Hot Pursuit

by Satinette

A retelling of the Pilot from Daggon’s/Cole’s point of view. Includes extended and missing scenes. Very major spoilers for the episode throughout.

Hot Pursuit

by Satinette

A retelling of the Pilot from Daggon's/Cole's point of view. Includes extended and missing scenes. Very major spoilers for the episode throughout.

Author's Note: Thanks to Blue Raven for giving me permission to use the names Nallia and Ashi. We may as well have some degree of uniformity in these fics!

"You are going to Collect him, aren't you?" Zin asked as he checked and rechecked his calculations and set about calibrating and locking the coordinates. "And if this is going to work you'd best lower your body temperature at least 23.4 degrees." He angrily whirled about and snarled, bearing his formidable, tusk-like eye teeth yet again at the poor hovering medic who was only trying to see to his head wound, this time sending him scurrying out of the lab in fear for his life. Zin hadn't been hit hard enough to damage his thick Vardian skull, but scalp wounds tend to bleed profusely. It was actually a minor injury and I could've entirely healed it for him myself within a few moments, but he was in too much of a testy mood for it and had flatly refused my help.

"Not this time," I told him in all honesty, finally admitting to myself exactly what I was planning to do. "I've Collected him twice before and I'm done with it. This time I'm going to hunt him down and I'm going to kill him." Although I'd said it very calmly and matter-of-factly, the molten rage and fury, the raw pain and hatred that had been seething deep within my shattered soul all these years burst into roaring flame in acknowledgement of what I'd set myself up to wait for all along. It was starting to consume me like a ravening animal, insatiable, unstoppable, somehow profoundly depressing yet wildly exhilarating and incredibly inspiring, all at one and the same time.

And this time there wouldn't be anyone around to stop me for my own good', I thought, consciously altering my metabolism to do as he'd requested while continuing with my downloading.

Zin snorted and arched a startled brow at me, but didn't comment right away.

Perhaps you may not want to know how very close I was to losing myself and everything I am but understand: during the brutal nine year term I spent as a Guard buried in Sar-Top's subterranean prison I felt myself squeezed into such a small space that my entire universe became one of pain, anger and closely bridled hatred. Oh, I still knew how to think and plan, still knew how to function – and I quickly learned how to put up a very convincing front of normalcy – but each and every memory and connection in my life took on an entirely different meaning. What I so carefully hid from everyone (including myself) was my confusion, was how tired and beaten I was, how broken and hollow inside I felt, as if everything vital had been gouged out of my brain and breast and stomach, leaving only a terrible gnawing emptiness. And above all else, I carefully hid my sense of loneliness and isolation. The only thing important to me was feeling powerful, was knowing I still retained the ability to cause fear, to see it reflected in the eyes of the prisoners under my watch and in those of the increasingly dangerous Tracks the High Prime still sent me out on. That was all I had left to I live for, that and stoically waiting for Rhee to make his move. I had no other identity, no other purpose, no other reality. And I wanted none.

While I would never claim that prescience is one of my talents, sometimes I do obtain a sense of things. As sure as I know my own name, I knew that one day Rhee's move would come. And I was determined to be ready for it. This was the only thing that enabled me to endure the rhyming chants he'd make up to taunt me, letting me know in excruciating detail exactly what he'd done to my mate and daughter, gloating how Ashi had died screaming for me to help her, how Nallia had cursed me with her final breath for being the cause of all their agony and horror. A cold rage I never let show would start burning where my heart used to be and relentlessly claw its way through me until my fingers would itch to do something grotesque and obscenely violent. Over time it became an old and familiar urge yet, all too often, it was all I could do to control myself from rending apart his flesh with my bare hands, from splintering his bones then and there until he shrieked and howled as they had.

So regardless of how the record on this may come to read, my decision to transport through Zin's experimental wormhole in pursuit of Rhee had nothing to do with bringing him back to Sar-Top or the Hierarchy's sense of justice, even though the upholding of that justice is everything that a Tracker is supposed to be about. And certainly everything Cirron's Traaquore is supposed to be about. And never dignify it by saying I was seeking to kill him for the noble ideal of saving all the human lives that would be at his mercy, though I knew he'd gleefully slaughter many of them if left unchecked.

No, merely Collecting him would've served to accomplish that.

What I wanted to do was kill him, feel his life draining out beneath my hands. Period. And the reason I wanted to kill him was for the sake of my own long-denied vengeance. The fact is, I followed him to Earth with every intention of committing a vicious act of deliberate, cold-blooded murder.

I'm not proud of this, but I do own up to it.

While Cirronians all but worship life, Rhee is its' antithesis, a genetically engineered, warrior-bred caste of Vardian infused with a bestial intensity, a monstrous living machine expressly created for wanton slaughter. Through the years he's been on several killing sprees during which he destroyed nearly a hundred Migarian innocents, culminating in his massacre of my own family and the three Guardians I'd assigned to protect them. He is a being who thrives on terror, pain and desolation, preferring to actually feed on death by drinking the blood and devouring the flesh of his victims while they're still alive to experience the horror of it. He would spend his entire existence maiming, mutilating, torturing, raping and killing because that is what he is. It is all that he is.

Although other Cirronians would likely be horrified by these admissions and vehemently disagree, the undeniable fact that I wanted to be the instrument of his death was of far more importance to me than what I saw as the brutal necessity of it. You see, just because I wanted to kill him – no, I may as well be completely honest here: I very much needed to kill him – wouldn't also mean that I wasn't wholly justified in doing so.

A Cirronian I may be by birth, a Tracker I may be by both job description and calling, but a Traaquore I have always been through my eons-ancient bloodline, so I have to obey my own code and obey it absolutely. You don't agree? You think that everything plays by some neat set of rules, Cirronian, Migarian or otherwise, no matter how high or low on the evolutionary scale, no matter how superstitious or how supposedly enlightened? Think again. Mortal beings have an enormous talent for believing only what makes sense, what provides comfort, within their own limited view of things and ignoring everything else. But all the hopeful theologies, philosophies and belief systems to the contrary, the cosmos doesn't give a damn about sentient concepts of good and evil or right and wrong. It has no plan, no pattern, no reason, no sense, no purpose. It's only a revolving, on-going process functioning on an immense, macro scale and it knows nothing at all of our tiny micro ideals – and cares about them even less.

It never has, it never will.

Spend your life tearing the lifeforces out of living beings by the sheer strength of your will and just try convincing yourself it's otherwise. Ask most any Tracker, particularly a Cirronian Tracker. Most lose their so-called innocence and purity' in the face of this reality and it destroys them, almost uniformly rendering them useless as Collecting operatives in the field.

As individuals, even as species, we just make up a few rules and constructs we can live with, and then we play to survive according to them for as long as we can. In the end, the extinction of the Void awaits to claim us all – individuals, civilizations, species, worlds, stars, entire galaxies, eventually even the cosmos itself so that it may begin yet again, wiped clean of all that ever came before – regardless. As micro as we are, we all tend to forget, ignore or even deny the hard truth of that. We all start caring about abstractions like justice and morals and principles and ideals, completely forgetting that none of it really matters because we're the one's who made all these things up in the first place.

Trust me on this. I am a Traaquore. I hold all the memories of my entire line and I know.

And I say all this even though I'm also well aware that revenge is never as deliciously tasty as it may appear. It changes nothing, it brings back no one, nor does it ever relieve one's pain. Nevertheless, I needed to do this, although there's always a price to be paid for the choices we make and the price for this would be the end of me. But my life had already been destroyed and the inconvenience of death is no emptier than what I'd become, so I was truly beyond caring.

"Daggon, please," Zin tried to argue. "As your friend, I'm asking you, I'm begging you ... Don't do this. Just let it go. Let Rhee go. Let the Vardian Tracker contingent take care of him. Or better yet, let the authorities there take care of him. They'll have a hard time of it, to be sure, but they will take him down eventually. They're hardly defenseless creatures. Primitive, yes, but by no means defenseless."

"No. I can't."

"Can't?" he demanded. "Or won't?"

"Does it matter?"

"You're not supposed to kill them! You're ..."

"You think I've never had to kill before?" I wryly questioned. "I've killed. Several times. Quite a few more than several times ... I took a life just yesterday, in fact. What would be one more?"

"I know you, Daggon! And I know the level of Tracks they send you out on. Any kills you had to make must've been in the line of duty and were unavoidable!"

"Is that what you really think? Were you there to witness any of them?"

"You're not a murderer!"

"Oh, but I can be, Zin. I've learned to be every bit as ruthless, every bit as lethal, every bit as cold-blooded as those I hunt when I have to be. There have been times when my own life, as well as the lives of others, has depended upon it. And in this case, in Rhee's case, I so want to be!"

"I think being a Tracker has forced you to make some decisions you regret and you feel guilty about them," Zin tried to reason. "But that shouldn't be cause for ..."

"What is, IS. I concede the regrets, but I gave up on most of the guilt a long time ago."

"Fine!" he growled in frustration. "Have it your own stubborn way! You're willing to risk your life just to kill him? Need I remind you that world is under Class 1 Quarantine? Do you have any idea of how dangerous this Track could be?"

"Believe me, I have a far better idea of it than you do," I told him, knowing it was so. Rhee had made his escape just before I'd returned from another so-called rescue' mission. And that one had been typical of most of them. "Are you going to pilot me in or not?"

Zin glared at me a long moment, his expression speculative yet otherwise oddly cryptic and unreadable. "Then you'll do what you think you must," he dismissed me in disgust. "If nothing else, it should prove interesting. The return corridor will be opened within twenty-four solar Earth hours. Be ready for it or remain stranded there, as you will. Your choice."

And just like that I was sent off.

I ruthlessly shut the fear of this away, as I'd schooled myself to do with fear long ago, instead turning my thoughts to reviewing all the Knowledge I'd downloaded directly into my synapses.

The system of star S17Q42 was first surveyed as part of the Venture Program nearly 77,000 years ago. This star is part of Migar's Local Group situated 100.3 light years away in the Northern Quadrant, Grid 32, Section 7. In all respects it's a typical middle-aged yellow star without any defining characteristics. It has an eight planet system, the four innermost terrestrial and relatively small, the outermost gaseous and much larger. There's also a ninth very small quasi-planet with a single satellite in irregular orbit beyond them. Another terrestrial planet previously existed between what are now planets four and five, but comet collision eons ago has reduced it to what has become a rather orderly debris belt ...

This time the energy patterns of harmonic resonance, instead of emitting the usual and familiar violent bursts that blank the mind and convulse the body, were like a long, steady burn that built in intensity, as though I were being cooked alive, my blood gradually rising to an excruciating boil as I felt myself being simultaneously compressed and expanded outward. I gasped and cried out as the snapping energy tendrils of the subspace corridor flailed on, in, around and through me and I was thrown about like a leaf caught in a tempest.

