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CHAPTER 12

IT'S LIKE A VACATION

For as fast as they must have been going, no one felt so much as a hitch as the glass elevator came to a halt in the center of a spacious, well-lit room with drab colorings and sparse furnishings, reminiscent of an airport terminal. Everyone remained on their spots on the leather couches, a heavy cloud of silent anticipation resting over them. Each had their own idea of what that might happen next, though none had a very clear picture in their heads. After all, once a demon teleports you into space, what is the next logical step? Adrianne and Mort remained huddled together, taking turns comforting each other. May, who tended to remain tranquil in most situations, kept glancing around with wide-eyed fear, jumping at every perceived movement outside the box they were trapped in. Seeing her in such a state was putting the other women more on edge. Jeb tried to calm her but, as he was in just as bad a state, did a poor job of it.

Ozzy did his best to keep a poker face. The face reflected the soul. If the soul was fiery, the face was fiery. If the face was calm, the soul would eventually get the message and follow suit. He inhaled deeply, holding for as long as he comfortably could, then let go. When the pleasant female voice spoke again, he was the only one to not react visibly, the others flinching like they'd been struck or looking frantically for the source of the sound. "Welcome to the third Dial! A member of our family will now be coming to greet you. Please collect any baggage and prepare to disembark. We thank you for using the Stairway to Heaven and hope that you will choose us again for your next visit. Enjoy your stay!"

Standing, Ozzy began to smooth out his suit, advising the others to do the same. "What the hell for?" Mort asked as he stood, offering a hand to Adrianne. "I didn't ask to be put in a suit." Ozzy tried to fix his lapels, but the design was so foreign to him that it was hard to tell if they even needed fixing. "No," he said, still focusing his attention on his jacket. "But that doesn't change the fact that you were, so you should try not to wrinkle it. These are our host's property, I think. Until we know what's going on--be it an alien abduction or a demonic kidnapping--we should assume the worst and not do anything that might make anyone upset. Who knows how they might react?" Mort grumbled something, then went about making minor adjustments to his appearance.

Sara looked around anxiously, searching for something. "The woman mentioned luggage. Do we have luggage?" If they did, it was well hidden. Impressive, considering there was nothing in the glass box except for the couches, table and liquor cabinet, the last of which was thoroughly inspected before the luggage had been mentioned. Before an investigation into the location of their luggage could be started, a section of one of the walls opened outward in the style of a double-door from what had seemed to be solid glass. Standing in the center of the opening was a hare, tall and lanky, dressed in sleek black pants and a wine-colored vest over a long-sleeved white shirt. His fur was a light blue, with white on the chin and towards the abdomen. The man's fur color was not overly surprising, as white-furred people dying themselves all kinds of pastels had become a trend popular enough that most of the travelers had seen more than one example walking about. What was surprising, shocking even, was that his eyes appeared to have been dyed as well, the irises a neon pink.

Standing just outside the door, the hare made a formal bow with an arm outstretched, inviting the group out of the elevator. Ozzy exchanged a worried glance with Jeb. The bear was the oldest one here, giving him a sort of authority in Ozzy's view. When the man simply tugged on his collar and stared ahead, the hyena decided that he was probably the only one calm enough to handle this situation. He was still worried about the possibility of their host being malicious, so it was best to play along for now. Without further hesitation, he strode forward to meet the hare, the rest of the travelers trailing behind reluctantly.

As Ozzy neared the door, he saw that the hare stood on what appeared to be nothing at all. No hatch had sealed beneath the elevator when it had entered the room. The glass box hung, unsuspended, above a hole leading back into the vacuum of space. The room didn't bob or sway, just stood still over the abyss. Ozzy didn't stop moving forward, but his pace did slow as he got to the edge. Eyes darting to the hare's feet, he saw a slight shimmer at the spot he stood. A forcefield, maybe? That was ridiculous, but so was taking an elevator to space. Ozzy told himself that there must be something, or else he would already be dead, his blood bursting from him by the lack of air pressure in space. Nevertheless, a wave of nausea crashed into Ozzy as he stepped off the elevator, the fall down the step feeling like it took longer than it should have. A gasp came from behind him, and for an instant he thought that he had fallen through the hole, would keep falling until he hit that strange planet below, his corpse mangled beyond recognition on a world where no one knew what name to put on his gravestone. Ozzy made a fist so tight that his claws cut into his palm, drawing blood. Forcing himself to swallow, he opened his eyes, which he didn't even remember closing, to see the strange man in the vest standing straight.

