NationStates Jolt Archive

Nothing breathes here in the cold,
Nothing moves or even smiles.
I've been thinking some of suicide,
But there's bars out here for miles.

"What's happening? What's happening? Please tell me what's happening!"

Sai hated this. He was just a passenger, like all the others – but one glance at this fucking uniform, and out came the hands of mercy.

"Calm down, ma'am, please calm down." He eased her withered fingers from her shoulder. The poor crone's chickens were going crazy, squawking and batting spiralling funnels of feathers about. He watched a particularly wispy specimen take the air, a gentle sailor, and descend in a serene arc to nestle amongst the grimy nuggets of shit.

"Well, aren't you going to do anything?"

Sigh. Sai stood up slowly, and patted the frail woman's shoulder. "I'll go and see."

He wasn't actually sure what to do. It was almost certainly just an asteroid field, or some debris. They were travelling millions of miles through space at near-light velocity, and they were shocked out of their skins – although he wasn't convinced that...thing...near the door had skin at all – at a few little bumps. He'd just go find a vending machine, and come back in a bit when things had calmed down. Some jargon would probably soothe her. The girl with the bewitching eyes was still there – he'd thought about going to talking to her earlier, maybe see where she was headed.

The guards on the door stood aside. They didn't normally let colonists out of the transit bays but – well, maybe the uniform wasn't all bad. He dabbed his forehead. It was hot though. It seemed a stupid regulation, frankly, and it made no sense – but it was in place to make sure off-duty officers didn't act out.

The corridors were empty – of course. There was a pleasant calm to them. The walls, blunt and grey, seemed friendlier than the gaudy mess of colour adorning the holding cells. Even the floor beneath his feet – resolutely bland metal – seemed comforting. There was large Port ahead. He smiled, remembering his once, long ago, asking his father how they cleaned the windows on ships, as they 'must get space poo on them'. He gazed out into the deep, dark void. The serene charm of the ever-night, every twist and turn of divine fabric a new channel of venture. The long bleak stare of the unknowable. It was an impossibility, to love space itself – the very absence of all. But this, that others had as a cold void, a perpetuum of soullessness, the one remaining nightmare, - no, it was a land more fabulous than their rivers and seas and oceans. A divine poetry of itself. One lit up by an unspeakably bright, blue streak of fire that flashed Sai blind in an instant. He fell to his knees as the ship groaned and shook. There were no asteroids.

Sai pulled himself up. Bright stars still burned at the edge of his vision. That had been – his military training really should have left him able to identify the weapon, but he found himself stuck with 'an energy beam' – and it was obviously being fired at the ship. That he was standing in. He began to run.

"Hey!"

He turned. It was a flushed – a very flushed – young officer with a face like a Gokkdelian tomato.

"Are you Navy?"

No, I'm Sai. I have a fucking name. "Yes. Lieutenant Jendan." I also have a fucking uniform.

"Can you help?"

"I'm not a pilot."

"No, we need people to crew the pods."

"The pods. The escape pods. The escape pods that would be used if we were going to evacuate the ship." Sai just caught himself. This guy was maybe younger than him. He couldn't panic now. And, of course, he was Navy.

"Yes."

"Ok. What's happening?"

"We're under attack."

Really. Again, there was no point pressing. He wasn't going to know.

"Ok."

Sai had never evacuated a ship before. The sirens – whining, oscillating pulses of intense but necessary shrillness – began to howl. And the cacophony of humans and aliens, animals and others, climbed up to match their wail. In one instant, the all-praised knight of his family's expectations and unthought-of newbie of the military's hierarchy crashed together in Sai's belly, and he knew not where to go.

Fortunately, some forgotten instinct kicked in, and he began to run, following the bright flashing row of green arrows that led round to one of the pods. The startled engineers desperately scrambling at the covering almost fell down in prostration at his arrival, one grasping his chest and thanking him over and over again...for following some green arrows, thought Sai.

He pushed him off, and began barking orders, aware of a dull, tinny shriek in his ears that might just have been his own voice, unaccustomedly authoritative. People began filing past, for the most part calm in their joy at making it to the pod. But there was pushing, and soon one man pushed ahead of another's daughter, and then that's my bag not yours, a punch flashing across a jaw, screams and bickers and yells. And Sai shrivelled away, no longer the square-jawed enforcer of order and law, but another frightened boy scared of dying. There were too many people now, anyway – they could never all fit.

The door slid shut to screams. He caught a glimpse of the old woman – on the wrong side – and, turning, hated himself for his relief at seeing the girl with the eyes was there – huddled into a corner, looking calm, but assuredly witless with terror.

The jolt as the pod flew free was massive, sending the packed bunch flying around. There was standing room only, and children catapulted through the air around his head. He tried to move to the front, and for a rash moment thought about leaping up and bellowing for order. But then they twisted again, a sickening, speeding lurch, and he crumpled down. Perhaps it would be better to sleep.

* * * * *

The world around her rose from its flashing, barracking dread-dark into a swimming haze of colour. Green sat up, and then lay back down again, quickly. Her head slowed, the crackling of her vision easing, and she tried opening her eyelids. She could feel dust and ash on her face. In front of her was a mangled face, jaw shot open in bloody disarray. She screwed them tightly closed again, and dared not scream.

How long she lay in the degrading filth of the crash she knew not, but she only, finally, pulled herself up when she realized the damp soaking through to her skin was blood.

It was like nothing. An apocalypse strewn before a simply traveller, not deserving of such sights. Bodies creamed and pulped. And all the air one, the literally bittersweet odour of death, a mournful harmony of the dying calling for aid.

She was injured – her knee was sore, her stomach torn, her hand unspeakable – but she began to try to tend to them. She knew little of healcrafts – when would she need them? But she did her best, gathering up strips of cloth and applying them to oozing gashes and dribbling nicks alike, dabbing moss in the pools of dirty water and mopping dazed foreheads. She had to stop every minute to hack sobbing chokes on her wrist: the exposed bones, the twitching muscle, the bloated bellies – it was not nice.

Gradually, though, they began to rise to her aid – firstly, a tallish man, then two sisters, and then others. Some were barely scratched – shielded beneath larger chunks of metal, their wounds were mostly burns and scrapes – and others dangling. But they all helped, all in grim silence. The soldier who'd been knocked out crouched over a wailing child next to her, and for a moment looked as though he might speak. But he didn't, and bent down to take a pulse.

Green glanced up. The world around was not so unusual as she'd believed foreign worlds must be. There were even trees – although most were purple, rather than the deep sandy yellow of her home planet. Dark birds, too high for guessing at size and form, circled and swam. The air was hot and dry. She sucked a deep lungful, and held it, finally expelling it from pursed lips. It was breathable – almost pleasantly so, compared to the tightly regulated controls of the ships.

