Nos Theista

Nos Theista

By Tony Arthur

Prologue

Nos Theista. Two words, their very utterance cause healthy countenances to turn ashen. Pronounced tremors would be seen rippling like tiny waves across the lips that dared to speak them. And the voices behind those lips often quaked from a cornucopia of naked, and deeply entrenched fear. Centenarian and child alike regarded the creature who bore the name with such unrefined loathing that it defies comprehension. Nos Theista, translated mean ‘Devourer of Souls.’ Its effect on the listener of its saga, was one that is as intoxicating as it was horrifying. As in distant ages past, the origins of the enigmatic but fearsome creature remained shrouded in mystery. Among the living, no one could say how Nos Theista came to be. It was said to have no known contemporaries. And what is said is eons of conjecture. Tales told and retold, often embellished over the course of time. Tales that at times collided just as often as they meshed. That said, Nos Theista is universally accepted with dread certainty as a being beyond mere myth. The creature was a legend for all the ages, past and present. Spanning one age into another, its legend endured in the memories and psyche of time itself.

Perhaps, the real story behind the myth of Nos Theista might never have come the light had it not been fate. Fate, that lifelong enemy, conspired to deal yet another conspiratorial blow. For it was fate that ejected Glynne Gibb into the orbit of a Nos Theista. And the knowledge that I acquired subsequently, I now commit to print with the consent of my wife.

It was in an age long lost to memory, lost to history that the creature who would bear the moniker Nos Theista surfaced from an ancient ocean that flowed across a vibrant world called Racan. Like her ocean life that had already been already decimated, Racan and its inhabitants were destined to endure an equally gruesome fate when Nos Theista slithered from the depths of the sea. Once on Racan’s stormy shore the planet’s fate was sealed. Upon making landfall, Nos Theista at first preyed upon Racan’s inhabitants for sustenance. It was later that the creature discovered that it had the ability draw out the quintessence of its prey into its own being. It was an extraordinary ability that allowed her to feed not only on their flesh for nourishment, but on their intellect and memories to expand her own intellectual capacity. Eventually the creature discovered that it could also co-opt the visage of its victims. In two generations Racan’s population crashed from the horrendous onslaught.

Recognizing the days of rich pickings were at an end, Nos Theista, armed with the amassed intellects of an entire world, fashioned a rudimentary spaceship to break free of Racan. With the successful launch she embarked on a gruesome odyssey. Traveling from one world to another, the creature took what she needed, or wanted along the way. Alas, the fate of Racan was visited upon every world she on which she alighted.

It was during this infamous period that the creature derived the terrifying moniker, Devourer of Souls. Her intellect soared to unprecedented heights, but that in no way influenced or swayed her from her diabolical course. Nor did it assuage her psychopathic tendencies. The entity became the most feared menace who was universally reviled across the expanse of galaxies. What left beings of all stripes particularly mortified was the creature’s supernatural ability to become whatever or whomever it chooses. That made it a fiend like no other on a thousand worlds. The ultimate impostor, Nos Theista moved amongst the myriad species, taking voice, visage and language, and no one being the wiser.

In this early period there was but one who rivaled the creature in power. Thus, unmatched and unrivaled Nos Theista cut a path of unprecedented devastation across worlds. When the saga of her infamy reached the ears of the all powerful sorceress, Tzazcoba, the sorceress was repulsed. Tzazcoba’s revulsion began with pure hatred of the creature, but ended with the acute aversion to her own power being imperiled. So the sorceress set out from her realm on Enlantisaan to counter the threat of the insidious Nos Theista.

The confrontation between Tzazcoba and Nos Theista took place on the shores of Bimijue on the planet Kaisopia. While an ionic storm raged the epic battle unfolded. For three days the two fabled powers battled each other brutally for supremacy. Over the course of that battle weaponry of the physical and psychic changed opportunistically as each sought to gain advantage over the other. Nos Theista frequently shape shifted to leverage her power. But against the formidable sorceress it was proving to offer no discernible advantage. As time wore on, so did their epic struggle. With their powers on the wane neither sought respite. Towards the end of the battle its scope had disintegrated into a bruising bare knuckles brawl. At one point Tzazcoba and Nos Theista were reduced to hurling large rocks at each other. In the waning ionic storm, battered and thoroughly worn down, Nos Theista fell to the ground exhausted. The sorceress Tzazcoba wasted no time in pouncing on her nemesis before her own depleted reserves failed. But despite her all consuming desire to end the creature’s existence what would have been lethal strikes to any other failed to dispense with her quarry. Drained herself from the rigors of the conflict, and frustrated at her inability to consummate her victory, Tzazcoba used her sorcery to immobilize the spent Nos Theista.

