“Answer who?”
The grim look in his eyes frightened Margo, worse than she was already. “Ansar Majlis,” he said it again. “The Ansar Majlis Brotherhood is one of the most dangerous cults to form up time in the past fifty years. Where’s Ann?”
“On the weapons range. She stayed with Dr. Feroz and the tourists, to keep anybody else from leaving. I tried to catch up with the reporters. They went charging straight up here, but they outran me.” She ducked her head. “I’m sorry. I did try to stop them.”
Kit muttered under his breath. “I’m sure you did. Listen, Imp, we’ve got big trouble on this station, with Ianira Cassondra missing. I don’t have to tell you the repercussions of that, both on station and up time. And with the Ansar Majlis involved, this riot may be the first of a whole lot of station riots. When word of this gets out . . .” He thinned his lips. “Next time Primary cycles, we are going to be neck deep in more trouble than you can shake an entire tree at. I want you to find Marcus. Try the Down Time Bar & Grill. Tell him we need search parties organized, Found Ones as well as up-time residents. And see if you can find out how Skeeter is.”
“Skeeter’s hurt? Ann said there’d been a shooting . . .” She swallowed hard, abruptly queasy to her toes. Margo and Skeeter Jackson might have a mutually uncivil history, but the idea of someone having shot the admittedly charming, one-time con artist left Margo sicker and colder than before. She’d gradually been changing her opinion of Skeeter Jackson, particularly since he’d become Marcus and Ianira’s latest rescue project. An apparently successful one.