From: bkoike@sdcc13.UCSD.EDU (Bryce Koike)
Subject: STORY: The Otherworld (Chapter 11)
Followup-To: rec.games.frp.misc
Date: Wed, 18 Nov 1992 16:31:48 GMT

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                     The Otherworld <> Chapter 11

                         :: CONFRONTATION ::

                    Copyright 1992 by Bryce Koike
                         All Rights Reserved
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-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
     Any comments, criticisms, opinions, etc, are welcome.  I can
be reached on Internet as:
     bkoike@sdcc13.ucsd.edu
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
"In my dream I was drowning my sorrows
But my sorrows they learned to swim
Surrounding me, going down on me
Spilling over the brim
In waves of regret, waves of joy
I reached out for the one I tried to destroy
You, you said you'd wait until the end of the world"
                            ("Until the End of the World" -- U2)

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Date:      September 15, 1992
Location:  Seal Beach, Southern California
           Earth
Time:      3:00 pm

    A nervous family sat in front of the camera.  The mother
ungracefully wiped her eyes across the sleeve of her silk blouse.
    "Please," she pleaded in perfect English, "please.  If you know
anything about my son, Matt, if you know where he was that night,
please tell the police.  If his kidnappers are watching, please, we'll
do anything to save our son.  We're not rich, but we're prepared to
pay as much as we can to have Matt back.  He's our only son.  He's-"
    The tv went to snow for a moment and then to Geraldo.  The girl
reached out to switch stations again.
    "Hey, I was watching that!" said the boy.
    "Sorry," mumbled Angie.  She switched the station back and left
the room.  She wanted so desperately to tell the woman that her son
was okay.  But something inside of her was telling her that that
wasn't quite true.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Date:      September 16, 1992
Location:  Marine Base, Northern California
           Otherworld
Time:      7:23 am

    Tracy surpressed the urge to scream.  It was very tall and
hideous.  No intelligence lay behind its eyes.  In one hand was a
vicious sword with markings running down both sides.  The weapon
glowed an unearthly black.  In the other hand was a standard
military-style civilian rifle.  The contrast was unearthly.
    Matt stepped forward, a cynical smile on his face, and said, "Take
me to your leader."
    Suddenly she wanted to kill him.  He had planned this.  It was his
fault, all his fault.
    "You bastard!" she hissed.
    Vince looked around with confusion and desperation.
    Another alien swept into the room.  Its forehead was knobby and
swept back.  It wore a thick robe of brilliant blue.  One hand swept
out and Matt took a step back, a muffled moan escaping from his lips.
    "It won't be that easy," he said through gritted teeth.
    The alien paused a moment and then aimed its hand at Tracy and
Vince.  Strange feelings of weariness and sleep came over them and
they collapsed.
    "Nice trick," muttered Matt.  "Try this."  He furrowed his brow.
    Then the sword hilt came down on his head and like that old
cliche, stars burst into the sky.

    "Starhawk to Mother One," Bryant called out over the
communications net.  "Starhawk to Mother One, come in."
    Nothing.
    "You're right, something's wrong."  Bryant frowned.  "How soon
before we're at the position?"
    "Under half an hour."
    "No turning back, then."
    "Sorry, sir."
    "We have no time to worry."
    Johnathan Martique's overactive imagination was already working
overtime.  Mother One had been overrun and was unable to tell them of
impending doom.  They had been outflanked and already the aliens were
closing the jaws of their deadly trap.  They would die on this alien
planet in some other reality never to see their homes again.
Bitterness rushed over Martique.
    "ETA twenty-five minutes, sir," he said.
    Bryant nodded.  "Seal suits."
    Across the small troop carrier they had detached from the mother
ship, the sounds of helmets and suits sealing could be heard.  A grim
silence fell across the men.

    "Three troop carriers of unknown make travelling toward Eternal
outpost," said one of the Quunan Mur.
    Looke-Shamal, leader of the Quunan Mur, looked up.  "Estimated
number of troops?"
    "Ranging near a hundred from our nearest guess.  Their technology
is roughly similar to our own."
    "Did these troops originate from the human military outpost to the
north?"
    "Correct."
    "I want a task force sent to the outpost.  The Eternals may be
planning a sneak attack.  In the meantime, rouse the warriors!  This
will be our first test in battle!"

