Title: At the Explosion of Dawn 1/1
Author: Laure, Not the Mediator
Rating: EMI (Early Morning Interruptus)
Distribution: To the Archives, Ho...er...Will send copy when I get home, Dar.
Disclaimer: Not mine, yada yada; Ho's own themselves, Arnold Palmer owns himself, no one wants to own Cal
Author's Note: There's a semi plot going on here, really, I swear, but anyone else feel free to run with the storyline...please!

Laure was awakened by a cacophony of sound. Growling beneath her breath, she shoved up one side of her sleep mask and glared at the alarm clock.

It read 7:18 and was not contributing to the noise.

Turning her weary eye towards the door to her bedroom she found Commo, Arnold Palmer, Kendra--standing just out of Commo's line of sight--and some guy with a huge Nike swoosh on his shirt.

"G'way," Laure mumbled.

"Beloved, I need all your mediatorial skills."

"Not a mediator, singer, sang till two a.m., then kilted till four, need sleep," she muttered, dragging a pillow over her head.

"I'm really sorry to disturb you, miss," Arnold began. "But, this young lady has put up barricades around the one little pond we need to complete the ninth hole."

Laure missed the sight of Commo turning, catching sight of Kendra, smiling a bit lasciviously, and then Kendra scampering behind Arnold's broad back, squeaking a bit.

"Not m'problem," came from beneath the pillow.

"Darling dearest, please," Commo begged. "I must get the ninth hole completed before my first lesson this afternoon. There's this sweet young girl who begged to be shown how to plumb bob."

The pillow flew to the floor and Laure sat bolt upright in bed-- thankfully covered by an ancient KC Chiefs t-shirt and not something frilly and skewed around her body since she didn't wear those anymore--and shoved the mask off, glaring daggers at her lover. "I thought I said no private lessons."

"Sweet lambkins, golf lessons are best done one on one," he tried to explain.

"Lambkins?" Kendra snorted, ducking quickly behind the Nike guy.

"Mrs. Commodus?" said Nike guy asked. "We received a very strange fax from your husband yesterday, so strange that instead of dismissing it out of hand, I was sent here to deliver this restraining order."

Before she could respond to that, Lorne popped his head in the door, making the Nike guy squeak and fling himself to the side, heart pounding.

"Hey, sweet cheeks, got a call from Mercury records about your demo. They have issues on Lindsey's embellishment on track two."

A nasty throbbing began in Laure's temple.

*****

Rubbing her backside, Emmy picked herself up from the floor and reached for her scattered clothing. The General flopped onto his back, breathing hard, kilt askew, knees bright red.

"Carpet...worse than needle bark from...Endor..."

"The kneeguards are back ordered."

"Bed...just through...there..." He tried to point, but his arm was too weak.

Emmy frowned and tugged her shirt over her head. "Time waits for no Ho."

Obi-Wan managed to raise one knee in her direction and gave her a semi-wolfish grin. "Kiss it?"

One eyebrow arching, the Diva bent to do just that when a loud knocking came on the door.

"Time's up, I missed the sunrise, I'm not missing breakfast," came the loud, clear and demanding voice of the Nurse from the other side of the locked door.

"Geez, *now* she's grateful," Emmy groused.

"Huh?"

*****

Darry perched herself on the edge of the desk and stared daggers at the door, wondering for the dozenth time why Jael had to go to the ends of the universe--literally--to find exotic art supplies, thus leaving Max alone, thus making Max twitchy, thus making Max call for a pre-dawn ten mile hike in the woods, thus making Cic leave her side after only one morning censoring.

*****

Out on the great lawn, Tara, Jen and Kymira sat in lawn chairs, wrapped in fluffy robes against the morning chill, drinking hot coffee and tea, and watching a bunch of freshmen jogging around the lake.

"They can't be Ho's," Jen pointed out.

"The General's not even watching," Tara said, shaking her head. "There's no point to exercise if you don't have an audience."

"Well, an audience that won't mock you," added Kymira with a slightly malicious grin on her face.

"Or look at you in confusion." Jen jerked her head towards Cal who was heading their way after standing and watching the runners for several minutes. He was scratching his head, looking puzzled.

He was also wearing some odd combination of Jedi robes and priest's robes. Whatever they were they were too long and he kept stumbling over his feet, which were shod in flip flops.

Bright orange flip flops.

He stopped next to Tara, who surreptitiously scooted away from him.

"I wonder if you would be interested in forming a protest outside that den of iniqu...iniqu..."

"Iniquity?"

He brightened. "Yes, that one.

"Which one?" Jen asked, confused.

"Yeah, isn't the whole place pretty much a den of iniquity?" Kymira smirked.

Cal frowned at them all, then tried to take on a look of beatification. He just looked constipated. "That cabaret. It has stolen the sweet disposition from our sainted mediator and made her a ..."

