Board Thread:Archive/@comment-24866242-20140520043219

Subj: Turn About Date: 6/16/97 6:36:44 PM From: KatrylleM

She tried to ignore the cold chill that permeated through the light material of the ruffled men's shirt she had been using as a robe just before all hell broke lose. Now she wished she had actually taken the time to get dressed. Tucking her knees against her chest, she pulled the hem of the shirt down over her bare legs causing the chain attached to the manacle around her ankle to screech against the hard stone. Sighing heavily once again, she turned her thoughts to the events that had led to her current predicament.

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With all that had happened in the months that followed, she had completely forgotten about the incidents of one winter night. It had started simply enough, if suddenly being thrown into an alternate reality then coming home to find that the base holodeck wants to kill you could be considered simple, that is. That entire night had been weird..Hell, her entire *month* had been weird.

She had been planning for a few days to confront the man over the "statue" in his museum, so when he had made an appearance that night, she approached him without hesitation. Perhaps if she hadn't been so obsessed with getting answers from him.... but no. There was no room at the moment for "what ifs. During their conversation, he had taken a small box, opened it and began "fishing". Her "obsession" getting the better of her, she didn't bother to think twice when the hook and fishing line he had been using appeared to have caught something. Concerned over losing him, and therefore his answers, to whatever he struggled with at the end of the line, Kat grabbed a hold of the line and wrapped it around her hand, trying to keep him in the bar.

She remembered being surprised at how strong the thing was on the other end. Surely the small box could not contain something that would have the strength to fight with two grown people. Yet it did. She regretted her actions moments later when they were both dragged into the impossibly small box and into an alternate reality the man referred to as "The Field".

They had been unceremoniously dropped into an exact replica of his museum, the creature nowhere to be seen. Angry now, she faced him, unleashing her fury. Unfortunately for her that night, the gods, fates or whatever decided to control destiny had been against her. No sooner had she begun her rant than the doors to the museum blew open, an icy wind chilling her to the bone. It had only been the man's insight and her own lighting fast reflexes that kept her from being steam-rolled by the giant white blur. She had dove to one side, coming out of the roll crouched and with blaster in hand, trained on the beast.

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Subj: Turn About (2) Date: 6/16/97 6:38:32 PM From: KatrylleM

It was huge, and it had the man locked in a death grip. Without another thought, she fired, although he had told her it would be useless, that these things could not be killed. Unfortunately, the fates stepped in once again and the beast shifted quickly, placing the man's leg in the path of the beam. She got off several more shots, these a bit more effective than the first, before the thing flashed past her once again, the man still in it's grasp.

She remembered running to the door, she remembered calling out for him at the same time a woman's voice called out to her, but the rest was vague. The next thing she knew, she was standing in the snow, the wounded beast before her. Not even taking the time to aim, she repeatedly fired at the creature, hitting it with 90% of the shots before her blaster ran out of ammo. The blaster clicked several times before she realized it was empty. Growling, she threw it to the ground before drawing the rather large knife she kept tucked away in her boot. Jumping on the beast's back, she repeatedly stabbed at the creature, her fury at everything that had happened to her up to this point releasing itself in a spray of blood and ichor.

Finally, breathing heavy, she backed off the dead beast. She wasn't sure how long it had been dead before her rage was finally spent, but her anger still boiled unchecked. Glancing around, she looked for some sign of the man, yet she would find none. Again, a woman's voice called out to her, urging her to come back to the museum, but all Kat could think of was finding either the man or his body. She even demanded that the woman help her look, but the woman had been too afraid to stay in the open for very long, claiming there were more beasts about.

At first she hadn't heard it, so caught up with the hope of finding him in a snow bank somewhere. It wasn't until the woman had brought it to her attention. More beasts...and nearby. They were on the hunt. Again, Kat did not care. It wasn't that she wasn't afraid to die, she just plain out didn't care if she lived. She did have a minor concern for the woman, though at the time it appeared to be more of an annoyance at her reluctance to help find the man. A big too sharply, Kat demanded that the woman return to the safety of the museum, but they both knew it was too late. Knife still in hand, Kat crouched to face whatever fate would befall her.

Before it could reach her however, the next weird thing in a long line that night happened. The woman pointed to an area above Kat's head, drawing her attention to the large gold hook attached to a rope coming from a distant point in the sky. Immediately recognizing it, she latched on to it, grabbing the woman around the waist as the hook began pulling them skywards.

Skywards and into a lavishly furnished room. At first, Kat thought the man had somehow escaped the creature and had dropped the hook to right a mistake, but she was again proven wrong as a well dressed, soft spoken woman closed the lid to a box remarkably like the one he had. Full of nervous energy, Kat paced the room, eventually getting answers from the well dressed woman who called herself Barbara as well as the other known as Katrina. Finally, when they could answer no more, she strode from the house without a backwards glance.

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Subj: Turn About (3) Date: 6/16/97 6:39:14 PM From: KatrylleM

Somehow, she had managed to find her way back to RDI, the blood of the monster still on her clothes, hands and face. Again, she had been past caring for several hours at this point, so she merely made her way to the bar, ignoring all the stares directed at her. Halfway through her second bottle, Ry and Suche made an appearance and the three of them sat together in companion-like quiet. That was until the over active hormone pretending to be a man threatened Suche with a knife. Kat lost it at that point, having saved an empty bottle in anticipation of just such a move by the fool. Before he realized what had happened, Kat broke the bottle over the table's edge and was pressing it against the fool's throat. Even then, he would not stop, so between Suche, Ry and Kat, they gave him a thrashing no one would soon forget, eventually tossing him out into a snow bank. Fed up with the Inn, the three friends made their way back to the base.

Kat had hoped a hot shower would calm her frayed nerves, but it was not to be. Dried and dressed, she quickly left her room and headed for the holodeck.

As she was programming the panel, Suche stepped through the door. Smiling, she explained that she had heard about the room but had never been in it. Before Kat had a chance to explain the inner workings, however, Ry stepped through the door and drew Suche's attention away.

Punching up the last of the commands, Kat stepped away and into a lush field. Immediately, she fell into combat mode, prepared for the attacks she knew were eminent. She was not disappointed. The holodeck computer had done an excellent job of reproducing the creatures she had encountered in "The Field" earlier and the first attack came swiftly and silently.

She was distracted from the second attack as Suche called out a warning. The remainder of the "programmed" attacks went smoothly. Three beasts and no safeties. She still didn't care much if she lived or died... she just wanted to fight.

The fourth beast was completely unplanned. She had only programmed three, telling the computer that Suche was only an observer, not a participant. Now an unplanned fourth was in the middle of her friend and a fifth and sixth making a move on Kat.

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Subj: Turn About (4) Date: 6/16/97 6:39:48 PM From: KatrylleM

Ry always had good timing. She could never fault him that. *How* he knew to show up when he did, she could never fully understand, but she was grateful. Unfortunately, the computer seemed to compensate for the extra opponent and threw two more beasts into the game. They tried several times to command the computer to end program or open the door, but something had *definitely* gone wrong.

The battle raged for what seemed like hours before Kat got desperate. Somehow, she found her blaster and blew away the control panel, stopping everything in mid-air. Upon further examination, the remains of some odd device were discovered within the panel. Unfortunately, the blaster had melted the majority of it, so determination of what or who would be far more difficult.

In the present, she shook her head, remembering the comment several days later that Ben made about several holo-emitters having been taken from the room. Now she wished she had investigated further.

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Subj: Turn About (5) Date: 6/16/97 7:33:13 PM From: KatrylleM

She awoke suddenly. Confused, she tried to remember where she was and what that annoying, persistent beeping was. Yawning, she glanced at the computer before her, realizing that she had dozed off on her keyboard. Sighing, she hit the "undo" key to stop the beeping.

For the past three hours, she had been sitting at the computer in the room she shared with Ryax on base. Even though the house was nearly finished ..... finished enough for her to move in, she had stayed at the base after Ry's disappearance. There were too many unanswered questions, too many nightmares and demons to fight for her to be in *that* kind of solitude. As she had many nights in the past few months, she became completely engrossed with making improvements on the Scarab. Tonight it had been the weapons system.

Sighing heavily, she leaned back in her chair and raised her arms over her head to stretch the kinks out of her back. With a satisfied groan, she leaned back further, causing several vertebrae to pop softly. It was only then that the vague realization that something was.....different...floated through her still dazed mind. Still, she glanced over the schematics one last time before saving and closing the file.

She stretched once more, then spun in her chair and standing all in one fluid motion. What met her gaze stopped her dead. The warehouse on Pelvar. Somehow.....no....a dream. This had to be a dream. She glanced down at the ruffled shirt she had put on several hours ago then back to the huge, empty room. "G'lord girl. Yer losin it fer sure. Now wake up. I'm sure there's sum paperwork tha' needs tendin to."

She swallowed hard, somehow knowing this wasn't a dream, yet still praying that her alarm would go off soon. She flopped back in her chair, only to find it had disappeared as she landed on her butt with a resounding "oof". The coldness of the floor on her legs was definitely real as was the minor bruising of flesh and muscle she now felt. She didn't have time to seriously consider what was happening, however. With the common screeching and echo that accompany large warehouse doors, several power armored men stormed into the room.

Immediately, her hand dropped to her side where her blaster should have been....and wasn't. Cussing a blue streak, she searched desperately for something to hide behind, but the room was completely bare. Slowly, she raised her hands to about shoulder height and faced the men.

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Subj: Turn About is Fair Play Date: 6/17/97 10:41:18 AM From: Ben Stinel

Ben winced and threw an arm across his eyes as light flooded the room. Too bright, too early. Was Tasha up with the light on? No, Tasha didn't live with him anymore. Just ignore it. It'll go away.

"Get up." The voice was gruff. It sounded vaguely familiar, like the voice of someone he had met once maybe. Someone not entirely pleasant. "Get up, Jacob!"

Ben scrunched his eyebrows and rolled over. Jacob? It didn't make any sense. Too bright, too early. "Go away," he groaned, "turn out that damn light!" Ben rolled so he was facing away from the light and the voice and pulled the covers over his head.

Gruff voice didn't go away or turn out the light, "Get out of that bed now, Jacob Alferd or I'll run you through where you lay!"

Ben reached a hand behind him to wave away whoever it was, but the man punctuated his sentence with something sharp placed at the crook of his back. Ben's eyes shot open in surprise. The cold point of steel had brought him awake. He recognized the name now. And the voice. But it still didn't make any sense. Had he gone to sleep on a holodeck?

"Computer, freeze program."

Nothing.

"Computer?"

"I kid you not, Alferd. Get up!"

Ben sat up in the bed and the blanket fell to his waist. He slept in his shorts and he was naked above the waist except for his dog tags. That much was normal. The rest of the room though...

The light streamed in through the window. Gruff voice had thrown the heavy brown curtains back and a breeze brought in the sounds of the street below. Merchants hawking their wares, horses hooves clopping on the cobblestones, wagon wheels close behind, hammer on anvil at the smithy across the street. The room was rustic. The wooden floor had a green rug thrown across it. The nightstand, dresser and bed were all of the same polished wood. Instead of a light hanging from the ceiling there were oil lamps and candles placed in various places around the room. There were three oak doors, one led to the hall and one to a closet. The third was slightly ajar and Ben could see through it to an adjoining room very much like this one.

"Don't you worry about your man, Jacob," Gruff voice... No... Sirus Keanin said, still holding the sword where he could strike Ben quickly if he moved, "He'll sleep like a babe for most of the day. We'll be long gone before he has a chance to help you. Common now. Get up and get dressed. You can't go out like that."

Ben nodded and stood up, heading for the closet. He tried to think as he pulled on a cotton shirt and breeches. That Sirus was alone he doubted. Vermin traveled in packs and Sirus was nothing short. Ben knew because he had written the man. He had programmed him into the holodeck himself. He had programmed the entire scenario in fact, although he was never quite sure of everything. The computer had built the world it took place in. He had just described what things should be like. Better that way. A game you knew inside and out wasn't any fun.

He took a coat off one of the wooden pegs and pulled it on over the shirt. It was a nice coat. For the day and age that the scenario was placed in it would mark him as a fairly well off man. Well off enough that he could afford to go gallivanting around looking for adventures.

As he settled the coat on his shoulders he noticed a glint of metal leaning against the wall behind the clothes. He paused for a moment before reaching for it. In the game he was considered a good swordsman, but if the computer wasn't responding to voice commands, who knew if it would compensate for his actual lack of skill. He was good with a light saber, but Ryan could still wipe up the ring with him. Sword fighting wasn't anything like fighting with light sabers anyhow. No weight in the blade like with a sword. But if he took Sirus by surprise...

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Subj: Turn About is Fair Play 2 Date: 6/17/97 10:42:14 AM From: Ben Stinel

He gripped the hilt of the sword and whipped it out of the closet. The scabbard flew off the blade, taking both Ben and Sirus by surprise. Sirus jerked as the scabbard hit him square between the eyes. Ben didn't let his shock over the scabbard slow him down any. He lunged for the other man, ready to run him through but stopped as he realized that Sirus was falling backwards onto the bed, unconscious from the blow to the head.

Ben grinned broadly and reached forward to check the man's pulse. Still alive. Sirus was a good character and Ben would hate to have him out of the game. He went back to the closet and rummaged around for a moment before pulling out a coil of rope. He would have to be bound well. Vermin or not, he was a quick thinker and as resourceful as a used car sales man. Ben wound the rope around Sirus's wrists behind his back and tied the other end around his feet. He wouldn't get out any time soon and the more he struggled the tighter the knots would get.

Sirus's men were probably down stairs in the inn's common room waiting for him to come down with Ben as his prisoner. They would come up eventually and cut him loose if he didn't escape on his own, but it would be an embarrassing moment for Sirus.

Ben forced himself to let go of the grin that split his face at that thought. **Don't get caught up in the game. This isn't a real man, he's a holodeck simulation. It's all a holodeck simulation and there's something very wrong with it. I think I like this game too much.** he thought to himself sourly.

Shaking himself, he tied the last knot and strode through the door to the next room to see what Sirus had done to James. James Reily was really more Jacob Alferd's adventuring partner than his manservant, but most people saw him as nothing more than that. It suited the two of them just fine since it made it easier for them to blend in. Now James was sprawled out across his bed, unconscious. Ben moved to the man's side and shook him a little. He groaned and put a hand to his head slowly, feeling the lump that Ben could see through his thinning brown hair.

"What hit me?" James asked slowly, not even trying to sit up.

"Sirus Keanin hit you, my friend," Ben answered, "He came up alone, but there are likely to be more of them downstairs. We should go."

"He found us? What did he do, follow us all the way from Mandrake?"

"Looks that way," Ben answered, "He wasn't to happy about that chest of gold I stole from his vault."

"Or the kisses I stole from his sister, I'd imagine," James said, sitting up and rubbing his head, "And I don't think he'd be thrilled to learn that you lost half the gold in a card game either."

Ben grinned broadly. He *was* getting into the game. "Common. Gather up your things. We'll go out the back and get our horses from the stable."

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Subj: Fair Play? Date: 6/17/97 7:47:52 PM From: SallyPayne

She came to slowly. Couldn't rightly say she woke cuz her head felt like she had been beat with a lead pipe. Sittin up she immediately cradled her head in her hands, a loud groan emitting from her throat. Through it she felt nausea threaten ta rise. Her tongue felt thick. And the taste in her mouth was one of them tastes dat even a whole bottle of Jack couldn't fully get rid of it. With one hand she reached fer the bedside stand, searchin fer the glass she always kept there. But her hand just connected with empty space. What da hell? "Lights on!"

Nothing. Not a single freakin thing happened. Slowly she opened her eyes, which sent a scream of pain through her head. The room was pitch black. There were only two shadowed forms that could be made out. One was a table across da room, da second was da chair that set before it. Slowly she stood up. Almost sent tumblin ta the floor by a pair of boots beside da bed. She instinctively dropped inta a crouch. As her hands came in contact with the floor she frowned. Instead of the short knap of carpet that covered the floor of her room, it was cold cement beneath her fingertips. She scrambled back, coming up short against the wall no more then a foot or so behind her. Dark blue eyes darted over the room as she slowly pushed herself up along the wall. Now she could see the shadowed form of the bed, as well the largish lump on it.

Realization slowly was sinkin in. But how? There weren't no possible way. Oh great, here we go again. Another growl rose in her throat as within her mind she saw dat cocky image of herself. It grinned, pushin back the Stetson on its head. I'm baaaaack! Didja miss me much? Thankfully a sound from da bed caused dat image ta poof. Poof? Oh brother, Ryan's really gonna lock me up now. "C'mere lil girlie girl. I got a nice big sucker fer ya." That voice. Or more so the holder of that voice was long dead.

She watched almost in horror as the shadowed figure stood. By it's gesture she could just imagine where it was scratching. That sent a full series of shudders coursing through her. She dropped again inta da crouch against the wall. How could this be happenin? She had placed a fool proof, anti access device on dis grid. The few times she had used da holodecks she had made sure that *no one* could enter her program. Yet it appeared someone had. The expletives that rose in her mind were quickly bitten back as the figure moved. This weren't supposed ta be happenin. She had several hour's before gone ta her quarters. Had climbed inta her own bed. Alone, dammit. She had done all dat alone. *Never* had she walked in her sleep before. And why call up dis program from da holodeck. "Where didja go girlie girl. Don'tcha wanna see what I got fer ya. Ya can't git away ya know. Ya have tried before. So jus' be a good girlie girl and get yer tail out here." Let alone, why da hell would she come ta the holodeck if she were sleepwalkin? She could understand if she had made her way ta Eli's quarters, but dat was different. An explosive burst from da figures broad posterior drew back her attention. What da freakin hell was goin on?

She stood up, now dat she knew where she was, she knew she end da sequence. "End Program." Nothin. Not a damn thing happened. The image of herself returned ta her head, leanin against something invisible, arms crossed before her. An *I told ya so* expression pasted on her face. "End Program!!" Her voice reflecting her irritation. Still nothin happened. Well something happened, but it weren't what she had expected ta happen. She frowned, the crease forming deeply inta her brow. When did da lights come on? Come on, react smeg? The image of herself goaded her. Unless ya like da feel of dat buck on top of ya. Grrrrrr. If she had been able ta she would have wiped da smirk off its face.

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Subj: Fair Play? (2) Date: 6/17/97 7:49:20 PM From: SallyPayne

As Grindage, yah dat was his name, approached her, she again pushed herself up along da wall. But remaining in a defensive stance. He was a hodge podge of all da freakin perverts dat Tylgraph had forced upon her. And somehow she would kill him just as she'd killed him each and every time she had entered dis program. Cept sumthin else was different dis time round. Ya mean aside from da fact dat yer as naked as da day ya were born? "Oh shut up. Who da hell asked fer yer output." This was gettin worse. She was again conversin with the image of herself in her mind. Maybe Ryan had already committed her. And this was just his sadistic version of some psychiatric evaluation. Rolling her eyes. Yah right. Ryan can't even remember what he did yesterday. And if she didn't do sumthin fast she was gonna be trapped. Grindage was even closer now. His leering grin revealin what few teeth he had left in his head.

She rolled forward, comin up with a fist ta his groin. His breath locked in his chest, and his face resembled a fish outta water. Any color that had been in his face drained ta a pasty white. And as though in slow motion he dropped ta his knees. Both hands grabbin his injured appendage. Dark blue eyes darted around da room. Lookin fer somethin, anythin ta use. And finally she spotted it. She rose ta her feet and sprinted across da small room. Her fingers closin round da lantern's handle. Its flame flickered as she turned wid it, lettin it leave her fingers just in time ta see him turn his head, lookin at her. His eyes widened but he still gasped fer air, and the scream she saw rise in his eyes, never reached his throat. The glass of the lantern shattered against his forehead, when he tried ta lower his head, tryin ta avoid the inevitable. The smell of kerosene filled the room as it showered over him, and there was a soft phwump as it ignited. Now he did manage ta scream, his arms flailing, beating at the flames that licked at his bare flesh. She pressed back against the door. At first not realizing that it was a door. Not until she shifted her position and felt the cold knob pushin inta her spine.

Reachin behind her she twisted the knob, almost surprised ta find that it was unlocked. But da door wouldn't budge, no matter how hard she pushed it wouldn't move. The image of herself in her mind rolled her eyes. Geesh smeg. Use yer head fer more den a target. In out in out in out. All the while the image swung its hand back and forth. "Shut up!!" Movin ta da side of da door and pullin it. And surprise of all surprises it opened. Once it was opened enough fer her ta slip through she did. The door closed behind her, dark blue eyes widened.

This wasn't part of da program. At least not da one she left. She was leanin against a lamppost, her hands thrust deep inta the pockets of her leather jacket. Her Stetson drawn low on her brow. Ahead of her was a Sultans palace. Set right smack dab in da middle of RhyDin. Laughter, almost ringing with insanity rose in her throat, ta only be choked back. This couldn't be freakin happenin. This was a partially completed program. Actually she had fergotten about it. It was begun shortly after a lil adventure. She did smile now. Actually it was a *very* interesting adventure. Maybe one day she would actually finish dis program. She wondered what Eli would think of it. Wait! Now don't be losin yerself here. Sumthin ain't right. Lets get outta here. "End Program." Still nothing happened, well not actually. Some woman dat was walkin past her at the same time gave her a rather odd look. Then held tighter the arm of the man that accompanied her and dragged him down the walkway at a fairly steady and fast clip.

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Subj: A Ghost and a Mystery? Date: 6/18/97 7:17:34 AM From: JdeFalconr

Preacher slowly lifted his head from a computer terminal, gazing over at the luminescent clock by his bed that told him the time was nearing 2:00 am. Rubbing his eyes wearily, it seemed as though the desire for sleep could not permeate his desire to work. Sipping a mug of hot chocolate, he returned to his analysis of hip and leg actuators he was working on. This last week, he had been working to design a new actuator system which was designed to provide a faster command-to-movement time, therefore increasing the quickness of a 'mech's actions. It would cause myomers to contract and respond much faster. Coupled with a low-stress magnetic joint system he had been working on with Letha, it seemed as though they were onto something.

The numbers stretched out to him as he went through countless sensor results from tests. His eyelids suddenly became leaden as he was borne to sleep on a wave of statistical analysis and data matrices...

"James Icaza...wake up..." 'That is odd...' thought Preacher. No one has used my Clan name in...a long time. Through the mists of sleep he heard the voice beckon to him once again. "James Icaza...awaken!" This time it was more stern, more commanding. And something in the voice compelled Preacher to lift himself from unconsciousness. Slowly opening his eyes he raised his body from being slumped over the computer terminal, where an endless line of the letter "k" had stretched across the data field, where his nose had pushed down the key. He turned around, seeing a form silhouetted in the harsh, artificial lights. The form, as well, was familiar to him...the muscular build, the erect and perfect posture...it all seemed like...no. It could not be.

The man stepped forward, out of the light. There, in front of Preacher was Aidan Pryde of the Jade Falcon Clan, legendary deceased hero of Tukkayid. Preacher slowly got to his feet, studying every inch of the poltergeist, feeling his mind numb in shock. He was dressed in the Jade Falcon ceremonial uniform, the long cape running down his back, his immaculate uniform adorned with all his rank insignia and medals, including the now infamous unit insignia of the Jade Falcon Guards. At his side was a katana, much like that of...no. Not possible.

At his side he had an ancient-looking katana, the long and silvery blade precisely tuned and preserved. The hilt was wrapped in age-old leather, and along the blade in two separate places were long talon marks-three of them in a row. Fastened onto the hilt by a leather cord was a single feather of a long-extinct Jade Falcon.

Preacher's knees suddenly felt more than a little rubbery. Standing before him in his quarters was Aidan Pryde in full dress uniform, carrying the legendary sword of Turkina, the very one which Elizabeth Hazen had once carried. The very one which, supposedly, was still on the Jade Falcon home world. Finally, Aidan Pryde spoke.

"Star Colonel James Icaza...I have come to speak with you on an urgent matter which no other can solve. You alone can possibly stand against what will prove to be the greatest threat to the Clans we have ever faced. And I have come to aid you and you alone in this quest."

Shocked out of his mind, Preacher could not begin to touch the waves of questions rolling through his head. How was Aidan Pryde possibly here? Was he not dead? What is this grave threat? What does he want with me?

Too shocked to say or do anything, all Preacher could do as Aidan Pryde held out his hand to him was to speak the word that had not been spoken by him since his days in the Clan.

"Seyla."

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Subj: Laugh track of the Damned Date: 6/18/97 9:01:31 AM From: PAHws

It had been a hard days' night, and he had been working like a dog. Nothing had gone right, anywhere, and it seemed like he was very conveniently taking the fall on everything. Maybe it was a conspiracy. Maybe fate had decided to rear its ugly bottom, and do its business all over his innocent head. Or maybe, he was just getting caught more often lately. Either way, it had been a grueling 24 hours, and he is ready to hit the hay.

He calls up a very soothing, very peaceful rendition of Welcome to the Jungle, the Philharmonic orchestra version. Played on a loop, it is one of the only things that allow him to enter a deep, dreamless sleep. Humming along, he begins to strip down, wondering how hot the water in his impromptu bathroom can actually get, and ready to experiment.

Patch rummages around inside his dresser drawer, hunting for a clean toothbrush among jumbled stacks of pornography and foodstuffs. He cannot find one, and he begins to get angry. He takes out the whole drawer, and dumps it on the ground. After a quick, frustrated toss, he manages to dig out a yellowed, sticky thing that might have once been a toothbrush at some point, and that is good enough for him.

Brushing vigorously at his fore teeth, and using some carbonated sandpaper in between to wear down the enamel, he begins climbing the stairs to the bathroom, finally finding a relaxed pulse as he loses himself in this daily ritual.

With a near-content, happy sigh, he backs through the door of his glorious john, and right smack dab into the middle of a live studio audience.

>Holy crispy crap!<

The toothbrush falls from his mouth, he blinks, instinctively trying to cover up some of the more offensive aspects of his genitalia. One paw in front, and one paw behind, he turns around, searching for the door.

The door, which is now large and steel, is bolted, chained and air-locked shut. A sign cheerfully buzzing EXIT completes the oxymoron. He lets out a thin squeal, his heart begins to rock his chest violently. He realizes, with dawning horror, that he can no longer hear Metallica in the background.

He turns around, scanning the room. A large pedestal is at the far end, surrounded by cameras and various audio/visual equipment. A man in a cheap polyester suit, with hair that seems to be alive, stands in the middle. He looks dangerous, and his grin only adds to that overall effect. Too intense, maybe. Something. Best to stay away from there

The way behind blocked, he makes his way down the aisle of people un-noticed. To his right and left, hundreds of people line row after row of seats, transfixed on the stage up front. Cryptic. The audience seems unnaturally happy, like they are being gassed or something. While he cannot hear what exactly the man is saying yet, he can hear enough to realize they seem to be laughing after his every single sentence. Cryptic indeed

He reaches the end of the aisle, his eyes dart around in the hope of finding a way out. None is to be found. The only place to go from here, besides into the audience, would be onto the stage.

There is no way he is doing that, so he stands there, watching and waiting

The man begins to speak

"And we're back, ladies and gentleman! For those of you who have just tuned in, good evening and welcome to MAXIMUM SECURITY CHALLENGE! Where our contestants literally live by their wits! Haha!"

