From: SHANDRA             
To: =ALL=               
Subject: Getting Started
Date & Time: 04/07/91 21:25:28
Message Number 14483

   I part the curtain dividing in the back of the bar and step out
into the bar proper, blinking as my eyes adjust to the light. My
grandmother's eyes, soft gray, not at all typical of someone of
my race. I am three-quarters 'furry,' after all; vaguely feline,
with digitigrade feet, retractile claws, tawny orange-black fur. And
these impossible gray eyes, set behind a very cat-like muzzle. Go
figure. Funny thing about genetics, even when you think you know what's
going on you can still be surprised.
 
   I yawn and step further into the bar, assuming my customary position
at the end of the bar proper. I hope today will be quiet; I'm still
sleepy and not in the mood for trouble. As the bar's "official" bouncer,
trouble is sort of my job, but I can still wish for a few peaceful
days, can't I? Lord knows I've seen more than my fair share of trouble.
Served a three-year stint in the Combined Forces Military, saw action
against the Trogs and later against my own people during the riots,
and then came the Combined Forces Alien And Outside Races Act, and
suddenly those of us with mixed human and alien background were personae
non grata. So what do I do? Like a fool, I stand up against racism,
and end up with a dishonorable discharge and a few well-connected
enemies to show for it. No room for ideals in today's brave new world.
Few years as a personal bodyguard, sometimes more personal than not,
few years as a mercenary, and now I'm here, living in the Florida
Chains and looking for something approximating tranquility.
 
Behind me, Robert steps through the curtain and assumes his customary
place in the corner, with his customary newspaper and chessboard. A
creature of habit, that human. A right bloody old Cockney bastard, too,
as he'll cheerfully tell you. Subtle, devious, good with explosives
and weapons, and he plays a mean game of chess. He showed up here about