    They had no difficulty in tying the manlings to the fliers.  All
of the soldiers had been killed, their communications system
destroyed, and all useful equipment ruined as ordered by Lord
Geentung.  They had been ordered not to destroy "the reactor," though.
The consequences of such an action would have resulted in their own
obliteration, or so the Slool said.  The Slool were slaves, though,
and not lords.  There was never any allegiance between soldiers and
slaves.
    "Hyak!" barked the leader and the fliers leapt into the air.
    Tracy looked down toward the shrinking ground with a profound
feeling of loss.  Hollow and numbed, she felt no fear for there was
nothing left of her.  Vince was strapped beside her.  He had attempted
to break free earlier and that had earned him a blow to the head that
knocked him unconscious.  Tracy was alone.
    [The manlings are alive and unharmed; we have accomplished our
goal,] thought the Mindover.
    [If the others are this weak, our victory to the south will be
assured.]
    [Victory here did not go well.  They possess great weapons that
even the Slool cannot provide.  Their weapons may turn the tide
against us.]
    [Foolish whinings.  You show your weaknesses, Mindover.  You will
see great victories in the future.]
    [Of course, for you are the imperial guard.]
    The Mindover's words dripped with sarcasm.

    The troop carriers slowed and unsealed their hatches.  The
soldiers poured out in a torrent, quickly spreading across the
street.  No voices emanated from the suits though the noise over the
comnet was deafening.
    "Blue leader, what's your position?" asked Bryant.  "Repeat, Blue
leader, what is your position?  Blue leader!"
    BAM!  A shockwave slammed into him, powerful enough to knock him
and a large group of soldiers off their feet.  He looked up and
watched with unbelieving eyes.  Over a hundred aliens, their eyeslits
wide, their mouths pulsing, charged mounted on alien steeds.  No, it
was wrong to call them aliens.  They were demons.  And following on
their heels came others clad in royal blue robes and energy pulsed
across their hands and faces.
    "Sir, get up!" crackled Martique's voice through the comnet.
Bryant felt someone trying to pull him to his feet.
    He watched and gaped as a mounted Eternal swung its sword with a
lazy ease and slit a powered suit in two across the waste.  The
soldier's legs tumbled one way, the torso another.  Blood spurted a
brilliant red into the sky.
    "Bloody hell!" cried Bryant.  "Damn you, men, fire!"
    A shockwave hit them again, but they were prepared.  Fireballs.
The demons were using FIREBALLS!  A small group of soldiers finally
got their wits together and whipped their plasma rifles out.  Firing
precise swatchs of death, they slowly began picking apart the enemy's
ranks.
    Then, suddenly as they had come, the enemy was gone.
    Bryant stood in shock.  No more than ten, fifteen seconds had
passed and already the ground was covered with blood.  The comnet was
crowded by the moans and screams of the wounded and the dying.  For a
long time, he did not realize that one of the voices was speaking to
him.
    "Sir!  Sir!"
    It was Martique.
    Bryant turned to face him.  Martique had his helmet off.
    "Sir, are you alright?"
    It took a moment before Bryant was able to find the command to
release his own helmet.  He fell to his knees.
    "How many are dead?" he asked.
    "We haven't had the time for a precise count, but I'd say we've
got twenty confirmed kills, possibly more.  At least that many
wounded."
    "They had swords, John.  That had swords that fucking sliced
through armor."
    "I saw, sir- Dennis.  I know."
    "They have to die, John, you know that.  How many of them did we
kill?"
    "Donald and his men managed to take out at least twenty-five
before they made their escape.  Not a bad trade."
    "That's nearly one-for-one.  We'll have to be better prepared when
they come back."
    "City wars," spat Martique.  "Never liked them."
    Bryant somehow found the energy to smile.  "Help me up, old
friend.  Let's whip these girls into shape."
    "Yessir!"