... The third planet averages a distance of 93 million miles in its elliptical orbit from the star and is the only one of the planets and over 65 satellites of the entire system known to have evolved sentient life. Gravity is approximately double that of Cirron 17, one and two-thirds that of Cirrons 9 and 23, one and one-half that of Cirrons 11 and 19. The atmosphere is breathable, consisting of about 76% nitrogen and 21% oxygen, the remainder being trace amounts of carbon dioxide, hydrogen and other common and rare gases. The surface is geologically active and approximately three-quarters water, most of it in a liquid state and comparable in its mineral compositions to the waters of Nodul ...

The deafening roar in my ears intensified until the notion of my own death seemed close at hand and inevitable, yet at the same time utterly surreal. But I had no more breath, no more time. The roar faded to a high, shrilling, undulating whine, almost an extended musical note as velocity continued to increase. Then for a long, endless moment there was absolutely nothing – no sound, no color, no movement, no air, no direction, no life. Time had ceased and I waited, suspended, half expecting to be enveloped in final darkness.

... Its lifeforms are carbon-based and corporeal. The dominant species – designated as S8747 – is terrestrial and rated at marginal Phase 3 Sentience with an overall developmental rating of Level 3. All indications are that they're a socially organized yet highly aggressive tail-less biped to which standard laws of bilateral symmetry apply. They're diurnal, omnivorous, warm-blooded, sexually dimorphic and viviparous with a staggering birthrate. They currently number well over six billion and have spread out to colonized virtually every habitat and climactic zone the planet has, primarily in artificially-lit hives of varying sizes and densities ranging from a few loose individuals to tightly clustered groups numbering well into the millions ...

Against all logic, I drew in a breath. And then another. And another. Then everything snapped into sharp and vividly painful focus.

... Based on evaluations of all information thus far obtained, this species is considered highly dangerous, war-like and unstable and their planet has accordingly been placed under strict Class 1 Quarantine. Re-evaluation is scheduled for nine centuries from now, assuming they manage to survive for that long ...

Above me was the wormhole's electrical phenomena, appearing as a swirling cloudstorm with a dull red-orange vortex. In sudden free-fall, I wanted to howl to the yellow star and the open blue skies I found myself plummeting through, but instead I was struck dumb by the massive overload of information as I instinctively sensed the space around me until I just ... wasn't me anymore. My perceptual sphere expanded ever outward, further and further, until I was absorbing the encrypted engrams, the codes and patterns of the planet's lifeforms embedded in its energy matrix, collating them with what I already knew, with the entire line of Cirronian evolutionary history, and with my own unique genome.

Yet fully processing and integrating it all would take more time than I then had.

My own polarities rapidly realigned to link up with the electrical wires and transmission towers below and I sped along and down them the moment I connected, finally throwing myself clear and into vegetation, igniting it into flame.

I had fully planned to make this Track a one-way trip, fully expected to embrace death at the end of it. But not yet. First I had to kill Rhee. So now I was in a race against time, a race for my life that went well beyond my blending in and avoiding detection until I was done. Shape-shifting, the simple act of reshuffling one's molecules, which any Cirronian can manage, wouldn't do me now. It was imperative that I carry it further and metamorphosis, literally descend to the level of this world's physical plane and become, alter my substance, change my very essence into what was a wholly alien lifeform for me. Basic Cirronian biology and physiology demanded it: any world under the spectrum of a yellow star with more than 50% nitrogen in its atmosphere will prove lethal within ten or fifteen minutes for a being who, in his natural state, is pure energy and glowing light. Already, my aura was sizzling and beginning to disintegrate.

I looked around a moment to gauge my bearings, spying what appeared to be some sort of a dwelling, but it was too far away and across too much open space. I opted instead for a near-hyperspeed run through the relative shelter of a small copse of woodland.

I remembered the Venture Project and the stories and legends of some of our ships coming here to study this world and reporting on its rare blue and green beauty. From the little I could see, those early explorers hadn't been exaggerating. The landscape was of dazzling shades of golds and greens all washed in pastels and abounding in brilliant light filtering down in golden streaks. But mostly the light was only seen up in the higher branches, splintering into blinding white shards when I looked up towards the distant star.

Yet for a Cirronian, 93 million miles is too far to be any rational distance from the heat and light of a star. The air temperature was only two-thirds what it should minimally be and the atmosphere would be far more comfortable if it were more arid. Certainly I'd adapted to such low temperatures and high humidities before, but it was always a hardship. I knew I'd have to adjust my normal temperature to compensate, but there is a limit as to how far I can safely lower it and still maintain proper functioning.

My downloads told me that a species which called itself humans' was this world's dominant lifeform and included a large number of images of them, many of a male specimen and the skeleton obtained from it collected by the Venture Project. But during that time Earth had evolved several different tail-less bipeds and it was unknown if the human biped was of the same species as the skeleton or only a relation. More recent digitally and laser-enhanced images taken by orbiting probes hadn't provided me with anywhere near the resolution or detail that I required. I needed a better image and I needed it fast.

All my instincts shifted into overdrive as I sped along, my every sense targeted to find and retrieve, to do anything I had to do. And then it came to me, a ... sensation, the vaguest shade of a feeling, almost like sigh breathing over my mind. I angled in the direction of its pull, slowly at first then, as the feeling grew stronger, I picked up speed, trusting in my instincts.

I came to a grassy verge by a broad, construct trail at the edge of the woodland and settled on my haunches, almost hidden in the shadows, scanning my surroundings, searching. All was clear and I dared the open, the sizzling of my aura ratcheting up to the excruciating level of broil. On my right was a molded metallic marker of some kind with alien glyphs on it. And just beyond was exactly what I'd been searching for, what I later learned was a billboard ad bearing the image of a human male. It was by no means a perfect representation. It was two-dimensional and a front view only, the legs cut off at mid-thigh. And there was some sort of covering encircling the hips. But in combination with the numerous images I already had in my synapses it was enough.

The unintelligible foreign rush, the shocking assault upon all my sensibilities as I resolved and became was one with this world was one of the most agonizing yet profound moments in my life. Suddenly perceptions where completely new and different, all my realities had changed focus, and I could feel things, see things, smell things, hear things, know things in ways I had only dimly understood existed – and those only through my access to memories. Yet, at the same time this new body felt nothing short of outlandish, even repulsive, to be a part of. The throbbing pulse of blood circulating through veins and arteries, the flexiblilities of muscle and tendon, the hingings of bone, the radiating heat that was both contained and continuously replaced, the movement of air over and around its fleshy surface and through its distribution of fur, its shape and proportions and dimensions, its sheer mass and weightiness, all of its very immediate physicalities and more were bewildering sensations that all but immobilized me, making me feel as brutally exposed and as completely vulnerable as a newborn.

Untested for weight or balance, my legs crumpled and I simply curled up on the ground where I'd fallen, folding in on myself, wishing myself away, wishing myself already dead, my outward stillness a drastic contrast to the roiling upheaval within.

The misery has always been much like this whenever I've had to become a new lifeform, but this was the worst I'd ever experienced in any of my long memories.

By all the unknowable billions of forgotten gods, it hurt.

My first breath burned through me like a firestorm. I pulled in air again, and still it burned. Those two breaths had been hideous, but then I coughed, and that was even more hideous. I gagged, choked, coughed again and spat blood and phlegm out from my lungs, then gasped in my first deep draught of air in what felt like a very long time. I rolled over and forced myself up onto my hands and knees, the combined weight of the star's light beating on my back and the pull of the planet's gravity beneath nearly driving me down flat. I locked my elbows, hacking still more blood and phlegm into the grass, coughing some more, and dragging in air over and over again with noisy ragged gasps until it didn't seem as though each breath I took was going to be my last. I tried pulling up into a seated position but my nervous system was still jangling in a frenzy of disordered confusion and I couldn't quite maintain balance, needing to brace with one arm. With every movement my still-solidifying bones and joints screamed in protest and my muscles howled for mercy.

Suddenly I caught a clear and unmistakable ringing sense of presence, one having an ugly but familiar taint, crawling along my awareness. Another Migarian was nearby, a Vardian. Rhee. I knew it with absolute certainty. Frustration, indecision and rage balled up inside me in a tight, cold knot and worked its way to my outer skin, sending a wave of gooseflesh shivering over my new body as I realized I was in no condition to take him on yet.

For now Rhee had all the advantages. I knew that he would have taken over the body of a human host and thus have automatically gained good physical control of it. Additionally, he could access the mind's extensive knowledge of humanity. By contrast, I was still having difficulty in moving and was utterly clueless about the species, its psychology, its society, its culture, its habits and even its language.

I certainly could have done the same as Rhee (and such would've made things easier), but life is precious to a Cirronian and it is abhorrent to kill the innocent inhabitant of a mortal body in order to take over. I would have to learn what I needed to as I went along, preparing this ungainly body and myself for our confrontation as I hunted him down, however long it might take.

Fortunately, patience is something I know a great deal about.

I found myself cursing the fact that humans aren't quadrupeds as I repeatedly tried to balance on my two new legs, but finally my stubborn nature allowed me to win out. Yet the accomplishment of standing erect was one thing. Coordinating the nuances of hips, knees, ankles and feet into easy fluid motion was something else entirely. Wobbling and lurching, I started for the shelter of the trees in case Rhee should come in my direction, for now wanting to avoid him.

As the slight breeze shifted I was brought up short and nearly fell again. The damnable inbred blessing of awareness, the murmur/feel of yet another sentient lifeforce, was sniping at the edge of my consciousness, demanding my attention. Seeking out its direction, I attempted an identification, but the only two certainties I had was state of mind and gender: an agitated female.

But was it a human female I was sensing – or some other species?

Oddly, while the lifeforce itself was wholly alien and unknown, I still felt some sort of vaguely familiar connection with it – yet I hadn't the slightest notion of what that was or what it meant.

Curiosity aroused, I went to investigate. Working my way through the cover of the woodland, staggering and shambling along by sheer force of will, still struggling to gain control of my new corporeal form and often nearly falling, I pressed on. The woodland ended by the edge of an agricultural field, but by then I had a clear if distant view of the source's emanation. It was a human, the first real, live human I'd ever seen, and scent reaffirmed that it was a female.

I slipped down among the rows of crops and peered out at her from between the high stalks, edging my way closer. Although humans are rightly considered highly aggressive and war-like, I knew from experience that such blanket assessments aren't always true for individuals. Moreover, it's long been observed that the females of any species are almost always far less mindless and misplaced in their aggressions than their males and far more nurturing. And provided they're not protecting offspring (when even the most timid of females can become more vicious and deadly than any male), they're usually much more stable, tractable and trustworthy.

Since I could well make use of some assistance and since the natural provider for that is a female, I began considering if it might be worth my while taking the chance of making contact.