The audience laughs too, some actually clapping

The spotlight shifts over to a restrained man seated in a steel chair, and despite the contorted grimace of pain on his face, he looks strangely familiar. The man is wearing the telltale neon orange suit of a convict. Patch suddenly remembers why he recognizes the man, and what is going on. MAXIMUM SECURITY CHALLENGE. This is the game show for those prisoners stuck on death row, which the television studious buy, and give one last chance for redemption. They are asked three questions, if they miss one, they die

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Subj: Turn About is Fair Play 3 Date: 6/18/97 12:31:34 PM From: Ben Stinel

After returning to his own room to gather his things from the closet and packing them into his saddle bags, Ben stepped out into the hall and walked over to the front stairs to peer down into the common room. A group of men sat together at a table eating breakfast, just visible from the top of the stairs. None of them looked Ben's way, but they all wore the same style of clothes as Sirus and most had beards of the same cut. He turned around to go back to James' room and knocked twice. The door opened and James stuck his head out to see Ben peering up and down the hall.

"All clear?" James asked softly.

Ben nodded and James came all the way out. He had his own saddlebags slung over his shoulder and struggled with a small chest, and a quarterstaff, not to mention Jacob's saddlebags and sword belt.

Ben took the sword belt from Jacob and pulled it on around his waist, then took his saddlebags and put them across his shoulder. "We'll go down the back way," he said, "through the kitchens. Innkeeper Sadler will be there. We can pay him and be on our way before Sirus's men know what's happened."

James nodded and the pair made their way to the back stairs. They were down in the kitchen fishing out two silver marks for the innkeeper when the yelling upstairs started.

"He's loose! He's loose, you fools! Get up here before he gets away!"

Sadler looked worriedly up the stairs at the shouting and then in the direction of the common room as some commotion started there with the pushing back of chairs and men standing up.

"I think our friend is awake, Jacob," James said, moving for the door to the stable yard.

Sadler looked shocked, "You mean you two are..."

Ben shoved the two silver marks into the round innkeeper's hand along with three heavy gold coins, "It really is an excellent inn," he said with a broad smile, "I hope to stay here again the next time we pass through Aldebra."

The innkeeper looked at the gold in his hand and made it disappear into a pocket in his apron as quickly as a smile of his own appeared on his pudgy face, "Thank you, good sir. It was a pleasure having you stay here. We'll be waiting for you with open arms. I don't think you'll have to worry about your friend upstairs stopping you from returning."

Ben dashed out after James into the stable to find that he already had Bolt and Thrower, their horses, out of their stalls.

"No time to saddle them," James said, handing him a heavy brown bag that had Bolt's saddle and tack in it, "we'll have to ride bareback till we can be sure those ruffians are off our backs."

Ben nodded, pulling himself up onto the bay stallion's back without the aid of stirrup or saddle. James did the same and a stable boy handed the chest up to him where he sat on Thrower, another bay. The pair guided the horses out into the street with their knees and hands before moving them into a quick trot away from the inn and their pursuers.

After a few minutes ride they stopped and saddled their horses in an alley before starting again. The east gates were closer to the inn, but those would be the gates that Sirus and his men checked first. So Ben and James rode west through the heart of the city. They passed many shops and merchants trying to sell them goods before they finally turned onto an empty side street. The less who might notice them the better. Half an hour on the empty streets led them back to the main drag and the loud haggling of the merchants. This time they were along the city walls on the west side of town and nearly out.

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Subj: Turn About is Fair Play 4 Date: 6/18/97 12:32:44 PM From: Ben Stinel

The city gates were open from sunrise to sunset and they stood open now, steady streams of people flowing through them both ways. They joined the throng moving out and passed under the steady gaze of the Guard with no incident. Now they were on the Aldebra road, which ran right through the city, heading east to west. There was a narrower, little traveled road that wrapped around the city walls in a tight circle. The pair turned to the north along the city walls, walking back around to the east gates. There was a road there that would take them north. The North Road it was called, and it would take them right out of the Aldebran country in a few days.

"Aldebra probably wouldn't have been very fun anyhow," James said, patting his horse's neck, "Too civilized, too peaceful. We'll find better adventures up north then we ever found in these damned southern countries. There's supposed to be treasures in some of those ruins up in the northern mountains."

Ben grinned to James and nodded. The game had caught him up and he was enjoying himself after the close escape from Sirus and his men. There was nothing to say that the men from Mandrake wouldn't discover where they had disappeared to and follow them up the North Road. If the program was true to form they would. Never a dull moment. Program? It hardly mattered. This was a long road in any case and he would have plenty of time to think. Plenty of time to puzzle out how he had become trapped... Trapped? What was he thinking? It hardly seamed important. The North Road was what was there now. There were many adventures to come. The game played on and Ben was a willing participant.

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Subj: Turning about... 1 Date: 6/18/97 10:12:36 PM From: SteelHelix

Cam looked around in the darkness of night, his room cold. He couldn't tell what exactly had been going on, but he knew that something was amiss. He slowly pulled on his weapons belt and slid his sword into its scabbard, then he tossed his white cloak over his shoulders and clasped the neck catch. He kept the hood of his cloak down, his white hair glinting in the calm moonlight. With a slight whisper he called out into the black depths, "Alex? Kay? Who's there?"

No one responded.

He slowly unclasped the catch strap on his 45, but left it in its holster as he moved toward the window. He still stayed on the Excalibur, and did not live inside the main HQ, because he preferred to stay with the Lancers. But what he saw as he pulled away the shades widened his eyes. Strange lights flashed in the DBHQ, lights that pulsed and seemed to be dim, only to steadily burst into a blinding light. His face showed confusion as he walked out of his room and activated the turbo lift.

In moments, he was walking toward the HQ, his onyx eyes scanning the entire building in the dim light with the same resolution as a hawk would have even behind his mirrored sunglasses. He pulled out a small ID card and slid it through the reader next to the door, walking through as a green light flashed on. He'd chosen to enter via one of the side doors instead of the main entrance because of its proximity to the Excalibur.

The dim light created shadows everywhere, masking his vision. Mists rolled along the floor, ground fog almost two feet deep. Cam wondered if something had gone wrong in the environmental controls, it would explain both the fog and the lights he had seen. His hand fell to the 45, he was extremely uneasy about the whole thing. Finally, Cam decided that he didn't particularly want to deal with the creepy situation alone and tapped his link, only to hear static. He looked at the commlink closely, "What the hell?"

He turned around, thinking that he could leave and get the other Lancers, only to face a stone wall where he had just come through glass doors. Without a reaction, he moved in a full circle, taking in everything around him. It was almost like a jungle, but it was soundless. He could see recognizable items strewn about, a desk here, a light switch on the side of a tree there.

Cam drew his 45 as he looked around and yelled, "Anyone here?!! Hello?!!"

Hearing no response he walked slowly down the hallway toward the command center, eyes and ears scanning everything. A slow chill ran up his spine as he saw doors covered with vines and encased in the mists, the plaques on them were corroded and tarnished making them unreadable. It looked like the inside of some ruins, similar those near where he grew up.

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Subj: Turning about... 2 Date: 6/18/97 10:13:13 PM From: SteelHelix

(Continued)

Hearing no response he walked slowly down the hallway toward the command center, eyes and ears scanning everything. A slow chill ran up his spine as he saw doors covered with vines and encased in the mists, the plaques on them were corroded and tarnished making them unreadable. It looked like the inside of some ruins, similar those near where he grew up.

Behind him came the quiet shifting of stone on stone produced by a footfall, Cam froze like a statue to listen. The footsteps continued, and got closer. Cam turned to bring the muzzle of his 45 in line with whatever was behind him, only to have it slapped aside by a huge clawed fist that dug into his hand. He stumbled back from the huge black bear and drew his sword, blood dripping from his fist.

As light flashed off the glowing blue blade the bear seemed to shudder, and in moments it backed off. The carnivore ran from him, as if it were afraid. Cam could think of no reason the bear would be afraid of his sword, nor could he piece together how it had gotten so close before he heard it.

He looked down slowly at his bleeding right hand and the floor while shaking his head, there was no point even trying to find his pistol through the mists. He would be forced to rely on the cold star metal of his sword.

His cloak was starting to become wet from the mists, making it heavy on his shoulders. While walking down the hall Cam had been counting the number of doors he saw, mentally mapping out the DoomBringer base to plot his route. Suddenly he turned and looked closely at one of the doors next to him, the barely legible plaque read: Personal Quarters, Machinshi.

With a smile he gently knocked on the door, hoping that the Aiel was there.

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Subj: Hell Hath A Studio Audience Date: 6/19/97 6:21:51 PM From: PAHws

The mouse had watched this game show numerous times from his cell, it was one of the only programs they didn't filter. It was very entertaining. But what the hell was it doing in his bathroom? Maybe it was time to give up the sauce for good. No, that would be like suicide. Maybe it was all a dream

"Prisoner 128955! You have unprecedently answered two out of three questions correctly! Amazing! Let's hear it for 128955!"

The audience cheers, hooting and hollering like farm animals

"Wow. You must have really been studying, huh? I have to hand it you, you gave us a run for our money."

The prisoners rattles his chains, moaning thinly

"Unfortunately, rules are rules. You played, you lost. Sorry. Goodbye, and thanks for playing: MAXIMUM SECURITY CHALLENGE!"

The host nods to a man behind him and off to the side, turning away to fix his hair

128955 begins convulsing as millions of old-fashioned, unfiltered volts of inhumane electricity begin frying his skin into a steaming mess of jumbled glop. A shrieking whistle cuts through the air, his nose catching fire as he tries to scream. Must be record ratings

The body, still twitching, is carried away backstage. Hmmm...backstage. He wonders if maybe he couldn't find some way of escaping back there. A large, and rather testosterone addicted looking grip is having a cig back there, but it doesn't look like it would be too hard to get by him. However, since this is all some crazy acid flashback anyway, and he does enjoy the show, he might as well stay

"And now for our next contestant! Johnny, tell me who he is!"

A deep and highly motivated voice comes out of every pore of the studio

"A convicted murderer, and highly-volatile alcoholic, we have a real treat for you today! He hails from RhyDin, that fun-loving planet, likes water sports, and says he: "Didn't do it!"'

The audience laughs knowingly. Johnny, that old kidder

"Please welcome, Patch Lightthorne! Prisoner 453672!

Ah, that settles it. It is a dream. How delightful. He grins, scampering onto the stage. He waves, blowing kisses. He doesn't even resist when they bolt him to the Chair and slap the modified skullcap onto the back of his neck, right at the brainstem. In fact, he can't stop grinning. And it's not a sly, trickerous grin. It's a big, loopy wide, slobbery, inbred yokel grin. So rarely does he get good dreams anymore, he is planning to take this one as far as it'll go

He is on MAXIMUM SECURITY CHALLENGE! Fifteen minutes of fame cashed in. Ker-chink! Truly wonderful. Except for the being naked part, this might be a holodeck program in it's realism. And even then, the nudity might be all part of the experience. He can surely imagine how

He can hardly wait

"So Patch...it says here you are ah...a mouse. Is that true?"

>Yar, it is. I AM a mouse.<

The host looks very interested, scanning his index card

"Uh-huh. Well. Lets' get started! You are familiar with the rules?"

>Oh yes! I love th' show. Watch it all th' time, I even have some of me favorites on tape...<

"Three questions. Three chances. No Ifs, Ands, or Buts. Got it? Good. Judges ready? Good. Okay, first question, you'll have one minute to think."

Much dramatic tension builds up, the audience gasping collectively

Patch leans forward, intent

"How many licks....does it take....to get to the center...of............a tootsie pop?"

Patch's grin descends into a frown. THAT is an unanswerable question. He looks over at the judges, panicky and beginning to sweat. They sit solemn as stone, making notes. He returns his dread-filled gaze to the host. How is this is a dream, if he's making up questions that he can't answer, for himself? The thought flashes through his head that maybe this is somehow very real, and very bad

The host meets his stare, quirking his lips wryly

"One minute now. Think about it."

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Subj: Official Inquiry Date: 6/19/97 10:28:41 PM From: The Karne

The man on the other side of the glass from Martin pushed the button marked 'Intercom'. The little 'ready' light turned green. He leaned in towards the microphone stalk that phallically rose above the landscape of switches and levers that coated the control panel in front of him. "Alright, Mister Ghanste, let's go over this one more time."

The prisoner groaned in exasperation and pulled weakly at his bonds. The man on the other side of the glass wasn't worried. The prisoner was chained down, bands of duralinium and titanium alloy striping across his chest, hips, and ankles. The albino giant couldn't do more then squirm. At length, the prisoner spoke. "We've gone over this before. I don't remember much of it."

The intercom button was depressed again, and the gravelly voice of his interrogator rolled out into the plain steel room he was interred in. "Do you really expect us to believe that, Mister Ghanste? We took you into our confidence, and you betrayed that."

Martin snarled. "NO! I was loyal... always loyal... I don't KNOW what happened..."

"Four people are dead and seven others injured... two of them will never walk again. You've caused a lot of people a lot of pain. And you won't even give them the respect of remembering why you murdered them in cold blood?"

Martin stared hard at the bulletproof one-way mirror in front of him. It only presented his battered face. At least they'd had the decency to bandage up the bullet wound in his cheek. He ground out, "I don't remember. I didn't do it. I wasn't there."

The voice's temper snapped. "That's bullshit, Ghanste! We've got a witness and several surveillance cameras. You did and you enjoyed it and you can even make out the smile on your face while you bathed in their blood. Have you done this before?"

Feebly, Martin croaked, "No... I didn't..."

The voice calmed a bit. "Look, let's just go over it one last time. Maybe this time you'll remember why you've turned killer."

Turned killer? Martin thought to himself.

A moment of silence.

Then... "Alright, I'll tell you it again." Martin said.

And this is what he said.

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Subj: Human Resistance Date: 6/20/97 1:26:22 AM From: Lashner3

Eric had taken to walking the perimeter of the HQ whenever he felt the need, and this night he felt it more then ever. His life was getting boring, and he didn't like it when life got boring. He was a man of action, he couldn't tolerate a desk job...

A groan cut off his train of thought suddenly, and he decided to take a detour through the mess hall. As he opened the doors to the HQ however, he suddenly lost his appetite.

He was standing on what looked like the bridge of an Innocence class ship, but it had several angles that didn't fit the design. And it was too dark, far too dark. The status displays were all in red, not the usual green. It was warmer too, nothing seemed right.

Eric glanced down slowly and saw that his own uniform was gone, now he wore a simple two-piece black shirt and pants with no insignia on them whatsoever.

Several of the crewmembers turned to take notice of him, including the tall man in the command chair. The chair turned slowly and he was soon face-to-face with Christopher Jackson. But something was wrong. His uniform didn't look right. He wore a Colonel's ID, not that of a Commander. The uniform was cut slightly different, hardly noticeable but it was. And finally on his shoulder, Eric could see a blood red patch with an image of a sword slicing a planet in two. The Human Resistance. No other unit could it be. But they existed in another dimension, a mirror of his own. A universe where the Clans had all but dominated the Inner Sphere.

"Welcome to the Death Lynx, Commodore Lashner," Chris saluted him and stood straight as an arrow, "Our lives are in your hands."

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Subj: To Shayol Ghul Date: 6/20/97 2:22:27 AM From: Machinshi

Machinshi came alert instantly upon waking. His Three Fold Land hardened reflexes had served him well in his life. What had awakened him, though? Straining his ears, Mach tried to make out what had broken his rest. Silently he slid his hand out from under the covers of his soft pallet and to his shoufa, which he quickly wound about his head. A second later his hands grasped his spear and buckler as what could only be what awoke him sounded again. A simple knocking on the door. Only it was the middle of the night, and if the Duty Officer needed him in Tac Ops, he would have buzzed.

Taking no chances, Machinshi crept to the door and put his ear to it, listening. Faint words passed the space between. "Machinshi? Are you there?" Mach's eyes widened a bit as he thought he heard Jon Cameron's voice. Instantly, Mach veiled and readied himself. When he was set, he yanked open the door and stood in its shadow, waiting. "Mach? It’s me Cameron. Something very strange is going on here. Mach? Say something or I am going to write this off as more un-nature..." Machinshi answered at last "I see you Jonathan Cameron. What do you want with me at this hour?" and stepped into a strange green light so Cam could see him. "I see you Machinshi. Something strange is afoot and I don’t know what it is. I came into the HQ when I saw the lights, and once I was inside... This." Mach joined Cam in the hallway and looked at the steaming darkness of jungle that should have been the hall. "Mach, I know your ways are not mine, but I would suggest putting on some clothes before we try getting to the bottom of this. I mean, uh, what if some one sees you?" Cam's eyes were firmly fixed on Machinshi's face. Mach, completely with out modesty, quickly dressed in cadin'sor and rounded up the remainder of his weapons. Mach handed Cam a plasma pistol and a spare energy pack. "I noticed your holster is empty. Use this." Machinshi then slung his power gun rifle over his shoulder and put the rest of his spears in hand, and lastly rounded up some traveling gear. "Do you think we'll need all that?" Cameron asked. "I do not know, but better to be sure. Ready?" Cam nodded and they opened the door and stepped out--into the Blight. The jungle was gone, replaced by the twisted forms of life that called the Blasted Lands home. Heat radiated into the pair as a brilliant sun bore down on them. Mach exchanged glances with Cameron before explaining "This is the Blight, the land that surrounds the mountain of Shayol Ghul. It seems we are on the world of my birth. This is strange indeed..." They immediately tried to open and close the door again to see what would happen. Nothing. It looked as if they were some how trapped in the Blight.... but for what purpose? And what cause?

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Subj: Inquiry 2; Sooner Date: 6/20/97 5:01:26 AM From: The Karne

I don't know what time it started, or just who was responsible. All I'm sure of is that several hours before dawn, I was awake, sitting on a bench in the Mess Hall, trying to finish a crossword puzzle... and that I was about to die. I don't know where the man in the battered old cotton sweater came from. All I do know about him was that his sweater read 'Sooners' in great big red letters and his hair was thinning. And he disliked me strongly.

He came out of nowhere. Except maybe my past. He was just...there...and he kicked me in the chest. I fell over backwards, gasping with surprise and pain. He was strong. And silent. Utterly silent as he leapt over the long table and yanked me to my feet. All seven hundred pounds of me. Then he rammed my head into the table hard enough to splinter the faux-wood and split my scalp. I flopped to the ground, dazed, blood pouring in my eyes. He drove his foot down, then. If he'd hit he would've probably crippled me. I rolled to the side a split second sooner, though. And to my feet. Already winded.

A queer smile was fixed on his face as he charged and jump kicked me in the chest. All my breath was gone. I flew backwards, and through the mess hall doors. Except there weren't any doors. Just mud.

I landed hard in the muddy puddle in the other room, sending up a massive splash. Spluttering on the foul rainwater, I struggled to my feet. No door. No Mess Hall. No Doom Bringers. Just the jungle and the memories. (Little did I know that a part of this fantasy had encroached on Chris and Mach only about a dozen yards away. I swear I'll be more cautious on how I dream...)

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Subj: Silent Deception Date: 6/20/97 11:32:37 PM From: TGG Smoke

It was quiet in sickbay. Moonlight shone through the huge window on the far side of the room, offering a stunning panoramic view of the Doom Lands and the mountains beyond. The peaceful hum of the bioscanners was occasionally interrupted by the *plink!* of one of the faucets, leaking slowly into its basin. Outside, a chorus of insects serenaded the building, singing softly into the night breeze.

In his office, Ryan was stretched out in his old, comfortable leather chair, sleeping in sickbay as he always did. The normally clear walls that allowed a view of sickbay had been turned opaque for the night, and soft moonlight crept in through the doorway. The gentle sounds of waiting machinery filled the room, casting a quiet balm over the office. Ryan twitched.

He didn't know what woke him up. Brushing off his flight suit, he stretched, then bent over to lace up his boots before standing and walking quietly out into sickbay to check for anything out of the ordinary. He glanced at the sinks, but they had all been shut tight. The last time one of the techs had left one dripping, Ryan had been sure to talk to the entire crew about the temperamental equipment, and everyone now made sure that the faucets were all the way off. He checked to make sure all the bioscanners had been turned off, as there was no reason to waste power when they weren't needed. They had been. Nothing was amiss.

As he turned back to his office, a black shroud covered the moon, throwing the room into total darkness. Stumbling in the dark, Ryan made his way towards the office. It wasn't there. He walked until he was sure he would run into the walls, but all he felt was the chill air which had started to swirl through the room. Turning again, he retraced what he thought were his steps, but found nothing. Taking a deep breath, he reached out into the force, feeling for the doors....

They weren't there. Nothing was there. He wasn't even sure if he was walking in place, or actually moving somewhere. He didn't know if it mattered. The darkness was absolute, and it was getting colder.

In the dark, Ryan frowned.

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Subj: What the...? Date: 6/22/97 5:30:41 AM From: JdeFalconr

Preacher stood there, still transfixed, as Aidan Pryde gestured toward the door of his quarters and said "There...your destiny awaits you through this doorway." His legs responded before his mind did, carrying him through the doorway, a portal of pure light so blinding that what lied beyond seemed indistinguishable. Aidan Pryde followed him, and they came to their destination. As he stepped through, the door to his quarters closed with a "hiss," but he didn't care as he beheld the sigh before him. They were now in one of the gigantic 'mech production facilities that the Jade Falcons kept in their secret locations. It appeared that this one was mass-producing Warhawks. Not fifty feet away from him, the massive cockpit of a Warhawk was being lowered onto the body chassis. But something did not seem right about it. The characteristic shape was still there, but the one-way transparisteel cockpit window was heavily armored in the same fashion as the rest of the 'mech. Still in a daze, Preacher only mumbled, "What in the..."

Aidan Pryde stood next to him, gazing into his eyes. "I think you know where we are. But you have many questions, quiaff? And they will all be answered in due time." With a motion of his hand toward a booth suspended high above the assembly floor, he said "Come."

Taking an elevator lift they came to a long catwalk which lead up to the door of the booth, walled on every side, including the bottom, with clear transparisteel. Aidan Pryde opened the door, exposing them to another blinding light. They walked in and the door closed with a "hiss."

Where they were again defied Preacher's understanding.

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Subj: A Palace in a Dive Date: 6/22/97 11:28:49 PM From: SallyPayne

This wasn't part of da program. At least not da one she left. She was leanin against a lamppost, her hands thrust deep inta the pockets of her leather jacket. Her Stetson drawn low on her brow. Ahead of her was a Sultans palace. Set right smack dab in da middle of RhyDin. Laughter, almost ringing with insanity rose in her throat, ta only be choked back. This couldn't be freakin happenin. This was a partially completed program. Actually she had fergotten about it. It was begun shortly after a lil adventure. She did smile now. Actually it was a *very* interesting adventure. Maybe one day she would actually finish dis program. She wondered what Eli would think of it. Wait! Now don't be losin yerself here. Sumthin ain't right. Lets get outta here. "End Program." Still nothing happened, well not actually. Some woman dat was walkin past her at the same time gave her a rather odd look. Then held tighter the arm of the man that accompanied her and dragged him down the walkway at a fairly steady and fast clip.

She shrugged her shoulders. What da hell. Might as well go wid da flow. Pushin away from da lamppost makin her way up da walkway. She was constantly reminded how come she hated dis berg. Low-tech haven. She turned up da alley dat seemed ta lead toward da Palace. It weren't long before she literally tripped outta da alley and onta a crushed stone walkway. Dark blue eyes drifted ahead as she stopped. Da sides of da walkway was littered wid topiary critters. Again she shrugged. Then the image of herself made its timely reappearance. Come on smeg. Lets put two an two tagether and make six. What ain't right here. Duh! She shook her head, pullin her Stetson down lower on her brow. Mutterin under her breath. "Will ya shut da hell up!" Her steps growin faster as if she thought to out walk da image in her head.

As she went up the main staircase she noticed da large double doors opened ta the Sultan's Palace. Dark blue eyes grew dark, resembling a brewing thunderstorm, as she entered, her hands jammed inta the pockets of her leather jacket. Like music from unseen speakers she could hear the tittering of laughter, oh baby, more, don't stop. It sounded almost like she had walked inta a friggin cathouse and da cats were turnin quite a business. There were no interior doors. Either strings of beads or satin veils covered each individual chamber.

The interior of the Palace was exactly as she remembered it. If she had anything, it was a memory fer detail. She didn't stop by any of da first floor chambers. Instead optin fer the second floor. She turned and headed ta the magnificent spiral staircase. She paused before startin up dem. Hangin on da banister was an item she was familiar wid. Dark blue eyes narrowed as she looked up ta the second floor, den back ta the coolin vest. Ooooh, jealousy rearin it's ugly head girl friend? Shakin her head. "No. I ain't jealous." She shifted a bit as though nudged, in sequence, the image in her mind nudged empty air. Sure thing. What ever ya say. Good Ole Sal. Like dat weren't da first thought inta this space, hmmm should we call it yer brain? "Ya don't know what da hell yer talkin about." Her image only smirked at her, as if ta say well I'm in here and yer not so who's gonna be in da know. "So it's Eli's. So what! I don't own him. And he sure da hell don't own me." As though on cue da sound from da invisible speakers increased in tone. There was no doubt the voice that came through it.

She closed her eyes. Mentally hog tyin and gaggin her mental image. Might not hold her fer long but it was a start. Openin her eyes she looked up da stairs. Did she really wanna go up der? Yes she did, only cuz none of what was happenin was makin sense. There had ta be an answer some freakin where. Steelin herself she made her way up da stairs.

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Subj: A Palace in a Dive (2) Date: 6/22/97 11:29:35 PM From: SallyPayne

Upstairs was the same maze of hallways she remembered. Dark blue eyes shifted first left den right. Then straight ahead. She frowned deeply. She didn't remember dat from last time. What was da ole sayin? Curiosity kill's da cat. So call her a sucker. She knew what da other two hallways held. Might as well take da one that had been unexplored. Come on. Let's go. One foot in front of da other. A growl rose deep in her throat. And poof. What da hell? Der was dat poof junk again. Anyway, poof, da voice was gone. She made her way down da hallway. The rooms on either side of her were empty. Yet ahead of her was what looked ta be a *very* large room.

Pillows seemed ta flow outta the door, as though they carpeted da floor. An unfelt breeze stirrin the veils that hung from the doorways she passed. It also set da strung beads ta swingin, and creatin almost a cacophony of sound. Fer some reason her steps slowed as she drew nearer da room at da end of da hall. Somethin set up ta wreckin home in her stomach. The sour taste of acid rose in her throat. She stopped and looked back over her shoulder at the stairway behind her. Well, she'd come dis far, she weren't one ta ever turn away from anything. But every nerve in her said dat der was *always* a first time.

Her own stubborn streak could prove ta be her worst enemy. Again she steeled herself, lookin back ta the room, only two steps ahead of her now. One, Two, Tada!! Dark blue eyes widened, her chin near hittin da floor. It was a large room. A large *full* room. It was wall ta wall pillows. Formin a mattress of sorts. But dat weren't what actually left her unable ta utter a word. Da room was also wall ta wall writhin bodies. Where der dat many different women in dis berg? Where der dat many different positions? Where der dat many diff..... What da freakin?!?! Each and every guy was Eli.