    Two Mindovers stared from a building's top-story window.
    [Powerful, they are,] mused one.
    [Their weapons -- plasma, the soft ones called them?]
    [Yes.  Very deadly, those weapons.  But our swords are most
effective against their cumbersome armor.]
    [We must use that to our advantage and not give the enemy a chance
to use their own weapons against us.  Confusion is our greatest ally.]
    [Remember, this is only a skirmish.  We are to learn their
strengths and weaknesses and then return.]
    [Understood.  How is the Rider doing?]
    [Preparations are nearly complete.  The second in command will
never know.]
    [This should be a great advantage for us, then.]
    [We must survive this battle first.]

    "Use infrared," lectured Martique to all the units as they slowly
made their way through the city.  "Even the invisible ones can't hide
their heat signature.  And next time, don't freeze up!  If Nevin and
what was left of his squad can down twenty-five of their soldiers,
then all of us together should be able to account for more than that
amount!  And remember, don't shoot your neighbor!"
    Restrained laughter.
    "Alright, men.  Move out."
    A headache was starting.  Martique ordered the automed to inject a
small amount of analgesic into his body.  Slowly, too slowly, they
spread around the city and carefully made their way in.  All of them
were nervous.  The enemy had practically appeared from nowhere, cut
through their ranks, and vanished!
    There was the sound of bees in the sky and a blur of grey insects
moving at incredible speeds whizzed through their group.  Martique
looked up.  These weren't native to Earth, were they? Suddenly one of
them smacked into a soldier and shattered his thickly- plated helmet.
The powered suit fell backward, a small spurt of blood spouting forth.
    "What the hell was that?" someone said.
    Martique flicked to infrared.  "There," he said.  "Fifteen
lifeforms clustered around three weapons.  Hit them!"
    The front line opened up, but the enemy continued to fire.
    "Massdrivers.  The bastards are using massdrivers!" someone
cursed.
    The weaponsfire continued as the soldiers spread for cover, some
of them carelessly launching grenades and rockets in the direction of
the enemy.  None of them had been killed!
    "What's going on?" spat Bryant.  "Why haven't our men taken out
that group?"
    "Energy shield of some sort," muttered Martique.  "Directional, it
seems.  We're putting together a heavy weapons division now."
    "Well get moving, we're behind schedule!"
    "Yes, sir!"
    Suddenly the mass drivers stopped.  The air began to warp and bend
as if there was some incredible wave of heat passing through the area.
Bryant checked his temperature gauge, but there was nothing there.
Then he saw the sword.
    "SHIT!" he said and fired on instinct.
    The invisibility around the group of warriors rippled away and the
Eternals immediately broke into a charge.  The first of Bryant's shots
went wide, but the second burst caught a soldier in the chest and it
slumped over.  Then the enemy was well among their ranks, spinning and
charging through them, swords rising into the sky and falling, all the
while exuding a dark light.
    Even as the first warriors were leaving the soldier's ranks, they
were disappearing.  Bryant and others brought up their weapons and
opened fire, raking the area on full automatic.  More aliens fell,
their ichor flowing from ugly wounds.  The warmounts screamed in
terror and bolted.  Then the air warped violently and the enemy was
gone again.

    [Too many casualties!] spat the Mindover.  [We must use a new
strategy if we are to defeat these manlings.]
    [Be quiet!] hissed another.  [The lieutenant's mind -- we are
reading it.]
    [What?]
    [I said shut up!]
    One looked up.
    [Heat!  They see us through our heat!  We must send this
information south.  They will find it very useful in their battles.]
    [Still, the enemy is here and now.  How will we deal with them?]
    [We do not need to deal with them.  One more test and then we
leave.  They will not find what they need here.  Alert the others.
This will be our final attack.]
    [Many of us are weakened.  Extending the invisibility to others is
painful and draining.]
    [This will be the last time.  Do not worry.]

    "Casualties?" asked Bryant.
    "Roughly forty of theirs, sixteen of our own."
    "That's better odds.  Still, these battles are bad for morale.
We've got to crush them, dammit."
    Martique nodded inside his suit.  "Everyone should switch to
infrared.  The bastards can't hide behind that."
    "Right.  Send the order.  In the meantime, let's see what we can
do for the wounded."

