[b][i]Allure City, Xepabul District—formerly Salamanca[/i][/b] The telephoto receiver opacified, then diminished to a black point that occluded his vision half a moment before it was completely imperceptible. Twenty minutes to prepare for a meeting among Allure's highest echelon of power, Vericlatigan recollected. Plenty of time to mingle with the natives. Feh. Plenty of time to deal with the prison issues, too, he hoped, particularly the escapes of troublesome miscreats like Ckøst and Reaex, assuming they could even be located. At least now the power was back on and the majority of his convicts were accounted for and sealed in their cells. Vericlatigan straightened the chrome-fiber tie worn by the dominated and decapitated syrinx whose neck stump he, himself, sealed in a jar, perched upon. From the back of a chair, he plucked a stunning ruby-sequined smoking jacket, robed his transport, and made his way to the elevator. As he ambulated, the crisp white linen of his pants and shirt delicately emitted subtle whiffs of tobacco and cotton into his olfactory intake valves. First, the club. It was on his way down from his penthouse, which was mainly a decoy. Everything important transpired in the secure subterranean command center. With a delicate chime, the elevator opened and revealed a lavish alabaster interior illuminated by scintillating orbs of vermilion, orchid, emerald, and amber light. The main draw, however, was the massive cylindrical aquarium at the center. All sorts of alien aquatic species lived there, among which was the club's sovereign, a beautiful woman clad in a sensuous long dress fashioned from the tendrils of a massive jellyfish. Her arms draped over the edge of the tank, one occupied by a liquid imbibement of some provenance he dared not contemplate. Her attention was fixated on one of his wealthier club members who presumed to take charge, poorly at that, of the strained atmosphere. Strained why? Of course. The soldiers from whatever filthy world to which they now belonged, weapons at the ready. Patrons on their hands and knees. The lack of music. The lack of discourse. All seven of his eyes rolled, then he strode toward the bandstand and signaled them to play the Allurean anthem. Soon, the distinct and powerful music poured from their instruments, loud enough for certain clarity, but not to the point where it would inhibit conversation. That got the attention of what he presumed was the leader of Earth's forces, at least, within the limits of the building. Vericlatigan was unsure of their rank or even their gender. Neither mattered. After a few moments of being barked at incoherently, his universal translator gleaned enough context for communication to commence. [i]"My name is Fimiendel Vericlatigan X. I am a member of this city's parliament and am en-route to an emergency session of our government to discuss our terms of surrender. I also own this building. Please, enjoy the club or accompany me to my meeting. Whichever you prefer. Nobody here has any enmity toward you and yours. We are peaceful libertines and merely wish to enjoy our leisure."[/i] Whilst speaking, he made his way over to the mermaid in the tank. [i]"D'cthur, my dear, are you well?"[/i] he inquired. She glanced up and her unusually large sapphire eyes shimmered. They always mesmerized him, particularly when she was worried. Right now, they were crossed by dark green strands of hair. With a frown, she crooned, [i]"Oh, Fimmy, it is so horrible what is happening. Have you heard? We're not on Fortis, anymore! We're on some terrible back-water planet called Earth. And these strange aliens with weapons are here threatening us! It is terrible."[/i] [i]"Yes, yes, yes. I know. For now, we must endure. Offer them free drinks, food, and entertainment. On my tab. Put them at ease. Nobody else here was armed, except the security. I see they've already relinquished their shock batons. But tell me, have you seen Paritanko?"[/i] [i] "Left once the word got out that we were occupied!"[/i] she rasped. He nodded. It made sense. Paritanko was probably already down below, hopefully not fighting it out with some of Earth's finest. He sighed inwardly, glanced at the soldier at his flank, and made his way back to the elevator. Fortunately, there was no bloodshed. So far, anyway. The soldier shouted some orders and then rushed in after him. He entered his special access code and soon the lift descended to twenty levels beneath the surface. The doors opened and, of course, there was a stand-off. [i]"I see your soldiers have managed to penetrate every layer of security of my building,"[/i] Vericlatigan said, his voice laced with annoyance. Then his eyes found Paritanko and he said, [i]"Stand down, we're going to cooperate. In the meantime, can you provide me a status on the prisoners?"[/i] He glanced at the soldier next to him and explained, [i]"I'm the head warden and responsible for the welfare and containment of the prisoners in this city."[/i] [i]"We've subdued several already,"[/i] came the reply from his captor-cum-escort. Pitched, even if firm. Likely female. [i]"Escapees from several massive breaches in your prison systems."[/i] His transportation body shrugged and brought him over to a large safe door. He keyed in a complicated code, glanced back, and said, [i]"The area beyond this door is secure. If your government hasn't cleared you for access, I'll wait. I assume you're in communication with them. That said, there is a limited window before our emergency session. Roughly six minutes to go."