Doom 2099UG #17

PROLOGUE.

"I am . . . afraid."

The man who was once the fearless Victor Von Doom clutched the ground on hands and knees, as if holding himself there against invisible forces that would spirit him away. He felt himself struck down by a gut-wrenching fear that burrowed deep into his psyche and lodged there like a freezing chill from an unrelenting winter. It twisted like a knife into his soul, and radiated outward to muscles that clenched in paralyzing spasms of surging adrenaline overload.

"As preposterous as that sounds, I cannot deny it. I have never known fear like this before . . . never . . . never . . ."

He struggled to catch his breath as his entire metabolism seemed to be running at warp speed, and he felt himself losing control of his senses. "That pompous cur, the Beyonder, he did this to me," he growled to himself, finding a ballast in his anger. "He changed me . . . he is trying to break me." Still, despite his forced bravado, Doom trembled with unremitting dread inside his impenetrable armor. Above him, past the canopy of wind-caressed trees, a bright sky streaked with crimson clouds and the shadow of twin moons circling overhead seemed peaceful, serene even.

"No, the Beyonder is not here, and I am the same," Doom was beginning to make sense of his surroundings as he fought past the veil of terror which gripped him. "It is this . . . place which chills my heart so mercilessly." It had been the sight of those twin moons that had sent the once proud gypsy king scrambling for cover within the trees. Moments before, the Beyonder had unceremoniously deposited him on an expanse of open grassland between groves of trees, in a countryside of rolling hills and blue mountains. It was not the barren landscape of dreams where he and the Beyonder had last clashed {see Last Issue!}. It was almost earthlike, with a terrain not unlike that of his native Latveria. But it was the sight of those orange moons in that peculiar sky that had triggered a memory eclipsing all other thought. It was a memory of pain unrelenting, of years of torture no sane human could long survive.

"Yes, that's it. If only I could remember. . ." Yet he remembers only the pain. Years, no, what seemed like centuries powerless, without even rational thought to distract him from the torment, imprisoned in a living hell, staring up at those same twin moons. No armor would protect him, no magic would release him. There was only the pain that set every nerve on fire and seemed to tunnel ever deeper into his broken soul. Pain that never stopped nor diminished nor left him space to breathe or recover. Even he, with his invincible will and consummate fortitude, even the great Doom could not ignore the insidious piercing penetration that transcended a thousandfold the simple biological responses of flesh. It was as if he had been dropped into the pit of hell itself, stripped of all control over his fate at the feet of his enemies. He had only his anger to sustain him, and his unyielding refusal to surrender, even as he was left beaten and mindless on the doorstep of total despair, muttering only . . . "I am Doom!"

Now, his heart was beating inside his chest like a marching drum, his breath gasping between clenched teeth, and he hid within the sheltering forest, desperately trying to regain his composure. He was only vaguely aware of that other time, that other imprisonment, but his subconscious reaction to having returned here was undeniable. He had returned to that from which to all accounts he should never have escaped.

"I must . . . think this through. Rational thought is the anathema to irrational fears. What am I afraid of here?" he thought to himself. "Death? Dying? No, I have faced death before, I do not fear it's coming. I am gypsy. Gypsy are not afraid of ghosts or goblins or things that scurry in the dark places. Doom will conquer all that dare stand in my way! Doom's will is indomitable! What fate would dare deter me from my chosen path?" And his subconscious answered him, "A fate worse than death."

"No! I deny it! I will not cower beneath bushes like a common brigand! My armor is the finest personal augmentation and defensive device ever conceived! Doom will not be bested by the people of this planet nor any gods that reside here again!" He stood up, still under the canopy of the forest, and took his fear in his fist like a leash, his teeth clenched in anger. But he remained motionless.

The sound of engines overhead turned his eyes skyward once more, his red lenses flashing angrily in his silver mask. A lone patrol ship was approaching. Through the trees Doom could see the city on the mountain, and he knew that the flying patrolman above had come from there. The distant city was a grand collection of gleaming spires and towering edifices that clustered inside a giant city wall. He felt his heart leap again, bidding him to flee, but he fought down his instinctual impulses. Around that tall outer wall of the city was a sea of red. No, not a sea, but a living field of blood red, wormlike creatures, growing upright like trees and swaying in the wind like the fields of wheat on the Kansas plain. But this was not Kansas. And those worms were all too familiar to Doom. A name came to him, but their calling did not matter. The worms meant only pain unrelenting, and it was from them that his fear originated.

In the sky over his head the flying patrol ship was turning around, dropping closer to hover just inches above the tops of the trees. Doom turned his attention back to the flyer, and realized that he had waited here too long. The ship was a cycle-type vessel, a solo affair with one pilot sitting atop it, and very little in the way of apparent armaments or defenses. The ship itself seemed fragile and aerodynamically impossible, but Doom remembered it as being maneuverable and fast, and deceptively well-armed. The pilot sat back in an open cockpit, moving the ship with the speed of thought through slight movements of his hands over invisible controls. Vital information was being relayed back to him through a telemetric bond with his vessel, leaving his eyes free to scan the forest below. The patrolman had detected the unique energy signature of Doom's armor, and would soon zero in on his hiding place in the trees.

Still trying to deny the fear that gripped him, Doom reacted instinctively. In his arrogance he expected that he could forget the terror that haunted him through combat. Stepping out into a small clearing in the woods, he raised his hands and without a curse or a warning he angrily fired a salvo of searing energy from both gauntlets upon the alien flying above him. Yet even as he fired, he remembered that the energy beams would be useless against this foe. Seeing the scene before him play out like deja vu, the destructive energy blast passed through the alien and his craft without effect. But his actions were not entirely without consequence. The patrolman turned his ship to face the armored gypsy in the clearing below, and countered the attack with a barrage from his own weapons. The energy beam that hit Doom knocked him clear off of his feet, and the full force of it was only moderately deflected by his own hastily erected shields. The blast threw Doom backwards 20 meters, cutting a deep groove into the soft earth with his armor as he fell.

"Impertinent oaf!" Doom muttered, extracting himself from crater. The curse was directed as much at himself as at his attacker above. He had to remember more of this place. He could ill afford to repeat the mistakes from his last encounter on this planet, whatever those mistakes might have been!

Before Doom could recover, the patrolman ignited a different weapon, this one a peculiar red light that washed over Doom and the ground around him. The armored gypsy was puzzled for a moment, because that red light barely registered on his sensors and appeared to have no power over any of his armor's systems. Its purpose was a mystery for only a moment though, as all of a sudden the ground around the startled earthman erupted from within. The dirt at his feet writhed with the movement of living things beneath the surface, and Doom felt his fear returning like acid in his throat, hurtling past his anger on silent rails of dread. He backed away instinctively. A clutch of large red worms surged abruptly out of the ground, standing upright like rubbery posts, anchored to the ground but moving slowly forward in a wavy, choreographed dance that was hypnotizing in its sanguineous rhythm. They were no more than a foot long each, and roughly three inches in diameter, and their red skin was moist and littered with bits of the dark soil. They had no recognizable features, only a hollowed out portion at the top of their reddish bodies that would most likely be their heads. Then, like sentient creatures, they focused their hollow heads onto Doom.

