So the siege has begun, yet again, noted the Celestial leader; whom all called out of deep respect, "The Elder Oktovatien." But he was technically speaking the Commander in Chief of the Celestial Guardians. An alliance whose members served the greater purpose out of reverence for preserving life among the many races and not just their own. Those who were entering this system had no such reverence, not for themselves much less any one else. Despite all of their previous losses in battles with Celestial forces the Dark Ones and their armies continued to wage war with a multitude of races scattered across the many galaxies. The Elder Oktovatien knew that in his heart this battle was not to be the last, despite official notions to the contrary. Considering the Dark Ones had lost this specific battle many times before, predictive analysis inferred this strike to be no longer useful to the Dark Ones. But here they were again. And right on schedule. The persistence of fools was not a concept to be entertained lightly.

The Elder Oktovatien stood before the main defense screen. He watched in grim consternation as visually enhanced images of blistering, incandescent-yellow streams of Xtereon-plasma, converged and violently bloomed into nova-red and tangerine-orange hues above the horizon of the TiXqoi Moon base. While the attack itself was not a surprise the methods were daunting to contemplate. He wanted to know more about these latest developments in the Darks Ones arsenals, but time for him was running out. A crisis in authority loomed over every command choice he was about to make and he had no room for mistakes. A decision he had managed to avoid at every previous meeting was not to be ignored any longer. The High Council, which he reported to on a periodic basis, was no longer tolerating his autonomous approach to the Time-Shift War. A war whose outcome they considered he had directed too long and too personally. The Elder Oktovatien refocused on the immediate tasks before him. A conflict had to end where it had began.

On the time parity monitor was the output generated from the automated time-field clocks which registered the space-time refraction discrepancies resulting from a transitory space-crafts passage from one frame of space/time continuity to another. From these time-field data measurements critical temporal calculations were derived which revealed what P-groove the interlopers were using as an exit gate into this solar system. An exit point from within the Antionn field, which was soon to be determined and destroyed.

The Elder Oktovatien sitting before the control operations desk quickly went through the procedures for sending the results of those calculations to the incoming Hunter. From the charts which had been generated it was evident this P-groove was a new coordinate not listed in the registration/origination databases. The Akarien technicals (who were responsible for building the crystalline devices housed in the satellites used for P-groove detection and tracking) kept the data maps updated based on a well-defined detection/alert cycle. Every determined exit point was immediately transmitted to all TiXqoi bases and in turn to every defense center. This detection system was absolutely critical in keeping the time interlopers from launching surprise attacks directly into the most vulnerable regions under Celestial control.

A new P-groove also meant the interlopers were using a new strategy. In a time-shift war nothing can be taken for granted. The Elder Oktovatien stared into the Sansien screens deep in thought, carefully considering all the options available for reprisal.

Personally, fighting a lunatic war with these Dark Ones, was not the way he had planned this lifetime. Celestials, as a race of Beings, never fought in wars per se as a rule and for good reason. War considering all things equally was a stupendously, stupid waste of resources. War as a goal of achievement was something inferior beings did when they had nothing else better to do with their bottled up energetic fantasies. In itself, savagery took no talent or courage, beyond what was needed to satisfy the goal; which was in all instances the killing of the enemy. Circumstances being what they were his choices were limited.

Another concise stream of information began scrolling down the right-side Sansien screen. Information, which confirmed the incoming craft, was indeed originating deep in the past of the first Cosmi. Determining the exact time-frame coordinates within the first Cosmi of the spacefleet now entering their time stream here in the second Cosmi was going to be quite difficult. Especially considering the multiple pathways the P-grooves themselves encompassed as part of their overall network within the Antionn fields.

Red and orange warning lights in a matter of moments lit up the operations board before him. Simultaneously, emergency alarms from the outer domes main pressurization units were also sounding in long, blaring blasts. He shut off the sound with a deft flick of a switch. The left-hand Sansien screen displayed the outer dome pressure gradients over the entire surface area, and then more detailed close-ups of the regions were the Xtereon plasma beams were being focused. The pressure units were nearing redline operation status due to the dramatic rise in air temperature within the third atmospheric zone.

He set into motion the emergency systems, which would allow the super-heated air stream to expand directly through a series of conduits into a vast underground water reservoir. But that was only a delay tactic. Tactics to infuriate an impatient enemy. That was his strategy. The use of "war" as a means to an end. The unrational process of taking by force what was wanted from those termed "enemies" to make the act of theft itself so much easier to moralize.

Naturally, beings who found enemies at every turn were only attempting to understand their own mortality, as seen from the eyes of another. Most pretended otherwise, but he knew these kind pursued war for the sheer enjoyment of watching other living things die. In that context the pretense of war only served as a means to validate a disturbed fascination of morbid curiosity. A protean drama in which to absorb themselves because they had little else to discover within their own hearts. War as a goal among such fatalists served well as an epic screen upon which to cast themselves in roles of good and evil. Which was fine so long as they kept their wars to themselves, but they never did. And that was the problem. When the strutting warlings felt their superiority keen and firm ready to be acted upon, they inevitably turned their ambitions to more formidable prey. And in doing so they made enemies.

The Elder Oktovatien using the secured padlink (which he carried at all times) entered the origination and destination of the P-groove as date/times into the K-time line used in all Celestial "official" records. This repeation strike, (the thirty-seventh to be exact) despite the use of a new unknown P-groove was still the same strategy employed by the Dark Ones. And it was simple enough: If you lose the first time.... By all means try, try again. His attention was once again drawn to the larger right-hand Sansien screen.

The latest images being displayed were from the number four deep space satellite which was looking back and down at the TiXqoi moon base. The moon itself was gravitationally anchored to a semi-large solid planet of no life bearing qualities. As a rule most of the TiXqoi class of moon bases were always positioned far from populated planets. This too was a deterrent, as it was also a part of the greater plan.

The Elder Oktovatien took control of the satellite operations. The optical defense satellite in orbit between the moon base and the planet focused its powerful imaging scanners only on the craft equipped with the Xtereon beam weapons. Streaming down into the space just above the outer dome the multiple spinning bands of Xtereon-plasma waves began forming long arcing strands, which quickly encircled the moon. The ends when they touched violently formed into beaded knots. Gathering force-mass in turbulent clouds of up-charge, from the secondary pulse-beams which drove the anti-mass charges, these spiraling knots spontaneously exploded outward into hurricane sized fists of plasmic fury. The knots looked like malevolent, demonic fists, which spun clockwise upward then, reversed polarity slamming downwards in an increasingly frenzied crescendo. The process quickly spread, first along the moons equator then towards both poles in simultaneous concatenation.

The Elder Oktovatien did not need the readouts from the moon bases instrumentation’s to know these plasma generation fields were the result of the Dark Ones newest weapons of applied mass projection. A sophisticated means to resonate the Holoacon-crystal domes used by the Ti Dzu in all of their military and civilian bases. As he watched in dismay (knowing what was coming) both the visual and data screens the external surface of the outer domes in a matter of heartbeats were enveloped in screaming, crimson translucence; then an eye burning blue-white sunburst. When the Xtereon-plasma power levels peaked the outer surfaces of the intricately connected tropo-sphere-domes ignited; one and all.

Above the Elder Oktovatien, were twin sets of audio speakers whose output came from the dome-stations. These stations in tandem monitored the upper and lower atmospheric changes between dome layers. The speakers were howling in protest as a result from the sound pressures, which were wildly building beneath the outer dome and the second thermal layers. The third division air stream, swiftly carried around the entire moon an ominous series of heavy, thunderous popping, crackling and booming concussions as the internally, corded-layers of Holoacon-crystal reached critical resonance. This was soon followed by a series of sharp, percussive sounds from deep within the outer domes, which then catastrophically shattered as if each were crystal glass as struck by a sledgehammer. The outer-domes falling inward and under the explosive pressure from above, in turn violently collapsed the light-metal, hexagonal middle-domes. The surface audio relays sharply spiking well over their amplitude capacity, carried a blistering note sounding like a wailing death cry, and promptly failed

The Elder Oktovatien, finding all of this to be very disturbing for a number of reasons was once again in silence. With this new weapon all the TiXqoi Moon bases were in serious danger. He felt his weight and his years as he stood up. He had not celebrated his last birthday due to a skirmish on the planet Avextria. According to the K-time line he was officially nine Seibikus old. An age most of those his rank and status would have long since retired to a world of more peaceful pursuits. He however, had no intentions of retiring. At least not officially. He had too much at stake and this change of strategy was not to be ignored. Despite the ache in his knees he briskly walked along the upper deckway of the middle section of the command center down the curved, white-stone stairwell and into the forward section of the second level.

This was the section devoted to light-spectrum analysis. In short, the visual nexus of the command station. Thirty-five ultra-high resolution full spectrum screens displayed real-time generated, wide-band emission pictures from multiple external and surface sources. Grand panoramic pictures crisply came into focus on the wall screens. Against the star lit space the craft of the Dark Ones fleets were tiny points of dull light. Below them the TiXqoi Moon base was bare utterly exposed to the enemy above.

The Elder Oktovatien, sitting down at the main control station, quickly sequenced through different image enhancements, optical wavelengths and scale resolutions until finding the most effective perspectives for photographing the space-craft, collectively and in singular shots in as many angles as possible. There were according to sensor readings some twelve thousand craft, in the main body and another four hundred which had positioned themselves in a defense ring around the P-groove exit. The spacecraft with the more powerful Xtereon-beam weapons were an advanced version of the Star-devil-eleven’s. These Star-devils had quickly re-organized for a sweep attack. With his right-hand he adjusted the Aperic-module on his left wristband to the recording position. All of his thoughts on the subjects pertaining to the greater crisis would be needed for future lawful reference. His observations and subsequent analysis would be the basis for a lawful application of Judgement.

And so he began his official accounting:

New weapons of lethal force have in a matter of moments, rendered eons of brilliant Ti Dzu engineering into enormous glowing heaps of twisted, crystalline ribbons and burning beads of moltenious metals. Above the moon base the triangular shaped space-craft---officially named Kansabrine-11's---by the notation visible---Star-devils by those that pilot them---not unlike carrion birds of the darkest night, have swooped down into lower orbits preparing for the final kill. Soon the interconnecting bios-domes themselves will be breached and all remaining life here on this TiXqoi base, will be laid to waste.

Star-devils indeed, harrumphed the Elder.

Clever dark souls who believe the key to everything they want lies in perpetual Dau Geine {Might is Right} wryly observed the Elder Oktovatien, watching the black, eighty DK-meter long craft resume laying down a plasma pre-charge. He checked the status of the internal compression operations deep in the core of the moon. From the instrument readings there would be time, but it would be close.

The carnage began just above the surface and continued unabated.

The Elder Oktovatien resumed his thought recordings:

Always improving upon their weapons of destruction, but never their poisonous imaginations. Must every foul idea, which crosses their collective morbid minds and darkens their vicious hearts, be born out by calculating, preternatural birth. This slavish devotion to the banality of evil seems to be the only reality they find worthy of personal striving. In all the time I have served as the leader of the Celestial Guardians Confederation, I have never seen so much needless, pernicious evil from such a tiny group of insidious minds. An endless repetition of mindless, lunatic destruction made real by minds so dead; they may as well have been, already buried.

Time being what it was to them this was probably close to the truth. He turned in the high backed chair momentarily looking out across the lower decks of the command center towards the Ti Dzu leader (who besides himself) would be the last person to leave the base alive.

D' Laga, who was from the world of Triccia, was a leader and a LIreqoi {man of honor} whom the Elder Oktovatien deeply respected. He wondered how much D' Laga (who was busy with the set up and deployment of a new type of satellite) believed of the rampant rumors swirling about the Ti Dzu societies, that the command leaders of these militant technologists were in fact the dead reborn.

The inference was well suited to those who named themselves the Dark Ones.

And the Elder Oktovatien was thinking that in a logical manner the rumors made sense, but from his point of view this highly speculative "origination theory" had a much different implication. A false immortal existence was also just as logical and in fact more dangerous. Returning a spuriously re-animated dead being to the grave was one thing; killing an immortal one was a problem of a different order of magnitude. Too many people falsely believed consciousness needs a body, but that is in fact irrelevant. The body needs mind, but mind was not a guarantee one was to be aware. The two are often a volatile mix whose outcome is consciousness of one degree or another.

He continued his recordings:

To a significant degree the Ti Dzu, are quite outraged these lesser Santhropidic Indotrions, who serve under the Dark Ones, have stooped to such a low level of Pienabriac Awareness. A type of consciousness classified as revolving around personal identity or egocentric. Unfortunately, for the Indotrions, who serve under the Dark Ones, the Ti Dzu, in regards to their psychological makeup, rarely tolerate such spiritual malfeasance for any reason for very long. In short, the Indotrions who display these traits of soul gone to rot will be annihilated wherever they are to be found.

However, he emphasized in his thought recordings, the Ti Dzu are in much greater danger from the Andovi, who like moon-sized, leaf-cutter ants will continue to snip away vast sections of Ti Dzu time and space. For a better description of the technical processes involved [I] will ask the reader of these notes to look up in the coda-indexes the papers written on Andovi propagation methods of Ring-Holes involving sub-space collapse. Stopping the Andovi in relation to their method of space/time collapse is the problem the Ti Dzu need to keep their energies focused and diligently applied upon. If at all possible let the Indotrions involved on the fringes of the Dark Ones agendas slowly over time destroy themselves. Their efforts in regard to the greater conflict is but in my opinion a purposeful distraction.

The Elder rubbed his eyes. He had not slept over the past four divisions. So much depended on the Ti Dzu not becoming involved with offshoots of the Dark Ones colonies, but that point was hard to prove emotionally speaking. Historical analysis had proven this type of karmetic interaction only prolonged, and in many instances, cemented the resulting relationships into binding knots which when formed were nearly impossible to disconnect. Destroy one major cell group and in the end all associations with that cell group became vulnerable to destruction as well regardless of who was right or wrong. It was a tactic the Dark Ones used to protect their true time movements. And it was quite effective.

After checking the status of the visual relay links in each of the empty cities, the Elder continued his official inner discourse:

None would disagree, how tragically unfair it is that the Ti Dzu, who are so attuned to the nature of their worlds, who are passionate about leaving separate Xobiologicals living orders alone, have become the favored targets of the Andovi, who are a highly organized race of malignant Simatopians, who consume the inner core of worlds and by consequence all who dwell upon them.

The reasons for this strange favoritism/connection between the Ti Dzu and the Andovi is linked in a significant way, although still not understood exactly, to the use of Teo in the TeoXtian power centers and the Benevhio Gates. A fuel source, which is indispensable as a zero point energy transducer and the consequent source basis, used in all the higher technologies. Finding another source for powering the gates may eventually be solved, but in the immediate future Teo must be replaced by an equivalent energy charge-force. If not the Andovi will continue tracking the source of the low-band emissions from the gates, as well as, those emanating from the Ti Dzu centers of power generation. There is no question the Indotrions will have to be stopped, but not by the Ti Dzu. He knew this particular conclusion would take some explaining, more so on the part of D' Laga to his own people, then by himself, but that for the moment was another matter.

The identification signal had been received from the incoming Hunter he had summoned. Positioned in a time fold of space above the P-groove exit, which looked like an inverted whirlpool, the Hunter would wait for further instructions. Of all the weapons employed by the Celestials none were more feared or misunderstood as the Hunters were. The reason for this calculated miss-direction was because the Hunters themselves were living machines. Highly complex bio-machines, which were driven by the Wills of those who joined in rightful purpose: to fight the enemy. But to fight an enemy operating outside of time limitations meant they too had to be "outside" of time as well. To strike on the recursive coordinates, which were left as a time trail, the Hunters generated their own hyper-field. Which allowed a series of space-time frames to be collapsed when a target and all of its related artifacts had been officially "illuminated" by specific rules of determination. This aspect of Hunter abilities made them the most feared of all objects and the most incomprehensible of all-defensive weapons.

The Elder Oktovatien perusing his memory collections in the same manner as a librarian shuffled through a file marked "history" recalled a time when Hunters were limited to only real time strikes. In a time referenced system all things have a relation to points within that system, even as the system itself references points in a multiplicity of energy bands. All things of matter being a condition of energy need energy to remain in the referenced system. Limit or cut off that energy and all related physical-spectra’s vanished into null-time. But energy had to be used and the Hunters consumed that energy and once consumed nothing remained. The term Hunter was appropriate and so they were named. To understand how the Hunters functioned meant being a Hunter and so they were bound by Law.

In truth the Celestials had never had an enemy before so they had to invent a philosophy (more so then a technology) to deal with the problems confronting them. Among there own people such a state or condition of existence which one termed evil was unheard of---a perspective so odd it strained comprehension. Celestials were not driven by opposition of paired contradictions ---right ---wrong ---good ---bad. That which was Holy was never to be confused with that which was Evil. Survival was not a fight or spoil to be given to the victors like a trophy or a prize. Existence was a responsibility all shared thus their pledge--Survive together or Perish alone. To that purpose their people and thus the Hunters, as a part of their deepest collective will were driven in every accord.

The Dark Ones were technically an abnormality in the cosmic cycles of life. The very idea, one was or wanted to achieve supreme status by vile treachery and outright, bold usurpation of another races rightful property---that of Life itself---was akin to eating filth and calling it tasty and good. Who in their right mind committed themselves to this type of incomprehensible behavior? It was a question as well as a statement for none of his kind could actually believe such a thing called Exia-Daemetrias {Evil unbound} was even possible. But it was and this fact, made them all that more repulsed by those who claimed it as their Kiev Tor {purpose above all else}.

To be abhorred by every other living entity in the journey of living existence? This was to be the triumph of Evil? Is that all they wanted in the end? Absolute isolation? These questions and more had been argued pro and con well beyond anyone’s rational line of patience. The truth no matter how it was reached was the Dark Ones wanted to be Rulers above all else. Everything that stood in their way was to be destroyed.

Personally, he found the Dark Ones to be boring. Their entire philosophy of evil was so self-serving it demanded to be ignored. The sum of me-me-me meant nothing to him. Sitting there before the cascading images he recalled a revealing incident early in the first encounter period.

He had been stationed on a solar post of no great significance when a tracking station began relaying information about a large organized assault fleet that had entered the system. He had allowed the attackers to demonstrate a certain level of capability in order to determine their greater motives. After a brief skirmish over the fourth planet he had ordered that all-counter measures be stopped. A critical system was allowed to be destroyed. Then he had assumed a certain tactful communication protocol. A deal was to be negotiated.

Considering the true objectives he wasn't surprised at the arrogant manner in which a certain unnamed General, serving as Lord Commander of the Dark Ones USF spacefleet, had demanded the immediate surrender of the entire Verloi system. A system whose planets were not high in physical beauty, but rich in mineral deposits and as such, already containing significant mining operations on the fourth planet. So the Dark Ones wanted that system for obvious reasons and so they came to take it by force. Just like that---give us what we want----give me what I want right now---like a spoiled child asking for another piece of sugar loaf and we will generously spare the lives of woman and children.

What amazed him was that they actually thought he believed them. His was a face generated by optical imagers to show features akin to those on the surface. An artificial face marked by pain and guilt. Features painfully aware that he was in the presence of a greater foe that held the final say in what was to transpire. And so he entered negotiations with the enemy.

The smug looks upon the collective faces of those who shared the main operations deck reflected a deeper truth, a revealing moment that would be etched in the Elders' memory forever. The whole lot of them were nothing more then a bunch of pretentious weasels wearing the stolen furs of lions; as if none could tell the difference. The Rakair manner in which they pursued their goals only amused their masters of nothing. After a very brief pause, to memorize those faces, he then commanded a Hunter to enfold their entire spacefleet, from the command ships on down to the transport haulers into a single, compressed mass no bigger then that generals fat head. Into the Antionn field they had been returned, but he knew even then, none the wiser.

When another spacefleet (presumably to replace the one before) returned a standard enkina (orbit period-year) later that's when he knew these particular Indotrions were destined for extinction. Nobody could be that stupid. But time-shifting travel was to fools what honey-cake was to gluttons--too good to ignore--too good to resist. And the Dark Ones, (in the eyes of those followed them as gods) made cheating Time look so easy.

The Elder recalled a brief truism, which had been written by an early space explorer: He who measures time as a straight line is destined to repeat his mistakes. For him that had always meant Time was at best a metaphor for that which has no line. A curve in space had no true meaning. Time was whatever filled your cup. Time was the measure by which the cup sprang into existence. As a young diviner he was told by his teacher, "Breath in. In the measure of a single breath is the distance from where you originated to your final destination. Now breath out," as his heart raced his teacher asked, "Do you feel the beat of your heart? Then know this: that in the measure of your hearts beat is your time in life---no more and no less."

His teacher structured much of what he taught upon that concept of inner time as expressed into the physical landscape. For the young Oktovatien to be those experiences shaped the main reasons why he chose his particular line of investigation later on as an Elder himself. He had been disciplined in the often-contradictory notions of physical landscapes versus spiritual realms. To be part of each often meant being not fully of either one. To stand at the crossroads was a difficult path to follow, but he had pursued his goals with quiet determination.

When the time-shift war made its unpleasant presence known into their spheres of explorations, in relation to the Ti Dzu, he was quickly brought into the operations hierarchy, precisely because he was so well known as an expert in the field of applied time reconstruction. A limited area of study where previous time potentials were teased out of the energy patterns left over from their existence. These "time negatives" as they were called often held enough information in their higher dimensional structures to be "re-played" as a positive energy flow. This was termed an up-lift because such a reconstruction often began re-ordering itself into a working system.

There were always problems however, especially with the biological orders and thus great care had to be taken not to inadvertently cause reinlifement. Paradoxes also became a problem when conflicting aspects of the previous and the current time streams began feeding off one another causing chaotic diversions from known events. Such systems eventually collapsed back into what was termed null-time. Systems without real time coordinates.

There was no question that the underlying processes could be controlled and kept free of ambiguity, but only if no outside interference changed what had been above and beyond specific boundaries. Models were tried and tested to correct those time flow flaws. The what if causation models used on worlds up-lifted, despite all efforts to make them free from errors, proved time lines were impossible to maintain after critical event sequences had been passed. But all of these investigations into past time lines occurred in sectioned, artificial space frames not out in free moving stellar regions. Among his own kind he was both admired and feared as one who could raise the stars from their silent graves, but theory was one thing doing so was another. When the end of the event line was reached no amount of changing the rules made those times past real again, but there were exceptions. And he was one of the few who knew how to find such exceptions. Others however were not so observant of the actual goal: learning from their mistakes.

The Dark Ones by all facts known to him, somewhere along their course of existence had found their own answers in terms of resurrecting dead worlds. How they accomplished these feats is what he had been trying to discover and with not much success. He had narrowed down the possible solutions to a few educated guesses. Unfortunately, the one he searched for was still a cloudy series of questions without defined answers. A line of inquiry, which led back to his own kind, hence the vitriolic nature of those who opposed his investigations, and entangled the search for answers. The evidence he pursued however was scant at best and so the solution was yet to be found.

A flicker of light brought his attention back to the present. Another section of the moon base was being devoured by plasma waves. As was his order there was no resistance. Still, what an unfathomable waste of articulated mental capacity, he surmised in his thought recordings, watching the screens before him in disgust.

The black spacecraft in their course of blatant destruction targeted the last of the biospheres. For these Dark Ones the Living Spirit of another world was to be damned in a reckless pursuit of incestuous vanity; a loathing of life ceremonially disguised as Aphroditic glory; as if supremacy of their precious Golden Rods of Death meant something more than just another graveyard of bones unsheathed of life.

The very meaning of existence to be rent from Deaths pawns.

And considering all that went before them in a twisted parody of truth, this was no exaggeration. Victors of peace indeed. What rubbish. The propaganda they extolled as facts was laughable, if it was, or had been, actually funny. What an immoral lie these beggars of false freedoms, waving their soiled greystone cups for another coin of red flesh, relentlessly rhapsodized in the ears of all those whom they solicited to hear their false mystical mumbling; as truths of wonder no less.

During an early period of the second era he had visited, as part of his exploratory investigations into the Indotrions societies, a number of worlds, which had been overthrown by the Dark Ones. On every planet visited (without interference) he had found in every population center numerous religious shrines devoted to the Dark Ones. Considering their egos that in itsef was expected. In the major cities, housed in vast cathedrals (which had been spared nothing in terms of adornment) were the gratuitous glorifications of every act and deed imaginable. All of which were attributed to the Dark Ones. In these overwrought temples of golden stone pretensions were the people. People who were literally down on hand and knee, praying for salvation from the very ones who caused their own destruction.

Ignorance on that level was not a pretty sight.

The confusion factor was quite high in the wake of these Dark Ones, who as confirmations had proven always dressed in glowing robes of white. A visible means to help buttress their false personification as beings of light while those that followed at their heels, were forever bellowing salvation for the masses. If two future choices were as bad as the first one lived where was the true progression? Did the people of these worlds not understand duality on such a level was in itself a clue something was amiss? But that arrogant, blatant form of lying outright was the sole purpose of the Dark Ones and their Regents. To sow confusion just when the people started to learn the truth and reap war at every turn when the people tried to do something about the real cause of their misfortunes.

The Regents by design held considerable power on those worlds the Dark Ones overthrew. The wealth their armies stole outright from all they slaughtered quickly flowed back into a tiny circle of greedy hands. Blackened hands, which promptly corrupted all those whom they touched in turn. The Regents by and large were nothing more than a bunch of bragging, pompous charlatans forever weaving insidious fantasy from technology. Under them were the self-serving para-aristocratiens who dressed their brand and flavor of illicit deceits in golden robes of grand authority. All the while these masters of depravity amused themselves by greedily grazing upon the dreams of the living people; who having been reduced to living like unholy sheep, at the ends of their masters iron whips, never questioned their own defilement. This is what he found in system after system where the Dark Ones were worshipped as Masters of Creation.

Such vulgar abominations these Dark Ones had become both in purpose and in spirit. Each of the leaders presiding over their legions, which in espirit de corps were trafficking their rulers red-hued narcotic: Murder.

Was it ever a burden to carry hearts rendered out of dead-cold stone?

And so he wondered why bother living at all if that was the best one was willing to achieve. Arbinian fleas had more sense and a finer degree of purpose then those who rained the Xtereon-plasma fire, in torrents of wicked electric yellows, down upon them. Yet, what did these Dark Ones know of the greater truth? Did they ever want to perceive a greater truth? Did they really understand whom it was they had made enemies with, or didn't they care for such distinctions?

His mental notes on these subjects were quite personal, but he had continued recording just the same. Others would need to know why he had decided on his particular course of action. For him vindication carried a heavy price. And that was if he was correct about a future outcome.

The Elder Oktovatien began the final countdown for the Deyeidena core-system to take over all operations from the main Heriustine systems in the command center. A series of system operation checks were also carried out to ensure those core operations meet the specific tolerances necessary; or even the slightest variation of the energy signature would warn the Andovi, the TiXqoi bases were not what they appeared to be--the truth of their design. Despite the destruction from above the trade off was smooth and without significant error. A few minor glitches in sensor relays and such, but nothing, which was going to reveal the inner, core design.

While the inner core reconfigured itself for final operation the Elder Oktovatien continued watching the screens and the data which continued to flow across them. He knew he had to clarify his internalized broad discourse on the important matters that required a deeper insight into those dark fools’s collective capabilities and weaknesses. Considering that each iteration of the time war caused certain elements of the overall structure to change, both in nuance and scale, his independent data resources were indispensable to keeping all of the facts relevant.

Keeping an eye on the screens he began:

Among the High Councils it is a well-known fact the Dark Ones, are purposely gathering information from their countless military excursions (wins or losses), in order to map military and civilian targets throughout the Ti Dzu galaxy. It is also quite certain the Dark Ones know all TiXqoi bases serve as the tracking stations for collecting information on their deep, inter-stellar space activities. A crucial function of which is to intercept the faint signatures given off when an Andovi has left the Antionn fields. A revealing moment, accompanied by a faint burst of Lithium-band emissions, which the Andovi can not hide or alter, even with the Dark Ones sophisticated applications of physics and electronics.

The seemingly randomly located bases (moved on a time-shift schedule) together served as an efficient array to amplify the Andovi generated L-bursts; which soon blister into violent peaks on the frequency and LTS spectrum screens. Registration of identity is then carried out immediately and the composite signal is assigned to that Andovi, as a means of targeting them no matter where they go from that point on in time or space.

The Dark Ones do not know how this is actually accomplished. They have decoy operations, which serve as counter measures to extract information of these capabilities. This course of action will not change, however it is important to note only R-class Hunters will continue pursuing the Andovi. Technically the Dark Ones cannot tell the difference between those, which attack, and those, which serve as, coordinate relays. Confusing the enemy in these matters of identification will aid Celestial reconnaissance missions.

Furthermore the Dark Ones (as they called themselves he footnoted in all his reports) assume quite literally this is the only purpose for which the TiXqoi bases have been built (considering how many of their fleets perish after an attack with clock like regularity; courtesy of the Hunters) which of course only makes their logical presumptions all that more entertaining. Let them believe in the mechanically derived truth. And so far the Dark Ones have believed with tremendous complacency.

A very costly self-satisfaction at that, but that was the purpose of the method in itself.

The TiXqoi moon-bases are the only means to identify us (so the Andovi believed as well) so destroying these bases gives both enemies an illusion made real. An illusion the Celestials need to reinforce without mercy.

The Elder Oktovatien emphasized this point by connecting the thought record input with a summed data file marked "atrocities" of war. A file which when activated would display a series of hologrammic audio/visuals of what the Ti Dzu medics discovered on countless worlds where the Dark Ones had used genetic warfare to decimate the living people. People who had defied their call to serve their glory. When the link was made he continued his line of thought---those soulless abominations, who called themselves the Dark Ones, have to believe they are winning this war. This directive is not to be changed in any active combat section or in any reactivated past-time frame. A level of palatable satisfaction has to be maintained which means a certain measure of personal sacrifice on the part of Celestial leadership.

He switched on the holo-screen recorders of the Hunter, which moved in a K-time stream the Dark Ones and the Andovi did not have the means of detecting. The Hunters main goal was in fact to serve as the means for careful, methodical documentation of all transgressions. A permanent record to be used against the enemy in Justice. A term, which he knew the Dark Ones, bled like a sacrificial virgin, on the altar of their own apostolictic Destiny.

Those cowards, he emphasized, had no understanding or appreciation of the depths a single moral truth can and does attain. For them morality has long since stopped being a legal, much less a spiritual issue. That is the damning knot, which will eventually hang them. Going into the future does not cause proper evolution; reckless time-shift travel in fact retards it quite significantly. Truth cannot be squeezed from a lie cast in perfect order. A being does not cheat the future and call himself a Master of Time. The difference has to be lived if it is to be real.

The Elder, hearing another series of warning chimes, turned his attention back to the main screens. The remaining cities in quadrant three, and the living beauty that sustained them, under the fearsome glaring heat of Xtereon-plasma driven fire-storms, began swirling and dancing in the throes of deaths virulent embrace. Cities of high purpose instantly, cataclysmically dissolved into explosive, fiery rivulets of molten-metal, which was soon raining down in all directions. A burning downpour of destruction gathering into gushing streams, swiftly condensing into boiling, unrepentant raging rivers which savagely rushing outward, and finding no where to run, abruptly flowed back in upon themselves into a molten puddle of dreams gone broke.

A measure of personal destruction has to be heaped on their bloody, golden plates.

All this peraluestic madness under the harsh glare of the starlight above.

A Faustian escalation of hostilities. Plans dressed in bold declaration of persistent intent had to be proven by displaying the cardinal hand in every encounter. Like voracious pups of the wild these Dark Ones had tasted something which had emboldened their desires for more, but when did they ever stop to think at what price?

A price soon to be paid with no quarter given.

But their hunger was too strong and their rancid minds were too weak for them to care about consequence. Carnage served the appetite of these Dark Ones far better the any banquet of regal delights, for theirs was a need which could not be pleased by the tongue. The royal cup did not hold the blush wine in their hands. They audaciously boasted to themselves with ribald delight on the successful devouring; the very gluttonous consummation of the living peoples need of tomorrow and the promise of destiny. Theirs was the ravenous hunger of evil unto itself.

The remorseless, execrable Dark Ones had perfected, based (and no doubt stolen in a destroyed time line) on the designs of the militaristic Seroz, radiant-beam weapons so powerful they changed the very nature of T-time itself. Weapons which they unleashed with no mercy, no conscience, no pity for those who lived in times continuance. For without time the living knew to be, what was reality to all, but a mirage of sights and sounds with no reference point to anchor those which lived into solid tones of truth.

Considering all they had done these brazen beasts cared nothing for truth.

The time-shift war was brutal and unforgiving for the living people caught in its malignant grasp.

The Celestials who were involved in this war were at a lesser risk, but they too could not fully escape the damage wrought upon them by T-time gone violently astray. Time bent to the savage grace and left howling in all its fierceness against the landscapes of the living; turning all those who were left behind in its raging fury into denizens of limbo; who knew not who, or what they had once been. Their very memories laid to waste knew not even the promise of hope. Thankfully, all the people here on TiXqoi, had been previously transferred to a world far removed from the fighting. The exodus had begun long before this day.

As for the Dark Ones, they would soon turn to cinders and ash the only clue they would ever have of what was to be a point of no return for them. Such was the vulgarity of their acts. Such was the price, which was to be paid for usurping a Crown never meant for their malidictive heads. For there were those who wore Crowns and then there were those who gave them and took them away. Self-anointing was the fools bargain and they were going to pay in full!

Was failure ever to be a bargain?

The Celestial High Council, had given him wide latitude to deal with this problem, but he felt then as now, they did not fully realize the degree of damage done in so much of the second Cosmi of the greater Xtau Vouna. Damage beyond his or anyone else’s ability to restore. The fortitude of those who stood firm in the depths of the unseen places had not gone unnoticed; and they were deeply introspective of motives as it could be expected, but they were too far removed from the truth of this place to really see the danger to themselves. Some council members felt quite strongly that he was too judgmental, a bit overreaching in his command, but he was impervious to their criticism. He had to be if his objectives were to be accomplished, as demands required.

The Elder knew he had made it quite clear to the High Council as to the purpose of the strategy being employed by the self-anointed Dark Ones. They were intent on over taking the Benevhio Gates [used for long range movement through the fabric of space/time field-frames] in the Betriu system which served as an important link center for thousands of other solar-systems. There was no question the Dark Ones were after Betriu next because every mission they had deployed in this system was in some way hinged upon that final step. And after taking Betrui it was clear pathway all the way into every system connected to the original joined systems. The entire galaxy would erupt into war for millennium to come. Which was just what the Dark Ones wanted.

Only the High Council had over-ruled him.

A justification for their joint decision was lauded in their general response; itself a long-winded excursion into matters of limited importance. These thorny disputes of interpersonal notions, which none needed to have explained or revisited in official language, had clogged the arteries of proper reason until it choked off any semblance of an answer of true merit. The choices were clear to them all it was his methods, which had given them, fits. Laws were not made to be broken read the hidden lines beneath the forced exposition.

Laws be damned!

The cornucopia of life hung precariously on the end of a corded-rope in the hands of those who cared not for its greater truth. He needed to wield a sharp knife not an executioner’s lament written on golden parchment. All the high reason in the vaults of time would not be enough to undue the knots of boiling hatred these macabre episodes were imprinting, by the heat of the firebrand, into the spiritual cloth of the living people. The seeds of vengeance born up in wraiths fertile soil would soon bloom intertwined with the true, gentle nature of peace and forever change the broader landscape into a coarse, wild garden of limiting value, to those that needed a more nourishing bread of living experience.

To breathe deep, to know life is; this alone was not enough to Live.

The substantive needs of the Inergiene Spirit demanded more then a simple satisfaction of living hunger. Especially when it was bound up in primitive bodies of flesh as were so many of those the Celestials called Santhropidians. Left to starve in fields of summer green they would die; even as their bellies told them they were full.

Which is why he had to be more then an expert marksman in a gallery of ill will.

He had to dig deep into the enemy’s collective psyche and illuminate them from within. The council would deny him the single most powerful weapon in their entire arsenal that of self-turned-round and held up in the light of grand recognition. A revelation of such clarity even the darkest of the dark could not deny the truth unto themselves. And in that moment of recognition the truth becomes everlasting. As you seek so shall you become.

And so would those Dark Ones become.... The epitome of nothing.

Instead, the council pontifically debated the ticks of his technical dispensations.

They knew as he did based upon the evidence, there was no question that in order to avoid the Hunters in T-time (potential unconstrained: real), the Andovi exclusively used their Antionn Fields. The field itself was a projected, spatial-time dimension the Andovi themselves created by means, he had admitted in his report, which was still unknown. However, all evidence which had been gathered from spectragrammic analysis, strongly suggested the fields operated on a principle closely resembling that of a wormhole. The Antionn Field when not in use behaved as a series one-dimensional strings of highly compressed self-enclosed loops. When in a negative Energy State of charge, conducive to phase activation, the Antionn Field decompressed, stretched and flattened into discernable bandwidths. Grooves of P-time (potential constrained) instantly formed where the bandwidth served as the means to move along that specific time circuit.

One of his key arguments was that in the Andovies' manifold reality "time" never actualized into forward continuity. This state of "Time" perpetually floated on the potential, but never quite became determined. He also emphasized in his reports that it was serendipitously discovered the Andovi moved as they pleased in these future-past and past-future P-time grooves, which connected through galaxies often millions of light-years apart and more importantly; into any time period.

All of the information gathered from Hunter confrontations with larger Andovi also proved they were masters of mass compression. The Andovi projected themselves into three-dimensions and consequently looked like immense, flattened doughnuts with various lengths of carbon rod-spikes, (full sized Andovi had been observed attacking planets with rod-spike lengths exceeding one-third a. u.) poised like razor sharp needles, projecting outward in an ultra-dense profusion. These carbon-rod needles pierced the sub-atomic energy-states of everything in the Andovies' path. A piercing so deep it effected the very nature of space-time itself. The Andovi injected the Antionn-energy into these punctured sub-spaces leaving behind the semi-flattened inverted P-grooves.

How the Andovi generated the actual field "energy" was another big unknown, but the P-grooves were always connected. The analogy most often used for analysis was a cosmic spider web of time: where strands radiating outward were the P-grooves; the field was the energy between the lines; the connections between major strands were technically referred to as node points {where any number of the P-grooves formed a hub) and the node points led into the folds of space used by the Andovi. The larger Andovi acted like guardians at these major points lending to the conclusion these deep space folds were leading to a vastly different continuum. Separating those node points from the strands was the key to the destruction, or better yet the collapse of the web itself.

The Dark Ones did not share this key weakness. The Dark Ones moved through time itself and not specifically space. How this was accomplished was a big mystery, but he had observed they too depended on the Antionn Fields, when venturing into new regions. Once they arrived at or on a world they seemed to be able to move from one specific time frame to another at will. This is what made them so difficult to track down. Like shadows they faded under the light of inspection.

Fortunately, unlike their despotic masters, the SpaceGuard, the Regents and their terrain armies only traveled by primitive space-craft of many types, sizes and purposes (although the newest attack-craft were a substantial improvement over the ones deployed on the previous occasion; another fact which had great significance) which moved in stellar-space well below the thresh-hold of primary photon velocity. Therefore, to cover the vast distances between star systems and galaxies these spacefleets had to use the Antionn fields. And always only where the Andovi and the Dark Ones, had gone before them.

The spacefleets also needed a field decompression ratio greater then what the Andovi themselves used in their Antionn fields. This single discrepancy in field strength accommodation along with the time origination evidence strongly confirmed he believed the Dark Ones main forces were originating in the first Cosmi. Which was another significant point the High Council had chosen to ignore out of hand. Too improbable they had claimed. Nonetheless, the spacecraft moved like stellar-submarines through the Antionn fields within the grooves. But these craft as yet, did not have the remarkable mass compression of the Andovi. Thus to maintain a greater bandwidth to enfold and carry those fleets required a substantial increase in the energy expended by the Andovi into the Antionn field. A costly necessity that was to be exploited.

This lack of sustained field decompression also contributed to another problem. The smooth transition of long distance movement. Long range tracking of craft crossing deep regions of space demonstrated an important clue. While the field grooves for the spacecraft remained highly stable of distances less then ten standard light measures; the grooves themselves became highly unstable over one-hundred SLM's due to a force charge build up in the groove itself. This problem forced the long-range movements of the Dark Ones, deep-space military fleets into a threaded series of links, into and out of the Antionn fields. A serious unalterable weakness leaving them quite vulnerable to attack by the Celestial Hunters.

The Andovi also had a major weakness in relation to this problem.

In order to create new pathways, entries and exits into new areas of stellar space the Andovi have to expose themselves leaving them vulnerable to attack. However, only Andovi of a mass equal to the size of a TiXqoi moon-base ever did this type of work. The more massive Andovi always remained within the safety of their Antionn fields in the deep folds of space, which remain virtually impossible to reach even with specially modified Hunters. Where the Andovi originate in these deep P-time pockets is still unknown; hence the reason for not being able to hunt them down one and all. This is another reason why destroying those which ventured out into stellar space, regardless of size or purpose, never diminished the supply. The Andovi are quite cunning as to how they plan their deep space tunnels, as any Ti Dzu deep space explorer could attest. And throwing out Benevhio Gates into distant reaches of the separate Cosmi to anticipate future conflict is no solution.

And yet, this is how the High Council, which directs the confederation by lawful authority in this time war, wants current tactics to remain until they decide on a new plan of action. Irremediably, as a consequence of this punctional strategy regardless of how it is purposely enforced in effective counter-measure to identify Andovi, another deeper problem, which has been neglected, is about to reveal its ugly truth. A problem which has been hidden out of reach where none had to acknowledge its damning consequences, is now a Celestial weakness the Dark Ones have not let go unnoticed. They obviously intend to exploit this failure of gate reposition as this attack fully proves.

The facts he outlined in his general report emphasized this TiXqoi outpost was situated in a remote sector of the Opjana galaxy, which the Andovi favored for large-scale movement into the Celestial sections of the second member of the Xtau Vouna. Just because there was only one link back into the Betriu system itself nearly twenty-five thousand light years away, did not mean distance was still a valid measure of security. Even with the echo mass transducers to create the Xotrio time-barriers those in the Betrui system are in serious trouble. The Andovi will snip away pieces of the system, as they have done so many times before, and attack the living worlds.

The Elder Oktovatien studied a complex space-time graph on the screen above him. He continued his thought transcriptions:

In addition to the evidence I have already discussed, by this lawful recording, I will try and incorporate as many relevant datum’s as possible. The TiXqoi class moon bases also provide a means of triangulating the inner space-time folds, which look like islands connected by the P-grooves, inside the Antionn field. The results of this work have produced the node-point maps for the Hunters. These critically important higher-dimensional maps are needed to track the Andovi movements inside the fields and recently the Dark Ones spacecraft (readily identified by the stronger energy signatures). The latest observational reports have also made it quite clear the Andovi are improving the transporting capacity of those bandwidths. By the speed (the craft now in orbit) have moved across the distant reaches of this galaxy; the Dark Ones have acquired an improved link method in true space itself. A greater speed means surprise, as well as, distance, or this base would not have come under attack.

Another reason for his coming here. To see for himself these new measures of improvement. The Elder Oktovatien paused for a moment to check on the status of the attack. He then resumed his explanation: Without knowing exactly how this new link method is accomplished only confirms my original request. All Benevhio Gates will have to be placed into an emergency status condition. In a moments notice the Gates will have to be reposited to thwart the advancement of the enemy. A task very few thought would ever be necessary, and more importantly, had never planned for with real consideration of that difficulty.

This is the hidden "Celestial" problem, which is about to be exposed.

The Elder Oktovatien searched his personal library for the transcripts of those meetings. When he found them he added their contents to the journal he was recording. He continued his mental notations: The technical explanation are well documented and I will only touch on a few key points in this summary. Benevhio Gates essentially "remember" the K-time (eleven-fold potentiality) line as a measure of Quantia-energy packets between them. When a spaceship enters the Gateway, it is lifted up into the K-time band. All navigation requirements are determined and set by how many Q-packets are required to reach the desired space-time coordinate and its attendant exit gate. This ease of near instantaneous movement across any finite stellar space is what makes the gates so successful. And it is this permanent, and very precise tuned alignment to each other in the greater net, linking every Gateway in forward time-movement, which keeps the Gate system safe, reliable and accurate.

The downside of this strategy of energy resources, and space-time coordinate accuracy, is in order to accomplish correct deployment, re-position, or removal of a Gate, literally means re-aligning every other Benevhio Gate position, as well as, recalibrating the pulse-waves which power all of them, at the same rod-frequency, from the TeoXtian energy-centers. In this current state of war adding a Benevhio Gateway is not an easy task. There are many reasons. One of the most critical is the limited supply of the base-element from which the twin sets of negative matter Gates are created and the even scarcer reserves of Teo used in the TeoXtian powers centers. Every Gate added to the system increases the entire distribution quotient of Teo needed.

On the other hand, removing a Gateway after a long stationary period of usage is actually quite dangerous due to the anomalous effects a hastily, "re-posited Gateway" exhibits. If the calculations which govern movement are wrong, because the Gates themselves are out of phase alignment, or showing time ripple fluctuations, spaceships will pass the exit points by substantial distances of time itself, and often without the ability to return from where they originated. Therefore, all movements through the Gates are strictly governed by Law to keep the foolhardy from ending up in time-streams they do not belong. If the Dark Ones do manage to gain entrance into the Benevhio Gate net, the entire system as it now stands, will have to be permanently shut down.

This is what the Celestial High Command had feared (only for the wrong reasons he had long since surmised), but ignored (the Hunters gave them too much confidence) and now that it was a real possibility, they too had no contingency plan to effectively counter the Dark Ones offensive.

A Celestial error was to be exploited for the enemies true gain. The truth to him seemed to be that the Dark Ones in all probability didn't need the Celestial Gates for distant movement. The Andovi just wanted the Gates to be rendered less effective thereby, hampering Celestial movements. And this is what he was striving to prevent and the Council by its bellicose conservativeness actually allowed.

If the Ti Dzu and Celestials contingents were forced into bottlenecks in a few crucial places the Dark Ones, would quickly pinch the flow of goods between worlds and bases; everything from food and technical supplies, to tactical reinforcements would be curtailed or stopped altogether. The darker question the High Council still refused to ask was the following: where would the ships "go" if the Gates were re-directed, but showed no visible signs of tampering?

The High Council was taking a dangerous risk to the wrong end of the argument by ignoring their own damn evidence. The Celestial High Command was going to be hard pressed to "right" the outcome of this iteration of the time-shift war.

These Dark Ones had to believe they were winning the war, but not in truth.

The feedback loop had to support the illusion; the promenade by which the fantasy was being carried out as the Celestials guided it to finality. Their enemies had to destroy themselves. The reasons for this were quite simple in logical terms, but not as easy to understand when the rules of "Time" were bent to satisfy the needed outcome. So long as the Celestials won major conflicts the Dark Ones lost their spacefleets, but because the Dark Ones were looking ahead to see if they gained or lost advantage; they used these defeats handed out by the High Command as lessons for future wins in their favor. The loop was to be kept open only so long as it led them to a point of no return. A blind future where they no longer existed at all period. And no matter how many times they went back into the past that future called "nothingness" was to follow them.

This strategy kept the Celestial Directives on a very thin line. A mean walk along the edge of indisputable finality. To compromise that purpose for any reason was from his view unthinkable. This was the key reason why only a few Celestial Guardians, at any given point in time actually entered the battle and why they the CDG's, used only the fewest number of Hunters in battle. Less was more in a time war--- was the motto he enforced at every turn. Those that disagreed were sent home. Which of course only added more heat to the fire back on Auintopia, where the High Council was currently stationed. As those among the High Command, (who had been dismissed for failing to understand this rule) formed their committees and brought their suits against him, brandishing their anger like swords, rattling off their displeasure’s, ire’s, and hurting prides the sheer force of their demands often kept the High Council in near chaos. Only he didn't have time or patience to go back and settle every misbegotten tirade against him. He had deeper worries of a far greater consequence.

A deeper secret, which might also now be in jeopardy of exposure if the council went ahead with their plan----of firing him from his post outright, was that every TiXqoi class moon base was also a high-powered Antionn field nullifier. Like a ticking time bomb a seemingly dead base would come back to life, just when the enemy thought them to be safely under their control. But in the greater plan the Andovi, had to spring the entire net not just a few parts. A show of force at the wrong time would reveal this truth and would stop the enemy from taking the final step. Without his control that function would be used without considering future consequence.

The fatal bait was to be the joined systems. Only one of those systems wasn't real.

