Moving On Again

The party starts to gather itself together to continue on its way...but with some uncertain glances at the various exits.

"Which tunnel was it?" wonders Pru. She points at the southwest exit. "That one?"

Betham glances at his wrister and opens his mouth to speak.

"That's where we came from," blurts L'Toyei. "That way leads to the main arterial tunnel under New Bousin Road and an access station there. You can get to your destination that way, of course, but it's not the most direct route." He points toward the southeast exit. "On the other hand, that one..."

"...is the way we want to go," interrupts Betham edgily. "It goes to another supply node..."

"...which is also on the New Bousin Road main arterial tunnel," butts in L'Toyei, "and is the junction to your destination, so you'll have to pass through it no matter..."

"Guarded?" asks Lirassa.

"Bet on it," replies Furnfinndorn darkly.

The Ehrlathagi guard starts quietly humming inside his cardboard fortress.

The party quickly check their weapons and gear. As they do so, Bina turns with a huff and strides impatiently toward the southeast tunnel, Atraktu falling behind her.

"Hey, you!" cries Mey'Luskar, hurrying after the priestess. "Wait! You're not g...uh?"

The three women come to an abrupt halt at the tunnel entrance.

Some members of the party react to something they've heard while others glance at them questioningly.

"Stun weapon fire!" reports Ham, nodding toward the southeast tunnel.

Linking Up

Gradually, the party follows Mon'Fargret and Zeton, easing out into the supply node while keeping a wary eye on the two guards and the strangers emerging from the opposite tunnel.

There are indeed two of them, a Farbett and a smallish humanoid of the race known as Ephri Em (a protectorate of the Ergothei Nation.) The Farbett, who is a bit on the short side but brawny, is geared up and very obviously armed. The Ephri Em doesn't seem to have anything but a wrister and the simple clothes he is wearing.

While the Farbett hangs back near the tunnel entrance and eyes (and sniffs) the party suspiciously, the Ephri Em walks confidently forward, staring at Mon'Fargret.

"There is no mistake," he says in the pleasantly accented Yangae heard before. "Mon'Fargret. The artist interviewed on the vid last night." His gaze shifts. "Zeton, the Lybolt reporter. This is a strange place to be investigating cultural issues."

Before there can be any reply, he moves toward the rest of the party and furrows his hairless brow. "But this is even stranger. I assume the two armored ones are from the same ship; perhaps this one is Lirassa. I can't recall the Ibitonian's name yet. And here we have Constable Betham without his badge and Bina Ber'maina without her brooch...together with Pu'Laru of the Night Guard? Curious!" He glances at Nekshi and Granite Spear and frowns. "I don't know these two...or the Ahmonite." He walks dismissively past them. "I do know Widjgleebie." Finally, his gaze lands on Mey'Luskar. "This one...I can't come up with a name, but the face is in circulation now. You are sought by many! There is even talk of a reward..."

Pru clicks off the safety on her gun. "Who are you, and what do you want?" she demands.

"My apologies," replies the Ephri Em evenly. "My name is L'Toyei, and it is my job to know things." He gestures toward the Farbett by the tunnel entrance. "My partner, Furfinndorn. As for why we are here..."

The Farbett clears his throat violently.

"Ah," says the Ephri Em with absolutely no change in his demeanor. "I suppose I should just say that Kuluf said to expect you. We...are looking for something similar, if we understood him correctly."

Under the Airfield...Under the Airfield

(Continued from the last comment thread)

Nekshi licks her lips nervously and activates the comm link through Zobog (in Ehrkiss),"This is training Cadet Solanei with supply, I have appropriated this robot from our fallen comrades to appraise you of the situation concerning the attackers. Although I am sorely wounded and frightened, I will continue to broadcast in the hopes you may gain the upper-hand tactically and rescue both our honor and my life. #cough#cough!"

Nekshi looks at Granite and shrugs.

There is an awkward pause.

"I don't know what you just said," says Pru quietly, "but I really hope you know what you're doing!"

