That strange militarily inclined mutant A-9 poked her head int the bar, hoping Not to find either of her shipmates. Not seeing either man, she headed straight for the bar. The tendress.. Morg was is?… was tending to one of her patrons, wrapping up a nasty bloody wound. Apparently it got rough out in the streets from time to time and she frown, having missed out on all the fun. The sultry dark-haired woman finished with her administrative duties and worked her way down the bar. “Can I get you something?”

            “Yes! Beer please. Bottom of the barrel.” Then she plunked a small pouch of coin in front of Morg. “Can you start a tab for me? Let me know when that runs out.”

            Her downtime didn’t last long at all. Randall showed up just minutes later, fumbling around with his hand held scanning devices. “Can’t get this thing working quite right,” he complained.

            “Don’t fret, Doc.” That seemed to be her latest vein of names, since the physicist was the closest think they had to a medic. “I’m still sifting through the scrap. It’s nice to know that the metal from the hull seemed to make for a fine piece of forged weaponry. I’ve got at least three foundries paying top dollar for the unusable stuff.” She swallowed the first beer in eight strong gulps. “Man, I needed that.” Indeed she did. She looked a bit wind burned and sun toasted, but Randall knew her systems would kick in and heal her within hours.

            “I see we aren’t wasting any time returning to old habits.” This cold comment came for Commander Rooslan as he walked up behind the duo, scowling under his Ray Bans. He was directing his full attention on A-9, whom snubbed him, taking her second drink in hand. “And I see you’ve managed to find a local style surprisingly similar to our standard uniform.

            Of course she hadn’t. She was still in her work clothes which now were beginning to show the wear and tear of hauling huge strips of metal from the desert into town. “I was Busy,” she grumphed, pulling out another leather sachet filled with coin. “And turning a good profit, I might add. Here.” She threw it at him, and not in a gentle way. She pulled her arm back and winged it at him as if pitching a baseball, hoping to bean him right in between the eyes. But the reigning officer was no slouch and had caught it in a split second, then slowly drew his hand back into the trenchcoat to pocket the profits. Nine scowled, seeing her lasted attempt foiled, and looked into her beer. “Besides, they don’t have any jumpers in my size around these parts. All they’ve got is dresses. Icky nasty pastel frilly dresses. If you can find something for me to wear that’s practical, Herr Comadante, I’ll be pleased as punch to wear it.”

            Funny, but most of the norms, including the bartender, had somehow slipped out of the room, leaving the three misplaced travelers alone. “I’ll keep that in mind. A-9, but you might regret that banter of yours one of these days.” He then calmly turned towards Randall, leaving his kinder to fume over her beer. “What have you found out?”

            “Well, Skipper.” This reference made Rooslan wince. Randall had picked up the nickname from Nine, but he didn’t carry and of the maliciousness she intended. “I think I’ve stumbled across that cyborg you told me about. Brimstone they call him. He seems to be sporting a lot of Militant hardware, mostly in the main frame. Everything else seemed spliced into it. I suspect he’s not fully human either, especially when his friend showed up, Short fella, black on black. That guy was a psi. Most definitely a mutant. He rifled right through my brain, even when I tried to block him. I swear he’s been trained in the Military. OUR Military.

            “Another one? Oh great,” she moaned, but now she listened intently.

            Randall continued. “He claimed that he knew Nine, but by her root name Aurora. Skipper, he thinks we kidnaped her.”

            “I was never kidnaped!” she snorted. “I surrendered willingly!”

            “Shut up, Nine,” Rooslan snapped the turned back to Randall. Chastised, the mutant began searching along the counter, at first eating the last of the peanuts in the bowls set out; then made her way behind the bar and into the kitchen. She grabbed handfuls of various sundries: sugar, chocolate, flour, baking powder, dried beans; not enough to make a dent but enough to fill her stomach one handful at a time. She even cleaned out the grease trap. It was like watching her graze. After she sampled nearly everything in the larder and was sated, the cruised back into the bar, looking for a spot to nap. The boys’ conversation had grown quieter, but she didn’t care if they were talking about her. She found an overstuffed sofa and coiled up, resting her head on the sloping armrest, taking advantage of the long splash of light filtering in through the curtains and warming her hide; causing her to drift soundly asleep.

            Days later our unfavorite psi slipped into the busy bar, carrying a small bouquet of daisies. The bright white flowers surely didn’t match his black leathers and “bad boy” persona, but he didn’t care. Apparently other did recognize Timothy for what he was. The black dragon, having made up some time with the golden dragon Charon, wrapped an arm around her protectively as the psi walked by. Even Goury was a bit confused by the sight. “That’s different,” he commented to his shy companion, a strangely confused man named Marek. “Looks likes he putting some moves on Danielle.”

            “Moves?” Marek asked, looking totally perplexed.

            “He’s making a play for her affections.”

            For his part, the Rex ignored the lot of them, making his way through the throng, seeing Danielle seated off by herself, dressed for bed but taking a few minutes to herself. He slipped up and reached his arm around, making sure that she saw the flowers first. “You need a ‘pick me up’.”

            She took in a gasp and smiled, taking his offering, but still not turning to face him. “What makes you say that?”

            “I read minds. Besides, you look dead tired. Rough day?”

            Danielle sighed and turned to face him. “It’s a long story for a slow day.” Instead of relaying her problems, she gave the man a warm hug. “You shouldn’t have.” She commented about the flowers.”

            “Wellll I shouldn’t do a lot of things, but at least I didn’t kill anyone for these… Maybe mangled a flower plot, but that’s all.”

            “You are such a smooth talker, ain’tcha?”

            “Part of my talent.. besides, you cheer me up. Things haven’t been falling my way of late. I get my thrills where I can.” 

            “Oh, do tell!” She patted the empty seat on the couch next to her.

            “Oh, I don’t wanna bring you down. You know how depressing all this can get.” But he did sit down next to her, his used car salesman smile plastered on as he slicked back his black locks, having recently redyed the roots carefully

            Danielle reached out and brushed his chin. “Turn that grin down a bit, doll.”

            “Of I must.” He did, if only half a notch. “Its just that between Emily, Megan, and my current dilemma, I need all the happy I can find.” He reached and gently took up a lock of her hair, twirling it in his fingers. “No.. I don’t wanna. It’s too raw to think about those things. I wanna stay soft. At least for a little longer.”

            As he hesitated, a small puff of pink smoke appeared on Tim’s shoulder. Following it was a small female red headed magician, one the Rex knew very well, even as the little Lena wagged a finger at him. “And just when I thought I could get a break,” he groaned, then looked up at Danielle as she stared unbelieved and the impish creature perched on his shoulders. “This is one of my relatives. Lena.”

            “Uhm.. Well.. That’s uhm... neat?” Danielle stammered, totally blown away.

            Now Tim turned to look at the minuscule magician. “Okay, Lena. What do You want?”

            “You’re really going to abandon the poor girl, aren’t you?” She narrowed her tiny eyes accusingly.

            “Noooo...” Tim seemed to wince a bit, as if caught in half a lie. “And if you don’t beat it, you’re gonna screw it all up.” He tried talking as softly as he could through clenched teeth, knowing how bad this must sound to Danielle. “In fact, why don’t you pick on somebody from your own world?” And he flicked her off his shoulder with a finger.

            Right into Goury.

            Only Lena’s size seemed to expand in mid-flight and was full sized when she plowed into the swordsman, sending them both tumbling.

