An interesting gathering indeed, thought Mal, as he retired to the rear dressing rooms to put on his Official Discordian Robes.
Julius Kane's predecessor, of all people. Now there's an interesting one to slip by Manhattan's Port Security.
Mal and Reggie had shared a rather harrowing adventure with Julius Kane, some years ago in Omega 49. While the man was almost universally feared, and equally mysterious, a sort of rapport had grown between them. Since that time, Mal had lost contact with the man's organization; but there still seemed to be a lingering respect and neutrality between the TAZ and.. the others.
He would have to speak with this Mr. Graves after the Ceremony. Just to touch base, and see if the unspoken agreement between the two groups existed.
Mal then noticed this Cabulb fellow peering into the corners of the Chapel, and busily pecking away at a small handheld datapad. He seemed very diligent in his work. Either that, or he was just looking for an excuse to interrupt the happy occassion with his bureaucratic "powers". Mal walked towards the man.
"Mr. Cabulb, I am Malaclypse, the Minister for these joyful ceremonies. That's an interesting datapad you have sir. May I see it a moment?"
The Cryer bigwig seemed taken aback for a moment, but eventually handed the datapad to Mal. Mal spent a moment studying the interface. "There seems to be an item you missed here, sir. If I may?
Mal made a few quick entries, then placed his thumb on the unit's sensor pad, and handed it back to the confused Official. "There, I believe that does it!"
Mal watched in amusement as the Cryer Official saw the transfer of 25 Million credits to his personal acount, and stood speechless. He then shoved the datapad quickly in his pocket, and walked unsteadily towards the wet bar.
Mal continued on the dressing rooms in the rear, musing to himself that he still knew how to Move Mountains when the situaton required it.