She took one stumblin step backwards ta only be stopped by a harsh scratchy voice barkin at her. >Why don'tcha watch where yer walkin broad! Jumpin freakin Jimminy Cricket!< She turned, expectin ta see someone standing behind her. Her eyes were still wide, and dark, near black. Gone was da hallway. Instead der was a door behind her. She felt somethin hittin her booted foot. Lookin down she saw Patch standing there. Dressed in a red jacket, with fringed epilates on his shoulders. And a lil red pill hat on his head. >Shut yer mouth, don't wanna catch flies do ya?" It was Patch alright, but dat weren't his voice. But who's voice was it? Suddenly it came ta her. Some old film she had seen in da archives. Da one wid da brat and her dog who ended up... where da hell was it. Suddenly it hit her. Patch sounded like da one who was called The Great and Powerful OZ. What was Patch doin dressed as some old theater usher? He leered up at her. >Hope ya liked da show. And we, the management, thank ya fer attendin our premier of RhyDin's first full-length feature 'Karma Sutra done RhyDin Style'. Please come back again and visit us *real* soon. NOT!< Then somehow da rodent managed ta push her spinnin through da door.

When she finally managed ta catch her balance she damn near screamed. She was now in da Bar 'n' Grill. And what was before her was enough ta make anyone's skin crawl. And why was she so friggin cold?

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Subj: Turn About is Fair Play 5 Date: 6/23/97 11:55:41 AM From: Ben Stinel

"Do you think they'll catch up to us again?"

James nodded, not taking his eyes off the road, "Aye, they will. Mandrake has always been noted for its trackers and Sirus in particular is one of the best there is. They have to figure out which direction we went first though. That man that Sirus sent along the North Road never even saw us or our horses behind that stretch of fence," he laughed, "He didn't even bother to look."

Jacob Belferd grinned and looked down the road. ((Okay, okay, I changed my mind about the last name. I just realized there's an person I know with the last name Alferd and it just doesn't fit anymore, okay?)) The lights of a village were ahead of them and before long they would be in the village inn's common room drinking wine and eating a hot meal. They had been on the North Road most of the day and had turned off onto the Kandori Road only a couple of hours ago. Just after night had fallen. The only sign of pursuit had been the lone Mandrake rider sent ahead by Sirus to scout the road to search for evidence that James and Jacob had passed that way. An hour later they had watched the same rider head back to Aldebra to report to Sirus. Nothing found.

"Well, we'll have hot baths tonight, Jacob." James grinned, "I've passed through this village before. There's a hot spring right next to the village."

Jacob frowned slightly to himself. Something had been bothering him most of the day since they had left Aldebra that morning. Like he had forgotten something important. Little things set the feeling off. Just James saying his name had done it this time. Something was wrong but for some reason he couldn't say what it was. He shrugged it off. It was probably nothing. Like the nagging feeling you've left the coffee maker on when you leave for vacation... Coffee maker? What in the world was that? What in the world was coffee? It was on the edge of his mind but it was like reaching for something balanced on the edge of a razor. Every time he reached for it, it fell off the other side and was gone.

"Gone..." he murmured.

"What was that, Jacob?" James glanced at him from his saddle with a slightly worried expression on his face, "You've been pensive all day. You're not worried about Sirus, are you? He's persistent, but we've never failed to outwit him before."

Jacob shook his head and grinned slightly, "I'm sure its nothing. Hot baths will be nice. The last time we had anything other than wash water in a basin was in the Bath Houses in Mandrake. Remember that?"

James grinned broadly as they rode into the village, "How could I forget? Any culture that puts the men and women in together is all right by me. Even if it did give birth to Sirus Keanin. And those Mandrakin women..." James shook his head wistfully, "We'll never be able to show our faces there again now, will we?"

Jacob looked at his friend with something of a look of surprise. He hadn't been expecting this. Something inside told him that he should have seen it coming though. That same nagging voice that kept insisting that the coffee machine was on. He pushed it away.

"You weren't thinking of settling down, were you, James?"

James looked up, startled at the question, "What? Oh, of course not. Don't be silly."

Jacob gave his friend a look that said he wasn't convinced.

James picked up on it, "Oh damn it all, Jacob. Maybe just a little bit. It's just... A woman like Jerrisa Keanin doesn't come along everyday. She was enough to get a man thinking is all. This business with Sirus finding us has just dredged it all back up I suppose."

Jacob nodded as they dismounted in front of the inn, "Maybe someday, James. Someday when Sirus has forgotten all about our deeds in Mandrake."

Pulling his saddlebags from behind the saddle he left Bolt tied to the hitching post and walked into the inn after James had done the same.

The innkeeper was a stout man, as most innkeepers were Jacob had noticed, with an apron tied around his waist and his head mostly bald up top with some of it combed over to make it look like he had a bit more hair than he really did. It didn't work.

"Ahh, gentlemen. You want rooms for the night? And surly you'll want hot bathes in the famous Gentor Hot Springs. And of course a hot meal for each of you. I'm currently offering a very generous discount on my regular custom of six silver pence-"

The innkeeper's eyes goggled as Jacob pressed a gold mark into his hand and said quietly, "We would very much appreciate rooms, adjoining rooms if you have them, as well as baths and a private dinning room."

The innkeeper bit the gold coin and smiled broadly at the marks left pressed on the coin by his teeth, "Ah, yes. Private dinning room you say?"

"You'll find that we are two very private people," Jacob smiled back at the innkeeper.

The stout man quickly pocketed the coin, "You have horses? Rob! Matthew! Tend to the gentlemen's horses! Quickly now!"

A pair of boys sitting near the door and eating dinner jumped up and through the inn's door to gather up Bolt and Thrower to take them to the inn's stable.

"There's no need to worry about your horses, gentlemen. Let me show you to your rooms and then I'll serve you your meals in the private dining room, as you requested."

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Subj: The.... blight? Date: 6/23/97 12:20:22 PM From: SteelHelix

Cam stood on a stone, that might not be a stone, watching his Aiel companion. "The......... blight?" Cam asks softly, he had heard much of this evil place, Shayol Ghul, and much else of the world. He had seen an ancient map, telling him much of the towns and small cities on this land of mystery. With a soft whisper he asks, "Can you tell.... when we are...?" His mind flips to what he had heard of Rand al'Thor, the Dragon Reborn... Aes Sedai... Black Ajah... Trollocs... Myrddraal... and even stranger creatures of the blasted lands... "Has the world been broken again?"

He reaches down and pulls out his sword slowly, while taking a casual look around him. Someone had once told him of the evils that ran rampant on this world, and frankly, it scared him.

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Subj: Practical Jokes and Hangovers Date: 6/24/97 7:40:13 PM From: LinTravers

"Senor! Wake up!! Oh dios mio, he is home. Me esposo. He is home early!" Even in his sleep, Travers recognized the panic in the woman's voice meant that some form of danger was headed in his direction. His head pounded and opening his eyes only seemed to make it worse. Using the pain, he reaffirmed his resolution *never* again to try and keep up with Patch on a drinking binge.

Travers frowned, the woman's words finally sinking in. Senor? Dios Mio? ESPOSA?! Whipping the covers off his naked body, he jumped out of the feather bed then stumbled as the pain exploded into full bloom. Groaning, he held his head for a moment, swaying as he attempted to urge the demons inside to stop their void mining.

"Senor! Please rapido!! I hear his footsteps on the stairs! Vaya pronto!!!" Travers stumbled to the chair holding the clothes he vaguely recognized as his own. Through the pain and haze of his hangover, he wondered if he had, in his drunken stupor, told Patch and Ryan about this holodeck program.

Program! Yes! This was a program! "Computer. End program!" Nothing happened. "Ah Madre de bueno. You need to hurry senor!"

Frowning deeper, he looked up to the ceiling. "Computer! End PROGRAM!" Nothing changed, except the panic on the Spanish lovely's face. That, and the volume of the heavy boots that obviously belonged to "esposo".

"Oh cripes." Hurriedly, he grabbed the tight leather pants and slid them on. Then came the most illogical thing he had ever done in his life. He passed over the rapier and grabbed a small strip of leather and slid it over his face none too soon. It was only then that he retrieved his rapier.

With the rattling of the door handle behind him, he half expected to hear "Hey LUUCY! I'm HOOOOME!!!". He nearly laughed at the thought, but the cold metal of the ornate silver and gold basket hilt in his hand and the realization that this holodeck program would not be ending at his command kept the laugh to a very small chuckle.

Barefoot and shirtless, he spun as "esposo" stepped through the carved hardwood door. The heavyset man's black eyes widened as he caught sight of the nearly naked masked man in his wife's bedroom. "El Zoro! Consuello, que es?!!" The soft metal hiss of two rapiers being pulled from scabbards punctuated the tension in the room.

Travers knew some Spanish, but the woman's frantic explanations were lost to him. Warily, he kept his gaze locked on the large man while his mind frantically worked out an escape route. He was in no condition to fight. The continued throbbing behind his eyes let him know this.

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Subj: Practical Jokes & Hangovers 2 Date: 6/24/97 7:41:06 PM From: LinTravers

Slowly, his blade held out before him, Travers backed to the balcony doors. Unfortunately, the big man apparently did not want his quarry slipping away as easily as Travers would have liked. Howling in a blind rage, "esposo" charged the smaller man. Travers sighed and sidestepped the attack easily enough, even taking minor pleasure in swatting the large backside of the man with the flat of his blade as he ran past.

This only infuriated the Spaniard further. Recovering quickly, the Spaniard visibly quelched his anger enough to gain control over his weapon. Snarling, the large man stepped towards Travers. "Zoro. All will cheer when I am done with you. And no one will think twice when I present the corpse of my "loving" esposa, raped and murdered by the infamous bandito Zoro. And once you are dead, the peasants you so love will suffer even more." The large man laughed coldly.

Travers silver and purple eyes narrowed dangerously. At first, he had only meant to survive. At the Spaniard's words, however, a whole new man emerged. Gritting his teeth, Travers suppressed the pain in his head as he took a step towards the man. "Don Juarez. You should not crow like the cock in the hen house. Your swordsmanship is well known to be one of your least valuable assets. Only your promises are worth less."

Lightly, cold steel touched cold steel as Travers took another step forward. "Your wife will not suffer your attentions any longer, Senor. For I shall see to that." Lunging, Travers nicked Juarez's portly belly. "But first, I will hack away at you little by little, the same way you have eaten away at the people you are suppose to protect."

Another stripe of blood appeared suddenly on Juarez's arm milliseconds before he counter attacked. Travers had been right about the man's ability with a sword. Most landowner's in the time period Travers had read about in Terra's history relied on bullies and taxes to keep their people in line. Now, standing face to face with the fat man, he could see the inexperience one would expect of a man who did not practice.

Still, the attack meant for Travers heart did connect, but only with his bare shoulder as the smaller man dodged quickly. Travers laughed softly. "Nice try, dog." Several more of Travers' rapier slices landed on various parts of Juarez's body and the large man's confidence was failing with each blow.

It wasn't a one sided fight by no means. Juarez was able to land several blows of his own, leaving Travers slightly bloodied. Soon, however, Travers became bored with the game. With a final lunge, the finely honed steel of his Spanish rapier slid neatly between Juarez's ribs, puncturing not only a lung, but his heart as well. As gravity did it's job on the fat man, the blade slid cleanly away at the same instant Consuello's scream pierced the room.

Travers glanced around the room, some vague hope that, with the death of Juarez, the computer would end the program. He sighed as he realized it was not to be. Without looking at the still screaming Consuello, Travers returned to the chair with his clothes and swiftly put them on. As he clasped the cape across his neck, several footsteps could be heard running up the stairs. With a flair of the cape and a flash of steel, Travers caught a rose with the tip of his rapier and flipped it to Consuello before slipping out onto the balcony.

The large oak tree was conveniently placed where all he needed to do is climb down to the ground. Jogging, he made his way out though the main gates of the hacienda and to the black stallion he knew would be tethered in a grove of trees not far away.

Flinging a leg over the black and silver saddle he muttered to himself about finding a way to get even with Patch and Ryan.....*if* he ever got out of this hologram.

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Subj: Disney’s revenge.... Date: 6/25/97 12:53:37 AM From: MELICORE

He sat in the mess hall watching Kitten prepare breakfast for the Doom Bringer's and playing with the most beautiful baby in the world. If he had his way they would both be at home being waited on hand and foot by the staff, but he understood that Jaqi had a job she loved and he supported her in that. Lightly, he brushed a feather under Kaye's chin. A smile played on his lips when he heard her coo. Suddenly, he stood and walked over to Kitten, tracing her jaw line with the feather.

"Would you mind if I stayed and read you and Kaye a story?" His eyes twinkled as she made a halfhearted effort to brush the hand with the feather away.

"That'd be nice." Careful not to get flour on either her husband's DB uniform or their child's red curls, Jaq first leaned toward Mel pressed a light kiss to his chin. Then, bending over the bundle in Mel's arms, her lips then brushed their daughter's forehead.

After settling the baby in the bassinet, Mel took a book out and read the cover

"Winnie the Pooh" Another soft smile played on his lips as he sat by Kaye's side and began to read the book. Before he could finish the first page, however, out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a little golden bear wearing red polo shirt slide out of a drawer. Mel shook his head and muttered.

"I gotta get me some glasses."

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Subj: Disney’s revenge pt.2 Date: 6/25/97 12:59:54 AM From: MELICORE

Jaqi turned around and looked at him. The depths of her onyx eyes showed no emotion, yet a puzzled look appeared on her face none the less.

"Whatdya say, Mel?

"I just saw the weirdest thing" Mel said. Almost jokingly, he described the little bear. She laughed and turned back to the breakfast pastries she was preparing.

"Oh Angel...." She had been going to say that he had the best sense of humor when a startled gasp escaped her lips. She stood frozen, watching, as a little orange creature with black stripes bounce about the mess hall kitchen only to end up in a stack of pots.

The clamor of the Revere wear falling and tumbling startled Kaye, waking her from a sound sleep. Her angry cries filled the hall and claimed the full attention of both her parents. Mel picked up Kaye and tried to calm her while the little striped creature shook off the pots. The ensuing racket only made things worse

"Alllooo!! I'm Tigger. That's T.I. double GRRR... Tigger" The little orange creature announced as he started bouncing around the room. It wasn't the only thing the creature had to say, though. As he bounced, he began singing a happy little song

"The wonderful thing about Tiggers is Tiggers are wonderful things. Their bodies are made out of rubber and their tails are made out of springs."

Despite the strangeness, Jaq wiped her hands on her apron and moved to Mel. Taking their daughter, she coo'd softly at the screaming bundle "Let me try. It's almost her feedin' time anyway."

Cradling the child, she worked at the buttons of her blouse in preparation to feed the infant. So absorbed in the new tasks of motherhood, she did not see the little bear move behind Mel with a large marble rolling pin. Kaye's cries ceased as she began to nurse, so Jaqi heard the *thunk* when the bear smacked Mel over the head. In any other situation she might have become concerned at what had just happened, but when the little birds began circling Mel's head she had to laugh. He had not seemed concerned about the animals and had even joked about needing glasses when he started to read the book. Yes, she decided, this was some sort of silly game that Mel had made up

"Ooh bother." the little bear said as the marble rolling pin shattered upon impact with Mel's skull

The laughter stuck in her throat as her husband slumped unconscious to the floor Angel? ::Her brows drew together in concern, yet her eyes remained expressionless:: Are you okay?

The baby whimpered as Jaqi's grip tightened involuntarily. The sound caused the bear to turn its attention to them. Jaqi scrabbled away from the bear when she saw the feral gleam in its eyes. She knew that look well. She had seen it many times back home on Earth and every time she saw it, someone got real hurt.

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Subj: Turn About is Fair Play 7 Date: 6/25/97 11:36:40 AM From: Ben Stinel

The innkeeper led them through the common room of the inn. It was the same as any other country inn you might find on the road. It was busy with farmers and village men who frequented such inns for the beer and wine to be had there. A man on a raised section of floor played the flute and one of the bar maids was singing a song that sounded foreign to Jacob's ears. James tapped his leg in time with the melody as they walked past.

"So tell me, innkeeper. What news is there from north of here?" Jacob asked.

The innkeeper glanced back at him as they wove their way through the tables and customers, "Oh not good, sir. The king of Kandori was recently assassinated. A merchant who passed through town last week told me that the two bordering nations are poised for war with the Kandorian Prime Minister. The poor woman is in over her head if what Jak said was true. Nothing to bother us this far south of course."

James gave Jacob a meaningful glance. Turmoil was good for adventure seekers.

"The lands to the north of Kandori are much better off, of course. It's only the two nations to the east and west that mean the country harm. Very nice north of Kandori, I think. But terribly cold." The innkeeper went on.

"Yes," Jacob nodded, "Better that we were through Kandori as quickly as possible."

The innkeeper led them into a hallway in the back of the common room and James continued to ask the man questions about the lands to the north. At the opening of the hallway, Jacob stopped and looked back into the common room. That feeling was back. Different somehow though. Something still felt wrong but there was the feeling that he was being… being watched. It left as quickly as it had come this time.

He shook his head and let his eyes make a single pass of the inn's front room. Men were listening to the barmaid singing and one or two of them had other serving girls on their knees. At the front door Rob and Matthew had just come back in to finish their meals. Behind them a good wife banged open the inn's door and stalked straight over to her husband to pull him out of his mug of ale by his ear. In the commotion he almost missed the young woman who slipped through the swinging front door. She seamed out of place somehow. She wasn't dressed like any village girl. Maybe a fellow traveler.

He shrugged his shoulders and turned into the hallway. James and the innkeeper were halfway down the hallway now and had stopped at a door.

"Comeon, Jacob!" James called, "I'm not getting any younger standing here. Every minute we don't eat, another hair falls out of my head!"

Jacob grinned and hurried down the hall. The innkeeper opened the door and lit the lamp that hung from the ceiling. The room was small but well furnished. An oak dining table sat in the middle of the room with four chairs around it. The far wall had a large window and through it the moon cast reflections on the small lake outside. Those would be the "Famous Gentor Hot Springs." There was a sofa under the window, forming a makeshift window seat. The walls were painted a simple white but were accented by darkly stained wood trim.

"This will do nicely, innkeeper," James said, "So what are you serving tonight?"

"Oh, you'll like it. Old Able slaughtered his Bessy this week so there's plenty of roast beef. Mashed potatoes, corn, boiled carrots, gravy, chicken. Sadly there's no butter…" the innkeeper shook his head as if this was a very sad thing indeed, "Old Able didn't think to milk Bessy before he took her to the ax. We've been scraping the bottom of the churns for the meal tonight. Luckily there was enough for cooking so there just isn't any more then that. Able's gone to buy three cows in Aldebra though, so if you're going to be in town for a while there will be butter for dinner tomorrow night."

"Whatever you're serving will be fine." Jacob assured the man.

The innkeeper left and soon after a serving girl arrived bearing a tray of food. As she set the table she smiled and made eyes at James. She seamed to be paying as much attention to James as she paid to setting the food on the table. If not more. She nearly spilled the pitcher of wine all over Jacob. She would have if he hadn't caught it first.

Setting the pitcher back on the table he sighed and shook his head. Everywhere they went it was the same. James got all the women. The man was an animal. Pretty girls seamed to flock to him like iron filings to a magnet. The worst part of it was that James hardly even seamed to notice. He didn't mind it either, but that was beside the point.

When the girl had finished her work James smiled at her without even thinking and took her hand to gently press a small silver coin into it. Her cheeks turned red at his touch and she rushed out of the room in a fit of giggles.

Jacob gave a disgusted snort and glared at James as the door swung closed.

James looked innocent as he could, "What?"

"What have you got that I don't? Besides a shiny head."

"Oh comeon! I'm not that bald! I may be thinning up top a bit but I'm not bald yet."

Jacob shook his head, "Every town we go to! Every village we stop in. Can't you turn it off, man?"

James grinned and scooped some potatoes onto his plate before smothering them in gravy, "Well, some people have it. So what about what the innkeeper was saying about Kandori? Sounds promising to me."

"Politics." Jacob was a bit revolted, "That's not an adventure. That's hell." Still… That little voice inside his head spoke up as if to say that he had dabbled in politics before as well… It slipped away again and he shrugged. The feeling was getting fainter and fainter every time it showed up. By morning it might be gone altogether. He started dishing food onto his plate and shrugged again, "Even so… There's bound to be some kind of adventure up there. It's worth the ride just to see."

James nodded and started talking around a mouthful of food, "Aye, it is. Something's bound to pop up eventually."

Jacob's eyes were drawn to the window for a moment. He glanced at James and realized he had seen it too. Only for a moment a shadow had passed across the glass. Probably thrown there by the reflection of the moon on the water of the hot springs.

James nodded to the window and went on talking, "If nothing else we could try offering our services to the Prime Minister…"

As James jabbered on Jacob stood and moved quietly to the window. He kept carefully out of the line of sight of whoever might be listening outside and sat on the edge of the sofa. Just at the right moment Jacob shot up, throwing the window wide open and reaching out to haul whoever it was inside. Two seconds later he had pulled the girl down onto the couch, kicking out and trying to break free of his grip. He almost lost his hold on her as he realized who it was. She looked at him and when she realized he recognized her she drew in a breath for a really big scream. Luckily James moved in and clapped a hand over her mouth.

The girl Jacob had seen walk out of the common room wore a nice gray dress and had her light brown hair drawn back in a cord behind her neck. She was quite pretty and something about her face and eyes seamed very familiar to him even though he had only seen the back of her as she had left the inn. The feeling of familiarity passed quickly though as she gave a sharp look down. His face turned red as he realized that she meant the way he was holding her and he quickly adjusted his grip to a less… familiar position. Now both hands were on her shoulders instead of a hand between her breasts and an arm down one of her legs.

"See, Jacob, we've found an adventure already." James grinned and the girl gave him a frightened look.

"If I let you sit up," Jacob said, "And James takes his hand off of your mouth, will you keep quiet?"

The young woman nodded vigorously. Jacob guessed she must have been very surprised at being caught this way.

Jacob nodded and James lifted his hand from the girl's mouth. The girl looked down at Jacob's hands again and then up at his face. Slowly, a little bit reluctantly, he pulled his hands away from her shoulders. Gently he took her hand and helped her sit up. The voice popped into his head, amazingly loud this time, *Oh, don't be a fool! She's just a hol-* Just a what? It faded as quickly as it came.

"I'm sorry for spying on you," the girl began timidly, "I just heard you talking to the innkeeper about Kandori and I thought… I thought that maybe you might help me."

"Help you with what?" Jacob asked her roughly. He wasn't sure if the scolding sound of his voice was meant for her or for himself.

She jerked a bit at the sound of his voice but steeled herself and went on, "Well, I saw your sword. And your bow staff," she looked at James for a moment. Jacob noticed that she didn't seam to look at him the same way the serving girl had and for some reason felt some sort of relief, "It's plain you two are fighting men. I thought if you were going to Kandori… Well, my father is being held by the Prime Minister in the Kandori Dungeons. She claims that he assassinated the king!"

"She claims that, does she, girl?" James said skeptically.

"My name is Susan," the girl said, giving him an icy stare.

"Best lock-makers in the world, those Kandorians," James said, passing right over the assertion of her name, "I spent the night in the Kandori Dungeons once. You don't need two fighters. You need a sorcerer!"

Jacob nodded grimly. Susan was young. She had probably never left her hometown before this. She hoped to save her father from a murderer's death.

"I can get one," she answered simply.

Jacob's eyebrows shot up and James gave the girl a considering look.

Susan reached into the pouch at her waist and pulled out a letter in an exotic hand. She gave it to Jacob and he looked it over before handing it to James. The letter was from a man who claimed that he knew a way to rescue Susan's father from the Prime Minister. It detailed a plot by the Prime Minister to take over the throne of Kandori and cast the blame on an innocent foreigner who happened to be conveniently available. Susan's father. The man who had written the letter claimed, among other things, that he was, indeed, a sorcerer.

"So why do you need us," Jacob asked, "Why not just go straight to your sorcerer?"

Susan took on the frightened look again, "I've been here for three days now. I was riding north when I was robbed just south of the village. They took my horse, they took my money. When the innkeeper's wife heard my story she insisted that her husband let me stay here for free. You said you were looking for an adventure. I need help if I'm going to make it all the way to the sorcerer. If I can be robbed here in Aldebra during peace time, imagine what it will be like for me in Kandori during a war?"

James looked at Jacob and shrugged, "We are looking for an adventure. Seeking out a sorcerer qualifies I think. Besides. A man like that would be a handy person to have around if Sirus shows up again."

"Who is Sirus?" Susan asked, putting on a braver face.

"Never mind that," Jacob said, "It's enough for you to know we have our own problems. That shouldn't stop us from helping you though. Helping you might help us."

She was smiling now.

"Your horse was stolen? We'll have to get you a new one before we leave then." James walked over to the door, picking up a chicken leg along the way. He leaned against the side of the doorframe and turned the knob. The door swung into the room and the innkeeper came tumbling through.

"Tell us, innkeeper," James said, nonchalantly taking a bite of chicken, "Where can we buy a good horse?"

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Subj: Re:Turn About Date: 6/25/97 9:22:33 PM From: JdeFalconr

The door from the 'mech production plant closed behind Preacher and Aidan Pryde and they entered into the cockpit of Preacher's 'mech, his Blade. They were nestled in a dense group of trees on a terrain planet.

"Where are we?" Preacher said, confused.

"I think you know this story." Aidan replied. He pressed the thermograph button on the console and the view port of the 'mech turned red as the thermal imaging activated. Pointing out to the right, he zoomed the image in on the image of a woman who slowly crawled out of the trees and into a small green clearing. She was wearing a battle harness and a neurohelmet from a 'mech. She sat for a few moments and soon a dark, birdlike image flew down and landed on a nearby fallen tree trunk."

"What in the..." Said Preacher as he sat down in the command chair, deactivating the thermograph. What he saw once again sent his mind reeling. A real, live Jade Falcon was perched in front of this woman, its beak moving as though it was speaking. Something seemed awfully familiar to him as he moved to activate the audio pickups. The sound of a conversation filled the cockpit.

"I have no weapon!" Said the woman. "How will I avenge the death of DeChavilier?"

Preacher's blood turned to ice as the memory arose within him. "No...it cannot be..."

The Jade Falcon spoke. "Have you not yet learned that a warrior's weapon is his body, and that swords and lasers and 'mechs are but extensions of that weapon?" The bird suddenly cried out and flew high into the air. The woman, looking dismayed, slowly got up and began to move very purposefully from the small clearing back into the trees.

Preacher sat back, reciting words memorized by all Jade Falcon cadets as the Jade Falcon returned with another unearthly screech and began to spoke. Preacher and the falcon spoke at exactly the same time, their words exactly spoken in unison. "Yes, loved one, that is the sword you gave Aaron DeChavilier long ago. I pried it from his lifeless hands for you-Even in death he gripped his weapon, as should every warrior in the last moments of his life. Cherish it and his memory, and use it to draw the blood of any who would dare stand in the way of destiny."

He turned to Aidan Pryde, suddenly understanding. "But why have you brought me here, back in time to witness this?"

Aidan looked at him with an all-knowing gaze and replied steadily "I told you that you would be the one who would save our clan...and this is your destiny. In a minute, Elizabeth Hazen will go back into that clearing and there will be a separatist BattleMech waiting in ambush for her. You and you alone can save her."

His words were broken as Turkina screeched and flew high into the air, out of sight, and Elizabeth Hazen slowly moved back into the foliage.

As Preacher looked on in awe, Aidan Pryde said to him, "Your 'mech is powered up. You must leave now. May the spirits of our founders be with you."