            “You are such a klutz, Lena,” the psi groaned, then turned to address Danielle, already having an explanation cued up, but the tall tendress had slipped away. Grumbling, he stood and approached the tangle of people.

            “Lena!” Goury stammered. “What are you doing here?”

            “I’m not Lena,” Lena insisted. “Lena is in your home dimension, remember?”

            The blond warrior looked her over slowly. “But you look like Lena.”

            Tim crossed his arms, grinning. “He’s smarter than he looks, Chick. Not MUCH smarter, but.. Well.. He’s getting there.”

            The sorceress tried again to bamboozle him. “Yeah, well Goury, you’re wrong. Like I said, I’m from an alternate reality. You see, when the quantum flux from the various temporal and magical energies begin to swirl around the transported individuals. They start to make associations from their home world.”

            Lena was trying to confuse her friend with techno-babble, but Tim kept raising the suspicion bar. “How’d she know you’re name, Goury?” he nudged.

            All they ended up with was Goury staring blankly into open space. “At least he’s not drooling,” the psi commented, shrugging his shoulders. “Now what Does bring you ‘round these parts, Sister dear? No godling brothers to hassle?”

            “Why, that’s a good question. I came here partly to inquire why you’re flirting with other people when you’ve got a pregnant teenager you should be worried about.”

            “You mean Tim’s robbing the cradle?” Apparently some things didn’t slip past Goury.

            “No. It’s because the ‘pregnant teenager’ will KILL me if I get within a hundred yards; and she can hurt a whole lot more than just me when she does. I’m just practicing damage control. Besides, you’ve meet Emily, Goury. My fiancee? Remember?”

            “Oh... okay.. I just thought you were messing around behind Emily’s back.”

            The black clad mutant rested his fingers on the bridge of his nose, wondering if Megan’s migraine were either hereditary or contagious. “No. I was trying to lure Emily back to her senses. I figured if I tugged at her heart strings and made her jealous enough, she’d snap out of it; but I see I’m wrong. She’s as cold as an arctic fish.”

            “Oh, is that all?” The tome Lena used suggested that maybe there was more to Tim’s flirtations, but she didn’t press that fact. Not when she had information that greatly affected the situation. “I’d almost forgotten. Turns out your morphing sweetheart was only angry at you because she was being influenced by an outside power. Well, not completely, but that was certainly a large part of it.”

            “I know that.” Timothy finally opened his eyes, giving her a long glare. “I just didn’t know who... or what. You didn’t have anything to do with it, did you?”

            “Nope. Not my style.”

            He now groaned. “I don’t have time for this nonsense, Lena. I’m dying here. I’d Like to live long enough to see my child before I kick the bucket.” This mist have been news to most everyone in the room, but nobody, not Goury, not Darius whom flirted in the corner with Charon, not even Claw whom had slipped into the bar; commented on Tim’s condition. They all sat back and listened, concerned not so much for the psi but for the complications that might end up in their lap.

            Lena didn’t seem phased either. “Well.. I’ll tell you only because you asked so nicely. It was a mind flayer, and he was doing way more than twiddling around in your girl’s brain. It’d been in their a while. I had to waste one of my Janus elixirs to clear her mind. I’m afraid some of her memories are going to be fuzzy for...”

            She was cut short as the Rex grabbed her by the shoulders. It seemed he could get quite emotional when he thought his metamorphic angel was in trouble. “WHAT FLAYER!? WHERE?!” His grip tightened, and even Lena’s flippant attitude turned very serious.

            What broke the mutant’s grip was a metallic hand pinching down on the nerve joint at the base of the psi’s neck, rendering him unconscious. Brimstone let the body crumple to the floor as he pulled the rest of himself from the portal. “You shouldn’t get him riled like that, Lena. It’s not good for him.”

            She shrugged her shoulders. “He asked. I answered. Simple as that.”

            He nudged the prone body on the floor with his booted foot before looking up at the red headed spell caster. It had been a while since he and Lena were an item, albeit a forced one as a result from a miss-casted love spell, but somewhere under the chrome, he still felt for her. “Good to see you’re still up and running. How are things?”

            “Not so good,” she replied, the seriousness once again creeping into the conversation. “Everything is collapsing around us. You know that, don’t you? The Fellowship is Breaking.” She did let a snort creep out with the stolen line, but the meaning was well implied.

            “I know, but things will break. That’s the way things are around us. It’s change. And it Has to change. But we still might have a chance....”

            “I dunno. Both of them on vacation? That might be permanent. And They are both tired. I just have a bad feeling about.. Everything”

            The borg sighed. “It’s change, Lena. Just how much of a change remains to be seen.”

            A petite woman wrapped in a plain tan tunic and an abused maroon cape slipped into the foundry. She seemed thin and wiry, pale, her shoulder length mouse brown hair unbrushed and tangled. Following her was a fellow dressed in loose fitting off- white pants and tunic. Hi face was mostly covered by more white muslin, leaving only his eyes visible. The girl slowly waked around the forge. “Maybe we can get some blades here. I need to get back into shape. Right now even norms can kick my ass.”

            “Perhaps,” her escort nodded. “If they are even open for business. It seems rather quiet around here, particularly for a forge.”

            “I noticed. Anybody home?” he called out loudly. With no answer forthcoming, Megan slowly looked over the few blades laid out. “Not too shabby. It’s not Damascus steel, but then that kind of blade would be wasted on me. “I’m too brutal on fine swords.” She cautiously picked up the smallest of the weapons, wincing a bit as the weight bent her wrist back. “I’m so out of shape. Maybe Hybrid was being too easy on me. He probably was levitating in my grip.”

            “Sorry for the wait.” A very tall man emerged from the back rooms, his dark hair just brushing the very ceiling, as he stood well over seven feet tall. His eyes glowed a ruby crimson and Megan could feel an intense aura emanating from him in a wavelength that set her teeth on edge. Even her own chaos that normally had a mind of its own screamed at the back of her brain, telling her to run, to get away. She held her ground for the moment. Despite the power, his manner didn’t seem threatening at all. “Please take a bit of time to look around,” he insisted. “I don’t use Damascus steel as you’ve noticed, but I’ve found that diamond titanium latticework has a superior quality. What brings you here tonight?”

            “My friend Zelgadis....” She turned to introduce her companion only to find her golem had slipped away for the moment. She frowned, but didn’t miss a beat,” .... and I are looking for some weapons. We’ve.. Well.. Mine ran away. I’d like to replace it with something that isn’t enchanted, possessed, or anything crazy. Just a plain Jane blade..”

            That caused the swarthy man to rifle his hand through the thick black coarse hair. “Strange.. It ran away. Okaaay. Ran away. Well, stranger things have happened...”

            “Well it Did!” Megan stamped her booted foot, the leather bootcover already showing the wear of the road with a hole in the toe.

            “Hello there!”

            This came from a very familiar voice. Megan turned to find herself staring into the brown and black of the Red Dragon Kind’s embroidered garb, the man’s sword already humming happily at their meeting. “Oh crap!” she spat. “You weren’t supposed to find me!”

            “I wasn’t?” He seemed amused by her reaction and only slightly put out by her unkind welcoming. “Well then, I’ll pretend I never found you.”

            “No! No! No!" Again another temperamental stamping of the foot, followed by a very unladylike belch. “Ugh!” she protested, this time against her own body as a wave of nausea rushed upwards.

            The towering smith produced a white linen handkerchief embroidered with a red D. “Here you go miss. Restroom is to your right.. First door.” She was already running, dodging to the right at the last moment as per his directions, then slamming the door shut. Now the gigantic man turned his attention to her compatriot. “How are you, sir?”