Doom felt the energy drain in his armor instantly, and even from a distance the creatures formed an invisible energy dampening field the likes of which he had never before witnessed. As they drained his energy, they begin to grow right before his eyes, doubling in height in a fraction of a heartbeat. He desperately wanted to fire on them, to blow them out of the ground, but . . . His memories were not clear, but he knew that they would not be harmed by his energy weapons. The worms would only feed on his weapons like they were now feeding on his armor's power. Then, unseen beside him, a smaller worm poked out of the ground and touched him on his foot, wrapping around his ankle. Its touch sent searing streams of pain shooting up Doom's leg, as if his flesh were on fire. He screamed in anger and rage, but even through his pain he focused instantly on the creature. Pulling it off with his hands, Doom ignored the agony that the small fleshy thing now transferred into his arms. Grimacing within his metal mask, he crushed it between his steel palms. Red goo dripped between his metal fingers, and the creature silently died. Its pithy remains gave off a sweet, rosy smell, but its dying halted the pain and was immensely satisfying to Doom. The other worms around him responded to his sudden angry outburst, and their growth rate appeared to accelerate. They not only fed on his energy, but they also seemed to be nourished by his anger! Despite this small success, Doom knew that he was powerless against the mass of creatures, and he cautiously retreated from their slow writhing approach.

The patrolman flying above tried to stop him from escaping, firing a series of blasts intended to herd his quarry back into the circle of worms. Doom looked over his shoulder at the alien above, and then timing the blasts precisely, he did the unexpected. Stepping into the path of one of those blasts, he let the force of it push him further away from the worms. Doom winced slightly under that painful barrage, but was planning his next move even before he hit the ground. Separated from that mass of red creatures, he felt the power return to his armor again. Getting to his feet quickly, he turned and took flight, looking back only to see if the patrolman was following. His ploy worked and the pilot turned its craft to follow the fleeing gypsy, as Doom landed unexpectedly beside a decent sized sapling that was growing at the edge of the clearing. Using the power of his armor, he physically uprooted the small tree, and turned back to face the approaching patrolman.

"You are gravely mistaken if you believe Doom will be twice bested by the likes of you, alien!" Doom shouted. He took to the air again, and swinging the tree like a giant mallet he knocked the flier out of the sky. The patrolman's face registered a moment of surprise as he was swept off of his flying machine by the heavy branches of the tree. His flying ship went crashing into the woods behind Doom as the pilot came tumbling down to the ground. Even more devastating however was Doom's aim. He had swung the tree at just the precise angle and speed to drop the patrolman right into the center of the still growing pocket of worms. Even from a distance, Doom could hear the patrolman's screams as the worms caught him in their energy reduction field.

Doom touched down softly and stood triumphant at last only for a moment. There will be others, he told himself, he must not tarry. The patrolman's flying vehicle was lying wrecked in the woods, burning where it had crashed. He did not know if the alien had signaled any of its companions in the city, but it would be unwise of him to expect otherwise. From the fraction of memories that he was just beginning to uncover of this place, he knew that to use the power of his armor was to send an engraved invitation of his whereabouts to his enemies. He quickly began the process of powering down all of his systems, even as he turned back to escape through the woods. The fear he had felt since coming to this planet followed him, but he steadfastly renounced it. He could beat this thing, Doom would prevail . . . he just didn't know how. Not yet, at least.

Sooner than he had expected, he heard the sounds of more flying patrols in the skies above the trees. He didn't turn to see them, but instead increased his pace, dodging through the thick undergrowth and staying hidden in the forest. Without the powerful assistance of his armor's motors, his movements were sluggish and labored, and he had no sensors to determine his current position, nor the exact location of his enemies. He had to move on instinct and cunning alone, and a faint nagging memory that there was sanctuary somewhere. He knew only that he must run, and so he ran, as fast as his burning legs would carry him. The sounds of his pursuers drew nearer. The patrolmen who searched for him began to use that same red beam that the other had used. They were randomly focusing the beams in various places throughout the thick woods to stimulate more worms to surge forth from the ground in a desperate attempt to trap him. But the worms did not grow very large or very mobile in the shadowy close places between the trees, and Doom was able to dodge them easily enough. He knew that now . . . or perhaps he knew it all along. Intuitively he avoided any open space. But even so, each worm that turned its hollow head toward him sent new tremors of fear coursing through his veins. Quickening his pace, he continued to crash like a wounded elk through the bushes. The wolves were close upon his heels when he stumbled unexpectedly and fell down a short, steep embankment.

When he stood again, he felt his fear and frustration growing. Before him was a great wide gulf, and he was standing in the shadows of thick trees clustered about the top of an enormous chalky cliff. Below him, two hundred meters or more, was a wide lake. On the other side of the lake, there was another tall cliff of white limestone topped by a dense forest of trees. The deep canyon continued to the left and the right, following the course of the blue green river that meandered through this wooded countryside. It was as if the gods had cut the surface of this planet with a broad knife, taking a thick slice out of the rock to let the water pass through. Far on the horizon beyond the forest, there was another great city perched upon a misty mountain plain. Even from a distance, Doom could tell that the city was similar to the one that now lay behind him. He could also see the tiny specks of airmen taking to they sky above the city, racing toward him to join in the pursuit. He was trapped. To fly across the chasm was to draw the attention of the fliers. To go back meant to face the worms, and that he could not do. The thought of it sent rivulets of cold sweat trickling down the back of his neck. He had to disappear, to be rid of this place altogether. He looked down.

The sound of the flying patrol overhead was getting closer. One of the ships passed over the canyon, and Doom retreated behind the trees, watching it suspiciously. But it apparently didn't see him in the thick shadows, and the craft turned back to fly above the forest once more. They were searching the trees closer now, and would soon come this way. He didn't have much time left. Judging their patterns by the sounds of their engines, he waited only a second, then leapt off the cliff.