"Don't say it," Laure's Padawan warned.

"I can't say it," he replied, eyes round as saucers. "It's too scandalous. I must save her soul."

"Yeah, okay, sure." Tara smiled dumbly up at him. "We'll be there."

With a gracious thank you, Cal tripped off to find others to join the righteous protest, and Jen and Kymira turned on their friend.

"Are you nuts?" Jen demanded.

"Well, we do plan to be there. I didn't lie. It's Friday night. It's either the cabaret, the pub and more tennis, or Wangers."

"Aren't you and Kendra barred from there for a month, something about flooding the stage?" Kymira asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

"That wasn't our fault."

"Uh huh."

"Hey, if we're going to the Cabaret tonight, shouldn't we go shopping for new outfits?" Jen asked a bit eagerly.

"Shouldn't we go to class?"

Both Ho's turned to stare at Tara, who frowned back and innocently uttered the word most heard at HSU, "What?"

*****

A loud boom awakened the rest of the campus. Freshmen Ho's dashed from the dorms. Upper class Ho's strolled at a more leisurely pace, yawning and blinking into the morning sun.

The staff felt the building shake, blinked, then, if in bed went back to sleep, if up and about, went back to whatever/whomever they were doing.

Covered in soot from head to toe, Pelham stood in the middle of the tower room, his eyes raised to the heavens.

Literally.

The roof was gone.

*****

In the little cottage garden, Dande tended to her late summer mums, keeping a close eye on the now crawling Cara, and another close eye on her husband, who was gracefully performing his katas shirtless. Xanatos was lounging in a chair, mocking Qui-Gon and kicking chickens towards him, trying to make him lose his rhythm.

He was failing miserably and earning himself gentle chides from the Wench.

But, he'd gotten hot chocolate and home made donuts out of the ordeal, so being in his former master's presence was almost worth it.

Munching on a crispy donut, trying to think up another insult as a chicken with odd pink feathers on her head tried to gobble up any crumbs, he nearly choked to death when the explosion occurred.

Qui-Gon stopped his work-out and turned slowly, in complete dread towards the sound. Dande jumped to her feet and gaped in horror at the black smoke billowing from what had once been Dorotea's tower.

Xanatos kicked aside the chicken and swallowed the piece of donut lodged in his throat. "Shit."

"Language please, Xani," Dande admonished.

"Shit," Da Mastah added under his breath as he reached for his shirt.

"Merde," Dande muttered as soot began to rain down on them.

*****

"My darling beloved Laure, it's raining in the corridor. Why isn't it raining in here?"

Shoving herself out of the bed and stomping towards the crowded doorway, Laure glared at everyone. "Because I disabled the damn sprinkler system in here."

Kendra gasped in shock at the very thought of going without water.

"That's very dangerous, Mrs. Commodus, and a violation of section..."

Laure rounded on the Nike guy. "You a lawyer?"

"Um, yes actually," he said, shoving his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose and clutching a pile of papers to his chest.

"I'm not very happy with lawyers at the moment, you might want to get out of my way," she replied, a threat heavily implied in her voice.

Nike guy got out of her way.

Everyone followed her as she stomped out of her suite into the hallway--in which it was no longer "raining" due to someone having the sense to shut off the sprinklers--and towards the tower.

Because, naturally, most explosions came from the Library.

*****

Dorotea coughed at the smoke and soot and sat up, blinking into the sunlight shining into her sanctum sanctorum.

"Oops."

"Dear lady, what were you attempting this time?" Pelham asked, sighing heavily.

"Um, I was trying to make the Library invisible so those freshmen would stop trying to come in and make me work."

"And that called for blowing the roof off?" He arched one perfect eyebrow at her, which made her scowl as she picked herself up and dusted herself off.

Rather futile as soot continued to fall.

"Something went wrong," she muttered, poking through the remains of the spell. "I know it was risky substituting eye of salamander for eye of newt."

The door burst open and the General burst in followed by Emmy and a very perturbed Darry.

"Dorotea, what happened?"

Darry and Emmy rolled their eyes at each other, then stepped back before the last bits of soot could fall on them.

They fell on the General's naked, sweat slicked shoulders, making him just slightly...grungy, like he'd been in battle.

"Well, that's a nice image," Darry murmured, eyeing him appreciatively.

"Don't pretend you're grateful now. That," Emmy stressed, "should not be wasted on you. Let me have your appointment," she wheedled.

Darry gave her a look of complete disbelief. "Hog."

"Bitch."

"Whatever."

Meanwhile, Dorotea was trying to come up with an excuse that didn't include any comments about avoiding work, barring freshmen from the Library, turning freshmen into things, boinking Xani...

It was quite difficult.

"It was just one of those things, my dear General," Pelham covered for her in his best lordly voice. "I keep the telephone numbers of all the best local repairmen on file in my office. The roof shall be fixed tut suite, and this mess shall be cleaned up, leaving the Library spotless for the students."