But I'm not a complete fool. To lose one's life is one thing. It's a risk every Tracker who does field work faces and one that my instincts, skills and life-long training have allowed me to evade. But the things that can be done to an alien on a wholly alien world which don't result in an immediate death, the horrifying things that a curious species might use in their playful investigative tortures, the things their imaginations can come up with ... Do you have any idea how many ingeniously sick, pervertedly distorted ways there are to study' the anatomy and physiology of a lifeform, to poke and probe and cut, to vivisect? Believe me, there are no limits to the sadistic atrocities that have been performed in the name of science'. At one time or another I think I've come across each and every single one of them.

And it was all still very fresh in my mind. I'd just returned to Sar-Top from what is euphemistically referred to as a rescue' mission. The fact is, rarely can anyone be rescued' in these things and this mission had proven to be no exception. A mixed crew of a dozen Cirronian, Orsian and Desserian scientist/explorers had crash-landed on a Class 1 Quarantined world in the Lemosa System more than a month before Cirron's High Prime herself had sent me in. After all that time I knew what I'd likely be facing even prior to arriving there and I'm quite certain the High Prime was aware of it as well. At least she expressed no surprise at my report of what I had to do, only resigned acceptance.

Eleven of that ill-fated crew were already dead by the time I got to them, the lucky ones not surviving the crash. The twelfth crewmember, a brilliant Orsian volcanologist, was as good as dead – only her body wasn't aware of it yet. Her mind and her soul were long gone, half her brain and internal organs having been removed for study'. The only thing I could do was provide a merciful end to the agonies of her flesh, then systematically set about destroying all the records and samples' I could find of the crew ever having been there at all.

Blanking out those disquieting images and memories, I cautiously I worked my way closer to the human female until I had a very good view of her. She was an odd but not unpleasant-looking creature, pacing about in the middle of the construct trail and vocalizing to herself, her agitation escalating into frustrated anger.

Still no nearer to understanding what the puzzling feeling of connection I felt for her lifeforce was all about, I realized that I had to come to some sort of decision. I could either try to request her assistance, or I could slip away unnoticed and manage on my own. I was inclined to go with the more prudent latter option save for one thing: this female was alone – and if Rhee should come in her direction he would probably be tempted to take advantage of that fact and make her his next victim.

I left the hidden shelter of the crop rows and began moving towards her on the trail, deliberately allowing myself to be seen. As she espied me and watched me approach I could sense her mounting uncertainty become fear and she hurriedly retreated into a metallic wheeled box. As my shambling motions must've made for quite a sight and she was all alone, not knowing my intentions, this was exactly what I wanted to see. If she had fearlessly faced me, I likely would've considered her too dangerous to approach.

I tripped over my own feet and flopped against her window, trying to work the alien vocal apparatus I had to communicate with her, trying to tell her that she didn't have to be afraid of me, trying to request her help, but I was only able to grimace at her and emit several embarrassingly inarticulate sounds.

"What do you want?" she yelled in near panic. "Go away!"

I put a degree distance between us so that she wouldn't feel quite so threatened by my closeness, circling to the opposite side of the strange box to hang my head through the window there as she gaped and gasped at me. How was I to communicate with her, I wondered? Something of the nature of the box itself, and the odor of its carbon-based fuel, triggered one of my ancient memories and I realized it was a machine, a primitive personal vehicle of some sort. Had it ceased to function? If so, it could be directly related to the electrical disturbance generated by the wormhole that brought me.

Wanting to prove to this female with an act of good will that I could be trusted not to harm her, I moved to the front of the vehicle. Quickly locating the problem within the feed of the electrical system, I placed my hand on the engine and used some of my energies to easily restart it.

Suddenly I whirled about, again sensing Rhee's presence, this time very close at hand in a vehicle that had braked to a stop just up ahead. Rhee had undoubtedly sensed me as well but, instead of seeking confrontation, he chose to pull away. I started after him in slow but determined pursuit.

As I struggled along the human female drove her vehicle up parallel to me. "Hey! Are you okay? Do you need help?" she called out.

I really looked at her for the first time and thought that I hadn't seen a face so striking in its open, honest, natural beauty in a long time. And with that thought the entire interaction between us just seemed to play out in slow motion, each second stretching interminably to the next. She looked me over and I stared back, her big, blue-green eyes assessing me as she chattered.

"I'll stop for help the next place I see. I just can't let you in the car. There's a lot of weirdoes out here. You understand that?" Reddish brows, like the wings of a flighted creature, arched above those wide-set eyes, their curve imparting a questioning look to her face, like someone who's always been surprised by life.

"Not that you are ... I'm not saying that ..." She bared her teeth at me and I was momentarily taken aback. In all species that I know of, such is invariably a serious expression of threat, warning or aggression. But there was nothing of the sort about her nervous, uncertain manner so I hesitantly mimicked her expression, then turned away to blunt the effect, in case I was mistaken.

"Look. I don't know how you did it, but I'm really grateful you fixed my car. I really am ..." she went on, her curious but edgy gaze and her tone telling me that the surprises she'd experienced in life hadn't always been pleasant ones.

"How about owing me something here? Where's your clothes? ... What happened to your car?" she persisted.

The translation matrix of the Knowledge I carried within my molecules was still lacking sufficient data to begin functioning, so I understood virtually nothing of what she was saying. But the concerned tone in her voice felt like a warm balm washing over my mind and her scent, her nearness, the sheer strength of her pure lifeforce took my breath away.

"It's a Rain Man' thing, isn't it?" With a sigh, she started to drive away as I watched her go, admittedly with some regret, but then she pulled to a stop just ahead of me.

Hopefully, I lurched over to her vehicle. If nothing else, she was headed in the same direction as my quarry, the same direction I had to go. "Come on! Get in the car. Get in ... the car," she clearly invited, opening the entry port for me and nodding encouragingly. I didn't need a second invitation.

"Close the door ... Firma la porto." It took me a moment to grasp what she was telling me but then, of course, all entry ports must be closed before a vehicle of any kind could safely be moved, so I figured that had to be it.

"What's your name? I'm Mel," she said, treating me to another disconcerting display of teeth. I moved my facial muscles in the same way in response, but carefully kept my teeth covered. I was in her territory and was not about to challenge her authority or seem in the slightest bit aggressive.

"Alright. Just to Chicago and that's it. Do we understand each other?" There was a short pause as she stared at me, still accessing, still edgy, but no longer truly afraid, only cautious. "Good. What say we keep the chit-chat to a minimum?"

I know more languages than I've ever bothered adding up and I'm usually a quick study, but it had been quite a while since I've had to learn a new one. Stupefied, I listened to all the sounds pouring out of this female's mouth as she emotionally babbled non-stop, trying very hard to understand her, listening for repetitions and patterns, trying to ignore the chill I was feeling and concentrate instead on discerning the individual units within her vocalizations.

"You know, you look a lot like the Cole guy in the ... He really looks a lot like you," she pointed out as we drove past another billboard ad bearing the same human male image I'd used for my creation. She then realized that I was shivering. "You don't look so good ..." she worriedly commented, turning a knob on the forward console. "I turned the air conditioning down. Better?"

The cessation of chilled air felt much better. Curious, I poked at another of the knobs on the console to see what it might do, and was quite startled when more human vocal sounds began coming out. I listened intently to everything and struggled to mimic her language from what I was hearing, repeating an individual sound here and there. This was not so much to learn their meaning, but more to gain some practice using my unfamiliar vocal apparatus – vocal chords, tongue, teeth, palate, lips and mouth – and synchronize them to properly function. They definitely took some getting used to.

And my practicing seemed to both puzzle and unsettle her.

Maybe it was the words I was repeating? I don't remember what they were.

She coasted the vehicle to the side of the road and stopped, shutting off the engine and turning to face me. "Um, look. I think you'd feel a lot warmer, and I'd certainly feel a good deal, um, cooler," she reddened slightly, I noticed, "If we get some clothes on you. You know? It's probably a good idea anyway, in case we're stopped or anything. Besides, I'm going to have find a gas station pretty soon and I'd rather there not be any, um ... awkwardness. I've got some odds and ends in the trunk, maybe even something that would fit you. Okay?"

"O ...k-kay," I repeated, not even knowing what she had said.

"Good!" she bared her teeth at me again, "Glad you agree." As contrary to all reason, and as unsettling as the idea was, I was beginning to think that the bearing of teeth could actually be a friendly facial expression for the human species.

She retrieved some items from a storage compartment in the back of the vehicle and brought them around to the side where I was seated, opening the entry port to hand them to me. "Why don't you try these on for size?" she said. "You're a pretty big guy, but the top is a spandex stretch and the sweatpants are the uni-sized drawstring type, so it just might work out. Best I can do." Again she flashed her teeth at me. "But, sorry. I'm afraid I can't help you with shoes."

I dubiously studied the pieces of fabric she'd placed in my hands, not quite certain what she expected me to do with them. They were obviously meant as some sort of covering for the body and she likely wanted me to wear them, as she herself was wearing a covering of fabric, but I couldn't understand why such a thing was necessary. I've never known a single species that ever bothered with anything more than a full cloak, and that only under inclement weather conditions. And these shaped things were completely unlike anything I'd ever seen before. I had no idea how I was supposed to put them on and their feel and textures, especially that of the pink fabric, were so unpleasant that I didn't even want to make the attempt.

"Is there a problem?" she asked as she noted my reluctance.

Silently, I handed the items back to her. I wanted no part of them.

She sighed, shook her head and bared her teeth again. "Look," she said gently enough but with a nervous, impatient edge in her tone. "If I'm helping you out with a ride, the least you can do is give me a break here. This really isn't difficult. And naturist' or no, I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist. I simply can't drive all the way to Chicago with a nearly naked man seated beside me. It's too ... unsettling. Here, let me show you. All you gotta do is pull the top over your head like this ..."

I suppose my nerves were more strained than I'd realized for as the fabric enveloped my head I felt as though I'd just been summarily caught in a snare, arousing an extremely unpleasant memory of a close brush I'd once had with capture and death. And that combined with the still disquieting fact that her bared teeth were so close to me ... Anyway, I reacted by instinct, flailing and clawing at the fabric that was suddenly obscuring my vision and being pulled down to bunch around my neck like a noose.

"Hey!" she yelped, jumping back. "Hey! Take it easy! It's only a shirt ... HEY!," this last accompanied by a sharp slap on the roof of the vehicle directly over my head. I froze, rock-still, looking up at her, thinking that maybe I'd seriously misjudged how dangerous this female might be.

"Done with your tantrum yet?" she inquired in a tone one would use with unruly offspring. Likely emboldened by my cautious stillness, she reached over and startled me even further by pushing the disheveled fur out of my eyes. "I really don't see why you're behaving so ..." She turned very pale. "Omigod! No wonder you're acting crazy! You're burning up!"

