"Just don't let them see your face..." He breathed. Not too sure if pirates and traders took interest in things out of their sectors. Sure the news of the Task-Force reached this far south of the border. The door that he was walking to was situated off center, between two enormous support beams, crawling up and arching over the ceiling. He then noticed the security camera conveniently hidden in the corner of a support. The rumors must be true - they are horrible at hiding things.

And funny - Resistance gone paranoid.

The doors automatically opened to him. What didn't welcome him so easily was the blunt expression from the Triceratop. He sat posed, obviously ex-triceracop in badge-missing uniform. No one else wore those dark blue jackets with those annoying bright buttons.

"Hello..." Khalon offered, none too eagerly.

The door ominously closed behind him. The burly triceratops breathed in, and said, "What business you have at Klaedon-15?"

Funny times two. That name hasn't been used for many, many years. "Klaedon? I thought you Resistance-types dropped the name for the sporty and code-name Moonbase."

The triceratops's brow ridges dropped slightly for a mere moment. "Regulations demand."

Regulations. And the old name - official names used when suspicion arose. "Well, let it be known that I'm just here for business."

The triceratops glanced downward. To what exactly was explained by the dull bright of a screen on his jacket. "Dinosaucer. Your uniform gives you away. But your gun is Tyrranos."

"Even the best lovers give mixed signals sometimes." Khalon bit his tounge. Dumb remark. But oh well - dry, stuffy, small room. Must get out sometime. No wonder these Resistance were paranoid; being cooped up in an ex-mining facility would make one go nuts. - But Khalon couldn't resist but looking back at his rifle. It was indeed Tyrranos, and he failed to catch that fact. "But I'm no Dinosaucer, or Tyrranos. Or lover. Just an alien looking for business."

The triceratops frowned. "Who?"

"Colakus."

That one name seemed to clear all doubt from the triceratops mind: he nodded, regained his sullen expression, and pressed a button; as if he announced the name like Odysseus did, catching attention of the men who betrothed his house, so did Khalon did. Except he sported a rusty rifle, and could barely call his pants pants. The door to the left of the glass enclosure clanged, and it opened when Khalon pushed on it. He closed it behind him. Before him was an enormous, high-ceiling room. Chamber, if it were for a king. But it wasn't for a king - ohhh no, a king would not want to even think of stepping here; the high ceilings were surmounted by different balconies, windows, doors, everything paneled in the dirty bare black metal - with scroungy, dirty looking types walking here and there, some actually congregating in small groups. At the sound of the door closing, and once the various types caught eye of him, time seemed to stand still for a moment. It even seemed like the mindless automated robots stared at him.

He breathed it, adjusted his rifle, and walked on. He could hear his boots dully clank against the solid metal floor. Keep your eyes ahead - just don't look. - But they did. A lot of look. Double-looks, and all. But most quickly tried to look like they went back to whatever they were doing. But Even two muscular-looking types, who were about to go fist fighting from pushing and insulting, had to halt their transactions and look. Though all the faces were different, and told different stories - from what Khalon could tell, these pirates, smugglers, and non-Resistance type - they all carried this expression intermingled with other emotion: suspicion. Only an ex-Dinosaucer internationally labeled for murder could carry so much interest in these types. A few he noticed clung secretly to their blade/guns.

Khalon tried easing himself; he breathed out, "Just like them. Dirty, grungy, fugitive, and smuggler." Except those who wanted them knew that they were still alive, and they weren't smuggling humans. Or, they knew that Khalon was now alive.

At least Khalon didn't think so. Hoped so. Confrontation is the last thing he needs at the moment. But people isn't something that can be avoided at the moment.

Whatever the rate - the door. Khalon continued his way, remembering where to go as the geometric shape of the room brought back memories. The small door lied recessed into the center wall of the central "node" - the node being in the center of the circular epicenter, one of five in this trading post. At least, now he thought that they traded. Who knows what goes on behind these walls anymore. The door was locked, and it took a few moments for the small slot to open, and two blood-red eyes to peer out.