Dorotea glowered at him.

Julia popped up from behind the Nurse and began snapping photographs of the devastation, and even more of the sweaty General.

*****

Laure and her entourage arrived at the tower doors at the same time as Dande, Qui-Gon and Xanatos, with Kymira, Jen and Tara not far behind.

Seeing sweaty, dirty General exiting the room, Kendra immediately latched onto one arm and Tara the other.

"Looks like you need a bath, General," Tara said slyly.

"Hey," the Nurse yelled, stopping them in their tracks from dragging Obi-Wan to the nearest bathroom. "It's my time."

Everyone stared blankly at Darry.

"What?"

*****

"This just in, an explosion rocked the administration building early this morning, blowing the roof off the tower and covering the grounds with soot. Sources tell me that the Director of Student Affairs is personally brushing the black flecks off every remaining rose, and cursing in several languages. Further sources tell me that the General is rather sooty and sweaty at the moment, so next update later, much later. Back to your regular programming of hair bands, Sere out."

*You show us everything you've got You keep on dancing and the room gets hot You drive us wild, we'll drive you crazy You say you wanna go for a spin The party's just begun, we'll let you in*

*****

"Dorotea," Xanatos yelled, pushing his way into the remains of the Library.

"Is everything under control, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked, a slight chuckle in his voice.

"A pretty typical morning," the General replied with a nod, then turned to both of the Ho's clinging to him. "It *is* my time with Darry, now. I will see you both later about that bath." With a roguish grin, he reached for Darry's hand and led her down the hallway.

"Not. Fair," the Diva muttered.

Laure rolled her eyes.

Everyone started talking at once, and Judy--not a morning person--slammed her way out of her room wrapped in a robe, a bleary yet furious look on her face.

"Everyone out of the freakin' hall!"

As the bartender slammed the door shut behind her and retreated to bed, Emmy shrugged.

"Might as well get to work."

Dande carefully extricated her daughter's fingers from her hair. "And I have flower beds to tend."

"Since no one has been arrested, I don't think my services are needed," Da Mastah added. "And I need to find a way to get rid of our chicken problem."

"Soup?" Kymira asked a bit maliciously.

"No killing the chickens," Laure ground out, as Qui-Gon looked a bit intrigued.

"Beloved, my pond?"

Kendra swung around from watching the General's butt in a kilt disappearing down the hallway and snapped out, "*My* pond."

"I have a team of teamsters sitting around doing nothing," Arnold pointed out at the same time.

"Look, Mrs. Commodus, please make your husband understand that he can't just demand to be in a Nike commercial," added the Nike guy over the top of Arnold's comment.

"What pond," Tara asked, ditto.

And Lorne threw his two cents in. "The Mercury guys really need to talk to you."

Laure rubbed her temples. "Do I look like a freakin' mediator?"

Kymira smirked. "Not in that outfit, or lack of one, boss."

Glancing down, the former mediator realized she was barely wearing a t-shirt that barely hit her thighs. "Crap."

Julia snapped another picture.

"Die," Laure yelled very succinctly at the photographer.

"Oh, please," Julia replied, grinning, "this'll look great in the yearbook, or the front page of the paper, or both."

"Harlot," came a high pitched scream from the end of the hallway.

Everyone turned to watch Cal charging towards them, bible in his hand, face bright red.

"Cover yourself, whore of Babylon," he shouted, then shrieked as he tripped over his flip flops and fell at Laure's feet.

"You don't look Babylonian, beloved," Commo pointed out, a puzzled look on his face.

Julia snapped yet another picture as Laure kicked Cal in the head and stomped back to her rooms.

"Well, she does look kinda slutty," Tara mumbled.

"I heard that!"

*****

In the roofless tower, Xanatos was, with great consideration, helping Dorotea and Pelham wash away the soot. They didn't bother telling him that their clothing had covered the parts he was currently washing.

*****

In the cottage garden, Da Mastah was once more doing his katas, trying to find that inner peace that was so difficult to achieve at HSU. Dande sat on her swing, feeding her daughter and admiring the graceful moves of her husband, and smirking as he occasionally booted a chicken out of his way.

*****

In the rose garden, Shana was sitting beneath a peach tree, watching Lindsey diligently clean each rose petal.

"Why am I doing this again?"

"Because you love me."

"Uh huh." He gave her a wolfish grin.

"And if you're a good boy and do a good job...maybe I'll let you love me," she smirked back.

He quickened his pace, his evil hand give him lots of evil thoughts.

*****

In the General's office...well, while spying on the General is an interesting pastime, no one wants to get on the Nurse's bad side.

*****

In the Dean's office, Emmy was ordering shoes off the Internet.

