The Voyages of the Penelope and the Yydryl

(From Above)

Cowering like lost children in the night, Adam and Dag held their ears against
the deafening sound as Death raised his head and his cry made the very walls
of the Library shake.
James merely pulled himself into a fetal position and didn't move.

When it was over, when the dreadful bellowing faded away, the James Dean
lookalike and the girl who was unknowingly a member of a mysterious group
called 'The Sisterhood' -stared at the scene before them.
The dark remnants of Death held a light that was whiter-than-white.

"My home has been violated and a chicanery has been acted out..." a calm
-wise voice came from the brilliant light "...I am owed and I will be indemnified"
The Reaper's bony face appeared suddenly within the radiance and without
another word said, Dag walked towards the eye-aching glow.



"Our covenant is over and if you will forgive my urgency, you and your partner
should be on your way" the kindly voice stated, Death seemed at peace within
this terrible glare.

The door... a small door built for someone who would enjoy not hitting his head
on the four-foot high frame -waited just behind the lecturn, both Adam and Dag
would swear it hadn't been there moments ago.
"There's a cavern beyond and a craft that will take you back to your reality... go
now" Death said wearily and turned back to the prone sobbing human behind
him.



Crouching low and grunting in their exertions, the pair crawled into the small
darkness that waited there.
"What about him?" Adam called with his hand on the door, he was hesitant on
whether to close it behind them.

The white light was fading now and Death's pale skull could be seen staring
down at the man who had dared to take his place.
"Oh don't worry about Jim-boy here... he's going on a vacation, he needs
some time off" rasped the tall harbinger of misery.
Adam creased the brow of his new identity's face and silently asked the question
'where?'

A long-bony finger emerged from beneath the coarse fabric that danced with
Witch runes and vampire tales and pointed downwards.
"Due South" Death answered wickedly.

* ~ * Back on Ship * ~ *

‘So there isn’t an emergency?’ Jeni yelled hands over her ears trying to block the wail of the siren she’d yet to be able to disengage.

‘No, it’s...me.’ Ship answered her voice heightened but controlled. ‘I was manipulating my parameters and the alarm went off.’

The sirens stopped, the deck fell silent punctuated by a small chuckle. Moriah stood at the second officer’s console her fingers just raising from whatever buttons she’s pushed to cancel the siren.

‘Sorry. Partly my fault. I’ve been tweaking the security system and thought...’ Moriah’s face changed when Jeni gave her a scowl.

‘What? Don’t look at me like that. Since that Deson guy died? Nothing’s been updated. The security holes are huge. We could have a freakin’ Ophi warship land in the bays without so much as a warning.’ Moriah’s threw her shoulders back and stood tall.

‘Ok. Youz and me, we fix dis den. Now.’ Quick on the uptake Chumley was ready to correct the problem. Taking Moriah by the shoulder Chumley tried to steer her off the command deck but Moriah wouldn’t budge.

‘Hands off big guy I want to hear from Ship.’ Moriah refused to be moved.

‘Job well done second in command to Security Moriah. Please continue with Officer Chumley.’ Ship gave the girl kudos and turned silent as they felt if not heard Ship leave the deck.

‘Thank you Ship!‘ A squeal of delight and a shared high five with Chumley, Moriah was ready to go.


‘Wait a sec.’ Jeni stopped her. ‘You’re telling we’re here, above that planet,’ Jeni’s face tightened pointing to the big screen to the front of the deck, ‘the same planet that’s been hostile towards us once before and we’re without any intact security system?’

‘Now you’re getting it.’ Moriah’s face darkened. Hearing her sister confirm what she already knew was disturbing.

‘Why in the hell didn’t you tell me before?’ Jeni’s mouth dropped open.

‘Oh please,‘ she snorted, ‘with you all weepy and sniveling? I’d rather handle it myself.’ Her jaw set at a stubborn angle Moriah’s hands went to her slim hips Ship’s uniform accentuating her boyish form.

‘I’ve been...wallowing haven’t I?’ Jeni had the grace to flush.

‘Yep and you’re time’s up.’ Moriah’s eyes softened but she didn’t offer sympathy, only truth.

‘When did you grow so wise?’ Jeni smiled wanly.

‘Must run in the family.’ Moriah gave her sister a quick squeeze and dragging Chumley by the hand made off down the hallway the echo of her voice a rat-a-tat of instructions and information.

‘She’s a good girl...young woman that is’ Ship called softly.

‘Ship!’ Jeni startled, ‘I didn’t realize you were still here.’ Her heart thumped hard under the hand lay over her chest.

‘No Jeni.’ Ship paused, ’No one did.’

..........................~I'm Not Mary Poppins~..........................

The Splitter Listens

The midnight hour called from across the rooftops as The Splitter lifted
his head from the deep cogitation and pondered the irony of the timely
reminder, it was getting late.

The child would be safe here, the strange infant with the mop of black
hair and beaming smile now rested within the brick-built house at the
end of the avenue.
The Great War was over and this world could rest awhile before it's
next foray into self destruction.
Safe... for now.

The rain came again and The Splitter hunkered down on the window
ledge, the light from the high-ceiling room found a sad-smooth face
looking in with faraway eyes.
Maybe the kid would grow to follow the destiny that it's Father had
been waylaid from, maybe this time it would succeed.

He was so small and yet he held so much trust in the world around
him. Born in a place where madness, distrust and misery are
commonplace.
What power slumbers within that pink body The Splitter mused as he
had placed the pudgy infant onto the dark hassocks near the
embered-fire.
Safe and warm.



Though a well-to-do soiree ensued in the downstairs rooms with well
-dressed gentlemen in starched fronts and elegant ladies with a flair
of haute couture, upstairs the hosts of the quiet function were staring
with wide-eyes at the small nestling that snoozed under the dark-red
blanket that had mysteriously appeared from the linen closet.

The paisley-patterned cushions from a sofa stored in the attic, now
protected the slumbering package on the bedroom floor and the man
in the tuxedo wondered momentarily of how the plump-pillows had
made their way from the locked loft.
A mousy-faced maid waited at the softly-lit bedroom door.

With water droplets mixing with tears, The Splitter sighed out into
London street and contemplated the many futures ahead.
Maybe Death will pass by without noticing the swaddled-issue of
his only love -the Time Mechanic reflected and felt the need to leave.

The human male was called Nigel and the lady with the small smile
and the talc-smelling hands that wished to hold the baby -was called
Emily.
The child of Boy In A Dress and the late-Pandora remained nameless.

A late-night carriage trundled by below and the thick-moustached
driver was whistling a tune about travelling southwards. The Splitter
tracked the passing with narrowed eyes and yet, his heart was open.
The child would save the day.

Dismal weather sat over the smoky-streets of the capital and yet,
a renewed sense of optimisim accompanied the taciturn creature
on the window ledge.

"So now you know..." came a soft voice "...now you know where
Pandora hid her secret" and the tone was touched with care and love.
The Splitter spun around on the narrow ledge and saw the slender
figure with the soot-smudged face and bent chimney brush in hand.
"Good evening Guvn'er" the young boy said and lifted a dusty cap
in his greeting.

The chimney-sweep was around twelve years-old and offered a
smile that showed a white row of teeth, his eyes shone like new
pennies.
"And so you too, the great Splitter has become part of that secret"
the lad whispered and the Time-Mechanic realised that within those
young eyes, a wisdom resided that betrayed the being's youth.
It was Jenovah.

"Ah, you saw through my disguise..." Jenovah sighed and glanced
into the window pane behind the Splitter "...may I call you by your
true name?"
The grey-being with eyes that would rival the boy before him nodded
without a word, this was the first time he had met the legend, the God
from all the stories.
The Vithian Council would have kittens!

"I thank you Yeneth, I would be pleased if you did not mention our
meeting here on such a chilly night... The Council do not need to know"
Jenovah said softly and then crouched to match in stature the wary
Time Mechanic on the ledge.
"We have many things to discuss if the plan is to succeed, may I?"
God said pleasantly and took the cold-small hand of The Splitter.

Like the London fog of olde, the two figures standing on the Edwardian
window ledge rolled away into what was left of the Witching Time.
If The Splitter had looked up into the rain-clouded night sky and squinted
those big shiny eyes, he'd have seen birds circling.



Birds circling at such an unsual hour, strange huh?

* ~ * Nick a Time * ~ *

‘Flint!’ Argus bellowed across the camp wondering where the boy had run off to and just when he needed him most. Stomping through the smoldering char of an unattended cooking fire Argus swore and dipped his face into his shoulder using his shirt to wipe sweat, blood and now sooty ash from his eyes.

‘Flint’s busy.‘ A familiar voice dripping angst hissed from the evening shadows. ‘Now boy, what have you got there?’ The queen stepped from the healing hut facing Argus straight on. This was not the time he wanted an audience with his Mother but he’d need her help for the injured man and it wasn’t as if he could avoid her.

‘I was out hunting and...’ Argus swallowed hard feeling about 12 again. Dipping low through the entrance of the hut he hefted the unconscious man from over his shoulder onto the healing shelf where the girl had lain. ‘...and it doesn’t matter how I found him! When I did he was about 10 seconds from death,’ Argus rolled his shoulders freed from it’s burden, ’Which means Mother dear, he needs your help more than mine.’

‘And you just had to bring him home with you?’ Mag snorted as if he hadn‘t spoken. ‘Hmmmm, here I thought you’d been broken of such unhealthy habits long ago.‘ Following on his heels Mag waved away the dark lighting tapers, drawing water gathering her elixirs and balms.

‘What did this to him?’ Mag adjusted a small mirror doubling the illumination of the candles strategically placed at the bipeds head. Grimacing she used her sickle knife to cut most of the fabric from around the man’s wounded arm pulling free pieces of his shirt entangled in the raw torn flesh. The wound began bleeding anew. It couldn’t be helped.

‘One a those bugs. The damned thing was size of a bull.‘ Argus turned away from sight of blood dripping freely from the table to soak into the dirt floor.