The hare with the candy-colored eyes smiled down at him. He was so tall and so thin that he had an almost ethereal quality about him, as if a strong wind blew past, he would simply cease to be, revealed for the illusion he was. "Welcome to the third Dial. I am here to assist in any way you desire," the hare said, his voice airy and his tone obsequious. "Your rooms at the third hotel have already been prepared. If you require anything, I, Iannis, will be pleased to provide it for you." He waited for the rest of the travelers to step out of the elevator, not so much as a twitch on his face giving away a hint of impatience. Once everyone was standing out on the empty air, the hare made another, smaller bow. "If you will follow me."

The group fell in behind Iannis, Ozzy at the lead, as he guided them across the dull gray room towards a door, lacquered red and inlaid with vines ivory. "In addition to your rooms, dinner reservations have also been made. I am aware that you, our esteemed guests, were anticipating a meal prepared by the master chefs of the fifth dining hall, but I assure you, the chefs at the third are no slouches. Further, I hear that the Kitchen Master of the fifth hall is planning a grand feast for when the Stairway is repaired, as a thanks to you for having tolerated this unfortunate and, may I add, incredibly rare delay." The hare pushed through the door without slowing, then quickly sidestepped to hold it open as Ozzy and the others stepped into the most bizarre sight any of them had ever seen.

It was a palace, enormous chandeliers covered with pearls hanging over finely woven rugs of vaguely middle eastern style, stretching along a grand hall, the walls of which were lined with paintings so large they almost reached the ceiling, which meant they were of comparable size with the exterior of The Homestead. Indeed, there were walkways halfway up, on which could just be made out the figures of various people moving about, paying the intricate details of the paintings little heed. The structure they were in was also a hotel, with clean, modern brick work and information desks advertising a salon or spa placed at regular intervals. The doors, other than the red one with ivory they had entered through, were also modern, transparent things that slid open sideways when one of the many well-dressed individuals that roamed the floor drew near.

Moving gracefully, Iannis flowed through the crowds without coming too close to any group. As he followed behind, Ozzy peeked into the many doors that lead off the main hall. There was a room where he saw a group of women doing yoga, a tailor's shop where a man was browsing fabrics, one that showed the reception desk for a medical massage clinic, and another message place that was clearly less clinical, with the border collie woman standing behind the desk wearing her uniform with most of the buttons on the upper half undone. One door opened into what seemed to be a field of grass and a clear blue sky, through which he saw a hippo in a plaid cap and kilt step through, followed by a horse dressed in a similar manner to Iannis and carrying a large leather case on his back.

"If golf is your hobby, we would be happy to provide clubs and a caddie," the hare said, startling Ozzy. The man hadn't even looked back! "Just make a call to the desk if you want anything," Iannis continued. "Have you been to any of the Dials before?" Despite doing his best to keep his expression neutral, Ozzy couldn't help his eyes widening at that question. Didn't this man know that they had been brought here against their will? "Sir?" Ozzy shook his head, intending it to chase away the surprise on his face, but the hare took it as an answer. "I see. Well, when you retrieve your bracelet keys, know that there will be a silver button on the side, which you may press at any time of the day to reach the front desk of the Dial you are on. I will demonstrate before I take my leave."

The alcohol numbing his senses was the only thing keeping Ozzy from leaping about like a madman. "Overwhelmed" was what he had been an hour ago, when he had been sitting in the elevator. To accurately describe what he was feeling now, a new word would have to be invented. Ozzy decided that it would be best to not look at anything aside from the hare leading him along this dazzling road. Eyes firmly locked on the back of Iannis's head, he marched along steadily, hoping not to draw the attention of any passing by. He wanted to look behind him, to have the assurance that the others were reacting just as poorly as he was, just to know he hadn't gone totally crazy, but doing so would have meant taking in another building-sized painting or possibly something even stranger, which would have driven him over the edge. Having faith that no one was being left behind, Ozzy kept as close to Iannis as he could without pressing his body into the man.

A columned patio stood out from the rest of the establishments along the hall. As they came near, Iannis explained that this was the third hotel, where they would be staying until the path to the fifth Dial was repaired, which he assured would not be happening later than tomorrow morning. "You may check in now, if you wish," Iannis said, rolling up a white sleeve slightly to glance at a watch that probably cost more than all nine of the travelers put together made in a year. "However, it is close to mealtime. Would you like to eat now? The dining hall is just around the corner, and you may check in any time you like."

