Pt. I - At the Outdoor Marketplace
The (staged) altercation between Nekshi and Granite Spear reaches a high point; the Shurian reacts to the Zorlan's loud tongue-lashing by assuming a threatening pose, giving a retort that no one except Nekshi understands (since no one around them speaks Zorlan Standard), and stomping off. With a (very well played) huff, Nekshi storms after the retreating creature.
The people milling about nearby shrink back in alarm or confusion. If nothing else, the pair has certainly attracted a lot of attention.
While the "fight" was in progress, both Nekshi and Granite Spear noticed that a peace force (i.e. police) flier-bike was approaching, carefully easing into the crowd as if to pull up next to the pair. Almost right after Granite Spear's intimidating display, however, the flier-bike suddenly revs up its repulsorjets, rises up above the crowd again, and tears off in the direction of Artists' Square with its siren blaring.
Nekshi concludes that the ruse has worked. It takes her a while to bring Granite Spear to heel, however, as the Shurian has gotten a bit carried away and buried herself in the part (most likely one of those instinctive things). By the time they stop, they have left the marketplace and are now in one of Ekr'in's many narrow, twisty roads lined with small shops and flats.
"It appears that we have been successful," says Nekshi. "Now we must contemplate our next action..."
Then the pair is startled by a hissing sound in a nearby alley. Turning to look, they see a small, hooded figure standing there eying them. There is a bit of activity under its robe. The only thing stopping Granite Spear from tearing into the newcomer like a shark into a drowning goat is the fact that she has seen that little hooded robe before.
Kuluf croaks, and his translator says in Zorlan Standard, "I'm sorry. I was busy contemplating the way all these threads connect, and I didn't read your meaning. Did you want me to come with you? And why aren't we at the river?"
Pt. II - The Long Arm of the...?
Mon'Fargret doubles back to the boutique which he saw the loyalist woman enter. It is a fairly well-known Aragonese shop called "Llynfóramhyá" (pronounced hleen-FOR-ah-VYA). (Mon'Fargret vaguely remembers hearing somewhere that the name means "I like this" in the Soeki language.) Unfortunately, it is also a testament to the recent problems being suffered by merchants on Lyranell. The mannequins are dressed in all manner of exquisitely-crafted (if not very civilized) garments for men, women, and "female men" (another sadly uncivilized fact of Aragonese culture), but many if not most of the shelves are bare. A number of rather gloomy-looking shoppers are poring over what forlorn wares there are, mostly in the shoe, accessory, and handbag corners.
There is no sign of the loyalist woman.
There are two people, most likely the shopclerks judging by their dress, having an animated discussion near the employee door. One of them is a gold-skinned Aragonese woman. The other is a towering, gray-skinned Crygan woman who looks a bit out of place (but definitely not unattractive) in her Aragonese dress. After a little while an Aragonese man comes into the room through the employee door. The two women turn to him, and he shakes his head. They start to talk quietly, but then the man notices Mon'Fargret and nods in his direction. The Crygan woman approaches with a smile.
Although the Crygans are a powerful and very loyal vassal of the Foldorians, Mon'Fargret has never seen one in person before. She stands at least two heads taller than him and is completely hairless. Despite the gracefulness of the Aragonese dress she's wearing (which looks rather odd on the Amazonian Crygan!) she looks like she could probably bench-press a small car. Approaching Mon'Fargret with a smile, she bows primly in the Aragonese feminine style and says, "Llynergaáln váljhalé!" (A common Soeki greeting...which also seems odd coming from a Crygan.) Then, in very polite Yangae, she says, "How might I serve the good lord?"
Mon'Fargret fancies he catches a whiff of a very subtle perfume. It's faint, but it makes him go all tingly.
"Um..." he attempts, still glancing about for the loyalist woman.
"Is there anything in particular you're looking for?" asks the Crygan sweetly.
Funny she should put it that way, thinks Mon'Fargret to himself. His thinking seems to be going a bit fuzzy. Is it just nerves, the fact of the policeman hovering about outside, or is it just that he's talking to a woman who could probably tear him apart in a couple of seconds? No, it's probably the perfume. It's so faint, but so exotic...
"I know what the good lord might be thinking," the Crygan goes on, ushering him to one of the aisles, "but Aragonese men's wear is not at all like what I have on. It's both acceptable and fashionable in the Civilized Realm. I bid the good lord have a look!"
"Have a look..." mutters Mon'Fargret following after the giant, gorgeous woman. He has never thought about it before, but bald women apparently turn him on much more than he thought. And those muscles... Is it getting warmer in the shop? But why is he trembling?
"Is my lord okay?" asks the Crygan very quietly, a knowing grin on her face. She does a sort of turn, and the strange perfume becomes stronger for just an instant. Her dress brushes against him, and it's like an electric jolt.
Wait a minute...isn't there something he's heard about Crygans? Something about...uh...
"Here is a seat, my lord," she says into his ear, easing him onto a bench. Her breath on his cheek sends his glands into a frenzy. Her touch is deliciously warm and shiveringly frosty at the same time. Sheer ecstacy! If only there weren't all those people there! That simple store aisle could be transformed into a den of pleasure! But wait a minute...come to think of it, why was he there in the first place? "I bid you sit while I show you some of the fine garments we have available! I apologize for our shamefully small stock at present, but I'm sure we have something to suit the good lord!"
"I'm sure you have something..." mumbles Mon'Fargret, settling onto the bench. Yes, he has heard something about Crygans, but what is it? Total blank. Fog. Getting foggy. Getting FOG-gy...
"Now let's see..." says the Crygan musically. "Ah! I know just what would suit my lord! How about this?" She holds up a suit that looks like it's made of real leather. Dead animal flesh. But it's so exciting! "Such style and elegance! It would make my lord look so distinguished! And this shade of tolek brown goes so well with my lord's wonderful, red hair!" She runs the back of her fingers across his hair, and he shudders. "What does my lord think? Would my lord like to try it...OH!!!" Her solid blue eyes go very wide.