Finally, someone spoke. A father, weeping over a tiny bundle. "Why?" he croaked.

Green didn't answer – she didn't even know 'what' yet. She simply pulled the shawl from her shoulders, and moved to him. Pressing the soft – if torn and stained – fabric into his hands, she reached out her hand, stopping just short of his shoulder. He held the cloth for a full minute, rubbing his thumb on it agitatedly, and then lowered to cover his young one's face. Green lowered her fingers to rest them on his back as it began to shake with tears of incomprehension.

Sorry about the every kiss,
Every kiss you wasted bad.
I think the thing you said was true:
I'm going to die alone and sad.

Lyrics stolen from 'Dear Chicago' by the Immensinator Supreme. Written by Ryan Adams, from the album Demolition. Billy Shakespeare also indiscriminately ripped. Title derived from Aldous Huxley's 'Doors of Perception', quoted in the foreword to 'The Psychedelic Experience' (Leary et al.). Approximately 6.5 words original work of Gruenberg.

Ichigo looked about. She was curious about where she was. She'd never been so far from the streets of Aqua Anu before. She didn't pay any attention to the people around her. She never cared much for humans.

"I've never seen a place so alien." She said to her self. She was begining to grow worried. She searched for an officer that would flat out tell her. One who wouldn't leav her b/c she was a half-breed. She stumbled over an injured man. Feeling obligated she bent down to help, only to have him cry in anguish: "Don't touch me you filthy half-breed!" Ichigo recoiled, and walked on. "Typcial Human. Even when they are in danger, they still never fail to keep their bad habbits." She stated to her self. She wanted very much to explored but dare not leave the sight of the crash. She felt very lucky. The first time she felt her cat-like agility saved her. She managed to reach an escape pod quickly b/f they all filled up. Not to mention her other reflexis may have kept her from the dozens of people who tried to shove her out, to let "PURE HUMANS IN" She felt a chill, and rubbed her bare arms.

Sasha stumbled out of the wreckage. She was relatively unhurt. "I thought Space Ships would be the safest vehicles ever." She mutterd to her self. This wasn't her first shipwreck. The first of this kind true, but not her first. The ship she saild on from Xanadou crashed in a big storm, b/f it reached it's destination. She looked at the desolate land. "Not ideal for farming. What am I saying? I'm not going to farm!" Sasha was anything but frightend. She had survied twisters, fires, floods, from her days on the farm, and a long sea voyage. She pulled her bag up, and looked inside. She only had a few posetions inside. Some cloths, a raincoat, and a pair of boots. She looked at the sky, wishing to see storm clouds. "How ironic. I go half my life wishing for NO storms, and here I am wishing for one." She seeked out an officer of any kind. That's what they did while saling, how would this be any diffrent?

Alaric Schlagel watched from the edge of the forest as the survivors of the wreckage start to stir and pick themselves up. In his dark suit and hat, he blended into the trees like a shadow on water. Offworlders. They did not often come here, and when they did, it was a tossup to see who survived. Alaric would enjoy monitering their progress. He smiled to himself, then started whistling a tune. The notes flung themselves around the forest and echoed around the crashed ship. Alaric would not show himself so suddenly, however. Before anyone could tell where the creepy music had come from, he had already vanished.

When Boswald Naade saw it in the distance, he suddenly became aware of the day.

He wasn't sure what had happened. One moment, he had been manning the enormous and ludicrously powerful telescope Mother of Invention at the Observatory of De Involverte on the remote Island of Narrowed Eyes. He was scanning a section of space he had scanned five or six times before, making sure no errant deity had wandered through the area any time in the past few thousand years or so. The next minute he was flat on his face on a place that was like Earth but disturbingly different, a place he imagined to be hundreds of bajillions of light years away. Maybe. By his estimates.

Maybe it's Narnia, he thought at first. But then he remembered that Narnia wasn't a real place and dismissed his thought as "mostly improbable."

He had wandered the planet for days. Maybe weeks. Maybe months. He had lost track of time. He had been transported here on a Tuesday, the day when all of the stars and planets aligned to make abnormally bad things happen to him.

When he saw the ship crash-land onto the planet, he realized at the very least that it was a Sunday. Sunday was usually when good things happened to him.

Boswald Naade ran toward the ship at his maximum speed of "fairly slow," stumbling and breathing heavily, his long white lab coat spreading like a sail behind him. He waved one arm in the air, stroking his forming gray beard with the other. He wondered if he should find a way to shave before being rescued.

"Hello!" he called, his voice throaty and offensively nasal. "Bonjour! Hola! Guten tag! Uh... please help me! Hello!"

Lunac Goca stepped away from the Gargoyle, the device he had just used to destroy the Sky Giants' vessle. He dared not looked at the blazing streak of fire that was now falling over the dessert, and instead turned to the Gargoyle-keeper, Ihsano.
"You have done a great service to our people this day, my son,"complimented Ishano,"The Sky Giants sould not be trusted."
The old man's gratitude did little to comfort Lunac. The young Krae-Sern had never even met a Sky Giant, and he had just killed...ten? a hundred? more? For the first time in his life, Lunac regretted being apprenticed to Ishano.
"Do, not regret your actions, my son,"warned the Gargoyle-keeper, seeming to understand Lunac's thoughts,"The last time Sky Giants made landfall on this world, their greed almost destroyed the soilmagic."
This comforted Lunac little. The two of them began the long decent down Mount Arrowood to Ishano's home.

The Goddess had come for him Herself. It was very flattering, really, to know She would be his personal guide to the Shining Lands, but Perry couldn't help feeling a little bit let down.

After all, he'd only just begun his real life. Even with the help of the bar-tender at the spaceport, it'd been hard work to persuade that fat flawn of a cook to take him on as an extra galley-hand. But he'd made it aboard an actual, genuine, working space-ship, and he'd seen his world from space for the first time -- and then the bloody tin can had crashed. At least, that was what he supposed had happened. So now here he was, off to Tir n'an Og, with only 17 blameless years to show for it. Call that a life?

That was another thing. The Goddess was prancing round in a white robe, which was only right, of course, given that for a green lad like him She was still obliged to appear in Her aspect as The Maiden. But he'd been intending to do something about that part of his life this year, and Olwen Matthews had as good as promised they would deal with it together, next Beltane. Now, though, she'd probably leap the bonfire with Dai Pritchard, and never a thought to dead-and-gone Peregrine Pennecuick.

