Act 2 - Permutations

Petal paced anxiously and considered the form in her hands. Pacing was getting to be a bad habit, but she had bigger issues than correcting small character flaws right now. She looked down at the form again:

Quote:

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I, the undersigned, do hereby renounce my citizenship to the Omni-Tek corporation. I understand that by doing so, I forfeit all rights of citizenship, including, but not limited to, free travel through the territories controlled by Omni-Tek, legal and military protection, medical services, supplies, and financial assistance of any sort. Furthermore, I understand that this action constitutes a violation of my contract of employment, and that Omni-Tek may, at it's sole discretion, seek legal recourse or impose disciplinary measures.

I have read this form completely, and am prepared to accept any consequences that may arise from my actions.

X__________________

---

Petal sighed. At last, she took out a nano-encoding stylus and signed her name, afixing the necessary nano-signature that ensured the name she had signed was not a forgery. She held her breath as the document melted away, off into the ether of the Grid to be delivered and processed. She waited for a moment. She had been lead to believe that the transition would be instantaneous, but nothing seemed to be happening. After several more moments, a beep came through on her PDA. As she read the words, her eyes grew wide.

Quote:

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Your application for a change in status has been rejected.

---

Petal groaned. It was so typical that one bureaucratic mishap after another seemed to dog her. After a long pause, she sighed

"Nothing to do but try to get this cleared up, I suppose," she finally said, to no one in particular. "Still, it's late, I'm tired... I'll tilt at windmills tomorrow."

Petal turned to Icarus, who silently rose to follow her. She stepped up to the Grid terminal in her apartment and held her breath as she was digitally broken down and reassembled in the matrix of the Grid. She made her way to Omni-1's entertainment district.

Might as well enjoy one last night at Rompa, after all... she thought to herself.

Petal stepped lightly down as the Grid terminal in Omni-Entertainment recomposed her. She took another step and then gasped as a bolt of energy whizzed by her head, missing by mere centimeters. Behind her, she heard an explosion and the sound of metal striking the concrete of the plaza. She turned around in time to see Icarus, headless, collapse to his knees, neck still sparking and arms spasming slightly.

"Bodyguard neutralized. Primary objective acquired."

Blackpetal whirled to confront several Omni-Pol officers pointing their weapons at her.

"Racheal Schuemann, I hereby place you under arrest for the crime of treason against Omni-Tek, conspiracy to commit treason, consorting with enemies of the corporation, espionage, and conspiracy to commit espionage. I advise you to come along quietly, or things will go badly for you," the lead officer said, and Petal was sure she could hear a smirk in his voice despite the electronic distortion of his helmet speaker.

Petal looked at the officers, then looked back at the mangled wreckage of Icarus. Fighting back tears, she slowly raised her hands and allowed herself to be led away.

Betji waited in Rompa's, getting increasingly worried. Petal said she'd be on her way, but it that was an hour ago, and she hadn't been answering her comm.

Then she overheard a conversation in a nearby booth.

"That traitor finally got arrested!"

Betji recognized the voice as Slisay, a young 'crat who worked at S&A. Sli was hard to forget – she had no hair, and a complicated eye implant dominated her face. She was clearly a woman more interested in getting ahead, in personal success, and didn't mind sacrificing physical appearance to get it.

"So, I wonder who'll run the place now?" Betji didn't recognize the other voice. Probably somebody trying to kiss up to Slisay. Even junior clerks had prestige in some circles.

"God, I hope it's not Baxter, he's just as bad as Ms Snooty Schuemann." Slisay's voice was slurred but recognizable.

There was a horrible sinking sensation in Betji's stomach. It was Petal who'd been arrested as a traitor, she was sure of it. Was InternOps finally making its move? Was Eternalforce out to make a name for himself, now that he was the new Director?

Quickly, from a quiet corner, she began making calls.

Petal sat quietly with her hands folded in front of her, dressed in the green regulation jumpsuit that was all Omni-Pol had left her after her arrest. She was in a small communication cell, and, on the gridphone monitor in front of her, Baxter was speaking quietly and in worried tones.

Despite her discomfort and anxiety, Petal took great pains to move as little as possible--to show as little emotion as possible. She knew her ever gesture, every word and every look was being recorded, and she had no interest in providing Omni-Pol any additional information they didn't already have.