Preacher turned quickly, saying "But how..." but Aidan Pryde was gone. Left alone, he knew what he had to do...

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Subj: The Lone Sentinel pt. 2 Date: 6/25/97 9:47:33 PM From: JdeFalconr

Looking up at his map display, Preacher saw a red blip highlighted. His targeting computer identified it as a Star-League class Warhammer, not yet fully powered up. Donning his neurohelmet he activated his Blade's jump jets and prayed that his recent modifications would not fail him.

Flying high on four plumes of flame he left the trees and landed in the clearing, facing towards the Warhammer. It suddenly realized it had been discovered and powered up, turning to face the new challenge. Preacher advanced, his Large Pulse Lasers blazing into the forest, scoring hits on the 'mech. Something beeped on his console and he noted that his SRM-6 was armed with inferno rounds. Clouds of smoke billowed away from his 'mech as the six warheads flew into the trees, impacting in various spots towards the Warhammer. In seconds the forest was ablaze, the separatist 'mech caught in the middle of it. It slowly advanced out of the flames, its PPCs blazing a trail through the forest. One struck the Blade, a bluish cloud erupting on his right torso armor. The ancient Star League PPC put Preacher's mind in check, as it was just as powerful as the ones he normally faced and was not something to be ignored.

The Warhammer continued to advance cautiously, firing its SRM-6 and medium lasers, scoring minor hits on Preacher's 'mech, but to no avail. Fighting like a man possessed, Preacher let loose with a fierce barrage of pulse laser blasts. One sent sparks flying from its right arm, which drooped, without power and useless. He fired off a salvo from the LRM-10 launcher, scoring hits along its right and center torsos, opening great gashes in its armor. However, the ancient 'mech did not seem to mind as it continued to advance, its remaining PPC blazing blue fire and spitting death from its own SRM launchers. Alarms sounded in Preacher's cockpit as status indicators winked out next to a heat sink and the Large pulse laser in his left arm. He ducked down out of the way of another PPC blast as it sailed into the trees behind him. Knowing that the Warhammer's heat sinks must be having difficulty coping with the sudden heat buildup, Preacher instinctively charged, leveling his shoulder at the Warhammer. As the two 'mechs collided, the Warhammer's armor plates buckled under the force of the impact as it was sent to the ground with a massive, earth-shaking THUD.

Fortunately, the reinforced armor-plating Preacher installed on the shoulder joints held firm as he stood over the fallen Warhammer. He leveled the right-arm large pulse laser at the cockpit as the Warhammer remained still. The hatch of the 'mech popped open and a small man ran out in fear, sprinting towards the trees. Preacher stepped the foot of his 'mech onto the Warhammer's cockpit, destroying it to ensure that it would not get up anytime soon.

Suddenly, external audio pickups detected a strange noise from outside. Activating them he was greeted by the sound of cheers. He swiveled his torso to the sound, and was greeted by a large mass of troops cheering to him. Activating a visual search routine, his targeting computer found Elizabeth Hazen at the forefront of the group. And he was in for another surprise.

Next to Elizabeth Hazen were the founders of Clan Jade Falcon, standing around and cheering with her...and one more figure. Aidan Pryde stood next to Elizabeth Hazen. But he was not cheering-simply looking up and smiling at him. Slowly, Preacher walked his 'mech up to the band and powered down, opening the hatch into the blinding sunlight, intending to go down to meet them. Pressing a button near the door to the cockpit he extended a ladder to climb down. Without knowing, he walked out the door and was greeted by a new sight...

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Subj: Relativity Date: 6/26/97 1:12:32 AM From: SallyPayne

When she finally managed ta catch her balance she damn near screamed. She was now in da Bar 'n' Grill. And what was before her was enough ta make anyone's skin crawl. Well, maybe not anyone, but it sure as hell had that affect on her. And why was she so friggin cold?

Her hand rose ta push back her Stetson but it wasn't there. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the life size cut out that stood right in front of her. Had it been any other figure then what it was she could have appreciated da time taken fer detail. But where it was herself she was starin at, it only re-confirmed that she should have torn down dat friggin poster years ago.

Shortly after she had joined da DoomBringers Jugger had made a discovery. A poster dat had been made many many years ago. Kinda like dem poster girl type things fer some parts or weapons supplier. Another one of Tylgraph's lil ventures. Anyway, Jugger had posted it right front and center on da wall behind da bar. What a pain it was ta come inta da Bar 'n Grill and end up ogled by every horny smeg that happened ta recognize her. Often, such happenin after a quick double take. Even a few triple-takes. When one of da guy's realized her seriousness about tearin it down he had taken it upon himself ta plaster it ta da high ceiling of da place.

Shakin her head, clearin it. That was neither here nor there. Her eyes drifted lower ta the announcement dat accompanied da cut out.

Appearing Tonight ONLY!!

Come One, Come All

For the Amazing Gyrations of

The DoomBringers One and Only

SALLY PAYNE

Who da hell was behind this? Only then did she notice the implied pose of the life-sized cut out. Again she shivered. Not a shiver of excitement, or fear. But a shiver of freezin her arse of. She wrapped her arms around herself, her eyes widening as she touched only bare flesh. Blinking she looked down. She was wearing little more then twin strips of leather across her chest, that passed down to resemble a thong of sorts; four inch black leather heels; and goose bumps.

She knew she had ta get outta here, and outta here as fast as she could move. Turning her hand reached for the push bar on the door, to only hear the *snickt* of the lock catching. Oh great! What now? She did not relish the thought of seein what was beyond the life-sized cut out. The feeling that founds it's way down her spine was like someone was driving acupuncture needles inta her. Cept instead of stoppin at the point when any normal acupuncturist would, they were driven inta the very center of her spinal cord. Quickly she looked to the front windows. When were those bars put on them?

It was slowly comin ta her realization that she weren't gonna get outta this one any easier then the last two... what were they actually? She recognized the first two, despite their over exaggeration, as holodeck programs that she had set up. But this one? No way, no how, would she set up somethin like this. Ok, lets think this out a bit. An image appeared in her mind. This time, instead of the cocky duplicate of herself there was the other one. The demure one. The one that didn't give her any trouble. Yet she weren't real crazy bout her as it appeared everything she weren't. A hysterical giggle almost burst from her as the other image of herself appeared and literally kicked its duplicate right outta her mind. Come on chickie chick. Yer da big bad a... the image covered its mouth with its hand but she knew instinctively what it was going to say.

Well, lets use a lil logic here. Assess da situation as it were. Door's? Locked. Windows? Barred. Main room? Ummm. Damn she hated these heels. How the hell was she supposed ta do anything in them. *knock knock knock* Hello?! Anyone alive out there? She glared inwardly at the image of herself. Her voice a low growl. "What da hell do you want?" The image of herself gave her a smirk, den lifted one foot, indicating taking off one boot. She rolled her eyes. Muttering under her breath. "Ifn ya hadn't interrupted me I would a thought of dat." Leaning back against the door she unlaced one spiked heel throwin it aside then removin da other. Lettin it land atop its mate. Again she rolled her eyes at the parody that formed in her mind. At this rate, if she got outta dis *she* was gonna have Ryan lock her up. Maybe dis was some lingerin effect of the toxins that had been used on her in Pelvar.

Pushin away from da door as she shook her head. She would worry bout dat only when she got outta dis. She needed ta find a way ta end program. The main question was, where was she suppose ta find da control panel? She hadn't seen nuttin as yet that even vaguely resembled it. Oh well. Here goes nuttin. Cautiously she took a step toward the cut out, placin one hand lightly on it as she looked around it. Hmm. Full crowd tonight. Ain't seen dis place dis packed in ages. The lights were set no brighter, no darker. But there was something odd that she just couldn't put a finger to. Aside from da fact that each and every person that was here had their back ta her.

Suddenly a spot light blinded her, and a voice resounded through the speakers. Her hand came up shielding her eyes, but she still was momentarily blinded. "And now patrons of the Mech Bay Bar 'n Grill. Put your hands together in a loud round of applause for our star attraction this evening. MISS SALLY PAYNE!" Dark eyes darted to where the mike stand was, spotting Jor Kul there with his arm extended toward her. Again the voice didn't fit the person. The voice that had come from the hulking Orc reminded her of a weasel with a probe up its backside. It was another voice she had heard before. Recalling a couple of the techs sittin in da day room watching some old reels from Tara 20th Century. These two particular guy's got a kick outta that era's *really* tasteless movies. Especially the guy that hosted them. Gilbert Godfried or some such thing. She could almost hear the clip where he appeared. "Welcome back to Saturday Up All Night. We now return you to....." The movies usually consisted of bad acting, sexual innuendo's, dumb blondes with big boobs, and guys who only knew how ta flex what ever muscle happened ta be the topic of that nights feature.

As though one, the patrons turned in their seats, all eyes coming to rest on her. She recognized most of the faces in the audience. All DoomBringers past and present. Ben sat over at one table. He folded his newspaper setting it on the table. Ryax sat slouched at another table, an ever-present mug of ale at hand. At least it was what she assumed it to be. Then her eyes settled on one. Widening in obvious surprise. Jugger? Oh brother. I bet he orchestrated this whole friggin thing ta pay me back. Ever since their first meeting she and he rankled each other. Her hand still shielded her eyes as she turned her gaze toward the bar. A frown etched deeply into her brow. That one she recognized without hesitation. Who he was, was obvious for the crow bar still planted between his ribs. He had been the latest hunter that has come after her from Tylgraph. Soon she noticed several other faces belonging to either those sent by him or others whom had been targets she had been contracted to deal with.

Lastly she noticed a new addition to the bar and grill. Automated bar tender robots? She had come across a few in her travels but they weren't usually efficient. As she regarded them a metal shield began to raise upon the wall behind the bar. The shelves, with their various bottles, were gone. In they're stead was a very thick panel of glass, behind which was a dark room. Suddenly the robots became animated. Mixing with rapid perfection, pitchers of drinks. Adding finally the last ingredient, a potion that to her knowledge, following Jerks recent explosion, had been banned from the Doom Lands. There was the tell tale shower of fireworks from within each pitcher. Followed by a rumbling. Concluding with a mushroom cloud. As though in sync each glass, in each patron's hand duplicated the resulting mixing of what could be lethal chemicals, and as one raising the glasses and downing their contents.

Every muscle in her body tensed. To many times she had seen this. The effects were not a pretty sight. The nearest door was clear across the large Mech Bay, converted inta a Bar 'n Grill. And there was no way she could make it through this throng of men in time to reach the door before the concoction they had all ingested kicked in. Something caught her attention. Something in the corner of her eye. A light had come on in the dark room behind the thick pane of glass. Standing there, laughing maniacally, hands flying over the controls that ran the automated robots was Kat..... KAT?!?!?!?!?!

(To Be Continued!)

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Subj: Escape.....or Not Date: 6/26/97 6:48:23 PM From: KatrylleM

Slowly, as if in surrender, Kat spread her fingers, widening her arms slightly as if to embrace all 5....no 7 suits of power armor. She almost faltered as she recognized the seventh suit. Darrak.

>Bloody......We killed him.....I *know* we did!<

In a fit of sheer panic, Kat released a yell....something Mogneio, her mentor, had called a Kai. An instant later, the piercing scream of tortured metal echoed through the large room as the corrugated steel wall behind her attackers began peeling itself into strips.

Confusion reined at this point as the metal snakes made their way to their intended victims, wrapping and squeezing them tightly. Kat put the distraction to her advantage. Glancing over her shoulder, she focused on a wall behind her, frowning in concentration. She need not have bothered.

The loud "whoosh" of a SRM as it's propulsion unit ignited gave her just enough warning to throw herself to one side before the wall she had been concentrating on disintegrated in a blinding flash.

Picking herself up, she didn't hesitate to dive through the rather large hole the SRM created in the wall and out onto the tarmac. Rolling with the dive, she came to her feet and sprinted barefoot to another building fifty feet away, all the while expecting another missile to crease past her.

Still in a full sprint, she ran around the side of the building and found herself face to face with a door. Grabbing the handle, she twisted and pulled, yet the door resisted. Hurriedly, she looked around for any possible observers before twisting the handle again, this time pushing the door instead. She literally fell through the portal as the well-oiled door flew open. Spinning, she closed the door quickly, pressing her ear against it to listen for her aggressors.

She nearly jumped out of her skin as a huge hand landed roughly on her shoulder and spun her around. Kat gaped. While Martin, at 7'4", was the tallest person she had ever met, *this* guy would make him look like a Lilliputian. And *hairy*!!! She tore her gaze away from the furry behemoth long enough to realize that whatever door she had run through, it was *nowhere* near the warehouses on Pelvar. *Nothing* on the tarmac housed an entire city.

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Subj: Same Place, Different Time Date: 6/26/97 7:54:21 PM From: KatrylleM

Somehow, some way, she had stumbled through a warehouse door and into what appeared to be a slave booth on Kae'BarYa 9. The thought made her shiver.

This couldn't be. Yet, what she could see of the street beyond the open front booth resembled the dust laden, arid capitol city of Tetrarch, a city she had visited once with Jack and never hoped to see again.

The surrounding countryside looked like something out of one of Jack's classic novels, a ratted old first edition titled '1001 Arabian Nights. The only difference, and it wasn't a very large one, was that Tetrarch and it's sister cities held the belief that women were only good for one thing...to be bought and sold as slaves. When she and Jack had made the trip to deal in some raw gems that "happened" to fall into their possession, Jack had insisted, for her own protection, that she play the part of a slave. She had balked at the idea and the argument that ensued was one of the worst they had ever had.

As if to prove him wrong, Kat had slipped out of the drop ship almost the moment it had landed and headed into town. She didn't even make it two blocks before two burly men stopped her and demanded who her master was. Kat's second mistake of the day was to inform them that she had no master. Her pride quickly turned to terror as she was grabbed, her weapon confiscated, cuffed then shoved into the main street where she was added to a long line of women of various ages.

For two hours, they were led through the streets while the men searched for more unattached females. Eventually, they were taken to an open-air market and a booth much like the one she stood in now.

It was a simple wooden structure consisting of 3 walls, a raised stage-like floor and a half roof. Behind the stage had been the "holding pens" where all the women in her line had been shoved unceremoniously. One by one, the "auctioneer" would examine the women, ferreting out those he thought would fetch a higher price and loading them into another pen. These women would be the highlight of the day.

By the time Kat had been roughly shoved into the second pen, she had regained most of her spirit and the voice to go with it. Without hesitation and accompanied by a string of cussing that would make the most seasoned of Mech pilots blush, she spun on the auctioneer and decked him cold in the jaw. The short fat man never saw it coming. Taking advantage of his surprise, Kat had shoved past him and out of the pen. The alarm the auctioneer bellowed was nearly lost in the cheers and laughs from his patrons as several of them witnessed her abuse of her captor.

Unfortunately, the roar of the crowd had not been enough to completely silence the man. His two henchmen were fast and soon, she was back in the pen. This time, however, she was securely bound, gagged and blindfolded. She was to remain this way for at least two and a half more hours.

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Subj: Same Place, Different Time 2 Date: 6/26/97 7:55:43 PM From: KatrylleM

She had dozed in the heat. Helpless and knowing that soon she would follow the fate of the women before her...women she could only hear crying softly as the men bid again and again... Kat had prayed that Jack would realize she had gone and was, even now, looking for her. But even these hopes faded into ashes as she felt the rough hands of one of her aggressors lift her over his shoulder. To her utter shame, a roaring cheer arose from the men as the auctioneer announced her to be the grand finale.

Again, she was lifted, but this time, she was set on her feet in the scorching sun. The bidding began. She tried to block it out by thinking of anything... the hot boards beneath her boots, the sun beating down on her...anything to keep from thinking about what she was going through because of her own pig-headedness. It wasn't until the auctioneer slammed the butt of his staff onto the wooden floor and yelled "SOLD!!" that she was pulled from her reverie. When the buyer had been invited to come onto the stage and lay his claim to his newly purchased slave, Kat tried to back away. Roughly, hands were place in the middle of her back and she was shoved forward again. Stumbling, she fell to her knees amidst the laughter of the men.

Before she could recover, a smaller hand was thrust into her hair and her head pulled upwards none too gently. As she was held in that position, something cold and metallic was placed around her neck and clamped shut. Then, her hands still bound, she felt more metal secured around her wrists and ankles. She could not believe this was happening and tried to struggle away from the man who had bought her. Again, she was stopped by a firm hand in her hair. This time, however, she felt the hot breath of the man against her cheek as his other hand gripped her chin.

"Don't make this any harder than it has been, Mouse. Because of your foolishness, I've already wasted half the day and most of the gems saving your hide. I'm in no mood to play the roll of the kind and gentle master. I suggest you suddenly realize there is no way out of this and merely accept your position. I will not hesitate to prove to these men that I can tame a highly spirited slave, Katrylle. Mark my words."

A muffled cry escaped the confines of the gag at the first sound of Jack's voice, but she bristled as his words hit home. She was just about to pull away from him again when she felt something being attached to the metal around her neck. She flinched at the soft click, jerking herself out of his grasp. Harshly, he yanked her back to him. "Don't *try* me, Katrylle. You won't like the results!"

The tone in his voice made her hesitate. That, and the fact he had called her by her full name. He had not done that since her "contract" had been up almost 13 years before. Mutely and ever so slightly, she nodded her head once, then bowed it as if in defeat.

"Very good, Mouse. Now I will unbind your hands and remove the blindfold and gag. One wrong move and they will be replaced quickly. Understand?"

Again, Kat only nodded slightly. Soon, they were on their way back to the drop ship, Kat meekly being led through the streets like a dog on a leash. Her act did not fool Jack, however. When they were safely inside the drop ship, he stepped out of her way and released the chain. It would be a very long time before things would ever be the same between them and he sighed heavily as she stormed out of the room without a word. He found his clothes and other belongings outside a locked bedroom door several hours later. The ankle and wrist cuffs, chain and a very mangled collar were piled on top.

Presently, the memories took all of about two seconds to flash through her mind. She had no doubts she was back in Tetrarch. Only trouble was, apart from the obvious "how?", this time there was no Jack to save her hide.

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Subj: Escape......Definitely Not!! Date: 6/26/97 9:59:16 PM From: KatrylleM

The growl of the giant before her snapped her back to "reality". Her gaze fell on the beast once again and her eye narrowed. He was at least 9 and a half feet tall and covered in a matting of gray, brown and black hair. He was shaggy and the stench of the beast made her nose wrinkle involuntarily. Most of the beast's body was bare. Except for the fur laced with leather across his hands and feet and up his legs and arms, the only other covering he sported was a rather crude loincloth that came to the middle of his tree-trunk thighs. She shuddered at the sight of him. She had learned much since the last time she had been in this God forsaken place, and she planned on using all of it to get herself out.

Without warning, she jerked herself free of the beefy hand and dove between his legs, taking a half second to punch his groin. Coming out behind him, she spun and again lashed out at the only tender point her 5' frame could reach. This time, the top of her foot was the weapon of choice. Her mind worked frantically as she tried to remember the lesson Ry had given her in pressure points, but nothing seemed to come back to her right at that instant.

Her own surprise blossomed as her attacks on the creature seemed to have no effect. She nearly slapped her head as the sudden memory that eunuchs were used to watch the slave women slammed her right between the eyes. Cussing, she dodged around him in the opposite direction of his slow, lumbering turn. Frantically, she slammed up against the back wall, desperately in search of the door she had stumbled through. She screamed in frustration as she found only a solid wooden wall.

The growl and grunt behind her let her know that the giant had made his full revolution. Without looking, Kat shoved herself away from the wood and attempted to dodge through the beast's legs. He wasn't as slow as Kat was giving him credit for, however. As she took flight, a huge hand clamped around the entire lower portion of her left leg and she was lifted off the ground by it.

Suddenly, everything in her line of sight grew pink and hazy. Angrily, she struck out at the thing holding her in the air, but struck only a thin gossamer curtain...a curtain that would turn out to be the thin material of the "skirt" she found herself clothed in. The "outfit" was one worn by most slaves of the district. A sequined belt holding two-floor length strips of material that only barely hid her "charms" front and back. The side of her legs and hips were bare all the way up to the bottom of the belt. The "top" of the outfit was only two small triangles of sequins held together by extremely thin spaghetti straps made of the same thin stuff that made up the "skirt". Her feet and legs were left bare except for the thin small anklet that jingled softly every time she moved. She would have preferred the man's shirt she had been in only moments ago.

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Subj: Escape...Definitely Not!!! 2 Date: 6/26/97 9:59:49 PM From: KatrylleM

As if tossing a piece of paper across the room, her body was soon in full flight, arching in mid air to free fall onto the wood of a pen floor. The landing was not an easy one and the breath was knocked out of her. Before she could recover, she was again roughly grabbed, bound, gagged and blindfolded. She groaned softly, her mind reflecting the words her mouth could not. "Ah bloody hell...nae agin!"

In her darkness, she did the only thing she could think of at the moment. She had reasoned that his *had* to be some form of dream. There was no way the things that had happened to her since she had awoken a few short minutes ago could have taken place. Not in the real world. She frowned deeply. Reality. *Now* she understood what had been happening. A bloody hologram. It was the *only* possible explanation. Somehow she was in a holodeck and now, with her mouth gagged, there was no way for her to end the program.

Her frown deepened further. >Only one way out, girlie...< Visibly, she relaxed, slumping against the side of the pen as she let her mind drift. Quietly, she reached out in search of Ben, Tash or Ryan, hoping one of them wasn't too busy to answer her "call".

She felt the familiar touch of Ben's mind.....but.....no...something was wrong. It was Ben..she knew this for a fact....but...who was Jacob? Desperate, she called out to him, her mind flicking across the edges of his.

>Ah Saints Ben. Where are ye? I nee....< The rest was cut off as she was again grabbed by the beast and carried. She knew she had been placed center stage as the searing boards touched her bare feet. She stiffened, but refused to let anyone see the pain as she waited for the bidding to begin.

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Subj: This Kitty Went to Market Date: 6/28/97 7:39:33 AM From: KatrylleM

It felt like hours. The bidding was long and often animated, the voices of the men ringing out in anger. Finally, the all too familiar sound of the staff pounding against wood and the clear voice declaring "SOLD" calmed the madness. Kat held her head high, yet swallowed hard as she heard the normal invitation for the buyer to claim his slave ring out.

She held still as the standard collar and cuffs were placed on her, but flinched slightly at the sound of the "leash". The soft click only reinforced her helplessness and she gritted her teeth to keep from crying.

Dead silence. Something was wrong. The sounds of the slave market....of the city itself....just stopped. Kat frowned beneath the blindfold. The heat was gone too. Silently, she took stock of her rapidly chilling body.

She wiggled her toes. Carpet, not searing wood under her bare feet. She moved slightly. No jingling of the anklet and no faint kiss of the slave skirt against her lower legs. She did feel the hem and ruffled sleeves of the man's shirt she had been wearing before all this weirdness began.

She shifted again. The bindings were still in place. Apparently *they* were real enough. She took a hesitant step forward and immediately was shoved back. She stumbled, landing roughly on her backside. Without the use of her hands, there was no way she would recover quickly or gracefully. The feel of leather pants legs and boots straddling her thighs made it impossible.

Without warning, the blindfold was suddenly ripped from her face. Luckily, there was no bright light to blind her, only the soft glow from her bedside lamp casting deep shadows from the other room. Course, the black leather clad *Drow* standing over her, leash in one hand, his hand cross bow in the other cocked and pointed at her chest was far more interesting than any standard issue night stand light.

Kat's eye narrowed dangerously, but before she could cause any danger to the man over her, he lowered the crossbow to her thigh and fired. The pain was intense and the gag over her mouth only silenced about a quarter of her scream. The rest echoed off the walls of her quarters.

She took a deep breath, one intended for another piercing scream but her head spun. Swallowing hard, she opened her eye and immediately shut it again. Everything was hazy and she was becoming nauseous. >Ah saints......he's poisoned me! BEN! Ben where are ye?!!!!! Poison.....I'm...................dying......!<

She felt herself losing hold on consciousness, her last thoughts being of the DB's, of Ry......then of the child she would never have.

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Subj: Jungle Blues Date: 6/28/97 8:52:56 AM From: The Karne

Alrighty, 42080. Now how the hell did you get yourself into THIS one?

I clutched at my bruised ribs as I swept my gaze over the still jungle surrounding me. The chittering of distant primates and the howling of not-so-distant wolves floating through the stifling breeze. The abrupt transition from air-conditioned, dry air to this 120-degree humiditor oven was making it hard to breathe.

But that hardly mattered. I was in a new place and possibly a new time, and spontaneously. Obviously I hadn't been teleported. If I had I wouldn't still be standing.

With little else to do, I started off... north, according to my internal senses. My heavy standard Marine issue boots sunk deeply into the muck perpetuated by the constant rain. I wish I'd been wearing what I had in the dining hall. Back in the other world I'd had a trench coat with a hood. Here all I had was a United States Marine Corps uniform, rather tattered, too. There was a bullet hole just over the heart.

I was just wondering when they started making these uniforms in 8 X-tra tall when I came upon the enemy.

Reflexes took over. I sidestepped smoothly behind the thick tree. On the other side was a rather large encampment. VC. My glance had told me far more then I needed to know. Small crude helipad made of woven rushes on the northen, far side of the compound. Straddling this mat was an American Huey. Mounted 2.5-inch missiles.

To the southeast of the helipad, about a hundred feet away, was a massive compound. Straw roof. Bad carpentry. Probably dry-rotted out. To the left of this, was a large pile of crates, covered by a camoflauge net. To the far left of that, was a rice paddy mirroring the one I'd landed in on first arriving in Vietnam.

When did I conclude this was Vietnam? I can't ever remember thinking about it. Or deciding it. It just seemed right.

Well, that didn't matter. Around the perimeter of the munitions dump was a roll of concertina wire, supplemented by a rickety-looking gun-tower.

How to handle this? The answer was simple. I didn't want trouble right now and I doubt I'd survive even if I did. I peered around the thick trunk of my tree to try to get a better look at the compound. There had to be a way around.

That's when I saw Kat.

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Subj: The Delicious Rush Date: 6/28/97 9:10:36 AM From: The Karne

Katrylle Morgahn. My commanding officer. And she was wearing some very interesting clothing. Very sex-slavish. Boy, did that revive the memories. But, more importantly... she was being carried roughly by some weirdo with very dark skin and blazing white hair. Before my astonished eyes, she was carried into the long wooden building. She was either unconscious or dead, and, with all this heat, my infra-vision couldn't tell the difference.

I spun back behind the tree. I don't know why my heart was pounding. Or why I was panting like this. All I know is, I was patting myself down for weapons. And finding an old M-16. Over-and-under 40-millimeter single shot grenade launcher. I popped open the g-launcher's action. Loaded. The green band around the head of the shell told me it was incendiary... I couldn't be sure how effective that would be in this humidity. Knowing my luck? Not very.

I slid the clip out of the M-16. 7.62 millimeter. Thirty live rounds. Full metal jacket. Something inside me told me I was about to kill myself. The problem with this was, nothing in me cared.

Also, I wasn't about to wait. I knew I should. But I didn't. So I'm a moron. The rifle fit to my shoulder like it was made for me. The grenade launcher’s fat barrel belched yellow fire and, instantly, the guard tower was shattered into splinters and shards of broken flesh.