Just then the Afterlife, already looking a deal less transcendent than he'd hoped, took a further turn for the worse. Herself was behaving, shame on him for thinking it, like Molly at the tavern. Flirting the hem of Her white robe to and fro, She was, teasing him as his poor lifeless body lay there on the ground. Not only was it a disrespectful way to treat a corpse, even if he wasn't in it any more, but it seemed somehow to be making his spirit nose itch, and any moment now he was going to AAAAAHHHHCHOOO!

Perry's eyes flew open. Not the robe of the Goddess, but a perfectly ordinary white fairy-bell, had been tickling his nose. His head seemed to be resting on a clump of the delicate flowers. In normal times he'd have been glad to see them -- Gran made a wonderful ointment out of them for his spots -- but right now he just swept them aside. For there was someone in a white robe standing near him. No Goddess this, though, but an oldish man who looked as if he should be happy, but wasn't. He had a scraggly beard spilling onto a scruffy-looking lab coat, and he was saying something ...

"Hello!" the stranger called, his voice throaty and offensively nasal. "Bonjour! Hola! Guten tag! Uh... please help me! Hello!"

"Hello yourself," said Perry. He tried hard to sort out what was going on. Here he was, flat on his back and possibly hurt (certainly something rather uncomfortable was taking place in the vicinity of his left leg). There was this man, standing up with no trouble, and looking as healthy as a man can look when he's got maybe just a smidgin too much meat on his bones. But the man was asking for his help, not the other way around.

"Well, if you'll give me a hand up I'll see what I can be doing," Perry offered politely. "But I have to tell you, I'm a stranger here meself."

In an hour every Krae-Sern in the city seemed to know about the appearence of the Sky Giants' vessel. Ironically, however, the emperor was among the last to hear about it. People tended to be very quiet around his eavesdropping fith assistant, who, when she had finnaly found out, had to tell the news to the emperor's fourth assistent, who told his third assistant, who told his secondary advisor, who told his primary advisor, who told the emperor.(Krae-Sern heirarchies are infamous throughout their world for their stupididy and ineffincency.) The fortunate side-effect, however, was that by the time He heard about the crash, it was no longer a raw, undetailed rumor: the fact that many of the Sky Giants had survived had become common knowledge.

The Gargoyle-keeper and his apprentice were summoned to the emperial court of the Krae-Sern.

"Oh, this is terrible,"lamented Ishano as he and Lunas were paking for their trip,"just terrible! Who is the emporer going to blame for the Sky Giant invasion? Me!"

"Don't be so melodramatic, master. First of all, if it was an invasion, they would of sent more than one spaceship, and second of all, I'm to blame; I was the one responsible for the Gargoyle."

"You misunderstand, my young son, you were responsible for the Gargoyle, but I am responsible for you. I will be the one reprimanded."

"Well, in any case, it's still an honor to be summoned to the emperial court, and I've never been to the Krae-Sern city before."
_________________________________________________________________

They were halfway to the Krae-Sern capital when they first had to stop. Just at the bottom of the cliff they were standing on was the smouldering wrekage of the Sky Giants' ship. At least six of the Sky Giants were alive, though some of them were wounded. There had indeed been massive casualties: at least two hundred mangled corpses, tons upon tons of twisted and charred metal...steel, mayby? These sky giants must have been very wealthy to afford so much steel. What may have once been very cushy and comfortable funitures were now charred and sometimes burning. One of the survivors was lying half-dead on the desert floor and another had the tail and ears of a cat. One of the Sky Giants seemed intent on examining the area, which unfortunately enough included the Krae-Sern travellers; they were spotted.

Je'll(hf) was walking down a village street, in a town that had many priests. As he neared the gate that lead to the northern wastes, a breeding ground of dragons, demons and elementals, he saw a man riding a horse into the ground. As the horseman reached the gate, the horse collapsed, pitching the man forward.
"Dragon, attacking, soon." He managed to gasp out before he died. The guards, as well as the populace that heard began to panick, a dragon attack would destroy the town. Sure enought, a short while later, the dragon's form was spotted flying south toward the village.

Je'll spotting the dragon, ran forward, shifting as he went to engage the dragon. Looking up he noticed it was only a fire wurm, but still worthy prey.
Preforming an immense leap he leapt up and managed to catch onto one of the dragon's feet.
He pulled himself up onto the back of the beast. Flexing his claws, he began slicing into the back of the beast, getting coated in dragon blood as he went.

As the dragon crashed, missing it's heart, Je'll leapt off and was met by the priests. They began chanting in unison: A l' yorn d' Yah, ori'gato l' errdegahr tlu luth doeb d'lil tresk'ri lu' wund l' neantak. A swirling void appeared at his feet, he being sucked into it and re-appearing in a strange, oddly smelling land.

When the initial panic spread about the ship, like a horrible plauge, James maintained a calm outward apperance. However, his thoughts were in caught in a torrent of horrorifying introspection.

I have brought it upon myself... I am responsible for this calamaty. It is my doing. I should have listened to the elders. I should have stayed home. Now... I recieve my punishment. How many will die, because of my foolishness?

The throngs of people surging into the escape pods moved his seemingly lifeless body forward. He had fully resigned himself to a grisly punishment. His body was carried by the river of frantic life. Hundreds of hearts beating with the rhythmical intensity of the ocean, becoming a fluid force moving forward, forward. By some chance or miracle, the river carried him into the pod. There his knees finally buckled and he fell under the furious feet of the screaming souls begging their respective deities, imploring their fellow men, pleading to anyone, anyone, anyone... for salvation.

Trampled by the boots, sneakers, shows, bare feet, he lay there feeling every neuron lashing out, screeching its message of pain into his brain. He would not give way to the cowardice of unconsiousness. He lay there, his eyes bleeding yet open, feeling the initial shock as the twisting metal, mercilessly splintered and cut through a large number of the people in the pod. And the searing heat as a small explosion followed, melting bone and skin, destroying flesh and bone. The ash fell upon his face. Another layer to cover the blood, a large portion of which was not his own.

The final jolt. The final crash.

It's all my fault. The blood of so many on my hands... because I disobeyed. And my punishment does not end yet...

He crawled up out of the corpses, out of the twisted wreck of metal and bleeding, charred flesh. He stumbled to his feet. But his knees buckled from the large laceration on his right thigh. He fell to his knees and looked upwards to the sky.

I have infected all those around me with this curse. I am responsible for all this suffering...

"It's ok, it's going to be ok." As she dabbed lightly at the forehead of the soldier, fitting violently, she tried to remember the lullabies her grandparents had once sung to calm her infant waves of despair. She sat back a moment to wipe her own face.

Green's sharp eyes flitted about. Slowly, the field of desecration was being purified - an uttterly silent but equally resolute agreement to shift the bodies away into a pile, and scrape together enough metal to cover them. A woman, clearly born of feline blood, was pulling at a hulk. Green sighed. The poor girl was trying to help - and still the accusing eyes followed her, dragging their sharply pointed sneers across her path. Racist scum. But then, Green thought, she knew few otherworlders. Perhaps there was reason to their hatred, and her heart mere innocence.