            “I’m fine,” Dracon replied, watching down the hall, bemused but concerned at Megan’s sudden stomach attack. He too could feel the man’s churning aura and he suspected that it was the problem. Not good since Megan’s own power wasn’t as defined. “And yourself?” he asked.

            “I’m a bit frustrated. Pricing in the field is always crazy, especially when trying to find a happy exchange rate between two guilds.”

            “Sounds like hard work,” the red dragon king nodded, then turned as Megan emerged from the rest room. She still looked green but she had managed to regain some composure. “Okay.. Where were we?”

            “We were speaking of the blades you and your friend want.”

            “Right. I dunno what Zel wants.. In fact I’d like to know where he went.” She did seem to be a bit anxious, even though Drac tried to assuage any physical fears by switching to the more prominent form of the red dragon, topping six feet at the shoulder since they were a bit confined in the space. He laid down at her feet, hoping his bulk would bolster her courage. And it did to some degree for she did turn back to the smith. “I just want a simple sword, no magic, and not too expensive. Diamond edging sounds way out of my price range. Got anything simple?” She rummaged through her leather pouch. “I’ve got about twenty three gold pieces and change.” It seemed her hand slipped further into the pouch that it technically should have, but that didn’t phase her. The growing crowd of over muscled, over sized warriors however did seem to set her further on edge, making her back into the dragon’s side. “Whatever you can muster fer me would be appreciated.” She tossed the pouch to the smith the leaned back to whisper to her draconic escort. “Let’s go find a bite to eat.. I think I need some air.” Again the green color was growing and she looked.. Gassy.

            “Sure!” the dragon barked. “We’ll go back to my tavern and I fix you something filling.” But he saw the girl begin to shake, taken up with a general state of heebie- jeebies. Of Megan, he expected such a reaction to the churning surge of power that built around the room. What he didn’t expect was the smith’s attention to his charge as he seemed intrigued with Megan’s vibes.

            Megan tried to flee, but only manage a few steps out into the street. Her legs suddenly buckled, pitching her forward, even as she struggled with the dry heaves. She could Feel him. The power he bore rotated around and through her, poking, touching, coaxing, pushing and constantly fluxing through her, trying to match up. “Relax” it spoke, but the chaos with her wanted nothing to do with the strange invading power. Everything within her kicked back, shaking off its hold, demanding to be released. It also dropped the girl into the muddied street, taking her breath away.

            Drac broke the conflict, scooping his young charge under one arm and blasting off into the afternoon sun, putting as much distance between them and the forge as he could before unrepairable damage occurred.

            She returned the next night, having”escaped” from Drac’s tavern, having to climb up two stories then vaulting off the roof. Not that she minded Drac, but she didn’t want to be confined or contained. Something was driving her, but she wasn’t too sure if it was towards something, or away. Zel was still missing, and though she greatly missed him, she didn’t have the overwhelming need to have him by her side.

            Well, not a great overwhelming need.

            She managed to get withing 20 yards of the forge, but stopped short. This time it seemed that her body refused to go any closer. She tried throwing her weight forwards, but her legs locked up, as if there was some line drawn in the dirt road. And that’s how Drac found her. “Why didn’t you wait for me?” He asked, blinking at her in mock disbelief.

            “Cause I wanted to do this on my own,” she growled, struggling to get her feet moving.

            He watched for a few minutes as she struggled against the imaginary barrier. “I Could go in there and get your money back for you. I assume that’s what you want.”

            Of course it was. There was no way she could afford even the most simplest of blades from that forge, the craftsmanship was too detailed and above her means. She struggled a few more times, then tosses her hands. “If you would. It seems I’m a bit detained.

            The smith was waiting, pouch in hand which he handed back to Drac with no problem. The man next to the oversized forger of steel seemed just as jittery, if not more so than Megan. The darker haired man clamped a comforting hand on the blond man’s shoulder. “It’s okay. They mean us no harm. She is like me, a creature of chaos.” The blue eyed kindred didn’t seem to mellow out any, but he didn’t push to have Drac and his companion leave. The red dragon in disguise could feel the yin-yang between them, and found the off-sets strange. It was the chaotic one, the darker man, whom was calm and collected, while his straight-and-narrow order-ish brother was strung out thin. An interesting juxtaposition, but one he would have to dwell on later. Megan was already showing signs of exposure, the greenish sickly look once again invading her cheeks.

            This time the smith didn’t back down. Again his chaotic energies flowed through, around under and over, constantly fluctuating, seeking out Megan’s frequency. The mutant girl was downright seasick from all the twists and turns between the two forces, and almost vomited up breakfast when suddenly it all fell into synch. She and he were one in vibe, in sense, and as they both realized, in spirit. Aura’s matched movements, extending and extracting, until things were clear to them. Then as suddenly as they had merged, they retreated, as if an understanding had passed. Megan didn’t catch all of what was agreed upon, gathering it was the forces, not the creatures that bore them, that had “talked” things out.

            But at least Drac had retrieved her money, and they hurried down the street, looking for more laid back business establishments...

            Brimstone found himself staring across the way at Renea as she busied herself at the counter. Technically, the woman shouldn’t be standing there, but she seemed none the worse for wear. “Ain’tcha supposed to be dead?” he asked as he scratched the spot on his forehead were the flesh joined into the metal.

            “I was saved by an angel. Besides, this is Rydin. Anyfing’ is possible ‘ere.”

            “Too true... too true.” He fished around in the pockets of his trenchcoat and flipped a coin onto the counter. “Beer. That scummy stuff the little fireball of a mutie seems to like.” As Renea fetched his drink, the ‘borg looked about. “Where’s Danielle?”

            “On vacation.”

            “Ah... I suppose she needed a breather. Good for her.” He paused and looked up at the vampiric sister. “She Did go by herself, right? No scummy greasy psi on her arm?”

            “No. She went back ‘ome to our world fer a while.”

            A commotion to their right interrupted their conversation. A man spat his drink back into the glass. “There’s a cockroach in my glass!” he shouted. “I could have been poisoned!”

            Brimstone sat his hat low on his head, then walked up next to the man. There was indeed a roach in the drink, though he was fairly sure the fellow has slipped the insect into the brew to garner a free drink and some attention. “We should charge you for the protein,” he commented calmly, then reached into the man’s drink, lifted out the insect, and promptly ate it, making sure to chew loudly.

            “You monster!” the smaller man spat, then reached up and slapped the metallic jaw, only to find that metal doesn’t give. He ended up grabbing his fingers in pain and hooping around the room for a moment before locking himself in the bathroom.

            BS turned, looking mockingly flabbergasted back at Renea. “Did you hear that? He called me a monster!”

            Renea however was intently staring at BS’s face, a look that made the cyborg a bit uneasy. “Awww.. ‘ow sweet,” she finally smiled.

            For once, he was at a loss. “What’s sweet?”

            “Your eyes. I fink it’s sweet.. the way you fell abou’ ‘er.”

            He would have answered then, but the rude man had once again emerged from the restroom, even louder in tone and temperament than before. As he stormed past the mutant metal man, BS’s arm shot out, ensnaring his neck, making the rude man even more livid. “Let me Go you metal FREAK! I’ll… I’ll.. toss water on you and burn out your main computer!!”

            Brimstone turned to the offending boy. “If you don’t quit it, I’ll eat you like that cockroach.”