    The Mindover huddled in the corner of the room breathed with pain.
He continued burrowing into the alien's mind, reliving past struggles,
remembering everything that the man known as Lieutenant Jonathan
Martique knew.  Battle plans raced through his mind as he followed the
manic battles amid Earth's asteroid belt.  The Mindover quivered,
unbelieving.  His mind knew only the medieval-period of his own race.
To him, these men were nothing short of gods.
    And then he broke through the final barrier, merged, and seemingly
became one with the man's mind.  The new strategies were forming, and
he then knew the strengths and weaknesses of the enemy.
    "It is done," he moaned, the fatigue slowly washing away.  "He is
ours."
    The Elder knelth beside him and nodded.  "Come to the cirle," he
said, and led the Mindover into the center of it.
    "Join with us now," the Elder said.  "And feel the energies of the
Presence forming about us.  And then, when we open our eyes once more,
we will BE GONE!"
    Then there was only the smell of ozone in the air, light as
perfume.

    It happened again, a massive charge on them.  Soldiers were
prepared this time, though.  They brought their weapons up and
prepared to fire-
    -and the warriors dismounted, flinging themselves into the ranks
of the British soldiers.  Swords spun in the air and blood spilled
into the street.  None dared use their weapons in fear of hurting
their own!
    "Your fists, dammit!" cried Bryant as he crushed a warrior's head
between his own two hands, picking up one of the swords and then
swinging it about himself like a madman.
    Not all of the aliens had swords.  Some uselessly beat on their
enemies with pipes and chains, swung useless pikes.  But it was the
swords, the swords, that did the devastating damage.
    "Hraag!" screamed a warrior as a soldier crushed its neck with a
single clenched fist.
    The sun seemed to dim in the heat of battle.  The screams of dying
warriors flooded the communications link, a shriek of fear and pain.
Four warriors closed in on Bryant.  He had never been trained with
swords for they were hardly useful in the deep of space or on a
planet.  As best he could he beat back the attacks of the enemy, but
he knew that soon it would be too late.  A sword thrust through the
upper chest plate of his armor but did not penetrate deep enough to
cut flesh.  A quick swing ripped away the armor panel on his left arm.
    Then with a flash of steel, Martique's battlesuit leaped on the
enemy.  The suit weighed in at over a quarter ton and proved more than
enough to crush the warriors.  Bryant spun, looking for a new target.
It was then that he realized the sun WAS dimming!  Looking about he
noticed that the swords were emitting a powerful blackness and that
patches of the battlefield were alread clouded with darkness.
    He turned and saw a sword, sucking in light, slice through his
fist, and then the world turned dark.  Clutching the bleeding stump in
one hand, he screamed.  Bryant stumbled to his feet, blinded, his arm
crying out in pain.
    As quickly as the darkness had come, it was gone and with it, the
enemy.  Bryant's suit was already injecting drugs into his body,
seeking to seal the wound automatically.  And then he found himself
sliding into darkness . . .

    [Enough.  It is time to leave.]
    [We haven't even destroyed them completely!]
    [I said enough!  The lord decreed that we return once we have
determined their strengths and weaknesses.  This we have done, so now
we go!]
    [The Mindover has always been known for fleeing like cowards.]
    [And the warrior class is renowned for their lack of intelligence.
Enter the circle now.  We depart.]
    [So you command.]