A break from the constant barrage of weird sci-fi shit was what Ozzy needed more than anything at the moment. Hopefully, after he passed out in his room, he would wake up back in The Homestead, this whole experience revealed to be nothing more than a fever dream. Ozzy opened his mouth to refuse the hare's offer. "I'd like to eat," said Sara. Ozzy whipped his head around, staring disbelievingly at the short wolverine. He wasn't the only one; all eyes were on Sara, the dark-furred women writhing uncomfortably under the attention. "It's not good to go right to bed without eating," Sara said, fingering the strap on the right side of her dress. "Plus, you know, we were all drinking earlier and see, um, we don't want..." She trailed off awkwardly, shrinking under the continued scrutinization.

Ozzy could see angry clouds forming above the heads of several of the other members in the group, their ire at being trapped in an extraordinary situation now having an outlet in the unfortunate form of Sara. Ana looked like she was going to start screaming at the older woman, and even Jeb wore a threatening expression. The wolverine stare around at the faces of her companions helplessly, her own face on the verge of tears, before her gaze came to rest on Ozzy, a silent plea for help in her eyes. Ozzy sighed. "That sounds like a good idea," he said, drawing the attention to himself. Frank gave him a covert kick on the ankle, but the hyena ignored it. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I haven't had anything today but alcohol. I'm getting something because I don't want to wake up with a hangover. Y'all do you."

The general mood remained sour, yet a few faces softened slightly. The initial shock of the palatial thing known as the third Dial was beginning to wane, and that fact that no one had eaten a proper dinner was making itself apparent to several people, if that rumbling sound was what Ozzy thought it was. Iannis clapped his hands together. "Very good. The dining hall is not far from here, merely three doors down on the left-hand side. I must see to other matters but do feel free to call on my services later." Offering a smile and a bow, the hare disappeared into a passing group, his candy eyes and pastel fur somehow managing to blend seamlessly with the blacks and beiges of suits.

Mort put a hand on his head, feeling faint. "What is going on? What the fuck is going on?" Jeb sighed, letting his shoulders sag. "We can talk about it over dinner. Come on." The entire group stalked along the hall, a combination of exhaustion and drunkenness making gravity three times heavier for the lot of them. Walking into the dining hall, they were greeted by a massive area, filled with beautifully carved wooden tables, covered with pure white tablecloth with lace at the edges fine enough for a dress. On each table, resting at the center, was a yellow tube made of what looked like smoked glass. At first, Ozzy thought that their purpose was to serve as a kind of mood light, but the whole room was already appropriately lit without the tubes shining. On further inspection, the light wasn't coming from any source; the room simply existed in a well-lit state.

Several parties were already seated, all engrossed in conversations that Ozzy couldn't make out. Strange, considering how close some were. No one was eating yet. Had they beaten the dinner rush? Or been too late for it? What time was it anyway? Ozzy felt like it was four A.M. on his third day straight without sleeping. A mouse waiter came up to greet them. "Hello! I assume this is the party of Frank Osmund, yes?" Ozzy didn't flinch at the mouse knowing his name, but he came close. "Yes," Ozzy responded. "Can we get a private table, please? We want to talk." The mouse nodded, smiling cheerfully as he led them to a large circular table towards the center of the room. Hardly private at all, with two other groups of diners close by. Ana looked like she was about to say something less than kind to the mouse when the waiter reached over to the yellow tube on the table and pressed a button. A wall of yellow energy flashed around the table, then was gone the next second, all sound from outside the wall disappearing with it. "The first course will be out soon, no more than five minutes," the mouse said, then he was gone, too.

Adrianne more fell into her chair than sat in it. "We must have been walking for twenty minutes! Just how big is this place?" The fox was breathing hard, putting her elbows on the table and leaning on them heavily. Mort hovered over her, asking if she needed to go back to the hotel for rest, all while Adrianne kept insisting she was fine. "We can eat later if you're not feeling well," Mort said over her protests. "You have to think about your condition." Mort reached a hand to caress her arm, which was roughly shoved away. "I'm fine," Adrianne said through gritted teeth. She pushed on the table with her palms to get herself upright, straining with the effort. "I just need to rest for a minute." Mort said nothing more on the subject but threw a concerned glance her way every time he thought she wasn't looking.

