“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that my greatest enemy is myself…” — The Fearless Tiger

* * * * *

The *Hind* was again in virtual velocity; from an outsider’s point of view, it was rapidly winking in and out of normal space. Rafael was flying the Courier while Chris Alan took a break to familiarize himself with Susan, his new crew member. Earlier he’d instructed Michael, Susan’s Guardian, to escort her to the quarters normally reserved for the sergeant at arms. Chris Alan had decided that Susan would best suit that position, at least for now.

Chris Alan was still bothered by what Master Hung had told him, but tried to focus on the mission rather than on his feelings. Dealing with Susan, if nothing else, would distract him from his larger concerns. He walked in on Susan only because her door was open; she was busy doing three-finger push ups with both hands using her thumbs, index fingers and middle fingers.

Chris Alan knocked on the wall. “May I enter?”

“It’s your ship; you can come and go as you please.”

“I hope you like your quarters.”

“So you’ve decided I’m sergeant at arms.” Susan stood up to face him as bold as ever, as if the defeat she suffered meant nothing. She treated it like a fact-of-life thing that was bound to happen at some time, and she was not making a big deal of it.

“For the time being, yes. You prefer something different?”

“Yes! What about First Officer, instead of that little twit?”

“Faith’s a competent Lightchild,” Chris Alan replied mildly, if firmly. Susan had yet to reckon with a Protector’s brand of insight about people, and he knew it.

“She’s inexperienced and weak; she’ll probably run at the first sight of blood.” Susan was wearing a long dress similar to what Yellow Tribeswomen wore; it was evident her time with Master Hung had influenced her greatly.

“I think she’s up to it.” Chris Alan spoke to Susan simply, directly, as he knew Doers and related types preferred.

“We will see how *that* pans out in a fight.” Susan snorted in her bull-like way.