The fiend was ferried to a sunless and desolate world that would come to be known in time as Behgock. Bereft of a sun, Behgock was shrouded in near perpetual darkness. Without a sun to sustain most life forms Behgock was a world as primitive as they came. Tzazcoba’s objective was to isolate and eventually starve the abomination into oblivion. But it was here that Tzazcoba erred in her calculation. Unknown to the sorceress, among Nos Theista’s amazing attributes was the creature’s ability to induce an indefinite state of stasis. Whether out of necessity to rejuvenate itself after the grueling battle, or in reaction to the bleakness of her situation remains unclear. But Nos Theista entered into a state of dormancy which lasted for two millennia. It wasn’t until the unwanted and the discarded began to arrive on Behgock that Nos Theista emerged from that state.

As it turned out the world where Nos Theista slumbered, Behgock, would become a remote penal outpost. A cruel fate it was to be among the first groups of convicts and outcasts sentenced there. Awakened from her slumber with an unremitting hunger and anger, Nos Theista fell upon those first arrivals with horrific abandon. Within moments of their landing their ranks were simply decimated. It did not take long for the powers of surrounding worlds to realize that consignment to Behgock was a certain death sentence for any so condemned. Although no one was clear on just what evil there was down there, neither did they particularly care. What did it matter one way or the other? What was crystal clear was that if one had elements of a society to be rid off, or rivals to purge without ever hearing from or seeing them again, Behgock was the ultimate solution. And what followed was the flushing their collective refuse on to the planetary cesspit.

It was a time of bounty for Nos Theista. Nonetheless, after a while the creature, with its formidable intellect, learned to temper its appetites. Gradually it began taking only what was needed for sustenance leaving the others to share in the bitterness of its own fate. Generation after generation of the discarded and undesirables continued to stream in. The ones lucky to survive the one way trip quickly grasped who was lord of Behgock. These survivors passed down their knowledge orally from generation to generation.

By the time this part of the story unfolds Nos Theista approximates the guise of a vague and imprecise humanoid female. The matronly, benign looking countenance it projects belies the beast that lurks within. Regarded as a deity by Behgock’s refuse population, Nos Theista remains aloof from her fellow discards. The most intelligent among them she teaches how to harness sustenance from the harsh environment of the planet to supplement the occasional provisions sporadically transported in. Using tools she fashioned herself, shelters were hewn from the craggy, rocky surface. It wasn’t out of kindness that she did these things, it merely pragmatism. Their viability was the means to her own sustainability. Nor was this fact lost on the astute among the damned. In return for what she gave Nos Theista derived worship, was fed and clothed from their ranks. Only a select few from among them was allowed direct interaction with her. This person was known as the designate. Thus a delicate balance was struck on Behgock. But events were already taking shape that would turn everything upside down. On Earth the proverbial butterfly had flapped its wings; the resulting disturbance it created would ripple across time and space. So powerful was its effect, even ‘the Devourer of Souls,’ herself, would be caught in its updraft.

Chapter 1

Earth, the year is 2041. The time was 7:24 pm and it is Christmas Eve. A light snow is falling, giving the sleepy suburban town of Laurel that picture postcard look. However, the idyllic setting was deceptive. Interspersed among eager last minute shoppers and the few just perusing display windows while soaking up the sights and sounds of the Yuletide season, are members of a ruthless arm of the nation’s Homeland Security. Occasionally one would be seen requiring someone or some group to exhibit documents from his or their person before being allowed to resume their pursuits. For Glynne Gibb, being out in the open, the magnitude of the danger was all too familiar. Maybe it was the lull of the season that got to him, drawing him out. Perhaps, it was that he’d just simply grown tired of a lifetime spent hiding, existing on the fringe. ‘Tired, so damn tired,’ his mind affirmed. Yes, that was it; Glynne just wanted it to end. The running, the constant hiding, having to live life in the shadows. Whatever his reason(s) it was folly for him to be where he was now. This he knew before he left the relative sanctuary of the woods that had been his home the past few weeks. But he’d dispelled those thoughts as he trekked out of the woods to cross over Route 198. A decision he knew was tantamount to suicide.

Glynne kept on going pausing only briefly to wait for a break in the traffic before dashing over to the east side of Route 198. Through the falling snow he trudged, making his way to Cherry Lane and down to Laurel Lakes. It would eventually bring him to the heart of the shopping district. With his head bowed, his aged parka concealing all but the top of it, he moved passed the Laurel Center Mall. If he had to run he did not want to be indoors where he could be easily trapped. When he reached Baltimore Avenue, also called Route 1, Glynne turned south. He soon came in sight of Laurel Lakes Shopping Plaza. It was a strip mall with an assortment of fine shops. He had not the means to buy a single thing, but just looking at the merchandise in display windows with their holiday decorations was reward enough to cheer him up a little. No sooner had he positioned himself at the first store window when the hairs on the back of his neck stood erect. Glynne stiffened inside the oversized parka. In the window pane he could see the reflections of two burly men edging closer to him. Trying to affect an air of casualness he continued peering at the display, while moving ever so slightly down the strip to distance himself from the obvious threat.

To Glynne’s dismay he saw the men continue to shadow his movements. Hey, you! You there! Let’s see your papers. One of them challenged. Glynne looked to both sides of him as if to ascertain they were in fact talking to him. He pointed his index finger toward his chest as he turned to face the men. You see us looking at anyone else? Let’s see your identification! The other added. So this was it then, the day he’d spent his entire life running from, lived in constant fear of. Finally, he’d come to the end of the road. As Glynne considered his situation, he was surprise to find that he felt a resigned sense of relief. But he would not cash in so easily. They would take him down to be sure, but he would not give himself to them on a platter.