"...looking into it. All I can tell you for now is to sit tight...ah...not that you have much choice in the matter, I suppose."

Petal nodded slightly, but said nothing as Baxter spoke.

"We are, of course, following up every possible avenue with Omni-Pol and Omni-Admin, but so far, we've had little success. You've been labelled a significant flight risk, and Omni-Admin has refused to schedule a bond hearing."

Petal nodded again, her face an impenetrable mask.

"There is another...parallel strategy that we are looking into, but I'll say more about it after it has born some fruit. In the meantime, please try not to worry, Ms. Schuemann. We'll have you out of here in no time."

Baxter smiled and did his best to look reassuring, but Petal thought he looked tired...and maybe a bit disappointed. He had been a trusted employee for a long time, but Petal hadn't dared reveal her intentions to anyone except Betji and her brother. She knew that her lack of trust must have hurt Baxter deeply. Thinking of this, she found the strength to smile back.

"I know you will. Thank you, Baxter," she said quietly. The gridphone went dark, and two Omni-Pol guards came and took her back to her cell.

**********

Baxter sat back and rubbed his temples. After a moment, he sat up again and pulled out his comm.

"Yes. Hello, ICC? I'd like to speak with one of your Corporate Affairs Magistrates, please. Yes, I'll hold. Thank you."

Blackpetal sat once again in the small communication cell, looking at Baxter on the gridphone monitor. She said nothing but listened intently as her assistant spoke.

"The ICC has promised to rule rapidly on the issues we raised, Ms. Schuemann. I expect we could hear from them within the next day or two. Please try to keep your spirits up until then," Baxter smiled gently.

Petal merely nodded, and the screen went blank. Baxter sighed as he turned away from the monitor. She seemed to be holding up reasonably well, given the interrogations to which Omni-Pol was no doubt subjecting her. When her image had first appeared on the screen, Baxter had initially been quite heartened at how healthy she looked, until he realized that the blush in her cheeks was merely the product of diligent scrubbing to remove the powder and makeup in which he had become so accustomed to seeing her.

Still, all things considered, Baxter found he was quite optimistic. The ICC magistrate to whom he had spoken had taken a keen interest in the case, and Baxter felt certain that a ruling wouldn't take long.

Now there is only to wait, and hope that the worst is behind us, he thought.

"Yes, thanks, I appreciate the offer. I'm sure we'll need all the help we can get."

Betji closed the comm connection, thankfully. The calls from clan friends willing to help Blackpetal, and her, were gratifying. She realized, sadly, that the time had come to change her own papers from Omni to Clan.

"Betji?" The next call was from Baxter. She saw from the winking red light on the comm that his call was scrambled, and her scrambler code had matched with his. It really was Baxter, and the call was completely private and confidential.

"Here, Bax,"

"There have been some positive indications from the ICC. I'm confident of a positive resolution." Baxter sounded very pleased.

"But will OT accept an ICC decree? Specifically, will ICC deliver to OT something they can't possibly mishandle, mislay, or misconstrue?"

"Well, umm...." Baxter seemed suddenly uncertain. Betji rolled her eyes. Lawyers always seemed to believe that just because the paper was signed, everything would automatically fall into place. It never occurred to them that bureaucracies had innumerable methods for sidelining and derailing uncomfortable rulings, no matter how legitimate.

"Baxter, I think maybe I should take the next shuttle off-planet to ICC headquarters. I want to insure these papers don't get 'lost' somewhere, and are so undeniably authentic that even the most moronic OT clerk will be forced to recognize its validity."

"I suppose that would be wise. You always had a talent for understanding the OT bureaucracy, probably a lot better than the ICC does." Baxter's voice was unfailingly polite, but he seemed to genuinely believe this was a good idea.

"Speaking of clerks, moronic or otherwise, OT seems remarkably well informed about S&A activities. When I get back, we should do another security screen at S&A."

"Sure thing, Betji, that's probably a good idea. I was shocked at how fast, and decisively, OmniPol reacted."

"Oh, and Baxter, I'll be changing my papers to clan now. I've pretty much done as much as possible on the omni side. And don't worry; I won't get myself arrested in the process."

"Well, good luck, and be careful." Baxter signed off.

