Doom 2099UG #18

Darkness had swept down over the Damonen village on the planet Mahtan like the swift descent of a leaden curtain. Hovering in the distance just above the horizon, two bright orange moons cast their eerie glow to the tree-covered landscape. Luminous laughing faces danced upon the surfaces of those twin moons, inspiring myth and legends among the primitive people below. Yet the moons' mirthful blush could not brighten the darkest places on the forest planet. In a deep fissure of the great white cliffs in Zyosa Province, an austere stone mansion loomed menacingly above the quiet tree village of the native Damonen. The residence of Mahtan's newest alien visitors, the cold fortress was forever cast in shadow, wedged between the massive stone walls that formed both a natural defensive barrier and a sanctuary for the mysterious occupants within. Only the faintest glimmers of light escaped through the mist of the waterfall that tumbled endlessly behind the concealed fortress.

In the large meeting hall, Doom was holding court with his new allies, free to speak of their plans now that the members of the Damonen council had retreated to their forest homes with the coming of nightfall. Marissa had also retired for the evening, having had a filling meal prepared by Doom's servants, and welcoming the chance to shower and change clothes for the first time in several days. Doom had found her emotional entreaty to return to Earth bordering on impudence, but he had held his anger in check in front of the other guests. The Damonen were already deeply disturbed by his alliance with the Johsarr, and he didn't want to undermine his authority with them any further. A rift between the two Earthlings could be interpreted as a sign of weakness. He could ill afford to falter now so close to his goals. Even more disturbing, his painful memories of this alien world continued to fester in the dark, private places in the back of his brain, threatening to erode his once impervious self-confidence. He frowned a little behind his mask, then immediately turned his concentration back to focus on the tasks ahead of him, and the subtle manipulations that would be necessary to achieve his objectives. His newest allies, the long haired, wiry Johsarr were like wild animals, primal and undisciplined. They responded instinctively to his superior strength and steely countenance, and were eager to fight in his campaign against the Tanen. The Johsarr hated the Tanen nearly as much as Doom did, and what they lacked in military organization they made up for in deep rooted aggression. They were unsophisticated and naive, and so were easy for him to dominate. Yet Doom had promptly recognized that despite their fierce hatred, they were essentially cowards. It would be unwise to trust them, for their favor with him was far too easily bought, and they had yet to learn to fear him as much as they feared the Tanen. That would soon change.

It had been a calculated risk bringing the Johsarr to the Damonen village. Doom had known it would be trouble the moment he had discovered the hidden enclave of Damonen outcasts. But he required their services for the necessary leg work that he could not do himself, such as retrieving the body of the dead Tanen pilot that now lay partially dissected in the cold darkness of his makeshift lab. The Damonen would consider such action tantamount to blasphemy. They regarded the Tanen with great reverence, conveying upon them the status of living gods. The Damonen were a simple, agrarian community, inherently peaceful and serene. They had welcomed Doom willingly into their world, ever since they had pulled his armored body, exhausted and waterlogged, from the muddy depths of the river below their homes. They had gently nursed him back to health, and freely agreed to harbor him here without explanation, hidden from the Tanen in their swampy homestead. What their motives were for concealing him, he hadn't fully determined, but their cooperation was essential to keep from being detected by the constant Tanen patrols. They had even invited him to sit with their council and participate in their simple government. Yet despite his best efforts at subtly subverting them, they continued to harbor no ill-will toward their Tanen masters. There was something he had yet to learn about the relationship between these very different races. The humanoid Tanen, who wielded great powers and lived in glittering cities on the high mountain plains, and the simple, pastoral Damonen of the lowlands, were as different and yet as deeply intertwined as a human shepherd and his flock of sheep.

"I need information on their power source," Doom was saying, tapping a crude schematic of the Tanen city, laid out on the table before him. "Where it's kept, what is its nature, how it's distributed. Lizwe," he addressed the black furred female Johsarr, "a small patrol, no more than two, should be able to slip past the guards and enter the city through the waste portal we saw on the north wall."

"Dangerous, dangerous," hissed Yakku, rubbing his furry face nervously. "The city is a bloody dangerous place for Johsarr, that we knows for sure. The Farhout will sniff us out like fried loo, an' eat us for their supper!"

"Yakku's right there, man," Lizwe said, holding her long arms close to her body. She had short dark fur that rippled beneath lean muscles and a long black mane of wild hair cascading over her slender shoulders. She wore a simple coverlet of dark brown and a string of animal teeth that clattered around her neck. Her yellow eyes were large and savage. "Going into the city is risky business. Even the Damonen do not go into the city."

"But there are Damonen slaves working in the city," Doom insisted.

"Aye, but Johsarr do not smell like Damonen," Lizwe added. "And the Farhout hate the Johsarr."

Doom knew about the legendary Farhout guardians only from what he had been told. The Farhout were the personal servants of the Tanen, selectively bred and trained like dogs to serve their more humanoid masters. The Farhout were used by the Tanen as watchmen, soldiers, and as the personal bodyguards of the elite Tanen businessmen and leaders. They were physically larger than the Damonen, who were in turn bigger than the Johsarr, but all three were the same species of fur covered, stocky, feline-like bipeds. The loyalties of the Farhout were as yet untested, but Doom reasoned that they would join him, or be eliminated. His initial misfortune, he realized, was that the smallest subspecies was the only one willing at this point to take arms against their mutual adversary. He was already working on a plan to bring the Damonen and Farhout together with the Johsarr, but he needed more time. More importantly, he needed information. And since he could not go to the city himself, he was reliant on the Johsarr to get it for him.

"Disguise yourself as Damonen slaves," he instructed coldly. "This information and anything else you can bring back from the Tanen city is crucial. If you still wish to elevate yourselves above the mud bog where you've been forced to live, you must be willing to take some risks. I cannot guarantee you will not suffer casualties, but there will be no moving forward from here without detailed information."

"Wot about the weapons you promised us?" Yakku hissed, attempting to mask his fear in a veil of anger. "If we 'ave to face the Farhout alone, at least send us in armed!"

"Your much vaunted courage will not be bolstered by a sidearm under your cloak," Doom countered sarcastically, causing Yakku to snarl defensively. "Going in as an armed force will only serve to draw attention to you, and you must remain hidden at all costs!"

"And if we're captured, wot's to keep us from tellin' the Tanen kings of your w'earabouts, mate?" Yakku muttered seditiously under his breath, turning away from the table. Doom silently approached the muttering Johsarr, and as Yakku sensed the armored giant behind him, he turned around, and gasped. Doom reached out and grabbed a handful of the smaller creature's scraggily mane in his metal fist, pulling him back as Yakku tried to flee.

"Yakku!" Lizwe called out angrily.

"Betray me at your own risk, beast," Doom intoned threateningly, "but know this: before I allow myself to be taken prisoner, I will see you and your traitorous spawn skinned alive. Your pelts will be hung upon the parapets of the city walls as a warning to all who would dare cross Doom!"

"Ah ah ah ah . . . " Yakku cried, clawing uselessly at the armored fist that held him up by the fur. "I didn't mean it, guv'nr," he pleaded finally when he realized nothing he could do would release that steely grasp. There were tears in his eyes from the stinging pain of Doom's grip. "I was jus' talkin' out of the side of me mout', tha's all. I would surely die 'fore I let them white-skinned snakes in on your 'ideout. I swear it!"