She leaned in over me, nearly on top of me, and my entire reality shrank down to the size of this one human female as she pressed a hand to my forehead, examined my eyes and felt along the sides of my neck. In shock by then, I simply couldn't move. Not only was I confused by so many different types of mixed and unfamiliar signals, but absolutely no one had touched me with that degree of intimacy since Nallia – PLUS the human skin I had seemed to exponentially magnify all physical sensations.

"Your eyes are clear, your glands certainly aren't swollen, you're breathing through your nostrils okay ..." she mumbled, seemingly very concerned for me, even frightened. "Is your throat sore? Do you have some sort of infection? Are you ill? Are you feeling okay?"

"O ...ka-a-ay," I haltingly replied, again repeating her last word. Badly rattled by both her nearness and her attentions, I tried to shake myself clear of the sensations her touches had stirred. It wasn't that they were unpleasant – quite the opposite, in fact. Her touches had been very gentle and soothing – so much so that every nerve ending began clamoring for more. But I'd come to this world for a purpose and I couldn't allow myself to loose focus.

"Are you sure?" She worriedly nibbled at her lower lip. "Your temperature's so high you could lapse into uncontrollable seizures or convulsions. Do you understand what I'm saying? Why you aren't comatose is beyond me. I really should get you to a doctor or a hospital or something."

"No doc-tor. No ho-spital." I flatly stated. The translation matrix of the Knowledge I carried finally had enough data input by then that it was starting to do its job. Doctors and hospitals both meant medical', and medical examinations of any kind were out of the question.

"But ..."

"Oka-a-ay," I firmly reiterated, reaching up a hand to gently stroke her throat with calming energies to deflect her growing agitation.

Startled and confused, she stepped back, her hand fluttering up to where I had touched her throat. "Um, well ... If you say you're okay,' then I ... I guess you ..." She blinked, disorientated and losing her train of thought exactly as I'd intended.

With every species I've ever known, the females are stubborn and unrelenting in getting their own way with things. A wise male knows that arguing with them always proves to be a futile waste of time, effort and energy. And can be enormously taxing on his sanity as well. I therefore decided that it was not worth resisting. If she wanted me to don this fabric, I would. I pulled at the yoke of it encircling my neck, uncertain as to how I should proceed. One corner of the female's mouth twitched as she watched me, then she reached over to help manipulate my arms into its shaped tunnels of fabric and pull it down over my torso.

"Well!" She bared her teeth again and made a startling, near musical whirring/hacking sound that I've since learned is called laughter'. "I don't know how much better than bare this shirt is for you. It's stretched so far beyond taut it looks as though it were painted on." She took both my hands in hers and encouraged me to exit the vehicle. "Now! All we gotta do is complete this gorgeous ensemble with the sweatpants. Just don't expect to make it into any issue of GQ."

Again, I acquiesced, seeing no point in disobeying her wishes. As onerous as it was, I would try to manage with the skin-crawling discomfort of these coverings just to keep the peace and remain in her good graces. I've certainly endured far worse things in my life than fabric.

About fourteen miles further down the road the female drove us into a vehicle refueling area, the air thick with the stench of the carbon-based fuel, but there were so many additional humans around that I scarcely noticed. The first thing that struck me as I watched them was that none had a lifeforce as strong and vibrant as the female I was with, nor did I feel any sort of meaningful connection. Yet still I was fascinated. They were, after all, an entirely new species for me to observe and they seemed to come in so many different shapes and sizes and colors. Moreover, I looked to be one of them and was much better coordinated by then, so I elected to follow one of the humans into what appeared to be a small mart of some sort.

I ambled about for a short while, studying the solitary activities and the group and couple interactions of the species, learning of some of their habits and mannerisms and mimicking some of their behaviors. At about the same time that I noticed the female I accompanied gesturing for me to return, I also noticed a human male eating something. Suddenly aware that I was hungry, I selected the same item he was gnawing on from a rack of items. As I left the mart a voice behind me shouted, "Hey! You gonna pay for that?" and continued following me outside, still shouting, "Hey! Hey! Hey!"

I then felt myself being roughly grabbed from behind by a human male. As such is always a clear act of aggression regardless of species – particularly among males who are strangers to each other – I promptly defended myself, tossing this impertinent human fool away.

"Get in the car! NOW!" the female ordered as she rushed by me to aid the fallen male. "I'm so very sorry," she told him as she helped him to his feet. "I hope you aren't hurt. He's my brother, you see, and he's a little, um ..." she shrugged and twirled a finger near the side of her head. "Know what I mean? They're still trying to properly adjust his mediation and ..."

"Your brother stole a bar of candy from right under my nose and he ..." the male began snarling as he got his breath back.

"Please," she told him sweetly as she brushed him off and straightened his coverings, captivating his attention and diffusing his anger as only a female can. "I can tell just by looking at you that you're the compassionate sort who'll understand these things and make allowances, and my brother ... Well, he's really a very gentle soul and I know he really didn't mean anything by it. He's just having some problems with his medication and it causes him to lose control ..." She flashed a piece of green paper in front of the male before he could say anything in response. "Would this be enough to pay for that candy bar and compensate you for the trouble and inconvenience he caused?"

The male looked back and forth between the offered piece of paper and myself, then grabbed the paper. "Yeah, well, I guess it's enough," he said, "But make damn sure I never lay eyes on him again, missy, or you won't be getting off so cheap!"

"Thank you so much for your kindness," she gushed. "And you won't. I promise."

Once we were again underway, the female began shouting at me. "You stole a candy bar! What were you thinking? He had every right to confront you! ..." She slapped my hands away from pulling at the uncomfortable upper body covering I was wearing. "Stop that! You'll stretch it! It was a gift from my grandmother ... We're lucky he didn't press charges, you know. We're even luckier you didn't break his neck! ..." Glaring at me, she paused to huff and puff. "Do you have anything to say?"

I thought for a moment then, not really understanding the cause of her anger, I simply parroted back some of the things I'd overheard the other humans saying at our stop, inadvertently adding to her confusion and frustration.

"The air conditioning is still off," she pointed out with snide exasperation, more than a little nonplused. "Would you like me to turn on some heat?"

Before I could respond I caught the clear and unmistakable ringing sense of being in proximity to Rhee's Track. And something else entirely, something I couldn't identify. The female screamed in panic as I abruptly reached over, grabbing and turning the vehicle's control wheel and thereby forcing her to swerve and come to a stop.

"What are you, crazy?" she sputtered, then shouted, "Are you trying to kill us both? What is wrong with you?" I was sorry to have frightened her, but I had found the Track and had to take my leave.

"Look," she said to me as I climbed out of her vehicle. "Good luck. Okay?" She seemed to mean it, but also seemed quite relieved that I was going. I heard her drive off as I followed the pull of sensation that took me through a fence and into what I later learned was called a railroad yard.

As I said before, prescience is not one of my talents. So what was it with these parallel rails of metal, these railroad tracks? Why was I so drawn to them? Why were they inspiring these premonitions of imminent doom circling over my head like winged carrion feeders? My sense of them told me much, yet at the same time they said nothing about it at all. So, why did I feel as though I were poised on the brink of disaster? Something wasn't right, my over-taxed brain nagged at me. Things weren't as they seemed, as I thought they were. But what things? I was positive that I was overlooking something and, if I only had a little more time, if only I could just concentrate on the problem, I'd somehow be able to figure it out, I'd somehow be able to understand.

The parallel rails of metal began to vibrate and a loud whistle cut through the air as I was bathed in the lights of a large and noisy machine bearing down on me. I watched it come, picking up speed as it approached, curious as to what it was, wondering whether it could leave its bed of rail. When it became more than apparent that it wouldn't go around me, I opened a hyperspeed window and moved out of its way, standing aside to watch it pass until it was out of sight. Whatever that thing was, it was inspiring the same nagging premonitions of imminent doom as the rails it rode on.

Pushing those thoughts aside to consider another time, I continued following my sense of Rhee's Track, finally coming upon the vehicle he'd been using. Examination not only told me that Rhee had been the one driving it, but also said that he was now in the body of a human female. That was an ironic piece of information that almost made me laugh. I could picture how such a thing was probably adding to his anger: while Rhee is an indiscriminate killer, he usually prefers his victims to be female. It adds to his idea of fun. Now he was a female himself – not that such a thing would stop him.

His victim had been crammed into the foot well on the passenger side. He'd been a human male still well within his prime, and he'd died a long and horrible death in tortured agony. From what I could tell, his arms and legs had been brutally broken in numerous places, he'd been doused with the carbon-based vehicle fuel, and then he'd been set afire – not enough to kill him outright, but sufficient for Rhee to enjoy a barbecued meal of his living flesh.

I discovered that Rhee had pulled him out of the vehicle by one arm and dragged him along the ground, the Track continuing to an area cordoned off with long strips of a flimsy yellow material. I walked through one of the strips to get to where Rhee had finally disposed of the luckless human, laying myself down within a marked outline on the spot where he'd mercifully breathed his last. There I drew still more information from the victim's residual memories embedded in the ground. It had taken him hours to die but he'd eventually succumbed to pain, shock and loss of blood.

I was just beginning to form a clear mental impression of what Rhee's female form looked like, when I was interrupted by the appearance of yet another human male.

"Comfy down there, pal? Huh?" came the sound of a voice advancing in my direction. "Come on, pal. Get up. In case you hadn't noticed, this is a crime scene. That's what all this pretty yellow tape is for."

I stood up, realizing from this male's attitude that I was face to face with an official authority figure, apparently an Enforcer of some sort.

"Come on. Turn around. I need to see some identification. Huh? ID? Identification?"

"I-I-I D-D-D," I repeated, almost but not quite understanding what he was asking of me. Although seemingly quite gentle and caring for an Enforcer type, I knew I would have to be careful. I kept my gaze averted and tried to appear as docile and non-threatening as I could.

"Yeah, yeah. Driver's license. Social Security. You got a name? Huh? Name? El nombre?"

I thought of the human female saying What's your name? I'm Mel' when she invited me into her vehicle, and then all manner of things began to make sense. Her name was Mel. So, since this human wanted to know who I was and, since he was behaving as an Enforcer would with every right to know, he probably was an Enforcer and did have that right.

Could I get away with using my own name as an Earthly one, I wondered? I wasn't certain. And even if I could use it, would giving only a name be enough? Not if Earthly Enforcers are anything like Trackers or other Enforcers elsewhere.

"Come on, buddy. It's late," he coaxed. "I don't have time for this. What is your name?"

"C-o-o-ole," I replied, remembering that Mel had said I "look a lot like the Cole guy." I supposed by that she was referring to the image I took my appearance from, although I had no idea what a cole' is and the Knowledge couldn't help me with that. I hoped it was a human name. If so, I'd use it during my short stay on this planet.

