TRANSFORMERS:
                         Sentinel Arc:
                          BAD DREAMS 
                             PART 4
                                
                                
                                
  "Doctor Scott . . . when do you see this monster?"
     "All the time I was there.  It tried to attack Steven once,
but Midnight came in the room and the dog-beast ran out through
the wall."
      "Doctor Scott, what do you know or remember of this
monster? When did you first see the beast?"
     "I don't know.  It comes and goes whenever it pleases."
     "When did you first see the beast?"
     "It comes and goes whenever it pleases."
     "When did you first see the beast?"
     "It comes and goes . . ."
     "When . . ."
     " . . . whenever it pleases."
     "I have fleeting dreams.  Cold.  I walk over a land met with
a bleeding sky.  Something comes to me when I least expect it. 
It tells me it wants to make love to me.  But all it does is
steal more from me.  It's eating me alive."
     "Trias nyt skau"- To do no harm. 
     "Trias plindau nyt pnumau"- To endanger no life.  
     "Trias neesam yvlan, richat"-To respect and uphold and
praise
     " . . . Trias cres noothoo pnumau linth kem kemkan"-. . . to
put another life before my own.
     "Trias nyt skau . . ."
     "Shhhh." A warm kind hand lay on Kyle's chest and he could
feel the life force flood his weakened soul.  He slowly opened
his eyes, still murmuring the oath he took hundreds of years ago. 
He blinked, slowly adjusting to the bright friendly light in the
hospital room.  The first thing he saw was Kayla's lovely face,
so sweetly framed by her curling horns and silky dark brown hair. 
Her wild dark eyes sparkled with a hint of sadness, her brows
fixed with worry.
     "It attacked Steve."  Kyle weakly murmured.  "I remembered,
but I forgot again.  Midnight was there, but that was a long time
ago.  But there was something else . . . something I can't
remember . . ."
     "Shhhh."
     His brow tingled from her lingering kiss.  Kyle closed his
eyes, the moment lifted his pain and he wished she would kiss him
on the lips, just once.
     And the very next moment, she did.  A light touch of her
soft lips crossed his and Kyle took in her scent and felt her
strong soul caress his lovingly, kindly.  She gently kissed him
between the eyes and took his hand in hers then she withdrew.
     Kyle watched as she sat next to him.  She too was wearing a
hospital gown, her favorite robe covered her body, bordered at
the shoulders and sleeve cuffs with lace and a silk tie string at
the neck piece.  His eyes fell to her hand, still kindly holding
his.  A new bandage wrapped his wound but blood stained the back
of his hand near the stigma.  His mind remained foggy.  He
struggled to recall the last few . . . days? Weeks?
     Months, at least, it had to be months.
     "What day is it, Kayla?"  He finally asked.
     "Tuesday."
     "And . . . and . . ."  Kyle shook his head.  There was a
question he needed to ask, but Kyle could not find the reason to
ask it, nor could he figure out what he wanted to ask.
     "Half a week."  Kayla answered.  "We've all been here for
half a week, Kyle.  I'm getting out on good behavior."
     Kyle's face twisted in confusion.  "A week?"
     "Four days."
     ". . . why?"
     Kayla knitted her own brows but Kyle could not tell if she
was wondering why he was asking questions, or if the answers were
as puzzling to her.  "Respiratory treatments, Kyle.  All four of
us inhaled toxic gasses."  She shook her head slightly.  "Kyle,
don't you recall the ship? Falling into the ravine? The light
went out in the cave and-"
     Scott turned pale.  "Steve!"  He whispered.  "Oh, Primus!"
he about jumped out of bed and then realized a tube snaked in and
out of his left arm.  His eyes followed the tiny hoses containing
blood and he bounced his eyes from that back to Kayla.
     "Blood loss."  Kayla answered quietly.  "You've lost four
and a half pints.  They raced for hours trying to close off torn
veins."  Her eyes fell.  "At least, that's what Spellbinder told
me.
     Kyle only recalled the deep darkness, the blue panel
lighting the hallway, guiding he and Steve as they walked.  Then
he remembered the autopsies, the bridge and . . . and . . . Steve
and the cold and . . . "We came to a dead end.  Steve was hurt
somehow and I had to force myself to try the combination lock."
     Kayla nodded.  "They found deep pierces like tooth marks in
his left shoulder.  And . . . they found blood in his ears.  But
they don't know why-"
     "Xesnex."  
     Kayla turned her head just so, her eyes peering at him out
their corners.
     "He attacked us."  Kyle explained.  "I-I recall it raced
down the corridor just as I was trying to pry the door open and
It-he-attacked Steve . . ."  Kyle shook his head when he realized
his memories were all out of sequence.  All gone.  There was
something more; a memory that refused to surface and the more he
thought of it, the more elusive it became and Kyle decided to
leave it. Another thought instantly replaced it, however.  
     "Jill?"
     Kayla's eyes darted away, striking the hall in a southern
direction.  "She's in ICU, too.  We . . . we were in the ravine
and I saw these holes in the rock walls all around us and I could
not figure out what they were.  We didn't see them during the
day; they weren't visible.  But when we found them, Jill tried to
pry the rock away, too see what it was and that was when it
sprayed directly in her face.  Seconds later, the whole area
filled with a gas. We passed out."
     "That's where we landed, wasn't it?"  Kyle asked. 
     "You remember?"
     "No.  I don't recall anything but the wall suddenly lifted
and I fell."  Kyle would have said more but he spotted Steve
against the open door.  Doctor Scott blinked and a vision flashed
before his eyes:
     THIS JUST IN: SIXTEEN UNIDENTIFIED FLYING OBJECTS HAVE BEEN
SPOTTED OVER THE CENMAR AND YINSTARK CONTINENTS.  SOURCES SAY NO
ONE IS TO PANIC, THEY MOST LIKELY ARE HERE FOR REFUELING.   I
REPEAT-DO NOT PANIC AT THE UFO'S . . . DO NOT PANIC
     And sixteen black shapes became harbingers of death . . .
sixteen?  Weren't there nine?!
     Weren't there nine?!
     Kyle shook his head, the voice faded with his inner demands. 
He watched Parker stand in silence.  His face did not bother to
cover the anxiety and terrible oppressions darkening his mind.  
     Vicious dreams of merciless cruelty left Steve's nerves a
tangled mess.  He came see Kyle, to make sure Kyle was okay.  
But while this confirmation lifted his fears for his friend, did
not lift Steve's oppressing mood.  Something was stolen from him
and Captain Parker could not tell what it was.  
     He turned every direction to evade their memory but they
haunted him like a dying man forced to stare into a mirror.  He
blinked, unable to think of anything to say to Kyle at the
moment.  It was the terrible lidless eye that haunted him.  It
watched him constantly-right now.  Right now.
     An awkward silence ensued and for once Kyle saved the
moment:  "Really, now, Nurse Kayla.  If you were going to have me
examined, the least you could do was get someone more experienced 
than a monkey."
     Parker caught the joke and his jaw dropped in mock
humiliation.  "Will you listen to this guy?  He's been barely
conscious for two seconds and already he's bossing you around!"
     Kayla studied his pale face then she turned to Kyle.  "You
know, Jill and I went along to keep you guys out of trouble. 
Seems you got into it, anyway.  You owe me a breakfast for it,
Mister.  A good breakfast, not something made up here or at the
kitchen."  Kayla beamed and turned back to Parker.  "He just
called you a monkey, Steve."
     Steve crossed his arms.  "How do you like that? I try to
save a man's life and sanity and all he can do is call me names. 
Did the other nurses tell you to say that, Kyle?"
     Kyle blinked slowly. "They won't tell me anything."  He
complained.  "I ask about the girls.  They tell me 'everything's
fine, Doctor Scott.  Take yourself a holiday.' I asked about you. 
They say 'Steve's doing fine, Doctor Scott, you just lie quiet.' 
Holidays and quiet . . . not meant for someone who can't mentally
settle down, Steve."  He paused, subtly smiling.  "I'm glad
you're okay."
     Steve returned the smile with a grim reaction.  He didn't
feel much like anything at this point.  He approached the bedside
and frowned.  He tried to think of something else to say,
anything.  But nothing bright nor cheerful came to mind.  Nothing
at all.
     "What now?"  Kayla asked quietly breaking the moment.
     Kyle blinked slowly.  Weariness called him to back to sleep. 
The nurse would return in a while to give him more fluids.  "Now
. . . we compare notes and try to make sense of what we saw."  He
closed his eyes again and sighed.
     Steve nodded in mute agreement.
     
*   *   *
     Jill laid flat on her back.  Her arms lay stretched out,
clamped to a table's cold surface.  Her legs lay apart, supported
by a ramp, the rest of her body was exposed to chilly air and
Jill wished someone would cover her.  Something covered her eyes,
prohibiting her from seeing anything.  She prayed she was in
Medbay . . . she assumed . . .  McKennan tried to lift her head
and found it pinned tight from her temples-no, she was attached
to a machine from her temples.  She tried to wiggle her fingers
and felt tiny metal rods all buried lengthwise under the skin.
     Her heart started to pound in fear.  The more she tried to
move, the more devices and things she found in her body.
     Jill moved her lower jaw and found it still worked.  She
swallowed, finding her mouth terribly dry.  "Somebody?"  Her
voice scarcely, scarcely made a sound.  "Somebody, help me! Is
anybody there? Anybody?"
     Then she realized it was an idiotic idea to call for help;
she might be heard by the wrong people! 
     Something hissed open and shut and Jill started to
hyperventilate.  "Hello?"  She called.  "Kyle? Steve?  Is
somebody there?  I'm cold!"  She waited for response-the terrible
blindness drove her mad,  "Hello?"
     "Zhack."  An alien voice said beside her.
     "I don't know what that means."  Jill's voice broke in fear. 
"Please, I can't see anything! Who's there?"
     "Lath." 
     "I'm sorry."  Jill's voice wavered. "I don't recognize that
word-wait . . . Zhack . . . that's Chenobian for demon.  Did you
just call me-" she caught her breath as ice cold metal kissed her
at the top of her chest and trailed clear down her front.  Jill
tried to squirm, but clamps and rods held her naked body taut and
she started to cry.
     The metal punctured her skin down two more layers, hurting
and she started breathing hard.  "No!"  She screamed.
     One more long slice and long cold fingers dug into the
cutline and pulled her skin apart.
     Jill squirmed and struggled to sit up and tried to open her
eyes.  Something warm and wet plastered her face and she tried to
pull it off, but her hands were bound to bed rails and she kicked
and screamed through the wrappings.  She screamed louder and
alarms whined, calling people to attend her.
     "Don't touch me!" Jill screamed.  "I'm sentient!  I'm
sentient!"  The hiss of a tranquilizer sounded in her ears and
the girl's body wrestled and bucked in protest.  She started to
weep.
     <<Jill . . .>>  Skywolf's presence whispered her name and
Jill gasped for breath, her body struggled to resist.
     "Easy, child." a gentle feminine voice sounded to her right,
"You're safe.  Right here in Medbay.  You're alright."
     Jill calmed, faintly hearing the noise outside the room as
people came and left . . . ICU?  "ICU?"  She slurred.
     "Yes, hon.  We got'cha taken care of."
     "Kyle and Steve?"
     "Here.  Safe.  Sleep."
     That was all she needed and McKennan passed out.

*   *   *
     Four days elapsed before Doctor Hashu gave Scott, Kayla and
Steve the okay to leave.  Hashu privately explained to Kyle they
feared Jill might have lost her sight due to the frontal impact
of the gas.  
     Steve insisted they say nothing to their 'little friend' and
he expected everyone to allow no time for Jill to feel
downhearted.  They visited her everyday, several hours at a time.
     Three days later, Doctor Hashu performed a final surgery and
later that afternoon, they started to remove her bandages.  
     Kyle sat there with her, holding her hands while Hashu
carefully cut away the gauze.
     "This is so much better than the dream I had."  Jill was
grateful Kyle held her hands while Hashu undid the binding one
medicated layer at a time.
     "What dream?"  Kyle's soft professional voice filled the air
and McKennan realized she had forgotten how much she loved his
manners.
     "I was bound to a table of sorts and dissected."  Kyle
gently squeezed her fingers.
     "That's frightening, Jill."  He answered softly.
     She swallowed hard, unable to cry.  "A terrible dream."  She
whispered.  Again he gently squeezed her hands assuringly.
     Hashu removed the remaining bandages and gingerly cleaned
her new skin.  He smiled at Kyle's admiration of his work and
applied a layer of lotion over McKennan's restored face. 
     "Okay, Jill."  Hashu paused in his work. "You need to apply
lotion to your face every day for five days."
     "Okay."  McKennan answered softly.  
     The two doctors exchanged a silent worried glance.  Kyle
remained still, "Jill, when Doctor Hashu takes off the bandage,
keep your eyes closed a moment later then cover them before you
open them."
     "Okay."  Her voice nervously echoed. 
     Hashu removed the little pads of woven cotton from her eyes
and Jill covered her face.
     Kyle laid his fingers over his mouth, silently praying.  She
slowly withdrew her hands and blinked a set of pretty brown eyes.
     "It's all blurry."  She reported, "I'm okay, though."
     "You most certainly are, Jill."  Hashu answered. He
scribbled everything down on the chart beside him and turned away
one moment then came back and handed Jill a lollipop.  "This is
for you for being the best patient of them all."  He
congratulated.
     Jill graciously accepted it, trying hard not to smile.


