The phone rang, and Andrew Gibson picked it up. A smile crossed his lips. He knew who it would be, even before the number glowed at him on the device's face.
"So," a voice rasped, without even a hello. "You just had to try and hack me, as a welcome home present, huh, kid?"
It was a delighted laugh that rolled from the young man's lips, and he nodded, even though the woman probably couldn't see him. He thought. With people like them, it was difficult to really tell.
"Yeah, but you figured it out, and it's not like I broke anything, Mer! So how've you been" How's Coruscant, this time of year?"
"Boring," Heavy Metal growled on the other end of the phone. She sat in her glorified hangar-slash-workshop, sprawled in the battered leather chair placed near the metal table that served as her desk. She flung the pencil she held in her hand across the room—she'd warned someone recently that the place looked like a land mine exploded in it, and it wasn't far off, as descriptions went.
"It can't be that bad, can it' Orion's there, and you've got the rugrat now..." Gibson continued. Mer scowled, just a little.
"It ought to tell you something that I left both of them back there. He's—Orion is—busy teaching philosophy at the school, and that's all well and good. Max is a great kid, goes to the creche and that's it for him. I get to sit on my duff and watch the ships pass. And you know how good I am at that. So here I am."
"Looking for trouble," her pupil chortled over the other end of the phone.
"You know it," Merriam Ksyhsravor agreed. "Besides, someone has to whip you into shape. Kibo knows that you've probably been hiding in your cave for months, since the last time I dragged my carcass around here. How's your girl, or did she ditch you for more sunlit pastures, hnn?"
Something of a whine squalls over the phone line, and Mer grins just a bit. She hit a nerve with that, but Gibson has always been more than a handful. "You're mean," the kid groans. "Trish is just fine, thank you. We've got an apartment now, and she's a teaching assistant for a kindergarten class."
"Domestic bliss. You sit at home and fart around on the 'Net all day, troll boy?" Though she forestalls another squall of irritation by continuing. "Listen, kid, I might have some work for you coming up. Can't go into anything now, just keep your eyes and ears open, you hear me" And try and keep your nose clean, I don't need to pull anyone's fat out of the fire just yet, you hear?"
She can almost hear Gibson salivate on the other end of the phone. Just like a bloodhound, ears pricked, ready to go on the hunt. He's a good kid, one of the best, but even he has a fire for the things he loves, and information gathering is one of them.
May as well use the tools you're given, right"
"I hear you," he acknowledges after a few moments. Mer nods.
"Good lad. I'll be in touch. Probably sooner than you think. School's back in session."
Gibson's only response is a groan, before Heavy Metal hangs up.
"So," a voice rasped, without even a hello. "You just had to try and hack me, as a welcome home present, huh, kid?"
It was a delighted laugh that rolled from the young man's lips, and he nodded, even though the woman probably couldn't see him. He thought. With people like them, it was difficult to really tell.
"Yeah, but you figured it out, and it's not like I broke anything, Mer! So how've you been" How's Coruscant, this time of year?"
"Boring," Heavy Metal growled on the other end of the phone. She sat in her glorified hangar-slash-workshop, sprawled in the battered leather chair placed near the metal table that served as her desk. She flung the pencil she held in her hand across the room—she'd warned someone recently that the place looked like a land mine exploded in it, and it wasn't far off, as descriptions went.
"It can't be that bad, can it' Orion's there, and you've got the rugrat now..." Gibson continued. Mer scowled, just a little.
"It ought to tell you something that I left both of them back there. He's—Orion is—busy teaching philosophy at the school, and that's all well and good. Max is a great kid, goes to the creche and that's it for him. I get to sit on my duff and watch the ships pass. And you know how good I am at that. So here I am."
"Looking for trouble," her pupil chortled over the other end of the phone.
"You know it," Merriam Ksyhsravor agreed. "Besides, someone has to whip you into shape. Kibo knows that you've probably been hiding in your cave for months, since the last time I dragged my carcass around here. How's your girl, or did she ditch you for more sunlit pastures, hnn?"
Something of a whine squalls over the phone line, and Mer grins just a bit. She hit a nerve with that, but Gibson has always been more than a handful. "You're mean," the kid groans. "Trish is just fine, thank you. We've got an apartment now, and she's a teaching assistant for a kindergarten class."
"Domestic bliss. You sit at home and fart around on the 'Net all day, troll boy?" Though she forestalls another squall of irritation by continuing. "Listen, kid, I might have some work for you coming up. Can't go into anything now, just keep your eyes and ears open, you hear me" And try and keep your nose clean, I don't need to pull anyone's fat out of the fire just yet, you hear?"
She can almost hear Gibson salivate on the other end of the phone. Just like a bloodhound, ears pricked, ready to go on the hunt. He's a good kid, one of the best, but even he has a fire for the things he loves, and information gathering is one of them.
May as well use the tools you're given, right"
"I hear you," he acknowledges after a few moments. Mer nods.
"Good lad. I'll be in touch. Probably sooner than you think. School's back in session."
Gibson's only response is a groan, before Heavy Metal hangs up.