Log Date: 9/4, 9/8/96
Log Cast:
	Tance, Nadine
Log Intro:
	Tance Vokrim has been camping outside the Guildhall for some time,
avoiding the recruit classes the Medical division has prescribed for him,
and avoiding the nastier older Singers who have been giving him a hard time
about his sudden shift in status. But camping outside the Guildhall isn't
exactly the nicest way to spend one's existence, and the weathered old
Singer eventually finds a kind of shelter in the remnants of a sled
crashed some distance away from the place. But it's a dubious shelter at
best... and eventually a treacherous one, for Tance's arm is injured when
he crawls through the wreckage.
	Still, he insists on not returning to the Guildhall... but
eventually his symbiont itself overrides him, with warnings of an
impending Mach storm. Unable to bear its insistent demands that he
find real shelter, he staggers into the JPF, and down to the Infirmary,
seeing that as his only real refuge in the Guild these days. And there
he faints, to be tended by Medic Jolie... and eventually to be given a
bed in the Long Term Care ward, as the new recruits have started to
adapt and the medics need Vokrim out of their way at least for a little
while.
	But they don't leave him alone forever....

----------
Nadine quietly enters the Long Term Care facility.
Nadine has arrived.
Nadine peeks around the door, "Tance, are you in here?"

Tance is lying off across the room, curled up on one of the cots in a tight 
  ball, back to the other few wrecks of Singers in the room. "No," he snaps, 
  shortly.

Nadine coughs to hide a chuckle and steps a bit farther into the wing. "Oh? 
  I'm talking to myself then, is that it?"

Tance doesn't roll over, and he growls back, "They only put the crazy Singers 
  in here, so you'll get better conversation talking to yourself than us."

Nadine, still walking toward Tance's voice, sighs a bit. "So then why are you 
  here?"

Tance's back and shoulders stiffen under his clothes. For a few moments he 
  doesn't reply; when he does, the growl in his voice has deepened, but with a 
  frantic edge, as though he's trying hard to sound as fierce as he can. "No 
  place else to sleep."

Even though there's no one to notice, a frown flickers across the medic's face 
  at that. "What do you mean, no place to sleep?"

"They don't let _recruits_ on the Singer levels," mutters Tance bitterly. He 
  finally glances over his shoulder, and blinks at the figure who has 
  approached him; a glint of half-recognition flickers in his dark gaze before 
  it is displaced by sullen uncaring. "Thought you medics would remember you 
  turned me into a recruit."

Nadine makes a vague noise of assent, finally finding a place to sit by the 
  cot in the back of the room. "My memory isn't totally gone yet, and neither 
  is yours from the looks of it. Perhaps they've decided to keep you out of 
  your room on the singer level. Recruits who don't attend classes are often 
  dealt with in ways that would best get their attention."

By way of appearance, the old Singer looks almost as if he might have just 
  come in from the Ranges, save that there is no hint of resonance coming off 
  his skinny frame. But his hair and beard have grown out again, in unkempt 
  snarls, and his face is gaunt, with hollowed and sleepless eyes. The man 
  squints narrowly at the woman as she sits beside him, then smirks and rolls 
  back again to face the wall. "Shoulda stayed out," he mutters.

Nadine raises an eyebrow and asks, "Stayed out where, Tance? In the storm? Do 
  you want your brains completely scrambled or something?" She sighs a bit and 
  says, a bit more calmly, "We only want ot help you get back into the Ranges, 
  Tance. We thought a refresher course on the basics could only help you. Why 
  haven't you been attending classes?"

"Coulda joined Meggie..." The answer, when it comes out of Vokrim, sounds as 
  much directed to the wall as to his listener. Then, as if suddenly 
  remembering he _has_ a listener, he twitches, and glares distrustfully back 
  over his shoulder. Gaze hard, slightly wild, he bursts out, "Nobody wants me 
  in the Ranges!"

Nadine folds arms over chest, looking every inch the grandmother now, though 
  she well knows how much seniority the singer has (technically speaking). 
  "Oh? Tell me, Tance, what makes you so sure of that? Why do you think we 
  don't want you in the ranges? It's criminal for you not to be out there, I 
  know how much you enjoy singing your greens. I, and the other medics, want 
  you to be able to sing again soon."

Tance sits up, quickly, skittering back against the wall. His arms cross 
  protectively before him, and he continues to glare balefully... but not 
  quite _at_ the medic before him. "Took my sled. Took my quarters. Pay me 
  dirt for busting my back for honest work! Jeer at an old man..." He smirks. 
  "'Clean that sled, _recruit_!' 'You don't pay enough attention to detail, 
  _recruit_!'"

Knowing this really isn't the time to let amusement show, Nadine carefully 
  schools her impression and says quietly, "That was for your own good. Would 
  you rather have had us trot you out in front of the newest class of recruits 
  as an example of what could happen to them? At least this way, you were 
  mostly anonymous; they didn't know exactly who you were, didn't know what 
  class you came down with, didn't know how you adapted. This way, they didn't 
  whisper behind your back about the example of what not to become."

Tance explodes, "How the kark did you expect them to not figure out what I 
  _am_?" He surges up off the bed, gracelessly. "Nine hells of Nirabay, woman, 
  they did the Final Disclosure, didn't they? They're stuck on the same 
  sinking boat _I_ am..." He starts to pace.
Tance continues on, agitated now, gaze turning grieved, "Oh, they'll see, hah, 
  don't need _me_ to show them anything, just wait till the Ranges start 
  punching holes in their memories, except the ones they can't bear to keep 
  and can't bear to lose...