"I'm here for -"

The slot slid shut quickly and the door opened just as fast. "Nice. I'm glad they know me." The raptor behind the door gestured for him and he followed. The door was shut by some other person in the room. Khalon couldn't tell because it was so dark. The only thing he could see were the lights on the bottom of the floor. They lead to an intersection, two leading off into darkness, the third going to some door. He was led to the door and ushered inside.

The room was a small meeting room of some sorts. The walls were paneled in wood, the center table floated, and the chairs were rather nice looking. All were empty except for the one at the end of the table, closest to Khalon. That tail end was missing - Khalon could recognize it from a million light-years away.

Khalon was about to speak when he was interrupted. "Khalon - its been a long time old friend."

"Colakus... Same here! I'm glad your still here - only sane one it looks like is still alive. And you will not believed what's happened to me."

Colakus swung around in the chair and sighed. "Yes - yes. So I've heard." He looked Khalon over, noting the bandages. And the weapons. "Please give the guards your weapons." He sounded burdened. " -For my peace of mind."

Khalon frowned but complied. The guards took the pistol and rifle and left the room. The door closed, and clicked. Locked. "Colakus - what's happened to this place? These types seem so different from back in the days. When things were actually OK to hear and deal with..."

Colakus gestured with a claw. It was gloved with red leather. It matched the wood in the room. "...And was just rumors, I know. A lot comes and goes through here and you end up hearing everything the four corners of the galaxy has to offer. Things are good though. Trading is up more than normal, and things run smoothly."

Khalon frowned. But smiled. "Ok Colakus - who is it this time? Is it that one you've been trying to hook up with for, ahh, how many years?"

Colakus offered a weak smile. "Oh, her. No - heh, I've been too busy with business here. Recently got a small shipment of those fancy new fusion equipment. Made exclusively by Tyrranos. Not sure how it got here since they've been extremely up tight recently... But the stuff was here and now its gone."

"Ah. Dang. Was hoping you had an extra. My craft needs a new engine, or something... Its leaking fuel or using it up like candy."

"So its an old ship?"

"No. Quite new. Thing is... is I got it from Earth."

Colakus blinked. "-Earth? What do you mean?"

"That stupid cramped trash container didn't end up towards the Hades sector like... whoever wanted."

"So you're suggesting that the Dinosaucers aren't behind it?"

"Oh yes, they are. Its just a problem of who is who it seems. And a problem of them not knowing I am alive - and well. Except five minutes ago, when everyone in the universe saw me outside there. Bah."

"Don't worry about them." A pause. "They see dead-men-walking all the time."

"But what they don't know is that I am really dead now." He slipped out the videodisk and tossed it on the table next to Colakus. "Take a look at that."

Colakus frowned, and picked it up. "Old. Vintage... You could get something for it. If the Dinosaucers did one thing right, they're videodiscs survive the eons."

"And I think its a good thing that one did. You need to look at it."

Colakus hesitated a moment - studying Khalon for a brief moment. "Alright... just this once, ya know." The videodisk was popped into the counsel on Colakus' chair. A screen slid down from the ceiling at the end of the room.

The video played; Colakus taking a look of surprise, shock, yet intrigue and interest. From Allo, to the Raptor, to the Secret Scouts, and Dimetro and all the video played. When it was over, he sat still for a moment.

Khalon had to look away. He growled softly, but forced composure quickly. "Not only does this complicate things, it screws me over. Not that I was dead before - I'm no better off dead over again."