The soldier moaned lightly, and she returned the cool pad to his brow. The fool. It was a burden on him, she knew. She had no time for the military, but even she found herself looking to him for...something. And instead, he leads them to some 'food'. And insists on eating first, of course. And insists on passing out in a delirious spasmic eruption, of course.

She looked out. The air shimmered in the heat, like a mirror melting. There'd been flitting figures among the trees for some time now - but she hadn't needed to look to know that. So long as they only watched, though, she had no concern. People flocked to crash sites as bees to honey.

As bees to honey! That was it. As a panicked shriek let out across the field as the others finally saw some creature in the woods, as they scuttled and flailed and formed committees and sub-committees to prepare to defend their field, Green leant down, close to the young man's inflamed ear, and began to sing.

In hushed enchantment
Will you sleep
A slow and stable slumber
Will you keep

Lie, little one, in awe
Of night's raiment
Hushed embers of dark
The moon's repayment

As bees to honey then
Let doves of sleep fly
To draw tight the covers
Of your tiny eye

The night was closing in - Green didn't know how long the dark would last. But its purple edge brought a chill wind. And there were creatures in the forest.

"Hello!" the stranger called, his voice throaty and offensively nasal. "Bonjour! Hola! Guten tag! Uh... please help me! Hello!"

"Hello yourself," said Perry. He tried hard to sort out what was going on. Here he was, flat on his back and possibly hurt (certainly something rather uncomfortable was taking place in the vicinity of his left leg). There was this man, standing up with no trouble, and looking as healthy as a man can look when he's got maybe just a smidgin too much meat on his bones. But the man was asking for his help, not the other way around.

"Well, if you'll give me a hand up I'll see what I can be doing," Perry offered politely. "But I have to tell you, I'm a stranger here meself."

Boswald nearly tripped over his own feet when the man spoke to him. He brushed his coat off, ran his hand back through his hair, straightened his beard, brushed his eyebrows, did anything possible to make himself look like something besides a nervous wreck.

He failed.

"Oh!" he shouted. Far too loud. "...you speak English." No, far too quiet. A deep breath. "Great. Maybe... uh... maybe that means I'm on Earth. Earth? Am I on Earth? Where am I? Do you know where I am? Have you seen any signs of latent and/or active Divinity in the area? Who are you? What is the name of this place."

Another deep breath. Not going well, I presume. He offered a hand and an awkward smile to the fallen man.

"Forgive me. I am Dr. Boswald Naade."

Ahmed ibn Ali Mustafah was the lead on this flight to the 'Green Planet'.

Ahmed had piloted interplantary craft for the Ihkwan many times this was no different.

Ahmed had along with him his younger cousin Ziod and his friend Ushraf.

Their ship, the Seglawi was fast, small and stealthy, stealthy was very important, as many people hated the Bedou as enjoyed trading with them.

The men had come to the 'Green Planet' for seeds and soil from the Desert region, it was sold in charms among people for ladies as the sand had a lightly sweet aroma and the lovely effect of actually covering other odors-wearing an open vile was like constantly stepping from the shower, or at least you smelled that way. A few pounds were very valuable, and it would not harm the ecosystem of the planet.
The fruit whose seeds they sought was as well interesting in its nature, for a human it provided a highly enriched well rounded meal, the only it needed were fatty acids, it even held some protein. The Bedou called it "Allah's Fruit".

They had learned through trial and error that the inhabitants of this planet were under no circumstances friendly to fliers, though timid enough once you were on the ground.

Ahmed and the boys had spent two days camped out in the desert. enjoying the semi-intoxicating effect of the pleasant aroma all around them.

Ahmed had been once with camels, they refused to move, they just sniffed at the sand, so now Bedou came only on foot.

"Cousin!! in the sky" young Ziod pointed at a fire ball burning through the atmosphere.

"it cant be a falling star the angle is all wrong."

The boy was right, the vector in line for a crash landing, that was vessel.

Bedou tradition held they must go and see if they can help, though Ahmed didnt like the thought of helping strangers with the boys with him.

"Ziod, Ush, pack up and follow my trail once you are ready I go to see if I can be of help. stay back and if you find me out of sorts go back to where the ship is hidden, I swear you do this or I will pin your ears."

Ahmed brought his Ashtani staff to ready, loading the weapon and turning walking stick to energy weapon. He tied his robe back to expose the hilt of his sword. He began hiking towards the crash, his face now veiled eyes and face covered by his goggles and breather tubes. His appearance was both fierce and friendly, his soft bootts left little trace but trace enough for a Bedou to follow.
His people had spent millenia in the desert, alien or Earthly it made no difference.

Hopefully the boys would find him helping wounded or tending to thirst and hunger. Atthe very least they would find him fighting hard enough to give them room to run, the children of Allah had many enemies.

Ahmed also hoped not to meet any Krae-Sern, he did not want to kill anyone, and certainly did not want the boys to Kill anyone.

Centuries ago killing had been common among the Faithful, it is always feared that even one of the them forced to raise their hand in violence will cause those of the Bedou who follow Allah to plunge back to those dark days.

Let them just need water and food, please just water and food...peace be upon you, blessings and peace. Ahmed repeated his prayer and mantra ofthe Bedou, 'Blessing and Peace' in his head as he walked.

Traveling through the countryside of yet another horrible little country of what was, in all likelyhood, some horrible little clod of dirt in a horrible section of the galaxy, the drone Skaffen-Arcansah wondered for the one hundred and twenty-two thousand six hundred and thirty-third time what he had done in a past life to possibly deserve this fate. He was running several simulations over again while his secondary intellect listened to the stream of babble that his companion was putting out. Both of these were interrupted by the intrusion upon his senses of what appeared to be a growing fireball in the sky.

"I say, what do you think that is, my boy," says Fizgandledore, pointing upwards with his walking stick. By all rights, Skaffen's vastly superior senses and thinking speed should have allowed him to point it out first, but the growing pool of data seemed to indicate that the old man somehow cheated through the use of precognition.

"It appears to be a falling spaceship, sir. If I may suggest, you should probably get down behind that rock." The drone was happy to see the man comply, and spread it's defense fields to cover his fragile fleshy body.

There was a terribly loud boom as the falling ship passed overhead.
There was a terribly unpleasant thud-crunch-screech as it hit the ground.
There was a terribly ghastly silence - except, of course, for the screams his audio sensors could detect.

"Righto, then, I think that-" The drone gave an electronic squawk as it saw Fizgandledore start walking towards the crash. "Sir! Sir! My lord, you shouldn't head that way!"

