Part 3: Oops.
Pax'Del hummed the dancing tune from the speakeasy, a happy, jolly tune as he walked home. "Help for a veteran?" a voice called out from a dirty streetcorner. Pax turned around and waved. "I'm still in the service, friend. Veteran of what campaign?" he asked the homeless fellow. "D'dendrx five. I lost my right arm during the Vol offensive." He vaguely waved a stump. Pax, remembering the meal he had at the illegal speakeasy, palmed a ration coupon. "Here, friend. This one's on me. Eat well tonight. If you need anything, knock on my door. I live just down the street. I was in the Mobile Fleet on D'dendrx five. I saw a lot of the aftermath of the Marine offensive." "Thanks, sir!" The veteran gleamed, grinning. Pax was in a rare, good mood. He had a good time. He pushed on the control to open his front door, but it was already open. His ears raised straight up in alarm. "Zinn?!"...