The Long Trial, Part One
Chapter Two: A New Friend
by R. Bernstein

Class let out late and then the train was late, and so she tried to make up the time, nearly getting hit by a flyer crossing 42^nd Street just before the light changed. The driver yelled a juicy invective at her and she flipped him off before sailing around the block on her roller-blades. I LOVE NEW YORK, Havah yelled in her head.

It had been almost four years since the war. After her discharge, she had enrolled in school and was now finishing a bachelor program at Hofstra University, and working part-time at the New York Research and Development Institute, annotating social science articles, for eight bucks a pop. Things had begun to look up. She still felt a dullness in her when she thought about the war, so she didn't think about it much. She had tried seeing a counselor, but found that it didn't help much to talk about it since it didn't change anything. The counselor had told her that it would help to grieve and express it, but all she felt anytime she had gone into a late-night crying jag, was drained. She had talked to some of her friends at school about it when they had asked, but she always felt it made them uncomfortable, and so she mostly only shared the worries they all had in common, grades, romantic prospects, rejections. She hadn't been thrilled with her face before the war, but now with the current xenophobia, she felt her possibilities dwindling. She turned the corner and froze.

At a parked flyer, there were two men grabbing items. The passenger-side door was open and there were still boxes of merchandise inside. She was fairly sure neither of these men were the driver, or the intended recipients of the boxes. She started rolling up to them and they saw her, uttered a couple of expletives and tore off around the block. She skated to the corner where she again almost got hit trying to follow them. After the stream of traffic, she had lost them, and decided that it was not worth it. They had dropped a figure and she picked it up and scooted back towards the car just as the owner ran out. It was an out-of-breath Minbari. Great. She stared at him coldly.

"Is this yours? Those guys got away with a few of them." She handed the figure to him. He took it gratefully.

"I know," he stopped to pant, "I saw from 14^th floor, this lift did not arrive quickly so I ran down stairs. I saw you chase them awayŠThank you." His accent was so thick she could barely understand him. It took a moment to sort through the thick syllables.

"You're welcome. I'm guessing you've never been to New York before."

"No, this is first time here, first time actually off-world. IŠhow to sayŠI apprentice and selling, sorry, myŠmy Human, no, English not so well, sculptures."

Geez, shouldn't he know the language better if he's trying to sell things in it? Nope, you know what, it's not my problem, she thought. "Did you leave your doors unlocked? Why am I asking, I don't care!

"UmŠyes, I guess I shouldn't have done this." He looked sheepish and began turning red, glancing up at her and down at his feet.

Boy, you just fell off a hay truck, didn't you?! "No, not if you actually want to have anything to sell. I don't know what it's like on Minbar, but here you don't leave your car doors unlocked or you might as well put up a neon sign saying 'Steal my crap.'"

"Yes, IŠI forgot, I not used to locking doors, at home. There is little crime."

She didn't know why, but that got her. "Well, you're not home, you're halfway across the galaxy in a strange place selling things to people you wanted to kill four years ago, so one would think that you would have thought first to learn our language before you try to foist your wares on people you don't know, and second, learn something about the places you're going. You're not the sharpest pencil in the box are you?" The words that spilled out of her mouth shocked even her.

He looked like someone had just kicked him in the stomach. Staring at his feet, he mumbled, "IŠI sorry. IŠnot mean to anger you. Thank you for helping me. I go now." He began shuffling about in his car, moving boxes.

Suddenly, she wanted to cry, and he looked like he was about to. She stood there for a moment, not sure what to do, wanting to change things and take it back. This poor schmuck just traveled across the galaxy to a place where he has to know there are plenty of people who hate him, and he was probably never even involved. He's never even been off of Minbar, that much is obvious, and probably comes from some backwater town no one's ever heard of. That takes chutzpah. It would be like holding Joe from the Seven-Eleven responsible for the war.

"Hey, you know what, I don't know why I said that, it was unbelievably rude. I'm sorry."

He blinked up at her like a kicked puppy, from kneeling on the back seat of his flyer, hands in a box. "Oh, no, I understand, weŠ" He hesitated, unsure of how to say anything without setting off her tongue again, and straightened up, still struggling with words.

She resumed her thought, rescuing him from the moment. "No, no you don't understand. You see, I fought in the war, and I saw you, the first Minbari I've seen since then, and it came out all over you. That wasn't fair. Look, I didn't mean what I said, about your level of intelligence, you just didn't know. New York can be rough, even for Humans, if you've never experienced a city like it before. Are you from a city on Minbar?"