‘It must have been quite the specimen to have done this much damage.’ She replied without taking her focus from her work.

Argus waited until Mag moved to change the cleaning water before asking, ‘Where’s Flint got himself off to? I’ll need his help bringing the carcass back,’ Argus sucked air through his front teeth whistling, ’there’s enough red meat on that thing to feed Quiet and the girl for days.’ Argus blinked his eyebrows dipping over his nose. It was the first time he’d thought of Violet since...

‘Wait. Where’s the girl!’ Argus’s spun back and forth looking for what he’d just realized was gone, his heart rising in his throat, and eyes.

‘Both Flint and the girl are with your brother.’ Mag startled feeling the rush of air swirling behind him as he left. Waiting for the candle flames to settle before continuing she closed her eyes in silent prayer.


‘Jenovah help us if the boy’s not bringing home half dead strays he’s falling in love with them...’

Now it was her turn to swear. At her sons. both of them. This planet from hell where they’d been marooned. Another three mouths to feed if she counted the Zang cat. At the mangled mess of tissue which should have been intact and healthy quivering under her probing fingers.

The Neno...

It was then the biped turned, opened his eyes to cry out in agony his face red with effort falling away into a putrid bloodless gray.

‘Silo.’ He moaned his eyes rolling back in his head taking him far from the pain and trauma into unconsciousness.

Mag’s hand froze over the wounds her brows narrowed, her head cocked at an angle as if listening for something. Righting herself Mag returned to doing what little she could for the damaged life form hoping for his own good he’d not wake again until she was through, if he woke again at all.

........................*Flicking Through The Pages*..........................

Boy In A Dress breathed in deeply and the musty scent from the
ancient books brought images across his drowsing mind, images
from another time and place.
The world of Khalamzadar IV had been once full of hope and
challenge, the residents believed they would change their planet
into something they could control and be proud of.
A place under their reins.

But in many -if not all of the worlds colonised by senient beings,
there are places of strange... there are 'pockets' of odd.
The planet Earth had held areas that smacked of ghosts and goblins.
BIAD had read on a medium called 'the internet' of triangles of land
and water that seemed to swallow-up craft and people, there were
allegedly secluded places where magic and mystery rubbed against
reality.

Sighing in the silence, the Man/Girl placed a long-nailed finger on the
paragraph he was reading and wondered about the superstitions of
the early dwellers of Khalamzadar IV.
The settlers would have moved in and with firmly set jaws, they would
attempt to carve the land in a fashion to suit their needs.

The volumes of text held fascinating accounts of day-to-day life
of the denizens of the forested world above, some of the words called
for Boy In A Dress to cross reference with other books to discover
what the authors actually indicated.
The long-fringed reader now knew that 'Camvion' meant 'carriage'
and 'Troover' stood for 'port -or harbour'

The lantern dimmed as Bisley Deeps electrical power switched for
another night underground, BIAD's eternal smile twitched as he
mused on the weird corners of the universe where 'normal' rarely
visited.
This vast planet that Nenothtu now owned seemed to hold such
places, plots of land where uncanny deeds were played out.

The Euzkalians had undoubtedly attempted to control and phase-out
these areas, with actions and words of maturity, sensible acts in the
light of day. The Zombie Plague would have been certainly blamed by
some to be a retaliation for the endeavours and in the ensuing
pandemonium, the tracts of the bizarre happenings would have been
forgotten.
Khalamzadar IV had successfully kept it's secrets.

Bisley Deeps became quieter as the so-called 'evening' arrived and
the many flame-like lanterns around the town lowered to give the place
a settled feel. BIAD rubbed his chin and after glancing out of the spider
-webbed window, he went back to reading the old words.

... For sure, we were certain that the goings-on at the small hamlet
were boisterous merrymaking by the youngsters who were known to
visit the residents windows in the evening.
The giggling boys and girls would knock on the glass and run away,
a bothersome prank to wile away the quiet setting of the sun.

Magistrate Indigo Bloom later stated that he felt that the strange
events surrounding New Salem were possibly derived from the
children's mischief and what actually occurred at site known as
'The Sister's Pines' were exaggerated by bored imaginations and
the lack of reading the Good Book.

BIAD tapped the page where the small illustration showed a sleepy
village surrounded by tall stark trees. The familiar jungle foilage had
changed to a more weather-changing deciduous flora.
New Salem was North of here -the Man/Girl thought and by the
lines of the drawing, he reckoned it was coastal as well.



The hermaphrodite read on.

When it was agreed to ask for a Minister to be brought to the
Dudley house, the knockings, bangings and faint voices became
more frequent.
Gideon Dudley reported that he observed bright orb-lights dance
across the eaves of his home and twice, his daughters heard a
whispering coming from the toy box in their room.
We'll take it that the residing Teddy Bear held no perils.

The Reverend Silus Caut arrived during a display of the 'Ghost
Globes' cavorting across the shingled-roof of Mr. Dudley's residence
and at once, began to recite passages from The Testaments, the
spluttering orbs disappeared at once and the evening continued
uneventful.

Was it mould-infested bread rearing it's head again...? Was it
madness through solitude and the reading of soul-scaring books?
BIAD offered the glowing lamp beside him a set-mouth of doubt as
he pondered what had happened in a town named after another
community of a similar name on a faraway world.
"As above so below" he whispered to the same illumination.

... Was ordered to cut the trees down and burn the wood on
consecrated ground. With the Reverend Caut and seniors of the
village looking on, the men commenced with their labour.

The men who hacked at the sappy-bark had recently arrived from
Tamma, their three-mast tully waited for supplies at Carver's Troover
and the stevedores had also been avid to replenish their pockets
with coins for the hostels and 'Jenny Homes' huddled along the
coastline.

The Bisley Deeps town clock chimed eight bells as Boy In A Dress
looked up from his readings, a lost moth bumped and tapped on
the lead-lined window of the Reading Room and the promise of
a long-forgotten memory threatened to distract the grinning creature
sitting in the dim light.

"Go away Gadget" BIAD murmered and immediately felt the hairs
on the nape of his neck rise up, he had no idea why he had said the
words and with a shake of the black-tressed head, he went back to
reading the old book.

* ~ * Rendezvous * ~ *

‘If you take a moment to collect yourself Argus, you’ll appreciate the impossibility of your...request.’

Argus saw red. Not his mentor, his friend, his nemesis. Just red.

The being blocking the doorway of the hut met Argus eye to eye. His voice, soft and dark as a shadow held the weight and steel of righteousness, far from affectation. Dressed in his Mother’s colors, a palace gray matching his hair and offering a striking contrast to his burnished skin Pax hadn‘t changed since Argus had seen him last.

‘Get out of my way.’ Argus ground the words through teeth clenched trap like, fists curled and aching to wring some neck. Lily was in the hut with his brother. Argus didn’t like it. What he liked even less? The only one between him and the girl? Pax, here and now, unexpected, unwanted and who’s talent for disinterest in Argus’s temper spun a long story trailing back through their childhood.

‘Go heathen as you’d like,’ Pax sighed, dropping his eyes to the point of his knife rooting the underside of the pearly half shells of his fingernails, ‘Orders are orders. You’ll not be going past me.’ Looking up the Cul’s two colored eyes blinked independently an act that had turned Argus to shudders since he was a boy. Which was exactly Pax’s intent.

Argus gave a snort of disgusted admiration. Anger, threats, it was all wasted on the Cul. He’d been in the Queen’s service for decades, his dedication and devotion legendary. Killing Pax was out of the question even if he could have, which he doubted. Pax was the only one he knew who not only topped his height and outweighed him but outthought him. The mix a disadvantage in any conflict.

Argus ran his fingers through his fiery hair in compliance and gave ground. ‘When’d you get here anyway?’ His eyes twinkled. Head butting over, testosterone vented? Argus had to admit he was relieved to see the Cul. It meant they could all go home.

Pax’s answering smile was blinding. In a greeting as old as their age the two clapped arms their grips simultaneously sliding up the others forearm their hands closing over identical gold bands worn just below the elbow where they paused, grips tightening. A small vibration of recognition thrilled through the metal each band functioning as a security device as well as a mark of rank and adornment.

‘I only just arrived. So recently I’ve yet to greet your Mother.’ Pax eyes searched the makeshift compound, taking it all in.

‘We’ve been living a bit rustic as you can see.‘ Argus was proud of their survival camp though he‘d not admit it. ‘Can’t wait to get back home though.’ Argus snuffed, ‘This place is a bloody menace.’

‘Who's in there with your brother?‘ Pax tipped his graying head towards the hut. Quiet ordered him only to keep everyone out not to stop from asking why.

‘A...girl.’ Argus hoped the hot stain wicking up his chest to flame in his cheeks wasn’t too obvious.

‘Argus, you’re still a beast.‘ He snorted, ‘I should have known without asking.’ Pax’s laugh, as infectious as ever caught under Argus’s breastbone. Argus swallowed it down like a pocket of indigestion.

‘Just take a look and tell me if she’s ok?’ Argus frowned. ‘It’s important.’

‘A girl? Important to you?’ He mocked, ’This is getting interesting.’ Pax’s eyebrows rose and fell dramatically. The laugh trapped in Argus’s chest released with a grunt.

‘Give off. I mean what I say. This is important.‘ Argus growled. Something in his bearing gave his friend pause.

‘And how will I know this...paragon?’ Despite his teasing the tension between them thickened leaving Pax unsure if he wanted to know the answer.

‘Her hair. You’ll know her by her hair. It’s...’ Argus paled the thin skin around his eyes grew white and taunt. Once he told Pax he couldn’t take the words back. It would all begin. ‘Pax, her hair is purple.’ His voice dropped, his eyes on the ground.

Pax blinked, a glint of disbelief springing from behind his lids. They’d all heard the legend. The girl with the purple hair who’d lead them to...

Pax let the thought go. Now he understood why Argus had thought twice and then again about killing him to get past and into the hut. And why Quiet wouldn’t allow him into his quarters but stationed him at it’s door with an order to guard it.

