"They left with some of the Wetzstein suits. ...the Wetsuits." Iry grins. "The rogue tried to stay for her," she points her thumb at Shamsa. "But he got convinced to go with and get debriefed."

Stream crosses her arms, eyes shut. "How everyone is going to act from now, I can only speculate. I expect they'll try the political angle first, but I wouldn't discount drastic measures. We'll have to be careful what we say and what we reveal. Maybe Hound-8 will have some ideas - she says she's going to come here in a couple hours. I didn't say anything about the situation, but she sounded like someone who already knows stuff. Or thinks she does, anyway."

A couple rings before someone answers. It's a stranger's voice, a woman. "Hello?"

"Oh! Samantha, hello. ..This must seem awkward. Uhm, she's in the shed. One moment." The thump of someone setting the phone receiver down. It takes a minute before it's picked back up. "Sam? Oh thank goodness! After that message, I was fretful."

Iry grins and nods. "I have this really nice Settlers of Catan board with miniature tiles. We could play that!"

"Ahh, don't ask it like that!" Layla laughs, though Sam can imagine the embarrassed look on her face. "..That was Avery. Between the firefight happening that I just knew you were at, and then that mysterious message you sent without any more responses, I suppose I needed someone to talk to to help me calm down."

She hears 'and some wine!' in the background.

"It wasn't a sinful evening it was just... virtue-light," she counters with another titter. "... but, really, I'm so glad you're okay. Did your work pan out? After you banging out a forcefield generator in one evening, I can't imagine what you must have been up to to take you a day and a night."

She does say the latter more quietly. Apparently Avery is not in the know.

"Intense is as Samantha Wright does. Well, if you're coming home anytime today, she might still be there for you to meet after all. Will you?"

Layla laughs. "Okay. Once you've staged your prison break, we can make a dinner evening out of it. Be careful, sweetie. I'm proud of you."

It rings a couple of times before he answers. "Sam, hey. Good to hear your voice rather than just your text."

The game pieces are indeed very high quality and lovingly painted. Iry is explaining the rules to Shamsa, who listens with a finger to her lips in curiosity.

"Not so much clout, as a little bit of oil. I put in a good word. And I did - it was in the debrief review. Now that's a jet I'd test pilot any day. I think you've riled up the GRF more about your access to high tech than the stuff you rescued with it."

Shamsa's a quick learner, and she seems to be fairly social. There's a difference between the all-business Shamsa she met in her vision, and this one, who seems to have a bit more child-like wonder about her. Though then again, this isn't a business or dangerous situation, but she's likeable and laughs a lot.

"I don't think I can imagine you keeping a low profile. I'm on your side, pumpkin."


Shamsa struggles a bit at first, but once she gets the hang of things? It's clear she's run a kingdom before, even if it was probably nothing like this.

"I may need it," she responds. "I am still feeling new, but it may ..." She pauses, trying to think of a word. "... hurt later? Realize later?"
"The idea may sink in," Stream offers.
"Ohh... Clever idom."
"It's weird, it's like she has the vocabulary, just doesn't know how to use it until an example pops up," Iry chimes in.

Technically, she is a machine a soul is inhabiting. Though even Seshat's lenses has trouble seeing Ishte. So while her soul may be attuned to it, it remains to be seen if her eyes will be able to.

"Aww, but you were the main force keeping Shamsa on her toes," Iry chimes.
"We'll just have to outsmart her."

Shamsa seems to have found a zone of zen because she just smiles like a self-satisfied cat.

--

Finding Kordes is trivial with her own (adorable) surveillance net throughout the base, and it's up the stairwell to the roof of Pavillon A that she finds the punky girl. She's got a classic guitar, playing a little tune, and every now and then one of many empty soda cans go 'ping!' with a little sparking explosion. There's a pile of very scorched, somewhat molten cans in one of the corners. Seems she's been practising her power output for a while now, though there are too many in the pile of slag for it to have been today (she's not that mental.)

Melanie looks up from her guitar in surprise, turning to her. "Sam! Wow, feels like a day and a half since you were last awake. This calls for a celebration."

She strums a couple cords and there's a pop of fireworks that erupt on either side of where Sam is sitting (though a safe few feet from her to not singe her.) Then she grins up at her. "Seriously, how are you feeling?"

"No worries, I've watched the sun rise and set while working on a single melody lead or cord progression." She strums the guitar a couple of times before setting it aside to head over and sit with her. She looks no less fluttered than Samantha.

"Yeah, I've met her. She's ...interesting. Like a puppy crossed with a tiger." The latter makes her blush but she breaks a grin. "Aw. Well, it's a testament to how cool your amp is that I got to do all that. Normally I'm just a piece of artillery - deploy with a big block amp that's plugged into a car battery. At best I could do a slow advance if Oso carried them.

"But to be able to infantry around with my guitar? That was awesome."

"Wow, how are you doing that?" She leans in to try and look around Sam's hand for some emitter. "If you could make it look like that, I should have you make the lightning when I open for a concert, one day!"