Doom threw him harshly onto the floor, pieces of the Johsarr's ripped out fur floating to the ground behind him. Yakku held onto the side of his head, his skin still burning from the abuse, as Doom turned calmly back to the table. "It is not Doom's intention that you should be captured," he continued, as if nothing had interrupted him. He placed a device the size and shape of a wristwatch on the table. "Your spies will each wear one of these. If they are in danger of being caught, activating this button will temporarily cloak their presence from anyone who may be looking for them."

Lizwe picked up the device and sniffed it suspiciously. "You mean this little thing will make us invisible?"

"Exactly," Doom answered, placing the device around her slender wrist.

She looked at it curiously for a moment, then pressed the button on the side. She was immediately wrapped in a field of light that swirled around her form for a brief flash, then she became transparent and suddenly disappeared.

"Where'd she go?" Yakku cried in alarm, stepping back up to the table and casting about anxiously.

Doom tracked her moving around the room, but said nothing as Yakku tried to locate his pack leader. The Johsarr male grew more agitated as he searched the room without success. He stepped up to where she had last stood, and waved his hands about in the air tentatively. Clicking the button again, Lizwe suddenly reappeared. Yakku jumped in alarm as he whirled around to see her standing unharmed on the opposite side of the table.

"Impressive," she complimented Doom. "But the Farhout track by smell as well," she added.

"The device also emits an electrical field that interrupts the oronasal receptors," Doom explained. "Unfortunately, the power cell is not unlimited, and if the Tanen begin to track the EMF patterns they will eventually be able to pinpoint your location. It will be useful only as an emergency escape device, but it should provide your agents with just the cushion of time needed to evade capture."

"It is true, mistress," Yakku verified with wide-eyed wonder, "I could neither see nor smell ye."

"Aye, that is some powerful magic," Lizwe was sincerely impressed.

"Not magic," Doom corrected, "technology. And there is more where this comes from, should you complete the tasks I've set out for you."

Lizwe was silent as she looked at Yakku. "Aye, you 'ave convinced me, Lord Doom," she finally said, nodding. "You will 'ave the information you require by the next nightfall." And Doom smiled easily within his shadowy mask.

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

He had warned Marissa that the days and nights on this planet were longer than she was accustomed to, but she had been so tired from her journey that she had paid Doom little heed. The shower had been both refreshing and relaxing, and Doom's servants had whisked away her soiled clothing for a much-needed washing. As soon as her head had hit the soft pillow of the wide bed, she had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep. So it was that it was still quite dark outside when she found herself very much awake. She lay in the bed for what seemed like hours, listening to the muffled rumble of the waterfall and vainly waiting to hear the sounds of others stirring in the big house. But the mansion's residents remained snug and quiet in their separate rooms, and she was unable to fall back asleep. Finally she decided there was no sense in lying there any further, and she got up.

The servants had not yet returned her own clothes, so she wrapped a soft brown tunic around her slender waist above the baggy pants and thin tank top she had worn to bed. The big sleeves draped easily over her shoulders and down at her sides, and the soft fabric was sufficiently warm against the misty early morning air. Hoping not to disturb anyone, she padded barefoot to the door of her chamber, and softly opened it.

The sharp ears of the Damonen maid who occupied the adjacent quarters had not missed the sounds of Marissa stirring and stumbling in the dark. Dutifully, she had quickly risen from her own bed to tend to her charge. The small, light-furred woman stepped out in the hallway at the same time as the earth girl, startling them both for a moment. The old female clutched her tunic sleepily, but chattered to Marissa in an urgent whisper as they met in the dimly lit corridor. Marissa didn't understand a thing, until she remembered Doom's translator, and pulled it out of her pocket, placing it around her neck and behind one ear.

"Could you please repeat that?" Marissa asked when the device was in place.

"Aye," said the housekeeper obligingly, "I was asking m'lady if she be needin' anything?"

Marissa smiled, as amazed by the sounds she heard from these furry aliens as she had been when Thula had first welcomed her to the village. When she had asked Doom about it, he had waved his hand as if it was inconsequential, lecturing briefly about common dialects and equivalent language recognition and speech patterns. She didn't understand how the device he'd given her worked, but it was nothing if not amusingly strange to hear the Damonen speaking English with a heavy British accent. At least, she thought comfortingly, it wasn't an unintelligible southern drawl. "No, I'll be fine, Lea," she answered quietly. "I couldn't sleep anymore, so I thought I'd just take a look around."

"I could make m'lady a cuppa tea?" the pale furred woman asked anxiously, straightening her short cropped white hair with a nervous paw.

"No, really," Marissa begged, slipping past the servant with a small wave. The last thing she wanted was to have her early stirring awaken any of the other guests. "I don't need a thing right now. Please, go back to sleep, and if I want anything later, I'll be able to find it myself." That seemed to stop the small servant woman, who nonetheless continued to gaze worriedly down the corridor after the Earth girl. Finally, she reluctantly retreated back into her chambers and closed the heavy door.

Marissa hadn't had much time to explore the mansion or the village the day before, and she was understandably curious. She wandered into the vacant meeting hall, and immediately moved to the balcony that looked out over the Damonen village. Despite the ache of her homesickness, she had to admit it was an amazing world. In the dark quiet of the predawn hours, it seemed as if the land laid out before her was holding its breath in anticipation of the start of the new day. Even the roar of the waterfall seemed subdued by the intensity of the sparkling stars in the liquid ink sky above. The darkness enveloped the tiny Damonen houses within the trees, and the gray reflected sparkle of water below told her that the tide of the river had risen in the night to creep out over the forest floor below the treehouse village. She sat there for a long while, listening to the silence in wonder. In the modern industrial world of 2099, she had never known such complete quiet, and it was both frightening and contemplatively calming.

Instinctively her hand went to the divining charm hanging on a chain around her neck, and she clasped the locket closely to her chest. Her power of predestination had been mute of late, and she was anxious to see what guidance she might give to Lord Doom now that they were reunited. She had been very disturbed by the changes he had undergone, and she wanted to know why he seemed disinterested in trying to return home. But strangely, as she slipped into that other place of dreams, no visions came to her. Finally, with a frustrated pucker to her brow, she gave up and let the locket fall back inside her tunic.

As she turned back into the meeting room, she noticed a narrow hallway on the right that she hadn't seen when she came in. At the opposite end of the passageway there was a door, slightly ajar. A distinct halo of pale yellow light encircled the shape of the door from the room beyond. She wondered if it might be the kitchen, and as she did the thought of it sent her stomach to quietly growling. Suddenly she regretted having sent her servant back to bed. Maybe she could find something simple to eat on her own.

"Hello?" she called quietly, as she pushed lightly on the door. It silently swung wider. There was no answer from within, so she slipped into the room.

The large, wide room was lit by a small lamp, burning at a long table in the center of the room. The table was strewn with an amazing array of scientific equipment, tubes and vials, microscopes, analytical machinery, and neat piles of notes on curled sheets of parchment. There were bits and pieces of mechanical devices scattered about on the floor and in boxes, and more unidentifiable pieces propped up against the walls. Stacks of wooden crates were also pushed up against the walls, and it was clear that this wasn't the kitchen. Still, her curiosity was piqued. She continued further into the room and approached the table, drawn to it like a moth to the flame.