*   *   *
     Kyle and Steve agreed to hold a meeting and exchange notes
they and the ladies acquired from Chenobis.  Steve decided to
invite Nick for his technological expertise.  Then he thought of
another friend of theirs: Matt Frasier.  The problem was timing. 
Matt was in the middle of a divorce and Nick had been called away
to handle a black-out in Below.
     Kyle did not want to wait any longer than they had to. 
Urgency filled him from the moment he woke, to the time he
dropped off to sleep.  Voodoo said very little to him, almost 
sulking.  But knowing the Sentinel's behavior, Kyle understood
Voodoo was merely trying to deal with the whole mess.  At least
they weren't fighting.
     Not yet.
     "You never said anything to me."  Voodoo quietly stated two
days after Kyle was released from the hospital.  They traversed
the park, walking slowly so that Doctor Scott did not have to
catch his breath.  Kyle sipped water and caught sight of the one
hill sloping off to the eastern part of the park.  It was Steve's
favorite place.  Crowned with large trees and a bench, it stood
watchful over the rest of the garden.  "I tried to contact you in
the ship."  He answered.  "But I couldn't get through."
     "Tell me about the ship, Kyle.  What happened?"
     Kyle shook his head.  "I don't know, Voodoo.  At least, I
don't remember too much.  There was alien technology . . .
something happened to Steve and I know I have those memories, but
I can't tap into them."
     Voodoo suddenly collapsed to his knees, his form hunched
over. "Why are you blocking me?"  He asked.
     "What?"
     "Can't you hear me anymore? I tried on hundreds of occasions
to talk to you over the link, but you keep a shield between us. 
It hurts, Kyle.  You're hurting me."
     Kyle flinched in surprise.  "But . . . I thought you were
holding a shield against me.  I thought you didn't want me poking
around in your head, that you might have some . . . top secret  
. . ." he felt a vibration through the link.  Weak, plaintive,
sad.  If it was from Voodoo . . .  "V, why would I shield you
from me? I need you.  I need to know someone is there for me."
     Voodoo shrugged.  "I dunno.  I figured you were mad at me."
     Kyle stared at him and accessed artificial implanted
memories.  It was hard because unlike true memory, Kyle had to
access them like one would textbook material.  He frowned. 
"Voodoo, have you ever known me to be angry without finding the
time to snap at you?"
     Voodoo frowned.  "Kyle, you are not the kind of person to
loose his temper unless pushed to a point.  I can press buttons
all day and you won't make a move.  Not until I start attacking
you emotionally."
     Kyle blinked at this revelation.  "Oh."  He turned away,
taking another quaff of water.  He turned back and pointed a
finger at Voodoo.  "I think there might be something wrong with
the link."
     "How so?"
     Doctor Scott shook his head.  "Don't know.  Most likely
outside interference.  Or my own physiological condition might be
setting up prohibitive parameters attacking neural pathways
through the coroander nerves, thereby affecting your ordysimic
sensors."
     Voodoo snorted and smiled, struggling not to laugh.
     Kyle blinked.  "What's so funny?"  His voice was level,
indicating he wasn't mad, just curious.
     "You rattle that stuff off as though nothing had ever
happened.  I didn't understand a thing you just said."
     Kyle blinked again and drank more water.  Then he smiled,
admitting it all did sound kinda funny.  "Perhaps we should go
talk to Skywolf."


     Kyle followed Chaos out to the Observation and Scanning
Auditorium (OSA).  Standing fifty feet high and seventy feet in
either direction, the room remained the only facility in three
solar systems capable of doing x-ray, CAT scans, MRI's and EEG's
right on the table without moving the patient.  Originally, the
OSA was the only means of tapping into the consciousness that
made the Interface links.  Kyle and Skywolf collaborated on it
for thirty years just prior to the Tji war.  There was almost
nothing a patient could hide from the sensitive (very expensive)
equipment.  Even dreams could be monitored on the sub-psycho
laser graph.
     But Kyle never dreamed he would end up on one of those
tables himself.  He squirmed, trying to forget that he was just
here for a quick exam, not a bug under a microscope.  He could
not figure out why he was so nervous.
     Ten feet from him, Voodoo lay on a similar table.  But he
remained very still.  He gazed at his nervous partner and forced
a smile.  "It'll be okay, Kyle."  Voodoo said softly.  "I won't
let them stick needles in you."
     Kyle flinched and nearly sat up but Voodoo beat him too it,
supporting his weight on one elbow.  "Kyle."  He called softly. 
"Don't panic."
     "I'm trying not to."
     Hashu called from the control room above them, his voice
full of concern.  "Is everything alright, you two?"
     Voodoo gazed up at the transparent titanium windows.  He
automatically patched into the intercom system.  "Kyle's . . .
having subconscious flashbacks, Doctor."
     Skywolf patched in from his station.  "Voodoo . . . I
thought. . . I thought you talked to him-"
     "Who's had time?"  Voodoo snapped.  "Just . . . just gimme a
minute, will ya? Hold on to your reserve tanks a second."  He
slipped off the flat and knelt at his partner while Kyle sat up.
     "What's wrong with me?"  Kyle held himself tightly and
batted his eyes against the glaring floodlights from the control
station.
     "It's an old wound."  Voodoo answered simply.  "I guess it's
one of those bad moments-you know, when they transferred some of
my memories to you . . . something like that.  But, how did the
emotion transfer?  I thought you said the emotions . . ."  Voodoo
stopped himself and frowned.  "Okay, we were both there.  I think
you're . . . "
     Kyle looked down, unable to retain eye contact.  Something
awful must have happened and it caused him to have a panic
attack.  "I don't want to know."  He said softly.
     Voodoo took Kyle's hands between his fingers.  "We don't
have to do this."  He emphasized.
     "Yes we do."  Kyle argued.
     "No.  We don't.  We don't have to do a damned thing.  If you
don't feel comfortable enough to do this, we won't do it.  I
won't have you freaking out on me.  Kyle, it's not your fault."
     Kyle drew a deep breath.  That helped.  Whatever it was that
had happened seemed to fade and Kyle put his trust in Voodoo's
sincerity.  He nodded and laid back down.  "I'll be okay."  He
gazed at his partner's opticless face but Voodoo remained stern. 
He waited a moment, watching Kyle and scanning his life signs for
trouble.  But Kyle seemed to genuinely relax.  Perhaps it wasn't
the flashback at all. Perhaps Kyle just needed a little
reassurance.  Voodoo hoped so.  He returned to the examination
table and patched back into the intercom.
     "He'll be okay.  But no dilly-dally.  You know he hates
this."
     "Alright, Voodoo.  Just be patient.  We'll get you two out
as soon as possible."  Wolf turned to Chaos with a frown. 
"Testy, isn't he?" he asked, meaning Voodoo.
     Chaos frowned.  "Scott's like most doctors, Wolf, better on
the handle-side of a scalpel."
     Skywolf grunted and he and Hashu started on the sequence of
scans.  
     "Physical patterns normal."  Hashu reported.
     "Same here."  Wolf replied.  He watched the monitor as UV
blue scans shot between Kyle and Voodoo at one frequency then
changed frequencies for variation patterns then changed again
toward the dark light spectrums, picking up the Interface auras
and life force patterns.
     Chaos stepped a little closer to the window as the dark
light revealed the sequence Interface patterns unique to Kyle and
Voodoo.  "What the hell is that?" she asked.
     Wolf stood and watched as the patterns between Kyle and
Voodoo fluctuated much like a subspace message suffering from
massive interference.  He shook his head.  "I don't know.  Let me
run another scan on the Ra'nine frequency."
     "That's going to make Voodoo really edge."  Chaos warned.
     "I know."  Wolf frowned.  He tapped in the order for the
computer and the scan light changed rapidly, shooting out streams
of red light intermixed with blue.  Voodoo covered his face and
turned his back to Kyle.
     "I'm getting peeks and valleys." Hashu warned.
     But he went unheard as Wolf and Chaos strained to see what
the scans were revealing.  Wolf glanced at his monitor and shook
his head. 
     "Oh Primus."  He swore.  "Okay, I think I've seen enough. 
Shut it off.  Shut them all off."  He sat down and started
piecing the information together.  But he already knew what it
was saying.
     Jill entered the auditorium with a robe for Kyle.  He sat up
as though just waking from a restless sleep.  But he did not
greet or look at her.  Jill laid the robe over his shoulders and
tried to make eye contact.  "Kyle?"  She asked carefully.  "Are
you okay?"  She waited, but he still said nothing.  She glanced
up at the control center. <<Wolf, he's not responding.>>
     <<We had to use ra'nine frequencies.>> he answered
objectively.
     Jill frowned and shielded her partner from her fearful
reaction when Kyle's nose began to bleed.  She swept up tissues
for him.  "Wolf said he had to use ra'nine, Kyle."  She answered
his puzzled expression.  Jill glanced in Voodoo's direction and
found the Sentinel had not moved.  Perhaps he had blacked out.
     Kyle's mind raced to recall what that meant.  In his
confused state, all he knew was that it was painful.  Then he
remembered ra'nine was a dark light frequency that reached deep
into the subconscious mind and extracted meta-DNA information
from the life force.  If used for an extended period of time, the
frequency would kill the patient.  
     He thought his head was going to shrivel up.  Kyle weakly
laid on his side and almost instantly fell asleep.


     A female flung herself at Steve the moment Parker stepped
into his quarters.  He staggered in surprise, staring into the
eyes of a feline-like creature with silver hair and green eyes. 
She gripped him in a fierce kiss.
     His stunned reaction faded to astonishment after she turned
angry when he didn't remember her-or the fact that they were
married.  Her tight little figure huddled in grief and it was all
Steve could do to comfort her.
     Then came the argument.
     And standing in Medbays' diagnostics section, the last thing
Parker wanted to hear is some long-ass report from Skywolf.  But
his attitude changed with Skywolf's grave news:
     "The link between Kyle and Voodoo, the reason for their
inability to communicate . . . the link is diminishing."
     Steve and Mid gave the doctor the very same expression.
     "That is impossible."  Mid voiced first.
     "I thought nothing could change the strength of the link
once it's established."  Steve added.
     "Normally, yes."  First Aid agreed.  "Once Interface occurs,
there is no going back.  There is nothing you can do to
strengthen the link.  It simply is.  But three tests confirmed
the very same thing:  Kyle and Voodoo have thirty percent link
left.  And it looks like it's diminishing."
     Midnight leaned against the wall, astounded.  "That, that
will kill them both, won't it?  It will be like they died.  That
means Voodoo will loose his mind, won't it?"
     "Not altogether at once."  Skywolf answered.  "He's already
going through the withdrawal stages: headaches, slowed reflexes,
irritability."
     "But because Kyle is still alive, and Voodoo is aware of it,
it's slowing the insanity stages to a crawl."  Parker assumed.
     Mid gazed to Steve and thought briefly how he would feel if
anything like this ever happened to his partner.  Not Steve, Mid
thought, I won't loose Steve.  He watched as Steve turned away,
lost in his own thoughts, raising a shield to keep Mid out of the
confusion and pain over Ashtar and the whole affair with Kyle.
     Midnight sighed.  "What do we do?"
     Skywolf and First Aid glanced at each other, looking for an
answer neither of them had.
     The silence became awkward after a moment then Steve
pocketed his hands.  "I think," he called, "we just move on with
our plans: find out what the hell those creatures are and what we
can do to put a stop to it."
     Mid frowned and nodded in silent agreement.