*****

In the bartender's room, Judy was sound asleep again, dreaming of a nekkid Padawan.

*****

Pulling a robe over her skimpy t-shirt, Laure marched into her former office and pushed aside an amp, a soundboard, and a microphone to find her desk. She sat behind it and frowned heavily.

"One at a time," she snapped icily, pointing to the Nike guy who clearly wanted to get out of this nuthouse as fast as possible.

"Um, Mrs. Comm..."

"I'm not his wife," Laure interrupted. "But, go on."

"Um, yes, well...Mr. Commodus sent Nike corporate headquarters a fax yesterday stating his demands to be in the next television and magazine promotion, and making vague threats of taking over the company if Nike failed to comply."

"He doesn't have the money or power to take you over."

"We gathered," Nike boy replied a bit too smugly."

"However," Laure glared back, "I know someone who does. Ever heard of Offworld?"

The weasel blanched and Laure smiled. "Go back to filming your fading star, Tiger, and I'll make sure that Commodus doesn't bother you again."

"But, Laure," Commo whined, stopping at the first sign of her hand raising sharply. He scuffed his toe in the carpeting and pouted.

"Be happy with your golf course, darling," Laure soothed, accepting the papers from the Nike lawyer and shooing him out of her sight.

"Are you sure you're not a mediator?" Jen asked from her perch on the arm of the couch.

"What are you doing here?"

"Um, watching?"

Rolling her eyes, Laure gestured to Kendra. "*Your* pond?"

Kendra scowled.

"I have the General's and the Board's permission to allow Commo to build his golf course exactly where he's doing so. He's filled in the original holes and restored your waterfalls to pristine condition before moving the site of the course to the isolated western corner of the campus. You can't hog all the water."

Kendra pouted.

"That won't work with me."

"Grrr."

"Neither will that. I'm used to much bigger and nastier teeth than those. Go take down the barricades so that Mr. Palmer can finish the course."

"...Fine," Kendra conceded, still growling.

"We'll help you, Ken," Jen said, "then we'll go shopping for the protest tonight."

"Protest?"

As the upper class Ho's, minus Kymira, left the office, Laure smiled at her lover and the famous golfer. "There, that should take care of that."

"I'll go rally the teamsters."

"They're not teamsters, Mr. Palmer, they're lazy ass miners."

"You have a mine? Boy, this place is weird." Shaking his head, Arnie left the office.

Lifting Laure's hand to his lips, Commodus placed a loving kiss on the palm. "I am in your debt, my lady."

"We'll figure out a way for you to repay me," Laure smirked up at him.

As Commodus nearly skipped out of the room, he bypassed Lorne who entered dragging mister evil hand.

"I was busy," Lindsey was protesting.

"You were slaving over rose petals, dahling."

"I was going to *get* busy."

"Uh huh. Sit." Lorne shoved Lindsey into a chair and handed Laure a slip of paper. "They guy at Mercury's phone number." He sat down in the other chair.

Giving her master an innocent smile, Kymira took her place at the side of the desk, and picked up a note pad and pen. Laure frowned at her for a moment, then dialed the phone.

Five minutes later after true Ho 'tude, and Lindsey groveling a bit, Laure smiled with satisfaction at the very small compromise on her part, and hung up the phone.

"I can't help it, you know. Evil hand."

"Yeah," Laure snorted. "You might be able to convince a room full of decadent, demon worshiping lawyers of that, but I'm a Ho, which is a whole different creature."

Lindsey gave her his best lawyer face, which slowly dissolved into a grin. "My riffs were better."

"Didn't fit the song."

"They were still better," he countered as he slipped from the room.

"Good, that's all taken care of. I need to go hire a few Krellix demons to stop the protest forming outside the Cabaret," Lorne said, rising to his feet.

"Protest?" Laure asked. "Krellix demons? Don't they exude waves of peace and love, kinda like natural LSD?"

"Yep." He left and Laure shook her head.

"Are you *sure* you're not a mediator?"

The look her master gave her made Kymira dash from the room, laughing.

Laure stared blankly at her desk.

*****

Much, much later, after Laure had spent the day sitting at her desk and thinking; after the Krellix demons had averted the protest of Cal, a couple of pimple-faced Wanker boys, three drunk freshmen who thought it was a protest against the war in Babylonia, and an assortment of chickens; after a day of censoring and kilting and frolicking in water; after a day of the first golf lessons--given in groups for fear of retaliation of the 'sleeping on the couch sort--the Cabaret was rocking with Laure's final set.

As she swung and sang her encore to the cheers of the men and the subtle admiration of the Hos and Wench, Laure smiled and launched herself from her swing.

Instead of landing on the General's table like she always did, she was caught around the waist and lifted over the head of a rather short but extremely strong man.

Who winked at her, dragged her down to his level, and kissed the breath out of her before she could protest.

"Hello, luv."

End