The one lamp didn't shed much light in the low-ceilinged room, and there were dark alcoves and muddled edges that disappeared within the depths of the cluttered space. Marissa's bare feet padded silently over the cold stone floor, her attention focused on the bright parts and pieces of equipment at that wide table. Lured by her curiosity, her hunger momentarily forgotten, she passed by one of those dark nooks unaware of what lay concealed there. She should have paid closer attention. Silently hunched over a small desk in the dark corner was a shadowy lump that did not acknowledge her presence as she passed his solitary grotto. His head was down over his arms, as if he had fallen asleep in the midst of his work. A dark green cloak and hood shrouded his motionless body, and his slow breathing made no sound in the darkened room. Mesmerized by the first signs of advanced technology she'd seen since coming to this planet, Marissa was oblivious to the shadowy form that lay only a few steps away She circled the table cautiously, examining with wide-eyed wonder the marvelous array of scientific gadgetry assembled there. Even more curious, there was a pile of what looked like garbage on a plate directly under the small light. As she watched, it seemed to be moving. She blinked, and rubbed her eyes, staring again. No, she must have been mistaken. She glanced at the handwritten notes on the table. She realized immediately that this must be Doom's workbench, but the mathematical formula on the pages meant nothing to her. She felt a sudden chill, and looked back at the pile of garbage under the light. She didn't like the looks of it, as if there was something ominous in that incongruous mass at the center of the table, and she backed away a step. She felt another chill, and this time realized that the sensation was coming from an open door behind her. She hadn't even noticed it before. The space beyond the doorway was very dark, and she wondered if maybe it led outside.

At first, she couldn't see a thing, and she stopped at the threshold, letting her eyes adjust. The room was very cold, and there didn't seem to be an exit that she could see. She shuffled forward blindly, and bumped into a table. Metal instruments clattered loudly to the floor, but as she was waving her arms to catch her balance, she grabbed hold of a pole that had a lamp on the end of it. She instinctively reached up and found the switch.

Her scream caught in her throat, so horrible and unexpected was the sight before her. A dead man, not a man, but a manlike creature with pure white skin, was laid out on the stone table before her like a slab of meat. It was cut open from neck to groin, its internal organs glistening with the liquid surfactant that preserved them. Its small eyes were wide and staring, and its mouth fixed in a hideous, toothy grimace. It was neither Damonen nor Johsarr, and she realized that this must be one of the Tanen that Thula had told her about. She instinctively backed away, and into something very solid standing behind her.

"Oh!" this time she did scream, and cringed as Doom took her by the shoulder and spun her around. He grabbed both her arms in his metal hands, squeezing hard as the red lenses in his mask blazed in unfettered fury.

"What are you doing here?!" he demanded. "How dare you trespass in my lab!"

"I . . . I didn't mean to intrude," she stammered. "I was . . . just looking for the kitchen, the door was open . . ." She struggled against his grip, but he didn't let go. "Let go!" she pleaded. "Please! You're hurting me!"

Doom loosened his grip, but he did not let go just yet. "You have wandered into dangerous territory, gypsy," he growled threateningly. "You must not divulge to anyone the nature of what you have seen here!"

"That creature . . . he is one of the Tanen?" she asked, not really looking for him to answer. "And you murdered him," she accused harshly. "Killed him and cut him up like some kind of a lab rat!"

"Be thankful for that, ignorant girl! Given the same opportunity, it is no more than they would do to you! Or to me, should they learn of our presence here," he stated angrily, pushing her away. "And this one died of its own foolishness," he added cryptically, pulling a blanket up to cover the desecrated remains. "Its rather timely death simply gave me an unparalleled opportunity to uncover their weaknesses that could not be ignored. If I am to lead the Damonen and the Johsarr against the Tanen, then it is imperative that I know all there is to know of their enemies' powers and defenses. Without that information, our allies here will be doomed to live as slaves to the Tanen for all eternity."

"But you know how the Damonen feel about the Tanen," Marissa protested, rubbing her arms through the thin cloak she wore. "They worship the Tanen, and if they find out that you are treating the object of their worship like so much meat . . ."

"You will not speak of this to the Damonen," Doom ordered, glaring at her meaningfully. "They will soon come to view the Tanen as I do, but it will take some time and persuasion to alter their misconceptions."

"And what gives you the right to change their beliefs? The Damonen are happy here. They're prosperous and content . . ."

"They are trapped like cattle, suppressed under the yoke of their more powerful masters," Doom interrupted angrily. "The Tanen are no more deserving of their worship than the mutants or super powered beings of the Earth would be of ours. Their native beliefs have been subverted by centuries of brutal conditioning, and they have lost sight of their real heritage and their unique worth under that insidious manipulation."

"And you are to be their liberator?" Marissa shook her head in disbelief. "Have you even asked them if they want this? Have you ever even considered that maybe they don't need to be saved?!"

"They will thank me for it, in time," he answered humbly, ignoring her insinuations.

"I don't see why you can't just leave these people to work it out for themselves," she protested quietly. "They've had who knows how many centuries to evolve to this point in their existence, and it isn't right for us to come in here and start mucking that up. We should be trying to get back home, not interfering in something we can't truly understand."

"Oppression of the weak by the strong is something Doom understands all too well," Doom paced out of the cold room and into his lab, his green cloak flaring out behind him. "And you presume too much, little girl. In the time that I have been here, I have studied at length the relationship between these races. The Tanen overlords have attained their place as the dominant species on this planet through an unholy and unnatural alliance with an alien power of . . . cosmic proportions. That is an inequity that I intend to correct. It is my destiny to avenge these people. Only when the threat of the Tanen is decisively eliminated can we turn our energies to pursue our personal goals in good conscience."

"You make it sound like it's some kind of personal vendetta you have against the Tanen," Marissa remarked as she followed him into the lab. "What could they have done to you to make you hate them so?"

Doom eyed the girl with boiling anger held barely in check. Her words triggered a memory that he had tried hard to suppress ever since coming here. He remembers . . . only the pain. The pain that had set his every nerve on fire. An agony that even he could not fight, could not block from his mind no matter what avenue he pursued. He would turn his intellect away from the pain, trying to shut it out with complex mathematical computations, and they would crush him with their tireless probing. He would try to send his consciousness out of his body, to find solace in an endless quiet space, and they would reel him back in. He would fight their torture with his furious anger, and find only frustration, leaving him choking and crying, bound by the nothingness yet with no anchor to hold onto. A cold emptiness surrounding him, all around. And always the pain. Blood-red pain that drained his strength and threatened him with madness. Still, though the days and months and years dragged on, he was never fully broken. Some small corner of his consciousness held on, muttering a mantra of unrecognizable self- realization in the words, "I am Doom!" Holding on to that tiny thread of his former identity, until one fateful mistake uncovered the key to his eventual escape.

Doom turned away from Marissa and studied the mass of material on the lab bench that the nanites were slowly transforming into a new weapon. "It is enough that it is the right thing to do," he replied softly, adjusting some of the controls.

Marissa faced that broad back in frustration. "So that's it? You're just going to stay here, and play revolutionary, and not even try to get us home? Aren't you even concerned about what may be happening to our own people, back on Earth?"

"The obstacles that prevent us from returning to the Earth are far beyond your limited intellect to fully understand," Doom leaned heavily upon the table. "The people of the Earth will either survive as they have always done, or be destroyed by Galactus. There is nothing you or I can do about that now."