            As the man’s eyes bulged in fear, a chuckle ran through the crowd, entertained by the sight. BS ignored the man’s struggles and tuned back to Renea. “I forgot you’re a psi of sorts too. I know. The whole this is stupid. I can’t even be with her, not like how she would probably want to be.”

            “Let me GO!” the man snarled, still struggling. He even managed to throw the glass of water, to no effect. “Unhand me!”

            “Okay.” The ‘borg’s hand disengaged… from his wrist, allowing the man to drop to the floor, yet was still gripped by a hydraulic hand about the neck. The man flopped about the floor, still struggling when Renea asked Brimstone to let his quarry go. “Very well,” he groaned. The joke had worn thin anyhow. The hand released him, the walked back to its master on thick fingers, climbing up the pant leg, then the shirt and over the shoulder of the cyborg before crawling down his arm and re-attaching itself to its roost. He tightened the fitting as the man ran out the door in a panic. “What do you think I should do about your sister, other than protect her, I mean.”

            “Well, Brim, you can staht by noh’ protectin’ ‘er.”

            “But it’s what I do…. For all of youse guys actually. I’m kind of like a Watcher to a Slayer type thing.” He looked up to see Drac making his way up to the bar. “Ah, and another guardian joins us at the gates. I hear you found Megan.”

            Drac found it strange that BS would know since he hadn’t told anyone yet. “Quite by accident, really. She just happened to be in an area I was passing through. She seemed fine.”

            That was a lie. No, half a truth. One that the robotic man surely knew, but didn’t press. “Must have been some kind of luck, running into her like that,” he commented dryly as he sat his hat forward to cover the glowing red-lensed eye. “Luck is something we seem to be in short supply of late. Perhaps the tide is finally turning.” He clapped his living hand on the dragon king’s shoulders. “I’m leaving you the post then. I’ve got a few critter to torture. G’night.” With no further explanation, he shuffled outside, pausing just long enough to give that rude man, now cowering on the porch, a final glare to send the hapless man running for his life.

            It was the simple things in life that made him smile.

            He was too late.

            Timothy had been tearing up the streets, looking for his lost Emily ever since finding out that she was the victim of yet another mind flayer. He’d hoped just to find a lost little girl. What he found was her crumpled body in a blind alleyway, wrapped around a small bundle with the gelatinous mass of a mind flayer baked in the afternoon sun, the victim of one serious attack as the main body had been disintegrated. “Emily!” he cried out, the relief overwhelming as he knelt down to hug her, caring less if she beat him to a bloody pulp.

            That’s when he realized he was too late.

            Emily was barely tangible. Apparently she had expended too much energy in taking retribution, so much energy that she was falling apart molecule by molecule as the energy that was once at her command slowly dissipated; and not just her. The child in the swaddling clothes was weakening as well, the color seeping from her pale cheeks. All Tim could do was hold mother and child in his arms. The strongest psi on the planet and he couldn’t do squat. He needed a kinetic. He needed Aurora, but she was no where to be found. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to his mate, tears rolling down his tired cheeks. “I am so sorry.”

            “It won’t do you any good.” Dusk faded into view, hovering over the scene.”

            He turned to the ghost, snarling. “What Did You Do!?”

            “I watched,” she smirked. “She used every bit she had. She’s a gonner, and that baby ain’t far behind. Got no soul, well... not much of one. Can’t live too long without that...”

            “Shut UP Dusk!” The mutant was convulsing with grief as he hands began to slip through Emily, only the weight of the baby resting on his arms. Desperate, he sent out a world-wide mental SOS.

            Megan had been tossing about in her sleep, walking Zelgadis when her hand slapped across his brow. He tried to rouse her, shaking her by the shoulders, but she seemed to be caught up in some sort of convulsion. Dare he try a spell?

            Before he could cast anything, her eyes snapped open and she sat straight up. “EMILY!” she shouted, the reached out and grabbed her head, pressing down on the pain that rocketed across her brain like an ice cream freeze.

            Zelgadis held her tight, talking calmly, reassuring her that she was okay, and that they were safe. He knew. He’d been hanging out with Megan so long now that he was beginning to pick up the mental signals that Megan was susceptible to, and the message was all too clear.

            Emily was dead.

            A-9 was in her third drink at the bar when the metal shockwave ran through her brain. Her head snapped back with the whiplash, causing her to topple off her stool to the floor, but it wasn’t the impact with the floor that caused her grief. Following that psionic shout came a wave, a force so great that it made her nauseous. With a hand clamped over her mouth, she rushed to the restroom, barely making the commode in time to bring up dinner.

            It was Brimstone that answered, jogging down the roadway to the scene. “Oh no...” He tried to pull Tim back, but the psi wouldn’t budge.

            “Your wife is gone,” Dusk stated, almost taunting. “But your child might live. Only one hope left.”

            Brimstone turned, giving Dusk That look. “You planned this from the start, didn’t you?” It seemed silly, the way the borg held Tim in his arms like a child. “You were just hoping one of use would lose enough of a soul for you to slip in. So why haven’t you taken up residence yet?”

            She snorted, the sound muffled and echoed in her ethereal state. “Why.. I haven’t planned anything! I lack the power to influence this world, but I AM in a position to help, unless you have another option?”

            “Fine, fine,” the ‘borg grumphed. Tim was far too gone in grief to even deal with the threat to his child. “I suppose we need a church setting, or somebody skilled at soul- swapping?”

            “It would be a plus.”

            Brimstone grumbled, watching the last of Emily fade away. “She was a good kid. I hope she turns into a ghost and kicks your shady ass good, Dusk.” He finally turned and headed down the road with his burden.

            They found a crumbling excuse for a temple about a mile away, deep in the southernmost outskirts of the town. The grounds were overgrown and long unattended. Brimstone placed Timothy’s baby on the cracked marble altar. “We need anything else?” he snarled, definitely put out by the whole affair.

            “No, that should be enough. See you on the flip side.” and she faded from view.

            The borg stared down at the child. It didn’t look possessed, yet Brimstone knew what Dusk was capable of. He should kill her right now, he thought. Wouldn’t even have to use a weapon, he could snap its neck; but something told him no.

            Still second guessing himself he scooped the child into his arms, then bent down and slung the limp psi over his shoulder and broke out into a jog, taking his charges home.

            When he reached the bar, he paused at the counter, almost tossing the baby into Danielle’s arms without seeing if she was alert enough to catch it. “Take care of that,” he grunted, then headed upstairs with the Rex. He had to move quickly wile the psi was in a catatonic state. Into his room he went, dropping the body into an oversized, overstuffed bed, then typing the arms and legs together with duct tape. Once secured, the ‘borg combed through the room, removing all sharp objects and anything that could be used as a noose. Once the site was cleared, he drugged the mutant, remembering to double the dose of morphine. He waited a few more minutes, monitoring the Rex’s vital signs before returning to the bar downstairs.

            Danielle had already peered down at the grey- green eyes of the newborn as Goury looked over her shoulder. Both wondered why the cyborg seemed to hold the child in such disdain. “What happened,” Danielle finally asked him.

            BS just looked over Danielle’s other shoulder, curling a lip in a snarl at the child. “Don’t get too attached to that. It’s possessed It’s Emily’s baby.”

            “Emily?” It took Danielle a few moments to trace the name back. “Tim’s wife? Where is she?”

