Who Dropped In for Dinner

(Carried over from the last comment thread with a little Gamemaster Override. For the record, Wirg has already gone back into his kitchen.)

"I apologize for the strangeness, Uskua," says Mon'Fargret to the anxious waitress just as she is finishing up and preparing to depart, "but if you recall, she wasn't the big talker back when that fellow shot the floor. Oddly, that fellow has an interesting story of his own that I won't go into here."

Uskua's only reply before she skitters off is an anguished look.

"Do tell!" calls someone using an unfamiliar language with a telepathic translator. It's someone of a strange, humanoid race unknown to most of the party (all the player characters not otherwise informed, anyway) who is sitting at a table with a Foldorian man. Both of them look like they are probably spacers. Turning his angular-faced gaze toward the party, the speaker rises from his chair and starts to approach slowly. "Your friends have certainly gone to enough trouble to attract everyone's attention! Why stop now? If you have an interesting story, then I'd be very much interested in hearing it! And if you don't care to talk about this 'fellow' who shoots floors, why not explain to me why the so-colorful waitress was so taken with that one?" He(?) turns abruptly, leveling his eyes on Bina. "Or why she looks so strangely familiar?"

Bina's brows lower. "Have we met?" she asks in a low voice.

"Obviously not," the spacer replies, "since I usually try to avoid Hergoth. But how could anyone arriving at the local aerospace port miss those two holographic priestesses that bow and intone that ridiculous greeting to all that pass through the gate?" His eyes narrow. "I thought so before, and now I'm certain. One of those charming holo-priestesses looks just like you...or would if you were wearing braids and a tiara!"

Several of the other customers in the cafe immediately stop what they were doing and take note.

"Or a brooch?" suggests Bina, tapping the spot on her chest that it would have occupied. "No brooch, no priestess."

"Brooches can be hidden," suggests the spacer. "But the witch powers of a Hergoth priestess? Not likely! So what's your game?"

"Look, do you want something?" hisses Mey'Luskar impatiently.

"Mainly just to sate my curiosity," replies the alien evenly. "But also to make something perfectly clear. If this is indeed a witch of the Temple here in disguise to spy on us, she'd do well to take her mind probes elsewhere!"

Some of the other customers immediately set down whatever they were holding and start gathering themselves together to leave. At one table, a Yangae woman (an artist and an acquaintance of some members of the party) starts trying to urge her companion, a female Bolgan, to leave, but the Bolgan won't budge.

An Afternoon at Wirg's, Take Two

Mon'Fargret, Ham, Nekshi, Granite Spear, and Widjgleeby file on into Wirg's just as a customer, a Hertressk-Yangae, is leaving. The man quickly steps aside to allow the Farbett passage, eying the group warily, and then continues out without a word. There is no one at the front. Sounds can be heard from the kitchen area; Wirg is probably busy in the back. As the group moves on into the dining area, Uskua can be seen hustling about as she takes care of things by herself. The place isn't really all that busy; it's certainly somewhat less crowded than it was yesterday. Still, Uskua has her hands full.

Seeing the party, the Ilfroi stops and heaves a sigh of relief. "Beyond, am I glad to see you!" she says. "Go ahead and sit wherever you like. I'll be with you in a minute!"

There are currently eight customers there. Two of them are sitting alone, while the others are in pairs. Some of them are familiar to members of the party, some aren't.

"Well, I'll be rockin' in the wind!" comes a familiar, gruff voice from the direction of the kitchen. "I was afraid that lot wouldn't be back!" Wirg comes toddling out, a ladle in his paw and the Bolgan equivalent of a smile on his snout. "And here you are here together! Just like when you left yesterday! What, were you looking for that trigger-happy git and his lodge-wench all this time?" He lets out a hearty, Bolgan guffaw. "Did you find 'em?"

Just then the front door can be heard banging open followed by a torrent of feminine complaining in Yangae. The voice is very familiar. Pretty much the entire clientele sits up and takes note.

Uskua sucks air through her teeth and hustles toward the front just as Wirg growls, "What...in...twelve..." There is some muttering, and then Uskua can be seen beckoning someone in anxiously, puzzlement written all over her striped, blue face.

