The metal bench was cold and the wind coming off the ocean cut right through his clothes. Nick wrapped his arms around himself and began to slowly rock as he looked out at the surf in the gray, pre-dawn light. Without a word or a sound, someone draped a blanket over his shoulders. Its warmth enveloped him like a breath of summer.

He glanced to his left, only mildly surprised to see her standing there. Her face was turned to the ocean, but the smile she wore rivaled the imminent dawn. "How did you find me?"

Nick cut off the comm channel ending the ear splitting diatribe. "Who said no one can hear you scream in space," he muttered to himself. He double checked his vector to the slowly tumbling escape pod and then cut his velocity in half.

The door slid open. Nick was getting worried, this was far too easy. He quickly crept down the ship's corridor. Warning lights still flashed amber, but they had silenced the piercing alarm.

A villainous laugh, a deep and throaty, "MWAHAHAHA!" rolled from his computer. The private message window that had sprung to life prompting the sound held a simple greeting: _Hey._

Nick sent back his own short message, _sup bro?_

_I have an idea._ Nick read the line and a cold shot of electricity jangled down his spine.

The great mammoth bellowed its rage and swung its mighty tusked head. Baan threw himself into a roll to avoid the bone shattering blow, keeping a firm grip on his fire hardened spear as he tumbled. The young tribesman wasted no time, as soon as his feet were under him, he broke into a sprint. He felt the mammoth give chase, the earth trembled as it charged after him.

Her rich dark-brown eyes smiled at him from over her glass as she took a sip. Nick thought about falling into them headlong, losing himself in their ebon depths. "You said you had something to tell me? ... Nick?" The young man blinked as his mind belatedly processed the question. Suddenly, his mouth felt very dry.

"So who's in?" the weathered campaigner asked. Glittering eyes threw hard glances around the table as seven hands and arms moved in near unison. Seven daggers sunk into the wood of the tabletop, the staccato sound causing heads to turn in the cramped tavern. The men ignored the glances of the patrons. Their steel gazes fell upon the one in their midst who had not pledged his arm.