What a pleasant surprise. Zilah really wasnâ€™t going to be a problem. Heâ€™d expected a little more trouble out of the woman that had escaped custody before. Maybe it was just because she was injured. Or maybe sheâ€™d gotten tired of running. No one could outrun the justice system forever, not and keep doing the same thing. Sooner or later, those who just couldnâ€™t keep their hands to themselves were caught.<br/><br/>â€œChimp, lock the navcomp for Sera DronstrÃ¶mâ€™s ship.â€ It would take four days to get to Kryoli Alpha station, and he didnâ€™t need the ancient piece of scrap locked to the Agniastra to start trying to compete with the chimp for the rights to plot their course.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Yes Ser Giann.</span><br/><br/>â€œOn second thought, lock all functionality not routed through this console,â€ he said, distractedly punching up the video from the brig and the pages of the report heâ€™d have to file.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Yes Ser Giann. </span><br/><br/>Always polite, that was the chimp. Heâ€™d wondered a few times if he could reprogram the thing to at least insert the occasional insult. On the more intolerable days he had confused it with sarcasm for his own amusement.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Ser Giann, Iâ€™ve encountered an encrypted layer. It is suspicious for any ship of this age to have encryption on any level.</span><br/><br/>â€œIâ€™ll look at it.â€ Quen was no expert with encryption codes, but the chimp wouldnâ€™t have brought it up if it could force its way through. He watched Zilah for all of two minutes, as if trying to discern the reason for it through the screen, before turning his attention to scanning through the logs that the chimp had tagged.<br/><br/>The feed kept running in the background, but he didnâ€™t expect her to be up to anything in particular. She could sit peacefully and dream of escape or she could tear whatever wasnâ€™t bolted to the hull apart; it wouldnâ€™t bother him.<br/><br/>The chimp reminded him eventually that it was midday. It asked if he would play chess. The chimp enjoyed it, but he wasnâ€™t in the mood.<br/><br/>Remembering his promise to bring a change of clothes, he folded a rations pack into a clean uniform. There was a delivery system, so that he neednâ€™t come into contact with anyone inside containment, he didnâ€™t like it. It was sticky and temperamental even though heâ€™d tried to fix it, and opening the door allowed him to do a quick inspection of the place a few times daily.<br/><br/>The doors slid open for him, and he held out the clothes to her. â€œHere. Iâ€™m going to need your clothes.â€ Because they were covered in blood, and while he felt no need to inform her of the reason, he did still need to make sure it was only her blood.<br/><br/>Rations were nothing exciting, some mineral supplemented water, â€“ lime flavored â€“ and Buz â€“ two flat, tan cakes, about the size of a fist. The packet was even labeled Lunch, although why that was, he never had figured out. But it was what he ate too, so if she wanted to complain, that was really too bad. Quen didnâ€™t mind overly much if she decided not to eat at all.<br/><br/>A thought occurred, â€œDo you play chess?â€ It was purely arrogant curiosity on his part; heâ€™d nearly beaten the chimp before, but never did have a chance to play against another human.