"Try it, oh..." mumbles Mon'Fargret. He hears the thump of boots approaching somewhere in a distant universe.
"Welcome!" says the Crygan in Her-Galad to someone behind Mon'Fargret. All sweetness has vanished from her character. Now she looks very uncomfortable. "Is there something we can do for you?"
"Armed police," barks a masculine voice in Her-Galad. "Stand aside!"
The Crygan does as she's told, and a helmeted Hergoth peace force officer comes around in front of Mon'Fargret. He's holding a stun baton.
"Keep your hands where they are," warns the officer in Yangae.
"Where they are..." mutters Mon'Fargret.
The officer pauses, studying him. Then, to the Crygan, he says in Her-Galad, "Did you pheromone him?"
The Crygan looks as innocent as possible. "Maybe a little. But I can't help it, can I? I haven't haven't done anything wrong!"
"We'll see about that," retorts the officer. Turning back to Mon'Fargret, he says more quietly in Yangae, "Why are you here?"
"Why am I here?" echoes Mon'Fargret. "Why...why..." He shakes his head.
"Tell me why you're here! Were you looking for someone? Did you meet with someone?"
"Um..." replies Mon'Fargret. The perfume is gone. His mind is finally starting to clear.
The male Aragonese shopclerk approaches. In perfect, melodic Her-Galad, he asks, "Is there a problem, officer?"
"Do not approach!" warns the officer holding out the baton. "This is a matter of the civil authorities, by right of the Holy Magistrate, and this man is under security quarantine!" To Mon'Fargret again, "Now, tell me! Why are you here?"
Mon'Fargret struggles to clear his mind. Wait...now he remembers why he's here! "I'm looking for someone!" he says.
"Who?"
"Um, the loyalist woman from Wirg's!" He says it, but he feels strange doing so. But why? It's the truth, isn't it! But maybe that's the problem. Then again, lying to a Hergoth was generally a stupid thing to do without some very good mind shielding.
"Why? Did you meet with her?"
Honesty was probably the best policy. "She was following me! I wanted to know why!"
"Is that all?"
"Yes!"
"Did you see her? Did she say anything? Did she give you anything?"
"No! I didn't find her!"
"I'll vouch for him," says the Aragonese shopclerk assertively. "A Foldorian woman came into the shop before he did. She ran straight through and out the employee exit. I couldn't stop her."
The officer turns on the shopclerk and lifts his baton just a bit. "Did she say anything to you or anyone else? Did she touch anyone?"
The shopclerk gestures negative in Hergoth fashion, a look of confusion on his golden face.
The police officer steps toward him. "Did she drop anything?"
"What...?" says the shopkeeper.
"Did - she - drop - anything?" spits the officer, carefully enunciating each word as he takes another step forward. His baton raises a little more.
"GOLD TWO!" comes a shout from the store entrance. "STAND DOWN!"
The officer sighs, steps back, and lets his baton drop.
A second officer approaches, throwing back his visor to reveal Constable Betham. He has his stun pistol in his hand, but he quickly holsters it.
"These people are NOT under quarantine!" he snaps at the other officer. To the shopkeeper he says, "I apologize for the disturbance. I think my officer here got a little carried away. Isn't that right, Gold Two?"
There is a sigh, and the other officer apologizes quietly.
"Now get back on your ride and look for the woman," says Betham curtly. When the officer moves to comply, Betham turns to the Aragonese and Crygan shopkeepers and says, "I think you have customers to attend to. If you don't mind..." They move off, and Betham sits on the bench next to Mon'Fargret. "I'm really sorry about that," he says with a deep sigh. "He's young, and we're all under a lot of stress right now. You and your friends aren't helping matters, either. I know you enough to know you're not wading in bad water, but do us all a favor. That whole business in Wirg's this afternoon? Just forget about it. It didn't happen. You had your lunch, and you went back to your shop. That's it. Just put the whole thing out of your mind. Promise me, okay?" He stands up and turns to face Mon'Fargret. "I mean it! Promise me! I can see it in your mind. You want to find out what's going on, maybe even right some wrongs. Am I right? I don't blame you. But you'd only make things a LOT worse. Just stay away from it. And if you see either of those loyalists or that gang of Blues, don't talk to them. Don't look at them! Just pretend they don't exist!" He lifts his arms, lets them fall to his sides, then starts to leave. Then he stops. "I'd really hate to have to bring you in stunned like that Besteeng woman." With that, he leaves the shop.
71 comments:
Mon'Fargret decides to leave right behind Betham to avoid bankruptcy at the hands of Crygan.
Well, back to the shop then with more unanswered questions and a stern warning not to try getting answers. On the way back to the shop, he calls Dabid toe see what is happening with his partner and to tell him to stay alert without going into the details of this latest encounter, but merely saying that it appears things are happening outside Wirg's as well.
Best to keep up appearances at least for now. He tries to conjure up the image of working with the yarn, but the stress prevents him from doing so. "Kehlwok!" he quietly curses to himself as he proceeds onward.
Even though he is already late getting back, Mon'Fargret decides to circle around and enter his shop from the opposite direction of normal.
Dabid reports that Ham Salat, Zeton, and Widjgleeby have left the cafe. He says that he'll be returning shortly after he's had just a little bit of quiet time.
Nekshi gives Granite a high-five, and looks at Kuluf. "Our plans have changed, and the river will have to wait. Perhaps I can find a large bucket to dump over you if necessary."
Turning back to Granite, "We need to rejoin the others and inform them of this new development, let me send Zeton a nearby address, and when he or they approach, we can hail them from concealment. Does this sound logical?"
While she waits for Granite's reply, Nekshi will continue to scan the police band she found.
