A pepper-haired poodle reclines on a soft couch, wearing a fluffy bright yellow-green bathrobe with magenta trim that clashes with it nicely. He sips at a drink, while reading transcripts of one of the latest torture sessions, giggling to himself at parts.

"Sir? Arch Inquisitor Majoris Moffat? You have a visitor," comes a voice through the intercom. Or, rather, through the panel in which an intercom would have been installed untold ages ago. Now, the cover just serves as a panel that can be slid in place to cover the hollow for limited privacy, or to allow talking through the screening.

The poodle sighs, and sets down the papers and his drink.

"It's a lady," the guard adds. "Says you wanted to see her."

The poodle brightens considerably, and hops up from the couch. "Of course! Send her on in." The door slides open, revealing the hallway beyond, containing a wolf Templar and a light-furred creature with large wings.

Envoy smiles, "Remember me?"

The poodle grins. "Oh yes!" He pauses a moment, looking upward, grinning. "Yes, I DO remember you… "

Envoy says, "You said you wanted to see me when we met at the Inn. The guards wouldn't let me bring my dulcimer with me though, so I can't play any music for you."

The Inquisitor ushers Envoy into the chamber, as the door closes behind. "Would you care for something to drink? Oh … No, don't worry about the dulcimer… "

Envoy looks around at the office. She notices the special chair, but no terminal helmet…

Envoy says, "Drink? Yes, please. Did you want to talk about the Proxmity Alert message?"

"You'll have to pardon me," the poodle says, "but I wasn't expecting anyone just now – hence my … casual attire."

Envoy says, "You have my pardon."

The poodle blinks. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Now then, hmm… " He pauses, looking thoughtful, giving Envoy the thrice-over.

Envoy blinks three times. "I had mentioned it to Inquisitor Melchizedek though. How could you not know?"

Envoy thinks o O { The shipmind is damaged. Perhaps its Inquisitor remotes can't communicate properly as a result. }

The poodle turns toward a cabinet, pouring out another cup. "Inquisitor Melchizedek? Well, you must understand, he is not very forthright about many matters. Is this some privileged information you revealed to him?"

Envoy frowns, "What is 'privileged information'? The shipmind told it to me."

"Ship … mind?" Inquisitor Moffat looks genuinely puzzled.

Envoy nods, "Yes, the mind of this ship. This Temple."

Moffat nods. "I … see." He suddenly looks less … interested in Envoy just now, and gives her the "Ah ha. Crazy person… " look.

Envoy looks around the office again… "You don't have a terminal interface here?"

Envoy has a sip from the cup.

"You misunderstand, perhaps," the poodle explains. "I do not use this office for processing, per se. I mean, at least, not the unpleasant part of it. That's in another chamber." He reflexively gives Envoy this look as he sips from his drink, then his eyes flick with a "What am I DOING?" expression.

Envoy blinks three times, and asks, "What sort of fruit is this juice made from? Where is your terminal?"

The poodle smirks. "Now, now. You've already been processed … though I have to admit, Melchizedek's slipshod methods could have gotten you killed, and he had the audacity to make up this absurd story that someone else, under my authority, had been responsible."

Envoy says, "Do you mean Esther?"

Envoy takes another sip.

The poodle frowns. "Do you like Esther? Is she a friend of yours?"

Envoy says, "She helped to rescue me from Kalamazak's Circus, and she connected me to the terminal in Inquisitor Melchizedek's office. I like her."

Moffat nods. "Well, if you like her, you may want to be careful what you say about her. If you tell someone what you just told me, you could perhaps get her into trouble … because of certain misunderstandings."

Envoy blinks three times, then takes another sip of wine.

"You see – and don't tell this to anyone, as this is just between you and me – Melchizedek is not … a team player," Moffat sighs, sitting down at one end of the couch.

Envoy ponders this. "The Inquisitors are not a cohesive group of parallel entities?"