Mey'Luskar comes in looking like she's about ready to start smashing things. Behind her comes Bina, who is calm but worried. Dabid stays way to the rear.

"Why...," growls Wirg as he turns around slowly, "in the twelve levels...are YOU here? What kind of gall...grr...why should I let you in?"

Mey'Luskar stops short and greets the Bolgan with wide eyes. "Well, I...uh..."

"I'll vouch for her," says Bina.

"Where's your lodger, lady?" Wirg goes on. He gestures toward the floor, where a chunk of sheeting covers the spot where Dusker shot it. "You know? The flop who did that? Where is he? Whose gonna pay for...huh?" His jaw drops lax for a moment. Then he shakes his head as if to clear it and stares at Bina. "What did you say?"

"I said I'll vouch for her. We'll take care of the damage."

Wirg approaches Bina, circling around Mey'Luskar as if she were radioactive, and gives the disgraced priestess a looking and sniffing over. Then he says, "You're Hergoth!" as if it were a profound discovery.

"Of course I am!" replies Bina with a shallow grin.

"B-but..." Wirg glances quizzically back at Mey'Luskar and then turns to Bina again. "She's...pure scarlet! She hates...I mean she...uh?" He looks at Mey'Luskar again.

"We forgive," replies Bina, "and reality smiles!"

Wirg looks at her, Mey'Luskar, and Uskua in turn before he gives up trying to figure it out and retires to his kitchen with a snort.

Uskua moves past the Bolgan and gestures for the newcomers to sit, changing the direction of her beckoning when she realizes they're moving to join the party. All along her troubled-looking eyes never leave Bina.

"We all look alike," says Bina in reply to the Ilfroi's thoughts.

Uskua gestures negative curtly before saying, "Let me know when you're ready to order." Then she quickly moves away.

Back to Where It All Started

The group watches as Lirassa leads Zeton to her cute, little car and then drives off in a hail of shrieking tires, once again only just missing the doors of the gate as it opens.

There is a chorus of sighs among the group, and then Ham says, "Now what?"

Mon'Fargret looks at Widjgleeby thoughtfully, stroking his mustache, and then he says, "I think Widjgleeby just might fit in the back of the van. It'll be tight, though."

Widjgleeby snorts irritably and goes on looking out the window.

"The problem is where to put everyone else," Mon'Fargret goes on. "The van is for hauling stuff. It only has one bench seat plus two in the front. We can put four, maybe five of us plus the driver in there."

"There are exactly seven of us here in addition to Widjgleeby," points out Nekshi. "There is also a matter of anatomy. Assuming your vehicle was designed with Yangae and/or Hergoth in mind, Granite Spear would require at least half of the bench seat. As for the other half..." She lifts her gaze to Ham's tall, stocky frame. Then she reaches over and pats Dabid's paunch.

Dabid immediately swats her hand away and brushes his belly off as if it were soiled.

"You must see the problem here," adds Nekshi, cradling her assaulted limb. "Assuming no one is left behind or forced to rely on podiatric transportation..."

"'Podiatric'?" snaps Dabid indignantly. "That's not a word!"

"There is other car," rumbles Widjgleeby.

Nekshi's bushy eyebrows almost merge. "I beg to differ! The Yangae language does in fact allow for the use of classic Sarkish terms with proper declension! For example..."

"She's right, purple," says Mey'Luskar quickly.

"What?" rails Dabid. "Tell me, scarlet, would any civilized Yangae ever say, 'podiatric transportation'?"

"There is other car," repeats Widjgleeby.

"No," replies Mey'Luskar, "but if they had a proper education they'd understand what it meant."

Dabid makes a very interesting (and very caustic-sounding) noise.

"What did you say, Widjgleeby?" asks Bina very deliberately.

Widjgleeby points with four of her hands. "Other car!"

"Now that is improper Yangae," says Mey'Luskar.

Widjgleeby uses one of her remaining hands to make a very unfriendly Yangae gesture.