    "They're gone," Martique said.  "We've scoured the area and
haven't found a trace of them."
    "Damn."  Bryant winced.
    There was nothing left of his right hand but a stump, now covered
in red bandages.  Total losses:  forty-six.  Total wounded: twenty
one.  It had been a costly battle, more deadly than either side had
anticipated.  The British troops were in shock.  This was a war unlike
any other they had ever fought.  It had not even been a decisive
victory.  Defeat.  The words were bitter in their mouths.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
    With a snarl the alien threw them into the room and slammed the
door.  Two mattresses and a rank-smelling trash can were all that
adorned the room.  There were no windows.
    "Where- where are we?" gasped Matt weakly.
    "I don't know," Tracy said.  "We're captives."
    "Vince . . . where's Vince?"
    "They knocked him out.  He's over here on the mattress."
    "Damn."  Matt doubled over and clutched his head.
    "What's wrong?  They didn't hit you hard, did they?"
    "They're . . . uhn . . . they're hurting me."
    Tracy skooted over and took him in her arms.  "How?  Why?"
    "Because they know that if they didn't, I'd fucking kill them
all."
    Matt raged inside.  He had not seen this!  What if the rest of his
premonition was wrong as well?  No!  It could not be!  He felt as if
he was shrinking and curling up within himself, his power gathering
slowly, slowly.


