There has long been tension between our two races as is natural when two great empires come together and almost touch. And where we come together sparks sometimes fly, lives are tragically lost, and neither race profits. Such was the case when some humans raided the planet you call Fema and took the holy Vial of Tears."
At the mention of the holy relic a deep growling filled the air, and sweat popped out on McCade's forehead as he found himself looking down at one hundred thousand devils, each one voicing his or her hatred. He swallowed dryly as the noise died away.
"Yes, I understand your anger, and ask you to understand that those who took the vial acted on their own without the knowledge and consent of the human Emperor. And, God willing, that's why I will hunt them down and kill them, taking the vial and returning it to the Il Ronnian people."
Now the hissing became a sibilant roar, as thousands of tails lashed their approval, and the crowd surged forward in its excitement.
McCade had questioned his last statement, pointing out that he couldn't promise to find the vial, much less kill the people who'd taken it.
But Neem had waved his objections away. He said the statement was simply a sop to the conservative party that shouldn't be taken too seriously. Looking out at the roaring crowd McCade wasn't too sure. They seemed to believe he could do it. How would they react if he failed?
For the hundredth time he cursed the various forces that had conspired to put him where he was, lifted an arm to wave to the crowd, and watched as the four gigantic McCades did likewise.
He waved one last time as he felt Neem tug on the back of his cool suit, glad to have the whole thing over.
As he left the balcony the Sand Sept troopers closed in around him once more. Together they marched through a series of passageways and down a wide escalator. Additional Sand Sept troopers had been positioned to keep a lane clear for their use.
As he stepped off the bottom of the escalator McCade found himself on a broad platform. Fifty or sixty Il Ronnians were scattered across the platform. Beyond it was a huge tube of some transparent material. He couldn't tell if they'd witnessed his recent performance or not, but they turned to watch him with curious eyes as he arrived.
Moments later there was a soft whooshing sound as an enormous train arrived inside the transparent tube and a series of doors hissed open. It was clearly some sort of underground transcar system, but on a scale McCade had never seen before.
"The second car back is ours," Neem said, "or so I was told. It would seem that you're getting the VIP treatment."
McCade glanced at the Sand Sept troopers and back to Neem. "VIP? What does that stand for, very important prisoner?"
Neem smiled but refused to meet his eyes. "You're not looking at this the right way. The troopers are here to protect you. I'm not the only crazy Il Ronnian on the planet. There're others, some of whom are diehard conservatives and quite violent."
"Thanks," McCade replied dryly. "I feel a lot better now."
Once inside McCade discovered the train was as large as it appeared. While no other passengers had been allowed to board their car, he could tell that it normally held hundreds of riders.
He noticed that the bottom of each seat had a three-inch slot that ran front to back. At first he couldn't figure out what it was for, until he saw Neem take a seat and saw how neatly the Il Ronnian's tail slid back through the slot. Then the tail arched up and over the back of the chair to appear over Neem's shoulder. Now it could become part of the alien's nonverbal communication once again. Later McCade would notice that almost all Il Ronnian chairs featured this same design.
Like everything else the Il Ronnians used, the inside of the train was warm, way too warm. McCade opened the two nozzles located on the chest of the suit and directed the cool air up toward his face. He knew this would put an increased demand on
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