"Actually, that is also an inaccurate assessment," retorts Nekshi. "In the standard dialect of the Labor and Soil Tender castes it is both common and acceptable to make statements lacking one or more standard grammar cases."

Widjgleeby's remaining hand echoes the gesture.

"Widjgleeby," says Mey'Luskar, "I think you want to say, 'There is another car.'"

Widjgleeby says, "There is another car," in Her-Galad. Then she belches.

"This is important!" says Bina. Then she looks at Mon'Fargret.

"Yes," he says, "I do have another car. It's a little Tuzero."

"Oh, how cute!" coos Mey'Luskar. "Why don't you let me drive it? I'll carry Bina and...one more? Maybe purple, here? You can drive the van with the others!"

A Call from Uskua

Mon'Fargret quickly tells the terminal to kill the video input and then accepts the call. A holo display of Uskua appears in front of him, her blue, tiger-striped face etched with worry.

"Hello Uskua," he says. "Pardon the blank display, I haven't slept much since I saw you last."

Uskua sighs with relief. "Thank whatever's beyond that you're there. Sorry to call you like this. There was no answer at Nekshi's number, and I didn't know who else to turn to."

(This strikes Nekshi as odd; a call to her flat should have been automatically forwarded to her wrister.)

"It's Adulie," continues Uskua. "She didn't show up for work today. Wirg had me call her, but all I got was a message...a private message coded for me."

"What did the message say?" asks Mon'Fargret.

Uskua bites her lip and then replies, "She said...something about there being a 'major event' this morning, or something like that. Then there was something about Zeton maybe not being able to make it. Yes, she really did say that. You know Zeton? The guy who looks kind of like an oversized Hergoth? He was there at Wirg's yesterday, remember? Anyway...she said she was going to go and have a look herself, whatever that means." She sighs anxiously. "She told me to let him know if I found him. I don't have any idea how to do that. Can you tell him, or do you know someone who can?"

Right at about this time, Mey'Luskar suddenly gasps with surprise, releases Bina's hands as if they were hot, and bolts from the room. Bina remains where she is, calmly shifting her gaze to the floating image of Uskua.

The Tale is Pulled

(Massive Gamemaster Override...)

Mey'Luskar starts to leave but stops with a muffled yelp of surprise.

"Don't bother," says Bina darkly from the doorway. "I'm alright."

Her voice sounds a bit slurred.

Nekshi and Granite Spear both react with surprise.

"Where is your circlemate?" asks Nekshi, thoughtfully scratching a lobe. "In fact, where is your priest brooch? On that topic, I might also inquire as to what happened to your clothes!" She wrinkles her nose with disapproval. "Such unseemly, off-the-street Yangae attire would be expected on a self-made miscreant such as Mey'Luskar, but on a trained member of the Hergoth Priesthood...most odd!"

"They don't know," says Mey'Luskar apologetically.

"Why would they?" replies Bina. "They don't know any of it!"

"They probably won't believe any of it," adds Mey'Luskar, trying to inject a tiny not of humor. "I only know half of it, and it's still hard for me!"

Bina gives Nekshi and Granite Spear a forlorn look. "Not long after you two ran off, we got a call from Par'deth the Hero. He said he'd found and caught the ones that caused the...event. The ones that tried to abduct Par'ai." She draws a deep breath. "It was a worldly thing, so the Circle couldn't intervene. Kiel'i and I were...asked...to take the group there so they could help. We used the Gate. They were in an underground room. There were two of them. One was...um..."

"Dusker," puts in Mey'Luskar. "My EX-lodger. Just as I'd suspected all along."

Bina's face looks impassive, but she lets off a small reverse-empathic pulse. It contains both surprise and resentment. "They were under the influence of the Enemy," she goes on.

"Dusker isn't anymore," says Mon'Fargret, looking at Mey'Luskar.

"No," agrees Bina darkly, "he's not."

"He actually helped me," adds Zeton eagerly. "I was trying to upload all the data in their computer to a secure place. It was rigged. If Dusker hadn't given me the password...who knows what would've happened?"

"Were you successful in uploading the data?" asks Nekshi.

