“What about the times when the police have been directly involved with the beatings?” someone called angrily.
“Unscrupulous men in law enforcement uniforms are neither new nor rare,” Jelly argued. “It is sad, but a part of reality. I still feel it is the work of individuals rather than of some sanctioned group.”
“That’s real pretty, Jelly,” Ramona challenged, “but I don’t buy it. My crew and I have been cruising the starlanes for a long time and had our share of hassles with the Groundhogs, but nothing like we’ve been getting lately. You can’t convince me that what’s been happening is just random street violence.”
Tambu raised his eyebrows. Until now he hadn’t been aware of how deep Ramona’s feelings ran on this subject.
Individual arguments were raging among the captains again as he cleared his throat to restore order. This time, however, someone beat him to it.
“Shut up! All of you!”
The naked rage in the voice cut through the clamor like a sword stroke, and the captains abruptly lapsed into silence and gave ground from its point of origin. Exposed by the crowd’s parting was a pixie-ish woman, standing tall on a chair. Her skin was poisonously mottled, marking her as a victim of New Leprosy. Though hers was an arrested case, many still felt uneasy in her presence.
“The chair recognizes A.C.,” Tambu smiled.
The irony of his voice was lost on the stormy woman as she launched into her tirade.
“Never in my entire life have I heard such crybaby moaning and weeping,” she announced bluntly. “Screw what Cowboy and Jelly are saying. I’ll give you what you want to hear: ‘We’re being picked on… discriminated against.’ So what!”