A/N: This chapter references Invisible Ranger's wonderful story "A Long Way From Paradise". I love ya, boet! Keep writing!

Guy Talk…

"I'm tellin' you boet, Miss February! Good hips, lekker anties…"

"Looks just like Rina!" Crowe punched Drake in the arm and they both chortled.

"They don't move, though" Kruger said. "That was one thing about the old days—they moved. None of this point-straight-ahead-and-look-up kak."

"Rina's move."

"Just wait until she hits 40, boet. Then she's gonna start bugging you to have it done. "Oh look! They're droopy! They're gonna be down around my knees if you don't do something! Can I have 3000 credits?"

"You don't feel like payin' you can always give 'er to me" Crowe added with a mammoth belch.

"Give you my groot vet piel!" Drake retorted. "Besides, she still hasn't forgiven you for that business with 'er mum!"

The pilot smiled dreamily. "Yeah, it's been a while since I seen Viv. Need to drop in next time I'm home."

"Jesus, Crowe!"

"Ah come on, boss! She's a lovely lady."

"Lovely lady with three fokkin teeth in 'er 'ead."

"Not always a disadvantage, boss! And you should talk! Just how old is Mrs. Leer-Kont now?"

"Dunno. She'll only admit to being 95."

"Poor boss. He works hard for the money, eh?"

"Works 'is arse off." Drake and Crowe collapsed laughing as Kruger gave them the finger. Drake was relieved to see him getting more jovial and relaxed the more beer he consumed. It wouldn't impair his fighting ability; the boss had hollow legs. And he'd probably go right to sleep once his watch was over. It wasn't likely that anything was going to happen tonight. Delacourt's teef-girlfriend just wanted to flex her political muscle and show the few pitiful constituents in her territory that she was fighting the good fight against boatloads of "Commies" supposedly floating over the Bering Strait in canoes.

Kruger stretched out with his arms behind his head as the boets continued to rib each other. All things considered, it wasn't a bad way to pass the evening, even if the temperature outside was rapidly dropping below zero. The case was still half-full. Nunavut. Isn't that the name for one part of this fokkin place? Good name. Next time Delacourt tries to send me here, I'm not having nunavut!

"What you got there, boet?" Crowe's slurred voice broke into his thoughts.

"Nothin'. Just a text." Drake tapped at his wrist comm.

"From Rina?"

Drake shook his head. "From the Nagmerrie."

"How's she doin'?" Crowe asked. Kruger feigned indifference and chugged his beer.

"Not too happy. They want 'er to come out this year."

"They want her to start eating poes?"

Drake reached over and gave the pilot a kick. "Idoot. No. It's so she can get married. You know, they throw a bunch of parties, invite a bunch of ryks over so the girls can meet the boys…that kind of thing."

"Sounds boring as fok" Kruger wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. "Pass me another can, Drakey."

The gunner obliged. "Prob'ly is. She hates it. They're making her wear this stupid dress. Look." He held up his wrist and Crowe spluttered, dribbling beer down his chin. There was Lorelei Delacourt in a frothy pink gown with her arms out as two seamstresses took her measurements. She was smiling, if you could call a rictus-like baring of teeth a smile.

Kruger snorted. "Ag, look at that! It looks like someone puked Pepto all over 'er."

"Reckon it's 'er auntie's idea?"

"Ne, Delacourt may be a kont, but she always looks hot."

"Speaking of anties" Kruger grabbed Drake's wrist and peered at the picture. "I wonder what's holding it up? She's built like a matchstick."

"Maybe she's had it done" Crowe cupped his hands in front of his chest.

"Don't think so" Kruger turned Drake's wrist this way and that. "Probably just gave her a couple of cutlets, or built the top up. Shame." He grunted and let go. Drake rubbed the afflicted limb and took uneasy notice of the gleam of interest in the boss' eyes. Drake was never one to interfere with anyone's private life, but Lorelei and he had been friends since they day they'd met and the last thing she needed was to have Kruger after her. Quickly, he changed the subject. "So what exactly are we supposed to be looking for tonight, boss?

"Weapons caravans and any intel we can get on Nanuk."

"Out here in plain sight?"

Kruger shrugged. "Never underestimate the power of poes. Nothing's gonna happen. This is just Delacourt showing off."

"She's getting' married awful young, ain't she?" Crowe returned the conversation to exactly where it didn't need to be.

"So what? They marry at thirteen back home, some of 'em."

"Yeah, but most of them have babies on the way. I thought rich girls could prevent kak like that."

"That's not what it's for" Drake shook his head. "They meet at sixteen after a computer matches them by age, background, and how much money they have. Then they have to sign some kind of contract saying they'll marry in five years. Then they spend five years getting to know each other and marry at twenty-one."

"That's the stupidest thing I ever heard."

Drake didn't argue; he thought it was pretty stupid himself. There was some more desultory chatter before Crowe began to snore and pretty soon Drake followed him.