This is a fan translation of The Last of the Immortals (Последний из Бессмертных) by Andrei Livadny. The novel is a part of the Expansion: The History of the Galaxy (Эспансия: История Галактики) series. Several of the novels of the series are available in official English editions on Amazon.

I claim no rights to the contents herein.


Chapter 3

Several Hours Earlier

The city streets were deserted in the predawn hour.

The time of the servos. Machines that maintained the utilities, carried away the trash, and cleaned the streets.

As always, the call came unexpectedly. There hadn't been any emergencies in a long time, so the operatives of all the satts were called in.

Flora had just gotten home when the emergency channel of her mobile communicator activated.

"Yes?" She glanced at the clock. It was 6:05. All the normal people had already gone home. Who hadn't gotten enough adventure during the night? Guessing was pointless, it was the automatic notification system on the line. She was being summoned. Very informative. She turned off the communicator, placed it in her bag, wondered whether she ought to change, then shrugged and decided not to bother. Nothing serious was going to happen anyway. It was a calm night. Far too cold for anyone to want any serious trouble. It was fun to play with death when erytharms were in bloom, not so much when you were shivering under the gusts of the northern wind.

After stepping outside, she shivered, regretting belatedly that she hadn't changed from her evening dress into something more practical.

A metal cherry colored Schork was still standing at the gate, as the droid servants hadn't yet had time to put it in the garage. Walking along the gravel path along the roses that were already fading and therefore sad, losing their petals, Flora got into the car.

She didn't want to drive anywhere, but she had to.

The engine rustled quietly, the old-fashioned forged gate slowly opened, she backed out sharply onto the seemingly empty street, causing the laser rangefinder system to screech, glanced at the servo that had managed to get out of her way, turned the Schork around, and merged into the smooth curve of the street, picking up speed.

Driving in the morning hours was nerve-wracking. The streets were full of machines that were busy licking the city clean. In accordance with the agreement with the Chosen Satt, the servos had three hours to clean the streets every morning, from six to nine.

Doing her best to avoid hitting the machines, Flora was driving as fast as she could.

She was the second person on the scene.

The Warrior Satt operative was already examining the elegant Rothmarch that had been driven onto the lawn and abandoned at the edge of the tier.

"Hey, Shodan," Kim Leslie gave her a wry smile. "So beautiful and gloomy… like a harbinger of the coming storm." He was never good at making jokes or giving compliments.

"Feeling a little suicidal," Flora agreed with a nod.

Indeed, she had entered the dangerous age, feeling weary of life more and more. Three hundred and two was no joke. Youthful passions were long gone, as was the period of maturity. Despite not aging physically, she, like every other inhabitant of Doom, was acutely aware of the moral burden of the years, when neither mind games nor social events gave life sufficient meaning.

"What happened? Bad night?" Leslie actually felt shy in front of Flora, each time trying to hide his lack of confidence in communication through deliberate loquaciousness.

"We can talk about it later." Shodan turned and looked at the rare car. "What do we have?"

Kim decided not to argue. Continuing to engage in small talk, especially when the other person was a Shadow, a child of nature, and, despite her youth, a well-known operative of her satt, was not an easy task for a Warrior who avoided city life. Thankless too.

"All right, let's get to the point. The Rothmarch belongs to the Chosen Satt. Specifically, to Wilm Oran."

Flora nodded, stepping over the curb. She knew Wilm Oran well enough. A rare example of a man with a purpose, one who'd found life's meaning in solving the secrets of lost technology and creating new things.

"Did he call?"

"No."

"Strange. Did you try calling him?"

"I just got here."

Shodan pulled out her communicator, quickly flipped through its memory, found the right number, and touched the call button.

Turning away, she listened for the long beeps, watching two more cars drive up to the scene. The operatives of the Chosen and Metamorph satts had arrived. As usual, the Emglan representative was late.

Since this was an official case, the Metamorph had put on a human appearance, but it was pointless to guess which of that satt's operatives was hiding under the unassuming guise. Shodan knew that the only way to identify a Metamorph was by analyzing their retina, which never changed with the rest of the body.

"Greetings to all. Why are we all here? Nive is late, as usual?" The Chosen operative, a tall ginger man, looked at Flora in undisguised admiration. She was used to such looks. Her outstanding beauty even for Doom plus her daring personality surrounded Shogan with an aura of inaccessibility, which only served to encourage men.

"Oran isn't answering." Flora informed everyone, nodding to the new arrivals in greeting. "Nick, do you know where he might be?"

"Home." The Chosen operative shrugged, much to Shodan's annoyance. "You know, he doesn't really report to me where he goes and what he plans to do," Nicholas found the strength to bite back, picking up Flora's disapproving glare. "Either sleeping at home or is busy in his workshop."

"Do you see his car?"

"Yeah, I noticed."

"You think he let someone borrow it?" There were notes of foreboding in Shodan's words. "And now he's not answering calls?"

"I don't know."

"I hate answers like that." Flora walked across the lawn towards the Rothmarch that had stopped only five meters from the cliff.

The others followed, except for the Metamorph, who paused to mentally contact the tardy Nive.

The Emglan replied immediately.

"I'm stuck in traffic. The servos are repaving the road."

"Contact Oran from the Chosen Satt. But be careful, he's not answering regular calls."

"What do you mean 'be careful'?"

"Don't play dumb, Nive. You know what I mean. Flora senses something. Do you remember how your predecessor died?"

"I remember," the Emglan replied grumpily. Metamorphs were always like that. Never said anything directly. Then again, Emglans were similar in many ways.

The communicator clicked, shutting off. Reiben (Flora recognized him by his speech patterns) walked over to the abandoned car. The Chosen and the Warrior were examining something, standing at the edge of the cliff. The Metamorph came closer and elongated his neck to avoid getting too close. It was at least a fifty-meter drop.

Meanwhile, Flora carefully opened the Rothmarch's driver-side door.

Her face immediately took on a tense, focused look, making it even more attractive with the magic of inaccessibility that had broken many hearts. Then again, Shodan knew how to tell the heart of a male apart from the heart of a man.

Broken steeling column trim. Wires sticking out from under it. Such barbarism! She'd never seen it before.

"Nick, are you stuck there or something? I need you to take a look at this."

"Coming." Lorgen appeared next to her. Shodan gave him time to make sense of the mesh of wires that had been roughly pulled out from under the dashboard, then asked, "What do you think?"

Nicholas turned, "The car was stolen."

"The perp didn't have the activation code?" Flora raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Exactly. Moreover, the perpetrator isn't from the Chosen Satt. But they're clever enough. The wires were connected directly, bypassing the personal access system."

"So any car can be started this way?"

"If you know which wires to connect. Do you?"

"No," Shodan frowned. "Plus I don't see the point. Everyone in the city has their own car."

"Maybe someone had a little too much to drink at a party and wanted to go for a ride in the Rothmarch," Reiben suggested. "It's a new model, they haven't started production yet. I just don't get why they needed to empty the trunk for that."

Shodan was instantly on guard. Walking around the car, she opened the trunk. It was indeed empty. Everything, including the spare tire and the decorative trim, had been thrown away.

"Why" was indeed the question.

"From what I understand, the car was found by the servos."

"It was. But there's no way to squeeze them for information. They're ordinary cleaning machines. They relayed the data to the system, and it automatically informed the operatives on call.

"Is there something that distinguishes the Rothmarch from other cars?"

Nick hesitated for a moment.

"You see, Shodan, there's technical information that must remain confidential…"

"But not between operatives, right?"

Nive's car appeared at the end of the street.

"He's driving nervously," the Metamorph commented seemingly casually.

"Nick, study all the damage," Flora gave the Chosen a pointed look, letting him know that he had a few minutes to decide.

He climbed inside the Rothmarch with relief. He'd have time to contact his satt's leadership while examining the car.

Meanwhile, Flora was already next to the Emglan's vehicle. He was sitting at the wheel, unable to straighten his cramped fingers. His face was pale gray, like early dawn.

"Well?" Flora opened the driver side door and gently placed her hand against the back of Nive's head. A short while later, his fingers relaxed, the ashen pallor of his skin gave way to crimson blush spots.

"I told you to be careful," Reiben said with reproach.

"Thanks, Flora." Nive exhaled quietly. "Oran's dead. He was killed."

"You saw it?" Kim Leslie reacted calmer than others. As a Warrior, death wasn't new to him.