"I can't believe it . . ." Marissa stammered. "I can't believe that you've given up on them so easily! It's almost as if you're making excuses to not even try! Are you so afraid of failure that you'll give up without even trying?!"

"How dare you speak to me in such a manner, you ignorant little fool!" Doom turned around and towered above her threateningly. He raised an armored glove as if to strike her.

Marissa faced him defiantly, refusing to lower her eyes or tremble in the face of his terrible anger. "If you hit me again, it will be the last time," she said fearlessly. "But it still won't make the truth go away," she added.

Doom stood transfixed like a statue for a moment, then, thinking better of it, he dropped his hand. Still, his anger was unabated. "You have no idea of the horrors that await one who suffers the unwanted attention of the Tanen," he stated with an icy certainty that chilled her to the bone. "Every move we make upon the planet's surface puts us at risk of detection, including any attempt to leave this world. Construct a starship out of pine boughs and pipe dreams if you must, but once you connect it to a power source the Tanen will swoop down upon you like carrion crows and rip you to shreds. Now get out of here, you have angered your sovereign unwisely, and I still have much work to do." He turned his back to her with a final dismissive wave of his hand.

Marissa stood there fuming for a moment, hating how he still treated her like a child. It was clear that there was much she didn't understand about this world though, and she spun around and stomped out of the lab, slamming the door as she left, not caring if her show of anger interrupted Doom's precious studies. A few moments later she found herself standing outside the stone mansion, at the edge of the walkway leading into the caves where the children lived. The dark sky had turned to gray, and soon it would be morning. In the village below, there were signs of quiet stirring in the huts and on the suspended walkways between the trees.

Eager to get as far away from Doom as she could, Marissa turned into the cave and started for the steps. She was instantly confronted by the dark, and she realized she had left her portable lamp back in her room. Thula's torch was there on the wall, but she didn't have a way to light it. She stood there pondering for a minute. She didn't want to go back to the mansion, she didn't want to risk facing Doom again. She was also revolted by the thought of the corpse that lay decomposing in his chamber. She decided that she would just have to find her way through without the light, and she boldly descended the winding stairs, keeping a hand on one wall and straining her eyes to see through the pitch blackness.

She instantly regretted being driven by her own foolish pride. At the bottom of the stairs she couldn't see a thing, and as soon as she stepped away from the wall, she felt an overpowering sense of vertigo, of not knowing where her own feet were. She hadn't taken two steps before she suddenly felt completely lost. Turning around to where she thought the wall would be, she walked a few steps back, and it wasn't there! Panic began to set in as she lost all sense of direction, but she fought it down. If she could find a wall, she could make it back to the stairs. She kept her hands out in front of her, and shambled forward tentatively.

"Ow! Watch where yer going!" a child's voice cried out as she stumbled over something on the floor.

"What?! Oh, sorry!" Marissa answered, trying not to fall on the boy. "I can't see a thing," she explained meekly.

"Are ye blind, then? I'm right here!"

"No, I'm not blind," Marissa stated angrily. "I just can't see in the dark as well as you!"

"Aye, that much is true," the boy sighed. "C'mon then, I'll help ye. Time for me to be rising anyways."

"Thanks, really," Marissa sighed gratefully as he took her by the hand. His small paw was rough in her hand, and his guidance was firm.

"Step down," he instructed.

She almost fell. "Maybe we could find a torch or something. How can you see in this darkness?"

"Aw, it's not so bad, you just gotta know yer way 'round the caves is all," he replied. "There's a torch in the chapel, c'mon, I'll light it for ye," he added helpfully.

Marissa heard the sound of flint striking, and then a brief flare. Suddenly a circle of light enveloped her small savior, and she breathed a sigh of relief at being able to see again.

Her guide was as she expected, a small Damonen boy. Barely four feet tall, he was probably an adolescent, not quite rid of the softness of his youth, but beginning to show the stockiness of the compact limbs and wide shoulders that were characteristic of his race. The short fur of his body was a chestnut color, and his shoulder length mane was a striking dark brown. He was the only Damonen she had seen that didn't have their hair cut short, and even though his immature mane wasn't as full as the wild Johsarr, it was quite striking in it's beauty and sheen. That was apparent even in the dim light thrown off from the flickering torch. He wore a simple sleeveless tunic, wrapped at the waist with a cord, and his broad feet were bare.

"Thank you so much," Marissa said, accepting the torch from the boy. "I was kinda scared there for a minute." She took a quick glance around the cavern that he had called the chapel, and recognized it as one of the rooms Thula had walked her through on their way to Doom's fortress. "My name is Marissa," she added.

"Kube," was the boy's reply. "Wot were you doing in the cave anyway? I'd heard you was stayin' up with Lord Doom."

"Yes, well, I was coming down to take a look around the village," she answered. "I guess I was lucky I bumped into you. Thula told me that the children didn't usually come up this far into the caves."

"Aye, most of 'em thinks the chapel is 'aunted," Kube replied with a shrug. "But I like it up 'ere."

Marissa got a sense from that quiet shrug that the boy was a bit of a loner, and she decided not to press it further. Then, in the silence of the cave, there was a sudden echoing sound, seemingly coming from outside, but so deep and low that it resonated even here, deep inside the cave. It was a low coughing that echoed at irregular intervals, punctuated by an occasional long, drawn out howl. It startled Marissa, but Kube didn't seem to pay it any mind.

"What is that?" she asked, listening to the strange sound.

"Wot, that? That's just the Goltern," Kube answered. "Ain't you never 'eard it before?"

"No," Marissa said. She had heard the word 'Goltern' before, and she had come to realize that it was the name of a man of some importance to the Damonen clans. "It sounds like he's dying," she commented as a particularly loud howl echoed through the cave.

Kube laughed. "He's singing."

"What?"

"Singing," Kube explained. "That's what the Golterns do. They sing, they make baby Damonen, and then they sing some more. Aroo, aroo, arrrroooo," Kube mimicked.

Marissa stifled a laugh, as Kube's face had turned quite serious in his attempt to imitate the Goltern. His voice wasn't quite low enough yet. "That's very good," she complimented.

Kube smiled, then shrugged again. "I've been practicing," he admitted shyly. "But the elder says I should be learning a skill like carpentry or farming. I'll never get to be Goltern," he added, and turned away, suddenly ashamed.

"Well, maybe you could," Marissa said comfortingly. "I mean, I don't see why not."

Kube looked up at her, and smiled a little. Still, he seemed quite sad. "No," he finally said. "I know I won't. I 'ave a flaw. The Clanolean will never choose me."

Marissa was startled by his simple revelation. She could see no flaw, what could he possibly mean? She was curious, but she didn't mean to pry. Yet she didn't have to ask, for the boy was parting the hair above his left ear to show her. There in the dark mane was a distinct patch of pure white, an undercoat that he kept hidden by the long dark hair on top. It didn't seem like much to her, but it obviously meant a lot to the boy.

Kube let her see, then shrugged again as he combed his mane back over the small blemish. "It's not like everyone doesn't know . . ." he added.

Marissa felt suddenly sympathetic. "Is that why you sleep in the upper caves?" she asked. "Because the other children tease you?"