"No, I from a village called Jaruni in middle of Karinel Region. It not small, but itŠitŠisŠnot like thisŠ" He gestured grandly around him, eyes full of awe. Our cities are beautiful, carved of crystal, Tuzanor, Yedor, Turil. But thisŠis exciting! Even if things get stolenŠ" he nodded regretfully. "Thank you very much for what you did, and IŠamŠsorry about the war. I glad we try to peace."

She couldn't help it, she burst into laughter at his odd speech pattern, and he looked at her, puzzled by her response. "No, sorry, it's just, I'm not used to the way you speak English yet, and it sounded funny. You're glad we try to MAKE peace, or HAVE peace. Peace isn't a verb." she smiled at him. "I don't mean to be rude correcting you or anything, I just figured you'd want to know."

"Oh yes! IŠamŠnot so well at languages. I think that maybe I am slow, it has been a month and I still have great difficulty, especially when I arrived, people spoke so fast, and the accentsŠare hard, they are all so different, and there are so many different languages, not just English." 

"ŠA month!" Havah squelched a surge of envy, flabbergasted. His awkward manner had made her impatient, but he had learned English more than passably wellŠin a month. "UhŠI don't think you're slow, dude, not if you learned English in a month and can speak it in New York City. This is a tough town to speak English in. We're not the most patient people in the world, and we speak fast. It's not exactly the place to go if you're looking to ease into Human cultures or languages. You have to hit the ground running here, but you do get a ton of it in a very short period of time. The only other language I know how to speak is Hebrew, marginally, and that took me most of elementary school. Most of the other kids were Orthodox Jewish, spoke Hebrew and Yiddish fluently, and I could hardly keep up. I'm getting the impression that most of the galaxy, except us, places more of an effort on learning other languages. We just figure that we'll get by speaking English because it's such a wide-spread merchanting language." She didn't know why she was sharing that and regarded him with scrutiny, his up-swept gray headbone, wide gray eyes, aquiline nose, not bad really. 

"What is 'dude'?" 

"Oh sorry, it's colloquial English, you know colloquial, slang. It's just a casual term for guy." She grinned. 

"Oh." He grinned. "What is 'Orthodox Jewish'?" 

"It's a religion, sort of the religion I was raised in, except we weren't Orthodox. Orthodox means really strict, by the book." 

He tilted his head and gazed at her with fascination. "You are religious? And you are also a warrior?ŠThat is very fascinating. I heard that Humans do not have castes." 

"Well, some of our cultures do, like the Hindus and actually, my culture does, but people who are not Orthodox don't abide by it much. They may keep track of it, but that's it. It doesn't really dictate social patterns anymore. Our Temple was destroyed a couple thousand years ago, and never rebuilt, so there's really nothing for our priestly caste to do." 

"Oh,Š" He looked befuddled. "Why was it not rebuilt?" 

"That's a long story, anyway, I never introduced myself, my name is Havah Lassee." At the sound of her name, his eyes widened even further and his look deepened from innocent interest to respect.  

"My name is Trell, of the family of Tokar. It is honorŠAN honor to meet you. I did not know who you were." 

Now it was her turn to be curious. "What do you mean?" She glanced at her watch, so much for getting to work soon. 

"Oh, well, you are known to my people. You are Skywalker, yes?" 

She almost choked. "What did you just call me?" 

"Oh yes, you were at Proxima Three, yes? You dressed up as one of our warriors and killed many of them, and then blew up one of the transports? And on the Line. Yes?" His voice grew tentative at the mention of her actions, unsure whether this would offend her. 

Oh crap, they knew about that, how the hell did they know about that? "UhŠyeah, that was me. I don't know howŠhow did you know about that? DoŠdo your people call me Skywalker? That was the name a friend called me a few times. He was kidding. It was a joke. It's a character from an old sci fi movieŠNever mind." 

"OhŠYesŠI did not mean to offend you, it is easier to remember than your name was. And our people very much like poetry, Skywalker seemed appropriate name for fighter pilot." 

You have got to be yanking my chain. She was stuck between an overwhelming urge to snicker, and a shudder at the very twisted irony of parallels.  

"SoŠso how again did you say they know about that?" She had to know. 

"The Grey Council learned about all soldiers they captured during last battle. It is said that this is why they ended war. The Warrior Caste was veryŠhow to sayŠoutraged." His speech became less ordered as he became uneasy at the mention of the Warrior Caste and the war. 