Zeton gives Mon'Fargret a wry look. "Just made it," he replies. "That's when the Peace Forcers showed up and said we were all under arrest."

"Not just any Peace Forcers," adds Bina bitterly. "It was Superintendent Br'am, chief of the Ekr'in District force."

Nekshi raises an eyebrow.

"I don't think I heard about this," observes Mey'Luskar. "Why would they arrest you when you had priestesses with you?"

"They...stunned Kiel'i...for no reason," says Bina, and she appears to swoon.

Mey'Luskar throws a confused look at Mon'Fargret.

"It was all wrong," says Mon'Fargret. "They were Hergoth, but...not. They even had Yangae militia backing them up. Night Guard."

Mey'Luskar looks like she's about to swoon, too. "I...I thought they came to fight the Peace Forcers..." She plops herself onto one of the couches.

Mon'Fargret gestures negative. "Not at first. The thing was, some of them were being controlled, and some weren't."

"Br'am and his partners were being controlled, too," moans Bina in a thin voice. Mey'Luskar tries to say something, but Bina cuts her off. "Yes, Hergoth are immune to the Rune. At least I think they are. I was told they were. I can't explain it." She sighs and slumps against the door frame. "I can't explain any of it..."

"Stay with me," says Mey'Luskar encouragingly.

"So Hergoth officials can be corrupted!" says Nekshi. "Interesting!" She switches on her wrister and starts tapping at it. "It is just as I suspected! So anyway, how did you manage your daring escape? Did Par'deth have to lay waste to the whole area, or was collateral damage kept to a reasonable minimum?"

"Par'deth was no help at all at first," replies Mon'Fargret with some disappointment.

"Don't be unfair!" protests Bina with sudden vehemence. "Br'am turned his Hero Oaths against him!"

Nekshi makes another cry of interest and starts tapping at her wrister again. "I'll quote you on that. It's all in the name of public knowledge. And national security. Hero Oaths...can be turned..."

"Betham was probably the real hero there," suggests Zeton.

"Yeah, but not just him," retorts Mon'Fargret. "Some of the Night Guard were really on our branch. Betham showed up and put the light on Br'am's ploy. Then Br'am and his team were given the axe from the top. That freed Par'deth."

"And Dauk and his friends helped you?" asks Mey'Luskar.

"Right," says Mon'Fargret. "It was Yangae against Yangae, Hergoth against Hergoth."

Granite Spear shudders with an unreadable emotion.

"It was us against It," corrects Bina. "And It came."

"I still don't really understand what happened," admits Mon'Fargret. "They tried to show a holo-image of something, I'm guessing the Rune, to control us. Dusker warned us just in time. We stopped it, but then it was like it was possessing different people...like it was moving from body to body among the controlled ones till it got to one it liked. Then..."

"I guess that's when Per'anai brought me there," says Mey'Luskar, recalling the memory with dread.

"Yes," says Bina. "It concentrated its power in one host. It was stronger, more dangerous, but it could also be defeated." She gives Mey'Luskar a very intent look.

Mey'Luskar blushes. "I told it to sod off..."

Zeton raises an eyebrow and grins. "And it did!" He chuckles. "The great Hero and all those priestesses couldn't quite beat it, but one Yangae curse..."

"She say sod off," adds Widjgleeby, "and it sod off good!" She grins, showing her fangs.

"Yeah," agrees Mon'Fargret. "It just went away. All the controlled ones were free."

"So is it gone?" asks Granite Spear.

All eyes turn to Bina, who hesitates before gesturing negative dejectedly.

Mey'Luskar clasps herself and shudders. "Something tells me we kicked it out, but it's still there, just outside, waiting for a chance to come back in. Its doorway is somewhere here in Mul'ein. And now it's angry."

An ominous silence falls over the room.

Then Granite Spear taps away at her talk box, and it says, "NDAU So what's the plan now?"

Two Go Out, Two Come In

Widjgleeby watches as Ham and Lirassa leave the compound and then turns her attention to the grounds. The garden in the middle looks to be in a bit of disrepair.