Twisting his head around Pax leaned into the doorway pushing the door flap a fraction of an inch to the side. ‘You say her hair is..?’ He asked in a whisper.

Argus held his breath then ejaculated. ‘Violet...‘

Pax turned back his face grave. ‘Like an old bruise?’

‘Yes,’ Argus replied, the muscles at the corner of his jaw set to jumping, ’...like an old bruise.’

* ~ * Reunited * ~ *

‘Argus!’ Mag’s voice reached them before she did causing both men to jump. Rounding the hut the Queen slid to a stop just short of bumping into them. Pax’s hand shot out to steady her his fingers stopping only inches from her gown.

‘Pax!’ Shocked, her composure slipped for an instant. ‘It‘s good to...see you.’ Her voice wavered and grew strong.

With unfeigned reverence Pax dropped at the waist in a deep bow - and held it. Eyes down he offered his arm to exchange with Mag the like salutation he had with Argus. Mechanically, hands clasped on wrists slid up to tighten over the others armband, his smooth under her palm, hers rough with jewels.

As quickly as he felt the familiar thrum of recognition Pax released his hold, his arm dropping heavy to his side. The Queen’s arm hung for a moment in the air a look of scorn brightening her eyes before she spun to Argus. Her surprise, her pleasure even at discovering Pax back among them turned to anger laced with bitter disappointment.

‘Argus. I’m quite aware the timing of my interruption is...delicate.’ The Queen snarled sweetly, her lips making a smile that was not a smile, ’but I need you. Now. The healing hut.’ Mag turned her robes billowing. ‘Wait here Pax. I’ll send for you later.’ Mag didn‘t bother looking back. She knew she‘d been heard, she knew she‘d be obeyed.

‘Ahh hell, here we go.‘ Argus whispered sourly running his fingers through his hair. ‘When will you two kiss and make up.’

‘Not now Argus.‘ Pax’s tone had gone flat.

With less patience than he might otherwise have given Argus zeroed back on point his eyes speaking legends. ‘Pax. I’ll return as soon as I can. Please, stay close and don’t let anything happen to Lily.’ Argus pled his throat going dry.

Internally Pax experienced the shock of dread, the girl’s name falling so easily from Argus‘s lips. Externally his response was military, his eyes pinned straight ahead, his nod of acceptance curt.

‘Send Flint for me if you need me.’ Argus knocked his chin to his shoulder breathing deeply. The crushing bands of stress crisscrossing his chest lessening their grip. Pax watching over Lily felt good, it felt right, like it was meant to be. Argus stopped, squeezed his friend’s shoulder in a singular display of support and thanks, then left.

If he had to leave the girl under anyone’s care none would or could do more to keep her safe than Pax. Argus knew it.

..........................*Dum-De-Dum-De Dum*.........................

...And what did they determine from these findings?
What lofty notions did the Elders and Constabulary arrive at to make
sure that New Salem was never again visited by such ethereal
beings of the dark?

The tales that were told in that quiet hamlet brought deep musings
from me as I left that part of my country and with bruised coloured
images of demons and other realms of existence in my thoughts,
I travelled inland towards the lush forests and jungles...

Boy In A Dress traced the faint lettering with a long red nail and
contemplated Rebo's questions. New Salem had been through a lot.
Crazy lights and weird noises, a court hearing where a hunched-
creature with wild hair had appeared.
A stark warning that Khalamzadar IV would rid itself of it's human
residence and as the monster put it:
'...Like fleas from a cur's hide, yer'll be scratched off this place
and the fur will grow back!'

When the strange females had appeared near the remains of what
the New Salem residents called 'The Sister's Pines' there had been
some sort of explosion, some sort of destruction and the Man/Girl
was disappointed that Rebo hadn't elaborated on this final act.
Who were these women? Were they from another village or maybe,
from somewhere further?



BIAD pushed his bottom lip over his top one and wondered what
it all meant. Tibbs would know he wagered and nodded to nobody
that he must remember to ask him later.
He read on.

...................................

'All systems showing optimum status and all Batch Processes executed'
The Yydryl confirmed among her many thought-conduits. She'd been
idling above Nenothtu's planet for some time now and the Ship had
used this opportunity to catch-up with the many of the more 'mundane'
duties that were required.





Repairs to a grazed manifold above the two-mile high Cooling Towers
were under way, a small squadron of Hover-Bots were busying
themselves under the leadership of the inept Tik-Tok.
Passing micro-asteroids had been the cause and Ship was monitoring
the procedure.

There were trace-scents of Tutintine in the area of The Droid Repair Bay,
but The Yydryl knew that Drake was running some tests on a strange
mould-like substance that three Maintenance Droids had discovered
down in the redundant Holding Bays over in the Supplies Sector.



The Holo-Theatre was having it's annual overall and numerous
Jano-Lamps had been damaged on the way out to K2. Ship made no
comment to whom the culprit may have been as Drake's crew went
about replacing them.
Vandal indeed.

Bernard V was back at his station and via the Inspection cameras,
Ship could see the small plodding automaton going about his business
among the thousands of pipes and cables that lay in the underbelly of
the massive craft.
The Yydryl pondered amongst her massive data-banks about the little
droid and his latest adventure with his friend, Valve Twenty Three of
The Foundry.



What was Bernard thinking right now?
Was the one-armed drain repairer aware of his role in the zombie attack
of Bisley Deeps? Scanning the Inspec-Cam left, Ship watched Bernard
tap on an eight foot-high sewer carrier-connection and then move off
into the shadows.

The rescued workers from the drilling rigs had been examined for any
injuries during their ordeal of the underground fighting and with
assistance of one the Tumblers, taken back to Bisley Deeps.
Ship assumed they would await orders from the late-Kershner's
company and take their skills elsewhere.

One of the Serv-Cams near to where the three M-droids had been
operating -was playing-up. The Holding Bays had been rarely used
there and Ship had sent them in to get the equipment back-up-to-speed.
M-Droid 4118 had been dispatched to take care of the problem.









Just another day of mundane duties and hopefully, another one was
just around the corner.

( To be continued)

* ~ * Where oh Where? * ~ *

Like a smaller animal puffing itself up when caught in the presence of a larger Flint’s nose flared, his eyes widened, he stood erect his shoulders squared. That huge dark shape coming at him through the rain? That was Argus. Only an hour ago all Flint had wanted was to pour out his heart to the big man. Now? He dreaded him.

In a fit of rage Queen Mag had ordered Flint not to allow anyone in or out of Quiet’s hut. Only Flint knew ‘anyone’ meant Argus and Violet - or - ‘that girl‘ as Mag called her while in a heated argument with Pax. The same argument that landed Flint on guard duty for what he feared was the rest of his miserable existence.

Overloaded with mantis meat and hearing voices raised in anger Flint had paused to catch his breath outside the healing hut. Wrong place, wrong time Argus would have told him and he’d of been right.

Blinded by tears and rage Mag burst from the shelter nearly running Flint down. Embarrassed and unable to avoid the boy she’d focused her fury on the innocent blaming Flint of disloyalty, of eavesdropping. Undeserved and unjust the accusations wounded deep.

Flint’s eyes welled up as a fat drop of rain leaked beneath the back of his collar a sluice of melted ice trailing it down the length of his spine. Shivering Flint sank his teeth into the tip of his tongue to keep them from chattering. The last thing he wanted was Argus misreading a symptom of the cold - for fear.

‘You look done in lad.’ Argus lifted his cupped hands to his face blowing steam off a mug of broth smelling good if only for it’s warmth. Flint salivated, swallowed and did a good job keeping his eyes off the cup for all of about three seconds.

‘What’s you got there Argus, sir’ Flint licked his lips free from rain salted with sweat.

‘Well let’s see. It’s got something green in it and...’ Argus poked a dirty finger into the wooden cup making Flint grimace. ‘I dunno what else but it doesn’t matter.’ Argus put his finger to his mouth sucking clean the juice with a loud smack of his lips. ’It’s not for you boy. Mag sent it for Quiet.’ Argus watched the boys face fall and felt small for all his planning.

‘Cheer up boy.’ Argus cajoled, his own voice grating on his ears, ’Take it inside and if ya hurry back I’ll see if I can get you some too.’ Argus winked causing one hairy brow to ride up under his hairline taking refuge from the rain.

Confident Argus wasn’t set to ambush him Flint grabbed the cup and ducked into the hut closing the hide flap before Argus had a chance to peak inside.

Reemerging moments later Flint didn’t ask but his eyes were expectant. Argus made a point of sighing, snapped up he empty mug and tromped back through the dark and rain. His return was slow to coming but the boy didn’t care, that Argus had come back was enough.

‘Ya know Flint, I did. I brought you back some soup.’ Argus’s voice dropped as if to relay confidence, ’...but I did it to...bribe you.’ Argus jerked his hand up for silence sending a wave of steaming broth crashing over the lip of the cup. I was going to bribe you to let me pass but seeing you standing there soooo...guard like,‘ Argus winced and gave himself a mental punch, ‘Seeing you standing there I’m feeling right sorrowful for thinking you would have succumbed.’ The big man all but hung his head.

‘It’s ok Argus.’ Flint chirped automatically, ‘It’s ok.‘ Flint’s chest tighten with something like pain but let it go. It wasn‘t ok but he’d think over what his hero said later when he was warm and dry. Right then all he wanted was hot soup.

Grabbing for the small meal Flint gargled a ‘Thank you’ around the hot liquid his face reddening with the heat of it.

Argus watched closely. He didn’t have long to wait.

‘Give me the cup before you drop it lad‘ Argus ordered gently without meeting the boys eyes which were already owl round and glazing over. A spurt of fear seared through the man’s gut. He’d spilled some of the soup on purpose fearing he’d added too much of Quiet’s ‘medicine’ to the broth. Cursing a silent prayer Argus begged heaven the boy hadn’t drank too much.