     Kyle struggled with the same nasty headache two days after
the examination.  He carefully poured over the recorded images
Jill brought back from Chenobis.  She sat quietly next to him,
sipping a tall glass of iced juice.  Kyle scribbled notes wishing
she would say something about her findings.  The silence in his
head was slowly forcing him out of his mind.  Sound, any kind of
sudden sound, made him jump because the quiet in his soul was so
terrible.  Voodoo's voice wasn't in the back of his mind anymore
and Kyle forced all his concentration on anything that passed him
in order to avoid the stillness.  But there he and Jill sat there
quietly in the library, waiting for the others to attend the
meeting.
     Finally he paused to stretch.  Jill turned from an empty
glass, watching Doctor Scott as he paced the room.
"What do you think?"  She asked, looking forward to his
professional opinion.
     "About your recordings?"
     "Yes."  Jill stared at him, not at all liking his sweater
and jeans outfit.  Kyle usually ate, slept and lived in his
uniform but for the past two days, he hadn't so much as thought
about it.
     "Well . . . I think it's frightening.  The scratch marks on
the walls are very indicative of what Steve and I assumed during
the autopsy."
     "And what's that?"
     "Mass murder-or war, depends on your point of view."
     Jill's weary three-fingered hands pressed controls over the
digipad as she transferred other data from one gadget to another
and in the next moment, the printer located next to the south
window clicked on and started spewing paper.
     The doors swished open and both silently gave the entrance a
wary glance.  Nick more or less dragged Shan in, a wide grin
plastered over his face, his eyes hungrily scanning the table for
alien technology.  Jill kindly offered it to him by producing a
little plastic bag containing the flat crystal from Chenobis.
     "Here you go, Nick."  She baited, dangling the bag like a
carrot on a string.  "But don't tell a damned soul you have it. 
The governments on Chenobis will kill to get their hands on
this."
     Nick made a beeline for the 'honey' and swept it away. He
examined it closely as though preparing to bid a handsome price.  
     Steve came in the very next minute.  His eyes scrutinized
Kyle, but he said nothing; neither his nor Kyle's expressions
changed, as though they knew what the other was thinking.  Steve
cast his gaze to the table, dreading the inevitable.
     Kyle just glanced at the blue-skinned woman that arrived
with Nick.  He offered her a weak smile, but had no idea who she
was.  He took his seat next to Jill and fingered an empty cup of
coffee.
     Shan shot him a surprised look.  Kyle didn't say hello.  Her
eyes jumped from Kyle to Steve in silent question.  Steve berated
himself for forgetting.  Kyle knew Nick because a week before the
conference, Nick was being treated for burns.  And while Nick
talked about Shan, Kyle did not meet her face to face.  He moved
in, laying his right arm across Shanygn's shoulders and guided
her to Kyle.
     "Kyle," he called.  He waited until Scott gave him eye
contact.  "Kyle, this is Shan."
     The moment proved awkward.  Kyle forced another smile, but 
Steve could tell he was upset and embarrassed about his behavior. 
He regained his composure a moment later, but he did not offer
his hand in greeting.  Instead, Kyle hid it under the table and
Steve's heart ached for him.  "Hello, Shan."  Kyle whispered.
     To Steve's relief, Shangyn sent him the warmest smile he had
ever seen the lady offer anyone but Nick.  She sat in the next
chair and touched Kyle's shoulder then took his hand.  "Hello,
Kyle."  She answered softly.  She squeezed his hand.
     Kyle looked back, grateful for the contact.  Shan, like
Kayla, was unique.  A black sleeveless turtleneck hugged her
torso, revealing more of her blue skin.  Electric nodes and tiny
wire connectors punctuated her joints and a pair of slim black
braces wrapped her wrists and upper arms.  Her short, cropped,
dark blue/black hair framed her face in an expression of power. 
Kyle figured in a tough situation, Shan was more than capable of
handling herself.
     Shan couldn't get over the fact that Kyle was not wearing
his uniform.  She tossed her gaze to Steve and sent him a
'something's-not-right' look.  Steve read the expression and
nodded, slowly blinking.
     The entrance doors opened and a well-built male slipped in,
carrying a coat and brief case.  "Hi."  He smiled at Steve who
invited him to have a seat.  The blonde man lapped his coat over
the back of a chair and set the case on the table.  He nearly sat
when he wiggled his fingers at Shan who shined him on.  Jill
waved at him without making eye contact.  
     "Sorry I'm late."  Matt sighed.  "Bad day."
     "It's okay."  Steve forgave.  "We're still waiting on Kayla. 
Matt, you remember Doctor Scott, don't you?"
     Matt opened his brief case and gave Kyle a second look. 
"No, actually.  We've never formally introduced."  He stood and
extended a hand.
     Feeling a little more at ease, Kyle stood and accepted the
shake.  Matt sat back down.  "Good to meet you, Doctor Scott."
     "It's just Kyle."  He answered simply.
     "Well, I'm supposed to be Colonel Matthew-something-Frasier. 
But I like Matt."  Frasier buried his face in his brief case,
sorting through papers and digipads.  "Short, to the point.  And
don't ask me what my middle name is.  It's a horrible name and
I've tried for years to change it."
     Shan smiled.
     The doors opened again and Kayla quickly entered, taking a
seat, acting like a little girl late to class.  "Sorry."  She
whispered. 
     Steve ran his tongue over his teeth.  "Well . . . I guess we
should get started.  Anybody want to go first?"
     Silence. 
     Matt closed his brief case and set it on the floor. He
arranged three digipads and two paper tablets in front of him and
wrestled a pen between his hands.  "If no one is willing to say
anything, how about someone start by filling me in on what's
going on?"
     Kyle's eyes snapped up, surprised.  "No one's told you?"
     Matt struggled not to smile.  "No, Doctor Scott.  All I got
in subspace transmission was quote:'Matt! We discovered
something! Could you come and check it out?' Unquote."
     The corners of Kyle's mouth tightened as he tried not to
smile.  He folded his hands on the table and leaned forward just
a little.  "About a month ago I was asked to investigate a very
abnormal medical case on Chenobis.  Beth D'Chlavic suffered from
severe amnesia and self-inflicted wounds.  The day I was there,
something, some force, ripped her to pieces then turned and
injured several other people."  Kyle paused a moment, struggling
against his emotions to tell the rest of the story.  "Whatever
afflicted D'Chlavic, has affected me.  Steve and I did some
investigating and found Beth was not the only one killed by It."
     Matt opened his hands, his pen twitched in one of them.  "So
this is just the matter of finding out what 'It' is."  Kyle
nodded.  Frasier batted his eyes.  "I'm sorry, Doctor, but I
don't feel you need me.  It would seem the medical mystery is
more your own forte than mine."
     Steve sat in the chair next to Matt at this point.  "There's 
a great deal more to the story than poltergeists, Matt.  We've
uncovered the story of a planet-wide alien invasion and the near-
extinction of the entire Chenobian population through cross-
breeding."
     Shan, Nick and Matt stared at Parker, startled.
     "It gets better."  Kyle added, pleased their new cohorts had
attained interest.  "Steve and I were trapped in the space ship
found by D'Chlavic.  The things we found . . . the autopsy I
performed . . . It seems the Chenobians saved their own race
through genetically-manipulated biological warfare."
     Matt's eyes widened and he gazed down at his hands with a
great exasperated sigh.  "Okay.  So, what you're asking is my
help in unveiling the connection between the so-called medical
problem and the alien factor."
     "Right."  Kyle and Steve chorused.  They caught each others'
gaze and Steve smiled far more broadly than Kyle.
     Matt sat up straight.  "Well, let's see what you have."
     Kayla drew items out of subspace and placed them on the
table next to Beth's journal and the manilla folder Jill brought
from the cave.  "I have a photograph and map of the area we were
in from Doctor Rychel's tent.  There is also a very weird
artifact . . . some kind of scroll or other."   And she laid this
on the table, expecting someone to grab it.
     Kyle stared at it suspiciously.  "Where did you get that?"
     "From Rychal's tent." she answered simply.  "Take a look at
it.  It's really weird."
     Steve took it first, sliding the scroll out of its leather
keep and unraveled it.  He flinched immediately, batting his eyes
as though shocked with bright light.  "It's a contract."  He
announced.
     Kyle's dark eyes met Steve's and memory shot through him; "I
call them the Watchers." he recited: " . . . The freakiest part
of the alter-find is the skin scroll tucked away in the little
ceramic box."  Kyle's expression remained impassive as Steve
turned blank.  Doctor Scott repeated word-for-word what Parker
read from the journal about a week ago
      Matt glanced from one Tentchi to the next.  "What's he
saying?"
     "It's a passage I read from the journal."  Steve answered as
he leaned back in his chair, impressed.  Kyle was only half
conscious at the time it was read.
     Kyle considered the words carefully and recalled the room
he, Steve and the ladies visited.  "The tanks."  He said softly
to himself.  "File cabinets."
     "Yes."  Jill nodded.  "We were all in that room, Kyle.  We
were separated."
     "That's not what I'm thinking about, though."  Kyle shook
his head, not looking at her.  "It was the cube we were examining
when the . . . light flickered.  The cube was what Beth described
as an alter.  I don't think she meant a literal alter; she was
being poetic.  As you recall, Rychal and his brother were killed
there.  And it was that very place all the trouble started."
     Kayla watched Steve lay the scroll on the table and stared
at it for a long moment as though caught in a trance.  "What
about the two dog statues D'Chlavic mentioned?"  The Kshi asked. 
"Where are they?  What would they be doing in the 'alter'?"
     Matt nodded.  "Could be a storage place or something."
     Scott shook his head.  "The one thing we all need to
remember is that one major event followed another."  Kyle took to
his feet and paced in a small circle.  "First the aliens invaded. 
Years afterward, a new civilization started to form and a
rebellion took place.  It very well could be that the people were
oppressed and culturally, they rebelled."
     "The removal of the female reproductive organs." Kayla
agreed.  "Art or fashion, it became a symbol."
     Steve laid the scroll on the table and stood as Kyle laid
his arms across the back of his chair and leaned forward.  The
two stared at one another for a moment as though trying to read
one another's thoughts.  
     Steve frowned.  "The alien invasion begets a breeding
program that begets a mutation factor which begets a cultural
rebellion and then diseases break out . . . what are we missing
here, Kyle?"
     Scott blinked.  "Sightings?"
     Matt glanced from the Doctor to the Captain.  "You mean
ghost sightings?"
     Both men gave him their attention and for some reason,
Frasier wanted to crawl under the table.  He shrugged and fell
silent.
     Kyle turned his attention to Nick who remained silent up
till now.  "What do you have to say about all this, Nick?" he
asked.
     Nick shrugged.  "Only that someone promised to let me see
something of crystal technology and I don't have anything to look
at other than the trapezoid."
     Kyle stared at him cooly before sliding his hand into a
pocket and produced the three pieces of flat metal from the ship. 
"Here. See what you can make of these."
     "What are they?"
     Doctor Scott shrugged.  "Someone's mystery novels, I'd
guess, Nick.  There was a whole shelf case of them."
     Steve nodded and reached for the manilla folder Jill brought
with her.  "That was just before we entered a death chamber and
found all kinds of torture victims." 
     Shan paled and threw her eyes on the table.  Steve caught
the moment and smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Shan."
     Nick glanced in his wife's direction, amused that anything
should bother her at all.  Then something from the table caught
his eye.  The techno-wizard spotted the scroll lying unrolled
near Steve.  The deformed head of a dead alien reared out of it
and turned to him with a terrible evil smile.  When its lips
split, blood seeped from between its stained teeth.  Nick nearly
dropped the plates and glanced about to see if anybody else saw
it. But no one at the table reacted in any way.
     Matt scribbled over a tablet while Steve leafed through the
folder.  His eyes drifted toward the scroll as his mind tried to
fit all the pieces together.  He heard only a few reports
regarding the deaths in West Central and Strata-Mainframe.  It
seemed a little odd that no Transformer had been injured or
killed by the ghosts; just the Humanoid population.  
     As he continued to stare aimlessly, a veil of darkness
settled over his eyes.  He shook his head, finding his sight left
him.  He glanced from one side of the room to the other and
before he could say anything, a shadow crossed the darkness. It
turned toward him; a figure of ash and rain and it bore the face
of an old man, deathly pale and burdened by decades of grief.  A
fearful green light glowed softly from behind the holes that
served as a set of eyes. Matt tried to look in Kyle's direction
and the moment he did so, the vision passed, his sight returned. 
But it left the Colonel unsettled.  He cleared his throat,
uncertain whether or not he should mention what he just saw.  "So
the poltergeists are the ghosts of the aliens?"
     Everyone stared at him.  Kyle frowned.  "No."  Doctor Scott
replied quietly.  "According to D'Chlavic's journal, Chenobis has
suffered severe plaques.  Each time the plaque hit, it's only
been certain parts of the world and very particularly the science
community."
     Matt sat back in his chair, confused and frustrated.  "That
makes even less sense. How about approaching this from another
angle? What's with the crystal?"
     Jill glanced at Nick who intensely studied the plates.  "I
found it stashed in one of the cars there at the site, a pile of
letters along with it.  One of which, and I have it here, clearly
states that Beth's team was in terrible danger and they tried to
use the crystal as a bargaining tool to get government help.  But
the letter never arrived.  It seems they were sabotaged from the
very beginning."
     Matt looked puzzled, "Sounds like this ghost doesn't like 
professional communities."
     Nick sat on the table top, his feet on the chair and he
stared at Kyle.  "So you're saying that the excavation woke up a
pair of sleeping ghosts."
     "Yes."  Kyle nodded.  
     "But who are these ghosts?"  Matt asked, unnerved about the
whole thing.
     "Ptysar."  Steve answered.  "One ghost is Ptysar."
     "Xesnex." Kyle instantly added.  "The other's name is
Xesnex."
     "How do you know that?"  Steve asked with a contorted
expression.
     Kyle couldn't look at him. "I-I guess I remembered when I
regained consciousness."
     Steve expected a better, more detailed answer, but Kyle
offered nothing.  And rather than forcing it out of them man,
Parker swept up the journal and flipped through the pages,
finding the one passage describing the scroll: "The word 'Zhagk'
. . . means 'demon'.  Could this be a contract with a demon?  If
so, that would explain the Keepers of the alter-" he lowered the
book.  "I suspect that is the descriptions of our ghosts."
     Kyle shook his head.  "But the contract was made with one
demon, not two."
     Steve held up a finger and continued the passage: " . . .and
the One they were protecting.  He must have been a prince or a
king at one point."  He closed the journal.  "So what we're
looking at is a hypothesis stating that a couple of demons, maybe
more like aliens, made a contract with this king."
     "But for what?"  Nick asked.  "What has that got to do with
this? Why is it so important?"
     Kyle furred his brows.  "Here's another question for you,
Nick: Why the hell was the scroll and the ghosts there at a
research facility?"
     Matt leaned back in the chair.  "Maybe they instigated the
research program."  He quietly suggested.  Parker beside him took
to his feet and started to pace.
     Then another idea hit Kyle.  "The ghosts are blamed for the
plaques that have hit Chenobis from time to time.  What if the
contract was created in addition to the DNA virus?  You and I
both have seen what those ghosts can do, Steve.  Murder en mass."
     Steve stared at him for a moment.  "So what you're saying is
this prince or king started a research and torture program to rid
the world of their alien invasion problem.  He wasn't satisfied
with the fact that the scientists were capturing and murdering
hundreds of aliens.  So he made a business contract with a pair
of aliens who . . . were killing Chenobians rather than aliens? 
Does that make sense, Kyle? Why were they killing Chenobians?"
     Matt interceded again: "If I might make a suggestion here." 
He said quietly.  All eyes turned to him.  "I would guess the
plaques aren't meant to murder so much as they were designed to
weed out alien DNA.  It would seem that if the people were
mutated with the alien contagion, the only way to create a
reversal process is to wipe out populations that have more of the
mutation factor than others."
     "And what about the science community?"  Nick added.  "Why
would the aliens keep the Chenobians from technological
improvements?  If you want advanced equipment, here it is.  I
suspect the alien invaders had a system of crystal and kinetic
technology.  I doubt they had vocal interface at all."
     Kyle nodded in agreement.  He frowned   "How did the king
get in touch with two aliens?  And why are they so willing to
carry out their contract to this day?  This whole incident, the
invasion, occurred almost two thousand years ago.  Why are the
aliens still bothering with it?"
     Steve shook his head.  "It must have something to do with
the contract.  Maybe it's binding."
     "Know what I think?"  Matt answered in turn.  "It sounds
like these ghosts are doing more than just murdering at their
pleasure: they're feeding off death."   A soft bleep interrupted
the moment and Matt snapped out his wrist and read the message. 
He frowned. "Guys, I need to go.  How about we continue this
tomorrow?"
     Kyle frowned, saying nothing, and looked away.  Steve
silently nodded and Nick sighed and stared out the windows into
the park.  Jill offered Matt a sad smile with a permissible nod. 
Kayla sat with her arms folded.  She merely nodded, glancing once
at Kyle then pressed her lips tightly. 
     Shan gave him an open smile,  "Sure."  She agreed.
     "Okay."  Frasier snapped his case closed and abandoned the
group.
     Silence hung suspended like frozen time.  Kyle felt cold
inside.  He softly rubbed his stigmatic hand, itching to release 
the tension and stress built up from the past few days. 
Skywolf's news burdened him in a way Kyle had not felt before. 
His whole life was being ripped up, one strand at a time and he
did not know how to deal with it.  The silent room drove him
crazy.  Everyone fell to their own thoughts and considerations. 
Kyle about bolted out of his seat when Steve finally spoke up: 
     "Anyone for Chinese?"  


     Two hours later, Kyle strapped on protective gaming gear. 
He did not enjoy lunch.  All the others chattered on about things
and people or events he knew nothing about.  It annoyed him so
much that they knew what they were talking about and he hadn't a
clue.  Kyle thought about burring his pain in news articles and
medical updates.  He thought about reacquainting himself with his
office at Medbay.  He thought about going over the Internet at
home and pouring over all the oldest news and history he could
read in as short a time as possible.  But his agitation would not
let him sit.  He needed to vent.  He tightened his boot straps
and slipped on a pair of gloves.  
     He remembered the rehabilitation center on level six south
of the geriatrics ward there at Medbay.  Standing almost isolated
from the rest of the complex, Rehab claimed the same amount of
space as three private housing districts.  There were sixteen
huge holodecks, eight gyms, four indoor basketball courts, four
indoor pools, twenty-six saunas, twenty-six jacuzies and one
football field.  Most of the Rehab was filled beyond capacity
during the day as classes were held for the public and private
sectors outside the Complex. 
     Kyle managed to reserve holodeck nine to himself.  But he
suspected it was more because of VIP privileges rather than a
list of first-come-first-serve.  Not that it was fair, but Kyle
was very grateful nonetheless.  
     "Computer," he called and a bleep echoed in answer, "Uhm,
I'd like to try one of Captain Steve Parker's programs."
     SPECIFY
     Kyle swept a dragonrod from the wall.  "I think it's called
Duality."
     REQUIREMENTS: DRAGONROD. SINGLE PLAYER ON FIRST LEVEL.
PROTECTIVE JOINT GEAR.
     That was what he was after.  The doors slid open and he
entered, bearing the dragonrod; a heavy battle axe with a
crescent blade at both ends.
     The room greeted him with an ancient ruins theme.  Stone
slabs covered in overgrowth squatted in some semblance of order. 
A dreary grey sky brewed overhead and the floor grounded under
his feet with the burden of old crumbling bricks and dirt.
     A holographic humanoid stomped its way toward Kyle.  It
sized him up and down, sneered and made a defensive stance.
     Kyle sized him up too and shook his head.  "This is too
easy."  He complained under his breath.  He let it attack first
and he whacked its midriff with the flat side of the axe.  The
opponent stumbled back, rebounded and thrust at the doctor.  Kyle
deflected easily and sliced its head off.  The humanoid sizzled
out of existence and Kyle frowned.  
     "Computer, next level, please."
     Two guys jumped out from nowhere.  Kyle sliced one down the
front side and kicked the other in the center then also
decapitated it.
     "No.  Computer, next level."