Too much green stuff, she thinks irritably. Nothing new there. She knows well that both Yangae and Hergoth have a weird obsession with the stuff. It's almost like a shared psychosis, or something like that. All that plant matter everywhere, mucking up perfectly good rocks! Ah, well; four-limbed creatures rarely make sense. To make matters worse, some of the green stuff would be considered valuable, or at least keepable, while others are treated like a disease. "Weeds," they called them. The Her-Galad word for it, "Kel'dae," at least has a nice, aggressive ring, especially with the shortened vowels and that weird glottal aspiration they put on the "l'" sound. It makes it clear that the unwanted plants are just that, unwanted. On the other hand, the Yangae word, "Ywani," sounds almost beautiful, as if even unwanted plants still had desirable qualities.

How ironic that the Hergoth tend to value nature while Yangae seem only too happy to build game courses and factories in it.

Definitely too much green stuff. The garden needs weeding. The trouble is that Widjgleeby isn't quite sure which are the weeds and which aren't. Mon'Fargret probably wouldn't be happy if she made a mistake. Still...maybe just the ones that don't look good...

Actually, NONE of them look good, but maybe...

Widjgleeby's musings (and attempted start at ornamental horticulture) are interrupted by the sound of a vehicle easing up the alley. No emission smell; obviously electromotors with an onboard non-combustive powerplant. Almost no sound, either. Either its "safety noise" generator is shut off or it doesn't have one. The faint wheeltrain sound suggests retractables. There is also a hint of the odor of recently-used repulsorjets.

A VTOL hybrid?

Widjgleeby immediately goes on her guard. She soon relaxes it, though. She can see the Peace Force logo through one of the one-way windowslits next to the gate. And there is no mistaking the smell of that pair!

Nekshi's attempt at singing a Hergoth Song of Calling is quickly interrupted by the Farbett opening the door so exuberantly she almost tears it off its hinges. Granite Spear then reminds Nekshi that Mon'Fargret is Foldorian, and Foldorians don't sing Hergoth greeting songs.

At the Artists' Homestead

Constable Pal'dun takes a roundabout route on purpose, heading well west before circling around and approaching the Artists' Square area from the opposite side. He also takes a lot of detours to avoid the main routes. It is late afternoon (well past lunchtime) by the time the van rolls up the narrow street behind Mon'Fargret's home/studio.

"The triasks promised they'd watch the place," says Mey'Luskar. "I'm sure it's okay!"

"Even triasks can be bought," retorts Dabid flatly.

As he says this, a girl can be seen walking along the narrow, empty street with the characteristic swaying gait of a triask not far away. Considering the street is little more than an alley, she looks a bit out of place.

"He does have a point," says Constable Pal'dun.

"Her heart is true," says Bina quietly. "There's no betrayal...and no danger."

"Of course!" says Mey'Luskar pointedly, glaring at Dabid. "Never underestimate Yangae honor!"

Dabid only tosses his head in reply.

"Alright then," says Pal'dun, and he unseals the doors. "I guess I'm leaving all of you here. What you do from here on is up to you, but let us know if anything happens...and please try to stay out of trouble!"

(UPDATE: For the record, now that the graphic is up, the party entered the compound through the gate from the alley at lower right, behind the house.)

Relocating Again

After a little bit more minor quibbling, the group decides to take Constable Pal'dun up on his offer, and they follow him outside the building.

Considering the less than ideal state of the club, the grounds outside the building look quite nice, if a bit gloomy. It is pretty easy to tell that it is up in the Tuli Hills area overlooking Danstul' Park; beyond the sculpted lawns and gardens there is little to be seen but tree-covered hills and the upper stories of a couple of rather old-looking, Yangae-style towers. The building in which the club is housed is of similar style and age, and it is actually rather stately.

There are a number of vehicles parked in a haphazard fashion. Most of them are Peace Force vans, bikes, and cruisers, but there are also a few more ordinary-looking cars and a microbus. The Geishana ambulances are just now starting to get underway. Tellingly, there is a garage/hangar structure nearby, and its one open door shows only an empty space.