"Yeah, I bet." Well, I won't be going on vacation to Minbar any time soon. There was a hot coal in the base of her throat, and she didn't particularly like talking about them either, so she changed the subject. "Well, I need to go to work, and I know that you have things to do as well, soŠit wasŠniceŠmeeting you. I hope that you have better luck in New York." She realized that she meant that, he seemed like a nice guy. 

"It was nice to meet you too, Havah Lassee of New York." He extended his hand hesitantly, "Is this right custom?" 

She shook his hand, his grip was strong and warm, his hand roughened with work, like a Human's. He said, "You areŠyou are friendlier than I thought your soldiers would be...I mean...." His fair skin mottled as he struggled with words that obviously hadn't come out as he intended. "Thank you, goodbye." He turned, his face still flushed, and started unloading boxes.

She skated a few feet and then turned. I'm going to regret this, but now he's got me curious. 

"Hey, it just occurred to me that being in a completely foreign city, you might need to know good places to get food and lodging and stuff," Especially since, it doesn't seem like you learned much about New York before you came here. 

"Yes, very much! There is so much food everywhere, so many smells! I have a list of things I can eat, but I do not know what most of them are." He held a ratty paper out to her. She took it with a quizzical look. Unbelievable. 

"So, when was the last time you ate, how long have you been here?" 

"Since yesterday night. I have some food that was prepared for me before I left, but I want to try your food since I am on Earth!" 

She looked at the list, the only things that didn't appear to be on it were the varieties of hot peppers, jalapeno, habanero, alcohol of any kind, and chocolate. Wow, that sucks. No Mexican food, I guess. And definitely no tequila. "Well, I'm going to the pizza place on this corner here, when I get out of work. I've eaten there a zillion times and they're awesome. It looks like you can have pizza and most Italian food, and you can't go to New York and not have Italian food, so I'd go there if I were you. I'll be there in about four hours on my way home if you don't want to eat alone." 

His face lit up, "I would like that, yes!" 

"Well, I'll see you then." She rolled off to work, intrigued. I can't believe I'm meeting a Minbari for dinner. 

* * * * * * * *

At nine, she walked to Sal's Pizza, her rollerblades slung over her shoulder. He was standing nervously outside the door, trying unsuccessfully to blend in, as people passed him to the entrance, eyeballing him from his crest to his feet. His expression relaxed when he saw her, relieved, and gave her a wide grin. "I waited outside instead of inside." 

"Yes, I see that," she mused, smirking. "A little nervous about navigating the crowd inside?" 

"Yes, a littleŠ" he admitted reluctantly.  

"That's understandable, c'mon, lets get some food, I'm starving." He followed her in. A few people stared at him for a moment then returned to eating, talking, and bustling. The pungent aroma of garlic, basil, tomatoes and bread made her stomach almost leap out of her body onto the counter and demand to be served. She glanced at Trell, who was ravenously eying the array of pizzas behind the counter with wonder. A waiter led them to a table with a plastic red and white-checkered tablecloth, with shaker bottles of red pepper, garlic, parmesan cheese, and a long bottle of green olive oil. They sat down on the wooden loop chairs and took the menus. Trell's jaw almost dropped at the variety of dishes listed. 

"Need a minute?" The waiter asked, the apron tied around his waist slightly askew.  

"Yeah, thanks", she said glancing at Trell, who was studiously poring over the menu. The waiter plopped down two glasses of water and left. She pointed at the top of his sheet, "These are appetizers, these are classic Italian dishes, these are more regional dishes, these are pizzas, and these are desserts. Oh, and these are drinks. Would it just be easier for me to order for both of us?" 

"That would be faster, I think," he smiled, still scanning the pages.  

"Do you want meat, or no meat? Cheese or no cheese? Vegetables?" 

"Um, yes, meatŠ and yes cheese, um, yes vegetables." 

Well, he's never had Italian, so might as well live it up for a night. She flagged the waiter. 

"We'll have fried calamari, and antipasto to start, and garlic bread with cheese. And a large pie with pepperoni, sausage, and mushrooms." 

"To drink?" 

"I'll have a chocolate egg cream, and a vanilla egg cream for him." 

Two egg creams with straws poking out of the top, appeared a few minutes later. Trell looked at the straw curiously.  

