"Nathan, how are you?" Jimmy Irons said as he entered Nathan Temple's hospital room.
Temple had been in his top floor office when it was hit by the Ozian attack.
"Been better. I'll live, but the doctors don't know if I'll walk again. It's really a wonder I'm alive," he said. "I'm glad to see you made it out of Bayan, sorry to hear about your colleagues."
"Thanks."
"Please, take a seat and let's get to more business friendly topics," Temple said as he sat up in his hospital bed, lightening the mood. "What do you know about the natives in your area?"
"Well I'll admit, not much," Irons said as he took a seat next to the bed. "Our relationship with them has really been limited to them bringing us assorted goods, primarily furs, and us trading whatever interested them. Mainly tobacco; but they are also impressed by our knives. Other than that, we hadn't ventured much outside the outpost."
"What about their societal structure?"
"Not sure, but I think it's a very family oriented society. One of our regular natives, we call him Powha, brought his son with him once and his daughter another time, gorgeous girl. I think he's picked up a little bit of English too; well our corrupted slang version of it at least."
"Ok, I want you to recruit a team here and go back to where Bayan was and rebuild it. Take the Temple back; it's a nice little corvette," Temple said as he smiled referring to his namesake. "I'll see if I can't get the MDF to put some ships on patrol there too."
"Yes sir."
"Also, see if this Powha will take you back to his town and see what you can learn about their society. Some of our other people said the natives west of here were fighting a war with ones to the north, which could be yours. Keep a lookout for that; see if you can discern the cause."