Then, from both the tunnel ahead and at least two party members' wristers, a deep belly laugh can be heard.

There is an abrupt spate of clicks and hums as various firearm safeties are deactivated all over the party.

"Wait!" hisses Bina.

A deep voice calls out a hearty line in Ehrkiss punctuated with another laugh.

"What did he say?" demands Betham.

"He thinks Nekshi is a guard's sex toy or something," replies the disgraced priestess. "He thinks it's a joke!"

Headed Out to the Airfield (or under it, at least)

(Starting and continuing from the last comment thread)

While Lirassa ruminates over the issue of the key, Bina quietly convinces her to accept a synglobin dose and a vitaglobin booster. It quickly restores a bit more color to the Besteeng's cheeks before she puts her helmet back on.

While preparing the doses, Bina then asks Ham if he wants one, or at least a painkiller. He replies that he'd rather get moving and heads over to claim the assault rifle. He does suggest bringing a dose along for later, however.

Meanwhile, Pru scoops up the auto shotgun, saying, "Fine, if no one else wants this..."

Realizing that Nekshi has an eye for the pistol she'd intended to claim, Mey'Luskar decides to let the Zorlan have it instead.

Pru then picks up the revolver and holds it out to Mey'Luskar. "Lady, this is a crude toy," says Pru, "but it's better than nothing."

Mey'Luskar wrinkles her nose. "I'd rather have nothing," she says curtly and moves away.

Pru shrugs and turns instead to Bina. "How about you?" she asks.

Bina eyes the weapon as if it were about to bite her and drops the synglobin pack. "No!" she says anxiously. "I can't! I'm sworn against violence!"

"You're not wearing your brooch, friend," reminds Pru. "Come on! This is the real world! You're a weak flank without heat!"

"No!" protests Bina, gesturing negative with all her might as she picks up the synglobin. "No! Never!"

Mey'Luskar huffs and comes back. "Gimme that!" she snaps, yanking the pistol from Pru's hand.

Meanwhile, as Mon'Fargret finishes removing the turret from the female guard's helmet, he asks, "Which way now? Southwest under the airfield or Southeast?"

"Southwest under the airfield would be quicker," replies Betham. "Either way's probably going to be guarded. And you can bet they heard our little party here." He throws a sidelong glance at Lirassa.

The Besteeng finishes getting her armor together and stands up. Then she strokes her cannon of a firearm lovingly. "I'm ready to party," she says. Then she begins strutting toward the southwest exit.

Cleaning Up

(Picking up from the last comment thread...)

Mon'Fargret and Betham check out the nearly-dead female guard while Zeton sorts through the gear on the toasted male one.

The female guard is a Sark-type humanoid, meaning she could be Besteeng, but removing her helmet reveals round facial features that hint more toward Sarkon. Her wrister also appears to be in Sarkish script (but with a Yangae-language window open). Her main weapon is clearly the sophisticated baffler turret on top of her helmet, but the rest of her gear looks a bit primitive, even antique. There's the semi-automatic, small-caliber shotgun she was using (which has a laser designator/ range finder, possibly for use with time-detonating shells). She also has a well-used hellrager carbine and a large revolver that looks positively ancient. A large and attractively-styled (but now partly burnt) bandoleer holds, in addition to extra ammo for her firearms, a collection of shuriken and a handsome-looking dagger. Her utility belt holds still more ammo plus what appears to be a belt-mounted power generator and an accumulator array, obviously to power the helmet turret.

