NARRATOR: Aboard the mercenary warship Touch-And-Go in close patrol around Oisri...
SCHLOCK: You're still here, ambassador?
AMB. GAV: I'm here for the duration, it would seem.
SCHLOCK: Oh. Sorry to drag you out here, then.
AMB. GAV: It's not your fault. They were about to rotate me away from the Parnassus Dom embassy anyway.
Gavcorps wants a "baseliner" Gav here as a liaison. When I showed up with your tree, they invited me to stay.
AMB. GAV: Wait... I guess it is your fault. Apology accepted.
SCHLOCK: So, where is 'here,' exactly? What's going on?
AMB. GAV: Oh, yeah. You've got no memory of this. Okay, let's sharpen my briefing skills:
AMB. GAV: Oisri is a millions-of-years old artifact under around six and a half klicks of dirty snowball. It projects a powerful gravitational mask, and has been doing this for a very long time.
It's worth a lot of money. Gavcorps hired the Toughs to protect it, and them, while they figure out what exactly it is.
AMB. GAV: Six days ago a technician was killed in a mechanical accident. Your own fatal misadventure was an unhappy distraction from the investigation into why his headless corpse was walking around.
SCHLOCK: Is it still doing that?
AMB. GAV: He's still walking around, yes, but his head grew back so I've been told he's not nearly as interesting to watch.
Your doctor has been logging twenty-hour days alternating between resuscitation efforts on you, and an investigation into the very nifty blood nannies the transmogrified Gavs here have.
AMB. GAV: The research here is a mad scramble. Four days ago the dig got to the artifact's surface. Nobody knows what's inside yet.
SCHLOCK: That's too bad.
AMB. GAV: Don't worry. I'm sure they'll figure it out soon.
SCHLOCK: No, it's too bad I missed the zombie.