     Steve rendezvoused with his wife at a familiar caf‚.  Well,
he remembered the caf‚, but not her.  And once again, they fell
to the same frustrating argument; he simply could not remember
her.  She brought photo albums this time and holographic
recordings of parties and places they had visited over the years. 
     The hour he spent with her was very trying. Finally, she
agreed they would discuss it later when he had been able to
handle other business first.
     But honestly, Steve did not know how to deal with the fact
that he was married; nor that he once loved someone and could not
remember her.  So Captain Parker turned to the one thing that was
most familiar to him; an old friend.
     Steve made a beeline for Medbay and straight to Kyle's
office.  But Doctor Scott was not there.  Steve checked the
roster but Kyle had not signed in, meaning he was not there in
the organics wing.  He turned to the reception desk on level
four.  
     The four-armed receptionist greeted him with a quick smile
just as she answered the phone.  She gave Doctor Neth the room
his patient was in and turned to Steve.  
     "Looking for Kyle."  Parker raised his left brow.
     She tapped a few keys at the computer and answered the phone
again while another doctor asked her for a report on the
emergency lines coming in at two P.M.  She handed him that and
drank a sip of coffee.
     "Doctor Scott is not here today, Captain Parker, I'm sorry."
     "He's not home, either."  Steve informed quietly.  "The man
has to be here somewhere.  Kyle won't go anywhere else."
     She nodded politely and tapped at the computer again and
answered the phone with another hand and scribbled a note all at
the same time.  She turned to him again.  "Rehab."  She nodded,
staring at the computer with some perplexity.  "Rehab."  She
repeated.  "Kinda odd.  Kyle rarely goes there unless he's
jogging around the track."
     Steve patted the counter top.  "Thanks"

     Kyle was hardly tired.  One level followed another.  He just
beat five guys attacking him at once and they all sizzled out the
same fashion as the first.  Either Steve's program was sissy-
stuff, or . . . 
     Doctor Scott laughed at himself.
     The doors opened and Steve's figure silhouetted against the
glaring outside light.  "Hey." he greeted.
     Kyle twirled the dragonrod once.  "Hey."  He returned.
     "Heard you were hanging around.  Thought I'd come and see
what you were up to."
     Kyle smiled humorlessly.  "I thought I'd blow some steam. 
This program of yours sucks."
     "Is that so?"  Steve entered, wearing protective gear, but
bearing no weapon.  The doors clanged behind him, completing the
scene again.  He folded his arms and stared at Kyle, his left
brow rising.
     Kyle slightly lifted his chin. "Computer," he called. "Level
eight."
     Steve turned cold, but did not allow his shock to hold back
his response: "Computer, belay that.  Replicate one dragonrod
weight: forty pounds."
     A dragonrod appeared from nowhere and Steve took it up. 
"Level eight, Doctor Scott?"  He spired.  "I don't think so."
     Kyle twirled the rod once again and set the corners of his
mouth.  He was ready for a fight-a real fight.  His eyes went
dead set against Steve.  If Parker needed some exercise . . .
     Steve took stock of Kyle's stance:  Relaxed, positioned
correctly.  But Kyle had a blind side at the left knee.  Steve
went for that first and found himself not only swiftly deflected,
but forced to defend himself at the ankle and again at the neck. 
They stood still again, sizing one another.  This time Kyle
attacked, aiming for the waist and again at the head. Steve
parried and ducked then came back for Kyle's left arm.  Kyle
blocked him and kicked him in the chin.  Steve fell back and
sprang right back up.
     Kyle meant business.
     Parker moved his lower jaw back and forth.  "Nice."  He
congratulated.  "Maybe you are level eight material after all."
     He jumped back when a blade nearly sliced him in half.  He
stepped in with a right swing, the rods clanged hard and Steve
nearly nicked Kyle across the chest.  Kyle kicked his weapon, but
Parker held it too skillfully for that kind of tactic. 
     Kyle still got him by the ankles, kicking Parker off his
feet.  Scott swung up and Parker rolled as the bladed weapon
plunged into the ground he lay on seconds ago.  Steve backrolled
and came back with a broad upperstroke that could have shattered
Kyle's lower jaw.
     Kyle dropped to a hard right, doing half a cartwheel then
snapped right back out with the other end of the rod.  Steve
leapt and jabbed, sinking the blade into a nearby tree, missing
Kyle by inches.
     Scott rounded the tree, breathing heavily as the two paused 
a moment.
     "Now what do you think of my program?"  Steve asked.
     "It still sucks."  Kyle joked.  "All the opponents have the
same ugly face-yours."
     Steve silently pointed at Kyle.  Now he was in trouble. 
Steve jumped at him and jabbed for the midriff.  He was
deflected.  Uppercut. Block.  Lowpoint. Block.  Left, right,
middle, left, left, and one turn, one jab, one thrust after
another was met with a block and a similar move from Kyle.  The
rods swung in the air with a deadly swishing sound and clang
hard, angry metal against angry metal until Steve pulled a level
twelve maneuver, ducking, jabbing and swung up with his right
foot, kicking in the waist and butt the center of the rod hard
into Kyle's chest, knocking Scott's wind right out of him.  Kyle
fell back, stunned.  He dropped his weapon and lay very still as
Steve swung up for the final blow.  The blade came within three
inches of Kyle's face and froze.
     Kyle closed his eyes.  If Steve had lost once simple ounce
of concentration and control, he would have been killed.
     Steve held himself tightly.  He shuddered from adrenaline
overdose and it took him a moment to come down from it.  He
slowly retrieved the blade from Kyle and stabbed the ground in
victory.  
     But Steve did not feel victorious.  He collapsed to his
knees and stared at Kyle, gasping for breath.  "Kyle." he coughed
once.  "If I hadn't seen it and experienced it myself, I would
never in my life believed it."
     "What?"  Kyle slowly pulled himself up, shaking.  He dusted
his hands.
     "This.  Up until this moment, you have never gone beyond a
level six.  I just tested you at level ten.  Wanna explain that?"
     Kyle's eyes widened in astonishment.  He turned cold.  "Good
day?"  He guessed.
     Steve shook his head in turn.  He did not want to know.
     The intercom beeped just then.  DOCTOR SCOTT? Came a nurse's
voice.
     "Here!"  Kyle answered as he and Steve stood.
     "PATIENT TO SEE YOU IN ROOM 1120."
     "On my way."
     Steve lifted his left brow. "Thought you were going to take
the day off." 
     Kyle smiled wryly.  "They do that only for certain
patients."
     "Ah-huh."


     Kayla puttered about her quarters for two hours after
arriving home from the miserable meeting.  Everyone around her
wallowed in the same dour mood and it wore her out.  The empath
poured herself a cup of hot cocoa and opened a package of apple
chips.  She collapsed into her couch and turned the TV on.  At
first she ignored it, just surfing through channels, coasting
through soap-operas, sports and documentaries (most of which are
pirated from Earth and Centauri TV).  She ignored the kiddie
puppet shows and Captain Kangaroo and finally found the news.
     " . . . while trade is at an all-time high on Cybertron,
some sources say tough times are ahead.  With the unusual pirate
ships that appear from nowhere, attack and leave, it means
precious patrolling resources will have to be expanded to include
most trade routes to and from Cybertronian space lanes just to
insure desperately needed supplies arrive safely.  Prathos of
Strata-Mainframe reporting for CNN.
     The scene shifted to the anchor reporter, a fellow in dark
tan skin and white hair.  He stared into the camera without
expression.  "More mysterious deaths reported in West Central
today.  Doctors from Medbay are puzzled over the oddity of the
crimes, calling the events 'Red jack murders'.  Twenty-six people
were found dead when a shuttle crash-landed outside the main
landing strip outside the city.  Workers were not injured, but
all twenty-six passengers were found dead at the scene.  Critics
point fingers to Doctor Kyle Scott who earlier had warned the
medical community of a possible threat concerning a murderous
poltergeist loose on the planet.  While authorities refuse to
comment, sources suggest the ordeal is under intense
investigation."
     Kayla rolled her eyes and shut the TV off, sinking into her
cushiony couch.  She sipped her cocoa and thought about Chenobis,
the dead man she found yet standing. 
     Kayla took another sip of the comforting warm drink.  Kyle
had lost a dangerous amount of blood and Steve had that odd look
in his eye, as though . . . as though something were robbed from
him.  Their escape was nothing short of miraculous, now that she
thought of it.  It was so coincidental that Steve and Kyle should
end up escaping the ship right in the same area as she and Jill.
     Kayla had lost faith in the gods hundreds of years ago.  But
now . . . now she started to wonder.  
     She set her empty cup on the floor, folded her hands and
fell asleep.

     *Here! Come and witness this great triumph!*  The cold voice
filled Kayla and she shuddered, but had no choice.  She
unwittingly participated in witnessing an event.
     Quintessons floated round about the table, the room nearly
completely dark other than that.  A poor Human female lay
strapped to the table, her legs spread as she prepared to give
birth.  The five-faced monsters all gathered round her as though
she were an animal, paying no mind to her screams and cries.
     Then it happened.
     And Kayla thought she was going to be sick.
     The poor woman gave birth, alright-to a miniature version of
the five-faced monsters around her.
     *Success!*  One Quint declared, its tentacles flaying in
unrestrained excitement.
     *Yes.*  Another agreed.  *We now understand the use and
versatility of this organic species.  We can order bounty hunters
to begin collecting other females of this species.  Through them,
we may increase our numbers successfully.*
     *Wait!*  A third Quint called. In his tentacles, a scanner
bleeped in alert mode.  *Someone is sending a mental
transmission.*
     *Find it!*  The Second Quint ordered.  *Kill it!*
     And they searched the room. Kayla hid in the shadows of her
prison, but her eyes did not leave the sight of the poor woman,
now dead from neglect.  Three other caged creatures squealed in
protest as the Quints prodded for information, trying to pinpoint
the source of telepathy.
     And they found her.
     *Here!*  Declared the one with the scanner.  Two of its
comrades peered into the cage and Kayla realized she too was
pregnant.  She held her head high.  She was going to die,
liberated from further tests and degrading treatment.  One Quint
simply passed a spear through the energon bars and cut off her
head.
     Kayla shot from the couch and screamed.


     Doctor Scott didn't need to ask how she felt.  Her pale face
and clammy skin told a good part of the story.  He rolled a seat
in front of her and silently examined her first, checking her
lymph nodes, then her temperature.
     "It was real."  She said softly.  "I was there, Kyle.  I was
really there."
     Kyle's dark brown eyes drifted from her to her Dokiah
Interface.
     "A dream."  Spellbinder answered softly.  "She woke up
screaming and I couldn't calm her down."
     "I was in a cage and pregnant and I watched another woman, a
Humanoid female, give birth to a Quintesson and they found out I
was sending a telepathic message across space and then they
sliced off my head."
     Kayla was not the kind of person to give into imaginative
fears.  She was as down-to-reality as Steve.  Kyle took her hands
into his, her cold skin no doubt glad for his warm touch.  "I am
not going to discredit your experiences, Kayla."  He said
quietly. "More than any of us, you are most sensitive to extra-
sensory perceptions."
     Kayla swallowed hard, her lips almost as white as the paper
sheet she sat on.  "Are you saying that what I saw might be
real?"
     Kyle didn't answer her right away.  He believed her but he
wasn't sure how Spellbinder would take his answer.  "I think it's
possible."  He finally replied. 
     It did help to ease her distress.  Kayla wasn't crazy,
everyone knew that.  Much of her trembling slowed.
     "Go home, Kayla."  Kyle instructed.  "Take a bath, put on
your jammies and watch some TV.  I think you'll feel better
tomorrow."
     Kayla smiled at the 'jammies' word.  "Thank you, Kyle."  She 
slid off the table and picked up her coat.


*   *   *
     Midnight was so sorry he could do nothing to protect his
soul-mate.  He did what he thought was the best way to ease
Steve's suffering: he forced Steve to drink a glass of poison. 
     He promised it wouldn't hurt.  Steve would just go to sleep
and never wake.
     Steve wept, begging Midnight not to make him drink it.  He
could just move on, live elsewhere-maybe Kyle would let him stay
with him for a while.
     But it was unacceptable.  Midnight didn't want to be seen as
vulnerable.  And Steve was a weakness.  And so he forced Steve on
his back and poured the drink in his mouth and Steve wept,
begging, begging.
     Steve woke crying.  He felt so helpless, so vulnerable
compared to the giant robotic creature.  He would be forced to 
die without a choice.  He gathered his arms about himself,
cuddled in his chair.
     Realizing he was in a chair, it dawned on Parker he was
dreaming.  His eyes caught sight of a framed piece of metal
proudly hanging from the opposite wall.  He was safely in his own
quarters.  Audience laughter spilt from the TV but it did not
catch Steve's attention.  The Captain stared at the slice of
metal, one of few pieces left of Braintrust.  He shuddered weakly
and tried to tell himself everything was just a really bad dream. 
But it left him cold.


