It swallowed the half-chewed tar, coughing and mumbling: “How do you know?”
Madame’s eyes followed the trail of her glowing orb before she put down her cup. “I’d not have placed a sliver of bet to believe it, if M’sha didn’t tell me about your mission.” She took a sip again, and sneered. “Before carrying on, I suppose I should have the right to know whom I’m working with, don’t you agree, dear D’ion?”
It, or D’ion the female Durousian, remained silent. She noticed the two shrimps hovered at her sides in a flanking formation. Her indices twitched. “M’sha sends her regards. We have been seeing an increase of distortion in data at Durous, so it’s just for an evaluation of rigidity as M’sha instructed.”
“Is that so?” She glanced her from top to bottom. “My orb said otherwise. It said you are here for something … bigger. What else could have invited an agent of Durous without any potential opening, flaw or crack to breach?”
She cleared her throat, awaiting for D’ion’s response. “Threads are our lifelines – we use it to transfer money, data, energy – everything that flows depends on their good operation. Your mission is either a sabotage, or an intelligence espionage.”
D’ion was tapping her two indices on her head like a tap dancer. The coldies formed a kaleidoscopic pattern on her face, blinking in a random order. Finally she broke the silence. “As per M’sha’s will, I am to seek your help to cut loose a thread connecting to Story Seven. We suspected an abuse of power, and a recent investigation confirmed our worst prediction.”
“Ahhh… Story Seven. Filthy place begets filthy host. We’ve been monitoring him for four cycles of Promethean, He has been taking up much processing power of our part without contributing to the Core.” Her glob turned from an alarming orange to soothing blue. “So now D’ion, tell me, how can I help you?” She grinned.