After a moment, Uriel decided on the proper answer to Ryan's question.<span style="color: #BF80FF"><span style="font-style: italic">"you can say you are trying for a relationship with both of us,"</span></span>she told him.<span style="color: #BF80FF"><span style="font-style: italic">"in Vortian culture, no romance is sealed or taken seriously until first love, so you don't have to lie."</span></span><br/><br/>Anak glanced at her,<span style="color: #8080FF"><span style="font-style: italic">"Wouldn't people wonder why I haven't screamed at him yet?"</span></span><br/><br/><span style="color: #BF80FF"><span style="font-style: italic">"Because that would kill him. Tell them so."</span></span><br/><br/>Anak nodded at that, and was about to speak affirmatively, when Rhofel's voice came through the speakers.<span style="color: #BF80FF"><span style="font-style: italic">"Hey, guys, get up here. We've got a problem."</span></span><br/><br/>Uriel and Anak shared a look, then hurried to the bridge.<span style="color: #BF80FF"><span style="font-style: italic">"What's wrong?"</span></span>Uriel inquired.<br/><br/><span style="color: #BF80FF"><span style="font-style: italic">"Unless we change course, we're going to fly straight through an Arondian fleet,"</span></span>Velnier told her.<br/><br/><span style="color: #BF80FF"><span style="font-style: italic">"Then we go around,"</span></span>she said.<span style="color: #BF80FF"><span style="font-style: italic">"Their scanners have a shorter range than ours; they won't notice us."</span></span><br/><br/>There was a beeping sound as their scan feed was updated.<br/><br/><span style="color: #BF80FF"><span style="font-style: italic">"Nope, they already have,"</span></span>Velnier sighed.<span style="color: #BF80FF"><span style="font-style: italic">"That's not <span style="text-decoration: underline">an</span> Arondian fleet, that's <span style="text-decoration: underline">the</span> Arondian fleet--mothership and all."</span></span><br/><br/><span style="color: #BF80FF"><span style="font-style: italic">"Scurge of Sivael!"</span></span>she spat.<span style="color: #BF80FF"><span style="font-style: italic">"How unlucky can we be? They will be furious with us!"</span></span><br/><br/>Before they could begin to talk through a plan of action, an image took over their main viewing monitor. The visage of what might have been a human teenager appeared. He had short black hair, with one thin strand grown long and decorated with beads. He wore a thin leather shirt with shoulder pauldrons instead of sleeves that cut off just below his chest to show a slender, almost feminine midsection. His pants were made of a similar material to that of his shirt, but it was perhaps a bit thicker, and they did a better job of covering everything. He sat on a black marble throne, leaning rather lazily to the side and resting his face in his hand, his elbow supported by the wide arm of the seat.<br/><br/>The boy raised his free hand in a half-hearted wave and greeted them remarkably informally, "Osu."