"It's a straw. See, you sip out of it, like this." She took a slurp. He imitated her and broke into a grin.  

"This is very sweet. It is called an egg cream? There are eggs in it, from what animal?" 

"No there are no eggs in it. I don't know why it's called an egg cream, that's just what it's called. It's made of seltzer water, milk and chocolate or vanilla syrup, depending on the flavor. You can use the straw to see if it's made right too. See, the straw is supposed to stand straight up, that means the foam is thick enough." She stood his straw up.

He grinned and took a genteel sip as three gargantuan portions of appetizers arrived. Trell watched the food as it was placed in front of him, like an island cast-away seeing shipload of salted pork land on his shore.  

"Well, dig in. This is the garlic bread with cheese, these little chopped bits are the garlic, this is mozzerella cheese, same as on the pizza. This is antipasto, it's basically salad, with a lot of other stuff in it, like different kinds of hams and cheeses, onions. Salad is a bunch of vegetables tossed together with some kind of marinade or dressing sauce. Like this marinade is oil and vinegar. Vinegar is sour wine, it's not alcoholic, don't worry. This is calamari, it's squid, one of our sea animals. And you dip it in marinara sauce, this red stuff. Like this." She popped a wad of tentacles in her mouth. He picked up a crusted ring, dipped it gingerly, and ate it. The transformation on his face was priceless.  

"This is delightful! What kind of animal is this again?" 

"Squid. It's a sea animal about this big with tentacles on this end and a cone on this end, and it propels itself by squirting water out of its butt, well, not really its butt, but a hole in this end, so that it moves backwards. We cut them up and fry them, see, this ring is part of the cone, and here are the tentacles," she pointed as each one disappeared into the bowl of marinara. "I hope that doesn't gross you out."

"What is 'gross out'?"

"Disgust."  

"Oh, no. No, not at all. We try not to kill frivolously, but we areŠwhat is wordŠomnivores, both meat and vegetable matter? So the preparation of food is what it is, we accept it and thank the animals in a ritual. Yes, we have similar animal in our oceans. But I do not think that they taste so well, well or good‹?" 

"Good." 

"As good as yours, with thisŠmarinara? There is so much flavor!" He marveled. "What is 'butt'?" 

"Your ass, rear-end, the part of your body you're sitting on right now." 

"Oh," he blushed crimson, and smiled beatifically.

She watched his reaction. Mental note, these people must be very modest, or repressed, or both, or maybe he's just shy.

The pizza arrived, but there was no room on the small table, so she split the garlic bread onto each of their plates, and the antipasto and gave the waiter the dishes. The huge tray emanated heat and garlic.  

"Tray's hot." The waiter edged it into the middle of the table amidst the clink and clatter of dishes.  

"This is pizza. This cheese is melted mozzarella, parmesan, same stuff in here, she tapped the shaker bottle, and romano. These are mushrooms, sausage, and pepperoni. She pulled a stray oily disk off and ate it. It's spicy. When your thing says you can't eat peppers, what does it mean, like any at all? It just occurred to me that there might be some capsacin oil in pepperoni. I'm not sure. That's the oil that makes habaneros and most of those peppers hot. I didn't even think about pepperoni." 

"Well, our food is generally not very spicy, there is nothing in our regional foods to compare to your hot peppers, except terkala beans. These are grown along the equatorial band. The Warrior Caste relishes them, I think mostly to demonstrate bravery and strength." He made a face. "They are like solid fire. The warriors like to boast about how many they can eat without ending up in theŠlavatory?" 

"I see." So jocks are the same everywhere in the galaxy then. They sound like Marines. She thought of several of her friends. 

"I believe that when our people tried your peppers, they became ill in the same way as terkala beans. We can eat them, technically yes, but they are not good for digestion. They are too spicy." 

"Ah, I see, well, those peppers have the same effect on Humans often, but people who are accustomed to spicy food don't have as much trouble with them. I suppose that if you are used to bland or mild food, that it's not good to load up on hot stuff. The pepperoni, should be ok then. A good indicator if something is going to give you a stomach-ache is if it is uncomfortable for your tongue, it ain't going to get any better on the way down." She plopped two dinner-plate sized pieces on each of their plates, pepperoni oil running off of the floppy tip. "What about alcohol? How come you can't have that?" 

"Well, that is much more serious. We cannotŠmetabolize it? It becomes a neuro-toxin. The first sign ofŠtoxicity is an uncontrollable tremor. Then, an equally uncontrollable rage, a Špsychotic reaction, very violent. I believe it has to do with an imbalance ofŠneuromodulators? The final stages are seizure, coma, and death."  

