The Search for Malaclypse

[Malaclypse 666]

RECESSIONAL

"Room 27" turned out to be a suite of rooms, complete with all the amenities. One wall was completely transparent, with a stunning view down into one of the Freeport's "hanging garden" biodomes. Reggie raised an eyebrow at this, remembering that he had paid Shestov's bills for a full year. He would have to speak with the Adminstrator.

The conversations among the assembled TAZ members ceased as Mal strode into the room looking like he'd just returned from a fishing trip on Curacao, his robe replaced by the familiar garish "aloha" shirt and baggy shorts. Mal was accompanied by Lev Shestov, who immediately went behind his small bar and pulled out a dusky bottle of Reposado. He poured Mal a large glass as the Episkopos reached for a Canaria cheroot and set it ablaze.

Mal beckoned to the two men standing uncertainly at the door. They entered slowly, looking uncomfortable, but decidedly more presentable in clean new robes. Lev poured two more glasses of the aged agave nectar and guided the men to chairs off to one side.

Mal tossed down the Reposado with a visible shudder, and slowly turned to the seated and silent TAZ dignitaries. He bowed slightly to Ambassador Holiday, and threw an inscrutable wink towards Reginald Waverly. Refilling his glass, he headed for an empty overstuffed chair facing his former friends and "Flock".

"Thank you for coming, gentlemen!" He surveyed the assemblage with a smile before continuing.

"Now, I'm sure you all have a thousand and twenty three questions. I will do my best to answer them, and explain further when possible. Perhaps my responses will not be entirely to your satisfaction; but hopefully they will convince the good Doctor here not to sign an Order of Commitment!"

Mal puffed on his cheroot, and effortlessly blew a smoke ring which looked amazingly like the "Sacred Chao".

"Whenever you are ready, gentlemen. Please, try not to niggle me all at once."

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