They screamed their message and gave instructions. The entire industrial area was being told to evacuate together with adjacent suburbs. Liala looked down at the chaos below and guessed it would develop into total mayhem as more mindless trolls dashed in and more terrified people fought their way out. It was a perfect time to launch their attack.
She gave Bryn a quick kiss and ran to the truck with the Liala lookalikes. Its sides were decorated with pictures of a green-haired princess doing amazing things for the guardians. She climbed in and looked back to where Bryn was talking to one of Allain's sergeants.
She guessed the man had been told to look after her. Bryn pointed to the building where they had spent the night. The sergeant ran in that direction and Bryn ran to the truck with the Crispin lookalikes.
***
The screen, on the wall, showed the blazing inferno that had once been Elm Grove industrial estate. Crispin wielded his baton of command. Tom looked over his shoulder. Peter stood outside on the iron walkway, watching access points that were not covered by the laboratory's security system.
The image on the screen was artificially coloured for the benefit of trolls and their handlers. It showed the world through the eyes of a troll and was restricted to six colours.
'They could have done a better job,' Tom said.
'You mean the fire?'
'No. Plaid Koerno have done a marvellous job. I'm talking about the guardians and that display. The colour coding is rat shit. They need more colours. Six isn't enough to give a clear picture of what is going on.'
'The trolls can see only six colours.'
'But making the carnival trucks green is a bit rich.' Tom pulled a face. 'Green is reserved for the royal family.'
'I'm not complaining ...'
'Nor am I, Crispin. And I'm sure the commander of Plaid Koerno won't when he finds out. But it's hardly appropriate. The trolls are programmed to protect all that is green ... if I'm not mistaken.'
'That is correct, Professor. Big Brain should have used brown.'
'So. Why didn't it?'
'Because it is rat shit.'
'Not all of it, Crispin. There are thousands of brains at work in that composite mind. Some are anything but rat shit.'
'Perhaps it's a trap.'
'That's what's worrying me, Crispin.'
Tom removed a ray gun from his gown and placed it on the table. Crispin noticed that he also carried a dagger, like those used by gladiators. Gladiatorial weapons were useful in close combat. Ray guns carried a powerful punch and would be dangerous to use in a confined space. The thought of possible violence was chilling.