From her perch on the steps in front of Ellis' office, the Sister watched tall storm clouds puff up in the south, pushing high into the atmosphere like fluffy white mushrooms. As she passed the afternoon, she prayed a string of beads, each small orb the same inky black as her robe. While she mouthed her prayer, her mind wandered now and again to the clouds building in the south. She remembered how as a child she'd wondered if such large fluffy clouds hid the cities of angels. Now, she just thought about the rain she knew would come. She could feel the expectant hush growing in the still afternoon heat. Time stood still around her as the desert waited for rain. The only sound was the gentle clack of beads as she continued praying.

Basil stepped out from her quarters at the back of Bud's bar, wiping her hands on a rag. She lived up to her name, carrying the peppery and minty smells of her herbs out into the heavy afternoon air. She could only see the northern sky from this vantage point, but she didn't need to see the clouds. She could smell the promise of warm summer rain in the air. She could feel the wind start to shift as the afternoon's muggy stillness quickened with the pulse of imminent rain.

The Mayor had left Bud and Barbarossa far behind, as Barbarossa slowly led the barkeep back out of the Mayor's lair. Bud was still week in the knees and kept slipping on the sandy wash bed along which they'd followed the Mayor's telltale tracks. As Barbarossa paused to wait for Bud to catch up, he took a moment to take stock. They were definitely getting caught in the rain. Thunder clouds had pushed north an hour ago, throwing the whole area into a premature blue twilight. A faint breeze wove through the trees as Bud and Barbarossa trudged on, gradually leaving the sandy wash bottom for a game trail winding through desert scrub. Barbarossa looked up and saw a faint tracer of lightning zip across the clouds sealing the heavens. Shit. The not-dog thought before letting out a whining bark on Bud's general direction. Please, try and hurry, Barbarossa griped to himself.

As the storm swept in, rain began falling on the Sister, filtering through the feathery mesquite boughs above her and misting her robe. She ignored the rain for a moment, but as it intensified, she shrugged, scooting back into the shelter of Ellis doorway.

Byeju watched as the newcomer slid though the swinging doors of the Prospector's Paradise. The Mayor's red robes undulated around the door as the official practically waltzed through the door way. Byeju eyed the man suspiciously, unable to see any face beneath his hood. The Mayor gave his sensors the cold pricklies. Something about the man wasn't "right." Byeju got back anomalous reasons, patches of robe vanishing from his sensors or sending back data points floating in space.

Byeju resigned himself to another weird encounter and turned slightly on his stool to face the Mayor head on. He signed internally as his metal armor scraped the wood. He imagined there'd be scratches in the wood when he stood up.

As the Mayor regarded him, the robot noticed the humidity spike in the air. The rain had kept up a constant pattering outside for a while now, but the bar had stayed dry. Now, as the Mayor stepped further into the bar, moisture began glistening on the walls, and Byeju mentally frowned at the condensation beading on his cool metal armor.

Byeju could not see the Mayor look at him from beneath the glistening folds of his hood, but Byeju's sensors picked up spiking magnetic fields that he imagined corresponded to the Mayor's attention.

"I see your guest appreciates the emperor's new clothes," the Mayor's voice wafted from beneath his hood. His head was inclined toward Ellis, but Byeju's language model caught the Mayor's verbal 'wink.' How did the man know his clothes were playing tricks on Byeju's sensors? The robot sought the story from his library. A classic, by all accounts: an arrogant ruler seeks a fashionable new wardrobe only to be left buck nude. Was the Mayor nude? Byeju wondered.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

The robot looked the robe, thick fabric damp from the weather outside, red bleeding into darker earth tones as the water sank in. Byeju caught no hint of a body underneath the irregularities his sensors picked up on. Nevertheless, the machine suspected the Mayor wielded some art of deception, and he kept his sensors geared up to high.

Ellis slowly looked the Mayor's way, his eyes filled with desperate impatience. He ran a hand through his hair and snagged a bit before finally speaking, "Everything is readiness, Mr. Mayor. We only need your go ahead."