The fall would kill any normal man. But Doom had his armor. However, the armor alone wouldn't protect his bones from being mashed to a pulp when he hit the water. He didn't even know if the lake would be deep enough. It was a leap of faith as much as one of desperation. He had his propulsion systems, but to use them would alert his pursuers. He let himself fall with the force of this planet's gravity, hurtling downward at a terrific pace, the wind ripping his emerald cape like broken wings. He looked up for an instant. There was no sign of the patrolmen in the skies above him. The surface of the lake rushed up to meet him. One skillfully deployed jet burst from his boots broke the surface tension of the water just enough to ease his passing, and slowed his descent by a fraction. Then he hit the water like an anchor and plummeted into its cool blue depths. Enveloped in its concealing bosom, with only the smallest of splash to mark his passing, he disappeared into the deep without a trace

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She falls through the darkness, into an endless, cold emptiness. It seems as if she is falling through eternity itself. Falling like a leaf from a tree, falling like gentle snow, falling like water from the sky. When she awakens, she is again aware of warmth and comfort and security. She has been sleeping, she's not dead at all. Still, she doesn't want to open her eyes. She doesn't want this safe place to end. She is aware of the familiar smell of earth and wet leaves and grass awakening into the sunlight. Her head rests on a soft pillow of moss and leaves. She lies quietly in this strange but familiar place, as still as a lamb. There is the gentle warmth of a morning sun caressing her cheeks, and birds chirping in the sky above her. She is aware of the world turning around her with life and activity. Then there are voices. Strange, pleading voices with words she does not understand. She tries to ignore them, and let the sleep carry her to that floating place once more. But her body is awakened by the buzzing of voices raised in anger, and she struggles out of that dark place reluctantly.

When Marissa finally opened her eyes, she realized that what she had thought in her waking dreams were voices, weren't people at all. In the sky above her, two flying beetles were clashing in some ritual agitation that set their hard wings buzzing in the still morning air. They buzzed through the dappled spaces between the trees, separating then coming back together again to wrestle with spindly legs, falling slightly before recovering and doing it all over again. Their bodies were brilliant yellow and phosphorescent green, and Marissa watched their peculiar antics from her bed in the leaves with sleepy amusement. But when they finally fell to the ground only a few feet away from her head, her eyes grew in startled recognition and she scrambled away with a barely stifled scream! The bugs seemed unconcerned by her agitation, and they certainly had nothing to fear from this alarmed gypsy girl. Each beetle was at least as big as her own hand! They trudged mindlessly through the loose bed of leaves that had been her resting place, before taking off again into the sky to continue their strange dance elsewhere.

Marissa watched them go, her eyes as big as saucers and her heart pounding in her chest. But the bugs had left to other parts of the forest, and they didn't return. She stood with her back to a small tree, and she took a moment to take stock of her surroundings. She was in a forest, it was early morning, and the sky seemed normal enough, except for the peculiar red and pink color of the clouds. She picked the leaves from out of her hair absently. There were usual forest sounds, but those bugs were like nothing she'd ever seen before. She looked again to the sky.

"Two moons . . .?" she said aloud. She remembered the strange black landscape where she had last seen Doom. He had told her that they weren't on Earth, or even in their own solar system. Somehow, she'd been sent away, to what appeared to be another planet!

"Oh, great," she said sullenly. "Just shocking great!" After being scared out of her wits on the black plain, her only response to being abandoned on an alien planet thousands of light years from the Earth was one of annoyed exasperation.

Wherever she was, there didn't seem to be anybody else here. She wondered briefly if the bugs were that big, what else there might be that was bigger than one would expect, and less benign than some slow witted beetle! It was a frightening thought, but just as quickly she decided that there would be no use in worrying about it. However, she was comforted by the long knife she still carried in her waistband. She looked around her again. She was thirsty, and hungry. There was what looked like a path between the trees, it was as good a start as any. Keeping her eyes and ears alert for signs of danger, she began to hike down the path.

It was a good choice. The path turned into a wide track, and the going was easier as it continued downward. It joined a larger path where two hills merged, and although she saw no buildings of any sort, she began to be hopeful of finding some intelligent life. Maybe there would be a way to get home. She tried not to think about home, and let her wandering gypsy instincts lead her into a new adventure. The future would take care of itself. Once she was startled by a very large bird flying above the trees, but it paid her no mind and kept flying on. It was turning into a warm day, slightly humid, but still pleasant, and though her thirst grew she made good time down the wide track. The path ended where it intersected another road, and her hopes soared. For it was a dirt road but a road nonetheless, cutting through the trees and bordered on one side by a low stone wall. The wall was ancient, covered in moss and yellow lichens, but it was a construct that implied civilization. The road was well used also, with deep ruts where cars or carts of some sort had made cuts into the hard packed soil. Her only concern now was, which way to go? She sat on the wall, looking both directions down the road, and clutched her locket, praying for some guidance.

She didn't have long to wait. The sound of footsteps approaching was unmistakable. Someone was jogging steadily up the road to her left. She stood up, looking down the road through the trees anxiously waiting to see who was coming. She felt excited, and a little frightened. Contact with a different race . . . aliens . . . No, she was the alien. She wondered what she looked like, probably a fright with no bath and no comb to tame the tangles of her wavy brown hair. God, she thought, I'm representing the entire human race and I probably smell like an old gym sock! She straightened her clothes self consciously.

The creature that rounded the corner ahead didn't have time to notice. He (or she, Marissa couldn't tell) took one look at her standing in the roadway ahead of him, and screamed! He was a smallish creature, bipedal, short but thick through the body. He had two long, well muscled arms, and he wore a simple tunic tied at the waist with a bit of rope, and nothing else. He carried over one shoulder a canvas bag, and a wooden tool in one hand. His face was round and pleasant, with a small wide nose and very large almond shaped eyes. His skin was covered in a short, downy fur of light tan, and it sparkled with a silky sheen even in the dim light of the forest. The fur on his head was darker and a little longer, and the dark color cascaded down his back, which Marissa got a good look at as he turned about face and ran away.

She sighed. That certainly wasn't the impression she had hoped to make. He hadn't been threatening though, and she had to admit that was a good sign. She followed him, walking steadily but staying in the middle of the road so as to not seem to be stalking him, and to reduce the chance of being ambushed from the trees on the sides of the road, just in case she had misinterpreted his actions. She didn't feel threatened, but there was no harm in being cautious. It wasn't long before she heard a commotion on the road ahead. There were voices, but she could not recognize anything that was being said. However from the tone of the conversation, she could tell that there was a serious discussion taking place. She slowed her pace as she came within sight.

Further down the road the forest thinned out, and ahead of her there was a party of six of these same creatures gathered about a wide clearing carpeted in green grass and tiny white and pink flowers. The creatures were huddled around a primitive wooden cart parked across the dirt road. They were all dressed similarly in tan or dark brown tunics, but she easily spotted the one she had seen before. He was pointing her way. She continued her slow walk forward, trying to look as calm as possible, although her palms were sweating and her heartbeat had stepped up a notch or two. There was a pair of children in the group that she hadn't noticed at first, peaking out from behind the wooden spoke wheels of the cart. Hitched to the cart was a single bulky black beast with horns that looked like they could rip through an armored mag-lev truck. But the creature was docile enough, and stood chewing feed from a bag draped around its massive head. The rest of the group were now talking excitedly among themselves, having had a good look at the weird alien their companion had discovered. She stopped several meters away, with her hands at her sides, so they could get a good look at her. Patiently she waited.

