Andrews ordered an airflivver which he met in the hotel parking lot, then went winging south toward San Diego. Less than an hour later, he was landing on the roof of the San Diego Airborne Law Enforcement Station. He was met by Officer Eliza Lewis, an attractive redhead who served as the liaison to the international government, and who then drove him to the downtown police station where Kerrigan was being held.

“She was picked up at the airport,” said Lewis. “She was carrying a concealed weapon without a permit and when her name came up on the wanted list, we held her. She also had two hunting rifles with her, though they were properly checked in.”

Pearl Kerrigan was a plain looking woman, though not unattractive. Her dull brown hair was pulled back into a pony tail and her already thin lips were pressed together. When Andrews entered the interrogation room to find her waiting, she didn’t move. She didn’t look up. She simply stared at the top of the table.

“Miss Kerrigan,” said Andrews.

She startled in her seat and slowly raised her eyes to look at him. Then just as slowly, she lowered them back to the table.

“Miss Kerrigan, I’d like to ask you some questions.”

There was no response.

“Why did you come to San Diego? Why did you leave your house in Oxford? What can you tell me about the Ladybugs?”

Kerrigan didn’t move. It was as if she was mesmerized. He continued to ask questions but they all remained as unanswered as the first. Finally he tried a different track.

“I’ve been to your house. I’ve been in your celler.”

She looked up at him. “Have you read the book?”

“What book?”

“Ask them.”

He stepped out of the interrogation room to find Officer Lewis observing from behind the two way mirror.

“Do you have any idea what she’s talking about?”

“No, but I can see if she had a book with her when she was arrested.”

Kerrigan had indeed had a book in her handbag when she had been arrested. It was an eight by ten hard bound volume of blank pages which she had filled with tightly written cursive. In the center of most pages were the lyrics of Ladybugs songs and around them were annotations and bizarre sketches. Andrews took the book with him back into the interrogation room.

“Is this the book you were talking about?”

“That is the book.”

He opened the cover and flipped through a few random pages. “What about it?”

“You have to read it.”

“Can’t you just tell me what it says?”

“Read it. Then come back tomorrow.”

Leaving the room with the book, Andrews sat down at a vacant desk and picked up the phone. When the long distance operator came on, he gave her his contact number for Agent Wright in Hollywood. He had to wait about a minute for the connection and for Wright to answer.

“How’s it going?”

“Kerrigan’s a wacko and I don’t think I’ll be able to get anything out of her until tomorrow. I’m going to have to stay over.”

“Look at all these lousy zeets,” said Graham Dokkins, as he and Senta walked between the hundreds of make-shift tents on the southwest side of the hill from the barracks.

“What are zeets?” asked Senta.

“That’s what they’re called. My Da says they’re evil, and they don’t even believe in Kafira.”

“Zurfina doesn’t believe in Kafira either. I mean, not like us. She says the Church is all bullocks.”

“Yeah, well my Da says she’s evil too.”

If Senta was offended at the idea that anyone would call Zurfina evil, she didn’t let on. She bounced ahead, her skipping steps seeming to defy gravity. In one hand she carried a stick and in the other her doll. Graham stomped after her.

“Why do you gotta carry that doll everywhere?” he asked.

“Cause I’m a girl, stupid.”

They reached the edge of the tent village. Some of the women from among the Freedonian refugees had set up a series of clotheslines and were hanging up clothes. Almost every piece was black, white, or grey.

“They don’t seem any different to me,” said Senta. “Except they talk funny.”

Suddenly several of the women who had been hanging clothes began to scream and they all began to run toward the tents. Looking up, the two children saw a steel colored streak flying downward from out of the sun. The steel dragon buzzed the tops of the women’s heads and then zipped along parallel to the clothesline and with a flick of its tail, knocked every other piece of clothing from the line into the dirt. Spreading its wings out to their full six foot breadth, it stopped in mid-air and dropped to the ground at Senta’s feet. It opened its mouth to the sky and a small puff of smoke shot out.

“Funneee,” said the dragon.

“It’s not either funny, you potty twonk. You’re going to get everyone angry, and who’s going to get in trouble? Not you. Me, that’s who.”

Despite Senta’s declaration that the dragon’s actions were not funny, Graham was laughing heartily. The dragon hopped over to his feet and rubbed his head against the boy’s leg as if to share in his mirth. Graham, still laughing, slapped his knee. The dragon suddenly bit his hand.

“Sod it!” shouted the boy, his laughter suddenly gone.

The dragon looked up in the air, with feigned innocence.

“See, now you’ve made Graham angry too,” said Senta. Both the girl and the dragon looked at the boy, who had gone all white and sweaty.

“My Da didn’t say it, but I think dragons are evil.”

“Pet,” said the dragon, in a pleading tone.

“Yeah, alright,” Senta said, fishing a small brown bottle from the pocket of her baggy black dress. “But if you bite anyone else, I’m going to need a new bottle of this.”

She poured the draught from bottle onto the wound on Graham’s hand. The liquid bubbled and fizzed on contact with the boy’s blood, but after a few moments nothing was left of the injury but a small scar.

Senta, Graham, and the dragon looked up to see they were completely surrounded by a crowd of people. The reptile leapt to the girl’s shoulder in one swift motion and curled up around her neck. Graham stood up next to Senta and took her hand in his. The people began to whisper amongst themselves. Finally one of the women stepped forward.