‘Not...fair...Sir‘ Flint slurred, his sad eyes rolling back in his head as his bones turned liquid under his skin. Argus caught him before he hit the muddy ground.

Disgusted at himself for deceiving the boy Argus rationalized it didn’t matter, Flint would happily forgive him once he woke to find Argus had not left him behind with Pax and the Queen. What mattered now was wherever Argus was going? Flint and the girl were going with him.

....................~Forgotten Files~....................

19th July 1947.
Personal Notes.

We're proceeding with the interview today and as the Director commented,
'that's one stuff-skinned broad who ain't gonna give much away'
The female in question is proving to be reluctant to produce answers to
our questions.

The security are just changing shifts and from the small hole I've scraped
out on the blacked-out windows, I can see that the sun is setting and another
evening of cruelty awaits.

The crashed vehicle is now stored in the far hanger here in the base and I
spoke to Dr.********* yesterday about it's flight panels or should I say, lack of
them.
It's a wonder to behold, the outer material seems to made of a metal-like
fabric that changes shape when in light or shade. the 'Main Deck' holds
four small seats and there isn't any apparant windows.
We managed to pull the finger displays yesterday and without any wiring
or fixings, we're stumped as to what they do. Maybe the craft moves with
thought control just as Gerald Light said.

The remains of the crew that perished will be examined tomorrow by
Professor ****** and his people, the injured EBE is in critical condition and
I fear for it's future.
The female is healthy and is in Room 3.



The Security is back on alert after General Ramey advised that it would
be prudent to expect some sort of rescue mission from the EBs.
The Guard at my door mentioned that lights had been observed over to
the west again and so everyone is a little nervous.

I'll add to these notes after tonight's interview with our 'guest'
--------------------------

Agent Carling began his interview with the female with the usual questions.
Why are you here? Where are you from? -that sort of thing and the stoic-faced
alien sitting across the table from him answered with her familair silence.

I left a few minutes later when the interview moved into a more physical
nature and I only hope that her brethren won't perceive that all Earth people
act in such a barbaric manner.
As I type this, I can see that the consultation must have been too much for the
poor creature as two guards have just passed my office with the bleeding alien
between them. Dragged may be a better word.
God damn them.



--------------------------

Well I've broken protocol and I don't care, the naked being that is slumped in
Holding Cell B deserves better than the behaviour of the Director's minions
and so -with the aid of my Door Sentry, I offered an olive branch.

When I first arrived at the Base, there was a strange English man that used
to take out the trash and clean the place... that sort of thing.
I can't recall his name, but he used to always come into my office in the
early morning, hang his grubby-looking poncho on my coat stand and set
about his chores.

He left a couple of weeks ago and the dark-green apparel still resides on it's
hook. Until tonight.
Tonight, the bruised and battered off-world foreigner now sports that poncho
and to hell with the military and it's secrets.

The odd thing was that as I placed the clothing down beside the weak and
wheezing being, I spied a small photograph sticking out from an inside
pocket of the poncho.
I'm at a loss at what to think of it, so I'll add it to these notes.



The base's alarms have just started blaring out, so it may be that something
is happening.
I'll try to write more when I'm allowed back into my office.

Nenothtu took off his broad-brimmed hat and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. The sweat smeared rather than being wiped off. This whole jungle was like swimming in air. He'd gotten tired of hacking at brush, and had lately taken to picking the easiest path - if one could be seen at all - without brush-busting. He thumbed the button on his earpiece and said "Margo - is there anything creeping up on me at the moment that I ought to know about? Anything out in the woods anywhere near?" He didn't have to add "like a comatose Silo" - Margo already knew what he was looking for.

The earpiece crackled a bit - doubtless made by the lowest bidder - and Margo's voice came over it saying "nothing of any size nearby. There is some sort of settlement several miles to the east, and a single green dot on top of a clff several hundred meters to the southwest, but nothing dangerous that I can see anywhere near."

Neno settled the hat back onto his head and commented "for a deserted planet, this sure is turning out to have a lot of .. people... and whatnots on it." It momentarily slipped his mind that the green dot had to be Sslar, as the computer had been programmed to represent her that way. He moved on through the jungle, picking his way along the path of least resistance he could find. Within a couple of hundred meters, neno noticed the mists of the jungle getting thicker, which was bass ackwards. The day was getting hotter, not colder, and the mists should be evaporating and dissipating, not thickening up as they were. Then, fairly suddenly, they cleared out and were behind him... but there was a WALL of what appeared to be more mist ahead of him. A swirling, roiling, solid appearing wall of mist. He looked up, but lost the top edge of the mists in the triple canopy treetops.

"Margo - I've run up agin' a thick mist. Nothin' good ever comes out of mists when I find 'em. Can you see it from up there? I need to know how to get around it."

"Yes, I can... it seems to have just developed in the past few minutes. It stretches as far as I can see to the northeast, and curves around sort of, stretching as far as I can see to the northwest, as well."

"Look fer a clear spot to set down so you can pick me up then. We'll fly OVER the damned thing. I ain't got no urge to traipse through it."

"No can do, chief. it goes as high as I can see, too. We'll have to achieve orbit to get over it, and there is no telling what might be IN it. Sensors read like there is nothing there at all."

"Stop calling me 'chief'. I ain't nobody's chief no more" neno responded, irritated more at the situation than at Margo's choice of words.

"Ok, Lieutenant Commander." Margot replied.

"STOP THAT, DAMMIT" neno huffed out, irritated still. "Jus' 'cause I got a piece of paper in the bottom of that drawer doesn't mean I still have the title!"

"You're still a UEF LC, neno - you just get to add 'ret.' after it now." Margo had too much fun arguing with him sometimes.

"Yeah, well, whatever, woman! We ain't got time to jump into orbit and laze around looking for the other side. I'm just gonna go through it and find out what's on the other side. Silo might be there, and the way my luck runs, that's 'zactly where she'll be! You'll have to plow through, too. I don't want to find myself in a jam with no air support."

Several hundred yards away, Sslar's ears perked up. Her pet human was so weird some times, always charging off into things that couldn't be good for him. This time she happened to know it would be a waste, since Silo was in the refugee camp, not inside the wall of mist at all. Charging off into things that aren't good for you is one thing, doing it needlessly took that to a whole new level, however. "No nenothtu! Silo isn't there! She's recuperating in a refugee camp!" Sslar beamed the thought at neno, telepathically warning him not to take the plunge. Sslar watched as neno merely cocked his head as if a fly had buzzed by him, then started striding towards the wall of roiling mist.

"NO NENOTHTU! BAD HUMAN! Don't go in there!" Neno stopped and cocked his head again, then started for the wall once more. "DAMMIT!" Sslar thought. Whatever that "medicine" Mag had given her was, it hadn't broken the bond between her and neno as Mag had thought, but it HAD severed the telepathic connection. Sslar couldn't talk to neno any more. He couldn't hear her.

DAMMIT! Sslar was instant on her feet, racing towards neno to stop him from entering the mists. She didn't make it. Bounding along, Sslar dove into the wall of mist an instant after neno had, and an instant before Margo in the Starwolf did. There was a tingling sensation, a buzz in the ears, a slight disoriented feeling as she dove through the mist after nenothtu, and then... no mist at all, just neno and the Starwolf overhead...

... and no jungle, either.

There were large meadows, and forest covered hillsides - normal forest, rather than the jungle they had just left behind - and straight ahead, a giant, pyramid-shaped edifice. Looking behind her, Sslar noted that there was no wall of mist where it had been an instant before. Just more of the same that was ahead, forest and meadows, to the rear.

It looked to Sslar like there was no way back, so she bounded up to neno's side, to see what lay ahead for them.

* ~ * Truth and Consequences * ~ *

Her breath coming slow and shallow Mag hesitated then lay her bracelet just aside the vessels portal - metal meeting metal. The sleek warm opaque shell of the cargo ship hummed in recognition, the door slid open and Mag stepped into the vast hold of the ship looking so much larger and emptier than it had from the outside.

‘May I come in?’ Her voice soft and not without emotion echoed twice before melding into the lonely gloom of the bay.

‘You’re already in.’ Pax whispered to the monitor thrumming under his fingers. He’d seen Mag approach the cargo ship after the onboard security system alerted him to her presence. But it was no surprise. He knew she‘d come. After he’d caught her telling all to that thing in her healing hut, after their subsequent fight exposed by the eavesdropping Flint? He’d no doubt she’d find him out. Pax snorted. It had always been thus. Mag had been searching for him since she could barely crawl.

Shaking free her veil and heavy cloak beaded with rain droplets Mag startled when a small droid raced to clean up the damp mess. The mechanical slave wasn’t the only thing coursing the expanse of the hold. Pax trotted easily towards her casting a long shadow in the low lights glowing a soft translucent blue. She didn’t wait for him to reach her side but sent her voice to greet him.

‘I’m not here to ask for forgiveness,’ She chuckled mirthlessly, ’but please know, I am sorry.’ Mag arranged herself, folded and held her forearms close under her breasts waiting for him to reach her side.

Pax dropped down from a trot using the last few meters separating them to compose himself. Regardless, his anger and unease flourished when she struck her eyes at him defiantly. It has always been so.

‘You’re sorry? Sorry for what? For loosing your tongue to that thing? Pax held up his hand, fingers long their nails well kept, ‘For breaking troth in telling another your history, our history.’ His brows lifted, the corners of his mouth dropped. ‘Or for something else entirely?’

‘No...’ She repeated the denial elongating the syllables, ’Nooo, and yes.‘ Searching for the right words she faltered, ’Pax, I did what I had to do,’ Her voice took on an edge, ’And I will continue to do so.’ She bristled hastily before her voice lost it’s temper and softened, ‘I’m just sorry I got...caught.’ Mag’s smile was real, all the way up to her eyes.

‘Now that’s more like it.’ Pax’s features melted.

Folding herself into his embrace Mag spent a moment breathing him in, enjoying his warmth. She wanted to stay there, just like that, for an eternity, but she knew what still must be told. Holding him longer felt like a betrayal.