*   *   *
Three days passed but the Tentchi held no other meetings.  Steve
was called back to the council meetings 
     The last thing Steve wanted was to hear was another hour-
long rant concerning the Nagk.  The trading embargo enraged
several other planets, stating Cybertron had no right to impose
such a treatment upon business.  The problem was, the Nagk had
been caught red-handed intercepting and stealing and/or
destroying supplies to other worlds.  Optimus accused them of
high-rolling piracy.  Naturally, the Nagk were outraged. They
demanded a hearing-they got one on Emright, but now they didn't
want to wait for Emright.  They demanded the meeting be held
there on Cybertron in a sterilized environment.  
     Steve did not want to hear it, no matter what Midnight said. 
He did not want to attend.  
     And for all the resistance Parker put up, Kyle still did not
hear anything from him.  
     Doctor Scott kept busy, however.  Immersed into his own
past, Kyle struggled to piece things back together.  But it was
slow, very slow.
     Kyle heard himself laugh in the recorded journal.  He
thumbed through folders and files and re-familiarized himself
with his computer and every other nook and corner of his office
in Medbay.  Actually, Doctor Scott mused, his office was more a
mega-library than the libraries Downstairs.
     "Will you stop? I have to record this!" he heard his own
voice break over laughter.  "Okay . . . Um, we're on this
wonderful exotic planet full of-Steve, put the crab down.  Okay.
We are on oceanfront property and believe it or not, the water
here is BLACK.  And Steve can't pretend he's an adult long enough
for me to make this entry."
     Scott grinned.  It was one of very few happy entries in his
extensive recorded journal.  So far he had heard all of twenty
recordings.  Three days after Kayla's vision, things seemed to
have settled.  No signs of mischief from the dog-beasts and Kyle
wondered if they were planning something else, or busy elsewhere.
     "Kyle?"  Steve called over the recording.  "Lookit."
     "What?"
     "Found a hermit crab."
     "How do you know it's a hermit crab?"  Kyle's voice came
with amusement.
     "I know."
     "Well, I doubt it'll come out of its shell, Steve."
     "Oh . . .well there's a little trick to that.  You see, you
never ever force the hermit out of his shell; you allow him to
come out.  You just hold him like so and sooner or later, he
starts to feel secure and-ah-see? there's the little guy's
antennae.  He's checking the place out.  Now, we just talk to
him, soft, slow.  We don't demand anything. Hello little fellow."
     A space of silence crossed the recording and Kyle smiled
then heard himself greet the hermit crab. "Hi, fella.  Pretty
thing, isn't it?"
     Just faintly Kyle could hear Jill's voice call from a
distance and Steve said something about food.  The recording
ended and Kyle shut the machine off.  He had no memory of the
incident, but hearing it made him feel good.
     He rounded his desk and sat in the chair, thumbing lazily
through folders, reacquainting himself with names and faces and
dates.  He took particular notice how many of Medbay's latest
cases seemed to have sleeping problems.  Kyle tucked that thought
away for a later time and read up on all the patients from one
wing of Medbay's organic section to the other.
     He closed his eyes for a moment.
     The dim light echoed a terrible sound of distant coldness
and fear.  Ghosts of the dead and injured touched him all over
and Kyle wanted to wash himself of it.  
     The death stank, not so much in a smell as it was a feeling. 
He could feel the death, he could feel the filth of the tortured
females as their bodies were invaded and forced to bear things
unnatural to their own species.  
     Cold light.
     Cold light.
     And a name from deep, deep in his subconsciousness.
     But the name came blocked by someone else's imposition.  
     Kyle found himself trapped in a dream within a dream and the
dream liquified into a terrible memory dark and forbidden by
ancient walls of sentient will.
     They were tests, weren't they?  And Steve was there, wasn't
he?  Old. Old. Old.
     Fabin.  
     Fabin.
     And the Fabin traded off and on with another creature, a
creepy dark creature resembling sort of a frog-like bodies, biped
in nature, huge triangular faces and large bulging eyes.  Forked
black -
     Kyle lurched, but trapped in the dream, he could not break
free.  He remembered the tongues . . . one kissed him as he lay
bound to a table.  They-the Fabin-had broken his hands and were
not merciful in their torture.  They drained his blood and put it
back before he died.
     Kyle gasped for air, struggling to pull out of the trapped
dream.  He felt himself fall to the floor in front of his desk
and he still could not break free.
     "THEY'RE FLYING!"
     "THEY'RE FLYING!"
     And they came, riding over the cloud-bounded sky, things on
wings buzzed like insects from the bowels of places unspoken by
sentient tongues.  And they came by the millions, amassing across
the great cities, they encircled the building and set them afire
and the people died as they ran.  Fire and smoke, destruction-
Doctor Scott recalled a word from his own home world-Tachnau-
planetary destruction.  The Earth equivalent to an apocalypse. 
     And they drained his blood again-and somewhere else in his
mind, a terrible, terrible sin was committed-a memory locked down
so tightly Kyle's conscious mind could not bear it if it were
ever uncovered.  Something even Voodoo could not comprehend. 
Kyle instinctively nailed another barrier between it and his
mind.  For if he ever remembered the incident, if he ever brought
it out of that one tiny space in his soul, Kyle believed he would
plunge straight into a coma.
     And once again he tried to surface, tried to pull out of the
dream he could not rise from.  Wake up!  His unconscious mind
told him. You're laying on the floor of your office! You must get
up! Breathe! You must call for help! Breathe!  Breathe!
     And the music continued to lure him back from surface
unconsciousness.  It tried to pull him back under.  He tumbled
down, down . . . like a drowning victim . . . and somewhere there
he felt something begin to change him inside.
     "You are ours, Doctor Scott, mind, body and soul.  Ours. . .
ours. You belong to us."
     . . . SsssssSteve . . . he dismally thought.  And for some
reason he started to weep, pleading for someone, anyone to help
him.  He reached up and wrapped his hands round the back of his
head.
     And the ran'kas tramped the ground with sure-footedness.  A
bloodied sun dipped beyond the smoky horizon.  The battle ground
wallowed in blood and death; one of many hundreds of
battlefields.  The cities burned in the late of night, the
hillsides groaned under the weight of the dead.
     And blood splattered the wall as they hacked his mother to
pieces before his eyes and Kyle-Ptysar-swore with all his soul
the freak aliens would pay and pay and pay and pay and pay.
     Kyle's eyes opened, his body now so weak he could not so
much as lift his hands.
     A stream of water and blood slipped into the room and flowed
silently around the desk and nestled under Kyle's arm.  A face
formed, staring at Doctor Scott eye to eye.
     "Ours." it said. "Mind, body and soul.  You will become a
part of me and me, you and sooner or later you will not be able
to tell where you end and I begin.  We will become a part of each
other."
     And the thing washed itself over Kyle's languid form, warm
and liquid-like without feeling wet.
     Kyle thought it was like being raped.

     Doctor Scott woke again much later, finding himself laying
on a couch Downstairs.  A thick warm blanket lay over him and
Voodoo sat dutifully beside him, one finger under Kyle's left
hand.
     << . . . >>
     Nothing.  A presence but no sound and it choked Doctor
Scott.  He had been cut off from the voice in his soul and the
resulting emptiness consumed him.  Kyle hid his face in shame as
tears refused to be held back.
     "I can't hear you anymore!"  He sobbed softly. "It's all
silent!"  Voodoo gently gathered him into his arms, saying
nothing.  Kyle relaxed, longing to phase, and knowing in his
heart they could no longer do even that.  The Dokiah bowed his
body over Kyle as if to protect his love from spying eyes.  He
could think of nothing to say to consol Kyle's grief.  

     And hours turned toward the next day. 
 
     Kyle woke again, finding Voodoo's hunched form folded over
him.  Voodoo had long since shut down himself and Kyle could only
guess his partner was just as devastated as he.  Kyle did not
want Voodoo to go anywhere anymore.  His hand softly stroked the
metal under him, searching almost unconsciously for some gentle
stimulation.  The separation left him so alone, so cut off from a
constant stream of encouragement and support.
     Kyle sighed and nearly fell asleep again when Voodoo stirred
and sat up.  He gave his partner a weak smile.
     Voodoo did not return the smile.  He scanned Kyle's life
signs, unhappy at Kyle's weakened condition.  
     "Something touched you, Kyle."  Voodoo somberly whispered. 
"I actually felt it.  You were falling from me entirely."  He
carefully laid Kyle on the library couch and shifted to his
knees.
     "I . . . I was caught in a dream I couldn't get out of." 
Kyle's voice was equally as soft, but weaker.  "I was so
terrified-"
     "A nurse found you laying on the floor unconscious, but
crying."
     "It was all over me."  Kyle quickly answered.  "I felt it
all over my skin.  It was horrible."
     "You had a memory lapse."  Voodoo pressed.
     Kyle frowned.  "No I didn't."
     "Yes, you did."
     Kyle shook his head.  "No.  I had no-"
     "Kyle, you had a memory lapse-you remembered the Fabin."
     "How do you know?"
     "I know.  Our link maybe only thirty percent, but I can
still feel things, if only remotely.  I felt your fears.  I
thought . . . " Voodoo shook his head and stared at the floor.
     "What?"  Kyle whispered.  "What?"
     "I . . . I thought it was something you would not remember. 
You and Steve and Ray were in such terrible shock-"
     "They broke my hands."  Kyle came right back.
     "Yes."  Voodoo whispered.
     "And they did other things, didn't they?"
     Voodoo could not answer.
     "Who were they, Voodoo?"
     "Merchants."  Voodoo made the word sound like a spitting
word.  "Like the Harvesters.  But the Fabin like to play with
their prey.  They changed Ray's blood type entirely.  He was sick
for years."
     "What triggered the memory?"  Kyle started feeling better,
now, not quite so afraid. He sat up, his back to the couch and
crossed his legs.  But he drew the blanket close for emotional
security.
     "I don't know."  Voodoo answered with the same soft voice. 
"Maybe something Ptysar did or said to you.  Maybe something else
you might have dreamed.  Trapped in a dream in a dream . . .dark
places with terrible lights . . . and the sound of a music not
quite melodic."
     "Voodoo, stop."  Kyle swallowed hard, not wanting to
remember.  
     Voodoo slowly closed his mouth.  He stared at Kyle who read
a chilling sadness in his Partner's expression.
     Kyle's eyes narrowed and he carefully thought over Voodoo's
words-and dared remember just glimpses of the nightmare.  "You." 
He whispered.  "Part of what I was remembering was what you were
going through . . ."  And Kyle struggled again, a little more
deeply, a little more daring.  But he felt no fear, so long as
Voodoo was there with him.  "They pulled you apart."  He
surmised.  "Didn't they?  The music . . . they used ultrasonic
frequencies to dis . . . member . . . " Kyle shut his mouth,
understanding the music, the dreaded sounds in the cold.  "Oh,
Voodoo."  He choked and whispered, tears dimmed his eyes. 
"Voodoo."

     Voodoo took Kyle home to let him rest more comfortably.  He
knew he should have done that earlier, but at the time, all the
Sentinel could think about was holding his love.  Kyle hoped no
one would reprimand his partner for his fears. 
     Scott decided to 'order out' rather than bother trying to
come up with something to cook.
     "Chinese."  Voodoo cheerfully input.  "You always liked
Chinese."
     "How do you know?"  The doctor smiled as he scanned the net
for a place.  
     "I know everything."  Voodoo beamed.
     "I'll bet."  Doctor Scott grinned, his eyes glued to the
computer.  "Just anything, then?"
     "Well, I know you like Peking. You raved about their wonton
soup."
     Kyle typed in the name of the restaurant and sure enough, it
popped up and boasted of branch restaurants in West Central,
Strata-Mainframe and Below-and branches opening in the newer
cities.  Kyle clicked on the menu and stared at it.  It all
looked like a jumbled mess and he shook his head, not knowing
what to do.
     "It's written in English."  Voodoo knelt next to his
partner.
     "I can't read English, Voodoo."
     "You don't have to, Kyle.  You just click . . ."  He took
the mouse and hit file on the task bar and scanned down until he
clicked TRANSLATION.  The screen melted and popped back up into
Cybertronian.  Kyle gave Voodoo a grateful smile and it warmed
Voodoo's heart.  He gazed at the screen with his partner and
gazed over the menu.  "Uhm . . . looks like menu Number Five is a
good one.  You like stuff that's a little spicy-"
     Kyle quietly laughed.
     "What's funny?"  Voodoo asked.
     "You.  Do you know everything about me?"
     Voodoo gently took Kyle's hand and the touch swept through
Kyle's body like a cool breeze under a warm afternoon sun.  It
sent chills down Kyle's back and he found he could not tell if it
was his reaction, or stimulation from his Dokiah.  "Six thousand
years is a relatively short time compared to our life span, Kyle. 
It is precious to me.  We've had our ups and downs like the other
Interfaces.  But I'm the lucky one, Kyle.  I'm the lucky one." 
     The delivery girl brought Kyle a veritable feast he wasn't
anticipating.  But Doctor Scott found he was hungrier than he
thought and Voodoo was glad his partner was able to eat anything
at all.
     "You're right."  Kyle confirmed, "They do make wonderful
soup."  He paused, picking at the cashew chicken.  "It's sorta
odd how things like this exist on a planet that's dominated by
buildings and machines."
     "Imports."  Voodoo shrugged.  "The Council sees to it that
the Humanoid population is well cared for."
     Kyle looked puzzled. "Why?"
     "Humans are essential to Cybertron.  They have given us a
culture Transformers have never had in millions of years of war."
     Kyle stared at Voodoo for a long moment then harumphed in
mild amusement.
     "What?"  Voodoo smiled, only able to guess what's going
through the Doctor's mind.  It was maddening not being able to
tell what Kyle was thinking at any given moment.
     "It sounds like . . . I don't know . . . a petting zoo and
you have to keep feeding the animals somehow."
     Voodoo's face lit up as though he were about to burst
laughing.  But he did not.  "Humans have enriched our lives,
Kyle.  As a Human, you have such a wonderful way of seeing the
universe.  Before meeting you, all I really cared about was
flying and fighting and exploring.  But . . . I never really
stopped to think about things like . . . bugs and flowers."
     Kyle smirked, trying to keep closed a mouth full of food. 
He nearly swallowed everything whole.  "Bugs and flowers,
Voodoo?"  He asked with a smile and a sip of tea.
     Voodoo smiled more broadly and wondered what else he could
say to make Kyle laugh. 

     The night moved on in a peaceful silence.  Voodoo was glad
he decided to just stay with Kyle.  He knew the workers needed
him at South Continent, but Kyle was far more important.
     Voodoo watched Kyle for several hours while Scott leafed
through photo albums, examined books hidden inside bookshelves in
wall panels.  Voodoo hoped the Doctor would go to sleep sooner or
later.  But Kyle merely laid on the couch his eyes slowly opened
and closed as the stereo softly played one of many thousands of
recordings.  Finally Scott drew a deep breath and opened his
eyes, staring back at his partner.  He forced a smile.
     "Babysitting does not become you, Voodoo." he quietly
teased.
     "No."  The Sentinel agreed.  "But I'm not sitting a baby. 
I'm guarding my Ten-she . . . or whatever-"
     "Tentchi."  Kyle corrected.  "It's a short 'N'
     Voodoo smiled.  He knew that, but he liked to give Kyle a
hard time whenever possible.  He sat closer to Kyle and ran his
finger along the carpet.  "Sometimes . . ."  he started
carefully, "Sometimes I wish I could shrink down to your size,
Kyle.  Just for once.  Just . . . just so I can hold you while
you sleep.  Just so I can hold you with my whole body, not just
my hands.  Just once I'd like to sleep with you in my arms and
wake before you do and hold you while you sleep."  He ran his
finger over Kyle's hair, watching as Kyle's eyes started to fall
under the power of sleep.  "Just sometimes." he repeated softly
and smiled grimly as Kyle's eyes finally fell shut and he passed
on into a dark rest. 
     The hours slipped away.  Voodoo laid Kyle in his own bed and
tucked the covers about his Tentchi's small frame.  Kyle was so
small, so frail, fading from Voodoo's consciousness like daylight
eroding into the impenetrable darkness of a winter night.
     I can still feel him, the Sentinel tried to comfort himself. 
He's still there.  But it was a very small comfort.  He thought
they were through all that, he thought that with their phasing,
it reestablished their link. 
     But . . . but it was a phenomenon for which no one had an
answer.  Was he losing Kyle?
     Voodoo sat against the nearby wall, resolute in his
determination to stay conscious until Kyle woke again.  But one
hour slipped into another and since Cybertron had no sun to tell
night from day, it didn't matter when people slept . . . and
before he realized it, Voodoo faded into a state of rest, the
house still active by means of the stereo playing soft melodies.  
     Some time later, Voodoo thought he heard something in the
back of his mind.  It grew louder until he awakened and found
Kyle whimpering in agony.  Voodoo sat on his knees and activated
his night vision.
     "Kyle?"  He softly called. "Kyle, what's wrong?"
     Scott buried his head under his arms and blankets.  "My
head's going to explode, Voodoo."  He murmured weakly.  He
whimpered and moved as though the pain would decease if he left
the bed.  He lifted his head slightly and Voodoo gaped at the
bloodied sheets and pillow.  He started to object when Kyle
simply passed out.
     Voodoo panicked.  He laid his hand on Kyle's back.  "Kyle?" 
He called.  "Kyle! No! Don't do this! Don't do this! Kyle, don't
leave me!"  
     His gaze bounced off the walls in the bedroom, searching
frantically for an answer.  "Oh, Primus! What am I supposed to
do? No!  I don't want you to go . . . Kyle, I-I'd rather you not
be Interfaced with me than be dead!"  Voodoo's optics bounced off
Kyle's desk in the front room and he remembered to call Medbay. 
He dashed to the visiphone and called Jill.
     "Come on!"  He ordered desperately.  The screen blinked on
as Jill yawned from sleep.  
     "V?"  She greeted groggily. "V, what's wrong?"
     "Kyle . . . he's bleeding and he passed out."  Voodoo's
patterned skin vibrated, his hidden optics flashed.
     "Okay.  Bring him into Medbay.  I'll meet you there on the
landing strip."
     Voodoo didn't worry about phone protocol.  He abandoned the
desk and returned to Kyle, checking pulse and life signs.  Scott
was still alive, but Voodoo had no idea if he suffered brain
damage or not.  He carefully wrapped Kyle in clean blankets and
cupped his love's tiny body in his hands.  Voodoo made it just
outside the threshold of the patio when his knees gave out in
grief.  He bowed over, gently holding Kyle as close to his body
as he dared.  "Don't leave me."  He begged in a whisper.  
     It took a couple more moments before Voodoo managed to pull
himself together.  He forced himself on his feet and carefully
transformed around Kyle and took off.