As the Andovi believed so did the Dark Ones. They both believed that the secret of the Celestial origination (and thus the path into the Higher Realms) was hidden in the greater ten-thousand-world joined-system. And in every previous "Time encounter" the enemy had come close to the decoy joined-system the Celestials had unleashed maximum force retribution. Both enemies had to fight an uphill battle to regain what was lost in regards to that goal. An effective gambit to enforce their impending sense of victory. This was his strategy to ensure that both enemies would be acting in force, because they expected victory to be gained in that manner. Therefore, this attack was proving he was right. The Dark Ones, undoubtedly had looked ahead and feeling confident they had finally gained the upper hand were now boldly netscaping across time. And soon if all went as he planned the Andovi would follow them right into the trap.

He had presented all of the evidence, which had been gathered. Showing no maturity or appreciation of subtle defensive stratagems, the High Council had disagreed with his conclusions. Sometimes honesty can be so damningly blind. Their pious mistake was threatening everything, which he had done to trap the enemy. First of all, they simply hated the very idea he was ignoring the High Commands shrill call to massive shows of force. Secondly, using the joined system and its people as lures to catch the bigger fish. And most of all, using the strategy of defeat to puff up the Dark Ones, thereby committing them into ever-bolder moves. Simple psychology was all that was required to defeat the Dark Ones, but the illusion of their own success had to be sufficient for their own satisfaction. Not surprisingly, letting the enemy win was never a sound proposition to the High Command. Losing confrontations with the enemy made them look bad. The command seniors and council leaders wanted to look good. But that wasn't the problem which needed to be solved. In a time war of this magnitude looking good was a definite drawback.

However, their decision had robbed him of maneuvering room. Now he had no choice, but to take more serious actions. Bold unpredictable risks, which involved the true joined system on a deeper, scale. The coalition of planetary systems was divided into three parts for reasons of internal, as well as, external security. Currently only the first and third division were open both within and to the worlds outside, in order for the people fleeing the Betrui systems to have a safe haven. The second [paradox] division was a place of genuine concern. That system was in deep, serious trouble for unrelated reasons. Another major problem which had to be dealt with and soon.

The Elder Oktovatien, who had been pacing around the empty command center as he hammered out his thoughts, ideas and general summarization’s stopped for a moment to clear his head. Despite his authority he had never been to this specific TiXqoi base (for the purpose of enemy confusion all bases were called TiXqoi) until the current crisis demanded his personal attention.

This command center served as the nexus for all other functions of the Moon Base. Looking around he was impressed. Divided into twelve sections, of three open tiers on an outward vertical axis the oblong center layout was quite expansive. All of the facilities technical equipment was well designed ergonomically, with each section designated to specific functions. The interior sections were illuminated by ten; large tri-pod shaped natural lighting dispensers. Each of the ornate gold ends held twenty-five individual strands of crystals in the form of snowflakes. These cycle controlled crystals lights were anchored high above him, in the domed, multi-colored rhombus tiled ceiling.

Where there was space along the clean white and gold trimmed walls there were an array of impressive artworks of various styles, depicting a multitude of colorful scenes from the many worlds. The floors in each section were thickly carpeted in dark-blues around the outer sections and lighter-blues around the grand circles, which contained the emblems of the Ti Dzu and Celestial confederation. There were no sounds except for the constant hums of the air-cycliers. It was a rare kind of silence. The kind of somber silence which preceded destruction.

He went into what was called the Jardi bridge section. Here was where the main action would be played out as Hunters were directed into battle. Coordinates from the spectrum analysis were updated and displayed across the screens as the Andovi moved in true space. And always knowing a Hunter was soon to follow, the Andovi never stayed in one time frame location for very long. Tracking them in constant real time was a real effort.

Across the entire forward wall were the twelve, multiple-purpose view-screens, with elaborate white-pearl and gold scenic panels between them. The slightly concave dizqoi-screens starting from the floor rose up thirty sm's (standard measures) to the top and were twenty sm's wide. Hunters were capable of sending images through the K-time Bands to these screens allowing the operations crew to engage in real time observational analysis. The Celestial High Command had to be very careful in these games of hide and seek. This war was not unlike a diabolical chess game being played on a multi-leveled board of past---present---future---potentials. And all of the moves the Andovi made were cunning in their intent. But second-guessing was not to be confused with gut hunches. A highly trained TiXqoi crew followed their intuition, not just what was derived from the scientific data alone.

Continuing around the center in a counter-clock wise movement the Elder took notes about what he thought might be used in other facilities which were not up to this bases standards. Along the right-side of the second tier facing forward were the control stations; nearly five-hundred in all each with their own complete diadictum-systems. On the opposite side of the second tier the center was broken into a multiple-leveled series of data-operation centers and private meeting rooms. Further down and up through a long, grand hallway was a larger general-purpose auditorium. Beneath the first floor in the secured vault was the Omnieint library, whose modules had been completely transferred to the main Celestial outpost.

During normal operations this command center had pulsed with activity as the fifteen hundred or so station personal attended to their functions and responsibilities according to nucleus rank. A cooperative purpose which kept this base running at a very high level of demanding vigilance. The Ti Dzu who had been here had accomplished their goals and were to be commended.

In many respects the Ti Dzu were not involved in this "current" time war to the degree they had once been. A decision he had made early on in his command and enforced often to the point of seeming over-bearing. The reason for this was simple: they were too close to the edge already.

Long before the current wave of "Celestials" had ventured into the second Cosmi, the Ti Dzu had lost a sizable amount of their people in the battle with the Andovi they termed afterwards as Auoraminchtrien: The Black Death. A third of their galactic system had incomprehensibly, abruptly vanished into null-time never to be seen again. As a race of gentle, peaceful people the Ti Dzu had barely recovered from this tremendous loss of life. The remaining worlds were left in disarray. Those who lived upon them had been significantly reduced in numbers. The survivors were living in terrifying conditions; never knowing what terror was going to happen next. Even with the aid of his kind, the recovery was slow and painful. Several generations later many Ti Dizzy still strongly believed the lost people of those worlds had been imprisoned in Oqutra-time-wells, of suspended animation, somewhere in the first Cosmi. A logical assumption based on the evidence found on huge artificial moons modified to serve as prison bases, which the Celestials had found and destroyed.

The real mystery had been who had planned to use the enslaved Ti Dzu and for what reason. It was not the Andovi acting alone as many still wrongfully assumed. The Dark Ones had yet to appear in the time stream. That left an unknown participant, which he had pursued, but had not yet found. The Celestials did not discourage hope in answering those ancient questions, but they could not find the impossible either without some type of firm evidence.

However, the damage had been done and history had been punched full of holes of which none could repair. Now that the Ti Dzu were once more in the line of attack, all of those past fears had re-surfaced; and from that well-spring of bitter emotion had come an even stronger anger. Anger which drove them towards the battle, but often without consideration of personal safety. Reckless abandonment was not as effective as cool-headed, organized, lethal retribution.

The Elder Oktovatien rapped his knuckles out of habit on a table top, as if by doing so he could force himself to make the decision he had been dreading: Would he be able to fake his death well enough to fool his own people? Celestials of his order did not die easily and faking death was so dishonorable.... But did he have a choice: No. What had to be done was to be done.

"Which is why I see no other way to solve this current crisis," stated the Elder Oktovatien, actually more to himself then to D' Laga, who turned away from the big screens giving the Elder his full attention. "I am going to break the Law D' Laga," he said firmly. "My (he stressed this word with great anguish) Kertesian Time-line will be re-cast, and in my defeat; I will prevent the greater evil." He looked across the table at D' Laga, who judging by his expression, was quite shaken by his unexpected statement.

The surprise on the Ti Dzu leaders' face was soon replaced by one of bafflement as the Elder Oktovatien turned away and slowly walked back to the main operations table.

To D' Laga, this statement was expressed as if the Elder had simply announced what it was he wanted for lunch. He watched in silence as the Elder went back to his workstation and with practiced efficiency began sorting through the thick stacks of summed security file logs. The security logs had been generated to confirm the entire operational data set had been thoroughly transferred. In truth, all of the most intrinsically important components had been removed prior to this attack. Nothing was ever really left to chance alone. The inner core was a separate system altogether. Silent in purpose it would wait. He then went into the Jardi command section.

The four center screens were displaying a highly organized picture of all operations related to the Dark Ones attack. Standing there bathed in their glow D' Laga was finding it quite difficult to fully concentrate on the critical functions he had come here to test, observe and record first-hand. Instead, he was still studying the Elder Oktovatien, whose momentous words continued ringing in his ears. Admitting defeat was not of or in the character of the Elder he knew and respected.

A series of sharp tones caused him to re-focus on his own tasks.

The command interpreter told him it was time to deploy the satellite. Along with the satellite activation control/launch module set up before him on the plotting desk, were a number of technical data recorders. D' Laga also carried a Dai-saun (engineering) Seeker to record the encrypted telemetry data-streams. All of these records would be vital to the Ti Dzu scientists who designed the prototype satellite.

He methodically went through the launch procedures.

On the "go" signal the satellite dropped out of the K-time line, powered up its emg pulse-drives and smoothly reached orbital velocity along the correct nav-guide. D' Laga then entered the command codes to start up the recon-modules. This model was designed to take high-resolution snap-scans, which were essentially spectromic holograms, and then transmit the encoded information in, real-time through the Benevhio Gates. These snap-scan readouts were to be crucial in determining the technical specifications of the Dark Ones newest spacecraft.

Because these satellites were to be primarily used in forthcoming battle conditions, this model had a new type of self-defense weapons module. D' Laga began the next alpha-test sequence, waited for the return code, and then entered the encrypted, command, which armed the satellite.

The satellite function test readout scrolled down the number four screen before him.

The satellite was moving in a fast arc towards its first position. The recon-modules began sending data both to the Seeker and through the Gates. Another set of automated control functions were tested as D' Laga continued checking critical weapons systems.

Everything was operating, as specifications had required.

Satisfied the delta-shaped, one hundred and twenty-six-meter satellite was ready for battle, he entered the encryption codes for the automatic system controls module to take over. When targeted the satellite was designed to radiate multiple-return pulse beams, using K-time frequencies to pinpoint all objects of the same T-time values. Like the Hunters, upon whom the weapons modules were based, all hostile tracked objects were time framed. When an enemy target moved in t-time the time arcs appeared as three referenced points {pre-now-after} of specific movement on the K-time line.

On the number five screen a warning alarm sounded. Trackers focused in on a Kansabrine-11, which fired on the satellite, still moving along its trajectory. The pre-point was already established. The mid-point was confirmed and on the third point the Kansabrine-11 vanished without a trace. Three more K-11's fired in unison. The satellite was pre-firing on them using a time factor, which made the return pulse beams come from the past and future. An entire squadron of the so called Star-devils were lit up in double beams of spiral waves and vanished before the original beams they fired even reached the satellites first position.

For those aboard those spacecraft there would be no more manipulation of time.

The satellite had proved its capabilities.

He entered the E-codes and sent the satellite back into the K-time line. The enemy would encounter them again in great numbers. Giving away advancement served no greater purpose. He set the Seekers PCM {path control module} on auto-track. He went to work returning the equipment back to the transfer cases. The Seeker followed behind him as he walked back around to the left side of the operations deck, pushing the wheeled casings. When he was finished with the packing and moving of the satellite equipment D' Laga refocused his attention on the Elder.

The Elder Oktovatien was a Celestial of great strength and towering size nearly twice his own height. His deep brown skin contrasted with the crisp, titanium white and sun-gold formal uniform, with its distinctive hologrammic insignia, of the Celestial order of the Ninth Cosmia, across the right-side of his chest. He wore a large medallion of eight perfectly cut StarStones, set in an octagon pattern, which hung from a double-corded Rystone chain from around his neck. He also wore the heavy, multi-jeweled Aperic wristbands, which were used to manipulate the sophisticated technical devices befitting a Celestial of his position. His was a noble face, which time had weathered, but had not defeated; whose lines gave forth a countenance which was both of great authority and virtue. In all the time he had personally known the Elder Celestial, he had never seen that face so troubled. Judging by his gritted jaws, the Elder was bound up in a decision he did not want to make.

D' Laga continued looking deep into the character of that face for a hint that he was not really contemplating, much less ready to make such a decision of personal finality. Such was the power of his gaze; the Elders azure-blue eyes held a person in their grasp, seized until let go. He was patiently waiting for those eyes to turn towards him and in that moment reveal why the Elder was so critically turned inward. D' Laga knew him too well to be fooled so easily.

And so D' Laga was thinking. What was the Elder Oktovatien actually planning?

Waiting far a pause in that silent intensity, in a tone of voice he knew betrayed his deeper concerns, he asked:

"Will this mean all your exponiated-time is to be expunged from the very beginning?" If the Elder did what he said none would remember ever having known him. He waited but the Elder did not reply. His face seemed to have turned to granite. The shock of white hair ringing around his head may as well as been clouds gathering into a storm. As the dez points went by and hardened into kips, and having received no answer D' Laga slowly turned away. He walked up to and around the third level deck and continued down the stairs into the forward, second-level section. He went over to the Ichien grand board, which was centered in the middle of the room. He was deeply troubled by this pragmatic admission of defeat, but out of respect for the Elder Oktovatien, he would ask no more questions on that specific subject.

Instead, he concentrated on the Onadizeo symbolics.

The Onadizeo symbolics were high-resolution pictogrammic images produced by Odizqui crystals embedded into the surface of the Ichien grand board. The bright, intricate symbols, which floated in a three-dimensional sequence from vertical high to horizontal low just beneath the clear blue surface, were both mathematical in nature, as well as, richly interpretive of language meaning and in perceptive, expressive content. The Onadizeo symbolics were an intregal factor in the operations of the great houses called Ottromurtens. Houses of Fates which served as the foundations of the illustrious design, which kept all the people of the many joined systems bound together in a dynamic equilibrium. A higher order equilibrium where the strong were balanced against the strong not the weak. The lesser were given parity with those like themselves, but the advancements made by one were advancements for all.

In this manner the whole became greater then the sum of its many parts.

The Onadizeo characters themselves were derived in part from the vast input of diverse information, which constantly flowed from all the joined worlds in an ordered manner into all Houses. A multitude of current events combined with a wide range of complex data streams were quickly melded into previous orders of Supra-order knowledge sets. The results of all the set orders, of the required relationships, were then summed into higher, resolved orders of truth-sets. Ambiguities and contradictions were treated as conflicts requiring action or non-action according to the greater balance. A tight nucleus based orientation of truth sets produced the highest resolution. A high number of nucleus relationships in a given output or cast was considered a significant Fate. A low number of nucleus relationships were considered a subjective fate. Such subjective fates were quite open to change, but were not always considered insignificant further down the time-line. Their importance was considered as that which is yet to come.

When orders of significant Fates had harmonious relationships to each other a Destiny was foretold and written. Poorly schooled Ashenti often mistook this idea to mean all Fates written (good or bad) never changed, but this was not the deeper meaning. The placement of the Onadizeo characters in relation to themselves and to the fields of the Qantau-chien was equal in importance as the Fate itself. The higher skilled Ashenti knew the Qantau-chien represented the diverse, upper and lower grand landscapes that all the living people existed upon; much more so then worlds alone described. These relationships were meant to be understood both in physical and spiritual terms for all those involved. Fates, which lacked this connection, were less comprehensive then those which combined both. These semi-orders were called hidden Fates. He had cast such a Fate, early in the morning. The Onadizeo symbols, which he took to mean "of a hidden element" was telling him an unknown tangent, had to be discovered and illuminated.

He reached out with his right hand and picked up the Atochien-cubes.

These were the Diviners Sacred-Stones which when held in the hands of the deriver; imparted to the Ichien grand board its holders deepest will. This was the final aspect of the Onadizeo meanings. Upon them after a fate was cast were numerical symbols. The higher these expontia reference symbols rose the greater the Fate and its attendant powers, which were manifested over time. On the main readout screen, along with his own, were also the results of the Fate cast by the Elder Octovatien. The orders cast had been quite high and the meanings were bold, unmistakable. The crisis was explicit in its degree of truth. There was to be vast changes for all. Changes which apparently, all but demanded a certain measure of defeat. But why did the Elder believe he needed to sacrifice his very own life? Before D' Laga was a secret. And he was determined to discover that thread of hidden meaning.

"Yes," finally replied the Elder Oktovatien, as if the question D' Laga had asked had hung in the air waiting to be answered. He was walking towards D' Laga from the opposite side of the Ichien grand board. He reached the enclosure wall, which was half his height, leaning down on his elbows. His usually commanding baritone voice was barely audible as he added, "But not to the degree you might have been led to believe. I will say no more on that subject."

The Elder glanced up from the clear blue surface of the board for a moment back to D' Laga, whose clear gray eyes did not judge him harshly.

For that he was thankful.

He felt D' Laga of all the leaders he had known was by far the most capable of them all. The Ti Dzu leader was not as big as those of his race tended to be, but what he lacked in physical stature he made up in pure, undeniable courage. He was an articulate speaker of quick wits, and calm demeanor, who could be counted on completely in the very worst of situations. He led his men well and without losing the higher perspective: never becomes the enemy’s silent friend. Many a leader having found the easy solution (was also the most satisfying), never questioned their own foul actions on the battlefield. Giving in to those darker impulses was the first step towards becoming the equal of the enemy. In every instance, D' Laga and those he led forthrightly demonstrated that crucial difference of conscience. They never took a life, which might be saved. When a battle was over they placed the warriors' cloth back into its protective chest.

When D' Laga arrived he was wearing the customary dress of his kind of light brown trousers, a heavy over shirt, short sleeved, long in the front, emblazoned with colorful symbols, decorations and patterns; whose meanings reached deep into the fiber of his people and their long diverse history. Today he was dressed in much the same to the uncritical eye, but the symbols were different and of a more subtle quality. He was visually wearing the hope his kind needed for a return to saner times. This was a strong factor in their belief systems. If you wanted something to happen, even if it was something as intangible as peace often was to those caught up in a war, wear your truth. The Ti Dzu believed if the eyes of those that gazed upon you, if uplifted, just might find the strength to join your cause. The nucleus effect.

That was how he had first met D' Laga. He had been invited to a nucleus meeting of their guiding Elders on the world of Triccia, in the city of lakes called Panticeus. A breathtaking vista to renew a weary spirit. A venerated place nestled along a lush garden parkland, watered by vernal springs which flowed outward into a crystal clear lake, ringed by sculpted mountains. The air was enchanted with exotic plant life and towering conifers, up to the waters edge. There in an Orbrieu House, thousands had gathered to hear a young champion of virtue carefully articulate what was needed to keep the recent invaders out of the greater system. He like so many others had been quite impressed by the confidence displayed by the young command leader to be and the knowledge he had mastered of the Dark Ones strategies. The plans he had outlined that evening had been instrumental in driving the Dark Ones out of the vulnerable systems under Ti Dzu authority. On that night his people had chosen a wise man to lead them.

Now D' Laga was of middle age, but still had thick, dark-black hair over most of his head, pulled back tight in the style favored by the men of his rank. His features were that of a man who had seen a great deal of suffering, from that night to the present; and had been deeply effected by all the pain he had witnessed. His was a face whose expressions conveyed deep compassion and trust. He would not couch truths in lesser cloth to this brave man about his concerns of the present or what he felt was soon to happen in the near future.

"As you well understand D' Laga," began the Elder Oktovatien, keeping a semi-watch on the middle-screen above and to the right of them both showing the current status of the attack, "the Dark Ones have no regard for any life-forms in linear-time; not even their own. The reason being, as the Ti Dzu suspect, these Dark Ones having already crossed that thresh-hold of life to death and apparently back once more, have long since forgotten what it actually means to be alive."

"Quite a telling insight into their notorious manner of existence, " affirmed D' Laga looking up from the diagnostics screen, which was on his left. "The Ti Dzu people know the Dark Ones, who are nothing more then the parasites of the Andovi themselves, are indeed something of an unnatural existence. We have seen their Regents in action as well. Foul mouthed tempests who feel quite pleased in treating their own kind no better then their own worst enemies. Our people have a saying, ' who can tell the living from the dead among them? '"

D' Laga played with the cubes of pearl white in his hands. "The rumors I have heard over the course of the last enkina are getting worse, but I will not entertain falsehoods in my own ranks. The danger is too great for mistakes, when the eyes are clouded by rage." He carefully placed the cubes back onto the aiv holder. "We cannot allow our collective house to burn from within." D' Laga pointed with his left hand to the Ichien grand board. "The symbol of Donotrous, the fire breather, is sitting atop the symbol of the Steeple House. But it is not ours; it is the house of the Dark Ones and their people."

"And the meaning is explicit D' Laga," said the Elder nodding in agreement. "These symbols tell us what our own perceivence has already hinted at in our deeper spiritual landscapes. Read in para-scripture form it says of them:

"The Imperial House will fall when the social foundation is not up to the task. Their House of fortunes was cast in lies. A Heroes ears shall burn in full. For these people Mercy has no name."

"My personal interpretation is they have an inner, adversarial weakness. A rift that is to be exploited in their establishments of authority which is in itself a top down, brow-beating regimentation. All of their hierarchies are based on priority-rank divisions to handle every task required to the utmost redundant level. These Dark Ones need a grand signoff, for a subordinate to blow ones nose and the Regents need an official disposition to confirm it was done. Theirs is a redundant, military system of order gone to rot."

"And on top of that rot," said D' Laga, making a closed left fist, then a cutting motion with his fingers, "is blind cell divisionism snipping every truth, choice and decision into a never ending ring of secrets. The Regents sworn to secrecy, can trust no one, not even their wives with whom they must occasionally share their gold lined beds. Secrets which require even bigger secrets require ever larger security echelons. I have seen remarkable counter-espionage reports obtained from desperate moles, whose key security positions had been deemed no longer desirable. Moles who were about to die because they knew too much about the wrong enemy. Their own leaders. From what I learned it was a clear case of spies on top of spies, wagging their tongues in codes, like so many frogs in a pond, trying to screw all at once by words alone."

"Yes, a lip-serving social order based on graduated levels of secrets and those that keep them. In the end the application of force to ensure those secrets becomes the secret itself."

"But why this particular course of development?"

"Because the hyper-grandiostic life-styles for those who seize by force the upper levels of a global society, always outpaces to the extreme those who suddenly find themselves on the bottom. The very purpose of the secret order is too hide the wealth gained by deceit. Those in power need the cover provided by dark secrets. Secrets enforced at all costs as the only means to allow, or to keep their facades well protected from those they have essentially, as you have termed---screwed out of rightful progress. And I would say by the formation of laws, they impose at every turn, their vested power is based on governing wealth by subversive application."

"The power of Laws designed to enforce cultural subversion to the elite. A very secret Elite." Added D' Laga scowling. The People of his world did not use a monetary measure as a basis of value measure to be applied to every Living thing.

"Mmm yes, meanwhile, the gaps of the social orders grow uncontested; as the perpetual wealth of the few buys up the rest. Then these stratified economic divisions become permanent. When the bottom rungs cease to be of any importance in the bloated schemes of those above; the tiers of the impoverished classes eventually collapse, more often than not, violently taking with them the remaining supporting social structures. Structures which once functioned in their favor. All of this destruction leaves the general society raped of economic stability and in social, emotional chaos."

"In other words ripe for plucking, by hidden hands."

"I believe the Dark Ones, by way of their Regents, have indeed overtaken the top positions of authority by exploiting the economic chaos in their own stultified, social orders. Having done this successfully they intend to expand this program to the worlds they now seek to overthrow. Divide and conquer----within and without----that is their motto."

"Among many others which fully promotes a self-worshipping, we are the greatest, grandest most powerful type of living beings leading to an enforced demented life-style. All of it driven by military force, ill-gotten wealth and a propaganda order which creates an illusion of Godhood bloated beyond stratospheric proportions. Heavy lies to crush truths like so many cevkoes dainty fingers. The torture of the Spirit as a method of enslavement. It is a goal that serves as the foundation for the perverse fantasy that the Dark Ones will be soon be parading about like they owned the stars themselves." D' Laga, whose contempt was palatable, added, "We know the Andovi are phantom creatures of the fathomless deep, but these Dark Ones, and those that follow them are just carnivorous ghouls."

"However, even blood-thirsty outlaws have limits D' Laga. And it is our job to find that limit." The Elder led D' Laga away from the Ichien grand board and over to the tactical operations section.

"Perhaps, the answer we seek," said D' Laga, pointing to the star charts before them on the table, "and the secret to the Dark Ones origination is to be found here in these systems marked in red. All of these patterns exhibit movements of economic wealth not just military strength. Before coming here, my entire intelligence staff assembled a thick collection of military and economic supply routes. Included in these reports were the indexed summaries of the artifacts the Regents were shipping and receiving. Everything was arranged into orders of importance as they pertained to the military advancements of the Dark Ones armies into and out of the first Cosmi into our own. There is a significant movement going on between several key solar systems known to have very high population counts. Every successive base needs to have a consolidated supply line and these worlds (pointing to the encircled worlds on the star charts) are the foundations for those explorative bases now becoming operational in our own Cosmi. We have been determined to find something which will yield that crucial clue, a spark to illuminate the solution yet to be discovered."

"Which is?"

"Number one where do you spend the wealth you steal from others or better yet; where do you go to demonstrate your power of wealth has no match where knowledge of Life itself was once the instrument of superior force? A world where the Seroz and Yiburu failed, but the Dark Ones triumphed? What good is wealth when you’re a Regent-spawn if there is no social order to show off your ever-growing greatness? These worlds in blue are our best guesses as to where the Regents are busy building their regal kingdoms. The Dark Ones, however, are not so easy to analyze. Question number two is: where is the home or original world of these nefarious Dark Ones?"

"I do not know D' Laga. My question is: who were the Dark Ones originally as a life form."

"A question of who, not just where?"

"The Dark Ones, and their as you say, carnivorous armies, have a morbid, disturbing fascination with Death. An extreme, blatant, apoxial level of violent behavior they pursue in maniacal, fetish obsession in every aspect of their petty existence. That is the defining clue as to how they became what they are now. However, look at who they keep as company?"

"The very naming of themselves "Dark Ones" as a badge of distinction among Indotrions. They seem to be saying to each other, 'look what I have become' as if wearing the pride of evil on ones chest has made them something "special.""

"But only in their own social order."

"In your view then all of these quirks of foul temperance are but a sinister camouflage woven from an irritable thread leading back into the past. A past they share with their Indotrions slaves?"

"Or perhaps from the future D' Laga. Consider that the guilty need a hiding place they can safely bury the dark secrets of an evil nature. To conceal in the recesses of astralline memory the very core of the unpleasant does require quite fortitude of upper temperament. However, without the inner strength of the Spirit, as a force of upper awareness, the conscious begins to shrivel up into a tiny, dried out, useless quiver of its former robust glory. When the Spirit of the Life is gone from the conscious, as an expression of perceivance, it is replaced by all of these ritualistic, sadistic habits of an unhealthy, unconscious mind. Character weaknesses are triumphantly displayed as outer competitional motivations, which of course, are safely interwoven within the cultural pursuits of those who desire deadly recreations. All within a course of destruction to be further exacerbated by the impartial manner by which the self views its actions. After all the mind can only know "reality" by way of biological reference. A gap between the spirit and the physical mind may as well be the distance between a star and its planets. What is reality to those who can only see the fabric of its illusion? The Dark Ones exploit the unconscious behavior of their followers. They manipulate the fears of the many by making those unconscious "dark" memories real, but by their foul manner. The manipulation of time."

"The fantasy of living but one time, but only as an excuse not to remember, or acknowledge what has gone before. An interesting perspective. It would follow that entire societies whose compelling fears of death hides unpleasant truths on a deeper level become the exploited. The Dark Ones then use these potent astralline perceptions for whatever it is they want. For them there is no consideration of actual consequence because they no longer care what is and what isn't real. As for the living people reality becomes a show of games. A collective acting out of habits, customs and rituals. So whoever has a more glorified life style, or a higher status---by logic of the one time life model---they the Regents must be the "right" choice to follow. A pattern which soon merges with religious objectification of greater existence. A means becomes an end. The purposeful withholding of Knowledge becomes a religion in itself and is enforced with genocide of those who displease their masters."

"Yes, a delusion of grandeur based on ritualistic blood-shed to achieve the religious glory."

"As if the path to the Holy is to be paved in bonesblood."

"These Dark Ones and their kind truly live a remarkable lie D' Laga; and we cannot understand them personally, because we cannot comprehend how murder is ever Holy."

"So how can all of these Indotrions be so blind as to the value of Life itself?"

"Because a dissatisfaction with normal environment, an impatience with the natural rhythmic cadence of life’s ecological consistency; always leads to its very devaluement. The blade of false progress in a corrupted society always becomes more valuable then the hands which refuse to carry its dead weight."

"So the Dark Ones must be from a world which has long since abandoned natural existence."

"True, for them to be what they are there can be no true cooperation with the Spirit of the Life. However D' Laga, that doesn't mean all of the Indotrions who are upon their conquered worlds have lost the deeper connection. Those people are the ones who need our help."

"Even if we could help them, what is left for these people, but a futile grasping of life’s shadow. A wisp of nostalgia in a mechanical derivation of what was once a living world. As a way of living it is still quite artificial. More so then what we can sustain or tolerate for any length of time."

"These people under the Dark Ones are in fact living quite abstractly what was once a fluid life. The "enlightened" social orders under the Regents demand nature to be "good" for them. Killing off nature becomes an impartial distraction to the real goal of professional conquest. Itself a self-indulgent game of advancement thereby filling the growing void left behind when true purpose flees to higher moral ground. Teaching them how to regain that lost perception will be difficult."

"Eventually giving way to a generous feeling of contempt for those not enthralled with a mechanistic life, or those that demand "real" progress is to be machined controlled for their benefit."

"A life of clock-governed time versus natural rhythmic cadence, which they believe is to be measured in paltry terms, compared to the glorified mechanistic virtues those in power need to keep control. They live under a system where the very measure of time, is substituted for a value, which is rendered to be a power in coin alone. The Regents control this power of time as coin."

"Then these Dark Ones, need to believe they have total domination over life, but in fact they can only live in its absence. Are these Regents who serve them artificial Beings, like the biotrons?"

"Perhaps, they have become only "artificial" in the tactical sense, having been used as such they will be disposed of just the same. The Regents themselves have done this to those that serve them many times already."

"Like the empty vessels they have become, so reads the Fates, so shall they be forgotten."

D' Laga was staring outwards as scenes played before his eyes. Scenes of people being exterminated because they had no cause to live.

"However, regardless of where the Dark Ones are originally from D' Laga, or how they came to be what they are now, our moral objectives are compromised. Such as it is I find no amusement in any of this "condition of war" as I am sure your people have well understood. War is the playground of the damned, the Boi-aki, and these people from these systems which are living by those rules, are going to die from them."

"Merchants of Death in any language," replied D' Laga, knowing full well that the Elder was right. "There is no winning a compromised moral condition. Killing innocent people will cause us further grievance. Destruction will be limited to those who serve in the efforts of war." D' Laga smoothed out his long shirt. He gazed upwards at the screens which continued relaying information from above the surface. The Indotrions were a surly, servile bunch. Saving them would not be easy.

The Elder Oktovatien quickly searched the collection of records and assorted Kexprien databases, which had been summarized and compiled into highly organized sets. From a galaxy database, compiled by the Hunters under Ti Dzu direction, the Elder Oktovatien loaded then expanded key star maps into higher magnification.

"All the information of the past enkina from the Xercui system has led me to an indisputable conclusion: the Andovi, along with the Dark Ones are about to start another phase of the Xtau Bovki," said the Elder Oktovatien having summed in his will the force to make his unalterable decisions.

D' Laga was stunned by this revelation. So this was the deeper reason for bringing him here. He bitterly asked, "Where and how did these Dark Ones acquire the knowledge to cause this level of destruction?"

"Yet another clue to their identity D' Laga. Grand scale manipulation of the fabric of space-time cones is limited to only a few races. None of those races have any connection to the Andovi or the Dark Ones. Of this we have checked with, I freely admit, often-ruthless precision. My presumption is this level of knowledge is the product of multiple advancement of many worlds brought under one single directive. Forced evolution along certain bio-paths to produce savants of another order." He would not say anything about the hidden player among the stars. "We know very little about the sub-colonies started in the first Cosmi by the Yiburu and their confederates.

"This is something the Seroz and Yiburu did once before here in the second Cosmi, but with limited success," said D' Laga still amazed so much critical information about the Yiburu peoples history was still unknown. "But to keep this kind of single minded social direction going is profoundly expensive."

"Which is undoubtedly the key reason for taking the wealth of other worlds by force."

"We can stop this kind of unethical advancement with strict rehabilitation protocols." remarked D' Laga as he pushed back from the wall. "However," he added in a flat toneless voice, "if the Xtau Bovki is unleashed, we are doomed."

"That D' Laga remains to be seen," strongly replied the Elder. He tried to sound confident; knowing D' Laga needed reassurance not all was lost. "This is why I am here. To help formulate an effective counter-action to this development. Look at what your own charts have indicated D' Laga. Now keep in mind what truths support this type of military expansion. The devious route to social power is in the enslavement of the many to causes, which are always golden on the surface, but in reality hide rotten surprises. Deadly surprises for those who become enthralled by "conquest" as a means to success.

"After a measure of time people having become quite proficient on the art of "looking the other way" when it comes to the bigger picture; never see their own death looming in the distance. They cannot believe they will be destroyed by their own "Authorities" even as they die. This current phase of military expansion has run its course. The worlds you have circled are the safe havens from those worlds on the brink of internal collapse. The Dark Ones and their Regents will be pushing their people to fanatical ends. And in turn the social orders will become increasingly strife driven. We need to strike at the strong and not the weak."

"This type of blind devotion to greater glory erodes all respect for the Law of Life Preservation: Survive together or perish alone. The weak will be destroyed by the strong among them." D' Laga chewed his lip and asked, "Will this Xtau Bovki be the same as before?"

"Not quite. Under Andovi direction within the fields; and using the Dark Ones vastly superior physics to control the process itself; the chaotic third member of our Xtau Vouna will punch violent; graviton inversion cones into our own. Significant amounts of mass from this Cosmi will be drawn into the cones, starting the greater chain reactions. Reverse reactions, which if allowed to exponiate, will obliterate entire galactic quadrants in our Cosmi."

"Meaning, stellar waves of unconstrained, anticharged matter will flow into our own?"

"I am afraid so D' Laga. If this does occur the result will create vast anti-matter voids in our stellar spaces which we will never cross again. To stop this destruction before it begins, will require all Hunters currently in a time-fold, defensive position."

"And these initiatives are hinged on taking the Betrui system?"

"Yes. But the Andovi need the high-energy particles given off from Borzdian stellar bodies found only in the Xercui system. That is the underlying reason why the Andovi are gathering there in force. They need those sources of energy to power up the Antionn fields; how this is done we do not understand just yet, but once this is accomplished, they will have the field energy levels required for opening and sustaining space/time frames of different continuums simultaneously."

"What Gate system will the Dark Ones attack first?"

"I would guess the Kixprin station will be the first to be hit after the Andovi begin the rudimentary tasks related to the space breach."

"A move which demonstrates the Dark Ones fully know they can stop the living people from escaping if the Gates are shut down or minimized?"

"Yes, I believe that is a fact they believe to be true in all cases."

D' Laga didn't need any elaboration to know these were paralyzing problems. Problems which vexed the Elder Oktovatien, who was once again silent in deep thought. He considered all that he knew as well. Stopping the Andovi in the Xercui system would require an increasing number of defensive positions. Positions in K-Time, which in turn would become binding forces on Celestial offensive movements in T-time. The Dark Ones to their advantage against the Celestials themselves might now effectively exploit the strategy the Celestials used against the Andovi.

Is this is why he would break the Law which prohibited Reinlifement, thought D' Laga turning away from the table. He picked up a report pretending to read it in silent concentration. He was thinking if the Elder, went into the K-time past, but only the one he had lived before--a slight technical change, where was he planning to go? A slight re-direction of events? A mere bruising of the Law? Would he become his own doubled-identity? No wonder the Celestial leader was so gripped in inner transfixion. He was planning to break the Law of Laws, among the Celestials.

The Ti Dzu were well aware of the fact that in the greater scope of the Celestial purpose all this was, all this would ever be in terms of Celestial interests, was an excursion into unknown domains of space-time. An exploration into the magnificent wonders of these space-time/mass-energy states. The Xtau Vouna and their separate Cosmi, were indeed amazing, unique in far reaching importance, as was their purpose to each other, but the Celestials could not allow any Andovi or Dark Ones into the Higher Realms.

The exploration of the three-fold Cosmos would come to an end and all those who could not be found would perish. Knowing those lives hung in the balance is what pushed the Celestials to ever greater effort. They were not the same as those who evolved from worlds alone and time was quite different for them, but no less important. The love of life meant something. This was the sacred promise all Celestials made and all swore to uphold and defend. That promise is what made them bearers of the Celestial Order. No matter what was to transpire that was not going to change.

The concern, which showed on his face, was clearly echoed in his voice as he forcefully stated:

"Then I believe the importance of this entire matter warrants another full force strike on all positions the Andovi have in the Antionn fields. We the Ti Dzu have given this idea previous thought, but only as an emergency consideration. As before we shall do again." And he was thinking how many lives were about to be forgotten this time. Above them both was the graphed time maps, which showed all of the information about the enemy’s time displacement activities.

D' Laga studied these graphs intently forming a series of ideas to support his proposition. Before him he brought into position the activation pad used to manipulate the screen information. The Ti Dzu leader with his left forefinger traced on the pad, the known paths and exit points currently in use by the Dark Ones spacefleets to emphasize his ideas as he explained:

"Here at this Antionn field conjunction," pointing to a time coordinate which was deep in the Andovi territory in Xercui, "the High Command can position the Hunters for a crushing blow to all of the spacefleets under the Dark Ones, when they enter our Cosmi. In concurrence with the strike against the Dark Ones, the chosen Ti Dzu, led by myself, will enter the Antionn fields within the specially modified Hunters. We have current node maps of the main pathways in the Antionn fields the Andovi use in these sectors (pointing to the pre-calculated positions) in our systems. We will then destroy from within its time-continuity. All Antionn field P-grooves into the Xercui system will be destroyed. As those node links are severed the Andovi will be re-trapped in the first Cosmi. To the greater good our lives will be given. The time breaches will not occur." For there was no returning once those links were gone.

"Is this not what the Fate cast has already proven?" Said D' Laga firmly.

The Elder Oktovatien did not need to answer for it was the truth.

He greatly respected D' Laga, and the Ti Dzu warriors whose willingness to do exactly what he planned, was indeed a partial aspect of the Fates they had cast. But he feared their enemies anticipated the diversion of strength for a different purpose.

And the key here was anticipates.

"However," calmly stated the Elder Oktovatien, knowing the Ti Dzu believed in a slight misconception of the truth of Celestial powers, "remember, the defining element of a "time movement" is its inherent type. Time travel is actually a glossed over, ambiguous term which describes only the smallest fraction of possible truths. Moving faster then the speed of light does not change your time signature, or increase the life span. This type of time progressive or time regressive movement only changes the degree of perceived difference. Distance is a measure both of relative speed and scale. A timed walk across the room is quite different from one, which exponentially expands "you" in the same measure of time to the size of a galaxy.

"Conversely a time scale movement is quite different from a time frame switch. The Dark Ones use time frame switching on a sophisticated level. However, because the enemy is originating in the distant past, of the first Cosmi, and is becoming determined in our frame of time, here in the second Cosmi, we might assume they know this "current" frame of time is the leading edge of this potential future. They do not know if they are in fact correct. This is main problem relating to a time frame switch."

D' Laga placed on the screen a ship. He replied, "Stars as an origination point of light give an illusion both of time and distance. To move to the leading edge of the star arc, you need to aim your ship at the progressive point. Your ship must move faster then the stars movement through space. In addition your ship must overcome the speed of space expansion itself. Even if your ship can move through relative space at the speed of light, without undergoing a phase change in mass to energy, when you arrive your relative clock will measure a dezco, while back home you have been gone for a beniki. Back home all that you knew is gone. Conversely on the world where your friends await, the star system you came from is regressive from their position. Time has crossed because light is a poor measure of non-relative scale distance. In an odd way light only tells us the briefest description of what is in current time as measured from our own centered viewpoint."

" Our Time state theory holds that the gravitation fields in a precise relationship with quantum lattices, from which all particles moving from a high-energy state into a low energy-state become determined, yield a singular origination. A time induction cone giving way to synergy. Change the four-fold lattice coordinates inside a time cone and you change the resulting "time-reality potential" of the field you occupy. The Xtereon-phase weapons are so destructive because they change the time field, regardless of the time cone origination, into the one they are extending from within the Antionn field. Which is why we call this type of phase change event a time-shift displacement. A new reality emerges and expands causing paradoxical convergence."

"But why can't we see these other time cone realities?"

"Because of the nature of physics. Light cannot be reflected or absorbed by elements existing in a different time/phase lattice, apart from the one from which that light itself originates as a force measure. With no detection possible from light origination or reflection in our spatial dimensions from these other "out of phase time cones" we only have a resulting illusion of empty inter-stellar space. In a higher set of dimensional coordinates each time-cone singularity fits in with every other in a near fractal manner. The reason being in an infinite series all potential iterations of that infinite order must be satisfied. Finding the beginning or ending of an infinite series is a waste of rhetoric in a fractal quantum order. Everything that can exist, does exist at the same time, but due to time/phase, quantum-lattice separation, each becomes its own space-time singularity."

"Why are we not zipping back into the past time frames to do to them what they do to us?"

"On a smaller finite scale every world is its own singularity. The arc between worlds in a solar system, because they share the time-cone of the star, has very small arcs of singularity. Arcs which are easily measured by the speed of light. Because all-star systems are in motion around the galactic core, they also share a galactic, time-cone singularity, but red shift at this scale of distance is no longer an accurate measure. Light is now a hindrance in solving time frame distance because initial energy states may not be the same. Systems losing energy will look farther away then those that are gaining energy regardless of true distance.

"Since separate galaxies do not share the same origination coordinates, the resulting difference between any three time-cones is a major arc of singularity. To move from one singularity to another, along this arc of the time-cone difference is called a Trans-shift. The real problem for all time travelers, in each of these examples, is to know what time frame have they emerged into, as well as, where and by what degree along this arc they have moved. Where do they gain an independent reference? How do they measure a frame switch?

"And of course the Andovi give the Dark Ones this reference?'

"Yes, the Antionn Field allows for time-frame trianglization between separate Cosmi in addition to galaxies and solar systems. With this information the need for precise space-time coordinates is then satisfied. A defined set of three-dimensional parameters which they can use for effective, higher plane fourth dimensional mapping. With these higher dimensional maps they use "shortcuts" along a parallel set of P-grooves. We call this parallel time-line movement continuum transvertification."

"You didn't answer my original question."

"I am giving you a firm foundation to see the answer to your own question."

"So the Dark Ones are using several different methods of time movement to reach their goals. And in doing so manipulate time like a wedge of clay to their purpose. Shouldn't there be natural barriers which prevent any past or future distortions?"

"From our point of reference this seems to be the case. To use an analogy: Time is a generous fellow which allows all to be in the same frame of continuity, whether one, or a thousand millions. Space is a selfish woman who will only give one set of coordinates to each giving rise to well ordered singularities. But energy, rising and falling in micro/macro amplitudes of scale, creates coherence and thus dominates them both. At the highest state of resolution there is a quantum phase transition. The time travelers try to skip over the transition states, which indeed act like walls. When we find such a time displacement we place a Hunter to defend those higher plane coordinates.

"And what this means for us D' Laga is that we can only place Hunters, in past-time streams for which they are specifically force-charged. Otherwise, they would meander across untold millions of time potentialities and consequent space-frames creating unwanted paradoxes. Time travel, as a rule is a poor substitute for genuine space exploration. When today and tomorrow, are identical twins, who can tell the difference, but those that have lived them?"

"Let me see if I am understanding this correctly. The Andovi technically, are not time travelers. They are moving across the fabric of the Universal order, searching for what they want to consume. Living worlds. However, the Dark Ones, who move through time like a shadow are directing their fleets to points of time where they have discovered a living period. From their point of view of P-time all of T-time is constrained. The inverse of what we know. Conditions much like a taut line. Any change in that time force-tension tells them "here is a place" we can exploit. A much different procedure then random, or even methodical space-time identification. So the Hunters, defend not only the time period we live in as best they can, but also the arc of time as determined by these higher dimensional maps. To block the high view, the Hunter raises a wall one set of dimensions higher yet---the K-time line. Is this what you are striving to explain?"

"Yes it is D' Laga and your grasp is well beyond what I have expected. So, considering that "time" travel is really about changing higher sets of coordinates between two arcs of dissimilar frames of space-time, what we strive to defend is the access to that higher set of coordinates."

"Then are the Andovi using the Dark Ones like dogs to sniff out time trails? Or are the Dark Ones just hitching a ride on the Antionn grooves, because the Andovi like ants mining time itself have become accustomed to their presence? Either way, the space breech on that scale will be our undoing. Going into the joined systems after we have been annihilated seems redundant."

"It is only if you fail to recognize a simple truth about our dark friends ambitions. They want to rule us one and all. They want to have by force what we have already accomplished. They are lazy and would rather take progress away from another race, then accomplish the same level of attainment on their own. The space breech is at best a short-term gain for the Andovi. In itself, it is also an effective means to keep our defenses busy, along with those attendant resources called Hunters, while the Dark Ones attempt another strike into the joined system."

"Which is what the Dark Ones anticipate. A full expression, if you will, of those resources."

"A good assumption since they do not know at this time, what those greater resources amount to in an all out battle and they cannot plot a future win on slim deductions. But they will have too because we will never give them that kind of certainty."

"Although, you stated the second division is a significant part of the decoy system which has been designed as pre-conceived trap."

"Yes, a decoy system we have intended all along as a means to an end. However, the council leaders demonstrating a profound lack of fibrous reason, decided not to place the Gates on emergency re-posit status."

"Why?"

"Because they believe the Hunters can protect the entire Gate System."

"Are you saying the Hunters cannot protect all of the Gates?"

"Yes, they can protect them, but the Dark Ones do not need the Gates. This diversion is only a means of tying up our offense/defensive movements. If they do enter a Gate into the link centers; in response we will shut the entire system down; which of course is more of our "time" wasted!"

"We have also heard unsubstantiated rumors the High Council also believes the time-breach is just a ploy?"

"The rumors are true, but the council members are wrong on all accounts."

"So why are the council leaders taking this position; if they know this information is indeed true?"

"Because sadly enough they are afraid of what they will lose. For them this war has become a question of misplaced pride. They know perfectly well the physics behind the Dark Ones latest weaponry proves they are fully intending to carry out the threat. This is a duel of one-up-man-ship to the final second and the High Council blinked!"

"Then those time-phased Xtereon-plasma weapons, blasting us from above, are really a means of testing the power generation levels needed for igniting the clouds of anti-matter which will flow through the space breech?"

"I think it is a part of the over-all testing phase---yes."

"Then they are going to use the expressed, exponential force of the positive mass to ignite a equal opposition force of anti-matter, only in a more directed application?"

"That is the general indication; which is why for the Council to ignore their own scientists and to ignore the field data is the height of ruinous folly. And if these problems; were all that was to be considered, my personal plans would be quite different. However, there is another aspect to this conflict, which even I do not know how to fully respond to in counter-measure. The critical aspect to our trap is that it has to be sprung from the outside coming in and not in reverse."

"Who can be a threat from inside the paradox division?"

The Elder Oktovatien stared hard into the view screen. He felt the need to explain the difficulties compounding his decisions; and hoped D' Laga would understand, he was not without hope as he explained, "Due to the unexpected appearance of those who are called the Xminocron proper, a race perhaps from one of the early periods of XiXi."

"The Hell world of Doubled-Identity!"

"Yes, I am afraid so."

D' Laga closed his eyes, shaking his head. "It is written in the ancient chronicles of Tia' Ghanty those of the Hell worlds were Immortal."

"And yet for all their power for good they became the darkest of the Dark. Yes, I read those writings as well, but the Xminocron proper, and those spoken of in the chronicles are not the Dark Ones we fight today "

"How can you be sure?"

"Because those who gained control of the Hell Worlds had to rely on substantial amounts of Teo-Ectatrea, a powerful derivative of pure Teo from the original source. In fact, the original term "En' Xtoes de Portia--- the Hell Worlds---" was a phrase based on the truth there was no "Teo" period. When the Ecto-vons i.e. Dark Lords power sources dried up they ceased to be---period."

"Is the entire joined system threatened by these Xminocron proper?"