Finally, one of them approached cautiously, directed by the tallest one of their group. His fur was blonder than the other, and she got a good look at his wide, yellow eyes. He was shorter than her, but there was a restrained strength in the glossy muscles of his back and arms. His neck was thick, and the short cropped hair that went down his head and back was dark brown. He spoke to her. The words were unlike anything she'd ever heard, a series of sounds accented by grunts and growls and clicks. But his eyes were expressive under a flat brow ridge. His overall demeanor was contrite, and a little fearful.

"I'm sorry," she said when he had finished, "I don't understand."

He tried again, this time slowly, and waving his large hands for emphasis.

She smiled and shook her head. "I don't . . . I'm not from this planet. I'm from planet Earth, you see," she pointed to the stars. He looked up, but his face was one of comical puzzlement. "Oh shock," she said. "I hope you don't think I'm a goddess or something like that. You see, I was traveling with Lord Doom and we . . .'

The tall one standing back at the cart had heard what she said, and repeated curiously, "Doom?" The others repeated the name with agitation. Marissa could clearly hear Doom's name jumbled amongst the other unintelligible chorus. The tall one turned to the one she had seen first and gave him some kind of order. The other took off his bag and put it in the cart, then quickly raced down the road in the opposite direction, his wide feet kicking up dust in his wake.

"Doom?" said the man still in front of her.

"Yes!" Marissa replied, excited. "I was with Doom, he is our king. Is he here? Do you know where Doom is?" She asked. He didn't understand, but the name clearly meant something to them.

The tall one stepped forward. He was obviously a kind of foreman for this group, and he gestured for her to come. Marissa stepped forward, the other giving her plenty of room to pass as it followed her at a curious distance. The tall one spoke some words, like someone trying to make a child understand, but his demeanor had clearly changed. They no longer seemed fearful, and were now more curious and pleasantly shy. The tall one (and she only thought that he was tall because he was taller than the others), held out a leather sack to her. Marissa was of average height, but she felt like she towered over all of these creatures, and it was a strange sensation. Only the tall one could look her straight in the eye. She looked at the sack he held out to her.

She wasn't sure what he wanted, and he seemed disappointed for a moment. Then one of the others came forward and held both of his hands out under the tall one's sack. Although covered with the same short fur from head to foot, the palms of their hands were bare. His big hands were strong looking, with short, thick fingers and dark, calloused skin. The tall one demonstrated, pouring water into his companion's cupped hands, which he slurped noisily.

"Oh, yes, thank you!" Marissa said, finally getting it. She held out her hands, and the tall one anointed them with a portion of the cool, clear water. "I hope it's safe to drink the water," she said with a smile, but she didn't hesitate as she gulped her handful down. It was delicious and cold and felt wonderful on her parched throat. She cupped her hands out for more. The tall one obliged with a smile, and they all silently watched her drink with amazement. When she was done drinking, she gestured for one more handful and used it to wash her face.

That sent the aliens to chattering among themselves again. She looked up from her hands in curious surprise. She rubbed her wet face and the back of her neck, feeling the cool drip of water that ran down her nose. She wanted more, to clean more thoroughly, but the way they were staring at her, she wondered if she'd broken some kind of cultural taboo. The tall one seemed to smile, but he didn't offer the leather bag again. She smiled back, and tried her best to dry her face with the sleeve of her shirt.

The tall one replaced the leather bag in the cart and barked out an order to his four remaining companions. The children, who had been hiding under the cart, emerged quietly, but kept their elders between them and the strange alien woman. The children were similarly dressed in simple tunics, and their eyes were wide and bright. The tall one lifted the smallest child and placed him in the back of the cart, while the older child jumped up by himself. Another of the aliens removed the feed bag from the big black ox, and the other two tied a bundle of wood onto the side boards of the cart. It looked like they were getting ready to move.

The tall one turned back to Marissa and pointed to the cart, speaking patiently again. Marissa moved closer to the cart, but still didn't understand what he wanted. He turned to the taller child, and instructed him to sit on the flat portion at the back of the cart. The boy obliged, his feet dangling over the edge as he looked curiously at the alien girl. The tall one turned back to Marissa, and patted the back of the cart next to the boy, repeating the same sounds he had spoken to the boy.

"Ah, I get it," Marissa smiled again, marveling at the clever way the alien demonstrated his meaning. She nodded and sat down on the back of the cart next to the boy. That seemed to be all they needed, and they were suddenly rolling. The men in front guided the ox with switches of wood, and walked steadily alongside the cart, talking calmly now among themselves. Marissa could have just as easily walked beside them, the ox cart wasn't moving all that fast, but she didn't want to offend her hosts. It seemed that they had wanted her to ride. She watched the scenery of the forest around them, with its soft dappled light playing shadows across their backs as they headed down the gently sloping dirt road.

The boy who sat beside her kept staring at her, but he didn't seem frightened anymore. He didn't say anything, but sat there chewing on a black piece of something that occasionally crunched between his sharp little teeth. His coat of short dense fur was a rich reddish brown, and his catlike yellow eyes were touched with green. His hands were small, and when Marissa returned his curious gaze he dropped his eyes and played nervously with the rope around his waist, which was frayed at the end. He stuck the end of it in his mouth and chewed on it nervously, until one of the men walking beside the cart spoke sharply to him and he dropped it in obvious self-conscious guilt. He stared at his hands for a moment, playing absently with the rope, and then stared again at his bench mate, lured by an overwhelming curiosity.

The cart plodded on, occasionally hitting a rough bump in the road that caused the seat to lurch unexpectedly, and Marissa grabbed for the sides to hold on. The boy beside her focused on her hands, and Marissa saw him staring. She turned her hands over, showing the child her palms and her long, slender fingers. She held them out where he could see, and unexpectedly, he reached out and touched her palm with a stubby finger. His skin was rough, and Marissa realized it wasn't just hard work that made the men's palms so tough looking. She let the boy touch her palms, then he held her hand less tentatively and turned it over, feeling the smooth skin on the back as well. He whispered to the other child, who was still huddled in the cart behind him, as if he had made some grand discovery.

Then, satisfied with his examination, he dropped her hand and reached inside a bag on the seat beside him. He pulled out a large, dead beetle, of the same kind Marissa had awoken to in the forest. The big bug looked even larger in the small child's hands, but its size did not deter the little one. He bit into it with a voracious crunch, biting through the thick shell and slurping up the gooey insides with great relish. Then, he gallantly offered it to Marissa.