Nekshi tunes into the extra police band she found, and she receives the following transmissions (still coded):
"...because she was following him. He doesn't know about the item. He's clear blue. Recommend listing the others as clear blue, too. Over."
"Read. Are you sure there's no chance of interference? Over."
"Read. Well, thanks to Gold Two going all white in the boutique, half the Square probably suspects something is going on if they don't already. The media is going to be all over it, especially when the Frees find out a Manager-caste Foldorian was involved. Over."
"Gold Two, any sign of the target? Over"
"Negative, Mother. She probably went through one of the other shops. I have no mark. Over."
"Read. Gold Two, continue a low-key sweep of the area, but do NOT, repeat, do NOT engage any suspects without authorization. Read?"
"Read."
"Gold One, you and Gold Three go back to your regular beat until further notice. Try to defuse any tensions. Over."
"Read, Mother, and out."
Granite Spear shakes her body to cast off the adrenaline, like a dog might after climbing out of a lake.
Turning to Kuluf, and speaking Her-galad (as best she can), Granite says "How you so fast here? Your legs longer can see, must be."
Zeton, Ham Salat and Widjgleeby begin to look for Nekshi when Zeton receives an incoming message. What's strange is that it's a blipvert for a real estate agent. How did that get past his junk filters? He must need to update his message system again. Zeton almost bins it when something catches his eye. Something isn't quite right about it...
The subtle clues that were not obvious at first, slowly come to light. Zeton sees that it is a very cleverly coded message from... Nekshi? Yes, yes, it has to be from her. Why else would there be unit pricing in Zorlan currency as well as in Hergoth.
Upon closer inspection, there really is no message at all, but there is an address. Only one address and Zeton understands they should make their way toward it.
"Ham, Widjgleeby, please trust me on this, but we are going to be headed towards an address I just received. I'm positive its a message from Nekshi, so I think we should go there. But keep your eyes peeled. I don't want to be followed if we can help it. In fact, lets take the scenic route."
The group slowly makes there way to the address provided by Nekshi, trying to make sure they are not followed without really making it obvious that is what they are attempting to do.
Nekshi tries to spot the 3 approaching figures from her position under a rather nice awning (shouldn't be too hard, one's a Farbett).
She first checks if they've been followed, then she has Granite check, because her eyesight is teh sux.
If it doesn't look like there's any pursuit, she'll throw a small rock at them to get their attention. Then she'll have Granite throw a small rock as well, since her CBT skill is teh sux as well!
Ham nods slightly as he scans the building sky line.
"We should watch for the local gendarme, airborne as well. Foreigners like some of us ....are low on the well liked list usually with any constabulary."
I munch idly on the snack ...mmmm tasty ...will have remind myself to thank her again.
"Lead the way"
Kuluf looks at Granite Spear with puzzlement.
"My translator can do Zorlan," he says in Zorlan through his translator. "Did you say 'legs'? What relevance are those here?"
Zeton, Ham, and Widjgleeby walk the few blocks to the produce market, circumvent it, and head toward the indicated address. After only a couple of wrong turns on the twisty, narrow streets (all alike) in the dungeon of Ekr'in, they find it. It is a very typical-looking business with a flat over it, both in a building that is three stories high but seems barely wide enough for a group to stand a few abreast inside.
The sign on the worn-looking door says in Yangae, "Pel'Mogli - Private Investigator".
As with most streets like this in Ekr'in, it is quiet and eerie. Other than the group, the only other person to be seen is a young Alyam Foldorian woman, maybe only a teenager, walking with the shuffling, swaying gait of a Triask advertising her availability. Her haunting call song echoes among the fading walls and dank alleyways like a lonely ghost wailing softly for an unrequited love.
Suddenly a small rock goes bouncing across the street, followed a few seconds later by a larger one that comes right at the group.
Zeton looks in the direction of where the rocks are coming from. After staring down the barrel of a baffler pistol today, the rocks are surprising, but no where near as stressful.
Granite Spear is doing her best to not draw attention to herself, but it quickly becomes evident who is trying to get their attention.
Ham, Widjgleeby and Zeton make their way over to Nekshi, Granite and Kuluf and quickly bring each other up to speed on what has transpired since they all left Wirgs.
Zeton suggests, "Maybe we should try and find a place to discuss this in detail where we are not out in the open?"
Nekshi says, "Yes, we do not blend well with the scenery. Perhaps we can talk in this Pel'Mogli's office, waiting room, foyer and (looking at the Farbett) entry hall. I hope he doesn't charge by the square meter."
Leading the way towards the door, she continues, "In fact, this may be a very fortunate coincedence. A "Private Dick" could act as our catspaw while we remain out of sight from the authorites."
"We definitely need to find out what item Mon'Fargret has which intrests the Loyalist woman and the police. Maybe a third party could investigate for us."
Nekshi thinks for a second, "Perhaps the Foldorian woman has the item, not Mon'Fargret. That makes more sense."
"It seems from their transmissions, the police have cleared us from suspicion, so maybe we should just return to our regular business, although I'd like to know what that loyalist is carrying."
Mon'Fargret sells sh*t. He hopes nobody gasses him with pheromones, rips up a floor, or easily turns aside his apprentice skills. If so, he may change his name to Arthur Dent.
[Busy weekend...just keeping the ball rolling.]
As the party is still hanging out talking near the private investigator's office, a couple of cars and a few cycles pass by, but no one of any significance.
Then a little motor scooter pulls off the road next to the office. The rider, a Hergoth man holding a bag with a fast-food restaurant logo on it, eyes the group warily, and then enters the office, scooter and all.
It is getting to be late in the day, and Miyandei (Lyranell's yellow-orange sun) is starting to set.
Mon'Fargret is grumpily debating closing up early when an unusual customer arrives. A Yangae Foldorian girl of the lowly Soil Tender caste would be someone he'd more likely ignore hoping she'd go away and stop driving away other potential Foldorian customers. However, this one is a triask. He knows this because she was doing the customary song and shuffle on the sidewalk outside before coming in.
