“Would you trust him with your life, Halt?" Gilan interrupted, and Halt looked up at him."Yes," he said quietly. Gilan patted his shoulder once more."Then trust him with his own," he said simply.”

“Halt Halt," said Gilan stepping out into the open.”

“Halt?" said Gilan, realization dawning. "You're not seasick are you?"No," Halt said shortly, not trusting himself beyond one syllable.Probably need a bite if breakfast to settle your stomach," Svengal said helpfully. "Gte something solid inside you."Had...breakfast." This time Halt managed three syllables-but with some difficulty, Svengal affected no notice.Cabbage is god. Especially pickled cabbage. Sits on the gut nicely," he said. "Goes well with a nice piece of greasy bacon. You should try that if you..."But before he could finish, Halt lurched toward the ship's rail and hung over it. Dreaful noises were torn from him. Svengal, still affecting a look of innocence, turned to Gilan, hands spread and eyes wide.What it the world is he looking for? Has he lost something, do you think?”

“And with his arm around the younger man's shoulders still, he led him away from the bow and back to the small group by the tiller. Halt glanced up as they approached, caught a look from Gilan and had a pretty good idea what they had been talking about."Where have you two been?" he asked, his tone light.admiring the view," Gilan told him. "Thought you might need a hand from the two wisest heads on board.”

“You know,' he said as they made their way down the hall, 'I appreciate the support, Scully, but I don't need defending. Not really.'She looked up at him and sighed. 'Oh yes you do, Mulder.'He looked back blankly.'Trust me,' she said, patting his arm. 'On this one you'll have to trust me.”

“Horace, fit, and athletic and light on his feet, gave their guards the fewest opportunities to beat him, although on one occasion an angry Tualaghi, furious that Horace misunderstood an order to kneel, slashed his dagger across the young man’s face, opening a thin, shallow cut on his right cheek. The wound was superficial but as Evanlyn treated it that evening, Horace shamelessly pretended that it was more painful than it really was. He enjoyed the touch of her ministering hands. Halt and Gilan, bruised and weary, watched as she cleaned the wound and gently pated it dry. Horace did a wonderful job of pretending to bear great pain with stoic bravery. Halt shook his head in disgust.“What faker,” he said to Gilan. The younger Ranger nodded.“Yes. He’s really making a meal of it isn’t he?” He paused, then added more ruefully, “Wish I’d thought of it first.”