They were an older group, a bit of armor, some swords, a spear. One of them was a brute who carried a crossbow bigger than I was. I’d always liked those things.

Simple. Easy. Bad guys bad and a bit lame. Good guys a bit lame and doing good work.

“I’m going back to the PRTCJ,” Crystal said. “Next week.”

I didn’t want her to go back. There was very little to like about the group.

Ironically, the advice I was following in regards to that had to do with cults. Not putting up too much of an offense, not scaring them into throwing up walls.

“It’s been two weeks,” I said. “How do they handle that?”

“No idea. Pay deduction, extra drills, demotion.”

“I told you what I heard from D. There’s war on the horizon.”

D. Dido. In case we were being listened to. Prancer’s clairvoyants could have been listening in, and he could have hired additional intelligence gathering. No telling. We dodged particulars.

“That’s part of why I’m going,” Crystal said.

“Spooks me,” I said.

“You doing this spooks me,” Crystal said. “I want to meet everyone at some point.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

“You think you have a handle on this?”

“I think so,” I said. If ‘this’ meant Cedar Point. “On other stuff? Less sure.”

“What can I do? We want you more sure.”

“Looks like our guests are free and clear. We’ll see what they say later. I’ve got a meeting. Do you mind flying with me?”

“I’m glad to. But we gotta eat.”

I wasn’t hungry, I was rarely hungry after thinking too much about the past, and I’d been thinking about it a lot during the discussion with Rain. Still, I nodded.

I picked up the bag and the books I’d placed atop the field, putting everything away. Crystal dropped the forcefield, and we flew with me leading the way.

It was already getting dark. The flight wasn’t a short one. I put on my music, because conversation was hard with the wind in my ears.

Time to think about Crystal and the PRTCJ. The war with Earth C. Rain. Kenzie. About what the hell I was doing here.

The sun had set by the time we arrived. The waterfront had a railing with oversized posts a boat could be lashed to. I leaned against the railing, checked my phone, and sent a message.

Mrs. Yamada approached from our right. She had food from a nearby food truck.

“Crystal,” she said. “It’s so nice to see you.”

“You too,” Crystal said. She gushed just a bit as she said it. She’d met Mrs. Yamada at the hospital. They’d had talks about things. About Crystal losing Uncle Neil and Eric. About me.