The Elder Oktovatien searched through a thick file of galactic time maps and world time-frame junction points in the joined system picking out those, which he thought, might be useful. Then he found the one, which had the world of IaXiean in its last reported configuration. A graphed map showing the time positions, used to designate the joined worlds under Xminocron proper control in relation to IaXiean, flickered to life above the work table as a projected, full motion hologrammic.

"Not at this time. Only the separate second division is in serious trouble. And it is becoming increasingly unstable; as was confirmed by the last time field propagation measures, which are taken a cyclical basis by the Akarien."

"What are the reasons for these fluctuations?"

"We don't know the exact cause. All we do know is that these time field fluctuations in the surrounding region Kau-Spura are becoming more violent. As a result of these field anomalies huge, random bursts of gamma radiation, often beyond the receivers stations ability to measure, blister space in every direction. Very dangerous conditions for field exploration even when using the Hunters."

"There is very little information about these problems in the official coda-indexes. I assume the reason for this lack of official inquiry is in some manner connected to the Andovi?"

"Not exactly, but in the beginning we in fact purposely trapped a division of the Andovi in the joined system in order for us to study their internal compositions in their natural settings."

"But wasn't this done so the Hunters could learn how to destroy them?'

"Yes, that was the primary reason. We learned from our observations, that the Andovi have a much different quanta-psion signature in the Antionn field, then in true space with no field. Our discoveries of how these signatures differ is the main reason we can target the Andovi, regardless of what field time surrounds the core body. However, that was not the problem. Our troubles began when we trapped accidentally thousands of worlds, containing an unknown branch of the Santhropidians class of Indotrions. It was and still is quite a puzzling affair. We couldn't find where they came from and we still don't know how it even happened. That is why the second division is called the paradox system."

"I am quite familiar with the summaries of those particular investigations. To protect this isolated branch of Santhropidians the Celestials eventually built the world of IaXiean and the Xtoprian Gates to link those worlds in a manner the Andovi, I am presuming, could not enter. We did not know however, there were complications from these Xminocron proper. A race I now understand no one anticipated?"

"Quite true."

"This is most troubling. It is beyond question in my mind that these paradoxial events can be purely random coincidences. All of these events inside the joined system and those which are occurring even as we speak seem too purposeful to be separate tangents. Perhaps the Xminocron proper are capable of doing what we cannot---moving through the void?"

"Good point. But whether they precipitated the events or were a result of another set of events altogether has not been proven or established with a single speck of definitive or incidental evidence."

"But something went terribly wrong inside that division of the joined system of profound importance and no one was told of this---pro-active problem----and now it is too late. Either way this is quite serious. How much is known about the Xminocron connection to the Andovi?"

"During the time period the Xminocron proper actually over took the second system all information had stopped coming to us from IaXiean. Because of that lack of information we also do not know what connection the Xminocron proper, may have if any, to the Andovi."

"I am also assuming from the lack of formal referendums, from the paradox resolution councils, these problems as well were not entirely addressed?"

"No. I am afraid all of this has been quietly ignored."

"What prevented the Xminocron proper from being identified as a potential threat before the IaXiean information stream was interrupted?"

"The first reason has to do with the separate time folded regions which held the Andovi, as well as, the null-force, time-field generators needed to stop Antionn field propagation. At the time we did not know the capabilities of the Andovi, and we were not taking any chances. The research station Vercuin was placed into orbit around the large, gas-giant Igegius, whose gravitational fields were used to anchor the time-fold. To reach the Vercuin space station, we installed a modified Eo-Xspirien. The Eo-Xspirien, on a periodic basis Trans-shifted an Ahvio gate on the station to link with an outside Benevhio gate isolated in Kau-Spura for security purposes. After the incident with the Santhropidians and the Dark Lords, we separated the second division into three smaller regions. After a time these regions acquired odd-time signatures which are out of phase to our own space-time and so far unlike any we can reproduce. When those time-folds containing the null-force generators unexpectedly expanded the entire second division was swallowed up in a time folded space which we can no longer reach or control."

"Why were the null-force generators not set to periodically tune down to allow for systems checks?"

"The generators were designed to maintain a constant output once started to ensure no tampering was possible, inside or out of the confined region. The system was the most advanced of its kind. Operation checks were thought to be of little consequence. During a rare twin binary supernova, in the same constellation whose third member holds the Igegius system, the Eo-Xspirien operation mechanisms overloaded and failed."

"Could it be the Xminocron proper were already in those systems and caused this to happen?"

"Not likely. The physics needed to manipulate stars is well beyond what we know of the Xminocron propers' technical capabilities."

"What is known about their technical abilities?"

"Too be quite blunt very little. We know the Xminocron proper came from the past, which is in itself a problem yet to be solved, because of a single battle report from a Hunter. The only Hunter in fact we have technically, ever lost in any battle. To allow for greater security levels inside the paradox regions, the protocols, which govern Hunter performance, were modified to allow greater independence. The Hunter in question destroyed an entire Xminocron proper offensive, and afterwards, reported this battle group had emerged from a Gateway showing a time signature from before the system was even created. The Hunter reported it was entering that time frame for investigation. That was its final message."

"This is something I have never heard before either. So if the paradox division is left unguarded for any length of time along this defense arc, it is your assumption these Xminocron proper will use that opportunity to succeed in escaping right into our systems. In fact, judging by these maps, they will enter our systems from behind the time-wall barriers directly into our most populated regions?"

"That is my grave concern. Because once the Xminocron propers escape they too will radically alter the balance of power. And we do not know the full extent of their capabilities in that regard.

"So in essence if they escape we would be faced with another enemy of unknown capability?"

"Yes. Which is why I need those Gates to be re-posited into emergency pulse coordinates."

"Interesting, another function of the Gates I was not aware of and the reason being?"

"The TiXquo moon bases secret designs are meant to collapse the Antionn fields. In fact; all at once. But we need our enemies to venture all the way into our set-up."

"I see...and the null-force generators, in conjunction with the TiXqoi Bases and the Gates, would time fold the entire space-time stream of all of them inside this decoy system into a single-time continuum. The decoy system, is in fact the original time stream of the trapped Andovi."

"Correct! Afterwards, we will then de-energize, literally freeze the Antionn field into a solid mass of elementary particles. Because as you do know; the Andovi can only be destroyed by forcing them into low-level energy-states. A state which does not allow for Antionn field propagation."

"But in order for this plan to work correctly the current Andovi, must enter the trap unaware of the danger to them. Something they will do only if the Dark Ones, which give them an illusion of success, lead them into the joined system as victors. A clever manner to their collective defeat," said D' Laga absorbing all of the surprising information being told to him. "But I still do not understand why the Hunters did not fully remove the Xminocron proper from the paradox system?"

The Elder Oktovatien cleared his throat and firmly explained, "Shortly before, the unexplained loss of the Hunter, was the murder of a Tvotrietein in the first Cosmi. However, this was a murder, which occurred in the past. The deeper problems of this event were quite unprecedented. Our past along the K-time line is secure, but not our T-time past here in the separate Cosmi. The resulting paradox from the murder of the Tvotrietein, in a past time frame was quite devastating. Removing a major element in a recursive strike distorts every relationship well beyond the future residing time frame. False time-line substitution is employed by the Dark Ones to connect specific time elements, which have been separated, along random points to another unknown time frame. A very dangerous proposition, when nothing is known about who is doing the substitution or for what eventual purpose. Another key point about higher time mapping the council has failed to recognize."

"I am familiar with this specific type of effective time-line tampering. When the Dark Ones strike at the very root of the tree, from which the many leaves of the Spirit of the Life spring; in doing so they force-change the nature of all who dwell in the future," quoted D' Laga from an ancient lament. Another surge of bitter emotion gripped him. "This was done to the Ti Dzu, of Hapurius. Our forefathers were forced to kill thousands who had suddenly emerged from green mists. They were insane. Mad beyond reason or hope. By the thousands they came while others simply vanished back into the distorted time stream. Thus the ramifications of the Dark Ones deeper motives are to re-cast all of the living people into life forms of their choosing and purpose. In the time reality of their perverse design we will be fighting our own doubled-identities!"

"An unpleasant truth to be sure," said the Elder Oktovatien closely watching the responses of the Ti Dzu leader. "So out of necessity for the safety of the remaining Tvotrietein, and all those from them, regardless of their space/time positions, all were escorted back into our protected regions. Where they remain under close observation. All life on the developing worlds, which had been under their care, were regretfully extinguished. Since then we have not started any new life orders, period. When the Tvotrietein mature the K-time line is brought to them and they are returned to the world of Keascio-Deacorun."

D' Laga pointing to the K-time line on the charts before them concluded, "This action must have required all the Celestial Hunters, apparently including those inside the second division?"

"Yes. We needed every Hunter available in that time period, so only one was left inside the second division. We simply could not allow the Tvotrietein in the first Cosmi to be vanquished and all Life from them to be used against us in future time events. When the Hunters returned to the second division, we found to our damning surprise that we were unable to return the three which had come from IaXiean."

"A problem with space-time coordinate identification?"

"We are not certain. Every Hunter we send into the paradox division surprisingly returns to the exact position from which it leaves. Internally, the Hunters time field clocks always fail. The time stream identification modules do not register true space. This in itself is a null force result, but without full-scale testing of the Benevhio gateways we cannot determine the underlying cause for parity failure."

"Then this problem is critically related to the Gates inside the paradox region which are no longer in forward time sequence?"

"Perhaps, but it could also mean the Benevhio Gates are no longer there at all!"

"Are you suggesting the Xminocron proper removed the Gates?"

"This would explain our inability to return into the paradox system."

"If all of this is true, what makes you believe the trap is still viable?"

"Quite simple; the Xminocron proper have never left the joined system. The trap itself is not in any danger of being exposed, so long as the Dark Ones, and Andovi, enter by their Antionn fields. They will try to slip by the Hunters, on the void rift, but only if they have no choice...."

"The actual nature of the Hunters true position and purpose," said D' Laga finding the truth like an eel trying to wiggle free of his grasp. Pointing to the time charts he said, "The Xminocron proper, at that point of time, took great advantage of this lapse of internal security. Afterwards it was too late to undo the damage on the inside, yet great as it is all of this inner drama left the outer purpose unchanged. Only the Hunters need to enforce the illusion all is well."

"In the greater sense that is an honest assessment. We have a dual confederation of enemies; both of which have their own goals. They cannot be allowed to join against us. What we do to them they cannot do to us."

Considering what he was learning D' Laga understood the reasons why the Elder Oktovatien was actually considering re-casting his entire time-line. If the Dark Ones were in fact after the higher form of the Celestials themselves, killing all those from them was a bold move of isolation. If in fact they could carry out such a goal to completion. But how was the Elder planning on stopping them? To test his partial conclusions he asked:

"All of these diversions of our strengths are well coordinated to keep our responses a full step behind their own. Is this not proof they have already determined an upper strategy they believe will lead into the Realms themselves?"

"That I believe is the more significant purpose of the time breaches. A way of testing that very proposition. First of all the Dark Ones would like to know, if we can in fact save ourselves today by going back to that time frame called "the beginning" and perhaps leave the Trined Xtau Vouna altogether. And secondly, they would like to see if they can track that time movement."

"We are swiftly heading towards the lesser of two deadly outcomes," said D' Laga gripping the side rails of the worktable in great anger. The frustration he felt however only pushed him to think even harder as to how to find a new position to fight from.

"Yes that is another possibility, given the nature of this time battle. Even so, your plan is a good one D' Laga, but it will only be effective if no other changes occur. Otherwise, as soon as the Hunters on the outer void rift are gone, the Xminocron proper may exit straight into our most vulnerable regions of space-time, just when we need those regions to serve as our escape centers."

"Then our forces will have to concentrate on the continued exodus of the people from the inhabited worlds of the Xercui systems and at the same time, we will also have to keep the Dark Ones fleets from attacking the Betrui Gate centers. A very expensive commitment of resources when we still do not know what other surprises the Xminocron proper, may have in store for us."

"That is the damning nature of this war as it now stands."

The Ti Dzu leader knew the Elder Oktovatien true to his reputation would never sacrifice the weaker among them to the enemy. D' Laga also shared his convictions and the commitment to help those unable to protect themselves from an enemy of timeless dimensions. As he studied the many things before him a new idea began to take form in his mind. Something D' Laga had not seen before blazed in meaningful clarity across his thoughts. With this new insight he explained:

"The Ti Dzu have always wondered why the Dark Ones have fiercely protected this tiny world, named in these reports as Philia-Delphian, in the Kengal solar system located in a micro-galaxy called Olnaveius. Strange identificational terms whose meanings have baffled the language-encryption experts. This region of space has no known military significance in our Cosmi. The surrounding star systems hold few worlds of life resources or elements. And yet the Dark Wall, which surrounds Kengal, is the most heavily fortified of all. We thought this was their world of origination until we found that it does not register t-values consistent with other systems under the Dark Ones control. It is in fact isolated. So we decided this world was some type of military science base for testing purposes. However, looking at all of the joined system hologrammic maps, especially those of the early second division, has brought to light an interesting pattern. There is a unique relationship to the paradox regions, to the Xgwane and this system of Kengal to another here in the first Cosmi."

After another length of silent contemplation D' Laga drew a new line to show his logic and he said, "I think we do have another option. Although this has never been done before. We can send one Celestial Hunter, with a fully optimized Seeker, through the twisted Diems to here (pointing) on the outskirts of this obscure spiral galaxy, into this solar system marked on the Kertesian time-line as Taurinlio. This historical marker is a reference to a world named as Abocari, in a system called Visnu."

"Why is this important?'

"Because the Visnu system which contains Abocari has an exact dimensional correspondence to Kengal. Superimposed on one another both of these solar systems are in fact identical, except for the number of planets. From a recent report it is known the large outer planet in the Kengal system is missing. We do not know how it departed its system or why."

D' Laga traced out a dashed line, starting from the ending time point of Abocari on the K-time line across into the world in the Kengal system. "Here is a time point which corresponds to the first known reports of Philia-Delphian in the Kengal system. Which is interestingly enough also the first known reference to Abocari. The seventh worlds counting from outer to inner, not counting the missing twelfth planets, are identical in mass, size and composition. Both of these worlds are also linked by way of the Xgwane, which during that time period, surprisingly leads all the way back into the second division of the joined system to this world. The world named as Meavidi. One of the original worlds of the Ottripto people which was destroyed by the armies from XiXi. A slim chance for counter-actions within the system of the trapped people could be of greater significance then one from without, but from deep in the past.

"Now.... If just one individual from Abocari, following the Xgwane pathway all the way into Meavidi and using the Gates, as they functioned in that time period something unique will occur. The chosen one will enter into the world of IaXiean itself through the Ariqu Gate...all in forward time continuity. An act of lawful application of justice. Species self-preservation. In doing so the chosen Hunter can also map the time coordinates. A clean K-time line will result and we will know what has occurred inside the paradox systems."

"An individual from the doubled shadow worlds of Abocari, led by a Hunter/Seeker pairing past the Ceryx Shadow Killers, who guard the Black Wall, then around Philia-Delphian, following the Xgwane all the way back into Meavidi? But in a past future time line which leads to IaXiean." This idea greatly surprised the Elder Oktovatien in its outright, unconventual boldness. He liked it immediately.

"Yes. Because we can use this rare cycle of the upcoming Xgwane, to our silent advantage."

D' Laga quickly checked his calculations and found them to be accurate. "The Xgwane was created by the early Andovi, well before the current Antionn field was in full operation. These ancient time paths have a grand cycle and many lesser, which like orbits around a greater anchor, line up old time streams. Phantom pathways which for a few brief moments are functionally stable, but only in a forward time stream."

"This alignment forms a one-way, pre-Antionn field future-past-future time bridge?"

"Yes. A very difficult alignment to track in any degree from the outside, but well within the abilities of a Hunter from within. The Hunter must also guide a time-folded Ahvio gate to keep the chosen individual from experiencing the harmful aspects of the transition. The Xgwane has killed many a foolish captain, who believed once within he was safe."

"But the Hunter will still need to pass the Ahvio gate through the Black Wall, in a very tricky Trans-shift. Further complicating the matter, as you have already pointed out, is that both the Kengal and Visnu systems are also well protected. Just getting to these destinations without detection is a serious problem in itself."

"That is true. But if the Hunter goes into the first Cosmi, by way of the third, the Hunter can gain entrance into the oldest sections of the Antionn field. This K-time star charts clearly show these p-groove sections have been abandoned in that time frame. Once inside these deserted

Ancient p-grooves, the Hunter will find the world of Abocari, as it was when the twins were created. Once this is accomplished the task of finding the specific individual to perform the needed task will occur under the Seekers direction. A very unusual twist of proper Seeker mandates, but quite possible if handled correctly."

"These are very significant risks D' Laga. We do not know anything of substance about the people of those forgotten worlds. Worlds whose people had to have been quite destructive."

"Now I must defend the proposition that even on the worst of worlds are a multitude of the good. Even so, a strict set of lawful conditions will ensure no deviation from the task required."

"If this directive can be accomplished then the Hunter in stealth within the Xgwane will be guiding a one-way Ahvio Gate."

"Which will have no energy signature inside the Xgwane."

"Meanwhile, the Hunter will then slip the chosen one past the Black Wall here at this time conjunction you have circled." said the Elder Oktovatien as he stroked his chin.

"Yes, said D' Laga re-tracing the expected movements," the Xgwane was discovered by the ancient Ti Dzu quite by accident. A ship could fill its "time sails" metaphorically as the Xgwane blew by them. Those who ventured into its space-time stream found themselves capable of traveling vast distances; and according to legend, from one Cosmi to another. At this time conjunction on Meavidi, the Seeker will have to direct that Ahvio arch to the Ariqu Gate. All I can hope is that a fully encoded Seeker can "see" the greater purpose. Even though the Law prevents all from going into the future, the Ahvio gate in an emergency status mode will be directed to find "current temporal parity" with the Ariqu Gate on IaXiean. I feel this will lead the chosen one directly into IaXiean, in this time period. Which is very close to our own time-frame."

The Elder Oktovatien, who was quite fascinated by this bold idea, did some quick calculations of his own. This was an idea which complimented his own purpose quite perfectly however, in an unexpected way. "D' Laga this is an exceptionally risky use of ancient timeline circuits, but quite possible. Interestingly enough, the CHC investigations into the Tvotrietein incident led to this same spiral Galaxy you have designated in the first Cosmi. As part of those mission objectives, Donavon Seekers were sent to those star systems that deemed life bearing to investigate and determine life qualities. Of all that had been sent out one did not return. A Hunter was sent to recover the missing Seeker. That mission was also unsuccessful, but the encapsulated report was quite interesting. The Elder Oktovatien quickly went through the procedures to sum-check the Omnieint memory spheres databases to be sure that report was still available. After a long pause he found the file in question. He then read the short file summary note aloud:

"Those that lived on this hostile world destroyed themselves in a global conflict. As a result of that conflict all life upon this world was extinguished. However, there is one more reference note, from a much later period. A Seeker has been recovered in the celestial region of Myrescen. The Seekers memory cells were apparently severely damaged by the transition. What was recovered was impossible to believe. The Seeker had come from Abocari, with a full data condition, but after the planet had been destroyed. A surprising paradox considering nothing remained on that world. This odd affair prompted a K-time search on the Seekers origination. Which in turn led back to the "twins" of Abocari. So it was assumed this world re-formed into doubled worlds. But they did not last for long. Even so, it was a puzzling affair in the Paradox Resolution Councils. According to this summary note, none have solved or accounted for the Seekers origination or how the Seeker ended up on Myrescen in the period marked third Seibiku, fourth enkina on time line seven twenty-six dez point twelve."

"An amazing set of unexplainable events," agreed D' Laga. "Which is why I feel this plan will succeed. Such a fuzzy time line arc, will be in a practical sense quite invisible to the Dark Ones."

Suddenly the Oktovatien realized D' Laga's plan of subterfuge had in fact done something already. These brief lived twin worlds with a time line ending in destruction also had by an event never explained no true origination. Time had just come full circle. "D' Laga what you are proposing is a shadow within the shadow. And technically what you propose is a paradox in itself. We exist in a referenced frame of time called now. In this frame called now, we cannot enter the second division because of events inside the paradox regions. Those inside have no means to escape. Since the barrier is of time itself you propose we send someone who has no reference on any time map, like an arrow to pierce its past straight through till today. But this time journey still requires a connection of some type. And you find the answer is in a system, which has been destroyed. A blind spot on our enemy’s time maps to be exploited. This unknown person went into a future, by a means which has no definitive time relationship to us, and as a result a paradox was created. A paradox, which just ended, right where it began. Essentially D' Laga you have already succeeded. The proof of this lies in the fact, that the Xgwane leads all the way into Meavidi. A substantial time-shift displacement has already occurred. Perhaps a Hunter was lost because a Seeker had to be found. We had already lost control over the paradox regions, so that did not change. You saw the relationship clearly because you brought those tangents into being. A fate unbound has entangled us here in the future. To stop ourselves from repeating this mistake we must now add another element which snips the loop."

"This is quite bewildering. An individual from this worlds time period caused a wrinkle in the Fates, but the potential of that wrinkle was dissipated into the wrong time frame. If I am not mistaken to solve a paradox requires a recipicle time movement. One which causes the balance to shift this "knot" of the paradox time stream into a separate time order." D' Laga still somewhat mystified rubbed his forehead. "We are in fact about to create the twin worlds of Abocari, because this is the second try at correcting or changing that first outcome. But how can two worlds come from one?"

"Consider this analogy D' Laga. A tree has many leaves no two, which are exactly the same. A forest contains many trees of the same family but no two are exactly the same. If however, one takes a cell from one tree a duplicate can be created. These twin trees will have identical traits but the leaves are variables within well-defined constants. The inherent quality determines the outcome. The similarity between potentials follows the path of least resistance. We have found that biological matrixes will follow parallel paths because of that internal consistency. But this does not mean identical peoples much less plants only a remarkable similarity of biological potential. We do not know how the original world was created. If these Dark Ones have access to that level of knowledge, which gives them the ability to manipulate natural forces, the results would indeed make them seem like bearers of life. Supra-natural creation of worlds requires a high level understanding of physics, but all they need to do is manipulate previously mapped Xargein potentials to the required outcome."

D' Laga considered this for a moment remembering key papers he had read once before, "I am not familiar with that term Xargein?"

"It is a concept more so then a word which describes higher states of bound energy potential." The Elder keyed through several data libraries until finding the one best suited to his explanation. A force-dimensional grid was placed on the screen above them as the Elder pointed to a world map. "This map is determined by the mass topological densities of a world. That is if one looks at all of the layers of a world according to the densities of the elements, which define its mass. When condensed into a compact set of coordinates into a metamap, which describes them by elementary order and total mass of each the product, is a chromatic mass map. This eleven dimensional map resolves to yet a higher sixteen dimensional supra-map which in a negative inversion state describes an entire world as a mass/energy state in a single fractal quantum potential---- the Xargein. As a "world cell model" it can then be duplicated on that level of energy by a process defined as echo mass transduction. A template if you will to reinitiate the higher ordered states of mass from their negative inversion. However, the interesting application is that the echo is actually a condition in which every particle created of the original is instantly receiving information from that particle. A condition, which continues until the energy well, is gone. To create a living world duplicate a static replication is not enough."

"So in essence duplicating living worlds from the Xargein state is about quantum field parallel organization? If I have an apple in my hand, which is then echoed, and another is created/duplicated the result is an exact copy. Furthermore, if I bite into the original apple that bite will appear on the copy because they are still linked?"

"Yes, that is the more likely result, although I do not believe anyone has ever done that particular experiment before. In a logical sense of order our three dimensional coordinates are on a surface topology where time is the fourth, the remaining are in a sense curving into amplitudes of micro-macro-micro scales. In a state of inversion the smallest particles become the largest, but the ascending order is still based on the highest at rest energy state of each particle. Motion is critical in determining the temporal boundaries. Pasts become futures and futures become pasts with no clear distinction. Geophysically such results are quite problematic for those who study linear results."

Several types of worlds came and went on the screen as D' Laga manipulated different models, "Thus looking at a snap shot of a planet one observes motion as a relative condition of all energies expressed within that mass as a condition of energy. But inverting that scale also inverts the "motion" as expressed, which on a higher map becomes a blueprint for temporal duplication. But space must also change or does it?"

"From that viewpoint "empty" space is an anomaly. An illusion bequeathed in time. Thus mass/energy time orders as seen as discreet wheels of motion which operate on the same internal rim, but have vastly different scales of motion as one climbs the steps of macro-dimensions. At the top we only see a result."

"But space is so vast and yet for many of us galaxies seem likened unto tiny creatures floating on an impossible surface. And yet you’re giving me the impression that the connections here might well imply all of space and time are still within their original matrix. Space expands to the n level but nothing is really apart because one contributes to all. Even my people tend to think philosophically space is quite flat as in uneventful."

"Space as a defined elemental type is like a blanket of folds, valleys, waves etc. and mass contributes to those wrinkles, but so does the processes which move the "blanket" of space time."

"Then the Celestials do know how the Xtau Vouna behaves on all levels?"

"What we know of the different Cosmi as great as it is still leaves a tremendous gap in our knowledge. We are still learning and discovering how these remarkable states exist. Thus the question of how so many time orders can exist from one initial origination still baffles us. But the answer is in the non-linear qualities not chronological synergy. I know this explanation does not fully describe how two worlds or perhaps more can come from a single world, but it is quite possible we shall still make that discovery."

"And in doing so solve this paradox?"

"Perhaps, but a paradox tells us we have gathered only a partial answer. But the hard truth is the path of discovery requires stepping into the unknown, not which is known. A set of time potentials of a finite quality will stand out as ridges along an infinite line. Changing a set of small lines ushers in a whole entire set of new ones. Don't get hung up on chronological order. Focus your mind on the left and right forks as potentials frozen until thawed and then they change. What will have been the few will become the many."

"In a general sense this must be one of the crucial reasons why we cannot resolve certain paradoxes. In this instance I have created a paradox involving a future that never happened on Abocari. And I would say thinking about this as I am, it is clear to me the Dark Ones are involving worlds in this kind of paradoxical event orders, but for sinister purposes. They need huge numbers of grunts to fill their armies, but life to them is about destruction. Quality is not a part of their plan."

"A distinct possibility I would not discount D' Laga. However, I think we are only taking positive advantage of this worlds own destruction. Those people did destroy themselves; we are only changing the course of that destruction and slightly delaying that specific outcome. When this first time line ends, it does so here in the paradox regions. If we did nothing both of those worlds return to a phantom existence. But we know one world can survive that period of tribulation. Therefore, we must tip the balance of fates to place one of these worlds of Abocari into real time parity leading to a point in our future. So I will choose a counter-point world, not in the paradox system in order for this to be accomplished. A place where such a time disparity can be precisely measured, its arc balanced. A K-time line will precede and follow this action acting as a buffer. The paradox will resolve. Perhaps then those people of that world will not perish."

"In many ways this is also a question of Reinlifement. A world and its people foolishly die because they see no wisdom greater then the sword, or a bomb. Going back into that past even by a slight degree and changing the outcome places them back into a frame of altered reality. Such a reality will be quite problematic for them since they will not be a full participant in that outcome. A shadow within the shadow. Now the Onadizeo outcome makes sense: a silent hand casts A fate unknown. A past challenged is a future reborn. By grace time leads all where none has been before and none can follow but by Law. This is a provoked Fate."

"Just like a shiver down the back of time," agreed the Elder Oktovatien. "When you return to Triccia you and the Ti Dzu Councils must carefully sort through all the subtle variations such a move will cause on the multiple levels this time war is being fought on. Because this action will indeed cause unknown breaks further down the time-line, we must ensure this is only to our advantage."

"My thoughts exactly," said D' Laga only then smiling with renewed hope. "Just like a river, overflowing from the many creeks which feed it from the high mountains, so can a single individual cause deviations, ripples and bursts which can topple barriers in unexpected places. It is also unlikely the Dark Ones will expect someone from inside their own held territories, but we will take that potential into account as if they did and will again."

"If the Hunter can also reach IaXiean, this time, it can recalibrate the Ottromurten. We will worry about the Gates and the null field generators, after we have stabilized IaXiean. If all is successful the world of the chosen individual will be joined in unalterable consequence with the second division of the joined worlds."

"Perhaps this in itself could lead to a punishing blow to the very heart of the Dark Ones most protected systems. If only because this world will remain a blind spot in their time stream."

"A blind spot which would significantly alter the balance of power. Your idea D' Laga will be very significant indeed, especially the second time around." The Elder enlarged the star chart showing IaXiean. "If..." he said, "IaXiean itself is not already barren of life. Which it could very well be? And let us hope if IaXiean itself still remains the Ottromurten is still capable of real-time functioning."

"These are enormous risks to be sure, but we cannot afford not to take chances. Something the Dark Ones are loath to do considering how they plan victories in the future, by racing back to the past to take advantage of today. Meanwhile, the available Hunters can concentrate their efforts here in the Betrui system against the Dark Ones fleets. When the results of the time arc measures are in our hands and those event actions are known, we can decide if the Hunters on the void can aid in the greater effort. Only then will we enter the Antionn fields."

The Elder Oktovatien his memory sparked by the idea presented to him remembered a pathway created long ago through the third Cosmos into the first. A pathway created before the first breach of space between them.

"D' Laga, this is an idea worthy of our immediate action. A successful endeavor might very well be the random factor we need to change the balance of power back to our advantage."

"Then we are in agreement?"

"Yes. And I will prepare the Celestial Hunter, Seeker and archway for the mission to the doubled world of one before I leave here." said the Elder Oktovatien already convinced this was a gamble of undeterminable odds. But that was good.

"I will return to my people with our greater plans my friend." said D' Laga now smiling in confidence. "The Andovi and the Dark Ones will be stopped. And all of our kind will be free once more to live in peace."

"As it was meant to be," said the Elder Oktovatien feeling his strength of purpose returning. With great speed he worked out the time coordinates for the Ahvio archway via the Benevhio Gates to take D' Laga back to the world of Triccia. A few moments later the Ahvio arch, in a brilliant burst of spiraling light pulsations, posited in the center of the room. The Seeker and the equipment went before him as D' Laga stepped through the arch and was gone.

The Elder would be the last to leave the base. Those who would search the K-time line had to be convinced his life had been extinguished. Keeping a close eye on the view screen he went to work on the steps which would be required to bring a Hunter and a Seeker into the correct time-frame of those past worlds, as well as, all the information needed to ensure their success. The bold idea of D' Laga had embraced his own.

A shadow within the shadow.

He had originally planned on encapsulating his Psion-Delta awareness into a time folded Hunter. The process of folding space into another set of time coordinates, in conjunction with out of phase physical dimensions, was an exacting science not to be done in haste. His physical body under that type of compression would resemble a thin, ribbon of near plastic like density. Hardly worth the trouble of saving. Instead he would have discarded the physical self, but kept it hidden in a quasi-state of temporal identity. This was a slightly fuzzy explanation he hoped D' Laga would eventually come to appreciate. The Ti Dzu leader was to be the recipient of his journals and these final entries into the Asperic-modules (thought recordings) at a later date. The purpose behind the method was to keep his final moment of death in a random condition. Did he die back then or now or some point in the future. On the K-time stream such a move was rarely used and for those who watched the future in T-time for his actions, this moment would show ambiguous results.

Meanwhile, the time folded Hunter would have been posited into the hull of the lead command ship of the Dark Ones. A tiny speck of compressed mass no bigger then a single atom. Eventually the time-folded Hunter, hitching a free ride from one spacecraft to another, would have reached the deepest center regions of the Dark Ones themselves. Then he would have de-folded the Hunter and acted with crushing force. But the uncanny wisdom of the Ti Dzu leader had jogged his memory far deeper yet. The Andovi within the joined system were the oldest of the old. If he could in fact reach back into that pre-time period where they had never been before....

Another wave of violent shudders rocked the command center. When the Seeker had been successfully transferred and the Omnieint memory spheres loaded and confirmed; he continued his search for a Hunter, not currently in a defensive position he could use without tipping his hand to anybody. However, once he found the one he needed he had an unexpected problem. No matter how he calculated the time links the Hunter would be seven dez points too late.

He re-checked his calculations. Swearing profusely in a dozen ancient tongues, he quickly calculated different configurations of Hunters. One element of surprise was more then he cared to give to the wrong set of probing minds. He had no choice but to use the Hunter whose position was to guard the exit/entrance point of the Benevhio Gate now positing into orbit. A series of gate links away from the one in orbit left him without a power source as soon as the current one failed. His leap from this position through the Ahvio gate would be quite dangerous, but the alternatives were far worse.

The walls were getting hot, trails of smoke were forming on the outer surfaces and the systems, nearing the critical point began to show signs of internal breakdown. He placed the Seeker into the Ahvio archway. The spacecraft, which were working in tandem, were methodically boiling away the upper sections of the command center. A pause in that Xtereon-plasma fire was giving him a few more dez points. Just as the Gate power peaked under his skillful manipulation and using a configuration of emergency TeoXtian pulse points the open power grid was boosted into a range far beyond what was considered possible.

His final act was in itself an enormous gamble of odds. If he was wrong all of his efforts would be lost in a shade of time. A searing wall of incandescent heat rippled through the command center as he dove through the twin pulse beams of the emergency Ahvio arch. Within a fraction of a dez point he exited directly into the emergency chamber located on a secret upper deck of the Benevhio Gate. With the StarStones as his keys he accessed the secured command module. The Benevhio Gate immediately began to spin on its axis counter-clockwise and in three dez points was making the required revolutions and changed its axis of time orientation. The Satellite arced through the pulsating archway and was sent to a new destination. The Gate began releasing waves of ultra-high negative energy pulsations.

On the next dez point the entire space-time field for ten A.U.'s violently flipped, rotated on a new set of spiral coordinates as space time itself rippled profusely under the Gates influence. The entire solar system began to wildly fluctuate along its entire electromagnetic spectrum, as planets rocked by graviton waves violently rolled onto their sides and moons bound in orbits were set free and hurtled outward in uncontrollable, unpredictable gravity paths. The Dark Ones entire spacefleet along with everything else of inconsequential mass, were tossed like water droplets into the center region where the stars centrifically displaced corona bursting outward evaporated everything in searing, billowing waves. None of them would be returning either. His time breach was to be more devastating then they could ever imagine.

From this act an instantaneous, confusing trail of time coordinates had been created. Satisfied with the results he sent the Hunter and the Seeker to their respective destinies through the expanding, spinning Benevhio Gateway. Then it too receded at a velocity condition primary photon propagation wasn't supposed to allow. And in the Gates wake to its appointed destination, as it embraced all others in the entire series, from one star system to another, all the Benevhio Gates went into an emergency status mode. He went into places unknown, as was his Fate.

Laws be damned indeed.

A Call To Justice

How long has it been? Asked the Many as the One.

The shining octagon crystal rod known as a Seeker had come from deep within the second Cosmi of the Trined XtauVouna, by a one-way transference of emergency Benevhio gate links. The Many as the One studied the Omnieint spheres contents with exacting consideration.

The request was quite unusual as were the ramifications of what was to follow. Up until now it was thought the problems experienced in the Trined XtauVouna was of minor importance. There was never a question of involvement into its problems on their behalf. Now however, a request had been made of them. From no less then a high ranking Elder of the Celestial order of the Ninth Cosmos.

How could they not react with forthright action?

This situation was no longer a footnote in another’s life history. A balance of future equilibrium had been severely compromised. To those that pondered this request the needed requirements had to be enacted. The Elders well calculated predictions of consequence, clearly outlined the proof the Ninth Cosmia was to be endangered once again by these abominations called the Andovi. Their partners in horror who named themselves the Dark Ones, were another matter altogether. Unlawful immortality was a serious charge, but it was well documented.

The Many as One had to weigh the greater good of the many against the needs of the few. A balance of future equilibrium was found and confirmed. The Will of the Many as One was to be served in Justice. The needless deaths of all those who had been in the life orders of the Trined XtauVouna weighed heavy on their hearts. The unlawful evil ones were to be punished and the Andovi were to be stopped. The pathway to the Realms of Eternity was not going to be degraded or seized in violent confrontation.

The task required was quite significant. The Celestial Hunter was a sterling accomplishment. The Eno-Coy were to be commended. But it was not enough to do as they intended. All of the Celestial Hunters were time-machine-weapons technically speaking, but the Celestial Hunters were also driven by the Wills of those that created them. A will greater then intelligene consciousness allowed. That is why they never failed. Their Will produced the internal pattern intelligence required for action. This was the secret of the Omnieint spheres which were housed in the cores of the spherically shaped Hunters. The Hunters currently in battle were all produced by the Celestial technical race called the Eno-Coy. The Wills came from the chosen Celestials from the guardian ranks of the Ninth Cosmos. Their plan however, required an uninvolved participant.

A Royal Xjhontu Hunter was summoned.

To the purpose of Justice it was Ordained. All that was needed was given in full measure. The Royal Xjhontu Hunter would carry the Wills of the Xindiov-Deunotuatuis: Mighty Guardians of the Realms of Eternity. These were the Champions of no Equal. When preservation of the Higher Realms required their action, the Royal Xjhontu Hunters were the swift and unstoppable answer.

From the Many as One the Orders as commandments were given in full authority. The Laws were enacted and written. The Many as One were not to be denied. The Celestials of the Ninth Cosmia were to be unaware of this action as the Elder himself had requested.

A shadow within a shadow.

************************************************ The carefully notated instructions, given by the Many as the One, as Ordained Commandments, caused those, who had joined their Wills in rightful purpose, to think deeply about the very nature of Fate. In the Orders of the Infinities, the iterations of potentia, were vast, unlimitless. To pause, to consider the depth of all things, Knowing. The very perceivence of Existence. And the good of all that it contained. Great or small, life meant something to them all. Time was considered sacred to those which lived within its continuance and was rightfully only theirs to live. And that was why they had to act with forthright intent. To the cause of Justice they were determined. To the Truth they were not to be denied.

Spanning the vast reaches of inter-stellar space the K-time arc delivered them into a place they had never ventured before as defenders. As Cosmic travelers they were driven into the deepest reaches of that which was called in summation the XtauVouna: Divine purpose made Real.

The emergency journey was to lead the Royal Xjhontu Hunter, through the deepest mysteries of the Divine Trined Ones, as the were called in the ancient histories. Shimmering in the depths they looked so innocent to those within the Realms of the Eternities. Who could know the Divine trio contained such unprecedented drama. The panoramic viewpoint, as great as it was to behold, only convinced those enjoined as One, their mission was leading them into grievances of deadly consequences. Moving along the K-time arc as a pathway, the Xjhontu Hunter carefully threaded its way through the enormous galaxies and their beautiful stars, which when illuminated with a higher pulse light from the K-band looked like vast vortexual ribbons, flowing together in sensual movements.

The second Cosmi was of magnificent, startling beauty. Those within deeply appreciated why the mysterious origination’s of the XtauVouna had become so important to the Celestials. For all the work they had completed in their adventures only a partial answer to those ancient questions had been found. Answers which had to be understood. The Royal Xjhontu Hunter, hurtling along the pre-determined pathway, was learning from the Omnieint memory spheres, something of the original conflict and the unique history which gave birth to these Cosmi wonders. In the codex’s, compiled by the Elder Oktovatien, were contained all that was known about the enemies and the history of their involvement with the XtauVouna.

In the forefront of this battle loomed the Andovi. The Ti Dzu name meant: time/life-destroyers. By all accounts the Andovi were strange, powerful Simatopians {consumers of worlds} whose origination’s were unknown to all, but themselves.

In the beginning, those that spawned the ancient Andovi (who may or may not be the same as now, commented in a footnote by the Elder) set forth to create, a weapon of unheard of power. A spectacular anti-negative mass, space-time bomb none would dispute as a big bang. A Cosmic-force-driven hammer which had violently pulse-shattered, the targeted positive-charged unprotected Neoverses, like eggs in a basket.

How long this had been occurring, no one knew for sure.

When the first hammered Neoverse, adjacent to the lessor regions of the Eleventh Pantheon, violently imploded, its destruction in turn caused all those within its family Cosmia cluster to become profoundly unstable. As the violent, echo tranduced reverberations of resonation pounded the stricken cluster, three more Neoverses swiftly collapsed, further endangering all those around them. In that moment something unprecedented then occurred.

Of the four which had been destroyed, only one by Law, was re-born. In a fit of cataclysmic energy release, the Lawful One had briefly transcended K-time/space. No one knew, at that time, that if the Lawful One had surged a few more degrees off the G-point equilibrium, the remaining eight in the shattered cluster of twelve would have perished into oblivion forever. But the Lawful One had stabilized into something quite unexpected and the remaining members were saved.

For then there were three not one. The Divine Trio had been born and a Trine had held true. Just like mighty champions, the energetic XtauVouna, held back the Lawless invaders, but only by sacrificing something of themselves. For that was the nature of the tragedy which engulfed them. They were born to be loners in the midst of many. To have a Destiny, whose circle of Greater Time, had been broken off from all the rest. But the mighty trio held together, and the remaining members of the stricken Cosmia attained rightful status in the regions of the Super-Cluster PoineodiaXties. The Sixteenth linked member of the Eleventh Pantheon of Eternity.

The XtauVouna was to be left alone in mystery. The new Cosmia was embraced by all.

In the Eleventh Pantheon of Eternity, all Cosmia within are by their balanced, dynamic nature essentially immortal. The very purpose of K-time. The new Cosmia was named OhriaXtes: The Storms Child, and was given all of these attributes. Along the span of K-time the young Cosmia thrived and the broad and diverse orders of Life within each Cosmos it contained continued to evolve into graceful maturity. Of all these supra-races only one, the Celestials {Those Who Divine the Stars}, who originated in the ninth Cosmos named CellesXtes (which was named for its stunning constellations), who attained a position of wide-scope purpose and ability.

The Celestials as a race exemplified the traits needed for grand exploration and as such, were given the formal attributes which made them bearers of that legacy. Over the course of time they had evolved para-natural worlds only the few ever dared to imagine or conceive, and only the most bold of will could bring into existence. Xtogenic Worlds whose content inspired a higher concept of meaning and purpose. Places which became known as the Pure Realms of the Equilibrium.

Eventually, these Celestials of the Ninth Cosmos, true to their dynamic, pioneering Spirit, had entered the second Cosmi of the XtauVouna. During the course of their discoveries, they were also establishing colonies in the spectacular, super-rich, high-energy elemental clouds of which the Xtien (stars) were constantly being born. However, Time in the second Cosmi of the XtauVouna was quite different, from what they had originated in, as was the nature of the very Cosmi itself. Adapting to the nature of the second Cosmi, over the long time, changed those pioneers in new unexpected ways. And from all of those orders of Life emerged the Ti Dzu: those who originated upon firm lands in the second Cosmi.

While the Ti Dzu were not as physically powerful as their great forefathers, they nonetheless, enjoyed long life spans which always led into the higher Realms. And as such, always returned to that higher origination, when the body was no longer of purpose to the Spirit which dwelled within. For they had evolved a greater synchronization, to the rhythmic pulse, of the Cosmi itself, but as expressed in the cycles of the Life of the Celestial orders. The Ti Dzu settled and prospered on worlds now grown rich in life’s abundance in this second Cosmi called CST Vexteus: A Mothers Joy. And from these Ti Dzu, eventually came into being, those who were to be called Indotrions: Meta-physicals who existed in the tripled-time, of the four-fold unity. In turn those called Indotrions had diversified into a complex order of races scattered throughout the second Cosmi.

As K-Time passed along the greater movement of the Eleventh Pantheon, whose scale of Kertesian time out-ranked the Divine Ones (which were still an element of mystery), another wave of the Celestials of the Ninth Cosmos, established new forays into the twins. These Celestials pursued a more critical knowledge of past events. Theirs was a concerted effort to understand the deeper nature of the causes which led to the very birth of the Divine Ones.

During the course of their explorations, these Celestials of the Ninth Cosmos, soon discovered in the second Cosmi the greater Ti Dzu, who where fighting an enemy soon to be named as the Andovi. This cataclysmic war was being fought along a forced, space/time breach between the first and the second of the cosmic trio.

The Celestials, of the Ninth Cosmos, by lawful precedent, joined the Ti Dzu in defeating the Andovi, but with great losses of life to both races. Into the unknown quadrants of the first XtauVouna the Andovi were driven. Here the battle lines were drawn and the enemy encountered was thought to be imprisoned. But the deep-space, galactic walls, which had been erected were breached.

The devastating paradoxes of time soon followed. Entire histories of people simply vanished and known knew what became of them. And so it went as the two races fought an enemy whose uncanny ability to manipulate time, without being affected by the changes they themselves brought forth, continued encompassing all into a battle of unforgiving results.

The History of the conflict was both tragic and uplifting. The heroic struggles so many had given to protect those who were defenseless against sinister forces of uncharted domains. Nearing the first of the time-frame conjunction points, the Royal Xjhontu Hunter found the spinning Benevhio Gateway just as the Elder had indicated and entered into the third member of the XtauVouna.

This Cosmi was named CST Kiv Poi: The Deadly Twin.

Scanning out into the depths of Kiv Poi’s' domains, the Royal Xjhontu Hunter, clearly saw why very few ever ventured into the third Cosmi. Spanning into the farthest regions, space itself was seized in violently twisting, super-galactic-sized white--worm-holes, around which sprawling, ten-thousand light-year sized hurricane storms hurled their anger in violent waves into the distant reaches of the desperate spaces. These torrential maelstroms were mostly comprised of Xtokivama particles, which kept the stellar spaces they flowed through hot enough to melt lead.

In region after region were massively deformed star groups. They looked like brawling, burning red-hued monsters prowling their territory. They were immense, carnivorous stars of an un-natural order. Blazing mouths which devoured the unsuspecting, smaller star masses caught in their greedy grasp. And all around these denizens of horror, the very nature of space, was being whipped into spatial hysteria. A gushing whirlpool of treachery awaited any one foolish enough to get too close. According to the Elder, this is where the Celestials had learned about folding time frames and how to use that knowledge for their own purpose. In very region scanned, the space fields were so severely wrinkled, twisted and spun, there was no question this Cosmi was shrinking towards the gravitational center at an increasing speed.

And then the Hunter saw them.

In the deepest regions, where they conspired together in huge folds of space, millions of light years across, were the multitudes of interconnecting nests of pulsing, vibrantly hued nebulas. And deep in their hidden chambers were the malignant galactic sized hearts. Global clusters beating together in unholy union they drove all to madness by their will. Standing by their sides by the millions, as guardians of dark secrets, were massive space-time inverted, energy-mass cones. Beyond them were the horrible, demented offspring whose white-hot lips were torturing the very fabric of space-time around them. Theirs were the hungry, gaping mouths which kissed the light into death. It was clear that in order to feed all those foul things all within this Cosmi were to be sacrificed.

The Royal Xjhontu Hunter charged up its protective shields to maximum strength as it moved along the K-time arc deep into the past. As it moved in a wide berth in relation to the deadly center the shield sensors began registering every dez point, tens of thousands of the high energy signatures generated from super-novas. The Hunter recalibrated the long distance aurial receiver’s. Streaking across the depths of the frenzied spaces were multitudes of positive charged stars. In showers of radiant light they stormed into battle. Space blistered in cataclysmic explosions as they annihilated themselves along with their anti-charged twins. This was a deadly battle of violent, super-nova bursting madness.

The Hunter arced high over the main area of confrontation. A zenith line rippled with red and dark violets. Those within wondered what forces caused these anti-doubles to charge up from within the infinitive chasm to meet their doom or was it the other way around? Closer scrutiny of the isotopic discharges proved the positive star masses were actually being pulled in from the largest Cosmi---the one the Hunter was about to enter.

Those stars which were not destroyed outright by the chasm-spawned twins were caught and hurtled into gargantuan, currents of compressed constellations. These stars were being led like slaves, by the chains of Gravity, into the highly concentrated, destructive center regions. Space-time in these gushing mass streams was in a state of constant, yet unpredictable flux, making it impossible to accurately gauge where they were originating from exactly. This was Chaos of a disturbing quality. All the while, waiting for the unwary, were the hungry mouths soon to be greedily feeding on all who came within their heavy-armed reach.

Scanning out along the K-time arc, the Royal Xjhontu Hunter was discovering that here in this early region the negative energy pathway it followed currently registered as a ragged, hollow rope barely held together by frayed threads. The Hunter hit a series of shock waves, as it looped through the fabric of space-time in and around the violence that was the third member of the XtauVouna. Even the unwitting Andovi who created these twisting Diems [using the Antionn fields for purposes unknown] had to abandon them.

