Moloch and Krasus stood with the centuri of legionnaires and watched the buzz of Drydellia as it moved around them. After a few minutes a long-armored hover gondola with markings of the Drydellian constabulary dropped out of the traffic stream and came to rest in a magnetic parking grip. The Legionnaires had formed themselves into three neat lines and Moloch and Krasus stood before them.

Stairs unfolded slowly and two males walked down to greet the assembled soldiers. One was in a constable’s uniform, and the other, wore the same black robe as the other Drydellian official they had seen earlier. Except this one, conducted himself with an even greater air of pomposity, and was possessed with a calculating and suspicious gaze.

A constable stepped forward and gave the Centurions a nod and touched the brim of his hat.

“Welcome Centurions. I am Constable Salazaar and this is my superior, a descendant of the royal house of Drydellia, Supervisor Rofoscue. He will be observing and reporting on the efficiency of our mission today. I am pleased you finally came all the way down here to help us deal with our mixer problem, as it has been proving difficult for us to find the den and exterminate it.” Constable Salazaar said.

Salazaar, wore a faded grey uniform of the Drydellian constabulary, with red and gold piping on the collar. Moloch could see that it had been ripped and torn many times, but each time it had been carefully sewn back together, so capably that only one that looked closely could see that it had been torn. He wore a vest and inserted in the front was a single thick nano plate. The vest was synched tightly over his lean frame. An old, high powered, slow firing emitter pistol hung at his belt and his calf high boots were worn but meticulously polished. Fine silvery hair was visible from under a brimmed grey hat that perfectly matched the color of his uniform. He had a closely cropped beard and piercing light green eyes. He stood with his hands gripping the top collar of his vest to let them hang at rest.

Moloch stepped forward, saluting by way of greeting, holding his fist diagonally across his chest.

“Greetings to you Supervisor Rofouscue, and Constable Salazaar. I am Centurion Moloch and this is Centurion Krasus, behind us is a veteran centuri from the first legion. We’ve come today to solve your hybrid problem.”

Supervisor Rofouscue stepped forward and lifted both arms up, palms facing away from himself in a formal Drydellian gesture of greeting. He had a pointed chin and nose, sharply arched eyebrows and jet-black hair that faded up and away into a high widow's peak, which was tied back in a tight bun that perched on the top of his head. On one side he had a large intelor pad, slung on a strap over his shoulder, and on the other a bulging purse hung from his belt. Moloch could see the bystanders that milled around the door to the central lift, fixing the purse with the occasional desirous gaze.

“We are pleased you finally found time to make it to Drydellia! Though we put our request in nine months ago, it is good to see that all the ducats we pay in taxes are finally amounting to something. In the interest of being fair, I will warn you, should you fail us in your duty, I will not spare you in the least when I submit a formal reprimand to your Praetor, is that clear?” Supervisor Rofouscue said with a tone of icy hostility.

Krasus stepped forward and met Supervisor Rofouscue’s tone with one that was just as inhospitable.

“The pillar is a big place Supervisor, we can only address issues in the order we receive them and based on the magnitude of their risk.” Krasus said, giving the Drydellian his standard line, that was reserved for most citizens whose importance did not merit a well-considered explanation.

Supervisor Rofouscue pursed his lips. He was used to cowed beings that mewled in subservience before him. Not beings who behaved as his equals and who did not care for his thinly veiled threats.

“I hope that your reputations as capable warriors have not been exaggerated, for we do not have time to wait for the Legion to send another Centuri down, should these Hybrids prove to be your betters today. Even so, you won’t be the only Legionnaires who have visited our level, never to return.” Supervisor Rofouscue smiled smugly and crossed his arms.

“How could a den of hybrids possibly rival the robust constabulary force of Drydellia? We have heard tales of your competence at enforcing your strict laws and rules on your many employees. How exactly did a pack of hybrids prove too much for the royal house of Drydellia?” Krasus said.

