Salem Sector, Station Salem One, Civilian Quarters:
She sat in darkness with the deck, shuffling the cards with casual ease as she sang softly, lovingly to herself. "It's time to play the music... it's time to light the lights... it's time to get things started, because it's our Grand Opening Night..." She chuckled. "That rush of anticipation... the music... the crowds... the mayhem... Shall we see what to expect with the Tarot Club on Station Salem One?"
She set out the first Three Card Spread. "The Sun: success, celebration. The Six of Wands: victory, reward. And the Nine of Pentacles: fruits of labour, luxury. Oh, Brother, Dear Brother, your coffers will be full once again... at least, until your self-destructive hunger for gambling depletes them, once again.
But what about the poor people of Salem One? What can they expect from my efforts tonight?"
She set out the second Spread, making sounds of mock sorrow at the results. "The Five of Cups: loss, heartbreak. The Three of Swords: suffering, grief. And the Moon, Reversed: confusion, fear. Maybe Simon could purchase some lilies for the bereaved? Or are lilies poisonous to cats?
And, pray tell, what will our beloved Max Zorin bring when he finally joins us here?"
She set out the Third Spread. "The Wheel of Fortune, Reversed: loss of control, bad luck. The Ace of Swords, Reversed: confusion, brutality, disorder.
And... Death."
She set aside the rest of the deck and picked up the Death card, contemplating it like the photo of an old lover. "I know, I know, we are never meant to take this one literally. It's really about change, cycles, metamorphosis. It doesn't have to be about actual death.
But where's the fun in that?"
She kissed the card.
Come, Sweetheart. And while you come, I will spread Chaos out on the ground like a blanket, for the picnic.
*
Deck 1 - Commodore's Quarters:
Kami emerged from the cubs' bedroom, only having just settled Sreen down back into bed - this time ensuring the exoframe was completely switched off this time. Poor little thing, it must have been some nightmare. And to be honest, their little lives were so tumultuous, it was astounding that there weren't more nights with bad dreams.
The door chimed as she was refilling her wine glass, and she carried her glass with her as she approached, wondering who would be visiting that time of night, when they could just send a comm- "Ange?"
Cadet Ange Boladede stood in the corridor, clearly livid with rage. A part of Kami had expected such a reaction to what he had undergone today; regardless of how much of it he had brought upon himself, it was natural to feel anger at being caught out. "Cadet, it's not appropriate to come to my quarters-"
"Bitch."
She glanced down, saw a phaser in his hand.
She instinctively tried to dodge and kick the weapon out of his grip.
She was quick.
He was quicker.
The energy bolt struck her, sending her flying backwards. Her wine glass shattered against a table leg and spilled shards and red liquid onto the carpet. She lay there, crumpled up, the clothes at her chest smouldering.
*
Boladede stood there, weapon still raised, not quite believing what he had just done. Not quite believing it was real.
Maybe it wasn't real. He might have fallen asleep in his bunk earlier, and was dreaming all this. Yes. Yes, he would wake up soon, maybe socialise with the rest of Alpha Squad more than he had to date-
Kami coughed, sputtered. Brought him back to reality.
Bitch.
He had come looking for Commodore Hrelle. But this one would do.
He raised his weapon once more. He had cobbled the weapon together from spare parts, and the power cell was almost depleted, but there should have been enough charge left for one more shot, and if he delivered it point blank shot to the head, it would be enough.
He drew closer, bent down-
A roar distracted him, and he turned instinctively to fire at the object torpedoing at him.
He was quick.
Misha was quicker.
The pyjama-clad cub leapt onto Boladede, claws and fangs bared, raking the side of the cadet's head and knocking aside the weapon arm with his leg, using a combat technique he had learned from Cousin C'Rash. The force of the impact sent them both backwards against the wall, as Misha continued the attack relentlessly, driven by an overriding ferocity.
Boladede finally flung him off, sending Misha flying into the nearest wall and landing on the desk, knocking over the terminal and books.
Blood seeping from the wounds on his head, Boladede clamped his hand over the wounds and staggered back out into the corridor, needing to take care of this... and to find an escape from this place.
*
Misha ignored the pain in his arm from hitting the wall, stumbling back to his mother. "Mama! Wake up! He's gone! I protected you! MAMA!"
She lay there, spasming, her back and limbs cambering in pain.
He pressed the Alarm on the wall, but nothing happened!
He rushed out into the corridor, looked around, could smell the Bad Man in the air, but knew he was gone. He went to the nearest doors, banged on them, called for help, receiving no response. Stupid people!
He returned. He had to get help, he had to get Papa or Sasha or Mru or-