According to the records when anti-mass was generated from the center regions, this act spontaneously flowed positive mass from the first cosmos, in reverse to the opposite charged spaces of itself; into the second cosmos. This in turn created a series of catastrophic breaches between them all, which after an incomprehensible flash inverted time period collapsed. What was left of this Andovi inspired madness were impassable, monolithic mass-objects of space blistering radiation. Objects of dark brooding temperaments, which sent out pulses of concentrated, ultra-high-energy which shined like rotating vengeful eyes. Furious demoniac eyes beaming out a constant, unforgivable, deadly curse unto all that passed by them, heading into the vast reaches of the unknown first Cosmi.

The Royal Xjhontu Hunter, found the next pre-determined time-frame and entered the spinning Benevhio Gateway. Those within were thankful to finally emerge into the first XtauVouna, leaving behind the deadly third. Instantly, a vast panorama of unmatched scope swept across the thousand eyes within. The Royal Xjhontu Hunter recognized in moments how vast this Cosmi had become in proportion to the twins, but that was just one of its many mysteries.

The greater of the Divine Trio was called Xtau Delus: He who commands the Unknown. And as befitting his name Delus, was still largely unexplored. His was the binding force upon the other two; which were twins. His was the greater measure none knew how to judge, for his Truths were beyond such judgments. Delus was the key to all that had transpired.

Following the scoured depression of that violent period long ago as a pathway, the Royal Hunter soon encountered the break of the Antionn field just as the ancient records indicated. This section had long since been abandoned by the Andovi leaving only residual field particles. The Royal Xjhontu Hunter, following its internal maps, moved through the deserted Antionn field with determined, confident purpose at speeds K-time itself did not identify.

This section of the Antionn field lacked the compression values which those within surmised to be the reason why it was no longer used for movement. The Hunter soon passed an energy barrier comprised of cohesive, latticed neutrinos and crossed into a fully operational section of the Antionn fields. Scanning the depths of the silvery-green fields, the first node marker contained on the maps was pinpointed. Following the P-time groove further into the past and then back towards the future the Hunter recorded all of the many pathways it crossed and the manner in which different lengths of P-time were joined together in related orders. The second node marker was then identified. This node point was for the past-time circuit designating the correct time-frame within the targeted spiral galaxy.

The Royal Xjhontu Hunter swiftly followed this Antionn P-groove deep into the galactic past scanning the doubled helix folding time frames for the third node marker of the correct solar system and finally a fourth for the odd planets jointly named as the doubled world of one. The Royal Xjhontu Hunter quickly performed a series of important tests using the Kertesian time-line for its reference point and cleared the spirallal time barrier to its final destination.

As the light images bathed the internal matrixed eyes within a small, pale-blue, liquid world of great beauty emerged. The very presence of this swirling white-topped world startled the Royal Xjhontu Hunter. This was one of the shadow worlds of Abocari? A world itself now gone. And if so, where was the other world? There was no hint by way of external evidence this one would soon embark on a destructive course into oblivion. However, here was a world which had no true origination according to the Celestial documentation and yet, had all of the physical manifestations of a world from the very beginning of T-time itself.

This was an unexpected mystery.

A deep mystery which needed explanation. A short burst of speed then a smooth transition into a high orbit above the planet. Defense systems were powered up to maximum capacity as a thousand eyes within continued looking deep into the Omnieint memory spheres provided for the mission. Careful examination of the data records revealed that it was here, in a desolate back stretch of this very galactic spiral arm, an evil of foul consequence had been given birth. Here in the lower domains of darkness, a crime of unmerciful savagery had been committed. A foul deed was carried out in earnest by those who called themselves the Dark Ones. Aiding them in their evil, was another more advanced race, henceforth renamed the Yiburu: Fallen ones without grace.

Together they had murdered a young Tvotrietein: Sacred Mother.

The ambush and consequent murder of the young Tvotrietein had stunned the higher order of the Celestials. For they believed them to be immune to direct attacks. Death of the body itself was only a means to ever greater realms. Realms known only to them. The death of the young female was horrific because the higher form never emerged. Her body was never recovered. This made her demise all that more painful to those that wondered. How could this have happened? Thus the question before them all had never been answered. Where did she go?

Judging from the reports of previous missions, stored in the Seekers memory, the self-proclaimed Dark Ones, had boasted without reservation, they feared none and could destroy all with impunity. The Many as the One had opined how strange it was that those which had no rightful Fates, who claimed supreme perfection and considered themselves to be Masters of all Living things, had yet to solve the true mystery of Creation. The Giving of Life. For all their exhortations of supreme power the fecund life has never sprouted anew from their bitter hands. Was this why they needed the Tvotrietein? Was she brought to this world?

The Royal Xjhontu Hunter whose golden radiance was visible to all below on the night side moved into a slower orbit. The communication spheres were powered up and sent outward to the calculated positions to ensure all areas of the globe were covered by the transmission. When the comm-spheres were ready the Command signal was transmitted in a pulsed-encrypted frequency, which only a Seeker would respond to and act upon---if it in fact actually existed on this world, if it ever had...

As the Hunter waited for the return code an array of sensors sampled the diverse variety of signals being broadcast from the surface. The torrential quantity of information contained in these frequencies covered both audio and visual. The Hunter needing to know what and how these objects and outputs were related quickly scanned hundreds of the major transmitting sources based on power generation. Significant technology was evident from the return composite signatures which in turn were used to decipher even more of the technology scanned in other sectors of the busy world below.

A tremendous output of information came from the surface scans. Analysis of the information gained from targeted military centers proved there were tremendously powerful weapons both in the surface structures and in orbit. Moving into a more stealthier mode the Hunter went into a quick series of overlapping orbits around the planet mapping in specific detail, the entire surface with exacting purpose. The Hunter generated hundreds of visual devices on the fly to help distinguish the incredible complexity of everything its powerful sensors registered. While this was being accomplished the weak emergency return signal from the Seeker was received.

The position of the signal was triangulated. The Donovon Seekers, closest to the position headed towards the surface to retrieve the Seeker, while the others returned to positions where they could scan the governing installations. The Royal Xjhontu Hunter, decoded the return signal from the Seeker and quickly checked the signal reference coding against the original identifying codes as documented by the Oktovatien. The codes were the same in all, but two significant sequences. This time period had changed. In fact, the time-line had changed significantly within the agreed upon K-time date of the Tvotrietein murder.

Surprisingly, the Seeker was responding to lawful protocol and the Donovon's in tandem transmitted even more amazing information back to the Hunter. Information which revealed how the people of the world below specifically communicated and how their societies functioned. Further scanning of the Seekers memory modules revealed this period had passed the original documented termination point of the first Seeker, as referenced by the K-time line and recorded by the Celestials. This was of course an impossible act. The Seeker was on a time-line which existed after the first, but was now in the past....as if the first time-line had never existed at all. The paradox had been faithfully recorded when this Seeker; which had been doubled in this worlds moment of creation, continued recording information of this new time-line.

This world if the Seekers' data was to be believed was going backwards in time?

The Royal Xjhontu Hunter re-checked the Kertesian time-line reference maps and the temporal equations which had been calculated for the mission. The Xgwane time-alignment bridge was not going to be effected by this unexpected event change, however its relation to this world was off by a significant factor. A distance of several hundred light-years.

However, the first problem was still the most important: how did this world come into being? Further physical scanning of the oceanic world below proved this planet was not the one named in the Celestial records. According to the memory spheres of the Seeker upon its surface, this was the second world of doubled-identity. And its name was Earth.

Another momentous fact leaped into clarity from the Seekers recorded time-line analysis: This Solar System had come from the second Cosmi. Here was the proof entire systems had been doubled, before Abocari had been destroyed.

The Many as the One knew they had discovered a very important piece of the puzzle. A trans-shift in parallel time frames had been used repeatedly on the living people of this world. From the first original world; twins of a doubled identity had been created; each to occupy what was to be two identical solar systems in two different time continuums. The other solar system was in the second Cosmi and was named Kengal. The first original system had then been destroyed. An act which was recorded on the K-time line. Then the entire Kengal system was doubled, but in the past. An extreme use of space-time echo transduction. A space/time-cone was split like two cells, cloned into doubled sets or perhaps judging by the evidence even doubled again. The world of Philia-Delphian, by all indications was an identical match to the world named as Earth. Thus a long standing question was answered. Where did all of those Indotrions come from? The answer was to be found in the past of this world.

As a result of these trans-shifts of parallel time frames the living people of this world lived in a terrible contradiction of time. A part of their biometrical matrix was shifting in and out of phase in relation to K-time wave lengths. This was apparently done on purpose to stop them from ever achieving the higher K-time resolution. A significant reason for the Indotrions to be so stunted in spiritual growth. Their souls were likened unto deserts where the waters of the Spirit had long since dried up. Quick computations of surface colonization revealed these people to be of significant numbers. A population entirely isolated from all others of their nature. To be exploited for purposes beyond the minds comprehension.

The results of the full spectrum scans of all industrial operations and production outputs made it quite clear a vast amount of effort had been directed into military applications of a diverse scope. With a population of this size and content the Dark Ones could be assured of a never ending stream of foot soldiers to carry out the battles they waged. Battles which involved those of the second Cosmi, but apparently as a secondary consideration. Another question stood out from the stellar technologies which were deeply hidden from prying eyes. Who else were these Dark Ones at war with here in the first Cosmi?

The vast majority of people, of the current world below, did not know of this directly. The information provided by the Korv Seeker proved this in several surprising ways. For those of this world believed no other life forms existed. Period. Considering the nature of the parallel time frame this world occupied that was entirely possible. If life was indeed to be measured from their perspective of isolation. Which it wasn't, but that was the nature of the lie they had been raised in by cultural indoctrination. Which judging by the time records provided by the Seeker was a long term ongoing process. These people were forced to believe a lie, but to what end?

Another decision had to be made.

Destroying the Dark Ones grip on this world outright would mean the destruction of these people in this time frame. A paradox suddenly unraveled would leave the living people in null space with no higher order matrix to protect them. In this manner the Dark Ones were in fact holding these living people as unwitting hostages. Information from the Korv Seeker about the histories of the many races upon the Earth provided unpleasant facts to be carefully weighed.

Social, economic and historical analysis provided by the Seeker proved these people in order to live had to provide the Dark Ones, and those who conspired with them, an ever greater sum of wealth. A fanatical devotion to the monetary goals of the corrupted elite was constantly broadcast to all with no reprieve. The people toiled day and night to maintain the economic foundations for higher technologies. Technologies whose darker purposes were kept secret from the masses. Those who failed to do as their unseen masters wanted were driven to destructive despair, their cities were left to rot. Murder raged around the world as a method in itself to keep all in fear. The people were told to build the very weapons, those in the corrupted offices of authority needed to protect themselves. The people were to be sacrificed at every turn, for they had no true protection. The weakest among them were devoured by the stronger. All upon a world caught in a system which could be shifted in and out of T-time as conditions warranted. Considering the strange origination’s of those below, this could very well be a past-future Hell world from the second [paradox] division.

No wonder the Dark Ones had not been stopped. Even if they were discovered they always had the upper hand. Wars of attrition would be fought on a civil level with brutal intensity fueled by the enormous stockpiles of weapons. Whole nations would collapse from within. Those who survived would then turn on those who like themselves were driven beyond desperation. What was left would be removed by those who were stationed on the giant moon bases hidden from the eyes below. Such lies engulfed these people. Lies making justice more like an evil joker holding a random card for all.

On top of all this was the deeper tragedy. Without intervention they were going to destroy themselves and in fact had already done so on several previous iterations of the potentia. The Korv Seeker had provided enough information to prove each iteration of the phase shift produced a new crop of unsuspecting living people. People who were purposely kept unaware of the dark legacy which had enfolded this pale-blue liquid world termed Earth. A very strange name to describe an oceanic planet. Where had these people originally come from was the deeper mystery. Ancestral memories of this kind must be something to behold. If one could ever, or even want, to remember such darkened horrors. The Dark Ones who ruled this world they called Earth had devised quite a deviously cruel method of self-protection.

But that was the nature of evil itself. To be cowards even to the bitter end.

There was no question the Dark Ones would have to be lured away from Earth long enough for an emergency higher matrix to be re-formulated and generated back into a clean K-time line. The Many as One decided the Seeker prepared for the mission could not know anything about future time events. The Royal Xjhontu Hunter removed all memory spheres containing future referencing information. The Seeker was to be blinded to ensure whatever action was taken followed a random pattern, towards the preferred goal. The emergency Ahvio Gate was posited in a secret location Earth side and its operations were code checked.

The Royal Xjhontu Hunter using the Ahvio gate sent the prepared Seeker to its first destination. The world which existed previous to this worlds trans-shift. From there it would then reunite with the original Seeker, after it too was prepared to keep certain facts unknown. A vast amount of critical information had been gathered by the Koravautien Seeker. Only certain areas of information would aid the Seeker who had to find a unique individual. Someone who could survive the transition without losing temporal identity. The paradox which enveloped these doubled worlds was highly unstable. Too much knowledge would cause the Seeker to initiate actions which would endanger the greater plan. The Seeker was sent the command message now modified to express what had to be done. If the mission was not successful this iteration of a world called Earth would become yet another dark footnote in a lost page of history.

The Royal Xjhontu Hunter powered up the Weapon of Pure Justice. The outcome of its actions had to remain independent of all other events. In the hidden spaces the Watchers were stationed. As guards of time they would stand firm. At the critical moment the Weapon of Pure Justice would be released. As for the world below the time of consequence was now.

The power generation facilities deep below the surface, which were used in conjunction with the potent prisms engineered for manipulating the Earth’s electromagnetic frequencies were targeted: one and all. The Royal Xjhontu Hunter time framed the potent plasma spheres directly into those hidden spaces. In a single moment the weapons and their supporting infrastructure were liquefied. Across the surface of the lands and deep into the oceans down to the bottoms all hidden structures used for the killing of the people were targeted: all mass cycles were resonated causing all artifacts to be used in warfare to solidify. Across the arc of time all those structures, facilities and bases used as instruments connected to the Dark Ones war machine were time framed. The arcs were measured, the purpose identified all things within were illuminated.

Then they were destroyed.

Turning on its path the Royal Xjhontu Hunter swiftly rose into a non-Earth orbit as it scanned the large moon with all instruments at maximum power levels. Unidentified space-craft suddenly emerged from its dark side. Whizzing around the Hunter at tremendous speeds these space-craft without hesitation opened fire with powerful beam weapons and fission powered war-heads. The Royal Xjhontu Hunter was unfazed for it was nothing like any they had ever come across in battle. Moving to a triangulated position between the Earth and its Moon the pulse weapon was instantly deployed. Around the Hunter a single, light-arc brighter then the sun swept the entire space-time field in bold purpose. Everything within that field of space down to a micron dust particle was seized, identified and if of unlawful purpose spontaneously removed from existence.

The Royal Xjhontu Hunter, having cleared the space to one a. u. of enemy craft and assorted weapons from around the Earth, returned its full attention back to the Moon. For those within had discovered profound horrors beneath its dark-gray, cratered surface. To those it found in agony, their tiny bodies chained together in utter destitution, the Hunter lifted them all upwards into the light of the Many as the One. For those who had done this to the children there was to be no mercy.

The entire military complex hidden on the dark side was scanned along the arc of time itself. An awareness crisply summed all facets of that history with clarity. The tangents were broad, twisting into multiple time arcs leading to places far removed from the world below. Origination’s of over a dozen different species showed up in the summed history. Another wave of powerful space-craft with time signatures from the future, came into the current time-frame of now. Smaller craft shot off the base and quickly joined those which swooped down and together these craft raced towards and into a series of trans-shift energy vortices. The arrogant fools who had purposely lived in the hidden, darkened recesses of this moon obviously believed they had escaped. Instead the time vortices and all those within were illuminated. A light greater then any sun lit them up from within. In foul evil they had conspired together in total secrecy but from their collective minds a truth was made clear. They believed they were the gods of men.

The lie was exposed in full. Judgement for them was swift as it was unalterable.

The Hunter removed all of them, their non-terrain hosts and all things of them both. Their very existence was rendered dust unto dust. The Dark Ones who considered themselves to be more powerful then all others of Celestial origination’s had a significant reason to want revenge. Let them come one and all. Still scanning the depths of space for any further conflict the Hunter powered up the gravity fields.

The moon was seized.

A series of pulsed energy waves were sent deep into the moons dead core. The mass of the core was compressed. Using the plentiful tritium on its surface, the core was re-energized. Powerful electrical/magnetic fields were generated. The Moon, under the powerful control excerted by the Royal Xjhontu Hunter, began to slowly spin on a new axis orientation Like a warning, the moon gave notice to all those below, who were a part of its ugly secrecy: Justice was not to be denied. The Royal Xjhontu Hunter having accomplished its first major task went back into the K-time line.

The Hunter prepared by the Oktovatien was ready for its mission. The Royal Xjhontu Hunter sent it to the world named Philia-Delphian, which was marked for destruction. Dropping out of the K-time line this Celestial Hunter left from the skies above Earth, blazing so bright it eclipsed the sun as it plowed by Venus, hard ninety-five degree, angled, swung upward off the ecliptic plane powering up the K-line. The Celestial Hunter went into the cone of time past because there was to be no indecisive choice on the behalf of those who were sure to follow.

Looking out across the ecliptic, from the perspective of the K-time stream those within observed the entire solar system turning on a knifes edge. Spanning the arc, the viewpoint changed to concentric bands, which because of the compression of time looked to be solid rings. Rings of light spinning around the star. A star whose higher-dimensional presence plowed out ahead of the time cone. A leader composed and clothed in an immense burning ball of orange-yellow flames. Streaming in its wake was a golden rain of fire. It was the sound of an inferno, burning time as well as space into submission.

Nearing the conjunction of time coordinates the Royal Xjhontu Hunter decided the Xgwane time bridge was to be utilized for another purpose besides the one intended. The collapse of the Black Wall. Moving into the K-time space field a series of force dimension maps were generated for future reference. From the K-time point of view the space-time cones of these two separate Cosmi were clearly converging into a singularity of yet another frame of timeless dimensions. The Royal Xjhontu Hunter boldly entered this new infinity wondering for what purpose had this one been created. The mysteries of Delus reminded all within answers were a long way from discovery.

Across the Earth, the multitudes of people who were looking into the pre-morning skies could only ponder in drop-jaw wonder, why the electromagnetic fields for seven long seconds had lit up in a shimmering rainbow ring which radiantly flowed around the world. Or imagine with swooning hearts why the moon glowing a fierce, fearsome red inexplicably, visibly rotated on a north/south axis all the way around.

Then upon the Earth below it was daylight of another shade of brightness.

Into the Arms of Deliverance

From below the dawn of the morning an object had came forth in such a burst of brilliant luminosity, that for a long moment it seemed the sun had given birth and now there were two. Shading his eyes, from the onslaught of two suns fighting for brilliance, James Bourbon stood transfixed, incoherent as his mind, unable to fathom what his eyes could see, seemingly turned to mush.

As his eyes began to feel as if they were going to smoke right of their sockets, he could see the divergence of shadow; this newcomer star thing---was moving away from the sun at a tremendous speed. He then realized that whatever it was, it had passed under the sun, and kept right on moving in a high arc across the skies.

Wobbling on his feet, James Bourbon didn't need a lawyer to know this was not good. He turned like a dumb dog chasing its shadow as the object three times as bright as the sun looped high ---- then seemed to freeze on the upper western horizon. He knew then it was already as close as the moon as distant peaks lit up in eerie brilliance Bourbon, scrambling back towards his rental cabin noticed of his two shadows that the wrong one was getting considerably longer. Instantly, the air smelled like ozone deluxe, and a feeling swept over his body as if he had just stepped off a really long, terminal velocity elevator ride down to the bottom.

Only it was the earth beneath him.

Bourbon had felt many types, shades and tastes of fear before, but this fear which gripped him like a python around his soul was something entirely new. A heart flipping, lung squeezing fear which rumbled deep, shak'in his bones, rattling his teeth and gathering force like some kinda crazy freight train spilled outwards. Like a curse from his dry lips, like a howling primal yell from his gut, this new fear erupted from the very space around him.

The sound that was no sound was the cry of a nation’s soul.

Light turned to dark.

Then the two of them danced like lunatics, out for a good time. In the ensuing confusion of madness set free from damnation’s quarters Bourbon stumbled around the adjacent driveway as if he had been pissed drunk for a week. His eyeballs were dancing like twin harlots out for revenge. The doubled often tripled landscape in his vision was stretching, twisting and at times expanding upwards into forms of confusing planes and angles. His perspective elongated on crazy planes and skewed angles while everything around him, was frantically distorted in and out of any sense of proportion. He felt like Gumby’s evil twin on a really, really, bad day.

Bourbon, stumbling around on feet turned into balls of rubber vainly tried to keep his body under control. His feet seemed to be lost in the distance that was the ground, as he was pitched forward in a curving fall smacking the undulating pavement like a dead fish, only to be slammed into it again from the opposite direction. Through blurry eyes the ground looked like a ships deck caught in a tug of war between heaven and hell, as the horizon began heaving upwards and crashing downwards. Rolling crests passed underneath Bourbon as if the ground was swollen with something the size of the moon trying to break free. The roar overhead was deafening as the horizons pitched side to side thundering in angry protest.

The thickly clustered Ponderosa Pines out in the back area wiggled like worms in a death frenzy, mountains in the distance rippled like shark fins just above the surface of tormented waters even as the plane of the driveway was heaving as if cresting on a tidal wave, up.... up..... up...... then plunging damn near vertical back down into a distant hole.

Bourbon felt like a fly on an upside down world gone flipp'in crazy.

As far as he could tell, in this war hell was winning by a landslide.

Painfully rolling onto his back, his breath was squeezed from his lungs as waves of sound energy compressed him. After what seemed an eternity of heaving, spinning and overall contortioning he was back to crawling along the driveway as if he had never walked a day in his silly assed life. In his mind he pursued the only goal worthy of his continued existence. Get the hell back inside. Why he didn't know, but he pushed himself forward nonetheless to that one single minded goal. Inching along, his right cheek was rubbed raw against the pavement. When he reached the door he dragged himself up and over as if those three measly steps were the French alps in a blizzard. Over the hearth he went like a demented earthworm and exhausted by the effort remained inert on the kitchen floor. His forehead was burning a heat so fierce, a pounding migraine so hot, he was pleading through swollen lips to die.....

Another hour or two passed before Bourbon, even wanted to regain his sense of self-control. If one could call puking all over ones-self and not caring anymore self-control. Feeling as if he had just stepped out of his grave he slowly rose to his feet and painfully wobbled down the pine-wood hallway into the small bathroom.

The light streaming through the small window filled the room with a odd tint. What the fuck did he care if the sun looked fucking green. Bourbon stepped under the showerhead not even bothering to undress. He cranked open the cold water valve. He slumped to the side of the tub. The cold water pouring over his head seemed to help shake off some of the numbness smothering his sense of vitality. Feeling some of his strength returning and with it his reason, Bourbon did his best to reassure himself the world was not ending. This was just a really bad day for comet watchers and all those damn "end of the world fanatics" who evidently never had their oblivion dates right....or he would have stayed in bed.

Feeling older then a rock with mold he stepped out of the shower, undressed, dried himself off, wrapped himself in a robe, then warily went back into the small bedroom and laid down on the bed. His mind had been spun, hung and left to dry. Staring up at the ceiling, he went into a odd dream like state. A near forceful recall of all the things he had done over the years.

Both the good and the bad.

Sure he regretted not spending more time with his family, who didn't. His first wife leaving him. A real sad time, but he had moved on. Not getting the house of his dreams. No kids. Hell he regretted a lot of things, but there were good times as well....

He was twenty-six at the time and was establishing himself as the technical design wizard behind the first super-store in America to offer the consumer top quality merchandise at low mass production prices keyed to individual tastes. Any big department store could offer the same type of merchandise, but only at Pohls could every customer tailor the product itself to suit their needs and budgets. Everything cost so much to make throwing merchandise out the back door made no sense in the long run. Sell only what was paid for was the only way to go. Hell, the customer could talk to the very person putting it altogether. Low cost customized products still equated big money.

One of his first jobs at Pohls superstore was to transform the apparel section. During this hectic period of time he had met Tracy. She was a real looker. She was also a university graduate who had majored in clothes/fashion and design. Brains, looks and a killer sense of humor. Their romance was swift, hot and mutually beneficial. The worked well together enjoying the challenges which always accompany something new. The hi-tech transformation made them both feel like they had contributed to the next wave of commerce and style. At Pohls when a customer stepped into the clothing section they were meet by a real, honest to god technical clothes design wizard. By using a sophisticated computer modeling systems, Tracy and the technician aides helped a consumer see hundreds of current fashions, as they would look on the customer then narrow down the choices until everything was just right. Tracy would steer them in the direction of fabrics, colors, styles and half a dozen other tricks every woman and man who came her way appreciated in terms of looking good.

A real-time display, projected on a full length 3-D screen showcased all the possibilities. Pin-point measurements across the body were taken to ensure perfect accuracy. When the customer liked what they saw, off the order went to one of the custom design factories. Robotics combined with skilled production crews insured a quick and efficient production turn-around time. The production houses were specifically located in a one-day shipping radius. All orders were filled in a twenty-four hour period. It was a bold synthesis of manufacturing, mass merchandising, retail design and computer technology. Big bucks to put together, but that was the challenge. Once the system worked it made even bigger bucks.

From that point on he was instrumental in helping to design Pohls innovative electronic specialty departments. Advancements in mass storage devices inspired Pohls engineers to build a first class video and sound library. A consumer went into the entertainment department which contained a dozen, huge wallscreens which could display individual videos, as well as, any number of individual playbacks or all together in a constant dynamic flow. Commercial time was sold to sellers to help encourage consumers to buy related products.

High-quality ear-phones allowed consumers to hear the music in privacy while they viewed sub-screens to browse the music libraries by title, artist and year. Choices were coded onto SmartCards which where then brought to the counter. The consumer then could choose their own format for their individual systems and then purchased the specific medium product. There was no theft or waste involved. Consumers could also bring in their own worn out cassettes, records and tapes to upgrade them to the new format. Pohls had production houses for turning old records (called re-capping) into new ones with a higher fidelity. The method was a highly kept secret. Record companies went ballistic over the rights issue, but lost their case in court. He racked up huge bonuses during that time. Blew it all on Stacy, well not every dime, but most of his money went towards keeping her happy. Hell, he had no complaints she kept him happy as well.

He started doing a great deal of travel in and around the country installing new upgraded features into the expanding chain. He lived and breathed his job. She was getting bored with hers. They started diverging, keeping separate social circles. He was part of the technocrats. Dream wizards always looking for that next technical fix. They re-worked the film departments into mini-digital labs. The digital film department allowed consumers to bring in old (and new) photographs to be digitally re-mastered and composed into large 3-d cubic pictures, projections, posters. Basically what ever the customer wanted. A picture was as wild as you wanted it to be and more. If you didn't like the way you looked no problem. In a digital format any flaw was a key away from perfection. Besides it was the way people looked in the past which they wanted to change most often, why not---who needed to know but them.

On the heels of the digital lab re-builds the video market went through another transformation, tripling the old resolution rates. On the heels of that revolution pixels went fractal---lost the square---very big. Pohls had a joint venture with a high tech vid-screen manufacturing concern. The video departments began selling high (35-mm standard) quality photo pixion-screens by the four-square inch. Go into any digital photo library--right from Pohls if you so desired---- and using the Digital-Photo SmartCards, any person could hang a Rembrandt in their living room or den. This gave the mass consumer an inexpensive means of bringing art works/pictures into their homes which had been previously unattainable.

For a few dollars more build a bigger screen. Buy an animation module in black and white, or full-techno-color and any scene became a full-motion picture. Pixion-screens were accessible by any compatible computer, photo-scanner, copier, comp-phone or teleo-monitor. Plug into the Web and do your own scene. People thrived on their own form of blatant self-expression. Anyone who didn't have product commercial capability was out of the hyper-seller-buyer loop. Tracy by this time was getting into production circles with major movie makers. Soon thereafter, she was gone from his life altogether.

He and the techno boys kept right on shak'in up the industry. With the merging of visual/audio communications, covering the span of video, television, radio, computers etc. many consumers felt confused and frustrated. At Pohls their fears were put to ease. All electronic items at Pohls were modular by design and function. A high level Pohls engineer called it the Lego-block-head assembly method. Give consumers a platform on which to build something better. Give manufacturers a platform to incorporate different, but compatible designs or better yet sell the consumer a Pohls integrated platform.

The Teleo-Monitor was Pohls first step towards that level of modular utility. A low price, high res-pix quality set containing no frills was sold for a razor thin profit. However, when the consumer was able to afford the next step up; all they had to do was insert the upgrade module containing the newly desired features. A total-integrated-lateral-bios-chip (hence the name Teleo) served several different functions, but mainly as the means for new modules to come on line once installed. This chip checked all systems and recorded them onto a PermtechCard which could then be used to diagnose problems which might occur. Service techs loved em or hated them depending on which side of the future they stood on. This chip also allowed all systems to be visually displayed schematic style or by simplified flow-charts. Empower the gee-whiz guy or gal at home. Let them become the resident expert.

A sophisticated security device was also available which when activated sent a sophisticated auto-fax to a lateral connected Pohls security company which was given exact coordinates of the device thanks to the profusion of GPS satellites employing the same purpose for other industries even those not under the governing military establishment. Satisfaction/gratification with a push of a button. That's what the customer wanted.

Pohls was also the only store in America with an open door policy for inventors and creative people. The man behind Pohls, Edward K. Barnes was a true visionary who deeply believed in giving people an opportunity to profit from their own ideas. His struggled to revolutionize the Greater Tri-American patent procedure by installing patent search kiosks which were connected to internet AI super-computers centers. An act which really irked the Military Regents. Their industrial brown-nosers wailed like babies without their momma's in court about the dangers of information freely flowing in dedicated optic-fiber lines or satellite hook-ups and all for free---that really got 'em going.

Having this capability inside Pohls super-stores led to a bitter and nasty war with the military-governments super-bureaucrats and the corporate lawyers who defended the stale archaic status-quo which of course benefited no one but them. Over the years he found himself drawn further into the battle. His outspoken views on a variety of unspoken "naughty subjects" related to slave production towards overseas manufacturing as a leading cause of disparities in class income generation here in the tri-states made him the target of a never ending stream of lawsuits. He had been told in many different ways, styles and methods to keep his big, Yakin mouth shut. But what did he care, that was the fun part. Those arrogant, lying, sleazy scammers deserved a good beating. They certainly beat him whenever they felt the need.

The latest squabble with the big M.G. dealt with the property rights of all info generated from NASA and those clowns who ran its photo-generation library services. Every time NASA snapped a hot picture with the tax funded space-program some back-handed outfit took the damn pictures and fuzzy bunnied the results. So an inventor came to Pohls with a new kind of signal de-coders which was quickly plugged into a satellite feed and after some around the clock tuning began supplying real on-the-fly pictures back into the net for everyone to check out.

Mr. M. G. went freaking ballistic threatening everyone even remotely connected to the project down to their dogs with high treason and started slapping injunctions on everyone and everything they could weaselly claim was part of the anti-Gov. conspiracy. It was this protracted legal stand off which had prompted him to take a reprieve up in the mountains in this small rental cabin.

He was here to rest and relax before heading back out to Washington for another series of legal battles before the Corporate Congress. All this serious shit over a series of pictures showing a very large triangular-shaped, black-UFO coming out from behind the moon in full view during day light. The Military Gov. wanted the rights to secrecy to be enforced---period. Damn the truth. Damn the public who by rights owned the equipment. The pro-policy hacks running the shyster company squeezing NASA's balls wanted the original data-negatives back. Only he wasn't giving them up. They could whack him, pure and simple, but that would mean the files containing the digital pictures in question would be splashed across screens around the world. Right along with big, gory pictures of his dead body. Had to love those digital machines.

So there he was embroiled up to his proverbial eyeballs in spooksville hell. The media hated him on one side of the nightly spews and silently shook his hand on the other. He had become a true common man champion. Defending the right of the people to see and to know what the hell was flying around the moon. Hell, as far as anyone knew NASA hadn't put a bird into space for twenty-years. Fuel shortages had shut down commercial airports even before then. What was left? Just your everyday 'run of the mill' Military secrets.

Only this morning a new and completely unknown flying object, made everything else seem second rate, and insignificantly so, by comparison. Whatever that thing was no military Gov. boob or CIA spookman was going to claim it wasn't cripp'en real. The military along with the Corporate Congress was no doubt clamping down the proverbial "hatches" like a bunch of over-dressed, brown-nosing moles. And all those "end of day" prophets were without question having a mighty fine day. They lived for this kind of melodrama.

Bourbon coming out of his day dreaming decided to get up and face the future. He looked at the table clock. He'd been out of it for nearly five hours. After putting on some suitable clothing for the unexpected nature of the occasion he walked out into the small living room. The room was lighted in a real funny pale-green light. He gave the voice command for the tiny 32-inch Teleo-Monitor to turn on and to display public news channel one-eleven.

He figured it was high time to find out what bonked the Earth.

The room was immediately filled with a radiant amber light from the screen. The panoramic viewpoint displayed the colossal image of a golden sphere; luminous in perfect reflective quality. He was instantly mesmerized his eyes seemingly glued to the screen, as the orb of golden tone silently glided across the open blue-green skies as if it owned them outright. The camera view abruptly pulled back and panned downward refocusing. The scene was one of totally, raw pandemonium.

The streets of the capital were a massive crush of people. Terrified beyond hope they were running first in one direction then another. Watching them it seemed as if people were being stirred by unseen hands into chaos and despair. The camera view once again abruptly shifted this time to a male reporter who was visibly shaking as he fiddled with his mike, which was not working properly, whose face grew more ruddy and sweaty by the second, as he was yanking on cables and slapping the microphone on his thigh. This guy was losing it....and he knew it.

On any other day this would have been his final news broadcast, but today it made him seem more real. More human, less like a plastic rep-man/woman the anchor crews and live news-hounds often came across as if on purpose. When the reporter finally managed to get the mike to work again he practically shouted, "What we need is...(static---bleeps----bloops----pings)---mi----litary------a----ction..."

Bourbon, his frustration rising quickly slapped the side of the set as the audio cut out again. He pounded the top of the set feeling ever greater agitation as the reporter, his ruddy face drenched in sweat, knowing he had lost audio yet again, was shouting uncontrollably at someone off screen. More nerve racking screeching issued from the speakers, soon followed by a strange static/sonic reverberation which caused the speakers to howl as if in tonal pain.

Bourbon only jumped back from the screen when something sharply pricked his mind like a needle. The camera view swung wildly back and forth then tightly focused on the big, fat, golden orb cruising through the western skies like it was the Almighty God. Well, maybe not god Bourbon thought, but still this had to be the most perfect, enormous gleaming orb he had ever seen. Big---real damn big. The events below played upon its golden surface in eerie silence. Then without warning the surface of the sphere lit up, blazing yellow-orange tinged with red.

"Ohhh shit!" Bourbon cried out in stunned disbelief, even as he stepped closer to the set, as if getting his nose right up to the screen would somehow make it all the more understandable. With his face pressed to the glass he watched as blazing yellow-gold vortices began playing across the surface of the orb. Then came intense radiant rings of yellow-orange light, boldly streaking outward across the horizons. In moments these yellow rings of fire engulfed everything for thousands of miles. Bourbon, watched as the horror above showed itself in the faces of the people caught up in its yellow embrace down below. Dumbfounded, as he stared into the screen, he was watching them stumble about as if time had stopped altogether. In his heart their monumental panic swiftly become his own.

A series of scenes played out in slow motion. Down below the orb the people who had been running every which way suddenly turned on crazy angles of motion then looked as if their skin had turned to flesh colored glass. Bourbon stood in the living room horrified by the unbelievable sights before him. The light outside went to a shade of shocking greenish-white. The world rumbled ominously as if it was trying to spit out its final curse.

Then the powerful golden amber light burst through the screen with a sound resembling that of a DeathRrock concert on steroids. An electric hum which soon turned to an incandescent fire began sweeping through him in pulsating frequencies. His cry of pain sounded foreign to his ears even as his wide open eyes burned. He went to the wooden floor---bam having lost all sense of up or down, a notion of what was light or heavy. A darkness engulfed his thoughts even as his eyes continued blazing with blinding yellow light. Inside his conscious the prick had become a storm. As he lay gasping on the floor a new scene came into sharp focus as if his head was clearly being drawn upwards to a place among the clouds of doom.

High above the central valley of the California Nation tiny specks appeared on the eastern horizon. Across the skies they came by the thousands like bees following behind a whale. As the skies turned to a darker orange-yellow hue they closed in upon their target. At the critical moment they let loose with their burning arrows. Afterburners visibly kicked in and the formation spread out in a precise re-treat and flew out and away from the orb---very fast on an upwards angle. Ground to air boomers from bases from across the western hemisphere visibly converged onto the scene as they too closed in upon the target.

And upon the very moment of impact the sphere blossomed outward.

A huge expansive globe became bigger still as its color turned from fire orange-yellows to dark crimson-reds. The titanic forces unleashed by the warheads were consumed in their totality. Out from the sphere there came a pulse wave of energy of uncomprehending power. In an instant the fleeing fighters were overtaken by thousands of ground floor to upper atmosphere pulse rings of white-hot blue.

When the pulse rings passed the jets, they stretched out the fleeing aircraft as if they were made of silken wisps of metallic taffy. Then these craft were violently billowed and whipped across the red hot skies. Wafting across the horizon they came down like phantomisglorically sculptured birds of prey. As if their very design had been wrought by the hand of a demented god. Slowly the doomed craft descended to the Earth below....

The brave pilots were convoluting specks which had been turned into the consistency of frothing bloody foam. They looked to him as if they had been hurled against the tortured angles of the now wispy ethereal forms of their airy thrones. As a single, chaotic fused mass, men and machines hit the ground with a sound which shook the cabin. The sound was if the bones of giants were being snapped by jack-hammers in turn pummeling his ears.

Then Bourbon realized he had seen things backwards. The Eastern seaboard had been the first to be hit. Scene after scene played out before his mind in agonizing, tormenting detail. Whole cities had vanished like vapor under the shadow of the golden sphere all around the world. Those cities that were spared outright destruction were brought to an absolute halt. It was as if every molecule of form became as stone. A sense of motion frozen so solid time itself was a forgotten experience. Whole areas which had been hidden underground emerged from the disturbed earth like oversized subs desperate for air. Ships were lifted off the ocean and sailed out over the seas like fucking rockets only to be slammed into a huge lump. After a time it was squished to start another. There was nowhere to hide and nowhere to run. Machines rained out of the skies of Philia-Delphian as dust. Unable to turn off the horrific panorama inside his head James Bourbon lost all hope anybody was going to survive or even want to....it was clear to him man was being annihilated. On the wings of silence had come the Orb of Death.

Desperate to rid his mind of any further images transmitted by the orb he blindly stumbled around the cabin. He found his small toolbox and grabbed a screw-driver. Fumbling blindly, nearly incoherent from the pain throbbing through his body he desperately stabbed at the wall socket. He knew he had succeeded when a new pain hit him with a terrific jolt snapping his head back. He opened his eyes, gulped air then began coughing like a crack hacker when the rancid odor of singed hair and burned flesh overwhelmed his nose. All of the fingers on his right hand had turned black, but his desperate gamble worked. He was still alive. The question was for how long.

What in the hell should I do now he wondered?

He glanced around the room only to find all sorts of absurdities. The living room window was etched in fine detail of the final moment of the live broadcast. He ran his fingers across the lines that had formed within smooth glass. The odor of burnt chips and wiring added to the stench which stung his nose. Everything electrical was torched. Across the couch was the shadow of his form literally burnt into the pale fabric. He was grateful the entire cabin hadn't burned down. Across the room he studied the radio frequency-clock sitting on the mantletop whose minute hand spun backwards; while the hour hand spun forward. Crazy ass shit. He looked at his watch. The digital readout was a blur as if its tiny little crystal mind had flipped out. The comp-phone was melted on the counter. It was goopy. He molded it in his hands like playdough. He opened the fridge to find everything was four shades of piss-pea green, hairy and stunk so bad he instantly regretted looking inside.

He ran out the front door holding his nose.

Out in front his rental car looked like some kind of abstract, art deco monstrosity heaped and twisted around atop the pavement. They had become as one. Both were full of odd holes and together stretched into twisting planes rising thirty-feet off the ground. This is what he had heard. He ran down the driveway which had been melted, spun and swirled around like black and brown pudding. As the ground liquefied the whole mess had been heaved upwards and then scooped out. After a time it had been frozen solid.

After climbing down and around the mess which was once the front driveway, Bourbon continued down the narrow street, which was after a mile literally pinched into a single foot wide lane rising and falling. Running along he knew in the back of his mind this goal was futile, but he had to try. Another quarter mile down he left the pinched roadway. He followed a trail which snaked its way through the rubbery looking conifers and underbrush glowing three shades of lime-green to an out cropping of rock known as Fullers point.

Up on top was a small cave. He had been there two nights before with a bunch of locals who had invited him along. Good people who had him laughing so hard all night long he had gone home with a sore jaw. He wondered what had became of everyone. The scrub bush and trees were thick, but there were a lot of residences up here. Less then a half mile down the main road was Springers Lake. Hell, there were thousands of folks up in this area all year round and lots more during the summer seasons. But he didn't see anybody down below. The landscape looking squashed in places gave no indication of any human presence past or present.

As he climbed up the hillside that was composed mostly of granite rocks he knew something had found him. Above the mountain peaks a golden speck caught his eye to the south-west. The speck loomed larger as it danced along the horizon. In his haste up the steep, rocky incline he missed a step and tumbled backwards. He hit a large boulder hard on his back, but rolled off continued downward another seven feet and landed on a bad angle on his right leg. Groaning in pain he turned onto his back. He wiped a trickle of blood off his face from above his right eye. He stood up and tried to re-climb the lost ground, but his ankle kept giving away under his weight.

The sun was setting, but the orb of doom was so brilliant in golden radiance, this day would end when it decided. Staring upwards he wondered how could such a thing of beauty be so evil in purpose? As the orb closed the distance he wiped his dry lips with the back of his right hand. As it approached the crest of the Sierra mountains the orb of pale yellow cast everything into a strange tone of light. The area where he stood shimmered as if a pool of blazing golden water was gushing down the steep rocky hillside. Standing atop his rock waving his fists, Bourbon like a fool was shouting obscenities in vain. The sphere loomed bright in the sky directly above him. A colossal image of deadly purpose. Bourbon figured his time had come. Upon the surface of the sphere a spiral band of energy poured forth.

And he was thinking: to stand upon the edge of infinity, your life cast back like a shadow is but finite. He looked at his shimmering golden shadow. This was the measure of his time to live. He just hated the idea all of those damn end of the world, doom talking, apocalyptic praying idiots had been right after all. Then the spiral bands enclosed him with invisible fingers of icy needles. With a force of supernatural power it seized him...

There was a distinct sensation of fantastic exhilaration which was immediately followed by a phenomenal spine snapping acceleration. The golden spiral which had contracted around him drew him into the interior of the sphere. Before his mind could react, before a thought could even reach the core of his mind; his very being was squeezed and raked by an impulse of agony no flesh could hold. At least not willingly. The force of a hundred white-hot suns exploded with no mercy behind his eyes as something reached deep into the center of his existence and without fanfare lit his very soul on fire.

His life did not pass before his eyes; no---it took off screaming with a thunderous concussion flowing outwards only to be returned just as forcefully. Bourbon was in the vortex, a literal howling hurricane of himself. Every single moment of his existence was now a frame, a snap shot of his life--every act, every deed was suspended in time. Freeze-framed then flowing linking together as these frames formed a massive living wall of self-turned round and revealed going inward then outward moving up/out and around him. The images of a life spent in a time of a place revolved into a coherent shape. His life was forming a hyper-imageine. Words tumbled across his thoughts---meanings---what?

He became the I of the am of one focal point.

A referenced nexus by which all others came into being.

He was an Omnieint eye rotating through golden amber space.

His world had become a black and white Moibus strip.

He whirled and turned at the ends of golden lighted strands of doubled helixes.

I am he re-formed at its center turned round.

I am he ceased to be...convergence...is once again

I am the Spirit---that is the Will---whose Soul is conscious---drawn upwards---to be Aware--going to a Perceivement: He could know the path of the unknown and make it real. He acted upon that pure vital truth. To prove the proof of this he had but one chance. His choice was firm and unyielding.

A trine had to hold true......

.......the world slammed back into focus. What had been---was gone---what was to be was here, but this too was not for long.

The Bourbon that was again himself, rose from his sleep to the sounds of a harsh city. A rueful city coming back to life after another eventful evening. He threw back the covers rubbing his temples, then his eyes. What a seriously unpleasant nightmare he thought. A horror of horror which left him feeling as if he hadn't slept in weeks. He was confused down deep, but nothing made any sense. He got up and made his way into the kitchen. Light was kicking out the night. According to the table clock it was a quarter to six. He usually watched the early news, however he avoided turning on the t.v. set or the radio and instead made his morning coffee in relative silence. According to the previous weather forecast, today like yesterday was to be a hot August scorcher. Another day for the record books and he had work to do at a corner market called Gino's, on the bad side of town.

Actually by this time it was all bad.

Personal log entry: Into this world called Earth I have been delivered. By hands greater then my own, I was placed here upon this world in the midst of powerful beings, unlike any I have ever studied. To a task of greater importance my fate as been molded and I can only aspire to achieve what has been ordained.

A message has been received.

The instructions are not within the defined scope of my true purpose: To study emerging sentient species. Those who dwell on this world have advanced to a level quite beyond the range of my standard operation protocols. However, I will do as I have been instructed. The diadictic record will prove my internal security codes have been altered to allow operations outside of this Seekers sanctioned authority. This data profile will record all of my acts on a secured encrypted level.

The enigmatic command message is as follows: Find the Champion of Justice. Test the one who shall be to the very core of his existence. Let the darkest fears be unbound. Let the purpose be the reward. So shall this one give no quarter to the evil. Failure means Death to them all.

Such a contemplation I have never undertaken. I have according to the solar tables of time which reference this world; three days to complete my command task. I am not accustomed to such procedures and I as a rule do not dwell on the uncertainties of Fate.

My first task is to recover all operational spheres from a Koravautien Seeker sent to this world during a very early period of the do-Siban Seibiku. My internal instructions do not explain why or to what purpose this original Seeker was sent to this world to accomplish. While on this world named as Earth, I will be using an Ahvio Gate for movement. This gate has been prepared for this mission and its control functions have been placed in a modified communications sphere.

The location of the Koravautien Seeker has been previously determined. I am now beginning my world line transvertification. This Ahvio Gate time cycle is a precise pulse unit of one-trillionth of the IaXiean standard Dez (second) point. The Dez point unit is used as a measure of the fourth dimensional arc between three-dimensional coordinates between space/time frames. The arc is split into three time-frame arches in continuance. The three semi-arches like doors open simultaneously. Distance of Tm(time-movement) and Sm. (speed of movement) were deliberately set by fixed rules of Law. The Ahvio arch is limited to fifteen Dez-points of forward time movement from the point of origination to the point of destination. The Law was never broken. The rules were never abridged: None can arrive before they leave. None can leave before they arrive. None can be in two or more places at the same time. These rules of Law prevent unlawful movement into the past-future, future-past or perpetual now. The Ahvio arch by Law is in counter-point to the Celestial Kertesian time-line. The K-time line created an infinitive pathway to connect two finite points in sequence to the desired destination. These actions were recorded as they occurred.

I am now within the triangulated location. External visual is open. Scanning location for the Korv Seeker. Korv Seeker has been identified and visual scans have been completed. According to check sum scans the Korv Seeker is non-sentient and physically damaged beyond repair, but the protected spheres of memory are intact.

I am now beginning communication protocol Diagnes.

Let the records indicate the Korv Seeker has compiled a complete working language set of the dominant species and a documented profile of physical beings. Some of these individuals under close supervision have been used for awareness studies. For a Korv Seeker this is a very rare unlawful act. Memory analysis of the Korv Omnieint spheres confirms even in this system Planetary Life Seekers are by Law divided into three types by purpose: General Biological Information Recording, Specific Species Perceptional Study and Cultural Interdiction by Language-Perceivence Transliteration.

All Planetary Seekers of the first purpose are guided in their operations by the Tvotrieitiens. The Tvotrieitiens are predominantly young female Celestials of the BeosXidiatien class, who explore Galaxies which contain worlds of the desired elemental type. When a world of the required standards has been discovered; the Tvotrieitiens, within the specified parameters of the Law, seed the chosen world with Life. Seekers of the first purpose perform the bio-scan surveys of these worlds according to the specified time schedules and report back to the Tvotrieitiens. As life on these worlds evolves, all the diversity of life, from micro to macro classes are surveyed and the knowledge gained recorded. These classes of life entities are then divided into open or closed sets based on biological purpose. The purpose is not to catalogue every species outright only to identify evolutionary progress in specific areas. When a species attains a certain level of evolution the Kovadoun Seekers are sent to that world for further study.