Betji had enjoyed her time as an omni citizen. She'd enjoyed the city life of Omni-1. She'd enjoyed the people too. Most were very likeable, despite their black-hearted and self-centered attitudes. Omnis worried about "getting ahead," but they were also uniquely dignified about themselves and their lives. Whether it was professional advancement, organizational affiliation, or their private relationships, you always knew where they stood. In comparison, her clan friends seemed so variable, so mercurial, so caught up in a constant storm of changing relationships and personal politics.

Nevertheless, change is part of life. Changing to clan was necessary not only to help Petal, but also to open a new chapter in her own life. She'd been carrying around the form for months, and knew precisely the right technique to insure speedy and expeditious processing without triggering redflag programs. It would appear to OmniTek as just another use of her clan disguise kit. It would take probably take them weeks to realize the truth.

=======================================

Some time later, the Morningstar Station was five star systems away. Betji had put away her web cloak in favor of a more discrete white fabric. She'd decided that strutting around ICC headquarters with CDS armor visible was a bit too undiplomatic, despite its appeal to the butch side of her personality.

Suddenly, in the spaceport terminal, she spotted a familiar face, heading toward the departure gates. Flowing red hair... the quick grace of a fixer... professional advancement halted at an alluring "69"...

"Dream!" Betji exclaimed.

The woman turned, and smiled. "Hello, Betji! What a wonderful surprise!"

They hugged, and the woman said quietly. "Here I'm Aidan Flynn. Only special people know me as Dreamdate."

Betji raised an eyebrow in surprise. "What, has Whiplord resurfaced? I thought we ran him out of town on a rail of embarrassment?"

Dreamdate laughed, "Oh, we did, we did!" Then she turned serious. "But that doesn't mean I don't still do some 'personal and professional' work."

Betji shrugged. "Well, I hope the compensation is worth it."

Dreamdate just smiled, quietly. "It is. My clients pay in many coin, some of it very useful on Rubi-Ka. An information-broker such as you would appreciate that."

Dreamdate glanced at her chrono. "Well, I must be off, or I'll miss my ship back to Rubi-Ka."

"Drat, I'm just arriving... business with the ICC." Betji had been hoping to spend a little more time with Dreamdate. She was always good company.

Dreamdate laughed. "I just finished some 'business' with them. If you run into the Field Operations Director, and need a favor, just mention my name!"

Betji looked speculatively at Dreamdate. There were wheels within wheels here. She knew that the Field Ops Director controlled all postings to Rubi-Ka. She also knew that Dreamdate belonged to the Rubi-Kan Bikini Team, an Omni organization whose totally frivolous title concealed something that was very well guarded indeed.

"Thanks, Dream, I may just do that."

Dreamdate waved cheerily, and swept off toward the gates, making good speed while managing to look elegantly sophisticated. Heads turned as she moved along, and Betji smiled, knowing her head was one of them.

It had been some time since I had set foot in the lounge known
as the Cup, but that is where I knew I could find her. As I
entered the dimly lit lounge, there she sat in the corner speaking
to a cloaked gentleman, as if discussing something of upmost
secrecy.

Dyla reached back ever so slighty flipping her hair with her finger,
a small gesture she does acknowledging my presense. I smile
softly and shake my head, even with her back to me she knew
who had entered.I suppose it was her un-nerving ability to be so
aware fo her surroundings that made her good at what she did.

At first I payed no attention to the gentleman she was speaking
to. I assumed it was another customer there to aquire hard to
obtain items such as myself. This person was different though.
The way he carried himself, his posture, he definitely stood out,
well maybe not to most.

He was definitely from offworld, you could tell he was fresh off
the shuttle and still getting accustomed to the gravity, the air,
and well he just looked like a fish out of water.


"Use this information wisely" the man murmured..

Dyla nods and says "Seems she has a guardian angel, perhaps she will make it out of this after all."

The man then stood up abruptly, and glanced at his communicater.
"I must go before they realize I am gone, it could affect the schedule if I am not back in time." and off he went.

"Hi there Dyla, have those items I asked for? Oh, and who was Mr. cloak and dagger?"

Dyla scrunches her nose... "best you don't know, sorted mess this is.... and yes, I have your items"

"Hrrmm.. might you share some info If I tell you and Angel sent me?" *smirks*

Dyla smiles and whispers "Im usualy eager to help those sent by angels, and here are your medsuits."

