“You did this.” Lana said with infinite venom, “You … you … Nomadi scum. You did this. You were never one of us, just as your pathetic tribe had never been one with the great Empires of Mobilius.” She stared at him but he replied only with quiet complacence. Realizing there was no way he was going to be baited into a response, she turned to her colleagues. “Can you not see? Is it not obvious? This trader scum never had any intentions of supporting our claim to Earth. He has conspired against us from the start. He probably had Shahim killed in Pakistan somehow and then he initiated the attack on the satellite.” She stared wildly from person to person and some of the faces even began to show signs of acquiescence.

Sensing that she might sway the room before he had time to complete the last of his plan, John spoke up, feigning anger and incredulity at Lana’s comments, “Enough, Lamati! Your hateful prejudices against my people are well known, as is your vaunted pride and the disdain you have openly showed for the other nations represented in this room.” He noted with satisfaction as his comments hit home, several of the other Agents’ anger turning back on Lana as she festered and boiled with rage.

“Silence, scum!” she shouted in return, “I will not stand for that tone from the likes of you.”

“And so we see it.” sneered John in reply, “So the truth comes out. You have always thought you were better than us, haven’t you, Princess? You’ve never thought of us as true equals. Well, shout all you want, your precious title means nothing here and it’s time you started respecting us for what we are … your equals.

The princess’s face flamed red and started to twitch as her personality raged at the limits of their virtual conference. She wanted to tear into her opponent. To rip out his eyes. To pound her foot into his balls until they were crushed to a pulp. Images reeled through her mind, her machine brain feeding her scenarios like a pusher in response to her rabid lust for vengeance. She was silent a moment as she reveled in the perfectly rendered image of smashing his accursed skull under foot and jumping up and down on its mangled remains until they were but a red smear across the world.

But such violent acts were not within the parameters of the virtual construct they were meeting in, so as her avatar tried to interpret and relay the ultra-violence she craved, her body seemed to convulse and spasm in its place. The rest of the room recoiled from the spectacle.