"I didn't have to," the Emglan reminded him hoarsely. "I felt it. The aura of death is so strong…" he pressed the back of his head against Flora'd hand. "It took a long time for Oran to die. Maybe he was struggling."

Flora raised her leaden gaze and asked quietly, "Kim, has the perimeter been breached?"

"No. You have my word."

"Nick, your time is up. Did you hear what Nive said?"

"I did." Lorgen climbed out of the car. "Rothmarch is a fundamentally new model. It's built as a universal mode of transportation. For the past several years, Oran has been working on the secrets of ancient technology, one that allowed heavier-than-air vehicles to lift into the sky."

"This car can fly?"

"Yes."

"Did you figure out why it was abandoned?"

"The batteries died. The loss of power shut off the hydrogen engine. The Rothmarch reached this spot on backup power."

"I see…" Flora turned to the Metamorph. "What were you able to make out down there?"

"A spare tire, an emergency kit, some tools, a few unfamiliar accessories. Nothing else."

Shodan thought about it.

There were two criminals. Two sets of footsteps were left on the grass. They'd killed Oran, stolen his car, then the Rothmarch ran out of power, so they couldn't keep driving, so they started emptying the trunk…

No, that was nonsense.

Obviously, the rest were thinking the same thing. The operatives' faces were showing confusion.

Shodan didn't like illogical actions. Murder was a heinous crime. The car was taken for a specific purpose. Barely noticeable vertical wrinkles cut through Flora's forehead.

"Nick, does the sensor showing the charge level work without power?"

"No."

"In that case, it all fits," Shodan announced suddenly. "They didn't know that they were about to run out of power. They stopped here to empty the trunk. Then they got back into the car but couldn't move, as the batteries were drained."

"Why empty the trunk?"

"To put something else there. Or someone," Flora explained confidently. "We know where it happened. Nick, you need to request information on all personal chips. Those who were in Oran's home must be identified. The proof of guilt will be the presence of their chips' signal as picked up by the block's monitoring system."

"I'm impressed, Shodan," the Metamorph said.

"Leave the compliments to your ladies." Flora felt a disgusting, sticky weariness start to roll over her. Bringing the Emglan back to his senses had taken a lot of out her. "Nick, don't just stand there. Get to it. Find out who they are. We'll get them right away because those two are either insane or outsiders."

Lorgen stepped away and pulled out his communicator.

He spent some time talking to someone, then waited for an answer for about a minute. When it came, he suddenly went pale, returned to the others, and said, "Not a single personal chip was picked up in either Oran's home or on this block today."

"So no one came to his place, and the Rothmarch just drove itself here?"

"That's what the monitoring system claims," Nicholas spread his hands.

"Outsiders," the Emglan stated firmly. "But I can't sense them within city limits."

"Nive, you're tired. We need to get someone else from your satt involved."

"Flora, I'd know if they were in the city. The aura of death always drags behind the killer."

"And?"

"There's not even a trace here by the car, no emanations, believe me."

Flora nodded. She didn't have a reason to disbelieve the Emglan.

"Any suggestions?"

"I'll check the city traffic control grid records," Nicholas said. "I'll need a few hours."

"And I'll check the perimeter," Leslie grunted. "I don't think someone failed to report a breach, but I have to verify."

"All right. Nive, do you need a ride?"

"I'm all right, Flora, thanks. I can drive. The Emglans will do everything to find the outsiders."

"Fine." Shodan nodded. "Keep me in the loop. See you later." She turned wearily and began walking to her Schork. There was nothing for her to do at the abandoned car. The Metamorph would gather the evidence. She needed to get some rest to recover the energy she'd given to the Emglan."


Shodan refused to drive across town to look at the dead body. She was incredibly tired after the incident with the Emglan. Besides, examining a bloody crime scene was hardly a pleasant task. She wasn't a girl anymore. Her enthusiasm had gradually disappeared, the burning desire to use her abilities had faded with years, and for a child of nature to come face-to-face with death, when it suddenly became clear that it was final and couldn't be changed, was always a shock.

They can handle it, she decided.

Getting back home, Flora, still feeling tired and anxiously awaiting developments, managed to nod off while sitting in a soft chair.

She was awakened by an insistent ringing.

Shaking off the weariness, she touched the answer key.

"I'm listening."

"Good new, Shodan," Nive's voice came. "Oran is alive."

Instead of feeling relieved, Flora tensed up. There were notes of tense understatement in the Emglan's voice.

"Nive, give it to me straight."

"There are a lot of tracks here. I can sense them, but here's the problem: Oran had a video surveillance system installed. He was clearly afraid for his life of late."

"Get to the point." Flora could already tell what the Emglan was insinuating. Her heart clenched from a bad feeling, but she wanted to hear him say it.

"Shodan, there's nothing on video. I'm sorry, but it seems that this was the work of Shadows."

"Did you find anything unusual?" she asked in a sagged voice.

"The criminals made use of mechanical tools. The front door was broken into, plus the damage done to Oran was… strange," the Emglan managed to find the right word. "Children of nature would've found another way to obtain information."

"He was tortured?"

"Yes. Violently. Then they decided that he was dead and left the bleeding body right in his living room."

"Nive, is the video showing any objects moving on their own?"

"No."

"Then don't be stupid," Flora's irritation turned to anger. "I don't know anyone in the Shadow Satt who'd be able to turn objects or clothes invisible!"

"Calm down, Shodan. Let's think about this."

"What has Oran said?"

"Nothing yet. He's unconscious. If you're interested in my personal opinion, then this was the work of outsiders. I don't know why they decided to disguise themselves as members of your satt, but their work was sloppy. Incredibly sloppy."

Flora was listening to him, holding back her rising anger.

"Is Nick there?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Give him the communicator."

There was a moment of silence.

"Yes, Shodan, I'm listening."

"Nick, contact the Rim services. I need to know where the outsiders breached it."

"Flora, why are you so certain that the perimeter was breached?'

"It's simple. They were unable to make use of Oran's flying car. This means they could only leave the same way they got into the city: across the Rim."

"What about the ocean?"

"First of all, there's a steep mountain ridge between us and the ocean. Second, you know perfectly well that gorls have been spawning for a week now. They'll tear apart anyone in the water."

"All right, Flora, I'll try to find out."

"I'll be waiting."

She shut off the communicator, leapt to her feet, and started pacing the room. Who? Who was trying to frame her satt?

No. Everything about the assault on Oran had been sloppy. Shadows didn't work this way. If anything, the video recording was going to prove that someone was doing a poor job pretending to be them.

Still, Flora was restless. She felt precious time slipping away. What had happened didn't fit into the city folks' way of life or psychology. No matter which way she looked at the known facts, it was complete nonsense.

Death was the scariest thing that could happen to any inhabitant of Doom. They were terrified of it. Naturally, there were exceptions to the rule. Some went insane, lost control of themselves, but even in the worst cases there was always the Rim. The Warrior Satt had been filling their ranks with those who'd lost their fear of death for a long time.

Had Oran been attacked by Warriors? Flora immediately rejected this possibility as ridiculous. Invisibility was key here. The gear used by the Warriors couldn't give them such an advantage. More likely, the wilderness beyond the Rim had once again produced another abomination with intelligence and new, truly phenomenal abilities…

The communicator vibrated, interrupting her musings.

"Hello."

"It's Nicholas. I checked all the technical means. The sensors are calm. No alarms over the past day. There was one thing, though."

"Go ahead."

"Two Warriors posted at the gate leading to the Road of Despair heard a strange scraping noise. As if someone was rubbing metal on stone. They decided not to raise the alarm since there was no one there."

"No one there, or they couldn't make anyone out?"

"I don't know."

"Examine the wall, Nick. I'm on my way."

"What am I looking for?"

"Scratches. Scratches on the stone. See you soon." Flora closed the communicator, stood there for a moment, thinking over her next steps, then walked up to the safe (which she typically preferred not to open), and pulled out two heavy automatic pistols and a pair of spare magazines for them.

The wild lands were very dangerous, especially along the ancient road.

It was unlikely that someone would agree to join the pursuit. Well then, it wouldn't be the first time she'd have to work alone.


The cherry-colored Schork drove up to the main Rim gate, turned into the parking lot, and stopped gently.

The walls cut from monolithic rocks, smooth, as if polished, rose thirty meters up, demonstrating the stone texture. There were cracks here and there, filled in with a dark bonding material.