All Planetary Seekers of the second purpose study the Species which demonstrate the qualities of thought, language and to a lessor extent specific types of technology. Only a few species are able to cope with other beings dramatically unlike themselves. Related conceptional thought processes have been found to be the best indication of ability to form outside relationships and all requirements those commitments demand. It was also found in these cases body-type often played a secondary role. When a species is found with the characteristics demonstrative of the capability of higher social interaction, a search is activated to match them up with those within the range of its own life qualities. These species are then to be gradually presented with the opportunity for interaction with other species outside their own immediate experience. Only after all these procedures are completed is the third purpose Kavatrien Seekers sent to the chosen world.

All Planetary Seekers of the third purpose learn the language of the chosen Species in much greater specific detail: A higher Perceivence of Sentience. The third purpose Seeker is not sent to control the highly complex social interactions of two or more separate species. Rather these Seekers only learn the language or languages spoken, and all the intricate relationships needed for factual understanding. Once those communication goals are accomplished, all of the gathered information is then sent back to the specific pre-selected Ottromurten for final Onadizeo resolution/analysis. During this time period all of that worlds compressed bio-profile is added to the Tablet of Destinies, in the chosen Ottromurten. Records indicate such endeavors for Santhropidian Indotrions are only done on IaXiean, after all the knowledge gathered has been carefully resolved to all of its higher truths. Only then are encounters between cultures decided and acted upon. Type one and two Planetary Seekers never participate in these events.

Never before has a Kovadoun Seeker, such as myself been instructed to find a particular type of individual for a higher ranking purpose. The protocols of the Law have never been broken. There has to be a significant reason to justify such an unlawful act. My authority command spheres were tested and found to be in accordance with a higher truth. These beings are a previously unidentified branch of Santhropidians of the Indotrion class Myrcijien. How they are linked to the Celestials is unknown.

I have deive-scanned and summed the information provided by the damaged Korv Seeker. As I did so a very old memory flared up from deep within the newly acquired spheres of purpose: For these kind shall not perish.

I am now commencing the search for the specified individual as required by the command message. These pre-instructions are to be carefully followed: The females who bear the children (because they are too vulnerable) are not to be considered. Males who have families are also not be considered. The very young and older males are not to be considered. However, I am to test a random sample of each group to be used as a background sum check on the one who has been chosen: A single male of the specified age group.

*****************************************************

A day has passed and I have in a random manner; using the powerful Dezonlyses sphere provided for this mission, probed the reflective mental energy-patterns of the men who were in the range ordained, as well as, all those who looked deep into my crystal domains. As instructed I have gathered sum check information from men and woman in hundreds of different professions, lifestyles, race-cultures, those of wealth, poverty, in fact all manner of people. After one twenty-four hour Earth period the results are inconclusive. None of the people had the exact characteristics I am testing for with deliberate precision. The command message did not specify the exact reasons for the unusual requirements making it difficult for me to accurately gauge if the profile specified is in fact attainable.

Reflecting on the all information I am gathering it must be seriously considered that the Sapient Humans have lost through successive iterations of the species, the perceivence and thus the very fabric of the higher energy patterns of the original Indotrionic matrix. These unknown Santhropidian Indotrions are becoming solid Anthropoligens. Not so far in their distant future, this kind will never be anything more, than a heavy protoplasmic bio-mass stuck in the rut of world-techno-logic sterility.

This species is becoming a totally artificial creature.

Without the ability of actual perceivence, to gain the rhythm of the higher pattern, Indotrions as a rule perish when exposed to the null-force of discontinuity. Extinction for Indotrions of this worlds type on the higher levels of K-time existence is rare. I have documented these observations in accordance with protocols governing species right to self -preservation. Let the record also show I am very disturbed by the implications I have discovered.

Whatever disaster has caused this unknown branch of Santhropidians "fall from grace" [a strange term found again and again in my probing dialogues] is so garbled I cannot resolve the truth of it entirely. A severely stunted Indotrionic state caused by successful reproduction of the chosen bio-form? That causation is not a proven or even previously identified problem of Indotrionic cessation.

I am deeply troubled by the information I have gathered. I feel certain enough to conclude the Humans, as they call themselves, are perishing because they can no longer reach and synchronize to the higher order pulse point.

Using the internal Dez point for a sum check on Earth’s current time position I have calculated the time stream on this Earth does not register K-time at all. This in itself is very puzzling. A real world with a shadow time line?

Why is this solar system out of phase, in fact in mirror reverse motion to the Antionn fields? This time period seems to be alone---like a fragment of a greater piece long since forgotten in darkness. Perhaps the dynamic yellow suns radiation surges or the planets own electromagnetic fields contributed to this problem. The simple fact is more time is needed to study the complex Sapient Human nature.

These Sapient Humans in many ways have defied the very laws of nature. Some claim they arose to supreme status from the hand of one who gave forth instantaneous Creation; while others claimed they evolved by the natural laws governing the biological matrix to the position of supreme status. Nothing about either group makes any long term sense. However, I do not have the time needed to discover the truth to all of these baffling questions of origination.

I am also puzzled as to why the original first purpose Seeker had been given so few parameters in its original search and retrieve diadatems. These are very unusual circumstances which require deep reflective analysis. Answers however, have not been forthcoming

******************************************

I have completed the second day of random testing. The search for the chosen one has led me from one major city to another. The identifying requisites are not yielding what I expected them too. I have begun experiencing the tones of consequence. A constant ringing of frequency has caused my internal working order to greater efforts. I cannot fail the purpose in which I have been entrusted. The following information sets have been compiled and are to be a source of preta-code documentation:

Further testing has revealed the Sapient Humans have a paradoxical understanding of justice, but that was not the main problem. The Sapient Humans had a strong sense of heroic and champion like attributes, but that too was not the crucial problem. The Sapient Humans are of a high internal conscience and when they feel compelled to do so give themselves to help others often in the face of grave danger.

The problem is the Sapient Humans consider evil to be on par with good!

In the minds of many tested they were one and the same. The truth of evil is not found in the opposition of good as it is defined in the Omnieint memory sphere. The definition given is altogether different. The two separate meanings of evil have no correlation with good not even in diametric opposition. The Sapient Humans have among them those who literally love to be evil.

Comparative analysis of subjective test profiling shows a key percentage of Sapient Humans were unable to recognize in the chosen example the juxtaposition of evil: A house of sacred writing and beliefs designated as a Church called itself Holy as its members committed Murder. Others tested refused to acknowledge this was even possible despite the recording of these events in their own history libraries.

Another segment of the population tested could not recognize the banality of evil: An economic system which perversely corrupts all who need it for survival. This corruption starts at the top and works its way lockstep to the bottom; even as it makes all economical monetary transactions very efficient. A majority of the people of this world work for others of vastly higher status who purposely do not share the truth of value production equally or fairly. The system of economic transactions produces wide scale shortages in order to fulfill the actual purpose of those shortages. The people can only consume what they are allowed to produce. Production is controlled by those who cause the shortages.

Cross section comparisons of social conditioning as it pertains to group status demonstrated a large number of people refuse to recognize the evil of their own creation: A very high percentage of people hate all others not unlike themselves. These people use differences in tautology to justify their external dishonesty. Group associations are used as status measures and authoritative requirements; which are in themselves virtually impossible for anyone else outside of those closed groupings to attain. This is done to ensure no one else can be just like them. This is the foundation for all racial strife even though biological testing showed no substantive differences exist in genetic quality. Tautological referentialism is quite variable, but in no way supports claims made to racial superiority.

Also among the populations are those who reveled in the evil itself, treating the very essence of evil, as if it was a treasure for them to have all for their own. A treasure which destroyed them, even as they held it to them, for the sheer joy of its possession. Only they claimed it was the other way around, such was the nature of the lie they believed to be true.

Right and wrong in the hearts, minds and wills of these people tested often had little connection to the greater questions before them. To the sacrifice of the greater good few seemed to have an interest, only to the interest itself. For all their testimony many gave to the higher one they called God, few of them dared to question a "God" in transposition to its own ideals.

Was this God of Sapient man an outcast itself? A Celestial long since forgotten? The false threads of the past have been incorporated into the greater human social fabric with such unrelenting animosity the Sapients have become the very thing they claim to despise.

When the evil is considered greater than good what then?

The internal frequency is ringing with increasing pitch. The random opposition pattern, in which I have faithfully presented myself to those tested, has not yielded the desired end.

********************************************

It is the afternoon of the third day. I have not found the "Champion of Justice" as ordained. I have begun to experience a threshold of intolerance, which if not resolved will lead to the collapse of my internal working order. Command failure is imminent.

A factor of risk has crossed the point of no return.

I have learned certain radio frequencies are related to acts of violence. I am scanning all frequencies in my immediate area. I have determined my last and final effort will be to test and choose one of the responding individuals called policemen. These are individuals, who more so then others tested, are always involved in the most dangerous of activities: The apprehension of those who are breaking the Law.

I have triangulated the location described by the radio signal. The Ahvio Gate has been activated. I have posited in the midst of a growing crowd of law-breakers. A significant aspect of the command protocols has been revealed.

Another Dog Day Afternoon

The manager of "Gino's" was a heavy-set, balding man of gruff appearance and manner. He was dressed in black slacks, wide around his large waist, a white, long-sleeved oxford shirt and a non-descript dark tie. Despite the air blowing down from a large ceiling fan he was sweating up a storm. He paid little attention to the service technician who was waiting patiently for him to finish signing all the forms. This repair was costing big bucks, so he figured quite rightly, the man could wait. He slowly rechecked the paper work fanned out on the counter before him.

"What was your name again?" asked the store manager, whose tone of voice was edged with long years of authority. He had asked his question without bothering to look up to the man who waited for him.

Bourbon without sounding annoyed repeated his name, "James T. Bourbon."

He placed his business card on the counter. The store manager mopped his heavily, creased brow then as if he really didn't want to---picked up the business card. "This is sure an expensive system," grumbled the manager as his right hand pushed the pen to the point of completeness; as if it took his entire weight to do so.

"You wanted the best, now you have it. And in a few short months this system will pay for itself," responded Bourbon knowing full well he was charging a fair price. "The Digital Profiles security system is a big step up from what you have been using."

"Tell that to those heavily armed gang bang'in thugs, who took turns pistol whipping, my used to work here, thought he was bad, brawny and cool night supervisor. Hell, while they was beating him to a pulp, another duo like tag team'in freaks armed with titanium bats, worked their way around my store smashing all of the indoor camera's thereby, preventing their identification. Sure now I have a big fancy Cadillac of a security system, but for how long before the never ending barrage of criminal misfits try'in to bust down my door makes any fucking business possible. Tell me that? Cause that's what I'd like to know."

"I 'm not a fortune teller. I just do what I can to make people think twice about ripping off somebody else."

"Yeah, sure like you don't have to live around here either."

"I live but three miles from here and I don't sleep any better even with a security rig better then most millionaires. It's all a matter of chance. Making the criminally intended chances less for remaining another lost face in the crowd, is the best any one of us can hope for."

"I can't live on fucking hope," sarcastically quipped the manager as he completed the required signatures. He turned away to help his clerk with a credit transaction.

Bourbon re-checking his own paperwork was glad that he was finished. It had been a long day. Over the course of the morning he had installed four new indoor camera's with heavier mounting frames and reinforced kevlar covers; installed a new outer pole camera preprogrammed to automatically snap-shot and send a wider area of the outer perimeter than the old one (which had been mounted above the door); retrofitted the light pole with a compact, high image resolution, bullet resistant vid-cam and four powerful halogen lights.

From now on real-time digital snap-shots were to be sent to a central dispatch office where they could be quickly processed. As a rule computer recognition of random faces was difficult, but an office of trained spotters could quickly match faces using advanced facial topography screening. The more you knew about a persons face the more likely you could spot 'em in a hurry.

He placed copies of the work sheets and invoices on the counter. Then he started packing up the rest of his gear into his tool box. He was also keeping an eye on a crowd of thugs who were gathering outside in close proximity to his truck. The store manager handed Bourbon his check, then followed his pensive glance outside.

Coming in from across the street in quick profusion were gang members dressed in the baggy, look at my fancy dressed butt hanging out, which symbolized their "stylish" hood affiliations. The droopy drawers look was quite the rage. Bourbon wondered silently if looking silly, as well as, stupid was meant to induce the very ridicule the gang bangers needed to justify their outrage.

"Brazen bastards, don't give a damn about noth' in," said the store manager obviously still highly pissed off about the previous nights incident.

"Ain't that a sad fact about society," said Bourbon. Outside a crowd was running past the store front. "Look, if you have any problems with this system don't hesitate to call me personally allright."

"What ever you say. I have problems every damn day."

"Don't we all. Well, I'm out of here." Bourbon noted the crowd was paying more attention to something else around the corner and not his truck. The two men shook hands as expected, but both of them were more concerned about what was transpiring outside.

"Yeah you bet. Thanks again," said the manager as he watched the crowd closely through his new outer camera. A camera hooked to a system powerful enough to profile the face topology even under a mask, and render eye and dental characteristics with uncanny accuracy. He scanned the crowd with deft movements of the operation joystick. Then he called the cops. Trouble was brewing between two men. The growing crowd, acting like crazy fools, shouting and hollering at full volume were converging around his brand new BMW in a tumultuous war dance.

Bourbon headed out the front door of Gino's quickly eye-balling the scene around him on this smog laden, hot, smelly day with a heightened sense of wariness. Gino's corner market bordered two very hostile sections of this part of the city. Gang banging idiots, always looking for trouble like hard scrabble miners looking for fools-gold streamed in from across the street. Bourbon as was his custom, ignored the hard stares of those who watched him. Everyone of them was carrying enough fire power to make battle hardened GIs look tame. Someone else's life meant nothing to these kids. But that's the way they wanted it to be or they would change their way of living. Nobody forced them to live like animals. Being poor in his mind didn't equate with being a cold blooded killer.

He quickly walked over to his truck. Although he kept his older model Chevy truck purposely utilitarian it had been broken into on more than one occasion. Entering and leaving his pick-up in some areas was the worst time for trouble. He quickly unlocked the rear slide out chest compartment, with an electronic activation key, put his toolbox inside and re-locked the chest by sliding it back into position. A design which mounted the case hardened steel chest into the bed itself; helping to prevent crowbars from prying it open or removing it altogether. A tiny digital camera was located inside the cab which snapped his pic when he came up to the window and served as the means of opening the door and unlocking the trucks security system.

As Bourbon came around to the drivers side the two men, vociferously shouting out racial epithets at each other, along with the mob around them, burst around the corner at the same time. The crowd of bangers, who were barking out their nasty two-cents right behind them; poured into the open spaces filling it with sinister purpose. Just another hot, stinking day in the rotting cement jungle thought Bourbon who heard, despite all the rough incoherent shouting, that the younger of the two opponents was a brazen car thief. Given the nature of the accusations by the older man this had transpired once before and this was going to be the last time....

Wild accusations punctuated by even wilder claims of bravado stirred the mood of the crowd in an ever increasing pitch; in the breadth of seconds furiously heated exchanges of posturing signs and four colored words were now going to push.... to shoves. More shouts, harder pushes giving way to flying fists as the two of them grappled violently. The demented crowd quite hungry for blood was egging them on; ringing the street brawl in a tightening cluster punctuated by their foul hysteria.

Too many people, including the hoodlums, with nothing else better to do converged on the mob blitz, from nowhere in particular, quickly blocking any chance Bourbon had from leaving. The mood of the rancorous crowd was quickly headed towards deadly results. The nucleus of angry, shouting voices filled the putrid, hot air with obscenities. Blood-lust emotions gone wild with virulent hatred had erupted into a full blown orgy of violence.

The ghouls had tasted blood.

However, this ugly crowd was aiding the apparent thief.

"Murderous fucking lunatics!" he swore jumping out of the way, as if every word was a triple curse. More bodies engulfed the space around him. Caught up in the unfolding sheer ugliness around him Bourbon found himself being bull-dogged from every direction, constantly knocked backwards from his truck. Emboldened by the growing hostilities the original crowd was beating everyone in an arms reach.

As the raging mass of bodies surged crazy-ass around him, Bourbon actually came within a hands reach of the first man; who was being severely beaten to death. Even as that man slumped to his knees, his face a bloody mush, Ka-pows of gun fire rang out inches from Bourbons head as a shooter emptied his gun of bullets into the beaten mans face and chest. Gunfire spontaneously erupted from all around him as the wounded became the dead. An already frenzied, deadly crowd brazenly turned on everyone this time with guns a' blazing. Blue smoke erupted everywhere as bullet holes peppered everything.

His truck was a ringing like an angry bell.

The eyes of those who had grabbed Bourbon gleamed of death.

Bitter eyes of those who had nothing to lose and nothing to gain. They swung him around violently, lifting him of his feet, then slammed him hard against the corner market wall. As sirens wailed in the distance, he dodged as best he could a flurry of punches aimed at his face and chest. Above him a high toned humming, distinct like no other, grew louder in his ears drowning out the sounds of madness which had engulfed him.

Then a very strange thing happened.

Time itself seemed to stop in the space, of a pause, of a single moment.

An evil stench rose up from around him. Such maledictive evil living in the rotted spaces of what had once been their very souls. In truth they were no longer even Human Beings, for they had become something far worse than any carnivorous mammal. Suddenly Bourbon heard a rumbling tone burst outward from around him with such force, he thought his ears were going to explode. A blinding, blue-white flash. Another tremendous thundering roar. His attackers, along with the rest of the entire foul crowd, were knocked off their feet and sent ass over end in every direction. The effect was as if a concussion bomb had gone off with intelligent distinction. Bourbon gasping for breath, his face bloodied, stood there against the wall stunned speechless by what he had just witnessed.

The Seeker had gone into action.

******************************************************

I am using protocol Dienbrien as specified in the command orders.

Initiating Dezonlyses scan.

Let the data records show this chosen man by instinct, reached upper level temporal mind state Aonynesis: the Death Perception. Chosen mans instinctive ability to concentrate the pulse wave exactly where it was most devastating satisfies command requisites. This cusp perception is not a learnable talent and therefore, the proof, this one is capable of doing what has been Ordained. The risk factor is balanced. Further actions are deemed excusable if not outright warranted.

The trans-linking period is to be activated for entry at exactly one Earth hour. Failure is not a concept I entertain lightly. I am activating the Earth side Ahvio Gate.

A Strange Trip Begins

James Bourbon surveyed the scene around him with nothing short of incredulous amazement. Those that had been responsible for the loss of life were writhing on the ground in pure agony; their faces were contorted into masks of pain their screams couldn't match. Those who had been spared stood in silence, eyes wide in shock, mouths agape. They did not seem to notice as Bourbon did the strange object, which sparkled in the late afternoon sun, above those who had been murdered so violently.

And then this strange object began moving towards him.

He glanced around to see if anyone even noticed this object, but none gave any indication they even knew it was there. When the glittering spherical object was a foot from him it changed shape, from a sphere of crystal, to a foot long crystal rod. Without conscious decision Bourbon found himself reaching out with his right hand feeling the strange object firmly in his grip. There was no denying this object had a will stronger than his own.

He stood there blinking under a raw, hot sun holding this strange golden crystal rod even as his mind locked into a strange exhilaration. With a sudden burst of golden-yellows he watched as these double-spiraling, light pulsation’s suddenly crossed him. Immediately a strange feeling that left him quite dizzy and robbed him of his perceptions swept over him like a pulsating wave of compression. Falling to his knees under that force Bourbon suddenly found himself in a place he did not care for at all. The unexplained transition gave him no sense of up or down. There he was staring incomprehensibly out into this weird, but dense feeling, viridescent lighted, fogged space. All the while still holding that strange octagon crystal rod.

He found his sense of orientation was totally confused.

It was if he was a blur of incongruent lines as up and down impossibly reversed themselves and him, or so it seemed. The strange atmosphere around him was so thick he could not see more than a few yards in any direction and worse yet was closing quickly in around him. A feeling akin to being frozen into place even as his heart was racing like mad. A feeling of great foreboding, worse then he had ever known, erupted across his thoughts. He felt his body going away from him even as the blackness welled up fast across his vision.....even as his voice failed to sound his terror.

******************************************************

The Seeker discovered the interim passage to be on the wrong set of coordinates. The Seekers sensing capabilities in the green semi-dimensional vortex was diminishing rapidly. Sweep scans showed no other presence’s within two arc seconds. A measure of speed as well as time lengths. The Seekers internal instructions were clear about the coordinates however, the return pulses were out of proper synchronization. The Seeker recorded the current status of its mission:

Let the record show all operation protocols of the Ahvio gate were found to be in control of a secured non-celestial source originating beyond parameters of current scan range. I am reconfiguring a working area of the folded time frame. The chosen man will not be aware he is only perceiving that which has been culled from his own thoughts and many others to test his precognitive resolution ability of the Omnieint state: to know without knowing.

Reason for this testing is not specified in the command message.

Commencing protocol Ketchio:

Feeling quite bewildered Bourbon, found himself arriving at the home of his good friend Paul Cavalier. In the forefront of his mind was the idea he was here to participate in a very mysterious experiment. He entered into the tri-level house, through the front door into the living room where he had been a thousand time before. He stood there looking around feeling somewhat strange, but in a manner he could not quite identify.

"What's the matter James," said Paul whose sea-blue eyes and round face radiated his exhuburence for life and most of all fun. "You look like you just got pissed on by a ghost."

"Yeah, something like that," said James weakly still feeling mighty strange.

"Try not being so excited to be here," said Paul facetiously, then broadly smiling turned to welcome another guest.

Bourbon found himself walking around the house from one room to another in a hazy state of mind. He grabbed something to eat and a stiff drink and went back into the large living room. He took up a seat next to a leggy blonde. She looked familiar, but he wasn't in the mood for chit-chat.

He listened intently as Paul, after a rapid fire round of introductions of his guests, got down to the actual business at hand. He was a big man, strong willed, outgoing, an expressive individual and he was doing a terrific job of building up the suspense. Everyone including Bourbon, hung onto his every word as he explained, the tale of how he acquired his newest treasure. This was a somewhat fanciful tale complete with twists and turns of chance and then well calculated effort on his part, to retrieve the mysterious object from a group of devious New Agers.

"Self-absorbed New Agers without a clue," said Paul with great delight, adding, "who were convinced what I now have....gave them powers to see the past and future."

From all that he said this was a personal adventure that involved a great deal of back-door, midnight wheeling and dealing. As Paul completed his story everyone's collective curiosity was at a carefully, sculpted peak.

Paul with great fanfare and accompanied by eerie music brought out an ornate jeweled box of great antiquity. He turned down the lights and instructed all, as to what he wanted them to do, when the box containing its mysterious treasure was given to them. He was very serious about his instructions and all had to agree to follow them to the letter.

The experiment/test was not the sort of thing a scientist would have done. There was to be no attempt to formalize or even control the test beyond the strict handling of the object itself. Everyone was to do as Paul instructed; holding the object until the images began to form in their minds. The cause of this "effect" he explained was not readily apparent. Nor was there any atypical thought pattern involved. The time images as Paul called them were indeed random and not influenced by what the person holding the object wanted to see or know.

Images of time thought Bourbon deeply perplexed by all the serious intrigue.

The next amazing aspect of the images was the perspective. The person holding the object only saw themselves, as someone else would see them, and always from what was termed the upside-down buggy-eyed view. This mosaic perspective seemed to dispel the notion that it was all in the imagination on the part of the subject. After all people are not that imaginative.

As the night progressed, Bourbon listened in total fascination as his fellow guests described themselves as older and younger, in places they did not now know, involved in situations which could not be logically explained.

We all carry memories of the past, but of the future? Seeing yourself in old age would involve more than simple imagination. Then again, how much can we trust of what we see? How much do we trust of that which we can't? How can we know the difference?

The object produced time images unlike anything anyone had experienced before and Bourbon found this too be very significant; although he couldn't quite place his finger on the reason why. So when it was finally his turn to test this object and its uncanny abilities he was of course very excited about what he might discover.

He opened the box to find inside its velvet lined interior an octagon crystal which was a translucent golden-yellow, except for a deep royal-blue area in the center. He took it out of the box. With great fascination he turned it about in his hands noting the ends had a spiraling rosette pattern towards, as he imagined, micro-infinity. The pattern was that precise. He held the crystal out before him in his right hand, turning it with his left, looking down the ends. Perceptionally he felt as if his eyes had penetrated the planed surfaces and entered right into the dimensions of the crystal itself.

He was quite oblivious to all those around him.

The deep blue center of the crystal was thinning and he saw in this transparent midnight blue sea, tens of thousands, of brilliant golden spheres. As if his eyes had become like twin microscopes, piercing the deep core of the crystal, he plunged deeper into their golden, shining mystery. Entranced by the sheer beauty of these perfect spheres he watched them spin around each other forming complex weaving patterns whose purpose baffled him. Then he saw upon their brilliant golden surfaces the reflection of his face and all those around him.

Looking at all of the golden reflections reminded him of a carnival mirrored room. When he changed the angle slightly the images took on that peculiar infinity effect. He could barely hear his friend Paul counting off the remaining time, so lost was he in those spiraling images.

Then the reflective images abruptly ended. Yes, it was a very interesting effect thought Bourbon, but no bug-eyed view of the past or future. No one else had seen the brilliant golden orbs. Bourbon felt quite disappointed that all he saw was the present.

Actually becoming the odd man out was a relief in some ways because he could be more objective about what the others were experiencing. Still, there was an odd feeling he could not explain. As he listened to another guest describe a moment from her childhood, Bourbon became increasingly aware that he was feeling Deja Vu. As this uncanny feeling became stronger he was thinking; a thousand lives lived, but through them all, you are always you. The faces change, the details of the moments differ from one life to the next, but you are always you. An endless variation on a theme of you, but the rhythm of the Universe is not yours to change. You must change or let go.

The room suddenly seemed uncomfortably hot as he wondered, what happens when those life lines unexpectedly converged? Can one life memory bleed into another? If it did how could you tell the difference between them if the identity never changed? Changes in the places they knew and yet had never been? Or worse yet, how would you know "you from you" if they did and only the I of the current identity remembered? To see yourself as another; a stranger by which remembrance is a passing torch of a life once lived.

The image of himself spinning off into infinity, but never really changing.

Where would his life end, if that "time" was all he knew? Could there be arcs of linear lives eventually forming a mobius of life and death? He was thinking; separate yet eternal each of us walks in each others grace in a landscape of another’s creation. Paintings drawn up in bold declarative colors sprung forth to life. We sing a blues call of triumph over entropy; a wanting to end the stagnation of order gone to rot. We have to change or perfection becomes its own trap.

He felt an unpleasant tingling in his hands and his head felt like a balloon, rising up, as if it was forcefully trying to leave his body. The harder he concentrated on the present the more he felt as if it was the past, repeating itself as ripples of time in a pond of "I". Why he wondered forcefully; was he feeling so vividly that he had just remembered this moment in time? The now of this place in time? The rippling sensation was making him feel quite sick.

He tried thinking philosophically to calm himself, is this really the year and day we think it is, after all, we only know where, in our self-imposed order, we are today. Thus the year 1998, the month of September, the 20th day, just tells us where we are in relation to when the Gregorian calendar started. A relation lost to times before? Strands broken, but memories persisting in ribbons of dreams floating in our sub-conscious, waiting for expression.

He imagined what would happen if someone from a much longer time record stepped into the picture and said, 'This is really the year 43200, 9th month, 20th day and perhaps, this would not really mean much to us personally he mused unless; it radically changed the very sense of time, as a place in time, where we are right now and the relationship therein. After all, do we really know when our original "I" time begins? Do we really know all the paths the "Time of I am" transverses in its infinite circuits of the supra-now? A Time Order which connects all others less then itself?

Bourbon caught up in his reverie imagined an intrepid space explorer getting ready to cross the edge of the Universe; the very line of infinity itself, telling mission control:

"I am now going over the edge."

"We copy that explorer."

"I am now going over the edge."

"Ugh....we heard you explorer..continue on course."

Bourbon imagined all of the puzzled looks, on the faces of the mission control specialists, as the explorer repeats the transmission over and over again without change.

A third man looking into the control room seeing everyone repeating the same motions, repeating the same responses, shakes his head with grim realization. A fourth watching him, finishes his unspoken thought, "The edge of infinity is not out there, it is right here, right now......................"

In his mind a loop of time was folding endlessly in upon itself and he was standing at its nexus wondering; have I done this before? If so, how many times? Have I failed and never known it until this very moment? What happens if I indeed just.... let.... go?

To his relief the strange feelings began to fade and yet, the thoughts which arose from them remained to trouble him. If he had done this before, why was he doing it again?

As he glanced back around the room all he saw was lime-green fog........:

****************************************************

Ending protocol Ketchio.

The Seeker noting that Bourbon was refocusing his awareness ended the simulation. The Seeker recorded the results:

Dezonlyses analysis shows characteristics demonstrative of advanced temporal perceivence. Subject reflected my own internal composition. Was actively aware of my perceptional range which I found to be an interesting development. Only this was not quite the response I was testing for, but it is too late to turn back.

Let the records indicate I am operating outside of lawful conditions. A deception is underfoot. I seem to have no choice (from my perspective) but to comply and to carry out these internal orders. The next probe test will begin after the chosen man exits from the Earth side Ahvio Gate. Let the records also show I operate in protest.

Activating long range Ahvio gate. All link points are in balance.

Trans-shift in progress. Destination has been successfully reached.

James Bourbon felt a long moment of incongruous sensation then found himself at the bottom of an impressive granite monadnock which rose high above him. As he looked upward into clear skies nearing sunset he did not dwell on how he arrived at this place, only that he was now here. As he looked upwards he could see the diminishing light framing a small cave nestled at the near bottom of this granite giant. The cave looked to be about fourteen feet above the base which was composed of broken heaps of stones which were covered with thick bushes. The need he felt to go to the cave was overwhelming. He quickly crossed the open field to the base. With determination he carefully maneuvered up through the bushes from rock to rock, then scaled the inclined granite rock face to the opening.

No sooner had he thrust his head into the small, musky smelling cave entrance, the crystal, which was in his front shirt pocket, lit up with a unique glowing brightness. Bourbon took it from his pocket holding it out in front of him. The crystals brightness was comparable to that of a small halogen flashlight. Transfixed by its pale blue light, the crystal he held made no objective sense to him. He seriously wondered what he was going to discover inside this small cave. Or as he realized peering into the darkness, why was he here at all?

Putting aside his concerns Bourbon, squeezed his way through the entrance and into the crouchway. Using the crystal as his guiding light and with some real effort, he crawled through the narrow crouchways many twists and turns, scraping his elbows and knees on the many protruding rocky surfaces. In this manner he crawled for what seemed to be half an hour then at last, he came to a modest gallery, where he could finally stand up.

The air was stale, pungent in a odd way. All around him were beer bottles, cigarette butts, paper trash and other debris, left behind by those who had come here before him. His impression came to be that this trek was a total waste of time for this cave was nothing special.

So why had he come here?

Standing there, his clothes damp from the sweat of his exertions, wondering if he was losing his mind, the crystal to his utter surprise emitted a loud, profundo deep bass tone. He instantly dropped the crystal and stepped back as if it was a bomb. Only it was the cave wall opposite to him which was being effected by the rumbling bass tone.

In the pale blue light he watched in awe as a huge section of the opposite wall begin to vibrate with ever greater intensity. He clamped his hands over his ears trying to shut out the sound which was like freight trains colliding at full speed.

The solid rock was spinning in a vortex, as its mass compressed, with increasing speed and began to form a whirlpool which quickly receded.

Bourbon watched in disbelief, his adrenaline pumping, as the rock seemed to just turn in upon itself and vanish into the depths of darkness. Then the roar quickly diminished once again leaving him in silence. Where there had been a solid wall of granite rock there was now a perfect ten-foot circular opening and a tunnel of the same diameter. He stood there perplexed by the impossibility of what he had just witnessed. He looked down at the crystal lying on the ground then back to the opening in the solid rock wall uttering, "What in the hell......???"

Bending over he gingerly tapped the crystal with his right forefinger to check its temperature. The crystal was as cool as it had been before. He carefully picked the crystal up with his outstretched right hand wondering who had created it and for what purpose. During its remarkable sounding the crystal had not shown any change in light. He stood up, holding the crystal out in front of him. He then walked over to the tunnel entrance and looked into its depths. Nothing in his realm of experience could begin to explain this fantastic liquidation of solid rock. He lightly touched the sides of the tunnel finding them cool to his touch. What is going on here he wondered?

He thought about turning around and leaving the way he came, but the crystals mystery seemed to be pulling on his thoughts leading him inextricably forward. He had to know? So it was with great trepidation, that Bourbon stepped into the tunnel passage way which led still deeper into the mountain. Holding the crystal out in front of him, as if it was a key to realms beyond the imagination, he started down the passageway wondering what am I doing?

He walked straight back at an even level counting off in his mind the approximate yardage. At about a hundred yards the round tunnel inclined a little at a time downward, turning to the left then to the right. Downward he went at a quick pace finding his pulse starting to race as his mind was filled with dreams of glory. Bourbons mind was flooded with powerful images of success as he became convinced that he was on the verge of a major discovery of monumental importance. Of what though, he could only guess.

Moving quickly downwards he was wondering if he was going to find some alien artifact of great importance, or a treasure of some long dead superior human race. His mind was churning out in rapid order all sorts of scenarios, each greater than the one before in greater detail. He imagined himself speaking at one scientific meeting after another, (even though he was not a scientist) explaining in great detail, the amazing circumstances, which led him to his moment of grand discovery. Fame, fortune was it to be all his, so he considered, as he went deeper into the mountain. He thought for sure he was going to find something spectacular. What else could it be?

At the end of the passage, he passed through a plain unadorned ten-foot arched doorway and found himself in a large squared chamber. The light from the crystal was just enough for him to see that it was a good thirty-feet square. Like the passage way it was perfectly constructed, smooth, almost polished he thought, but it was empty. Silently behind him the entrance closed. Bourbon feeling a change in air pressure spun around on his heel only to see a smooth rock wall where moments before had been an open wide entrance.

His false dreams of fame and fortune left him within a heartbeat.

Suddenly, the crystals light went out and then he no longer even felt it in his hand. James Bourbon found himself standing in pitch-black silence, feeling more alone than he ever could have imagined. He stood there feeling deeply mortified; numb from the shock of the realization he was trapped. It was if all the life in him had left in that strange blue light. And all he could think was: how could I have been so blazingly stupid this time? What was I thinking? What in the hell am I going to do now.....?

The Seeker was also deeply confused and was having major problems of its own. And so it began recording:

[ I ] have once again experienced distortions in phase continuity. Origination of distortions unknown. I am being forced to leave the chosen man in a semi-dimensional time frame. Atmospheric conditions are stabilized, but for how long remains unknown. Unable to provide light source. Unable to provide food or water if conditions warrant self-preservation. Unlawful degradation of living beings violates all Seeker internal codes.

Checking eternal time unit against Dez point arc of current position. All data points on nearly exact appointed time correlation markers. Long range temporal spectrum scans have registered something of unknown origination entering outer time frame of current pathway. The unknown intruder has crossed the spiraled time line and is entering the outer passage. The intruder is forcing the time fold by its actions away from the next interim Ahvio Gate entrance. I have no choice, but to leave the man alone temporarily as I try to stabilize the trans-shift pathway and identify the intruder. The Seeker had no way of telling James Bourbon he was no longer even on the Earth. That is if the Seeker knew which one, which at this point it did not.

Moving cautiously around the outer perimeter of the folding time frame the Seeker, still trying to identify the strange presence, was suddenly seized by unknown means. A powerful, negative energy current went blasting through the Seeker. In an instant all, but its emergency self-preservation spheres had been wiped out. The Seeker with no power to counteract the enemy fell into the black void below.

A Nightmare Unleashed

Being in the dark never bothered Bourbon before but this.....this was insane. In this dark space he no longer even felt real. His body kept shivering as if he had just stepped out into a cold winter morning with no clothes on to protect him. His teeth were chattering like crazy, but he was not physically cold. This was a nervous feeling he could not control.

All the while his mind was fomenting strange and disjointed thoughts as he stood there shivering in the blackness: What is reality without its attendant props to ease our ever worried minds? Was reality just a bright promise to shield us from a deeper more unpleasant truth. When illusions are realities and realities are illusions, how can you know you are real, when the illusion is you?

These twilight rules of creation are the roots which give us pause in a journey we call life. Like a dream once seen, but not quite remembered the deeper landscapes of the egnimatic haunts us. A flash, a glimmer that's all there is, all we have to go on. And that's what drives us crazy. We know and yet we don't. So as the light beams down upon your face, a glowing warmth reaching down deep to heat your heart and soul, you probably will wish that wonderful precise feeling will last forever. If only you could capture that moment and not let go.

Dying does not scare me, James Bourbon was thinking in abstraction as he stood there in the darkness, my fears are with the living. As if to test his own proposition he remembered quite vividly the accident he had at the age of fourteen. While recklessly running down a steep hillside, (in the darkness no less) along a narrow trail path, he slipped on a sharp corner and went over the edge. He could not see his very hand before his face as he fell through the blackness. When after what seemed a long pause of breath he hit the ground with an audible whomp.

He did not anticipate the finality of his impact.

How strange it was to suddenly find himself back in his childhood home. A home long since gone even then. He was standing at the entrance to the bathroom. A light beaming out from the room played tricks with his eyes as he stood in the shadows just outside. He walked into that light still puzzled as to what it was to him.

Feeling more surprised than fearful he then knew he had died.

As he turned to find the source of whiteness, that seemed to have no source, he felt at the very center of his being, the Pull. He felt a balance so fine and true all weight diminished in its presence. On this perfect center of balance, under him, he was drawn upwards, as if his Soul was just like an upside-down top-tent.

He found himself to be floating, no rising upward to where he knew not for he had no control. Then he felt the loss. The great, moving anguish of losing all the things he had taken for granted with an earthly grasp. Then that too passed as he rose still further yet...

He came before a Being who had no form and yet, without knowing how he knew, he was before the Spirit of Jesus. And His words filled ears he no longer had. His soothing voice calmed a heart he no longer bore beating in his chest. He was at an arms length from Him and stopped.

And the Spirit of Jesus spoke to him in tones of firm kindness:

"It is not your time to Die. Now you have to go back."

Then he was conscious of the pain.

Stabbing deep into every region of his body. Voices surrounding him in the dark. Even back then he did not believe in the afterlife, or in any Holy Beings. He had never told anyone what he had experienced. Now he didn't know what to think. And this time there was no one here to help him.

So here he was in the dark with nothing, but the voices of past remembrances to consul him. In a sense of renewed determination to find some answers, he began to feel his way around his rock walled prison. But to his profound shock, he found that the walls had receded from where he had last seen them. The dimensions of the room had changed!

The blackness surrounding him in an inky grip was inducing vertigo. He turned to go back the way he had came only to run face first into a wall which was pushing him outward. He frantically felt his way across the wall to its right side and upon reaching the edge, to his absolute amazement, abruptly fell upwards seven or eight feet.

He hit hard, rolled and came to rest on the ceiling which was now the floor. He was then pitched forward again sprawling head over heals out of control. As he tumbled forward and downward his fear washed over him in nauseous waves instantly curling his stomach into painful knots.

Just as he thought he was going to die he hit another floor level landing on his side. He rolled onto his back terrified. Darkness clung to him like a smothering blanket. Spikes of pain screamed out from his left shoulder and arm. Painfully he turned to his right and found only space before his outstretched hands. Panicked he turned over the other way blindly stumbling around on his hands and knees finding his greater sense of direction was worthless. Cold sweat was pouring down his face, as his stomach knotted ever tighter.

"Where in the fuck am I?" He swore through panicked gasps of breath.

Every time he stopped moving to the left he felt the space on his right closing in upon him like a giant black hand from hells quarters.

This was his nightmare unleashed.

With his outstretched hands he found another wall.

Fearful of what happened moments ago he moved away from the wall only the floor abruptly moved beneath his feet turning down at an angle.

"Son-of-bitch," he shouted trying to catch his balance. He tipped back against the wall. Quickly moving back the other way his face was pressed flush to the wall. Two steps to his right he felt only space so he went back to his left. He could feel the wall curving and he followed the small two-foot wide ledge as it twisted around. He continued as fast as he could knowing the space was eating away the solid ledge beneath his feet.

Trying to keep his wits about him, Bourbon carefully felt his way along the wall and always to the left. The stone was cool and smooth beneath his trembling hands. Adding to his intensified anxiety, was the occasional steep rise or fall of the ledge beneath him. Gaps began to appear of an inch sometimes a foot. Once again he was forced into an awkward posture with his back to the wall in order to feel the path he took. When he felt the gaps increasing he gingerly jumped across them. As he moved along, feeling with his hands the way before him, the gaps grew wider forcing him to make longer leaps.

He knew this had to be a trap gleaned from his very own deepest fears.

As if that damn crystal had read his memories then spun them out like a web for him to be tortured; caught in his own design. But that's what gave him hope. If one could call silent desperation hope. For he could not hear anything in this black torture chamber.

"What's happening to me?" he cried out noting even his own voice lacked outward projection. He knew he was breathing, but the air had no smell. Would he even know if he died? Moving along the ledge he could feel the energy of his body starting to fall as if he was being robbed of his will. He could not continue this for much longer.

As if to answer him with no warning the plane of the wall gave way behind him.

He was screaming in silence as he fell backwards through dark space.

With a bone jarring stop the wall had become another horizontal floor.

Bourbon turned over shaken and dazed. He felt for broken bones and finding none slowly rose to his feet. His left shoulder throbbed. There just has to be a reason, a rational explanation for all this crazy-ass shit, but what he wondered? He was slowly walking in a circle, swearing internally, what the fuck? If his mind was not thinking rationally what could he trust? He went forward with his hands out before him. Which way, he thought bitterly, should I go caught in this pitch-black mind-numbing madness?

Blindly he took small steps forward feeling the vertigo increasing that inner knot of anxiety. Was that the only purpose of him being here? To see how deep the terror could plunge him before he lost all his sanity, or was it far worse. His thoughts began racing back and forth from despair, to resolve, to fear, to perseverance. How hard would you fight to stay alive? How hard would you pray to die, if that became your only choice? But who was he at silent battle with here in the darkness?

"Am I toy for your goddamn amusement!" he shouted into the blackness.

He listened for an echo or any sound, but again heard nothing. He felt like a mere bug swimming in a small black jar of which something unknown beheld him for study. He had done the same thing many times to bugs of every kind in his youth. Imprisoned in the glass jars, he would watch them, testing the small will they had to be free and to live of their own nature. Was this a test of my nature, he thought, his anger momentarily stronger than his fear. Who was the bug being tormented now?

Bourbon came to a stop for his step had found only space. Kneeling with his outstretched hands he felt the floor towards the edge and found there was nothing before him. Nothing, but space to his right and to his left. He swung his legs over the side and felt nothing below.

He was just like a lab rat in a maze of darkness.

He turned around only to find the previous path he had come from was also gone as well, leaving just the spot where he crouched on his knees. Sweat poured from his forehead stinging his eyes. His clothes and body was soaked from fear as he traced out a solid circle of stone no bigger than three feet around. He felt as if he had been cast out into a sea of nothing. An eternity of darkness. But something gave him hope.

Concentrating on the problem, and not his terror, he sketched out in his mind a series of ideas: I'm in a maze with no light to guide me as I go. A dimension of light missing? As I went along with no sounds to guide my guesses I came to twists, turns and changes in direction, as well as, surface up or down elevation. Another gain or loss of dimension? He had to think constructively not act impulsively. Was he in some kind of machine?

He felt the space becoming colder, as he continued thinking: If I was a flat lander, (he imagined) perceiving only two dimensions, my movement could be blocked simply by placing a vertical barrier in my path. What does a flat lander know of light and shadow? If I was in two dimensions could I go up or down if that was the continuity of line-dimension progression? Wouldn't a simple gap also be an insurmountable barrier to both? Does open space from that fixed viewpoint even have a dimension? How do you cross something with no dimension?

Bourbon sat down. I am the spatial dimension. Whatever this madness is.... it's crossing me.

He continued thinking, finding that it calmed him. If symbolically one could go up to a higher dimension above three, perhaps that perspective would be something like walking along the top of the wall of a three-dimensional maze looking down through a one-way glass ceiling. But without three dimensions what is space? Without light what is space? How can I step, "outside" of something that has no sides? Going up or down the macro-micro scale does not change the fact all objects have three dimensions. All it changes is the reference point of the object to yourself.

However, if I lose mass what then?

If a man stepped into a photon, like stepping inside a boat, to ride the curve of space-time what a wild ride that would be, he imagined feverish with disconcerting fear. Hurtling through space careening off things big and small a photon-ship was impervious to age, but how do you know where you are in space-time with no fixed reference points in time?

He then thought of three dimensions as being compressed between two opposing arcs of fourth dimensional space-time. Like his two hands cupping shaving foam. What is the true intrinsic relationship of gravity and time he wondered? He then imagined three time explorers start on a time trip from the same circle of fixed field reference on the outside of the fourth dimensional time-frame arc. They go into linear space-time and return at the exact same moment from where they started.

Then one says, to the other two, "I went to the 10th century."

The second says, "I went to the 15th century."

The third says, "I went to the 20th century," and then asks,"why?" didn't we arrive at the same place in Time?"

"Because masses create deformities in space," says the second, "and our paths curved accordingly."

"No," says the first. "We traveled through the fabric of space-time frames. We went up to go down, went back down to go up and our difference in mass changed the points were in which we landed on three dimensional Earth. As if on an elevator of time we landed on different floors of the past."

"Nonsense," says the third to both thinking his answer was better yet. "We all left from different fixed reference points on an arc, whose angles over a time field, corresponded to a different distance of time, on the opposing linear time line. We returned to the same points in relation to when we left."

Then again thought Bourbon, (imagining his time jumpers to be as hopelessly confused as he felt what is "time" in a dark space with no spatial dimensions?

Am I rising upward with a solid piece of ground beneath me or am I falling downward and my mass is forming a space/time cushion under me? He sat there for a long time, or so it seemed considering his problems and felt no change. Then from the corner of his eye he saw something was moving out there in the pitch-blackness. That moment of unknown movement gave off a fraction of light as it spun clock-wise outward.

Blindly staring out into the blackness around him Bourbon suddenly felt a much colder blast of air against his face, and hands. He then heard a deep metallic voice rising up out of the darkness like a shark coming to feed upon him:

"What---of----justice?"

James Bourbon heard the chilling, low mocking tone moving towards him as he stood up on knees wobbling like straws before a strong wind.

Then it seemed as if the icy voice then came from all around him:

"Who---speaks----for----those----that----have----no----voice?"

He was in trouble. Sure he could jump in any direction and maybe he would, and maybe he wouldn't, find a solid piece of ground beneath him when he landed.

The dead-cold voice took on a knifes edge coming closer:

"Whose---hand---reaches---out---to---those---none---other---will---touch?

His blood ran cold as the hairs stood up on the back of his neck.

There was no mistaking the intent.

The way out could be as simple as a two foot jump in any direction, then again, it could be a long drop into nothingness. Was this to be his only decision?

The voice was as black as the void around him:

"Who will stand up to the wicked and the Evil---when all have been corrupted by their perfection? When is good not good enough H....u....m....a....n?"

For the briefest second something very cold and metallic touched his face......

*************************************************************

At first James Bourbon thought he had awakened back home, so bright and warm was the radiance shining down upon him. A kaleidoscope of images and thoughts bubbled out of the recesses of his mind like spring waters from an artisan well. Looking around he plainly understood this was not home, but why he felt this so strongly he could not ascertain. Before him was a wide, open green meadow of tall grasses flowing outward covering the gently rolling hills out into the distance. Where he stood the grass was sparse and only waist high. He reached out feeling the texture of the thin blades whose fanning tops reminded him of feathers. They were waxy beneath the fanning tops; bent they did not break. Somewhere in the corner of his heart he felt an undercurrent of uneasiness. As if it was a signal to say do not dwell here. Sights can be deceiving.

To his right lay a profusion of odd looking trees of thin, twisting limbs whose leaves of red-burnished browns formed a dense bush like appearance starting at a shoulders height and reaching up thirty feet or so. They were flanked on the far left side by a creek. The air had a odd lack of visceral smell. He proceeded to walk through the waist tall grasses following a cut trail towards the creek. He soon realized from the lack of proper shadows, that the sun did not reside in the blue skies as it should have, but it was in its own way so pleasant, it really didn't matter to him. As he walked along at a good pace it felt good to be in the warmth of the sunshine, no matter where it came from; although that was most unusual.