     Jill did not want to do anything but find the very best
pillow on Cybertron, fall into it and just sleep.  Finally after
nine hundred milligrams of sleep medication and three cups of
herbal tea, she found herself wrapped in merciful darkness.  
     Then Voodoo called and she snapped wide awake and scampering
to put on fresh clothes and gloves.  She alerted Compton, the ER
CO, and they hastily organized staff to make way for the
Sentinel's landing
     They raced to the wind-beaten landing strip the second
Voodoo touched its dark metal surface.  Nurses and specialists
dashed to and fro, shouting signs, reactions and orders between
them.  Voodoo sat on his knees, watching them carry his love
away.  The Sentinel covered his face in despair and bowed over. 
A terrible coldness settled over his heart and Voodoo felt the
link bleed.
     Kyle opened his eyes as someone laid and oxygen mask over
him.  He weakly struggled to lift his left hand and a nurse
patted it back down as Hashu administered a stimulant.
     ". . . Steve . . ."  Kyle weakly murmured.
     Jill batted her eyes against the noise around them.  "Shh,
Kyle, we're here with you, it'll be-"
     " . . . Steve, Jill.  We've Touched."
     Jill's knitted in dread.


     Steve trudged up one lonely hill under the hydroponics
terradome.  It was his favorite place because from its flat top,
a person can stare down fifty feet into the park's gorgeous vista
of foliage.
     Steve sat against one of the older trees and tried to see
beyond the glass and transparent titanium dome that contained the
little green world and its simulated sunshine. 
     He managed to steal just a little time to himself. Another
meeting was supposed to commence, something about the Mayor in
Below being accused of something . . . Parker didn't have details
and he didn't care.  Everything seemed so complicated and it
drove him nuts.  He was married to a beautiful, exotic woman, of
whom he had no memories.  Parker felt Midnight's anxiety trickle
down their quieting link.  Something was wrong, but Steve could
offer his friend no comfort.  Kyle was drifting from him, further
and further . . . 
     Steve knew a lot of people, most of them were friends and
many others he had high regards for.  But Kyle was sorta special. 
Not just because Scott had saved Steve's life more times than
Steve could possibly count, but because Kyle himself was a
dynamic individual.  
     Always the quiet ones, Steve mused darkly.  He stood and
started to retreat from his moment of solitude when pain
lacerated his brain.  The sudden impact threw Steve off his feet
and he fell forward, clutching his head.
     <<STEVE!>> Midnight called. <<STEVE! WHAT'S GOING on? 
Steve? . . . steve? . . .st . . .>>
     Something sliced his back down the vertebrae.  Parker weakly
arched his back, struggling for breath and tried to see past the
blood in his eyes.  More pain radiated from his head down his
back and with each wave, his awareness of Midnight faded further
and further.
     Steve collapsed, unable to move.  Please, he begged
inwardly.  Please help me.  He lay there in the green grass,
thinking of Kyle . . . lying in Medbay.


*   *   *
     He was a child lost in a huge city.  The buildings towered
over him like gods, the inhabitants stared at him from their
lofty heights.  He mentally called and called and called for
Voodoo.  But no answer came.
     Something sliced the skin off Kyle's back and he crashed to
his knees.  His breath failed and he could not cry out. 
Suddenly, the silence between he and Voodoo increased a million
fold and he was utterly alone.  The void devoured him.  He was no
longer Kyle Scott.  Some power, some great thing tore away that
which made him who and what he was.  Now he was nothing, just a
shadow passing through a dimension, a wisp in the wind.
     Nothing.
     And he wept because his existence was forgotten . . . it
must have been forgotten because no one called him by name.
     Something from a distant place heard him cry, though.  It
Reached and just kindly touched him.  Shame and embarrassment
made Kyle retreat from the Touch.  But the contact was made.  The
Touch found him again and Kyle realized there was no running away
from it.  He let it Reach him one more time, though fearful it
would rape him, steal away even his name and leave his tattered
self-consciousness to the winds of non-existence.
     But no such thing happened.  Instead, the Touch wrapped
itself about him and embraced him tightly in equal fear.
     Kyle was stunned.  The Touch embraced him as though for dear
life.

     Steve.


     Kyle sensed a presence nearby.  His bed was warm and
comfortable.  He had no notion of time or day, except that by the
sounds pouring from the hall, he knew he was in Medbay, fourth
floor, second wing and it was 'day' shift.  He tried to open his
eyes but found them covered.  His hands were bound securely to
the bed rails.  Someone checked his temperature and he opened his
mouth to say something.
     "You've been out cold for two days, Doctor Scott."  Came a
firm voice from someone he did not recognize.  
     Kyle fought against the restraints.  "What happened?" he
asked anxiously.  "I was home with Voodoo and-"
     "We finally sent him to get a little rest.  He hasn't rested
in nearly a week, or so I've been told.  Just take it easy, Kyle. 
You'll be fine."
     Kyle twisted his hands against the restraints and inwardly
cussed.  "I don't want to be fine."  He spat sternly.  "I-I need
to get out of here."
     "And do what, Doctor Scott?"  The nurse returned the tone. 
"You're still recovering from the incident on Chenobis.  You were
brought in because of cranial hemorrhaging.  They STILL don't
know what caused it, or if you'll have seizures because of it. 
It's a wonder you didn't have a stroke."
     Kyle shook his head, frustrated because he couldn't see
anything around him, irritated because they insisted on
restraining him (Gatchel's, idea no doubt) and anxious because he
sensed something terrible was about to happen. <<Voodoo!>> he
called. <<Voodoo?>>
     Ghastly silence.  As broad and deep and long as the vastness
of space, the void in his soul ached as if a limb had been torn
from his body.  Someone broke into him and ripped out his guts. 
Kyle slammed his head against his pillow once and gasped for
breath.
     "Keep it up, and we'll have to sedate you again."  The nurse
warned.
     "Again?"  Kyle echoed.
     "We've been through this three times already, Doctor Scott-"
     "I wasn't aware . . . did Voodoo say when-"
     "I'm sorry, Doctor Scott, I have other patients waiting. 
You will have to calm down, that's all there is to it."
     "Where's Jill?"
     "On sedatives.  Good-bye, Doctor."
     Help me! He thought, I can't even cry if I wanted to!  Where
is Voodoo! Where?  He strained against the bonds holding his
hands.  He HATED the restraints!  He squirmed and yanked to no
avail, his whole body proved powerless against them and he wept,
still unable to shed any tears.
     <<Shhh.>> and the Touch came back and embraced him.
     Kyle about jumped out of his skin.  "Who's that?!"  He
shouted. "Who's there?!"
     "Are you alright, Doctor Scott?"  Another nurse asked.
     "No! I'm not alright! Who's in the room with me?! I want out
of here!"
     "Take it easy, Doctor Scott, you'll be fine.  Just relax."
     He was hallucinating.  Kyle lifted his chin toward the
ceiling in frustration.  What was wrong with him?
     <<Kyle, hush.  It's alright.  We're alright.>> a completely
different voice . . . came over his link.  Not Voodoo.  
     Kyle lost his wind. << . . .>> . . . << . . .>><< Steve?>>
he dared <<Steve-?!>>
     <<Sh.  I'm trying to sleep.  Hush.>>
     <<But->>
     <<Go back to sleep, Kyle.  We'll talk later.  Hush. Sleep.>>


*   *   *

     Kyle woke again some time later.  Utensils tapped against
metal plates as someone set a tray of dishes on the nearby cart.
     <<Get a load of this idiot, Kyle.>> Steve's voice came back
to haunt him. <<You're right, he's a pompous snot-box of self-
indulgence.  I'll bet he sleeps with threesomes.>>
     Kyle shook his head, unable to bat his eyes in disbelief.
<<Steve?>>
     <<Yup.>>
     << . . . how?>>
     <<Don't know.  Except that something blew my head open.  Or
at least, it felt like it.>>
     <<Me too.  . . .telepathy?>>
     <<I don't know, Kyle.  Honestly.  Oh, you'll love this:
Gatchel is giving me a lecture on safety-going out to the park by
myself.  What a blockhead!  I'm willing to bet he listens to
Country music at night, has a picture of his mother in hair
curlers sitting on his desk at home and talks to himself while he
watches TV.  I'm even willing to bet he wears bikini underwear. 
You're a boxers kinda guy, Kyle, whaddya think?>>
     Kyle about died laughing. <<Stop it! You're killing me!  And
how do you know I wear boxers?>>
     <<Hey! I've been around you for four thousand years, I do
know a few things about you! Oh! Ohmigod, Kyle, this guy just
picked his nose and ate it!  And in front of ME!>>
     Kyle laughed harder and squirmed against the restraints.
     "Kyle?"  Jill's voice pulled it all to a screeching halt,
but Kyle had a hard time trying to stop laughing.  He kept seeing
Gatchel in a bikini.  The guy's form was slim enough to fit into
one, no doubt . . . but Gatchel was so ugly, Kyle was sure only
the guy's mother would approve.
     Kyle drew a deep breath and tried to control himself. 
"Jill! Jill, I'm so glad to hear you.  Something goofy is going
on.  Why are my eyes bound like this?"
     McKennan forced a smile over her face.  "Your eyes were
bleeding, Kyle.  They don't know why.  So . . . what's so funny?"
     "Uhm . . ."  Kyle didn't know how to explain it, if he
should tell anyone at all.
     <<No.>> Steve objected. <<Don't say anything until we know
ourselves.  It could be a fluke.>>
     <<You mean we could just be a part of one another's
figments.>> Kyle returned.
     <<I don't hallucinate like this, Kyle.  You know that.  And
neither do you.>>
     Kyle drew a deep breath.  "I was just thinking of Gatchel
running down the hall wearing a pair of bikini underwear."  He
answered Jill's inquiry.
     Jill's brows wrinkled.  "Kyle, you need to get out more."

     Up to this point, Kyle thought he knew Steven Marcus Parker.
But everything he thought he knew fell by the proverbial wayside
each time Steve said something-especially when a nurse attended
him. 
     <<This ol' girl hasn't 'had any' in several weeks.  I can
tell by the way she looks at me.  Sorry, hon, I'm supposed to be
a married man.  Oh, looket this gal, Kyle.  She likes to use
needles, I can tell by the way she handles this thing.  It's a
weapon, not a tool-OUCH!>>
     Kyle giggled with every description and nuance Parker sent
his way.  Scott talked kind-hearted Jill into asking Gatchel (or
Gotta-Itch-My-Pants as Steve called him) to remove the blindfold. 
But he was denied the request.
     <<Tightwad.>> Steve spat when Kyle passed the message on to
him. <<Can you get a load of this guy? No, you'd better not.
It'll make me jealous.>>
     Kyle only smiled, so pleased someone else was there to fill
the emptiness in his soul.  But then, as he grew tired, he
thought of Midnight. <<Are you two . . . has your link been
severed, Steve?>>
     <<No.  I hope it doesn't either.  It-it'll freak me out.  I
know it sounds kinda silly, but I can't imagine my life without
Mid.>> Steve fell quiet for a moment and Kyle could sense Parker
debated with himself. <<You know, Kyle, I about freaked when I
found out we were . . . connected.  But when you started crying,
I found I just worked it all out as if it were natural.  You know
what I think?>>
     <<What's that, Steve?>>
     <<I think all Humanoids have latent abilities toward ESP and
suchlike.  I think we all have something, but not everyone has
the natural know-how.  Oh, some people try to say "you can be
taught" but you can't.  It's something that has to come natural,
like . . . like music or art.  It has to come from the soul.>>
     Kyle thought of Voodoo and how he missed his Partner, how he
missed Voodoo's silly musings, too.  He flexed his hands against
the restraints and wished someone would cover his cold fingers. 
Kyle sighed wearily.  He was worn out and frustrated because he
could not see anything. <<Something has to be done soon, Steve.>> 
Kyle finally sent. <<I'm very worried.  Nothing like this was
ever mentioned by Beth, or in anything we looked over.  What do
you think those ghosts want with us?>>
     <<You think they're responsible for this, Kyle?>>
     <<I'm damn sure of it . . . Steve.  Damned sure.>>
     Steve paused a moment as a nurse fed him ate a spoonful of
pudding. <<They want us for . . . bodies? As lame as that might
sound, does it make any sense to you?>>
     <<Yes.  Yes it does.  The dream I had . . . Ptysar said the
borders between him and me will become so that I can't tell . . .
oh gods, Steve . . . Steve? Please, please tell me I'm still me!
Tell me I'm still Kyle! Tell me I'm not some freak! I don't want
to be->>
     <<Kyle, shhhh.  Shhhhh.>>
     His tears moistened the padding in front of his eyes and
Kyle raised his face to the ceiling again. <<I won't be me
anymore->>
     <<We're not going to let that happen.>> Steve answered
gently.  He could feel Kyle's frustration rise again, a terrible
sadness leaked down the link and Steve tried to mentally embrace
his friend. <<Kyle.>>
     <<I've . . . I've lost Voodoo, Steve. The link is severed. 
Gone.  I feel like someone has ripped me up inside and did
nothing to sew it back together.  And I don't know where he is. 
Do you think he's already lost his mind?>>
     Steve thought it over carefully. <<Not yet.  The impact
wasn't fatal for you or me.  It could be there is a little bit of
time.>>
     <<Time for what?>>
     <<To plan, Kyle.  To figure out what to do.  We should sleep
on it->>
     <<SLEEP?!>>
     <<Sleep.>> and Steve wrapped himself about Kyle's soul and
Scott resisted at first.  But he quickly calmed and relaxed and
fell asleep soon after.