With that thought throbbing through his mind he took off with a burst of speed. He darted around a tree lining the promenade of opulently appointed stores. Some shoppers froze to gawk. A number squawked in alarm as they tried to get out of his way before he barreled past. Glynne was mere five feet from reaching the south corner of the building which offered an opportunity for escape when he felt the jolt in his lower back. The force of the wallop knocked his legs out from under him, and he spilled heavily to the ground. His back arched to an impossible angle from a spasm. Lips peeled back from clenched teeth. Spittle oozed down from one corner of his mouth. From deep inside him a groan released itself in a piercing grunt.

Shoppers blanched at the spectacle while others looked away in disgust. A number of them sought the relative safety to be found inside nearby stores. There they could observe what was happening behind the safety of brick, mortar and glass. The two Homeland Security men were now joined by other members. Also arriving on the scene were police officers from the P.G. County police, and Laurel City Police departments. You boys seem to have things pretty well in hand here, one P.G. County officer said. Want to thank you boys for your assistance. We’ll take it from here, The two H.S. operatives said almost in unison. One of them manacled Glynne, while the other roughly removed the electrode which packed enough power to bring a fully grown Hereford bull to its knees.

Glynne was dragged to his feet and hauled off to the waiting cruiser at the curb. He was thrown unceremoniously on to the rear seat. He raised his head slowly; through half lidded eyes saw the hazy shapes of onlookers gaping at him. His head fell again to his chest as he passed out. That’s all there is to it folks, the show is over! Nothing more to see so go on back to your shopping, a Laurel police officer advised. He dispersed the crowd of spectators. The car with Glynne Gibb pulled away from the curb and soon disappeared from sight. Within minutes the event would soon vanish from the minds of the shoppers who had more pressing concerns. Such as finding that perfect last minute gift.

Glynne Gibb was taken to a building under the purview the Home Security. He was subjected to a blood test which confirmed what they already knew. He was indeed an undesirable. In a society comprised of the genetically selected, and or enhanced, he was neither. Twenty-five years earlier, his type began to be ruthlessly and systematically rooted out. It began in the most inhumane manner with mass exterminations. But once that became known it drew the outcry and outrage of the Organization for the Preservation of Human Dignity. The practice ceased as a matter of law on a mass scale, though law enforcement was endowed with a whatever it takes policy to remove an undesirable from society.

Other countries around the globe agreed to accept the USA’s undesirables. And the US allowed a number to immigrate to more welcoming shores. But there was a percentage (though small) that refused to leave the country of their birth. There was a high price to be paid for such sentiment. The endless persecution, being forced to live out an existence in isolation, on the fringe, and unable to be a part in any measure of the society around them. Hounded and hunted relentlessly, there would never be a moment’s peace for any of them. The current situation with Glynne was not typical; rarely was an undesirable captured to be taken alive.

What is your name? the agent in charged queried. She, like others of the upper echelon was genetically enhanced at the embryonic stage. Delmy Soto was the portrait of perfection, flawless skin, height to weight proportion to scientific perfection with an IQ to match. Glynne Gibb peered at her stunning persona with her coiffed blonde trusses set above aqua blue eyes. Glynne, he answered softly. Is that your only name, Glynne? Delmy probed. Gibb, Glynne Gibb is my full name, he answered. Delmy Soto watched the still slightly disoriented man with apathy. Well, now, Glynne Gibb, clearly you see the dilemma in which you find yourself. But should you cooperate with us—and be forthcoming, perhaps something can be worked out with an amicable outcome, she said conversationally. What is it you want?

Glynne angled his head to avoid the worse glare of the lights. For starters you can tell me where you were hiding. How many more are there at your hideout? she replied with a Cheshire grin. Glynne cleared his throat. I was in the woods off 198 for I don’t know how long. Sorry I can’t be more exact, I no longer have a good sense of time. The days all run together. There are no others that I know of. For awhile it was my father and me but he too is gone. I am alone, everyone I knew is gone. You all saw to that. But even if I did know of any others I wouldn’t tell you. No matter what you did to me. he answered.

Delmy Soto watched him without expression. You are quite sure you know of no others? We have ways that will make you sing. But it is Christmas Eve, I’d so dislike getting into any of that unpleasantness. The truth, she said. Glynne watched her as directly as he could from his position. I have no reason to lie. I have no one left to protect. Do what you will, I don’t care anymore. I don’t, he replied. Delmy Soto studied the wretched man with bubbling distaste. This may come as a surprise but I believe you. So, Glynne, in keeping with spirit of the season this is what I will do for you. I am going to do send you to a place with others like yourself. A place where you will be more at home. What do you think of the idea? she asked.