            The question seemed to trigger a violent reaction in the metallic man, making him snatch his hat from his head and whip it into the floor in a fit. It was rare to see the cyborg uncovered, and Danielle was surprised to see that the borg had a full mop of brown hair covering his skull. She’d always imagined him bare- headed for some reason. But the tousled locks mimicked his frustrated mood. “Dead. Another mind flayer got to Emily, but she fought back with everything she had.. And then some. Tim was right. That power just ate her up, and took quite a bit of the baby’s soul as well.”

            “Good God!” Goury gasped.

            The borg looked up at the blond swordsman with his mechanical red eye. “Dusk was there.”

            “Oh Geez!”

            He now rolled his eyes to Danielle as she rocked the baby in her arms. “Dusk is in that baby. It was the only way to save it. I dunno if Tim knows, or cares.”

            The barmaid had that maternal determined set to her jaw as she was already bonding to the tyke. “Well, I’ll take care of the baby then.”

            “Danielle,” There was a low warning in his voice. “That baby.. If it starts doing anything strange.. You.. You’re gonna have to.. kill it.”

            Goury watched as the tension between the tendress and the ‘borg rocketed up several levels. “Do you think Dusk will try something?” he asked, sure that the metal man had his reasons for such harsh action.

            “I know she will.”

            Danielle just stared at Brimstone as if he were insane. “Brim, I think you better serve yourself from now on, because I may well poison you for even Suggesting such a thing!” She bundled up the child and moved away from them, rocking the child softly in her arms. She could see nothing wrong with the child. She didn’t seem possessed, or even mutated. Just beautiful.

            Goury scooted his chair in closer to talk softly so’s not to further aggravate the woman. “Can we do anything to prevent Dusk from making trouble, or at least protect the baby from her?”

            “Short of swapping a soul? I have no idea where to start on such a project. We need that Zelgadis guy for something like this. Besides,” The borg reached up and helped himself to a bottle of mid-grade whiskey, nearly draining it dry to settle his nerves. “We’ve got bigger fish to fry. Tim’s absolutely broken. He was holding Emily when she dissipated. Right through his fingers, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Talk about harsh.”

            The erstwhile nursemaid snapped her head around to glare at Brimstone. “Does this mean you’ll start taking it easy on him now?”

            He sighed and faced her. He tried to speak twice, changing his mind as he tried to find the words to describe his relationship with the psi. “I nursed him through the death of his first wife,” he stated. “But in that he had a focus. He spent years trying to kill Aurora, or make her suffer. This is different. He thinks HE killed Emily, or at least had a hand in it. You can guess where that leads.”

            “And you will take all steps to prevent that, yes?” She had a steel ice in her eyes now.

            “Of course. I took all the harmful things out of my room, strapped him to the bed and doped him up. The drugs should keep him docile, for a while till his system develops a tolerance. I wouldn’t send Anyone in there that didn’t have psi-shielding in place and training in dealing with mental manipulation.” He already had his eye on Danielle as she looked hopeful as a candidate. His face clearly said no. “I suppose he would appreciate it if you can take care of that... thing.. For him.” He nodded towards the bundle in her arms.

            “That’s not funny,” she growled. “Not funny at all.”

            Goury was more hopeful. “Is there Any family member we can call on for help? I can’t imagine that Everyone in your family is pissed at him.”

            “Family?” The mutant metal man snorted. “Are you kidding? Pretty much everyone and his brother wants to kill him.” He then turned, giving a slight shudder under Danielle’s horrible glare. “I’m not kidding about that kid though. I’m already having second thoughts about doing what I did. I Should have killed it right when Dusk took possession. You have No idea what she did, or is capable of. She almost killed me, Tim, even Aurora. Who knows what assets that kid’s body’ll give her.” But he knew he’d already lost the battle. The hateful anger that emanated from the tall tendress was straight out of the International Bank of Mother’s Instincts. Any hopes to win her over were now slipping away with every word he spoke, but it had to be spoken. He turned away. “I’m gonna take a watch,” he muttered then trudged up the stairs.

            And with one Crisis uploaded, another began. A sudden yelp from the restroom in the Red Dragon Inn and the door flew open. A-9 was contorting in the hallway, trying to remove a sword that seemed stuck flush against her spine.“Get it off! Get it off!” she yelped, spinning around and throwing her back into one of the walls, hoping to dislodge it. The plaster cracked with the effort, but the blade held firm.

            Danielle clutched Timothy’s child up to her chest as chunks of debris flew by. “Goury! Do something!”

            The blond swordsman was already moving in for the rescue. “Hold Still!” he shouted out, just narrowly missing being decked by the hilt as Nine spun around. She stopped, then braced herself against one of the tables, allowing the good Samaritan to grab a hold of the hilt and pull. “I think its coming loose!”

            “OW!” Nine howled back. “It ain’t letting go! That’s my Skin! Your gonna flay me alive..Just…stop.”

            “Okay,” and he held up his hands, showing that he’d complied. She whipped about twice more, trying to grab any part of the sword, but the blade seemed to have a mind of its own, evading her grasp. “It won’t work.” Goury advised. “Hybrid is sentient. He knows what you’re thinking. He probably thinks your Megan.”

            Nine inhaled, trying to collect herself, then paused, tilting her head slightly. “I.. I can hear it? No.. not quite hear.. It’s almost like feeling, but with all the senses. It’s… humming. Is it supposed to hum?” Indeed it was humming, almost purring in contentment.

            “Sometimes,” Goury nodded, noticing that Danielle was sneaking away, taking the new foundling child up to her chambers. “It usually does that in the presence of its owner, or another relation.”

            Finally he mutant began to relax when she realized the bade was not hurting her. Maybe it was the humming that soother her, or the fact it wasn’t pulling on her skin. “So, this is that chick Megan’s sword? Why is it glued to my backside? Why isn’t it with her?”

            “I dunno. It’s been missing for a while.”

            “Well I found it in the supply cabinet. I was hunting for some toilet paper and I opened a hutch and WHAMMO.. it hit me.. literally. And how the hell Does it stay glued to my back like this? Through the fabric even. And how do you get it to let go? Some stupid secret words, I bet.”

            While Megan played with her new toy, the bar once again had visitors. The young man making his way to the bar had the goth/grunge them young with a black fishnet shirt, black cargo jeans decorated with various straps and chains. His black hair was spiked up at odd angles while silvery blue eyes took in the strange sights. Danielle had returned to her post after putting the baby down on her bed for a nap. “What can I get ya?”

            “A glass of Black Water Mist, please?”

            She gave him an odd look. “Sorry. Don’t carry that one, Dear. Got a second choice?”

            “Elvin wine?”

            “That I have.” She ducked down and retrieved the bottle from below. “Two gold,” she stated as she looked the fellow over. “You’re new around here. Haven’t seen you before.”

            “I’ve just returned after a long and painful journey. I rode my faithful horse Azeroth to the depths of the seas of sand an Arakis...” He paused, seeing the confusion on her face. “It’s a far off planet,” he added for clarification.

            She smiled. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’m nothing more than a simple human. How did ya go about getting your horse under water?”

            The young man suppressed a giggle. “The ‘Seas of Sand’ is just another nickname for the deserts on Arakis. I’m Blizzard. I was riding with two guys, Pyro Flames and Hollywood Maximus. They were waging a ware on the Ordos, a race of diabolical creatures that use hellish weapons and enslave beasts to do their dirty work.”

            Danielle slid a toothpick in her mouth. “Izzat right? They’re not a threat around here, are they?”

            “No, but I will probably cross their paths again on my way home. In truth I would already be home, but we were attacked by scavengers. My companions were killed and I barely escaped, only to find myself here. What about you?”