“Sorry about your clothes,” said Senta.

“Der drache is, how you say, vunterfull,” said the woman.

“Oh yeah, he’s great,” said Graham, sarcastically.

“He is bootifull. He is yours?”

“Yeah, sort of,” said Senta.

“You bet he’s hers,” said Graham. “She’s a really powerful sorceress and he’s her dragon. And they’re really scary and magical. Just look at them. And that’s her magic doll.”

He suddenly started laughing. The dragon made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a smirk.

“We’ve got to go now,” said Senta. “I’ve got to lock up my dragon and my troll here.”

“Hey!” shouted Graham, following Senta who was already hurrying through the opening in the crowd that magically parted before her. “Who you calling a troll, monkey face?”

The two children walked up to the top of the hill and parted without saying goodbye, but with the innocent expectation that they would see each other later and continue on just as they had. Senta made her way to a quiet place that she had found next to the protective wall. She plopped down in the grass and the steel dragon climbed off her shoulders. She stretched out and he curled up beside her and placed his whiskered snout on her stomach.

Senta held her doll up and looked at it. The doll had on an outfit just like hers. She called the dress she was wearing her doll dress for that very reason. The doll had the same hair style that she did. She could almost imagine that the doll was made especially for her. But it hadn’t been. She had seen it many times in the toy store before she had purchased it.

“I wonder what Geert’s doing now?” She mused. “He’s my cousin,” she explained to the dragon.

She heard the approach of voices and pushed the dragon’s face off of her stomach so that she could roll over and see who it was. It was Miss Dechantagne. She was walking along holding the arm of the blond officer from the ship. She had on a stunning yellow dress with white lace trim. It had at least seven layers on the skirt, ruffles and fringes on the shoulders, and a magnificent bow on the bustle. The matching hat trailed a long piece of yellow silk down her back.

“That’s the kind of dress I want,” said Senta quietly.

“No,” said the dragon.

“That’s right. Here. Ruth made this calendar for you.” She handed him a monthly calendar with a name written in each square.

“Steffie, Steffie, Penny, Penny, Ruth, Ruth, Steffie… Looks like you hit the jackpot.”

“Are you mad at me?” She had a hurt look on her face that gave him a sort of choking feeling.

“No, I’m not mad at you. I’m just upset. They’re going to send me away. They’re going to take me off the detail.”

“They can’t do that! We won’t let them.”

“No choice, I’m afraid.” He walked to the couch and sat down. “Probably all for the best. I’m sure this is playing right into the hands of those women in the Science Police who think men have no business in the agency. We can’t focus on anything but our penises.”

“That’s just stupid. Obviously they don’t know any men.”

“Maybe. Or maybe they know us too well.”

“You need to not think about it. Why don’t we have breakfast? Have you eaten?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Then let’s just sit and talk.”

“I don’t really feel like talking either.”

“You remember when you first interviewed me?”

“Yes.”

“We took turns asking questions.”

Andrews smiled despite himself. “That’s right.”

“Let’s do it again.”

“Okay, but you go first.”

“What’s your favorite sport? Is it that rugsby?”

“Rugby. Yes. Your’s?”

“I liked baseball when I lived in California, but since I’ve been living in Europe, I mostly watch football. Did you play rugby growing up?”

“Yes. All the boys did. It got pretty brutal. I busted my chin open and had to have six stitches right here.” He lifted his chin and pointed to a thin scar. “It was mostly just an excuse for the bigger boys to beat the crap out of the smaller boys, but it was a lot of fun.”

“Okay, your turn.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about your nose ring.”

“Yes?”

“Piffy and Ruth have the side of their nostrils pierced, and so do other women I’ve seen with nose rings, but you have it right in the middle. Why?”

“Do you think it makes me look like a cow?”

“No. But I can see how people might make that connection.”

“I wear it for two reasons really. One, it kind of touches on this submissive streak that I feel inside, but don’t otherwise let show. And two, it just pisses a lot of women off for some reason, and that’s always fun.” They both laughed. “Okay, my turn. What’s your favorite food?”

“A month ago, I would have said tacos, but now I have to go with hot dogs.”

“Have you had a chilidog yet?”

“No. Hey, you snuck an extra question in there.”

“Oh no,” she said, her eyes large with mock surprise. “Maybe you’ll have to punish me.”

“Maybe.”

“Ask me two questions then.”

“Why are you interested in me?”

“You’re very handsome and I miss being with a man.”

“But you don’t really know me.”

“Maybe it’s better that way. That brief period when I was getting to know Simon was the best time of our relationship. But by the time I was sure that I wanted to be with him forever, he was gone.”

Andrews was silent for a minute.

“You have another question, you know.”

“How long have you and Penny been lovers?”

Steffie opened her mouth in shock. Her cheeks flushed red. “How did you know about that?”

“I’m an investigator after all. It’s not that hard to read the body language, not to mention a few subtle clues in her last solo album. You’re Submissive Olive.”

Her face went from slightly flushed to bright red.

“How long?” he asked again.

“Off and on as long as we’ve known each other. Not since you’ve been with us though.”

“Hmm.”

“Does that bother you? I mean is it a deal breaker?”

“Which? That you and she have slept together or that you enjoy it when she calls you a bony-assed bitch?”