The small group of Hergoth who, as with everyone else who had come in that day, had been eagerly looking but showing no interest in buying, look curiously at the red-haired performer/prostitute and then, not sure what to make of her, make their way toward the door.
Still humming her song of availability and moving with her triask gait, the girl goes about the shop until she stops before one work and examines it thoughtfully. Then she nods.
"So nice...," she breathes in percussive low-caste Yangae. Then she shuffles back out of the store again singing her song a bit more deliberately.
Mon'Fargret is trying too hard to wish the triask would simply go away to notice it at first, but then he catches it just as she disappears out the door.
The triask has changed the lyrics to her song. Her awful, broken, low-caste dialect is a bit hard to follow, but it sounds something like:
"The one with the secret searches for an open hand in a high place..."
Ham checks his comm to see any activity from ship band.
"Nekshi have you found any indication on the whereabouts of Lirassa? Just in case for any reason she had run afoul of the constables. If they are watching Mon'Fargret because of the other woman, and Lirassa was in pursuit"
Nekshi looks at Ham, "Lirassa was taken into police custody soon after she left Wirg's. According to the comm I've decoded, she'll be let go soon, so don't worry too much."
Checking the time she mutters a mild curse, "Confuse it! I've got a dinner to prepare and it's almost sundown. I suggest we stay together and purchase supplies on the way to my flat. This will give us time to discuss our next move. We shouldn't have to worry about a tail now."
"Does anyone think we need to hire a private investigator, before we leave?"
"I'm not sure it's a good idea to introduce another person into our situation just yet. I can already imagine you compiling the pros and cons of such an enlistment, but you and I are both competent at gathering information. I also trust everyone in our group more than I would someone else at this point."
"Let's follow Nekshi's advice and gather our food and make our way to her flat to discuss what has happened and plan our next move."
Mon'Fargret says to the women as she begins to leave, "I have a similar piece that is more affordable. It is yours if you sing the whole song about this 'One with a secret.' I can throw in a few pair of these adornments for the family."
He hopes it might even bring in some paying customers. Ordinarily, he doesn't mind a few window shoppers, but the shop needs some paying customers to keep going.
For the record, the shopping trip is uneventful other than the general trickiness of navigating the maze of Ekr'in. After a couple of wrong turns and additional "scenic routes" the party arrives at a local Manesh (a local supermarket chain) and fills a couple of carts. Soon the orb of Miyandei is no longer yellow-orange but just plain orange as it sinks behind the low mountains to the west.
(In other words, we are finally catching up to Mon'Fargret's time frame, which ran a bit ahead.)
When Mon'Fargret speaks in such a manner to the triask, she gasps as if she has been shot and stops dead in her tracks.
Dabid, who happened to be approaching at the time, takes in the scene with a look of wine-lubricated apprehension. Then he looks away from the triask and clears his throat very deliberately.
"If the triask is free," he says with authority, "we will engage the service."
The triask draws a trembling breath, looks away from Dabid, and replies, "Zis one vill answer ze engagement!"
Still not looking at the triask, Dabid points to a spot on the sidewalk next to him. Keeping her head turned, the triask moves to that spot.
Dabid gives Mon'Fargret an impatient look and says quietly, "We will engage the triask for information."
Her gaze still averted, the triask bows low and says, "Zis one vill give information!"
Dabid turns and looks at the triask. "Join me on my level," he says.
The triask turns and faces him. "Vat do you vant, kind sir?" she asks.
Dabid glances at Mon'Fargret and replies, "I think you wanted to tell my lord something, but he has traveled among foreigners for a long time and is not always one to respect the Civilized Ways. He was not humiliating you. He was trying to be kind"
The triask bows toward Mon'Fargret without looking at him. "I respect ze good lord," she says. Then, to Dabid, she says, "Do you vant ze information, or does ze good lord vant it?"
Dabid draws a deep breath and says, "A moment, if you would." When the triask bows and walks to the rear of the shop, Dabid walks close to Mon'Fargret, leans toward his ear, and whispers, "I know you've always had even less use for one of them than you've had for the old 'Civilized' rules, my lord, but good intentions are lost on a lot of these old-style Yangae. Just this once, be a good citizen of the Empire, my lord. Ask her to join you on your level. And don't look at her till you do." Then he smiles. "You see? Sometimes this 'stubborn old root' has his uses, right?"
[Too busy today. I will try to respond in the morning.]
don snabulus said...
Mon'Fargret furrows his brow. Looking out at the square, he addresses the triask, "Join me on my level."
The triask complies and says, "Vat do you vant, kind sir?"
He looks at her eyes. Mon'Fargret commands her, "Sing the song of this 'secret' for us. We want to know what it is. If you sing well, you will be rewarded."
The triask smiles. "Oh, s'not a song, kind sir!" she says. She moves toward the work of art she was looking at before. "S'more like an offer...or a test. Someone vatches you! Vat can you offer zem?"
She examines the artwork carefully.
"Yangae sense," she observes thoughtfully, "and Hergos spirit." She runs her hand along an edge (as Mon'Fargret stiffens). "Here, in your work, zey are togezer so nice." She turns and looks at Mon'Fargret intently. "Can ze real be like ze art? And how much is it wors?"
The triask turns and faces Mon'Fargret again.
"Zis is vat she vants," she says, indicating the same work of art. "She did not know before, but she knows now." She takes a couple of steps toward Mon'Fargret, swaying her hips seductively. "She does not understand. She is afraid. But she knows now. Vat is ze price, kind sir?"
Mon'Fargret sighs, "An artist can point the way, but the viewers must bear the burden. I am as real as my art; it speaks on levels I cannot."
