"Hey, hey!" Someone called, dropping to the floor behind Vathion.

Having been too distracted by his luggage, Vathion staggered back, visually assaulted by the alien. They had just reached the baggage check counter, so the encounter was not something he'd expected.

Typical of his species, Vestas had bright green hair down to his hips, ragged and fried in places from getting caught in machinery. That hair clashed stunningly with pale yellow skin, red eyes, and a jumpsuit of sickly orange and gray. There was a bright pink bow tied onto his thin and flexible tail just below the puff of matching green hair that grew there.

Hasabi put her bags onto the belt.

"What's this?" Vestas asked, leaning past Vathion to pull at his luggage. People had turned to look. Seeing a Wilsaer on the floor, standing upright was incredibly unusual. Vathion swallowed down his nerves at having his space invaded by the alien. It was an honor for the Wilsaer to  orient himself to Vathion's point of view, after all. He'd been crawling across the ceiling when he had spotted the young Gilon. "Are you going to the station? That's a lot of luggage." Vestas could speak Gilon. However, he chose to speak Wilsaer, which meant only a Serfocile Linguist would've understood half of what he was saying. Wilsaer weren't known for being polite, but Vestas' choice of words made Vathion's ears heat.

Vathion shook his head. "Out beyond. Ika and then probably Baelton," using the current slang; what he said was not what he meant at all. The literal translation to Gilon would have been, "To the bathroom." Wilsaer language was just like the rest of their culture: they collected whatever seemed interesting and used it in ways it was never meant to be used. Straightforward words like "Wrench" could mean anything from the actual object to a suppository. It all depended on context and creativity.

Vestas cocked his head to the side, flicking his fin-like ears down, then up again, tail kinked up at the end, tip twitching in excited curiosity. "Oh! What's the occasion?"

Reading Vestas' posture and choice of words, Vathion assumed the Wilsaer was excited about possibly getting to show Vathion off to his buddies.

"I'm the new admiral of the Natan Fleet," Vathion admitted. There was no point in lying. Everyone would know soon enough.

Vestas' tail flung straight out, nearly slapping Hasabi. The movement unbalanced him, and he grabbed Vathion's arms. "Ah! No way! If you ever need help, just look for a Wilsaer. Use my Name, and they'd be glad!"

His mother pushed the Wilsaer's tail out of her face and started loading Vathion's bags onto the belt.

Vathion gave a slight smile. "Thanks, Vestas, you're a good friend."

Vestas flipped his ears and chose to show all his teeth in a Wolfadon grin. "You're a good student! It'll shock the piss out of them when you talk back! I want to hear News of it!"

Of course he does, Vathion mused, then smiled slightly again, glancing around at other people who were walking past in the spaceport and looking over curiously. "It already freaks out Gilons. Would I see you around anywhere?"

"Perhaps? I'm getting tired of the Mud Ball." Vestas smirked and flipped his tail confidently as he added, "The others will miss you, though. They like not having to order anything. You already know what they like!" The small band of Wilsaer had followed Linguist Aola to Larena out of curiosity, then chose to stay in the Gilon Port hotel to clumsily purchase fresh fruits and vegetables. Vathion had assisted in a few of those trades, translating and negotiating for the Wilsaer. They were difficult to work with, but not bad people.

Laughing, Vathion shook his head. "Lazy."

Vestas, feeling that the conversation was over, leaped up to the ceiling, caught it with his hands, and pulled his feet up afterward, continuing his way towards the alien embassy on Larena.

Vathion looked back at his mother. "Sorry I didn't help."

"You were saying goodbye to your friend," Hasabi said. "How many languages was that?"

Vathion shrugged. "I think we used seven..." It took at least that many to understand half of what a Wilsaer said, and probably still not understand them due to the clan slang. "Vestas was my language tutor. Are we finished?" Considering they only had their carry-on bags still, he followed his mother through to the next checkpoint. There, they had to have their carry-on bags scanned again and finally they were in the waiting area for the transport to Ika station.

Taking a seat next to his luggage on a bench, Vathion folded his arms and sighed as his mother sat beside him. "It'll be an hour for the transport, hon. Go find something to eat. You hardly touched your breakfast. I know you don't like cold cereal." She pulled his head down and kissed his cheek. "Go, before I start embarrassing you," Hasabi threatened when he made no move to do as she had told him.

Glowering, he hurried to get out of her range before she began to make good on her threat. He knew all too well that she could and would do it. Heading down the hall, Vathion found a shop that sold tea and muffins, and he purchased some before returning to his mother, taking a seat beside her again.

Hasabi borrowed his tea long enough to swallow some anti-nausea pills, "I hate flying. Watching the ground speed out from under us..." She shivered.

"Thanks, Mom," Vathion muttered around a mouthful of muffin. Swallowing, he continued, "You realize that there hasn't been a crash in the last two hundred years?"

Hasabi smiled. "I know. I just like to know there's solid rock beneath my feet, that's all."

Vathion toyed with his muffin a moment before deciding to take a swallow of his tea. "I don't know if I'll like it up there."

"Don't be silly," Hasabi insisted. "Space is in your blood. I've seen how you look at the stars, Vathion. You'll love it out there."

