Arrha threw the datapad to the ground in fury. It bounced once, then settled against a crate of contraband Psion weaponry. The screen continued to flash implacably: CONNECTION LOST… REESTABLISHING CONNECTION… FAILED… CONNECTION LOST… There was nothing for it. He would have to break the news to the Spider. He found the crime boss at the bar, glad-handing with a bookie in an oversized fur vest. They spoke in low tones before a subtle nod by both parties let Arrha know that a deal had been closed. No doubt a sizeable adjustment to the Crucible betting odds would soon hit the tote boards. Arrha gave a series of subtle clicks: .::: .:. : .:. :. :. trouble glimmer loss Arrha could sense Spider's countenance sour beneath his helmet. The elder Eliksni dismissed the oblivious Human with a curt wave and headed wordlessly to the back room. "Skira's anus, what now!?" "Another scav crew lost, the Spider," Arrha replied. "Iiraahk came under heavy fire in the Reef. Went dark minutes later." "That's the third this cycle," Spider fumed. "Send a replacement crew. Heavy weapons this time. I want the nav system from Iiraahk's ship back." Spider turned to leave, but Arrha felt compelled to stop him. "But the Spider," he blurted, "the crews… they won't go. Not until Fikrul is gone." "They WON'T?" Spider growled. "That sounds an awful lot like mutiny." "It's fear," Arrha said, hunching his shoulders. "They fear Fikrul more than the Spider." "I could remedy that," Spider replied menacingly. "But I can't afford to make any more examples." "I didn't want word to get out about that sector," he lamented, "but it hardly matters now. Time I called in a specialist." He picked up the fallen datapad and opened a comms channel. "Welcome to my most lucrative customer…"