Colakus looked up to Khalon with an expression demoting much thought. "No one has to see this." He slipped it out of the slot in the chair, and put it in his pocket. "No one has to know this; You are not a half breed. A lot of the things Reptilian pulls out of their butts are lies-"

"Yes, just like how I and my teammates, who are dead, aren't innocent; Allo disappeared peaceably; Dimetro is still alive and well and working for the Reptilians; ." Khalon paused for a moment. He drew up a chair and sat down, sighing softly. The plush chair felt very good after a flight on a hard seat. But matters were at hand that made the leather melt away like butter - seem like cold as steel -- like a knife. He placed both elbows on the table and cradled his face in his hands. "Reptilian, how I hate you... The War was worthless when it went to earth. The Reptilian government just made it look like we ended it so we would look good according to the public, so when conspiracy came the government would eventually look good. -Whoever is in the government, whoever is really behind it all. And I've got a name on that. Darien."

Colakus shifted in his seat. "Reptilian was never on of your vocabulary words."

"Except when I'm insulting. But apparently others can't understand that, because they're blinded by the government. I just wish-"

Colakus raised his hand. More on his mind by his expression than irritation. "Ok, Khalon. ...We've gone over this many times before. And lets get something straight. The Resistance is still strong, the War is over, and things can just move along."

Khalon looked up at Colakus, disbelieving. "Colakus." He reached inside his armor and pulled the implant out. Colakus didn't notice the bulge - he just dismissed it as a weapon or something. Khalon placed it on the table, and looked at Colakus. He didn't speak further.

Colakus, meanwhile, sat disbelieving too. But at the object that placed on the table. "-What? What does this mean? Where did you-"

Khalon spoke darkly. "An earthling had it."

"How did he get it-?"

"It was in him." He leaned forward, propped on one elbow. "Colakus, this is not good."

Colakus shifted again, except this time uneasily. His gloved hand went underneath the desk. Khalon just noticed that his other wasn't gloved. But he ignored it for the time being. "Khalon - I think that the crash-"

"No the crash didn't do anything to my head." Khalon gripped the implant and bent it. He pointed to the tip where the electrodes were. "Humans need less electrodes than Reptilians do. They need three, as our kind needs eight. Five - eight - can't just be accidentally missing three."

Colakus shook his head. "The drugs used for these implants were destroyed. Weren't they? Where were the drugs manufactured?"

"Colakus, the Apollyon plant never just made transport devices, fusion equipment. They still make experimental drugs - always have - and they were the ones who originally came up with these Apollyon-brand implants. You just got a shipment of some Tyrranos made equipment, right? And the Tyrranos were the ones to originally develop the first fusion prototype?"

"Well yes. I mean -" Colakus bit his lip. "-Oh no. The Tyrranos - they're always one step ahead of everyone with that fusion equipment."

"And you have strict, one-hundred percent confidentiality where your shipments come and go to, correct?"

"Yes. Well most of the time, but yes."

"And since you have this confidentiality, and since everyone in the Resistance and Dinosaucers are in the circle of gossip close enough to Apollyon, you know that the Tyrranos had to have a good wedge in there. The Resistance couldn't have enough power on their own to kick the Dinosaucers out of those facilities and that sector for good - they must have had help. And they had it so good, the Tyrranos must had to be in there all along to wretch them out of there. But for why - and I think I know why. The Resistance knows things that both the Dinosaucers, the Elders, the Reptilian government, and most of the Tyrranos don't know, and things most everyone doesn't know. The way the Reptilian government works, how screwed over the Reptilian planet is, and that the Tyrranos are behind these implants."

Colakus shook his head. "Khalon... no, I think that's wrong. That's absurd. I personally have tabs kept on that sector for many decades, and you know it."

"But why else would the Resistance go so out of their way for that little Apollyon sector tucked on the outer fringes of the charted galaxy? It isn't for some nice picnic on some sunny hill, that's what's for sure."

"Rest assure Khalon... The Tyrranos have let up lately. They've taken a liking to us Resistance-types. They wouldn't normally let some spare fusion-equipment wander our way."

