*******

Kymira stalked towards the rugby pitch, steely determination mingling with the terrible gleam in her eyes. As she rounded the first tent, she heard the distant sound of marching accompanied by triumphal horns.

Around the largest of the communal fires sat the gladiators. Most of them were polishing weapons, mending tunics, feeding grapes to various Ho's, that sort of thing.

There wasn't a soldier in sight.

"Where's the Legion?"

Juba looked up from his sword polishing and jerked his head sideways. "Off on maneuvers. Does Maximus know that the boy emperor is alive?"

"No, and we're going to keep it that way." She stalked past the gladiators, muttering, "Unless I kill him first, and then it won't matter."

Past the nearly endless rows of tents, Kymira reached a stretch of grass leading up to the forest. Someone had erected a canopied platform on the far edge, upon which sat the RB, resplendent in purple and gold, laurels in his hair, a happy if slightly evil expression on his face. He was surrounded by his Guard, while the Felix Legion dutifully marched up and down in front of him.

Quintus stood at his Emperor's side, an adoring look on his face.

Kymira growled.

Storming across the field, she quickly reached the platform, only to have her progress barred by several spears pointed at her.

Quintus peered down at her, then barked a few commands in Latin.

"Learn freakin' English," Kymira muttered as the Guardsmen stepped away from her and she climbed the steps to the platform. Brushing past her Alphaish EA, she stomped to a position directly in front of Commo.

He frowned at her and tried to peer around her. "Quintus, be a good chap and find out what she wants." Commo waved his hand dismissively, and Kymira fought down the urge to grab it and break a finger or two.

"Kymira, dearest, this is no place for you. Why don't you return to my tent--the new one--and I shall join you after exercises are over."

Turning to face her condescending EA, Kymira gave him a syrupy smile. "Quintus, darling? Piss off."

"Quintus, she's blocking my view!"

Kymira spun back around, growling. "Listen pretty boy, you're not the Emperor anymore, got it?"

"Mistress Ky, I think you should leave," Quintus said quite forcefully.

Ignoring him, she grabbed the front of Commo's silk tunic and leaned down threateningly. "I've never liked you. I don't know what my Master sees in you. If I have any say over it, she'll shred your EA form and you can go back to wherever the hell it is you came from and take your damn Guard with you."

"Quintus, she's threatening me," the RB whined.

Obediently, the commander of the Guards pulled her away from his Emperor and spun her around. As she spun, Kymira caught a glimpse of a large hand drawn map of HSU spread on a table. Little toy soldiers sat in various spots and there were arrows drawn from the fields and gardens surrounding the buildings to the Administration Building.

He couldn't be that stupid, or that crazy, she thought. Could he?

Kymira rolled her eyes, drove her heel into the toes of Quintus' boot, and, as he released her to hop around and yelp, she jumped off the platform and hurried back across the field.

*******

Kendra intercepted the General as he strode into the outer office. He smiled when he saw her there, soundlessly crossed the room, and pulled her into a hug. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to the cuddle with a sigh. He looked tired, and he obviously needed a pair of welcoming arms to rest within. She'd give him a moment, but then they'd have to talk.

*******

Emmy automatically pulled into the garage stall with the gold plated "Dean" sign. She sighed, backed out, and pulled the BMW into the Nurse's parking space. She was tired, bone tired -- but in a really goooood way -- and in a relatively upbeat mood, all things considering. She couldn't even get up the small amount of Divah-force necessary to frown about her car. Instead, she remembered the night before, and grinned as she got out of the BMW and stretched.

Popping the trunk, she started for the many packages within, but found herself face to face with a student. Blanking for a moment, she searched her memory for a name. Terry? Tracy? No... "Uh-- Terra? Isn't it?" She smiled and began to load bags of new linens and towels into the grrls arms, completely missing her crestfallen expression.

"Yea. Uh, *Tar*-ah," the grrl said quietly. "Look, I wanted to talk--"

"Fine. Fine," Emmy replied briskly, all Dean now. "Here, take this bag," she said, shoving the handle of another large shopping bag in Tara's remaining free hand. The grrl staggered a bit under the weight of the packages, peering over the mound to catch Emmy's eye. "Now then," the Dean continued. "Let's walk back to the Administration Building, and you can tell me what's on your mind."

Unable to see the ground beneath her feet, Tara tottered forth, struggling to keep pace with the Dean. "Well, uhm, I wanted to talk to you about some of the, uh, things that happened around here yesterday."