    Fleshy bodies had proven too soft.  Their shells had been broken
and their innards spilled to the group.  The Quunan Mur soldiers
picked their way through the wreckage.  There were signs of violence,
but no indication of who the humans had been fighting.  The answer was
obvious enough, of course: the Eternals.
    Their deaths had been merciful, at least.
    The scouting party entered the troop carrier and only found more
dead.  A female had been cut in half as she attempted to reach a
communications headset.  Electronics systems, weapons, and armor had
all been methodically destroyed.  Only the reactor that powered the
ship remained intact and it was suffering from a microcrack in its
shielding that had been hastily repaired.
    "No signs of active life," announced the leader.  "All the people
here have been slaughtered."
    In his head a voice sounded.  "Return to base, Yonsol.  We are
currently tracking a battlegroup to the northwest.  We will engage
them there."
    "Acknowledged.  Units return to lander."
    Silently they turned around and walked back to their airship.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
    Vince moaned and rolled over on the mattress.
    "Matt, he's coming to."
    Tracy shook Vince.  "Wake up.  Vince, wake up."
    He stirred.  "Uhng.  I feel awful."
    "Serves you right.  They hit you on the head."
    "Feels like I've got a concussion."
    "At least you're in better condition than Matt."
    "What?"
    Vince instantly regretted sitting up.  Pain and misery hit him so
hard that he fell back and clutched his pounding skull.  The world
lurched to the left and his stomach wanted to follow.
    "Shit.  What's wrong with him?"
    Matt had crawled into a corner and laid there whimpering.  All the
color had left his face leaving him looking an ugly pasty-yellow.  He
could barely think the pain and irritation was so overpowering.  It
was draining his much-needed power.
    "They're doing something to him."
    "We gotta do something.  Something for Matt."
    "What?  We're their prisoners, whatever those things are.  They
don't seem to respect our rights very much."
    "Christ, I gotta piss.  There's a bathroom around here?"
    "There's a trashcan in the corner."
    Vince gave a moan of disgust.  "Ok.  Help me up."
    She gave her shoulder to Vince to help him over to the trashcan.
Thankfully, it was fairly large.
    "You don't need me . . . to help you, do you?" asked Tracy.
    Vince clutched the mouth of the trashcan.  "Go sit down.  I can
handle."
    "You sure?"
    "Sit."
    Tracy sighed with relief and flopped onto one of the mattresses.
Fumbling for the zipper, Vince cursed.  The sound of urine hitting the
bottom of the empty trash container was so amusing, Tracy had to
laugh.
    "Amused at my plight, eh?  Let's see how it goes when it's your
turn!"
    Vince leered.
    "Shut up.  Watch how long I can hold myself."
    Matt let out a soft cry and relaxed.
    "They stopped," he gasped, almost crying.  "Bastards stopped."
    "Matt?"
    "Shut up.  I've got to think."
    Vince zipped up and barely made it back to the mattress.
    "Gotta lie down," he said, "gotta rest.  Jeez, my head hurts."
    "Matt, why'd they stop?" asked Tracy.
    "They've exhausted me.  I'm a dead battery.  Drained.  They took
away my powers."
    "Can you get them back?"
    He smiled bitterly.  "They'd just do the same thing to me again.
I'm impotent.  Anyone know where we are?"
    Tracy shrugged.  "Some city," she said.  "Not Stockton, though."
    "No, I didn't think it would be.  Better to keep us away from the
battle site."
    "What battle?  You mean with the marines?"
    "You know of any others?  I figure that by now Bryant's faced the
enemy.  The fact that they've moved their base of operations tells me
that this first battle is only for them to get information on Bryant's
men, nothing more.  They'll wait until later to decimate them."
    "So then they're safe."
    "Safe?  They're in deep shit if they don't come to their senses
soon.  The only thing that might save their lives is that they've got
plasma rifles, grenades, and other high tech weapons.  The minute they
exhaust their ammunition and energy, though, they'll be dead.  Period.
You forget that the aliens are mind readers.  It'll be simple enough
for them to figure that out and for them to make certain that the
soldiers can't recharge their weapons and armor."
    Tracy was silent.
    "They'll come for us soon," Matt mused.  "Sacrifices to their
greater cause."
    "What?"
    "Why do you think they capture people?  What do you think they do
with them?  What do you think happened to Jan and Chris?"
    The color drained from Tracy's face.
    Matt nodded, a grim satisfaction on his face.  "They're dead,
Tracy.  I figured that out this morning.  The aliens are trapped here
just like we are, but they have the capacity to leave if they are
capable of acquiring enough energy.  Their energy requirements are
massive, though and . . . people . . . contain useful energy."
    "They're going to kill us?  They killed our friends?"
    "Yes.  In the most painful manner they can imagine.  Don't worry,
though.  I have a plan."
    Things began to crystalize.  "Oh.  You do?"
    "You and Vince should be able to get out alright.  Don't worry."
    "And you?"
    "We'll see."  Matt sighed.  "I think I can hold them off long
enough."
    "This is it?  This is your martyrdom?"
    "Shut up, Trace.  This is my decision, so stay the hell out."
    "Fuck you.  You think you're God?  You're nothing, Matt.  They've
taken away your powers for now, and you're the one who got us into
this!  You're the one who had all those soldiers killed!  All this so
you could go down in someone's history books as a hero?  That's
bullshit!"
    Matt turned his eyes down and nodded.
    "You make me sick."
    "It has to be done.  It would have happened one way or another.
This way is better."
    "What will it accomplish?"
    "You can't understand."
    "Bull."
    "Let's drop the subject, Tracy.  I have nothing more to say."
    Tracy's face twisted for a moment in an ugly manner and then
turned away.  Vince just shook his head and sighed.  He rolled over
and tried to push it all away.  They were doomed.
    Coughing, Matt returned to his corner and leaned his head against
the cool wall and knew only nakedness.  His power well grew slowly and
would require a night's rest to fully recharge.  Matt knew that the
Eternals would not give him that freedom.  There had to be another
way.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
    "The individuals are split, just like their own countries," said
Sala.
    "That is what separates individuals from a hive," said the lord in
his grating voice.  Matt had injured him in ways he could not begin to
understand.  Only now were the healing processes beginning.
    "So we think.  They are aware of our practices, though.  The boy
believes that rescue of some sort will come.  That is foolish of him,
for he is stripped of all power."
    "But he _is_ certain."
    "Very certain.  Perhaps it is merely a ruse to his friends, but we
dare not pry into his own mind to delve into greater details.  He is
dangerous.  We made a mistake of comparing him to our own Mindovers
and we were wrong.  He is something else."
    "What is he, then?"
    "I know not.  Never in the records of the Mindover has there ever
been a creature as this boy.  If there are others like him, we may be
in danger."
    "What are the opinions of Potas-Trool and Ecee-Rushe?"
    "They are confused.  They advise extreme caution.  There have been
no examples of such behavior among the other soldiers and there have
been suggestions that they have come from different realities.  This
is indeed possible.  We must learn more."
    "I thought that you suggested immediate termination?  That the boy
was too powerful to be trusted?  Why the sudden change of heart, my
advisor?"
    "Lord, we are ignorants at this moment and the manling, Matt, may
prove to be a great door.  This is what many suggest.  Even the
diplomats claim that he may have knowledge of ways to expand the
abilities of the Mindover.  We cannot ignore this opportunity.  We can
keep him drained and impotent for as long as necessary until we have
the information we desire."
    "Do so, but beware.  You claim that he is a danger.  So be it.  Do
not underestimate him, even in his drained state."
    "We would not be so foolish, lord."
    "Then go and give the order."