Shodan didn't know who'd built the fortifications protecting the city and when. Even the old-timers couldn't answers the question. The Rim's appearance always produced various associations in Flora. It seemed that everything there was meant for humans, and yet there was the unseen presence of a strange architectural note, as if the monumental structures, just like the city's foundation, had been created much earlier than by the first settlers.

"Hey, Nick." She nodded to Nicholas, who'd been waiting for her, nervously pacing the lot. "Found anything?"

He nodded, "Scratches, like you said. Some fresh, others about a day old."

"How can you tell?"

"It rained last night. The old tracks are barely noticeable. The recent ones have a layer of dust on the edges."

"They're that big?"

"No, the servo I sent to examine the wall relayed a blown-up image."

"How many were there?" Flora asked, meaning the outsiders.

"Two or three. Can't tell for certain." He noticed Shodan's appearance and asked, "Going to go after them?"

"Yeah," she said tersely. "I assume their personal chips weren't picked up?"

"Correct," Nick nodded. "They're in the wind. You won't find them."

"Maybe," Shodan pursed her lips stubbornly. "They'll take the road."

"Do you have the slightest idea whom you might run into?"

Flora shook her head. The more she thought about it, the less clear the image of the criminals became.

"I want to prove that they're not Shadows."

"Is that it?"

"The rest depends on the circumstances. Will you give the order, or should I ask them to open the gate?"

"I already talked to Lymell. He has no objections."

Shodan snorted, "And no one is willing to join me?"

Lorgen shrugged.

"What did you expect, Flora? Why are you taking the risk?"

"They'll be slowed down by their metal. I'm going to move fast. I'll skip answering the second question." She gave him a wry smile. "Tell them to open the gate."


The Schork had already passed through the fortifications and was beginning to pick up speed when the communicator turned on.

"Flora, the Warriors are saying they heard muffled claps. Maybe an hour and a half ago."

"From which direction?"

"The road."

"Understood, thanks." She shut off the comm, gripping the steering wheel. Even though the road had been paved with stone blocks, it, unlike the Rim's fortifications and the city structures, suffered over time. Some of the slabs had settled, creating dangerous spots.

Flora was driving, simultaneously watching the road and trying to listen to her sensations, but the forest pressing against the road on both sides was silent, as if nature was, contrary to custom, trying to hide all traces of the outsiders.

She spent two hours in an internal struggle, as maintaining the speed of about a hundred kilometers per hour while simultaneously searching was proving to be difficult, but when the first signs of outsider presence appeared, Flora didn't miss them. At first, a sensations struck her nerves, as if the car had slammed into an concentrated area of viscous, clearly negative, natural energy. Then, before the first impression of the sudden feeling had passed, she saw strangely disheveled, as if torn by a hurricane, canopies of trees closest to the road.

Flora started to brake involuntarily, focusing on perceiving the emanations coming from the forest, then her gaze caught the cut down, still agonizing branches, followed by a sharp sensation of mortal danger. The aura of the transformed vegetation was hiding a mad force full of unreleased pain. For a second or two, she could only sense the dark fury lacking in individuality, then her perception localized discrete sources, but it was far too late…

The branches on both sides of the road seemed to explode in motion. They were expanding, growing before her very eyes, whipping out towards the decelerating car, transforming in an instant. Losing the coloring and texture of wood, the tentacles of the Metamorphs hiding in the canopies were hardening on the move, losing their plasticity and forming hard sharpened tips. A moment later, dozens of "harpoons" pierced the metal with a clang. The Schork coasted for another ten meters, pulling the Metamorphs from inside the canopies, and then stopped, belching out smoke.

A series of new metal-ripping strikes literally nailed the car to the road.

It was only by miracle that Flora had managed to avoid the steel-hard sharp tips as they were puncturing the Schork's cabin, followed by the moving, bleeding from cuts, tightly-wound muscles.

This wasn't Shodan's first time running into wild Metamorphs, but she'd never had to fight so many enraged beasts at once on her own.

Waves of viscous, oppressive, mind-numbing energy were splashing at her from the forest, surrounding the mangled car. The unbridled rage of the attackers was bordering on madness. Shodan was suffocating from the primitive thoughts being picked up by her mind…

Growing weaker, she managed to climb out of the car through the broken windshield, slipped between the wriggling tentacles that had pierced the hood, ran away, while the Metamorphs were distracted by tearing apart the seats and the inside of the cabin.

After running for twenty meters, she felt a little better, as the wave of fury and pain was now behind her. Flora looked around, pulling out her weapons, and saw several shapeless, literally torn apart bodies lying under the trees, under the cut branches. Moss was smoldering next to them. A row of shallow craters gapes in the sandy soil like yellow wounds. Fragments of flesh could be seen everywhere for fifty meters around…

Now she understood the reckless rage of the creatures tearing apart her car.

No sane person would have attacked a pack of Metamorphs, especially during mating season.

But it wasn't just these people who'd been hurt. Shodan picked up the echo of a Shadow's agony that had already ended in the thick waves of pain produced by the wall of shrapnel-cut trees. The wild creature had been killed by accident, as the paths of Metamorphs and Shadows rarely crossed…

She was then distracted from her observations.

She'd managed to get fifty meters away from the mangled car when she felt several of the enraged creatures give chase.

They were shifting in an instant, taking on forms more suitable for running. Flora knew the habits of Metamorphs far too well to waste her strength on a fruitless attempt at avoiding a fight.

Spinning around, she opened fire. There was no other choice. Both automatic pistols were loaded with special rounds containing a substance that temporarily blocked a Metamorph's ability to change, but there were far too many attackers. The bullets stopped the ones that had pulled ahead, but they were followed by at least a dozen enraged beasts. Filled with bloodlust, they'd lost even those few crumbs of reasonable caution they possessed in normal state.

When both guns clicked on empty, Shodan realized she wouldn't have time to reload.

A Metamorph's rapid pounce was stopped only by a mental blow, into which Flora had placed all of her ability and strength.

The beast lost consciousness, but the stunned Metamorph's place was immediately taken by two more, who crashed into Shodan, knocked her off her feet, and immediately started to transform. Their bodies were pushing out something that looked like tentacles that were wrapping themselves around the human body, squeezing it in a death grip.

She struggled as hard as she could, her weapons dropped from her hands, her fingers were also becoming transparent, as if the Metamorph was no longer squeezing a human, just her clothes, but a few moments later it was all back, her pale features reappeared, her hands were once again defined. In a moment of final, ultimate force of will, alongside with the mournful thought of her inevitable death, Flora suddenly saw a man in strange clothes run towards her from the forest…

The sound of gunfire rang out in her tortured mind like an unbearable thunderclap. The tentacles entwined around her body suddenly squeezed in convulsions and then went limp, as if the shooter possessed incredible composure and excellent knowledge of the only vulnerable spot on the Metamorph's shifting body…

Another thunderclap, and another. They burst into Flora's fading consciousness as flashes of someone else's agony that no longer made any sense to her…


John had noticed the car from a distance but didn't have time to either warn the driver or prevent the creatures hiding in the tree canopies from taking their rage out on the approaching vehicle. The distance to them was far too great.

He still dashed in that direction despite the enemy's numerical superiority and the chilling details he suddenly saw. Now Taman could see that the animals hiding in the canopies that had been torn up by automatic weapons had no permanent shape. Instead, they shifted, undergoing constant metamorphoses, their flesh seemed to flow, their skin seemed to meld with the surrounding background of branches and foliage, the waves of blind fury emanating from them would've driven him insane only yesterday…

He only had three hundred meters to go when dozens of tentacles that were literally forming in flight darted from the trees towards the car. Then again, this comparison was still imprecise, as the beasts hiding in the canopies were growing muscle tissues with incredible speed, giving it the shape and characteristics necessary to attack.

John had never seen anything creepier or more paradoxical.

The car finally started to decelerate—apparently the driver had noticed the danger—but it was too late… far too late, as dozens of muscular tentacles with hardened tips punched through the car's hood with a dull metal clang.