"No, not exactly," Kube admitted. "I been in some fights, and the elder don't like it none. The other boys, they think I'm weak on account of I didn't come to live in the caves till I was nearly six years old. My mother kept me at 'ome all that time, on account of she weren't favored by the new Goltern. It took a long time before she was wit' child again, then I had to come 'ere. It was nice being wit' her, she was very kind, not at all like the elders. But, it don't mean I'm a weakling!"

"I believe you there," Marissa agreed. "But you miss her, don't you?"

Kube was silent.

Marissa wondered if she'd crossed some invisible line. She had learned more about these people from a few minutes with this boy then she had since coming here. Perhaps he had sensed her own feelings of being an outcast, and so trusted her more completely. Maybe he just wanted someone to talk to. Either way, she wanted to know more. "Maybe you could visit her sometime?" she added hopefully.

"No, that wouldn't be right," he said with sad resignation. "She has a baby now, and a new one on the way. I see her sometimes, in the village. That's well enough for me."

It seemed harsh to Marissa, to have the children taken away from their mothers at so young an age. It was beginning to sound like the Damonen were being bred, with a single sire and a herd of females, with the women constantly kept pregnant by having the children being taken away from them at a young age. Marissa was familiar with selective breeding from the herds of goats and cattle that were often kept by the gypsy clans, but the thought of the same tactics being used on an obviously intelligent and evolved race was inherently abhorrent to her. 'What would they do with all the babies?' she silently wondered. Surely their population would explode in a very short time. There had to be some explanation that she was missing. "What will you do if you're not chosen to be Goltern?" she asked, still listening to the distant song, fainter now then it had been earlier.

"I dunno right yet," Kube shrugged. "I hope they won't send me to Lohen or Winhook provinces. I like it here. Maybe I will tend the worms. It's not a bad trade. It's quiet, like the caves. I like to go in the worm forest and think. Sometimes you can hear the worms singing, if'n you listen just right. I think maybe they sing to me, too."

"Worms?" Marissa asked. "What's the worm forest?"

"Aye, 'ave you not seen them?" Kube asked.

"No, I don't think I have."

"Would you like to? I 'ave a small patch, I'm not supposed to keep them because I wasn't chosen to be a tender, but they're doin' quite well. I could show you, I was goin' up there this mornin' anyways."

"Sure, why not?" Marissa answered, and picked up her torch to follow Kube through a hidden passage out of the underground chapel.

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

"Bloody stupid worms."

"Shut up, Yakku," Lizwe said. "We're almost there."

"Get out of the way, ye dumb beastie!" Thwack! Yakku struck the nearest worm with the back of his paw, and the gangly creature swayed backward against its myriad companions, clearing a way for the two Johsarr.

Yakku and Lizwe were slowly making their way to the Tanen city of Zyosa Prime, capital of Zyosa Province, under cover of darkness and through the barrier of worms that guarded every Tanen city on the planet. As dense as a cornfield, the eight-foot tall sea of red extended nearly half a mile out from the towering white walls of the Tanen city. The forest of worms undulated serenely as they basked in the glow of energy emanating from the modern city. The two Johsarr spies, like the Damonen, were immune to the more harmful effects of the worms, and walked through the field of living creatures with impunity. For the Tanen, the shield of the worms protected their city against their only recognized enemies, other Tanen. And the worms fed off of the residual energy from their cities, and so clustered greedily up to the very walls of the massive metropolis, providing perfect cover to the two diminutive Johsarr who now approached it.

"Hate the damn things," Yakku muttered in disgust as he squeezed past the red skinned creatures.

"What's to hate?" Lizwe asked. "They're just worms."

"They stink, that's wot."

"Yeah, well, so do you sometimes."

"Har har har," Yakku mocked.

"Now shut up, here's the wall," Lizwe looked up at the great wall.

There didn't seem to be any way in, but as Doom had shown them, there to the left was a waste portal, a little more than four meters up from the ground. There was a grate around the mouth of the pipe, but it had been broken for some time. Lizwe used a grappling hook made out of bone on a length of rope, snagging one of the metal bars of the grate. It was still dark out, but not for much longer. They would be exposed on the wall as soon as they climbed above the height of the worms, so they had to hurry. And hope that there weren't any patrols watching. The two Johsarr nimbly climbed up the rope and into the shadowy opening, pulling their rope up after them. Checking to see that no alarm had been risen, they hurriedly scampered through the pipe, and into the bowels of the Tanen city.

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

"Lord Doom, may I have a word?" Thula stood patiently in the hall as Doom sat at the long dining table, finishing his morning meal.

Doom took his time in answering. He was annoyed that Thula presumed to have such status here that he could barge in and request an audience at his every whim. Doom had much more important business to attend to than the fate of their crops or how to keep their roads clear of mud. So he had made Thula wait in the foyer, while he tended to his morning ablutions. And he made him wait longer than that, just to be sure that his intent was clear. When he finally answered, he did so over his cup of coffee. "You may, Thula," he said irritably between sips of the dark native brew. "But make it quick, I haven't time for your petty quibbles this morning."

"Yes, Lord Doom, I understand," said Thula, approaching the table to stand beside the armored despot. "But it is about the earth girl, Marissa."

"What about her?" Doom muttered, still a tad irritated.

"It seems that she's missing, m'lord."

"Missing? Nonsense, I saw her this morning," Doom said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Aye, and so did her handmaiden, but she has not been seen since," Thula continued. "She missed her breakfast, and she is not in her room nor anywhere else in the house."

"She is probably simply wandering about the village," Doom said, standing now. Yet his voice betrayed a tinge of worry over the girl. "It is not yet midmorning, I don't think there's need to be concerned."

"I checked in the village, and no one 'as seen 'ide nor 'air of her, pardon the expression," Thula added, his accent becoming thicker as his distress mounted. "But it's worse than that, sir, because I've just received word that the Clanolean is on 'is way 'ere."

Doom stopped and looked down at the elder Damonen. "Why wasn't I informed of this earlier?" he demanded. "How soon will he be here?"

"We just received word ourselves, m'lord," Thula admitted. "An unscheduled visit, he'll be 'ere before midday. If the Clanolean should happen to see the girl in the village . . ."

"Yes, I know Thula," Doom growled with annoyance, throwing his napkin down onto the table. Secretly he chastised himself for having raised his hand to the girl. Perhaps their quarrel was to blame for her untimely departure from the safety of the mansion. "Organize a search party, concentrate on the village, the caves, and down by the river. I will search the outskirts and the upper plains."

"Need I remind you sir that you must not expose yourself unnecessarily? Should you be seen . . ."

"Yes, I am quite aware of the risks, old man," Doom said with an angry sigh. "But should Marissa be discovered by the Clanolean the danger you are afraid to speak of will impact every soul in the village. Now do as I say and be quick about it!"

"Yes, m'lord," Thula said backing away before hurrying out of the room.

Doom turned to the window and looked out upon the bright village below, and the glorious morning that had just turned to gray. A churning dread stirred in the pit of his stomach, and his fists clenched in futile anger and barely contained rage. And fear, which he would not yet admit. He turned away from the window and marched out of the room.

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

"Are we almost there yet?"