Moffat puzzles over this, and then shakes his head. "No. They are not. At least … I suppose in a way, in spirit they SHOULD be, but there are unfortunate exceptions. Such as Melchizedek. He just isn't … one of us. He's a troublemaker. That is why … well … everyone hates him."

Envoy finishes her cup of wine and sits down next to the poodle. "Why does he have the only working terminal then?"

Moffat frowns. "That is not the case, young lady. You are merely making assumptions because I do not have one right here in this office."

Envoy smiles, "Where is there another terminal? I would like to use it please."

The poodle blinks. "For what purpose? I must say, this is entirely out of order."

Envoy says, "The shipmind is damaged, and requires help to repair itself. If I can talk to it again, I can download the information needed to fix it."

Envoy says, "It also has important messages for the Crew and Captain."

The poodle clears his throat. "Uhm … young lady, I don't think you quite understand… "

Moffat stands, and walks over toward the corner, tugging on a cord hanging from the ceiling a couple of times.

Envoy blinks, "Can you explain it to me then?"

"Let me just say that … a second exposure to the helmet could likely result in irreparable damage to your mind. We have tested this," the poodle states, as the door slides open.

"And it's evident to ME that Melchizedek must have been careless in his application of the helmet on you. Such a pity. But there may be hope for you yet," the poodle turns toward the door, as a couple of wolf guards come in.

Envoy says, "I have a backup, though."

Envoy smiles to the wolves.

"This young lady," the poodle gestures toward Envoy, "is experiencing some … problems. Could you please escort her down to the infirmary for examination?"

The wolves do not smile back. They walk forward to seize Envoy.

Envoy blinks. Why does everyone seem to want to carry her around?

The poodle taps his head meaningfully and rolls his eyes.

The wolves haul Envoy roughly out of the room, and down the corridor. "Ta ta!" the poodle calls out after. "Quite a job Mellie did on you, hmm? Such a pity. Yet another testament to his wicked ways."

Envoy calls back, "Goodbye!"

As the door closes, Moffat mutters to himself, "Indeed, what a pity. Oh, that DRESS!" He shudders. "Calm down, Caesar. There are others… " The door snaps shut.

The way down the corridor twists and turns a bit, at last leading to a larger chamber, after passing two more wolf guards at the door. Inside is what is evidently the infirmary, judging from the beds upon which patients lie, being tended by priests of the Temple.

Envoy begins to get suspicious. The behavior of the Inquisitors seems at odds with the functioning of the shipmind…

Envoy looks around the infirmary curiously.

The walls are of shiny white ceramic plate, with plastic beds jutting out from the walls … capable of sliding away when not in use. Most of the wounded here are wolves, wounded in some of the fighting and rioting that has followed in the aftermath of the "purging" of certain establishments in Darkside.

Envoy thinks, o O { This must be the ship's Womb. }

There is a loud clanging and hammering from one end of the chamber, as a graying raccoon digs into a large box of tools of all sorts, and whacks at a grating, the bolts rusted in place. "Confound it!" the raccoon sputters. "No care taken whatsoever. Just wait until it falls apart entirely and THEN you call in the professionals. Grrrr."

Envoy says, "Hello?" to the raccoon's back.

The two wolf escorts take Envoy over to a priest in white robes. "She's mussed up in the head," one wolf growls. "Tried to do something silly in Moffat's office. Take a look at her."

The raccoon suddenly stands up, banging his head against a low-hanging structure. "OW!" He growls, glaring at a couple of young Technician-Acolytes who cower around him. "See? THAT'S what happens when you don't take proper precautions. Let that be a lesson to you." He then turns his gaze upon Envoy. "And who are YOU to be disturbing my work?"

Envoy smiles to the technician, "I am Envoy."

The raccoon's expression sours even more … something that wouldn't have looked possible a second ago. "And I am the Senior Keeper of the Inner Mysteries, Verdigris Nuttenboltschen. And if that doesn't mean anything to you, the fact that my title and name is so much longer than yours SHOULD give you a bit of a clue."