John was running as fast as he could. The two automatic pistols he'd found at the colony ship's landing site were the only weapons he had capable of stopping the enraged beasts. Now the Galact-Captain's reflexes, having absorbed the previous night's terrifying experience, dictated only one solution: he had to use his shooting skills in conjunction with his new ability to see the energy signatures of living beings, to tell apart the structure of their nervous systems. Basically, Taman would have to aim by using his mind's eye rather than his vision, but first he had to shut off his implant, submerge deep into the rage, and find the strength to resist the mental influence of these hellish creatures…

He ran, trying to get ahead of what was coming, knowing that the ancient weapons were only effective at close range… Realizing he wasn't going to get there in time, John still kept himself from switching to a mad energy-draining dash. He saw a human get out from the mangled car through the broken windshield and ran towards them, while the animals hiding in the trees—those whose tentacles weren't stuck in the car—darted after them, taking on forms more suitable for running. There: one of them caught up to the running person, shifted in an instant, and pounced on the human like a boa constrictor…

Taman stopped and raised his weapons.

A thick wave of pain, rage, and the bestial desire to tear apart anyone nearby was emanating from the attacking creatures. No sane person would try to fight them. The Galact-Captain felt that he was facing the most dangerous lifeforms he'd ever seen. His subjective experience told him they were the very manifestation of death…

He submerged into another world.

A world where the concepts of "life" and "death" lost all familiar meanings, where fury reigned, and a fight turned from the physical reality into the plane of mental confrontation.

Taman's mind couldn't find adequate comparison from his past experience. Everything that was happening seemed like a concussion, and the consequence of multiple mental blows were similar enough to it. He nearly dropped his guns, feeling his legs wobble, his head felt like an expanding ball of pain, while the merciless tentacles were already starting to squeeze the human from the car in their deathly embrace…

In the next moment, another type of blow struck John. His vision cleared, he sensed the xenomorph's grip weaken, while the human's outlines suddenly blurred. The person now looked foggy, as if there were now only clothes between the weakened coils of the alien monster's muscle tissue, while the victim's body had somehow disappeared. But, several seconds later, everything was back to the way it was, now with a sense of finality. The fog once again condensed into the outlines of a human body, the muscles were once again starting to clench, and a dozen more beasts were already running towards them in long strides. But Taman had already overcome the shock, it took him mere seconds to inhale, take control over his own body, and be totally convinced that, here and now, he needed to give over to his instincts entirely.

Everything was happening much faster than words could describe, only his subjective time was slowing everything down. Overcoming pain, resisting the waves of rage that were suppressing his mind, screaming at him that he was a dead man, John lifted his gun once more, his vision went hazy, he could only see the nervous system of the xenomorph holding the human in a death grip…

The shot rang out like a thunderclap.

The ancient weapon kicked back, a hot shell casing dropped soundlessly onto the soft moss, and the energy signature in his mind's eye suddenly started to fade, falling apart into separate strands exuding waves of agony, but the Captain had already realized that his own life could now be measured in seconds, as another dozen beasts identified the new threat and ran towards him past their slumped pack member and the human trying to free themselves from its limp tentacles.

Taman had never before experienced anything like it. Never had a sudden situation tested him so. He had to use every skill he'd gained during the constant, grueling training at the shooting ranges, where they'd been taught to shoot every known weapon, honing their reaction to the level of reflexes.

Reality faded away, he could no longer see the road or the trees, only perceiving the energy signatures of the creatures running towards him.

John would remember these moments stretching to eternity for the rest of his life. He was firing, feeling the rhythmic kicks of the guns. It seemed as if he was seeing things differently now, capable of tracking the path of a bullet, seeing it cut through the air on the way to its target. He kept backing up, continuing to fire both guns until the ancient weapons clicked on empty.

It was difficult to explain that incredible and, without exaggeration, inhuman tension that possessed Taman during the seconds of the fast-paced battle. He seemed to have died and been reborn in another form, knowing he'd never again be able to see the world as before. Something new, not yet understood was now living in his mind, but, while reloading the guns, John couldn't allow himself to leave this state, when his mind was balancing on the edge between the two realities, even for a moment. He saw several more xenomorphs that had pieced the car with their tentacles free themselves from the load encumbering them by tearing their fleshy outgrowths from the gaping holes in the metal, cutting them on the jagged edges. All for the purpose of pouncing on the human and tearing him apart.

Their blind, all-consuming rage, the desire to reach their new opponent and destroy him at any cost had no analogs in John's life or combat experience. It was probably because Taman's new ability did not pick up thoughts, just the intentions of the creatures fighting him. He could tell just how strongly they wished him dead…

Mental waves were striking at him, cutting his mind, throwing off his aim, burning off what was left of his will…

John had neither the strength nor the experience in using the new capabilities of his mind in order to defend himself or respond in kind, he could only keep firing while keeping the enemy's energy signatures in his mind's eye, relying only on it.

He didn't remember the end of the battle well.

The choppy kaleidoscopic whirlwind of that reality would haunt his dreams for years to come. All he remembered was that kept shooting until the mags of both guns were once again empty and then, taking an uncertain step, fell face-first onto the soft moss that was generously splattered with the blood of the unknown creatures.

He didn't lose consciousness but couldn't move for a while, just like the previous day when the xenomorph's mental influence had taken all of his strength.

John lay there, feeling the tension of the fight gradually leave him, the normal human eyesight return, but he didn't feel the triumph of victory. For the first time in his life, he'd felt incredibly vividly not only his own actions, but also their consequences, where every shot produced an explosion of agony. No matter how terrifying his enemies had been, he couldn't feel joy at their deaths. On the contrary, Taman would have to relive this fight again and again, realizing the true meaning and price of what he'd done.

Some time later, he found the strength to get up and slowly stumble over to the mangled car and the human lying nearby.

He desperately wanted them to be alive.


Flora awoke at night.

A sharp, piercing sense of alarm came with the smell of smoke and the orange glow of a flame.

She didn't have the strength to leap to her feet and run away. She could barely move. After being in a Metamorph's embrace, her body had given all of its resources to fight the injuries.

The memory of the final seconds before she'd lost consciousness was pounding in her temples like a dull pulse.

A man had pulled her out of the Metamorph's clutches. If Flora wasn't mistaken, he was also a Shadow.

A stranger in your own satt? You couldn't think of anything more absurd? Shodan rebuked herself mentally, applying considerable effort to turn her head slightly.

Burning alive in a forest fire would be a foolish and painful way to die…

Beads of sweat appeared on her brow, but her efforts were rewarded with an unusual picture that shook Shodan to the core: the forest was calmly rustling its canopies, darkness closed in outside the circle illuminated by the flame, with plaintive lamentations of the nocturnal creatures coming from beyond.

The flame was coming from dry branches placed in a pile. In order to contain the fire, it had been placed in a trap of loosened moist soil.

That same strange man was sitting on a felled tree trunk, half-turned to the campfire. The tamed flame was casting turbulent reflections onto his face.

Shodan tensed, but the mental aura emanating from the man bathed her in life-giving energy, he wasn't planning anything bad. On the contrary, he was thinking about her, worried and desiring to help.

She didn't know him. He'd become a Shadow only recently — Flora could sense hundreds of signs of uncontrolled power concentrated inside him and demanding an outlet: his face kept rippling, alternating between invisibility and his calm, focused, tired features.

He was sitting deep in thought, probably unaware of the changes in his body.

Shodan didn't understand what was happening. Her memory kept bringing up more and more details of the previous day. Without a doubt, he'd been the one to rescue her from the rabid Metamorphs. It wasn't so much the images coming through the veil of her recent blackout but sensations, ones that were clear, understandable, and, at the same time, impossible from the perspective of any denizen of Doom.

Waves of powerful, calm life energy were coming off the stranger sitting several paces away, despite his obvious weariness. They rolled over Flora, enveloped her, like the warm waters of a bay heated by the sun. She'd never experienced anything like that before…

"Awake?" he asked suddenly without turning.

Shodan felt ill at ease.

It was an instinctive Shadow reaction: when John turned his head, he saw clothes that retained the volume and shape of a human body, but there was nothing underneath.

Taman twitched but managed to keep a hold of his senses. Back during the fight on the road he'd managed to taste his share of momentary confusion bordering on mystical terror when the creatures hiding among the tree foliage attacked the car, literally nailing to the surface of the ancient highway, and then the person he'd been trying to rescue seemed to have faded into thin air while trying to get out of a xenomorph's embrace…

Then again, that disappearance hadn't lasted long.

Even now her features were beginning to reappear. Her gaze, alert, prickly, seemed to be piercing him, and John, not wanting for the woman to disappear again, found the strength to say, "Don't be afraid."

"I'm not…" her dry lips whispered.

The Interenglish the woman was speaking differed from the Galactic Common version, but John understood her perfectly.

"What's her name?" Taman decided to continue the dialog, knowing the importance of the first words, their tone when making contact with a member of a "lost" planetary civilization.