     Cold metal touched Kyle's head and he flinched a little
before realizing someone was cutting the binding from his eyes.
     "It's just me, Kyle."  Kayla whispered.  "It's okay.  Just
hold still.  Were you asleep?"
     "Yes."  Kyle replied groggily.  "I-" he squirmed in the
restraints and wished he could put Gatchel in them for a good
forty-eight hours.  "I guess I've been a good boy.  Do I get
pudding for dinner?"
     Kayla blinked in surprise.  "Was that a joke, Kyle?"
     Scott's face lit up with a smile.  "Yes."  Actually, he
surprised himself. Kayla removed the first two layers of bandage
and sponged the area around his cheeks.  "Kayla, how long have I
been out?"
     "About five hours, or so.  At least that's what Voodoo
says."
     "Voodoo? When did he say that?"  
     "Just before I came in here."
     "Is he here?"
     "He said he was going to be right back."
     Kyle moaned inwardly.  He felt nothing from Voodoo.  Nothing
at all.  Kayla clipped away the last of the gauze and sponged the
area around his eyes.  Kyle forced himself to be still while she
carefully peeled the small circular pads.  "How does it look?" 
He asked with some dread.
     "There is some blood, but it's dried."  She reported.
     "I cried yesterday.  I assume that means my tear ducts work
just fine.  Did they say I had broken blood vessels?"
     She dabbed gently with warm water and a soft cloth,
carefully removing dried blood from his eyelashes.  "I wasn't
here when V brought you in.  They just told me what was going
on."
     He gripped her hand firmly but gently.  "Kayla, I was
attacked by Ptysar here at Medbay.  Voodoo took me home and I was
alright for a while then something shot through my head.  Talk to
Steve-"
     "I did."  She answered deadpan.  "And he said very much the
same thing.  He was in the park, but then, how did you know that?
And how did he know you were ICU at the time Midnight brought him
in?"
     "Midnight brought him in?"  Kyle loved the warm water Kayla
used over his eyes.  It felt good.  And it felt good to be
attended by her.  Perhaps at any other time, Kyle would have
laughed at himself about his feelings.  But he really didn't
think his feelings for here were a laughing matter.
     Not after she kissed him.
     Kayla patted his face dry and Kyle slowly lifted his eyes. 
It took a little effort because there was still some blood
sealing the inner rims.  But her smiling face greeted him and
warmed his heart.  Kyle returned the smile.  "Hello, Kayla."   He
said softly.

     He had to stay for observation purposes, but Kyle was well
enough to begin thinking of other things.  He had planning to do
and worked while Steve slept.  He tried to keep his demeanor
light as Steve told him distance was beginning to form between he
and Midnight.  Kyle knew time was shorter than he cared to think. 
He mentally recalled all the things discussed in the meeting, all
the information they gleaned from the journal, some things Jill
brought back with her and the scroll Kayla found.  Somewhere
there had to be a weapon they could use.
     <<Can't kill a ghost.>> Steve grunted.
     <<Playing peeping tom?>> Kyle grinned.
     <<You're a loud thinker.>> Parker returned.
     <<Funny.  Voodoo never complains.>>
     <<I'm not Voodoo, I'm cuter than that.>>
     <<That's it!>> Kyle announced. <<I'm learning shields!>>
     <<The whole thing is temporary, Kyle.  I'm sure once we bag
these ghosts, you and I will no longer be making these long-
distance phone calls.>>
     <<What did you say?>>
     Steve stuttered mentally, suddenly caught off guard. <<The
whole thing is->>
     <<No, about 'bagging'. You said 'I'm sure once we bag these
ghosts-Steve, that's exactly what we have to do!>>
     Parker was dumbfounded.
     Kyle grunted, amused. <<You know, I recall somewhere in the
journal Beth mentioned a broken jar.  Do you recall that?>>
     <<My name is Steve Parker.  I remember that.>>
     <<Alright, Smarty.  How about this: "Mordi 17.  We've broken
through.  There's furniture and an alter, bowls, vases and
jewelry.  We found the alter is a false alter with a secret door
just behind it.  We open that in two days after taking inventory.
We found three dead cats in the alter and a beautiful dark blue
glass jar.  How it was made is unclear.  There are symbols all
around the jar painted in red.  I really want to take it home.">>
     <<You know, I hate it when you do that.>> Steve teased. <<I
wish you could teach me.>>
     <<Me too.>> Kyle answered wistfully. <<But what I'm getting
at is the jar.  None of the things Beth mentioned in her journal
were there.>>
     <<Well, if you recall, Kayla found the scroll in Rychal's
tent.  What does that say?>>
     <<These people were archeologists, Steve.>> 
     Kyle could feel Parker frown. <<That doesn't mean some of
them weren't thieves, Kyle.>>
     <<True.  But, Steve, Beth made no mention of the tanks, the
cabinets, the files, the control panel on the door . ..  What
gives?>>
     <<It could be at the time of discovery, much of that
equipment was covered, wouldn't you think? The place was sealed-
with dirt.>>
     <<Yeah . . . what of the other things, the dog statues, the
jewelry she mentioned->>
     <<Kyle, what if, what if the so-called jewelry wasn't
jewelry? What if she assumed it was jewelry? What if it was more
like remote controls you wear around your wrists?>>
     <<Ahh.  It's funny how reading her descriptions gave the
impression she was looking into some ancient tomb, rather than
the star ship of some advanced civilization.>>
     <<Maybe she didn't have the words to describe what they
saw.>> Steve thought about what Mid told him of the half-buried
ship, the mounds of graves on top, all the things neither he, nor
his companions ever saw.  It was freaky to think that Mid had the
ability to see past the alien shields and holographic
projections.  
     And Steve wondered about the 'liquid figure' that led he and
Kyle to safety.  Was that a result of the Interface?  Another
ability, perhaps?  And there was something else that bothered
him: Kyle was still able to recite what he himself read word-for-
word while only half conscious.  Kyle surprised him from time to
time.  Though he'd never say it, Steve suspected Kyle had the
latent ability to transfer information from his subconscious to
his conscious mind at will.  It would certainly explain how he
knew Steve was nearly attacked by the dog-beast while visiting
Kyle just after the very first encounter.  Parker considered
asking his friend, but didn't think this was the right time. 
     He stared out the windows from his own personal room in
Medbay (and still couldn't get over the fact that Kyle bought the
place for him). <<What about the jar, Kyle?>>
     <<I think the dog-beasts were contained there.  I think
that's where they were-but I have no way of proving that. 
There's no way we can find the jar.  All we have are
assumptions.>>
     <<Well, we have one fact: they don't like glass.  They can't
cross into it.  So how would you lure two blood-thirsty ghosts
into a glass prison?>>
     Kyle fell very quiet, now, considering. <<They can't pass
through it . . . what if they could, but at the cost of losing
something, some part of their essence?>>
     <<How can a ghost-or anything for that matter-loose its
essence? Are you saying the dog-beasts won't attempt to cross
glass because it really will hurt them?>>
     <<"Might have something do to with the steadfast properties
of silicon.  Or light refraction.  Maybe sound." that's what
Doctor Glibson suggested . . .>> Kyle did not know how he managed
to recall that, but he did.  He frowned and stared at his hands,
still bound to the bed.
     <<What's that?>> Steve asked.
     <<The steadfast properties of silicon. Or light refraction.
Maybe sound.>> Kyle repeated.  But both of them fell quiet the
next minute.  Kyle kept going over Glibson's observation.
Somehow, it didn't seem right; the silicon idea, anyway.  Light
may not also have anything to do with it-they were ghosts and if
they could seep through walls, murder people en mass, move
objects or devour memories, what would or could imprison them?
     Steve's thoughts kept going back to the restaurant he and
Kyle visited on their first trip to Chenobis.  Kyle defied it
with a simple drinking glass.  So it wasn't the amount of glass,
or the thickness of glass-and he remembered the first time he saw
the dog-beast in the hydroponics at Medbay.  Sound?  Sound?  Or
was it the impact of sound?
     <<Kyle?>>
     <<Yes?>>
     <<What about the impact of sound? What if it's the sound of
glass, the impact it makes?  It doesn't matter how thick or thin
glass is, the ghosts react to it the same way.>>
      . . . liquid without feeling wet.  Kyle flinched when he
recalled the attack in his office not more than a few days ago.  
     Visions of a drop of water hitting glass came to mind.
     The drop of water had a face to it.  The face didn't fall,
however, it slammed into something and could not go through it. 
It slammed time after time, forcing itself, but unable to
penetrate the glass.
     <<Unless there was a way to hit them so hard, so suddenly,
they were forced into the jar.>> he thought carefully.
     Steve turned very perplexed. <<What?>>
     <<Well, if these things can pass through all the things
we've seen them pass, why would glass be the exception? Why does
it have to be? What if, what if they can go through glass, but
only at an extreme velocity?>>
     As crazy as it sounded, Steve knew what Kyle was saying.  He
remembered something about a girl and a crossbow and a glass jar
and the speed.  The impact.  The horrible resultant pain.  And
the anger, oh, the anger!  Parker shook his head.  Where did that
memory come from?  And was that the answer?
     <<Kyle, what if the jar was indeed a holding cell of sorts,
and what if the ghosts were caught at such a high speed->>
     <<A shooting bullet, perhaps?>>
     <<Okay, a shooting bullet-that they could not resist passing
through the glass.  And what if after ending up in the jar, it
was capped and they could not pass through because there was no
way they could regain that velocity?>>
     It made sense.  Kyle remembered being able to run from
Ptysar by bus.  The ghosts weren't fast, just clever.  He settled
back. <<Faster than a speeding bullet.>>


*   *   *
     Two days later, the two were released from the hospital. 
Steve was immediately called away to a meeting.  He and Kyle
still did not know how to tell anyone about their new link.  Kyle
anticipated some difficulties until they could get it all
straightened out.  The best part was, however, they could
communicate when they chose.  But the downside started to reveal
itself as Kyle began to exhibit signs of an empathic link.
     With a promise he'd try to be good, Steve bade good-bye and
boarded Midnight.  
     Kyle watched them take off and disappear beyond the
multitude of skyscrapers.  Voodoo was patiently waiting for him.
     "What will you do now, Kyle?"  The Sentinel asked quietly.
     Kyle let him fly, having no desire to weave in and around
traffic, or bother with remembering if he could fly.  He recalled
the conversation between he and Steve and the tentative plan he
worked out the day before.  "I need to go shopping, Voodoo."  He
finally answered.
     "I have a weapon to make."

*   *   *



     Cathy-Lee sat at her couch, drinking lemonade with three
eyeballs swimming around in it.  One of them winked at her as she
reached to take a sip.  The news came on the TV and she lowered
the newspaper in her hand.  The reporter expressionlessly spoke
of food shortage around the world and how the business
communities around the world were closing one or several at a
time.
     A coldness covered Cathy's skin and she glanced around to
see who it was.  No one was in the room, however and she looked
back at the TV and saw it was looking at her.
     "What are you staring at?"  She asked it.  "Mind your own
business." and she went back to reading the paper.
     It kept staring at her.
     She snapped the paper down and glared at the TV. "I SAID,
mind your own business!"
     The very next minute, she found herself ramming her coffee
table into the screen and out poured billions of tiny dark
spider.  She screamed and stepped all over them to run away and
then they mutated and turned into disgusting long white worms and
they started to wrap themselves around her ankles.
     And the coldness came back and wrapped itself about her and
Cathy fell through her floor and down, down, down.
     She sprung up from her couch with a start, finding the TV
and her kitchen lights on, a cup of coffee on her table and an
email flashing on her computer.
     Cathy-Lee stumbled off the couch and accepted the email.
     "Hi, Cathy," it read and instantly she knew it was from
Jeff.  "Coming home soon.  Miss you. Love J."
     Russell sank to the floor and breathed a great sigh.  An
alarm struck the air and she startled with a cry of surprise.  
     It was time to go to work.


*   *   *

     Kyle traversed the mall the following day.  Like other
Tentchi, he had not slept well, if at all in the last two days. 
The silent link between he and Voodoo threatened to drive Doctor
Scott out of his mind.  Steve's presence helped to alleviate some
of the torment, but not all of it; his connection to Steve was
not the same as Voodoo. 
     The background noise from Voodoo had been there so long,
Kyle could not be anywhere without noise of some kind.  He grew
accustomed to carrying a crystal music player everywhere.  It
helped to some degree.
     The mall walkers passed him by, their faces bent on whatever
their errands required.  A great many young people came and left,
their laughter hanging in the air like little chimes.  Kyle
smiled as a couple of giggling girls caught him returning their
stare.  The cuter of the two, a curly blonde with a hat, turned
away in terrible embarrassment. 
     Her friend laughed hard.   "Josi thinks you're cute!"  She
shouted at Kyle.  
     Doctor Scott graciously smiled.  "Likewise, Ma'am."  He
returned with a touch of his hat.  Josi peered over her shoulder,
her eyes shining as Kyle walked on.
     Kyle passed by a bookstore and a few eateries.  He even
passed by an indoor garden shop and stepped into a jewelry store.
Peeling off his hat like a gentleman should, Kyle approached a
clerk.
     The chubby lady greeted him cordially, then recognition
touched her eyes.  "Doctor Scott!"  She greeted warmly.  "Hello!"
     Kyle had no idea who she was, but he used the customary
procedures: greet the person as if you know them and hope they
reveal their name to you sooner than later.  "Hello-" and he
found her name tag-"Patty."
     "What can I do for you today, Doctor?"
     "Uh, a very odd request.  I hope you can fulfill it."
     She held her hands aloft, palms to the ceiling.  "That's
what we're here for."  And she laughed.
     Kyle smiled and waited for her to listen.  "I need to find
someone who can blow glass bullets."
     She blinked.  "Glass bullets?"
     "Yes.  The price is inconsequential and I will pay three-
fourths up front.  They have to be exactly the size of my
specifications."  He produced a small tablet from his pocket and
flipped the cover and handed her the designs.
     Patty mused over it then gave him a quizzical expression. 
"One point seventy five millimeters circular and three
millimeters tall, Doctor Scott?"
     "Yes."  Kyle replied quietly. "Is that too small?"
     "No."  She gazed at the plans again.  "And you want an air
bubble in the center?"
     "As dead center as you can possibly make it."
     "Souvenirs, Doctor?"
     "A medical procedure."  He read the frightened look on her
face and added a smile to his answer.
     Then she lightly laughed.  "For a moment, I thought you were
serious!"
     "How soon can this be done?"
     "Mmm . . . week or so-"
     "I need it in the next six days if possible."
     "Six days?"
     "Yes.  It's . . . a gift."
     "Just one bullet?"
     Kyle opened his wallet and found his bank card.  "No.  Make
it four. Just in case two doesn't do the job."
     Patty nodded and charged him.  "They're not doing much
anyway.  I'll have them start right on it."  She offered him a
wink and Kyle smiled in turn.  
     "Thank you."  He replaced his hat and departed.  He would
have to make the gun himself.