"I'm sorry, guys," Sara said, taking her own chair. "About making you all come here. When Yan--Ian--the guy with the vest mentioned food, I just accepted without thinking." Moving in next to the short wolverine, May grabbed the other woman's hand and squeezed comfortingly. "You didn't make us do anything. We could have easily refused and went to our rooms. We--or at least, I--came because you were right about getting something to eat. Facing this whole..." May gestured around vaguely, ears twitching. "...this...on an empty stomach would have killed me. If anything, I think we owe you an apology for getting mad." A few half-hearted murmurs of agreement arose from around the table as the rest sat down.

"Don't worry. I know how mad I can get when I'm hungry," Sara said, smoothing her dress. "God, this must be the first time I've worn one of these since college." Ana tugged at the neckline of her dress, watching the sparkles shift in the light. "What are these things made of, anyway? Frank, come feel this." Ana leaned toward the sheep, who had the unfortunate luck of being the closest man to her. "I'm not going to start groping you in the middle of a restaurant," the sheep said, leaning back to get away. The jackal returned to her seat with a huff. "Fine then!" Ana stared past Frank to the dark-furred woman sitting next to him. "Mary, let Frank grab your chest so he can see how soft these dresses are." The wolf's muscles tightened, the navy blue of her own garb giving the impression of a storm forming at sea. "You're lucky we're in public or you'd be getting another smack," the wolf growled.

Seeing Ana return to her usual antics brought smiles of amusement of sighs of exasperation in equal measure, but all were glad for the small amount of normalcy the interaction brought about. The jackal smiled, too, happy to help people relax. She tried hard to hide it, but Ana did, in fact, care. "Hey, Sara," she said, turning from Mary. "What do you think they'll serve? What do they eat in space?" Sara laughed nervously, unsure how to answer. "Well, above Earth, it was mostly freeze-dried stuff. Astronauts could drink soup out of a pouch, but anything more complicated was hard. The Russians had to build a special table for the Mir station with a vacuum built in because any time something broke into crumbs, the particles would drift away and become nigh impossible to clean up in zero G. Only thing is, we're not in on Earth, and the station we are on seems to have solved the problem of gravity."

"Where do you learn these things?" Adrianne asked, having recovered a bit. "Blogs," Sara said vaguely. Adrianne was about to ask a follow up question when the near-by sound of footsteps startled her. The mouse waiter had returned, the sound of his approach muffled by the yellow barrier until he passed through, followed by a kestrel pushing a cart loaded with covered trays. "The first course will be a salad with pickled bambangan," announced the mouse. He and the kestrel moved about the table, deftly setting out plates, utensils, glasses, and two silver pitchers without any of the seated party having to adjust themselves. The two waiters made a quick bow, still deep enough to be formal, then hurried away.

Mort picked up a fork, prodding at the assortment of colorful objects on his plate. He brought a yellow thing that could have been a fruit up to give it a cautious sniff. "Oh!" he exclaimed, pulling his head back from the fruit. Adrianne giggled at the display. "Do your blogs say anything about bam bag salad?" the fox asked Sara. "They're a mango from Borneo," the wolverine said without missing a beat. "Endangered, too, because of how long the trees that produce them take to reach maturity." She speared a piece of the yellow flesh on the end of a fork, bringing it up to her face to stare at it wonderingly. "Combine that with the cost of importing and you've got a fruit with a pretty hefty price tag. I can't believe I get to try it!" Popping the piece into her mouth, Sara chewed with an expression of bliss on her face. "Sour, but also savory. Amazing!"

Adrianne blinked, shocked at having received a real answer. "I see," she said, dumbfounded. "This is a mango?" Mort asked, still holding the piece a distance from his face, as if he expected it to bite him. "It smells like an onion." The smell must not have bothered Sara, as she went at the rest of her salad with a passion. Ozzy looked down at his plate, seeing red and purple mixed in with the yellow. The red stuff seemed to be a kind of pepper, while the thin, almost transparent slices of the purple seemed like onions. Shrugging, Ozzy stuck a bit of each on his fork, then shoved it into his mouth before he had time to reconsider. The flavor was hard to describe. Sara had said it would be sour, and it was, but not in the way a lemon or something similar would be sour. It was milder, undercut by the savory taste, which was fishy in the same way shrimp were. Ozzy recognized the sweet crunch of onion, so his guess about the nature of the purple thing had to be correct. The pepper was surprisingly hot for a salad, though not unpleasantly so. Put in a simpler manner: it was delicious.

