"Whoa Bessie!"

I tugged back on the Squim's reins just before running up against the boardwalk. Squims can travel awfully fast, but they can't see too well. Mostly rely on sense of smell. I climbed off, tied her up next to the trough, and made my way into the saloon.

It's hard to believe it was just 20 years ago when the Squims were first introduced. Seems like they've been around forever. Mostly I guess that's because it's hard to remember much about what things were like before. Something the Squims did to the soil. Squims weren't so big back then, either. And the whole ecology had changed along with them.

I got the invitation through the subsonic network. The Squims have an isopod body plan, and as such are always very in touch with the earth. They can then filter for subsonic messages and reproduce them pretty well through the little bristly silver hairs they're covered with.

Seemed we were finally going to do something about those bulb rustlers.

"It's been a long time, my friend."

Remi was sitting at the bar. Sporting a dashing patch over the eye that was lost back in high school. Now the leader of one of the most renowned group of Squim Rangers to ever speed the dusty trails.

"Well, the farm keeps me busy," I said.

"Ready to take care of some rustlers?" Remi asked.

"Got no choice. Without the bulbs, there's no life."

No food, no water, nothing. The bulbs were what made life possible in this dusty desert.

"You've kept in practice, on that farm of yours?" Remi asked.

"I do my share of sicing and hacking. Mostly on invasive flora and fauna," I said. "But I'll admit it's been awhile since I've been up against a humanoid."

"Well, you taught me everything I know. And we'd be honored to have you join our little posse," Remi said. "Let me introduce you to the rangers of Company X."

Remi and I barely escaped the garden with our lives. We'd just finished our Clairvoyant Geography final and headed down past the reflecting pool to kick back and chill in one of those gazebo thingies, but as we neared it...

"Remi! Watch out!!!"

The tendrils were razor barbed and quick as lightning. Remi screamed and was being pulled feet first into the undergrowth. I pulled my chakram from my backpack and flung it at the wretched vines, which neatly severed them but left them flailing and squirting out a virulent, corrosive sap, which unfortunately Remi got the worst of...

I scooped Remi up and we made it to the gazebo, but by then the plants were on to us. Massive, dark purple spathes and blood red labellums, gnashing fangs, hissing bristles and fringes. Remi was still weeping in pain from the toxic spew from the vines, but we were able to unstrap our sickle swords and fend off the fiendish flora until campus security pulled up next to the gazebo in one of their armored gardening vehicles and we were able to leap onto its roof and grab the handholds while they sped away.

Tomorrow's our final in Temporal Probability.