"Oh?" the Dean responded vaguely. "Did the fire upset you, dear? Well, accidents do happen, you know. But we've an excellent system in place to handle such an emergency, and the Estrogen County Fire Department responded in record ti--"

Tara stopped walking and shifted the bags to try and see the Dean. "No. I'm not talking about the fire... Well, not entirely," she paused, finally catching Emmy's attention.

"Well?" said the Dean. "For goodness sake, grrl, spit it out."

"You got an EA!" Tara blurted.

The Diva drew herself up haughtily. Diamonds or not, she wouldn't be questioned by this freshman Ho. "And...?" she drew out icily.

Tara shuddered, causing one of the packages to tumble from its perch. "But," she pressed on, "you've been calling the Ho's with EAs 'ungrateful,' and saying that w--they don't love the General enough to deserve their appointments, and..." She quailed at the look in the Diva Dean's eyes, "Other stuff like that."

A long pause stretched between the two, before the Diva finally gritted, "What I do in my personal life, is just that *personal*. However," she held up a silencing Ho hand, "as you are doubtless aware, considering how quickly news travels around this campus, the General and I had a disagreement yesterday afternoon. Things were said, and now a lesson must be taught," she smiled with grim promise. "And, as *the* Alpha Ho, I'm just the one to do it."

"Yes," Tara admitted. "I did hear that some of the General's comments were less than acceptable."

"Some?!" the Diva snapped.

"Well," Tara said quietly, but firmly. "I'd be lying if I said I thought that all of what he said was inappropriate."

"Then you heard wrong," came the sibilant reply.

The freshman paled and nodded weakly. "Perhaps, but I think we shouldn't forget, that for all the General's good points, he is still a man, and, as such, cannot be held *entirely* responsible for his less than complete thought processes."

"He couldn't remember what I wore before being hunted down on Alderaan and having my diamonds blasted away!"

"Okay," Tara nodded. "Granted. He should have said something about...your beauty blinding him to your apparel, and outshining any diamond...but, *you* of all people, know, having lectured on the very subject in 'Ho 101', that Prince Charming simply doesn't exis--"

Emmy crossed her arms and glared. "He could remember what every other Ho on campus wears!"

Tara winced, "Well, that just means that your face and, uhm...*personality* is what he notices about you."

"He accused me of picking fights and having fits and vapors," the Dean snapped.

Tara laughed and another package fell to the ground. "Uh," she cleared her throat. "Well, you kinda *have* to admit he's got you there."

"I. Beg. Your. Pardon?"

"Er?" Three more packages fell to the ground and Tara now felt the full brunt of the Dean's fury. "Well, I mean, from the standpoint of a person, hindered as he is by a 'Y' chromosome--"

"He called me a gold digging princess!" Emmy roared.

"And you went out a proved him right!" Tara howled back.

"What?" the Dean gasped.

With a thundering crash, Tara let her arms drop and the entire load of bags and boxes fell to the ground.

"Jerome Morrow! You went after Jerome Morrow because he's gorgeous and rich!" Tara huffed. "Ain't that pretty much the definition of a 'gold digging princess?!'

"I could buy Jerome Morrow," the Diva snarled.

"Oh?" Tara smiled sweetly. "And how much was he worth last night?"

"More than the General," Emmy sneered, her tone matching the freshman's.

"How?" Tara demanded. "Unless all that talk of someone being a 'petulant brat' turned you on?"

"What?"

"Jerome has a bit of rep, y'know," Tara said smugly. "It was in the papers a few months back when he was thrown outta Hooters for being drunk and disorderly. Seems he kept shouting, "God, I'm bored!" at the waitresses.

"Well," said the Dean with a sniff. "That just shows he's a man of taste."

"It's not his taste that's in question."

"Now, look, you little--" the Dean began.

Tara held up the regal Ho hand, and turned from the Alpha Ho; exactly the way she'd been taught in Ho 101. At another time and place, Emmy would have been proud of her pupil, now all she saw was red.

"Don't you dare give me the hand," she seethed.

"You're right," Tara said humbly. "I had no business questioning your behaviour, and how it might be affecting the mood of the students and staff. And, hey?" she brightened. "Since you're not talking to the General, *again*, that means more for those of us who *really* love him, right?"

The Dean's mouth snapped shut, and her eyes narrowed.

"Those of us *grateful* Hos, who know how to treat *our* General." Tara smiled. "I think I heard him return right after you. I'll just head on over to his office now and console him over the loss -- *yet again* -- of the Diva Dean. I think I'll take along a little something I picked up at the Farmer's Daughter's Market." Tara batted her eyes, and simpered, "Oh, General, please don't be sad. Look what I've brought you. They're plump," she thrust forward her chest suggestively, "firm, ripe and juicy.... ***GRAPES***," she ended on a shout, causing the Dean to jump.

