It had taken almost an hour of careful searching up and down the range of mountains, but at last, the cave was found. Just in time, too, as the cold of night was just starting to settle in, enough to send a little shiver through the First Mate as he stood on deck and watched over the boarding of the civilians their twins had moved out of the base. Or perhaps that little spasm of muscles was caused by the ever-sounding alarm that his sixth sense kept setting off about this whole situation. This was more than just trying to ruin the pirates' reputations. Far more.

Sigurd breathed a sigh as he leaned on the railing, watching the crew help a couple of the younger kids up the rope ladder and onto the giant sand cruiser's deck. The children were crying, they were scared. They didn't understand what was going on, they were tired and hungry, frightened by the dark cave they had to stay in. Quietly, he stood from the railing and walked down the couple steps to kneel on the deck near the huddled, crying children while their parents were still helping others onto the boat, gathering two of the youngest to his sides to comfort them. "It's okay, we're going home now..."

"We thought they were you, Mr. Sigurd." One of the older children - a girl hugging her younger brother - explained, unnecessarily, but the young girl was answered with a gentle smile anyway. Sigurd knew, he'd met his twin. And he was just glad that they realized he or his charge would never do this kind of thing to them, even if it was done just to keep them safe from the bomb.

"I know, don't be afraid, they're gone now. Don't cry, you're all safe and we'll be back before you know it." The second part offered to the younger ones who still were crying or in various stages of sniffling. Ah, if nothing could find its way to his heart, the children always could. But one by one the children left the comforting empath as their parents boarded to head down into the ship. One little boy was left as one of his crew called, he stood up to head over to the railing, the child clinging to his hand as he stood, walking with him. Once at the rail he was informed that everyone was on board spare one group who was returning from making sure everyone was gathered. Good, at least it went smoothly. Those damn twins apparently forgot there were monsters out in the desert, who -liked- to live in caves because it was cooler.

Hefting the little boy in his arms, Sigurd returned to the top part of the deck to look out over the desert. He could distantly here the drums over the humming of the engine here. The tribe must be close again.

"Hear that sound? That's the Nomads. They take care of the desert." Not that humans could take care of something so mighty as the vast desert, but the tale served as a distraction for both of them while they waited for the remaining crew to return. "Those drums are like the desert's heart, soft and steady, but heard for miles and miles. The desert itself is alive, you know. That's what the Machaka, and all Nomads, believe, anyway. The drums are almost always going near here, to symbolize that life. Do you ever hear that sound when you're in bed?"

The little boy nodded mutely, but then, it's hard to talk when one has their thumb in their mouth, and Sigurd smiled, turning around to rest back against the railing, his good eye closing as he listens to the drums and recalls what he was taught when he was about as old at the boy in his arms. It was hard to put into the Ignas tongue what the Nomadic language could explain so fluently and perfectly. The languages were too different, one based on nature, the other on civilization. Nomads had a language that was... like a poem. To him, anyway.

"Everything depends on our Mother, the Desert. If we don't respect Her and Her children, She won't respect us, and we won't be able to live. She gives us everything we need to survive, if you just know where to look, but we can only take what we need, never more. If we are kind to Her, then She will be pleased with us and give us the things we need to survive and be happy. If we are disrespectful and harmful, then She will destroy us." Repeated softly, a vague translation of what he remembered his mother always telling him. He opens his eye then and smiles to he little boy as he shrugged one shoulder. "It doesn't sound as nice in our language, but that's the basic idea. Do you respect the desert?"

A little nod, meek and kind of scared at the idea of dying if he didn't be nice to this lady Sigurd was talking about, and the boy looked past the man's shoulder with big brown eyes to watch the final few members of the crew return. He was still a little too young to grasp the whole idea for more than a couple seconds, much less ponder over it, but at least being talked to was keeping him calm. And moments later the First Mate turned as well to watch the crew return, his desert stories forgotten for now as responsibility once again weighted heavy on his shoulders. "Let's get inside, we'll be leaving soon."

Indeed, the Yggdrasil was on the move again in less than ten minutes from those words, the boy never leaving the man's arms even as he steered the ship back 'home'. In that time, though, his expression was a stoic mask, peered at continuously by the curious child settled on his hip and in one arm. He needed to think, so thankfully the child stayed silent for the most part, and the temporary interruptions for attention weren't looked down upon, rather granted and rewarded by silence once more. What were those twins up to? Why did they do this if they weren't going to keep the base? They obviously hadn't planned to. Why were they pulling all this? Why did they have Khiea? What did she have to do with this? Were they Kislevi soldiers sent to stir up trouble? Possibly, considering the gears were definitely from Kislev.

But possibly what bothered him the most was what they wanted with Bart and what they planned on doing to Aveh. Too many questions and not enough answers. It was time to -get- some answers.

By the time the Ygg docked safely in the base, the crew that was already there were waiting for them, happily greeting loved ones and friends and generally sharing how glad they all were that everyone was alright. The last one out other than the bridge crew that had a few more final procedures to handle, Sigurd chuckled and set the boy down as he began to squirm, smiling to himself as the child toddled as fast as his little legs could carry him to his father. Finally, everyone was safe and sound, the bomb was taken care of and properly disposed of, as was that doll, and the base was secure once more.

Sigurd felt he more than deserved a trip to the Dining Hall for a mug of hot, mulled cider.

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(OOC note: Okay, so most of that was pointless and rather sappy, but it's 5 am and I'm in a weird mood. ^^; Basically the Ygg just left, got the people, came home, yay. I wanted to add a bit more of a development of the Nomads and stuff... And I like babbling. ^^)