[/i] The soldier put her hand to the side of her head and began muttering into a headset. She frowned, replied, and frowned some more. He nodded to Paritanko. His goons put down their weapons and surrendered to Earth's soldiers. Then his head of security informed him, [i]"We've recaptured Ckøst and some of the other high-value prisoners. Reaex was last seen leaving the city, jumping into the ocean. It is a hot mess, Sir. Half of the escapees went wild. Got themselves killed by the invading forces. Sir, do you really intend to capitulate?"[/i] [i]"A disaster, but not as horrible as it could be. Remind me to thank Näsr V'ind later. And yes, surrender really is our best option. I just hope the rest of parliament agrees."[/i] [i]"Warden, I've been instructed to implant this drone in your body. Everything you say and do will be monitored by our intelligence services from there on out. You'll proceed alone into your meeting,"[/i] the soldier interrupted. [i]"Very well. In that case, please consider Paritanko as your liaison and access to all matters related to this building while I am otherwise occupied,"[/i] he resigned himself, accepted the drone, and keyed in the remainder of the code. The door swung open, he navigated through, and then it automatically closed behind him. Two minutes to go. The room went dark. He stood on the appropriate sigil. Suddenly, he was transported to the virtual meeting. There was Margaret. Others poured in. The three demons, but no Merse Granstrum. Even when Margaret began speaking. Then, finally, she got to the point. What were his dealings with Merse? If anything, it meant either he was unaccounted for or captured. Most certainly, it meant he was the tits deep in this whole fiasco. Knowing his whereabouts would definitely be helpful, so Vericlatigan parried, [i]"Where is Granstrum?"[/i] The question wouldn't have caught Margaret off-guard, even if it weren't so painfully obvious; still, with Tristan somewhere, likely listening, as such was not beyond the realm of possibility, it seemed prudent to be as nebulous as possible. Thus, she answered, [i]"Last I saw, he was in Earth's military custody."[/i] Her answer elicited a groan. Then she paused, as though her mind was elsewhere focused, and momentarily clarified, [i]"Dissected, but alive in a state of suspended animation. Organs removed to various facilities under the auspices of Earth's military. Never fear, he cannot escape, much less survive, with his brain and brawn on opposite sides of the planet. You may feel confident in divulging everything without fear of retaliation." [/i] Vericlatigan nodded approvingly. Given the circumstances, he assumed she was being honest. Whether the same could be said for Earth's government, who were clearly hooked in to this meeting somehow, was another matter. Still, it was a safe bet to put himself out there. [i]"He provided intel on some of my prisoners and arena contestants in exchange for an accurate inventory of all the equipment in my junk yards. Certain items, anything with even the slightest hint of magic, really, he reserved for himself. I'll submit a list after the meeting adjourns."[/i] [center]. . .[/center] [b][i]Allure City—City Center[/i][/b] Reasonably suspicious of his alien and, inasmuch as caution dictated, hostile host, Tristan relied on his own loose leaf manuka rather than brew and imbibe her unknown concoction. Even of the tap water he was dubious. Still, Tethys, the artificial intelligence embedded in his combat armor, assured him such, along with cast iron tea pot, were perfectly safe. While Margaret called her confederates, he waited for perfection, his attention divided three ways between his tea, his host, and the otherworldly environs that loomed beyond the window. [i]Tethys, what is a ribbon world?[/i] [i]>> An inhabitable spacial body, much like a planet in its atmospheric environment, different in that they take the form of ribbons. This one appears to be inside some sort of translucent cosmic annelid; that is to say, a worm. New Roswell claims this one is named Ximbic-8 and was brought here to protect Earth. They even supplied a wikipedia article on the subject.[/i] [i]Brought here? Who could do such a -- wait, Entity Æ?[/i], Tristan wondered while he skimmed the incredible article. It wasn't merely a ribbon world, but a universe unto itself, replete with trillions of manifestations of life, at least a hundred of which were considered intelligent. [i]>> Unauthorized.[/i] The cast iron pot whistled its readiness. A few minutes later, his tea was satisfactorily steeped and the result poured into a secure container in his armor, filtered with a variety of sterilization mechanisms, and piped into his mouth at the perfect temperature. Just then, Margaret stepped under an arch and was immediately bathed in variegated bands of light from numerous angles that captured her every feature. [i]"Oh this, one of the ..."[/i] she began. Mission resumed, he deployed several nano-drones to the arch. These synchronized first with Tethys, then with a handful of much larger receivers in orbit around the tower, and finally with New Roswell. A picture-in-picture square materialized in front of his left eye and he beheld a black amphitheater and an assortment of odd characters within. Margaret was still speaking, but by now the experts at New Roswell were busy analyzing the characteristics and body language of the parties involved. [i]>> Received word from New Roswell. Mission parameters modified. First, patrol the fixed-orbit Citysphere Central, then take the light rail to Earth, and then head back to Tel Aviv for debriefing. [/i] Invisible from the moment of his arrival, Margaret would likely not be able to tell if he was physically present or not anyway. Even if she could, it wouldn't change much. New Roswell's drones were on and around Margaret's person should there be a need to communicate. Without a word, he silently left.