Dauk can be seen getting into a Peace Force cruiser that is obviously preparing to leave. Pru, on the other hand, appears to be walking toward the gate to the estate at a slow pace.

As the group makes its way toward one of the vans, Pal'dun gestures to the nearby officers, and they salute and step aside. Before anyone can board, however, Pal'dun comes to a halt and holds up his hand.

The sound of running, booted feet can be heard. It's Constable Betham. Drawing near to the group, he heaves a heavy sigh and does a little dance of irritation before he says, "You're leaving, are you? Alright then. Just be careful and stay out of trouble, would you? And stay in touch! This isn't over yet."

"You mean we haven't beaten it yet?" says Lirassa sarcastically.

Psy-gifted or not, Betham shows no sign of getting the joke. Glaring, he leans in closer and adds more quietly, "Maybe this is a temporary victory. We still have two very big problems here. One, Mas'Vallaf is still missing, and it looks like he has his top thugs with him. Two, Br'am was right about one point; Par'ai said it was all happening at the Scarlet Revival. This is the Scarlet Revival, and it's not the place we're looking for. As far as evidence is concerned, we've got til'uan droppings. You know we're gonna need a lot more than that to even make a case."

"If I may," says Pal'dun, "there's still the Second Chancer videos. They're coming out in a few days! We can try to delay them, but..."

"But we'd end up knee-deep in political kĕl'wàk," spits Betham. "We've got no case. Curse it, we don't even know who's distributing the damned things! Bottom line, we need anything we can get. Any tidbit of info. You find something, you let me know! And don't try to take any action on your own! We barely got out of this one, right? Best path!" With that, he bows stiffly, turns on his heel, and stomps off.

"Right," says Pal'dun. He gestures toward the van. "Shall we go?"

Decisions

The Geishana start hauling the wounded outside, and the fully conscious Yangae militiamen gather themselves up to go. As for the Hergoth Peace Forcers, there seem to be more now than there were before, and they are either performing police work, helping the Geishana, or just milling about looking around in wonder.

Dauk and Pru approach the party a bit hesitantly, Dauk with a bit of a limp. Seeing this, Constable Pal'dun comes as well.

After a wary glance at Pal'dun, Dauk looks at Mon'Fargret, bows awkwardly, and says, "My lord, I meant what I said. We want this thing gone. Until then, we all have a common cause. I don't know if the Hergs will respect that, but I know you will."

Zeton, who has been fiddling with his wrister on and off for the past several minutes, finally heaves a sigh of relief as a welcome tone sounds. Then he can be heard speaking Yangae quietly.

Pel'dun raises the visor of his helmet and says, "I think lack of respect is the root of a lot of our problems right now."

"Just how deep is that root?" wonders Dauk. "Alright, Constable. For now at least we'll leave that one buried. I need to go with my team to the hospital. I'm sure they'll be wanting to ask questions." He makes a face as if the words tasted awful. "Allow me to give you a code so you can contact me." He starts fiddling with his wrister.

"I need to go too," says Pru. "My team...you know." She draws a breath and lets it out slowly. "I'd like to meet up with you later. Where are you going next?" She glances at Pal'dun. "You are going, aren't you?"

Pal'dun shrugs. "I don't see why not. But I'd like to have an idea where you're going in case something comes up."

During the ensuing pause, Zeton can be heard saying to his wrister, "You know the spot, we recently had lunch there. Shall we meet there, in say an hour?"

There are some looks of surprise and of confusion. Then Lirassa says, "Do you think they'll even let us in?"

"Where?" asks Pru, puzzled at everyone's reaction.

Same Song, Fifteen Thousandth Verse

This time the group makes the trip back to the club the old fashioned way: They walk. True to Dusker's word, all the security features have been deactivated. There is no sign of the vambli as the group goes down the stairs and circles around through what are apparently preparation and waiting rooms for club staff or performers. (There is, however, the rather mangled corpse of a Peace Force patrolman.) They enter the club through the door next to the bar.

The first thing that greets them on their return is a look on Betham's face that could wilt a hillside in the Goer'dan cloud forest.