His tension eases as time passes since her contact with his artwork. He continues, "I do not know if the watcher can see both sense and spirit. If do not know if they wish me good or ill or who they are. That knowledge would be worth this piece of art and possibly a little extra for the family."
He smiles with an eyebrow raised, "Of course, you may want to come spend some time watching me at my home."
The triask bats her eyes fetchingly and moves closer.
"As I say," she says, her voice scarcely above a whisper, "ze vatcher vould have come to you, but she is afraid. She does not understand good or ill anymore, so how can she vish you eizer? She vishes only to make sings right! As for ze price of vat is right..." She gestures toward the artwork again. Then she leans forward and whispers into Mon'Fargret's ear, "It is so precious, but it is also so dangerous! She vill give it only if you can accept it. Vat do you say to zis deal, kind sir? Ze right vay, pointed by an artist, in exchange for ze key, a very dangerous key, to make it all possible? Zis is ze offer. Ze lady vishes for you to sink about it now. Someone vill come for ze answer later."
She pulls back again and smiles. "As for me," she says melodically, "I am still vis you now, so I vill be vatever you vish!"
Then she looks past Mon'Fargret, and her smile vanishes.
Dabid glances in the same direction and curses under his breath.
The triask leans forward and gives Mon'Fargret a gentle kiss next to his ear. "For now ve part vis a smile," she says. "I return to my level!"
With that she hurries out of the shop, her head bowed and her gaze averted.
"We-HELL!" says the figure that comes through the door after the triask leaves. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything, my lord!" He throws Dabid a disdainful look, says, "Excuse me," and barges his way in with his small entourage.
It is a Yangae man sporting the emblem of the Petty Tradesman caste (i.e. middle class) and a mike pin. A focal spot hovers right in front of his face. He is escorted by a man with a holovid camera and another with what looks like a small computer.
"Fon'Beloh, Free Channel News, at your service, my lord!" he says with a smile and tone of voice that just invite a sharp backhand across the face. "If you'll forgive this...uh...untimely interruption...uh-huh..." He nods toward the door with a wry smirk. "...I'd like to ask you a few questions about what happened to you this afternoon here in the Square! People are saying that you, my lord, an upstanding Manager and model citizen, were harassed by the Hergoth Peace-forcers for no apparent reason! Is this true, my lord?"
Mon'Fargret opens his mouth to say something, but can't get a word in edgewise.
"They say that you walked into a...er...foreign boutique...uh-huh-huh...and an officer just suddenly came at you shouting! With a stun baton no less! And then another came in with a drawn firearm! Now, your reputation is fairly well established in these parts, my lord. What was it they thought you were guilty of, looking at suits made of *gasp* dead animal flesh? Uh-huh-huh! Or maybe their empathic senses told them you were getting the hots for that Crygan shopkeeper in the barbarian dress, and they wanted to save you from your evil self? Uh-huh-huh! That is the Hergoth way, isn't it, my lord? To make sure we're all happy and nice to each other, right? Even if they have to stun and tie you up to do it, right, my lord? Uh-huh-huh! Anyway, could you please tell us about it in your own words?"
The focal spot moves from in front of his face and settles in front of Mon'Fargret's.
Mon'Fargret conjours up his sunniest smile, "Come now, when did chasing shopkeepers become more important than the Talent Roundup? As for the rest of it, I advise you to ask the constabulary about the details. I am sure they will be more than forthcoming."
"Now, if you don't mind, I have a business to attend to."
[Oops. Posted tofast.]
Mon'Fargret turns to straighten up one of his displays.
"Oh, well, er, yes!" stammers the reporter. "The Yanda Talent Roundup! Everyone's a fan, right, my lord?"
The cameraman zooms in on him, and he flashes a very expensive-looking smile.
"And remember, no talent is too small or too big for the Yanda Talent Roundup! You, too can be one of the lucky contestants chosen to go on to the championship rounds! Remember to contact the Free Channel or your local recruiter for details!"
The cameraman backs away from him again, and he adds, "But seriously, my lord...uh-huh-huh...do you really think the local Peaceforcers are going to admit why they harassed you? I mean...uh-huh-huh...as you know, Hergoth 'society', if you can call it that, isn't even based on law! What protection do you think you have in this kind of...er...system? Don't you think that you were singled out only because of your race...and your elevated position. my lord?"
Mon"Fargret shrugs, "This is a police matter. It would not be appropriate to comment other than to say that this is not the time for stark conclusions. Now, as much as I enjoy talking with you, I must get back to work."
The reporter looks crestfallen.
"Stark conclusions," he echoes. "Right. Very good, my lord. Uh-huh-huh. Anyway, as I said before, sorry for the interruption, and thank you for your time. We'll be going now, so please feel free to go back to...uh-huh-huh. Anyway, better days!"
He and his disappointed-looking entourage bow, and they head off into the darkened Square.
Dabid snorts. "Shrink-wrapped idiots. How much do you want to wager that they're going to misquote you?"
Meanwhile, in another part of Ekr'in, the rest of the party finishes their shopping and arrives at the flat shared by Nekshi and Granite Spear, and the real fun begins. It's already getting dark, and so far no preparations have been made. The group has toted in a wide variety of food, but the kitchen is rather small and rudimentary. It's only just about big enough for Widjgleeby, who snorts with disapproval but gets right into it.
It's quite fascinating to watch the Farbett at work, however. She doesn't move fast, but she's able to carry out several different activities at the same time with her six fully-ambidextrous limbs. Every once in a while someone tries to squeeze into the kitchen only to be rebuffed...or told to hand the Farbett something before removing his or her buttocks from the room.
It looks like things might be ready on time after all, and Widjgleeby seems content.
On the other hand, the Brekka-speaking, feminine voice, translated into Biton (i.e. no one understands it but Ham) that issues from Ham's com after a little while does NOT sound content!