‘What I didn’t have a chance to tell you,’ she spoke against his shoulder, ‘is that thing as you call him knows...the Neno.’ Mag heard as well as felt his heart trip violently under her cheek. Only with great control did his breathing remain steady and calm.

‘Leave it to you Madam to get the last word...’ Pax sighed dropping his fingers from where they’d been about to comb through her magnificent sable hair.

‘...and because of who, or rather what he is? I had to tell him why we were looking for Neno, I had to give him details.’ She held Pax tighter when he would have moved her to arms length to view what she hid behind her mismatched eyes. ‘Pax, his name is Newman and he‘s...’ Clenching her teeth she ground out. ’He’s a...Milli-Being.’

Pax pushed her away roughly. Even in the soft light Mag watched him go gray, the bones of his face sharpen in the shadows. ‘You flip hot to cold with an alacrity I can barely follow Madam.’ Extraordinarily snide his features turned brutal. ‘How long until you were going to tell me?’ Pax stepped back his hand falling reflexively to the lethal sickle knife suspended from his belt.

‘You’re not to kill him Pax.’ Her tone was all Queen, all ruler, almighty.

‘You‘re mad.’ His response was naught but a hiss.

‘Don’t make me add that even here on this hellacious planet - my word is law.‘ Her two colored eyes shown with all the regal bearing that flowed through her blood and the blood of her ancestors. Something Pax could never resist, never deny.

Lifting his hand from his knife Pax hesitated before snapping her a salute and turned to go.

(continued from above)

* ~ * Truth and Consequences II * ~ *

‘Pax, wait.’ She rushed, ’There’s more.’ Her hand hung in the air where she’d reached to take his shoulder.

Spinning back his cloak folded around him like a thick gray shield. ‘Then tell me.’ He growled staring down her hand, ’What does that thing have to do with us?’

‘There’s a connection between the Millie-Being and the girl. They both share a bond with the Neno.’ Mag faced the portal wishing herself already gone. ’And there’s more.’ Resolved to tell the complete truth she turned back, ‘There’s more you need to know.‘

‘I’m waiting.‘ He knew his voice sounded cruel but there was no curbing him now.

‘Pax please.‘ She tried an appeal and failed, ‘What’s more is...Oh God,‘ she wailed, ‘The irony of landing here, crashing on this very planet nearly right atop the very ones we’ve been hunting all these years...’ She stopped and let the hysteria leak from her voice.

‘Pax, I left my home. My loved ones.‘ Smashing her ornate wrist bands together Mag pressed them against her forehead sobbing out her words through crossed arms, ‘I left my loved ones alone, and cold and...frozen.‘ She didn’t lower her trembling limbs, ‘I left them and crashed on this damned planet looking for the Neno and we’ve found him.’ Her hands lowered to her sides followed by a bubble of panicked laughter. ‘But...but what we shall do about the Neno now I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know?’ He punched the air with words, ’What in all that’s sacred do you mean by you don’t know?’ Great furrows creased his brow the sides of his mouth turned down in deep grooves. ’We’ll do to him Madam what we’ve planned on doing since we began this quest!’ He swore, ’We’ll hunt him down and we’ll shed his BLOOD!’ Pax’s hand slashed through the air like a knife slicing the Neno’s throat. ’And he...will...die.’ Pax snarled sending a small dot of spittle flying from his lip.

‘Don’t be so sure,’ Mag shuddered, ‘It’s not so simple any longer.‘ Mag’s eyes leaked emotion when she meet his gaze. ‘The girl, Newman, the Neno? Pax, they saved your people.’ She wiped her eyes with the back of her long woven sleeve and rushed on, ‘They're the ones who saved the Culs. It was...them.’ Tortured she watched Pax cock his head turning from anger to bewilderment only to falter on his feet completely dumbfounded. The hand clutching his knife now clutched his chest as if he’d buried the blade in his own heart instead of leaving it hanging impotent at his side.

‘What...what did you say?’ His voice breathy and low could hardly be distinguished from the silence of the bay.

‘It was them, and the Xang cat.‘ She added, her shoulders beginning to shake, ‘Among others they’re the main beings responsible for freeing the Culs, your people, your leaders.’ Her eye implored him to understand, but he laughed a bitter biting laugh.

‘All that and a Xang cat too?’ He threw his arms up his barking laugh a release, ’You are mad.‘ He smiled cynically clutching to this thin shred of hope. ‘Tell me Madam, did you injure your head when you crashed?’ He fisted the side of his head in a pantomime of a blow, ‘Have you digested one of your own potions addling your brain to a useless gray pulp like that of your wastrel son!’ His words ended in a roar making her shrink.

‘No, Pax, it isn’t like that.‘ She tried.

‘Then what is this madness my Queen!‘ He roared again his words recoiling through the bay hurting her ears but his bitter sarcasm - and the pain she felt as a result - was just the protagonist she needed. She was Queen. Standing at full height Mag turned her hip exposing the knife on her hip silencing him in one subtle move.

Pax faltered back in momentary awe witnessing her transformation from woman, lover, friend, to monarch. But they were not on her planet any longer. This time she was at his mercy and his anger was great.

Dipping his head into his shoulders Pax leaned to speak so close to her face she could feel his breath on her lips. ‘Do not play the ruler here my Mag. In case you’ve forgotten it was I who taught you to be Queen. It was I who taught you that move, that flash of hip. And it is I telling you now - we are no longer standing muck deep in your stinking wattle and daub hut with that bastard boy listening from without!’ His words gained volume and momentum, ‘We‘re here!’ He stabbed the air, ’Here in my cargo-hold and now - just as when you were a child - you will listen to ME!’ His fingers raked the air, ’For believe me Madam, we WILL kill the Neno! And the Millie-Being will die harder still!’ Pax flung his arm wide creating a stir in the lifeless air.

Mag didn’t move, didn’t breath didn’t blink. For the second time she lifted her knife, the jewel at it’s hilt flashing a fire silently commanding his capitulation.

And in that flash of fire Pax remembered who he was. Who she was. What he owed her and her kind. The fire reminded him who he would always be. A ‘grateful.’ A ‘saved one’. The debt he owed incurring his obedience. Pax had no more choice in the matter than the mechanical slaves programmed to serve him on this ship. He was hers.

‘Forgive me Madam it must be something in the...air.’ Clearing his throat he afforded her a deep and prolonged bow. ’With my apology I would ask you, beg you to leave me now. Leave me alone to wrestle with my thoughts. Fight my own conscience.’ When his shoulders drooped within his cloak she longed to catch him but she didn’t dare.

With a nod Mag turned back to the sleek gray portal, adjusted her veil, breathed deep and spoke her last. ‘Pax, there’s...one more thing.’

‘The final word Madam?’ Dear Jenovah he was beaten and she just kept flailing the whip.

‘They’re gone.’ She didn’t turn to watch his reaction.

‘What do you mean they’re gone?’ His voice choked.

‘Argus drugged Flint. He took him and the girl and...left.’ Pax’s gasp was audible assuring her he‘d heard, ‘but we still have...Newman.‘

Her courage gone thin Mag slammed her wrist against the portal waited for it to open noiselessly and just as noiselessly she exited the cargo ship and ran.

..........Don'tCha Wish Yer' Girlfriend Wuz Hot Like Me?!..........

Thoughts on Classified Tape Transcripts From USAF Tonopah Range.
19th July 1947. 19.00 hrs Interview with EBE 11478.


'Aye, sit there with yer' smug face and pretend yer' in control' Mucklebones
thought and due to the ache in her upper-arm, she carefully withdrew a
long-fingered hand from the table onto her lap, the interrogation
was once again going nowhere.

"You know..." Agent Carling sighed "...we can sit here all night and things
can get nasty again" the embers of his last crushed cigarette offered a
wisp of tobacco smoke before it died in the metal tray to his left.
'Yer'll eat the contents of that' the old alien promised herself, but remained
silent.
Strike One.



Somewhere in the compound, a siren went off again and Muckles smiled
inwardly with confidence that a rescue was under way, the half-shut eye
glinted with thoughts of what she was going to do with this cruel man
before her.

"Who gave you the rags?" Carling asked off-handedly as he rose from
the chair. The only survivor of the desert crash could feel the Agent's
slight nervousness and the eyes that had offered a cruel confidence and
false indifference now flicked to the room's door and back to Muckles'
stony features.

With a move that was too-hurried, Carling fished into his jacket pocket
for his cigarettes and muttered "don't tell me... we've a yellow-liver on the
base"
Muckles was wearing the dark-green poncho that the stranger in the lab
coat at left in her cell and now this human scorned the act of kindness.
Strike Two.

The sound of people running down the corridor outside the Interview
Room caused the young agent to glance at the door again and this time,
the Government man let his face show his concern.



Muckles promised herself that if she has the chance, she'd thank the
man in the white coat for the garment that covered her moving hands.
But first, the hexes needed to be performed.
'It's coming' she thought and began to spell the chants on the roof of
her mouth, the magic would be needed now.

Agent Carling offered a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes as he
whispered behind the cigarette lighter flame "you will never leave this
place, you do know that?" The glow from the wobbly flame betrayed
his false confidence.
Mucklebones tapped on with her spell-binding and drew her esoteric
symbols in her lap, the bruised face showed the human nothing.

The footfalls gave way to panic-wrapped shouts and then as Carling
slowly bent forward to extinguish the cigarette on the mottled
skin of Muckles' half-revealed shoulder, muffled gunshots punctured
the oppressive atmosphere in the Interview Room and Mucklebones
the Witch of the Canyon made her move.
Strike Three, yer' out.

............................................

"They're just standing there..." the fair-haired Security guard whispered
and pulled his green-coloured view away from the waiting intruders to
the his partner beside him. "...and that little one with the beard seems to
be dividing into more of them , what do ya' wanna do, Jed?" he added
with a wobbly voice.
The Night-Sight equipment whined again and Al was offered a close-up
of the figures outside the spaceship.



