With a pronounced sigh, you confess your ignorance to TRUDI. "I've been given this assignment to appear before the Kalranthi, and I don't even know who they are, or what the megacorporation has done to offend them. I'm not even sure I'm saying the word 'Kalranthi' correctly."

"Well, meatbag," TRUDI responds, "You're pronouncing it adequately for someone with only one glottis. But as for who the Kalranthi are, that is a genuine concern. And that's because those records were deleted from my databanks this morning."

"Huh?" is your eloquent retort.

"Simple. The records that were there are gone. Persons unknown clearly don't want you knowing what or who the Kalranthi are, and I can't help you out on this one, fleshling."

"Well, can you speculate on their motives?" you ask, desperately.

"No more than you can," TRUDI answers. "For all I know, you're being sent to them as an apéritif."

"A what?" you enquire, genuinely ignorant.

"A pre-dinner snack."

You sit back, rendered suddenly and uncomfortably sweaty by the suggestion.

"But that's just speculation," continues TRUDI. "I didn't mean to really suggest that's likely. Hey, meatbag? Meatbag? Are you listening?"

You're not listening. The cabin shakes with a low grumble.

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