Marissa swooned for a moment, but despite her gnawing emptiness she didn't feel hungry anymore. She grimaced and put her hand to her mouth. Fortunately, the child didn't seem offended, and he offered it to the smaller child, who scooped out a paw-ful of greasy bug guts and swallowed them down happily.

"I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore," Marissa sighed to herself lightly. She prayed that there would be some kind of food other than big beetle guts once they arrived at wherever it was they were going.

By the time her young cart mate had finished his buggy snack, the plodding cart had come in sight of their destination. Marissa turned around to get a good look at where they were headed. The forested hillsides had given way to a deep, tree filled valley along the banks of a wide river. As they cleared the upper forest and headed into an open space, she got a good look at the alien's village.

The valley below was butted up against tall white cliffs that towered over the green canopy of thick trees evenly spaced across the flat lands. A wide blue river curved gently past the cliffs and meandered down through the sandy valley, leaving the trees behind on its way to a swampy delta. Through the trees that crowded below the cliffs, Marissa could see wisps of smoke curling up into the sky. But the forest wasn't in danger of burning down, for as they got closer she could make out huts and houses within the trees. The treehouses appeared to be clustered in the tight space between the cliffs and the curve of the river, and she had no idea how many there were, for some trees seemed to have several levels of houses. There were roads on the ground, but many more roads that traversed across ropes and wooden planks between trees and tall rock anchors. There were even what appeared to be cave houses carved into the white cliffs above the tree village. As they traveled further down the road, Marissa began to understand the reason for the treehouses. The soil of the valley was soft and wet, with deep puddles in some areas and more mud than dry land. The valley was obviously a flood plain, subject to the high water of the river at its side. Higher up on the hills that they were passing through, there were more traditional land houses, with large plots of fenced fields and strange looking livestock lowing around bundles of straw. She saw curious faces peering through shuttered windows and over fences, but they did not approach the caravan of men and their cart. She wondered why more of their kind didn't live on these lush slopes where the ground was firm, or in the forests that crowned the tops of the tall white cliffs themselves. She wondered silently, for she didn't think the tall one could explain it to her in sign language and charades.

There were shouts of greeting at last as the cart rolled down from the gentle hillside and onto the flat sandy path at the valley floor. Marissa looked ahead to see a group of the aliens rapidly approaching the cart, led by an older man in flowing robes of dark maroon. Walking beside the older one was the first alien she had seen on the road in the forest. Behind them was a crowd of others, curious and suspicious alike, with much shouting and gesturing and straining to see. The cart slowed to a stop, and the crowd was instantly upon them. The old man strode forward purposefully, and clasped arms with the tall one of her group. They exchanged greetings, and then both turned their attention to Marissa.

Marissa stepped down from the cart and turned to face the milling crowd, who nonetheless kept their distance. She scanned the assembly, seeing all colors from black and deep umber to light tan and blonde in the gathering of furry faces. But the tall, armored Doom was nowhere in sight. The old man came forward again, parting from the tall one, and boldly strode right up to her. He wore a loose flowing robe over his lighter colored tunic, and the hair around his ears and face was quite gray, although still a deep reddish color along the top and back. She gathered immediately that he was someone of great importance in the community. He smiled, and his lips pulled back to reveal a strong row of sharp white teeth in his small mouth. His eyes, a calming blue-grey, laughed comfortingly. He grasped her arm in his, and Marissa was surprised by the strength and unabashed affection of his touch, where all others had seemed so frightened to approach her.

He stared at her for a moment. His grip was firm, but not threatening, and his eyes examined her face with calm familiarity. Then he let go of her arm to reach into the pocket of his robe. He pulled out a small device, what looked like a plain black choker, and reached up to place it around her neck. Marissa bowed her head to let him position it with one small cushioned end of it resting behind her right ear, and the other end on her throat. The device had a small square piece on the middle of the slender body that was the power source and was centered over the back of her neck. She felt it vibrating slightly, but it didn't hurt. Suddenly, the buzz of noise around her took on a different tune.

"Welcome luv," the old man said with a wide flourish of his hands. "Welcome to our village. Lord Doom said you would come, an' now we 'ave found you. Or you 'ave found us, I daresay. Welcome!"

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"My current calculations place power levels at 85%, with detectable residual emissions at less than one-tenth of a percent. Increasing to 90% power however overloads the recovery system and emissions increase to just below two percent. Those numbers are unacceptable. Anything less than full power will place me at an undesirable disadvantage in facing the Tanen. I must work further to even the odds. But I am hobbled by this primitive culture and the lack of proper raw materials. Blast."

Doom paced darkly through his makeshift lab. A wooden table strewn with parts was lit by one sputtering oil lamp at the center of the stony chamber. A single small square window showed the sunlit day and the green treetops outside, but the warmth of the day was swallowed up by the cold dampness inside. The thundering of the waterfall outside was a steady but muffled roar within the low ceilinged room. He moved restlessly about the chamber, his fatigue forgotten in his desperate desire to complete his chosen task. He picked up another part and examined it closely. Then put it down in frustration.

"My search for a weapon of use against the Tanen has so far been fruitless. The Damonen slaves are willing and even eager to assist me. By providing them with trinkets and simple gadgets I manipulate their favor, and continue to have influence in their councils. But they are an unrefined and guileless race, and their simple technologies are of no use to me. They seem content to live out their pathetic existence in this diseased swamp while the Tanen manipulate every facet of their life. They are sheep, as ignorant of their value as they are blinded to their fate, and I have learned nothing of the strange symbioses that defines these two peoples. In all these past months and days, I have seen the work of the Tanen but only from afar. My presence here must remain a secret. If they catch me again . . ." Doom turned to the window, and stared silently out over the treetops.

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"Mister Thula," Marissa said, as she walked along behind the old man in the maroon robe. They had left the cart and the crowd of curious people behind, and were making their way toward Doom's living areas. "Why don't your people live in the hills where the ground is firm and dry?" she asked.

"Why would we do that?" the old man answered. "We 'ave always lived in the trees."

"But isn't it more difficult?" Marissa asked, tripping slightly as she struggled in the soft mud at the base of the village.

"Not if that's all we 'ave ever known luv," was Thula's answer. The old man floated easily over the soft mud, his large wide feet spreading over the soft surface like paddles. His toes gripped the edge of a tree root, and he stepped up into one of the suspended paths that was strung between the trees. He turned to help Marissa up, as she was struggling to balance on the slippery root. "Everything we need is here. When the waters rise, we catch the fish that come in to feed, and when the waters recede, we harvest the ito root."

"But some of your people live in the hills, I saw the farms," Marissa pointed out.

