The radio channel blared on. Anyone who knew the decryption code could have listned in on this odd broadcast.

"Ryukumu? Ryukumu Isora? I really hope you're listening for this like you should be, as I see no reason to broadcast it twice. To tell the truth, I kind of hope you don't show up."

"Sir, I've got all the papers ready. And the... other materials."

"Thank you, Lieutennant. Now, Mr. Isora, let's just see what's in this box here... looks like subscription cards! Unless you turn yourself in to Solarian incarceration immediately, we'll send you all these magazines, care of varrious other rebels. Let's see, we've got Crack Ho Monthly, Gay Erotica, No Need for T-Shirts-"

"Sir, can I have this one?"

"What? No! It's for my evil plan. Look, just fill out one of the blue cards by the door, you'll get a military discount."

"I never knew that."

"What, you think you get taught that in basic training? Anyway, we've got a few other things. We here at the GA-GS have a sweetheart deal with the Bledavic pizzaria. If you don't report immeduately, we'll..."

Short pause.

"Send you fifty extra larges with anchovies!"

"Sir, that's really dumb."

"Quiet, Lieutennant. You're being unprofessional. Next on our list... we'll splice your face into this picture-"

"My god! Is that a Hippopotomus?"

"Yes."

"And a marmoset... and a multiple amputee... that doesn't go THERE! I... feel unclean..."

"Quiet. Let's see... rotten eggs, junk mail listings, "Omnigears Suck" bumper sticker, cut your broadband access... Have I forgotten anything, Lieutennant?"

"Unclean... unclean..."

"Uh... yeah. Well, you better be here in two hours, Isora, or it's your ass!"

The signal degrades into static.