The grasses swayed in a soft breeze, the leaves rustled overhead as he ducked in and around the trees and bushes. Something about the atmosphere of this place seemed to suggest that it was here for a reason. He stopped at the gurgling, creeks edge. He stood there vaguely aware he was actually looking for something. Something very important only what he couldn't quite remember.

He bent down letting the cool waters flow over his hands. A sensation of what was wet, but without the intrinsic feel. He gazed in the direction it flowed; a twisting course through banks of dark, reddish-brown soil, slowly dropping in elevation. Plants of a variety he had never seen filled the sun lit spaces. Where he crouched the creek was about seven and a half feet across and much deeper then the clear waters may have suggested. He could not see his reflection in the ebbing waters. A sleepy quality of thought pervaded his mind blocking the deeper questions. A force of will seemed to be missing. He splashed some water across his face. I better get to where I am going he thought and he started upstream.

He carefully walked along the creeks outer edge along the less muddy banks; side stepping the thick collections of odd thorn studded plants of yellow greens and fingers of red. Plants which looked like parabolic sunflowers, where the outer edges held thorns three inches long, dominated the banks crowding out others with sand peppered leaves and curling white tendrils. He pushed his way through more of the oddly twisting trees whose dark purple bark looked and felt like velvet.

Carefully brushing aside the bushy branches Bourbon headed back to the creeks edge obscured by a rising hillside. Along this section of terrain the creek had cut a deep, sheer walled ravine twenty-feet or more in height. He climbed the steep slope through heavy foliage. At the top of the hill he saw that the ravine walls were pinched together to less than a foot between two, large vertical slabs of granite textured rock of an obsidian color smoothed round where the water flowed white. Above this section the ravine walls widened to over sixty feet.

An arch shaped slab of rock was embedded into this spot. A single block of smoothed black rock with twin thumbs which came together. He crossed over the creek whose outer lines were squeezed into the shape of an hourglass. Looking back across the creek he was still trying to remember, what was he doing here and what was it he was looking for?

Still uncertain as to what he was doing Bourbon climbed the steep bank carefully one step at a time and when he cleared the rise he saw a clearing in the distance. In a rough circle were three massive arches of a dark blue stone. Instinctively he knew this was what he was looking for, but why this was so he did not fully comprehend.

As he made his way through tall, scrawny yellow-green leafed trees and another variety of the brownish-orange thorny plants towards the arches, the blue skies began to darken. He quickened his pace as in moments the skies became a boiling mass of dark grays and red-tinged black. The sense of danger was no longer abstract, distant in some far away place; he felt it like a finger jabbing him hard in the ribs. Fortunately, the light continued to shine through small patches of the carnivorous dark clouds allowing him to see where he was going.

A fierce wind, which was strangely hot, began to blow against him. Within minutes swirling gusts were violently whipping around his hair and his clothes. Each step he took felt increasingly heavy, as if he was walking through thick, muddy clay which was clumping under his feet. He had to shield his eyes from the increasingly stronger wind blasts heavy with particulates. Soon he would not be able to continue forward. The wind hurled an ever increasing amount of dust and stinging particles acting like abrasive sand against his exposed skin. Bourbon desperately looked around for cover; only the landscape was becoming lost in the dirty, howling wind. His only choice was to continue forward towards those arches.

Each remaining step seemed to take every ounce of will Bourbon possessed. Gritting his teeth, shielding his eyes with his left hand, he pushed himself forward against the wind. A force of malice howling in primitive growls like a mean threat he was to leave this place thundered in his ears. He stopped momentarily losing ground as the wind pushed him backwards forcing him to turn his back to avoid another heavy, eye stinging blast.

Struggling against the onslaught of the increasing fierceness of the storm he struggled to keep his momentum in the correct direction. There in the hazy light, there was a mere fifty-yards from him, a shiny, black-ribbon wall reaching towards the arches as if it was a long taloned hand, ominously thrust into the muddy, swirling dark skies. The evil of it was palpable. He could feel it in his bones: this is really really bad.

To his left the black wall like everything else was lost in swirls of brown. As he studied the monstrosity before him, which was rippling profusely in the opposite direction of the wind itself, he realized with great apprehension he could no longer could see the arches. The path he was on however, continued to his right along the black ribbons base which curved into the distance finally to be lost in the blackness beyond. Then above him he saw it valiantly holding its position keeping its light shining on the correct path. A sense of recognition briefly swept across his fuzzy mental landscape. Was the glittering, orb trying to guide him to the arches or was it part of what was coming for him?

[For the Seeker the struggle was no less desperate. A record was generated: Damaged...control functions...wrongful record examination...leading sapient man to a point where the black wall can be momentarily opened...dwindling energy supply. Current location unknown. Status of mission unknown. No time frame coordinates or data maps....sapient man escaped the black pit. No information. No means of determining who has guided us both to this fragmented time frame.

Speculation analysis: Whom ever it was must not be unable to come here directly. Reasons based on no registrations of life emission. Nothing here registers properly. Damaged non-functional areas of operational spheres severely limiting function protocols. Current situation is quite beyond anything previously experienced.

Perceptional analysis: The chosen man is displaying tremendous will power, but can not survive here much longer. Atmospheric testing shows air and other trace gasses are being expelled by actions connected to the black wall. Complete oxygen dispersal is less then ...calculating.... unable to perform tasks. Trying another energy frequency.]

Bourbon knew without doubt the ominous, black-ribbon wall was somehow purposely blocking his path forward. He looked to his right and could see the dimming lighted path becoming more fragmented. He also noticed a curiously shaped opening in the wall itself as he approached. The wall did not reflect his image as he inched closer. The wall rose above him as a curving surface but it did not seem to actually touch the ground. It wavered and flowed along the bottom edge as if it was liquid rather then stone. With the gale force winds starting to lift him off his feet, he reached out and gripped the shiny black rim which was sticky to his touch. Bourbon felt he had no choice as he stuck his head into the two-foot sized opening. The light inside made no visual sense to him. He gripped the rim with all of his strength, as the wind force increased, straining to keep his position.

As he focused his eyes on what was within..... with no warning a hideous creature came leaping out towards him from the shadows. Wrong fucking move he thought frantically trying to push himself backwards out of reach, but he was caught as the hole closed around his upper chest. Something gleaming black and huge, was towering up in front of him, then plunging back down into his face; a foul creature with a hideous face of contorted angles; large, wide crescent shaped head, crimson-red on yellow eyes.

A presence of evil pierced deeply into his own sense of will.

The fear of it struck him like a blow from a bull whip, right down to the bone.

Freaked him flipp'in out.

Black terror.

He heard a voice far off in the distance. A voice of terror, as if it had come from someone else's lips. A voice so pathetic as it pleaded to be left alone, that he felt ashamed of it. The fear he felt was a secret fully exposed. A heart pounding fear suddenly held up for inspection as proof that he was indeed weak and helpless. The shame was more painful then the fear. The voice screaming was his own.

Frozen in terror Bourbon felt inhumanly strong, dead-ice cold hands locking onto his fore-arms. The space around him dropped in temperature as the blackness all around him seemed to move. The creature wrenched him forward, viciously twisting his arms nearly to the breaking point. With no pause the creature then powerfully yanked him downward, brutally pulling Bourbon through the opening as if he was nothing, but a silly, stupid rag-doll about to be stomped to death by a raging bully. As he plummeted through the blackness a catastrophic revulsion as he had never experienced before, snapped him out of his momentary numbness.

[The Seeker swiftly changed its time-shift position coordinates. As it moved in and behind the creature the Seeker using what little energy was available manipulated the energy vortex surrounding the creature.

Recording: Sapient man has violently tore himself free......fractions of dez points.....manipulating time folds...successful coordinate change. The man is falling towards the entrance of the original Ahvio Gate. Alien presence has been identified. Enemy is an advanced version of the ancient Ceryx Shadow Stalker/Killer.......]

As if he had parachuted out of black clouds into lessor dark ones Bourbon hit a solid floor. He instinctively rolled to the side caught his breath then stood up, but where could he go? He frantically spun around in the pitch blackness his heart racing, his mind gripped in a feeling of desperation. From behind him dead-ice-cold hands tore into his back. Bourbon instantly reacted swiftly turning and with all his might slammed his fists into bodies which had a rubbery feel to them. Bodies so cold every blow he gave in return sent spiking pain cursing back through his hands, blazing sparks racing back up his arms into his shoulders.

These things were inhuman to the extreme. Each second, like each and every breath he took, was drawn out in slow motion; as he was spun around in the darkness, yellow-red eyed demons knocking him around with punishing blows to his back and chest. All around them a faint green light ebbed just enough to see he was outnumbered four to one. Another heavy hand to his back sent him to the cold stone floor so hard he bounced. Bourbon turned away from a glowing metal foot aimed at his crotch. He rolled hard to the left and was back on his feet, but there was nowhere to go in the blackness.

Something of him separated out as they mauled him with impunity. Flung across the floor again and again that rage boiled up from within him. These abominations were playing with him as if it was some type of sporting game to rid him of his life. His breath exploded from his lungs from another blow to his lower stomach. Staggering backwards he pushed the pain out of his mind. He fiercely hit those rubbery bodies, but his punches were not enough to seriously hurt them and they knew it. As they closed in and grappled with him Bourbon twisted and turned, trying to keep free of their icy grips, when yet another set of massive hands grabbed him from behind.

With terrific force he found himself turned up and around, feeling hopeless as the giant was twisting his body painfully in the air, then with dramatic strength slammed him into the stone floor. In all that darkness all he could see was the bursting, searing explosions of the true colors of pain.

With a heavy, jolting thud, the creature was on top of him.

Rock hard fists rained down onto his chest with such force, Bourbon feared his heart was about to be crushed into the floor. Waves of mind melting pain roared through his entire body. He couldn't breath under the oppressive weight of that gleaming black shadow of death. In his blurred, corona bursting vision he saw this strange green light emanating from its head. He tried turning his face to avoid looking into alien red-yellow eyes as this creature of dead-cold darkness lowered its horrific face to his own. Then that horrific face actually smiled. A greedy, contemptuous smile like rancid smell on pure filth.

Never in his entire life had Bourbon wanted to kill something so much as he did in that very moment. A primal rage which sent him to the edge of his red-line. He went totally, eye-ball-peeling berserko. Heaving, thrashing, twisting uncontrollably Bourbon forced the devil-eyed creature to change position. With a gasp he sucked putrid air into his screaming lungs. Suddenly he could feel the crystal in his right hand and without hesitation he slammed it with all his might, into the creatures right eye just as it turned its face lower to his own again.

With a blood curdling howl the Shadow Stalker/Killer rolled off Bourbon.

[The Seeker had finally found a weakness...and quickly recalibrated the pulse wave weapon...]

Ignoring the piercing pains in his chest Bourbon was back on his feet swinging like a wild man. He swung the crystal in wide sweeping arcs as if it was a blunt dagger, aiming for the eyes of his attacker. But he couldn't see the damn creature well enough, despite the greenish light coming from its head, to strike with precision and his blows missed. So around they went in the darkness to the right, to the left... like two mad dancers, each seeking to destroy the other as they lunged in the darkness. Bourbon avoiding a wild swing slammed backwards into a wall.

As the creature hurled itself against him Bourbon again moved to the creatures blind side. Bourbon watched in seemingly slow motion as the black demon hit the wall with terrific force going down to its knees; stunned by its own impact. Then he drove the crystal repeatedly into the creatures head aiming for its other eye. Bourbon felt talons ripping the flesh from his chest, as the howling black beast tried to crawl up his body to a standing position. He rained blows into its head knowing this was his last and only chance.....

[The Seeker which was timing the limited wave-power pulses to coincide with the blows and was able to divert all energy resources for another brief second ....]

With a powerful over hand swing Bourbon slammed the crystal into the creatures other good eye. A vile, foul face lit up from within with a powerful blue-white light---a mere second of his furiously beating heart--then the creatures entire body lit up in a hot, glowing green and vanished with a sizzling, gushing sound that echoed loudly in the darkness.

[The Seeker continued emergency preta-code documentation:

All remaining energy reserves have been used to vaporize the Ceryx Shadow Stalker/Killer and its shadow duplicates. I do not know who or what is capable of creating such a creature much less, sending it here to destroy those who may attempt entering IaXiean through this link terminus which was connected to a Celestial Ahvio Gate.

The message command makes more logical sense in light of these discoveries, (test before coming here) but why was I not given all of this information in greater detail? Who or what has over-ridden the security locks on the Ahvio command modules? How many others had been destroyed by these Ceryx Shadow Stalker/Killers?

I have no answers. There is no time for investigation or functional ability to find them. Commencing command sequence to open the Ahvio Gate......

Waiting......no response auto resend...return codes indicate locks disabled... resending ...open sequence failure.... signal code-check did not return...Ahvio Gate gone....failed protocol priority....command task failure...Sapient Human is going to die for this units mistakes....violation of internal Laws.... body scan failure ..... operation coding...failure... unacceptable... unacceptable operation failure... internal operations severely damaged....

loss of life... termination module activated... I am Seeker-uNiA-3.. ...S..e..e..k//... .... ... ]

A putrid, acrid stench burned deep into Bourbons' nose and lungs. Good riddance he swore to himself to those black demons which had all burned to a crisp. But he felt the pain. Every last nerve cell in his body seemed to be ending in the same knot at the back of his head. Then the knot pulsed around his cranium with throbbing desperation, as if it was unable or unwilling to find a comfortable place to settle down.

From the blood flowing across his hands he knew the skin on his chest, arms and upper back was torn to ribbons. Staggering in the darkness, every part of his body fiercely stinging, Bourbon turning round blindly collapsed onto the cold, rock floor in agony. Pain as he never thought possible burned through him with such intensity he knew he was going to go stark raving mad, as if he hadn't already, here alone in the darkness.

Lying inert on the floor his thoughts were like weak beams of light piercing his conscious: why had he been punished beyond endurance? Pushed beyond any physical limit he ever dared believe possible for himself. Why him? His only consolation was he knew he had fought the unknowable and won.

Bourbon shutting his eyes knew he would never again see his family or friends. Would his body ever be found much less recovered? Considering what he knew fat chance of that ever happening. So what had all this madness proven? Who would ever know? Lost here in darkness who would even care. Damn it all to hell he thought. Why am I still alive? Lying there in blackness there was nothing and as the pain throbbed he felt a loss of feeling then it too faded.

A Moment of Truth

Streaming down into the dark space around him in pure beams of golden radiance, came a surprising answer. An answer written in spiraling fountains of light of such vivid brilliance his eyes were instantly lifted upwards. Into the arms of the rays of deliverance Bourbon was drawn. And there before him came forth an Archway in triumphant presence as if to say I am here and there is none other like myself.

The light from the Arch boldly illuminated the space in fiery incandescence. A light so powerful everything bowed to its greater glory. His eyes Bourbon suddenly realized had been firmly closed. They had opened. His body sharply breathed in deep, in then---out----then in again, a sweet air like no other.

His vision promptly cleared and he saw that on both sides of this Herculean, radiant Archway were sixty-foot Beings. Such was their perfection of form; such was the momentous nature of their faces he was humbled by their grace. Studying them intently, and in awe of what he felt, they reminded him of Sentinels of a higher, more noble purpose; a purpose greater then his mind could understand at least at the moment. Holding upwards in outstretched right hands, as if to greet him, both of them held aloft diamond-bladed swords; twenty-feet tall, a foot wide. Both swords were engulfed in azure-blue flames silently rising along their lengths upwards to the razor sharp tips.

The Sentinels however did not move or even give a hint of facial movement.

Bourbon laid there on the floor trying to grasp the truth before him, but his mind was too overwhelmed to think. His head was pounding; twin-hammers of steel against his mushy brain, every breath still bringing searing pain from his chest.

The crystal rod tightly clenched in his right hand began to pulse. In a steady beat which grew stronger by the second, the crystal seemed to resynchronize with this monument of inspiration. Suddenly, he felt the agony of his body lifted. A tiresome burden of pain was instantly removed from him. In a gasp of relief he knew he was free of fear. He was to be above any sense of foreboding. Looking upwards he felt overwhelmed by the Archway; and the Beings who seemed to be silently watching, as a powerful reverberation began to fill his ears.

The Archway and the crystal pulsed together as one.

This Herculean sized Archway before him made the one of Septimious Severus of Rome, seem insignificant by comparison. He estimated a total height of well over one-hundred and sixty feet tall, with archways perhaps ninety-feet tall and thirty feet wide and thirty-feet thick. All along the detailed, geometrically sculptured surface, shone lights of a thousand colors. Each of the points of light were blazing forth with ever greater intensity. The light was pulsating outward in cadence with the reverberations every half-second from within the Archway itself, as if it too had a heart beating just like his own.

No human eyes he knew had ever seen this before however, who were these fantastic Beings or at least their statues? What were they doing? Why were they here with this Archway inside a mountain on Earth? Then again he thought; his mind fully engulfed in incredulous amazement: am I actually still on Earth? As he thought back on all that had happened.... No he thought. How can I be.

The crystal in his hand was now radiating a light of its own. Images sparked across his mind. What was he doing? A purpose?

[The Seeker was also deeply puzzled. A Royal Celestial Gateway? Never before in any history file had a Seeker recorded such a procedure. The Seeker received another stream of information. The man from Earth had to continue forward. There was no time for additional answers.]

James Bourbon felt strongly compelled to action and was slowly rising to his feet. The pull upon him to go forward was irresistible, overpowering. He slowly, cautiously inched his way forward into the dazzling radiance. Astonishment at how good he felt made him feel bold despite knowing he was way beyond his known limitations. The archway was humming. A sound which grew deeper as Bourbon, marveling at this inspiring wonder, moved within reach of the golden light. A light that was intoxicating in its intensity. Uncertain of what it was he faced beyond Bourbon went into the brilliant vortex of radiant, golden light still thinking what has become of me?

A sweeping visual pattern composed of colors, like no others he had ever seen, loomed up like a veil before his amazed eyes; even as he moved through and forward. Upwards he seemed to glide effortlessly into this stupendous, golden-amberonic, oceanic Cosmos.

A Cosmos whose depths were immersed in continuous, off the scale of his poor minds measure, rising tidal waves of brilliant red-hot-orange, blazing golden-yellow and radiant, sun-bright amber spheres. All around these spheres were these immense, hot, glowing bubbles of every color possible flowing outwards into the vastness. His movement made no logical sense to him. Distances passed as if an inch and a light year were one and the same. Stretching outward and deep below his position were golden spheres sweeping together in gargantuan clusters. They were rising up from depths he found unimaginable to his eyes sense of linear perception. In what seemed a blink of an eye these clusters passed him as if they were golden round birds gathered together for a migration into the unknown. Into the heights his eyes followed them. Upwards they climbed to a horizon whose zenith did not seem possible. He watched them in this briefest of moments until they vanished.

Bourbon was moving forward again along an invisible trail that he could not physically feel. But he knew the path was correct. Bourbon had no idea how this was even possible. His thoughts however, did not dwell on the lack of concrete answers. He simply watched spellbound from his square of impossible blue emanating space as another vista came into view. Bourbon gazed into the light of tens of billions of luminous spheres of sun-golden yellows, as they ebbed and flowed in concert; swaying gently in mysterious rhythms. A rhythmic pattern his mind tried to perceive, but could not encompass. They did not appear as stars but rather something else.

Still moving breathlessly along, deeply moved by the glory around him, he passed another pattern which actually seemed to pass through him. A mosaic veil of impossible design and beauty now transparent but yielding a defined pressure around him. A change of perspective. A shower of light of brilliant silver sheen. A thicker more visceral experience. Bourbon reached out with both hands to feel brilliant colored spheres smaller than an inch. They felt like bubbles passing beneath his finger tips. He quickly passed through a dense field of these spherical objects, while out beyond him in the great vastness of this ultra-fantastic liquid realm an infinite multitude of those golden spheres loomed larger than the stars themselves--- leaving him to ponder the sheer wonder of this oceanic Cosmos. Through this golden amber realm of mystery he had traveled as a quiet spectator, unable to fathom what his senses reported.

James Bourbon in another moment of golden spiral light brilliance emerged out from under another archway having experienced the most unexplainable, incomprehensible moment of his entire existence. Even as he stood there with solid ground beneath his shaking feet, his mind reeling from the impact of all that he had just seen, his ability to recall the visions before him, faded from his thoughts like water turning to shining, glimmering vapor.

Only the wonder of its experience he knew he would never forget.

All along something had been there with him, guiding him but he did not call it God. He did not know what he had just glimpsed or why much less how. What do I know of such things, he thought in contemplation of all that he had just been through. Still he could feel some satisfaction, that he knew more now, than what he had known only moments before.

Perhaps that's the saving grace.

When we are honest with ourselves, we find that the most important of truths are to be found in a single moment. In that instant, we can know the difference and act upon that knowledge in confidence. Filling his lungs with sweet air, what James Bourbon knew with simple confidence was quite simple. He was alive.

The real question was sharply poised before him: where in the hell was he?

When his eyes finally adjusted to the light, Bourbon looked up into a deep, powder-blue sky of which high, wispy, white clouds sauntered across in a long lazy arcs. The only other thing he knew at that moment was quite astonishing in itself: he was no longer on Earth. Overhead the sun of this world, nearing midsky, looked to him to be no different than Sol. However, on the opposite horizon was a small moon clothed in swirling dark bands of alternating pumpkin-orange and pale red-brown. The moon of Earth it was not.

In the far distance he could see snow topped mountain ridges barely peaking above the strange looking, but enormously tall trees which surrounded the place where he was standing in awe. A slight, cool breeze carried with it a variety of scents which he thought were quite pleasant. Bourbon stood there under a warm alien sun thinking; was this world going to be worth the price of the trip. The crystal in his right hand had led him to this place on purpose, but why?

Now that I am here he wondered what am I going to do?

The crystal, still glued to his right hand was gaining a greater weight. Then it left his hand and to his major surprise spontaneously changed into a crystal sphere of deep midnight blue. Bourbon watched in fascination as the outer surface changed from a smooth surface into an intricate pattern of crystal layers. Bourbon stood there watching the sphere, hovering in a slow spin, remain off the ground at a shoulders height. Its intricate crystal surface sparkling in the sun became even smoother of a mirror polish of bright gold. Whatever this thing was it was capable of transformations beyond his immediate comprehension. When the golden sphere made no further movements or changes beside him, Bourbon returned his attention to all the amazing sights around him.

Bourbon quickly determined he was standing on the rear edge of a large octagon shaped platform which seemed to be about two-hundred and sixty-four feet across. Behind him was the arch which he had stepped through to enter this alien world. The arch was a good sixty feet tall, forty-feet long and ten feet thick. The arch was composed of a single piece of highly polished, very deep emerald green stone.

On the top, above an extraordinarily detailed twelve-foot upper structure, were sixteen, rose-white, eighteen-foot tall figures. Each of them were profoundly beautiful beings whose distinctive individual faces and bodies were unmistakably female. Their appearance was binding in its visual glory. Each of them were carrying in their outstretched hands different types of tools or something resembling them. There were enough precious gems, of great size and variety, woven into their clothes and on their heads to buy several countries outright. The arch and its exotic feminine figurines contained so many fine details, in its overall construction and makeup, that he could have spent days there just trying to understand every aspect of its profound complex mystery.

As he looked around there was no mistaking something of a very high intelligence had built this place. He wondered if they had made the crystal as well, but if they had, for what purpose? And where were they now? Questions aplenty but no answers. He turned his attention back to the platform itself.

Evenly spaced on the perimeter of the octagon platform were sixteen columns as tall as the arch. Every column was a different color of the same type of stone used in the archway. Each column was covered in fine notation, which he assumed to be writing. The colored band containing the flowing notation ran the length of the eight-foot diameter columns, from the top to the bottom, reminding him of the stripes on a old fashioned barber pole.

Every column supported on its top a six-foot symbol of some sort of living thing. Each of them cast of a light-blue stone or perhaps metal by the way the figures reflected the light of the sun. All of the figurines were balanced on a single point shaped like a large, bronze golf tee. The figures had definite non-human faces which added to the alien feel of this place. The work he thought, be it metal or stone, was of a very high caliber.

The greater floor of the octagon itself was tiled in large sections of a highly polished, light-blue stone. Etched into the blue surface, in bright white and black lines, was a geometric design. As he walked along its edge he noticed that from a side view the design looked like a two-sided pyramid. Inside the top outer triangle were three circles of bright yellow, red and orange colored stone. Each center point of the circles formed another inner triangle, which in turn, centered yet another sixteen foot diameter circle. This inner circle was centered in such a way between the larger circles that it resembled a flat baseball. Unlike the solid outer circles the center circle was of a deep blue almost black stone. Inside was an upside down transparent dome.

When he looked into the inner depths of the dome he could see that it contained a fantastic three-dimensional hologram portrait of what could only be galaxies. The depth conveyed to his eyes was amazing. Tiny specks of glittering light like hot miniature jewels each set in its proper place. He was memorized by its overall complexity. What kind of technology could do this kind of display?

When he stepped back looking at the overall design towards the arch he could see the illusion of an outer and inner pyramid. From this vantage point he could see the apex of the inner pyramid served as the center point for the inner circle, in turn each of the triangles points centered the larger circles, whose edges determined the size of the outer triangle. He counted eleven sections of different sizes in that inner circle formed by the lines and in each section were different miniature galaxies. For the briefest moment one of them lit up brighter then the rest. Mysteries of wonder, he thought turning back towards the front of the platform.

Across the polished floors of the platform Bourbon slowly walked somewhat in a daze. The globe remained constant in its movement just to his right shoulder. If he stopped the globe stopped. He decided to just ignore the spinning sphere. Although how it was able to hover off the ground was quite perplexing to him.

His sneakers made no sounds as Bourbon flushed with excitement walked along rather self-consciously. He kept turning around to see if anyone or anything was following behind, but it was just the sounds of the wind. He stood beneath another of the figures perched on its tee stand. This one was the most interesting of the entire group. The body was composed of alternating bands of stones colored in deep shades of dark reds and pale purples. The figures face was somewhat like a bears without the stronger muzzle or the fur. The large eyes of ruby-red stones, much like the other figures, was pitched upwards into the distant horizons. The body was powerful with the muscles of its dual arms flexed. In each of the huge four hands were objects of conical shape; smooth around the top with diamond facets towards the bottom. Around its legs were armor pieces cast in silver facets arranged like the scales of a fish. Standing atop the pillar of brilliant yellow the alien being looked quite imposing. Looking back around Bourbon decided all of the figures looked quite dynamic as if they had been cast in a moment of profound intensity and then frozen in a moment of triumph.

The light of the sun overhead added to their serenity, but not his, although the sunshine gave him a feeling of generous warmth. At the front of the octagon platform was another arch cast from a single sea-green colored stone. Only half the height of the entry arch this one also had figurines across the top in a similar stylized upper structure. These sixteen figures resembled marine animals because of the deep turquoise color, smooth rounded rendering of the bodies and lack of outward limbs. Their expressive round faces were cast in merriment as if they had just shared a joke and were still laughing. Their eyes of vermilion crystal were quite large, rendered perfectly and seemed to follow him as he paced before the arch.

Glancing around and convinced he was still alone Bourbon continued on under the arch down a series of white stone steps at a gradual incline. The strong light flickered through the tangled canopy of plants and trees which dominated every available space. He ducked beneath the thick, bushy clumps of leaves and branches of the trees looming over the walkway. In every direction he cared to look the thick, brightly colored foliage prevented him from seeing what lay beyond. He wondered if this entire area was some type of religious shrine or perhaps a memorial to all those strange, but interesting looking life-forms. The overall feel of this place seemed ancient and he felt this quite profoundly.... totally deserted.

At a distance proportional of the marine arch to the first was yet another smaller, richly, ornate arch perhaps solid gold. The majority of the surface was a bas-relief of beautiful geometric designs of considerable balanced perfection. On the other side, the smooth gold surface from top to bottom was covered with a different type of large, fancy flowing script painted in with silver and punctuated with small gems much like fire opals.

Bourbon continuing forward along the path still feeling very wary was looking for signs of "something" which lived here or was coming to this place. The events he had gone through, as unexpected as they were, had left him numbed in some corner of his rational mind. Pausing to look up into the blue skies, there was no question he was a long way from home. And for all he knew this might be a permanent feature to the rest of his life. At least back home, he was thinking, he could do something about his predicament. His choices here, on this foreign world were intangible at best.

Considering what little he knew about what had transpired back on Earth, much less after-wards it seemed to him that this journey had to have been planned in some way. But why? For him it was hard to conceive of actually going to another world period. Much less in such a horrible manner. Although the end of the journey was quite unexpected. Going across space without the need for heavy-duty spaceships powered with hydrogen rockets, or exotic black-op propulsion systems, much less centuries of living confined in cryogenic chambers was unthinkable, but as he walked along obviously quite possible. He tried to remember what he had been thinking inside the cave, but he couldn't quite remember. He knew it would eventually come to him. Worse yet, he couldn't remember exactly how he even got into the cave in the first place and that bothered him too.

The crystal casting out little flares of colored light from beneath its shimmering golden surface continued to stay just ahead of him. He wondered quite seriously if it was alive in some way. If so what kind of life? The orb didn't seem to be governing his movement so he figured maybe it was best to leave it alone. The walkway he was following widened to nearly eight feet. Still composed of the light-blue stone it was no longer smooth, but instead a slightly raised diamond pattern of smaller sections. The walkway began to lead him upwards over a gentle slope then down again for some one-hundred and fifty-yards where it curved sharply to the left. On both sides of the walkway were thick blankets of very bright, small, yellow flowers shaped like bells on dark-green stems. Grey stone walls which had been flush with the crest of the small hill were now seven-feet tall. The yellow flowers filled in the space between the walls and the walkway. A distance of about twenty-yards on both sides. Hanging down from the gray stone walls, in a thick profusion were large, eight-petaled flowers of many colors notably blues and purples with inner pinks.

Three miles or so behind the walls were enormous trees which looked to be at least seven-hundred-feet tall. Their strange looking crown tops resembled dark, yellow-green cotton candy. Halfway down the deep brown almost black trunks of these massive giants were hanging limbs which despite their great size resembled those of weeping willows. Behind the seven-foot walls and filling in the spaces to the cotton top giants were trees at least one-hundred and forty-feet tall. These trees had massive trunks, like giant oaks, thick limbs of deep tannish browns which were heavy with huge, heart-shaped, dark-green leaves hanging all the way to the ground.

Bourbon was briskly walking along the walkway very aware of everything around him. Partly because he kept expecting at any moment to see some horrible thing come leaping out of the profusion of plants and trees. It was both strangely terrifying, because he didn't know what to expect, as well as, amazingly beautiful both to see and to smell. Exotic smells which nonetheless, reminded him he was without safety. However impressive the sights and beauty around him, he was being very careful not to touch any of the plants in the event they were poisonous. He did not feel this to be an Eden and he wasn't about to pretend that it was considering the way he had arrived. One simple, innocent but stupid mistake and life for him here may not last for very long.

Bourbon came around another gentle curve and saw he was nearing the end of the pathway. The path ended at a sixteen-foot tall arched gray stone gate, flanked by walls at least three times as tall as the gate itself. The rock walls extended into the mass of trees and thorny dark-green, wide-leafed bushes. There was no sense in trying to follow along the walls for another opening. He stepped up to the gate. His heart was beating like crazy, as he placed his hands against the cool, smooth gray stone. He only exerted a tiny amount of force, on the gate, for it to revolve on a center pivot. The gate was three feet thick and perfectly balanced.

Bourbon looked out across a small town, or perhaps a city, not unlike those on Earth, but it was and he felt real edgy about walking out into the open. He stood there quickly eliminating all the possibilities that he might be facing. The fact was he had nothing anyway so what difference would it make to be discovered here or out there; either way he was screwed if something went wrong. Cautiously glancing around and seeing nothing of consequence, he slowly descended the steep blue-stone stairway. His first impression was that this place, just like the enclosure behind him, was also very old and quite deserted. It was the silence. Like an invisible hand the silence made every breath he took seem magnified. Every step down stone stairway a violation of the enduring quiet.

Here too, the foliage had long since overcome and conquered the entire area. Sinuous looking huge, dark-purple vines of long, jagged leaves fanned out in all directions from where they hung down the many walls. These plants covered in full all of the smaller, unusual shaped buildings with low slopping roofs. Flowering plants of a profusion of types, colors and shape/sizes crowded each other in thick collections all along the wall behind him to both sides into the distance. Where there was no stone pavement a heavy cover of mossy looking, white and red-green plants grew. There were more of the thick trees, of heart shaped leaves crowding out smaller bushier trees of deep reddish leaves. In the distance were odd looking trees, over a hundred feet tall, with Saguaro cactus like lower trunks, but towering crowns of dense greenish-blue leaves.

Above him Bourbon heard a rustling and glimpsed movements of foliage that could not be entirely contributable to the wind. Stepping back from the tree under which he stood; he tried to see what it was which scrambled in the higher branches, but the mass of leaves were too thick. He decided to avoid these trees if possible just in case whatever scrambled above was something unpleasant. Moving away from the tree outward from the wall to a spot where there was some clearing he noted the larger cotton candy trees, as he thought of them, on the other side of the rear walls, formed a thick unbroken canopy for hundreds of miles in both directions.

Moving more towards the open area Bourbon couldn't see what was beyond this section because the ground was quite flat here and all the trees blocked his view no matter where he looked. The pathway continued onward through a densely, overgrown park like area. He slowly walked along looking upwards into the powder-blue skies for signs that whoever lived upon this world, might soon arrive. The orb moved silently along just as it had been. He studied the orb wondering if it was perhaps floating and not quite defying gravity as it appeared. He also wondered if it was like some kind of personal surveillance satellite. He really wanted to know who was behind all of this and why didn't they just come right out into the open? The shining globe didn't make him nervous any more just damn bewildered.

The trees and flowers he passed had a good smell to them. A scent which dominated and colored his perceptions as he walked along for what seemed the better part of an hour. He was still being very careful not to touch anything. He carefully ducked under or around the tree branches where they had overgrown the blue-stone pathway. Looking ahead, the path he followed was leading to another main avenue. He emerged from the park area feeling less anxious but still wary.

This avenue was paved with huge squares of polished, marbled, turquoise stone and was twice the width of a standard four-lane roadway. Running his hands across the smooth surface, it seemed unlikely to him that his avenue was even meant for wheeled vehicles. The edges curved up and formed the eight-foot sidewalk he stood upon. To his left the avenue led for a quarter mile then curved right. He decided to go left along this wide avenue to wherever it led him. What else could he do? And so Bourbon continued onward.

Walking along at a steady pace he stopped frequently to study the buildings which ranged from two stories to eight stories tall. All of the buildings had a very artistic style both in their construction and in their overall design. The highly polished granite looking stone used in most of the structures was quite varied of many types of textures and natural colors. Almost as if the stones themselves were to be the palette from which everything was to be drawn. The architectural style of the buildings was uniform, but by no means dull. The stonework itself was amazing considering how well everything was constructed in smooth flowing geometric lines. An appearance which was quite rounded as opposed to the more vertical, square styles on Earth. The very smooth roof-tops of the largest structures were domed and looked to him to be covered in copper.

A significant amount of intricate symbolism was worked into the facades. As if this deserted city was once a place of celebration. The designs seemed to indicate these inhabitants were well aware of star travel. Many of the upper scenic panels depicted star systems like interwoven flowers connected by hands shaped as wings. However, the door entrances to these interesting buildings were clearly sealed shut. He wondered; because of the layout and the round shapes of the larger structures, if perhaps the entire complex had astronomical functions, at least in a ceremonial design.

Bourbon continued along the marbled turquoise avenue, still walking very cautiously, past one empty building after another. The breeze had picked up once again carrying with it the heavy, sweet, aromas of the plant life around him. All the smells and the flowering plants led him to believe it was spring-time here, wherever here was on this alien world. He wondered if there were large animals of some type lurking about because of all the depictions on the buildings, but there was still no sign of any higher sentient life form presence. Living that is...or at least visible to him.

The silence made him feel as if he was indeed a trespasser. As he passed another group of buildings he continued to note the small details in their makeup. The little things that told him someone had put a great deal of craftsmanship into their work. The large sectioned windows of bright colored glass were of designs both geometric, as well as, decorated in emulation of what had to be the native flowers and plants. The construction utilized many different types of wood and metal embellishment which he assumed was a signature of wealth. The few that were painted, or at least what he assumed was paint, were done so in very light pastel shades of yellow gold’s.

As he walked along the avenue, not seeing anyone or anything of consequence, he began to feel less overwhelmed by it all. At least being here was relatively pleasant he told himself. Nothing like taking a quiet stroll down another worlds empty avenues to remind him of the comforts of home. For here there were no telephone poles or other signs of artifacts of technology, in fact nothing at all like one would expect in a modern city on Earth. Even a small one.

All around him it was so very quiet except for the wind rustling the leaves of the trees he passed beneath. He was not even thinking of danger, just walking. Looking, but not really comprehending the deeper significance of all of the sights around him. Just soaking it all in as if he was on some kind of spirit walk into another alternate reality.

But Bourbon knew this was no dream. He had worked up a pretty good sweat and he had not seen any water fountains or anything containing water period. Considering how green everything was he expected to see a creek or a pool something, but he hadn't. Besides being thirsty he was also getting hungry and he had zilch in the way of food. He was in no position to bargain or trade. He really felt as if he was up the creek. Truthfully, he had no plan or idea what to do when he came face to face with the inhabitants, of this alien, but beautiful city. From all that he had seen something here had to be of great intelligence and certainly somewhat similar in form, at least, he hoped that was the case.

The avenue he followed by his reckoning for over three hours was leading to the massive gate and wall which he had glimpsed through the dense tree canopies. Here where the avenue came to an end were two of the strangest and tallest structures he had yet seen. These odd opaque solid light-white and golden yellow structures were constructed out of inner objects whose shapes resembled giant toy jacks. Each jack, its point facing outward, was twelve-feet or so across. The jacks shown in the sun like polished bronze in the center, but the four arms were silver. The spheres at the arms ends were pure white on one side and pure black on the other side. Upwards the two strange buildings rose, on opposite sides of the avenue, in highly symmetrical order and he noticed, in a reverse mirror image of each other. As he turned the final corner and continued down the avenue he realized they were quite huge. A large city block square and a good seventy stories tall. He stared up at them wondering what in the hell...

The avenue ended at the wall. A wall which was taller by half as the twin buildings guarding its inner pathway. The polished white stones from which the wall was fashioned were perfectly cut, precisely enjoined with some blocks having more than ten sides. Each one was at least thirty-feet squared. The massive wall made Bourbon wonder if he had in fact only passed through a separate section of a larger city. But were the walls and gate keeping things in or to keep things out? He had no way of telling. He climbed the steps.

The ornamental gateway was arched like all the others and it too was quite impressive. Standing there looking upwards he figured he could no doubt wander around here in this enclosure only what would be the point. He had no food, no water, and no idea of what was actually safe, so danger was a really a mute question. He decided to just get it over with and continue onward to whatever. The mysterious crystal object moved around behind him.

His found his heart was back to beating a mile a minute as he walked up the final section of yellow-gold steps. On both sides of the upper landing were two large ornamental statues which could have been fierce nine-foot tall Bengal tigers despite their sea-green color. He walked beneath a huge vaulted overhang with golden braided vines and flowers embellished with large clusters of precious gems. He stood before the gate itself nearly twenty-feet tall. He placed his hands against the smooth gray-stone and took a deep breath.

This gate despite its size also opened with just a small push.

As the thick rock-gate revolved around its center pivot he saw to his relief the passage way through the wall was one-hundred and twenty feet in length. He crouched down in the shadows feeling like a spy on a mission. He slowly moved along the right side of the tunnel towards the front entrance which was a bluish color and hazy as if it was made of a not quite transparent substance. From behind him came the sound of stone scraping along grooves he now noticed were cut into the floor. An inner wall he had not seen was forcefully pushing him outward. Rather reluctantly and swearing under his breath as the wall pushed him along he stumbled out from under the front entrance back into the bright sunshine.

Before him was a bustling, noisy city avenue.

He had nowhere to run or hide. The wall was solid behind him.

Strangely enough at the last moment there was a feeling like going through water and only then did he hear the noise of all that was around him. But that feeling was so unique it was reminding him of something else, but his attention was riveted to the sights of people. Good lord he was thinking. Standing there he felt as if his heart was ready to leap right out of his chest and go flying off into the distance.

James Bourbon froze just like one of those statues preparing himself for the very worst. He felt like a prisoner escaping out the front gate only to find there was no real escape. Damn it all to hell, he swore silently under his breath standing there spellbound. Why his knees weren't wobbling from fear continued to amaze him. His mind was staggered by the implications of what he saw.

*******************************************************************

The Seeker having been preoccupied with incorporating its new objectives, and returning all spheres of operations back to maximum capacity, had been monitoring the situation as the Rider from Earth, walked along. The Seeker composed another official record:

I have once again been delivered into a situation far beyond my normal operations. How very strange it must have been for the Earth man to pass through the Realm of the Higher Celestials. Nothing in the Omnieint memory spheres had ever recorded such a procedure for a Seeker or a planetary being, (as those of flesh and blood are classified) to go through before entering IaXiean. This entire mission is a very strange twist of proper protocol. On top of all this mystery are the new operational spheres.

The newly acquired spheres are tremendously powerful with names and designs clearly intended for the Royal Xjhontu Hunters and the Royal Judgment Entocyns. Some of these potent spheres contain weapons of crushing force never used by a Seeker, and this seems to be quite important: never before by a Human.

I am not certain why these objectives have been given.

The Seeker quickly scanned the area and found the city no longer contained many of the objects where the internal maps showed them to be positioned. Even stranger still was the return signal from the Ottromurten itself. The return signal was weak and in an emergency, encrypted pulse frequency. The Seeker continued its scan of the area, as it tried all other frequencies normally in operation in the Ottromurtens communications spheres, but the Seeker received no return signal from any of the channels audio or visual. This information was also recorded as it was determined.

The only message being broadcast was the emergency signal from the Ottromurten. The Seeker decoded the encrypted message. The Seeker was deeply puzzled by the message: The Xzenatron is corrupted. The Seeker did not know what a "Xzenatron" was much less why it would be corrupted. The Seeker prepared itself for maximum deviation from standard command protocol. Those who had rescued both itself and the Rider from Earth had made certain factors quite clear. The Rider was never to be left alone again, not for a single moment and the Seeker wasn't going to fail that commandment twice.

A Rider of The Whirlwind

"Look!" exclaimed an excited cart loader to all those around him.His voice urgent in its depth of surprise instantly turned the heads of all the men who were within earshot. Then as if on an unspoken cue people up and down the avenue abruptly looked up at the man who had just exited from within the Celestial City. Above him in the golden Apreito frame appeared the ancient symbol of the Gate of Ariqu. Whispers of concern quickly flowed up and down both sides of the "avenue of merchants" called the Dovke. The people eyed the Rider with uncommon curiosity. How fierce he looked standing there so silently against the Gate, while at a shoulders height beside him was a glittering Celestial Sphere.

Two blocks down the Dovke, Avienti and his crew were busy at work returning power to the merchant shops. The work was fast paced, but relaxed. They were very good at what they were doing. To obtain the power needed for city services electric current was produced below the Dovke by two micro-generation methods. The first was based on quartz transduction. In an alternating substrate, ten standard measures below the paving stone, a honey-comb sandwich of crystalline materials produced a piezo-electric current. The second method was heat conductance. Heat flowed through the top layers of the paving stone and was picked up by channels which dumped the excess heat into a composite layer of ultra-heat conduction metals. This layer in turn boiled a gas piped through ceramic arteries.

When the system was "opened" the super-heated gas flowed through these arteries, under very high pressure into the fist-sized gas compression units. Together these two sources of electricity were bled off into electric storage cells, which Avientis' crew had been cleaning, testing and if needed replacing. When completed twelve of these cells formed a tube. These tube-cells, were lowered back into the wells, as they were called, completing the circuit.

After testing the lines into the shops, the power boxes which contained the necessary voltage regulators, circuit breakers etc. were lowered back into their gas-cooled, insulated wells. In short, every avenue of the city served as part of the electrical power grid. Avienti and his crew had been hard at work since day-break.

Like all others their attention was drawn to the unexpected arrival of a Rider. Kospreen put down the bundle of tools he was carrying atop the next well box. Avienti put down his schematics next to the tools. Kospreen motioned to the other crew members.

"Is this Etios' Rider??" Vajeon asked amidst the flurry of shocked whispers behind them.

"How do we greet him?" The supporting apprentices were asking to Avienti.

"How should I know?" Replied Avienti quite perplexed. However, his face glowed with admiration as he added, "Dula, my beloved, has been hinting mysteriously her brother Etio has predicted the arrival of a Rider. Although I too thought she was greatly exaggerating his skills. Apparently it was I who was measuring his ability to the false end."

"That's all very well Avienti, but how do we approach him in courtesy?" asked Vajeon stepping up to Avienti, who stood a foot taller. Vajeons tan, weathered face showed both his concerns and his admiration. Etio had been right after all. The people around them were so surprised nobody knew what to do or how to approach the Rider. Work along the Dovke came to a stop. The men quickly glancing at each other all along the avenue, were also making the small hand gesture meaning wait, hold--back. A Rider of the Whirlwind was now among them.

A Rider from the Gate of Ariqu.

******************************************************

Bourbon was astounded to see how much like "mankind" these people were in every way. Aside from the differences in clothing styles and such there was no appreciable difference. A visual fact he found disconcerting. Looking to his right, and then to the left, this bustling, wide avenue of white and black stone set in a checker-board pattern, would not be any different than any large metropolitan district back on Earth. But it was and truthfully he didn't know which observation bothered him more: the people or the fact he was here by a means incomprehensible. What he saw was supposed to be impossible. So much for the theories.

On the opposite side the avenue was a long line of distinctly designed, one and two story shops, whose brick-red, wide sidewalks were filled with a multitude of people. People who were silently bunching into smaller groups. From their expressions it was beyond doubt they found his sudden arrival to be just as shocking as he felt about them. Along his side of the avenue was another wide sidewalk, of the same red-stone, winding through a wide strip of spring greens he assumed was a park area. All the way down both sides he saw much smaller, well trimmed, broad-leafed shade trees, of the same type found in the previous area. He also saw various, thick collections of bright flowers neatly placed in the round and square rock gardens; where light brown wood benches allowed those who rested on them to view the scene around them in comfort. In these areas the people, young and old alike, were playing, sitting, conversing and looking about peacefully as one would expect of such a pleasant, warm, sunny afternoon. However, these people were also turning their attention towards him.

Shades of Earth indeed commented Bourbon out loud.

*****************************************************

The merchant haulers, paid by the farmers of the outlying regions, to bring into the city the stored foods and other goods of the new season; were slowly coming to a stop. Traffic behind them was just starting to get the word about the unique arrival of a Rider.

In moments a nucleus of curious men formed around Avienti, Kospreen and Vajeon. And they were asking to each other, how long has it been since we have even seen a Rider?

"It has been a long time since any Rider has come to IaXiean," said Avienti once again taking charge of the conversation. "And never before from the Gate of Ariqu."

His awe was shared by all.

Avienti was the lead technical craftsman in charge of keeping the cities lighting and related functions in proper working order. He was the same age as Berscus, but younger then Vajeon or Kospreen. His knowledge and consistent strengths of character drew into his working nucleus those who shared his love of things mechanical and technical. They were all astounded at the truth of what they knew, but what to say to this Rider? The Celestial City had not been open to any for two Seibiku. The Eo-Xspirien, which guarded all of the sixteen gate entrances and powered the defense fields, were so formidable even the Xminocron proper, who had every imaginable weapon available to them, had never been inside.

Avienti motioned with his right-hand and all of his crew moved around to the back-side of a tall merchant cart, filled with liquid containers, which was parked at the curb. Avienti opened the dual rear doors as they pretended to be involved in studying its contents.

"Look at the Riders dress and footwear," said Kospreen, discreetly pointing to the Riders feet." His tanned face, broke into a broad grin, "his tailor is an expert, but he is not dressed as a Rider."

"At least as we know them to be Kospreen, " retorted Avienti. "But what is bothering me is the fact I cannot place his features. His features are composed as our own, but his face is so light in its complexion. Nothing he wears resembles any style I have seen before or currently among the visiting off-worlders, under the Aposkiou Exhuluian, or the Xmino he associates with on his "private" excursions." Avienti who had removed his wide brimmed hat was squinting in the bright afternoon sunshine. His dark-brown eyes hinted at his own amazing conclusion. "That strangely garbed Rider is not an Xmino spy. I would bet my life on it twice over."