"Flora…" she replied in a barely audible voice.

"John." He smiled. "Don't scare me like that again."

"You didn't get scared," Shodan answered, staring into her savior's eyes unblinkingly.

He didn't look away. Taman had no idea what abilities Shadows possessed. There was a reason eyes were thought to be the windows to the human soul. He was drowning in them now — Flora's pupils were widening, almost like an entrance into a mysterious world of dreams. He didn't reject her challenge but didn't accept it either, simply not allowing his mind to dive into the pool.

"You're a strong one," she looked down.

Taman said nothing. John could only guess what sort of strength she was talking about, so he decided to hold back on the commentary for now.

"Are you from the city?" he asked in order to change the subject of the conversation into the realm of concepts and phenomena they both understood.

"I am. But where are you from?"

"Space." John waited for a reaction to his reply tensely. Did the people living here remember the ability to travel between stars, or had the memories of generations erased the concepts of space?

"You're from another world?" Flora was genuinely surprised. "Then where's your spaceship?"

"It crashed on landing. About three hundred kilometers from here."

There was no disbelief or lack of comprehension in her eyes. She clearly understood what space was, as well as the metric system.

"It's good that we can understand each other." John wasn't pretending, he wasn't contradicting his own thoughts, he wanted to keep the conversation going, not let it fade. "Many lost civilizations forget that their ancestors came from space."

Flora didn't reply to his words right away. Something else was a lot more important to her at that moment: she was trying to read and interpret his life aura, admitting to herself with a strange feeling that she'd never before met someone with such powerful, clear, and positive energy coming off them.

Of course, that didn't mean that the man sitting by the fire was perfect, lacking in flaws or vices. No, there was no such thing as a "good" or a "bad" person — Flora had cast away such delusions long ago. What did surprise and even somewhat frighten her was that sensation of integrity, the lack of veils being demonstrated by the stream of energy being emitted by her savior.

Shodan was used to other life force manifestations. The society she'd grown up in had long ago lost interest for anything, it was frozen, satisfied with the status quo. In most cases, when interacting with someone, Flora felt cold indifference, fatigue of life, or, even worse, annoyed suspicion.

But he was open and calm. Then again… no, his calm state was more likely due to his self-control. She was analyzing her sensations with the habit of judging people not by their words, but by the emanations of their life force and, of course, by their actions.

"For now, we're only understanding words…" Flora said quietly, feeling herself drawn to him. She wanted to touch that source of unique human warmth, so unusual and rare in her world, again and again.

"Trust me, words are already a lot." He looked at Flora closely. "How are you wounds? I didn't want to treat them."

"Why not?"

"You're… not like ordinary people."

She knew what John was talking about. Did he not feel that he'd also been changed? He probably did but didn't understand what had happened.

It was a difficult situation. Now Flora could also feel that much both connected and separated them.

"Do you have water?"

"Of course." He pulled out a canteen and handed it to her. "Your wounds closed incredibly quickly."

Flora took several gulps, recognizing the water's taste.

"You've been to the Life Springs?" she asked in surprise.

"Sorry, I don't understand," John replied. "I filled the canteen up from underground springs that feed a small forest lake."

"Were there waterfalls there?"

"Yeah."

"Those are the Life Springs."

"Why are they called that? Does the water have some special qualities?"

"I don't know. That's a question for the old-timers. Only they remember how places got their names. I asked once but didn't get an answer. It's probably one of the secrets of the Chosen Satt."

John was listening and memorizing the unfamiliar words.

"Satt"… Possibly some sort of class division.

"Tell me… why did you save me?" Flora's question came as a surprise to Taman.

In order to buy a few seconds to think about it, he asked, "Did I do something unusual?"

Now it was Flora's turn to think while wrapping herself in the jacket John had covered her with.

"Yeah, I guess you're right…" she answered. "We don't usually get involved and risk our own lives when someone is in danger. Only members of the Warrior Satt are the exception."

"Why is that?"

"Life is the most valuable thing there is," Flora explained. "It's up to each of us to decide what to do with it. How did you know I hadn't just decided to end it all?"

John shrugged. There were many things that confused him in Flora's words, but local customs hadn't played into it at the time. Now he would have to try to understand the local rules and try to keep to them, at least those that didn't go against his own convictions, but his choices had been his own the previous day.

"In my world, I was a warrior," Taman replied, trying to use simple words and terms. "And now I remain myself. There's no honor in hiding when someone else is dying next to me."

Flora looked away in order to hide her anxiety.

Her heart was full of confusion.

"It's all so simple with you warriors…" she spoke just to say something. "There are friends, there are foes, and the rest isn't that important, is it?"

John wasn't surprised by such an interpretation. He'd often heard something like it from those who'd never held a weapon. But she didn't look like an ordinary citizen. It was strange that their conversation had suddenly turned to ephemeral concepts. Each person had their own truth, their own worldview, while psychology and statistics reflected only general patterns, ignoring the individual qualities of each individual person.

But the question had been asked, which meant the answer was extremely important, especially since this was a first contact between a member of a civilization lost during the time of the Great Exodus and him, who currently represented the unified humanity.

True, there was a lot John still didn't understand. Other questions seemed highly important to him, while the previous day's fight that had affected his mind to such an extent, needed to be re-evaluated.

"You're simplifying it. A warrior's soul is as complex as souls of other people. The concepts of 'friend' and 'foe' are often vague. Sometimes there are traitors among friends and unexpected allies among foes. The world isn't black and white, it's woven from shades. Maybe I unwittingly violated the rules of your people, but I didn't know them, and sitting the fight out in the bushes went against my nature."

Flora stared into the tamed fire, and the flaming tongues reflected in her pupils.

She felt that she'd met a man whose behavior didn't fit into her life's experience.

Shodan wasn't used to trusting people. Simple relationships seemed deceptive, but what could she do with the sensation of confident warmth emanating from her savior?

He says what he's thinking, no more, no less. And I'm… I'm afraid to believe that such a thing is possible…

Her world was different. It consisted of the boredom of a handful of people whose existence had dragged on, who feared only one thing — their physical death. None of those Shodan could call friends would've risked their lives for her.

She'd grown up among boring games and constant intrigue, whose purpose was to at least somewhat brighten up the bland existence. Her world seemed to be stuck in a ball of fragile glass. No matter where she went, she'd end up right back where she started. Or… she could break the barrier, but then she'd become an outcast and find herself all alone against a world full of mortal danger, where no one would give her a hand to pull her out of the clutches of death…

Shodan didn't believe in miracles, but maybe that had been a mistake…

Tired, pale, clearly confused man that still remained true to himself was sitting across from her, separated by a mere half a meter, and she really wanted to reach out and touch him without saying anything, just giving him a part of her returning life force…

Well, why can't I? What's stopping me? The fire? Preconceived notions? Fear?

John raised his head in surprise when she stood in a single viscous, smooth motion, then walked around the fire and sat down next to him, taking his hand in hers.

"Don't be afraid," she said quietly. "I just want to help you understand."

"Understand what?" Taman hadn't expected his own voice to come out so hoarse.

"You've changed when you came to our worlds. In both mind and body."

"Is that dangerous?" John asked, feeling the cold and slight shiver in her fingers.

"Not anymore… Since you were able to retain your sanity."

He immediately recalled what had happened to him over the past day and nodded in agreement.

"What have I become?"

"A Shadow. I'm a Shadow too, but I was born this way."

"What's the difference?"

"In personal perception of the changes. To me they were natural, hereditary, while you gained new abilities the way the colonists that had landed on Doom did. Many went insane, unable to bear the rapid and virtually unexplainable mutations. Only a small fraction survived."

"What about the rest?"

"They turned into wild, mindless creatures. Metamorphs and Shadows that inhabit the forests and no longer possessing the ability to think like humans. They became animals."

"What about their children?"

"I don't know exactly. We're stuck within the walls of the city, and few dare leave the safe places."

"No studies have been done?"

"No one wants to die, even for a shred of truth."

"What about you? How did you end up here?"

"A breakdown. Just a mental breakdown," Flora admitted, squeezing his hand. "I got so tired of it all, that I…"

"Made a mistake?"

"Yeah. I gave in to an impulse, overestimated my abilities. Besides, who could've guessed that the unknown people who'd got into the city would run into migrating Metamorphs on the road and drive them into a frenzy while slipping away themselves?"