On Delmy’s face was a flirtatious smile but somehow it looked sinister. Glynne regarded her with suspicion. And where would that be? A mass grave? I know what you do to people like me. I’ve seen what you do, he replied. Delmy pursed her beautiful lips and leaned forward. She regarded him in the way a teacher might with a dim witted pupil. Unfortunately, it is true that we haven’t always acted with—compassion. But that was then, we are in a new era now. You see we want to do things the proper way. And besides it is Christmas. So, unlike the practice of the past your life will be spared. But, I’m afraid you will have to leave us. You understand that, don’t you? Don’t you worry though, where you are going you will absolutely love the place. As a matter of fact, you will probably want to write me later to thank me, she assured. From the back of the room came a snicker.

Glynne craned his neck to see its source. Whoever was there was in the shadow. The items taken from his parka after his apprehension were returned to him. An ancient Disc-man, three discs, several letters yellow with age, and his wallet. The wallet contained no money, only a couple of tattered photos. Bring him, Delmy Soto said, as she left the room.

It was then the man behind the laughter separated himself from the shadow. He approached the manacled Glynne. On your feet! he said. He hauled Glynne to his feet and led him from the room. Down a long dark passageway he was led until they came to a forbidding looking fortress of a room. Four sentries stood outside armed to the teeth. A shiver went through Glynne as he was thrust inside. It was colder in that room than it had been standing in the cold at Laurel Lakes Plaza.

What’s this? he asked nervously. It is from here that you will set off to your new home, Delmy answered His head swiveled at the sound of Delmy Soto’s voice. Strap him in, she ordered. The men who stood on either side of Glynne first removed his manacles, and then he was lifted in to a chair full of straps and gadgets. At first glance Glynne believe it to be an electric chair. So woman lied, he was thinking. He would die here after all. Glynne’ s breathing became shallow as he came to grips with the inevitable.

With a measured look at the woman, and in a surprisingly even voice he said, My Dad used to say to me that, ‘life is a circle. What goes around comes around.’ It looks like today is my time. But I believe in Karma and she is a bitch. Tomorrow, or maybe next week, or the next year, your time will come too. You can run but you can’t hide from Karma, Delmy Soto leaned toward him. You dad told you that? It is quite profound, I must say. I’ll do my best to remember it. And speaking of hiding, your days of hiding are over. It wasn’t Karma that found you, I did. Merry Christmas, Glynne, and bon voyage. Hey, don’t you forget to write! she chimed with a wink. Send him on his merry way, she pronounced.

On a control panel Glynne hadn’t previously registered a man started to punch buttons. The panel lit up like a Christmas tree and the chair vibrated beneath him. A grating sound above his head jarred him forcing his attention upward. What appeared to be skylight retracted like a sun roof. The area in around the chair was bathed with an intense light. He ears drums began to pop until he thought they would burst. His teeth rattled in his head. Then there was nothing at all except blackness. There was a sensation of tumbling endlessly. Unbelievable cold gnawed hungrily at him. After what seemed like forever there was sudden painful and jarring thud, as if his body struck something hard and unyielding.

Stiff with cold and disoriented, Glynne found himself lying prone, and unable to move. Sounds floated around him like chatter but sounded strange to his ears. Maybe he was dreaming. Yes that must be it. In the fog of the dream hands prodded at him. They probed his clothing. The effort to respond to those hands racked his head with a plethora of pain. But the tiny effort was enough show that someone was home, and still alive. The prodding hands ceased their curious pursuit. Feet scampered back away from him. But a multitude of eyes rested on him. None of them had beheld his species before. The closest thing to his resemblance was the one to whom all eyes now turned. Silhouetted by the glow of a warming fire that person surveyed the scene from a distance.

It would be some time before Glynne Gibb knew that he’d just joined the population of a world that was not Earth. At a table erected of stones with a crudely carved slab for a top sat a humanoid female. The orange glow of the flames reflected off filmy green eyes that watched his outline on the ground. One known as the designate approached reverently.

Alacc macmed wasai? he asked in his native tongue. ‘What shall we do?’ The eyes of the one he addressed did not stray from the shape. Navila, she replied. ‘Do nothing,’ it meant. It was said so softly it was almost a whisper. With lowered head the designate backed up several paces before turning to rejoin the others.

It would be more than thirteen hours before Glynne regain consciousness. When he finally did, Glynne hugged himself against the gnawing cold. It cut into him despite the protection of the parka. He extended and bent his knees to get the circulation going. That he was still alive shocked him. Why was he still alive? This couldn’t be the after life, could it? One didn’t feel cold there, did they? Did you feel the needle like stabs of poor circulation in the after life? Around him the silence was total except for the occasional crackling sound somewhere.

Glynne waited for his eyes to adjust before trying to get up. He craned his neck from side to side to look over his surroundings. He was on the ground was all he knew for certain. But where exactly was now the question of the hour. It was then that he began to make out shapes, more like outlines really. They seemed huddled together.

Hello? he voiced. The shapes appeared to sway as one almost as if to the accompaniment of his voice. Glynne’s breath caught in his throat. This is some kind of sick joke? And you said you were going to be nice for the holidays. Damn liar, and me stupid enough to believe your shit! Trying to scare me. Is that it? News flash! It’s not working, he blurted.

