[b]Ailee![/b]

When the dragon’s head lifts, there is a triumph to his bearing; he has exposed part of the station’s spine. Now his victory is inevitable. No, that’s not right; his victory was assured the moment you allowed him entry. There is no overcoming power like this; how can you even hope to redirect it?

His eyes fix on you for a moment, searing, piercing, headlamps twisted into burning diamonds. And then they sweep on by, having regarded you as nothing particularly of interest.

No, he’s distracted more by other things, slight changes in the station. But you have a [i]right[/i] by his own laws, as his vassal, to be heard. To make a petition. And it’s because no other laws can hold him that King Dragon will keep his own.

***

[b]Coleman![/b]

You emerge into a killing ground. Robots and rats lie scattered all about this promenade, sparking, cracked, dripping with... lemon custard and giant centipede acid.

Ah. Right. You haven’t seen the Professor all this time.

There is a bleak and ominous [i]honk[/i] that rings out from the shadows. But, you know, if you can point him in a better direction, maybe he won’t try to twist Sasha’s head off in the throes of his pieserk rage.