"Thanks dear.. I'll have some credits wired to ease the pain of obtaining them."

Dyla mumbles "Damn reporters driving up the prices, with their crimes against Omni nonsense."

"Be safe Dyla..."

"You too Cy, and I'll try.. things are about to get interesting"

"Hello, Bax? This is Betji"

Betji muttered under her breath as Baxter's standard S&A voicemail greeting came over the comm. However, the red scramble light was on. Her message would be private, for his ears only.

"Bax, you've worked wonders with ICC. I don't know how you managed the legal mumbo-jumbo, but ICC orders to free Petal and let her join the clan aren't something OT can totally ignore."

Unfortunately, Betji wasn't feeling very happy just yet. She paused a moment to collect her thoughts.

"But I know OT. Remember, I was trained by them?" Betji's voice was savage.

"Unless those orders are nano-coded and locked, delivered by an approved ICC messenger direct to OmniAdmin on Rubi-Ka, there are about twenty million devices they can use to waylay, slow down, and prevent implementation of the release and citizenship transfer."

Outside the window of her hotel, Betji glanced at aircar traffic race past in an unending stream.

"So, I'm staying here at ICC headquarters for a while. I'm really worried somebody is going to ambush that messenger, either here or on Rubi-Ka. Remember, nano-coded documents must be hand-carried and hand-delivered. Grids, whompas, reclaims and all that invalidate them. So, one good move by an assassin and no more orders."

She knew this call was taking too much time. Scrambling was only so good. Quickly, she moved on.

"I figure the best way to prevent trouble is to line up some support from ICC. I have an appointment with the Field Ops Director tomorrow. The good news is the tight security around the messenger. Her name, arrival time, and arrival location on Rubi-Ka are so secret even I don't know!" Betji smiled. She enjoyed an information-gathering challenge..

"Bax, do what you can out there to make sure that messenger is well guarded, OK? Thanks."

Betji finished the call and winced at the bill. Intergalactic comms were ridiculously expensive. Then she turned to the OTPC newsfeed, wondering if that million she had invested was going to bear fruit, and if so, what kind of fruit.

Baxter listened carefully to Betji's message, then pressed a button to format the digital recording and permanently destroy the data it contained. Betji was absolutely right. An order from ICC, however legally binding it might be, could be circumvented in a myriad of ways. He looked down again at the Grid message he had received just that morning.

Quote:

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Mr. Baxter:

The complaint you filed on behalf of Ms. Racheal Schuemann is with merit and just cause. We have contacted Omni-Tek and ordered Ms. Schuemann's immediate release, and we are following-up with a courier who will arrive on Rubi-Ka shortly. She has the necessary documents, custom-encoded to Ms. Schuemann's DNA to ensure there is no error.

We have been made aware that Ms. Schuemann is a "politically sensitive" person, and we are taking appropriate precautions to protect the courier from extra-legal actions by Omni-Tek factions. We are optimistic of avoiding information leaks that might endanger either the courier or Ms. Schuemann.

Please be advised that, both for the couriers protection and your own, we are not providing a name or drop location to you. The courier will contact you when he/she believes it to be appropriate, so that final paperwork can be delivered to Omni-HQ in a timely manner.

Thank you for bringing this matter to our attention.

ICC Magistrate's Office

---

Baxter sighed. Though he was certain the ICC was indeed making a good faith effort at secrecy, he felt equally certain that there were, or would be, leaks. It was just the nature of a large bureaucracy. The only question in his mind was, would that information find it's way to the wrong people?

Baxter mustered a laugh and forced a smile. What were the chances of that, after all?

((OOC - There are indeed people on Rubi-Ka who know WHO the courier is, when that person will arrive, and where. Who knows what a little investigation might reveal... As for what you DO with the information once you have it...well, that's up to you, isn't it? ^_^ ))

Zetaskite walked up and down his apartment, the carpet now showing visible wear. It always drove him crazy when his big sister paced and he had promised himself he'd never do it.

“Well, keep up the good work, and keep me up to date, Baxter,” he said with as much confidence in his voice as he could muster. Then he closed the comm and threw it across the room. Not surprisingly, seeing the shattered corpse of the comm unit didn't make him feel any better.