"Sorry, can you be a little more specific?" Already alarmed, John felt the breath of doom — the name of the planet matched his current sensations exactly. He recalled the sound of gunfire, the smell of thaugermin, the row of fresh craters, the tree canopies ripped to shreds by explosions, and pieces of flesh thrown about. "Has your world's technology been progressing throughout the colonization?"

"No, we use the same machines that were aboard the colony ship."

"You said that outsiders invaded your city? Did anyone see them?"

"No," Flora admitted. "Just the consequences of their actions."

"What did they do?"

"Nearly killed one of the Chosen, stole the prototype of a flying car… I think they wanted to capture one of us, but the car ran out of power, so they had to flee."

"So you gave chase?"

"Yeah. Let me explain why." Flora's features suddenly started to go pale and grow thinner until they disappeared completely, as if dissolving into thin air, except John's hand still felt the touch of her now invisible fingers.

A few seconds later, Flora's face once again reappeared, as if materializing.

"Now do you understand why they call us Shadows?"

"Yeah."

"Dermal mimicry is one of the abilities my ancestors have obtained as a result of mutations they received after landing on the planet. Those who visited the city also remained invisible. I didn't want my satt to be under suspicion, so I gave chase in order to find proof."

"Tell me, Flora, do you suspect me?"

She jerked, then found the strength to smile with the corners of her lips.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Invisibility is just one of the abilities the Shadows possess. They call us the children of nature because we can recognize life energy and can give a part of our own life force in order to heal another person. We can also read the auras that surround a living being. We don't pick up thoughts, more like intentions…"

"You sense the psycho-emotional background?"

"Yeah," Flora nodded. "If you'd been the one who visited the city, then you wouldn't have been able to hide your hostility from me. The ones I was chasing left a clear trace of killers that lack any concept of mercy. Human lives are nothing to them. You seem to be their opposite."

"Even though I'd just killed someone a few hours ago?"

"You were defending me and yourself." Flora lifted her head and stared him in the eye. "We only met barely an hour ago, but I already feel that I've known you forever." She sighed. "It's not going to be easy for you in the city. You're going to have to learn to hide your thoughts."

"Why?"

"Emglans can read other people's thoughts."

"Telepaths? You have telepaths?!"

"I don't know that word. Emglans is what we call those who got the ability to read thoughts from the mutations. Unless, of course, those people conceal their thoughts with willpower."

Taman was overwhelmed by all the information he'd received in this short time.

Why was Flora so open with him?

"Are you not giving away any secrets? Not going to regret what you said?" he inquired carefully.

"No. You'll see it all for yourself when you get to the city. There are no secrets in my words."

John thought about it. He sensed Flora, the duality of perception still unnerved him, but after the stress he'd gone through while fighting the Metamorphs, the perception of the life energy of the woman sitting next to him seemed pleasant, calming, even though there were occasionally cold notes in her emanations, as if she was remembering something unpleasant, revolting even. But how could he vouch for the truth of his new worldview, when he had so little experience, and the phenomenon wasn't just unusual, it went outside the bounds of his knowledge and understanding of how the human mind worked?

Taman was torn: he was trying to listen to his own feelings, absorbing the sensations emanating from Flora, and, at the same time, couldn't shake the thought on the mysterious infiltrators she claimed had gotten into the city.

All signs pointed to the unknown combatants possessing modern gear. Taman didn't believe in coincidences. If someone equipped to the standards of modern military units had appeared here for the first time in fifteen hundred years of isolation, then they followed him.

Who was it? The pilots of the Ganian fighters sent to intercept him? Doubtful… They wouldn't have the guts to dive into hypersphere after the Phantom making an obvious blind jump.

But no other explanation came to him.

Taman could feel that one incident wouldn't be the end of it. The Galact-Captain's intuition rarely failed him, but there were so many "what ifs" around each fact, that he wouldn't dare draw any definitive conclusions.

"Tell me, Flora, have there ever been appearances by people from outside before?"

"Not people." She understood John's meaning. "There were cases of the Changed would come from the woods. They're descendants of those colonists who lost their minds and turned into wild beasts."

"Children who managed to develop on their own and become self-aware?"

"Something like that," Flora nodded. "They couldn't talk but demonstrated signs of intelligence. Unfortunately, I can't tell you anything more. I was only forty the last time it happened. I don't remember that time well."

John threw her a curious glance.

"I'm sorry, it's considered impolite to ask a woman her age, but are you sure you haven't misspoken? Maybe you were four."

"No, I haven't misspoken." Flora reacted calmly. "The birth of children is extremely rare in the colony. I'm one of the last to be born here on Doom."

"And how old are you?"

"Three hundred and two." She smiled, simply and warmly, without any flirtiness. "I know you may think me a naïve little girl…" Flora broke off, noticing Taman's expression. "Hold on, I don't understand. Why is my age shocking to you?"

John was in a complicated situation.

What should he say? Tell her the truth? But how would she react if the locals treated the age of three hundred as youthful?

No, I'm not going to lie. After all, she has to understand that the longevity of the people of Doom was likely caused by these mysterious mutations, whereas the human lifespan on every other known world is very different.

"John, what is so shocking about my words?" Flora asked again insistently.

"I'm thirty-seven years old," Taman replied.

She went pale, then her cheeks flushed.

"You're a child?!"

"No. By the standards of my world, I'm a grown man. Did no one tell you how long our ancestors had lived on planet Earth?"

"No. I've never asked about it…"

"A hundred to a hundred and fifty years. Right now, life expectancy on developed worlds is slowly reaching the two-hundred years mark. But that number is already extreme old age."

"I don't understand…" Flora's expression reflected her words. "What's old age?"

John forced himself to calm down, tossed some more branches into the nearly dead fire, and said, "Let me try to explain."


They talked well into the wee hours.

Only with the pale twilight of the coming dawn Flora, exhausted by her body fighting the injuries, fell asleep, pressing trustingly against John. The heat of the fire and his soul warmed her, allowing her to submerge into a deep, serene sleep.

Taman sat with his back against the trunk of the fallen tree, stared at the pale colors of the dawn, but there was no serenity in his heart. If Flora had taken his tale of other worlds inhabited by humans as a pleasant, incredible revelation, then her words had a different reaction on John: Doom's planetary civilization, of which he now was a part, was a threat to the rest of humanity.

It was difficult to imagine what would happen if the mutagenic factors present here spread to other inhabited worlds.

He also didn't know what he was going to do, but he could already feel the heavy burden of responsibility on his shoulders.

Much seemed strange, almost fantastic. Like Flora, for example. She was clearly not a frivolous person, and yet their mutual affection had appeared almost immediately, allowing them to establish a trusting and calm contact despite the great revelations.

He was listening to his feelings and to her even breath, not yet fully realizing that the people of Doom had particular unmistakable assessment criterion — nearly all of them were capable of perceiving another person's mental attitude. To Flora, her encounter with John hadn't just been a rescue but also a miracle she hadn't been expecting.

Anyone who knew Shodan well would've been surprised to see a barely noticeable smile appear on her lips as she slept. It was the very same Flora: cold, desired by many, but contemptuously inaccessible, having known the cynical entertainment the city lived by early.

She was used to the cold of being bored to death, to the gray routine, to the masks poorly hiding the true nature of the people around her, but here… for the first time in her life, she'd felt genuine human warmth, open, generous, maybe stern but so alluring, as if she was a moth, except the flame had warmed her instead of burning…

He's Real with a capital "R", she thought as she fell asleep, feeling herself alive and that much in her life would change now… for the better, as the adamant Shodan hoped timidly.


After waking up, Flora spent several minutes just staring into the azure depth of the midday sky until a slight concern crawled into her heart: she could sense John, but the feeling was distant, vague…

She didn't want to get back to reality, lose the gentle light of the sky, the serenity of awakening, but her automatic habits instantly took hold, she sat up straight, looked around, and sighed with relief only after seeing Taman.

What's happening to me? Why is he suddenly so important, so close to me? The questions were a genuine concern to the normally reserved, secretive Shodan, who didn't bare her soul to just anyone and who didn't have a habit of occupying an important place in other people's lives.

Literally everything had suddenly gone against the principles she'd developed over the decades of influence of the city and its people's cold emosphere.

Flora couldn't say that she'd become a different person in an instant, but something had undoubtedly changed inside her, as if a second wave of mutation had struck her, a moral one this time.

A day ago she'd felt the terror of agony, then the indescribable relief of returning to the world, simultaneously shocked and entranced by the warmth and openness of her savior's soul.