"This is great!" Ozzy said. "You guys should really try this." Mary grunted her agreement, already having made a sizeable dent in the contents of her own plate. She had never been one to turn down free food. May picked up a small piece and daintily popped it into her mouth, chewing with a considering expression, while Frank made a move like the one Ozzy had, spearing a large chunk and throwing it into his mouth before the smell had time to turn him off. Mort continued his staring contest with the fruit for a few more seconds before closing his eyes and biting in. "It's alright," the polecat said, opening his eyes and going in for another bite. "Hotter than I expected. Jeb, could you pass me that pitcher?"

Soon, everyone at the table was tearing into the sour-tasting salad, the spectacular events of the day fading from the front of their minds as hunger asserted itself. The pitchers were passed around, glasses filling with a spicy red liquid that Sara said was a type of wine. In a matter of minutes, all plates had been cleared of every last scrap of food. Mary sat back, taking a large swig of wine, then let out a contented sigh. "Now that I've thought about it a bit, this place isn't so bad. I feel like I'm on vacation." Frank folded his arms, staring at the holy figure embroidered on the wolf's shoulder. "I don't know," he said. "We were still kidnapped, even if our kidnappers took us to a nice place. I don't think we should let our guard down just yet."

Mary rolled her eyes at the few murmurs of agreement that rose up from around the table. "Why do you have to be so negative? Maybe the aliens that abducted us are good folk. Go around to a couple planets, picking up people that have fallen on hard times, bringing them out for a free dinner. I've heard of a Spanish tradition of the rich bringing a homeless person in to have Christmas dinner with them. Maybe it's like that." The wolf puffed up, confident that she had just solved the mystery of the Dials. She looked at each of the other diners in turn, challenging them to come up with a better explanation. "I haven't seen anyone that looks like an alien floating about, though," Ozzy offered. Mary threw up her hands. "Maybe they can't breathe the same air as us. Hell, actually, what about blue boy? You can't tell me he's normal." Ozzy squinted in confusion. "Blue...? Do you mean Iannis?"

"That fucker, yeah," Mary said, not even trying to pronounce the name. Frank remained unconvinced. "Kane isn't an alien, he's a demon. I think." Frank didn't sound very certain, and Mary was about to dismiss him when the two waiters returned, once again making several at the table jump in surprise. This time, the kestrel made the announcement, standing at attention with his hands behind his back. "The main course for this evening's meal will be a Scotch fillet, prepared with our house dry rub and cooked rare, served with a baked potato and creamed spinach." Plates were taken and replaced in the same motion, the waiters twisting about the seated group as if dancing. With synchronized, flourished bows, they left.

Mary cut a large chunk off her steak with a white handled knife, biting into it with a grunt of approval. "Your demon is nicer than any angel I've ever met," the wolf said, pointing at Frank with her knife. "Frank," May said from the other side of the table, "Stop me if you're uncomfortable with me sharing this, alright? Do you remember what you told me about your dreams? The ones where Kane spoke to you?" All eyes went to the doe, curious as to where she was going. Frank's face took on a guarded look. "Yes?" he said, confused and wanting to know what May meant yet wary of having his therapist divulge personal information.

"You mentioned that, when Kane spoke to you, he kept asking you to free him from his prison, what we now know to be the wall of your room in The Homestead." May paused until Frank nodded, indicating he was following so far. "The reason you thought Kane was a demon was that he made promises of great rewards. Great riches, amazing powers. The kind of Faustian deal anyone who's read a book before would be familiar with." The doe paused again, blue eyes locking onto Frank's, which hadn't grown any less perplexed. The woman stood for a moment, making a gesture that took in the beautiful flowing dress she wore, then the meal in front of her, then, spreading her arms wide, the whole dining hall. "I know how these stories tend to end in the movies but look around you! You let him and the next thing we know we're on a vacation in space, being treated like royalty! Isn't it possible that Kane was simply telling the truth? That he or she or it is some powerful being, capable of fantastic feats, who is thanking you for doing what it asked?"

Frank stare at May, mouth open, as she sat back down, the green of her dress flowing along with her like waves on the beach. "There's no way that could happen," Frank said, reaching up to put a hand over the lapel with the golden face on it. "Could it?" Jeb laughed loudly and deeply, the sound coming from within his stomach. "That settles it, then!" the man said, putting a thick-fingered hand on May's bicep and giving it an affectionate squeeze. "I think Mary was right. Old stories from the bible don't describe the way they're shown in movies these days; they had terrifying forms, which could burn your eyes out just by looking directly at them. What you thought was a devil must have been one of God's messengers." The old bear started laughing even harder.

