Tying Up... the Loose Ends. Of Course.
By Christina Kamnikar w/suggestions from the one & only Guild

11:45 PM, Sunday night, July 28th
Merc Central

        "...what more can I *say*?"
        Dianne had to admire Christina's technique. That combination of
shameless pleading, vulnerable hurt, and dead-on honesty was hard to build
up defenses to. Glancing around the room at Sara, Abby, and Lane, Dianne
knew she wasn't the only one who'd been convinced. 
        "I believe her," Lane said with conviction. "She's not a
Natpacker.  She's still a loyal Merc." 
        "Me too," Abby nodded. "I mean, all that stuff about chocolate
being more important that shininess, and profit being even more
important---" 
        "And freedom most of all," Sara reminded them. 
        "Okay." The GHP shrugged, and Maureen glared at Christina from her
position perched on Dianne's desk like a trophy. La Mercenaire had refused
to uncuff her until the trial. "You haven't been corrupted, despite your
association with Jamie; and despite the fact that you spent way too much
time with them yesterday. And you *still* don't know what they're up to. 
But you're a Merc, and that's what counts. Just don't *ever* do that
again," Dianne said. 
        Christina frowned. "Do *what*? I didn't DO anything---" 
        "Neither did I!" Maureen snapped. 
        "You hush up. Your trial is in the morning." All five Mercs glared
at their ex-leader in betrayed mistrust. "You'll get your say then. Right
before we carry out sentence." 

        Jamie missed the concert. She got stuck in a storage room in the
cellar while the Mercs tried to figure out how to deprogram her. 

        Lane went to sleep, secure in having done his best to prevent more
defections; and glad his faith in Christina, as a friend and a Merc,
hadn't been unjustified. And that she wasn't really going to kill him for
bringing her back to Merc Central liked she'd threatened in the 'Bago. Not
really. 

        Abby started making up lists, fun lists, of who would do what
during the trial, and how Chris would help. She fell asleep over them with
a smile on her face, dreaming of torts and objections and kangaroos. 

        Dianne and Chris (with a sleepy and still angry Maureen looking
on)  said their goodnights in the hallway, their friendship, trust, and
professional relationship restored. [Cop out? What cop out? This is
important, emotional stuff. You really think I'm going to tell you what I
said to convince them? Get a grip!--- CLK]

        And then Chris changed out of her ruined dress into her combat
fatigues, shooed the kitties out of her office, and went on to her job. 
Which she'd never, exactly, told Dianne would be happening *that* night. 
She'd let her friend draw her own, erroneous conclusions.