Join the Club pt. 3

"Alright, wise ones," says Lirassa sourly, "where do you suggest we go now?"

"Not standing around here in the hallway!" replies Betham.

"Obviously," adds Mon'Fargret.  Noting Mey'Luskar coming up behind him, he asks her, "You know this place?"

She gestures affirmative.  "That's just the first floor lounge there.  Adu...what's-her-face...won't be there."  Anticipating Lirassa's question, she adds, "The kitchens are to the left, and I think the other way goes to the business office."

Lirassa toys with her pistol.  "Good.  Let's put 'em out of business."

"That's not why we're here," reminds Betham.

"Maybe not YOU," retorts Lirassa.

*     *     *

 

  Meanwhile, just before entering the mansion, Widjgeeby turns and regards the fleeing group again.  Then her gaze moves to her grenade launcher.  A twinge of excitement pulses through her massive frame.

"Aw, just one," she mumbles, drawing an awkward bead.  She hesitates as a tiny knot of uncertainty pops out of a trap door in the back of her mind.  It whimpers for a moment.  But then her eagerness ruthlessly stomps it flat.

"Just one..."

*     *     *

"First things first," says Mon'Fargret.  "Where do you think Adulie will be?"

Mey'Luskar pauses as unpleasant memories pass through her thoughts.  "The club is just upstairs.  That's where the real toughs will be...watching the stairs.  In fact..."  She glances around.  "Why isn't the whole place coming down on us?"

"I've been wondering that, too," adds Betham.  "I don't like this.  In fact, I..."  He shudders.

"I'm not wondering at all," retorts Lirassa, glancing around restlessly.  "An opportunity should never be wasted."

"I agree with you partly," says Mon'Fargret.  "Nothing but door guards and floor guards so far, and now nothing.  Either we really did take them by surprise, or..."  He eyes his pistol thoughtfully.

"Or...?" echoes Pru anxiously.

"Getting up those stairs isn't going to be pretty."  With a sigh, Mon'Fargret turns and glances toward Pru, who is checking out the nearby cloakroom window.  "Where's Granite Spear?"

"I think she went through the other door," replies Pru.

*     *     *

Widjgleeby pulls the trigger...and nothing happens.  Grunting impatiently, she sniffs around the weapon for a bit until she locates what is probably the safety and a cocking mechanism.  Then she tries again, aiming into the group just as it arrives in the parking lot.

*     *     *

"Other door..."  Mon'Fargret clicks his tongue irritably and lifts his wrister.  Before he touches it, however, it chimes at him.  "Go," he says.

"Granite Spear has secured the security station," reports Nekshi's voice.

"I guess it wasn't very secure," notes Betham.  His attempt at humor elicits only glares.

"That's good," replies Mon'Fargret.  "Now leave the baggage, get the fighters in front, and..."

"Wait, this is all wrong," protests Nekshi.  "It's illogical!  The security station..."

"What about it?"

"Granite Spear says the guard at the security panel was catatonic."

Mon'Fargret shares furrowed brows with the others.  "Um...don't you mean comatose?"

Pru giggles.

"No, catatonic !"  Nekshi's voice betrays a hint of indignance.  "I looked up the Yangae word to be sure!  Conscious, but unaware."

"What could do that?"  Mon'Fargret and the others exchange uncertain glances.  Nekshi remains silent.

"Psy?" suggests Lirassa.  "But why?  Who would freeze the watchman?"

"Someone who wants to get in," replies Betham, "or wants us to get in.  A trap?"

"Or an opportunity."  Mon'Fargret glances at Lirassa.  "We still need to get up there."

*     *     *

Widjgleeby pulls the trigger.  There is a muffled report...followed by a much bigger report.  The aim was off, so the blast is well short of the target.  The fireball isn't particularly big or bright, but it appears to be above ground.  Ricocheting shrapnel can be heard like a sort of dissonant percussion ensemble among the parked vehicles.  Anti-personnel rounds, then?  Obviously not high-yield, though.

Widjgleeby recocks the weapon.

*     *     *

 The sudden blast outside makes everyone jump.  A few glances are exchanged.  Then there is a chorus of sighs.

"Our Farbett friend just upped the ante," says Mon'Fargret.  "We're out of time."

"There's an elevator," suggests Mey'Luskar.  She gestures east.  "Over there.  The cooks use it."

"Elevator..."  Mon'Fargret pauses thoughtfully.  Then he looks over at Pru again.  The light bulb over his head is almost visible.  He taps his wrister.  "Zeton!  Is Ham up yet?"

"He's only just coming around," reports the Lybolt.  "Furnfin...whatever his name is...is picking him up right now."

"Alright, I guess he'll help if and when he can," says Mon'Fargret.  "As for you, make sure your guest doesn't interfere, and get yourself up here.  We've got work to do."

"What's your plan?" demands Lirassa.

"We'll send a strike team up through the elevator first," replies Mon'Fargret.  "Either they'll secure the landing or tie up the guards enough for the others to come up the stairs."

"We'd better leave the non-coms in the basement," recommends Betham.  He jerks a thumb at Mey'Luskar.  "Including her.  Pru could stand guard."

"I'm not staying down there!" she cries.

"Me either!" adds Pru.  "We're moving, like it or not!  And we need Bina up here, too."

"Alright, whatever," sighs Mon'Fargret.  "But let's get moving!"