"How can you be so certain Avienti?" asked Kospreen, pulling the brim of his hat downward to shade his eyes which were the color of redstone brown. From the corner of his eye he saw a Raluc foot soldier. His sharpened gaze returned to Avienti, then to Vajeon as he slyly cocked his head to one side. Twenty measures behind them, standing pensively beside a cart loaded with spring fruits, was one of the Aposkious lower ranked guardsmen. Kospreen non-chalantly retrieved a spare axle core from beneath the cart, flexing his bulging chest outward. His strength was legendary. All of them turned slowly around and boldly stared down the yellow skinned Raluc, who had been sneaking up behind their position. He was a thin man, as most of the Raluc tended to be, wearing a solid black uniform which was too big for his skinny frame. His boots of silver needed polishing and were missing the top bands which often held a hand-sized duiden weapon. His face was pot-marked from too many long bouts of drinking quoisipa, the favored drink among the Raluc. His slightly bulging yellow-tinted eyes, from PerVix mining contamination, were darting from them back to the Rider.

The Raluc looking back towards them sneered, his thin lips curled upward, that is until Kospreen swung the core about with one hand. The Raluc froze in a panicked gesture where he stood, gave them all a dirty look (as Kospreen stepping forward thumped the core menacingly on the railing beside him) and then quickly turned away. The Raluc spy was soon lost in the growing crowd.

"Did you see that Vajeon? The Rider never moved or made any attempt to signal the Raluc. There was no indication that he even noticed the Raluc," said Avienti with curious satisfaction. "He is not one of them, either."

"Your personal convictions aside Avienti, what leads you to conclude this is no trick or a ploy on the part of the Xminocron proper?" asked Berscus without emotion while lifting another heavy sack of grain from the larger carrier, behind the one where they stood watching the Rider, onto a smaller cart used for filling the stock rooms. His uncle owned the shop behind them and Berscus had been pressed into double-duty to get the shop ready for business.

After setting the grain sack atop the pile Bercus dusted off his brown trousers. He was as tall as Avienti, of a strong build but not as muscular as Kospreen. His pale brown eyes, met Avientis' own. "Our fore-fathers have seen these well orchestrated "acts" before and the great suffering which followed when trust was extended to the wrong hand. Etio is a bright, honest Keriom, but he is too young to be right about everything."

"So they have indeed Berscus," replied Avienti without looking away from the Rider. "But this one is too different. And most of all...look at that golden, spherical crystal. That is no fake. Etio has to be right."

"Shining like a torch, of fortunes long since gone, but never forgotten." Added Vajeon in a deep baritone voice, as he often did, quoting from the poets of long ago. He too removed his hat shading his clear gray-eyes with his right hand from the sun. "I think this Rider, who has come from within the Celestial City, is answering the call of Fates on the eve of the Rites. A small truth in itself which can only mean one thing my friends...."

"A Destiny which involves Vyranna?" said Avienti nodding his head.

"Her heart has been burdened for a full beniki this dezco. She is to be admired for her perseverance under that shadow of hate cast out by the Aposkiou." Vajeon spat a curse his Father used to describe a man of evil, who thought he was the pinnacle of good. His own.

"You've been listening to the sweet talk of Dula for too long Avienti," quipped Kospreen good naturedly nudging Avienti in the ribs. He was laughing. "Avienti, that cevko has you ready to go soaring on moonlight."

"If I recall a certain Rite correctly, Kospreen, you danced for three dezcoes' practically on your head just to win your hearts loves attention." replied Avienti his deep smile more like a smirk.

"That I cannot deny." Agreed Kospreen laughing as he promptly did a quick re-cap of his winning moves, provoking contagious chuckles from all those behind them.

"Besides," pointed out Vajeon, waiting for the laughter to subside,"Etio who is soon to be the master of prediction, never lies about the predestination’s, unlike others we won't mention by name. His devotion to accuracy has invoked the ire of Tzebron on more then one occasion."

"The poor kid is stuffed so full of knowledge he expels dictums at every turn," laughed Kospreen, smoothing out his ruffled dark hair.

"And because that is all he does...." answered Berscus smiling unable to ward off the good cheer of Kospreen.

"Finding new ideas to disprove the accepted views may drive the older Ashenti crazy, but it is the only reason Vyranna has not lost her hope." Vajeon tucked his broad sleeved shirt more deeply into his belted reddish brown trousers. "By pointing out every flaw in accepted doctrine, Tzebron has had no choice, but to keep the Ashenti dancing on their toes. Otherwise, they all look like frauds and fools, bumbling around the Aposkiou, who is the biggest fool of all. If he was a sharp as he brags to be...he would be here right now, facing down the Rider with everything he has hidden on Gestofios. A important fact which I believe demonstrates the Aposkiou does not expect a Rider this dezco."

"But Etio has never said how or when the Rider, was to land on IaXiean soil." said Berscus still angling on the dissenters row. "This Rider may be a fraud of another order under the Xmino councils."

"Etio knew a Rider was coming to IaXiean, and yes he didn't know how that was to be accomplished or if it was to be before this dezco or after, but he is right Berscus. So stop being so negative," remarked Avienti flatly, while still trying to deduce from the Riders dress where he may have come from among the joined worlds. "The real mystery, if you want to pursue one Berscus, is what world does this Rider come from? And how did he arrive inside the Celestial City?"

"Maybe the Xminocron proper, have managed to find and exploit a new toy Avienti and the Rider under their direction is only taking advantage of what has been predicted," said Berscus sharply. "Your love of Dulu is clouding your perceptions."

Berscus had implied this accusation in a more serious voice, as if to suggest Avienti was making conclusions based on empty, emotional conjecture. The two of them circled back around the cart.

Vajeon who was the oldest member of the nucleus listened, as expected, as they argued. Of the two of them, and of the group as a whole, Berscus was the more rational. He tended to see things without any rosy hue. He was also single and had not yet found a love as strong as the one between Dula had Avienti. She was quite remarkable and her focus on Avienti had caused Berscus to feel less important. Even so, he and Avienti argued on principles, but rarely on logic, like now. They had been friends their entire lives. And like brothers often do they disagreed just to be different. Kospreen who was older by three enkina's then both was the best natured, among the nucleus. Keeping a level head no matter what was transpiring, made his physical strength that much more imposing. He kept the two of them from becoming too opinionated for their own good. Young, head-strong leaders needed firm guidance at all times, or they ended up as tyrants, like the Aposkiou Exhuluian. Vajeon knew his real name and where he had come from originally. A very big secret. One which he was saving for the right moment. Perhaps today would yield such a moment.

"How long should we let them argue like this Vajeon? asked Kospreen shaking his head.

"Give 'em a few more kips then break 'em up. The Rider is taking note of them."

Avienti had firmly cornered Berscus on the shaded side of the cart.

"Alright so you have several good points Berscus, but even without that spinning globe I still say he is a genuine Rider. How else do you explain his coming from inside the Holy city and not from an Xmino Devori cruiser?"

"Well, that is the one observation I cannot refute, " said Berscus as he wiped his brow.

******************************************************

Everyone who looked at him, Bourbon was thinking, looked just as amazed as he felt. Actually that in itself was not surprising considering he was from another planet. As he quickly studied the people around him he noted all of the resemblance’s between them and mankind in general. Their skin color was of light and dark brown tones, but their faces resembled somewhat those of the Asian races around the eyes. The people around him were of many heights, proportions, ages and sexes.

What really struck him most of all was the striking manner in which they looked at him. Almost as if he was a ghost fresh from the grave. No they were shocked all right, but not scared he realized. Just the same he stood there, his heart still pounding, trying to look as calm as possible. He was trying not to look threatening in any way. He wasn't here to die foolishly of that he felt confident.

The crystal was now humming audibly in front of him.

A sound like a cats purr only deeper.

Word was now reaching the outer avenues, with lightening speed, a Rider had come forth from the Gate of Ariqu. The Elders, who enjoyed sitting out in front of the many shops along the Dovke, calmly appraised the situation at hand. What was the hurry they surmised as they carefully positioned the ancient Ondizello boards, with their equally as old Atochien cubes, on the hand-carved, wooden aiv stands. Smiling among themselves they began to roll the Leija Fates.

Those who watched both the Rider and the Elders' found the air to be electrified with suspense. None dared move until the Elders had deciphered the Riders disposition and purpose. For this was no ordinary dezco, but the first dezco of the new Seibiku. The timing was incredible.

Glancing to each side Bourbon saw there was no attempt being made to approach him. He didn't see any men carrying weapons or any rush to obtain one. Minutes had passed and still no threats or shouts from any of the people around him. There were no police like individuals or from what he could see military personal. The strange thing, it seemed to him, was that no one looked at him as if he was a threat, just totally unexpected. Of all things he felt it was as if he was the authority figure, which no one had seen in a long time. Now why would that be he mused, still standing there motionless.

Here before him was just a busy avenue filled with lots of their "people" doing the things one would normally expect of a busy, sunny afternoon. The men of various ages he saw were pulling dark wood carts with unique looking tri-spoked, solid double wheels on each side. These wagon/carts were brightly decorated of many colors, designs, different sizes, model shapes and filled with a multitude of goods. He also saw those which were being used to transport other people. However, as the minutes passed everything had stopped.

A hush went over the streets. The noises of activity dwindled in sharp contrast to only moments before. The silence was becoming as thick as the giant, stone wall behind him.

[The Seeker knew the IaXiean people were in themselves not dangerous nonetheless, it was not taking any chances. Too many things were wrong here so it posited, then reconfigured itself using the new operations spheres.

The Seeker reconfigured itself into the Royal Entocyn Rod of Justice and came to rest in the mans' right hand. The Seeker opened the communications spheres and reset them for Human and IaXiean language transliteration/translation.]

For Bourbon, the sudden transformation of the crystal was as startling to him as it was for the inhabitants. It was another very long, strange moment that passed between them.

With the change of the sphere the Elders were feeling the pressure of the moment heavy upon their shoulders. The Leija Fates were incomprehensible. No one had ever seen such high magnitudes of the exponential's. The Sphere had also changed before all into something of potent purpose. The Rider was still quite calm as he stood there before them his back nearly against the gate. The pressure they felt increased dramatically to a very high level; mostly from the stares of all those who were still waiting for them to reveal the this unknown Riders purpose.

Whispers once again flickered off the tongues of the many who stood watching the drama unfolding before their astonished eyes. The dark-brown haired Rider of light skin and green eyes was confidently holding one of the most ancient Celestial objects ever seen on IaXiean.

The crystal sphere had transposed itself before their very eyes.

He held it firmly in his right hand. Astonishment was mixed with fear for this was no minor object of trifling importance. In the most ancient of days the bearers of the Entocyns punished the wicked, vanquished the evil, humbled all who stood chastised before the Law. This Rider from the Gate of Ariqu, held the venerated Rod of Judgement.

Symbolically, this was called a Trine of Fate.

Avienti looked in turn to each of his startled companions and then back to the Rider. Very slowly, all of them took four...careful....steps....back. Those along the avenue closest to the Rider did the same. Kospreen in a hushed tone of voice quickly re-iterated what his great-grandfather had once explained to him about a Rod of Judgment. Like many young Doias' {boys} they all had played ruff and tumble games based on those ancient symbols of power. In a moment an entire army could be laid to the ground in horrible pain or vaporized by the Entocyns blue beams.

The Elders did not see danger in this Rider, but they too felt the concern.

For a hearts moment nobody dared do anything---not even breath.

As Bourbon stood there under a bright sun, holding the strange rod everyone around him visibly stiffened. He too was nearly holding his breath as he slowly glanced around trying to discern what it was which made these people suddenly seem so fearful. What did they believe this object to be? And what did they think he was about to do?

As it was so many different things quickly caught his attention he had little time to think of personal danger. In the silence of the moment he noted how clean everything was around him. In fact every aspect of what he saw was clean, neatly ordered and of good condition. There was no trash that he could see of any kind along the polished stone checkered avenue. The people were not rich looking yet they had that look of tough times. He did not see any group of people who looked more wealthy than any other or less so like street tramps or bums. These were people who looked respectable, intelligent and dignified, perhaps just burdened in some way.

In fact, as he stood there his heart pounding noting how they looked so "Human" he had to remind himself: I am an alien among them. And he thought about this quite intensely, would we be so calm? Would we be so civilized in another’s eyes, as they were in his own?

The apprehension in their faces was changing to something less fearful almost relieved. Had he been taken to a world mankind had traveled to in the past; just as he did through those strange arches? Doorways to worlds long since closed? Or was it the other way around? Hell on wheels he was thinking; what have I discovered? The ancient secrets of the past turned to hazy myths took on new unexpected meanings. The possibilities were staggering either way. How many worlds were there in which those arches served as the conduit to places unknown? And why was mankind so damn belligerent on the finer points of non-terrain life? Secrets within secrets had suddenly come to life. The implications were astounding to contemplate.

Bourbon glanced down at himself (because they were looking so intently at him), it was then he remembered, but to his relief, his clothes were intact. It had not even occurred to him to check his appearance. He would never go out to meet people unless he was confident he looked his best. And here he was standing on another planet, holding in his right hand some kind of alien artifact, and he didn't even remember to look to see if he was still covered in blood. How could have he forgotten something so basic? Funny how the mind works under pressure.

And what was this damn rod/sphere anyway?

Bourbon continued to look around very casually hoping to convey that he was no threat. Only problem was he had this four-foot long octagon crystal rod, firmly implanted into his right-hand, with three one-foot diameter, gleaming golden-spheres spinning above the flat oval tip. There was no discernible connection between the ultra-light rod or the spinning orbs and this really had their collective attention. In fact, it seemed to him, if he just put down the rod they probably wouldn't even notice he was out of the picture.

"I don't think were going to die Kospreen," said Avienti wiping a trickle of sweat off his forehead. The people around them felt a continuing sense of relief. The Rider seemed wary, somewhat shy as he stood there not even blinking. His calm expression lessened their anxiety.

"My friends, we need to get back to the Kesci before that Raluc guardsmen spills his dirty lies to the Aposkiou Exhuluian," said Vajeon hoping all would agree.

"Vajeon is right, Avienti. Dula and Vyranna are in real trouble. We know from his previous outbursts the foul one has no qualms about killing those he pets."

"I need no convincing my friends. I just want to see where this Rider is going."

"The time factor will be crucial," said Berscus, in a much different tone of voice pointing to the period/time marker, "if he heads straight for the Ottromurten he will be there in two kias, but that is if nothing happens and he takes a direct course through the city."

"Maybe one of us should try winning his confidence and leading him there," said Kospreen. Perhaps he searches our hearts convictions, came the flurry of whispers among those behind them who were eavesdropping on their conversation. Avienti hushed them with a wave of his hand.

The Elders hearing the speculations, outweighing the facts sharply passed the word not to distract the Rider with gossip or ill chosen words. Let him move as he pleases for his Leija Fates did not spell out danger, rather deep extrospection of IaXiean motives they implored to those who listened. Those who spoke quickly among themselves agreed the Rider was determining if the people had been faithful to what had been ordained. The Elders emphasized the Rider was in the mighty hands of the Oktovatien. He is the one who guides the Rider, they whispered to those around them and they warned all of them once again to be careful as to not arouse a sense of unrightful behavior. The Elders had slowly made their way through the knot of people to where Avienti and Kospreen were standing.

"If only we knew what world he came from, or his native tongue," said the oldest of the elders named Aica patting Avienti on the shoulder.

"After all, such encounters need not be fraught with such difficulties," added Dibua who was closest in age to Aica and was the second most respected Elder. She and Aica continued discussing in quite tones what the Riders fate hinted at and Avienti and the others listened without interruption.

"Avienti and myself will inform the Ashenti, then Dula and Vyranna. Berscus will move ahead of the Rider and Vajeon will follow behind looking for signs of trouble from the Raluc. Everyone else fan out along the side avenues and keep the people from blocking off his movements." said Kospreen to those who stood all around them.

But no one dared to move just yet.

No wonder they gave him that momentary look of apprehension Bourbon was thinking. The spinning orbs were probably something the people here had seen before under unpleasant circumstances. The welder no doubt adding to their misery.

So what now? Maybe staying on the other side wasn't such a bad idea after all he thought watching the orbs change positions into a triangular formation. The orbs resumed spinning casting off a brilliant iridescent radiance for well over twelve feet.

Once again though the choice had been made to move forward because the damn rod was not so gently pulling him along. He turned to his right down the white-stone steps. With quick strides he crossed the avenue keeping his movements as calm as he could, as natural as he dared pretend them to be, as the crystal rod pulled him forward. Moving to his left he threaded his way, around the carts and past those who stood in awe watching. Then the rod guided him to the left side of the avenue towards another which met this one as a t-end. The crowd of people kept their distance, as the orbs cast out sparkling fingers of light.

Avienti and the others shared the relief which was heard and felt all the way down the avenue. The Rider seemed to know where he was going--a relief in itself. Those around them felt confident the Rider was well aware of the customs of IaXiean; he was just reluctant to engage in formality. Under different circumstances this would have seemed rude on his part however, such transgressions of proper etiquette would be forgiven considering he was so calm in demeanor. Such calmness they decided, as they watched the Rider walk through the many people of the city, was an indication he was a peaceful man deep in his own thoughts. They would not be obtrusive or demanding of his purpose even though they were quite curious as to his greater motives on IaXiean. A Rider of the Whirlwind with such a Celestial device meant only one group among them was in physical danger and that was the next question before them.

Vajeon kept a comfortable distance between himself and the Rider as he followed behind. Kospreen and Avienti were walking with the Elders, who were moving on a slower pace on the opposite side of the avenue. Berscus moved out ahead of the Rider keeping the curious from slowing down the Riders progress. Walking at a good pace Vajeon, basked in the excitement which filled the hearts of the people who were coming up to him trading ideas and clever turns of speech. There was no question in his mind what is was which all wanted to know: Was this Rider actually here to rid them of the despised Aposkiou Exhuluian and his equally dour Raluc guards?

Heavens joy they whispered amongst each other, a true Rider of the Whirlwind.

For indeed above the Orbs a whirlwind of light entranced all who gazed upon the Rider. A light which in times of old signaled the Rite of Irenic. A celebration of when a Rider had formally joined his or her world to IaXiean and by law the rest of the joined system. The people were wondering was this Rider carrying the Rod of Judgement to provoke the Law once again? And so Vajeon thought to be free of those who had destroyed so much for nothing. Vile minds who only lived for their own selfish pleasures and baneful appeasement’s of personal power. To be free again to enjoy the wondrous qualities of life with no fear of reprisal. To have no fear of displaying the warmth of their hearts which was such a integral part of their national character.

Under the Xmino, who ruled them with such sour disposition, they had been forced to subliminate their true way of life. A manner of living the Xmino did not appreciate or even to attempt to understand. The people practically had to hide their generous ways of giving in order to keep their honorable traditions from being further degraded by those who demanded happiness to be defined as a sickness of the mind. Sure life had its share of sorrow, misery and unpleasant moments, but does that mean everything else had to be equally as painful in order to be as real?

All these tangents of thought moved through the minds, hearts and tongues in rapid flurries of passionate speech between those who found themselves coming eye to eye with the Rider of unknown origination and those that followed. The people exchanged excited threads of conversation with uncommon candor in astute awareness of the broader implications before them.

They wanted to approach this man with proper formality.

This man whose light-blue shirt, dark-blue trousers reaching down to his white and blue striped footwear, reminded them of the importance they ascribed to colors as a way to describe oneself to others. Blue in itself represented the skies of spring and summer and the renewal of life. Symbolically blue was a color of high purpose and honor and was used to signify one who gave devotion to the principles of these important moral objectives. A man who wore the color of blue so boldly risked lengthy philosophical discussions on the meaning of life. Was he here to judge their meanings? Avienti and Kospreen didn't have the answers, but Vajeon was all to happy to quote verses of the legend of Bensippa. An epic tale from the days when Riders of the Whirlwind were bold, adventurous and bearers of true Peace.

For the young Cevko's, who came into the city with their friends and families to participate in the celebration of the Rite of Ohikanteze, the Rider was an amazing sign of good fortune. They looked towards the Rider with highly, piqued interest. Such an arrival on this dezco of cycles reborn could only mean they would find a hearts union of great longevity. But what to say to such a Rider they did not know; only that didn't stop them from moving as close to him as they dared, as he passed them along the wide avenue to see if their eyes caught his own. After all, the ancient laws demanded a male Rider must always choose an IaXiean cevko to be his betrothed. The bond ensured a Rider placed his interests into the greater framework of relationships on IaXiean. To the young cevka's this Riders mystery made him that much more exciting. The crowd around Vajeon was boisterous as he listened to Avienti and Kospreen who were about to take a short cut and make a fast paced run for the Ottromurten, and then to the Kesci. Berscus was still up ahead keeping the flow of people moving forward.

As Bourbon proceeded down another avenue he noticed the younger woman were purposely catching his eye. Their demeanor was expressive, more so then bold and they smiled warmly in his passing. In general the women he passed were fair of face, clear eyed, good teeth behind their pleasant smiles. The women here seemed to prefer an elaborately, braided hairstyle which complemented the long, thick fine hair, predominantly of dark browns and jet black. Those of blonde hair were in the minority, but red-headed people in general were rarer yet.

Most of the woman he passed wore brightly colored shawls of many designs, wrapped around their shoulders. Their dresses were of many styles, lengths, whose patterns were intricate, boldly colored and as he studied them, festive in appearance. Those who wore what looked to be silken blouses had wide flaring skirts of various lengths with the older woman surprisingly having the shorter almost mini-skirt lengths. All of the women wore open sandals on their feet of many different styles and colors. The large woven bags they carried looked more like satchels then purses with colorful, decorative designs of animals and plants woven into the fabric itself. The younger women continued making direct, confident eye contact with him as he passed them. The more mature however, merely glanced towards him only as if he had passed in front of something much more important and he was simply in the way.

All along the broad sidewalks those who had been inside the shops had came out to look and pass quick threads of excited conversation. Bourbon continued to marvel at the multitude of people of all ages, shapes and sexes around him still wondering: where in the hell am I?

The men he passed looked keen of mind of many proportions and heights with tanned, confident faces of character. The majority of the men wore semi-long trousers of deep browns and reds. While others, especially the older men, wore full length robes to the ankles of deep red-hued cinnamon browns. He wondered if those men were priests or something akin to them.

The shirts the men wore were very individualistic. As he casually glanced about he saw no two which were really alike. From bright to dark colors, from fancy designs to none at all. Front buttons, side clasps, pull over like tee-shirts they had their own style. Almost as if they wore only what they themselves had made he thought. As he studied the people around him all of them seemed to be wearing and using things they themselves made; or these people had very close personal relationships with their clothes designers and general craftsmen. He wondered if there was a complete lack of capitalistic manufacturing. Or at least large scale factories.

The men also wore sandals but he noticed that the sandals covered more of the foot. Those who wore colorful hats with large brims removed them and nodded very respectively. He noted none of the men had facial hair and nearly all wore their hair of browns and black very short. Maybe it was crew cut week here he thought. Nonetheless, it continued to amaze him that these men behaved so casually. As if it was not all that unusual to see a total stranger to your world, just walking down the avenues with a strange, spinning-sphere rod object in his right hand. The crowd behind him was growing by leaps and bounds, but they looked happy. And because they were laughing and seeming to have a good time of it all Bourbon came to the distinct impression that of all things he was welcomed. And that was even more mysterious. Who did they think he was? Only now was the traffic beginning to move past him rather then forming a parade like formation around him. This he felt sincerely meant nothing bad was going to happen. But why? What kind of social order existed on this world? And why were they so glad to see him? And why was that good? It was baffling to say the least. Bourbon walked along genuinely mystified.

[The Seeker which was updating the IaXiean language set from the one it carried was nearing the completion point of its internal language modification program. The spoken IaXiean language had changed slightly, from the stored memory module and terms used before were presently outdated, but the overall patterns and meanings were still well within preferred standards. The Seeker which had vastly improved communication modules was ready to allow the Rider to understand what was being said and hoped some of those who now passed might engage the Rider in direct speech. Full communication was essential if the Rider was to know and understand the events which had brought him here to IaXiean. The Seeker did not want miscommunication to hamper the objectives being formulated inside the operation spheres.

The movement through the Realms of the Ninth Cosmia, had opened up the Seekers purpose to levels never known and never experienced. The Seeker was still not sure just what the Human Rider had done, but it was something of tremendous importance. The Seeker had in the memory modules a layout of the city and using the transmitting signal of the Ottromurten as a source point was guiding the man from Earth in its direction.]

The people of IaXiean having heard the news were going about their second quarter activities as fast as they could; in itself unheard of, given their penchant for engaging in long, spirited conversations, so as not to miss this Riders entrance into the Ottromurten. The cries of impending expectations echoed all the way down the many avenues. People were dashing from one shop to the next, in order to finish what would have taken an entire dezco, maybe two, in the space of a single kia.

As a man of a deep reflective nature Vajeon, watched the frenzy of activity around him with a critical eye. Over the course of many Beniki's the city had undergone difficult economic transitions due to the dwindling supply ships, especially those which carried raw materials, which as a rule were no longer were allowed to set down on IaXiean soil unless pre-approved by the Xmino. Who of course never did approve IaXiean requests. The Raluc obtained a measure of what they wanted, but not much better. All of this scheming, was on purpose. The harsh economic sanctions imposed on them, by the hated Aposkiou Exhuluian, were designed to break their sense of greater rapport with the joined worlds. The stated reason was he was not pleased with their loyalty. The Aposkiou who as usual never stopped punishing them for not giving him the near sacrificial demands he made upon them felt justified in his actions whenever he felt "uncertain" of their loyalty.

The truth was the people, after all of this time, only felt adamant loathing to him and his notoriously dishonorable Raluc: themselves a wretched group of hate mongers and ruffian buffoons. Filthy creatures is what the IaXiean's knew them to be and they were not about to bend over and quiver before their foul feet either.

For all the times they were called pasifistics they had never once bowed down to any Xmino----ever. Only they were the only ones who knew that for sure considering nobody was allowed to come to IaXiean to witness it for themselves.

So on this spring dezco of hope the people went about their business with renewed expectations. During the winter the majority of the people, except for those who were in charge of city maintenance, lived in the gentle rolling valley's south of the city. His family had lived in Ferihg for ten generations, which was further out. Lined by steep hillsides, these nestled green valleys were the lands which sustained the family farms all IaXiean's depended on for food, general materials and economic substance. The city was only occupied during the spring and partly in the summer. During these seasons the city came alive with purpose for it was a time for trading, bartering and selling, as well as, cyclical updating of all the many things which were important to the lives of the IaXiean people. The eve of spring equinox marked the starting point for the period of the Rites which were festive celebrations of life. A passage from one season and age to another.

The Rites had kept them strong.

Despite the economic sanctions enforced by the dour Aposkiou Exhuluian, the will of the people was such, that these constraints only pushed them to ever greater creative heights of ingenuity. All of the designs they worked out over the course of the winter were in fact codes built up of tiny encryption’s of word and numerical values. In this manner they traded real values as they saw fit and always right under the Aposkious ridiculous, big, fat, snooping nose. They weren't interested in building up wealth per se they just enjoyed to no end making the Aposkiou look unrepentantly stupid. His ways had become so dishonest, he deserved to be ridiculed.

The people had long since concluded the Aposkiou Exhuluian, had gone quite mad. His guardsmen whose ranks were filled by the filthy Raluc could not be counted on for real order. Con men who were always so mind bombed (on whatever drug they were currently over using) to be next to useless, and as a result; the Aposkiou Exhuluian had long since lost the factor of power he zealously pursued in all of its fanatical glory. When the people understood this small, but important fact they simply achieved a tactful persona which only encouraged the Raluc's subversive feelings of superiority. While at the same time protecting, as best they could, those who were vulnerable to the personal, vindictive behavior of the Aposkiou Exhuluian. Their quiet deception was all well deployed to ensure the city and the farms suffered no further destruction. The people had achieved in their own way a parity of security not easily broken or diminished. And now a Rider.

The Rider, the people felt, was here on IaXiean to establish the greater justice which all had hoped for yet, never thought possible in their own lifetimes. They called him the 'Rider of the Whirlwind' because the Riders, when in their prime, were the centrifugal force of changes. Changes of a mercurial nature. A Rider such as he must surely be a Rider of Destiny; that which would change all.

Still briskly walking along Bourbon began to catch little glimmers of speech. This was so completely unexpected that he forcefully stopped the spinning globes/rod so he could listen. To suddenly hear words and not just sounds themselves struck him like revelation. As he listened carefully he clearly heard their speech and the meanings, with certain words distinctly clarified in greater detail, all as an echo. Sounds were hitting his ears, then words forming a split second later at the back of his head. The manner in which it occurred was a very strange, even eerie feeling. Almost subliminal in nature. Conscious thoughts spoken to be heard and understood practically as if they were his very own.

Bourbon figured if these people had not attacked him there had to be a significant reason. No society could allow strangers, from another world, to simply waltz around at their personal leisure. These people who looked upon him with something akin to reverence were calling him, "A Rider of the Whirlwind." What did this phrase mean to them? Was his general appearance so similar to their own they mistook him for another of their kind from somewhere else? None of what was happening to him made a bit of rational sense. Did this sort of thing happen all the time? Or better yet, perhaps used to happen? Was this the reason he was welcomed?

Bourbon continued thinking about how very odd all this purposeful interaction was to him: a total stranger. He was walking at a moderate pace again ever remindful of the curious manner these people were showing to him. The silence had given away to so much excitement it was getting harder to hear the soft spoken speech individually. When he did hear understandable phrases or words he could tell what they felt was a mixture of genuine respect and still a small bit of tension. The damn rod no doubt. The pains most of the people were taking to keep out of his way spoke volumes about something else. What else was happening here on this world? The glances were unmistakable. Did they think he was looking for someone in particular?

Then there were the children.

More so then the adults the children were coming within several feet of him (as if it was a very daring thing to do their faces lit up with bright smiles, would say welcome) and then laughing exuberantly, soon dashed off to the safety of their parents or other older friends. Like all children they were quite curious and lacked the inhibitions of their parents to show it so willingly. It seemed to him as he watched them play their game of daring "him" the "Rider" the children looked better fed then many of the adults. All of the children regardless of their ages, size, sex or "temperament" were clean, properly dressed for the warm weather in bright clothes of great individuality. The children were quite vigorous of spirit and they were happy. He had always believed a sign of a healthy culture is to be found in the sanity of their children. What bothered these people had to be something only the adults carried with them. A knowing perhaps these children only learned much later in life. He wondered what that something was because the adults were deeply concerned about something and he really didn't think that it was him, personally.

As he continued along the wide avenues in the warm sunshine, the amount of traffic was increasing considerably. He went down one interesting avenue after another taking in all of what he heard and seen. There was an abundance of small and large open door shops offering only glimpses to what was inside. There were open air food markets of great size overflowing with people busy with their concerns in well designed courtyards. So many exotic smells were flooding his usually mundane sense of smell he couldn't help, but to feel hungry. The damn rod however, was not allowing any deviation from wherever it was he was being led.

He felt somewhat like a dog on a chain.

Walking by more food stalls under bright canopies he noticed the selection of various foods on display were only in small amounts. Was there a food shortage? Was this a problem of economic hardship he wondered? He could see there were more formal looking businesses, but he was not certain if they were like those on Earth. He wanted to stop, if just to get a drink of water but the globe/rod was intent on leading him onward.

As he looked up to the highly varied skyline Bourbon also noticed many of the buildings, both large and small had living quarters above them. Many of the terraces had a profusion of well manicured mini-gardens with what had to be fruits and vegetables. Smaller trees of great variety, color and shape, flowers of wide ranging colors, leaves, sizes and distinctions graced the open areas, lined the wide red-paved sidewalks, as well as, the enclosed areas he passed.

The structurally clean buildings looked to be well designed. The larger buildings which anchored the avenues were constructed out of the native gray stones. These were the biggest buildings and ranged from twenty to forty stories tall. Many of these had intricate geometric designs on the faces lending them a stylistic appearance. Nestled in with these were others which also looked to be well constructed out of many types of wood, brick or other materials with adornments giving them individual styles. Most of the smaller structures were painted in clean tones of light tans and browns.

Bourbon was now attracting a great deal of attention as could be expected. What had been moderate traffic had become once again nearly gridlocked at every intersection he crossed. There were no signs of higher industrial technology in the many things he saw around him, only he did see lamp shaped objects hanging down from the corner buildings. He assumed there was power generation of some type because he could see lights inside the shops as he passed them.

The crystal rod was leading him to a huge grand avenue that was split into two lanes each which looked to be around fifty-feet wide. The dark-blue stone surface was etched with beautiful repeating squares of sophisticated patterns representing people of obvious different cultures. Another facet of this world? A culture based on connecting others? The questions flowed from his thoughts but answers would have to wait. Walking along the edge of the avenue he noted the decorative lines themselves looked to be of silver and gold pressed into the stone like delicate veins. No wheeled carts passed along this two part grand avenue.

Good Lord, he was thinking, who could afford it?

On each side of this colorful, grand avenue the sidewalks were paved with a highly polished light-red stone in twenty-four foot sections. The sidewalks also had decorative inlaid patterns of lines forming a different type of geometric design. Behind the sidewalks spaced evenly down both sides every fifteen feet or so were majestically sculpted figures of both men and woman in white stone. These statues cast their shadows with heroic postures. By the looks of their faces and the differences in the clothing, personal artifacts, and the animals as part of their motifs, they were in fact different races from those around him. The deep blue-stone bases of great size bore the silver flowing script he had seen on the gold arch. The stone work itself varied from statue to statue. However, each one was of a high artistic standard. The overall feeling reminding him of an art exhibit of masters rather then the work of a single individual as in the enclosed area.

Down the middle of the two avenues in a twelve foot section was a well tended assortment of beautiful flowers and more of the shade trees with broad sea-green leaves. He then noticed all the trees down the middle of this very ceremonial looking avenue were of uniform height to start, then increased gradually leading the eye to sweep up to a gleaming, golden domed building rising above the trees.

So this is where he was going.

From the overall noise he knew the crowd was getting more and more excited behind him. He surmised he was heading for the main part of the city, in terms of the headquarters of the government, or whatever ruled these people. The building was certainly designed to give the impression of great authority. Huge trees surrounded the domed building and made it difficult to see what was below or around its position in the distance.

Down this laser straight avenue he saw men and women in groups furiously sweeping the sidewalks and the two-part avenue. While others with clippers of various designs were trimming the many plants which filled the middle section and the trees which were evenly spaced in and around the white sculpted figures. Almost as if they were tidying up at the last minute for an unexpected guests arrival. Bourbon was sure others had come before him. Why he still had no concrete ideas. Continuing down the right-hand lane, letting the scenery around him keep his still troubled mind at ease, Bourbon wondered what was this rod leading him to and why? He hoped it was something understandable and not unpleasant like before. Too bad he hadn't packed an overnight travel bag. Then again maybe he wasn't going to need one. The city wasn't that big and perhaps it was a smaller aspect of a much larger city. Maybe he really hadn't been noticed by those who welded power just yet.

For the better part of an hour by his measure he walked down the avenue.

The overflowing, excited crowd was keeping a safe distance behind him. On both sides of this two part wide avenue was also a well kept parkland. A good thousand yards out to both sides and straight back and perhaps an equal length in the opposite direction from where he entered. Across the expansive park area he could see well manicured flower gardens connected by the red sidewalks laid out in a moziac pattern of some sort. The ground cover here was a tightly entwined green and dark purple radial runner plant, which was woven almost carpet like into a thick, soft looking, dense mat. This matted ground plant covered the huge wide open spaces of the park. At a great distance behind the golden domed building he could see the giant cotton top trees. The wind was once again blowing more strongly carrying a profusion of new scents. The smaller trees along the avenues edge were heavy with a yellow immature fruit of some sort the size of walnuts. The trees down the middle seemed to be chosen for their almond shaped leaves of deep sea green, and their uniform size and shape in terms of thickness. The flowers in the current middle section were of shades of soft pinks, crimson-violets with long tapered flute bodies with delicate orchid like textures. What he didn't see was insects or birds or for that matter any type of animal. That in itself was very odd as he continued walking along feeling quite excited by all the mystery about him.

As he neared the golden domed building he found it to be much larger than he had earlier thought. The style was very much like the ancient amphistylars of the Greek and Romans. Each of the columns were evenly spaced apart on the outer perimeter of the massive octagonal platform. The columns were of uniform robust diameter, smooth from top to bottom and were of a deeply polished midnight blue with hand-width polished silver lines forming an intertwining spiral pattern from top to bottom. The columns rose some two-hundred and sixty-feet where they met the upper structure.

Here the inset fancy stonework composed of many sizes and colors of polished stone featured a series of highly complex looking geometric symbols repeating in a well ordered pattern. Precious gems of considerable size punctuated the designs in motifs of artistic decoration. This gave this three hundred foot section an appearance of layer after layer of delicate artwork.

Above this was the upper superstructure reminding him of the fancy iron work found in the best skyscrapers. Upward this section went eventually blending into the smooth golden dome top. Considerable architectural knowledge was evident by its design and construction. From the wide arched foot bridge he crossed Bourbon could see the foundation was comprised of colossal blocks which looked to be over one hundred and twenty feet in length and sixty feet tall. Down below he could also see the plaza areas with all kinds of plants in well designed flower gardens woven in between the open areas. He wondered why there was no other signs of advanced technology. He was also wondering if this was some kind of botanist dream world.

The lane he had walked along became a circular feature to the domed octagon shaped building itself. He imagined looking down from above, the straight lane eventually formed a perfect circle enclosing the building. Bourbon was not sure of east or west but what appeared to be the main entrance was to his right and up a series of wide stairways.

The polished white stone steps were flanked by impressive looking twenty-five foot tall statues of curious looking beings of great importance. Each was rendered in mythical like proportions of a light jade like stone. As he passed them however, each one looked to be of a different race. More proof he thought this world served somehow as connecting hub among lots of races. The very reason for the arches itself? All of the people who had been standing moments before along this front section had cleared out of the way.

When he reached the top of the stairway there only remained a young man who looked to be about fourteen. He was a pleasant looking young man with short dark hair, a cheerful round face and smile. He was nearly as tall as Bourbon. The young man was dressed in a crisp, dark-green uniform, which was embroidered with white insignia of fancy design. As Bourbon approached the young man there was no question, he was waiting for him.

A Vow of Silence

The Aposkiou Exhuluian was peering malignantly about the room which had suddenly adopted a muted, airless atmosphere. This room served as the official meeting chamber between the Xmino and his attendants. It was a semi-oval shaped room, four times the height of the tallest man, thirty-men deep to the curving back wall and forty-men across the front. Light came from above the raised ornate platform upon which the throne chair was set in exact measures from all points within.

The seven windows set high and behind the throne platform were elaborate affairs of metal and glass; each of which was colored into a scene of Imperial majesty. Thick, dark red curtains were anchored just behind the throne hiding the bronze doorway the Exhuluian used for entering and exiting. The gleaming white tiles reflected the dark metallic grays and blacks of the sparse furnishings which lined the outer walls. Those assembled did not have a place to sit as it made them too relaxed. His Raluc guards were to his right with the guard commander Friochen at attention in the head position facing him directly. On his left were his ministers of duties, behind them his lessor clergy.

The Exhuluian shifted his great bulk forward and jutted a fat, ringed finger at his guard commander Friochen. He furiously barked out his first question:

"Am I to believe a Rider, has entered into my city through the Gate of Ariqu?"

"Yes, my Xmino, " replied Friochen crisply after a slight pause. "The Rider even as we speak is clearly on his way to the Ottromurten." He met the Aposkious' red-laced, cinnamon-brown eyes without fear. The gray face of his Xmino was lined and weathered from enkina’s' of dour expressions and outright, unbridled hatred. His was not a face of warmth and it was more ruddy then usual.

"What else have I not been informed of Friochen!?" snapped the Exhuluian with biting fury knowing full well the answer to his own question.

"The Rider carries a Rod Of Judgement," answered Friochen who was working hard at keeping his face and his voice free of any deeper emotion. His body stance however, became quite rigid as the Aposkiou glared at him without blinking.

"A Rod of Judgement," echoed the Exhuluian with sneering contempt. "Well, that is a foolscap of the enigmas isn't it Friochen. A Rider holding aloft a shiny toy of Fates of old marches through my streets, carefree as an Xmino himself," he paused then shouted furiously, "while my guards like timid saramjii, wary of the master, tip-toe in the shadows behind him!"

His vehemence startled the gathered aids into near panic. As a group they shifted to the far-left of the throne chair atop its ornate platform. The Exhuluian ignored them as was his custom. His ministers shifted uneasily in their gray and white vestments as if they were not nearly warm enough under his cold, menacing stare.

"This dereliction of duty to inform me of events as they transpired has not demonstrated the diligence, I demand in accordance with my Laws; as they pertain to the handling of unwanted guests; which if I am not mistaken would include Riders!" The Exhuluian let his words sting the ears of all those before him. He looked from face to face of the assembled guards---noting with satisfaction the none too faint embarrassment now painted into their wretched faces as a bright crimson red--all except Friochen, who of course never allowed a cutting remark to alter his composed facade. Normally his resolute toughness pleased him, but in this instance Friochen's stone demeanor only furthered his anger. Only the Aposkiou unleashed his pent up black mood upon his minister of communications:

"Banzier why did I have to wait so long for a mere hint of rumor to lavish my ears while you as always, scurried in the shadows?"

Banzier briefly eyed his deputy servant Paunti, through a pinched face; a small round face of tiny features which only made his reed thin voice seem all the more childish. His voice was palpably shaking as he replied, "I...I was hard at work in the office of community affairs my Xmino Exhuluian." He shot another pensive glance at the whitened face of Paunti who was trying to shrink into the shadows. "I was not informed of this unexpected arrival until summoned moments ago."

"Bah!" shouted back the Exhuluian, pouncing on the lie he knew was insufficient. "You heard all right. You just opted to wait until my position could be assessed in the circuitous manner you employ so well, you weak minded little fool. Am I right? Am----I------right?" He repeated sarcastically. As if he had seized the will of Banzier and was going to squeeze all of the life out of it in one smooth pinch he added, "Well, you spineless worm? Answer my question."

"Yes, my Xmino," said Banzier shaking visibly, bowing his voice, as well as his waist.

The Exhuluian shook his clenched, fat, ringed right hand at them all and shouted:

"Is this incompetence all that I can expect out you withering squires of fear. I did not appoint you first year Billisaunts, to your current positions, so I could do your jobs on top of my own. Your pathetic ineptitude has already done enough damage to my reputation, as the Xmino of IaXiean." Rising up from his seat he pounded the sides of his throne chair with his summation rod which he held in his left hand, "And yet you add more contempt atop your already feeble status in the eyes of those who watch and see." In his fury he broke the heavy silver bell, which flew off careening against the wall behind him.

Pointing the broken rod at them he waved it like a death sentence. "Your lack of ability is an insult great enough to warrant each and every one of you pevris eaters a long trip through the chemic fire-room. This total lack of official inquiry into the presence of an intruder into my city, on my world, will not be tolerated. And I assure you by morning, I am going to re-assign each and every one of you, to a position more fitting to your lack of professional character and ambitions," he paused watching the fear in their faces harden into something worse, "in the slag mines!"

The Aposkiou Exhuluian gazed coldly at the desultory expressions worn like masks upon the faces of all those before him. He let them stand there for another moment under his glaring stare. His threat was like a burst of ice cold water against their bare chests. Their weaknesses was his to exploit and they knew it all so well. The Aposkiou leaned back in his throne chair letting the light form deep shadows across his features. He tapped the broken rod against the side arms.

"A Rider from the Gate of Ariqu has indeed demonstrated to me the worthless nature of my appointed. This will be the only thing that Rider does for me of any importance. And since you quivering galabrines have opted for silence, then in silence so shall the Rider be defeated of his just cause among them. I will not have my time wasted, do you hear me?

"My time!

"Too much of my time has been spent in ferreting out a lonesome widow of truth. What might have gained has been lost on you rubber-hearted queens holding up your titles; as if they were golden strands of bunting, ready to be spun into something more illustrious. All this and more by merely quivering at the spindles of the Empire. My goals cannot be lessened by your folly, only by your worthless petty lives. And since Paunti, has failed to demonstrate to me he understands the magnitude of his mistake---not informing me personally as soon as he knew of the arrival of the Rider---he dies upon the rise of the sun. His head shall be removed. On the set of the sun Banzier's head shall follow. Bind these fools together. Leave them bound in front of the be-headers stone so all can see where a fools head goes."

"What about the Rider?" asked Friochen nearly through clenched teeth, as his guards eager to demonstrate they were unquestionably loyal did as the Aposkiou commanded. Banzier and Paunti were hauled out of the room by four burly guards so fast neither of them had a chance to plead. The large brass doors quickly opened and closed behind them. The rest of the assembled locked eyes forward upon their Xmino's face. The Aposkiou Exhuluian, let the silence build for a moment then continued his thoughts on his course of actions in regards to the Rider:

"Let him go to where he pleases---as this Rider has already done. Why should I care about the petty aims of an off-worlder? What does he mean to me? No matter what absurdity of truth he thinks he carries; or is destined to do----his life means nothing. Whatever his purpose entails here on IaXiean shall be proven to be irrelevant to the course of your lives, their lives or my life!" The remaining piece of the rod in his hand snapped off.

The Aposkiou Exhuluian looked around the room eyeing every face for a mere hint of wrongful expression. His left, heavy-ringed hand came to rest under his doubled chin slowly rubbing his jaw. He shifted his bulky frame to a more relaxed position. But his face never lost its shade of anger. He spoke carefully emphasizing his ever word:

"A tiny Rider, like a mere speck before the sun, is but a splinter cast against the greater powers of the Xminocron propers Empire. A world is found and soon lost. A Rider comes forth in a moment of curiosity soon to be forgotten. This is all that the Riders in total have ever been and ever will be; including this one here today."

The Aposkious Exhuluian's features twitched, his fat hands went to the sides of the throne chair. His ministers instantly tensed as a group. His voice lowered to a snarl, "I am the Xmino. I am the appointed Ruler of IaXiean. Fate alone is mine to decide. And those who oppose me soon die!" His red splotched face matched the color of the head crown he wore which held back his remaining wisps of gray hair. His eyes darkened in their sockets framed by eyebrows hunched over them causing deep lines to form across his brow. The gray face of the Xmino like his oversized body seemed to be inspired only the blackest of moods. The light from overhead diminished leaving pools of shadow adding to his menacing ambience. "Now I want all of you insentient fools to leave. Your presence has annoyed me long enough. That is all except you, Friochen."

The Aposkiou Exhuluian waited for his assembled, who had been quite shaken by his outrage, which pleased him immensely, to clear away. The little quivering snots, were holding their fears before them as if they were bouquets of fragrant Buds-of-Youth. The lot of them were so oblivious to the greater roles which awaited them, it made him all the more intent on tearing apart their moribund lives. In fact he had no choice. Was this not to be his dezco of triumph? A personal victory over the last IaXiean custom his kind had not yet vanquished?

An entire lifetime of planning drawn up to singular points of greater drama. A well thought out drama to enrich his mark of distinction among all the greater hosts of the Empire. They thought him to be so easy on these pasifistics, but he would show otherwise. Farmer courtsmen with hogs breath, panting on the heels of master fortune, all the while being led to slaughter. They were clever in all that they did, but he had let them believe he was too absorbed in other matters not to notice.

However, a Rider was among them. On the very dezco of that damn Rites most venerated ritual: the beginning of the new Seibiku. So long as these celebrations of Rite embraced their lives it renewed them. Gave them purpose. However, a purpose soon to be his to do with as he pleased. He turned his attention back to Friochen; who as his custom favored an old style Raluc uniform of matte black and polished silver boots. His top shirt was adorned with yellow/red bands of rank across the right upper sleeve. His chest was absent of his numerous medals. Now that was different, wondered the Aposkiou. He studied the long face wedged between graying sideburns and a darker chin beard; it was a humorless face, of thin lips, a long nose and a prominent forehead leading to a short cut of black hair. His dark gray eyes gave no hint of his deeper thoughts.

"Of all the dezcoes for a insipid Rider to come forth from the unnourished bowels of the abyss why this one Friochen?" Asked the Exhuluian in a more subdued tone of voice, but no less sharp.

Friochen keeping his eyes firmly upon the Exhuluian's own replied dryly, "Because Fate demanded his presence here today. In his defeat your success is born. By his misfortune yours is raised above all others my Xmino."

