The Colonial Mayor wrung his hands, looking over the 2nd Bat like they were secondhand goods. Vasquez stiffened as his eyes fell on her. Eh, pendejo, start something, she challenged, jutting her chin. Beside her, Drake stirred, halfway bristling and halfway trying to calm her down.

“This,” the mayor began, after another moment, “has always been a safe place.” Vordian, the new start for some group of religious loonies, the kind that think a man should have two wives. One to suck his cock, the other to cook him breakfast. Asshole.

“Not if you need us, it isn’t,” Vasquez snarled.