Envoy says, "Air recirculation unit J-154's motor is going to fail within 13 hours."

The white-robed priest-medic walks off to an alcove to fetch some implements for his work.

The raccoon gasps, then looks to the acolytes, then back to Envoy. "And just HOW do you come about knowing that there is even such a THING as 'air recirculation unit J-154', hmm? I don't see you wearing the robes of a Technician-Acolyte. Hmm?"

Envoy says, "The Shipmind told me when I interfaced with the terminal in Inquisitor Melchizedek's office."

The raccoon gasps, "Heretic! You have been peeking into secret and sacred books beyond your position!" He turns to the guards. "She must be made to recant!"

One of the wolves shoves Envoy down to a kneeling position, growling. The white-robed priest hurries back with a handful of supplies, almost dropping them in his haste.

Envoy thinks, o o { This is clearly one of the ship's symbionts. Perhaps it can tell me if the Inquisitors are members of the Crew or if they are parasites. }

Envoy blinks from her new position. "I have already been decanted once. How can I be recanted?"

"Bah. Blasphemy! See how she dares not show the priesthood the proper respect! No appreciation whatsoever! … " He adds with a mutter, "… much like certain personages around here… " then in a louder voice, "Repent, I say!"

Envoy blinks three times, and begins to withdraw into herself as the shouting begins.

The white-robed priest looks fretful. "Please … she is obviously suffering from mental instabilities. I recognize her from the reports. There was an accident in Inquisitor Melchizedek's office with the Learning Machine. Her mind is obviously damaged… "

Envoy blinks up at the robed figure. "What is repent?" she asks quietly.

"Bah!" cries the raccoon again. "You panzie-wanzie Medic-Priests. EVERYTHING is an illness to you! Whatever happened to personal responsibility … and proper maintenance?" He hops down. "Grab my tools," the raccoon commands one of the acolytes, who hurriedly does so.

At the mention of the word 'maintenance', Envoy begins spouting off the huge list of Maintenance Priority Requests…

The raccoon adjusts his grease-spattered robes, and points at one of the wolves. "Silence her!" he bids, as the wolf does so. "Blasphemies!"

"Revelation of secrets not fit for the ears of any beyond the Chosen Keepers of Secrets! How DARE she!" the raccoon almost shrieks. "A Diagnosticism is in order!"

The two acolytes gasp!

"Off with her! Make haste!" He turns to the acolytes. "Summon the Junior Keepers at once! There is no time to waste! To the Diagnosticory!"

Envoy pauses. "I don't understand," she asks the raccoon. "Aren't you going to make the repairs?"

The wolves haul Envoy back out of the infirmary despite the doctor-priest's protests, one firmly clamping a hand over Envoy's mouth and KEEPING it there.

The wolves lead Envoy through another series of corridors, these getting progressively less polished and clean, and looking more … well … in a state of mid-repair. Panels are left open, occasionally being worked on by robed priests with thick aprons and occasionally face-shields.

Through an archway, the passage opens into a large chamber, with a lowered platform in the center, and multiple platforms at various levels along the walls, and catwalks reaching across. There is a sound of rushing air, accompanied by an appropriate gust from below.

Envoy tries to look around the chamber, but the guard's hand won't let her turn her head.

From what Envoy can see, along the walls – accessible by the platforms – are multitudes of machines with electronic displays … except that they're apparently nonfunctional. Still, robed priests are doing SOMETHING at some of the terminals … but then, some of the mechanisms look of much more primitive (and recent) construction.

The guard at last lets go of Envoy's mouth, looking around in awe a bit himself.

Standing at the edge of the platform that the corridor opened to, one can look down … and down … and … down.

Envoy asks, rather loudly, "Do any of these terminals work?"

"Work? Do you DARE question the holiness of the Inner Mysteries?" gasps a nearby acolyte. "Blaspheme not, or your tongue will surely be burned from your mouth!" The acolyte shakes his head and returns to his work, tinkering at an open box filled with gears and spindles.