"Yes, when the Tanen allow it, we raise beasties like the ox for work and the wee loo for meat," Thula nodded his head and walked briskly across the lightly swinging platform.

Marissa followed, glad to be above the mud, but she had to hang onto the rope to keep her balance. "Who are the Tanen?" she asked.

Thula turned around. He smiled, his blue gray eyes twinkling. "At first, Lethu and his crew thought that you were a Tanen, they did, lost in the woods. But then they realized that you were far too small. That and you 'ave too much fur." He waved a hand around her head.

"You mean hair?" Marissa asked. "So the Tanen look like me, but with less hair?"

"Aye, and taller," added Thula.

"But where do the Tanen live, then?"

Thula pointed to the sky. "Tanen live in the cities close to Him, Damonen" which Marissa now realized was the name of Thula's race, "live all below. Nearer to the ground."

"And why do the Tanen tell you where you can live?"

"Because they are our Masters," was Thula's reply. There was no remorse or anger in that statement, it was simply a point of fact.

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Doom sat stiffly on a stone bench and stared at some parchment papers, shuffling absently through his rough notes as he spoke into his personal voice recorder. "The planet Mahtan is a water planet of forest and rivers. Vast stretches of the globe are inhospitable swamps. The populations of the planet are concentrated around short tracks of low mountains and elevated plains. Habitable land is a scarce commodity, and has certainly contributed to the divisions between the Tanen and the Damonen. Geologically speaking the planet is nearly ten times older than the planet Earth. Yet so far I have been unable to recognize any star symbols that I might navigate by were I to fashion a space-faring vehicle. It is entirely possible that this planetary system is not even in the same galaxy as the Earth. Knowing the power of the Beyonder, I cannot dispute that such a thing is likely." He turned away from the parchment and began to finger a small piece of rock on the desk. "However, the prospects of constructing a vessel here appear to be grim at best. From the few surveys I've been able to take and through my resources here, I have found little in the way of useful mineral deposits. The Damonen use mostly stone tools, metal is a scarce commodity here. Those parts of the land that aren't covered in water consist primarily of limestone, sandstone, and granite type formations. Iron deposits are richly concentrated around certain mountain regions. Unfortunately, they are inaccessible." Doom stood up and paced back to the window, leaning heavily on the wide sill. "It appears that the worms are as greedy for that particular metal as they are for flesh and blood."

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Thula pointed to a large wheel on the outskirts of the village, near the base of the cliff and a smaller river that rushed down toward the main river. The wooden wheel was slowly turning, pushed by the strong current of water below. "Doom gave us the wheel, and now our women folk can grind the grain in 'alf the time as before," Thula said proudly. "He is a very clever one indeed."

"That he is," Marissa replied absently.

They were approaching the wheel on a wide, elevated path. Behind the wheel the tall white cliffs soared up into the sky, the two orange moons barely visible above the trees that crowned the cliff. Marissa turned her attention to the wheel, and as they got closer she could hear the chug - chug - sound of water being scooped up and the creaking of the wooden gears. The wheel was enormous, as much a tribute to the craftsmen who built it as to its engineer. From the small wheelhouse beside it, some of the Damonen were carrying out bags of grain and loading them onto a waiting cart. In her short time in the village, Marissa had come to recognize the women of the Damonen, who had small breasts but were largely distinguished by their narrower body and their typical adornment of necklaces made from bright white beads. Despite their smaller size, the women were working energetically beside the men, and although the work looked strenuous, there was much laughing and joviality among the workers. Her thoughts turned again to the massive wheel. She had already realized that somehow, Doom had been on this planet for quite a long time, even though to her mind she had just seen him yesterday. She was glad that somehow they had been brought back together, for maybe now she might have a way home. Watching the people working below had made her more than a little homesick for her friend Jake and the rest of the gypsies back on Earth.

As they passed by the wheel, Marissa could see the loosely strung wires that exited the wheelhouse and were strung along posts leading up toward the cliffs. They looked almost like electrical lines. She followed the lines with her eyes. The white cliff before her was split sharply in the middle where the small river came tumbling down from above. The split went back into the mountain several hundred meters to where there was a tall waterfall with a silver sliver of water cascading down from the ledge 300 meters above. Hanging in between the two split halves of the cliff like a stone wedged in a crack was a large grey mansion! It was suspended between the two sides of the cliff walls, with the waterfall behind it and the river flowing freely below it. The walls of the mansion seemed to disappear into the walls of the cliff, so that it was difficult to tell where the natural mountain ended, and the man-made one began. The cliff house appeared to have many rooms over three levels, with long narrow windows cut into the sides of thick stone walls. Artificial lights glimmered like piercing eyes through the shadows of those windows, creating a hauntingly surreal effect with the suspended mist from the waterfall. The mansion was easily thirty meters off the ground, and at first, Marissa couldn't see any way up there. Finally her eyes made out the narrow balcony that hugged the left side of the mansion. She followed it around to the wall of the cliff, where it ended at a dark cave opening.

"We will 'ave to enter through the caves," Thula said, perhaps sensing her thoughts. "Lord Doom will pleased to meet you there." Thula pointed to the mansion. It seemed like a dark and lonely place between the towering cliffs, a place where unnatural events transpired.

Marissa felt a cold, ominous shudder spreading down her spine.

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Doom stirred a small bowl of thick liquid on his work table. From the bowl there was a narrow bridge to a wide plate under a bright lamp. On the plate, a gun was beginning to take shape out of a random pile of organic matter. In moments, the laser weapon was complete, and the dark liquid undulating mass that dripped off of the gun retreated across the bridge back to the bowl. Doom picked up the gun and examined it under the light.

"The nanites have been reasonably efficient at manufacturing necessary tools by restructuring individual atoms and molecules from the available resources. The caveat, however, is twofold. They cannot create an energy source, so the weapons I have promised the Johsarr are useless until such a time as a suitable power source can be created. The second drawback being that the nanites in my bloodstream have evolved and adapted to a point where they are no longer viable in any nutrient media other than my own blood. They've rejected or perished in all other solutions, including the blood of both Johsarr and Damonen, so I continue to push the limits to which my body can sustain itself while draining the necessary fluids to keep the nanites alive and capable of completing their programming." Satisfied with the gun, Doom set it down beside a number of other similar weapons, and pushed a series of buttons on the keypad beside the bowl. Completing the instructions necessary for the nanites to complete their task, he added more of the dark liquid from a nearby flask to the bowl, and the stream of microscopic machines in the blood streamed once more to the plate to begin construction of yet another tool for their Master.