            “Oh, nothing much,” Danielle smiled. “Mother by age sixteen, working the streets as a prostitute. Took care of my son till I turned twenty, when he died. Then I came here.”

            Now the young man looked down at the counter as his cheeks slightly flushed. “Guess you’re not interested in a twenty two year old war softened man, are you?”

            Danielle’s smile grew wider as she leaned on her elbows at the bar. “I gotta hand it to ya’ you don’t beat around the bush.”

            “I’ve seen life change in seconds on the battlefield. I waste not time.”

            “I can see that. You Do understand though that there are certain things you can’t hurry up, right?” She giggled softly as she leaned back and stood up, keeping one eye on the mutant and her new toy at the other end of the bar.

            She reached her hand back again and the blade just slide across and into her grip, releasing it’s hold on her back. “Just like that,” Goury encouraged.

            “I see...” She now tested the sword, bouncing it in her hand, then slowly whirling it around her body. She’d obviously had some training in bladed weaponry. She only stopped her exercises when she spotted Randall lumbering in. “Hey! Doc! Lookit what I found, or I should say what founded me.”

            “Interesting design,” the scientist noted as he touched the hilt, feeling a strange hum vibrating through it. “It almost looks like two blades wrapped around each other. And that can’t be gold and onyx. Both metals are way too pliable for the weight of the sword.”

            “It IS two blades,” Goury confirmed. “But I have no idea what they’re made of. All I know is that Hybrid is sentient and bounded to Megan... well... bound to Nine now, I guess.”

            “Which brings me back again to the question. How come if it’s all so smart, its not strapped to this chick Megan’s back?”

            “Dunno,” the swordsman shrugged. “Megan’s on a trip. Maybe she’s too far for the sword to sense.” Goury watched with Randall as the scrawny girl once again set about testing the blade, whirling it in sloping arcs, switching hands in mid stroke. “The only thing I can think of is that your somehow connected to her family.”

            Nine had fathomed that as the idea had crept into her mind, but she didn’t want to postulate anything. “Nonsense. I’ve got no relative here. Heck Randall and the Commander are about the closest things to kin I’ve got here, and they’re no where’s near close.” She gave her comrade a wry smile. “Sorry, Doc, but it IS the truth.” She now slowly rested the blade back along her spine where it once again adhered to her. “I think this Megan chick just lost herself a weapon. Course now I’m gonna have to get some decent threads. This blade don’t match fatigues.”

            Randall had popped open the palm-sized scanner and was slowly rolling the machine down the length of the blade, causing the weapon to cringe as if it were afraid. “Don’t scare him, Doc!” the mutant warned, but then paused. It.. Had emotions? Feelings?

            She was pulled out of her reverie by Randall’s findings. “Hey Nine! This blade is almost identical to your patterns. See?” And he showed her the readings.

            The mutant was no slouch in the bookworm department. “There’s a phase shift though.. See.. Here.” She pointed at the anomaly with her lips pouting, thinking. “You know.. I’m beginning to think that the ship did more than move through space. It could have moved through time as well. Here.. Lemme try something. She turned towards Blizzard whom was nursing another drink. “Excuse me, sir, but let me scan you a sec.” She didn’t wait for his approval, running the device quickly up and down his arm then turning away before he could voice his disapproval. “This guy’s off too.. But in this wavelength.. Man, what IS this place? An interdimentional black hole?” Now she looked up at Goury. “Can we try you out?”

            The swordsman stared at them. “You two are from a different time line?”

            “That’s what this thing is saying,” Megan replied, grabbing Goury’s arm and running the machine down his arm. She was becoming giddy with each new result. “Him too! And in this tangent. You know, Doc, I’m think the ship was pulled here, like this guy and this guy.” She nodded to her two unwilling guinea pigs. “Maybe it wasn’t sabotage at all.”

            Randall scratched his head. “I dunno. I couldn’t get any conclusive data....” but he was cut short as Nine grabbed his scanner and bolted from the scene, determined to find her commander and propose her new theory.

            Our broody ‘borg made his way down the stairs shouldering his trenchcoat as he adjusted the weathered cowboy hat. He paused to look over the scene below. Marek and Goury were deep in discussions about women, or the lack thereof in Marek’s life and how to go about remedying that problem. Morgaine was introducing her childhood friend Jillian to her fiancee Renea, both beaming proudly. Their discussion had drifted oddly to baseball, and they already had their alliances proclaimed. Even that Militant psionic commander was at the bar looking a bit more menacingly than usual, hunched over the counter as he his something under his coat. BS stayed away from him as he wasn’t ready for the encounter that was bound to happen. Whom he didn’t see was Renea’s towering sister. “Where’s Danielle?” he grumphed at the vampiric tender. But he got no clear reply. Daunted for now, he headed out into the late afternoon streets.

            As he left, the errant mutant A-9 sauntered into the room. She had finally dumped the moth-eaten and warn camouflage gear for a dress. Rooslan lifted his head to look her over. To the untrained eye it simply was a Greek based style; a crossed top, loose sleeved upper bodice and a mid- calf full skirt in a tan/ beige silky material. The Commander could see the modification where metal plating and reinforced thin mail had been stitched into the fabric. Essentially it was light weight armor, covering all the vital points on her body. He suspected weaponry as well, perhaps dainty knives in the hem of the skirt or along the sleeve. Whomever the tailor was, he had done wonderful work. He wondered if Nine had blown all their money on the outfit, and on the sword strapped to her back. He knew she’d probably been taking more than her percentage from the salvage effort. Well, that would end now. “Ah. Nine. There you are. I need your help with something.” The undercurrent in his voice made Nine’s skin crawl, as well as Randall’s as he followed her into the bar.

            Nine paused and matched her commander’s grin, wanting to test something as well. “Really? Well, you know I’m game.”

            Rooslan jerked his arm out from under his coat, holding a small blue porcelain rod about 18 inches long and 3 inches in diameter. He slid his thumb along the shaft in one fluid motion and pointed it at his target. He wasn’t sure if it would work since he didn’t trust the pseudo gods he had procured it from, but it did the trick. It was a slaver’s rod. Complete mind control in a stick. It sucked the fight right out of Nine, the sudden change of energies making her whoosy and unfocused. “Nine, Sit,” the psi commanded.

            And she did so, sinking to her knees.

            The blade on her back, however; had other thoughts. It disengaged from her back and flew at her tormentor. “Duck!” Randall shouted, knocking his commander aside as the blade whizzed by, but not without some damage. The sharp edge sliced across Rooslan’s gut, missing the major organs but causing him to release the rod and letting it fall to the floor.

            Nine inhaled, finding the minding feeling lifting and Rooslan’s control fading fast. She pulled herself back to her feet, using the barstool as leverage. “You...” she growled, then inhaled twice to clear her brain. “You... animal! Hy! Kill him!”

            The blade had been hovering across the room and moved into action, eager to please. Once again Randall pulled him out of the blade’s path, but the weapon scored a lethal hit. A huge gash opened his troat, spurting blood everywhere even as the sword returned to Nine’s hand, purring and cooing as it sought assurances from its new owner. Randall clamped a hand over the gaping wound. “Nine! Why did you do that!?”

            She was still seething in anger. “He.. He DARED.. Like I was some kind of dog! Well no way! THIS dog bites! I will Never again let him manhandle me like that!” She leaned over Randall’s back and spat on the prone body of her dying leader before storming off into the evening streets.