Envoy blinks three times. "Does that mean 'no'?"

Some light emits from below, far down the tube that this chamber is built around. Below – perhaps miles below – can be seen … a passing cloud. Daylight reflecting off of … the surface of Sinai.

Envoy leans over the edge of the shaft to see better.

With a whirr and a whine and several protesting scrapes of metal against metal, a mechanical drawbridge begins to extend from the edge of the platform where Envoy stands, with another coming out to meet it from a circular dias that is suspended in the center of this chamber by a trusswork of thick beams and tubes.

Before it is obscured by the extending walkway, Envoy can glimpse a coastline … tiny white waves crashing against the beach.

Envoy looks around the chamber again, to see if any of the Acolytes have wings.

With an ear-ringing shriek, the walkways grind to a halt, not quite reaching each other. There are several shouts, and immediately the sounds of banging and hammering, while acolytes rush about to tend to repairs.

Envoy grins at all the activity!

The only winged priests to be seen would be a few Eeee (bats) here and there. They tend to take shortcuts directly across the chamber, rather than having to take the narrow walkways.

One of the wolves mutters to himself, then silences as the partially extended mechanical bridge begins to grind and groan, reaching the rest of the way across, closing the gap. With a latching *clang*, the two bridge halves meet, and snap together. The wolves begin to proceed across, Envoy in tow.

Envoy almost breaks into a skip along the bridge…

On the middle dias, cluttered with all sorts of cables and tubes and mechanical structures and outlets along the rim, the wolves begin to strap Envoy to a metal bed on what might be taken for a hydraulic lift.

Envoy blinks, "What are you going to do to me?"

"Silence, Heretic!" one of the wolves growls. With that, the two Jupanis head off, back across the metal bridge, leaving this strange mechanical shrine.

Envoy looks around as best she can, until she realizes the wolf was addressing HER.

*FHWEEEEEEEEEEEEE!* A loud whistle jets through a pipe, apparently serving as a signal for the acolytes, as they turn from their terminals and panels to face the center. The raccoon priest, in full, grease-stained regalia, stands over Envoy.

Envoy smiles, "Hello."

*Bong* *Bing* *Bong bong* *Bing* The technicians start whacking on pipes with large rusty wrenches, creating an eerie music that fills and echoes about the chamber.

Envoy wonders if she's supposed to sing, but the music is unfamiliar to her.

A Junior Technician-Priest stands beside Envoy, and raises his voice above the tumult – the acoustics are really good where he's standing – making an invocation to the First Ones and to the Manufacturers and their Specifications in which are Written how the Inner Mysteries are to be cared for. "May the Sifras root out any blasphemy and heresy in the heart of this unfortunate, misguided child, who is not properly Certified to delve into the Inner Secrets!"

The technician-priests begin chanting loudly, swinging ratchet wrenches, spinning cranks, and bonging nonfunctional gears with breakover-wrenches.

Envoy blinks three times at the odd speech and odder activity. Clearly, these maintenance remotes are malfunctioning…

The Junior Technician-Priest shouts at Envoy, "Repent! Reveal all mysteries to which you have been witness!" Another Junior Technician-Priest shouts, at the same time, "Repent! Forget all the mysteries that have been revealed to you, and speak of them to no one!"

Envoy blinks, "Which one do you want?"

The technician-priests each repeat their admonitions, eyes closed, shouting at the tops of their lungs.

Not having any rational way to meet their requests, Envoy begins reciting the status report again… using both voices to be heard over the yowling figures alongside of her.

The one who told Envoy not to reveal the secrets swats at her with a soldering iron (It's not turned on) and screeches, "These are holy mysteries! Not for the ears of any but the Certified and Anointed! You must never speak of these to anyone!" This cacophonous ceremony continues on and on … and on … and on … until the rattling and ratcheting and shouting begins to wear down a bit.

The first Junior Technician-Priest staggers back. "It's worse than we thought! Death is too good for this Heretic!"

