"You know, the local legal beagle, da judge? Ok, think Star Trek, your…giver of the laws?" Crichton asked?
Garin Tayle, attorney at law for the fine city of Geldberg smiled brightly. He looked at the rest of the group and said, "Do you all wish to stand against this injustice?"
D'argo nodded, his eyes determined.
"Frell, yeah!" Chianna declared.
There was a pause, and then everyone turned to look at Rygel. He harrumphed and squirmed a bit, then said, "I suppose…if this is a matter of injustice, as a dignitary from an allied land, I should at least look into this."
Crichton leaned in, tapped Rygel on the head, and whispered, "Hey, Fluffy, that's PILOT in there…"
Rygel looked at him sharply, "I said I would look into it! Now, can get out of the street here? A crowd isn't conducive to discussing this situation. And we may be attracting a few of the local ruffians…" Rygel's gazed turned ahead.
Sure enough, a group of rough looking types did stride forward. A half dozen, fists like coconuts, faces like walnuts. Long of brawn, short of brain, and looking for trouble. They set their sights on the activists. One of them walked up to Garin and grabbed him by his lapels, lifting him partly off his feet.
"Yer interferin' with honest business, ya bluddy arse. Now, I suggest you and your bleedin' noisemakers move on, before we silence them," the thug rumbled, a nasty smile revealing somewhat of a dearth of teeth.
Garin tried not to gag on the ruffian's toxic breath, and said calmy, "Sir, this is a legal protest, dealing with a matter of life rights. Surely you don't wish to stand in the way of that."
Crichton stepped forward and said, "Hey, Lurch!"
The thug looked at Crichton, vaguely confused, but wondering if he had been insulted. The looks on the faces of his companions were almost identical. One laughed heartily.
"Cor, that was good! Lurch!"
His companions smacked him back into watchful, sullen silence.
Garin looked back at Cricton and signaled him to stay back.
"My good man," he said calmly, "You mean, you have not been informed of the legalities of the situation at hand?"
"I ain't interested," the thug rumbled.
"How can you say that, if you haven't been briefed?" Garin persisted. You mean to tell me, you haven't been briefed?"
"No," the thug said impatiently.
Suddenly, the attorney's briefcase collided HARD with the thug's face. Garin came back down to his feet, while the thug went down on his backside, holding his profusely bleeding nose.
"There, now you've been briefed," Garin said simply.
"YOU…YOU." the thug sputtered. His mates got him up, and they made to move toward Garin, when the "peaceful" protesters roared as one, overrunning the now panic stricken toughs.
Crichton chuckled, patting Garin on the shoulder, "Damn, man, that was cool."
Garin smiled briefly, and then shouted, "STOP! PLEASE!"
"Oh, come on, let your buddies beat the stuffing out of them, learn 'em some manners," Crichton said.
"No, that's not our way," Garin said firmly.
"I just saw you level King Tough with your case there, bro."
"That was defense," Garin said simply. "Defense is what I do."
The protestors backed off the thugs, who ran/limped off. If they had tails, they would definitely be tucked.
Just in time, too, because a troupe of men, who were obviously representatives of the local constabulary showed.
"I say! Move on! Nothing to see here!" one with a set of chevrons on his chest plate shouted. "You lot! Making trouble here?"
Garin stepped forward, waving a sheet of paper, "This is an authorized protest, Sergeant! We have a legitimate issue at hand here?"
The constable sergeant took the paper, squinted at it, his large moustache twitching, giving him something of the appearance of a walrus.
"Here now, if this protest gets violent, it's null and void," he said.
"Ah, but the clause subsection notes that defense from unwarranted attack is allowed for protestors!"
"It requires a witness," the policeman said.
"I saw what happened, sergeant!", Crichton said, "Those pricks came out here to get rough and try to get the demonstration bolo'd! Right?", turning to his companions.
"I saw it all!" Chianna said, obviously getting into the righteous indignation mood.
"Those idiots are lucky they got off with just a severe beating," D'argo added.
Crichton looked at D'argo and mouthed, 'You-are-NOT-helping, man.'
"Excuse me, officer," came Rygel's voice, hovering at the constable's waist level, "I saw it all." These concerned citizens are innocent."
"Lord Rygel," the now deferential sergeant bowed at the hip. He paused. "That may be, but this issue is now a civil matter, and a magistrate must hear it."
"That's all we ask," Garin said, "We only seek justice for the last survivor…"
Crichton softly elbowed him, "Save it for the judge, man."
Garin nodded and smiled, "Lead on."
Crichton talked to Closus, arranging a meeting time with the merchant later. He then came alongside the floating Rigellian.
"Rygel, what possessed you to jump in there?"
"You are determined to free Pilot. I desire to move on and find our way out of this. You won't move on until you have freed him. So, I sought the most direct route. Besides, Pilot may be a key to solving this puzzle," Rygel said matter of factly.
"Ah, you just want the gang together, you sentimental softy," Crichton chuckled.
Rygel sniffed, his head held high.
Officer Sunn of the Army of Peace instructed her Captains to prepare their units for movement. A confrontation with the Death Monitors was coming. Lord Scorpius had a plan for directly confronting the Darkness directly, she believed, though he had shared it with no one. In the meantime, though, the Death Monitor force had to be stopped, one way or another. Her orders were to seek a parlayance, a truce, to allow the resources of the Army to focus on the Darkness solely. Yes, the Death Monitors were expected to be in alliance with the Darkness, but intelligence had detected fractures, that some weren't keen with this state of affairs.
Her force's mission would be to confront, assess, and either exploit or eliminate, whichever they could manage. There was also the rumored zombie army that the Death Monitors were working with. The zombies were supposedly complete servants, totally given to the Darkness. But the Death Monitors…their link with the Darkness, via alliances, or via conquest, must be destroyed.
That was her mission.
A mission focused her.
She scrubbed her Dragon, who rumbled affectionately, nuzzling her. Her mind drifted, and again she saw a handsome man with intense blue eyes. His name was John. And she had no idea how she knew him.