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9-5.1 4:23 P.M. \ Cloudy, turning overcast MacMartin Brothers' Chip, first floor Horn Still no reply? Chef MacMartin None. Haven't gotten a peep from Londinium, yesterday or today. Horn It's been twenty hours. They have to have received my last telecoms by now. Could the encrypted line be faulty? Chef MacMartin Hard to say, sir. Being honest, it's been nearly ten years since I graduated, transferred to Hillock. There's not much information you need to activate this secret comms line. Two years back, around the end, I reported to our group's boss, and he asked me if I had anything to say other than whatever number kid was being born. And that if I hadn't, I could save even giving the routine reports. Bagpipe Oh, no wonder you opened this chippy. Chef MacMartin Not a bad plan, right? Codename's not Chef for fun. Thought at the time, suppose some outsider wanted to sniff out our liaison point, they'd only suspect next door's bookshop. Bagpipe Aye, right. Besides, your chips are delicious too! Chef MacMartin Ought to be, eh? Hahah, you fill yourselves up. Hillock's potatoes are high quality. Locals all love my chips–if I didn't still remember my actual job as a lamplighter, I would've opened up branches ages ago. Five, six of them. Ah, anyhow, I thought I was dreaming of the time I was in training again, when you gave the secret knock at the door yesterday. Horn ...It seems highly likely this line was abandoned long ago. Or perhaps, someone's received our info, but doesn't want to reply. Bagpipe You mean there's people interceptin' our intel on purpose, Leader? Horn Not easy to say yet. We'll send the next report as we would originally–right, and besides Triangle's findings, add on the outcome of my dialogue with Colonel Hamilton. The Colonel's targeted measures against a portion of the residents are already extremely suspicious. In the worst case, I'd like for our team to be allowed more flexibility. Chef MacMartin That... sounds like there's no point in me convincing you to use a barracks Messenger, is there? Bagpipe Ugh. Leader, I don't wanna say this, but we're a little low on numbers. Horn That definitely isn't like you to say. Relax, though. Nobody wants to take that step. But... the circumstances about this city are far more complicated than any of us foresaw. Chef, seeing as you've been in County Hillock for so long, how do you feel about the people here? Chef MacMartin Nothing unusual to me. If you put a Taran in front of me right now, I wouldn't fancy them much different from a Victorian anywhere else. To tell the honest truth, if life's not bad, who'd want to make trouble all the livelong day? Quite a few wear ideals on their sleeves, but only a minority ever take them to heart. Most just care about filling their stomachs, and if they're full, they can care about the purse, too. Bagpipe Right you are! I can barely imagine Damian Barry caught up in the spectre force either. In my eyes, him and the locals were all normal people, scared stiff beggin' for forgiveness the moment they're arrested, comin' together when a loved one dies just so they could fall to pieces and weep. They're nothin' like trained soldiers at all. Horn What you're saying is exactly what I'm worrying about–Colonel Hamilton might have been spouting more than just alarmist talk. When ordinary people take up weapons, voluntarily or not, the disaster we then face will be the likes of which Victoria hasn't seen for a very long time. <Background 2> Janie Afternoon, Saoirse! Lucky me, I was just about to go find you at the newspaper. Saoirse ...... Janie Eh? What's wrong, Saoirse? Were you just crying? Saoirse Janie... No, I'm alright. I'm perfectly fine. Janie Pull the other one. Your eyes are all puffy, and your face is pale as sheets. The Saoirse I know would never be caught in the street looking this ghastly. Something gave you a nasty shock, didn't it? Who bullied you? Was it that soldier from last time? I'll help you think of something... There has to be something. Saoirse No, Janie, don't you fuss. He hasn't come bothering me again. It's... I don't know how to put it. Janie Come on, deep breaths–it's me right here, your very good friend. You're safe now, I promise. Saoirse – Janie... why? Why are you one of them? Janie What are you talking about, Saoirse? I don't understand. Saoirse I don't want you to get hurt. You're the best friend I have... and you're a good person. I'm good too, right? My ma, da, cousin... aren't we all good people? Janie Your cousin... Barry? You mean Damian Barry? I'm so sorry. I wasn't fast enough. Saoirse It's not your fault. And I don't think it's mine. I just want to live life peaceful. I don't want to see any more people I care about die. Janie Cry it out, Saoirse... I'm here with you. Seeing a loved one pass on and still having to manage your work, it's too much pressure on you. Here, lean on my shoulder? It'll