"I'm sure there are survivors. We should help," the old man calls back.

The drone zips ahead of him. "Sir, you do realise that this is a horrible, terrible, no-good, very bad idea, I hope? That ship could be radioactive. It's reactor may be going critical. It could have a plague aboard, or some horrible xenocritter that has eaten the crew and lies in wait for it's next meal. In short, we should be heading in exactly the opposite direction of what we are presently going."

"Skaffen, Skaffen, you worry too much!" The old man says with a chuckle. "I'm sure you'll protect me as well as ever." They clear a ridge and look down upon the hulk. Spying a few forms standing about, he waves and shouts, "Hello there! I say, are you all right? We'll be down in a moment, we can help!" He begins to hurry towards the survivors, cloak flapping. Meanwhile, Skaffen was already scanning for weapons, beasts, and injured people as he hovers protectively. He immediately spots some sort of creature in the woods, and deploys a knife missile in case it tries anything, while powers up his internal weapons array.

Margert coughed. The thick smoke was burning her eyes and lungs. She stumbled out of the smoke onto the sand. She heard her a voice calling for her: "Miss Margert? Where are you?" He maid and loyal freind and companion Elenore was searching for her. "I'm over here!" Elenore limped to her. "Are you hurt Miss?" "I'm all right. I think my ankle is twisted. Are you okay?" "Fine. My Ankle hurts too."
"Where are we?" Margert said
"I'm not sure" Elenore responded. "Can you move Miss?"
"Not much."
"You stay here, I'll see if I can find someone in charge. If you need me just call for me." Elenore handed a buzzer to Margert, and limped to find someone.

"What do we do, master?", Lunac asked Ashano.

"Run", the Gargoyle-keeper answered.

"But where? There's nowhere to run! Oh, we'll get eaten for sure!"

"My son, don't be stupid. Just because they're twice our size doesn't mean they're Krae-Sern-eating animals like Racklithors or something. They will surely be more interested in the soilmagic."

Racklithors were beasts that inhabited the forests of Krae-Sern country: they were similar to what you or I would call rhinos, but behaved more like komodo dragons.

"Anyway, what do you suggest we do? Go down there and say 'hi'?", teased Ashano.

"Well, I don't know, mayby...I guess. Just tell them we aren't hostile.",said Lunac.

"Not-not hostile?!?! You're the one who shot them down in the first place! How do YOU get off saying that we're not hostile?"

"Well, they can't know that."

The younger had a point, and they agreed to try to negotiate with the Sky Giants. They walked around to the bottom of the cliff-face.

"Uh, uh, hello.", stammered the apprentice when to the nearest offworlder,"C-can we meet your leader, or something, I-I mean if you have one, or did, that is...and he...or she...or it, whatever, isn't busy. I-if that's all right." He didn't even think about whether or not they spoke Krae-Sern, but then, that was all right, as most of them had auto-translators that could decipher and replay any language known to them in any other language known to them, including Krae-Sern. Lunac did no know this, of course.

James swiftly turned to look at the two natives, in obvious astonishment. Excitedly, he staggered up despite the stream of blood that squirted out from the large gash on his leg, as he put undue pressure on that leg to stand. He was in awe, as he stammered,

"You... you are from here? From this planet? You live here? Yet you speak English? I can't believe this! Aliens! Oh God! Then the Elders were..." he paused and the awe faded into worry "Unless... this is... Hell? You're not... devils? Right? You're... you're not... I..."

He stopped and looked at the two rather dimiunitive people, unable to continue, unable to fully wrap his mind around what was happening.

Ashano answered the stranger,"What? We're not the aliens here; you are! Anyway, I know nothing of this Hell place you speak of. I assume its something unpleasent if it has demons in it, though. I am Ashano, this is my apprentice, Lunac Goca." Even as he greeted the Sky Giant, however, he made sure to keep at least ten meters away. He was not quite comfortable being around so many tall people, and this one seemed extremely pale for a Krae-Sern who had barely seen anyone other than members of his own brown-skinned race. Lunac, however, shook hands with the Sky Giant, or rather tried to. Krae-Sern handshakes are quite different from those of earthlings: one shakes both hands, has to stare straight ahead, not at each other's eyes, and then slap each other in the face as hard as possible.(This was the hardest part, given the size difference.)

"I say, this is an unruly lot. Most of them look rather young, as well," mumbles Fizgandledore, watching the milling, panicing crow. "Skaffen, would you be so kind as to assist me in organizing things."

"My pleasure. Switching voice-mode to Sergeant. RIGHT, YOU LOT OF WANKERS, PAY ATTENTION! We need to get all of the injured out of the ship and try to salvage some supplies. I want anyone with medical training over HERE ," he emphasizes this statement by scorching a patch of grass near him, midway between the ship and the forest, "so we can start triage. Anyone with a major injury gets treated first, those of you with a few cuts or a broken limb can wait. Anyone uninjured should be either be searching the ship, helping the wounded, or if you've got military training, helping me set up a perimeter." He waits a moment, then adds, "MOVE!"

"Think you, Skaffen. That will do nicely. Keep everything organized. I shall be assisting the medics, assuming there's even any but me." Fizgandledore was already pulling several first aid kits from somewhere within his robes, full of painkillers, antibiotics, bandages, and other instruments such as stitchipedes. Skaffen deployed another knife missile, which cruised over to a tree, lopped off a number of limbs, and dragged them back to the drone, which began fashioning primitive stretchers from them.

Ahmed like most Bedou was very fond of gadgets and equipment.
With the embedded equipment in his vision piece he could hear the the shouting of a man a great distance off "WANKERS, PAY ATTENTION! ee need to get all of the injure.. ...ahh ship and ..y to s...age .ome supplies. ..want an..ne ..it.. medical trainin.. ober HERE."

Ahmed took that to mean people were indeed hurt, this was of course bad.
It was also good, well, unless they assumed--as was so often the case that somehow he or his kind were reasponsible for the crash. Bedou quickly became scapegoats in situations like this, he hoped the reason for the crash was clear.

Luckliy the Ashtani looked like a staff and not an energy rifle, only someone who had lived with or fought with(or against) the Bedou would know what it was.

He turned his water collectors up and he would have at least a few gallons of water. If things went well the boys would be able to bring the rest of their sparse but useful supplies.
He did have Khatian(a Bedou pain killer, used in emergency first aid) an ample supply on his person(Bedou used it to often allow a dying man to end his life without pain, hence a large enough supply to overdose three or four men) the boys had more, and powerful synth-antibiotics and topical anti bacterials, some flesh glue, and we at least knew what indigenious plants could be eaten--at least some anyway.