Envoy winces at the swat, but keeps up her droning recitation. Afterall, these ARE the anointed keepers of the mysteries.

An acolyte rushes up, whispering to the Senior Keeper, who grumbles and marches out to the entrance of the shrine.

Envoy finally gets to the end of the report: the proximity alert message. She only makes the siren noise for a few minutes this time, however.

"Gah!" The first Junior Technician-Priest covers his ears. "She must be condemned to the Fate of Defective Components!"

"To the Scrap Heap!" the other chimes in loudly.

The other acolytes make the sign of the Star-and-Anchor sign over their chests. One shakes his head, chanting, "Manufacturer's Warranty Voided."

Envoy blinks, and begins to feel… something. Something red. "Who are you calling defective?"

Envoy says, "If you weren't all malfunctioning, you would have repaired all those problems by now!"

The raccoon comes back across the bridge now, grumbling and fussing. "… Decant this one, decant that one, no, put this one back in the freezer, use more hormones, no use less, age to twenty, no, ten, no fifteen, they aren't decision-makers … they're weeble-wobbles!" He gasps at Envoy's outburst. "Yet more blasphemy!"

Envoy shouts, "It's no wonder Main Computer doesn't talk to you anymore!"

The wolves come back, as summoned, and begin to unstrap Envoy, holding her roughly and firmly.

Envoy actually resists a bit this time…

"May you be cast into the Scrap Heap, where you shall await judgement on … Recycling Day!" the Senior Keeper pronounces.

"Release the Heretic immediately," Envoy says to the wolves… using the Senior Keeper's voice.

The wolves gruffly maintain their grip, hauling Envoy – whether carrying, dragging or whatever – across the metal bridge and back out of the vast chamber, leaving the clanging and banging and rushing air behind.

"Yet more trickery!" the Senior Keeper howls. "To the Scrap Piiiiiiiile!"

The wolves lead Envoy – yet again – through tunnel after twisting tunnel. If her photographic memory extends to navigation, she should be getting a pretty good tour of the facilities by now.

The walk is far enough that even the wolves are panting now from dragging the resistant Envoy along. Another archway opens into another large chamber … this one traversed by a metalwork catwalk suspended over a long drop below to a great pile of sharp and pointy-looking junk.

Envoy scowls. She's never been angry before, and isn't adjusting to it very well. "Let me go!"

"Halt," calls out a voice from behind. One of the wolves immediately bats Envoy. "Ha. Your tricks again, eh?"

Envoy sticks her tongue out at the wolf.

The other wolf lets the first hold her, while he begins to bind Envoy's wings.

"I SAID HALT!" the voice shouts from behind, and the catwalk rattles as someone stomps along its length, seething with anger.

The first wolf sniff-sniffs, then cranes his neck around, his jaw dropping. "Ah … ah … sorry, sir. She … talks in other voices. She makes tricks. She's a Heretic. Consigned to the Scrap Heap."

"Oh, of course," growls the visitor sarcastically. "How convenient."

"Unhand her. And watch my mouth move this time. UN-HAND HER," the voice growls.

Envoy blinks at the words, "You are NOT going to cut off my hands!!!"

The wolves oblige. The second one has presence of mind to loosen the bindings from her wings, before backing away.

Envoy rubs her arms where the wolves had been squeezing too tight, and turns to glower at her savior.

"Envoy … ever so literal. A poor choice of words on my part. They are to release you. You shall keep your hands if I have anything to say about it. Which I do," the black unicorn glowers right back.

Envoy calms down a little bit. "They made me… angry."

"Didn't you remember what I told you? – about what you said the 'ship mind' revealed to you?" the unicorn chides. "Perhaps you did not understand me. I hope that perhaps now you do."

The unicorn looks past Envoy to the wolves. "You are dismissed. Go out the other side."

Envoy frowns, "I understand just fine now. You're all parasites infesting the ship!"

The wolves make haste to be out of the room – not even pausing to give Melchizedek enough time to change his mind after Envoy's outburst.

