BS! ELF! DELICATE NEGOTIATIONS!

[Malaclypse 666]

"Anything happening on the Black Squadron's Comms, Dis?"

*Not a peep, Mal. Do you think we've been offerred tainted cheese again?*

"I don't know, Dis. What I do know is that we've looked at, poked, prodded, and judged every bloody piece of dung within 10 klicks that even remotely resembles a piece of sculpture. And the Dung Festival Awards Banquet is scheduled for noon tomorrow. If Kerberus and the Black Squaddies don't show up soon, I'll go barking mad!" Can you imagine life on this planet without something to keep us occupied? I can't."

*C'mon Mal, chin up. We have that nice Aeon's Christening to attend soon, and we can always watch old Dr. Who reruns. Any marching orders for our mob?*

"Umm,, yeah. Ping Fin, Menno and Gracie, and have them report here by afternoon tea tomorrow. If nothing else we'll have some dancing partners for the bloody Beet Boil-off and Dinner Dance!

"And send a discreet inquiry to the Kerberus. See if they'll share their ETA with us. Hopefully, they're not up to their arses in SSO, and won't be delayed much longer."