    Lord Geentung sighed and held his face in his hands.  They had
moved with the aid of a complex underground sewer system to the new
location.  It was a long and arduous task lightened only by the use of
valuable Presence to transfer the lords and their staff.  None would
dare suggest they soil themselves in such a manner.  The skirmish with
the soldiers had proven that victory on this planet would not be a
simple thing.  It would require careful thought and strategy instead
of brute force and fear.
    It would be a long war.  He could feel it in his bones.  The
others to the south had managed to secure for themselves a powerful
front that resisted all attacks.  The convoys between the two factions
had proven costly, though.  Rebel bandits were far too successful at
overcoming the warriors, Elders, and Mindovers who protected the
convoys.  Something would have to change and soon.
    Damn the need for Presence!  Instead of storing it they could lay
waste across the planet, devastate its people, and teach them all the
strength of the Eternals!  The lord shook his head and moaned.
    "Leave," he muttered to his attendants.  "Leave now."
    They scrambled out the doorway in fear.  As the last closed the
door it could hear a low wail of a cry.  It was a moan of despair and
doom.  The attendant shivered in the foreboding tone of that cry.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
    Matt turned his eyes to the sky and his eyes filled with tears.
    "They come," he said.  "They come!"
    A key rattled in the door lock.
    Tracy spun and faced the door with a look of horror.  As the
warrior pushed the door open, she screamed.  Matt laughed, pushed his
hands toward the sky and laughed.  The warrior's face was craggy and
expressionless.  Its mouth pulsed as it walked forward.
    "They're going to kill us!" screamed Tracy in anger and
frustration, confused at Matt's own actions.
    The ground rippled beneath them, carrying them up and toppling
them over.  Was it an earthquake?  No, it was an explosion!  Matt was
already driving the warrior's own dagger deep into its skull.  Was his
exhaustion only an act?
    "This way!" he hissed.  "Trace, get Vince up and let's get the
fuck out of here!"
    He wanted to laugh and cry.  Despite the pain that he had
experienced mere minutes before, he felt reborn.  His moment of glory
faltered, though, as the ground seemed to shake again.  Whatever
explosive were being used, their owners seemed intent on destroying
everything in their past.
    "It's not supposed to be quite like this," muttered Matt.  Then
louder:  "C'mon, c'mon!  We gotta go NOW!"

    The soldiers were a blaze of blue steel surging forward.  Their
bodies moved in a manner of obscene grace, unreal and impossible.  The
Eternals knew that the rifles and handguns taken from local stores
would prove fairly ineffective against the hard metal bodies of the
Quunan Mur.  The Quunan Mur had carefully studied the abilities of the
Eternals and knew that their greatest weakness lay in their Mindovers
and Elders.  Destroy them and their greatest strength was also
removed. Even so, their own bodies were fragile.  They could not heal
wounds; they had to be repaired.  And even though a fallen warrior
could be brought back to life, never again would he be as good as he
was before.
    But this was their first test against a powerful enemy and for the
moment they had the upper hand.  They swept across the compound,
destroying any attempts at resistance.  Far behind them in the compact
troop assault ship, marksmen were busy killing the Mindovers and
Elders.  Warriors would raise their great rune swords into the sky,
blazing with a black flame, and would be struck down by a blurred
shape.  The Quunan Mur did not stop to rest for they needed none.
    The earth shook again as the grenades struck home.  The Eternals
shrieked and fled.