"Okay, C-o-o-ole. I'm gonna let you go. But stay outta here. This is a restricted area."

I quickly and quietly slipped away before he could change his mind as he turned his attention to speaking into a device he was holding in his hand (as I've noticed so many of these humans tend to do!), soon enough picking up Rhee's Track again.

It led me into the heart of the city, towards the bright lights of assorted all-night bars, clubs, eateries and sex shows, what was probably considered music of some sort blasting out the open doors where flashing strobe lighting accentuated the heavy rhythms pulsating against my skin as I passed. The walkways were crowded with a colorful mix of gamers, prostitutes, street people, hustlers, tourists, thieves, drug dealers, hawkers, vendors, drunks and assorted on and off-duty Sentinels, Enforcers and Guardians of one type or another.

It's amazing how some things never really change. Since time immemorial there have been streets like this in most every city of every world and on every station throughout the cosmos.

Everything is always the same save the places, the architecture, the faces, and the species. Even I'm the same, except now I'm so damn tired. These years have been hard. This life has been hard. But then, in one way or another, every life is hard. Sometimes think I just need to stand still for a long while and live quietly, disappear into the anonymous dust and grime of a primitive little world which knows nothing of what I am and do nothing more than just get by. I'm so weary of all the violence, of all the endless confrontations, one after another.

The pain of the past had robbed me of the present, of all presents. Even Lontoria's wisdom and compassion hadn't done a thing to change that. I thought of all the random elements of fate and circumstance that lead to the unfolding of each moment in time. What would happen if one of those elements were changed? Or moved? Or removed? If I hadn't gone on that interstellar Track, would Nallia still be alive? Would Ashi? Would I still have my life? Would it still be with them? What if I had left a day later? Or a day sooner?

Comforting memories began to crowd around me as the past sang its enticing invitation, tempting me to just give it up, to just shake this strange place and my unendurable present and wander awhile along its familiar shady paths. Nallia's last touch as she begged me to be careful, told me that she'd rather I not take this one, reminded me that her third and probably last High Season was soon approaching and she wanted me to sire her another daughter; Ashi's birth, her exuberant goodbye hug ... It all seemed so very distant, so very far away ... I felt moisture welling in my eyes, blurring my vision.

I shook my head in disgust at my self-pity. I couldn't allow myself to continue thinking like that. I've known far stronger beings than I who were bent into madness by dwelling on such things.

In the bustle of vehicular traffic I eventually lost all sense of Rhee's Track. The best I could figure, he'd likely gotten into another vehicle and could well be in a different area of the city. Certainly I couldn't sense him anymore no matter how I strained to do so.

Yet, oddly enough, I did have a clear sense of where Mel was, whispering on the margin of my awareness. Having nowhere else to go, I blanked my mind of thought, wrapped myself in a crystalline void, and simply followed the pull of that human female's beckoning lifeforce. It led me across the city to yet another bar, this one decorated with a red-awning.

I wasn't really surprised.

Drink is such a constant everywhere I've ever been that I sometimes think one of the definitions of true sentience is the need to absorb alcoholic and fermented beverages. Reality and perception-altering drugs and chemicals of all kinds are abundantly a part of that equation as well, but the acceptance and the tolerance for any or all of them is not quite as universal. Almost, but not quite.

Within a few moments of my entrance I was accosted by a bright and lively little female who persisted in getting in my way. "Welcome to Watchfire," she chirped, buzzing about me like a pesky insect. "Mmm. Cool T-shirt."

"I am Cole," I told her.

"Uhh ummm. Nice chest," she responded.

Then I spotted Mel. "I need ID," I said to her. I was trying not to trip over this other female as I made my way over to Mel, but I finally had to physically push her aside when she alarmingly began to pet my chest.

My behaving that abruptly and disrespectfully with the smaller female rightly didn't please Mel at all, and I felt a flash of shame, knowing I would somehow have to make amends. "Give us a second," she told the other one, then turned her attentions toward me.

"What are you doing here?" I could sense that she was both annoyed and upset.

"I need ID," I tried again to explain.

"Here's the deal ... Cole ..." Now Mel seemed warily suspicious of me as well. But I wasn't sure why she should be over my obediently using the name Cole.' After all, she had given it to me.

"I'm going to fix you something to eat," she went on. "Okay? Then I'm going to call a social service agency, ... find out where to take you. I can't do any more than that."

All I clearly understood was that Mel was in equal measures concerned and exasperated with me and she wanted to send me away – and I couldn't allow that to happen. I needed a place to stay, a safe base of operations from which to obtain a fix on Rhee without having to come up with ID. And I had to avoid detection in the process, seem to be the species I now looked like and blend in, even if it were only for a short time.

Although Mel was a stranger, she had earned my respect, plus a degree of my trust, beginning by taking a chance and allowing me into her vehicle – even though I had so obviously unsettled her. Since she could make no real demands on either my time or my emotions and since she was likely the best I'd be able to come up with on such short notice, I somehow had to convince her to allow me to stay.

I hadn't realized how very hungry I was until the food Mel prepared was in front of me and the scent of it filled my nostrils. As energy beings, Cirronians don't have to physically ingest food at all. We can absorb all our nutritional requirements directly from the heat and light of a red star. But we evolved from an omnivorous species that did physically ingest its foods and we still retain the ability to do so, even hundreds of millions of years later, although the purists among us never eat at all. Without the ability to eat, however, we would've never been able to become space explorers and, as a Tracker, I would've been restricted to remaining on the inner planets of those systems with red stars.

I cautiously sniffed at the food items, my body's responses confirming that it was all quite edible, so I promptly dug in.

"Jess, you're staring," said Mel uneasily.

"Just never seen anyone ... eat with such ... commitment before," the smaller female commented as I bit a chunk out of a vegetable I was told was corn. It was tough, but quite tasty. "You've got a very aggressive eating style." she told me. "It's sexy."

"Sexy!" I dutifully repeated.

"Jess ..." said Mel, indicating the patrons at the bar with her eyes.

"But if you need me for anything," Jess told me as she rose, leaning over to briefly flip back a lock of my head fur. "Let me know. I'll be right out there." She bared her teeth and winked an eye at me. I still found her to be annoying, and the way she looked at me made me uncomfortable, but she was obviously a part of Mel's circle and I knew my place.

"I inherited Jess when I inherited the bar from my grandmother," Mel explained apologetically. "Kind of a package deal. Along with a pile of bills, a lack of customers ... It's a very long story. But she's a very good kid. She just tries too hard sometimes. So don't be offended. Okay?"

"Air conditioning," I complained, becoming very chilled by the coolness permeating the air.

"I know ..." Mel said, acknowledging the chill. "You must not like air conditioning, do you?"

"No," I agreed.

"Right," she said, turning to walk away.

"Must find Rhee," I told her, reaching out to hold her back.

"Rhee?"

"Rhee ..." I said, indicating the images of a police crime scene of a murder being shown on the box mounted high on the wall, haltingly trying to find the proper words, "... Takes life."

"This Rhee ... kills people?" Mel asked, looking up at the screen and suddenly both alarmed and horrified. The murder victim, someone named Joel', shown being loaded into an ambulance had his skull beaten to splinters and I strongly suspected that Rhee was behind it.

"Don't take life," I assured her, indicating myself. It wasn't really a lie. Daggon may have killed before, but Cole was a new lifeform and certainly hadn't. Yet.

"Good." She nervously said. "Good." She eyed the screen a moment longer. "Would you like some coffee to wash that down with?"

"Cof-feee?" I asked, having no idea at all what she could be talking about.

"Yeah, coffee. How do you take it?"

I looked at her blankly, not understanding the subject or the question.

Mel pressed the back of her hand against the side of my neck and frowned. "Okay. Black it is." She studied me with a worried expression, then left my side to return a few moments later with a large and heavy handled glass and a carafe of a dark, hot liquid emanating an enchanting aroma.

"Try this," she suggested, pouring some of the liquid into the handled glass for me. "If it isn't to your liking we can always add cream or sugar. Or both."

I was delightfully surprised. The wonderful heat and aroma of this drink didn't even do justice to its superb taste. Mel kept refilling the glass for me as I finished the meal she'd provided.

"More cof-feee?" I hopefully asked.

"I think six cups of coffee is more than enough to subject any pair of kidneys to," she said with bemusement, reaching out her hand to grasp my wrist. "Could you come with me, please?" Although surprised at being taken hold of, for some reason I didn't mind her doing so. I found myself trusting this female even more than I'd initially thought and obediently followed her lead.

"Jess?" she called out. "Would you tend the shop for awhile? I'll be back down shortly."

"Don't rush things on my account," Jess chirped, giving us an exceptionally wide display of teeth. "Have fun, you two!"

Mumbling something about one track minds' under her breath, Mel led me through a door and up a flight of stairs to what appeared to be her private dwelling area. At least, hers was the only real scent in evidence. Bringing me into a tiled room, I balked when she produced a small, wand-like instrument from a wall-mounted cabinet and began approaching me with it.

"Don't worry," she said gently, picking up on my sudden nervousness at the sight of the unfamiliar thing. "This is one of those newer types of non-invasive thermometers. It will tell us your temperature with only a touch. And it doesn't hurt at all. I promise." I nodded my understanding and forced myself to hold still as she pressed it against one of my ears. True to her word, the brief procedure was only a touch and didn't hurt at all.

"106.7!?!" She seemed badly shaken, nearly choking as she announced the number. "Um, Cole, look ... I have to say you're definitely cooler than you were before – and that's good. That's really good. But this is still much too high. Something must be very wrong. Surely you must realize that? We should be getting you to a doctor or a hospital. Okay?"

"No doctor. No hospital," I firmly repeated, as I had earlier.

"I don't think you understand," Mel insisted. "You could fry your brain or even just drop dead without warning with a fever like this. It's way too high, dangerously high, nowhere near normal levels."

"I lower it more," I said, finally beginning to understand the nature and scope of her concern.

"You can ... willfully lower your own temperature?" she doubtfully asked.

"Yes, Mel," I confirmed. In actuality, I'd already lowered it a great deal and had been very gradually lowering even more ever since I'd first taken human form.

Her expression made it clear that she didn't believe me as she searched through the wall-mounted cabinet, producing a small bottle of pills. "Well, at least let me give you some aspirin to ..."

"No!" I said, mistrusting any and all human medications, not knowing how my Cirronian physiology might react to them.

But as I said, all females are innately stubborn. "I still think I should take you to the hos- ..."

"No doctor. No hospital," I reiterated. On this I had to hold my ground. Under no circumstances could I possibly allow such a thing.

"Look, you're an adult and we both know I can't force you to ..." She shook her head in frustration. "I'll tell you what ... Cole ... If you can lower your fever by at least another four degrees within the next hour or so, I won't bother you about it anymore. If you can't, then we'll get you medical help. Do we have a deal here?"