There were at least twenty stick-like aliens and the dwarf with the shotgun,
He seemed to be the only one wearing clothes.
The prototype headwear hissed another gasp of foul-smelling gas from
the brow of the kneeling Guard and Al Jacobs twisted his mouth.
Grunting at the weight of the contraption on his back, he kept his rifle
steady.

Jed's fingers clenched the stock of his newly-acquired AK-47 and licked his
lips, Al was asking a perfectly good question. There had been nothing from
Ramey's H.Q on the walkie-talkie since the big spaceship had swooped
in from the Groom mountains and now Jed wondered if he and Jacobs
were the only guys left.

"A prudent man would leave here and forget this day" the craggy
voice advised from the hanger door and Jed Carpenter swung the
stunted barrel of his automatic weapon and readied himself.
If it wasn't Ramey then whoever it was -was going to a collander
in the next few seconds.
Al held his breath and kept his eye on the line of silent sentinals.

............................................

"So me-little bugger, yer' wanted to make ole' Mucklebones talk, heh?"
the thousand-year old traveller of the stars asked softly into Agent
Carling's frightened face. Her speed had been amazing he thought
as he stared into those oily eyes and the right-hook nearly took his
head off.
"Many have had ma' hide almost pinned down, but this is one gal
that always goes out fightin' Mister" she added with a small smile.

Without another word, the poncho-wearing once-was-captive
snatched the A12 Entry-Pass from the blood-spattered shirt pocket of
the blubbering human and turned to find her kin.

She got to the door before remembering her promise.
The smile remained as Muckles reached for the ashtray.



............................................

'Damn Ruskie guns!' Jed thought, dropped the rifle and in the same
movement he reached for his sidearm. The Colt shook only slightly
as the Security Guard aimed at the stranger's face.
"Your weapons will not function, Sir I suggest you take my advice..."
a young Mr. Jordan said softly "... and take it quickly" the light from
Jed's torch showed a hairless humanoid in a buckled hat.



"Aw Jeez, Jed..." Al Jacobs called out "...they're comin' this way"
and pulled at the equipment that hid his boyish features.
They were aliens and lots of them -he wanted to say as he struggled
with the gear.
The Colt's trigger would not pull. Jed checked the safety-catch and
aimed again. Nothing.

The smooth-faced being in the black clothes slowly raised a pallid
hand and touched the sweating soldier on the arm "Please leave
here Mr. Carpenter, you are important" Jordan XX whispered kindly
across the darkness.

Al went first with Jed on his heels, the Night-Sight in the dust quacked
once in their passing as the strangers came forward to find one of
their own.



(Continued Below)

(From Above)

The two Vithians watched the happy scene as Mucklebones staggered
out of the Hanger with '18' daubed on it's doors and collapsed into the
waiting arms of her two companions.
The Summer night threw it's jewels across the desert sky above them
as a feeling of genuine happiness soaked through all that was there.



'We've done a good job -don't you think?' Mr. Jordan wanted to ask
the small man at his side, but thought better of it. Tibbs had used his
Multi-Being skills to imply there was a crowd of rescuers and the young
bald man in the buckled hat had taken note of this ruse.
Nobody had been killed and all was well... a 'cool' trick as they say
on this planet -he thought.
He towered above his fellow Time-Mechanic and yet he knew
any advantage ended there, Tibbs was grumpy and he had mileage,
he was Committee.
And he had a shotgun.

"We'll give them a couple of minutes and then we'll leave" Tibbs mumbled
through his beard, he knew that other interested parties would be here soon
and up to now, he had avoided a fire-fight.
Tibbs promised himself that he'd acquire a GunMan for any future escapades
like this one and frowned into the dark desert, he hated violence.
The two Greys made no vocal sounds as they preened the half-collapsed taller
alien and with careful movements, they brought the female closer.

'I've seen her before' Tibbs thought to himself and for some-unknown reason,
straightened his beard and slipped off the small-round spectacles from his nose.
JordanXX was comparatively a rookie to the robed-Vith beside him and he
had never been this far into the past, Greys were a new species to him.

"You'll be the Vith who led me-mates to ma' rescue, nuh?" Muckles asked
in a cracked voice, she leaned on the shoulders of two beings on either side of
her and her hands dangled from their necks.
Hands that were grey with ash.

"I assure you Miss, we at the..." Mr. Jordan began, but was halted by the Witch's
interruption. "'Ah wasn't talkin' to you, fella... 'ah was talkin' to the good-lookin'
chappie with the fetchin' beard!" Muckles snapped. A smile bloomed underneath
the shining large eyes.

Tibbs placed the butt of the weapon into the sandy soil and leaned on it's tall
barrel, he offered a small smirk and said nothing.
The silent type -Mucklebones savoured and unknowingly licked her lips.
"Well, thank yer'.... thank yer' fur savin' me cracked-ass this time around" she
said huskily and nodded once.

Tibbs nodded back and turned to go, Jordan gulped and followed his mentor
without another word, he was the one now being prudent.
The Space/Time door was opening near the burnt-out shell of a Buick and the two
Vithians made their way to the seeping licks of yellow light, the staggering figure
in the dark-green poncho stepped foward.



"Ah'll be seein' yer Vith... yer' know that don't cha...?" Muckles whispered and
raised her aching body to it's true height, her arm throbbed where the humans
had put the electrodes.
Tibbs leaned forward and answered with the same volume.
"Time will tell" he said and stepped into the void.

******************From Here To Eternity*********************

The deluge came again and Boy In A Dress tugged his soaked red
attire from it's attempt to shrink-wrap him and continued through the
dark hissing jungle.
There was something wrong, he could feel it and yet, had no idea
what the dilemma may be. For many, this feeling would gnaw at them
and they would conjure with scenarios and concerns.



For BIAD, he merely lifted his arms and imitated an aeroplane from
long ago. With a soft buzzing sound on his eternally-grinning lips,
he moved quietly through the foliage.

...........................

"He's out there lookin' for his friend and you're in here feedin' yer'
phizog" Mucklebones spat and waited for Tibbs to look up from
the meal on the table.
The little home that they'd enjoyed sat against the cavern's wall
and the pair had pondered the idea that they would see out their
days in the little abode.



"Leave me alone woman, they choose their own paths to follow
now" Tibbs muttered and prepared to say the hated-grace that
Muckles insisted on. The Vithian knew that Nenothtu had left
Bisley Deeps and when he had seen the flash of the StarWolf's
jets against the blackness of the cavern's ceiling, he guessed that
Margot was tracking her man too.
Anyway, he owned the damned planet.

Boy In A Dress had been seen scrambling up the broken tower
this morning by the cafe owner and now, the little town seemed
a little different, like something good was missing.
They were adults, the Man/girl and the Gunfighter... they walked
their own road.

And yet the small-robed man didn't like the way he felt, he didn't
like saying this superstitious nonsense over food and he didn't
like the idea of leaving his friends to whatever lay ahead.
But he now had a home and a partner, a place to call his own.

Breathing in deeply and licking his lips, he dared a small prayer
for those out there top-side.



...........................

The vines shrank away from the red high-heels as Boy In A Dress
tramped through the soaking jungle. For some reason, the Man/Girl's
shadow was abhorrent to the flora and at least that made the going
easier.

'He must be just up ahead' BIAD thought to himself as the rain came
again and played it's tattoo on the surrounding leaves. Why he had
felt the urge to leave the cosy Library of the small underground hamlet,
he had no idea. But as said many times, the hermaphrodite rarely utilised
'ideas'
With a twist of determined lips, he pushed on through the darkness
and the elements.



...........................

Tibbs turned back to the cause of his leaving the subterranean home
and felt a small pang of pleasure in seeing Mucklebones grunt with
exertion at the burden on her back.
Supplies -she had advised, so she can carry them -he advised to himself
silently.

"Me damned spine'll snap before 'ah give-in to that smirk o' yer's" the
Alien-Witch hissed and smartly reminded the Vithian that she could read
his musings.
Tibbs fingered the handset in his pocket and turned back to gaze at the
foreboding jungle ahead.

"The Vandal went off in a North-westernly direction and I'll wager he'll
be finding trouble there..." Tibbs said and felt the last of the self-guilt fall
away "...that man has a remarkable talent for locating bother" he added
as he wiped raindrops from his small round spectacles and pushed
them back up his nose.

"Yon GunMan eats trouble fur' breakfast and shi..." Muckles began, but
the Vithian managed to cut her off before she swore. "Darling..." Tibbs
said sarcastically "...Let's not resort to that sort of language?"

Mucklebones sniffed, readjusted the heavy napsack on her back and
looked up at the rainy sky " Whay... he does" she stated softly to
nobody.

...........................

It was fog. It was fog or mist of some-sort, these were the findings of
Professor Boy-In-A-Dress M.Phil, Ph.D and fully-fledged fool.
The greyness seemed to divide the small clearing that BIAD had
wandered into and the odd vapour slipped away into the undergrowth
on either side. It wasn't just like, it was a grey wall of fog.
BIAD tilted his head and wondered what he had to do to penetrate the
strange effluvium.

"I see you Boy" came a faint voice and BIAD spun around at the words,
he had heard them before and this was the reason for his hair suddenly
whipping about wildy.
"Who... who said that?" the Man/Girl stammered, his skin was prickled
with subconscious undercurrents and scary eddys of a forgotten past
as his eyeless-head snapped back and forth from shiny-wet bush to
twisted tree.

"It's been a long ago since our union and now I have returned for my wife"
the voice said and this time, BIAD saw it's origins.
The moth moved it's wings and the painted-eyes seemed to squint in a
smile.



...........................

Tibbs' little legs ached as the odd pair struggled with the large fronds
and the jungle downpour, it was only with the use of the Witch's bag
of bones that the vines kept their distance.

"Me majic will only keep these buggers away fur' so long" Muckles
had snarled as she waved the small sack in front of her, Tibbs kept
close to her heels and clung to her poncho as they inched further into
the dark wet boscage.