More than enough reasons for spontaneous changes of her inner world. Shodan was naturally impulsive, but not to the extent that she would become dependent on another person like this.

But is it dependency that I'm feeling?

Flora often asked herself direct questions and did her best to answer them honestly, but this time she hesitated to draw conclusions.

She was drawn to John, strongly, passionately, to the chill in her chest, to the feeling of a slight fear, confusion, a sweet clouding of the mind.

She needed to pull herself together.

The cold voice of reason went against the impulses of her heart, but she decided to listen to its advice.

At the moment, they were alone in a hostile area, but soon she'd be back in the city with its particular influence, where one had to stand very close to someone to feel that person's genuine aura, not mixed with anything else. Would her impulses get lost in the blend of cold, a little wary ones, almost like a protracted boring game of human interactions? Would she regret doing something stupid right now, giving into the moment?

Confusion.

"John!" Flora called, getting up from the soft mat of the moss.

He turned, lowering the cable thrown over his shoulder.

Her Schork, battered and unrecognizable, stopped along with him.

"What are you doing?"

"Good morning, actually, good day, Flora." He dusted off his hands, stepping onto the meadow from the road. "Didn't want to leave you alone for long. Decided to drag the car here."

"Must be heavy…"

"It's fine." He sat down next to her. "Hungry?"

"Not right now. Why did you drag my car over?"

"A bad drive is better than a good walk. From what I understand, the city is at least a hundred kilometers away, isn't it?"

"About."

"That's a long way to go on foot. And I've had my fill of walking." He smiled, turning it into a joke. "It's been a day, and no one has come after you yet. Why?"

"They think I'm dead," Flora answered dryly. "No one cares to risk their lives to take a look at my corpse."

"It's a strange society. Fine. I dragged the car closer so I didn't have to dig around in the engine far from you," John explained.

"You were worried about me?" Flora's eyes glinted strangely and moistly.

"Of course. You were asleep."

"If I wasn't?" The question left her mouth unbidden. Flora immediately regretted saying it, but it was too late…

Now, with bated breath and listening to the dull, unfamiliar pounding of her heart, she awaited his reply.

How naïve, evil, cruel cold souls could be, afraid to open themselves to warmth, not believing that this could happen: radiant noon, confused thoughts, and the distance of only a single step that suddenly turned into a step over a bottomless pit, and it seemed as if the shaky bridge over it had to be thrown over from the other side.

"I would've dragged the car here anyway," John replied, catching her gaze for a moment, holding it, once again involuntarily wrapping Flora in a veil of confident, open, and unfeigned warmth of his thoughts. "There's nothing to look at there," he nodded in the direction of the previous day's fight.

"The dead don't frighten me," Shodan said with a challenge she herself didn't understand.

"I believe you," John agreed readily. "But there's still nothing to look at there. Besides, I didn't want you think I'd left and get scared. It's some distance away."

"So you dragged the car here to avoid scaring me?"

"Yeah. Like I said, I didn't want to leave you alone. Besides, I feel easier when I can feel you near me." He said that in a casual tone, but the words burned Flora…

She looked away, then shook her head and, staring John in the eye, asked suddenly in a cheerful voice, "You really think you can fix the car? Can I help?"

"I don't think you need to dirty yourself." John noticed that something strange was happening to Flora. She seemed to be lost among sensations he couldn't quite understand. The life force emanating from her was pulsing, as if in time with the uneven beat of her heart. He looked at her closely, in a different way, not as a member of another planetary civilization, but as a woman… and his heart trembled the same way.

Taman was a stranger to games. He hadn't been raised in the emotional environment that would've allowed him to be deceitful even in his thoughts. He'd gone through hundreds of ordeals where any lie, any pretense in relationships could turn deadly in moments of critical danger…

Flora's gaze drew him in like quicksand.

John suddenly thought that, over thirty-plus years, except for a few periods of cadet crushes, he hadn't found the time for real love…

But are such thoughts appropriate right now?

He was on an alien planet, where everything was strange to him, and he had no idea how life would turn even a few minutes from now, did he… Then again, Frayg it, who and when had taken away his right to be a man, to look at a woman as someone other than a comrade-in-arms?

Now there was confusion in his heart, but, unlike Flora, Taman knew a surefire way to fight uncertain feelings.

If one wasn't in a condition to process them, then all one had to do was pause and get busy with something else.

As if reading his mind, Shodan said, "I'm afraid you dragged the car over here for nothing. It can't be repaired. Look, the engine compartment covered in holes."

John appreciated her tactful, unobtrusive help.

"Let's take a look," he replied, lifting the mangled lid of the hood. "A hydrogen engine has strong mechanical protection. If I can't start the primary drive, there's alternative propulsion. When was the last time you checked your backup batteries?"

Flora shrugged, "Servos are the ones handling all technical maintenance."

John nodded in satisfaction.

"Then they should be fine. Those guys are meticulous, all about the details."

"What's the alternative propulsion?" Flora inquired, looking over his shoulder at the engine compartment.

Most of the wires were torn, the protective housing had been mangled by monstrous blows, with congealed Metamorph blood around the holes.

"Not good…" John said, examining the damage. "The cooling system has been punctured, it's too dangerous to start the hydrogen engine." He straightened, unintentionally feeling the touch of her hair against his cheek.

Flora gave him a questioning look.

"Are you familiar with the structure of machines?" Taman asked, examining the wheels. Fortunately, when damaging the hood, the Metamorphs hadn't punctured any of the tires.

"Only weapons," Flora admitted.

"Then I'll try to explain." John lifted the car with a special built-in tool and, removing a wheel, pointed at a device that was revealed. "This is a part of the electric drive. When it's under power, the electromagnetic field makes the wheel turn. Typically, power comes from the hydrogen engine, but any car has a backup power supply for each drive wheel located right here." Taman removed a protective housing, demonstrating a battery. "See the green indicator?"

Flora nodded.

"It's charged. All we have to do is properly connect the torn wiring in the engine compartment, and we'll be able to get moving."

"How do you know all this?" Flora asked in genuine surprise. "Don't they use technical servos on other worlds?"

"They do, of course," John replied. "But space force officers undergo special training. We're taught not only to fight but to also know each piece of technology works and how to repair it in the field."

"Our warriors don't even know how to repair their own weapons."

"So who does repair work? Just the servos?"

"No. There's a group of technicians in the Chosen Satt, they've always had a privileged position. Oran, the one who started all this, is one of them."

"Are they respected people?"

"Respected and at times irreplaceable," Flora confirmed. "But they never share their secrets."

"Thanks for telling me." John straightened, moving to the other side of the car. "I'll keep that in mind. I don't think they'd like me revealing technical secrets to just anyone."

"You're perceptive," Flora chuckled. "But I doubt you're going to find many willing to learn from you in the city."

"Why not?"

"Because everyone's happy with the way things are. No one likes change."

"What about you? Why did you become an operative?"

Flora thought about it for a moment, then answered, "I was tired of the monotony. That's probably the only reason. There comes a time when you lose the taste for life, when you understand that you're simply existing, without a particular goal, for no reason. Many commit suicide at this age."

John, who'd been examining the fourth and final wheel, straightened.

"What's the point of ending one's life?" He looked around and added, "Look at all this. Yeah, it's dangerous in the wild, but why exist aimlessly or end it all instead of taming it?"

"The satts won't allow it. There are rules. The planet lives by itself, and the humans live by themselves. The Rim is between us."

"Strange rules. Do you know why they were made?"

"We're too few in number to settle the lands beyond the Rim. And there's no reason to. There's lots of space for everyone in the city, with plenty to spare. Those who don't like the monotony of existence join the Warrior Satt or volunteer to be operatives."

"What's the difference between operatives and warriors?"

"An operative primarily defends the interests of their satt," Flora explained. "Warriors don't have such gradations. They serve the city in its entirety."

"So there used to be conflicts between the satts?"

"Yes. But I was born later. No one likes remembering those times, just like the time of the first landing on the planet."

"I see…" John replaced the last wheel, then spent ten more minutes working on the torn wiring and finally announced, "That's it, Flora, we can drive if you're ready."


The city could be seen from afar.

The dark wall of the Rim didn't block the view of the giant metropolis — the terraces cut from the rock towered over the fortifications, descending to them with flat platforms of wide tiers that drowned in genuine terrestrial greenery.