"You know," he said, nearly doubling over, tears in his eyes. "I never thought I'd get to leave Kansas. I mean, hell, I'm over forty. I never had the money to move out, even back when things were cheaper. With my wages, steaks this nice, places this nice, they were so far out of my league that they may as well have existed on another planet."

"If we're talking right," Ozzy put in, drawing the bear's attention to him, "They still are." Jeb looked at the hyena in silence for a long moment, then both burst out in a howling laugh. The sound was infectious, and soon the whole table was a riot, Ana starting to cackle as Adrianne giggled at Mort, who returned with a snicker of his own. In the face of such overwhelming odds, even Frank couldn't maintain his dour attitude and joined in the merriment. "An angel!" Sara cried in between snorts of laughter. "In the wall! How does that even happen? It feels like I won the lottery ten times in one day!"

"It is the same day, isn't it?" Frank said, gasping for breath. "No, it can't have been more than a couple hours since Mary put that hole in my wall. It felt like we were in that elevator for a week!" Mary reached over, putting a hand on Frank's shoulder. "I hope this counts as payback for the wall," she said, mouth full of steak. Frank waved her away, dismissing her worries. "This would be payback if you had trashed my whole room. Dinner on a space station. Holy shit, am I right?" The meal continued in this manner, jokes and stories and ideas of what to do when they had finished their meal. This was a huge station, and it would be a waste not to explore a bit, especially since they were apparently heading off to another Dial--the fifth, Iannis had said--in the morning.

"Good Lord, what's that going to be like?" Ozzy asked no one in particular once he had finished the last of his creamed spinach. "Did you hear what Iannis said when we got off the elevator? He apologized for making us spend a day here. Does that mean that the next...Dial, he said? --is going to be even crazier than this?" Sara's face lit up just thinking about it. "I can't imagine! He said we'd have to settle for the food in this restaurant, right? What do you think they serve up there at the fifth?" She closed her eyes and put a hand to her temple, shaking her head. "I just can't believe this is happening to me, of all people." Ana reached over to run her hand through the fur on the wolverine's head. "And why not?" The jackal asked. "We worked hard back home. I'd say we deserved something like this coming our way more than most folks would." Sara leaned into the jackal's hand, body relaxing at the familiar touch. "Yeah. You're right."

Frank stared with considerable interest in the display of affection, then turned to Ozzy. They were sitting too far apart for Ozzy to answer the unspoken question in the sheep's eye, not that he knew, anyway. Ozzy gave a little smirk in response, content to let Frank take whatever he wanted from that. Frank pouted at Ozzy, which drew a snicker from the hyena that was cut short when the waiters reappeared from nowhere once again. Ozzy understood that whatever made up that yellow wall was blocking out sound, but how did these two manage to avoid being seen by anyone sitting around the table, especially when pushing along their huge cart? "Tonight's dessert is hoshigaki," said the mouse stepping forward. "Before I serve it, may I ask if any of you would like a cup of tea to accompany it?"

A wrinkled, moldy-looking fruit was placed in front of Ozzy, along with a cup of black tea, the waiter's recommendation. Sara launched into another explanation of the origins of their meal once the waiters left, describing it as a Japanese persimmon that had been prepared by suspending it in the air with string and massaging it until the sugars rose to the surface, but cut off mid-sentence with a yawn. "Gosh, this whole day's been too exciting. I think it's finally catching up to me." Sara's yawn started a chain reaction, other yawns rippling out from those seated next to her, which then drew yet more.

Adrianne wasn't touching her dessert, looking about ready to pass out. "I think I'm going to have to pass up on exploring this place," the fox said, a note of frustration in her voice. Mort offered to walk her back to their room immediately, but she insisted on Mort finishing his fruit and drink before he did, which he did, eating as quick as he could without choking. After Mort led Adrianne away, the rest of the group began to drift apart, with Sara and May being similarly tired and Mary wanting to go with Ana to check out the various facilities they had passed in the hall on the way here. Last to get up was Ozzy, who felt he needed to settle up somehow, even if the meal was free. The mouse, when he came back, told Ozzy not to worry and that the bill had been taken care of before he had arrived. Ozzy left the dining hall, too amped for sleep, and let himself drift aimlessly along the great hall.