"Yes, Mel," I agreed. I really didn't want to lower it that much so quickly, but anything to deflect her from her single-minded course of action!

"It's got to be at least four degrees lower," she specified as she rinsed a square of fabric in water. "Not just three-and-a-half. A full four degrees. At very least. Do we clearly understand each other?"

"Yes, Mel. I lower it four degrees or more."

"Or?" she pressed.

"Or I get medical help," I grudgingly acknowledged.

She wrung excess water out of the fabric. "Good! Now come with me."

I followed Mel's lead down the hall and into a larger room.

"Lay down on the sofa there," she instructed.

Still uncertain and becoming a little uneasy about what she might want of me, I nonetheless saw no reason to disobey her wishes.

"You know, I've always been a sucker for hard-luck cases, and you're just about the hardest hard-luck case I've ever met," she said as she sat down beside me, patting the cool damp cloth against my neck and face. "What were you doing on Highway 88, anyway? No car. No clothes. What happened to you? Where did you come from? It's almost like you just fell out of the sky from out of nowhere."

"Not from nowhere," I said, not knowing what else to say. I could've done without the cool dampness she was subjecting me to, but her caring and concern were so deep and so genuine I found it almost overwhelming.

"Didn't think so." She folded the dampened fabric and placed it across my forehead. "We're all from somewhere and, when you're ready, I'm sure you'll tell me all about it." The corners of her mouth curved gently upward. "I want you to stay here and rest, Cole. Just close your eyes and try to get some sleep. I'll check in on you in about an hour and we'll see how this fever of yours is doing. Okay?"

She gave my shoulder an encouraging pat and went back downstairs, leaving me alone.

Although eager to investigate Mel's dwelling to see if it would provide me with what I needed, I was very mindful of our agreement. I carefully readjusted my metabolism to bring my body temperature down as low as I dared and hoped that would be enough to satisfy her demands. That accomplished, I removed the by then intolerably irritating garments she'd had me wear and then, keeping an ear cocked for the sound of her return, I set about exploring the few rooms and the items they contained.

It didn't take me very long. There were several appliances with applicable components and, even better, a back room containing both a portable and a tabletop computer. They were extremely simplistic by Migarian standards, but quite functional.

Between having access to these computers and the bar downstairs, I couldn't ask for a better set-up on such a primitive world. I had no doubt I'd be able to reconfigure the human technology to Track Rhee down in short order. I'd be able to hack into orbiting satellites for coverage of the area – even the entire planet if it proved necessary – and I'd be able to use things like electrical grids and telephone lines as my sensors, the energy conduits necessary for me to Track particular readings. Such would give me the equivalent of having eyes and ears most everywhere until I had a lock on Rhee's location.

Once I'd Tracked Rhee down and killed him, I'd take a few bottles of the bar's liquor to a sunny spot along the Lake, drink myself into a mindless stupor, morph back into my natural form, and simply allow a 76% nitrogen atmosphere under the spectrum of a yellow star to work its lethal magic.

Soon, both my penance and my pain would be at an end.

Buoyed by my findings and realizing that I was hungry again, I headed back downstairs.

"For the record," Mel was saying to Jess, "I don't make a habit out of feeding guys off the street."

"Maybe not normal guys ..." Jess retorted.

"He's not that ... abnormal," Mel protested.

"More corn," I asked, approaching them.

Mel turned and gasped at me. "What are you doing!"

Very agitated, she hurried over and handed me a garment from off of a wall hook. "Put this on!" she demanded. When I didn't comply she grabbed it from my hands and draped it over my shoulders. "Button it!" she insisted, but I had no idea what that meant. "Follow me!" she then ordered with a groan, leading me back upstairs.

"You can't keep doing that ... walking around that way!" she scolded.

"What way?"

"Without clothes!"

"Feels strange," I told her in all honesty, dropping the garment she'd draped on me. The weight of skin and bone were bad enough. I was finding clothes to be an all but intolerable added burden.

"Look!" she said going over to what I already knew was a closet. "I'm sure my ex meaningless boyfriend probably left some of his clothes here. I want you to put them on," she told me, holding out more items of human clothing, "And then ... I'm sorry, but you're going to have to leave."

"Leave?" I questioned, startled at her decision.

"You need more help than I can give you," Mel explained. "I'll just make the call I talked about earlier. Okay? We'll find a place for you to spend the night."

I purposefully reached out and covered her hands with my own, calibrating my being to hers. What I was doing was partially hypnotizing her, deliberately tuning in on the odd connection which existed between our two lifeforces and manipulating her emotions and responses. "Trust yourself this time," I told her in the Cirronian way, transmitting my energy to her and speaking with my eyes. "I want you to trust your own judgement. Trust what your instincts are telling you."

"One night. One night ..." she said, nervous, confused and unsure of both herself and what had just happened to her. "That's it ... One night." She edged over toward another door, the door to the back room. "It's a spare room," she told me with an edgy smile, opening the door and inviting me in. "Make yourself at home."

I made a show of appreciation, looking around as though I'd never seen the space before.

"That's a day bed," Mel pointed out "It used to be my bed and I can guarantee you'll find it quite comfortable. Just let me get the linens to set you up."

In retrospect, I should have been horrified by my behavior with Mel – and especially by what I'd just done, selfishly bending this unsuspecting female to my will like that and using her to achieve my own ends. But I wasn't. I'd reached the point where I no longer cared about such things.

Not then, at least.

"Here we go. Sheets, blankets and a fluffy pillow. All one needs for a good night's sleep. Okay?"

"Not sleep," I said.

"You suffer from insomnia? Or is it just a matter of too much coffee?"

I shrugged. "Have no need sleep."

"Uh huh. Well, I'll just leave the linens here and you can make your own bed when ... Oh, come here!" she laughed. "You're putting that shirt on backwards."

"Backwards?" I asked, not even realizing there was a frontwards.

"Yes, backwards." Mel took the shirt from me, turned it around and pulled it over my head. "The tag is worn in the back. Honestly! Didn't your mother ever teach you how to dress yourself?"

"No dress in anything," I told her.

"What, you're from a family of dedicated nudists?" she asked, straightening out the shoulders.

"What is nudists?'"

Mel's lips curved in a bemused smile. "You know, you really are a strange one. It's like you're from another planet or ..." I felt her hands moving from my shoulders up along my neck to my face and somehow didn't mind at all. "Oh, wow! This is amazing! You really did get that fever down, didn't you!?"

"We made deal," I reminded her, only vaguely aware that I was beginning to lean into her touch.

"Yeah, you're right." She smoothed the fur back out of my eyes. "I guess we did. But you're still very warm, you know."

"I'm not ill, Mel," I assured her. "My temperature ... higher than human normal."

"Funny. So's mine. I'm normally almost a hundred."

"I'm more than that."

"So I see. Then you're ... really alright?"

"Yes, Mel. I'm fine. I really am." And at that moment, just for a moment, I felt more alive than I had in any recent memory. I'd forgotten what it was like, forgotten such a thing was even possible.

Her hands dropped away and I suddenly found that I had to rein in the urge to reach for her, to hold her in my arms, to stroke her throat, to ... I'm not even sure I knew what!

"You could've said something," she gently scolded, apparently not noticing how shaken I was. "I mean, you do realize that you gave me quite a scare? I was starting to think along the lines of spontaneous human combustion."

"Mel!" Jess' voice called up from the bottom of the stairwell. "Last call winding up. And George stopped by a few minutes ago to drop off a pair of shoes for your friend."

"Be right there, Jess!" Mel called back. "George is the head super of the apartment building two blocks down," she explained as I followed her back downstairs. "Like you, he's a big guy with big feet. I'm hoping the two of you might wear the same shoe size. Anyway, I left a message on his machine asking him if he could spare a pair. Looks like he came through."

The last of the bar's patrons were finishing their drinks and taking their leave as Mel and I examined the contents of a plastic bag: a pair of heavy size twelve foot coverings and several tubes of fabric, what she referred to as socks'. Humans are truly fanatics about covering themselves.

"You'd better wash your feet before you put those on," Mel advised as I examined the socks.

"George said he was running late, but he wanted to drop that off," Jess was saying as she bade the departing patrons good night, gathered up all the used glasses and empty bottles on a tray and wiped off the tables. "He had Helen and the kids double-parked in the car. I think they're headed down to Crawfordsville to visit with her folks."

"I believe so," Mel agreed as she went behind the bar to wash glasses. "Helen's always been a country girl at heart. She's been looking forward to spending a week back on the old family farmstead."

I was soon helping Mel and Jess tidy up the place after the day's business and stack up the tables and chairs in preparation for the morning's scheduled floor waxing. Jess left for home shortly thereafter and Mel locked up for the night.

"Well, that's that. And thanks for your help with moving the furniture, Cole." She headed for the bar's kitchen. "Hungry for a late night snack?"

"More corn?" I hopefully asked as I followed her.

"Oh, I think we can do a lot better than corn," she answered with a sly smile, holding up a silvery plate. "How does apple-blueberry crumb pie topped with a scoop of Haagen Dazs vanilla fudge ice cream sound? There's just enough left for the two of us to pig out on." She took a knife and cut the piece of pie into two slices, transferring each to a separate plate.

"Ice is cold," I said dubiously. While the scent of the pie was intriguing, no sane Cirronian would ever dream of deliberately putting anything cold into their body. The very idea was horrifying.

"Yeah. So's ice cream," she agreed, opening the freezer and removing a carton. "But it's so very yummy dee-lish! And we mustn't forget that it's one of the all-important major food groups, too. Along with chocolate and coffee, of course."

"I like coffee," I said wistfully, realizing that the coffee carafes were empty.

Mel noticed the direction of my gaze and chuckled as she scooped ice cream on top of the pie slices. "You want coffee? At this hour? I'd be walking the ceilings into the wee hours! And your kidneys are probably still floating from that last assault. ... Go on, now. Have a seat," she urged, indicating the small table in the corner of the kitchen. "Ta-daaa! Here we go! Two sinfully wonderful servings of pie a la moldy." With a flourish she placed a plate in front of me with a tined eating implement and sat down opposite with her own. "Gee, at least a flicker of a smile would be appreciated here, Cole. That was supposed to be mildly amusing."

A guest, of course, must always be polite, but I saw nothing at all amusing about ice food. Nevertheless I thanked her and smiled, but Mel was so happily involved with digging into her portion by then that I don't think she even noticed.

Although I'd been too hungry before to even consider such things, I studied the way Mel was using the tined eating implement and copied how she was holding it, thinking that eating implements are another of those things that never really change. Discounting all those species that simply dine directly with their hands and snouts, a knife or blade of some kind is almost always in evidence for cutting, and a scoop is available for handling liquids and semi-solids. Tines or pincers of some sort are usually used with food items as well, although a sharp-tipped blade often does double-duty for that function.