When no reply came he raised himself to his feet. Cautiously he approached the shapes. When Glynne was close enough to make out some of their features he recoiled. He could barely controlled the urge to turn and run like hell, but he did rapidly back up several yards. What the hell is this? Some kind of carnival freak show? his mind bellowed.

Ahem. Hey, uh, I really hate to bother you guys. I don’t mean to be a nuisance. But can one of you point me in the direction of the nearest road? Just show me way and I’ll be gone before you knew I was here. Anybody? he said.

Glynne was completely unnerved by the grotesque faces that kept his eyes under constant assault. He fought to keep his voice from warbling. Those faces turn in the direction of the central fire. So, Glynne trained his eyes over that way too. After a moment of waiting for his vision to adjust, he picked out the outline of someone just slightly back from the fire.

That person over there, can they help? he queried. But the cast from the Island of Doctor Moreau did not answer him. Realizing he was getting nowhere with that lot, with deliberate haste he moved around and past them until he reached the person that they all watched. The person was seated behind what appeared to be a crudely built table. Elation quickly spread when as he got closer he thought he’d found another human. Whatever they were that he just left behind were anything but. It appeared to be a woman, maybe in her forties, possibly early fifties. It was difficult to tell with only the glow of the fire for light. But even in the sparse light there was something about her which didn’t seem right.

Glynne puzzled over just what it was but something was odd with her appearance. He was then mortified to see that she had no ears. And it was wasn’t as if they were hidden either, because she was as bald as Yul Brynner. ‘What the hell?! Did somebody cut off her ears?’ His heard his mind screeched. But that wasn’t her only oddity. On her hairless scalp there was a sheen, an eerie iridescent glow. The color reminded him of a mass of blow flies you frequently saw on a road kill. Inching cautiously to within a couple yards of her Glynne saw that her eyes were closed.

He cleared his throat and waited for a reaction before speaking. His eyes traveled down a pinkish face that was mottled with bluish veins before settling on the shimmering hues of green along the sides of her neck. A narrow nose, sharp with pinched nostrils pierced the air. If she had eyebrows they were either so fine that they were invisible, or they were totally absent. His heart hammered spasmodically in his chest. Her sea green eyes opened. Full and dull they were, seeming without life. But they beheld him with a frank gaze.

This woman looked human from a distance but the nearer you got to her she was clearly not. Glynne lips parted in a smile. Hi, I’m terribly sorry to intrude like this. I just interrupted your sleep. Please, forgive my bad manners. My name is, Glynne. I think that I am, uh, lost. I was kind of hoping you could, uh, tell me where I am. Maybe, you could tell me where this is and point me in the direction of the nearest road. Can you help me out? he said. Glynne watched her anxiously waiting for her response.

The woman’s eyes were unwavering while she sifted through her massive intellectual reservoir for the key to unlock the words he spoke. He was not from among the countless species she’d previously encountered. Nor was his language ever heard by her before. Several minutes went by during which the woman made no effort to respond but she appeared to be deep in thought.

Glynne took his eyes off her to survey the surroundings. In his mind he didn’t think the woman was being rude by not speaking. He had a sense that, in fact, there was a real possibility of a language barrier given how these people looked. However, despite her oddness Glynne did not feel threatened. He felt she wasn’t an obvious danger to him. In the flickering light of the fire he could just make out strange rock formations. Squatted on his haunches, Glynne plunged his fingers into the loose soil at his feet. And closing his fingers around the soil he brought his hand up to unfold it under his eyes. He looked it over carefully in the sparse light. Finally he sniffed it. When he stood erect again confusion was etched all over his face. I don’t know where those sadistic bastards put me but this ain’t home, he muttered. Fear wrapped its tentacles around him with relentless grip.

The voice when it came caught him by surprise. It was a beautiful thing, lilting and musical. One couldn’t help but love it, at least Glynne couldn’t. Only problem was he didn’t understand a word it said. But his eyes were riveted to the woman. Your voice, it’s, it is so beautiful. What did you just say? I’m sorry, but I can only speak English. Can you speak any English? Can you understand any of what I say? he replied. Hasic pretet faswo? she repeated. Glynne watched her with frustration, too ignorant to understand what she said.

He found his train of thought momentarily derailed at the sight of the woman’s teeth. They didn’t look as thick as a human’s, nor were they squared off like a human’s. Rather they were angular with serrations along the sides and tops. If he were closer, or in well lit conditions Glynne would have seen they contained the same blue veins that were visible in her face.

What the hell is this place? Where the fuck did they send me? Glynne said aloud. It was said mostly to himself because he didn’t expect answer from anyone else he’d found. He glance about him with maddening disquiet. What did they do to me? His voice was harried.. Behgock. The woman’s voice sliced neatly into his unease. Behgock? What is Behgock? What does it mean? he repeated with consternation.