"-Because you Resistance types like to fight the Dinosauceres. The Resistance hates the Dinosaucers, but not for the same reasons as Tyrranos - but they let you do your thing to their advantage. You as sure as heck know as much as I do what this drug does, and how it tricks the body into thinking that this implant-" Khalon tapped the implant on the table. "-is a missing organ or gene. You been tracking liquid drug shipments coming from there, yes?"

"Its regulation. But no Khalon, I don't think that the Reptilian government really used this particular Apollyon-implant and this drug associated with this particular implant. For cripes sake Khalon, the Reptilian government used the Apollyon chips. This implant is just... coincidence. The crash must have messed with your mind."

Khalon slammed his fist down on the table. It startled Colakus. "Colakus!" Khalon caught himself up short He was yelling; and thus he toned it down. "Colakus - it can't be. I have two humans on my ship, and one of them has the same scars in the same place as I do, as anyone does who has these implants. Such as everyone who is a Reptilian government or civilian member, or a Dinosaucer."

"Well - must be coincidence." Colakus shifted uneasily in chair. "Khalon, things are alright, and there isn't anything up."

Khalon was unmoved. "Colakus, out of all the people in the galaxy, you should know these things. Your not the overseer of this facility for no reason. You know what's happening in all realms since all realms come back to here. -And what's with the Moonbase using its old name? Klaedon-15? That's the name assigned to it by the Tyrranos back in the day before they gave up mining here. The last time that name was used was at the Council of Species -" And Khalon remembered. "-The Sabertooths - they left after the genetic testing and implant rumors were going on. Remember? After they warned everyone else about it and the Tyrranos? They knew about this all along! The Tyrranos are behind it! - And what's with this Darien? Allo said something about him. Allo couldn't have gone through heaven and hell just to say an simple name."

"Yes, Khalon... Arg!" Colakus shook his head. "It's complicated. Its too complicated. Just-"

Khalon had Colakus cornered. Khalon knew Colakus knew everything there was about the politics and behind-the-scenes of everything - including the undeniable fact that the Sabertooths did indeed warn everyone about the Tyrranos. "Colakus. This isn't like you to play dumb. I know your not stupid."

Colakus bit his lower lip. Through the course of Khalon's reasoning, he had begin to look downwards, fidgeting with that singular glove. He drew in his breath, and said: "The Tyrranos have their hands on everything. Even this Moonbase. A week before you were ejected from Reptilian they took over operations. They have control over everything - and everyone. Even me. Khalon, I know all these things - the Apollyon, the chips But the thing is is I can't do anything!"

Khalon blinked. "So they could be watching us."

"Khalon, you better leave. Now."

"-No! The Resistance-"

"The Restistance is split! No Resistance is here anymore. They're stuck back into Reptilian territory. They indeed know that the Tyrranos has a wedge in everything , and the inevitable came and they had to leave if they wanted to survive. The Tyrranos own the Reptilian government. They own everything. The very lives of the Reptilian planet and Dinosaucer are in their hands."

"The implants?"

"The drug and implants are in use. Everyone has them! -And you better leave now, because I'm dead for telling you this! Go, Khalon!"

Khalon shook his head. "No, you're coming."

Colakus sighed. He slumped in the chair. Resigned. "No use running. Even if I didn't have an implant... They'll know how to get me because of this." He slipped the glove off. Tyrranos-manufactured cybernetic forearm and hand. The sleeve of his jacket covered his arm. The symbol wasn't Tyrranos, though. It was a "D" with two bloodied blades running through it. Darien?

"Colakus, what is that?"

"The price to pay for bargaining with the devil. It was either lose my life or surrender control. The cancer was moving quickly from the bones. The Tyrranos had the resources to fix me."

"What does that 'D' stand for?"

"Darien."

Khalon blinked. "What?"

"Khalon - Go! They're probably coming for you now!"

Sounds were heard outside the door. Shouting, and that unmistakable whine of Tyrranos weapons. Prophecy. Khalon growled, "Who is Darien?"

"He's behind everything! He controls everything! Dinosaucers, Reptilian, Tyrranos. The Resistance are useless so he never bothered with them. But get away Khalon - go far away and never come back!"