I carefully ate around the ice food, finding I was enjoying the rest. The cold I simply didn't need. I was still trying to acclimate to the low temperature I was at and didn't want to risk upsetting the fragile balance I was seeking to maintain with this newly morphed form.

Mel finally noticed my eating pattern and raised a brow at me. "You don't like ice cream?"

"Is too cold," I answered.

"Interesting," she mused, becoming distant. "My father wouldn't eat or drink anything cold, either. Said it adversely affected his metabolism'. Or something like that. It's hard to remember exactly. I was very young, not even in kindergarten when my parents ..." She broke off suddenly, trembling and shaken.

"Mel?" Alarmed, I surprised myself by reaching over to touch her wrist. Cirronians rarely engage in any physical contact. We are only able to clearly sense touch on our throats and upper chest area and what touching there is between us is done strictly between mated pairs, family members and very close friends. Yet touching seemed the right thing to do in this human form, a sensation it naturally yearned to both give and receive.

Her much smaller hand went atop mine. "I'm sorry. It's just ... After all these years it still gets to me sometimes."

"What does?"

"Never mind." She gave me a quick, forced smile. "It's ancient history, really, and it isn't any of your concern. But for a second there I ..." She stared at me so long and hard then it was almost as though she were trying to see beneath my skin, almost as though she could.

"Who are you?" She suddenly asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"I am ... Cole," I replied, feeling as though I were drowning in the depths of her big blue-green eyes and unable to look away. I can't say why but I knew that, on some level neither of us understood, some sort of connection had been recognized.

She broke our eye contact and shook her head in negation, gathering up the plates and eating implements. "Couldn't be. You may look just like that Cole model but ... It's too far beyond the bounds of coincidence that your name would actually be Cole." She put the dishes in the sink and turned to face me. "But we all have baggage. As my past is none of your business, yours is equally none of mine. If you want to use that name, I won't argue with you about it."

Mel turned off the lights and we went back upstairs where she bade me good night and retired to her private room, leaving me free to work without interruptions or questions. Yet I couldn't begin work right away. I sat for a long time at the computer terminal, simply lost in thought and memory.

I didn't know how or why, but everything seemed changed, less immediate and very different, my ravaged life somehow more distant, as if all the pain l'd endured since the slaughter of my family had somehow shifted focus from the present into the past, into history. Had it really been nine years? Even the crushing burden of hate and rage and guilt I'd been carrying, the numbing, near-suicidal grief I'd lived with for so long, seemed almost tolerable.

The time was fast approaching when I'd be catching up with Rhee. He wasn't clever enough to evade me for long. Was I really going to do as I'd planned? The choice would be entirely mine. Would I be able to stop myself? Should I? Did I want to?

It was all once so very clear to me, but now I no longer knew.

Troubled, I began extracting the Tracking tools I needed from the molecular energy of my body. I had just completed the lengthy process of reconstituting the cube containing my lifeforce storage unit and the Knowledge pyramid for my programs when I heard Mel calling out from the other side of the door.

"Hello? Everything all right?"

I didn't expect her to actually open the door, but she did and I quickly stopped what I was doing so as not to wholly blind her with the unaccustomed strength of light.

"What was that?" she asked, almost panicked. "That light ... What was that light?"

I remained silent, deciding that the less she knew the better. With any luck, I'd likely be dead within a dozen solar Earth hours anyway, either by Rhee's efforts or my own (I stubbornly continued to think), so why should it matter?.

Frightened and eyeing me warily, Mel backed out of the room and closed the door, again leaving me alone to continue with my work.

By late morning my preparations were nearly complete, my scanning array needing only additional amplification of the microwave frequencies. Remembering having sensed another unit box downstairs which emitted that range I went down to get it. I couldn't help but overhear Mel and Jess talking about me as I opened the door to the lower level. While I wasn't exactly surprised that they both thought of me as being "strange", "not normal" and "weird" by their standards, they also had a suspicion that I might be a murderer as well.

For some reason I couldn't then fathom, that bothered me.

They both went silent as they saw me, and I belatedly realized that I had again provoked Mel's displeasure by forgetting to put my clothes back on.

"I need to read thermal patterns," I tried to explain, taking the bar's microwave oven and making a hasty retreat with it back upstairs. I considered myself fortunate that Mel didn't see fit to pursue me.

Soon enough, I'd gained access to the City's police files where I checked out the recent homicides. According to my calculations, Rhee had so far killed three humans: his initial destruction of a soul when he'd taken over her human body, the luckless male he'd barbecued shortly thereafter, and the male named Joel whose skull he'd pulverized. If he followed true to form, one or two more would likely push him over the edge into a blood-lust frenzy wherein dozens might die in quick order until he was stopped by his own exhaustion.

Or by my intervention.

I was beginning to think that I just might have some extra time to think things through when I came to the last and most recent report of a murder scene currently under investigation. Details were indicative of Rhee's handiwork, but too sketchy for me to be positive, so I knew I would have to personally check it out. Obtaining the location from the police report and its area from a downloaded map, I hurried over there.

I'm glad I had the foresight to remain inconspicuous around the crime scene because the Enforcer who'd confronted me the previous night was present and appeared to be among those in charge. I stayed outside the barrier of yellow tape and worked my way around the periphery, garnering what information I could and being careful to remain out of sight.

As I'd suspected, this was definitely one of Rhee's kills, his Tracks quite clear and unmistakable. The corpse was badly mangled, the man's lower jaw missing altogether. As the victim had been a known pimp, from what I was overhearing these Earthly Enforcers weren't about to flag this crime as being one of high priority.

I was just about to take my leave when I spotted Mel on the scene, talking with the same Enforcer I'd been avoiding. To my surprise, they seemed to know each other quite well and be on very friendly terms. Such was none of my business, to be sure, yet I couldn't help but linger just a little longer, and in the brief space of time before I opened a window to hyperspeed and took my leave, Mel spotted me.

An hour later, in an agitated, confrontational mood, Mel came barging into the room she had assigned me. "Okay! That's it! I want answers and I want them now!" she demanded.

"Rhee was one ... who took life," I explained, wanting to distance myself from any thoughts she might have of me being a murderer visiting the scene of his crime.

"I am not talking about Rhee! I'm talking about you! Who are you? How did you get to that crime scene so fast? ... Why do you talk like you talk? What is with this light and the computer and ..." She stopped and looked around, momentarily brought up short by all the extensions I'd made to her computer system. "What the hell is all this?"

"Needed more power," I told her as I worked. "Rhee ... likes to kill. He makes hormone ... when excited. It can be measured."

Mel looked around, then began to get as gleefully excited as a child.

"I am getting it!" she exclaimed. "I am getting it now! This has all been a ruse. Some kind of deep cover thing. Am I right? You needed a base of operations, some place where nobody would suspect you – not to mention an identity where you wouldn't have to answer any questions! Of course! A chopper got you there and back! Of course! You're a government agent!"

"Yes, Mel," I told her, figuring that was close enough to the truth. She didn't need to know which government. And she wouldn't have believed me if I told her, anyway. I examined Rhee's hormonal detection map on the computer screen, evaluating the information, not liking the conclusions I was coming to.

"Rhee kill again. Soon," I told her, then, "I need your help, Mel." I hated to ask her, didn't want to involve her at all, in fact, but circumstances made it imperative. Rhee was at a good distance away and catching up with him using my own hyperspeed would render me too exhausted to take him on. While Rhee has never been a skilled fighter, he is still brutally strong and I'd need my speed and reflexes to best him.

"My help?" She blinked at me in astonishment. "Why? What for?"

"I don't have vehicle. And I don't know how to drive one." I beckoned Mel over to see the map on the computer screen. "Will you help me catch Rhee? He is here."

"You need my help in bringing down a murderer?"

"No, Mel. I can bring Rhee down. I just need you to take me to him."

She studied the computer screen a moment. "Well, I do know that area but I, um ..."

"Please, Mel. Help me. Rhee kill very soon again."

"I don't see why you can't just call in the police and ..."

"NO! Rhee is mine!"

Her eyes narrowed at that, studying me. "Oh! I get it. This is ... personal with you, isn't it?"

"Yes, Mel," I confirmed with some reluctance, rather surprised at how perceptive she was. "Is very personal."

"But I'm a civilian!" she protested. "How can you ask me to ..."

"I will protect you, Mel. On my oath, you will not come to any harm. I will not allow it." I'd said it to her as I would to any in the Migar Alliance or the Assembly of Worlds, it not dawning on me until after the words were out that she had no idea of the weight of a Cirronians word or of the binding significance of a Traaquore's oath.

"Um ... Look, Cole ..." Just when I thought Mel was going to refuse, she seemed to reconsider. She nibbled on her lower lip, then abruptly nodded. "Okay, I'm in. You need a chauffeur, you got one. Let's go." Following my verbal directions, Mel was soon driving us at high speeds over back roads just beyond the city limits.

"This Rhee is a dangerous character, isn't he?" Mel nervously questioned.

"He kill almost a hundred," I confirmed, unable to lie to her.

"Almost a hundred? He's a serial killer!?!"

"Yes, Mel. Rhee likes to kill. Is his greatest joy." I couldn't help but think that, if he'd been executed the first time I'd caught him, scores would still be alive.

"Yeah, well, if that's the case, man, you'd better be packing good!"

"Packing'? What is packing'?"

"Packing! You know! Carrying a gun!"

"No have gun," I said, slightly amused at the thought.

"What do you mean you don't have a gun? All agents have guns! How do you expect to ..."

"Rhee kill with hands and I will take him same way, Mel." She looked over at me with such wide-eyed astonishment that I felt the need to reassure her again. "You will be protected. I swear it."

"Protected? Are you for real? You're going to protect me without a weapon? Without a ..."

"Have weapon," I said grimly, thinking of my Collector. "But must get very close to use it."

"Close? How close? What kind of ..."

"Rhee moving fast," I informed her, checking the laptop screen. "I think he is now in vehicle."

"Okay! I may even get the chance to put that defensive driving course to good use. How much further?"

"Up ahead, Mel ... There! That him! Red vehicle."

"Got him! HANG ON!!!" Mel ordered, flooring the accelerator.

"Must go faster!" I demanded after a moment, seeing that our speed wasn't great enough.

"Dammit, Cole!" She shot back. "This is an old, tired engine! It can only do so much!"

"Faster!" I insisted.

"I'm going as fast as I can!"

"Faster!" I demanded again, this time enhancing our speed with the additional input of my energy into her vehicle's electrical system. Steadily, we began to gain ground until we were right behind Rhee.

"Cole! There are TWO people in that car!"

Mel was right. Through the rear window we could see someone at the wheel and, beside that someone, arms frantically flailing the air. A female's head briefly appeared as she attempted to climb over the back of the seat and was summarily pulled down.

