The Greater Antilles
Part Thirty-Eight
by Feni


Feni mentally kicked herself for teling Corran all of that with out consulting some of the other WAASers first. It is never good to show you hand until you've tipped it a little, but Oops. Too late.

Her eyes blurred over as she looked out the porch doors at the brewing storm. "This reminds me of a hurricane I avoided as a child. The wind isn't nearly as strong as it was then, but the lightning is." Corran tightened his arm around her. "Actually, now that I think about it. Who would build a Trojan T-Rex and leave it for Mish to find? And why a T-Rex and not a giant pilot or somehting that would capture all of our attention equally?"

Corran zoned out as she went on asking arbitrary questions, waving her free hand about as she normally does. It's in her genetics, she's Italian. They have no respect for personal boundaries and talk with their hands. Plain and simple. "Corran?"

"Hmm?"

"You havne't been listening, have you?"

"No, not really. Sorry."

She shrugs and goes back to watching the storm. "Maybe we should go down and investigate. I mean, shouldn't you be terribly curious what that's all about?"

"I'm on vacation."

"Tough, c'mon." She stood back up, a little peeved that he'd led her from the veranda, and pulled him back out of the room and down to the other WAASers. Feni let go of his hand and pushed her way to the front of the porch, the rain slicking her face as she grasped onto a pillar and leaned out from under the covering.

A strong hand made a quick swat at her rear and sent her rolling out into the forming mud. She stopped midway between the Land Rover and the veranda, her legs splayed out in front of her, her hands sinking into the mud behind her. Standing slowly, she tried to picks bits of mud and grass from her hair and clothes and looked pathetically up at the laughing faces on the porch. Of course, being the nice people that they are, they're all making an attempt to look apologetic, but Feni has succeeded in looking like a drowned Womp Rat.

Janson folds his hands behind his back and starts whistling innocently until he gets hit in the face with a mud ball. Feni struts back up onto the porch, why she does not know since she's already drenched, and looks rather triumphant.

Continued in 49