Shouts. The crackle of fully automatic gunfire as some of the nearer individuals swept where they thought the grenade had come from. I wasn't there anymore, though. I was twenty yards to the right... they knew that only when I sprang from the foliage and squeezed the trigger. The recoil was nothing to me. I waved my magic wand back and forth and men screamed.

I was already moving forward. Past the corpses that were still falling ground-wards. Past the still-dropping fragments of the guard tower. Towards the large sampan's door. It was locked, I could see as I ran. I emptied the rest of my clip into the door and dove into it headfirst...

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Subj: A Little Drinky-Winky Date: 6/28/97 9:50:35 AM From: The Karne

I was kind of startled when I stumbled into the bar. My guns and my clothes were gone. All the remains is a brilliant white suit, over a midnight blue shirt.

Up, above, all around me... people. And silence. They all looked at me, the newcomer. The style was very 1930s.

They looked at me. I looked at them. The Oriental woman near the back, the one bedecked in feathers... she was the one I needed to please if I wanted to leave here alive. So I flicked back the right wing of my jacket.

All around me, the sounds of hammers being drawn back. But there was no weapon under my coat. In my pocket, I found a shiny quarter. With a confident smirk to the Oriental, I flicked the coin. It soared, end over end, towards the neon-lighted jukebox residing opposite me. Nothin' but slot. Suddenly, instantly, the music kicked in. ~Shake shake shake, shake your booty!~ And, with that...

...they danced.

I belonged.

I sidled up to the bar, receiving approving looks from every woman in the room on the way. On the way across the room I saw a man I knew, somehow, from my past. I nodded to Mister Augustine. The youngster nodded back and raised his glass of bourbon to me. At the bar, my target, the Oriental, gave me a look I could feel in my hip pocket. Sure, she might have some miles on her, but those kohl-rimmed eyes could put a spring in my step, even if it cost me a jingle in my jeans.

So to speak.

First, I spoke to the bartender. He was a three-foot tall beaver. Tawny fur, buckteeth, the whole bit. He wore tattered corduroy overalls. Somehow, this wasn't very strange to me. I pulled out a fat wad of greenbacks and slipped a fin his way. "Whiskey. Quintuple."

He smiled graciously and slid one back across the bar for me. I tossed back half of it before I braved the woman's eyes again. She smiled. She was a goddess. She asked me very gently, "So, Martin... why are you here again?"

I grinned. "Man has a right to revisit his roots."

flash of broken thoughts almost dreams of an almost man a made man interred within yellow biogrowth fluid

I stumbled, quickly putting my drink down before I spilled it. She nodded sagely. "A man does. I suppose you do too. But why? What's in your roots you wish to see so dearly?"

flash of near consciousness his eyes are open and seeing watching the scientists the clipboards the murmurs of the students and the wishful

This time I had to clutch at the bar. The memories were painful. The Club were bringing them back. I snarled at Miho, "I didn't WANT to come back here. I'm... I've been Cast Adrift again."

She nodded again. "Yes.... but why? Last time there was a reason. A purpose. It was your duty and you needed to learn. But now? Now you're just a stinking..." Her voice became deeper suddenly, a thick demonic bass... "Killer. Nothing more then another murderer with a few too many memories to sweep under the carpet..."

flash of sort-of dream-thinking the tangy knowledge of the created the unnatural

Her voice was pleasant again and out of the corner of my eyes I could see that the beaver bartender was doing the Hokey-Pokey to the beat of Shake Your Booty. I slapped another fiver on the table. "This is your tip if you just STOP that."

She was still speaking. "Martin... I want you to think about it. Think about what you came to get here, if nothing else. Your memory's not the best but I think you can recall the fourteen men you killed before you entered through that door." She nodded towards the Club's front entrance.

flash of pumping adrenaline released from cage gun in hand howl on lips god it feels so gooood

"Shut up shut up shut up SHUT UP!!!" I howled at her. Loud enough to shatter the mirror behind the bar. My hands were reaching for her before I even finished my words... the place was silent again. They watched as I drove the first and second fingers of my right hand into her eyes, and jerked downwards. Her pretty face came off in my hand.

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Subj: Turn About is Fair Play 10 Date: 6/28/97 12:11:53 PM From: Ben Stinel

"KATRYLLE!!" Jacob sat bolt upright in bed. The dream was already fading but it had been the most vivid he had ever had. For an instant it had seamed as real as anything could be. He could still see her face in his mind. He could picture every detail as if she were a real person. Right down to the eye patch over her right eye and the tattoo on her arm. And in the dream she was in trouble.

Through the closed door he heard a loud thump. Ten seconds later James was through, wearing nothing but his shorts and holding his quarterstaff tightly, "What happened? What's wrong?"

The door to the hall opened next and Susan stood there in a nightgown and robe looking as frightened as when he had first hauled her through the window in the dinning room. "I heard you shout," she said timidly.

Jacob blinked and glanced between the two of them. James had set one end of the quarterstaff on the floor after he had realized there was no one in the room but Jacob. Behind him in the faint glow of lamplight Jacob could make out the form of a woman under the sheets, breathing slowly in a contented sleep. The serving girl that had brought their dinner, he realized.

Susan had closed the door behind her and had her back to the doorframe. She was pointedly looking away from James but she kept glancing back at Jacob every few seconds. When he realized what it was she was looking his cheeks turned red. He was glad it was dark.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, "It was just a dream I guess. You can go back to your… ahem… bed, James."

James glanced back into his room at the sleeping form on his bed and grinned, "Yes, I think my… uhh… bed might get cold if I stay away much longer." He stole a glance at Susan to make sure she hadn't caught on before slipping back into his room, but she wasn't looking at him or through his door.

As the door closed behind James she moved a bit further into the room. "I heard your shout all the way across the hall," she said, "It was loud enough to wake me up. What was it you said? Katrylle?"

"I'm fine," he told her, "It was just a bad dream is all. You can go back to sleep. I'm sure I won't have it again."

She didn't seam to listen to the last part because she moved to a chair near the side of his bed. "When I used to have bad dreams my father would ask me to tell him about them," she said as she sat down, "It helps you know that it was just a dream if you get it all out."

He let loose a sigh as he realized she didn't plan to leave. He looked at her for a moment as he realized that it was a relieved sigh and not a resigned sigh. For a moment the feeling was back. It screamed that everything was wrong and his feelings most of all but it vanished almost before it had begun this time. So he told her.

"Yes, I said Katrylle," he said slowly, "That's about all I remember now. It's all slipping away. She said she was dying and she called to me… but she didn't use my name. She called me something else."

Susan leaned back in the padded armchair and rested her head on the back, "Someone you know? This… Katrylle?"

He shook his head, "No. I don't think so. I think that in the dream she was my sister though. Dreams are strange things." He shrugged.

"Hmmm…" Susan nodded without taking her head from the back of the chair. Jacob looked at her and realized that her eyes were closed. Another moment and she'd be asleep.

As quietly as he could he set his feet on the floor and pulled the extra blanket from the foot of the bed. He set it gently over her and tucked it around her shoulders. With the soft sound of her breathing on the chair, he went to the dresser to pull on a loose shirt and pants. Quietly he tiptoed back to the bed and lay down again.

He turned his head on the pillow to look at her face and right at that moment the clouds shifted and moonlight came through the window to shine on the chair where she slept. He smiled to himself but the smile dropped as the voice spoke up, loud as it had been since it had started. *Well, this is what I made her for, isn't it?* the voice was disgusted but just as quickly it moved to despair, *Oh, Kat, where are you? She needs me damn it! Why won't you listen to me?*

Angrily, he set his teeth and pushed the voice down as far as it would go. At that it was silent and he was able to relax. He pulled the sheets of the bed over him and went back to sleep.

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Subj: No Consolation Prize Date: 6/29/97 3:27:48 AM From: PAHws

DING!

The mouse shrieks, coming dangerously close to wetting himself. The urgency in that buzzer gives him a jolt, he was sure it was the reckoning upon him. The fear does not fade, however, when he realizes it is only the chime signaling the end of his minute long think period. On the contrary. It causes more of his internal organs to add themselves to the swelling knot of flesh in his midsection intent on making this all the more difficult

Frantically he scans the audience, tendons in his restrained little neck bulging away. He begins to whimper

The host laughs, clipping him on the shoulder with his index finger

"Well Patch, my man...what's it going to be?"

The host leers at him, locking his perfect smile and perfect eyes on his. He leans forward over an arm of the steel chair, consulting the answer written down for him on his index card. He squints, ticking off the seconds in his head until he can call for a default electrocution on the basis that the contestant doesn't have a clue. His instincts are not without their merit

The mouse works his jaws, sound not coming out. Two? Three? What the hell was a tootsie pop? What the hell was going on? Why wasn't he waking up? He had bitten his tongue until it was bleeding...and he could feel it. All he had wanted was a nice shower, maybe a little time alone with this month's edition of Tail. An overwhelming flood of anger at the unfairness of it all, too little too late, begins to boil his dendrites

The audience focuses their collective weight on him, intently awaiting an answer

He glares, struggling at the cuffs and brace

>I don't know what th' hell yer talkin' about...what kinda question is that...tootsie pop...s'crazy's, what it is...what kinda monkey headed hack writers yer got back there, anyway...that's damn unsportin', asking questions like that...you oughtter be ashamed...and you...yer the worst of em'...sadistic bastard on a power trip...no respect fer courtesy...yeah, yer jest loosen up these here chains an' we'll see who's the smartass...<

The audience turns as one to stare intently at the host, silent

The host frowns, shaking his head

"No, I'm sorry...the answer we were looking for is: three. Three licks, to the center of a tootsie pop. Biting IS, in fact, legal."

The audience AWWWS, managing to look genuinely pained

"Well! One and out, huh? Good try. Don't feel too bad...you gave it your best shot, right? Right. Haha. So long, and thanks for playing MAXIMUM SECURITY CHALLENGE!"

The music comes back on, a delightful muzak version of the Electric Slide. The host, in an effort at discreetness, turns away and signals slightly to let-er-rip

It's Electric!

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Subj: The Third Day Date: 6/30/97 6:22:48 AM From: PAHws

His first coherent thought is of breakfast

Normally he doesn't eat breakfast. Normally any kind of food presented to him before that 4-hour hangover cushion automatically triggers his gag reflex like clockwork. Whiskey tastes better than eggs and bacon, anyway. But...strangely...the smell of those two breakfast staples cooking at present is enough to rouse him from his stupor and make him face his own continued existence

Eyes shut and drooling, trying unsuccessfully to force sleep, he begins to slowly remember important facts about life and living. Like, say, his name. Patch Lightthorne. He starts, tail thumping. What an incredibly silly name. Sounds like an extra from Treasure Island, if Stevensen had been out of ideas. He made a mental note to get that fixed

He raises his head, finally giving up and deciding that no, he is not dead. Bad idea. Suddenly death seems nice. Pain marches down his back and into his head, ping-ponging off the top of his skull and settling in his stomach to churn and fester. He groans, his throat whistling. The blow to the brain does, however, jar loose the rest of his thoughts and memories. Something to mull over while fighting back the impending vomit

The answer to the question had been three, he remembered that much. Had he guessed right? Hmmmm. The penalty for a wrong answer was death, and well, as bad as he felt, he was a long way from dead. Another wave of nausea smacks him upside the head, triggered by a second whiff of the eggs. On the flip side, he was a long way from healthy

No one could possibly survive upwards of ten million volts of raw electricity...could they? Just not possible. He frowns into the floor, regaining equilibrium. While on death row, he had sent away for numerous books and articles on just that very phenomenon, and had come to the conclusion that the only way to survive an execution these days was to somehow be related to the Warden. That could be difficult

However, in one pamphlet entitled: SO YOU'RE GOING TO FRY, there had been a section on the 3 ways to best increase you chances. He had memorized them

1 - Try to develop either pity or contempt for your executioner. That was the easy one. He could safely say he had developed a fair amount of loathing for that endlessly smiling idiot to fill that bill. Towards the end, his prominent emotion had actually been anger, not fear. But so what? Means nothing.

2 - Attempt to transcend the normal mental state and gain total relaxation and peace. Well, he hadn't been exactly sober. Did that count?

3 - If all else fails, consume as much conducive material as physically possible the night before you are slated to burn, and hope you can channel the electricity like a living lightning rod. Nothing there. He tried to avoid eating steel whenever possible. But...hmmm...what about his prosthetic organs? His fully functional, tinctured, liver and kidneys. Could he channel power through his gut? Amazing. Saved by his love for beer. Poetic, really.

He smiles, rolling over onto his back. Beating the system is a glorious thing. Whether it be casino, the lottery, or the electric chair, there's nothing like gambling against terminal odds and coming out smelling bad, but not dead

He gives a contented sigh, venturing to open one eye and examine his surroundings. He is no longer naked, he notices with a frown. No, he is wearing tight, black, Spleatherandex shorts, seductively molded around his chiseled buttocks. That jingling noise seems to be coming from the three gold chains around his neck. And why is it so dark? That would be the shades. Interesting.

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Subj: Two Down Date: 6/30/97 11:01:13 AM From: LinTravers

He had been riding aimlessly for more than four hours, hoping in vain that the holodeck program had some form of time limit on it. Occasionally, he would look up to a cloudless California sky and either demand that the unseen computer "end program" or mutter various threats against the two he felt sure put him here.

His head still hurt. The throbbing inside often coincided with the clod of the stallion’s iron shod hooves, and his mood only darkened further.

He had been in the process of trying to reason with whoever had programmed the computer, attempting to logically explain his medical condition and the fact that he was just going to ride in circles until his observers became bored, when the pounding in his head increased in tempo. He glared down at the beast beneath him, about to rein it in when he realized that the rapid hoof beats were coming from behind.

Travers turned in is saddle to see what the commotion was about. In a combination aggravated sigh and cuss, he kicked the stallion into a full run. Juarez's brother led several men and Travers was fairly certain their speed was not due to some "blue-light" special at the local cantina. 'Course, his sudden insight could have also been caused by the loud report of several pistolas from behind him.

The chase was on. He kept low against the neck of the stallion, trying to make himself as small a target as possible. His pursuers were good. For an hour more, he led them on a merry chase, sometimes keeping only a horse's breath ahead. And, in the end, that horse's breath proved to be all they needed.

The pain in his head was suddenly transferred with precise and intense clarity to his upper arm. He knew he had been shot and he glanced down to see if the bullet had passed clean through. What he saw instead was the carved, pointed end of what looked to be a short arrow. He frowned in confusion. Damnit! This was the Zoro program, not the John Wayne. How in the hell did he end up with an arrow in him?

That was as far as his thoughts took him. With amazing quickness, his brain and vision became blurry. As he lost his hold on consciousness, so too did he lose his hold on the stallion. With a sudden rearing worthy of Silver or Trigger, the stallion rid itself of the added weight that had been slowing it down.

Travers never felt the leg or the arm break upon contact with the dry, dusty earth. Nor did he hear the odd language of the several black skinned, white haired men who stood around his body as it lay twisted on the carpeted floor of his darkened bedroom.

Two down.

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Subj: The Training Grounds Date: 7/1/97 6:31:25 AM From: JdeFalconr

Upon walking through the cockpit hatch of his Blade, Preacher found himself in a very different place. He was inside another BattleMech, but something did not add up to him. The instruments were that of a Kit Fox, but some were missing or deactivated. The skyline was not as high as it normally was, and there was no neurohelmet interface. Suddenly the cockpit speakers blared to life.

"Cadet James...this exercise will simulate actual BattleMech combat. Your weapons are only powered down versions of what you would normally use. Nevertheless, you will be pitted against one of your fellow trainees. The test will begin in one minute."

Suddenly realization hit Preacher as he strapped himself into the 'mech's command chair. This was a training exercise, the same ones that every MechWarrior goes through during his warrior training. But how...?

His train of though was suddenly interrupted as the speaker again activated. "The test has begun." Said his instructor. Instinctively, Preacher looked over his armaments. Only an extended-range large laser and a pair of medium lasers, along with a low-yield warhead SRM-4. Without warning his 'mech was rocked by a blast as his opponent's lasers impacted on his torso armor. The trainer mock-up bounced and swayed as it was designed to do, not a full fledged BattleMech but only the torsos and head mounted on a special swaying-base.

Lining up crosshairs, Preacher fired off a fierce barrage of laser fire at his opponent's right arm, watching out of the corner of his eye as the heat indicator steadily climbed. Sensors indicated that simulated damage had nearly worn through his target's armor. He triggered a blast from his SRM-4, but a shot from the opposing cadet sent the wobbly mock-up twisting far to the side, so that his SRMs shot far from their target. He continued his weapons fire, but suddenly on the skyline on the SRMs path a massively bright flash, eminating from the point of impact, lit up the entire area. A black irradiation of electrical discharges lit up a black hole in the skyline, which slowly covered itself back up. Finally, Preacher understood what was happening to him.

He must be trapped in a holodeck of some sort...that would explain all the different scene changes he had been undergoing. He felt devastated as he finally realized that it was not Aidan Pryde he had met, or it was not Elizabeth Hazen and the fabled Turkina that he had seen in that clearing...it had all been an illusion!

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of alarms in the cockpit. While he had been thinking, his opponent had been pummeling his 'mech severely, and damage indicators showed that he was nearing a containment breach of his fusion reactor. His instructor screamed at him, "Cadet! Get out of there now! Your power feed regulators have been destroyed and your 'mech will explode!" Without thinking, Preacher jumped out of the command chair and moved swiftly for the escape hatch, as these trainer mock-ups had no ejection capabilities. He opened the hatch and was blinded by a bright, white light. Without hesitation he jumped into it, and was transported to yet another world...

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Subj: The Lone Sentinel Pt. 2 Date: 7/1/97 6:55:48 AM From: JdeFalconr

Upon bailing out of the trainer 'mech, Preacher found himself in the middle of nowhere. He was standing in the middle of a massive, frozen ocean, clear and barren as far as the eye could see. He began to shiver profusely as frigid winds blew across the landscape of pure ice. He turned slowly around, seeing the same monotonous, flat skyline all around. The wind picked up suddenly and he was buffeted to his knees by the arctic blast, the light fatigues he was wearing affording him no protecting from the arctic winds.

Knowing this had to be the end, he shouted out, "Computer, End Program!!" But the simulation would not end. He tried again "Computer, END program" but to no avail. It seemed as though this holomatrix's voice-command interpreter had been deactivated. Feeling desperation set in, Preacher stood up and, not knowing what else to do, began to walk, into the cold arctic night, no signs of life for as far as the eye could see. It would seem that this holodeck program run amok would be the end of him.

Without warning a painful and tortured scream permeated the howl of the wind. Preacher wheeled around and saw a weather-beaten and barely-standing shack which had suddenly appeared behind him. He charged toward it, slipping and falling several times on the bare ice below him. His knees were badly bruised, his hands cut and bleeding, by the time he got to the door. Opening it, he was greeted by another blinding white light which he again ran into...into yet another, much stranger, place.

Preacher found himself wrapped in a metal cocoon, readouts and displays flashing all about him. Suddenly, he realized he was inside a suit of Clan Battle Armor. Inwardly, in his mind, he was very surprised as he had learned only the basics of Battle Armor operation and repair, never having fought in it. He stared out the view port, the green-laser HUD dancing figures around his view, and was shocked yet again.

Katrylle had sunk to her knees, her screams fading from a gagged mouth. She was dressed in a skimpy slave's dress, her ankles and hands bound. There was an arrow implanted deep into her thigh, from where blood was already spreading furiously. A strange man stood over her, apparently not yet aware of the presence of an Elemental not ten feet away from himself. He stared down at her and the Battle Armor’s audio pickups registered him saying something about "Revenge to those most due..."

Feeling the hate rise from within, Preacher checked and found that he had both SRM-2 tubes armed for launch, and that he was also armed with an Elemental-standard rapid-fire machine gun. Raising it quickly, he set his targeters on the strange man and loosed a long stream of heavy rounds into the man. His chest exploded in blood and shattered bone as a hail of bullets tore into him, tossing his body across the room like a rag doll. He flew straight into a poorly constructed wooden door, crashing straight through it and into yet another blazing white light, which his Battlesuit's visual filter toned down for him. Turning, he quickly popped the hatch of the Battle Armor and jumped out, moving over to Katrylle.

She was unconscious, and from the feel of her pulse it would be more than that in a few moments. Glancing at the arrow, Preacher noted that there was a powdery white substance applied to the wood. Poison, he thought. Quickly, he knew there was one thing he could do for her now.

Preacher picked her up gently but swiftly and carried her over to the Battle Armor, its front open and ready to receive her like the gaping maw of a hungry animal. He laid her limp body inside, placing her body in the proper position. The suit recognized that someone was now inside and activated the normal biosensors which monitored the warrior within. It noted her condition and began the medical program, the very one which had kept countless Clan Warriors fighting in their armor even after taking mortal wounds which would fell and ordinary man.

Continued---

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Subj: The Lone Sentinel Pt. 3 Date: 7/1/97 7:01:02 AM From: JdeFalconr

The suit of Battle Armor quickly produced an antidote and an injector clamped itself around Katrylle's upper arm, injecting her both with an antidote and something which Elementals called "Hero Juice." It was specifically designed to numb all pain and keep a warrior conscious, only increasing his lust for battle. Preacher sighed, happy that Katrylle would be safe. Before she was fully conscious, he slowly removed the arrow from her thigh and slapped some medical synth-skin over the pumping wound to seal it and administer more drugs if needed.

Readouts in the Battle Armor showed that her vital signs were returning to normal, and then Preacher's mind focused on events. He remembered the strange man who he had shot up and he turned to the bright light which emminated from the door he had flown through. As Katrylle was now out of danger, or so to speak, he walked into the bright light to hopefully get some answers.

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Subj: Freefall Date: 7/1/97 7:58:08 AM From: TGG Smoke

It was still getting colder. In the all-encompassing blackness, Ryan crossed his arms over his chest and rubbed vigorously at his flight suit, trying to ward off the cold. He had been walking for three hours, in the same maddening darkness. He no longer cared whether he was going anywhere.

Without warning, a tiny point of light blinked into existence, far off in the distance. It wavered, then brightened, wavered again. Candlelight. The cold began to slowly lose its edge as the humidity rose, bringing the soft calls of crickets with it.

Slowly, Ryan made his way towards the light. Objects started to take shape in the gloom, only to be obscured seconds later by a mist that had begun swirling between the bowyers of trees, trees that had taken vague form from the total darkness that had prevailed before. What had seemed before to be a massive, empty room slowly revealed itself in fingers of moonlight that had started to shine faintly through the branches of huge banyan trees. He was walking on a path of packed earth that rose from a swamp that stretched out indefinitely on both sides, its waters gleaming black in the moonlight. On all sides, insects called out, filling the night air with chirps and strangely musical rhythms.

Ryan squinted in the direction of the single candle, still unable to make out what housed it or how far away it was. Mist swirled at his feet, sliding over his boots and back down the banks of the trail into the mire beyond. As he walked, the tranquil sounds of the insect chorus were occasionally interrupted by a haunting splash from the banks farther down the trail, but the chirpings picked up an instant later, allowing the eerie calm to return. The moonlight mixed with starlight from high overhead and filtered down through the branches, casting dark shadows over the path.

As he drew closer to the candlelight, Ryan could make out the soft plinking of a banjo, accompanied by the smooth hum and chirp of swamp life. The tune brought a song to his head, the words drifting quietly through his mind with the slow melody.

''Oh, I come from Alabama... with a banjo on my knee.... Don't know.. where you come from... but I come from Alabama... with a banjo on my knee.''

The song was plunked out one note at a time, drifting over the bayou. As he finally turned the last corner, Ryan was illuminated by a single candle lantern hung from the porch eaves of a tiny shack that had been built off the path and over the swamp on large stilts. Sitting in a rocking chair on the porch itself was an old man, who sat up straighter and set down his banjo as Ryan approached.

"Well.... well now... Ah 'ain't seen visitors to this'ere parta the bayou in ah looong tahme. Folks' 'round'ere, well, 'dey don't usually be comin' 'dis deepin't here ahny mo'..."

Ryan nodding to the man, who removed his ancient straw hat from his head and set it on top of the banjo. "Well, ah, 'dat is, not ve'r offin', not in a looong time, yah see? What you be doin' walkin, walkin' down'ere at night?" He gave Ryan a long appraising stare, then leaned forward slowly and dropped his voice to a whisper. "Dere... 'de'ere be allkindsa tings down'ere at night. 'Em spirits'a 'da lost, sometimes, 'dey go howlin' through this'ere swamp like the devil 'imself... and dere be d'a Lugarou... nono, don' be walkin' here. Not a'nite, not 'a'nite ever."

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Subj: An Electronic Mirage... Date: 7/1/97 9:07:36 AM From: JdeFalconr

Moving through the door, Preacher found himself in a most unlikely place. He walked out from a small wooden shack, onto a grassy meadow. The planet was green and lush, looking like an agricultural world. The sky was a bright blue, with a few wispy clouds...or were those clouds? Distant sounds permeated the beauty of the scene, sounds of weapons fire. It was very far away and getting closer...a massive cacophony of death that loomed unseen just beyond the horizon. Preacher noted that the shack ran along a river, with a bridge constructed across it. Something about this scene looked familiar to him as he gazed about the scenery.

Suddenly the sky was split with noise as three Clan aerospace fighters streaked overhead, fading off into the distance. Just as they left, a group of men clad in pure white rose up from concealed positions in the grass and began running towards the bridge. Preacher took cover behind the shed, observing the men. The fighting sounds got closer as they began to place some devices along the bridge, stringing them together with wires. As he looked along the bridge he noted a sign. Straining his eyes to see, he finally made out the words:

> Plough Bridge 4 km <-- Robyn's Crossing

Robyn's Crossing! Preacher realized at that point that he was in the middle of the battle of Tukkayid...and those white-suited men were mining the bridge at Robyn's crossing to stop the advance of Jade Falcon units. As much as he wanted to, Preacher knew now that this was nothing more than a holodeck simulation, and decided he would have to return to Katrylle. Remembering why he had come, he looked around, but did not find the body of that strange man who had shot Kat...no blood trails, no body...nothing. "Something is not right here..." He thought as he walked back through the door which brought him here.

Walking through the bright light, Preacher found himself back in the room where he had discovered Kat, the Battle Armor still lying open at the opposite side. But as he approached it, he was shocked to find the suit empty. And more to his surprise, there were no traces that Katrylle had been here. The arrow which had been shot into her was gone, as was the blood from the wound. Preacher rummaged through the onboard medkit and was surprised to find all the supplies still there, nothing gone, as though he had never used them. Punching up a supplies list, the onboard computer informed him that the Battle Armor was fully stocked. "Something is definitely wrong..." He thought. Prying up some of the padding on the back of the armor, he opened a panel where the materials for the Battlesuit’s medical injection system were kept. Strangely, all the different supply tubes were completely full...nothing had been used. Upon checking the ammo supplies to the machine gun, it was also fully stocked, and the onboard computer had recorded no ammo usage.

Preacher pulled up a nearby chair and sat down, thinking. Finally, the realization hit him. This was a hologramatic simulation...he had just witnessed a hologramatic Tukkayid, a hologramatic Aidan Pryde, a hologramatic Elizabeth Hazen...and he had saved the life of a hologramatic Katrylle Morgahn.