Emmy gathered herself together, and sneered back, "Serves him right to be stuck with nothing but Wenches to dote on him."

Tara snorted, turned her back on the scoffing Alpha Ho, and stalked away. "Would you like me to peel one for you, General," she lisped over her shoulder.

"I'LL HAVE YOU TESTED!" The Dean yelled. "Your Wenchiclorian count is *obviously* too high for you to be a true Ho!"

All she got in return was a rude gesture that no Wench would dream of knowing, let alone displaying in public.

*******

Without a specific assignment, Ellie wandered into the Dorm to see if there was anything left from the dinner buffet. Maybe food would spark her imagination and she could figure out how to deal with...well, with something. All for one and all that... As she passed the janitor's closet, the door opened, a hand snaked out, and she was yanked inside.

Her cry of outrage was muffled by a hungry mouth. Then there was the sound of claws extending, sinking into the wood of the door and pulling it shut.

As her EA kissed her within an inch of her life, all plans of action, save one, fled her mind.

*******

Jen knocked on the window the driver's side door, frowning at the way her Master didn't immediately respond. "Uhm? Dor? I know that this is a bad time and all, but we really need your help right now."

The Librarian slowly turned her head, looked her Padawan dead in the eye, and shook her head.

"You're not going to come out?" Jen watched as her Master turned her head away, a stubborn look on her face. "Look. I know that you felt you were doing something kinda... wacky and fun, and you really didn't mean any real harm, but that troop of Romans you pulled outta the ether? They're causing some real problems."

The grim smile Jen got in response boded ill for the Junior Staffer's cause.

"Damn it, Dor," the Party Padawan muttered.

Dor held up a finger to her lips, and her smile grew wider. Reaching across the passenger seat, she picked up a newspaper. Unfolding it, she pressed it to the window for Jen to read.

"Sunnyhell Business Association welcomes new Magic Shop Owner, Rupert Giles... Blah, blah, blah... Mr Giles, formerly the librarian at Sunnyhell High, took the last year off to recover from the horror of the 1999 graduation ceremonies in which much of the campus was destroyed... Yada, yada... Previously, a curator at the British Museum..." Jen grinned. "Wow. Cute and smart. And considering his interests, he'd be sorta perf-- Uh-oh."

Jen leapt away from the car, as Dor peeled out of the parking lot, laughing at the stunned expression on her Padawan's face.

*******

Kendra nearly whimpered as she felt the gentle nuzzling at her neck. The General's hands began to slowly stroke her back as his lips reached her earlobe, where he paused to nibble before whispering, "Jacuzzi?"

The A#1 Wet General Ho's knees buckled and with a husky laugh, he scooped her up and strode quickly into his office, shutting the door behind them.

He sat her down on the rim of the large tub, artistically hidden in a corner of his office by tall silk-screened panels, displaying a Chinese garden in soft water-colours. Turning on the water, he quickly pulled off his dark shirt, displaying the much loved, sleekly muscled torso.

A buzzing sound filled Kendra's ears, drowning out all but the water filling the tub, and the sound of her heart beat. She fixated on a bead of water that twinkled at her from his cheek, left there as he'd brushed his hair from his face with a wet hand. It sparkled at her, brighter than any diam--

"Oh, sh--oot!" Kendra exclaimed as she was suddenly and rudely reminded of her task.

His brows arched in question, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Did you suddenly remember that you had someplace else to be?"

With a sigh, she reached down and turned off the water. Looking up, she winced a little at his look of hurt surprise. "No. This is where I'm supposed to be, but this isn't what I'm supposed to be doing."

"I have a feeling I'm underdressed," he said dryly, pulling his shirt back over his head.

"Yeah," Kendra said sorrowfully. "That would probably be for the best."

"Shall we?" He gestured toward comfortable wing back chairs that he used for business occasions. Kendra winced, and nodded.

"What's on your mind, Kendra?" he asked softly, once they'd settled into the chairs.

"Yesterday," she started.

The General nodded thoughtfully. "You doubtless heard all, or part, of the discussion between the Dean and I."

"Yes," Kendra said, not bothering to prevaricate. "And now I'm here to talk about how you're going to make it up to the Diva."