Granite shows similar discontent with the large multi-appendaged lizard thing in the kitchen, but having just been down to the river, takes it in stride.
So many new people in Nekshi's home provides a serious security concern. Nekshi, though requiring all weapons to be registered at the door, allows all patrons to keep their gear on their person. Still, Granite is used to it, and finds some solace in watching the Far-Bet clatter around in the kitchen, like a krek in a chum-cave.
Granite approaches Ham, and gestures at the radio. "I wonder if you are in trouble?"
Ham looks heavenwards briefly as he snags the comm.
Raising one eyebrow ..."We will see" he answers Granite Spear's question as the link opens to Lirassa's voice. Knowing full well someone is not going to be in a good mood, not after the accommodations of a patrol cell. "Yesss ..how was your day?" he says in a sweet a voice as he can feign ..tinged with a bit of irony.
The voice coming from the com screams in twangy Brekka (i.e. picture an angry woman speaking Swedish with a Texas accent):
"Din wamdet dala dim?!? Rakh!! Bakggakh!!! Do forgan fakkri naz gun!!! Bali da gunem paztra noi kuritet gunem da?!?"
Zeton was beginning to wonder if they would ever return to Nekshi's flat, so he is relieved when they arrive safe and sound.
Zeton is also mildly surprised at how well the Farbett is able to work in such a small kitchen. Widjgleeby declined the help offered by Zeton, so he decides he can put his time to better use in other ways.
Picking a nice quiet corner, Zeton wonders where he should begin. Zeton decides he will attempt to connect to the hyper wave network, but he knows he must do it discretely. Instead of using the normal operating system, he uses an alternate OS that he found while on another assignment.
This OS was designed by a group of computer savvy individuals and it allows the user to mask what they are doing. The OS send out a bunch of "chaffe"; false messages, false searches, all sorts of mundane stuff to make it look like he's just an ordinary hyper wave user. The OS designers call their OS, Little Brother.
While the OS is sending out all the false signals, Zeton will attempt to pick up any chatter that he can about the Talent Round Up and what happens to the contestants that earn second chances.
In the background Zeton can hear a very anger person speaking in a language he doesn't understand but quickly recognizes that it is Lirassa.
"I'm going to have to try and learn Brekka", Zeton quietly says to himself...
Out of character - I wish I could say I came up with the idea for Little Brother myself, but I can't. Being a good little librarian, I want to give credit where credit is due.
Cory Doctorow is the author of the book Little Brother. You can get a free Creative Commons copy here:
Little Brother
"You got yourself in trouble with the police and so I'm the A**hole? Mmmmm " The small grin appears on Ham's face. "Where are you now? I would like to discuss in person ....namely because I would prefer to ... you know what I mean? If you aren't at where we originally agreed to meet.... be there in a short while. Then you can fill me in more..and I have something for you as well. Fair deal?"
"Ddo iukdin do?!?" cries the voice on the com. Then there is a sigh. "Bennen do gun fartrek?" There is another sigh. "Kala ruza gunem perrig? Da iareted troffe sa...Da dolm fir. Witt gula hergozig hem gunem ka? Dokh. Da troff. Kkommni!"
After making her guests comfortable, Nekshi retires to her bedroom and changes into a light natural fiber robe and undergarment, slipping her small pistol into a well-sewn hip pocket.
She checks for messages on her comm. and continues the monitering of the police band, setting an alarm to ring when certain key phrases are mentioned: Target 1, Target 2, Fasion, and her street address, etc...
Returning to the main room, she looks with mild surprise at the industrious Farbett in her kitchen.
To Zeton and Granite, "It looks like we'll actually have a dinner tonite. I was worried my claims of gastronomical disaster would come true, but Widjgleeby seems to have matters well in... hands."
Walking behind Zeton to watch the work on his 'puter, she smiles, "Ahhh, well done my paranoid friend."
Striding to the center of the room she clears her throat to get the attention of all present (even Kuluf who seems to be trying to get at the somulent eels in her small aquarium).
"Welcome all to my dinner party. Please refrain from indiscreet conversations until Granite Spear and myself can verify the lack of scanning devices. Please help yourselves to the bou'lop dip and grain alcohol. And Ham, please call a cab for Lirussa so she doesn't have to walk all the way from the Prefecture holding facility."
She busys herself with her comm unit and various devices on her kalaf table
Nodding to Nekshi I say "Lirassa we will send a cab for you ..and anyone else that has to hop a ride here for dinner ..on arrival ..yes ...we can talk about your day."
Producing a device from my jacket, I turn it on with a winking beep and start monitoring the readout as I begin moving slowly in a circle "Nekshi I can assist in scanning your pad here for any possible traces ..we can conduct the sweep here immediately. Im also going to scan Lirassa's comm gear and personnage when she gets here for possible 'pests' hitching a ride. Just to be sure someone at the constable's office is getting nosey."
(Okay...one thing at a time...)
Kuluf splashes a little water from the aquarium onto his face and says (through his translator, which is set to speak Yangae now), "I sense discomfort. Is this not one of the appetizers? And why are you worried about scanning devices? Do you have the video?"
Granite proceeds to tear the place apart and comes up negative.
Nekshi fiddles with her com unit with much grunting and furrowing of brows. At least within the confines of the unit's available frequencies, nothing seems out of order.
"I have the feeling we're not being watched," remarks Kuluf.
Then Nekshi's com unit automatically switches to a certain band it was set to scan, the one she stumbled on before.
An urgent-sounding voice says in Her-Galad with a Lyranel twang, "Gold Six to Mother. I have positive verification. Op 3 is now at Wirg's, sense strong intent on search. They don't have the item. Repeat, they don't have the item. Request instructions. Over."
"Read, Gold Six. Didn't you gather? Path is green. Repeat, path is green. Band down four."
"Read, Mother. I didn't gather. Banding down."
The frequency goes silent.