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Subj: Not Again!! Date: 7/1/97 8:15:25 PM From: SallyPayne

(Continuation of "Relativity")

Every muscle in her body tensed. To many times she had seen this. The effects were not a pretty sight. The nearest unlocked door was clear across the large Mech Bay, converted inta a Bar 'n Grill. And there was no way she could make it through this throng of men in time to reach the door before the concoction they had all ingested kicked in. Something caught her attention. Something in the corner of her eye. A light had come on in the dark room behind the thick pane of glass. Standing there, laughing maniacally, hands flying over the controls that ran the automated robots was Kat..... KAT?!?!?!?!?!

Dark blue eyes widened, total disbelief crossing her face. This was not possible. What had she ever done ta Kat ta deserve such retaliation. The image of herself in her mind nudged her again. Showing her clock that seemed ta be runnin faster than normal. "Yeah yeah... times runnin out." She knew the drink these guys ingested would take about 2-point-x minutes to kick in. No that wasn't right either. That's how long it had taken on Patch. She looked around the large room. Out of the fifteen or twenty guy's in the room, only one of them was a rodent. Then her eyes snapped ta Jor Kul. Vaguely she remembered somethin along the lines of it not bein effective on Orcs. A frown creased her brow. Or was it that it was an aphrodisiac fer Orcs?

No matter how she looked at it. She was up the proverbial creek without a paddle. Again her eyes turned ta Kat. The smirk that was pasted on the woman’s face could only mean trouble. How did she come ta that realization. Cuz it was the same smirk that she knew was pasted ta her face whenever.... Her thought stopped dead. No Way!! This was just a touch too freaky. A touch? How about a whole flurry of full body slams. Somehow, from somewhere, a thought came to her. The image of herself in her mind rocked back on its heels, obvious surprise evident on it's face. Quickly she looked toward the room as a whole. Everyone was in the various stages of reaching point B from point A.

Another realization comin ta her. Or perhaps it would be better ta call it a re-realization. This was a holographic creation. The last two had been of her creation. She hoped she never had ta explain that first one ta anyone. Would be kinda hard ta convince anyone that it was her way of dealing with what Tylgraph had forced her through. It sure as hell weren't no sexual thing. Each and every time she had ever been inta the holodeck with that particular program, Grindage died. That information could have been garnered from da recorded loggin from the holodecks memory banks. Just as it could have been fer the Sultans palace. Wouldn't take much ta make adjustments ta it.

But this one. Slowly dark blue eyes turned again ta the plate of glass that separated Kat from the rest of da room. This one was a combination of memories. At that thought her eyes shot ta the darkened booth against the sidewall. YES!! It was, as she always had it. Void of a light bulb in da overhead fixture. She cast a quick look back ta Kat, noting the questioning look that was plastered on her face. This time laughter did rise, instead of being locked in her throat. She was 99.999% sure that she was right.

Her eyes turned ta the room again. Seemed most of the concoction induced seizures were about over fer most of them. A couple of the smegs were beginnin ta advance on her. Welp it was either now or never. So she charged forward. She wove her way through a couple of the first tables, luckily fer her they were empty. The two that bore down on her shifted with her, but their movements were hesitant as though unable ta read her body language as ta where she was actually movin. Ryax still seemed unfazed by the drink he had ingested. Either that or he was real good about not showing its effects.

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Subj: Not Again!! (2) Date: 7/1/97 8:16:29 PM From: SallyPayne

She turned suddenly, her bare feet giving her ample purchase on the cold floor. As she came around behind Ryax he looked back at her, only ta have her pull his chair out from under him. Easy enough ta do fer his slouched position. As he fell ta the floor she leaped over him, half expectin him ta latch onta her ankle. But it never came as her feet again connected with the floor. Next was Ben. He looked ta be about half way between, should I cum or should I go. As she charged around the front of his table she pushed it hard. Talk about adrenalin rush. The table went over, knocking Ben's chair over, effectively knocking Ben over as well.

She also kept expectin hands ta close on her shoulders, or arms. But she couldn't take the chance or da time ta look back. Her goal was nearin and she was bound and determined that she was gonna make it come hell or high water. She almost stumbled ta her knees as in her mind the demure image of herself appeared. Dressed as a cheerleader, wavin her freakin pompoms around. If it weren't one thing out ta get her it was another. A growl of rage rose in her throat. Effectively sending the demure image of herself back ta it's own where ever with a squeak.

Five more steps, four more steps, three more steps, one more step. She dove for the bench of the booth where she always sat. Her hands already frantically searching. Finding nothing. Now the expletives that rose equaled those that Kat had graciously passed on ta her that day Kat and Ben had showed up in the laboratory where she was being held.

Now she felt a cold hand close around her ankle. Rolling over on the bench ta see the Hunter with the crowbar between his ribs loomin over her. She brought back her free foot, and lashed forward with it, puttin all her strength behind it. Wincin as the bare arch of her foot connected with the rounded end of the crowbar, effectively driving it deeper inta the guy's innards. The Hunter stumbled back, pullin her with him a bit before releasin her ankle. She scrambled away from him, rollin at the same time. Her breath almost knocked from her when she landed on the floor under the booth. The support post connecting sharply with her ribs. Yet it weren't that pain that grabbed her attention.

Beneath her left hand was the cool, smooth touch of leather. She damn near yelled in this minor victory. She had been right, dammit!! It was a freakin memory. Better yet, memories. Da last time she had been ta the Bar 'n Grill was da night Jerk had flipped out. In the haste ta get out of da main area of da large room Eli had pulled her outta the booth. She hadn't had a chance ta grab her leather jacket. And it was still there. Not on da bench where it had been left. But instead, on da floor where it had apparently fallen during what ever had happened.

And where there was her leather jacket.... there was...... her blaster. She fumbled, pullin da leather jacket ta her, her hands quickly searching da outer pockets. She cursed, ready ta berate herself fer her surety when she couldn't find it. But before this could come ta full blown curses, that would make most men turn red, her hand passed over the bulky weight of the weapon. Inner pocket ya smeg. Can't ya do anythin right? This time she simply ignored the sarcasm of the image in her mind. She would deal with her once she got outta this situation. A deadly sneer comin to her face once the blaster was actually in her hand. Automatically she thumbed the safety off, as well by touch adjustin it's setting. By the time she was done she didn't intend fer any of those smegs ta be standing.

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Subj: Not Again!! (3) Date: 7/1/97 8:17:16 PM From: SallyPayne

Fer starters, she blew out the knee of who ever it was that approached the booth. She had no idea who it was, as she could only see him from da waist down. At least not until he fell screaming. Dammit, it had ta be Ben didn't it. That only seemed ta anger her further. She threw herself up onta the bench, firing the blaster randomly inta the room. She didn't know how often she actually struck anything, only having the occasional scream fer verification that she hit anythin at all.

Her eyes were now near black. Few had ever seen the full rage that she was capable of. Though it reflected within her eyes. What usually appeared as a thunderstorm brewing on the horizon, now was a full force storm. Oddly enough, complete with flickerings as though streaks of lightning flashes within their dark depth. The guy's that remained standing, seemed ta be havin second thoughts, even through the haze of the concoction they had drank. Her eyes slide toward the room, separated from the main bar by the thick sheet of glass.

The look, that now was easily read on Kat's face was of such dark rage, there was no mistakin the deadly intent behind it. With a sneer of deadly satisfaction she turned da blaster toward da plate of glass. Her thumb easily shiftin da settin ta rapid pulse, knowing that, even if it took a while, da glass would shatter. She realized dat this segment was more then just a holographic program. There was one other involved, even if he didn't appear as himself. And dammit, she had every intention of carrying out her intended promise from a while ago. The figure that had thought himself protected behind the plate glass began ta realize the gravity his own situation. In near panic his hands flew over da controls. As some pieces of the holograph program began ta crumble so did his appearance.

She slowly squeezed the trigger of the blaster. But before it was fully depressed she heard a whirring. Felt something, like a pinprick, ta the back of her neck. Oh freakin hell and back! Not this again! Her hand came up ta where the tranquillizer dart took her. Only ta feel another hit her on the back of her shoulder. Dark blue eyes grew unfocused, even as they turned again to the plate glass window. Her suspicions fully confirmed as he stood there. His intent written clearly on his face. That was the last she saw as she crumpled ta the floor.

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Subj: Additional Inquiries Date: 7/2/97 8:03:42 AM From: The Karne

Martin's tale was interrupted. "So you freely admit to the murder of this... Miho?"

Martin snarled angrily. "She was a figment of my imagination! A nothing, a thought, a dream. You don't even understand what happened last night. All you know is a couple people are dead and you've been charged with finding a person or thing to blame... and you've got to find him. So you slap a label and me and then you've got yourself a scapegoat, folded, packaged, and ready for sale. Did Stinel put you up to this!?"

No answer from beyond the glass.

Martin thrashed against his bindings. "You're all the same! Somebody must be blamed, someone must be responsible. Accountability, GODDAMNIT!"

The glass said, a bit more annoyed, "The IV in your arm is now pumping seventy-five milligrams of Stonsecti truth-serum into your system, Mister Ghanste. Maybe that will help keep you on-topic."

What the voice didn't also admit was that a human being would already be dead from an overdose of the Stonsecti. Martin was very familiar with the stuff, intimately familiar, in fact, from having used it himself a few times. Had it used on him, as well. Had the interesting effect of causing the blood vessels in the brain to expand whenever a lie was told, causing excruciating pain... which only decreased when the stuff was excreted from the system hours later. The pain could mount to the point of the subject's death, if an appropriate number of lies were told. But, more likely, the subject would pass out.

Martin could feel a slight pressure in the back of his skull already... warning of what would happen if he started to fib. He growled. "Alright. Let's go."

And so he continued. ________________________________________

Subj: A Puzzle of Flesh Date: 7/2/97 8:16:59 AM From: The Karne

As I tore off her face, silence descended over the Club. I instinctually glanced over to where Augustine sat. He shook his head sadly and was gone. Just like that.

As I looked over them, the floor separated itself from the bar, the walls, everything. It started to soar towards the ceiling at a blur. The ceiling parted at the last moment, though, and it fell below with everything else. The bar. Vietnam. The Mess Hall. Everything. I realized then, the floor wasn't rising, everything else was FALLING.

Though, really, when you get right down to it, the point of it was moot.

The dancers were speaking to me. "Fool broke our rules pain revisited upon your soul a THOUSANDFOLD..." They words merged together in a sort of chaotic menagerie.

Parts of the floor started to fall... rise... whatever... float away from the main part of the floor, carrying away the dancers. As they left, each would pluck a part of themselves from their bodies and throw it down at my feet. An ear. A finger. An entire foot. A goodly set of entrails. Then they were gone, in the eternal mists that surrounded me.

I realized, if I wanted to get anywhere at all, I was going to have to assemble my little toy here. As the last bits of the extraneous floor floated away, to leave only a simple disk of wood, I knelt near the pieces and started to fit them together. The disk I was on was among the stars and the black void of space when I fitted the last piece of the man... his left nipple... to his body. Then he stood up.

I didn't feel much surprise when I recognized him.

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Subj: Some Critical Thinking... Date: 7/4/97 9:09:00 AM From: JdeFalconr

Considering where he was now, Preacher would much rather have been standing in the middle of the ice fields he was in earlier. He now roamed in a dense jungle, hot and humid beyond belief. The area was shaded heavily by a dense canopy some twenty meters above his head. Sunlight still peeked through, revealing a clear blue sky with small wisps of clouds here and there. Animal life was sparse, mostly birds and a few rodents and insects, but nothing as yet which posed a threat.

For some reason, the Battle Armor he had picked up when he had rescued the imaginary Katrylle had stayed with him. Perhaps some kind of holographic glitch? Or maybe someone had gotten though to control circuitry and was overriding the program which had somehow transformed the DBs base into a massive holodeck.

Preacher felt a bead of sweat trickle down the side of his face as the air inside the Battlesuit seemed like a swirling mass of wetness. Even with the suit's environmental controls maxed out it still was quite uncomfortable inside. He had nowhere to go in this massive jungle, so he simply kept walking, hoping he would come to some sort of door before too long. Earlier, using the suit's jump jets, he poked above the canopy of the jungle to hopefully find a clearing or some shelter. But all he could see was the green, leafy canopy stretching for miles around. So in desperation he marched on.

Suddenly, amidst the jungle noises, the audio pickups on his Battle Armor began to receive a new sound. He played with the controls a bit and finally amplified the sound...gunfire, far away and to the east...approximately ten kilometers away. He hurriedly began to move towards it, hoping to find some answers.

As he ran forward, he was startled as a hail of arrows began to bombard him without warning. He wheeled around to face the threat but could not see anything. Whatever was firing at him continued, the primitive weapons bouncing harmlessly off his armor. Preacher switched to thermograph and saw about twenty or thirty figures crouched in the bushes, most of them using bows. Annoyed by the distraction and comforted by the thought that these were just holograms, he opened up with his rapid-fire machine gun, the heavy slugs ripping into the attackers and hurling them backwards as bullets tore into their bodies and sprays of blood erupted on the thermographic vision. Those not hit by the shots fled immediately in terror, and Preacher sighed out of relief, glad to be rid of the holographic pests. Continuing on now unhindered, he keyed up an overhead topographical map fed to his Battle Armor by a yet-unseen satellite and watched as his mysterious destination grew closer. Switching to thermograph he saw several figures, spaced widely apart, running frantically around. Gunfire again erupted in the jungle, and one of the figures fell, blood spraying from newly inflicted wounds.

"Perhaps," he thought, "That is someone else who has been caught in this simulation." Something told him that probably wouldn't be the case.

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Subj: Fireworks of a sort Date: 7/5/97 6:21:40 AM From: JdeFalconr

As Preacher neared the edge of the dense foliage he stopped for a moment to check the Battle Armor’s topographical thermograph map once again. A small rodent scurried across his path, which he ignored as it scampered away into the undergrowth. What lied ahead seemed to be a village of sorts. There were huts of various sizes arranged in a circle around some sort of communal area...most likely a well of some sorts. The thermograph showed figures inside the huts...they seemed to be huddled away in hiding, terrified of something. A few were peering out what appeared to be windows. A figure ran onto the scene, looking very different from the others. It appeared to be a large, bulky man. From the way he moved he appeared to be wounded, dragging his left leg a bit. He carried some sort of rifle weapon, which he held out threateningly in front of him. The man suddenly stopped cold, just standing there. Preacher felt a bead of sweat trickle slowly down his chest as everything stood still, the jungle suddenly becoming very quiet. Without warning the man jerked around, bringing his rifle to bear on a hut as he fired off the weapon several times. The cold, black weapon spit out several hot, bright streaks towards one of the huts. One of the figures inside the hut was thrown backwards as the thermograph displayed a spray of something emanating from the figure. The area where the hut took shots began to glow brightly, the beginnings of a fire. Others inside the hut panicked, running over to the man and then charging around inside the hut hysterically. Soon, Preacher could no longer make out the figures as a blaze consumed the entire hut. After noting the man's position, he switched off the topo map, returning to normal vision, the inferno now visible through the trees.

Something about the image disturbed Preacher...but he dismissed the thought as he readied himself. Activating the Battle Armor’s Jump Jets he soared from the trees and behind one of the huts. As he walked between the huts he brought his rapid-fire machine gun to bear, seeing the man for the first time. He was rather pudgy but muscles rippled on his arms and chest. He was dressed in a camo tank top and pants, wearing heavy combat boots. On sight, Preacher identified the weapon he was carrying: A Lockheed/Grumman LK-57 assault rifle. They were used profusely by the North American Alliance during Earth's World War III in the early 21st century. It was a basic laser-rifle, low-powered and hideously ineffective compared with the weapons of the 31st century.

As he turned to face the strange thing which approached him, the man's eyes took on a look of pure terror, not knowing what he was facing. It must have been quite a sight, seeing an armor-plated robot like thing come walking out of the night, its features lit up in the ghastly dancing light of a fire. Purely acting on reflexes he fired off several blasts from his laser rifle, dissipating harmlessly on the Battle Armor’s armor plating. Preacher had had about enough of this ancient holographic man and sent a short burst of heavy shells from his machine gun into his chest, which promptly exploded in a hail of shredded internal organs and bone fragments, sending the man's corpse flying a few meters away. Finally rid of that pest, his attention turned to the blazing hut to his right. It had nearly been consumed by flames now, the insides a blazing inferno.

Another light caught his eye, and he turned to see a second hut's thatched roof showing a small wisp of flame, which quickly began to creep upwards, beginning to engulf the whole roof. Without thinking he charged the door, running through the woven surface as the Battle Armor exploded through it, tearing the door down. But upon moving through another doorway all he discovered was something very different than the village which he had just left...

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Subj: Turn About is Fair Play 12 Date: 7/8/97 8:08:55 AM From: Ben Stinel

The window was open. A slight breeze blew through, rustling the curtains. As the sun rose slowly above the horizon it cast a light on the far wall of the room. The light moved with the sun until it's edge crossed over the man lying on the bed. On the windowsill sat an orange cat that looked at the man as he slept. The cat meowed and the man instantly sat up, looking around.

"Computer, freeze program!"

Nothing.

"Computer, end program!"

Nothing.

He frowned to himself before he tried a different tactic, "Computer, show holodeck boundaries."

Chirp.

Seemingly in the middle of the room a wall appeared. It was insubstantial, translucent. It seemed to be only half there but it was exactly what he had hoped for. He stood up and looked around. The room he had gone to sleep in was still there. He could see it, but there now seemed to be a second bedroom overlapping it. His bedroom. He wasn't even sure how he knew that. He wasn't even sure what he was saying to make these things happen.

"Computer, stationary boundaries."

Chirp.

Slowly, he walked to the wall of the almost room. He touched it and drew his hand back when it met something solid. The wall shimmered at his touch but he knew it was real now.

"What am I doing? I must be loosing my mind!"

Not heeding his own words, he stepped over to what looked like a doorway in the not quite wall. He stopped in front of the door and it split in two and slid into the not quite wall, revealing a small closet. Inside, on a peg was a thick belt with a metal cylinder hanging from it. He reached into the closet and took it.

The cat meowed again and he spun around. The cat was a sight. It was shimmering as if it couldn't decide what color it wanted to be. One second it was orange and the next second it was a plain tabby. It jumped down from the windowsill and ran over to him before jumping into his arms. The second he held the cat it's colors stopped shifting and it was a plain tabby.

"Sachy!"

Jacob frowned to himself as he scratched the cat behind the ears. He knew this cat. The tabby purred contentedly under his hands. He must be going mad. He looked at the belt he had pulled from the closet. It was solid now too, but half a minute before it had been as insubstantial as the walls.

The walls! They flickered for a moment before fading away.

"No! Computer, show holodeck boundaries!"

Nothing.

Someone had found the bug in the program and fixed it. He needed more time! Time to figure out what was going on.

Why? Jarrid asked himself. The memories of the entire experience were fading already.

The cat meowed at him happily and climbed up to his shoulder. It perched there in a manner that suggested that it was settling down for a while so he didn't try to pull it back down.

The door to the other room opened and James stepped in, "Good, you're up. We should get going soon."

Jacob nodded, "I'll get changed and I'll meet you downstairs for breakfast. You want to go see if Susan is up?"

"Sure. Where'd the cat come from?"

Jacob shrugged, "It was sitting on the window sill. He just jumped into my arms like he knew me."

James laughed and nodded, "Maybe he does. They say cats can see things people can't."

"Fairy tales," Jacob grinned, "Stories meant for children."

"I don't know, Jacob. There are lots of wizards and sorcerers in fairy tales. We're going to see one today."

"Point well taken," Jacob agreed. Well, get going. We won't get anywhere today if Susan sleeps all morning."

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Subj: Reflections Amidst The Flames Date: 7/8/97 8:14:11 AM From: JdeFalconr

From the strange tribal village, the doorway had taken Preacher to a most unusual setting. He found himself perched on the summit of a mountain, surrounded on all sides by sheer cliffs. The mountaintop was thousands of meters high, and the land was visible clearly for many kilometers in a vast panorama. The planet was covered by a constantly churning sea of molten rock, permeated only by the sharp rise of a mountain or a small island, an oasis of shelter amongst a sea of boiling magma, its fiery tides casting deadly waves upon the newly born shores of mountains. Many other massive volcanoes were set about the landscape, spewing molten lava far into the air. The primordial world's sky was a deep red, lit by the fierce brightness of a newborn star. Thunder and lightning struck down from nowhere, as if only to strike out at this terrible and inhospitable world. The air, even at such altitudes, carried a strong, acrid, sulphurous stench. The Battle Armor’s air filtration system could not cope with the terrible fumes, failing to filter out most of the noxious gasses. Every breath made his lungs burn and he yearned for a breath of fresh air. For some reason, this holosimulation had kept him in a suit of Battle Armor, although he was no Elemental and had received only the most basic training in the operation of Battle Armor, although that was still enough to be able to use it well. The Clans never believed in a partial effort.

For some reason, this setting put him at ease. Staring out at the primordial panorama of fiery creation, Preacher felt himself calmed and at ease-the only one on this planet, with nothing which could possibly cause him any worry or thoughts which could trouble him. Sitting down on a rock, he took a moment to rest and to put his thoughts in order.

So he was trapped in some sort of holo-simulation. Moving through a door for any reason made the scene change. And apparently there was nothing to stop him from being hurt-the safeties of the program were somehow disabled. The computer would not shut down the simulation either. so he was definitely trapped.

But was there any sense to be made of what he had experienced? First a legendary Clan hero appeared to him, taking him through one the greatest story in his Clan's history. Then he saves the hologram of one of his commanding officers, not her at all...in a Battle Armor no less, something which he is not at all proficient in its use. He was placed in a strange jungle where he stopped an ancient military man from massacring a tribal village...and had finally ended up here. Thinking back, he realized that if it were not for this suit of Battle Armor, he would most certainly be dead right now. It was because of this that he had so decisively defeated most of the opponents he had faced in this simulation. Perhaps he was the only one caught up in this simulation and his fellow DoomBringers were working to get him out of it, giving him every advantage they possibly could to keep him alive. That would explain why he was given his own BattleMech in fighting that Warhammer back on Eden.

Preacher coughed forcefully as he inadvertently sighed, breathing deep the sulphurous fumes of this strange place's air. As he stood up and turned around, he noticed that a small stone shelter had appeared on the summit of his mountaintop-The hologramatic program's means of escape from this world? Or was it the intervention of his friends to save him from this death-world. Just as he was about to enter the now blazing white portal, he stopped and cast his gaze across the newly born world. His eyes fixed themselves upon the horizon, broken sharply by the rise of countless volcanoes spewing their molten magma far into the sky, torn savagely by thunder and lightning as the skyline itself appeared to be burning, illuminated by the fires of creation. It was among those fires that Preacher saw a stillness, a purity of thought created by the cleansing flames of a world not yet begun and not yet touched...a world in waiting.

Subj: Sweet India. Date: 7/8/97 9:25:00 PM From: MatterCat

As Matt approached the DB headquarters he could tell that something was amiss. The lights were on but the place seemed deserted. He couldn't make out any movement in either the mechbay or in any of the myriad windows of the main building. Also, he found, as he came closer, that no security personal came to greet him, nor were they standing at their posts. His final confirmation came when he found the main door wide open, and not a soul to be seen in or outside the iron-laden rectangle.

Is there ever a moment around here when something odd isn't going on? He thought to himself as he cautiously made his way through the main door and up the main hall. As he walked, he could barely make out the distant sounds of…. Something. It sounded strange, almost like listening to too many television sets turned on at once, and all on separate channels. He thought he could hear people, but they seemed to be yelling, cheering, talking, laughing, and whispering all out of sync. On top of that he coulda swore that he heard the combined sounds of a jungle overlaid over a desert, and the noise of both battle and the sounds of a crowded bar.

He began to search the empty halls in earnest. The noises continued to elude him. It was as if the strange sounds he heard would always be around the next cold metal corner. The most disturbing feeling came when he thought he could make out the voices of some of the DBs he knew. Some of them seemed to be in distress, while others were laughing.

Finally he approached the living quarters of the Doom Bringers, and there, he started to see visual signs of the oddness. The burgundy carpet of the floor had begun to break up in favor of white and green tiles. The walls seemed almost to fade from metal to gray veined marble but a few feet from where he was standing, and the ceaseless clashing sounds… ceased.

In their place came the sound of a familiar music. It was Indian, and he recognized the tune. He stood there in that hallway, in stunned silence, and closed his eyes to the intoxicating sounds from his past. Nothing, in his mind, could compare to the hauntingly beautiful sounds of his home. He could feel the cool breeze flowing over him through the halls of the large open palace. It brought with it the smells of tonight's feast. Fresh roasted boar spiced to perfection, curry, rice, and exotic fruits. The memories came flooding back, and as he opened his eyes, he could almost believe he was home among his family…

Family. That one thought snapped him back to reality. If his family was here… If they were here.. he did not want to think of the possibilities. He looked behind him, but the palace now extended that way as well. He was completely surrounded by the vision of his past. The DB base was nowhere in sight.

"Aw, crud…"

Subj: Revenge is Mine 1 Date: 7/8/97 10:52:10 PM From: CorDynne

The screaming of the man on the table had stopped hours ago, but still the surgical robots worked at removing limbs and various body parts. The experiment was to proceed regardless of the cost to any of the "subjects". The life of the body on the table was expendable. He had only been one of the Doom Bringer Technicians hired to install the holo-emitters around the base as "a practical joke". He was the last.

A mechanical sigh suddenly made itself heard from what remained of the Drow sitting in the self contained "wheel chair" in the corner. ((Envision Star Trek's Christopher Pike only more mangled and with the ability to "speak")) Although his body was beyond the hope of all cybernetic science, his genius was alive and quite capable of dreaming up ways of making the people who had destroyed his empire and his body suffer horribly. Watching them scream as arms and legs were removed from their still conscious bodies and grafted onto his own would be the first step in his revenge.

He had not bothered to command the robots to keep his current test subjects alive. There was no reason for it. He was simply running them through their program, monitoring the pain, conscious and death threshold of the "subjects" for future reference. Once the others were in his grasp, he would use that knowledge to keep their minds fully functioning throughout the entire procedure and beyond. He would *have* his revenge.

Subj: Turn About is Fair Play 13 Date: 7/12/97 10:39:27 AM From: Ben Stinel

"Look up there," Jacob nudged James and pointed to a spot about half way up the mountainside.

The mountains had been ahead of them since noon. They had ridden through three villages since the hot springs. All prosperous but the further north they rode the more nervous the villagers became about the news from the north. Nervous, maybe, but not afraid. After all, the trouble in Kandori was on the other side of the North Mountains! They were safe in Aldebra.

The North Mountains. They stretched across the land and divided the northern and southern nations. On the other side of the range, they were known as the South Mountains.

"Smoke," James agreed, "Too much for a camp fire."

"That's where I'm supposed to meet the sorcerer," Susan said from the saddle of the dappled mare they had bought for her, " 'Half the height of Wolf Mountain.'," she quoted from the wizard's letter.

"We will be there before dark, I think," James said, "We'll have to camp up there though."

Jacob frowned and scratched his head, "I don't much like the idea of camping in the mountains. Especially not 'Wolf Mountain.' "

Behind him, perched on Bolt's rump and looking perfectly comfortable there, Sachy meowed, almost in agreement with him. The innkeeper had said he didn't know the cat and had never seen one like it in the town, so Jacob had taken him with them. One or two times that day, Bolt had tried to break into a run when the cat had touched his claws to the horses flesh. Jacob thought the feline got a kick out of it.

