The remaining Mimes were easily cleared off after their leader had been eaten. They panicked, despite Sax's warning not to do so, and ran into walls, fell in the holes they had dug to get in, or immediately fainted. As had been said, they weren't bright buggers. Irish lassoed the bodies and hung them in the rafters for decoration. The Cantina was restored quickly with a snap of Data's fingers. I sat at the bar, a Romulan Ale under my nose. Data sat beside me, and then Virvel did the same.

"So, Lep's disappeared," I said unnecessarily.

"Aye," muttered Data, downing the rest of my ale.

"Are you all right, Data?"

"No."

"Oh."

"I'll get over it. I just can't believe that my own brothers allied with Mimes. Its . . . it's . . . look, Ben, have you ever been tattled on?"

"Yeah, when I was in middle school. I put the glue in the scissor box. This girl that had a crush on me told the teacher."

"Well, for me, this is like my brother just did that."

"Hm."

"Yeah. And now I'm going to go drown myself in ale," said Data.

"Okay," I said. "How are you, Virv? Still lamenting Zifnab?"

"That idiot? Lamenting? Ha! He has forsaken his friends. He deserves no lamenting, no mourning, nothing. If I ever see him again, I'll hit him."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

So much for love, I thought.

"Well . . ."

Sax walked in, singing something and making guitar noises.

"Whatcha singin'?" I asked him, as he sat down in Data's seat.

"Brighton Rock by Queen."

"Ah. Why is there a towel around your neck?"

He gaped. "A towel is quite possibly the most important part of any hitchhiker's possessions. Never lose your towel."

"Er . . . okay."

JW was happily munching on an apple pie, sitting in the sacred chair. Free was sketching in the corner, away from the others. Kratos had left to root out some mafia members. Kip and Irish were out somewhere.

What a lovely day, I thought sarcastically.

Virvel sat up and left the room without a word. The chair scraped nastily across the wooden floor.

"Zif's scrammed. Something's up with Lep. All is misery, even though we defeated the Mimes. Usual Cantinian day?"

"Yep," replied Sax and JW.

Sax was opening a Pepsi when I stepped out of the common room to lay down in the room that was marked off as mine. The sign was written on paper with pencil, and was clearly done hastily. I pushed open the door and plopped down on the soft bed, like a fat raindrop dropping from a cloud.

Something crinkled underneath my body.

It was a letter.

I opened it. It was written on yellowed parchment in a flowing, elegant script in blood red ink.

DEAR BEN,

I have left the Cantina for a specific purpose, no matter what your tiny brains may wish to think. You could all die with a word from me. I am weary of the treatment my kind is given. I demand respect, and respect I will achieve. The Mimes were easily manipulated. Yes, that is why you have seen my image in their headquarters. This is your ultimatum. Find me the Ark, and I may spare your lives.

-LEP

Just another day at the Cantina, I thought, sighed, and laid back in bed.