“You!” Supervisor Rofouscue shook a pointed angry finger at Krasus and Moloch. “I have never heard such insults from an outleveler subspecies such as yourself! Why should we fight the hybrids when it is your duty and job to serve us? Your impertinence will be recorded at once in my event log!” Supervisor Rofouscue took up his intelor pad and began angrily making entries in it.

“Be sure that you take it down word for word.” Krasus said with a grin.

“Constable Salazaar, you may deal with these Legionnaires, I shall go back to my workstation on the gondola and keep a keen eye and ear for any further slanderous insults from these subspecies servants.”

“As you wish.” Constable Salazaar said, inclining his head as the Supervisor walked past in a huff ascending the gondola stairs and plopping down at his workstation, peering over the rims of his spectacles, to fix Krasus with a pestiferous gaze.

Constable Salazaar took several steps forward. Pulling a cigar from one of the pockets in his vest, he eyed the end carefully and with a flick of his fingers cut off the tip with a scuffed cutter. Then he lit it with several long puffs. He took a moment to spit away some of the tobacco flakes from the cut that stuck to his lips.

“Please forgive my supervisor’s hot temper, but here in Drydellia he’s used to getting his way without any lip. You fellas took a while to get here, plus this whole business with the mixers has set him on edge.”

“Calling us subspecies went too far. He should mind his tongue around us unless he wants a refresher course in basic etiquette.” Krasus said, looking up at Supervisor Rofoscue and giving him a quick wink.

This startled him, causing him to react with a twitch. Then he held up a finger, as if he was inspired with a particularly nasty indictment of Krasus’ character and began tapping it into his intelor pad. This caused Krasus to smile.

“I’ve been employed in Drydellia for a long time. I’ve never seen a being benefit from getting on his bad side.” Salazaar said.

“I struggle to see how a being could get on his good side.”

Constable Salazaar laughed. “Fair point. He is impossible to please unless you weigh his hand with ducats.”

“Well, that will never happen, and I am content to exist in the shadow of his bad side.” Krasus said.

“We don’t have to get along, Constable, we just have to be here as long as it takes to get the job done.” Moloch said changing the subject.

“Do you know where the Hybrid Den is?”

“Yeah, I think so. You boys are in luck. Supervisor Rofouscue had me hire a freelancer named Forrester, to come down here and track them back to their lair. Have you heard of him?” Moloch and Krasus exchanged looks.

“Forrester is known to us.” Moloch said.

“Bloody freelancers.” Krasus said.

Salazaar chuckled and spit some cigar juice into a planter filled with a scraggly bioluminescent moss, that was built into the rockcrete street. Its color turned from a light blue to a pulsing pink.

“I see you’re well acquainted with him then. While we were on our way to meet you, he contacted me saying he found the den master. Now all you and your boys must do is go there and clean house. That Forrester does good work despite Supervisor Rofouscue’s constant complaints about his price.”

“What a surprise.” Krasus said.

Salazaar took a long puff on his cigar and exhaled leisurely, blowing a plume of the blue smoke up in the air. “Besides, yesterday I caught one of the wretched creatures trying to steal mineralis vita from one of our store houses. Apparently, it possesses no love for its fellows, and it declared that it was willing to betray its den for its freedom and some of the critter dust.”

“It can’t actually believe that Rofoscue would let it go free?” Moloch said.

“You’d be surprised at the things a desperate wretch will believe.” Salazaar said, as he put the cigar in his teeth and extended his hand towards the gondola with a slight nod.

“If you and your Legionnaires would board the craft, we can arrive at the hybrid den within the hour.”

Krasus waved the legionnaires forward and they boarded the long transport. When everyone was aboard, Constable Salazaar took his seat beside Krasus and Moloch which was before Supervisor Rofouscue’s workstation and made some coordinate inputs into the gondola’s navigational board.

The magnetic brake released the gondola, and it lurched up slightly, as the regrav-impeller began to spin up. Then the navigational board interfaced with Drydellia’s bionic transit mind which immediately slowed down the adjacent craft to effortlessly merge them into the traffic stream.