"Omigod! He must've commandeered that car! Look what's going on! He's murdering that poor woman right now, isn't he?"

Rhee's hormone levels registering on the laptop couldn't refute Mel's observation. He was quickly reaching the apex of one of his killing frenzies and there was nothing I could do about it.

"Sit tight!" Mel hissed. "If I can get us next to that bastard I'll force his sorry ass off the road!" As annoyed as Mel had become with me since we'd met, I was very glad that nothing I'd done had inspired such an intense degree of cold, focused anger in her.

Rhee abruptly swerved to the left and Mel screamed a frightened negation as we suddenly found our way blocked by a much larger vehicle. She frantically twisted the control wheel to evade a collision, following in Rhee's wake.

"We've blown the engine!" Mel cried as we came to a stop, steam billowing out from beneath her vehicle's hood. The additional input of my energy had proven too much for its' primitive engine, but that wasn't our greatest problem. Both Mel and I realized at the same moment that Rhee was turning his commandeered vehicle around and accelerating with every intention of ramming us.

"COLE!!!" Mel screamed my new name in horror.

It was my fault that Mel was now in the line of danger and it was my responsibility to do something about it and do it quickly. I had given my oath and could not allow Rhee to harm her, even if it meant my own life was forfeit. I opened a window to hyperspeed and jumped from Mel's car, then leapt high into the air, spinning to gain momentum and have the necessary force to kick a moving vehicle many times my weight well off its course and away. My desperate maneuver worked, but it jolted me back into real time and slammed me to the ground with punishing force, leaving me badly weakened and gasping for breath.

"Mel ..." I choked out, waving her away while struggling to regain my equilibrium and my footing as she came rushing to my aid. "Go! ... Move!"

In the impressive warrior body of an Amazonian human female, Rhee was boldly closing in on her as she tried to phone for help. Was it my gestures, my tone of voice or my barely intelligible words? A warning sixth sense, perhaps? I don't know. But Mel suddenly realized the extreme mortal danger she was in and fled for safety, racing for the road and signaling down a passing car.

As Rhee curiously watched those proceedings I managed to pull myself up and grab him while his back was to me. We grappled a moment, but I had the upper hand and threw him down. He scrabbled to his feet as I closed on him and we warily circled each other, the evaluating dance of attack and retreat. The way he moved was overtly dangerous, his expression even more so.

"Here we are again, Tracker!" Quietly, darkly, he sneered, it quite apparent to him that I was both not at my top hunting form in this body and far slower and weaker than usual.

"You will go back, Rhee," as a dead sludge of a lifeforce, I silently vowed.

"But I'm having so much fun down here," he chortled.

"It ends here!" Such confidence he had, I thought, my own predator instincts relishing it and rising to the challenge. It would make killing him so very much more satisfying.

"I don't think so." As usual, there was no fear in him, only rage rife with the tortured deaths of nearly a hundred Migarians and at least five humans.

Instinctively I dropped into a defensive stance as he closed in on me like a shark coming in for the kill, but he was very strong and this time I was the one thrown and nearly bested.

"You will pay for your crimes," I assured him as we took each other's measure again.

"Having trouble talking?" Rhee glared at me defiantly, his stride predatory, his eyes alive and glittering with cold, feral hatred. "Of course. You didn't take a human lifeform. They teach you so much."

"Not teach to kill."

"No need. I had a lot of practice with your wife and daughter."

Raging anger and hatred surged up within me then, but I quashed it. Anger never provides an edge; it blunts it and could easily get me killed. I couldn't let him get to me. Not now, not with him using heavy objects as flying missiles with his telekinetic abilities and trying to batter me senseless with a heavy length of pipe. But performing such mental feats of telekinesis requires a great deal of concentration, leaving Vardians at their most vulnerable. As always, cold, controlled fury served me best, the cold determination to win that had always driven me to never, ever concede defeat. I dodged and blocked his worst and waited for my opening, taking quick advantage of it the moment it came.

"Your daughter went slowly," Rhee taunted after I'd finally dropped him flat on his back, beaten yet still unbowed. He'd always been brutal in life; he would be just as brutal facing death.

I hefted the heavy pipe he'd tried to skewer me with, having every intention of ramming the end of it through his smirking face, deflecting my aim at the last possible moment to drill it into the ground a mere inch from his head.

Suddenly having the sense to be fearful of me, Rhee began hastening to his feet but I swung the pipe and clobbered him with all I had. It was over. Finally over. And I was going to make damn certain that it stayed over.

"So will you," I swore, producing my Collector.

It is well within my power to make a Collection either quick, easy and gentle, or slow and very painful. It is also within my power to mutilate a lifeforce during the process, forever after assuring the individual will be a passive, mindless husk. A slow and very painful mutilation was precisely what I did. Rhee would live, but he would never have it in him to harm or kill another innocent being again.

So what stopped me from doing what I'd spent nine long years living to one day do? What stayed my hand from execution?

Both my word as a Cirronian and my oath as a Traaquore.

Over the course of my existence I've made many decisions, some of which I've naturally come to regret and feel guilty about. While I've learned to not dwell on most of the guilt, the pain of regret still has the power to haunt me. Had I gone ahead and killed him I'd not only have given the lie to my assurance to Mel that I don't take life, but I'd be giving her irrefutable proof that she should never again trust in the purity of her instincts. In a very real sense, killing Rhee would've also killed the most beautiful and essential part of Mel. I'd be destroying both an innocence and a female, going back on my oath to her that she wouldn't be harmed – and at that my honor finally drew the line I simply could not cross.

I looked up at Zin's wormhole reforming in the skies above the powerlines, just as he'd promised me it would. Yet it wasn't so much the wormhole itself that had fixated my attention, but the roaring swell of energies I could sense emanating from it: considerably more than a hundred lifeforces of all six Migarian species were coming through, not a one of them fully intact. That could only mean prisoners, still more escapees from Sar-Top. Suddenly I felt a shockingly familiar nearby presence and many loose threads began to weave themselves into an intelligible whole.

"I was really hoping you wouldn't feel the energy of the escapee's lifeforces," a voice smugly told me, undeniably Zin's voice but now filtered through the human vocal apparatus of an unfamiliar human body. "But you have what you came for. Now go. Better hurry. The wormhole's collapsing."

I realized then that Rhee had been used as the guinea pig to test Zin's new wormhole. And Zin, one of my oldest friends and a man I'd have entrusted with my life, had been the mastermind behind this prison break. So many of the things he'd told me in the past now made perfect sense. As difficult as this was for me to believe and accept, I knew I'd been used, knew I'd been betrayed. But Mel was somewhere very nearby, and I could feel that she was deeply afraid.

Both angry and confused I moved toward Zin, fully intending on taking him out if I had to, but I was brought up short when I saw Mel was being held a captive in his car. My heart sank at the terror I saw in her eyes and I couldn't bear the thought of Zin harming her in any way. I felt so useless. I should be doing something, but I didn't know what I could do. I stalled for time, trying to think as Mel kept beseechingly calling my name.

"Make this easy on her and leave," Zin threatened.

"How many have come?" I asked. I just had to know.

"Two hundred and eighteen of them," he boasted, smug and very pleased with himself.

"I trusted you, Zin."

"Well, you know what they say. Never trust a Vardian'. Sorry."

"You, a scientist."

"Yes and, unfortunately for my planet, a not particularly appreciated one. If you don't enter the wormhole now, I will kill her ... Now!"

Realizing that he meant it, realizing that both Mel and I were out of time, I made my move, knowing it was already too late. I was trying to either stop Zin directly or reach Mel's side to protect her but, before I could even take a step, Zin blasted me with a bolt of telekinetic energy and I was unceremoniously tossed and once again slammed to the ground, the breath knocked out of me. Helplessly I watched him clutch a hand over Mel's heart and tear out her lifeforce, then shove her out of his car into the roadside ditch before driving away.

I staggered over to her as fast as I could, overwhelmed by the sense of loss, cradling her all but lifeless body in my arms. Yet a faint spark still remained in her. I don't know why he'd done it, but Zin had chosen to spare us. He hadn't completely destroyed her, any more than he had destroyed me, although he could've easily done away with the both of us right then and there. I placed my hand over Mel's heart and repeatedly compressed her chest, sharing my life energies with her, refusing to let her die, giving her all I could to fully bring her back.

"I am sorry," I told her from the broken depths of my heart, caressing her throat the Cirronian way as she finally awakened and opened her eyes.

"You're crying," she said in wonderment, reaching up to smooth away the hot moisture spilling out of my eyes and down my face

"What is?"

"It's what happens when we care."

Although I was a stranger to her, Mel had been nothing but good to me. She was the last human on this world I wanted to cause any pain or harm to, and yet I had mindfully done the unforgivable: I had callously endangered a female for my own ends by deliberately seeking her out, by manipulating her, by asking for her assistance. I had disgraced both my mother's name and Nallia's House and was deserving of nothing less than banishment.

Moreover, I had given Mel my oath and throughout the eons a Traaquore's oath has always been both his bond and his honor. That meant that I would have to do anything it took to keep Mel safe from harm from anyone – including myself. I knew the most logical thing for me to do was to distance myself from her so she wouldn't be part of the violence and death that is so often a Tracker's life, so that she would never again be endangered.

But I realized that I couldn't.

For the pathetic soul of me, I just couldn't bring myself to walk away from her. I needed her comforting warmth, her caring, her passionate commitment to life. I needed her as I hadn't recognized needing anyone or anything in a long time.

"I need ... your help, Mel," I admitted to her yet again, now needing her honest help far more than I had before and in far more ways than I could face acknowledging, yet hating myself for being so selfish, for being so very weak. I fully expected her to deny me, to turn her back on me and order me away and out of her life.

"I know," was her gentle reply.

I hadn't believed a soul could ever take me completely by surprise anymore, but there it was. No judgement, no blame, no condemnation, no recrimination, no rejection, no regret. Only acceptance, understanding, caring, compassion and deeply shared sorrow. The wary distrust and suspicion in her eyes and manner had vanished. In spite of everything, this extraordinary human female actually found it in her heart to trust me, to believe in me, to see beyond what I'd become to what I'd once been and could be again. It was far too fragile, far too precious a gift for me to yet fully examine, easing the bitterness of my recent past with the sweet promise of redemption.

I mutely swallowed and gathered her up into the shelter of my arms to carry her home, my natural need to offer comfort and reassurance coming to the fore.

"They are here. I can feel them," I told her. "I have to find them."

Mel softly wept into the hollow of my throat, her slender arms wrapped around my shoulders, her body trembling almost imperceptibly against mine as I bore her the entire long walk home. If it had come to it, I would've gladly held her in my arms like that forever, without a single murmur of complaint.

But you want to know the real truth of it?

It was her strength that carried me.