The drive from the fight with the Metamorphs to the forward fortifications took about took hours. Despite the difficult road, John and Flora spent this time talking, choosing to take every opportunity, every minute to get to know each other better, as if they understood that, in a few kilometers, a very important part of their lives would end, and the city would accept them within its halls, influencing them, restricting their feelings and thoughts…

Of course, it wasn't that bad.

At least that was Flora's opinion. John was of a different mind.

"Where will I stay?" he asked when the walls of the Rim started to block the panorama of the metropolis cut into the cliffs. "Is there a testing procedure?"

"I'll bypass you through any testing," Flora replied. "You're not one of the wild ones, so don't worry. The satt leadership will understand. After all, our elders themselves once came from space and lived through the change. You can stay at my place, although I have no doubt they'll give you everything you need: a home, servos, a car…" she said those words with a measure of sadness.

"I think I'm going to accept your offer," John agreed unexpectedly. "I'd rather not stay alone until I figure out the local rules and customs."

Flora's heart clenched.

"My house…" She felt out of breath. "It's very large. You'll like it there…"

"Thank you, Flora," John replied reservedly, watching a massive double gate that differed sharply from the polished texture of the wall stone grow in size. "Still, what should I be expecting?" he asked, noticing ancient video sensors attached to the walls watch the car approach.

"I'm going to vouch for you. Don't worry," Shodan replied, even though he could sense that she was anxious even more than Taman.

There were about twenty meters left to the gate, when it started to open with a loud vibration of the machinery.

"Whoa… Looks like the entire garrison is greeting us," Flora said.

Indeed, lots of people had gathered in the large space between two stone walls: some were armed, others looked like they weren't even fully dressed. It seemed the news of the approach of the mangled by still operational car had swept the Warrior Satt in minutes.

John paid careful attention to the reaction of the reception committee. First impressions were extremely important to him. He could use them to judge the community of the warriors that protected the city from the wild territories.

It looked like things were casual in the garrison. As soon as the car passed through the gate, it was immediately surrounded by the crowd. Some were greeting Flora, others were paying more attention to the car and its impressive damage. Yet others had noticed John and were taking a few steps back, belatedly remembering their weapons.

Picking a moment, Taman leaned towards Flora and asked, "Maybe it's time to get out. They're already giving me looks."

"Yeah. Stop the car. Don't judge them too harshly: no one has left the city limits within the last half a century. Plus they didn't expect to see me alive again."

"Do they know you here?"

"Everyone knows everyone else in the city. I was a member of the Warrior Satt for a short while."

John stopped the damaged Schork when the wave of surprise, confusion, joy, and tension reached its peak.

Flora was the first to open her dented door, stepped out, found the head of the satt carefully watching her movements, and walked towards him. The warriors parted before Shodan, making comments of greeting and amazement — the damage done to the car spoke of a monstrous fight with wild Metamorphs, so Flora's return seemed like a genuine miracle to many.

"Hey, Lymell." Flora stopped two paces from the head of the Warrior Satt.

"Hello, Shodan." He was reserved and wary. "Happy to see you back." The fact that Lymell's personal guard were holding her car at gunpoint didn't escape her notice. "Who did you bring?"

"This man saved my life. He's a newborn Shadow."

"Such strange words. How can there be a man in the wild lands?"

"Please don't, Lymell. I've already checked."

"Checked what?"

"His words. You know of Shadow abilities. He told me nothing but the truth."

"Then where is he from?"

"Space."

"Earth?" Lymell's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"You could say that, even though it's not entirely correct." Flora frowned, trying to find the least wordy way to explain it. "Over the centuries, humans have settled many star systems. He's a warrior. He fought in space. His ship suffered damage near our world. John—that's his name—was forced to crash-land here."

"And?"

"He saw the city during the descent and was trying to make his way to it. On the way, he ran out of life support and had to breathe the air of our planet. He's been to the Life Springs, and the change struck him at the Clearing of Despair, near the remains of the colony ship. He survived the change and became a Shadow. When he recovered, he continued walking towards the city along the Path of the Doomed."

"How did you meet? How did he behave?" Lymell knew that Flora wasn't lying. He was also a Shadow and knew perfectly well what abilities she was talking about. Besides, the Emglan standing to his right wasn't showing any signs of distress, which meant that Shodan wasn't trying to conceal anything.

"You know that I was pursuing the unknown people who'd attacked Oran in order to clear the Shadow Satt from any suspicion. About a hundred and twenty kilometers from the city, I was ambushed. A pack of wild Metamorphs, who'd gathered to reproduce, was disturbed by the visitors to the city. John can do a better job explaining the nature of those people, but I'll tell you what happened to me. The Metamorphs surrounded my car, nailed it to the road, I climbed out through the broken windshield but couldn't stop them. I was about to die, when John appeared. He killed twelve Metamorphs and saved me."

"Twelve Metamorphs?!" Lymell didn't even try hiding his shock. "Flora, you—"

"I saw their bodies. There were twelve of them. I wasn't able to destroy any of the beasts. You know that my guns were loaded with paralyzing bullets."

"Flora, I believe you, but… it all sounds way too fantastic. When the Rim is attacked, a single wild Metamorph can take the lives of a dozen warriors if it breaches the first wall. And you're talking about twelve of the beasts that died at the hand of a newborn Shadow."

"He's a warrior. In mind and spirit."

The head of the satt turned to the Emglan.

"What do you say?"

"I have no reason to doubt Flora's words. Be surprised all you want, Commander, but Shodan is speaking the truth. And this warrior really is from another world. He isn't shielding his mind. I can see images no one could possibly invent."

Lymell once again turned to Shodan.

"Congratulations on the miraculous rescue, Flora. I don't know if you've brought us good or bad news, but your companion deserves respect. The Warrior Satt will vote for the newborn Shadow, if the case ends up going before the Council. But for now, the usual procedure. Then I'll be honored if both of you join me for a meal."

"Thank you, Lymell. Sorry, but we're tired. Can we move the official visit to tomorrow?"

"All right." He raised his voice again. "Warriors, step aside!"

A living passage appeared almost instantly. The gate had already been shut, and now Lymell was walking along the echoing space between the two stone walls, heading for the mangled car. Flora was following him, with Lymell's personal guard, led by the Emglan, bringing up the rear.

John realized that the negotiations were over and that it was time for him to act on his own.

Leaving the car, he waited calmly for the tall warrior Flora had just been talking to walk up to him.

"Greetings, traveler!" Lymell gestured that he didn't have to reply right away. "My name is Lymell, I lead the Warrior Satt that protects the Rim and the city. Flora told me about her miraculous rescue. Many of us have fought wild Metamorphs, but what you've done is beyond my personal experience and understanding."

"It was difficult but not impossible." Taman didn't know whether to proffer his hand or not, so he simply introduced himself, "My name is John. John Taman, if you use last names. As for the Metamorphs, it was all thanks the knowledge and experience I obtained on other worlds."

To the onlookers, the procedure looked a little tense, maybe even somewhat stilted, but both warriors understood that they had to observe at least a modicum of formality, especially since the appearance of a new person in the city was not a normal occurrence.

"We could use your knowledge and experience."

"I will share them," John replied.

Lymell nodded. It looked like he was pleased at the first impression of the meeting.

"I've given Flora my invitation. Now you're going to go through the standard procedure of receiving a personal tracking implant. After that, you're automatically a full resident of our city, unless the Satt Council objects to my decision."


John didn't like the idea of getting a tracking implant.

While they were walking the long tunnels within the Rim walls, he asked Flora, "Why this total surveillance of the city residents? And who gets the information about the movements of the people?"

"The information is publicly available," Flora calmed him. "The tracking implant is not an indication of total surveillance, more like insurance against temptation. Don't forget that Shadows can turn invisible, and Metamorphs can take on any shape they wish. The tracking implants serve as a safeguard against those who like to play cruel jokes on others."

"I hope so." John decided that it wouldn't be wise to object to the commonly accepted procedure, but he couldn't hold back from voicing his own opinion about the true goal of the implantation. Then again, when comparing the procedure of "recognizing" a new member of society with the immigration laws of most colonized planet, he couldn't help but admit that the local laws or, more precisely, traditions were a lot more straightforward.

The implantation turned out to be quick and painless: a special jet injector was used to place a tiny bead under the skin of John's right wrist, and that was it.

"There's a working car waiting for us at the inner gate," Flora informed him. "Lymell had it prepared for us." She smiled and added, "Welcome to the city, John."