The Mayor's hood shook like heavy frills on a lizard in mating season, and a chuckle seeped out from beneath his hood. "What Ellis means to say," the Mayor hissed, "is that I'm to check you for hitchhikers."

"I came alone," Byeju said, not understanding the Mayor's concern.

"No, not people..." Ellis began, giving the Mayor his best puppy dog eyes in the futile hope that the man would clarify himself.

Byeju thought for a moment, "For agricultural pests, invasive species?"

"...," it was Ellis' turn to look blankly into the robot's green gaze.

"Then contraband?" Byeju guessed, grasping at straws.

"No," the Mayor said, a treacherous smile playing in his voice as he relished Ellis' discomfort.

"I have detected no computer viruses," Byeju mused, "although hacking is always a possibility."

"You're not helping your case, Mr. Honest," the Cyborg cautioned the robot.

"Thankfully for everyone, I'm sure," the Mayor began, "I have no idea what.you"re talking about."

The Mayor trailed off, but he began edging closer to Bueno as if to begin inspecting for these mysterious hitchhikers.

"You know, I've never tested a machine for hitchhikers," the Mayor groused, folding his arms and scrunching his fleshy robe into unpleasant rubbery folds.

That didn't sound good to Byeju who felt the Mayor's magnetic emanations growing in strength, "Excuse me, just what are.ypu looking for again?"

"Shadows," Ara piped up from her corner.

"Psychic contagion," the Cyborg beamed.

"You did not pass that test," the Mayor warned with a tone wet and silky as a waterlogged cocoon.

"I did not fail," the Cyborg blithely replied, monocle swirling with milky light.

"It was equivocal," the Mayor conceded with an elastic smack of his lips.

"We're getting sidetracked," Ellis pleaded.

"Fine," the Mayor grumbled, "let's see here." He stood directly in front of Byeju, his hands clasped in front, hidden beneath his sleeves' fleshy folds.

Byeju was still rifling through his library for psychic contagion references when the Mayor snapped out of his brief reverie and began his test.

"This will take but a second," he proclaimed, adding "Be warned I have never tested this on metal flesh," his voice sibillant as squelching mud.

"Extend your hand and pointer finger," the man instructed. Byeju complied stretching our a gauntlet toward the Mayor, and pointing his longest finger at the man's chest. The robot didn't like the sound of this untested test, but didn't see a way around the authority vested in that red hood with its pooling folds.

The Mayor's hand flashed out quick as a viper striking, his pointer finger tapping Byeju's. It looked enough like human flesh and bone on those fingers, but Byeju couldn't bring himself to trust it, and his sensors balked, returning partial reflections. To Byeju, the Mayor's hand looked like it reached toward him though a mirror gallery.

The next thing the robot knew, the man was removing his hand, folding it back into his dropping sleeve. Byeju was disturbed mostly because he hadn't notice anything happen. What had the Mayor done?

"Shadow is clean," the Mayor nodded at Ellis, *no psychic contagion."

Byeju was almost relieved, but before he could relax, the Mayor started sniffing, huffing, and sucking in air as though trying to filter feed on the motes of dust dancing in the bar's dim light.

The fleshy red veil of the Mayor's hood shivered as the air rushed past it. Ara blushed at the sight.

He coughed a wet cough after snorting so much air. Byeju eyed the man, not knowing what to make of this outburst.

"Id recognize that smell anywhere though," the Mayor wheezed.

"Is there a problem?" Ellis asked, frowning.

The Mayor's voice took on a distant quality, drawing back in time like clay cracking after summer rains have passed, "Why are thorns below the rose?"

At the Mayor's words, Byeju's green eyes flashed with surprise and recognition. The robot snapped an involuntary salute, gauntlet to brow.

"That blood shall not stain the petals," Byeju replied quietly, recalling the old maxim of his Creators.