The marchers filed into the refurnished band hall, tired and in need of the second-rate air conditioning. The fans were run by pulleys and gears, barely working at all. Sal sighed deeply before flipping on the light. A bright scream echoed through the ceilings. The Bandopians were shocked to find that their old hall had been tampered with—severely.
The peeling paint had been ripped from the walls. The sound cubes were torn and scattered about the floor. The chairs were shredded into piles of chippings and paint, red and black paint, dripped from the walls and ceiling. Gasps lifted from the crowd as they began to stand around the graffiti. They each began to trace what Ette read aloud. "The Great Ones will fall before them all…?" The twisted brows of the tired marchers couldn't make sense of it. Why would the Great Ones fall?
"Those dirty rejects!" Jazz outburst, throwing what was left of a chair across the floor. A few freshmen winced at the clattering. "We let them use our field, we give them our water, and this is how they thank us!" A few more cries lifted above the chatter. Everyone was getting angry very quickly. A few sophomores grabbed what was left of the chairs and threatened to do some damage.
"Guys! Guys, quiet!" Sal shouted. Lute was stopping the mob from leaving. Finally, Ette's booming voice lifted a command.
"BAND, TEN HUT!" They had no choice but to reply.
"HUT!" Sal and Lute took the clubs from the youths' hands and threw them aside. Ette wiped at her eyes and began taking deep breaths.
"We are at war, guys," she lectured. "War! This stuff happens, OK? We're going to play this by the rules, no matter what they do to us."
"Permission to speak, sir," a Junior called out. A few more echoed the request.
"Cade, and only Cade," Ette replied, overstressed.
"Sir, I feel the fight isn't between us and the Shadows, but the Shadows and our Great Ones, sir." Several heads nodded. Sal wiped his hands over the paint.
"It's not fresh. I think they did it at night."
"We're talking to the Drum Majors about this," Lute said. "They couldn't have authorized this."
"Why not?" Jazz shouted, out of line. "Their fathers killed our people; this is just child's play to them."
"Jazz, do us all a favor and keep it to yourself. You'll speak when you're allowed to," Sal said seriously. Jazz scowled and fidgeted, trying not the speak. "Everyone, look in the back closet for some chairs. If we can't find enough for everyone, we'll practice standing up. Are there any stands left?" A few timid voices replied with "no" s and "I don't think so" s. Ette moaned painfully and sighed.
"They should have their music memorized anyway," she exclaimed. "Everyone, get into the practice arc. The Great Ones will be here soon."
"Ette, what about the walls? It's a little…unwelcoming," Cornett yelled while the others began to line up.
"We can't do much about it now, Cornett," Sal answered. "Let's just start practicing and ignore it. The Shadows have already used the time we've wasted."