"*I'm* going to make up it to the Divah?" He smiled at her eager nod. "Kendra, my love, I always appreciate your thoughts on any subject mattah, howevah--"

"Wait!" she pleaded. "Please, hear me out." He settled back, his features impassive, but he nodded, once, and Kendra quickly continued. "We don't have time for you to be a man," she said.

His brows shot up and a short, surprised chuckle escaped him.

"We don't!" she pressed. "So, I've ordered the most lovely, diamond choker from Tiffany's. It's a discretely gorgeous, single strand of smaller diamonds, in a gold 'Tennis bracelet' style setting." She pulled the page from her pocket. "See? It would suit her perfectly."

He glanced at the page, then back into Kendra's eyes. She flinched at the sad, hollow look he gave her. "And, you believe that if I gift Emmy with this necklace, evahthing between us will be resolved?"

"Yes," she said quietly. "Her diamonds were destroyed on Alderaan, so if you give her diamonds, her Diva powers will be restored. Emmy will be restored. Then you two can make up."

He smiled slowly, then shook his head. "I am sorry, dear heart, but I'm afraid that it is not that simple." At her downtrodden look, he leaned forward and took her hand. "I'll be the first to admit that I said some things yesterday that I wish I could take back, but I cannot, and, now that they've been uttered, Emmy and I must take a slower road toward healing the breach between us."

"I can't believe you called her a gold digging princess!" she lamented.

Now it was he who winced, leaning back, tiredly rubbing his hands over his face, and through his hair, causing it to stick out comically, yet endearingly. "Yes. That was wrong of me. I'm afraid that evah so often my temper gets the bettah of me."

"Tempers are never scarce around here," she admitted softly. "But--"

He held up a General hand. "I appreciate that the staff, and, mayhap, the students are feeling some distress ovah this...disagreement between the Dean and myself, but, ultimately, this mattah *is* personal, and no one but Emmy and myself should be involved."

"But--"

"No," he said firmly.

"But--"

"No," he growled.

She shot him a mutinous look, then muttered, "You're sounding a tad Alpha there, General."

"Is it Alpha to have my own thoughts? To make my own decisions about my own life?" he asked, the barest hint of anger tingeing his tone. "Damn it," he slammed to his feet. "You know? You grrls demand that I not treat you like... *Barbie* dolls to be kept safely boxed on a shelf. May not I request to be treated a little less like *Ken* without being accused of... *Alphaness*! I am not a mindless plaything," he snarled to no one in particular as he stormed out the door.

*******

In the Office of Mediation and Conflict Resolution, soft Lilith Faire music filled the air along with the scent of about thirty citrus candles. Behind her desk, the Mediator sat using a hand held fan to dry soggy files. Luckily the majority of the important papers were in water and rust proof file cabinets.

New furniture would be arriving shortly to replace that which couldn't be dried. The carpet in the outer office was due to be replaced the next day. Now if the burnt and mildewy smell would just fade...

As Little Spike gamboled at Laure's feet--well, tried to untie her granny boots--the door burst open and Kymira dashed into the office.

"Army.." Pant. "Latin..." Heave. "Invasion..." Gasp. "Stupid RB..." Pant. "Ky dear, whatever is the problem?" Laure asked serenely.

Sinking into a chair, Kymira gaped at her happy Master. "The RB is out there plotting the takeover of the university."

"Who?"

"Don't play games," Kymira snapped.

Laure's brow furrowed and she leaned forward, turning off the fan. "Kymira, the RB is not my problem."

"You still have an EA on him, right?"

"Well, technically..."

"He's out there lording it over the Felix Legion, and Quintus has gone all Alphaish."

"Perhaps you should make an appointment for the two of you and we can discuss his changing personality."

"Just put a stop to the RB's megalomania and everything will be fine."

"I was doing that. Someone saw fit to bring back his personal Guard." Laure's happy began to dissipate and she frowned even more. "They fueled his ego. He let them drop me on the floor. He didn't even ask if I was okay. He didn't care if I burned up. He let me run out of here and end up with Da Mastah. He didn't care!" With each second, her voice rose in both volume and pitch until Kymira shrank in her seat.

"Ooookay." Slowly the Padawan Ho rose and stepped back from her now seething Master. "I can see this isn't the right moment to discuss the RB."

"Who?" Laure yelled.

Kymira fled. As soon as she hit the hallway, she began to mutter to herself. "Fine, you don't want to acknowledge his existence, maybe he just shouldn't exist. Can't be too hard to assassinate an Emperor who doesn't even know what a gun is. Or...maybe poison...Nah, those Guards all taste his food. Arrow? Hmmm, would teach Quintus right if I shot his master with the weapon he taught me to use."

*******