    They were running and stumbling down the corridors of the building
when they rounded a corner and nearly ran into a warrior.  Matt
tripped, fell, and landed face up watching the warrior raise its
sword.
    "No!" shrieked Tracy.
    Matt's heart seemed to skip a beat, then stop.  The sword ceased
rising and ever so slowly began its trek downward, toward Matt's
chest.  He struggled to rise, but his body would not move.  He didn't
have the energy to kill the warrior!
    "Not like this," Matt's mind raged, "NOT LIKE THIS!"
    Something inside of him bubbled up and a streak of light arced
from Matt's own hands and stabbed deep into the warrior.  It stumbled
backward, then collapsed against the ground.  The bolt had blown a
hole in its chest the size of Matt's head.  And then, as the
adrenaline slowly ebbed, Matt could feel a profound weakness coming
over himself.
    "Go," he mumbled.  "Go now.  There's stairs down at the end of the
hall.  Run.  There's help coming now."
    "No," Vince said.  "No, you're coming with us."
    "Fuck you.  None of you can understand.  You can't _see_.  Run,
you idiots!"
    Matt fought his exhaustion and rose.  He looked toward his hands
and was startled to see electricity raging between his fingers.  A
warrior turned the corner, sword at ready.  Reflexively, Matt raised
his hand and another powerful bolt struck the alien, blowing it
through the window behind it.
    "Run while you still can!" screamed Matt, and then he was
stumbling back the way they had come.
    "C'mon, Vince," urged Tracy.
    He shook his head.  "No, we gotta go after him."
    "Vince, he's determined his destiny!  We've got to get out of
here."
    "But-"
    "NOW!"
    She grabbed his shirt in her hand and started pulling him toward
the stairs.
    "Matt!" cried Vince.  "Matt, come back!"

    His heart pumped feebly.  There was tightness in his chest that
felt as if he was having a heart attack.  Matt pounded twice on his
chest.  He collapsed at the feet of another dead warrior.  For a
moment things seemed to fade.
    "No," he whispered.  "I have to do this."
    He staggered to his feet.  What had been a raging electrical storm
in his hands was now little more than static.  Matt found himself
leaning against the wall for support.  His legs were turning to
rubber.  In fact, he could barely feel them.
    "Just a little more."
    I'm coming, you bastard.

    "Form the circle," commanded the lord.  He was Geentung Potas
Albon Llurisa, battlelord for the seventeenth cirle.  "Form it now."
    The Mindovers and Elders gathered close.  The Mindovers were
merely decoration -- the Elders were the only ones who could wield
Potential and shape it.
    The air began to smell of ozone as they chanted, slowly walking
counter-clockwise.

    "You're not going to escape," Matt slurred.  Only two more steps
and he'd be at the door.
    A warrior turned and saw him.  Just then Matt's legs chose to give
out on him.  The blade swung over his head and took a chunk out of the
wall.  Matt glared into the warrior's eyeslits and commanded it.
    "Open the fucking door," he said.
    The warrior thrust the door open.
    "Now dispose of yourself."
    The alien turned and hurled itself from the window.
    Matt crawled through the doorway.

    Lord Geentung stood tall despite his grievous wounds.  "Open the
portal," he said.
    A shape caught his eye, but he ignored it.  In seconds they'd be
gone, having escaped the attack of the Quunan Mur.  Damnable beasts of
technology!
    "Stop," commanded a voice in the tongue known as English.
    The lord turned and viewed the weak Asian as he struggled to his
feet.
    Everything stopped in the room.
    Matt grinned even as the psionic attack was begun on his mind.
    Then a brilliant light seemed to engulf them all.
    "G'night," he managed to say before the explosion took him.

    There came a muffled WHUMP from the building at all the windows
shattered outward.  Tracy, Vince, and their cyborg protectors turned.
The building slowly collapsed inward.
    "No!" screamed Tracy.  "MATT!"
    The only sound on the battlefield was that of concrete and metal
crumbling apart, tearing from their foundations, and collapsing.  The
building had becoming little more than a hill of rubble.
    The warriors shivered with confusion for a moment and then resumed
their losing battle.  It was a simple thing for the Quunan Mur to
eliminate the last few Eternals remaining.  A small handful collapsed
without ever being touched, as if their minds had died.
    And as silence finally fell, Vince found himself staring at the
ruins.

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