Veranda Incognita, Home of the Waverlys

[Malaclypse 666]

Jay Simon, CEO of the IND Group, and Malaclypse had wandered into the kitchen, presumably to round up some sustenance for the other guests. It had been a very long evening. It was approaching midnight at the Veranda.

"Jay, it appears all those rush deliveries and "treetop flying" by your lads may still pay off." said Mal to Reggie's ex-boss and current business associate. "We have less than two hours now to make any needed changes in trajectory. Time for some wild guesses, or a stroke of luck. I'm about to settle for either."

"Not to worry, Mal old bean. If our lad Shamus can plot a course while running a full load of Cardi, and being chased by half the Bretonian Navy, then hitting a small planet-sized object with a larger planet should be a lark for him. Agreed, a fix on our target would make all the diff; but not sure how we'll get that fix."

There had been no discernible movement outside the Villa since that fateful rifle crack. No rushes to overwhelm the secondary defences.. no ultimatums.. nothing. The silence and uncertainty was building to the point where even an ultimatum in gutteral Rheinlandic would be preferrable.

It was interesting to see Julius Kane, arguably the most powerful "evil" figure in Sirius space, chatting with Rick Deckard. They were apparently talking about St. Gulik and Ti'ana, of all things. Apparently, Kane had tolerated the ELF "Epopt" at first; and later, had even become fond of the strange little man. The seeds of the Golden Apple of Eris had fallen on some interesting ground, to be sure. And now Kane seemed somewhat subdued... even relaxed. He seemed content to play a "waiting game", until a few more of Dr. Artifice's cards were revealed. An odd mixture of reluctant heroes..

Fiona had been moved to a bedroom, the lights dimmed. Her vital signs had stabilised, and the Med unit reported that all internal bleeding had stopped. She breathed easily in her sleep, but still moaned softly on occassion due to the trauma of the tearing sniper bullet. It was indeed fortunate that the old jacketed metal slug used since the beginning of "modern" warfare had remained intact, rather than fragmenting or "mushrooming" inside her delicate body. Reginald Waverly and Jessica Iliera had been by Fiona's bedside every moment since she had been moved; talking softly between their shared sighs of concern, and tears of love for the injured woman.

The Villa seemed frozen in time, somehow. Helpless to act at present, the inhabitants and guests were not even able to react; as the silence from outside only seemed to deepen, and the maddening wait for Dr. Artifice's next move dragged on.

---