It was around thirty-minutes later that the Crone that had once endured
the confines of Black Atlantis hissed that she had reached her limit of
patience with the ordeal she and her man were enduring.

Or to put it in Muckles' terms:
"Sod this fur' a game o' soldiers, its' time we had a ride" she had growled
over her shoulder and the lack of response from Tibbs was taken as an
agreement.
Mucklebones went about calling down a Uktena.

...........................

The moth fluttered closer to where the grey mist rolled slowly in on itself
and at certain areas BIAD would swear he could see a spherical object
with cables strewn across it's surface.
It tugged at a faraway memory.

"We were to be together, my love... and I have travelled far to hold you once
more" the voice whispered huskily, BIAD tracked the creatures movements
warily.
"Our marriage was born in a terrible storm and so-too, I became aware of
my heart's wants..." the moth said and again, it's shape flickered.

The true shape of Oppenheimer's infamous device came into view and
with a slight choking sound, the long-ago incident on Earth surged back
into Boy In A Dress' recall.
"Oh Gosh" was his response.

"...And now it's time to leave here and take our place of matrimony"
the thing known as 'The Gadget' murmered.

(Continued Below)

(From Above)

Mucklebones cleared her throat and then began her chant, the wet leaves
had been cleared by her foot and a nearby stick ahd been used to draw the
soil-clogged semi-symmetrical Magic design.

"Wiv' me heart among the spirits, 'ah call on Gitche to bring me a beastie" the
Crone rasped and waved her hands over the earthy diagram, Tibbs noticed
Muckles' eyelids were half-closed.

The rain seemed to ease in reverence as she mumbled incoherent words and
drew strange shapes in the air with her long arms. "Arnay, arnay christuper
starnum..." Muckles moaned and slowly jogged on the spot.
Tibbs waited under a large leaf and frowned his dissaproval.
"You're not going to do that peeing-thing, are you...?" he asked sternly and
caught a filthy-look from his partner "...I mean, if you are, then I'm carrying on
on-foot" he said and turned his face towards the darkness of the wet forest.

The odd-sounding warbles from Mucklebones began soon after the Vithian's
statement and now with his robe dank from the downpour, Tibbs watched the
dubious ritual of the Crone of the Canyon.

...........................

"You're a machine..." Boy In A Dress said "...you were a bomb in a test and we
blew up... simple as that" the words tumbled from the hermaphrodite's
lips as the ball-shaped device floated a few feet away.
Professor Charles Shaw never lived long enough to discover that was where
-and when, BIAD had actually come from.
"I woke up in a lab somewhere and you went... wherever you went" he said in
a quieter tone.

The Gadget faded slightly in BIAD's sight and then came back to a solid object.
"We were joined in that chaos, we are one you and I" the voice said proudly and
that was when the Man/Girl noticed the effect.
It was when the cabled-contraption neared the grey mist, BIAD could vaguely
see shapes through the curtain of... whatever.



He also realised at that moment where Nenothtu was.

...........................

The beast had seen many years, it had held it's own against the younger
Uktenas that had dared to fly into his territory and now an easy meal waited
below.
It banked left and checked for any of those brazen offspring of one of his
harem.
The leathery plates no longer gleamed with the oils of youth, nor it's wings
stretched without bearing rips or holes, yet this part of the jungle was
his and no other dared enter.
'Aye my lad, but yer'll spare me and my own' came a voice in it's horny head.



With eyes that suddenly clouded over, the old monster that had fed on the
ravaged zombies that used to wander the jungle began to descend into the
small clearing with the strange marks on it's leaf-littered floor.

He belonged to Mucklebones now.

...........................

"No...!" shouted BIAD "...we don't belong together and stop seeing me as a
female. I am NOT your wife!" he exclaimed with hands on hips.



The Gadget moved again and this time the pouting Man/Girl noticed something
that resembled the pyramid that he'd seen on Carbiox, a faint image behind the
1945 bomb.
"But I need you darling, you complete me" the voice whispered and slipped closer
to Boy In A Dress, the dull lights throbbed from a box strapped to it's hull.

Maybe the reader recalls that BIAD rarely formed constructive ideas or formulated
plans. It does seem that his destiny is to fall into incidents and then spend his
energies on scrambling out of them, usually with great assistance from those
around him.
I know that sometimes he just 'does things' that seem to work out okay,
but luck can only hold out for so long.

This time, the brain that resides beneath that black tangle of hair did come
up with a scheme, a rare occasion that demands we read on.

The rain stopped as Boy In A Dress let his bare shoulders drop, his grinning
face lowered and his lips indicated resignation as the last drops of rain tapped
the leaves around him.
"You win... let me in" he sighed and readied himself.

The plate that covered the hole where the Man/Girl had been placed in the
bomb so many centuries before creaked open and again, that darn luck of
his panned out.
There inside The Gadget, the forefather of all destruction, the creation of humans
that believe their own planet was the only holder of civilised thought, a clear view
of what lay behind the grey mist -could be seen.



And BIAD raced towards it.

CHRISTMAS INTERLUDE

The following story took place several years ago on Independence, a rough and tumble colony world on the outer fringe of UEF space. Independence is a bazaar world (not to be confused with "bizarre", which it is too - the two are frequently interchangeable), having large areas of open air shops, the largest being something just under 4327 km^2. What space is not occupied by bazzar on Independence is thinly settled hinterland. Independence is the ultimate in capitalistic enterprise.

The names have been changed, as well as some of the locations and details, in order to protect the innocent... and shield the guilty from shame.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nenothtu wandered the streets - if they could be called that - of a bazzaar on Independence. Which one mattered nary a whit - the whole fracking planet seemed composed of shop stalls on thoroughfares that were charitably called "Streets". He had not a clue what it was he was looking for, only reasoning that he would know it when he found it.

It was always the same after one of his little "outings" to kill folks and tear stuff up. When he got paid for the gig, and was on his way back home to Travis' Rift, he would always stop somewhere on the way to get something for little Freddy - and of course Margot, to attempt to fend off whatever ire she could throw at him. Freddy was fairly easy - just find something unique and off beat, something he had never seen before, and the boy was fascinated for months with it. Margot was a little different. Being a woman, her tastes in trinkets ran to the expensive... and specific. Neno could count on the fingers of one hand the times he'd gotten it right, but there was always hope that maybe this time...

Preoccupied with those thoughts, and the search, neno barely noticed the little man who came creeping up to him riding some sort of air-cushioned single-seat vehicle. Without preamble, the little man demanded of neno "where'd ye git yer coat?"

Nenothtu looked at the man as if he were a bug under a microscope. the fellow was short, and just about as wide as he was tall. Neno could tell that much even from the little man's seated position. Dressed in fur-trimmed red, with a wide black belt and shiny black boots, topped off with a pointed red hat with the same white fur trim, the little man looked for all the world like... naah, it couldn't be. After all THAT one wasn't real. Neno had known that for years. "My what?" he replied, buying time to gather his thinker up.

"Yer coat" the little man responded. "Yer slicker, yer oil skins, yer duster - you know, yer COAT! Where'd ye git it? I've been wanting another for years now, ever since I ruined my last one 'n had to trash it. Hard to come by, those are."

"Ordered it off the Federation Cortex Network. Got it off of a dinky little planet out in the Borderlands called 'Texas'. T'aint right to name a dinky little thing like that 'Texas', but there's one in every crowd, I reckon."

The little man squinted one eye at neno and said "The fella that named that planet was homesick. It wasn't home for him, never came to be, neither, but it was as close as he had, so he named it after where he was born. You ought to cut folks a little more slack, boy, until you hear their story."

"BOY!" neno exploded. "Boy HELL! I smoke..." but the little man interrupted him with an upraised hand.

"I know, I know. I've heard it all before boy. It don't bear repeating again, so don't. I was askin' about yer coat, not yer braggin' rights."

"So how would you know the story of the naming of some obscure rockball out back of nowhere, little man?" neno gruffly asked.

Cryptically, the little man said "Oh, I know LOTS of things. Part of my job description, you know."

And your job IS....?"

"Oh come now! You know perfectly well who I am!"

Neno shook his head. "Nary a clue, Old Timer. I know who you want to look like, but we both know that ain't you. Santa ain't real, but it sure keeps the young-uns in line this time of year. So who ARE you, 'n what IS yer job?"

The little man spluttered and stammerred "Why you! I.... I... I..." before regaining his composure and fixing neno with a baleful eye. He shook his head and said "And you always wondered why you got SWITCHES fer Christmas! Not real indeed! Harrumph!" and indignantly crossed his arms.

Nenothtu took that opportunity to reach out and grab a fistfull of the little man's beard, and yank it. Hard.

The little man's eyes shot wide, and he emitted a bloodcurdling "OOOWWWWWW!" causing neno to release his grip. "The hell was THAT for?"

It was neno's turn to be nonplussed. "Well, it was... er.... ummm... you know how all the department store Santas have them fake beards..."

The little man in the red suit fixed neno again with that baleful glare. "Young Master Carpenter" he began, "I am NOT a 'department store Santa'. I am the real deal."

"How'd you... how'd you know my real name, Old Timer? Ain't nobody called me that in years..." and HIS eyes went wide.

"Harrumph" the little man stated again. "I think we've already established how I know, now haven't we? I think you've got yet ANOTHER bag of switches coming this year, young man, and perhaps a lump of coal or two for boot."

That allowed neno to recover somewhat. "Good! I'm sure I can find something to make out of that!"

The man shook his head. "Your ability to make do with whatever you get is why I stopped dropping by in the first place! The things you could do with that - it makes a grown man quiver jus' to ponder it!"

Smugly, neno responded "yeah, I CAN make do with pretty much nothin', Can't I? Anyhow, about the coat - it cost me 25 kilos, an' it was the last one, so yer outta luck Old Timer". Neno couldn't bring himself to call this man "Santa", being a grown man and all. "What would you need with one, anyhow, if you ARE who you claim to be?"