            “I need some help here!” Randall cried out. “Does anyone have a med kit?”

            The fallen psi seemed surprisingly calm as he bled to death, even finding his mind drifting to the problem of how to control Nine, if he survived. He could hear people stepping around him, feel Randall’s hand holding his neck together, allowing him to breathe if just a little. A woman offered her services. “I have a kit,” she spoke as she flipped her silver hair back behind her shoulders. “However, I rarely use it.”

            “Please,” Randall begged of the girl. “I need to do something before he dies. Can I have the kit?”

            She knelt down, looking over Rooslan’s fading condition as she held the kit out to the scientist. “I don’t know,” she replied. “Can you?”

            “The man is dying and you make jokes?” he gasped, exacerbated with the almost callous nature of people of late.

            “I thought I felt something.” Timothy was just there, kneeling down next to Rooslan, placing his hand over the gashed throat as Randall removed his to reach for the woman’s offering. The mutant psi looked like crap. He had dark bags under his eyes and his oily black hair was all a tussle. How he managed to escape his prison of duct tape and bed sheets was a mystery, but one that would probably be answered later. “What a mess,” he grunted. “Didn’t it occur to you to duck?” He took the bandages out of the kit Randall now held and began wrapping the wound, folding the skin then placing an empty pack of cigarettes over the hole to permit the fallen man to breath. “Some leash you are,” the Rex almost chuckled. “Just push every button she has. Really dumb.” Finishing his task, he looked up at Randall. “We’re gonna need to stitch this up, and soon. And lots of morphine.”

            Rooslan opened his eyes to see this psi that his compatriots described in detail. Though this mutant was scrawny and looking half dead, he agreed: This Timothy character had presence, and whit. Someone to be reckoned with.

            “He’s gonna need surgery,” Randall groaned.

            “Or I May be able to heal him,” the silver haired girl offered.

            Randall and Tim both turned to the sorceress revealed. “You’re a spell caster?” they asked in unison.

            “She squinted. “Oui.”

            With that Tim let go of his patient, giving the woman full berth to cast her spells. When he did so, he spotted Danielle off in a corner, clutching a bottle of way too hard for her liquor. Her mind was just about as devastated as they come and just sat down next to her, not saying a word.

She gave him a blurry smile. “Hey Tom.. uhm…” she snapped her fingers but barely state focused on her train of thought. “Cute kid you got. Quiet too.”

            Well, that was a start. “She’s okay then?” he asked her hesitantly. He thought Brimstone would have buried the child by now. He knew full well that his darling child was possessed by a very angry and bitter spirit, that being his niece Dusk. Heck he could Feel her essence throughout the building. That had been one of the contributing reasons in freeing himself, in case the ghost had immediate plans to eliminate the rest of his breed. Apparently not, and for that he was thankful.         Danielle was still bobbling about, nudging his shoulder with her. “Hey, I was a mom once. I had a son, you know… once. I know a thing or two..” She held up three fingers, “.. about taking care of the little ones.”

            “So you taken her in you care. That’s very good. BS has been… unsure.. of things.” He himself was undecided, but played the odds. That Was their nature, after all, to fly in the face of common sense. It could have been Dusk nudging away at their subconscious, but if the psi dwelled on the problem, the impressions he felt scurried away under scrutiny. No.. something larger was in play here. Besides, the child could possible be the next Del Marian heir, if she wanted the job.

            Meanwhile the sorceress Lina, Merrick’s niece no less; had placed a cold, pale hand on Rooslan’s forehead then closed her eyes. A strange eerie glow slipped out from behind her lids betraying the power she possessed within. She began to mutter softly. A warm yet cold feeling encased the Militant, numbing all his pain as the wounds knitted. His body glowed light as it encased him in softness. Only when she opened her eyes did the light fade away, leaving the military man just a pint sort of blood and an itchy feeling in the scars as the bound.

            The bartendress huffed as Tim mentioned his cybernetic kindred. “Well that tin head can just rust for all I care. I don’t wanna hear it from him.”

            “Oh, don’t fault him. Dusk screwed him up royally last time. Turned him into a wooden puppet. Heck, she damn near killed us all.”

            Danielle was now listing precariously to her left. “Oh… I got it under cooooonnntrooolll…..”

            He leveled a gaze at her, but it was hard to tell if it was anger or apathy. “There are many dangers.. some we don’t even know about….”

            “I am taking care of that child!” She sat up straight, wiping her face with the sleeve of her dress. “She is my charge until more capable hands come to relieve me.”

            Tim didn’t argue. The Rex just nodded his head, the gesture carrying the multitude of meanings such small notions always did, then he stood, feeling that the magic show was over. Rooslan was sitting up on the floor, gently rubbing his neck, feeling that any roughness would once again renew the gap in his throat. His benefactor Lina was faint from the effort, and Goury was scouring her personal belongings, looking for some healing herbs to revive her strength. Randall seemed to hover over his superior. “How do you feel, Skipper,” he asked, still in awe of the power he’d just witnessed.

            “Where did she get that sword?” he rasped, his voice certainly not as soft as before.

            “It found her a few days ago.”

            “It.. found her..?” he asked, then frowned, not waiting for an explanation. “Well, I don’;t like it.”

            “Well, Commander Rooslan, you better get used to it.” The Rex stepped up into the bar area, walking up to the fallen man. He’d been putting off this encounter long enough, and this was too good an opportunity let escape. “Quite the spitfire, isn’t she?”

            “Maybe. Maybe not.” Rooslan cursed himself for having let his guard slip so far the he never noticed the other’s psi infiltration.

            Timothy smiled that greasy victorious grin. “That blade is bonded to her. It will protect her, as you’ve seen. You probably don’t wanna go about pissing her off as often now.” He slowly walked around Rooslan, even as Randall hovered protectively between the duo. It wasn’t often Tim had a height advantage, and it helped that they were sitting on the floor. But even with this leaning in his favor, he couldn’t quite get into the thrill of the game. “We seem to have a sort of conflict of interest going on. We know each other, yet we don’t. You’ve got a psi. We’ve got a psi. You’ve got a kinetic. We’ve got a kinetic. Don’t you find this a tad bit strange? It’s even got that poor sword confused. In fact I’m thinking that your Nine and our Aurora are indeed one in the same.”

            Rooslan managed to pull himself into a chair, with Randall’s assistance. Both men warily watched the psi, knowing they were at a great disadvantage. Most of the other bar patrons had cleared away from them. Only Goury remained, tending the weakened Lina as she was unable to retreat from what looked to be an upcoming fight. The commander managed to pull some strength back into him, at least enough to banter with the mutant. “I’ve heard stranger theories. I just find it strange that you’ve picked this time to talk about it.”

            “Not so much strange as necessary.” The Rex leaned against one of the supportive columns to the bar, lighting a cigarette from a newly opened pack. “Everything around here has been fast-tracked of late, especially our ‘bad luck’. If your girl is as chaotic as ours, there’s a good chance that some of our ‘bad luck’ might mistake your girl for ours. Frankly, I can’t risk any more ‘bad luck’ finding its way here.”

            “Then what do you propose.” Apparently the mutant psi had a basket of trouble all his own, and just wanted to contain any potential problems. That would be understandable.

            Now the mutant psi crossed his arms, blowing smoke from the corner of his lip. “Well, for starters, keep you girl under wraps. Calm. Composed. Quit eggin’ her on. If I can feel her building on a hissy fit, imagine what something looking for trouble might sense.” He shook his head, remembering some of their encounters. “Everything from everywhere falls into this hellhole, and with youse guys twisting time this way and that, I’m surprised doubles and triples of us haven’t started popping up sooner.