An hour later, Ozzy found Jeb hanging out in a room that looked like a bar, dark wooden stools sitting in front of a counter where a heron in one of those wine-colored vests was shaking a cocktail mixer. The room was large, big enough to fit several booths for those who didn't want to sit at the counter and a raised platform where another of the red-vested servants plinked away on a piano. "Classy," Ozzy said, taking the seat next to Jeb. He had to take the seat on the end, as the two seats to the right of Jeb were occupied by a young lizard and an older, drunker black cat, both dressed in suits of a more traditional cut than the ones he and Jeb wore.

"Just wanted a nightcap," the bear said, holding up his black fist to show a glass of clear liquid, packed with ice. "No Corona, but this place makes a damn good Tom Collins." The heron stepped up shortly after Ozzy took his seat and the hyena told him to make a vodka martini. Ozzy ran a hand through the spotted fur on his neck as he waited for the drink, resting his leg on a part of the stool and trying to keep it from bouncing. A nudge on his shoulder drew his attention. "What's the matter?" Jeb asked. "You've got that pensive look you get."

The heron put a glass with a wedge of lime on the rim in front of Ozzy, and he took a sip before answering. "It shouldn't be anything," the hyena said. "We've got a good thing here. I just need to relax." Jeb spun on the stool to face Ozzy. "It shouldn't be anything," the bear said, "but it is. And for it to show up your face, of all people, it must really be bugging you." Ozzy considered telling Jeb that he was fine, that the bear had nothing to worry about, but decided against it. He was good at keeping a poker face, but bad at lying; Jeb would see right through him if he tried. Saving himself the embarrassment of being caught, Ozzy dug the remote out of a pocket in his jacket. "This," he said, handing the object to Jeb.

"The switch? What about it?" Jeb asked, holding the small back thing up to stare at it. Ozzy made a spinning motion with a finger. "The back. Did you read it?" The light was dim in the bar, so Jeb had to bring the remote close to his face to read the tiny letters written in gold. "'Win 5,000 5th star tokens.' What does that mean?" Ozzy took the remote back, replacing it in his jacket. "Hell if I know," the hyena said. "It's just been on my mind since I first saw it. I can't be sure, but I think that the cane is telling me I should do that. Or something."

"Makes sense, I suppose," Jeb said. "I think. It's a bit hard to tell what makes sense and what doesn't anymore." Jeb put a hand on his chin, a look of concentration coming to his face. "If I'm not mistaken, back in the elevator, the announcement said that we would be getting ten tokens for the casino at the Dial we were going to. That's ninety right there." A casino? Ozzy thought he remembered hearing that. It was getting hard to keep everything that had happened today straight. Did that mean Ozzy was going to have to gamble to win the 5,000 tokens? He took the revelation with a shrug. At least he'd be having fun.

"Gettin ten tokens, eh? You one of the guys who got delayed?" The question came from behind Jeb, who turned to find the drunk cat staring at him with a rueful smile. "This's is the first time the stairs of heaven have broken down in...five years?" He shook his head. "Some peoples get alla luck." Next to the cat, the lizard sighed, embarrassed by proxy that his friend had decided to bother other drinkers. "I'm sorry," the lizard said. "Pay him no mind." Ozzy peek around Jeb's back to get a better look at the cat. "We're lucky that the stairs broke down?"

The cat shook his head again, black fur flying out in every direction. "It's becks...because you get the things." Ozzy stared blankly at the cat, trying to decipher what "the things" were, when the lizard jumped in to save him the trouble. "The tokens for the casino. Their price just went up. Meanwhile, the price of a 3rd star token has gone down, which is why Jacques is acting like this," he said, indicating the cat. "'s not fair," the cat, apparently named Jacques, mumbled into his drink. The lizard rolled his eyes. "The price of the 3rd only dropped about a hundred dollars. How many tokens do you even have? You can't have lost more than a couple grand."

Ozzy felt a shiver run up his spine. Only a couple grand? How much were these tokens worth? "It's not about the money!" Jacques said, pounding a fist on the bar. "It's about winning and losing! And buddy, I lost!" The lizard reached up to rub at his temple. "Yeah," he said, sounding tired. Jacques leaned toward Jeb unsteadily, his friend having to grab the back of his jacket to make sure the cat didn't topple out of his seat. "Do you even know how much the tokens you're getting are worth?" The lizard tugged Jacques back roughly, forcing the man into a more normal posture. "Don't be rude!" The lizard hissed. "Of course, they know! How could members of a major house not know?"