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Once in the caves, Marissa walked close behind Thula. Not because it was dark, although the lighting in the cave was dim and Thula, with his wide catlike eyes seemed to move through the dark with ease. The real obstacles were the toys, sleeping mats, half-eaten bowls of food, and other strange, unrecognizable artifacts that littered the cave floor. There was a bit of a path through the clutter, but Marissa and her escort had also attracted an undue amount of attention. They were soon completely surrounded by a pack of Damonen children, a number of which were barely knee high to the earthling girl. Some of the children politely gawked while sucking on their thumbs, but others screamed and shouted or ran about like wild creatures laughing and posing atop rocky formations. Thula waved his hands and growled at those that got too close, but others crowded close about Marissa from behind. They seemed to be of all ages except very young, and they were all very curious about her. The larger children were as bold as they were curious, and made faces at her as they passed.

"Wot you t'ink she is?"

"A demon, that's wot."

"Ain't no demon, looks more like a nekkid Johsarr," a boy with dark fur squinted at her as they walked along. Thula was trying his best to ignore them.

"She shore is ugly, if'n ya ask me," another said.

"Mister Thula," Marissa asked, "what's a Johsarr?"

"A Johsarr?" the dark boy piped up. "Why that's a creature of all teeth and bloody fangs and eyes wot glow in th' dark," he answered, baring his teeth and raising his arms up in a mock monster pose. One of the little girls screamed and others laughed loudly.

"'ow would you know, Tsoren, you ain't never seen a Johsarr!"

"I 'ave now, I tells ya. Ask it if it eats it's own babies!" Tsoren answered wryly.

"Away with you wee demons!" Thula shouted, shaking his fist. That caused some of them to scatter to the darker reaches of the cave. "Unruly bunch," he scolded, "you 'ad best learn some manners before the Clanolean comes to call or the whole lot of you'll be shipped off to Lohen province! Where the bloody 'ell is the elder anyway?"

"We ate 'im!" one of the voices shouted from the distance, followed by more hysterical laughter.

Thula was frustrated, but resigned, and kept moving through the cave. "Come along then, luv," he said comfortingly. "The wee ones are a lively bunch, but they won't follow us into the old halls." He passed under an archway in the cave, and it continued to get progressively darker as they went deeper into the mountain. Thula seemed to have no trouble seeing, but when Marissa stumbled he reached for a torch from a wall socket and quickly lit it from a flint in his pocket.

The light of the torch showed what appeared to be a kind of shrine or maybe a meeting place. There were rows of low benches made from stone, and odd, surrealistic tribal paintings on the walls. Their path took them across the room and into a long hall, then up a narrow staircase. As Thula had predicted, the children that had followed them were now left behind.

"Do the children live in the caves?" Marissa asked, following the narrow circle of light held aloft by her guide.

"Aye, that way they stay out of trouble, at least, most o' the time," Thula grinned and winked back at her. Despite his anger earlier, he didn't seem too disturbed by the taunts of the cave children.

"But what about their parents?"

"Parents? I don't know this word, luv."

"Parents, you know, their mothers and fathers," Marissa explained. "The ones who take care of them?

"Oh, aye, these ones are too old to be with their mother," Thula answered. "And the Golterns, what sires them, does not tend to the rearin' of babes. That task is left to the village elders, but sometimes the young 'uns are too much for the elders to handle. They're good at 'eart tho', and will well make their place in the village someday."

Marissa pondered this strange division of families in the Damonen culture in silence as they reached the top of the spiral stone stairs. The landing was lit from the sunlight coming from outside, and the roar of the waterfall was much louder now. Thula extinguished his torch in a pail of water and placed it on a holder on the wall. Then something one of the boys had said came back to her. "What is a Johsarr?"

Thula sighed. "Ahh, the Johsarr are like us, but they 'ave rejected the guidance of the Tanen," he said. "They are like wild creatures, unpredictable and aggressive. Undisciplined barbarians, the lot 'o them. Sometimes they come to the village to steal our food supplies. The children fear them, because they are said to eat their young. But you needn't worry luv, there are no Johsarr here."

"Except for me!" growled a hairy silhouette that jumped in front of them from out of the shadows of the cave entrance.

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"I have word that the gypsy girl, Marissa has been found." Doom closed the vessel from which he had bled himself once more into the flask, and sat down wearily at his bench. "It is fortunate that she was not first captured by the Tanen, for from her they might have learned of my presence here. As it is, I can only hope that they now believe me dead. As long as the energy signature of my armor remains below their ability to detect, I will be able to continue my work unhindered." He paused again. "She will no doubt wish to return to the Earth, but I will not let her distract me from the greater reward that awaits me here."

He stood up again and moved slowly into another room, where a dim bulb lit a long table at the center of the room. On the table, a naked corpse was laid out. "The Johsarr have retrieved the remains of the Tanen pilot that was killed in the high forest," Doom stepped up to the white corpse. The skin of the creature was so pale as to be almost transparent. It was tall. Stretched out on the table it was nearly eight feet in length, with long limbs that were frail and delicate looking. It had deep purple lesions on its skin, dark circles that were the telltale marks of where the worms had attacked it, draining the life from it. It's face was drawn with hollow cheeks and strong white teeth clenched in its death throes. What hair there was on its head was white with sparse wispy trails that lay flat on its lifeless skull. "The Tanen are remarkably frail, it is a shame that this one did not survive the attack of the worms, for I would have preferred to examine a live specimen. Nevertheless, I have already learned much about my foe. Foremost being, that they can be killed."

Doom used a laser from his gauntlet to open up the corpse from neck to groin. He began a gross dissection, commenting on his findings to his personal recorder. "Their skin is fragile, and they have all of the internal organs typical of human construction, with the exception of a highly reduced alimentary canal." Doom moved aside organs to trace the path from mouth to intestine inside the alien. "By human standards, the entire alimentary system appears to be nearly atrophied, as if they do not need to eat at all. Curious. What appears to be the liver however is large and fully formed. There are also a number of other organs here which have no human counterpart, including one which I suspect was damaged by the worms, judging by the exterior and interior pattern of tissue degradation. This confirms my initial suspicions. The Tanen survive on an entirely artificial energy source." Doom looked into the eyes of the dead pilot. "They are truly the children of the Power Cosmic!"

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Thula backed away from the Johsarr, standing between it and Marissa protectively. The light through the cave opening cast its features in shadow, but Marissa was able to make out its form as it moved around them like a circling wolf. It was the same as all the other Damonen she had seen in the village, except that it was smaller and not as well-developed in its muscles. As it approached closer, she could also see that its fur wasn't as smooth and silky as the Damonen, it was almost mangy, with a dullness that surely reflected an inferior diet. Most startling however, was the hair about its head. Unlike the Damonen, the Johsarr had a full, long head of hair, circling its head and face and cascading down its back like a lion's mane. The crown of hair added a fierceness to its face that she had not noticed in the Damonen. It wore a simple loincloth and black armor pads that were attached to its shoulders by pieces of rope. It carried a short pike in one hand.