The door clanged loudly. The motors whirred, but it didn't open. The angry red light indicated it was locked. Great, but just a temporary thing. Just like his current consciousness, and how he is alive at the moment. Dead possibly in a second or two. Colakus remained where he was. He dropped the glove on the floor and placed his forehead in his hands. "We're all dead. No one is going to survive Darien's plans."

Khalon felt for his pistol. But it wasn't there. "What are his plans?"

The door clanged loudly again. The metal bent outward in the shape of a square. "The other door. The closet." A door did indeed rest in the wood paneling. Khalon had thought it was just a panel. The handle explained which panel it was. "There's a door in there. It leads to my escape pod... Should still work."

"But - Ethan, Simon - the humans I have on my ship!"

"They're gone. The Tyrranos have them." He cringed. "The implant I have catches radio signals - Khalon, I feel like it controls me sometimes! Like I'm watching myself do things that I'm not doing."

The noise outside suddenly stopped. Khalon suspiciously glared over in that direction, and looked back to Colakus. "What are Darien's plans?"

"It's like I can't control my own mind anymore!" Colakus looked up to Khalon. A strange glint formed in his eyes. "You know what I mean right? Like something is inside you - wanting to get free."

Khalon set his jaw and grabbed Colakus' arm. "Then you're coming with me-"

Colakus twisted his arm around. Now Khalon's arm was in his grasp. He quickly twisted Khalon's around so that it was now halfway up his own back. Colakus spoke through clenched teeth. "Your pod... I made sure that it landed by where Ethan lived. I knew he lived there... Darien knew. ...My coordinates and calculations were right... Nrrg!"

Khalon jumped upward and twisted around. His arm was wrested from Colakus' grip, and he landed crouched, one hand on the ground. He was frightened by his friend's disposition. "Colakus! Snap out of it! I know you can!"

Colakus lunged forward with claws bared. Khalon was about to roll but was caught up short. "Colakus! Listen to me! Agg!" For someone as old as Colakus, Khalon was surprised he moved that fast. He already had followed his movements carefully. His claws swiped across Khalon's shoulder as Khalon went to duck and roll. The force of the blow knocked the muscular Khalon over. Armor straps broken, his chest plate and left shoulder pad flew apart. Khalon righted himself and scampered to his feet. "Colakus-"

Colakus' mouth hung open hungrily. Veins bulged from his forehead. "Run!" His cybernetic arm suddenly changed shape; the hand swung upward and the barrel of a gun appeared. It charged and fired. Khalon was on the ready, luckily, and escaped with just a burn across his back from the charged-particle blast. During the split second of firing Khalon couldn't pinpoint the unfamiliar noise of the gun. New technology? But other things plagued his mind. His boot knife. While crouching down for a land, he withdrew the razor-sharp knife and shook his head. "Colakus I don't wanna do this! Fight it!"

Colakus didn't respond. Whatever possessed him took control over his body. As if some demon was unleashed, he jumped forward again with the cybernetic weapon charged.

Khalon was ready for Colakus. Something clicked in Khalon - as if his worse half took over; instinct perhaps. He ducked neatly, avoiding both the hurtling Colakus and the next particle blast - many years of discipline and training coming forth - and sliced hard but swiftly across the inside of Colakus' upper arm, the arm with the cannon. The arm instantly went limp and blood began to flow freely from the cut. Khalon bit his lower lip and set his jaw when reality hit him. He had cut the nerves and the important vessel. Colakus was going to bleed to death. Quickly.

The body of Colakus seemed to not mind. The jacket's sleeve began to become soaked in blood; the stain traveled rather quickly down the arm. Colakus rushed up to Khalon again. Khalon close lined Colakus, who was knocked flat on his back. He didn't get up. He was coughing. His coughing became rather weak quickly as more blood flowed out of the cut in the sleeve of the jacket. The metal cybernetic arm clanged on the floor. "Colakus!"