“What have I done?” Zeta looked at the orange disk with the insignia of Thrak emblazoned on it. His mind raced with all the missions he'd carried out for Omni-Tek and all the lies he'd taken at face value. He had been born into an Omni-Tek family and never questioned that the company was benevolent and just. But he had begun to see the signs of his folly soon after the Shadowlands had been discovered. He had blindly started down the path of the Unredeemed, thinking that they must have the same good intentions his company had, but the more he saw, the more their deceit was unveiled. Blackpetal's capture and imprisonment was the last straw. Clearly, the evil had seeped into every level of Omni-Tek's bureaucracy, and Zeta had not just turned a blind eye to it, but aided that evil.

The key seemed to silently taunt him. “If only I could take it all back. If only there was something I could do to help Racheal.” He drew his gun and stared at it for a moment. Ever since he'd landed on Rubi-Ka, he'd used this tool to solve all his problems. It had never looked so worthless as it did now. He knew there was nothing he could do but wait and hope that Baxter and ICC would come through with a miracle.

“One thing's for sure,” he thought, “Those demons will pay.” He threw the key on the ground and shattered it with a single bullet.

Blackpetal huddled in her cramped cell, shifting as she struggled to find a position that might relieve her discomfort. Her body was sore, and her mind was tired. The last message from Baxter had been so vague, but Petal clung to the hope that her release might be affected soon. She pushed away the mental fog obscuring her thoughts and tried to calculate the arrival of the courier from the ICC. Baxter hadn't been able to provide many details, but Petal could guess at a few. Petal guessed that the courier might arrive on Sunday... It made sense. There was some sort of event (a zigball game, maybe?) occuring that day that seemed like it would provide good cover. Petal sighed. That meant at least one more night in the cell. One more night. Petal closed her eyes, and thought of freedom.

As morning dawned it's warm glow over Rubi-Ka, Nathan stretched and quietly, slowly, slid his arm from underneath his sleeping wife and climbed out of bed. His eyes burned at the faint touch of light filtering through the apartment window, leading him to long for only a few more hours of sleep. Alas, that was not to be. Four hours was sufficient, and as he moved to the kitchen to fetch a coffee, his mind returned to the past night's events, and moved forward to the events coming up.

Schuemann. The name fell from his lips like a foul tasting piece of rollerrat flesh. He had tried - they had tried - to pursue every legal recourse to deal with the traitor and her lover, albeit unsuccessfully. The ICC, in its standard meddling manner, had interceded and trumped the authority of Omni-Tek to govern its very own employees. This fact alone was enough to stir rage within Nathan. Legalities aside, there remained only one course of action before them to deal with the traitor. Murder.

Coffee in hand and still clad in nothing but boxers, Ammicus took a seat at his desk and turned on the monitor for his terminal. The calls had been placed. The meetings had been concluded. The support had been received. One courier, one assassin, one bullet. All that remained was to put the three together, and this unfortunate matter would finally, hopefully, come to a close.

It was not Ms. Schuemann herself that so troubled the likes of InternOps, The Honoured Maidens and Devil's Advocate. It was what lay in her mind. Vast archives of confidential legal information provided to various Omni-Tek appendages throughout the course of her retainer with them. And though no one in InternOps truly knew what business matters these shards of memories and thoughts pertained to with respect to the likes of Devil's Advocate, one thing was clear: the release of that information could prove damaging, to say the least.

Had it been up to him, Schuemann and her lover would have had their insurance patterns deleted and been hurtled out into space by the Notum canons. Not for lack of trying, he had made the requests to his superiors, only to be denied permission to do so. Even today's target would, unfortunately, be free of an insurance hack, though the documentation she carried would not.

Ammicus traced his finger along the map displayed on his screen, from Hell's Courtyard south to the ferry. The terrain was vast, with plenty of folliage in which to hide. The fauna was aggressive. The roads winding. Perfect...

"So this is where I'm going today..." Whispe spoke quietly, with a slight giggle in her voice, and Nathan's heart lept into his throat. She had risen from bed, dressed, and moved behind him without so much as a creak of the floor boards. "...should be fun." She leaned over his shoulder, kissed him on the cheek, and moved to the kitchen.

"We shall see, Dannielle." Ammicus took one last glance at the map before rising from his seat and following his wife into the kitchen. "We have two hours before the briefing."