A cold hand reached into Havah's chest. "Well, no beer for you thenŠThat's ok, I can't drink either. Weird. When I was a kid, my parents didn't know and gave me a sip of Shabbat wine. They finally got me to the emergency room with the help of three EMTs after I kicked in the family room door and started having convulsions. They were in the emergency room for several hours with me. My temperature had gone up by a couple of degrees, and when the whole thing started, I couldn't stop shaking. I kept dropping my fork. The doctor told my parents that it was a toxic reaction. He said if it had been more than a sip, I would've died. It happened again last year, when I was at a party. I accidentally picked up someone else's cup. The soda looked the same as mine but this one had rum in it. It was one of the most horrible experiences of my life, outside of the war. So, I'll be keeping you company."

He was listening intently.

"There were other odd things too. Apparently, strychnine has no effect on me. When I was a kid, maybe three, I stayed over a cousin's cabin, and he had a bag of pellets to keep mice out when people were using the cabin. Well, the pellets are sweetened with sugar to get the mice to eat them, and I love sugar. I saw where he put them and climbed up and got them. I thought they were little crunchy candy balls. Well, the next morning he found the bag opened and followed the little trail of pellets, and found me sitting under a tree, happily munching away, both fists full of rat poison. He FREAKED OUT, and grabbed me and emptied my hands. At this point I was hysterical because I didn't know what was going on, I thought I was just in trouble for eating candy when I wasn't supposed to. He called the poison center, and they told him bring me in. Well, at the doctor, he found out I'd been eating these pellets for three days, and hadn't been harmed. The doctor told him that because of my physiology, the strychnine didn't appear to be poisonous, but that it still probably wasn't good for me. He stopped using rat pellets after that. I look back on it now, and it's hilarious, but he didn't think it was very funny at the time." 

Trell looked at her in amazement, while trying not to pull all of the cheese off of his pizza in one bite. "No I do not imagine he wouldŠIs this not usual for Humans?" 

"No. My father wasn't Human, just my mother. I don't know what he was, no one ever found out." For once, she didn't mind telling someone about her parents. Despite the fact that this was a Minbari, he was also alien, and so whether she was Human, or some other alien, it made no difference, she was going to be foreign to him no matter what. There was interest in his eyes, but no uneasiness. "So, I've been talking my head off, and I still don't know hardly anything about you. You're an apprentice, in what?" 

"I amŠsculptor. Jewelry, stone, metal, crystal, and structures for buildings sometimes, and now I am trying Human figures."  

"Wow, so you're an artist." 

"Yes. My teacher is Seral. She is one of the greatest sculptors on our world right now. She is on the Council of Caste Elders." He beamed with pride, "Although I do not know if I will still be an apprentice when I get back if I continue to lose my things," he said ruefully. "She would like to have come, she did not want to send me alone, since she knew I had never been off our world, but she was kept at meetings and could not get away to come with me. She very much wanted to see Earth, and so I promised her that I would be alright and that I would take back pictures to show her Earth. I hope that she is not disappointed by my errors." 

"I'm sure she'll understand, and you can take lots of holos to show her. Take holos of the Statue of Liberty. Are you going anywhere else on Earth?" 

"Yes, in a couple of days I am going to Greece to view some ruins, stone work. A place called Corinth, Mycenae, and Athens. And then to Italy and France. There are stone creatures calledŠgargoyles, on some of the churches that I would like to seeŠGothic architecture? And I would like to see theŠbasilicas, and the Vatican. After that I am going to Egypt, to Cairo to see the Great Pyramid, and then finally back to this continent to see the other pyramids, on the Yucatan Peninsula, and inŠMachu Piccu, in the land of the Incas? Your world is so variety--?" 

"Varied?" 

"Yes! Varied! Our culture has variety depending on Caste and region, but it is nothing like your world! We have one religion. Each of our Castes has a language, and there are differences inŠdialect from area to area, but they are all from the same root language. And if you know one, then you will understand at least a few words from another. But here! Amazing!" His description faded. "And yet, you all fought together. This is great strengthŠAnd it is so INTERESTING!" He finished, glowing with admiration.  

"Well, thanks. I'm glad you like it here so far, in spite of almost getting yourself mugged." She shot a sly grin at him.