The kitchen is smaller than she is used to but the groceries they picked up are good and she feels much more comfortable with several shiny slicing metals in her hands. Several of the others offer to help but this is her moment. She isn't a reporter, or a police officer, or a soldier, or an enigmatic purple and blue thing with spikes or a telephathic amphibian (she looked the terms up in her dictionary) but she can make a good meal out of just about anything, dig like a badda-som-af-beech (ooh they were tasty!) and could find her way in the pitch black under this fair city. Well, actually it was becoming a little scary up here on the surface. . .
the box beeps softly .... indicating no intrusions. "All clear..that confirms we can talk indescreetly or otherwise" I pocket the device and break out another spicey stick to chew on idly.
Kuluf picks up a glass of grain alcohol and is about to splash it on his face when he realizes it doesn't smell quite like water. He moves the glass, gives it a few curious sniffs, and shudders. Then he starts to replace the glass on the table.
He halts halfway there.
"I have the feeling we're being watched," he says.
(All scans still read negative,)
Widjgleebe looks up from her carefully nurtured sauce "could be.. Her'goth don't always need devices to spy on people, do they? She taps the center of her forehead with a long silver nail. "It's all in the brains. I've found the higher the rank the better the brain powers, maybe that nice constable has taken an interest in our strange little dinner party. I probably would if I were him. Who likes spicey?"
Mon'Fargret and Dabid realize they are going to be late, so they grab a snack and head out without the salad. A social gaffe, but a necessary one.
Mon'Fargret makes sure his favorite pistol is nestled snugly under his tunic.
It's over a kilometer from Mon'Fargret's shop/house to Nekshi's flat by the river, but it's a pleasant late-spring evening, so they decide to cover the distance at a brisk walk.
The usual night scene is building up in Ekr'in. As usual, it is mainly a Yangae/Foldorian scene, as the people of the Civilized Realm have always lived for the night. That's not to say the the Hergoth and other races aren't there, as well, but unlike during the day they seem almost more like spectators now. Artist's Square has already turned into one big party with loud music, dancing, and merriment.
Mon'Fargret and Dabid skirt the crowds but stick to the main roads. Even though crime has never been a serious problem in Mul'ein, it has been known to happen, and Ekr'in's twisty streets are one of the main places where it does occur. There's no point in tempting fate.
About halfway there Dabid looks intently at Mon'Fargret, furrows his silvery brows, and says, "Is everything alright, my lord?"
The blue-skinned Annuitis is certainly perceptive. Actually, something has been bugging Mon'Fargret. He's not sure what it is...perhaps one of those eerie senses he seemed to have picked up during that one weird jaunt...but it is definitely there.
There is a strong presence. A dark. presence. It is nearby. Strangely enough, it seems to be below. And its eye is on Mon'Fargret.
Nekshi thanks Ham for his assistance and looks longingly at his scanner. Turning to Kuluf she cocks her head and frowns, "I was afraid of this. We seem to be prepared for intrusions of the technical kind, but psychic scanning goes beyond my ken."
Heading towards the aquarium, she fetches a net and plucks a large,snakelike invertebre from its depths.
"Here, Kuluf, you have earned this snack with your detection abilities. I'll give you another one if you can block the spy. I'm sure Widjgleeby won't mind me spoiling your dinner for a good cause."
Smiles at Nekshi's expression. "Yeah its a nice toy to have." as he puts it away. Ham decides its time to go outside and enjoy the scenery. "I am going out to ...'take in the surroundings' I will be back shortly"
Turning off the front entry light he quietly lets himself out, making as little noise as possible with his larger frame.
Now lets see....what the neighbhorhood is like. He begins moving with slow purpose thru the shadows around the perimeter. Towards the end of his route, he hears a noise ....the heavy soft clank of a door closing across the way alerts him immediatedly. Smiling to himself in the dark ...a nosey neighbhor.
Kuluf eyes the wiggling invertebrate longingly.
"Oh, we're not being watched anymore," he retorts.
With a moist zip, his tongue lances out and snatches the invertebrate.
"Excellent! Just keep us appraised of any 'snooping' and I'll keep the 'treats' coming. Now, I suppose Mon'Fargret and Dabid are on their way. Once they arrive we will begin our discussion in ernest."
Nekshi returns to the kitchen to watch the Farbett work, and to snatch a bit of that grated snoo#tp root. Yumm.
Grantie frowns (if that's even perceptable to the non-Shurians) at Kuluf eating the "snack" from the aquarium across the room. She had rather liked the unlucky invertebrate, and had even given it a name. She stores her anger away as a thought she will use the next time she is in combat, and turns away from the scene.
Now that I got a reaction to my presence. Hummm... I stop and take out the scanner again....and making sure my face isnt lit up by the small screen ..I do a sweep in the vicinity of the noise. It takes a bit to sort out the various inputs until I notice two individuals running away ...but underground. I grunt mentally - utility corridors exist here- and being used for movement, plus there is a manhole in the approximate location of the noise. I will have to remember this useful tidbit of information.
I finish the sweep and come back inside ...pausing for a period of time at the door to wait silently. "All clear so far... I think we had visitors - two to be exact and they are using underground utility corridors to move around. I would say it may be our young 'toughs' from Wirgs as a guess ...barring anything else"
(out of character note...Shurians have pets besides menu items ..okay ..file that one)
Zeton has been immersed in his search for information about the talent competition and second chances as the group wonders if they are being observed or not. Looking up occasionally to take in all the activity, Zeton keeps his focus on his search for information.
As all initial searches go, he does not discover any new revelations about the people who win second chances. He knows he must be persistent to discover the connections that lie hidden in this mystery. It dawns on Zeton that Mon'Fargret and Dabid are not yet there and he wonders when they will arrive.