"Yes. Yes, I suppose it is all a matter of the fates to revive the wits of the fools who place all their hopes on impossible encounters of chance. Celestial finebred Riders against the Xmino of the ruling supremacy; as if such encounters can and will lead to the peoples reclaiming of self-rulership. Something you and I both know is utter nonsense. There is no prodigal son who will cast out for his Father, the dove of peace and yet, they believe such a man will come; to do just that right here on IaXiean. In fact on this very dezco. It's all very amusing really."

Friochen let the Aposkious barbed remark go uncontested. He knew better.

The Exhuluian rang for his koic servant. "Tell me Friochen, why did you allow that Rider to go unchallenged through my city?" The Exhuluian studied the wall and its shadows as if nothing else was as important, as he waited for an answer then shifted his gaze back to Friochen, as if his attention had become twin knives piercing Friochen's heart.

Friochen had been prepared for this question and he answered with placid ease:

"Because he is simply not important enough to warrant my personal attention my Xmino. If he was of greater importance then my actions serve the greater duty. However, to engage in maverick confrontations with off-worlder nobodies only turns their trivial concerns into sophistries of higher purpose. A reward I do not hand out lightly to unknown subjects of limited importance. Do I personally strike at every nit who parades down the avenues? Hardly--I found nothing in his description to warrant any immediate action. I stand by my judgement my Xmino Exhuluian, that the Rider; judging by his lack of knowing basic IaXiean customs, comes from a backward, obscure world lost in the footnotes of time. He is an anachronism of the past nothing more and soon to be forgotten."

The koic, a young man trained to serve the Exhuluian brought up to his chair a silver platter upon which was a crystal decanter of the Aposkious favored drink Disistro and a glass goblet. The koic deftly poured a full measure into the goblet and placed the decanter back upon the tray and bowing lifted it to the right side of the chair. The Aposkiou Exhuluian lifted off the goblet with a practiced movement of aristocance, still glaring at Friochen.

"Did this Rider speak to anyone as he paraded down the avenues?"

He eased back into his chair bringing the goblet with its liquid treasure to his eager lips. The dark golden liquid was laced with chemicals which made his mind sharply focused while easing the many pains his body suffered.

"No my Xmino Exhuluian," replied Friochen without pause, "he spoke to no one. Those I sent to confirm his passage made it quite clear none of the customary greetings were issued. This Rider dresses like none has ever seen and does not carry anything, but his odd Celestial rod, to buttress his obvious common persona. More proof of his backward origination."

"Then you do not believe the rod is a functional device," asked the Exhuluian firmly. He sipped his drink once more then set it into the resting shelf and waved away the koic still kneeling at the right side of the chair.

"How can it be anything but a ceremonial techno toy? Just because it resembles in a slim way devices employed by the ancient Celestials, in times better forgotten, is no reason to treat its bearer as if it did mean something to us--which it doesn't. His gambit is just a charade nothing more."

"I agree Friochen, but that doesn't mean I like the way this situation was handled. By sundown the Rider will be quite dead of that you will be certain. Before he dies however, Ingsie will perform a chemic mind-scan to record what little information might be useful to us. This dezco is indeed a dezco of change and I warn you Friochen, loyalty is not enough to appease my authority. Your troops are the biggest bunch of pompous engraits who still cling to life. I expect a higher performance of proper service and after today I will get what I want or I will replace their heads one and all."

"Yes, my Xmino Exhuluian. Your message is quite clear and will be obeyed," replied Friochen with metallic intonation. He bowed perfunctory turned on his right heel and left the room as he knew it was expected.

The light of the midday sun made this room to hot for afternoon meetings of any duration. Despite its classic Fuscian designs and furnishing (to somber of grays and whites to suit his tastes) the Aposkiou disliked this room intensely. He hated this room and all that it stood for because it symbolized a damning truth. That this was all he was ever meant to have and nothing more. A ruler of nobodies on a world devoid of any mineral resources and higher life forms fit for hunting or consumption. In truth this world didn't need a leader much less a ruler. This world just needed a final push into the grave. Of that he was certain.

As was the world so was its people. While he could not fully destroy this ancient city or its equally dusty relics he could ridicule their purpose and thus all those who believed in them. The Xminocron proper had regulated the IaXiean "Ottromurten" to the rotting heap long ago. Without the TeoXtian power source the House of Fates was nothing, but a monument to the past; one he cared nothing for and was determined to erase once and for all. He had already planned his purposes for this dezco and he wasn't about to change those plans now.

He summoned his minister in charge of duty protocols.

Lintio briskly paced into the room with his head bowed.

"Yes my Xmino, how may I serve you?" said Lintio trying to remain calm in the light of the Aposkious foul countenance.

The Aposkiou Exhuluian eyed the thin faced minister with contempt and stated:

"Tell all those who would listen to your blathering tongue of vapid wisdom Lintio, I will not confer anymore with my Regents on the appearance of that insipid Rider. Inform the Raluc ranks if Friochen hasn't already I will not give any further dispositions on the Rider.

"Silence is my answer!

"Do you understand? Not one single word shall be spoken in my court. And if I do hear any long-winded blabbering outside of my court, on that Rider, or his role on this dezco; I will personally cut off the offenders rasping little tongue." The Aposkiou glared at the space above Lintio.

"Your command is mine to obey my Xmino Exhuluian."

"Yes, yes you blathering idiot," sardonically remarked the Aposkiou waving his fat ringed hand:

"Now you too can leave."

The Aposkiou Exhuluian watched Lintio exit still nursing his dour, dark mood. He hated the idea that his day of glory would be interfered with in any way. Someone else was stealing his spotlight and it made him furious. Still the nagging concern over the rod the Rider carried. He had seen ancient holoframes of such devices in action. They were not toys by any means. Most as Friochen had said (rather derisively he thought) were in fact ceremonial in purpose, but not all. And this one had changed before all those who witnessed the Riders first moments here on IaXiean. Therefore was this to be a challenge to his authority? Is that what this Rider was planning? What could a Rider do without the greater powers of the Ottromurten? He didn't like mysteries unless he was behind them.

Even so, the Enviro class, seasoned, Raluc troops (the ones he actually counted on for battle situations) were a good; he quickly calculated their position off the top of his head in relation to IaXiean, four counted periods away. His Xzenatron was also part of that excursion to obtain by force the Bexadro fleet of cargo ships. All of which were carrying the heavy metals he needed for building his advanced command ships to compliment his growing fleet of superior Avistru destroyers. In themselves IaXieans were so pacifistic a one year grunt could hold an entire city at bay if need be; hence the squalid conditioning of those koic pups under Friochen, but that still didn't change the real concern. How did a Rider manage to get through the Ariqu Gate?

The Celestial landing site and its gates was (as he now grimly realized) only assumed to be disconnected from any of the joined worlds of high status and none of the lessor ones had any Gates or access to them period. The Xminocron proper had long since taken control of every world remotely connected by those gates. So where did this Rider come from?

A Rider from parts unknown, who by appearance, does not understand the languages of IaXiean, or he would have engaged in conversation in those very first moments. Riders in the past ages were trained to handle tough, difficult situations with tact, but underscored with considerable military power. A power which had once belonged to the Celestials, but was currently firmly held by the Xminocron proper. Any Rider who came to a world did so with an Xmino guiding his well planned steps. Nothing of this Rider coincided with Xmino strategies that he was aware of, unless he was being tested by a Xminocron proper division commander.

He had not seen his in some time. There had been no need and TitioXomonom was not one to play stupid fools games with vastly lower ranked subordinates. In truth that one was profoundly feared by all including those of his own rank, as well as, those above. TitioXomonom, who was firmly settled on Beso, as was his preference, was content on receiving his reports in summarized form every triple period. A report he had to send two dezcoes from this one. Could this be a test? The Aposkiou sipped his drink.

He felt the smooth taste filter down his throat, easing his nerves, reviving his sense of will. No he thought, this Rider was a genuine cast off from parts unknown. That made him dangerous, but no matter what that Rider planned; he would protect his greater ambitions with subtle, but effective strikes. A method he had perfected here on IaXiean and employed on the worlds he manipulated for his greater purpose. A purpose soon to unfold revealing greater power.

His immediate personal goals required the careful manipulation of the unique biology of the IaXiean females. A biology which was worth more then their own weight in precious metals and gems. He had acquired a considerable fortune by trading IaXieans cevka’s on the black markets. The combination of sultry good looks and feminine charms made them highly desirable by appearance alone to be the saramjin's of choice among the Scatiens, who mind burned their saramjii to ensure their submission at all times.

The Scatiens as a race were the dregs of the deep spaces; whose ships made use of exotic propulsion systems none could replicate or emulate. Their one redeeming feature. Only he had supplied the Scatiens with so many quality IaXiean cevka’s that he had been given the crews to build and run the star-span engines being fitted to power his destroyers and soon to be in his command ships.

However, it was the remarkable intelligence of the IaXiean cevka’s, whose highly sensitive language skills assured their handling of dominant communication positions to be second to none; that placed them on a higher value scale as administrators to wealthy Xmino. This along with the reproductive ability to bear off-worlder children with IaXiean traits (but to only one generation) kept the demand far ahead of the actual supply. His chemics however, were barely able to keep pace with the changes in the biological compounds naturally produced by the cevka’s. A problem which required vast amounts of expensive bio-chemical research to solve. Which is why the cloning implants used to perpetuate the koic class of Rulac,s never became implemented on as many worlds as the Xmino desired. A class of mono speciezation to be used and discarded as conditions required. That was the means to the end. Control over native populations by natives under biological domination of the ruling Xmino. The IaXiean vescevens however, were in a special class by themselves and still could not be cloned. Their chemistries were unreplicatable on other worlds. They could not be artificially replaced.

His discoveries of the roles the IaXiean diets played in the formation of those complex reproductive compounds helped solve some of those problems. On Balic his latest branch of breeding was leading to keeping the cevka in the grips of the rite. An explosive emotional period in which they would do anything to please the iskio (man) firmly in their eyes; in order to please themselves. Once out of the Rite the fine reason returned with the near supra-mental will which all IaXieans possessed. He had found that keeping the mind a few shades off from that state of emotional rest thwarted the deeper mental reasoning. With additional measures the Cevka eventually accepted her position and then persevered in such a manner that it became her second nature. Who would suspect a fine meal at the right time could lead to such firm control?

This was his goal for Vyranna; who undoubtedly was well informed of the Rider now in their midst. On this dezco she was to be formally released from the Fate Decreed one Beniki ago into his hands alone. He had been shaping Vyranna to play her proper role in his master work for too long just to stand idly by and allow a Rider from obscurity remove her from his grasp. He wanted her to pay dearly for keeping him from having what he wanted for so long. A lie exposed and a truth revealed. And he was not going to let anyone or anything stop him from having his pleasures fulfilled. The pleasure of knowing their final barrier to those not like themselves was broken.

The Aposkiou Exhuluian downed his goblet of Disistro feeling confident his decision of applied silence was the right one. Let the people worship the long shadows of fleeting hope. When the people saw this Rider fail, as had all others before him, he would gain the greater satisfaction of grinding their cherished dreams of freedom under his metal heel. He would not show the slightest bit of concern, not one flinch of damning self doubt. Let the Rider from Ariqu do as he pleased. For there would be hell to pay for any who opposed the Fates as he and he alone decreed them. His Xzenatron would see to that, after all, he had not come to this world to be nothing, but a minor sector ruler of apuitoes. No he had his eyes on much bigger acquisitions of fortune and power. He knew of the highly guarded secrets of the ancient Celestials.

Secrets the Xminocron proper didn't know existed.

The Aposkiou Exhuluian felt the warm flush of zeal rise up to warm his heart. Who would have guessed the joined system was one of three secretly joined together. The Gateway to the other two was located in another remote section of the galaxy; hidden from the Xminocron propers eyes. This surprising knowledge came to light after he and his Xzenatron had discovered a secret cache of Seroz weapons long since abandoned. He also had found by seridipitious fortune the precious hidden records of the IaXiean Golden period. In pursuing how to use those records for his own purposes his Xzenatron then discovered another treasure long forgotten. An ancient Ahvio gate hidden in a deep passage below the Ottromurten. These secrets long since forgotten helped shape his quest for achieving a power few dared to call their own.

Therefore domination was his right.

Authority was his to exercise as he saw fit. That was the imperative he strived for in all that he wanted. People lived or died as he required, as he chose, for that was the Law of an Xmino! To them life has been given: to an Xmino the Right of Life and Death has been granted to wield in Authority. And wield that power he did as it was expected of him in all things. This compounding of power was just another aspect of his right to Rulership. If he discovered more worlds from IaXiean then those worlds were his to do with as he pleased. That was his Law.

In time the Xzenatron, in its methodical method, would discover the path leading to the hidden Gateway. The Houses of the Celestials served as the nexus for worlds and the hidden records proved life on those worlds outside of their sector of the greater joined system was ripe for his plucking. The joined worlds under the Xminocron proper were but a fraction of the total. That was the secret he had found and never revealed. Why be a ruler of a world when you can be a ruler of an entire galaxy like one of the Celestials themselves. The very thought of it caused shivers to run up and down his spine in hot currents. But he needed that IaXiean cevka firmly in his command if he was to have all that he wanted. And get her he would, and no Rider was going to stand in his way.

Every year the people came into this ancient city to celebrate the spring and the festivals of romance known collectively as the Rites of Passage. His plans depended on breaking the last stronghold of their belief. A feast like no other awaited them and she was the key to his entire plan that was soon to be unfolded.

A Hearts Hope Comes True

Alone in her small room Vyranna was making the final preparations for her forced union with the despised Aposkiou Exhuluian. Her day had begun with dark dreams of sour emotions coloring her will into a deep, gray fuzz. She had resolved herself to do what was needed when rumors began to circulate through the Kesci, that a Rider of the Whirlwind, from the ancient Royal Gate of Ariqu, was walking through the streets!

For the better part of a kia she had listened just outside her door as Ibriea, whose position as a food server allowed her to make the rounds of the Kesci quite openly, conveyed an ever greater stream of gossip. The speculations had become bolder and more imaginative with every new turn of tongue. But such florid drama was to be expected. She had finally closed the door and sat down on her bed. Such unexpected hope.

She continued in dreamy speculation trying to concentrate on adjusting the seams of the dress she was to wear, but her thoughts of this dezco were awash with new feelings. Do I dare believe she thought, the Rider comes for me? It was well known the Xminocron proper would stage the fates to further their own propaganda and instill hope to conceal treachery among the unwary. Such lies had to be woven in golden strands and she knew how golden they could be.

For an entire Beniki she had been fighting a cruel duel of wits with that nasty Aposkiou. From the very beginning of her ordeal she had managed to keep his face away from her own. How he tried to manipulate her with all his faked pronouncements of good will. She knew behind his gifts and rewards lay a dark, ugly truth. He was going to use her for plans of his own foul need and she was to be his instrument of greater evil. The stench of him made her belly boil with hatred. His foul face made her sick with loathing. The mental stamina she needed to wall herself off from that loathsome creature had left her emotionally barren. Only Dula and her brother Etio could bring a smile to her face. She put down the dress. Her hands were shaking from stress alone.

Getting up from her bed she went to window to get some fresh air. Vyranna looked out into the courtyard below; where sun dappled whitestone, overhung with drimson vines, held up small figurines of children all along both sides. The Kesci had once been the school of learning for children up to the age of Veski. The wretched Raluc had been allowed to steal so much with impunity very little remained. Over the long Beniki's they had nearly carried away all of the grand artwork which had graced its butterwood halls and enlivened its many outdoor courts and open galleys. Stupid, selfish oafs with nothing greater on their minds, but inane self-worship. The Ralucs butchered truth on the alter of petty grievance as a matter of habit. Every little joy was a cause for their call to destruction. Apathetic wits who needed someone else’s fire to claim as their own or their worthless lives soon faded back to shadow and dust. In their mindless violence so they shall be remembered. Let all those who suffered bear the cost of their ill-wrought status. To serve the Xmino. She hated that creature with vehemence unproper to an IaXiean. She felt so ashamed she had been reduced to such apathy and only those red-tinged feelings.

She stepped back from the small widow with its lace trim curtains she had made from thin strips of white pera linen given to her by Dula. Her sweet smiling Dula. She was the only cevka her own age who understood what she was going through. The others, even here in the Kesci (who should have known better) seemed to think she enjoyed the lavish gifts and high praise showered upon her by that disgusting, black-hearted monster. 'Oh Vyranna doesn't have it so bad she gets everything she wants and more...' it infuriated her to hear such empty minded prologue as the befitting reasons for which they kept their distance. 'Oh we can't include her in our hearts she's too close to his....'

She drew a deep breath; that was his bigger plan. By keeping her here under his personal touch she had become the untouchable. He had singled her out from others he had chosen and she became his "favorite" soon to be the betrothed ensuring she would be hated by all. Just as so many had before her had become. Only Dula understood how she had subtly directed the Aposkiou away from petty acts of retribution by playing up his sense of power and purpose. But he was dangerous and she had incurred his biting anger so often she had become accustomed to the painful retributions he meted out to her with an unblinking eye.

All of that internal and external hardship he had focused onto this very dezco. Before all he would take her as his rightful Cevka. Parade her before the people as proof he molded fate to his own ends. She had thought out very carefully how she was going to kill him. An act which ensured her own unforgivable death, but considering what he meant to do that was already a foregone conclusion. Killing him was to be the revenge for killing the IaXiean spirit one poisonous deed at a time. To kill another was the most terrible of all crimes and IaXieans did not murder often if at all as a people. It was a deeply held belief that the soul of the murdered became attached to your own soon enough. Who would want to bear such a monster in the name of that union. A legacy born to be endured until the fates turned once again. If the other became stronger then you....such was the outcome few dared to push the blade. But that was the IaXiean beliefs in a hearts clasp; not to be confused with off worlders as all Ralucs and Xmino were and would remain.

At the door she heard the quiet signature tap tap of Dula her trusted confident and friend. Dula entered Vyranna's small room and quietly closed the door behind her. She glanced about the room then back to Vyranna her clear blue eyes lit up with excitement.

"The talk is true," said Dula in an excited gush of words." Even as we speak the Rider is at the Ottromurten; where Etio is waiting for him." Smiling with unabashed merriment she sat down next to Vyranna on her bed. She smoothed out the tiny wrinkles in the deep blue top cover as if she was keeping a dark and mysterious secret.

"How do you know for sure Dula?" said Vyranna ready to pounce on that glimmer of hope and hold it aloft like a torch. Dula's sea blue eyes twinkled with mystery. Her dark blonde hair was long and naturally curly unlike her own very fine dark hair which was straight and dull. She was a bit shorter then herself but was bouncy in the way men liked to see and touch. Dula was wearing her favorite light peach dress with large silver buttons, a broad belt around her narrow waist and a new pair of sandals of pearl white. She had a pretty heart shaped face of a bright smooth complexion; a face even now bursting with inner glow.

"Because I spoke directly to Avienti my loyal sweet, who witnessed the Rider emerging from the sacred city of the Celestials." Dula looked both whimsical and beautiful in the same moment when she spoke of her sweet.

"Oh Vyranna, he is unlike any we have ever seen before. One look at his rather noble, handsome face and it is clear he is not a Raluc or an Xmino." Dula’s' voice barely constrained her overall excitement and instantly trebled up Vyranna’s' own deeper feelings considerably.

Vyranna could barely control her impulse to march straight out the door and make a run for the Ottromurten. Instead she clasped Dula’s gentle hands in her own. The two of them had been waiting so long for this dezco; only for some time neither dared to speak of it openly. Hope could be a dangerous thing in the wrong mind.

"Do you know what this means my sweet Dula?" said Vyranna her own sun-brown eyes lit up with deep feeling.

"Asynkhriextes was right all along." Said Dula smiling afterwards as if that was just the start of a bigger surprise. "He and Astoth knew what all others had missed." Her face radiated the confidence of what she spoke.

Vyranna knew she too had been studying the ancient writings and was well aware of all the greater tangents which were pinned on this change of grand seasons. Etio who had been a Keriom from birth was something of a prodigy, only he did not show this to others. He held back in a sense of deeper constraint, but not fear. He was in some ways much too bold for his young age. If he did not like something he saw he did not hesitate to speak his mind. Something their father was well known for as well. Over the Enkina's he had shared his growing knowledge of the Onadizeo and they all had become quite proficient in their ability to read the Onadizeo para-scriptions.

"Do you really think he is here for me? Am I really going to be freed at last?" said Vyranna no longer able to control her excitement.

"I would swear my life on it," strongly replied Dula. "And so would Etio, who is going to ensure no matter what Vyranna, you will not be joined to that hulking, obtuse, foul creature. Every fiber in my heart tells me the Rider from the Gate of Ariqu is here for you!" The two of them bounced around the room like two Ceva's on the night of first Rite, their emotions which had been bottled up for so long, refused to be held back any longer and had come bursting to the surface. The tears of real joy flowed down their faces.

"That's not all," said Dula who then smiled mischievously." Avienti also said the Rider who was dressed like no other who has come to our world; carried in his right hand....the ancient rod of the Entocyns. The bearers of Celestial Justice."

"Are you sure of this?" said Vyranna who was profoundly astounded. No one had seen a such a Celestial object in a very long time. And certainly never as powerful as the ancient Entocyns.

"All eyes have seen the Celestial object he carries Vyranna. There is no question of the truth."

"This is so incredible," said Vyranna sitting back down. Her hands were gripping the bed as her whole body was trembling with excitement.

"At first the Rider said nothing as he stood there before them," said Dulu enjoying the moment and keeping Vyranna in suspense. "The Rider wears above his lips the facial hair of the Ottripto, but looks like us somewhat, only a much lighter skin. He was dressed nearly all in sky blue and white. He has footwear unlike any we have ever seen.

"In his hand the Celestial object was rooted. He silently gazed out into the people.

"This was very terrifying for everyone. Not even the Elders knew how to approach him in proper custom or in greeting. Yet, when everyone saw he was so peaceful and so....calm; they knew he was not here to judge us, but to renew our hope for justice.

"Even the children saw he was no threat and they played all around him as he walked down the many avenues of our fair city.

"And you know what else?

"NO, what tell me."

"It is said the Exhuluian turned down an emergency meeting with the Raluc."

The two of them looked at each other for a moment.

"He turned down a meeting with the Raluc?" Vyranna couldn't believe her own ears.

"I tell you the hearts truth Vyranna." said Dula imploringly. "I swear it on my mothers heart. He feigns indifference to all who ask, what now Aposkiou, what now? And he ignores them."

Dula laughed nervously. She studied Vyranna’s' face which was so full of deeper emotion. They both had been through terrible ordeals at the hands of the Aposkiou. Dula wanting to comfort her best friend was back to holding Vyranna’s trembling hands in her own and she said, "It is fear Vyranna."

Silent tears rolled down Vyranna’s' cheeks.

"For once, I think that foul creature is the one who should be fearing his lies turned round upon him. Like an asp he is about to be bitten by Fate. And he deserves it." Dula gently wiped the tears from Vyranna’s' cheeks, her own heart bright with purpose.

"Help me make a few changes to my original Ceromotam Dula," said Vyranna her emotions riding a crest of impossible hope. A revival of joy pushing away that last vestige of somber grief. If only her parents were here today. She stood up taking a deep breath; pushed her hair back dramatically finding herself smiling with renewed confidence. She was going to thwart that foul creature at his own game. Posing for Dula she said:

"I want to look like a proper IaXiean Cevka. Not a Raluc desperate. To the Rider I will be betrothed."

Into the House of Destiny

Standing there under the forward entrance of the Ottromurten, Etio was nervous. Taking deep slow breaths of the breezy, fragrant air he did his best to overcome his emotional excitement. This was a very important dezco of cycles reborn. This was to be the culmination of all that he hoped to accomplish. All those periods of hard struggles to keep his foot on the path to greater wisdom. This was the dezco he proved himself to be a Keriom of distinction, but it was his concern for the safety of Vyranna and his sister Dula which kept his focus tight on the real problem at hand: keeping the repugnant Aposkiou from cursing the Fates with any further lies.

He had instilled hope over the many enkina in Vyranna, who had little else to counter the cruel lies which sprung around her like thorny brambles. He could not live with himself if he let her down. The Rider had to free her from the dead hand grip of the Aposkiou. Only how to explain everything to a total stranger who was far removed from the events of IaXiean? The Rider was approaching. How would he explain all the circumstances which made her very life hang upon his very word?

The Rider was indeed holding the Celestial symbol of Justice just as the predestination had stated; just as the people had been stating in inspired tones of unexpected but welcome surprise. He was a tall man with unique dress and footwear. His movement was confident, but he seemed perplexed in a way Etio felt important to understand, after all this was a powerful Rider of high ranking authority. He did not want him to be upset.

He waited until the Rider stepped up to him.

Bourbon casually walked up to the pleasant faced young man whose confident smile made him feel as if he was meeting an old friend. The top of the landing had a polished floor of white marble shot through with fanciful swirls of green. This too in a manner of speaking was an outdoor courtyard of an overall shape of a sliced oval on its side. The high curving cream colored walls were solid from the corners; then as they curved to the front opened up into a series of tall, eight-foot wide windows; long benches in front of them, flower gardens on the outside. Then twenty-feet of amazing looking stone "gazebo styled" walls which had manicured vines heavy with flowers; which looked like miniature rose colored tulips, leading to the double archway which he had stepped beneath. Itself a model of clean lines adding to the feeling this was just someone’s immaculate three-story back porch. A spacious plaza where you could take a cozy seat and enjoy the warmth of the sunshine and take in the beautiful serenity of all the magnificent vistas before you. Centered on the rear wall fifty yards across from him were huge doorways of elaborate frames with flanking twelve-foot high porcelain white statues of impressive looking features; one man the other a woman. Both unabashedly rendered au natural.

The young man bowed before him; regained his original posture then met his gaze and said:

"Welcome to Briy-adeiaxen {In Harmony We Live}, Rider of the Whirlwind. The people of IaXiean {Where the Equilibrium is Founded} are honored by your arrival."

Bourbon was amazed at how well the he understood what the young man stated. The sound from his lips was focused in English, but the language actually being spoken seemed different then what he had heard along the avenues. There was a formal dignified manner to the young man before him that struck Bourbon as more proof these people were especially adept at the finer rules of inter-world discourse. A hub perhaps for worlds far and wide. The young man looked briefly away for a moment as if debating how to best state what he was going to say then continued:

"I must inform you, Rider of the Whirlwind, that the council of the Apretachien {those who serve authority}, did not plan for your arrival this day," said Etio in formal Dizkian. He had been practicing the language of translation designed to keep lip expression to a minimum, and vocal pronunciation of internal ideas clear. He hoped he was being understood correctly.

"I am ashamed to admit, only I a Kierom, {assigned Diploman of the Rider} believed you would arrive, as Asynkhriextes {He who knows the secrets of fates} had truthfully predestinated. No Rider of the Whirlwind, has ever come from the Royal Gate of Ariqu {Ancient Justice} and so none believed such a predestination was even possible. This is why the people of IaXiean have not given you the fullest measure of the proper welcome. The people of our city mean no disrespect to you, honored Rider, however your sudden arrival has left them feeling unprepared."

Bourbon could see by the young mans expressions of quiet solemnity and could hear even without the echo, that he was quite sincere and it only deepened the mystery. However, Bourbon thought he had misunderstood something of what was stated to him as the words tumbled across his brain, but did not quite stick.

"You however, expected me?" Asked Bourbon wondering if the speech echo effect was going to work in the direction of mutual understanding. He was also thinking how in the hell was it possible to predict his arrival? And so he asked, "Where am I?"

Etio smiled earnestly while carefully listening to the Riders speech. The Celestial object indeed clarified his vocal meanings with astonishing speed. His language was unknown. More information issued forth from the Celestial device, whose powers amazed him. An answer of truth came to him clearly.

"Yes," said Etio confident his words were being precisely translated. "Your arrival was Fated according to the ancient laws which govern the Ottromurten; the very purpose behind IaXiean, the world you are now on."

He was puzzled also, as the Rider seemed to be, only he did not show it rudely. A Rider who did not know the name of IaXiean or its purpose? Down below them the people were carefully inching their way up the polished white steps moving in and around the heroic statues; as if this was the very first time they had noticed them. Etio waited for the Rider to respond.

Bourbon was really thunderstruck by the entire concept he was expected in advance. An amazing set of conclusions might be drawn from such expectations. Was this the reason they treated him as they did? What were they expecting of him?

"I did not plan this....how should I say ---- trip," said Bourbon deciding to catch the answer from the opposite direction. He studied the young man's face, but there was no sign of deceit. He found his curiosity increasing as he realized the young man before him was indeed doing more then simply interpreting his words and he asked:

"How are you able to understand my speech and no one else?" The young man's face showed his deep concentration however, he seemed shocked by his admission. Almost as if he had wanted to blurt out, 'if you did not plan on coming to IaXiean why are you here at all?' As for the question Etio answered truthfully:

"The comprehension of your speech is very difficult. The vocal sounds which carry the meanings are comprised of Dezijon-lyses patterns {Of the language formation, of the speech} unlike any of the three-thousand spoken languages I have personally studied. Only a few currently study the speech of other worlds to a more significant level of understanding thus, many would not attempt casual conversation or even know how. Part of my responsibilities as a Keriom is to rigorously study all sin-aki {twenty-one} aspects of Dezijectoan {science which makes meanings of tongue/speech known}. With your patience, I will improve the speed and depth of my comprehension of your native speech. As your assigned Keriom is my duty to ensure all your personal requirements are meet to your satisfaction while you are here on IaXiean."

Bourbon didn't know what to think.

What he heard was so astonishing.

This round faced, pleasant looking kid who had never seen an Earth "human" before, was deciphering spoken English by some type of mental brute force. Bourbon was impressed. He switched the rod to his left hand and held out his right. Time for a more personal introduction.

"My name is James Thomas Bourbon. I am from a world named Earth, from a country named America. How shall I address you?" Asked Bourbon realizing the young man did not understand the handshake, but he continued smiling just the same.

"I am named Prechestechies-Etio {A son of keen mind}," answered Etio carefully following the Rod of Judgments clarified IaXiean meanings of the Riders speech. Clarifications which surprised him with the added sophistication of schematic meaning. Etio was awestruck after he pondered for a moment what the Rider had actually said. This Rider was from a world he had never heard of or seen listed in the records. This explained certain factors of the Riders character yet, only left even bigger questions. Questions which had to be asked. However, he was not going to jump to any conclusions just yet.

With just the right tone of formality he said, "It is an honor to meet you J..ames ....T... homas... B...ourbon." Etio was thankful the "celestial object" which was translating his words so precisely and astutely in the alternative Dizkian medium which allowed two different sound pronunciations to be spoken in harmonious continuity. This spinning gold sphere was far more than just a Rod of Judgment. This Riders speech was quite difficult to grasp much less physically emulate.

"It is an honor to meet you....," Bourbon realized that he could not pronounce the young mans name. The echo effect was confusing if he tried too hard to understand the actual speech or words themselves. This must be the reason for certain words being followed by meanings he thought. The whole process was very computer like, in fact that's exactly what it was. High technology of a different order.

Etio did not miss the hesitation. The Rider was also faced with difficult sound re-compositions. "Please address me as Etio." He was also paying very close attention to how the celestial object translated the reference patterns of speech and meaning. He quickly recognized it was actually prompting him in very complex ways. Tones were being transmitted in the higher frequencies. Tones of high order reference which painted in objects and nested relationships. This was a very old and powerful celestial object indeed!

"Very well e-TIE-oh." Replied Bourbon slowly as the echo, formed syllables in English for him to understand. Words he could pronounce. Following up on his early thoughts he asked, "I am still very curious to know E-t-i-o, how or why would you expect my arrival? Even I did not know, I was coming to this world."

Etio listened carefully to what the Rider spoke. He pondered the many reasons why a Rider would not know more of the world to which he was sent, but he would not offend one who carried so great a Destiny. In a positive tone of assurance he explained:

"Asynkhriextes was a man of great knowledge. His role as an elder teacher of the Ashenti {wise ones} placed him in a position of great leadership. Even though he lived some time ago, his mastery of interpretation made him a legend. A level of skill of which few then or present have surpassed. Such was the depth of the Fates he foretold, he was often misinterpreted by those who could not accept the far reaching conclusions he clearly understood. The body of his work contained a vast diversity of future predestination’s. Of them all, the one which was foretold concerning you, honored Rider, is the least understood.

"The descriptive quality of the parascripture left numerous interpretations open for debate. I would not mean to misinform you, honored Rider, as to the exact nature of that fuller meaning or suggest it is written in stone. The parascription's which regard you state: He is of the greater hand. His path is the long one by which all others are measured. He shall come forth from the Destiny of Justice to serve the people of the many worlds including his own. His rod measure shall be of the highest virtue. His is the Rod measure of future Equilibrium."

Bourbon regarded the young man named Etio with quiet discernment. What he said bordered on the improbable fantastic. To serve the hand of Justice? An inspiring ideal in itself, but that's not what he set out to do as a course of intentions. A powerful set of circumstances placed him here of that he was confident above all else. And this strange spinning globe seemed to be the key to all of this confusing business of prediction.

"This is all quite surprising," said Bourbon turning in his mind various possibilities of cause and effect. "Tell me how is it that you, are more prepared in a sense; then those who are by what you have said, are more involved in the decision making process?" Etio knitted up his brow for a moment, as if he had just placed all the tangents into clearly defined sets on the symbolic table before his minds eye; and was now trying to sort them into best formation of genuine truth.

"In our own time a Rider named Astoth {Man of Integrity} cast my Fate before I was born to be a Kierom. All my life I have studied the formal requirements required of all Kierom's to fulfill my ordained Fate. I studied the writings of Astoth with greater confidence then others, thus my understanding has deepened accordingly. But I am the student. It is my hope to be a teacher. Of them I can say both would be very pleased to see the decipherment of the Tablet of Destinies to be correct and their names vindicated by truth. Because I perceived this work correctly, I came here today to see it fulfilled as it was ordained."

Bourbon was still deeply puzzled over how he was part and parcel to another worlds system of predictions. For the moment he would let that be what it may.

"Please call me James," he said hoping to downplay the serious into more digestible bites of relaxed conversation. "I hope to understand more of your people Etio and these Fates as you term them."

"If you will allow me I prefer to use the formal title of "Ariqu-Xiastrenien Bourbon", before others and "Honored Rider" when we are alone," said Etio, which he explained with sincere solemnity, "it is the correct protocol. The first term of the title means: From the Royal Gate of Ariqu, the second, bearer of the Celestial Rod of Judgment."

"Very well Etio," answered Bourbon. "But I too I have more questions then answers."

Etio smiled modestly then motioned with an outstretched arm, confident he had achieved his place in destiny. "Please follow me into the inner sanctum of the Ottromurten {House of the Tablet of Destinies} Honored Rider. Inside, I think you will find the answers that you seek."

You and me both thought Bourbon.

He glanced back at the people who were taking such pains not to be intrusive and yet were obviously hanging on every word stated. Bourbon smiled as he turned and entered through the large doors someone had opened. Who could blame them?

Following behind Etio, who was moving at a good pace, he was led through a series of well furnished rooms, down a long carpeted hallway and into a huge white-marble, gold-trimmed and dark-wood library. Bourbon glancing around imagined this place to be a stunning book lovers dream. High above him was a well designed colored glass ceiling of bright scenes consisting of rolling oceans, filled with exotic, colorful creatures and not surprisingly, fanciful ships. The walls were covered with stunning graphics, of a diverse content. Bourbon was standing on an upper level, overlooking a wide, rectangle shaped grand room at least two city blocks long; facing to the front or was it rear he couldn't tell, but it was impressive. The west wing he decided was two-hundred feet across and dropped down a series of floors into an incredible show room of artwork. And that was just what he could see from where he was standing.

After another minute or so Etio prodded him forward.

At the end of the upper walkway there was another large room. They walked through the open ceramic and wood paneled doors. Inside forty or so female clerks of various ages, dressed in braided tunics of light greens and white skirts, came to a sudden stop. Their collective faces displayed major surprise. However, they quickly composed themselves. Bourbon noted they were carrying out some type of research project by the looks of all the thick over-sized books, thinner booklets, bundles of pamphlets, stacks of papers and writing pads all arranged in an orderly manner atop the twenty wood and brass tables.

The pleasant looking clerks went back to work. While some dictated their thoughts; others with long pens furiously wrote onto thick reams of paper which was then drawn up into silver, metal tubes. Whatever it was they were working on Bourbon surmised as he passed them they appeared to be in a real hurry.

Etio was sure the Rider was interested in all that he saw, but he wanted to be sure he arrived in time to prevent the Aposkiou Exhuluian from declaring Vyranna from becoming his next Cevka. Those who worked here in the historical library were quite surprised at his leading the Rider through them and they were making small remarks for his ears only. He paid them no attention. As for the many records being re-examined, although they were a bit late for this now he thought, they would find his work to be quite accurate.

The Seeker was still attracting a great deal of attention as Bourbon went through one section after another behind Etio, through the library and several adjoining rooms. The mood of the people he passed was not unlike those who were getting amped up for a big game. He walked down another gleaming white and light blue stone hallway, which considering the many notches along its high walls had once held things of great importance. They continued on through a series of rooms where it was evident to Bourbon, from their furnishings, meetings of high importance had once taken place here; that is between who ever it was that used to come to this world. The rooms were quite empty. He saw no other people except for those that were cautiously following behind them at a discreet distance of course. Etio continued leading him onward through an expansive room which must of been for dining judging by the serving counters and other furnishings still stacked along a wall. Etio led him into a more recently furnished side room. On a table were several dishes of fancy looking finger-foods all of which smelled quite good.

"Before we enter the main area of the Ottromurten, I thought it would be polite to offer you something specifically prepared for you, an off-worlder to eat, Honored Rider, as well as, allow you the opportunity to attend to personal matters of hygiene. I do not know how long it has been since your exact arrival, but we have a half kia {hour} before your official introduction."

Bourbon wasn't about to give the young man any arguments. He didn't know which hurt worse his kidneys or his empty stomach.

********************************************************************

After showing the Rider, what he needed to know Etio made a mad dash for where his sister Dula and Vyranna were hopefully waiting for him. He crossed the halls in a semi-run avoiding the curious clerks and onlookers. Their questions would have to wait. He went down a flight of stairs three at a time, took a short cut through a lounge area for the Raluc, then across the hall and entered the guest center once used in more prestigious times. As soon as he entered the room Dula, her pretty face lit up in excitement, ran over and threw her arms around him. She kissed him on the forehead. Her eyes were bright with joy as she asked:

"Well Etio, tell us is this Rider going to do what the predestination requires?"

"Yes, Dula" said Etio in earnest, "But you must remember, he is strictly following the protocols of those of his world. No interference, no questions before he rolls the Fates. He will do what is required. Are you ready Vyranna?"

"Yes, I am Etio." Vyranna wore a smile that made her seem years younger.

"Doesn't she look beautiful Etio?" asked Dula emphasizing her question as she spun Vyranna about to show off her formal Ceromotam.

"More beautiful then my eyes can believe possible," said Etio in genuine awe, "I am certain the Rider will be looking for you too Vyranna. But I think it is important to catch his attention with subtleness. Agreed."

"Agreed Etio." replied Vyranna, "And thank you Etio for braving so much over the last enkina. The hope you have given me has been a source of strength I will not forget." She hugged Etio so fiercely he blushed.

"I could not call myself a Keriom and do any less. To see the both of you so happy makes what little hardships I have endured seem like nothing." He pulled himself up straight, smoothing out his uniform. Well then I must get back to the Rider so we can arrive exactly on the appointed time." Dula gave him another kiss and then he was out the door. He passed Avienti and Kospreen on the way up the stairs. "No time for idle talk, they are ready to go."

"As are we." Avienti called after him.

************************************************************

"Well, Friochen what is the problem now?" grumbled the Aposkiou Exhuluian, his aids making the final touch ups to his formal dress. He wanted to look imposing for his formal appearance of planned drama. His gray hair was anchored beneath the crown net, his Butargien robes gave him a look of imperial authority. Deep reds and black on the top of the royal purples beneath. His boots of textured silver and gold, gave him a height equal to Friochen who stood at attention.

"Vyranna is not in the Kesci," replied a somber Friochen stepping aside as the Aposkiou waved his aids away.

The Aposkiou whirled around.

"Where is she?" He snarled feeling his fury from earlier building quickly.

"Vyranna has gone to the Ottromurten, with Avienti and Dula, who were seen going up to her room."

"How did she get past the guards this time Friochen?"

"Avienti tricked them with a sound recording of Vyranna, calling out from the kitchen down the hall. He along with Dula then helped Vyranna escape down the opposite stairwell. On the level below there is no way out. However, there is a secret passageway between a storage room below and a private meeting room long since abandoned in the south wing of the Kesci. The passage was bolted from the inside and was not visible inside the room, that it is until it was used. When we arrived it was open."

"That conniving vesceven!" The Aposkiou slammed his right fist into the crowded dressing table sending its artifacts spilling to the stone floor shattering the fragile decanters.

"Because of this never ending incompetence I have no choice, but to attend this farcity of fates as if I was the Riders guest Friochen." The Aposkiou regarded a stiff faced Friochen with eyes filled with hatred. "Summon my mag-cart driver, tell him to engage all of the passenger coaches and let all us all go to the Ottromurten. Everyone including you!"

"Yes my Xmino."

The Aposkiou watched Friochen walk briskly down the long hallway. Two major mistakes in regards to the Rider. His foul mood turned blacker yet. He exited his dressing room thinking: so she believes she is going to escape my Fate does she? His boots rang out on the wood and stone floor as he quickly strode down the hallway to his private communications room. He unlocked the heavy metal door and went inside.

He knew he had to make a very difficult decision. If the Rider was indeed a cheap dressed fake and the sphere a techno-toy, then the Rider was about to make a total fool of himself before all. A dead one at that. If on the other hand, he carried even a partially working Entocyn Rod he would be capable of doing serious harm to anyone who opposed his actions, despite the non-operational status of the Ottromurten.

He had already recalled his Xzenatron, which would be here in a doubled kia. If he summoned his troops, they could be here before sundown. But what if the Xminocron proper had been monitoring IaXiean from a vantage point of secrecy? He didn't have any way of knowing what the Rider had been doing before he came to IaXiean. If he brought in his troops for nothing he might give himself away.

He looked at the star charts on the holoscan-screen. He glanced through all of the log stats his contacts sent him every other triple-kia. He found the latest dispatch from the Pienfege Captain Harrsgyd. The Rhonofien was on route from Aktros to Beso, on an uptic job. Quickly calculating the ships course he found the Rhonofien could be here before dawn. He would be able to utilize the Captains highly disciplined crew, all of whom carried advanced Duiden-beam weapons. Meanwhile he could place a fully equipped destroyer and a full troop ship, on standby at the Gate link Penacorsus. A seldom used link which was too small for larger fleets, but just fine for his purposes.

He could cover his plans.

But what to say to the Pienfege Captain?

The Aposkiou Exhuluian drummed his fingers on the tabletop. Then he decided. An emergency request by encrypted Xmino protocol. If anything was picked up by the Xminocron proper, both of their actions had to look convincing. He didn't need or want someone like Xtischogren, who was TixtioXomonom's personal field commander, finding conclusions of the wrong measure and brashly landing parkside.

Another reason for keeping his troops here in such sorry shape. Little unexpected dramas such as this lent themselves to unexpected official inquiry and those he deployed here had to be as stupid as possible. Battle hardened Ralucs, under more visible Xmino, could spot his one weakness. He was not like the other Xmino, who were under the influence of the pre-eiXis. Without the pre-eiXis and its signature chemicals cursing through his bloodstream a simple routine biop-scan would be his undoing. He had managed to avoid, required security procedures only by careful manipulation of health check-ups. This Rider was causing him major problems. Another reason to remove his head as soon as possible, preferably before all right there in the Ottromurten.

He composed his message onscreen and sent the directive directly by emergency dispatch. Feeling satisfied he left the room unlocked thinking everyone under his orders would be waiting by his mag-cart. In a hurry he strode back down the hallway.

In a closet across from the communications room, Banzier had been watching the Aposkiou. He had escaped the lockdown room with a bribe no drug addicted guard could pass up. Still fuming from his earlier tongue-lashing, subsequent beating and the order to have his head removed; Banzier was doing something he had wanted to do for a long time. Peering around the door Banzier waited until the Aposkiou was out of sight. Confident he was alone Banzier came out of hiding and went directly into the private communications room. Sitting down at the message sender desk he too composed the same message he had seen the Aposkiou type out, only he sent it out to every military link center from here to Beso. The Xminocron proper would pay a high reward for a Rider such as the one who had come to IaXiean. It was time the Aposkiou was caught playing one of his own dirty tricks. He and the other ministers who had been threatened could redeem themselves under a more qualified Xmino Ruler. And he would be far richer for the trouble.

********************************************************

When Etio returned Bourbon was feeling a whole lot better. He had not eaten more then what he thought to be safe, considering his lack of experience with foreign food groups, but it was enough. And it was good.

"We have to go now Honored Rider." Etio said looking quite serious.

"After you," motioned Bourbon. From the private kitchen they exited out through a large doorway, down a long brightly lit hallway and then down a sweeping, polished, dark-wood staircase, which led out onto the main floor walkway.

The main aspect of the Ottromurten was quite clear to Bourbon. The Ottromurten was a big indoor seating arena. The interior struck Bourbon as impressive as the outside. Amazing features of intermeshed wood and metal work of high craftsmanship, in clean designs to make you feel this place was cozy despite its huge size. The feel of the interior reminded Bourbon of a mountain resort in Aspen he had once visited with some friends for a week of skiing. The inner space was relaxed, with harmonious textures of both light and dark brown woods and an assortment of other materials which showed no sign of wear and tear.

The lower level walls, beneath the higher seating areas, were painted in grand paneled thirty-foot murals all the way around. The panoramic scenes were of multitudes of people in a vast diversity of places, as well as, sections devoted to single individuals who had greater importance. The style of painting was formal looking in some ways and very expressive, uplifting, colorful of tone and light in others. These were definitely not static scenes of official platitudes to the state. These were scenes of people who were connected in spirited intercourse. An equilibrium of people at their very best indeed.

Etio led him around the main floor which was thickly carpeted. The designs reminded Bourbon of the most expensive hand woven rugs one could buy from India or China in the more upscale shops. Overhead huge, sixty-foot hanging crystal lights seemed to float in midair, giving off just enough light to give the indoor space a formal ambience. The air was fresh smelling, but not perfumed or antiseptic. The main focus was in the center, at the very heart of the Ottromurten.

The center of the Ottromurten was dominated by a large, sunken oval area. Surrounding this oval area was a foot-thick, three-foot wall, which was richly decorated in bas-relief all the way around the outside. The motif of the design, just as the walls, celebrated a interconnecting of many different people and places. The wall itself looked to made of a single piece of highly polished gold. On the top of the wall were three separate bands of colored inlay which looked to be of the same crystal of the octagon rod he carried.

The oval encompassed an area of around sixty-feet long and forty-feet wide. The floor area inside the oval was tan in color and was covered with large two-foot squares, smaller red triangles and yellow circles forming an intricate visual pattern. Almost like a sophisticated game board. In the center of the squares were embossed characters of elaborate design. The circles had specialized colorful figures which by their quality seemed to represent mythical animals and people. The figures looked to be printed directly on the floor covering itself. The triangles were empty except for the objects which were positioned inside them. These objects looked like abstract symbols rendered in crystal.

Etio glanced up at the Ottromurten's clock. He was in time.

"Ariqu-Xiastrenien Bourbon it is Kips-desti {four minutes} into the Kia-di-tropke {Sixteenth hour} at dez point nibu (the ten second mark}. He pointed to a rising, half-moon silver and wood platform. "This is the Avetaichen {where authority is stationed}. Please step up to the Pretaechen {where the voice command is given}. I will announce your arrival to the Ashenti."

Bourbon watched as Etio headed back around the oval, up a short series of steps then into one of the lower entry ways. He stepped up onto the platform which had risen up. The shape was a half-moon facing away from him with a three foot circular section, sitting like a nose on the inside curve at the height of the wall. Bourbon standing two feet into the podium overlooked the sunken oval area a foot above the wall. The Avetaichen looked like a very ornate podium to Bourbon and he assumed it had the same purpose. The Pretaechen was, he assumed from the meaning, a microphone or speaker although he didn't see anything on the surface of the podium, so perhaps it was once a place for a speech amplifier to be placed.

Surrounding the oval enclosure was the lower six-foot wide walkway. Up a two foot level started three rows of seating sections which looked like VIP boxes, which looked very luxurious and richly comfortable. Up another two-foot level were another four rows of seating, which also looked quite comfortable, but a bit less opulent in furnishing. Then above this section was the thirty-foot wide main walkway, which went around the entire Ottromurten, whose i