Yes, if everything went well they could be very helpful to this travelers--

Bedou always took pride in helping travelers.

Ahmed crested the dune and could see the wreck, and the people milling about. He could see some children as well, good that seemed to be moving fine--Ahmed had lost his only son and wife in tragic mishap over Bedou traffic on a planet they had become unwelcomed on, Ahemd could not handle seeing another hurt child.

His cloak and robes flapped in the wind, his goggles tracked and accounted for each person and recognizable arms, he was not close enough for them to detect individual vital signs, but they would at close range and that would help as well.

He was concerned aboutthem seeingthe sword-but how treacherous would he appear if someone noticed hidden-rather then openly displayed.

He laughed to himself at the though of anyone being able to notice anything under his robes--but the decision went unchanged--the sword was displayed to show he was not hiding anything.

A hundred paces to go...

Peace and Blessings
Repeated in his mind.

Ishano continued his all-too-common disorganized rant. "English? I don't know what you're talking about. We are speaking Pseudo-Sern. I guess...it's possible that our languages are identical, but that would be highly unlikely. Hey, is something wrong?" :confused:

The Sky Giant, after being slapped in the face by Lunac, looked rather displeased. :mad:

Ichigo didn't know what to do. Many of the supurior officers were badly injured. Other's wouldn't talk to her. She finally walked up to the strange people who were trying to help.

Sasha was growing more firightend. She felt alone. She wasn't injured but she wished she was. No one would pay attention to her. "I wonder if that's how that strange cat person feels all the time?" She'd never known prejudice. Even when her Catholic community did. Unstable battles between her, and the Protestant Religion, have always made life difficult.
She wanted to cry for help, but she felt she shouldn't, for there were people who needed it more.

James was if anything startled by the wild jumping slap that one of these strange little natives delivered. He blinked several times unable to comprehend such a peculiar action. Then finally asked,
"What was that for?"

... He offered a hand and an awkward smile to the fallen man.

"Forgive me. I am Dr. Boswald Naade."

"A doctor? That should come in handy, then." Perry took the other's hand and shook it politely; then, less politely, strengthened his grasp. "If you wouldn't mind, sir ... I think I can ..." His other hand fastened on the stranger's arm and, with a fair amount of ripping-vegetation sounds, he began hauling himself upright.

For a moment 'upright' was in doubt; only Perry's slightness and the instinctive tensing of the other man's muscles kept them both from tumbling over.

"Och, I'm terribly sorry," Perry apologised, flushed from both exertion and embarrassment as he finally found his feet. "I had to do it that way, d'y'see. I was afraid if I didn't get it over quick without thinking I might see how badly I was hurt and not get up at all. Actually ..." -- he moved experimentally -- "actually, I don't seem to be hurt. I wonder why my leg felt so strange? In fact, it still does feel strange ..."

He looked closely at his leg for the first time and realised he could see the whole of it in all its white-skinned, skimble-shanked, ginger-haired glory. A panicked glance showed him its twin was still properly clad in blue denim. His eyes tracked reluctantly back to where he had lain, revealing the missing leg of his jeans ripped open like a snake's cast skin, with a large, black, sharply jagged hunk of metal pinning it firmly to the earth.

"Dear Goddess, half an inch closer ... or what if I'd put on me new jeans this morning, and them not worn enough to tear ..."

He closed his eyes and swayed, sweat breaking out on his upper lip.

" ... I want anyone with medical training over HERE ... "

Perry's eyes blinked open again. Never at his best in social situations, he'd been dithering over what to say next to his unwitting rescuer. Hadn't this Doctor asked him about -- what was it -- 'signs of latent and/or active Divinity' in the area? Should he tell him about his little chat with Herself?

But now this huge voice had answered the question for him, because obviously She didn't want to be chattered about, the way She'd made it interrupt them like that. And She was giving him something to do, too, since surely he'd helped Granny enough to do the odd bit of emergency stitching cuts and swabbing wounds and such.

"Uh ... Well, I guess that means us, then, eh, Doctor, wouldn't you say? Doctor?" Perry said hopefully.

Ahmed moved in circular motion around the commotion towards the man who had called for medical personel, the common term for AHmed's training would be "Combat First Aid" however the Bedou refered to it as "Landing First Aid".

He saw that what he had thought were children were actually dwarves, or midgets, or pigmys, or whatever in the name of the most merciful they called themselves.

--While the Bedou had indeed encountered in the past a very powerful weapon used against fliers, they had never actually met a Krae-Sern, and by their own nature avoided with great any of the Krae-Sern settlements, hence Ahmed was familiar with the planet, but not the populace--


While Ahmed walked around the clutter--thankful that he as so far gone unnoticed-- heremoved his breather mask.

"I have some emergency first aid supplies!" he called out.

"As well water..."

The boys would be an hour behind him.

"What was what for?",asked Lunac, mildly confused.

Quickly caught up in the routine of stitching, salving, bandaging, Perry had no time to think. But even disasters become commonplace, after a while. Eventually, the tide of damaged, anonymous bodies began to ebb. He found himself with time to look about him.

Dr Boswald Naade -- funny how he couldn't think of the man as just 'Dr Naade' -- wasn't in sight. Off doing some urgent medical thing, no doubt. A competent girl with red hair had got a fire going and boiled water, and the scent of healing herbs spread over the bare ground of the improvised field hospital. Over to one side a man in long robes who seemed to know what he was doing was soothing a sobbing patient, and he could see a dark, smaller figure ... a girl who seemed to be half cat ... two more girls, one limping, leaning on the other ... an old man humming to himself -- humming? spell-singing? -- whatever, his patient was sitting up with a smile ...

Perry was puzzled about the commanding voice that had set all this in motion. He couldn't see anyone who looked like an authority figure. The old man had some sort of big mobile suitcase with him, so maybe he was the one in charge -- it might be, dunno, a badge of office, maybe? Its buttons and bits made it look like a bit like a face.

Suddenly a feeling of exhilaration hit Perry so hard he almost whooped aloud. He was on a strange planet! There were aliens around him! He had travelled through space! All this while what passed for the decision-makers at home on Findhorn were sitting in Mother Mirrim's parlour politely spreading whipped cream on their scones and strawberry jam! He pictured himself returning to tell them of his adventures, taller, browner, clad in some vaguely impressive uniform ...

He pictured himself standing very, very still, making himself very, very small and being very, very unnoticed by whatever it was that was moving about so purposefully, so ... largely ... in that forest over there.

Snar-Ak shook his head. "This is ridiculous!", he said,"Ton-Sern, Sky Giants and raklithors all in the same month? I'm not believing this!"

"Beleive it", said his somewhat pudgy comrade Fash,"and get out there."