Marissa trudged along behind the nimble Damonen boy, up a narrow path that wound around the cliffs above the village. Since they had exited the caves and set upon this remote path, the sun had risen, dispelling with a vengeance the early morning coolness. Away from the sheltering trees, the bright beams beat down upon the back of her neck, raising trickles of sweat that had soaked the thin shirt she wore under the long tunic. Her bare feet were not well suited to climbing either, although the soft dirt of the path had proven forgiving at least. The steep descent from the river valley to the top of the limestone cliffs had also quickened her heartbeat, and she badly needed to stop to catch her breath. Her young guide, similarly dressed but in better condition, didn't seem to mind the climb at all. His wide clawed toes clutched the dirt path with confidence, and he stood at the edge of a dizzying precipice with utter fearlessness.

"C'mon then," Kube said, "we're almost to the top."

"I sure as shocking hope so," Marissa muttered breathlessly. "I've missed my breakfast for this, you know."

"We'll harvest some honey when we get there," Kube said, helping her up the last few steps. "And if we're lucky, there'll be some ripe berries too." Marissa stopped when they finally reached the top, and as she caught her breath she marveled at the wondrous view laid out before her. She stood at the edge of the cliff, and from here she could look straight down 300 meters to the village in the valley and the river and the swamps beyond. She could see for miles around from this plateau in the sky, across acres of forest interwoven with hundreds of brilliant blue rivers, lakes and streams. And far in the distance, the glimmering sign of a modern technological civilization, the first as she had seen on the planet. A great walled city, no doubt the home of the Tanen, loomed upon the misty horizon like the Emerald City of Oz.

"C'mon, this way," Kube entreated, not at all impressed by the view. Marissa reluctantly turned to follow him, no longer regretting coming along, but wishing that it was over. The boy was genuinely enthralled by the opportunity to show her his "worm forest," and she suspected that she had unknowingly become the closest thing to a friend he'd ever had. She didn't want to disappoint him, and so she followed him up the gentle slope at the top of the cliff, still clueless as to what awaited her at their final destination.

They topped the low hill and came in sight of their goal. Rising before them were two forests, one of traditional trees and bushes, evergreens like those she had seen below, and one unlike anything she had ever seen. In a shallow meadow between the edge of the cliff and the start of the woods, there was a short space of open ground. The trees protected the meadow from the windy cliffs in a natural half circle. In the center of the meadow there was a cluster of red skinned creatures, Kube's worms, bunched close together and swaying slightly in the morning sunlight. There were easily a hundred or more, stationary, upright like stalks of corn, each one nearly six feet tall and a foot in diameter. If Kube hadn't called them worms, she might have thought that they were some kind of plant. Their bases seemed rooted in the earth, but they actually were moving in a seductive, leisurely pattern upon the ground, betraying a mobility that no plant should rightly have.

Even more strange, they clearly responded to Kube as he approached them, turning and becoming more agitated as he came near. Marissa followed him, fascinated, until he turned around to face her with a warning gesture of his hand.

"You better stop there," Kube instructed. He pointed to a rock. "Sit there, and don't come too close. They don't like the Tanen, so they might not like you either. I'll be right back."

Marissa watched in fascination, but did as he instructed, loosening the tunic to let the light breeze cool her body as she rested on the large boulder. Kube picked up a woven basket that he'd left at the corner of the clearing, and entered the forest of worms. Their red skin changed color as he walked among them into differing shades of orange and pink, and he stroked their sides in loving affection. Soon he disappeared from view within the cluster of worms. There was silence on the plain, except for the gentle wind sweeping up from the nearby waterfall, its thunderous crash lost inside the deep chasm. Marissa felt a sensation of inexplicable disquiet as she noticed the outer edge of worms turning away from Kube and back toward her. Although they had no eyes to speak of, it was almost as if they were looking at her. She suddenly felt eerily uncomfortable, and vulnerable.

Then Kube appeared again, his chestnut fur glistening, and he came up to Marissa grinning, holding the basket in both hands. The basket had a translucent, golden substance filling the bottom and dripping thickly off the sides.

"They were really good, I could get buckets today if'n I wanted," Kube said laughing.

"Look at all this, and I was only in there for a minute!" He set the basket down by her feet and sat down. "'ere," he said, "try some. It's right good." He handed her a cracker dipped in the golden liquid.

Remembering the bug guts of the day before, Marissa winced, then hesitantly tasted it. Surprisingly, it was sweet! Just like honey, even with the same consistency. She tried some more. "This is fabulous," she said, truly amazed. "This comes from the worms?"

"Uh huh, if you raise 'em right," Kube said, getting up again. "Wait 'ere, I'll get us some berries to go wit' it. I saw a bojo bush that was just burstin' with fruit down by the trees." Marissa watched him go, and dipped her fingers again into the sweet nectar. Kube trotted over to the edge of the forest, and began harvesting berries from a nearby bush. When she was alone once more, she again found her attention being drawn back to the worms. They shuffled harmlessly around in their chosen space in the meadow, but they were both frightening and strangely enticing to the earth girl. She dipped her fingers in the honey again, licking the sweet elixir hungrily, and watched them with morbid fascination. Their colors merged and changed, red, orange, and pink, flushed with light from within, and their hollow heads swayed in a slow rhythm. She was transfixed, feeling her heart beat in her chest to the rhythm of their dance. She stood up, and despite Kube's warning, moved toward them. She wanted to touch them . . .

She was pulled back, roughly, by someone strong grabbing her arm.

"Do not go any further, gypsy," Doom warned in a threatening whisper. He held her back, even as she wordlessly wanted to go to the worms and pulled against him. She was hypnotized by their powers, and Doom pulled her further away. "Snap out of it!" he commanded, "they will eat you alive!"

"What?" she finally said, "what was I . . . what are you doing?"

"Preventing you from making a very costly mistake," Doom replied with typical understatement, as he continued to back slowly away from the swaying worms, never letting his eyes leave the clutch of mesmerizing creatures. "You were about to go into the worm field." Kube came racing out of the forest in alarm, having seen Doom fly up the cliff face toward his worms. He had watched Doom pull Marissa to safety mere steps away from the nearest worms even as he was running over to try to stop her. "That was a close 'un," he said as he approached the pair. "You weren't supposed to go there, Marissa. I told 'er not to get too close, guv'nr," he added sheepishly.

"You shouldn't have brought her up here!" Doom scolded harshly. "It's far too dangerous for her to be so close to the worms!" The severity of his punishment was curtailed as he continued to eye the worms with suspicion, monitoring his energy levels for signs of an attack.

"I don't get it, what's the big deal?" Marissa finally said with confusion. She had shaken off the trance but was unaware of ever having been in one.

"Boy," Doom ordered, "bring me a small one."

"Aye, sir," Kube answered obligingly, and he disappeared into the worm field. He reappeared seconds later with a small, squirming red thing between his paws. He stepped up to Doom, who held out his armored hand to silently accept the immature worm.

Doom let the creature crawl around his hand for a moment, his eyes narrow within his steel mask in deep concentration. He turned to Marissa, and showed her the small creature. The red skin glistened in the sunlight, and it wrapped around Doom's hand like a snake.

"Hold out your hand," he ordered firmly.

She did so, and he grabbed it with his free hand, then let a small portion of the worm slide out onto her open palm. At first, all she felt was a cold, slimy wetness, oozing onto her hand. Then there was a tingle, like her hand was falling asleep. Then, like the crack of a whip an intense shooting pain launched up her arm from her fingers all the way to her shoulder. The sudden pain seemed to envelop muscle, skin, and even bone in profound, excruciating agony. She whipped her arm away from the touch of the worm so fast that she fell back onto the earth, and still the pain took several moments to subside, bringing tears to her eyes and causing her to clutch her arm tightly to her body.

