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Upon arrival in Torval, the two walked together down the gangplank where Ko'Manir met an attache from the Hammerfell embassy.

"Well, good luck," Ra'Jirra said, giving her a hug.

"You too. Hopefully we'll meet again someday."

"I'd like that. You take care of yourself!"

And with that, the two parted. Ra'Jirra walked towards the square that was the capitol of Elsweyr, then on to a nondescript building a few blocks beyond. There she descended a flight of stairs and through a pair of large doors where a single guard waited beyond an intimidating desk.

"Yeah?" he said, standing. The sword at his side didn't look to be ceremonial.

"My name is Arij. I believe I'm expected."

His demeanor lightened. "Certainly. Step this way," he said, leading her to a hidden door in one wall then down another flight of circling stairs to a long tunnel, light by glow-pods on either side. She could not see the end of the tunnel.

"Proceed to the end, then take the stairs up. The door at the top will be locked. Knock twice. Not once, not thrice. Twice only. Then be patient," he said and returned the way he had come.

Ra'Jirra had never been particularly claustrophobic, but the tunnel tested that. It must have been at least a mile in length, with no side passages nor curves. As expected, she reached another tight spiraling staircase which she proceeded to climb. However this one was substantially longer than the prior one and she estimated she had climbed at least five stories before she came to a landing directly in front of a finely crafted door. The door had the head of a lion carved in it - the symbol of the HMSS. She knocked twice.

And then she waited. She began to wonder if she had been heard - the door was massive and there had been only her knuckles to rap on it with. Yet no one came. Not only was the door locked, there was no handle on her side. Minutes passed. Then more minutes.

She considered her options. She could knock again, or she could go back the way she came. She had just raised her hand to knock again when the door opened. Inside sat Em's secretary and she realized the door was a secret door that led directly to the head of the HMSS' private office.

"Took you long enough," said the khajiit behind the desk.

"Pardon me, but I've been waiting for someone to open that door for at least 15 minutes!"

"Why? Do you always follow directions? What kind of agent does that make you, Ra'Jirra?"

"What!? Was that some kind of demented test?"

"You can call it that. Go on in, they're expecting you."

Ra'Jirra stuck her tongue out at the secretary. Some gestures transcended race. The secretary returned the insult and Ra'Jirra closed the door firmly behind her in mock anger.

"Ah! Ra'Jirra! Come on in," Em invited her. Beside him was the big argonian named Queue who was the head of the HMSS technology division.

"Em, Queue," she said, acknowledging both, but surprising Queue with an unexpected hug.

"Oh!" he said in his oddly accented voice. "To what do I owe this? Have you finally recognized the worth of my department?"

"Actually, yes. Without that briefcase trick, I'd be a dead cat. I was remiss in thanking you for that last time."

"Glad to be of service."

Em grumbled. "What, no love for your mentor?"

Ra'Jirra smiled and stepped around the desk, making sure to give the head of the HMSS as much affection as she'd shown the argonian.

"That's better!" he said. "Now if we can dispense with the mutual admiration society, let's get underway. Agreed?"

She nodded and sat in the chair beside Queue.

"I presume all went well in Hammerfell?"

"It did. Though how much good it will do, I really can't say. Dominion spies are awfully hard to spot."

"Don't we know it! Well, we can only hope it worked. But we have a mission for you. I'm afraid it's of the utmost urgency so you won't be staying the night."

Ra'Jirra felt a little dejected - she'd honestly hoped she could at least stay for a few days. She did love Torval.

"Sorry," Em said, reading her thoughts as he so often did. "Ko'Manir will be busy anyway. But let's get down to business. Has she told you of the missing Hammerfell ship?"

"Somewhat, yes. Though she wouldn't tell me what made it special."

"Well let me fill you in then. It had sails, and could even be powered by oars or argonian swimmers in a pinch, but it had a device we call an engine. It's a self-powered device, rather large, that drives a sort of water-fan underneath the waterline of the ship. It's quite a remarkable device."

"So, do you know what happened to it? She said it hadn't been seen since leaving Valenwood."

"No idea. Elsweyr, being ostensibly an ally of Cyrodiil, was not to be on its port-of-call list. We saw or heard nothing of it. But since the engine can run all day and all night, it could well have passed our coast entirely by the next day," Em explained, then slid a drawing to her.

"We have a sketch of the ship, drawn by an agent in Valenwood when it docked. It was under sail when entering and leaving the port."

"Looks like any Hammerfell ship to me," she said, sliding the drawing back.

