Atleast, it seemed like a long time ago. But really, it had only been a couple of years, hadn't it? He'd changed so much since then.And so, perhaps, had the people had wronged, the people he had harmed with his "invention". Perhaps they had even stopped looking for him.
And perhaps Jim was really a 72 year-old grandmother trapped within a young boy's body. Not likely. Although, that would be interesting ........
Gene allowed himself a small smile, but was instantly brought back to gloomier topics as his mind wandered toward those people -- the ones who had discovered his invention, his weapon. Somewhere -- he wasn't sure where, but somewhere far away -- there was said to be a rip in the very fabric of reality itself. It lad to another place, another time -- a different dimension altogeather. Now, usually he would have dismissed this as stupid, silly superstitions, not to be bothered with.
He would have believed this, if not for one thing. There was a substance, in this place. This substance had created the rip, had made it possible for interactions with this new, different reality. Very little was known of this substance, except that it had been created as a weapon, but an outlaw whose name was not known by most people. And those who did know it -- they refused to speak it, as if it was taboo. Like he was some kind of dark god, who woudl exact vengeance on them for uttering his name to others, without his permission.
He had no proof that this substance was the same that he had created, but there were to many similarities in his mind, for him to believe otherwise. It was the same. With so many more uses than he had ever thought possible.
So he did not go near this area, for fear of meeting someone who knew his name, knew what he had done. He had never been there. Until now.
No ships. Was this a good thing, or a bad thing? He'd finially come here, to this rip in the very fabric of reality itself. A rip that had come from him. He had created this.
The others didn't know that, bless their souls. They thought him the same old Gene Starwind -- a drunk with a love for womanizing and guns. Bless their souls, that they couldn't see the other side of him. Not even Jim.
Jim suspected something, though. He knew something had happened to make Gene the way that he was today, for he had not always been like this. He used to steer clear of alcohol, and barely ever frequented the bars that he now seemed to live in, when he wasn't on the ship. But he'd never guess ........
Gene sighed softly, slowly turning and walking away from the viewscreen. Alone, and safe, for now.
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They were watching. They were always watching. he was too dangerous not to watch. He thought himself safe, this man who called himself Gene Starwind. to Naria's people, he was simply known as a murderer. A man willing to go te deepest, darkest extremes to fulfill an obsession.
Why had he come here? It was impossible to determine everything that he did -- they did not have any way to hear or see inside of his ship. They followed him as best they could, helped by their superior sensors and scanners. They kept far behind, lest they be detected. Do not confront him. Do not attack him. Just keep watch. Make sure he doest not decide to continue his experiments with the Omega Substance. That was the only time she was authorized to act. At all costs, he could not be allowed to create more of that deadly substance that had destroyed her planet, almost her entire race.
So she watched, and she waited.