Susan smiled and reached over to scratch Sachy's ears and told it, "Don't worry, kitty. We won't let the wolves get you."

Jacob grinned at her and she smiled back and went on petting the cat. After a moment Sachy jumped over to her horse and purred contentedly in her lap. Susan kept petting the cat absentmindedly and returned her attention to the road. And gasped in surprise.

The trio pulled their horses short to keep from riding right over the man who stood in the center of the road. He was tall and slender and had dark skin. So dark as to be almost pitch. A man from the far west then. Not uncommon this far east. Western merchants came often to trade in spices and perfumes. His hair was a gray mop, almost silver, but his skin was smooth as a woman's. He had a heavy cloak closed in front of him and didn't appear to carry any bag. Most merchants had several wagons but this man looked to have nothing but the cloak on his back.

Jacob looked right over the inconsistencies and raised his hand to the man, "Welcome, Stranger," he began the ritualistic greeting, "Good to see a fellow traveler from the other end of the road. Have you any news of the north?"

The dark man looked at him for a long moment and glanced at the other two travelers as well. He said nothing and just looked.

James squinted at the man and said irritably, "Has someone cut out your tongue, man? Speak! Or has the devil taken you to cause such rudeness?"

The man didn't even look at James. He only stared at Jacob.

Jacob shook his head and nodded to the man, "If you won't speak, sir, we won't stay. We've got ground to cover before dark. Good day." He made as if to ride around the dark skinned man, but as he began to pass the man threw back his cloak and raised his arm to fire his small crossbow at Jacob's shoulder.

Reacting instinctively, Jacob rolled off of his horse to crouch on the ground, putting the bay stallion between himself and his attacker. The crossbow bolt flew right through where he had been sitting a moment before. Without thinking, Jacob pulled the metal cylinder he had found that morning from his belt and lunged right under Bolt's belly at the man. The light saber flared to life and he found himself executing the forms Ryan had taught him. A slice of the saber and the silver haired head was rolling on the road. He flipped the saber off and stared at it before the body hit the ground.

James jumped down from his horse and took the crossbow, "He already had another bolt in place. This one meant to kill you, I think…" he put a finger to the tip of the bolt and touched it to his tongue, "Poisoned." James ran a hand through his thinning hair and let out a long breath.

"Who would want to kill me?" Jacob asked, incredulously, "Sirus?"

"Not Sirus. He's not the type. He'd spend a lifetime hunting you down so he could put you in prison for ten years, but he wouldn't resort to assassins. Hey! You know better than to sheath your sword while it's still bloody!"

James had been on the other side of Bolt when he had used the saber. He must not have seen.

"I wiped it before I put it up."

James frowned, "That fast?" But he didn't argue beyond that.

Susan squeaked.

She had Sachy clutched to her chest and the poor cat had a rather strangled expression on its face. Jacob rushed over to her side and gently pried her hands away from the cat. Sachy hurried away from her and climbed onto Jacob's shoulders to give her a reproachful cat look.

Jacob took Susan's hand and rubbed her shoulder gently, "It's okay. He can't hurt you now."

She squeezed his hand and looked at him. Her eyes were frightened. "A sword of fire!" she whispered urgently, "You killed him with a sword of fire!"

He glanced down at the cylinder where it was clipped to his belt. He hardly even remembered putting it there. He didn't even know how he had made it turn on the way it had. He looked back at Susan and shook his head, "Just the light of the sun reflecting off of the blade, Susan. That's all," he lied, "Nothing more."

She looked at him as if she doubted his word for a moment before nodding, "That must be it." She sounded almost as if she was trying to convince herself of it.

James was crouched next to the body, searching for the rest of the crossbow bolts. He found a small quiver and stood, clipping it to his belt before going to look at the head. James had something of a morbid interest in the dead, Jacob had noticed.

"James, we should go. We want to be to the Wizard before dark, remember?"

James nodded and left the head where it was. He walked over to Thrower and pulled himself into the saddle. Jacob gave Susan's hand a quick squeeze before he went back to his own horse. Bolt was unruffled by the events. The stallion didn't mind a quick battle but he was thrown all out of sorts by a cat on its back. Jacob chuckled at the thought as the three horses and four riders started on their way again.

Subj: A Snap-Tite Confrontation Date: 7/18/97 7:21:52 AM From: The Karne

I sat there on my haunches as the jigsaw man stood. I've never seen him quite this well, or quite this close, or quite this long. Now, I could finally tell you something about him: He wore rather nerdy horn-rimmed glasses set over muddy brown eyes. He was the man I'd come to know as Sooner, on account of his sweater. As I knelt there, near helpless with shock that THIS was what I'd created, he lashed out with the palm of his hand and broke my nose.

I flopped over onto my back from the great impact, blood gushing out over the white suit that had been... granted... me for use in the club. I couldn't breath through the flow of the blood... or the deviated septum. But, somehow, all I could think was: Boy, that's the end of THIS suit.

He didn't even bother to follow me as I scrambled away gracelessly to my feet. As my heart began to pound, my clothes morphed around me into a piece of clothing I was very familiar with, a skintight beige bodysuit. There were no visible catches or closures, just the markings on the shoulder and left breast: K.A.R.N.E. Unit 42080.

Under that, was the legend, "Property of the USMC."

I let my center of gravity slide lower, dropping myself into a defensive stance. Sooner smiled. He knew he already had all the cards. Then he launched himself at me.

Subj: Express Elevator Date: 7/18/97 8:18:58 AM From: The Karne

Normally, the suit was adorned heavily with weaponry, but, the strange forces at work around me saw fit only to give me the grappling-hook launcher with its motorized spool of cable hooked over my shoulder, and the broad-bladed thermalknife I kept in my boot. I needed every advantage I could get, so I snatched the blade from its sheath and held it horizontally in front of me.

Sooner just gave me that absentminded smile, because he knew I couldn't get the knife up in front of me before impact. He was right. Slapping the knife aside effortlessly, one of his hands drove into my gut. I knew what he was doing a half-second before his fingers pinched around my diaphragm. Instantly, all the air in my lungs exploded out of me. I couldn't breath, all I could feel was the burning agony as his fingers forced my lungs to contract.

Despite the fact that he had me at his mercy, suddenly, he broke away, laughing... his foot lashing out to catch me across the face. I knew then there was a razor protruding from the tip of his sneakers, because it sliced clean to the bone.

As he fell leapt away, I dropped to my knees, dragging in sweet breaths of air. Suddenly, the stink of brimstone and hell flooded my senses, and then the wooden disk began to fall. Fall through sheered-through walls of hellfire. The fire was sporadic... promising any limb stretched over the edge of the platform only possible mutilation, if your luck was bad. At that very moment, small holes appeared in the wooden disk we were perched on.

One opened under me. It was about one inch in diameter, not much compared to the twenty-foot diameter disk. But, some instinct shouted at me, and I rolled away from it, just as a spike reared from the hole skywards. I missed the ultimate enema by less then an inch. As I scrambled to my feet, I realized the spikes were randomly protruding, stabbing, retracting.

Then, the dice fell my way. Sooner had to dance aside as several spikes began to threaten his widespread feet. Damning caution, I charged, slashing my knife for his torso. The blade began to hum as it moved, heating the carbon steel and titanium alloy to well over two thousand centigrade. He twisted in midair, barely missing evisceration. I followed up with a short forward kick. It landed, throwing him backwards to sprawl at the edge of the disk.

He looked up at me, snarling in agony. A human's intestines would've been crushed into indifferent paste by my kick. Him, it just annoyed. He leapt forward, sweeping low under another wild slash of my knife. His foot hooked behind my knee and down I went.

He stomped down at me, and rapidly, I rolled away, realizing only belatedly I was rolling towards... and over... the edge of the disk. Off I went. Mercifully, the flames had stopped at that moment. My knife stabbed out frantically, spearing into one of the spike's sockets. For a moment, I hung, suspended by the precarious blade's purchase.

Above me, I could see Sooner. He looked down at me with angry eyes. Gone was his customary mirth. After a moment, he reached down, for my hand. Was he trying to help me? He could kill me easier then THIS.

Below me, I could hear the roar of newly encroaching flame. I couldn't help but look over my shoulder, down, far down, at the hellish abyss that awaited me below my dangling boots.

No, no... not awaited. Approached. Very rapidly indeed.

Subj: Re:Turn About Date: 7/19/97 8:34:10 AM From: JdeFalconr

Wherever that last doorway had taken him, Preacher wished he could be anywhere but here. Upon walking through the stone doorway he had emerged from yet another battered wooden shack, set in the middle of a grassy field. The sun was shining in a cloudless blue sky, birds flying high in the air, insects moving around in the rather summer like air. You could almost hear the serenity and beauty had it not been for the battle raging.

It was something out of a bizarre science fiction novel...except all too real. One force seemed to be made up of completely organic alien creatures of a massive quantity and variation. There were five-foot tall purple-skinned creatures who ran on their two legs with lightning speed, quadruple claws outstretched to deal death along with glistening fangs. There were other lightning-quick beasts which leaped through the air with ease, their scythe-like arms cutting down defenders left and right. There were also monstrous, almost humanoid creatures had it not been for their reptilian skin and four arms. They carried various guns of some sort, spraying out acids and some form of bizarre projectiles. The swarm of insectile creatures seemed to pulsate and move with an all-controlling intelligence, a hive mind of sorts. Whatever was controlling this bestial army, its opponents seemed to be having great difficulty.

The defenders were most definitely human from the language and markings on their armor and vehicles. All were close to seven feet tall, Elemental sized. All had some bulky form of armor on which seemed to protect them very well, all colored bright red with what appeared to be blood drops painted on. They carried a dizzying array of weaponry, from missile launchers to shoulder-mounted laser cannons, to tanks which seemed to blaze destruction from every gun they mounted. There were larger walking units, about half the size of BattleMechs, and even large ones which could be seen striding along the horizon. One unit out of the human army seemed to be particularly effective. The armor these men wore was almost twice as thick as the others, yet moved with the same fluidity and easy as the normal armor. One of them mounted a massive rapid-fire autocannon which mowed down the strange aliens in hordes.

It was a sight to behold, these two massive armies clashing together before his very eyes...but he was a part of it, a fact he was all to well reminded of as one of the four-armed beasts broke away and leapt at him suddenly. Preacher was no Elemental by any standards, and the tiny amount of Battle Armor training he had been given did not focus on hand-to-hand combat. The creature plowed him over, snarling and ripping a massive gouge in his Battle Armor with great ease. He gasped as the talon bit into his lower chest as he felt it tear at his skin. The Battle Armor seemed undamaged as it administered a bandage to the wound and pumped in painkillers. His focus returned, he was able to pry the creature off Battle armor with great difficulty, tossing it into a tree. But the creature's chitinous hide absorbed the blow and it leapt back at him. But this time, he was ready for it. Seizing the thing's head with his powered-claw on the Battle Armor’s left hand he held it out and slowly crushed its skull, feeling the razor-sharp points of the claw pop though its skull one by one as it writhed with agony, screaming and thrashing around wildly as the power claw tore into its brain. Preacher finally dropped the thing as it twitched in its death throes, leaking purple blood and cerebral fluid from the gaping holes in its skull, pulpy trails of gray matter seeping out of the mortal wounds.

But the strange hive mind which controlled these creatures must have noticed its death as a large group of these beasts broke off from the attack and charged him without warning.

Subj: A Strange Battle Indeed... Date: 7/19/97 8:47:27 AM From: JdeFalconr

As the large group of the four-armed beasts charged at him, Preacher stood his ground and blazed away with his rapid-fire machine gun, the heavy armor-piercing rounds tearing their bodies apart in a spray of shattered bone and exploded internal organs. But the creatures just kept coming, lining up to be torn apart. Without warning he was thrown to the ground as a massive alien collided with him. It was a monstrosity out of a horror tale-two large scythe-like arms sticking above his head, with two more coming from its chest along with a pair of sinister-looking hooks. The thing's skin was a bright blue with bone-colored plating of a sort along its back and the top of its legs. Its mouth was a mass of writhing green tentacles of a sort, tipped in some type of bone. As it raised its massive arms to deliver a crushing blow all Preacher could do was lie there, unable to move.

Suddenly the thing's chest exploded as one of the large armored troopers turned his massive autocannon on the beast. Its body was thrown in several directions as it exploded from the chest, torn completely apart in a spectacular display of shattered bone and a spray of purple blood. The man with the autocannon ran over to him and spoke in some strange sort of language. The Battle Armor’s translators said it was Latin, from ancient Terra. The translation was "Are you alright? That -something- nearly got you there." One word was not translatable, possibly the name of that creature. Preacher replied, "Yes, thank you." The man nodded as best he could in the massive suit and stood up, turning his autocannon again on the ravening monsters.

Deciding that he had had enough of this, Preacher headed back towards the beaten-down shack. He opened the door and walked through the portal of blazing light, glad to be out of that battlefield before it ate him alive.

Subj: Freefall (2) Date: 7/20/97 10:01:16 AM From: TGG Smoke

Ryan carefully regarded the man hunched in the rocking chair before him. His intuition laughed -- the old man had been in the swamp too long, staring at shadows and wisps and making them into monsters. But his hand strayed down to his lightsaber nonetheless, and he gripped the pommel tightly, finding reassurance in its solidity.

When he looked up again, the old man had straightened in his chair, and was staring intently into the forest. Far out into the bayou, something was darting through the shadows. Ryan caught a passing glance of it, something large and agile, before it abruptly disappeared. The old man grunted softly, standing.

"Inside, boy. Quickly, we've got no time to lose."

Ryan blinked, turning to face him. "Lose what? There were only shadows out there, I'm not sure I really even saw anything. It's just a swamp..."

The man shook his head violently, opening the door to his shack. "No, boy. Lougarou... they're out there, don'cha see? Out there..." He pointed into the darkness. "Out there, all of them... they're waitin'for'ya, wait..."

Without warning, a blurred shape flashed from the darkness with a low growl, knocking Ryan to his knees. A second creature barreled into him from behind, sending him rolling into the swamp. He tried to stand, but found himself sinking into the soft riverbank, unable to move. The water rushed in over his head as the soft earth sucked him in farther.... And suddenly gave away.

He was falling. Ryan opened his eyes, staring in terror at the scene far below him. Tiny trees, scattered on a mountainside -- A tall mountainside, he realized -- spread out in either direction before him. Nothing but trees and mountains... drawing closer with alarming speed. The clouds he had been high above only seconds rushed up to meet him, and he was suddenly enveloped in a cold, clammy mist. The ground disappeared into gray soup, lost to him...

Falling...

Cold wind whipped through his hair, the icy chill cutting through his flight suit. The ground was still hidden by the clouds, but he knew he was very near to it, the sudden stop at the bottom. He curled up into a small ball and rolled onto his side, wishing everything would just...

Go...

Away....

There was a crack that jarred him to his bones, and the world went black.

Subj: The other India. Date: 7/23/97 5:04:53 AM From: MatterCat

India was not a good thing. Well, it was and it wasn't. It was, in that Matt found the memory of it so very intoxicating. It wasn't, in that everything about it spelled danger for him and his friends. India is where he "grew up", … sorta. Damn if this wasn't so hard to explain.

Who brought him here? How could anyone, anyone at all, know of his involvement with such a place? The answer that came to mind was that that person would have to have been there, and directly involved in the events that unfolded there. The only persons who fit that bill were people he'd much rather never see again. This thought filled him with an overwhelming sense of dread, indeed fear. Nothing good could come of this, nothing.

The story of his past unfolded like a storybook from his childhood in his mind. He clasped his hands to his temples trying to shut it all out, but all he succeeded in doing was to enhance his isolation into his own memories. He could already hear the scrabbling of claws on the stone… his children…. His children where coming.

Madness. This couldn't be. He fell to his knees in despair, as his ears picked up the sound of .. of… country music?

Relief swept over him like a crashing wave in a storm. This wasn't his India. Not his India. It must be someone else's. The memory of the sound of his children faded, and he was once again left in the peace of the here and now.

He ran to the overlook that viewed the city below. The city was all wrong, not like he remembered it at all. On the street just below, he could see a young man listening to a rather large boom box he was toting in his hand, country music blaring out of it in complete discordance with the city around him. As, he looked about, he saw that the palace too, had flaws in it. The wrong shape to the tiles, the wrong color blue in the design work… So close yet, so far. Laughter came pouring out of him in a flood. Man, had he been getting worked up over nothing. Nothing?

He stopped laughing when he realized he hadn't a clue what was going on. One instant he was in the DB headquarters, and the next he was standing in a elaborate palace. Holodeck?, magic transference?, This would bear some looking into. With that thought, and a now Sherlock Holmsian mindset, he began to look for clues, and piece together his predicament.

I wonder what my friends would think if they knew I had children He thought to himself, as he started down the large hallway towards the smell of food.

Subj: Deep Throat Date: 7/24/97 8:59:11 PM From: The Karne

I knew Sooner was strong. The fact that he could hurt me, hurt me badly, was clue enough for even somebody as brick-stupid as I was. But, when his hand closed around my wrist and lifted my seven hundred pounds and change skyward without even a grimace of effort, I gasped in surprise. He lifted me just in time for the flames to miss me. A few wayward flickers licked passionately against my feet but the suit was insulated.

He lifted me over his head... but I kept on going up. He kept lifting. Because his arm was growing longer. So was everything else, for that matter. It only took seconds for him to grow to well over a hundred feet, and now I was encupped in his hand.

I scrambled to my feet for what felt like the tenth time in that long night, gripping my dagger in tense hands. Unfortunately, he kept his speed in his new size... and he had little to worry about from me. So he popped me in his mouth.

I gave a startled yelp as I landed amidst gnashing molars. I tried to push myself away from the clashing enamel-armored slabs, but not fast enough. One caught my right knee as I moved my torso from the vicious chompers. My yelp turned into a scream of agony as I felt the bones in my relatively delicate knee grind together. I dropped my knife, and I reached down as the teeth spread apart in preparation for a harder bite, and started to pull my useless limb out of harm's way. I didn't quite make it, that time, either.

Every bone in my fingers and hands broke... blood splattered from between the irresistible force and immovable object that were his teeth. They spread apart once more, and this time, sheer animal desperation got me away from the sides of Sooner's mouth, to sprawl in a bloody heap across the middle of his tongue. And suddenly shot skywards. The tongue smashed my body against the roof of his mouth once. That was all that was required to make stars spring to my eyes and my vision to go black and white.

As I lay there, gasping in the fetid air he breathed, Sooner's tongue worked against me. I realized what he was doing, far too late, as his tongue sent me tumbling down his throat. I never quite pictured dying this way.

Subj: Deep Throat Date: 7/24/97 8:59:11 PM From: The Karne

I knew Sooner was strong. The fact that he could hurt me, hurt me badly, was clue enough for even somebody as brick-stupid as I was. But, when his hand closed around my wrist and lifted my seven hundred pounds and change skyward without even a grimace of effort, I gasped in surprise. He lifted me just in time for the flames to miss me. A few wayward flickers licked passionately against my feet but the suit was insulated.

He lifted me over his head... but I kept on going up. He kept lifting. Because his arm was growing longer. So was everything else, for that matter. It only took seconds for him to grow to well over a hundred feet, and now I was encupped in his hand.

I scrambled to my feet for what felt like the tenth time in that long night, gripping my dagger in tense hands. Unfortunately, he kept his speed in his new size... and he had little to worry about from me. So he popped me in his mouth.

I gave a startled yelp as I landed amidst gnashing molars. I tried to push myself away from the clashing enamel-armored slabs, but not fast enough. One caught my right knee as I moved my torso from the vicious chompers. My yelp turned into a scream of agony as I felt the bones in my relatively delicate knee grind together. I dropped my knife, and I reached down as the teeth spread apart in preparation for a harder bite, and started to pull my useless limb out of harm's way. I didn't quite make it, that time, either.

Every bone in my fingers and hands broke... blood splattered from between the irresistible force and immovable object that were his teeth. They spread apart once more, and this time, sheer animal desperation got me away from the sides of Sooner's mouth, to sprawl in a bloody heap across the middle of his tongue. And suddenly shot skywards. The tongue smashed my body against the roof of his mouth once. That was all that was required to make stars spring to my eyes and my vision to go black and white.

As I lay there, gasping in the fetid air he breathed, Sooner's tongue worked against me. I realized what he was doing, far too late, as his tongue sent me tumbling down his throat. I never quite pictured dying this way.

Subj: Pooh's Corner.... Date: 7/31/97 1:46:23 AM From: MELICORE

Melicore's body slumped to the ground. As the darkness hit him, slowly other creatures came out from behind the metal cabinets the first one that came out looked like a kangaroo, with its little baby in its pouch.

Kaye cooed seeing the baby kangaroo in the mother’s pouch.

Jaq had a confused look on her face as she watched her black eyes not giving away her feelings.

The baby Roo suddenly hopped out of the mothers pouch and on to a counter grabbing a cast iron skillet. Hopped onto Melicore’s chest. The Roo had a gleam in its eyes.

Jaq tried to grab the skillet from the baby Roo, but the baby Roo was fast and she saw the mother Roo head for Kaye. The mother Roo picked up Kaye, carefully placing her in her pouch.

Jaq screamed trying to grab Kaye as the little striped creature picked Jaq up and started to bounce away with her. The mother Roo followed carrying Kaye and Jaq to their quarters and laid them both down on the bed as Jaq held Kaye tightly in her arms.

The little bear sighs as he pulls Melicore out. "Oh bother!"

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Subj: Idol to a Goddess (1) Date: 7/31/97 6:23:48 AM From: KatrylleM

She tried to move, but only succeeded in causing more abrasions on her wrists, thighs and ankles. Her waist and back were the only things protected from the harsh hemp ropes stretching her body taunt along the carrying pole. Even still, the now tattered ruffled man's shirt could not provide complete protection. She felt like a friggin hog on the way to a roasting.

She had a hell of a hangover when the sleep poison had worn off that first day, and she was convinced that the slave nightmare had been just that...a nightmare. 'Course, nightmares usually don't have real rope and they usually don't kick you in the ribs when you groan from the heavy pounding in your head. These "gentle" reminders did nothing for her moral.

Still, she never was able to get a look at her captors. They had kept her bound and blindfolded, removing the gag only when they felt it necessary to actually give her food and water, which wasn't very often. She learned quickly that first day that shooting one's mouth off would *not* be beneficial to one's health and happiness. Instead of being drugged, she was beaten back into unconsciousness.

She had lost track of how long they had been traveling, but she knew it had been days. She felt sure that what little food and water she had been given on the infrequent rest periods, was only filling the desire to keep her at least somewhat alive.

Now, the blindfold had either been removed or had slipped off. She didn't feel it across her face any longer. It didn't matter though. They were in complete and utter darkness. The gag was still in place and it only made it harder to breathe the air that had grown more stale with each passing hour. She almost smiled when she thought of Ry's possible reaction to the thing, but stifled it when she realized the darkness around her was fading the further they moved down the tunnel.

After only a few steps she could see what she had only heard up to this point. Water dripped down the sides of the rounded stone ceiling to little rivulets that rushed past only to disappear into what looked like a "man-made" feed to a possible well. She was relieved to see that the scurrying and squeaking belonged to rats instead of the large spider creatures that seemed to frequent such places. She hated spiders. Soon, the tunnel opened up to an immense cavern that was somehow lit to that of a bright moonlit night.

Now, in the light, she was able to see that she wasn't the only one hogtied and strung up like the main course of a Saturday night Bar-B-Que. Melicore, Sal and Travers had been carried out of the tunnel just ahead of her and it appeared they were still unconscious from the same constant bouts of drugging she had endured.

It had eased her mind a little to know she wasn't completely insane. The men at either end of the long poles were indeed Drow and Kat sighed heavily. She knew what they could *possibly* want with her...but why Mel, Sal and Travers? And why go to such elaborate lengths to get them? All she had been told by Ry lead her to believe they would use magic, sure...but *holograms*?! They weren't the techno type.

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Subj: Idol to a Goddess (2) Date: 7/31/97 6:24:40 AM From: KatrylleM

Her thoughts on the mystery were stilled as the two Drow carrying her began the long descent to the city below. Nizralteth. She had spent many happy hours in the dark listening to Ry talk about the city and the time he had spent in it. But nothing could prepare her for what was spread out in a neat circular shape before her. Most of the buildings, she knew, had been made from what appeared to be standard bricks. In the "moonlight", two of the buildings stood out from the others, however. She knew from Ry's descriptions that one was the "City Hall" or Council Hall and the other was some form of temple, though she couldn't tell which was which. Both had been formed from slabs of stone quarried from the cavern by the slaves that managed to survive any tortures the Drow saw fit.

The *real* shocker was the statue. She had thought Ry was exaggerating when he told her of it. But there it was in all its glory and the light seemed to be centered on it. On the far side of the cavern wall, on a throne carved from quartz, sat a 204-foot high statue of Lolth. In her hands, on either side of the throne were what could only be described as brightly glowing, ornately carved staffs made from very rare water opals. Kat knew this was where the light in the cavern shown from and she also knew how and why.

The Staffs were the key point to every day life for the Drow. In an odd sense, they were actually clocks. Very early every day, a high priestess would present herself on the platform at the base of the staffs and pray. Then, as all Drow are prone to do, she would cast the ritualistic spell needed to begin the fairy light that would slowly dance up the length of both staffs then back down to the base. The entire process was created to imitate the surface dweller's moonrise and moon set.

From what she had heard, only the best was put into the making of the idol. The "skin" was carved from one giant piece of onyx they had found buried in the stone when that part of the cavern had been excavated. In an unusual display of modesty, the Drow gave Lolth "clothes" carved from fire opals and onyx in such a way as to make the deity appear as though she had spider webs over her breasts. Judging from the skimpiness of the rest of the "clothes", Kat figured the Drow really didn't have their hearts into the making and probably had preferred the lack there of.

To add to the glory of Lolth, the largest precious stones were sought out to provide jewelry for the Drow goddess' image. Black opals and Topazes the size of basketballs adorned the deity's fingers and someone *must* have traded with the sea elves to gain the giant black pearls adorning her hair. Just the thought of how much that statue cost made Kat's head swim.

If it hadn't been for Ry, Kat would have never known that within the bowels of the idol was the high Drowess training center. Only women were permitted past the doors hidden at the base of the throne and not many told of the goings on within. It was commonly known, however, that the idol housed the schools of combat, magic and religion, though the processes for teaching such arts were kept secret.

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Subj: Idol to a Goddess (3) Date: 7/31/97 6:25:28 AM From: KatrylleM

Her view of Nizralteth and the idol was obscured as the Drow carried her into another short tunnel that eventually emptied out to the floor of the cavern. A stone road lead to the city gates. As they approached, she looked up to the outer walls of the city, she was surprised at how few guards there were. 'Course, being this far underground didn't leave a whole lot to worry about as far as attacks were concerned.

For lack of a better word, the three Doom Bringers were paraded through the winding streets of Nizralteth, though no one paid enough attention to cheer. On closer inspection, the majority of the buildings were fairly nondescript. They were made of common brick and some merely had opened arches for doors and windows.

She was surprised at the clarity her mind was working. The Drow were a matriarch society and the house they were to be taken to was the third most important in the city; House Zicrenindeath. The head of the house was a woman by the name of Sabrae and she had three particularly nasty daughters by the names of Nulliira, Umrae and Viconia.