((Hi, everyone! I just wanted to take a quick moment to thank everyone who participated in the event today, and to apologize to those people, especially on the Omni side, who were less involved than they should have been because I was not fully on the ball. ^///^

((I've never ever ever run an in-game event before, and I learned a HUGE amount from putting this together. I hope that everyone who showed up today had a good time, and if you didn't, please send me a PM and let me know what went wrong. If there is enough interest, I may even put together a post-mortem on the event, since it might be beneficial to everyone to learn from the mistakes I made... ^_^;;

((Anyway, thanks again! Next event will be much better! There will be a story post a little later, but I wanted to put this up ASAP! ^_^ ))

((Hee hee, I share equal blame in any unhappiness encountered. There were certainly things I could have arranged better, both during the lead-up to the event, and in the event itself.

((However, in playing my various roles, I was impressed by the variety and depth of role-playing I encountered among omnis, clans and neutrals alike. The population of Rubi-Ka has a higher proportion of truly skillful RPers than anything I've experienced since the good ol' days of MUDs, MOOs and MUSHes.

((So my thanks also, I salute all who encountered any of the cast in this event, and profoundly apologize that the climax was unsatisfying for some.))

Exhausted, Betji looked at the night sky through the window wall in Blackpetal's Jobe apartment. Beside her, Petal slept peacefully, safe and home at last.

Her impression of the day had been a chaotic whirlwind. The drop with Andromache, the ICC's messenger, into Newland Desert at Stolz's Outpost. Her shock at the many clan friends, old and new, and some neutrals, who came to help guard them. Even the OTPC press reporter she'd befriended was there. It had taken them a long time to organize into three and a half teams. Lizor in the lead, with the strongest, Betji following with the messenger and midlevels with Regidoc. Vixentrox with her contingent were wing-guard, plus Albanis' small group scouting and in reserve. The clan names were a roll-call of honor: Whisper's Edge, Valor Eternal, Mercury Dragons. Just getting 20+ people into one comm channel had taken time, but the rewards had been worth it.

An omni-mining employee was there, watching, presumably reporting. With one visible, who knew how more? Word had leaked to the omnis, somehow. She knew there would be an ambush.

Travel through Aegean and Athen was uneventful; they learned to use waypoints for rendezvous. Often the groups were out of sight or radar contact. Half the time she was nearly blinded by all the maps, radars and chat channels cluttering her HUD, navigating by little more than a compass.

Approaching Reets, Lizor and Vixentrox ran into some vast assemblage of omnis, milling about impatiently. Intercepted chat chatter suggested they'd been waiting for hours, and were suffering morale casualties to boredom. She knew was that The Honored Maidens were there, probably OP and IO, and obviously some Omni-Mining.

The plan to rendezvous at Reets and plan the next stage was scraped instantly. Andromache would never escape Reets alive with half of Omni dogging her. Betji turned west to the beaches, now alone. Vixentrox said, "We'll divert them." In a minute she was in trouble, fighting for her life, and losing. A minute later, Vix's laconic voice said, "I'm dead. Marise got me." She was at reclaim, kilometers away, nanos down and out. Gradually reports filtered in. Lizor's group was still out there, somewhere, scattered across Stret West. "I'm lost," someone said.

Then a miracle happened. "Omnis are leaving," someone said. It was hard to believe. They'd won the first clash, snapping up Vixentrox's sacrifice, and were now going home, satisfied with that.

It wasn't until half way down Stret West, feeling naked and defenseless all the way, Betji finally rendezvoused with Lizor's team, alive and intact. Never had the big enforcer who talked of Sun Tzu looked so good.

"We can't be sure they've gone," the teams agreed. "Four holes could be a lot worse." New routes were laid; the teams moved south, swimming, Lizor sinking and nearly drowning in her tank armor, skirting the swamp. Gunfire and flashing blades ahead. Bodies of swamp creatures everywhere. Near the falls, Betji's team came under attack too. She found targets with blind instinct, the Assassin's model Caterwaul thudding softly into her shoulder with each shot.