After listening to him only minutes the woman had unlocked the key to his language. Behgock. This place where you stand. She swept her hand in a semi circle. Too stunned to speak, Glynne could only stare her. Where came you? she queried. Her English was accented. It was like listening to an Eastern European learning English as a second language. From Earth, that’s my—it’s where I lived, he answered. Earth, she repeated, trying the word on her tongue. Your transgression? she probed. Transgression? I guess you mean what sin did I commit to end up here? For me being born was a crime. It made me an outcast, an undesirable, he answered. Undesirable? she repeated with interest.

Like his physical characteristics the woman intuited that he was not like those who largely made the acquaintance of Behgock. There was no bad in him, not that the knowledge was of any consequence.

Genetically inferior, that’s what they said. Any birth not sanctioned by the government is condemned and terminated. In a society where genetic perfection is the ideal, since I was neither genetically selected, nor enhanced, I have no value. Hence undesirable, he replied. And here you are, on Behgock, the woman stated. She seemed amused. Glynne studied her closely. And you? What brought you here? he asked curiously. It doesn’t matter. The reasons may differ but we all have one thing in common here. We were all undesired elsewhere. Welcome to this paradise for all undesirables she stated, she said, with the same amusement.

Glynne watched the strange and intriguing woman. Are you the one who’s in charge? he asked. In charge? the woman repeated. Yeah, the leader I mean, he explained. I lead no one, nor am I led, she replied. Glynne was not sure what to make of her cryptic response. So what now? What am I expected to do? he queried. Expected? Do as they, she stated. She pointed toward the ghoulish shadows. The subjects of the woman’s gesture stood well back. But they watched her, and the newly arrived, with riveted attention.

Glynne followed the path of her hand to the indistinct shapes out there. He turned his face back to her. Would it be okay if I stayed with you until the morning? he asked. A cherubic smile stretched across the woman’s mottled lips. What will the morning bring? she queried. Well, I, uh, I am hardly in a position to know. I’m just not ready to be thrown in with the crowd back there yet. Would you mind if I hang here with you? he said. Without another word either to affirm or deny his request the woman left her stone seat. Glynne watched her drift away with a sinking feeling. What’s your name? Hey! I didn’t get your name. What do I call you? he said into her wake. But the woman disappeared through a fissure in the rock face without looking back.

When it became clear that she wouldn’t be returning Glynne settled on the ground. There was no diminishing with the unease that pervaded him entirely. He was still alive, but to what hell did those genetically perfect psychopaths send him? He eyed the unnerving shapes still some distance away with trepidation. Now that their apparent leader was gone how long before they came for a closer look, or maybe more? The minutes trickled by but the outlines in the shadows did not venture any closer from their current positions. With only a hundred, a hundred and fifty yards separating them. It did little to lessen Glynne’s anxiety.

What exactly were they? Glynne didn’t know how to describe them. They were fucking scary looking, was the best description he could muster. He prepared himself for a sleepless night but surprisingly sleep did take hold. Maybe it simply extreme fatigue that got him. But the odd thing was, for the first time in years his sleep was not plagued by horrible dreams. Sleep was fitful, however, the faintest sound struck a note on Glynne’s over-stressed nerves. No sooner had he reached that place where sleep is deepest when the piercing scream shattered the stillness. It almost sent Glynne into cardiac arrest.

Glynne froze in place. A sudden chill turned his body cold as ice, goose bumps broke out all over. He held his breath fearing even to breathe. The scream reached a hellish note before ending abruptly, or was cut off. In its place rose a cacophony of voices. They gibbered loudly, perhaps fearfully. Interspersed were sounds that may have been weeping. Afraid that he was too exposed where he was, Glynne inch wormed his way behind the stones the woman had earlier occupied. From behind that space of relative concealment he huddled in fright, peering into the Stygian night to get a sense of what drama was in play out there. Shapes and shadows dashed about helter skelter in all directions.

The scene reminded Glynne of something he’d seen on Audubon Wildlife on television as a kid. The program showed Thompson Gazelles leaping to and fro frantically to evade lions on the hunt. Somewhere in the dark another shriek pierced the fear laden air. But just as quickly it went silent. There was the sound of a tremendous splash. In its aftermath were shrill cries emanated from the shadows, accompanied by the steady pounding of many feet on the run. It was to Glynne’s relief that none of the madly scattering shapes moved in his direction, or to his position. The burning question of what was happening out there tormented him. But he erred on the side of caution, remaining rooted where he was crouched. He prayed earnestly that whatever it was would skirt him.

Time passed. Glynne could make out that the shapes now moved in less panicked manner. Eventually they settled into groups. From the sounds they made it appeared they were discussing, or arguing over something. Glynne’s bladder screamed for release and he relieved himself from his crouched position. What the hell was that shit about? he muttered. To his ears his voice sounded strange. The effect of the adrenaline coursing through his body was very much in evidence. His legs shook badly. In a more defiant tone he muttered, What kind of hellhole did those sons of bitches throw me in? There was no answers forthcoming to either question. He stretched out on the ground again hugging himself for warmth. This time sleep was banished for good. It was just too dicey in this with so many unknowns to chance sleep.