Shaking his head, Vathion looked towards her pleadingly, "But I don't know how to pilot, I don't have the nano-implants to do it, and I really don't know how to command a fleet!" He blushed as he realized he had raised his voice shrilly just as some people were passing. They glanced towards him, then looked again. Ducking his head down, he flushed.

Laughing, Hasabi shook her head, "You do too," she insisted, "You remember that full physical you got when you were twelve?"

Blinking at her, Vathion nodded cautiously. "You mean..."

"Um-hmm. Your father had the doctor implant you then. And don't worry about piloting, you probably won't ever need to, but if you do, it's just like the first level of your Battle Fleet game," Hasabi reassured, petting his hair back from his eyes, "Now, drink your tea. You'll feel better."

That statement worried him more. Battle Fleet was the videogame his father had coded and sent him as a gift. It was a simulation of the Natan Fleet, and while a lot of it seemed pretty true to reality, it was still just a video game. A video game couldn't train him for real!

Pursing his lips, he muttered, "Maybe I don't wanna feel better?" Vathion did as he was told and chugged his steaming drink, then inhaled the muffin as the spaceport checkpoint continued to fill.

Also, implants at twelve? What type had Natan gotten for him? They were probably not the standards; perhaps Grade-three? They were the most widely available, if most expensive, on the market. Now, Grade-fours were something to drool over, with the right AI, you could have complete contact with it. Imperial Pilots just got Grade-ones, maybe twos.

"Vathion Mayles?" someone called and he looked up to see his language teacher, Linguist Aola. The Serfocile and her Partner carefully strode through the crowd and Vathion rose to his feet and gave her a polite gesture of greeting to the pair of agender aliens.

Linguist Aola had silvery blue hair, like sun-touched lake water tied into a plain, but long braid that she had draped over one arm. Lifting out of that hair was a pair of thin fronds she could use in the Serfocile speech which used tones and body language. She had a rounded face with large dual-lidded almond shaped eyes of green, her nose was flat with thin slits of nostrils that could be closed off. Aola's flesh was a blue-gray and she was tall and slender with swimmer's muscles.

Otherwise she and her companion were built like sexless Gilons, but for their hands and feet being webbed and their ability to regenerate their fingers. The only way to tell gender was by whether they had slightly reflective brown-green spots on their legs or not. Vathion had only glimpsed Aola's legs once, and he was sure she had not meant for him to, but he'd never indicated that he knew and called her Sheh, which was a polite term to use when you did not know what gender a person was.

Translator Steffan, her partner for many years, was male. Steffan had mixed blue, green, and white hair, currently cut short, the remainder of his once ankle-length hair now being prepared for weaving; Serfocile hair being strong enough to use for textiles as well as fairly fire resistant. Serfocile were all expert weavers, creating beautiful patterns that could not be found anywhere else. Aola and Steffan wore their own creations; walking advertisements for their skills.

"What're you doing here?" Steffan asked; he had always been more informal than his partner. But then, he was Translator rank, which meant he had to learn languages the hard way rather than swipe them directly from the minds of an alien. The difference between Translator and Linguist Apprentice was how fluent the individual was, the highest rank being Linguist who had the mind-touch ability.

Aola chose to ignore the breech in proper behavior and instead nodded in greeting to Hasabi.

Vathion, knowing what he could not get away with in Aola's presence, said in correct pronunciation and grammar, "My mother and I are going to Ika Station, Sheh Steffan." He nodded towards Aola, "And you?"

"As you have graduated. We are returning to the Serfocile embassy and, from there, to Baelton."

Steffan grinned, flashing his sharp fish-rending teeth, antennae quirked quizzically, "What'cha goin up there for?" he asked and Aola slapped his arm. His antennae flipped back apologetically, but did not stay there for long.

"My father has requested my presence," he decided to bend the truth, as there were other Gilon gathered and Aola's presence had drawn attention. He had seen what happened when you lied to a Serfocile, one of his classmates had not had his homework once. It had not been pretty.

Aola nodded. "Ah, then best of luck to you on your trip, Vathion. And to you as well, Hasabi Gannatet."

He gave a nod of his head and polite gesture of thanks for her well wishes, which was looked upon with a benevolent smile.

She paused before saying, "And I hope you learn the difference between Scholar and Scallop before you meet the Humans. Cecilus help us if you embarrass yourself out there, it would reflect poorly on my teaching."

Her companion's thin lips were pressed together firmly, but his antennae twitched. Aola gave a polite gesture and moved on as Steffan burst into giggles and winked at Vathion, "She's proud of you, Apprentice," he informed the young Gilon, "She just doesn't like to admit it." Patting Vathion's shoulder, the Serfocile moved off to join his companion as she glided through the crowd that parted for her like water.

Flopping back down into his seat beside his mother, Vathion let his shoulders sag as Hasabi laughed behind her hand. Before she could say anything, though, the call went out over the PA, "First Class passengers for the ten-thirty takeoff, please proceed to board the transport."

Hasabi got to her feet and began gathering her things. "Wait—we're first class?" Vathion asked.

She smiled, "Perks of being related to your father. Come on."

Gathering his things, he hurried after her.