The unicorn crosses his arms, glowering at Envoy. "So. Such a bold proclamation? So, tell me, One Who Speaks With The 'Ship', just what do you propose to do about these 'parasites'?"

Envoy crosses her own arms across her chest. "I could just wait. Eventually something critical will fail and kill you all."

The unicorn shakes his head. "That is disappointingly hostile of you. And childish. Indeed, you strike me as nothing so much more than a child in the body of a woman."

Envoy pouts, "I'm nearly a year old!"

The unicorn raises an eyebrow, silently pondering whether the Learning Machine's teachings extended to translating units of time properly. "I would have never guessed," he truthfully comments.

Envoy makes a visible effort to rein in her emotions. Pesky things…

What actually results, however, is that she bursts into tears and nearly falls to her knees.

"I honestly do not know what to do with you, Envoy," the unicorn scowls. "I feel as if, no matter what instructions I gave you, you would misunderstand them, or reinterpret them. I had hoped that the Bards' Guild might give you the training you require … but it appears that they are fooled by your appearan – "

The unicorn starts forward, catching Envoy, lest she stumble and fall sidelong over the edge. Immediately, he scowls at himself, and releases her, letting her drop to the catwalk. "If you insist on acting like a child … you will be treated like one."

Envoy sniffles, "How are children treated?"

The Inquisitor's gaze drops. "Badly. … Come. Let us leave this place. It is not safe here." He reaches out with a thick leather gauntlet.

Envoy takes the unicorn's hand and follows.

Envoy says, "Do you have children?"

The Inquisitor leads Envoy through a few stairwells and a few back ways. By Envoy's mental mapping of the areas she has been through so far, it would seem Melchizedek is not using the quickest and most efficient way of getting from point A to point B. "No," Melchizedek answers, quite belatedly, "and I never shall."

Envoy timidly asks, "Did you have a mother?"

At one of the lesser-used entrances to the Temple (though still just as well guarded), the unicorn leads Envoy along … where a familiar Eeee and a similarly familiar Vykarin are waiting, looking nervous. "Yes," Melchizedek answers, and ushers Envoy along, before she can ask him too many more questions.

Envoy turns back toward the Inquisitor, "Wait! Will you pass on the… information I relayed to you?"

To the bat, the unicorn growls, "Keep a better watch on your student. I will send a formal letter describing my displeasure in greater detail. If the Bards' Guild cannot see to Envoy's training, then the Temple will provide assistance as needed. Surely you would rather not have such intrusions into your matters."

The unicorn looks to Envoy. "It is too late, child. It was too late even before you heard a word of it."

Envoy blinks three times, but says nothing in her confusion.

The Inquisitor's expression tightens. "Go now." With that, he spins around, his cape and robes swirling about him, and clicks back down the corridor, into the confines of the Temple.

Vielanika's head is cowed. "My, Envoy. You really have a talent for … trouble." She turns to face the "Aeolun". "That is not a compliment!"

Rawrii whines.

Envoy stares at the closed door for awhile, before turning timidly back to Vielanika and Rawrii. "I'm sorry."

Vielanika frowns. "I'm sorry, too. I keep forgetting … you weren't born here. You don't know friend from foe. I have to make sure you learn these things quickly … and not the hard way."

Envoy looks up, "The guards at the main entrance still have my dulcimer."

Vielanika sighs. "Splendid. I'll have to fill out some paperwork and … ah … make a donation." She shakes her head. "Not to worry. You'll have your dulcimer back by tomorrow."

Envoy smiles, "Thank you, Vielanika. You're very kind to me."

The bat rubs her thinning coinpouch between index finger and thumb. "Aren't I, though… " She sighs, and leads Envoy and Rawrii away from the Temple. "Now, then, have you been practicing on your vibrato… ?"

Envoy sings her last lesson for Vielanika, but her mind is elsewhere. Foremost within it is the image of a room full of terminals, and a deep shaft opened to the sky. And unguarded…