"What is this, Thula?" the Johsarr asked, staring at Marissa and trying to maneuver around the Damonen. "You've brought me a snack. How delightful!" He smacked his lips and bared his sharp little teeth in a lascivious grin. Marissa felt the same chill a caged bird must feel under the scrutiny of those catlike eyes.

"She's not for you, Yakku," Thula growled, but he was clearly unnerved by the Johsarr. "What blasphemy is this, wearing Tanen armor?"

"Do you like it?" Yakku posed provocatively, patting his shoulders.

"Where did you get it?!" Thula's hackles rose in anger.

Yakku stepped up to him and hissed, "I killed a Tanen bastard and took it from him while his corpse was still warm!"

Thula laughed, which caused Yakku to snarl and back down. "A coward like you? I have seen little children with more strength in their bowels than you. More likely that the armor fell from the sky, I think."

"More balls than ye who have none, old Thula, king of the eunuchs!" Yakku whispered seditiously, yet loud enough for Marissa to hear. "Bet you still haven't taken a woman to yer bed ya old bloody boor. What say I just run down to the village and bugger the whole lot o' sweet ripe fems ya got waitin' on that fat, ugly goltern what can't piss wit'out someone holding it for 'im!" Yakku grabbed his crotch through his loincloth and gestured rudely at Marissa.

Thula stiffened his back. "I am not one to challenge the wisdom of the Clanolean," he intoned. "The Tanen 'ave always chosen wisely for the prosperity of our people."

"Oh, you're not one to challenge, are ye?" Yakku mocked. "Yer a bloody stupid slave an' an old cow and the Tanen will have you boiled for oil while me an' my lot are feastin' on their bones!"

"What do you want, Yakku?" Thula said impatiently. "You're not welcome here, and I will 'ave Boshen and Lethu show you the way back to your swamp if you won't let us pass."

"Ah but your big ugly thugs aren't with ye now, are they old man?" Yakku boasted, but nevertheless his eyes darted back to the dark space behind Marissa, just in case.

"Lord Doom is waiting for us, Yakku," Thula added. "Marissa is one of his people, and 'e would not wish any harm come to her."

"Ah, well why didn't you say so?" Yakku stated slyly. "It just so 'appens that I am the guest of the great Doom as well." He smiled as Thula displayed alarm at that announcement. "Come this way then, 'is lordship is waiting." He leapt out into the sunshine on the ledge outside the cave, and turned around to face them again. He straightened his back and stomped his pike on the ground, acting less like a monkey and more like an officious palace guard. "Step this way, lady and person wit' no balls," he said rudely.

Thula ignored his crude remark and led Marissa past him and out onto the ledge. As they exited the cave they came onto the wide stone balcony that hugged the cliff. It led to their left to the grey stone mansion wedged between the two cliff walls. As they approached the mansion, Marissa felt the loud roar of the waterfall filling the canyon with noise and mist. The water in the canyon far below them tumbled in a cascade of foamy white flurries over the rocks toward the wheel and the slow moving river it would soon join. Ahead of them, an ornate set of double wooden doors marked the entrance to the mansion. Before they reached it, Yakku raced past them and opened it with a flourish.

The inside of the mansion was larger than it appeared on the outside, but there were few decorations and little embellishment to its plain functionality. Marissa marveled at how the roar of the waterfall was muffled once inside, but there was a pervasive dampness that made the shadowed interior cool. Her eyes searched the large entrance hall for some sign of Doom.

"Lord Doom!" Yakku yelled, "guests for dinner!" He turned back and smiled at Marissa, licking his chops.

There was the sound of a door slamming shut and heavy footfalls at the top of the wide staircase. "Mind your place, Yakku," Doom's voice growled down from above, "and step away from the girl, I will not have you eating my guests." He was paused at the top of the stairs above them, his form shadowed in darkness, his cape moving silently behind him in the soft breeze. "And take off that armor, it is not a toy and you look more ridiculous than usual."

"Yes, Master," Yakku said contritely, slinking away to another room.

"Lord Doom, I 'ave brought the girl as you requested," Thula said, stepping up to the bottom of the stairs. "But I must protest, this Johsarr creature you let into your house is an unclean, uncouth abomination and he is not welcome in our village!"

"The Johsarr and I have forged an alliance, Thula," Doom said coldly, descending the dark staircase with deliberate slowness. "Henceforth, you and your people shall treat them as allies."

"Lord Doom, it is dangerous, should they be known to the Tanen . . ."

"The Tanen need not concern you, Thula," Doom interrupted. He waved his gloved hand threateningly. "I will deal with them, in time. And the Johsarr know how to stay hidden from unwanted scrutiny."

Doom stepped into the light near the bottom of the stairs, and Marissa gasped. She hadn't expected the dramatic transformation he had undergone since coming to this planet. His armor had been almost completely reconstructed, with tubes and pipes exiting from his arms and legs and boxy contraptions hung to his belt. There were blinking lights and switches and wires, and dark hoses that seemed to be pumping fluid into and out of his chest. It all looked very frightening, and lent his already imposing form an increased air of mechanical inhumanity. He walked without difficulty toward her, but she backed away instinctively. His cape was torn and unclean, and what was left of the silver plates of his old armor seemed dull and unpolished.

"Have no fear of me, Marissa," Doom said, extending his hand. "I am still Doom."

Marissa saw the catheter in his arm, and the telltale bit of blood dried in the clear plastic cap. "What has happened to him?" she thought. "What is going on here?" The day's events were beginning to overwhelm her. She thought that Doom would be her anchor, her connection to her own world. But he seemed as strange and as alien now as the Damonen and Johsarr and the as yet unseen Tanen. "Lord Doom," she finally said, feeling the tears well up in her eyes, "I want to go home."

Doom dropped his hand, and turned away. "I am pleased that you have arrived unharmed," he said coldly. "There are grave dangers for you on this planet, but you will find it pleasant enough in time. In the meantime, you had best put thoughts of home and Earth aside, child." He turned back to face her, his eyes glowing red in his silver mask. "You will never see it again."

To be continued . . .

"History is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake."
James Joyce.

Next: What is it about Mahtan that makes it a must see on your interplanetary sightseeing list? Could it be the giant man-eating worms? The furry man-eating people? The cosmic powered godlike beings who rule over it all? Or maybe it's the tasty bugs? Find out next time as Marissa learns the true meaning of "it's a nice place to visit but I wouldn't want to live here!" While Doom goes on a quest for some Power Cosmic of his very own! And if you liked Yakku, wait until his friends show up! That's right . . . Chico, Zeppo, and Harpo! Hoo boy! More "Doom in Space" coming your way soon!