At some point in time although he hadn’t gone back to sleep Glynne felt that he was not alone. He jerked upright with fright. The same woman was seated in the same place she’d occupied when he first saw her. Her gaze was directed straight past him as if he wasn’t there at all. He followed her gaze but with the poor light could make out little. His head swiveled back to her. Glynne studied her at length before speaking. Last time he saw her he had been unsure of what manner of dress she wore. Now he saw what looked to be a kind of fleece wrap. I didn’t hear you come back. Am I glad to see you! he greeted.

It was as if only when he spoke that she knew he was even there. Her eyes drop to his position. Glad to see me? she repeated with amusement. Yes, I am, actually. Why is that funny? he replied. She only smiled without answering. What was all the earlier commotion about? he asked cautiously. She ignored his question and said simply. It is time for you to join the others. Glynne was unable to contain his distaste for that idea. I know that I’ll have to, uh, sooner or later. But truthfully I feel more comfortable with you. I don’t want to sound juvenile about it, but I just don’t think I am ready for that yet. I don’t feel the same level of comfort with them as I do with you. I guess what I am trying to say is that I need a little time to, uh, get used to…things here a bit. If you don’t mind, I’d much rather hang with you until then.

The woman was clearly amused. You believe that I will be better company than they. Yours is an interesting notion, she replied. Glynne shot a furtive glance at the others. Well, so far you’ve been courteous to me. We are able to communicate with each other, something I couldn’t do with them. And, frankly speaking, you are nicer looking than some of those characters over there. Look, uh, I'm sorry I don’t know your name. I don’t know how things work around here. But I think it would be a big plus if you and I got to know one another. There is a lot I could probably learn from you. Maybe, a thing, or two, you could learn from me. Maybe, we could be friends, Glynne replied wistfully. He considered the still dark sky above. Is it always like this, or is it just a heavy overcast? It’s so dark I mean. I still don’t know what to call you. You never did tell me what is your name, he added.

The woman watched him with an unreadable expression. With a chorus of popping sounds Glynne picked himself off the ground. One hand dusted off the back of his trousers as he stretched. Carefully he tested the sturdiness the table top before leaning his body against it. I thought I heard screaming, or what sounded like screams. You didn’t hear it? They (he gestured with his chin at the others) were running around out there like crazy. From here it almost seemed like something was after them, he said. This place, where you are is my private place. You will now remove yourself from it. You are not to come here again, the woman stated. It was said in the same benign tone, with the same amused expression. But her words cut Glynne to the bone. Startled, Glynne gazed at her dumbfounded. Go, take your place with the others. It was a clear directive.

Glynne did as he was told. He moved off the table and away from her. Before leaving he turned back to watched her. I didn’t mean to offend you, or to be offensive. If I did either please accept my apology. I’m new here. I was only trying to be friendly, he said. The worry lines on his face showed his confusion. What did he do out of turn? he wondered. It was in this state of uncertainty that he turned and began in the direction of those he feared. He moved like a condemned man going to the gallows. With each step Glynne wished a large chasm would open up to swallow him whole ending his miserable existence.

No sooner had he reached the first group when all the fears in his thoughts rapidly took shape into reality. The members of the group were in no sense human or even humanoid. On many of them huge opaque eyes peered from bizarre faces. More than a few sported noses with nostrils so wide that in proper lighting it may have been possible to see clear to the back of their skulls. A number of them had mouths that reminded Glynne of a carp. Long ropy arms dangled almost to where their knees would be. There was no way to know for sure about knees because the lower anatomy of the ones he observed was covered with that much hair or fur. Most disconcerting was that Glynne couldn't tell if it was their own, or a garment that they wore. Their skin color ranged from cheese yellow to gray.

He had just enough time to register these things before a group of them broke away from the throng and fell on him. They literally ripped him out of his parka while others divested him of the rest of his meager possessions. A fray soon erupted as they viciously fought among themselves for the right to keep what they had taken, or to deprive someone else of their prize. Glynne yelled in pain at the injury and indignity which continued with ruthless vigor. Soon, among the items being fought over were his shoes, socks, and his pants that were stripped off. As his parka came off the old Disc-man fell from the pocket to the ground followed by three equally old discs.

At the sight of his most prized possession plundered hot rage exploded inside Glynne. His attackers were momentarily caught off guard when he unfurled himself from his cowering position to rush them headlong with the ferocity of a rodent that had been cornered. Screams and curses filled air as his arms lashed out like lashed out like a crazed drunk. With his foot he threw a kick that connected solidly with the stomach of one assailant. Then he literally threw himself into another one who was about to take the disc player from the ground. Glynne wrapped his bloodied arms around the assailant’s neck. grunting with the effort as he twisted the head to break its neck. Snarling like a wild beast he sank his teeth into the side of its face. Like a particularly annoying fly Glynne was clubbed and swatted away by another one of them. He came to rest in an untidy heap several feet away. The one that knocked him down quickly converged on Glynne audibilizing with hoots and other garbled sounds.