*   *   *

     It ripped her wide open and Shan laid there, drained of life
while an unholy thing stretched its fetal form before her.  Its
wings glistened with birthing fluids and its eyeless face stared
at her with mild consideration.
     "Mother."  It whispered and it reached for her and laid its
sickly, sticky lips on hers, its wings fanned and folded.
     Shan sat up in bed again and wept in frustration.
     "LEAVE ME ALONE!" she shrieked to no one in the room.  She
rolled over and slammed the button on the visaphone.
     "Hey."  Nick answered, rubbing his sleep-groggy face.
     "I had another one."  Shan sobbed miserably.  "I don't know
what to do."
     "Hon, go see if Kyle's awake.  Maybe he can give you
something for it."  He waited a beat.  "Shan?"
     She sat on the bed, her slim figure hunched over in grief. 
"I gave birth again."  She murmured.
     Nick laid his hands on either side of the visiphone and
sighed deeply.  The remnants of his own dream still plagued him. 
"Hon, I know it's freaky.  Go to Medbay, explain.  I'm sure
someone can help you."


*   *   *

     Jill unrolled the scroll and set two glass paperweights on
either side to keep it down.  She hated the scroll more than
anything else she'd seen.  It made no faces at her this time, but
it vibrated with evil and sent chills down her back.
     <<Jill?>>
     <<Hi, Wolf.>>
     <<Everything okay?>>
     <<Mostly.  Nothing's reached out and tried to choke me, if
that's what you're asking.>>
     Jill came across the 'prince' word again.  This time it
accompanied 'ragchash' meaning 'cursed'.  Her lips lined in
uncertainty.
     <<Will you be okay?>> Wolf asked after a moment.
     <<Yeah.>> McKennan passed off. <<Steve said I can call him
if there's a problem.>>
     She lined 'bogknau aud a'ran' with 'ragchash' but found the
word 'ragchash' was changed to 'ruthu' which was another word for
'murder'.  The girl grunted impatiently.  What was all this
about? Were the scientists murdered?  Well, it was said the
science community was killed . . .  She sighed heavily.
     She sprawled paper print-outs from one corner of the library
to the other.  She taped the most important pieces to the glass
walls.  On the conference table lay tablets and notepads, binders
and six dictionaries.  A tape recorder stood on end, recording
every movement, every little noise she made.
     "I don't know."  She sighed wearily.   "Zhagk . . . demon. 
But there's no plural like there is in the journal.  I'm finding
a discrepancy here, as if something were mistranslated.  "I'm
finding things like bogknau aud a'ran which means 'people of
learning' and transliterated as scientists and the word
'prithanay' which means 'to die by violent means."
     She moaned and thought about taking a break, "I think Steve
should just come in here and read this out for me."
     Jill re-examined the journal, the scroll and a particular
picture she took of the dog drawing.  Four words: Princes, demon
king and curse.  She sat down, her eyes shot from corner to
corner as she tried to piece the mystery together.
     And the scroll started to smoke.  Jill jumped to her feet
and poured water in a cup.  She turned to douse the flame and
found the scroll was no longer on the table.
     Jill patted her hands over the table top, damned sure
nothing could just disappear like that.  Not like that. She kept
patting the table, confounded.  Then she stood very still and
silently fumed while Skywolf nagged her about the problem.  Her
eyes ran back and forth over the table's surface, finding not one
clue of fire or smoke.
     And one tiny area of the table lay shadowed just under the
paperweight.  Jill realized she was not playing with a simple
scroll, but an intelligence.  She approached the table and
pointed at it.  
     "Lachna, Yawk nanath!"  She cussed in her own language.  She
still stared at it and then did the unthinkable: she pulled a
table knife from the cupboard and stabbed the visible
discoloring.  Instantly the scroll reappeared and a face reformed
from the letters.  It looked like it was spitting at her.  Jill
lost her temper and stabbed it between the eyes.  "SHUT UP!!" she
screamed.

     Jill did not sleep for two days after that.  Skywolf grieved
over her inability to sleep.  But her mind ran like a doctor
racing against the clock.  The library which she now inhabited
was pasted floor to ceiling with photos printouts.  She couldn't
figure it out.  There were layers of things the camera picked up
and she did not know how or when to call Kyle and let him know
that the ravine was haunted.  Jill printed one photo, went back
to it later in the recorder and printed it again but ended up
with something slightly different.
     She placed the scroll in a small containment field to keep
its energies away from her.  But it still affected her in ways
she could not put into words.  The thing caused her vision to
shift and her mind spun in endless hallucinations.  It was all
Jill could do to keep her head on straight.  She cussed at it
continuously, but refused to give up.
     Finally she turned back to the cubical and glared at the
scroll.  "All I ask is an answer.  Who are Ptysar and Xesnex? 
That's all I ask.  I know about the deaths, the obliteration of
one continent on Chenobis.  I know about the murders and the
rape.  But where do the ghosts fit in?"
     No answer.  
     Jill sighed in frustration and poured her umteenth cup of
coffee.  She sat at the table, her eyes stabbing the pin-ups as
though willing them to speak to her.  She cast her eyes at the
cup of coffee, took a sip, ordered herself to remain awake.
     Don't sleep.
     Don't sleep.
     Stay . . . a . . .wake . . .

     The alien freaks murdered her lover right before her eyes. 
She cried for him and her House.  They stripped Queen Gani Yi of
her crown and clothes.  The monsters slaughtered her daughters
and nieces before her four eyes.  Then they dragged her and her
sons outside the castle walls.  Their hideous dark hides glinted
cold in the smoky sun.  The monsters forced Gani Yi to her knees
and drew blades from the pockets of their hides.
     She forced a smile, staring at her youngest boy, the pride
of the family.  "Be strong."  She told him.  "Be strong for mama. 
Take care of your brother."
     And they sliced into her arms.
     She mouthed the words 'I love you' as the blades slashed
pieces of her flesh, sending waves of searing pain into her dark
skin.  But Gani Yi would not give the freaks the pleasure of her
screams.
     And they sliced off her head.
     Jill sat up with a start and started to cry.  It was okay. 
She was okay. It was just a dream.  She stood and wiped her face.
     McKennan recalled the dream:  Two little boys. A queen
mother-and something clicked.
     "They ARE Chenobians!"  She cried.  "Oh gods, ohmigod!  They
ARE Chenobians!"  She ignored Skywolf's demands to let him in on
what was exciting her.  She activated the visiphone and called.
Kyle
     "Come on!"  She urged.  "Kyle, please be home!"
     But he was not.  The answering system came on and Jill about
panicked.  "Kyle!" she cried. "Kyle! If you're home, you've got
to pick up the receiver!  Kyle!  Kyle I figured it out!  The
ghosts-the journal-Beth mistranslated!  It's all backwards, Kyle!
There was only one demon, one alien but two princes-and THEY are
Chenobian, Kyle!  You're not dealing with an alien force, but
supernatural! It might explain the glass, the need to feed on
living energy, and why they won't take on Transformer life force-
it's the wrong frequency!  Kyle, CALL ME!"


*   *   *

     Kayla considered going back to work the next day but voted
against it, deciding to stay home instead.  She panned over her
mail and worked a little on her embroidery. 
     Lost in thought, she almost didn't hear the door buzz for
attention.  She jumped and opened the door for Shan.
     "I need to do some serious shopping."  Shan said without
preamble.  She walked right in and crossed her arms, her dark
blue eyes stared through the Kshi.  "And I don't want to go
alone."   
     Kayla was surprised Shan was asking her.  She blinked. 
"Come on in.  I'll change clothes."
     Shan examined the pictures on the walls while Kayla swiftly
departed for her room. "Where's Cathy?"  She asked from her
closet.
     "On business."  Shan groused.  "She wanted to come, but
couldn't make it until later and Roddy wants me at that awful
Nagk meeting tonight."
     Kayla came back wearing a pair of blue jeans and pulled over
a shaker sweater.  Her dark hair swung freely about her shoulders
and Shan smiled.
     "What? Does it look awkward?"  The tall dark lady asked,
freezing in position.
     "No."  Shan shook her head.  "It looks really great."
     Not so sure, Kayla pulled a jacket over the sweater and she
smiled bashfully.  Shan was thinking of a time Kyle stared at
Kayla in that same sweater.
     But all that was gone.  Kyle was lucky if he remembered
anybody's name let alone how he felt about them.

     Kayla peeked about the crafts section, seeking ideas for a
new project.  She thought of creating a photo album, but didn't
know what theme to base it on.  She thought of putting one
together for Kyle, but honestly, the Kshi had no idea where to
start or if she had any photos worth using.  She also thought of
putting something together for Ashtar, but didn't know if Ash
liked flower wreaths or swags.  Cathy did.  Well, over time,
Cathy did.
     "Hey, Kayla."  Shan called, "Lookit this."
     Kayla rounded three wrong isles before finding Shan in an
isle full of woven baskets and ceramic vases.  She plucked up a
shallow basket and twirled it one way then another.  "I guess for
long-stemmed flowers, huh?"  Her bright eyes caught the empath's
silent stare and Kayla slightly flushed.  "I supposed you could
use one of those foam bases and stick in hundreds of tiny flowers
into it and place a salt-and-pepper shaker set on either side for
a table center piece.  A ribbon at the top would be pretty too."
     Shan shrugged.  She herself was not into arts and crafts-she
liked stuff like that, but could never figure out how to put it
together.  She replaced the item and glanced at other pieces
hanging from hooks.  "Didja find anything?"
     "No."  Kayla answered softly.  "Not today."
     Shan gave her a swift but guilty glance.  "There's a really
nice candy store down the way.  Wanna go?"
     Kayla nodded.  She never shopped very often and felt a bit
out of place.  She followed Shan toward the exit when something
caught her eye: a series of unpainted ceramic trolls.  She bent
closer to the merchandise, examining each crafted piece for
potential flaws.  "I guess I found something after all."  She
lifted one and turned it one way then another while Shan waited.
     Outside the craft store, Shan caught Cathy swiftly making
her way through the crowd.  Shan lit up, excited and waved an
arm.   "Cathy!"  She called. "Hey!"  She pressed her way between
two paying customers and out the shop into the mall's sectionway. 
"Cathy!"  She called again.
     A terrible force of stone slammed into Kayla's right side
and she hit an endcap.  Two hooks ran into her left arm, exiting
out the other side.  She moaned in pain and pushed herself away. 
But whatever hit her to begin with, kicked her in the ribs and
she hit her head against other hooks.  Blood poured down her
head.
     "Hey you!"  A clerk shouted. "I'm calling security right-" 
     A stream of water and blood shot out from the stranger's arm
and sliced the lady clerk's head off her shoulders.  Customers
and co-workers panicked, their attempts to leave the scene were
met with isles blocked by merchandise and other fleeing bodies.  
     The stranger, cloaked in grey and dark robes lifted Kayla
and a stream of water and blood rushed toward her face.  But as
Kayla was brought up, her hand grasped a sculptured glass dragon
and she stabbed her attacker with it.  
     The creature dropped her, a sound, humanoid/inhumanoid
resounded off the walls and mirrors cracked under its spell.
     Shan and Cathy bounded in, aiming for the dog-beast on two
fronts.
     It split in half, two rivers of blood and water raced about
the room, the sounds of deadmen moaned as it passed over shelves
and countertop displays.  One stream chased a female customer
while Shan tried to lift Kayla out of the shop.
     The poor customer uttered a sound that could not be
described by words.  Her body was pulled inside out before the
monster devoured her before three witnesses.
     It was Cathy that dealt a final blow.  She picked up a
slender glass vase, broke off the end.
     The aim proved true and the alien creature shot straight to
the ceiling.
     "CATHY!"  Shan screamed.  "GET OUT OF THERE! CATHY!  CATHY!"
     Russell wasted no more time.  She kicked her heeled shoes
off and leapt over a register counter and out the store as the
two alien parts shot back together and spread out like a cloud.
It swiftly descended, killing the three people who failed to
leave on time.  Then it gathered itself and disappeared through
the ceiling.
     Kayla fainted in Shan's arms.


*   *   *
     Kyle felt well enough the following few days to return to
Medlab.   Voodoo didn't mind so much (since he had to get back to
work) as the nurses in Reception promised to look after Kyle for
him and inform him should something go wrong.  Kyle merely made a
beeline back to his office.  This time he spent several hours
musing over his books.  Some of his private library turned out to
be very ancient, extremely valuable.  He had text on species of
aliens he could not recall and notes on the inside of some
covers, indicating which alien species were extinct.  
     Kyle shook his head, considering his life span.  On one
shelf, Kyle discovered a scrap book.  He had to use both hands
just to tug it off the shelf.  He sat at his desk, carefully
setting the book in the center. 
     Photographs, organic samples of trees, bugs, DNA samples,
lists and lists and more lists of names and numbers and brief
descriptions of people.  His face twisted in puzzlement.  He
turned back to the beginning and found a crystal recording.  He
pulled that out and set it in the computer.
     "Well, it's done."  He heard himself sigh. "It seems so odd
that I would collect such a thing.  But at least here is a
memorial of a dead civilization.  We could not stop the
slaughter.  We could not find a cure.  But here it all is; the
only outside evidence of Nebulos."  Kyle turned it off and stared
at it.  A dead civilization? 
     He leaned back in his chair, his finger rested across his
lips in thought.  What caused the death of an entire people? Did
he have anything else like this?
     A little boy's voice filtered through the silent halls.  He
talked to someone incoherently, but incessantly.  Words came all
jumbled and ended with affirmation.  Someone else's voice
answered, an older, calmer boy.
     Footsteps echoed eerily and Kyle gazed up from his studies
and spotted two ghostly boys as they passed his office.  He took
to his feet and watched them as they slowly moved on.  Their
forms were not solid, their movements echoed as though out of
time sequence.  The little boy kept talking, his voice now a bit
clearer, spoke of great heros and warriors.  He spoke of their
deeds and their deaths.
     " . . . And I'm gonna be one too.  Mamma said I could."
     The older boy, not more than thirteen, shook his head. "You
get the strangest of ideas."
     "My ideas aren't strange."  The child protested.  "I'm a
hero.  All those monsters died like they were supposed to.  But
you keep wanting to drink their blood.  How come?"     
     The older boys shrugged.  "Just something to do, I guess."
     The little boy pointed a thumb over his shoulder toward
Kyle.  "I get to keep him.  I found him first."
     Kyle sat up with a start, gasping. He found himself in his
office, a pile of folders under his arms.  At first he recognized
nothing.  His eyes took in the T