be more comfortable. Saoirse That's okay, thank you, Janie, I'm much better just seeing you. I understand what I have to do now– This is for you. Janie Is... this an address? Saoirse I could give you a few names, too. But there's no need. I don't want to put you in even more danger. This address should be enough. You can... hand it to someone you think's reliable. Your Sergeant Major, or maybe another officer, like Uncle Louis. I know there's people around asking about Damian. They want to be clear what it is we're plotting. Janie Plotting–Saoirse, even you...?! Saoirse I'm not sure. You can believe me or not–I've only been responsible for passing on some info some ways. A few notes stuck between book pages, one or two hidden signals in the Hillock Evening News's classifieds. I used to think this was for making everyone safer... I didn't twig what dreadful things they're scheming, not until the... dispatch I just heard by the chief editor... Never mind that. I'm not trying to justify myself or even repent, what's important is that you stop them as soon as you can. Janie Alright, I will. I'm sure of who I should give this to. She'll fairly treat you all, more than anyone else would. Saoirse, don't be scared. Everything will be alright. Saoirse Alright, Janie. I trust you. Remember, it's 8 P.M. Hold onto this address tight– <Background fades out and in> Janie East side of the statue at District Ten... third alleyway on the left. There's a bookshop there, with a flower pot by the door... yellow rose... found it. To... Bag... pipe– (Do I just leave it under the flowerpot like this and call it done? A loose brick right there, exactly like they said this morning.) (This really is an unusual way of receiving your letters.) (Friend from Londinium, I hope you can be of help to Saoirse... and all of us.) <Background 1> MacMartin Brothers Worker Boss, someone left a new slip downstairs, under the yellow rose. Chef MacMartin Bring it in. Bagpipe Eh, yellow rose? So it's for me? That was fast. Horn The informer you mentioned before? Bagpipe Aye. She's a soldier at the barracks too, but I can assure you, Leader, she's warmhearted. She's good. Horn I... hope you've gotten an eye for people. Bagpipe No worries! My eyesight's always been brilliant. Horn What's it say on the slip? Bagpipe "109 Dam St, tonight 8pm"–that's all. Chef MacMartin Dam Street? It's the boundary between Districts Ten and Eleven. Rings bells for me–it's Baron Bolton's estate. Horn Looks like there's an important meeting tonight. Bagpipe, we should go. <Background 3> Operator Shredder This is where you were... Outcast That's right. Sipping hot tea, skimming the paper, doing things befitting a woman of my age. Phew, strong wind kicking up. Operator Shredder Found what you were looking for? Outcast (Taran) When you want to find tomorrow, you go meet with yesterday. Operator Shredder You can speak Taran?! Outcast Can't speak much at all. What you hear is what you get. Just showing off what I learned. Operator Shredder Hard to believe... Oliver was right, you're an incredible one. Outcast Hahah. You get a nice rush the first time you impress somebody, but there's diminishing returns on the second and third round. Operator Shredder Nobody at our office even knows how to speak Taran. Outcast Considering your backgrounds, that's reasonable. Oliver grew up in a middle-class household in north Londinium, with family roots in Gaul. He lives upstairs from the office these days, taking some time off every year to go back and see his wife and children. Fred's more or less an apprentice from County Peninsula. He's got bunch of brothers and one little sister, and the whole family gets along like a dream. Will's a local. His clan moved decades ago from a fixed village nearby, and his Taran blood's probably from his paternal grandmother. Operator Shredder You've looked at our data? Outcast Do I look like the type who does homework? Not my style. Operator Shredder Then... how do you know? Outcast Language. Name, pronunciation, wording, tone, and even where you pause–language tells a keen ear more than you could ever guess. Operator Shredder I heard about how Sankta extraordinary are, but I never figured... Outcast Ahah. Really, it's just a hobby of mine. Anyhow, language itself holds a special significance to some folks. Why else would the Tarans have cared so much about digging a sample of their own language out of a pile of old books? Operator Shredder You're not wrong. Half a decade ago, barely any Tarans regularly spoke it. Outcast And you? Operator Shredder You've probably heard it in me... I'm not a Taran. My wife was. She only taught me a word or two while she was still alive. Outcast Yet nowadays, you see that gradually dying language all over the newspaper. Plus, I just overheard someone outside the window teaching kids how to call each other in Taran. Operator Shredder Until you mentioned it... I never noticed.