But then with an abrupt wave of motion plus the shrill sound raised by his group made attacker back up suddenly on spindly legs. From her perch at the table where she’d been watching, the woman left her seat and she moved toward the area of embroilment. She entered their midst without as much as a glance at them, but they fell back as though she was on fire. Nor did she look at the folded up form of Glynne stretched out on the ground. She drifted passed all of that until she stood before the one who held the item(s) of an apparent value. Koe hamis! Her tone was pleasant. ‘Give me.’

The fellow, a discard from the world Bimshaea in the Corilus Galaxy promptly relinquished his prize. With his eyes cast at her feet, and feeling the sting of impotent resentment, he watched the new possessor of his prize turn the old disc player over from one side to the next. She studied the contraption carefully probing with tips of her digits the strips of tape which held the thing together. Unable to fathom its intrinsic value given how the Earther strove to protect it she then turned her attention to Glynne.

He was still on the ground in a naked, humiliating, heap. Glynne glowered at her. What is this thing? she asked genially. Fuck you! You sure had me fooled. I actually thought you were someone decent. Watching me get pulverized should give you a good laugh. Why aren’t you laughing? This is what you do for kicks around here, huh? Nothing but hyenas, no more than beasts all of you. Go on! Laugh it up as you me strip of all that I have left in the world! he shouted. What is its function? she repeated, ignoring his rant. Glynne glare at her defiantly. Get the fuck out of my face. You want it, you figure it out yourself! Now go to hell and leave me alone, all of you! he shot.

Painfully, Glynne hugged himself. Tremors, as much from the anger spreading like a wildfire through him as the effects of the cold, shook him. Now that most of his clothes were plundered, and what little remained in ruin, the frigid air bit into him with a vengeance. Seeing there was no more to be gained in his current state the woman turned to head back to her private place. With a sudden lurch Glynne hauled himself from the ground in pursuit. Hey, you, whatever your name is! You have something that belongs to me. It’s of no value to you. Just give it back! he exclaimed.

In a state of desperation he made to wrest his treasured possession from her grasp, grabbing her wrist with his right hand while trying to dislodge the player with the left. The moment his hand made contact with her the woman released the disputed item. With the reflexes of a snake she countered his action with one of her own. Glynne’s right ulna shattered in three places with a crackling sound of kindling. For a split second he could only watch her with a vacant stare. But when the nerve endings transmitted their distress to the nerve center of his brain his eyes bulged and glittered in their sockets.

With teeth clenched together Glynne lost the battle to suppress the bark of pain that followed. Cradling his shattered arm with a grunt he collapsed to the ground. The woman retrieved the player once again and continued on her way. As she went she turned the object over in her hands studying her new found prize. Upon taking her seat at the rough hewn table, she did an extensive examination of the aged music player.

Glynne writhed on the ground riding an avalanche of pain. There was fire spreading along the length of his shattered arm, and the relentless cold ravaged the rest of his body. Calling on his ebbing reserve he managed to pick himself up. The caricatures around him watched, but none of them approached or accosted him. Glynne lumbered past them, his gait unsteady and uneven. He had no idea in what direction he was headed, nor did he care. With his teeth clenched against the misery of pain and cold, he stumbled over the rough surface cradling his arm.

Some time later his course brought him to a large body of water, a lake perhaps. He came to a stop staring at its dark expanse. A number of things ran across his mind. In his mind’s eye he saw his father’s face. Glynne bowed his head with his closed eyes and stepped off the bank into the water. He sunk immediately up to his chest and he propelled himself forward. On the water bank caricatures gathered closer but stood well back from the water watching. They spoke animatedly and pointed at the no longer visible newcomer.

Glynne slipped from view quietly below the surface. Water poured into his mouth and lungs. Images played themselves through his mind from childhood to present, and events in between. His lungs screamed for air but he fought the urge to reach for the surface. A welcomed calm took hold. It wasn’t so bad after all, dying. All of his life’s struggles would soon be over. The indignities that were a frequent companion to his existence would have to find someone else. As Glynne surrendered himself to the waiting arms of death, his consciousness began to fade, his body to shut down.

The peace waiting just a breath away was suddenly disrupted when he was seized roughly from beneath and then forced to the surface with remarkable force. He was propelled through the water at such speed that his head created a bow wave. And then Glynne was heaved roughly on to the bank. There he lay on his side, chest heaving as air rushed into his searing lungs. For a while he coughed and sputtered. Water poured from his open mouth. He turned his head back at the water. Visible there with only her head protruding was the woman. She watched him from there before surging forward with the fluid movement of a large fish. From the water she raised herself and stepped on to the bank.

You, you had no right, he coughed. That was—none of your business. Let me go, he sputtered.

The woman watched him with the same amused expression she effected. What is in your mind to do you should have done before you reached Behgock when the decision was yours. But here in this place I decide when it is your time. Until then you will live out your days in this paradise like all undesirables, she stated. No! I have had enough of this shit. I am tired, okay? I just want to end it. What do you care whether I live or die? I have nothing left to live for. Please, let me go, Glynne cried.

The woman regarded him with unblinking eyes. You have no spine. You will continue until I say it is your time, she replied. Glynne gazed up at her. "I have