At center stage: other conspirators.
The third of the plotters, as usual, arrived late for the meeting.
"Where the hell have you been?" demanded one of those already there. "How can somebody with a reputation for being a genius not read a clock? You know-those gadgets that have two hands, one long, one short."
"Save that tone for those who intimidate easily. You ought to know by now it's wasted on me. Besides, I've been productively occupied."
The conspirators, from long years working together, knew each other's tastes. One of them smiled evilly at the tardy one. "Killing swine, eh?"
"Not yet. Just sharpening the blades."
***
When the meeting was over, the old tastes resurfaced.
"When shall we three meet again?"
The other two laughed. "When the hurlyburly's done, of course," chuckled one of them.
"And the battle's lost and won," added the other, in a grimmer tone of voice. "Assuming you don't show up late again."
Chapter 1
The colony world of Harmony and Reason.
Enter a military vehicle, returning from the front.
Its motley inhabitants, each in their own fashion, celebrating the first victory of humankind and its allies against the alien Magh' invaders.
"Hic!"
Private Chip Connolly looked up into the terrifying upside-down gargoyle-face. The long white canine teeth gleamed against the twisted, folded blackness of that face. The batwings briefly unfolded, as the jeep hit some severe corrugations.
"Hic!" said the plump bat again, dangling from the metal struts that held the canvas cover.
"Why are you making that funny noise, O'Niel?" asked Virginia, snuggling into Chip and blinking myopically at the bat.
The bat blinked back at her. "Why Ginny, 'tis traditional when you're drunk as drunk can be. And it is feeling I am as if the drunk is turning into a hangover, indade. So in the interest o' prolonging the drunk, I'm after stickin' to the tradition."