"Ow, ow ow . . . jammit . . . what the shock did that thing do to me?" she cried, as Kube stepped over to help her back to her feet.

"It did what it does naturally," Doom replied, still cradling the creature in his palm. "It fed upon the electrochemical signals within your nervous system. And that was just a small one. The larger ones . . ." he turned to look over his shoulder at the six-foot tall worm forest behind him, "can do much worse."

"But . . . but I saw Kube walk right into them, right into the midst of them," she protested, rubbing her arm now that the mysterious pain was gone. Surprisingly, her arm seemed to be completely normal, and there were no marks on her hand or skin.

"The Damonen are immune to the effects of the worms, they have a natural symbioses with these creatures, feeding on the honey they produce as one of their dietary staples," Doom answered.

"And you? How is it that you can hold it? Does your armor protect you?"

Doom grimaced within his mask, as he concentrated. "Their harmful effects are not impeded by any known barrier," he stated calmly. "They are attuned to many ion fields at once, making their skills as energy leeches unparalleled in this galaxy. However, through superior concentration, I can control the ability of the worm to feed on me," he said through gritted teeth, knowing that he was slowly losing this battle. But he would not lose the war. "For a time, at least," he admitted. It was the best he'd ever done, but it still wasn't good enough. He was finally forced into crushing the young worm in his steely fist as the searing pain broke through his mental barriers. He watched it die between his fingers without remorse.

Kube frowned as he witnessed the death of the worm at Doom's hands, but he said nothing. Until he looked up to the east, and saw the ships approaching. "Lord Doom!" he shouted, pointing to the sky. "Look!"

A fleet of airships were streaking across the clear sky from the distant Tanen city directly toward them. The vessels were too far away to have seen them yet, but at the rate they were approaching, the trio on top of the cliffs would soon be in their sights. Doom instinctively took a defiant posture, his muscles tense within his armor as his power blossomed from his clenched fists. But there were a half-dozen ships, and he was both outnumbered and outgunned. He knew that he was not ready to confront the Tanen face-to-face. Not yet. Reluctantly, he powered down his systems and chose an alternate plan.

"The Clanolean has arrived," Doom stated coldly, turning back to his companions on the exposed plateau. He addressed Kube urgently. "Get back down to the village and tell Thula that the gypsy girl is safe. Hurry!" Kube turned without question and scampered for the path down to the village. "Marissa, come with me," Doom continued grabbing the girl by the arm before she could question. "We must return to the mansion before they spot us." He headed directly for the cliff's edge.

"They're too close, we'll never make it down in time!" Marissa cried, her eyes on the approaching Tanen airships.

"Yes, we will." Holding onto the slender gypsy girl by the waist, Doom leapt off of the cliff and into the dark chasm of the mighty waterfall. Her frightened scream was drowned by the thundering roar of the falling river, as they disappeared into the gray plume of mist rising up from the cascade of water below.

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

The Tanen ships circled the village of the Damonen cautiously and then landed in a rocky clearing at the edge of the river. Two of the ships remained airborne, hovering protectively over the village, their silent pilots scanning the horizon and the swamps for any sign of danger. Three of the ships were larger cargo transports, and as soon as they landed their crew began to unload hover lifts, large floating crate beds, that would be used to move goods from the village into the transport ships. The final ship touched down closest to the village, and carried the Clanolean himself. He was preceded down the ramp by his Farhout guards, fierce looking, tall Damonen with helmets that concealed their faces and heavy black armor. They carried shock sticks, six foot long poles with electro charged tips. They paced in step down the platform and waited in tight formation on either side for the Clanolean to appear.

The Clanolean was taller than his guards, and at nearly eight feet he was a giant to the much shorter Damonen. He walked regally down the ramp from his ship, his expression one of bored tedium as the Damonen contingent rushed up to greet him. He was humanoid in appearance, except for his almost translucent white skin, which he kept covered in bright patterned cloaks and skirts. His feet were clad in simple sandals, and his long delicate fingers were decorated by tattoos that betrayed his status as one of great wealth. Like all of the Tanen, he had almost no hair, and his head was wrapped in a multicolored turban with a skirt that hung down around his wrinkled neck. His limbs were as long and gangly as the rest of his body, but he had a distinctive pot belly that even his loose robes could not conceal.

"Master Errylind," chancellor Nayana of the Damonen council bowed deeply as the revered Clanolean approached. The other council members gathered around her and bowed solemnly. "We are honored by your unexpected visit."

"Never mind that," Errylind stated shortly, waving his hand over the cowering Damonen.

"Where is Thula? I want to see the rolls. We have business to conduct."

"He was detained, Master Errylind, but . . ."

"His plebeian chores do not concern me! He is required to meet me here when I arrive, now where is he?!" The Tanen's face grew livid in his impatient fury.

There was a frightened silence among the small party of Damonen. Then a rustling and a shout from the village as Thula suddenly appeared. The normally serene face on the Damonen elder was flushed with agitation, and he carried a jumbled mass of rolled paper as he rushed down the rocky beach to meet the Clanolean. Kube trailed him a few steps, carrying the rolls that Thula had dropped in his haste. The boy wore an expression of wonder and alarm at the sight of the armed guards and their brightly garbed Tanen master. It was the first time he had seen the Clanolean up close, and it was an intimidating experience for the young Damonen.

"Master Errylind, a thousand pardons for my tardiness," Thula said with eyes downcast as he bowed before the Clanolean. "The grethis is being readied for shipment, but the season is not done, so we 'aven't collected a full 'arvest yet." He indicated the cargo ships, and a steady stream of Damonen laborers who were bringing up full bags slung over their shoulders and dropping them into the waiting hover carts.

"Yes yes, I realize I am early," Errylind waved his hand as if it was inconsequential.

"We will collect what you have for now. That is not why I am here." Errylind stepped from the platform at last and glided easily up the beach toward the village. Two of his Farhout guardsmen flanked him protectively, and Thula struggled to keep up behind them. "I have a disturbing report Thula. It seems that there may be something I have overlooked here in your simple village. Something alien, which does not belong with the Damonen."

"Master Errylind, I don' know what you mean . . ." Thula protested, trying to hide his panic. He dared not even think of Doom, lest the Clanolean read it in his eyes.

Errylind mounted the hanging pathway that led toward Doom's mansion. "You know the wishes of the Tanen are that no harm should befall the Damonen," he said smoothly. "We only wish to protect you from evil and suffering. Do you not believe that?"

"Of course, Master Errylind."

"Then why do you defy us? Why do you ignore our guidance?" Errylind turned on Thula angrily, his eyes flashing with mysterious power.

"Master . . . I don' understand . . ."

"I see that I have been derelict in my guidance," Errylind sighed sadly, turning away again. "I thought that I could trust the council, in so much as we provided you with guidelines that your simple brains could comprehend. I thought I could trust you, Thula, to follow these commands, without having to resort to discipline. Now I fear I will have to be more forceful in my guidance." Errylind suddenly looked at the boy that still followed Thula, quietly carrying some of his papers. "Step forward, boy," he directed.