There was considerable chaos in the streets as some twenty rakithors rampaged throughout the City.Not even a half-dozen Guardians, Including Anar-Ak and Fash, had been availiable to fend of the beasts; the rest were either at the emperor's palace, patroling the borders, or hunting down the rest of the Ton-Sern rebels.

The Raklithors were tramling almost everything in their path. The people, however, they did not squash. Instead, they impaled whoever survived the carnage with their long, narrow horns, and if that did not kill them, fast working sedatives on the tips imobilized the monsters' victims until they coud be eaten later.

The Krae-Sern Guardians attaked. Bullets, or any other projectile were far to crude for their fighting-style, reserved for grunt infantrymen. Instead, the Guardians used their long, retractable canes of steel, torods, to stab and whack the raklithors, utilizing their inherent Krae-Sern strenght and agility. Two Guardians, not, however, the two named thus far, fell. So did all the Raklithors.

The noises were still going on. Beginning to be worried, Perry looked around for assistance. Preferably assistance in the form of someone who'd yell, "Run, boy! Save yourself!" at the top of his lungs ...

But no-one was taking any notice. And quite close to him a scene was unfolding that he could deal with. A wounded man was struggling to stand upright despite a huge, bleeding gash in his leg. Two smaller people must have been trying to get him to stay still. As Perry watched, one of them jumped up and slapped the big guy in the face.

"Hey! He's probably in shock!" Perry shouted as he ran towards them. "Don't slap him, it doesn't work! I'll help you get him down!"

"Wow, sorry!", said Lunac.
_________________________________________________________________

The last of the Raklithors were fleeing, persued by the guardians. The hunters had become the hunted. The Guardians had mounted chariots, pulled by the massive horse-like beasts known as Dokar. After hours of running, the Raklithor pack was chases off of a cliff-face and tumbled down
_________________________________________________________________

There was a rumbling from above the small group and Lunac asked,"What was that?," not really expecting anyone to answer. Suddenly, at least ten moaning Raklithors fell from the top of the cliff, Lunac, the only person directly under them, was frozen. Time seemed to stand still for a moment when he realised what was happening, and then it only returned to normal speeds only slowly, as a few monsters fell. When one hit the ground, however, reality returned to its normal yet terrible swiftness, and indeed seemed to move increadebly fast.

All these falling beasts stirred up quite a lot of dust, so Perry, Ishano, and James could not see for a moment what fate had decided for Lunac.

Becoming an integral part of several thousand tonnes of alien hamburger did not strike Perry as a good career move. He hesitated on the edge of the writhing, bleeding, dying mass, not daring to venture in to see what had become of Lunac.

Then it struck him that the little creature might not have been directly under the meat-fall. Perhaps he was wandering around, dazed but whole. Perhaps he would blunder further into the mess before he could be rescued. Slowly at first, then faster, Perry moved, until he found himself running towards the screaming, kicking remnants of the herd.

A bright flash of light lit up the are, and all of a sudden the Raklithors dissentigrated. Lunac was just standing there, with a blank look on his face as the Guardians looked over the edge of the cliff, dumbfounded.

"Are you all right?" Perry demanded, skidding to a stop. He couldn't believe he'd said that. It was probably in the Top Ten for dumbest things said since the spaceship crashed. The small person was obviously all right, but he wasn't sure he was.

"Ummm -- what happened?"

What do you expect him to say? "Oh, I just disappeared all the huge animals, I thought they looked untidy"? Good one, Per.

"I mean ... like ... what's going on?"

Looking wildly up the cliff-face -- could the beasts have somehow tumbled into a cave? -- he saw that heads were looking equally wildly down. Which meant that they'd been up on top of the cliff all along. Which plainly meant that they hadn't been in the ship. Which meant that they were, gulp, natives. Aliens.

Perry had read all the hand-outs on how to handle First Contacts. Not that anyone really expected there'd be any more; Known Space was just that, fully Known. But he was sure this planet wasn't where the ship had been heading. He was equally sure that he'd never heard of any race like this lot. Well, at least he knew what to do.

"My ... name ... is ... Peregrine," he said slowly and loudly. "I ... come ... in ... peace," he added, gesturing as peaceably as he could. There, that should give their translator programs something to work on.

"We will not listen to the Sky Giants' lies!",announced one of the mounted Guardians, reffering to the humans.

"Sky Giant, you are not welcome here, leave this place!",demanded another.

Lunac just sat where he was for a few seconds, gave a big sigh, and collapesed. "Krae-Sern!," cried one of the Guardians, turning his attention from the survivors of the crash to Lunac and Ishano,"what association have you with these...demons?"

Sky Giants? Sky Giants? Something else to worry about? Perry looked nervously up at the sky, a move which gave his companions a fascinating view of his Adam's apple.

Noting their stares, Perry looked down again; then, realising that he was looking at the top of their heads, made the connection. Several connections.

"Sky giants is us?" he said. "Are us, I mean? Humans? And it's you they're yelling at, so that means ..."

He joined the smaller of the small people on the ground. I'm just conserving my energy, he told himself, not willing, at this stage, to admit that his legs were such cowards they wouldn't hold him up.

"It means they know you. So you're aliens too," he deduced. "You've been here all the time. But you've been helping with the wounded, so you know about other intelligent races. And you're not part of those people up there. And they know about us as well. So that means ..."

Well, what did it mean? Two intelligent species on the same planet? Not impossible, if they weren't as belligerent as humans. Or were they two? Maybe just one at different stages? Or riding on those things looking over the cliff might change them somehow?

Then there was the fact that those ... people ... on top of the cliff also knew about humans. But they plainly didn't like them. These little people down here did. Or at least tolerated them.

"So that means I'd better stick with you," he told the larger of the two, with his most winning smile.

It didn't seem to have much effect. Which might have something to do with the fact that the smaller of the two was still, apparently, out to it. Or possibly asleep, though how anyone could sleep at a time like this ...

"Er ...," said Perry, surrendering all visions of Peregrine Pennecuick, Space Pioneer. "What do you think we should do next?"

Please don't let him say, 'What you mean "we", human?' prayed Perry.

One, by one, the Guardians rode away, back to the city, obviously not yet willing to confront the Sky-Giants. Lunac, still dazed fell to the ground, his face flat in the dirt, and Ishano rushed over to him. "Are you all right, boy?", he asked.

One of the surviving Sky-Giants turned to the Gargoyle-keeper, babbling half to himself and half to the old man about wether or not Lunac and Ishano were Krae-Sern, what that ment, who the Guardians were, and finally ending with,"So I guess I'd better stick with you."

Ishano replied,"Oh, no, you misunderstand; I hate you just as much as the Guardians, but I am unarmed, old, and feeble."