The black furred man grabbed the lizard's hand and wretched it away from his jacket. "Ain't a house siz...sigil. It's a temple sigil," the cat said, pointing at the left lapel of Jeb's jacket. "They're not here to gamble, they're here to...to...Why would a Nyx monk come here?" Jacques peered curiously at Jeb over the lip of his glass. "He's right," Jeb said. "We don't know how much the tokens are right now." Jeb had been a bartender in one of his previous careers, giving him a preternatural ability to avoid answering awkward question from drunks.

The lizard nodded his head, taking a small object from a breast pocket and examining it. "3rd tokens are back up to five-thousand dollars," he told the cat, who lifted his drink in response. "Thish is my lucky watering hole, you know. Always gets good things happening to me when I come here." He downed the rest of his drink, then flopped over the counter with a smile on his face. The lizard rubbed his eyes in frustration. "I don't know why I do anything for you," he said. "It's 'cause I take care of this," Jacques said, reaching a hand for the lizard's groin, only for it to be swatted away roughly.

"Anyway," the lizard said, scooting his chair away from the handsy cat. "Let me just find the room where they trade 5ths." Ozzy and Jeb stared wide eyed at the lizard as he tapped away on the small device. When he said dollars, did he mean standard American dollars? There was no way. They were on a different planet. Still, if the value was even roughly equivalent, these men had to be filthy rich. That made sense, of course. This space station didn't seem like the place to come for a vacation on a budget. But then why were Ozzy and the rest allowed to come here without paying?

Ozzy's mind went back to the remote in his pocket. He was still unsure that it was the angel Jeb thought it was. During dinner, May had mentioned a Faustian deal with a devil. Typically, in those situations, whoever made the deal was quite pleased with the results at first. It was only later, when one least expected it, that the downsides of dealing with dark forces made themselves known. Ozzy would have to keep his eyes sharp, just in case. There was no telling what the thing in his pocket was capable of. He should warn the others, just to let them know. When he got back to the hotel, he would gather anyone who was awake and share his concerns.

"Okay, here," said the lizard, sounding satisfied. "One 5th star token is worth one hundred fifty thousand dollars." Ozzy could hear the screeching sound of metal as his train of thought was thrown off its tracks. He gripped his drink so hard he was worried the glass might shatter in his hand. "That's quite a bit," he heard himself say. The lizard nodded his agreement, putting away the device he had been using. "Highest it's ever been, I think."

The lizard whipped his head around at a gagging noise coming from his side. "Oh, for fuck's sake." While still technically conscious, Jacques lay with his head down on the bar, eyes unfocused. The lizard tried waving a green-scaled hand in front of the cat a few times, to no effect. Standing from his stool with grimace, the lizard moved behind Jacques and began shaking his shoulder, pulling him away from the bar, which he clung to with a whine like a child clinging to their mother's leg. Flashing an embarrassed grin full of thin, needle-like teeth, the lizard apologized for the shameful display as he ducked down to pry his drunk friend off the counter.

He threw one of the cat's arms around his shoulders and made the inebriated man stand up with him. "I think it's time for bed," the scaled man said, practically dragging Jacques to the exit, the cat leaning heavily on his acquaintance's body and forcing them both to move with an unsteady, swaying gait. Jeb's eyes followed the two as they left. Then, whole body shaking, he turned to Ozzy. "$150,000. Times ten," the bear said, sounding distant. "How much is that?" It was an ability of the poor and working class that, regardless of education, they became masters of mathematics whenever money was involved. It was necessary for survival. However, even if that hadn't been the case, this was multiplication of a round number by ten. Even a child could do it. Jeb could do it, too. The thing was, he simply couldn't believe how much it was.

"One million, five hundred-thousand dollars," Ozzy said, not entirely believing it himself. "Each. For every one of us that came here." Ozzy found that his body was shaking, too. Shaking with laughter. Jeb started up as well, smile so wide it split his face in half. "The hell with going back to work," he said. "By tomorrow morning, I'll have enough to buy the house I've always wanted. Shit, I'll buy two!" Ozzy thought back to his debt. Before he left The Homestead, fifteen grand had seemed like a towering mountain, already impossible to climb and only growing higher as the interest kept him from making any progress. Tomorrow, that would be a drop in the bucket. "I'll drink to that!" Ozzy said, raising his martini. The two men drank together late into the night, having to help each other remain upright when they finally decided to turn in. On the way back, Ozzy vaguely recalled having been worried about something before the drinking started, but that was in the past, and he wouldn't be tied down by the past any longer. Now, he was living for the future.