The male guard is even more intriguing. His size and build also suggest a Sark-type humanoid. The rigid parts of his armor actually held up surprisingly well considering the type of firepower that hit it, but the lighter, flex-jointed area of the lower torso is burst open, and there is little more than smoldering charcoal underneath. Zeton decides not to bother removing the guard's helmet, and instead focuses on his kit. In addition to the rapid-firing gauss assault rifle that he used (briefly) during the fight, the guard has what appears to be a grenade launcher. (Luckily, none of the shells tucked into his thermal-resistant bandoleer went off.) He also has a gauss pistol with a laser designator and an impressive but awkward-looking sword. His various (surviving) belts and pockets include extra clips for his firearms plus a Foldorian-made first aid kit, a hand-held multi-spectral flashlight (to supplement his helmet lights), a pocket welding torch, and what is most likely a small robot servant. His wrister is in a script similar to Sarkish, but not one Zeton recognizes. It also has a window open that is in Yangae script. Finally, the guard's helmet has a strange, antenna-like attachment whose purpose is uncertain, but it reminds Zeton of enhanced psy transponders he has seen used by Ehrlathagi spacers.

"Can someone use any of this equipment?" asks Zeton. "I don't think he'll be needing it anymore. I don't think I can manage the grenade launcher, but if no one else wants the assault rifle, I might take that for added firepower." Removing the guard's wrister and holding it toward Nekshi, he adds, "Do you think we can use this to listen in to the folks at the Eye of Tann?"

Over by the north entrance, Bina succeeds in convincing Lirassa to stop fussing over Ham and allow herself to be helped. The fallen priestess then leads the Besteeng over to the survival pod, which apparently has a medical station. Now that Lirassa is in full view with her helmet removed, it can be seen that her neck is injured, and her shoulder is awash with gore. Bina, who is about a head and a half shorter, is struggling to keep something pressed against the wound.

"It's just a flesh wound," Lirassa can be heard to say in a voice that is somewhat slurred.

Muttering darkly to himself, Ham sets to work on his own injury.

Pru comes down off the rack, eases herself onto her feet, and limps a step or two.

Betham grimaces and then glares at the Yangae. "You're gonna need to do something about that," he says. He nods toward Bina, who appears to be singing to the med station.

Pru only just fails to suppress a grimace of her own. "I'll deal with it," she retorts hoarsely.

Another Bend in the Tunnel

The Farbett who went ahead to make the guards "not see" is already well out of sight and sound. The party moves along down the tunnel in the direction he went.

"Something's not connecting," says Betham. Asked what he means, he adds, "He said the guards were watching the airfield. This tunnel doesn't really go there. I wonder if he meant the supply node at the junction with the main tunnel. It's just a bit further down."

"Supply node?" wonders Pru.

"Underground storeroom," continues Betham. "Emergency supplies in case of a disaster."

Pru chuckles. "Assuming those Farbetts haven't knicked 'em!"

Just as she says this, there is a roar from further up the tunnel followed by a more humanoid-sounding scream and a few sharp, muffled reports.

A Block in the Tunnel

"Widj, can you tell who, or what else is down there?" asks Zeton.

Widjgleeby's only reply is a Farbett-style shrug (which is really quite impressive).

The group rounds a shallow bend in the tunnel, and the scene changes dramatically. Actually, it's not that much; just a collection of traditional Farbett glowsacs stuck on the walls of the tunnel, but their thin luminescence reveals quite a bit more than the regular, dull red lighting.

Specifically, it reveals some ominous-looking shadows. The tunnel is blocked by what appear to be piles of trash. There is only a very narrow opening, and it is occupied by what is obviously a pair of large-bodied Farbetts in a stance that doesn't look very friendly.

The stench in the tunnel is considerably worse.

As the whole party comes into view, low growls can be heard from the Farbetts. Then one of them calls out in very badly-pronounced Her-galad, "You stop! Hands out! Where you go?"

(Lirassa's field translator is still on, so everyone more or less understands it.)

"Roots and sod..." mutters Pru.

Once More Into the Abyss

Zeton hurries to catch up to Mey after double checking to make sure he has all his gear, "I understand the desire to capture or destroy the Relay, but do we understand the consequences of that yet? Is it possible to rescue Adulie and destroy the Relay at the same time? What exactly is your plan?"

Mey'Luskar gives him a quizzical look.

"If you think I'm planning to go marching into a cave full of big, ugly lizard things right now...," she snaps.