"Well, if you're unarmed, old and feeble, what are you doing here?" asked Perry indignantly, deciding to ignore for the moment the question of who hated whom. "It doesn't seem a very safe place to be, what with mobs of animals falling on top of you and people yelling insults and all. Not to mention ships crash ... oh, dear. Sorry."

He realised he had answered his own question. These two nice people were here because they were helping the victims of the crash. And here he was putting further burdens on them. For all he knew, the littler one might have worn himself out saving them all by making that mob of animals disappear. And if the older one sounded a bit cranky, well, old folk often were cranky, for no reason that Perry could see.

"Um, look, would you like some of this?" he asked, offering the pair a hip-flask full of scrumpy. "It might make you feel better. It's alcoholic, but it's made from apples. It's entirely organic," he added. He didn't know why, but "organic" always seemed to make his grandmother happy about food or drink, so maybe it would reassure the old man, too.

Ishano eyed the flask suspiciously for a moment, then reached out and took the flask. He opened it, but did not drink immediately. He put the container to his nose to sniff it, then apparently deciding it all right, he dropped a little bit of the strange liquid into the palm of his hand, and sipped it.

"Blech!!!," he spat the organic alcoholic apple-stuff out,"What abonomation is this?!?"

"It's no abomination, it's alcohol," Perry responded. "Look, I'm not trying to poison you or anything, I thought it would help! It's supposed to give you strength. He looks as if he could use a bit of strength," he added, pointing to the dusty figure of Lunac. "Would you like me to carry him to ... er... somewhere?"

Perry was determined to keep on the good side (if there was one) of this oddly cross old ma--er, person. There seemed to be some sort of civilisation on this planet, and they talked about Sky-Giants, so they must have had some contact with off-worlders.

All of which might add up to rescue for the survivors. Who knows, perhaps they even had proper communications devices in their cities, if they had cities. If they didn't spend all their time riding round on weird-looking beasts and chasing other weird-looking beasts off cliffs ...

Well, if he and his fellow passengers were ever going to get away from this planet, he'd better see what the residents had to offer. The old man seemed to be thinking over his suggestion. Better not push him for an answer; he seemed touchy. Perry moved closer to the littler alien.

"So, feeling better, mate?" he said brightly. "Don't you worry, we'll soon have you fixed up! Does it hurt anywhere?"

"All right," Ishano conceded,"the second-nearest city is about a day-and-a-half-long hike from here. We should be able to find a hospital there." Ishano did not mention the town he and Lunac had come from. He was NOT going back so soon on his trip.

Now the sky giant looked up from the crumpled form of Lunac and....

... Now the sky giant looked up from the crumpled form of Lunac and....

... said wonderingly, "You know, if this were a human, I'd say he was just asleep." Perry put his head down on the smaller alien's chest, listening again to the regular lub-dub-dub, lub-dub-dub -- did these people have two hearts, or what? Since he didn't know anything about them, he couldn't really judge, but the sound seemed so strong and uniform ... perhaps it was too fast, though, how would he know?

"He has no bones broken, anyway," he continued, relieved to turn to something he did know about, thanks to years of tending adventurous animals in Findhorn's rock-strewn pastures. "So we probably won't do any harm moving him ... unless there's internal bleeding ... but even if there is, he has to get to treatment ..."

As he muttered to himself, Perry was rising slowly, carefully, with Lunac cradled in his arms.

"What's the country like where we're going?" he asked. "If it's overgrown, I'd be better off carrying him on my back, because I'll need both arms free to make a way for us through the scrub. But if it's fairly easy, I can carry him like this, like a baby. That's better for him because it cushions him a bit from the bumps."

What's more, he reasoned, anyone who sees us walking along like that is almost bound to stop and ask us if we need help. It'll look like I'm carrying a sick baby, and nobody can resist babies, it's genetic.

It didn't cross Perry's mind that to any sane inhabitant he would look more like a large, red-headed ape carrying off its prey. If the thought had even once occurred to him, he would have been more prepared for what happened next.

"It's like,"said Ishano,"Like that, mostly." He pointed up at the cliff.

Reluctantly, Perry followed Ishano's pointing finger. Reluctantly, because this weird little guy seemed to delight in giving him bad news, and Perry didn't want to see any more complications in the already lousy situation.

He tried to keep his gaze fixed on the cliff (which was bad enough news anyway, being crumbly earth interspersed with hard rocks and no helpful vegetation, hard to climb and easy to fall down), but his eyes tracked inexorably upward.

It was like a replay of the scene a few minutes ago. Except that this mob of angry citizens silhouetted against the sky wasn't pushing any large animals down on their heads.

They all seemed to be pointing at him, waving weapons at him, but not, thankfully, chucking them at him. Their forbearance puzzled Perry for a few seconds. Then he realised that the subject of the not-chucking was Lunac. If they tried to skewer, shoot, flame or otherwise dispose of Perry, they'd get Lunac too.

Several of them were pantomiming "put-him-down" moves at Perry. No way, folks! Perry clutched his living shield closer to his chest and considered: to run or not to run? To run with Lunac would be stupid, since his burden would slow him down. To run without Lunac would be fatal, since the newcomers were obviously confident they could dispose of him from a distance. To stay, however ...

Perry's despairing glance returned to Ishano. He didn't want to depend on the cranky old bas -- being, but he didn't have much choice.

"Uh ... I seem to be saying this quite a lot lately, but -- what do you think we should do next?"

"Well,"Ishano said,"I suppose we should find out who these folks are." He looked up at the crowd,"Hey,"he shouted,"who the h**l are you?"

"Since when did you turn mealy-mouthed, old man?" demanded the figure at the front. "You know who we are -- and we know who you are, so let's not be doing anything too suddenly, hmmm? Wouldn't want the Gargoyle-keeper to make an accidental exit, would we? Especially not with the Gargoyle unattended."

Peregrine's eyes bounced from the speaker to Ishano and back again. This bunch didn't sound any more promising than the first lot. And what did they mean by the word that was somehow translating as "Gargoyle" in his brain? Perry put the thought aside. There were more urgent matters to consider.

"Can you help us?" he shouted back. "This young one has collapsed. He needs medical attention." Displaying Lunac's limp form to wrest sympathy from the newcomers, Perry began to move carefully towards the cliff face.

To his astonishment, two of the riders began carelessly descending it. A hidden path? Their mounts could fly? Or were they just exceptionally surefooted? He was given little time to ponder the question, as the pair were already on solid ground, one on either side, workman-like blades centred on his Adam's apple.

Gulping, Perry slowly lowered Lunac to the ground -- no point in the kid getting accidentally skewered too -- and cast a desperate glance at Ishano.

"Ah, would you mind introducing me to your friends?" he croaked.