Turning his computer off, Zeton walks over to Nekshi as she helps herself to the grated root in the kitchen. Pouring a drink of alcohol for himself, Zeton turns to Nekshi and begins to explain he didn't find anything new. Pausing to take a sip of his drink, Zeton organizes his thoughts and begins to brain storm aloud to anyone in the group who cares to listen.
"OK, let's try and list all we've learned today:
We know the loyalist woman has taken something from the loyalist male and when he finds out, (which he already may have), he will be very upset.
We also know they have something to do with the talent competition and that the folks who win second chances are never heard from again.
Let us not forget the 'posion' Blue Twelve spoke of and the fact that Constable Betham doesn't want us interfering in any way. There was an implication the Yangae loyalist represents this 'poison', but what are we missing?
I guess before we do anything we should prioritize our goals... but there is so much to consider. Do we want to stay united as a group and answer these questions one at a time, or do we split up and try and get answers more rapidly? What if splitting up means being on different planets?"
Stopping to take another drink, Zeton sighs and says in a slightly tired manner, "After hearing Ham tell us that our 'visitors' come from underground, (why do you suspect they are the Hergoth gang members?) I'm wondering if we should kit ourselves out in a bit more professional manner. Currently I'm not really armed or protected in a fashion to deal with the type of weapon the loyalist threatened us with today. Also, what about transportation? It seems to me that there are many things to consider."
Zeton looks around at everyone in the room, hoping someone will be able to offer a good starting point, but he knows there will be no easy answers.
After Zeton finishes his grand soliloquy, the doorbell rings several times in quick succession.
Nekshi nods her head in agreement with all of Zeton's points.
"I think the most important aspect of our 'mission' is to prevent any more harm from occuring to the 'second chancers'. Thus I think we should immediately contact, preferably in person (however distasteful that may be), the Fasion Ma-Chlak."
"As for dividing our resources in terms of personel, there is an old Zorlan addage which translated into Yangae says, 'do not split the party.' I tend to agree with that wisdom."
"Now excuse me, I have to answer the door."
Nekshi opens the door to reveal a strawberry-blonde Besteeng woman recognized as Lirassa. She looks a bit disheveled, as if she has arranged her hair and accouterments hastily.
She stares at Nekshi for a few seconds with a "What the f*** am I doing here?" look on her face. Then she says awkwardly, "Um...brakken kgo brekka maz? Or is Yangae better?"
Granite recognizes the Zorlan addage. She first "heard" it from Nekshi, when she was determined to break one of Nekshi's "parties" into smaller groups, separated in different rooms. In this way, she felt she could maintain a level of security that would be reasonable for the amount of people attending. Instead, Nekshi interrupted the process by simply pointing to a sign over the kitchen that read "Do not split the party".
Granite moves to the door with Nekshi, and requests the newcomer to identify all personal weapons before entering.
"Zeton" Ham says "There always other possibilities but It doesnt strike me the Yangae would have that kind of style, after all one of them fired a weapon in a public place to make a point. They would be more direct here.
The police of course ...wouldn't need to sneak whatsoever. They would announce and detain all of us. So..." he just shrugs.
Turning towards the door "Hello Lirassa. yes you have come to the right place, and Yangae would probably be best for everyone here. Im sure you have many questions. Now that you are here, there will be more answers."
Granite - I think I know what you are up to. I will take personal responsibility for her behavior and armaments if that is what you are concerned about.
"Drink?" Ham proffers a glass to Lirassa.
"I'm sure what you been through recently ...you may need one"
And .... (sorry about the multiple posts here) "Lirassa. Im going to need to scan your comm and your gear. After all the cops have had their hands on it for a period of time, and out of your sight. I dont trust them THAT much." Ham smiles as he pulls out the scanner.
Zeton computer springs to life as Lirassa enters Nekshi's flat and Ham greets her. The auto alert feature that Zeton uses when important information comes to light functions even if the system is off. (With the hyper wave, nothing is ever really off...)
Zeton scans the announcement and then clears his throat and reads aloud, (in Yangae):
"In Ekr'in District, near Danstul' Station, there was a drive-by shooting. A lone shooter using a gauss or rail pistol opened fire on a group of Hergoth youths that was apparently headed for the station. At least three of the youths appear to have been hit. Witnesses say the shooter was in a dark-colored sedan of Foldorian make. Police are still investigating. There is also no word yet on the condition of the injured youths. All have been taken to the Geishana temple hospital.
Further details will be posted as they become available.
Locals are up in arms over this incident. The last drive-by shooting in Ekr'in happened about eight years ago."
Zeton pauses and then says, "I'm willing to bet that was the Hergoth gang from Wirgs. So who did Ham detect when he went outside?"
Nekshi welcomes Lirassa into her flat.
Responding to Zeton's news, "This is particularly bad. It seems things might be accelerating and we may have been the catalyst, which is unfortunate, but may also provide the necessary fulcrum to finally settle matters on Lyranell. As for the intruders Ham detected, they may have been from a different group of Hergoth youths. Perhaps using a different color to represent their identity."
Taking the Besteeng's coat she addresses Lirassa more directly, "May I ask what your function aboard your ship was? And what do you know about these pirate attacks?"
Lirassa holds her head between her hands and dances back and forth yelling, "Fatra! Fatra! Fatra! FATRA!!!"
Ham's verbal translator says, "Vorg! Vorg! Vorg!"
Granite Spear's translator says, "Fikmat norm! Fikmat norm! Fikmat norm!"
Lirassa sighs half-hysterically and then says in Yangae, "I mean, WAIT!!! WAIT!!!!" Then the door slams behind her, and she half jumps out of her skin, her piercing shriek causing Granite Spear instinctively to assume a fighting stance. Staring at the fearsome-looking female Shurian, Lirassa moans pitiably before saying to Ham, "Would you mind not pointing that thing at me? I have had a VERY bad day! Oh, and Uskua says she's sorry she can't make it! Now where's that drink?"
I think it's time for a new post.
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