Widjgleeby glowers down at her.

One could almost hear the air rushing out as she deflates. "Um...I'll stick with the caves full of good lizard things!" She gives the Farbett her most charming smile.

Widjgleeby looks away again.

Mey'Luskar sighs. "Anyway, I don't have a plan. I'm just following you guys. I just had a hunch that I should ask her that. Just in case."

As the party heads down the stairs, the Fasion pleads for them to wait and hustles to move ahead of them as quickly as her short legs will allow. Once in front, she assumes an air of rather uncertain authority and says, "Follow me!" Then she proceeds to lead the group around through the cavernous main parlor, down to the basement, and over to a stairway no one in the party has seen yet.

When the group starts to descend this last stairway, the clattering of someone running can be heard. Turning to look, the party sees Atraktu approaching. The Ahmonite halts a short distance away and bows to the floor.

"My lord orders Atraktu to serve brave sisters," she says anxiously.

There is some muttering in the party, but Bina expresses her understanding. The Ahmonite then takes up a position next to the disgraced priestess.

The group continues down. The Fasion turns on the lights at the bottom, revealing a dank cellar full of trash. The Fasion calls out a word that doesn't translate.

A Farbett voice demands, "What's this about?"

"The mystic gives these people clearance to enter the tunnels!" cries the Fasion.

There is a pause. "They got guns! They got Yangae! Not good!"

"They have a pass!" retorts the Fasion.

Another pause. "Alright, then!" There is a shifting of the trash, and a female Farbett emerges. Without looking at the party, she heads deeper into the trash and starts digging through it madly, throwing items in all directions. After only a few seconds, a path is cleared to a door. The Farbett opens it and moves aside.

"There you go!" she says. "But they're not gonna like this!"

The Fasion moves aside and gestures toward the door. "Be successful!" she says.

Gol'br'in's "Surprise Guest"

After a couple of minutes, the Fasion returns, erupting through the bead curtain as if it were her life's worst obstacle. Proceeding straight to Gol'br'in, she mutters something as he bends to listen. Then he clicks his tongue impatiently, stands erect facing the curtain, and barks something that sounds like, "Tcakin, mek-mek!"

Turning to the party sheepishly, he says, "That's about all I know of her language. If you have any translating devices, they'd be a big help right now."

Lirassa taps a key on her helmet with a huff. Then she says in Brekka, "Kekkin [Testing] i [one], kuli [two], zil [three]. Brakken kg'ford [Do y'all understand me, now?]"

Mey'Luskar huffs in turn. "Why didn't you tell us you had one of those?"

Lirassa, still speaking Brekka (though everyone understands her now), replies, "Y'all can't expect a girl to let fly all her secrets, now, can ya?"

Pru sucks air through her teeth.

"Now, what's your problem, pee-wee?" asks Lirassa, throwing out a hip cockily.

"Your Yangae is a lot prettier," replies Pru.

"'Cause it ain't my own language, right?" retorts Lirassa, putting a hand on her hip. "It's prettier 'cause it ain't natural for me, right? I only speak Yangae 'cause I have to!"

"There are reasons for that," offers Gol'br'in in Her-galad.

"Naturally," says Nekshi in Yangae. Then it occurs to her, and she switches to Zorlan Standard. "Subject: Yangae language. Former condition: official language of commerce and administration. Location: this area. Applied time frame: over two centuries. Current condition: replaced. Object: Her-galad language. Agent: new Ergothei administration. Corrected time frame: limited to past forty years. Result: Yangae continues to be prevalent. Conclusion: understandable." (This entire dialog is expressed within a span of two seconds.)

Ham sighs. He has never been fond of telepathic translators. At least he understands what everyone is saying for a change...but the grammar of certain foreign languages squeezed through his tired brain tends to give him a headache!

He's not the only one, either. "Please!" cries Pru. "Yangae! Speak Yangae!"

Nekshi glares in return. "Directive refused. Reply subject: Yangae language. Condition: limited and inefficient. Apparent time frame: any case. Conclu..."