Kube felt his heart skip. He caught Thula's eyes then, and was not comforted by the startled look he saw in his kinsman. Thula had not realized that Kube still followed him, and he blinked in sudden dread, recognizing the error he had made. But he nodded to Kube, knowing what was to come now, and moved aside to gently guide the boy up to their arduous master.

Errylind looked over the boy, grabbing his face gently in his long fingers and turning Kube's head from side to side. "What is this, Thula?" Errylind questioned angrily. "Are you growing Johsarr in the village now? Why hasn't this creature been shorn?" Kube stuttered, "I was away from the village at the last 'arvest . . ."

"He simply missed the ceremony, Master Errylind," Thula interrupted, stepping up protectively behind the boy. "Nothin' more than an oversight, we will correct it immediately."

Errylind was silent as he ran his fingers through the boy's shoulder length mane with studious assessment, delicately feeling the strands like one might examine threads of gold. He came upon the white patch behind Kube's left ear, and visibly frowned. "This boy is flawed," he said with disgust, turning the head roughly to show everyone there the obvious blemish. He dropped the boy's head, pulling his hand away as if he'd been stung. "Why you let these deviants proliferate, is beyond me," he spat, talking about the boy as if he wasn't there. "A waste of food."

"He's a good boy," Thula defended quietly. "He is an asset to the clan." He put his hands upon Kube's shoulders, but the boy's worst fear had been consummated, and he wanted nothing more this moment than to disappear forever.

"How many more of these freaks have you let slip through the cracks, Thula?" Errylind accused threateningly. "We provide for you, protect you, and this is how you repay us? I can see I have waited far too long to pay you a personal visit."

"We welcome your wise guidance, Master Errylind," Thula said, bowing again, perhaps hoping his contrite display would calm the Clanolean's anger.

"Then why do you defy it?" Errylind shouted. He turned on the platform and pointed an accusing finger to the wheelhouse, and the large wooden wheel that slowly turned, its low chug - chug - chug sound echoing softly through the quiet canyon. Errylind's cloaks swayed in the gentle breeze coming down off of the tall cliffs, and he stood still upon the walkway like a statue, eyes blazing with anger. "This uncontrolled technology that you dare to practice is the work of evil spirits and unclean souls," he lectured angrily. "It means only extinction to the Damonen! You threaten your entire clan with annihilation when you dally in the realms of these primitive mechanics! The minds who conceive such atrocities should be buried in them!" Errylind was livid, his eyes glowing with an alien power as he clenched his fist in the face of the Damonen elder.

Thula cowered visibly beneath that terrible anger. "It was only to ease the burden of grinding the grain, Master Errylind," he sputtered fearfully.

"You will grind the grain as you have always done!" Errylind shouted. "What is good enough for your ancestors is good enough for you! This abomination must not be allowed to continue!" With a wave of his hand the wheelhouse exploded from within, sending fragments of wood cascading in a blistering fireball up from the river. Dozens of Damonen screamed and scattered, running from shards of splinters that rained down upon them with the unexpected eruption. Others cowered in fear at the base of the river, screaming for the lost ones who had disappeared inside the conflagration.

Satisfied with his display of power, Errylind turned back to Thula, and extended his hand for the rolls of paper the Damonen carried. "Now," he said calmly, glancing over the records that Thula had carefully kept. "I must levy a penance upon the clan for having defied us. Lohen province has need of forty children aged one to three, and I have promised to fulfill their needs from my clans. I see that you have been prosperous," Errylind looked over the paper with a greedy sneer. "I will be able to collect them all from here."

A hushed murmur swept over the Damonen near enough to hear, and Thula's expression turned to dismay. "Forty, sir?" he asked. "Please, spare us this, it is too many."

"On the contrary," Errylind growled, "it is not nearly enough! You must be taught the error of your ways! Every one of you must be considered corrupted and in need of cleansing. I will be leaving an armed guard here from now on, to ensure that you do not again ignore our laws! We will have order here, and those among you that seek to defy me will be revealed, and destroyed!"

The Tanen made a small gesture to the squad of Farhout guards awaiting him on the beach. Suddenly the guards sprang into action, directed by an unseen telepathic command, and were scouring the village with terrible intent. Bursting into huts and racing along the hanging platforms, they grabbed babies still suckling at their mother's breasts and tore naked children from women's arms. Brutally efficient, they began loading a hover cart with the wailing babies, passing over those that were too old or too young, and using their shock sticks without hesitation on any Damonen that dared resist them. There was a panic in the village, as some of the women ran to grab their babies, desperately trying to find a place to hide them from the Farhout, while others fell to their knees with tears of heartbreak streaming down their furry cheeks. Many more stood like dumb cows, numbed by years of enslavement into mindless acceptance.

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

"You see now," Doom said solemnly, watching from a dark window in his shadowy stronghold.

Marissa had changed back into her own clothes, after having been thoroughly soaked by the waterfall and scared half to death in their hasty leap from the cliff. She had known that Doom could fly with his powerful armor, but had wished that he had at least warned her first. Now she watched beside him, as the panic spread throughout the village below. Doom's primary source of power for the mansion had been destroyed in a flash, but that didn't seem to concern him now. What was worse than that, was that the Farhout were gathering and collecting all of the baby Damonen in the village, for some unnamed purpose. The sounds of the wailing could be heard even above the roar of the waterfall.

"They're being treated like animals!" Marissa protested. "Can't you do something?"

Doom was silent as he surveyed the ordered collection going on below. In the skies above, the two flying patrol ships continued to circle the valley. He could also see the Tanen master standing quietly on the walkway above the river. Doom resisted the temptation to check his armor's power levels to be sure that his systems remained undetectable, as his eyes bore down upon his enemy with singular contempt.

On the platform below, the Tanen turned, looking with puzzled curiosity up at the stone mansion in the cliff above him. His brow creased. As far as he knew, no one lived in that dilapidated old structure, but he had the uneasy sense of being watched. Errylind frowned, but he could not see through the dark shadowed windows, and it would be too strenuous to use his powers to explore it. He shrugged and turned back around, certain that there was nothing there that should concern him, and he watched with pleasure the successful harvest that would once again cement his place as a distinguished merchant in the Tanen community. The pleasure of his mounting success with these dirty creatures thrilled him immensely, outweighing at least temporarily the distasteful task of having to interact with them directly.

Hidden within the shadows, Doom had met the Tanen's blind gaze fearlessly. "Not yet, not this time," he said quietly. "But soon . . . soon. Very soon." His anger was palpable, billowing up through his voice in reams of subdued rage. Then satisfied that his revenge upon the Tanen was close at hand, he turned from the window and marched away, leaving behind the panicked cries of the women still drifting up from the Damonen village.

To be Continued . . .

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

"If you prick us do we not bleed?
    If you tickle us do we not laugh?
        If you poison us do we not die?
            And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?"
                            - William Shakespeare, "The Merchant of Venice"

DSM
August 8, 1999

NEXT: "Sound and Fury!" The stage is set, the players are in position. It's time at last for Doom to take the bull by the horns and confront the Tanen thugs head on! Will the Damonen support him? Will the Johsarr complete their chosen mission? Will he find the power he needs to take them on and exact his terrible revenge? And what role will the Beyonder play in Doom's quest for power? Hold on to your seats, dear friends, all of your questions will be answered next time in the exciting conclusion of Doom in Space!