Em slid it back to her, "Keep it. It may come in handy. But there's more. This engine is not, as you may surmise, quite as secret a device as Hammerfell would wish. The Imperials have come up with their own in fact. As in most things, Hammerfell is first in new technology, but the Imperials are quick to grasp it and add it to their own arsenal. Four days ago they launched their own vessel, using a similar engine."

Ra'Jirra nodded, not surprised. "And we're working on our own too I suppose?" she asked, turning to Queue.

"Once the idea is grasped, the rest is just engineering. We have a very qualified engineering staff," he began, but Em interrupted him.

"Hold on, we'll get to that soon enough. As I was saying, three days ago the Imperials launched their own engine-powered craft. It was to circle all the way up to Morrowind and return, to test the reliability of their version of the machine. It too was lost."

"Another missing ship?"

"Not missing. Destroyed. There was a sole survivor this time - an argonian."

"And she came to us? Pardon me, Queue, but your people aren't exactly known for being friendly to other species - present company excepted."

The argonian nodded in agreement, but Em stood up from behind his desk and began to pace.

"Oh no," Ra'Jirra thought. "That's his Pontification Walk."

True to form, the head of the HMSS started to do just that.

"Ra'Jirra, you know that Hammerfell excels in new technology. Even the Imperials would have to admit that. For their part, the Imperials have the best trained military of all the nations of Tamriel. We and the Nords have plenty of fierce warriors, but we don't hold a candle to their strategies and planning. But we have one thing that sets ups apart and levels the playing field for us. Do you know what that is?"

"Me."

"Yes, in a broad sense at least. We have you, and others like you. We have the best spies in the world, which is quite an accomplishment given our dissimilarity to the humans and mer. Only the argonians are more... different. But they keep to their Marsh for the most part."

Ra'Jirra looked to Queue, but he just nodded.

"So no, Ra'Jirra. The survivor didn't come to us. But you could say we came to her. She had no compunction against telling our agent what had happened. In fact, she told everyone in the tavern that she managed to drag herself into afterwards. Her allegiance is with Cyrodiil, but among her own kind she keeps no secrets. She spoke in Jel but our agent understands the language perfectly. Which reminds me, Ra'Jirra, how's your Jel?"

"Decent," she said in a very good imitation of the argonian language.

"Good," Em replied in the same language. "You'll need it."

Then he switched back to Ta'agra and walked over to a map of Tamriel. "Come here, Ra'Jirra. I'd like to show you something."

Ra'Jirra rose and walked to the map, standing beside Em. He stood impressively taller than her, and much more massive. The Cathay-raht somewhat dwarfed her own race.

"Here," he said, marking a spot along the coast of Black Marsh, "is approximately where the Imperial ship exploded.

"Exploded? A bomb?"

"According to the survivor, that's what it sounds like. And here, " he continued, "is the planned path of the Hammerfell ship according to our best sources."

"They intersect." she saw.

"Yes, they do. Now, the Imperials think Hammerfell sunk their ship, and Hammerfell thinks the Imperials have taken theirs. We, however, don't think either are right."

"Who do you suspect?"

"Who do you think?"

"Black Marsh, of course. It's obvious. That's where they both were."

"Yes. That is our suspicion."

Ra'Jirra turned to look at Queue. "But why? The argonians don't dabble in other countries' affairs?"

"I've no idea, Ra'Jirra," Queue said. "I told the Mane as much. It's not our style. So long as our Hist trees are left alone, we don't bother with others as a rule."

"But nevertheless, all the signs point to the Black Marsh," Em said. "And somewhere around this area. Ra'Jirra, we'd like you to go there, meet this survivor, and try and determined why these ships are being destroyed. And it needs to be done quickly. Hammerfell is launching another ship within the week, and they've already stated flatly that if this ship is lost, they will consider it an act of war by Cyrodiil. Already they are mobilizing their military along the border."

"I understand," Ra'Jirra said, looking back at the map.

"Oh, one more thing Ra'Jirra. You'll have a partner this time."

"A partner?"

"Queue?" Em said, indicating the door.

Queue walked to the office door and opened it. A cat walked in. The four legged-kind. More specifically, an Alfiq. He stood only slightly larger than a normal housecat, but the intelligence in his eyes was instantly recognizable - to another khajiit at least.

"Ra'Jirra," Em said. "Meet your partner."

"An Alfiq? Look, Em, I know they're great for spying, but... how will we even communicate?"

"Hello, Ra'Jirra," the cat said in fairly understandable Ta'agra.

"This is Dar'Amon. And as you have noticed, he's exceptionable among the Alfiq."

"He can TALK?!"

"Reasonably so," said the cat. "Just don't ask me to sing. I really can't hold a tune."