            Rooslan had finally gathered himself as well as he sat unsteadily on the stool. He’d managed to get his mental guards up as well, all for naught as he knew the wilder talent in front of him had plenty of time to glean what he needed. “Keeping her leashed is easier said than done. My powers are draining and her temperament is more rebellious with ever day.”

            “How old IS she, Commander? Close to breeding age, perhaps?”

            “Why do you ask?” The question did cause the military man to take a step back in his thinking. He hadn’t ponder much past dealing with current problems with Nine. He never actually though of her much as human. More of a fighting machine, which is what she was bred for. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen any outward signs or felt any sexual desires emanating from the girl, at least not openly. And she wasn’t one to share her feeling with him.. not willingly. Perhaps she was a bit more mature than she lead them to believe.

            The darkly clad mutant just chucked at the man’s knee-jerk response. “You think she’s temperamental now, wait till she gets into that husband- hunting mood. Lord help the poor sap she sets her sights on. You know she’s gonna get all combative with anyone and anything, right? It IS why you guys insisted of combat females to start with. Mutant hierarchal social structures showed that the girl’s are Way more ruthless.”

            At this Rooslan allowed a smile to slip. This psi didn’t have All the information after all. “You at least had a chance to study them. In our world, most mutant breeds are extinct. Even your precious dragons. With exception for a few specimens we kept for stock, like Nine, draconic mutants are gone. For the most part we just refine what genes they produce to enhance our own abilities. Sort of a little talent farm”

            That caused Tim to pull up on his smugness some, but for different reasons. “Extinct? Whew.. this is gonna get hairier than I thought. If your Nine has not potential mutant’s to mate with… ewwwwww.. this isn’t going to be pretty. And you’re running out of enhancements.”

            “An unfortunate condition which will hopefully soon be remedied.

            The sorceress had recovered somewhat with Goury’s aide and had overheard the conversation. “Why do they speak of dragons as if they were livestock?” she asked her handsome attendant.

            Timothy answered for him. “Because, Miss, that’s what Militants do; enslave planets and strip whatever resources they can. They got my world pretty good, and turned whomever survived the razings into mutated super freaks.”

            She now turned towards Rooslan with sad, fearful eyes. “You would enslave my people?”

            “They did mine,” Timothy edged. “And they obviously did a bad job about it if my dragon kith and kin are all dead.”

            Randall tried to undo the damage the Rex was laying out. “All we want to do is contact our people, tell them were alive, and figure out what went wrong.”

            But the draconic sorceress pouted. “How can you humans be so cruel?”

            “I don’t give a damn about your people!” Rooslan shouted, or more croaked as his vocal chords seemed to vibrate the wrong way, irritated with how easily Timothy swayed the ground without using any psionic trickery. It was a war or words and Rooslan was losing fast. “With all of my might, my three man team is not going to decimate the local population or enslave anyone!”

            “I’ll say,” Tim snorted. “Especially since one of your team has gone AWOL.” The Rex was rewarded with another groan from the exacerbated man. “I Could go try to bring her back, if you wish.”

            “Somehow I don’t think that would be a good idea.” The military man was already massaging his temples.

            “Yeah,” Tim agreed. She might actually succeed in cleaving your head from your shoulders.” But the black clad man donned the matching cowboy hat and nodded to the group. “Somebody’s gonna have to go calm her down, before she blows.” He volunteered his services by making a grand gesture, waving with his fingers at the last second before disappearing into the afternoon crowds.

            Tim was shaking his head, even as he followed the wildly pulsating aura that was Aurora. No. Not Aurora. This one was called A-9, but she still bore all the characteristics of his kinsman. Right down to the manic depressive mood swings. He kept his distance, watching as she made her way through the throng, at first pushing people out of the way, but then as her emotions calmed, slipping through the cracks, even holstering that vibrant blade, letting it stick once again on her back. Eventually she regressed to a walk, then stopped at an ice cream shop and ordered a triple scoop and sat on the park bench, gathering herself.

            He waited yet another fifteen minute before also purchasing a cone and walking towards her. He did sport a faint hope way in the back of his brain that she’d panic and vaporize him on the spot. Funny, he’d been dodging that bullet for years with Aurora, yet with Emily gone, it would be a kindness to mow him down before his own body began to degrade to a useless state. The child would be well taken care for, and Megan’s new beau had her well in hand as well. Frankly there was nothing left for him now.

            Yet this Nine creature needed him.

            He sat down on the bench, leaving at least two sitting places between them, making sure not to crowd her style. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, managing not to let the melting confection drip on her dress. At least she had some grace about her. Finally she reached a stopping point and turned to look at him. “Your that psi Randall was blabbering about.”

            He nodded. She wasn’t as blind as Aurora either. “I’m Timothy. I bear the title of Rex, if that means anything.”

            She snorted, giving the ice cream cone a few bites, now that she was into the wrappings. “The Rex is a fairy tale made up to scare children.” Another few licks. “And I suppose you think I’m the Deh Mahr too?”

            “No.. Well.. Maybe not THE Deh Mahr.. Just one of them. You Have figured out that there’s been a few shifts not only in time, but in space?”

            She now finished her cone, dusting her hands to rid herself of the few crumbs that clung to her palms. “Kind of. Hy keeps flashing me pictures of his other owners and they all look like me. He shows me glimpses of you too. Frankly it seems that no body trusts you at all.” She scratched her head. “So you gonna bring me back to el Capitan for my execution?”

            “Hardly,” he replied. “Though you did lose control. And you’ve seen how Hybrid reacts when you get pissy. You may end up hurting somebody you like. Like that Randall guy perhaps?”

            Her quick look told him he’d come close to a truth. Of course he could have just gone plodding into her brain, but she was Militant trained. They didn’t leave their charges’ minds unguarded, and for sure there would be some subliminal booby traps set for the likes of him. No, he would just toy with this one and see where she bites. She was now looking at the ground. “Is Rooslan dead?”

            So she did care somewhat for her commander as well. He’d thought as much. “No. He’s got tons of luck. A spell caster sealed up his neck before he oozed all over the floor. He’ll live. Tough bird, that one.”

            “I know. He’s a slave driver.” She was now shuffling a booted foot in the dirt. “He’ll have me court marshaled at least. What I did is grounds for execution. I can’t go back.”

            And she wanted to go back. Glutton for punishment, the psi mused, then mused further. Just like Aurora. “What if I smooth things over between you and him?”

            She gave him an eye. Another similarity. That look must be more than hereditary. “I don’t think so. Besides, I get this feeling that you’ll want something from me somewhere down the line.”

            “Of course!” Tim gestured, as if it had been his plan all the time. “That’s how alliances are made.”

            Now she was frowning at him like he’d lost his mind. Perhaps he had, or maybe he wanted to. It would make his pain fade away. But he didn’t have that kind of luck. “What Are you after?”

            “Look, our current Deh Mahr is MIA. We need a focal point. You could Be that focal point.”

            “Oh no.. no thank you. I get this feeling that if I became that focal point, I’d be drawing a bull’s-eye on my chest. And I don’t like being shot at. No, I’ll just find my way around here, keep dodging the firing squad, and somehow eek out an earning.” She stood up, gathered her napkins and wadded them up, tossing them in the trash before storming off.

            Tim managed a wry smile. Somehow he felt right at home.

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