Nadine remains seated, watching Tance pace. "I expect nothing. And maybe it's 
  a sinking boat and maybe not, but Tance, you've got another chance to go be 
  able to go out there and do what you love. Yes, there are times when it's 
  better to forget, and it's frustrating to watch the new ones come in, not 
  really knowing what's in store for them, but tell me something, don't you 
  -want- to sing again?"

As he turns, Vokrim actually staggers for a moment or two, as if punched. Face 
  still black with fury -- or something, which perhaps he's struggling to 
  coneal, like fear -- he retorts sardonically, "You think I _love_ being a 
  clod of dirt on the Guild's ever so spotless uniform? What planet are _you_ 
  living on, Ears?"

Nadine, not bothering to hide the faint smile this time, says, "Now that's 
  better, you've remembered my name. So, if you want to sing again, why are 
  you resisting what we're trying to do to help you? I guess it doesn't really 
  matter now, this class is almost over. Maybe we need to consider shepherding 
  you. An older singer, at least a few classes back. Preferably someone who's 
  had the same sort of experience as you have. I doubt it would take much, 
  though, as much as you've been singing in the past. What do you think about 
  that?"

Tance opens his mouth to speak, closes it again, and finally edges warily back 
  two seps. And smirks. "Shepherd. Shepherd _me_? Hah!"

Nadine says, "And just what about that is so hard to believe?"

Tance starts pacing again, scowling -- and quickly jerking his gaze away from 
  the pointed-eared medic before, hopefully, she can see the heated flush that 
  ruddies his gaunt face. He growls in the general direction of Rembil's 
  oblivious figure across the room, "Farantine'd _have_ to pay 'em to spend 
  any time with me.... sure as hells won't do it otherwise!"

That near-smile dances across her lips again as she says, "Don't be so sure. 
  There are ways to go about it, you know. And I know you may consider it an 
  insult, Tance, but it's important for you right now. There's no way in hell 
  that we'd let you out of JPF without some kind of supervision. Preferably a 
  Singer. And maybe even a medic."

Tance snorts. "Name me five Singers who think doing something for me, even if 
  Farantine does pay 'em, is more fun than slamming me facedown in the muck in 
  their sleds." The words come out of him toneless, taut.

Nadine fires right back, "What about Kesya?"

Tance goes very still.

Nadine raises an eyebrow, that not being the reaction she expected. "Well?"

Has color drained out of the weathered Singer's face? He mumbles, "Don't wanna 
  go in the Ranges with her."

Nadine, now quite curious in spite of herself, just looks at Tance for a long 
  moment. The thoughts almost shout from her expression, 'Slowly, slowly.' She 
  nods, considering, then asks quietly, "Why not?"

Tance's face contorts in a positively thunderous scowl. He looks away, but not 
  quickly enough that he cannot be seen to turn a rather vivid shade of 
  crimson.

The medic does a double-take at that reaction and sits back in the chair a bit 
  to ponder what to say next. After a long moment (for her) of silence, she 
  offers, "You don't have to go overnight."

"Won't be in the Ranges with her when the sun's on the green." The words come 
  out of Vokrim as harsh-edged as most of his do, but his voice is still soft, 
  and his gaze directed away from the medic. Then he barks, a short chuckle of 
  laughter. "Won't let me pick my shepherd anyway, though, I'm just a 
  'recruit' again, anyway, what difference does it make?"

Nadine smiles faintly and tucks a stray curl behind one pointed ear. "I 
  thought the recruits -could- choose their own shepherds now, though. Tance, 
  I know she'd take you if you asked her. Or...I could ask her for you, if you 
  like. Or maybe just..speak to her about it first?"

Tance whirls around and yells, "I said no!" Is that _fright_ in Tance's voice 
  and eyes?

Nadine holds her hands in front of her in an 'I give up' gesture. "Okay, okay. 
  It was just an idea. Would you prefer someone you didn't know?"

Tance actually trembles a little, eyes wild, staring once more at the 
  pointed-eared woman till he seems to realize she's trying to avoid looking 
  like a threat. He settles, at least somehow; his dark gaze is still 
  suspicious. "Don't karking well know most of the Singers in this place," he 
  snarls. "Can't remember them."

Nadine stands up and takes a step toward the senior Singer, "Just relax, 
  Tance. I promise you, it was only a suggestion. You can choose whoever you 
  want to be your shepherd. That's the way things go now." She takes one more 
  step forward, approaching very very slowly, the way a person might approach 
  a horse that could bolt at any second. "Hang about in the Singer lounge for 
  awhile, get a feel for a few people, and then decide."

Tance is still quivering, as he mutters darkly, "Not welcome in there. Can't 
  get on the levels anyway."

Nadine smiles pleasantly and says in a reasonable tone, "That can be changed 
  very quickly, you know."

Tance stares warily at the medic, then finally mutters petulantly, "Want my 
  room."

Nadine nods, "Mmm, I bet you do. I'm sure that we could arrange it, the new 
  recruits from this class ahve adapted and already have their quarters. They 
  didn't have to wait for shepherds, why should you?"

Tance again unaccountably blushes, and shifts away, scowling at the floor.

Nadine takes another slow step to Tance, then lets out a rather colorful curse 
  as her wrist unit chimes. "Tance, I need to go see to whoever this is. You 
  can follow, or you can wait here, I'll be right back."

Nadine leaves Long Term Care looking very sombre.
Nadine has left.

[To be continued....]