right, because you won't be alone," Envoy says, wagging a finger. "And I promise not to keep you out of things in an effort to protect you, either – if you understand that I will be trying to protect you when I ask you to not do something."

Icarus … sticks his tongue out at Envoy. "Fine, deal," he says in a mock huff. Seemingly ready to change topics, he now asks, "So, what do you think of my other, uhm, family?"

"Your 'nephew' will be bringing us back to our base and picking up your Silent-One dad's remains," Envoy says. "Depending on his reactions, you may be seeing more of them. You should learn Silent Sign and anything else they offer to teach you."

"If I learn sign does that mean I'll lose the ability to speak?" Icarus actually asks. "I like being able to speak."

"No, I think they were only joking about paralyzing your vocal chords as a learning aid," Envoy says. "I was able to learn and I have two voices, so you should not have any difficulty."

"It's hard to tell if they're joking," Icarus admits. "I'm not sure they smile very often."

"Watch their ears," Envoy says. "That is how they smile and laugh; with their ears."

"Do I smile with my ears too?" Icarus asks. He actually reaches up and grabs them.

"Well, you smile with your face mostly," Envoy admits, and smiles to see if Icarus smiles back.

Naturally he does, sharp teeth and all. The smile fades pretty fast, though and he asks, "Did Fourteen look like me?"

"Fourteen looked like… everybody," Envoy says. "All at once. He was not an elegant blend. Von Bronson decided to throw in a bit of every species."

"And a lot of machinery as well," she adds disapprovingly.

Icarus actually winces at that. "Was he in pain?" he asks.

Envoy thinks about it, then nods. "I think he was," she says. "I hope I stopped it, for a little bit at the end."

"I never met him," Icarus says and looks towards the ceiling this time. "So … why do I feel sad? Yes, sad is the right word. Like I have a small hole in me."

"I feel sad too," Envoy says, and takes Icarus' hand. "Sometimes, all you can do though… is have some ice cream," she claims, as if imparting some hard-won nugget of wisdom.

"Are you sure? Ice cream seems to attract people trying to kill us," Icarus says and looks rather worried, as if he expects a car to come through the wall at any moment.

"Oh, that doesn't happen every time," Envoy says reassuringly. "And we can make our own back home too. It just takes ice and salt and… I have no idea where milk comes from on Abaddon, or sugar – but I'm sure we can find them."

"Maybe Walter can make it," Icarus offers and even smiles weakly. Maybe Envoy's cooking skills still need a bit of work. He reaches up as if to remove the mask placed on him at dinner, then stops. "Should I leave this on while we're here?" he asks.

"You don't have to sleep with it," Envoy notes. "I wonder if they have a bicycle? You should learn to ride one of those too. Once you master riding a bicycle I will feel safer having you learn how to fly."

"How does riding a two-wheeled balance machine equate to flying?" Icarus asks.

"It teaches you how to take a fall at moderate speed," Envoy claims.

"That's easy," Icarus claims, "I just alter the velocity field around me by changing the relative attraction of my body to the secondary mass, which is the planet." The hybrid then blinks and can't help but rub his head. "That is so weird," he complains. "Stuff just pops up."

"Hmmm, it's also 'fun' I think," Envoy says. "And a 'rite of passage' for young people. Well, some young people. On some worlds. I could always take one of the gravity thrusters and build a flying bicycle around it for you. It wouldn't really be a bicycle then though – but I'm sure other young people will admire you for having such a thing."

"Maybe we should just see if they have some ice cream first," Icarus admits. "And I miss Violette, she was fun. She said she just had to get back to her camp, though."

Envoy nods. "I'll have to send a letter to her, and you can send one too," she says. "I should borrow the crystal rose from you as well and let Morpheus know we are still alright."

Icarus nods. "The crystal is in the room they loaned to me. They sleep on these giant, round, bowl-pillows. Comfortable, but a little weird," he admits. "I guess we should call them back and be escorted there."

After erasing the scan of Icarus from the machine, Envoy presses the Call button. "If the twins show up, we should try walking and moving in step with one another, just to see if they notice. I'm also sure that if there is ice cream here, those girls will know where to find it… "