"Stop!" Pru clutches her mop of curly, black hair. "Just stop! Don't! Just d...eh?"

A wave of surprise sweeps through the chamber as all eyes turn to the face that is shyly peeking through the curtain.

Few present have ever seen a face like that in person, and those that have recall the experience with dread and/or hatred. And yet there isn't a single person there who doesn't know the racial identity of those large, tawny, slit-pupiled eyes set in a gray, scaly face...a face that seems like an evil caricature of the human form.

The face of the enemy.

"Don't try to read her thoughts," warns Gol'br'in. "As you know, she doesn't like it, and she hits back. You might not want to get too close, either. Her claws are pretty nasty." He rubs a thigh with a shudder.

Lirassa clicks on her rifle. "Y'all better explain quick," she hisses.

"Put it down," says Bina. "Poor thing! She's frightened!"

"You might want to pull in your senses," says Gol'br'in. "She can turn those on you, too."

"I won't!" retorts Bina. Intrigued with the Ahmonite enough to forget her own problems, she asks, "Where did you find her?"

"She found us," replies Gol'br'in. "Just wandered up out of the tunnels in a state of shock. I gave her sanctuary. We don't have a common language, so communication has been tough. She ran away from something. Actually, you know, since you have a translator, maybe we can..."

"The only way I talk to 'grays' is with this," spits Lirassa, starting to raise the rifle.

Parting Gifts

The minutes pass.
Dabid stirs slightly but doesn't regain consciousness.
Mon'Fargret continues to wrestle with his guilt as both Mey'Luskar and Bina grapple with their respective inner turmoil. (Strangely, Mey'Luskar seems to be handling it with more grace than the disgraced priestess.)
Betham paces about edgily, watching both bead curtains while throwing occasional surreptitious glances at Bina and Gemma.
Nekshi examines the dismembered corpse of the Yoti, apparently interested in the implant that animated her.
Gemma chats with Zeton. He manages to find out that she is a native of Gôtheia (the Hergoth homeworld) who came to Lyranell about a year ago in answer to a job recruitment right out of college...only to have the company that hired her bought out and shut down leaving her with no way to pay her bills or return home. Moving into the squatter community eventually brought her to Gol'br'in...and the vine.
Widjgleeby helps herself to another severed Yoti limb.
Ham, Lirassa, Pru, and Granite Spear just wonder what they are doing there.

After a bit, the Fasion returns, bearing a very nervous look and a package wrapped in woven plant fiber. She toddles over to Mey'Luskar, who is closest to the bead curtain, and holds up the package.

"Here," she says.

"What is it?" asks Mey'Luskar, wrinkling her nose.

Bina looks like her heart has skipped a beat when she says, "Vine!"

Betham snaps to attention.

"You'll need this," says the Fasion, holding the package up more insistently.

Mey'Luskar stoops and accepts the package, glancing around at the others anxiously.

Bina moves away as if afraid of either the package or her own reaction to it.

"Why in Flames do we need that kèl'wòk?" demands Betham.

"To get past the guards," replies Gol'br'in just before he emerges from the curtain. "You'll know. Don't try to fight them. You'll only make it worse. Now..." He holds up his own cargo, a collection of what look like slips of paper. Each has a strange symbol drawn on it. "These need to be charged up." He looks intently at Bina. "Can you, uh...?"

Bina assumes a prayer stance without a word and starts a low chant. Soon her head and upper body are surrounded by a red aura. Using his wand, Gol'br'in starts to draw off some of the power and weave it into the runes.

"What sort of guards?" whispers Mey'Luskar to the Fasion.

"Farbetts," she replies.

Nekshi perks up immediately. Sneering slightly at the Fasion, she declares, "Farbetts wouldn't have much use for the vine! They don't have the correct physiology! We'd fare far better offering them abigatta-domi-fadikema-dallit-tasa!"

Widjgleeby grunts.

"It's not for them," retorts the Fasion flatly.