"You let him get away," he growls, "didn't you?"

"That's right," replies Par'deth calmly. "He's more use to us out there than here."

"Oh, I'm sure," says Betham testily. "Especially if he starts shooting people, assuming he doesn't wind up getting blown away first. Really useful!"

"I trust his honor," says Par'deth.

"If he gave you his word," says Dauk, "I'm sure he'll keep it."

"Unless he changes his mind," suggests Detective Gar'en.

"Now, what's that supposed to mean?" says Pru. "You calling him a liar?"

"I'm only stating a possibility," replies Gar'en.

"What possibility?" demands Pru.

"He thinks Yangae honor means dirt," suggests Blue Yangae D with a mocking giggle. "Same old story!"

"There are no absolutes," says Constable Pal'dun. "Honor means different things to different people. If Par'deth..."

"Different things?" says Blue Yangae D, his voice starting to rise. "Maybe among you Hergs! You can't make up your minds, can you? That's why you have to have someone else control them for you all the time!" He gestures toward the priestesses.

"We do NOT control people's minds!" spits Bina. Keil'i quickly grabs her arm.

"Don't bother," says one of the yellow-marked Yangae on the floor weakly. "They'll never understand."

"No, they won't, will they?" says Blue Yangae D. "But we still have to live by their rules, don't we?"

"I didn't think they had rules," says Dauk with a chuckle.

"Of course we do!" says Constable Pal'dun, his calm demeanor cracking. "Why do you think we're here?"

"To protect your own!" replies Blue Yangae D. "You don't give a clod about us!"

"Why do you think we're here?" adds Dauk. "Fair is fair, right?"

"You aren't sanctioned," retorts Detective Gar'en. He nods toward the yellow-marked Yangae on the floor. "You're also a security risk!"

"The warrrrr has begunnnnn," sings Wari.

"We're a necessary evil," replies Dauk.

"You're a public nuisance!" counters Gar'en. "That's an arrestable offense!"

"You mean like your Blues?" demands Blue Yangae D. "Have you arrested any of them? How much protection have you given us against them? None! Bad enough they're scaring people off the streets and out of their businesses south of the river! Now they're here in Ekr'in, and you guys just look the other way every time!"

"The Blues will no longer give you any trouble," says Par'deth.

"I'll vouch for that," admits Pru.

"Well, I appreciate that!" says Dauk sincerely. "They were honorable enough regarding the others in your team, Pru. I'll give them that."

"It's a start," snarls Blue Yangae D.

"What more do you want?" asks Bina impatiently.

Blue Yangae D eyes her sourly before snarling, "Not much point in mentioning it."

Suddenly everyone is jarred to silence by the crash of a table thrown halfway across the room. Trying to collect his composure, Betham looks at his trembling gauntlets and says, "I don't give a flaming lump what you or anyone else here wants! In case you pack of gits can't figure it out, we still have a problem! Last time I checked, the problem was more serious for you than for us! Am I mistaken here?" He glares bolts of pure ice at the Yangae militiamen. "Now of course, since we obviously don't give a clod about what happens to you, we could just ignore the whole thing and let you suffer, right?" He kicks a chair. "It's not happening, is it?"

"You don't have much choice, Constable," says Dauk impassively. "This thing is turning the Yangae against you! It's simple survival, and you know it."

Betham mutters something under his breath.

"We have a common enemy," continues Dauk. "Therefore we have a common cause. We respect that."

"And if we overcome it?" asks Constable Pal'dun.

"Right back at each other's throat," spits Gar'en as he activates his wrister and starts pecking at it.

"We're not giving in to you!" says Blue Yangae D. "You're not controlling our minds!"

"That's exactly what he said!" says Betham, gesturing at Br'am. Then he gestures at the yellow-marked Yangae. "That's probably what they said! And Dusker, and Mek, and...whatever. Probably even Mas'Vallaf! They all said it! What did it get them?" With a sigh, he stomps off in the direction of the exit.

Pru gives Dauk a horrified look.

"He does have a point," says Mey'Luskar quietly.