Mr. Tam sat in a comfy armchair by the door, reading the local Osiris newspaper. Mrs. Tam sat across the room from him, nearer the fire. She was writing a letter back to Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so, thanking them dearly for the wonderful ball that they had gone to, hoping sincerly for them to come to their counter-ball, which of course would be far grander in scale, thank you very much.

Outside, it was raining hard. A courier with a stragly beard ran to the house, sheilding the letter that he held. He went under the overhang by the door, and started ringing the doorbell vigorusly. The on-duty butler, named Winston, answered it in a timely manner. The courier averted his eyes and gave him the letter, which was mostly dry. Winston gave him a stiff nod, and the courier ran back to the waiting hover car. It sped off, so as to not get any of the systems mucked up.

Winston walked with a measured pace back to the den, where the Tams were going about their chores. He handed the letter to Mr. Tam. He took it, and Winston walked off, obsorved in matters that led him to some planet where the Tams were all his servants.

The letters back was plain, except for a small note, that read, "to the Tams." He checked the flip side, and was surprised to see the Tam family crest as the wax sealer. That meant that it was a family member, or that someone wanted their attention, badly. He opened it carefully.

Inside, there was a letter, written on a scrap of parchment. It was written in long, flowing script. His sons writeing. It read thusly:

Dear Mother and Father,

It is me, Simon. I fear that we have run amiss of some disreputable types. River and I are held hostage by these brigands. They make these demands of you two: That you bring, in cash, the sum of two hundred thousand credits. If you do not concede to their wishes, we will be killed. If you contact any Feds or police forces, we will be killed. The courier with which this message was delivered was an agent of theirs, they will know