"First, getting in touch with Marc. Find out if he really knows anything. He's the loosest end in the bunch." She wouldn't mention Leela, not right now. She'd thought von Karma trusted Scar, but maybe she'd mistakenly assumed harmless back-chatter when there was genuine malice. Alarm bells were ringing faintly along finely-trained nerves. The enemy of my enemy is my friend -- as long as the battle still rages. But that said nothing about fellow prisoners-of-war from different conflicts entirely, locked up and connected by a gruff old man who lived to piss people off. Or at least that's what the fleet lawyers specialized in; tactical aggravation. Point it in the right direction and it was better than a plasma arc for cutting through red tape.

"Second, we've got to find a way up to the third floor. If I had to pick between going home and having my body back...to be honest, I don't know. But if one set of equipment is up there, what else? Those pocket wormholes we piloted ourselves through a few nights back? Even if we couldn't control where we landed, I'd jump." Better there than here, though Taura knew she wouldn't, now that she knew it to be possible, settle for anything less than home.