He turned red and smiled into another faceful of pizza.  "And I very much love this food. I think that I will go home a great deal heavier." 

"Speaking of which, do you want to get dessert? There is tiramisu, which neither of us can have, spumoni, which is a type of Italian ice cream, gelato, which is more flavors of Italian ice cream, cannolis which are these cream pastries, and this layered chocolate cake, oh that's right, you can't have chocolate. How come?" 

"It is aŠit alters perception." 

"Like how? Is it a hallucinogen?" 

"In great amounts, yes. In small amounts, it still alters judgment, like the effect of your alcohol orŠmarijuana, on Humans."  

"It makes you stoned?!" An evil part of her really wanted to order the chocolate cake just to see what he was like lit. "How do you know so much about Human drugs?" 

"I read a lot about Humans on my homeworld." 

"SoŠyou didn't read about how to be safe in a big city, but you read all about our party weeds?! Very cute. Good job! You'd definitely fit in at my college. So, is this going to be where all the Minbari go to buy bongs? Are we known as Drug Central?" 

He squirmed and laughed. "No, it is just so fascinating. We very seldom take substances to alter perception, except hal'chi, which is more like your alcohol. When we do take these perceptual trips it is usually within a ritual, wellŠamong the religious caste anyway. I guess my caste and warrior caste are little moreŠliberal in our consuming of hal'chi."

"What is hal'chi made of?"

"An alkali plant, very bitter until it is processed and sweetened with kulda, a berry juice. This adds to itsŠproperties."

"So what caste are you then?"

"I am worker caste. Most sculptors and builders are worker."

"Hmm. What if you decided to be a painter or go back to school and be a scientist?"

He gave her a blank look. "Why would I change my calling?"

"I don't know, don't people ever get bored or want to do more than one thing?"

"WellŠyes, I suppose. We can sometimes change castes if our heart calls us, but it does not happen often or easily. If we are meant to a calling, many of us, especially worker caste are satisfied and happy in our calling, so there is no need to change."

He still looked puzzled by the question. She ordered them spumoni and big fat flaky cannolis, with cream puffing out either side. If he was going to all of these other places, he should load up on New York fare now. She had the waiter doggie-bag the rest of the pizza and told Trell to take it for tomorrow or a late night snack. They were both stuffed by the time the check came.

"It's on me, Trell," she said as he went to look at it.

"On youŠI do not understand."

"I got it, I got the bill."

"Oh!ŠOh, no, that is not right, you have been so kind. I cannot let you, it would be dishonorable."

She didn't know what to say. If this was some cultural more, she didn't want to insult him. So she tried one more time. "Are you sure Trell, it's no problem, I mean you can consider it your welcome to New York."

"That is very nice of you, but you have already welcomed me and helped me, and now it is my turn to give you thanks. You are the first Human who has really spoken to me at length."

"Well, okŠthenŠthank you! I enjoyed talking to you." He was more vulnerable than she had pictured her first peace-time encounter with a Minbari would be. She found that she really did like him. "Well, here's my number on Long Island, if you find yourself in the area, give a call. If not, here's my email, I'm not terrific at responding, but if you want to write, I'll try to write back."

"Thank you Havah, I will. Here is my home information. If you ever come to Minbar, I would be very happy to see you!"

The waiter came, and took care of the check, and Trell responded with "Thank you very much, dude!" Havah stifled a snort. The waiter stared at him for a second and then repressed a smirk.

"No problem, man." He said and left. They walked out and Havah began putting her blades on to get to the train station.

"Havah, what are those?"

"Roller-blades. They are sort of recreation, sort of transportation."

"May I look at them?"

"Sure." She handed him the one she hadn't strapped on. He inspected it, with his nose up to the wheels, spun the wheels and gave them back to her.

She continued, "Mine are really old. They have much newer fancier versions of these, some don't even have wheels, they have jet or air propulsion, but these were less than a credit at the thrift store, and they'll do." She finished, picked up her backpack. "Hey, Trell."

"Yes?"

"No offense or anything, but when it comes to traveling, you're not really with it, so lock your doors at night, don't let your stuff out of your sightŠand watch your ass, ok? You know what I mean? You seem like a nice guy, but there are a lot of Humans who are still angry and they might not ask questions. I'm not saying to be paranoid, just be aware of your surroundings, and if something feels wrong, it probably is."

He looked sad. "I understand. Thank you, Havah Lassee. I hope to see you again." They parted and she headed for the station.