"The split skirts on it come in handy when I'm on horseback out on the range" he answered matter-of-factly.

"Horseback? Ain't you s'posed to ride reindeers or something?"

"There's an off-season for reindeer. They're just my work ride."

"Mmmm hmmmm..." neno said. "Well, there's the story of my coat, Old Timer, so be off with you now. I got me some shoppin' to do. No time to chew the fat about old legends and whatnot."

"Well now, Young Master Carpenter. There's the rub. I didn't hunt you down to inquire after your coat, that was just a bonus. I'm here about yer 'shoppin' spree'. Yer doing it wrong."

"How so?" nenothtu asked. "It's what I always do, an' this is how I do it."

"Ah! But not this time of year!" the little man declared. "You don't usually come back home around Christmas time. Them folks don't want trinkets - they want YOU. Home for Christmas."

Neno snorted. "Bah humbug! I ain't never seen the time that brood didn't slobber after trinkets! Hell, if it weren't for the trinkets, they'd not allow me back into the house atall! Margot'd probably beat me iffen I cam back empty-handed!"

"I think not - have that on good authority, as a matter of fact. You sell yourself short, young man" the old timer said. "Here - I don't normally do this, it bein' private correspondence and all, but let me show you something." He patted around the chest area of his suit, then fished around inside it - looking for an inside pocket, neno supposed - and produced a scrap of paper, handing it over to neno. On the paper, hand-written in a childish scrawl, was the following:

"Dear Santa -

I kant thing of nuthin I much ned this yar. I sure miss my dady, tho, an if u kin find him n bring him home, wal, I reken that would be about the bes thin u cud do fer us. Mama cries at nite, n she dont thin I hear, but I do. She sez hes bin gone to long this time, an aint kommin bek. Sez hes alyin in a heap on some rok somewhar, dun brethd his las, but that aint so, is it? I kno it aint, but it shor wud help if u cud fin him n bring him in, sos mama knos to. If u kin do thet, then grat, but if u kint, jus skip us this yar. We don ned nuthin else. If u aint got room, he cud probly ride one of the deer.

Freddy Carpenter"

Nenothtu's eyes reddened as he read, but all he said was "well don't that beat all?". Then he fixed a red-rimmed glare on the little old man and said "How'd you come by this, mister?"

Exasperated, the little old man said "We're not going through all THAT again, are we? If you yank my beard again, I'll belt you!" Then he waved his hand in dismissal. "It doesn't matter how I came by it. Call it 'magic' if you like."

Neno wiped his nose and said "Don't matter nohow. I got several parsecs yet to go, and there just ain't time to get there by Christmas morning, nohow."

"Well," the old timer said, "that's where I come in. You read the letter - I'm supposed to hand deliver you, to make sure you get there."

"You got some kinda tech the UEF don't know about?" neno quizzed the little man.

Waving a hand in dismissal, the little old man grinned and replied "Call it 'magic' again if you like, Young Master Carpenter, but I can get 'er done. Come on. I'll not even make you ride a reindeer - you can ride shotgun."

Neno squared his shoulders and said "I always do!".

Santa smirked and said "Time's a-wastin' while yer standing around braggin'. I got a schedule to keep, so we'd best get moving."

As they got underway, shopping trip forgotten, neno said "Come on, Old Timer... are you really Santa Claus? You ain't pullin' mah leg, are ye?"

Indignantly, Santa responded "I never touched yer leg, Young Master Carpenter!" setting the tone for what promised to be a lively trip.

* ~ * Turn Away * ~ *

‘Argus, I’m tired.’ A small voice whispered in the warriors ear.

Argus’s heart slammed into his ribs painfully. He’d been worried to his gut the boy’d never wake. ‘You? How can you be tired? It’s me that’s been carrying you pig-a-back for hours.’ Argus eyes squint shut when the two fists balled in his hair clenched tight.

‘Let me down.’ Flint’s voice grew a little stronger. ’I don’t feel so good.’ Kicking his legs from around Argus’s broad shoulders and using the big man’s hip like a ladder he made his way to the ground. Swaying there for a moment Flint waited for the ground to stop moving under him before he sat.

‘You’re mighty green around the whiskers lad. Want some whiskey?’ Argus offered his personal cure all with eyebrows raised over owlish anxious eyes.

Flint hung his head and moaned.

Cradling the lavender haired girl in his arms like a babe Argus hunched his body around her and squat down on his haunches. His worst fears realized the man teetered unsteadily on his heels seeing the boys pale green face. Argus clenched his teeth around a vile oath. The warrior would have killed anyone who’d harmed the lad yet here he’d been the one to do it himself. It pained him.

‘You’ll be wanting me to make camp for the night then?’ Argus asked softly pushing the hair out of the boys eyes with this thumb. For the first time in recollection Flint didn’t recoil from a gesture of tenderness or balk at being called ‘boy’.

“I think it would be best for the girl if we did.’ Flint sighed, closed his eyes and leaning back against the blackened bark of a brilliant red leafed tree.

‘You’ve got pluck boy, I’ll give you that.’ Argus sucked the corner of his mouth into his cheek to hide his smile. Flint had spoken like a true warrior. He hadn’t admitted his own weakness and whined out his wants. He’d put another’s needs first - and made sure it benefited them all.

‘Leave her next to me. She’ll be safe with me.’ Flint sighed fingering the knife at his hip with silent promise. He knew Argus would scour the area checking for threats, bring back firewood and secure their camp before he stopped for the night. Warrior ways rarely varied.

‘You feel up to guarding her lad?’ Argus ached adding insult to injury but he needed to know just how able the lad was - or wasn’t.

‘I’ll be fine now...I’m...I’m...fine’ Flint stuttered his voice breathy then waiting for Argus to turn Flint moaned dramatically, grabbed at his throat and giving a little squeal lurched to the rear of the tree gagging in agony.

Argus wanted to punch himself flat in the face.

As the boy continued to heave and moan Argus's eyes rounded in fear. Dear God had he killed his brother’s son after all?

Panicked Argus snatched the boy to him by the scruff of his tunic holding his limp body at eye level examining the lad for signs of life. When the boy didn’t move the warrior shook him. Just a little.

Teeth rattling Flint swung his arms in the air dragging the back of his hand across his mouth. Argus half expected to see a flow of blood trail behind his dirty fist. What he did see stopped him cold.

Flint scrubbed at his mouth to hide an impish grin, failed and exposed his farce in a fit of boyish giggles.

‘Gotcha’ Flint whooped and giggled again. Breaking free from Argus he dove under the wraps holding the girl propped up against the tree.

‘Why you little bugger, I’ll skin you alive and eat ‘yer liver!’ Argus burst out laughing, ruffled the lads ebony hair and left his two charges under the canopy of the scarlet tree. The boy was in fine mettle, the girl safe and he Argus had a sack of work to do before the day was done.

* ~ * Turn Away * ~ *

The make shift camp was indistinguishable from the sticks and thistles crowding it’s perimeters. The hand hewn buildings had been smashed to splinters, the often trod footpaths left running red with something slick and thickening in the cold, a taste of sweet metal mingled in a ghastly perfume on the morning air.

Miraculously intact the firepit in the middle of the small clearing sizzled with the drippings from above. The cooking woman caught between two giant hands, her flesh crumpling like sausaged meat and stuffed in her own cooking pot gently overflowed as fat rendered clean from meat and bone fed the flames.

Tatters of clothes drifted on the wind settling here and there covering an ear, an eye, fingers torn from their hands, clumps of things wet and red, indescribable.

Mag blinked and blinked again. The stench of bowels split open, the buzz of a million flies gave proof her eyes were not lying.

Backing slowly in her own tracks Mag didn’t see the big hand coming, reaching for her through the air from behind.

Her bloodcurdling scream caught in the palm of a hand covering her mouth.

‘It’s me! Don't fight!’ Pax snarled in her ear wrapping his forearm around her catching her up under her breasts and without removing his hand from her mouth dragged her backwards into the underbrush.

The Giant didn’t see the movement. He’d been stuffing tattered pieces of fur from one of the little men’s blankets into the open wound at his side. A full grown mantis in his other hand the Giant squeezed the insect until it oozed green slime then carefully wiped the putrid stuff over his wound howling with the acrid sting as it met open flesh. The gunk would heal but it would hurt like hell for another hour before the opiate properties of the insects blood sent him into a deep sleep.

Crunching the mantis carcass between his teeth the Giant swallowed it grinning. Pain abating instinct told the huge creature his next move must come quickly. Find a hollow, a cave anywhere to hide his bulk, curl into a ball and sleep.

That he’d killed all in the camp was forgotten before the blood dried on his great horny hands. What he hadn’t forgotten was the sight of the tall gray haired warrior naked but for a fur wrap charging from one of their puny huts to leap into battle. With a howl like a demon the little man leapt through space to bury his spear in the Giant’s side. His liver side. Never having been attacked by something so small and ruthless, or skilled - caught off guard the Giant paid the price. That he would not forget. The satisfying scrunch of the little man under his foot, the man-ooze squishing between his toes hadn’t satisfied his need for revenge. Giants felt no revenge. They just killed.


Checking over the grizzly carnage the Giant sniffed the air deeply ruffling wiry hairs in his nose, raising his brows. Hot cooked female came from the cauldron. Small meal that is was he’d take it with him when he left, he‘d need the energy before his great sleep. As he turned round another scent mixed in amongst the ruined camp, a waft of something sweet and tantalizing over the stink of rotting flesh.

He smelt something...alive.

Growling deep in his throat the Giant slammed his foot to the ground hard sending tremors through the earth. Followed by a mightier roar of pain, he waited long moments his breath trapped in his bloodied chest. Still, nothing sprang to run, to get away, his stomping had flushed nothing hiding from the ruins. Yet there is was, that sweet smell of blood rushing through pulsing veins and that he would stomp OUT!

His nose close to the ground the Giant drank in great wafts of air following the scent like some massive slavering hound. Whatever was alive? Was hiding over...there.