Colakus' eyes faded to a light hazel color. The color was draining from his face rapidly. "Khalon... I'm sorry... I couldn't control it. Agh! Khalon... run for your life."

Time seemed to stand still for a brief moment. A thousand memories flashed across Khalon's mind of Colakus; back at the Academy, they had spoken together often. Khalon had been to the Moonbase many times before, each time being received in cordially like a celebrity. Colakus had always boasted about Khalon's accomplishments and the fact that he was the Dinosorcer and -ess' nephew. Colakus got what Khalon needed, too, such as that rare, precious blood-red ruby set in that ring for that one girl - who is now as dead as Colakus now. Just like everyone. No wonder Khalon's Uncle and Aunt were so withdrawing, and the Resistance hates everyone, and the Sabertooths left westward into the uncharted galaxy. But why would he still be wanted? And why exactly did the government raise people's hopes in him and the Task-Force just to rid the Dinosaucers of him and the others? To boost the people's confidence in the government.

Colakus coughed. His eyelids began to droop. "Khalon... Khalon... They're coming. Run."

Khalon knelt down by his fallen friend. "No, you are coming." But Khalon knew Colakus had taken a turn for the worse. He knelt apprehensive, though, expecting the next move - but the move would never come.

And he was dead. The noises outside of the door eerily resumed once Colakus showed no signs of life. Khalon looked down to the pool of blood, catching a glimpse of his face - he hadn't noticed the cut running across his cheek. The last "mark" on his life his friend had made. Khalon wasn't the sentimental type - though this was one of his closest friends from the Academy days, other issues persisted. The closet door. Khalon felt the sting of his conscience for his friend, for not getting in a last word or two before he died; but that was impossible, since Khalon had cut a main artery. Khalon himself had killed his friend.

The door opened without much effort. It was empty. The door on the end of the small closet was a different issue though. Khalon pushed with all his weight, rattling the handle, but tt did not give at all. He attempted a nicely placed snap-kick, but that proved useless as well.

Bang!

Khalon paused for a moment. At first he thought the sound was the door he kicked, but it happened to reverberate from the meeting hall. The sound of flimsy, twisted steel on solid floor clanged and foot patter spread. Shouting. Khalon tried the door handle again but it didn't budge.

Shouting. In Tyrranos-infested Reptilian tongue. Khalon turned around but was met with a fist to the face. He went out cold.

The door then swung inward.

Khalon awoke to the sound of steel against steel scraping and clawing. He tried opening his eyes but was met with a pounding headache. A glimpse of a grey dim-lighted room, with one window in one solid-looking riveted door shown through his mental confusion. He forced his eyes open and took a look around - he was on his back, devoid of his armor, boots, and belts, and had several new bruises on his body.

He propped himself up on one arm and rubbed his head. "I need a hard drink."

The room seemed familiar to him for some reason. Not that the cold grey paneling did him in, or the two thin, tall windows on the end shown any resemblance.

And it clicked. "Make that... Two hard drinks." It so happened that he was in the same prison craft that he helped oversee build. He was now a prisoner of his own demise. After many months of careful guessing, reasoning, and planning, he had formulated every possible instance where a prisoner could escape this new design of prison, and it seems that it had worked well. The Dinosaucers were thoughtful to put him in charge of the same craft he would end up in. He looked over his shoulder at the door again. That door was very solid, and this part of the prison ship had the tightest security. Even if he could get through it he would be met by a solid spray of 50 caliber bullets.

"Dinosaucers. Tcha!"

And so he resigned himself to gazing sullenly out the windows. In the distance was the Moonbase. It was no bigger than the end of his thumb. If only perspective was wrong, he could crush that insubordinate thing to dust. That Tyrranos thing.

Just then the door clanged and opened. Two guards with that now familiar "D" insignia shoveled in a small-framed person. Officer is a Troodon

END of Finished Portion