"Giving the finger to those authority figures like that," said the Hermit.
Elaine didn't know why she suddenly realised it was the Hermit. She'd never seen him before. His face, although sporting a hideously thick white beard, was nondescript. But she knew him nonetheless.
"You're the Hermit," she said, her heartbeat slowing again.
"Ayup," said the Hermit. "Unfortunately I can't say I know who you are, though I have to say I like your attitude, heh heh."
"My name's Elaine Marley," said Elaine, and she went on to briefly explain what had happened in the last few days, starting with their ill-fated trip to the Hermit's asteroid.
The Hermit listened to all of this patiently, not saying a word, until finally Elaine's curiosity got the better of her. "Where'd you go to?" she asked. "What happened to your asteroid? And how'd you get on board my ship?"
"Upchuck captured me," said the Hermit. "Can't imagine why he'd want to, but there you go. I figured that somehow Guybrush had put him on my trail, so when I escaped I decided to track the guy down."
This was all said very calmly, as if being captured by a merciless space pirate, escaping, and tracking down one ship in the solar system was an everyday occurrence. "You must have travelled to Exus-1 and stowed away when we landed," said Elaine.
"Nope," said the Hermit.
"Then how-"
In answer the Hermit held up his hands. Elaine looked at them, confused, then comprehension dawned. The Hermit's hands were covered in a dry red dust. "That dust..." she said.
"From a portal stone, ayup," said the Hermit. "Neat little trick I learned. Usually only works over about ten feet or so. I have to say it was a devil of a business getting close enough to your ship, even with the cloak engaged. Now, we probably don't have much time, so let's get down to business. Do you know why Guybrush landed on Exus-1?"
Elaine wondered what the Hermit's motives were in all this. Guardedly, she said, "He wanted to catch up with someone, to find out the location of some space pirate gang," she said.
"Which gang?"
"I don't know," said Elaine. "He mentioned the name Mancomb once."
"Ah, the Space Moose," said the Hermit. "He should have come to me, I could have given him the GPS coordinates."
Elaine thought that the Hermit seemed strangely cosmopolitan for a hermit.
"So, let's get going!" continued the Hermit.
"But... Guybrush and Wally are dead," said Elaine.
"And how do you know this?" asked the Hermit. "Did you see them die?"
"No-"
"Have you seen their bodies?"
"No."
"Then they're probably both still alive," said the Hermit cheerfully. "When I last met them, most of this ship was vacuum, and the hull had more holes than a Swiss cheese factory. The two little guys didn't have a scratch on 'em. Now let's track down those Space Moose." He moved toward the ship controls.
Elaine knew she should resist this crazy old guy and just head to Pael, but for a reason she couldn't understand, she sat back and let the Hermit take the controls.
"Do you know when they're coming back?" asked Wally.
They were in a guest room somewhere in the bowels of Captain Kate Andrews' ship. Two beds were pushed up against one wall, facing a table, food dispenser and closet-circuit viewscreen. The vase on the table had fresh flowers in it. There was just the one door leading in, and it was closed.
It was a prison, and they both knew it.
"Don't know," said Guybrush.
"They'd have to come back sometime," said Wally.
"Yeah."
"Can't leave us here for ever."
"You'd think so." Their lives were no longer in danger, but Guybrush felt worse about his future than he had back in the damaged scooter. Their host - well, guard would probably be a more accurate term, let's face it - had shown them in half an hour ago and disappeared before they could ask her anything. They hadn't seen or heard anyone since.
"Wonder what the Government is doing out here now," said Wally.
"I don't know," said Guybrush.
"Probably doesn't mean anything good for us pirates."
"No."
"This fleet of Kate's doesn't look like half measures. I'll bet they're getting ready to colonise the solar system."
"Could be."
"We might be looking at the passing of an era," said Wally.
"Maybe."
The conversation died. Wally picked at some lint on his clothes. He looked at his feet. A clock on the wall ticked away the seconds.
"I sure hope someone comes soon," he said.
So do I, thought Guybrush.