Fresh tangerines sat in a box on a plastic table, one of many choices from this particular vender. The orange-colored fruit had been stacked as a pyramid, although several spheres had been purchased or pilfered already. The feline poked around, viewing the items from different angles.

"Ya gonna pick something sometime soon?" the entrepreneur, a previously overweight gorilla, spat.

The feline looked back at him, a look of indignation upon her face. "Don't rush me," she said, purposefully waiting before picking up two tangerines. "How much?"

The gorilla shrugged. "What do ya got?"

The bartering system had made a full comeback here, since electronic credits had significantly lost their value, thanks to the destabilization of galactic economy. The feline reached into her large and produced a small paper page. She handed it over to the ape, and watched as he removed the item within.

"You're not going to find Macbethian cigars like that anymore, not here," she tempted as the ape took the stick and smelt it. He smiled, aroused by the aroma, and nodded to the feline.

"Alright. Fruit's yours." The feline nodded in return and placed the two tangerines in her inner coat pocket before moving on her way.

Corneria City had changed after the occupation began some months ago. The initial orbital barrage by the invading aliens had destroyed much of it, forcing the surviving populous to move to districts still standing. Strangely, this meant much of the commercial and high value property areas had been converted into mass living quarters. It had been an odd sight to see what was once a walkway reserved normally for busy businessman changed into an old-fashioned bazaar. Now it was merely routine.

The feline wandered her way though the shifting crowd. Various other venders had set up shop here, selling everything from clothing to dirty magazines and even still-charged portable power cells. She mused to herself, remarking how it appeared they had regressed culturally. They used to be a space-faring people with a federation spanning dozens of worlds; now they were reduced to selling smut on the street.

A pair of Jaffa patrols appeared on her right, and the feline found herself visibly stiffening. Unlike so many of her fellow citizens, she still found it difficult to ignore the hairless beasties and their large blaster rifles. Granted, she had good reason to be wary of the pair and others like them, but she knew continued survival meant blending in with the crowd.

Pulling the cowl of her coat further over her head, she trekked on, eventually leaving the bazaar and the two-man patrol behind. The feline relaxed when she finally moved out of their eyesight, thankful she hadn't been noticed yet again. While her track record had been excellent so far, a couple close calls had taught her just how fragile that status truly was.

A large skyscraper with the Space Dynamics logo stamped upon it towered above the feline, and she wandered though the revolving doors at the street level entrance. Like so many of the still-standing buildings around it, the skyscraper had begun to house refugees unlucky or too late to grab a location down south, in the expensive residential district. Unlike said refugees, however, the feline took the staircase and made her way down to the basement.

An official-looking door with an official-looking sign proclaiming only authorized personal could continue stood at the bottom of the stairs. The feline pushed on it and strode though it nonchalantly, the door's lock having been broken months ago. She continued on, turning left then right down the dimly lit hallways, until arriving at a second door, alike the first, save that this one was guarded.

A bloodhound, much younger than the famous general, stood watch, his blaster rifle slightly aimed in the feline's direction, before he recognized who she was.

"Hey Katt," the drooped-ear canine said, lowering the weapon.

"Hey Eric," she replied, and waited for the bloodhound to sound off a specific series of knocks. "Is Bill in?"

"When isn't he?" the dog concluded, nodding when the door behind him audibly unlocked. The feline gave him a subtle wave and proceeded on through into the resistance compound.

It wasn't much to look at from a single glance. A dozen people moved through the converted place, shuffling recording communiqués and handwritten accounts between one another. A series of old televisions had been stacked upon one another on a table, their screens displaying the view from several closed-circuit cameras hidden throughout the basement. In the center of the main room sat a larger table with a map of Corneria City spread out across it. Several locations had been marked upon it, mostly Jaffa guard stations and weapon storage areas. Resistance-related locations remained largely unmarked, save for the very safe house the feline was in, in case the map came under enemy hands.

She walked around the table and through the room, passing several closed doors and friendly armed guards before stopping at a non-descript entrance. Her knuckles rasped upon the door, getting her a reply from within.

"Come in," a voice said, and the feline obeyed, turning the handle and pushing forward. She found the object of her search scrunched over a military radio set, eyeing the screen and changing frequencies.

The feline produced the two pieces of fruit from her coat and tossed one over to the radioman, giving him a cautionary "Heads up."

Bill turned in his chair and caught the flying sphere, by now used to the routine. "Oranges?" he asked, already in the process of tearing off its skin.

"Tangerines," Katt corrected, doing the same to hers. "Had to trade a Macbethian cigar for them, a good one, too." She sighed. Things were only going to get more expensive as time went on.

The canine looked visibly wounded. "A Macbethian cigar? How could you trade such a fine work of art for this?" He held up the tangerine to emphasize his point, before biting into its juicy flesh.

The feline looked unimpressed. "You don't smoke."

"No time like the present to start," he grinned and took another bite.

Katt rolled her eyes and walked closer, taking a look at the radio set. "Any luck?"

Bill sighed and shook his head. "None what-so-ever. Just more of the same: no signals come in, no signals go out. If it isn't Jaffa-approved, it isn't going anywhere."

"But we have to keep trying, right?" the feline spoke, finishing her piece of fruit. "Somebody has to be out there listening."

"Of course. And when we do get a signal out, we can tell Fox to get his scrawny ass over here and save us."

Katt playfully placed her paws on her hips. "You know, we could always save ourselves."

The canine looked at her, his eyes filled with mock surprise. "What? We can? What the hell are we doing here?" He jumped out of his seat. "C'mon, woman! We got a world to save!"

The feline pushed him back down into the chair, resting her paws on his shoulders. "And we'll do that once you get that radio working" she said, leaning in to brush her lips past his. "I've got a meeting to get to. See you tonight."

Bill turned back to the radio, a small smile growing on his face. "Already looking forward to it."