Southward they ran, Lizor's team plowing the road, swimming again, straight into a hidden warp that left them a kilometer east of the Andromeda shore, drowning in the Stret. Exhausted, on the Andromeda beach a new route was laid to Clon****. After the first waypoint, they became separated in the hills. Some clanners were lost in unfamiliar terrain. She unwisely ran through a nest that pounced on everyone behind her. Turning, Andromache was buried in a pile of creatures, Regidoc frantically healing and fighting simultaneously, Lizor kilometers away. It was close, but they lived, and finally rejoined at the Clon**** line.

Clon**** and Lush Hills were easier. They skirted the mountains, easy travel, even when she took a wrong turn and had to backtrack. Finally, at Harry's, they collected at the Ferry to Omni-1 Trade and reorganized. Two loyal neutrals had been with them throughout: her dear friends Cyani and Qinefer. Their papers were thought to be good. They trotted along with Andromache the messenger through Trade, along the less-busy southside, and into Omni-1 HQ, to the Omni Administration building in the central square.

Meanwhile, at the Omni-1 ferry landing, Zaphirot of the MDs, like Horatio at the bridge, held the guards distracted and mesmerized single-handedly with nanotechnic magic. Lizor led the rest, airborne in Yalmahas, high through trade, hovering over the HQ entrance, where they de-Yalmed like planetary assault troopers, falling into the gate in a rolling rush and stormed into the HQ. They hoped a distraction might help, a forlorn hope to divert any waiting snipers.

Guards pounced on the clanners like Rhinomen on leets. She was running, wounded, running, blasted back through the entrance, running in again, leaping into the square, explosions, rolling, dying. In a minute, they were all in reclaim, back at Harry's.

Andromache said, "I'm at Omni Administration. I'm giving them the papers." There was jubilation at reclaim

"Attacked!" She cried. "Dying." In a minute, she was at reclaim too. Confusion, sadness, the discovery that Andromache wore reflective bracers, which must have triggered an attack, somehow. The diversion had been too diverting.

"Have we come this far, and died, only to fail?" Everyone wondered "We could try again," said one small, brave voice, somewhere.

Then the voice of Baxter, Blackpetal's lawyer. "They have accepted the papers, they're processing her release." Jubilation again. Lizor led them away, bought the drinks at The Cup. Betji had eyes only for Blackpetal. There were speeches of thanks. Good cheer, good fellowship, even a childish atrox, begging for attention. She saw Blackpetal in the corner, giving an interview to the press.

It was over. But Betji couldn't help wondering about the omnis. They had the forces, they were in position, they had snapped up Vixentrox's sacrifice faster than a loose credit in Omni Ent. Had they expected a blind banzai charge? Had they lost track of the target in the confusion of battle? Had the big zigball game claimed their attention at just the wrong time? Betji wondered how much of this success was simply blind luck. Then she remembered the friendships made, renewed and presumed upon. Memories that would last a lifetime. But most of all, of course, she remembered that Blackpetal was home.

Marisha had moved the vidscreen out to the patio of her Jobe apartment to watch the biggest Zigball game of the year. Cursing a disputed call, Marisha threw the sake bottle at the holographic image. The bottle passed through the holographic image, and fell to the planet below. For a brief second, she wondered where her empties ended up landing, then returned to the game.

During the commercials, Marisha read reports. Things had not gone well for Omni-Tek. The courier had arrived late. The Clans escort had taken an hour to form after that. The Omni-Tek forces had gathered an hour before the courier was scheduled to arrive so that everyone would be prepared and briefed on how the ambush was to work. The three-hour wait had been disastrous on morale.

Marisha returned her attention to the game. A forward pass was fumbled, and the reporters were interviewing the dazed and confused looking receiver at the reclaim terminals. As the players reorganized themselves, she returned to her paperwork.

Pushing aside a bowl of BrontoRinds, she looked at the reports as a whole, trying to piece together exactly what happened. Why was the courier delayed? Didn’t they have a schedule to keep? Why wasn’t the Omni-Tek office closing early for the game? Marisha considered the last question, then made a note to send an anonymous comment card praising of that office’s efficiency.

Picking up her pen, she added a note for the upcoming board meeting. "Our inability to keep a schedule frustrated the fascist Omni oppressors, and as we democratically discussed what should be the name of our escort group, the Omni scum got bored and went home. Victory to the Clans! Long live the Fighters!" That should be good for a laugh.

The referee blew his whistle, and Marisha returned to the game.