Kat knew that, while these women were extremely dangerous, the weapons master was the one who would give her the most trouble. Ulrithen had a deep seeded hatred for Ry, though Ry had never explained why. She expected that things would be particularly bad for her if Ulrithen were to discover she and Ry were married. Especially if he were to follow Drow tradition by destroying every member of a house or family. Of course, that information might be in Drow hands at this very moment.

Kat barely got a glimpse of the front of the house before she was carried down a dim alleyway, it was bigger than the others with some form of gothic design adorning the face. She knew, again from Ry's stories, that the carvings and statues were mostly of spiders and things having to do with Lolth. To accentuate the design, fairy fire danced constantly over them. In a way, Kat was sorry she missed the show. It would have been a lovely view, despite the seriousness of the situation she currently found herself in.

Sal, Melicore, Travers and Kat were carried through the back of the large house and immediately down a set of stairs. Once again, they were plunged into complete darkness so Kat could not see where they were being taken. She could guess, however. Drow dungeons were *not* the most hospitable places in the lands. It now seems she would find this out first hand.

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Subj: Idol to a Goddess (4) Date: 7/31/97 6:25:57 AM From: KatrylleM

The Drow had stopped. Suddenly, tortured screaming of metal on stone rang through the dungeon as four doors were opened. Kat was unceremoniously dropped on the floor and roughly untied. Once the ropes were free of her body, she tried to roll away from her captors. In the darkness, she could only hope that she was not going in the wrong direction. Those hopes were smashed when she connected with the full force of a boot against her ribs. The gag still in her mouth stifled the scream but did nothing to prevent the air in her lungs from rushing out. She couldn't breathe. She curled herself tightly in a ball as the unseen boot slammed into her body three more times. Her lungs burned and the tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks. She knew she was going to die here.

Two sets of hands grabbed her arms, jerking her roughly to her feet, but the limbs betrayed her. Several days in the rough hemp rope had cut off most of the blood supply to her feet and Kat pitched forward. The hands released her, allowing her to fall face first into the stone floor. What little breath she had regained was knocked from her as a result of the free fall. Still, she tried to get to her hands and knees only to be grabbed once again. Her arms were yanked cruelly backwards and she doubled her efforts to stand so they wouldn't be pulled from her shoulders.

Kat was literally dragged a few steps before being thrown. Again she landed hard. The only difference this time was she hit a wall before connecting with the floor. The sudden stop against the wall was enough to make her fall into the deep pit of unconsciousness for at least the second time this day alone.

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Subj: Down the Tubes Date: 8/4/97 6:16:30 PM From: The Karne

I shouted out as tumbled over the edge. My whole hand scrabbled over the base of his tongue, looking for a handhold. The taste buds were nearly large enough, but they were far too slick. So down I went, sliding down the long slope of the pharynx and down his throat.

Immediately, the esophagus muscles started to flex against my form. I wasn't allowed to freefall, it doesn't work like that. Gravity couldn't be trusted to handle my seven hundred pound bulk. My hands stabbed outwards, scrabbling along the walls of the slick tube as I was pushed. The mucus lining his throat made it like trying to squeeze bacon grease. It just didn't happen. I couldn't breath, I realized. As I moved past the lip of the epiglottis and the tops of the lungs the air vanished. I took in my last deep breath as I passed the air-tube and let myself drop. I knew where my last chance would be.

Suddenly, the tube ended below me, and the muscular action stopped as well. All that I had beneath my feet as the muscular sphincter opening to the stomach. The muscle opened and dropped me in. Almost. At its edge, my fingers wrapped around the muscle's flaps that made up the valve. A foot below my dangling feet, hydrochloric acid roiled as the stomach responded to the stimulation of swallowing and my presence. Acid sprayed over my legs, hips, and feet. I screamed as it started to burn through insulated suit and to my skin. I pulled my legs up... the motion made the sphincter try to close, but my weight held down the flap. As it started to flex, the muscle started to tear from the pressure, dropping me an inch closer to the greenish and evil fluid below me.

I couldn't let go of the flap with my right hand. My whole hand. I needed the grip. So I eased my left off it... crossing it over my chest to the grip of my grappling hook launcher. I snarled as I realized my hand wouldn't close. I was going to die, very slowly, because I couldn't... Damnit! I looked down my hand in the practically non-existent light. Move, damn you! I could feel the broken bones in the fingers grind together as the digits shifted. Suddenly, I managed past the barrier. Something cracked back into place, bringing a fresh gout of blood from it. My fingers clenched hard around the grappler.

I shouted into the quivering cavern as I pointed the launcher up, through the sphincter, and skywards. And pulled the trigger. There was a sharp crack as the launcher discharged, and a half-foot long barbed steel projectile spiraled down the tube. I heard a fragile thok! as it buried itself behind the uvula. I depressed the reel button and the motor mounted on the spool of line on my back hummed.

I felt my weak hand failing, and quickly wrapped the other around it as I was yanked skywards at a very impressive rate. I ran into the end of the line behind the massive punching bag of the uvula. Blood was raining down around me from the massive wound I'd inflicted in Sooner's hard palate. I pushed the heavy flesh sack of the uvula aside. On the other side of it, light flooded the mouth suddenly, as Sooner's mouth opened to allow a probing finger to enter. I moved back towards me, and, as I was watching it, I saw its probable target. Jammed deep between two molars was my thermal blade.

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Subj: Happiness is a Hot Knife Date: 8/4/97 7:01:23 PM From: The Karne

I stretched myself forward, against the repulsive fleshy bulb of the uvula. My fingers fell a few inches short of the hilt of my dagger. So I leapt forward, wrapping my arms and legs around the bulb, and reaching again. My fingers wrapped around the blade as the finger reached me. I switched the blade on, yanking hard. It passed through the tooth's enamel like it was butter, and continued its swing into Sooner's finger pad, splitting it down the middle and gouging the bone. His finger yanked out and away reflexively. I took the opportunity, swinging off the bulb and leaping onto the shelf of his tongue.

It suddenly smashed me upwards, into his palate, making my vision swim. And then it did it again. And again. The knife tumbled from my hands as I limply rolled off his tongue, trying to find someplace safe to get a moment to regroup. I landed on his teeth, rolling a foot further, to fall off the teeth just as they gnashed closed. I spun as I hit his cheek, spying my knife lying between his tongue and tooth. I leapt through the gap in his open teeth, to snatch up the knife, somersaulting under the arch of the tongue. I slashed upwards as I moved, severing off the last foot of the tongue's length. Blood showered over me as those two massive blood vessels there were cut open.

I turned in the center of his mouth, as the tongue reared back like a cobra. I panted, snarling. I heard myself scream, "Come on! Taste my steel!"

After a moment, it suddenly moved towards me. I had read the movement in its tensing, though. I went up and over as it stabbed at me, hacking my knife deep into the center of his tongue, tearing it open down the center. Sooner was finally in pain. He opened his mouth to scream... and I was there.

Sprinting for and diving headlong out his open mouth. And, despite the sudden relief of clean, clear air and light, I managed to twist and snatch at the collar of Sooner's sweater. He craned his neck to peer down at me, as his mouth drooled blood across my head and shoulders. From below, I could sense his hands coming up to grasp me. He wouldn't make the same mistake again.

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Subj: Frog in Cement Date: 8/4/97 9:37:47 PM From: SallyPayne

Her moments of lucidity since she had been drugged in the Bar'n'Grill, at least what appeared to be the Bar'n'Grill, were few and far between. No sooner did she begin to surface from the forced blackness when she would be thrown back into it. This was perhaps for the best with the circumstance that herself, Travers, Kat, and Melicore now were in. As yet though, she didn't realize that she wasn't the only one in this personal hell.

Slowly the pitch black of unconsciousness gave way to the dark grays of rising through the drug-induced stupor she had been in. First, aware of the complete squadron of mech's that stomped through her head. Second, aware of the cold, damp stone upon which she lay. Third, aware of the retching dryness in her mouth and throat. She thought with bitter humor, Yup, I'm a drug addict. Gimme more. At some point she wasn't sure if she had spoken that aloud or if it was just in her head.

The dark grays gave way to an almost brilliant flash of white when she opened her eyes. Smmmmaaaarrrrrtttttttt mmmoooooovvvvvvveeeeee! Now this sucked. The image in her mind seemed also affected by what ever had been used on her. Though in odd affect. The image moved at high speed, though with none of the trails that would often be associated with such. The clarity sharp, perhaps overly so. Yet the speech hung like an old phonograph played on slow speed. Great contradiction if there ever was one.

She closed her eyes again. Bringing her hand up to a point just behind her left ear. A sharp pain there seemed to radiate outward. Not making her mood much improved. Slowly she chanced opening her eyes. There was little around her that was visible to dark blue eyes. She rolled to her side, her arm coming up against the rough stone wall next to which she seemed to have been dropped.

At least it felt as though she had been dropped. Her back and tail bone felt as though they had been beat with a wooden beam. And the ribs that had been broken a couple years back when she had been taken by the hunter, or actually broken in the fall from the mech, ached with each forced intake of breath.

She was aware again of the cold stone against bare legs. Felt it through the tank top she wore, stolen from Eli at some point. Yet where it fit him skin tight, on her it came neatly down to her thighs. Felt the dampness on her fingertips as she pushed herself up to a sitting position. She pressed one hand against her side, trying to force away the dull ache there.

The image within her mind chanced another appearance, but when she threw an inward glare it vanished. She wasn't sure the situation she was in, and didn't need the crap the miniature of herself would most likely throw at her. She also hoped the second miniature, the prima dona remains equally as absent.

She sat there, trying to place where she was. Rubbing one wrist as she realized it was raw, as were her ankles. And there was a dull ache there as if she had been carried by them with nothing for support. Abrasions could be felt beneath her fingers. The type of abrasions one got from thick hemp rope. But she couldn't dwell on them. It was the questions that danced to they're own music in her mind that drew her concentration.

Using her hands she pushed herself up along the wall, leaning against it until her she was sure her legs weren't going to play traitor and throw themselves out from under her. She listened, her head cocked to the side. She heard rats, at least she hoped it was rats. Not that she was partial ta rodents of any kind. Well, she did tolerate Patch, but that was different. How? She didn't know, it just was. Aside from that sound, and someone groaning there was little other noise.

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Subj: Frog in Cement (2) Date: 8/4/97 9:38:54 PM From: SallyPayne

Keeping her hand flush against the wall she paced off, what she was sure now, was a cell. Starting at one corner. One wall was barely nine heel to toe steps. The next wall about half a pace longer. Three paces into the third wall her hand met metal. The doorway. And beyond it another three paces. The fourth wall the same as the first.

Okay, so now she knew the area in which she could pace without running face first into the opposite wall. So much for running a relay, or doing some heavy-duty calisthenics. As sound drew her attention, retracing her steps back to the cell door. She pressed her ear against the cold metal. A frown deep at her brow as she listened. And as though a reward for her patience the sound came again. Muffled because of the stone and metal, but something about it was familiar. Travers? What in hell was he doing here? Was it him actually or just another twisted holo scene, playing through from some deviates pleasure.

Then she recalled the face in the thick plate glass at the Bar'n'Grill. Familiar, yet from where dances again just beyond her. For that she cursed herself, because only a few hours before she had known the man as well as she knew herself. That thought brought another on its heels. How long had it actually been. Was it only a nights passing? Or was it several days? As though peeking around a corner the image of herself appeared. Counting off on her fingers. A low growl in her throat sent the image back into cover, obviously realizing that now was not the time to torment its creator.

Once dispelling the imp in her mind she leaned again toward the metal door. No better time then the presence. Was it live or was it... Metamucil? Damned if she could remember that clip. And damn those tech's that seemed ta get such a charge out of 20th century garbage that was called prime time entertainment.

Her voice cracked when she first called to Travers. Sounding more like a frog trapped in a cement block. She cleared her throat and tried again. This time her voice rising above the croak. "Travers..." It sounded instead a harsh grumble. Angry. Yet directed ta who?

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Subj: Sudden Immolation Date: 8/7/97 11:09:42 PM From: The Karne

As his hand reared up behind me to crush me like an eggshell, I realized I didn't have a choice.

A lot of humans know when it's too late. But most of the time they just can't make themselves let go. I never had this trouble. I kicked off from his clavicle and leapt headlong at the drawstrings that kept his sweater closed just as his fingers clenched shut around where I used to be. Was it my imagination, or was he slowing down?

I wrapped my weak hand around a drawstring, swinging past violently. His other hand was swatting at me but I was already arcing through the air to clutch at the loose fabric under Sooner's left arm. Down again, allowing myself to slide down his side and grasp the shelf of his belt. I drew my knife along the leather, parting it. I was dropping again, sliding as his belt slithered its way out of the loops in Sooner's jeans.

I hit the ground hard, gasping as my strained knee took my weight. I stumbled away from Sooner's massive feet, letting my gait stretch into a full-out sprint as I realized the disks didn't exist anymore. We were deep within one of the storage rooms under the base. Mostly fuel drums, I noticed.

I didn't even think about the implications as I flipped my white-hot knife towards the pile of drums as I passed. Behind me, I could feel the ground-moving steps of the giant I'd rendered mute coming towards me. And passing the barrels as they ignited. Several of the metallic fifty-five gallon drums blasted skywards, crashing hard into the support struts ranging back and forth across the length of the ceiling. Most of them simply vanished into searing clouds of liquid fire, though. On Sooner, everything from the thigh down was suddenly immolated. He screamed, falling to land amidst some large wooden crates.

He never saw the dark brand on their side... "Autocannon ammunition. Flammable." I could hear his hands beating at the flames eating at his flesh but it wouldn't make a difference.

I was fast approaching the end of the supply room. At its end was one of the many automated elevators throughout the base. It opened as it sensed my proximity. I ran into the open elevator. My thighs bunched as I crouched, and suddenly leapt... punching through the access hatch in the elevator's roof as the ammunition went volatile. The elevator's chamber below me was instantly filled with brimstone and naphtha. I jumped up and grabbed onto the cable as the elevator fell apart from the pressure, collapsing down into the shaft.

I felt a laugh bubble up my throat as I climbed up the cable away from the oppressive heat below. Sooner was dead. Now I'd find the bastard who brought him back and set me Adrift in the first place.

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Subj: Hopeful Calvary Date: 8/11/97 4:14:05 AM From: Ryax

(( continued from 'Return' ))

With a deep breath Ryax moved into the bridge, stopping to stand by the captains chair. Lantis, second in command, walked up to him quickly.

"Sir, the away-team is waiting in the shuttle bay and Mishrean has come up with a way, he thinks, that may be able to over ride the holodeck sequences." Ry could tell Lantis wasn't happy about the holodeck sequences. Mishrean couldn't come up with anything definite, not knowing exactly what to expect from the Drow, and that fact bothered Lantis. Being a supreme perfectionist, Lantis hated not knowing all the facts and variables in any given situation. Ryax could also tell part of the frustration in Lantis's voice was due to the fact that he wasn't going along with the away-team. He didn't dispute Ry's reasoning in not taking him along. Ry had perfect reason, not that he would dispute even if Ry's reasons made no sense. He just felt that he should be by the captain’s side on this mission.

"Good, good, lets 'ope it works..." Ry stopped short, almost smiling at the expression on Lantis's face as he spoke with an accent. Ry's mode of speech had returned when Mognieo purged his memories of the demon realm. "...jus' so's y'know..." he continued "...I've made changes in th'away-team. I've already talked t'Kala 'bout it." Ry turned, walking toward the turbo lift, Lantis quickly falling into step behind him. "Fergison an' Jarinis're stayin' on board. I'm takin' Darbis and Ticala." Lantis nodded, stepping into the lift, the frustration at the unexpected changes evident in his face. It wasn't so much the new info as it was the fact that Ry had went through Kala with the changes. She was tactical officer after all and handling away-teams were part of her job, but it was no secret that Lantis didn't take "kindly", for lack of a subtler word, to Klingons. If it wasn't for Ry, Lantis's head would have decorated Kala's batlef long ago.

They both stepped out of the lift and walked across the bay towards the transport and the away-team. Ryax looked over them all. Darbis, Limnear, Ticala, and Lae.

"Okay, le's file in an' get movin'."

"Captain, I ask you again... take me along with you." Ryax didn't have to turn around to know who it was coming up behind him, but he did, just for kicks, shift his gaze over to Lantis, who was standing beside him, just to see the annoyance cross his face. Unable to suppress the grin pulling at his lips, Ryax turned to face Kala. She walked up to him, meeting his grin with one of her own. "There will be enough enemies to go around and honor to be won." the tall woman stopped, sneering a bit at Lantis, everyone present, including Lantis, knowing full well it was done just to get on his nerves. Kala's grin returned as she looked back to Ryax. "To day, is a good day to die."

"I don't know 'bout ye Kala but I plan on livin', thank ye very much. Besides, we wont see battle for at least a week or so. Nizralteth is deep underground and it'll take us a while t'get there. *And* th'last thin' we need is yer heavy boots signaling our approach days before we even near th'city. Now if ye'll excuse us Kala we 'ave t'get movin' " Ry patted Kala on the shoulder, looking between her and Lantis, his look telling them both, without words, not to kill each other. And with one last run through of the plans Ry, and his team boarded the transport ship and sped off. Off toward a certain chain of mountains, just north of the famous Red Dragon Inn, where hidden within the links, Ry knew there was a cavern that would take them into the depth of the underdark.

Seconds after Ry's departure, Lantis hit his comm.

Sir?

"Move the Vextis into position over the DoomLands. Mishrean, have the holo program ready and have your team ready for anything we may find. I don't care if the Drow are using technology, magic, or fuzzy dice I want us prepared!"

Yes Sir!

Yes Sir

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Subj: Turn About is Fair Play 15 Date: 8/11/97 5:34:20 AM From: Ben Stinel

The first explosion covered them with debris and dust. The second set the horses rearing and Sachy clawing at Bolt's hide. Jacob swung down from the saddle and grabbed Bolt's bridle. The horse reared again and he dangled there until the bay settled down. Sachy had mercifully taken the saddle when Jacob had jumped down and the cat's claws were firmly imbedded in the leather.

"WHO COMES?"

The voice boomed across the mountainside and was punctuated by more showers of earth and stone. Bolt rose on his hind legs again, nearly pulling Jacob's arms out of the sockets. He looked around frantically for the source of the voice but there was no one around but the three of them and the cat.

"Are you the wizard?" he called tentatively.

"DO I LOOK LIKE A WIZARD? DO I LOOK LIKE A WHITE HAIRED OLD MAN IN A ROBE AND A POINTED HAT?" Suddenly a man stood above them on the rocky slope. His hair was jet black and he wore a fine cloak on his shoulders. His nose was hooked slightly, giving him an almost hawk like appearance.

Jacob was startled, "No, you certainly don't."

"I am a sorcerer." The man announced it in a somewhat normal voice as if the distinction was important.

Susan leapt down from her horse and took five steps towards the sorcerer before she stopped, "Please, sir… are you the sorcerer who promised to help me rescue my father?"

"I PROMISED NOTHING!" the man boomed, "But I am the one you speak of."

Susan flinched as if she'd been struck.

Jacob moved to her side and put a hand on her shoulder while James spoke up, "What is your name, good Sorcerer?"

The Sorcerer considered James for a moment before answering, "There are some who call me… Tim?" He said it and then watched them almost as if he were surprised they took it for truth.

"Well, Tim," James said, "Will you go with us to Kandori or not?"

"I will go with you to Kandori," Tim announced, "But it is late and you are hungry."

Behind Tim a fire materialized and on it was a large black pot. The smell of hot stew reached their nostrils at the same moment and all three blinked. Sachy jumped right down from Bolt's saddle and started into a saucer of cream that had appeared with the camp sight.

"Come! There is much to talk about before sleep," Tim said, "come."

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Subj: Moonshine and Frog Women Date: 8/11/97 8:11:31 AM From: LinTravers

He hurt. Oh God how he hurt. He moaned softly as he began the long climb back from the alcohol-induced fog.

Slowly, as he neared the top to that hell known as consciousness, he began remembering the nightmares. The woman screaming in Spanish, the duel, even the long horse ride. No. Not dreams. He remembered now. They were holograms. Holograms he had been flung into by Ryan and Patch. He'd make them pay. Oh, how he'd make them pay. But still, there was something else.

The slow shifting of his body brought on fresh peals of intense agony, nearly causing him to fall back into the sweet Abyss of unconsciousness. It would have been nice not to feel the pain any longer. Still, he fought hard to hold what little ground he had made.

Eventually, the pain lessened enough for him to try and sort this mess out again. Horse. Yeah. Vaguely, he remembered many camps, always with the same people attending. For some reason, he couldn't move. He knew the guards could not be considered friendly. They seemed to enjoy playing the bullies, beating and kicking them at every opportunity. Still, it was all too fuzzy for him to pull completely to the surface of his memory. So he tried to concentrate on something else.

Where he was seemed like a good start. Apart from the pain in his right arm and leg and the strong remnants of a hangover, he felt cold. Alright. Cold wasn't too bad, so he searched a little further. Cold equals stone. OK! He was getting somewhere here. He was lying on a stone floor. A cold stone floor. He frowned, trying to ignore the sharp pain it caused to his entire face. Now what in the hell was he doing on a stone floor when he was obviously in serious need of medical attention?

He steeled his courage, thinking now could quite possibly be a good time to open his eyes. He wasn't sure he really wanted to see what trouble he was in, but he figured if he didn't see it, he couldn't figure out a way to get out of it. He gritted his teeth and very slowly opened his eyes.

Blackness. Deep, onyx colored blackness. Oh God. He was blind!! On top of everything else, that bloody Trademark Bootleg Whiskey Ryan and Patch had damn near shoved down his throat had made him blind!!!

He had difficulty disregarding the pain in his ribs as he took a breath. A DEEP breath. An EXTREMELY deep breath. Using the agony in his body, he forced the air from his lungs in one long, LOUD scream. By God, he was going to get SOMEONE's attention.

When the air in his lungs had been expended, he took another deep breath. This time, however, the scream was laced with all forms of profanity, most of which were directed at Patch, Ryan and every maternal relative they had throughout history.

In the middle of his third breath he stopped cold. He thought he had heard his name. Course, it could have been the croaking of a frog too, but it wasn't too often he had heard frogs calling his name. Still holding his breath, he listened intently for the frog to repeat itself.

Yes. There it was again. This time, the frog sounded familiar though. Definitely female in a gravelly sort of way, but he faintly recognized the croaking. Using the breath he had been holding he called out to it. No. Her. "Hello?"

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Subj: Turn About is Fair Play 17 Date: 8/11/97 8:26:23 AM From: Ben Stinel

When he came to someone pulled the gag out of his mouth, "Well, Belferd. I've got you now." Sirus! "What have you got to say for yourself, you conniving little villain?"

"Sirus… I can explain. I spent some of the gold we took but I can get it back-"

"I care nothing for gold, Belferd! Keep it! You can consider it a dowry."

Jacob's mouth fell open. He was dumbfounded. "A dowry? Are you insane?"

Sirus's punch hit him in the gut and knocked him right out of the muscle's grip. He writhed on the ground gasping for air until Sirus lifted him up by his coat and held him up, feet dangling six inches above the ground. "YOU DARE CLAIM IGNORANCE?!?! My sister told me how you took her honor! Now you're going to go back and do your duty! I won't have my niece or nephew grow up fatherless!"

Jacob coughed, "*I* took her honor?" he said weakly.

Sirus dropped him to the ground in disgust. He stepped over to where Susan lay on the ground, unconscious. Sirus knelt next to her and Jacob looked carefully to see that she was still breathing.

"Another of your women, Jacob?"

Jacob blinked. Sirus had never used his first name before. Even when he had been a guest in the other man's manor it had been Belferd, not Jacob. Sirus pushed a strand of hair away from Susan's face to examine the dark bruise that was forming where she had been hit by his man.

"A pity," Sirus said, "It will be a public execution for this one." Sirus turned his cold stare on Jacob to see what reaction there was, "Let it be known what happens to women who commit adultery."

Jacob growled and pushed himself to his feet, still clutching his stomach, "Sirus, you *are* insane. I never touched your sister."

Sirus was up in a shot and he pushed Jacob to his knees. When he spoke he leaned close to Jacob's face and whispered, "And now you call her a liar. You don't deserve her. If I had my way I'd kill you where you stand."

"Why don't you?" Jacob spat.

"I think I will," Sirus growled.

Jacob heard the sound of a knife being drawn and he felt the bite of the blade being pressed against his neck.

The light glowing in Sirus's eyes blinded him to the fact that eight dark shapes had moved in among his men, but Jacob saw as Sirus's thugs fell silently to the ground. The eight dark men moved slowly towards Sirus and Jacob. A sudden flash of light made them cover their eyes but they kept moving. An explosion ripped apart the ground right in their midst. They squeezed their eyes shut tight against the light but nothing more than that. The shards of rock that were scattered everywhere didn't rend flesh as they should.

"Jacob!" Tim called, "My magic has little effect on them!" The sorcerer sounded frustrated. He couldn't be used to such things.

Sirus had forgotten all about Jacob now. He held his knife in one hand and his sword was out in the other in a flash. He moved in among the eight dark skinned men, wielding both blades with such skill that all eight should have died before they knew what had happened. The blades never touched their marks. One of the men touched Sirus on the shoulder and the man simply vanished. Sirus Keanin was no more.

"Jacob!" James called out. He looked up at his friend to see his sword belt floating through the air towards him. He caught it but it wasn't the sword he took from its place. The light saber was out and glowing in his hands and he was in among the dark skinned shapes in half a second. *His* blade cleaved flesh where stone and sword had failed. Five dark skinned shapes were bleeding on the ground before the others fled.

Far above the Vextis began its holo disruption program. The images didn't change but suddenly the boundaries of the walls in the base were stationary. People could touch the walls now even if they couldn't see them.

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Date: 8/11/97 8:27:04 AM From: Ben Stinel

Jacob backed slowly away from the battle, looking for a living form among the dead. His back struck something solid. He turned and swung the saber through empty air. Empty air but a long glowing gash stayed where the saber passed.

Tim and James rushed down the slope. Tim stopped by Susan and held something under her nose till she stirred awake. James went in among the dead.

"It's more of those pointy eared fellows. Like the one you killed before, Jacob."

"Pointy ears?" Tim said. Once Susan was sitting up he went over to examine one of the dead. "Dark Elves! I don't believe it. We killed them all in the Dwarven Wars!"

James frowned, "The Dwarven wars were three hundred years ago."

"Being a sorcerer has its benefits. I was born long before the Dwarven wars even began." Tim said, turning to Jacob, "I've seen quite a few things in my life, young Jacob, but this I've never seen. A powerful weapon indeed to tear a hole in the fabric of reality."

Jacob let the saber switch off and knelt beside Susan, "Three of them got away."

"You must go after them. Their kind is more dangerous then you know. They can not be allowed to live. My magic had no effect on them but you have killed six already with your weapon. It must be you."

"Susan…"

"Go, Bladesman! I will care for her until you return. They went that direction."

James nodded to him to go and he went. He moved in the direction Tim pointed and a split appeared in midair. It widened into a sort of doorway and Jacob stepped through…

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Subj: Listen ta Facts Date: 8/11/97 7:43:07 PM From: SallyPayne

She continued to listen. Her ear pressed against the cold metal door. She was beginning to question herself as ta what she had heard as opposed ta what she thought she heard. Wishful thinkin? Could be. If that were the case it sure da hell wouldn't be Travers dat came ta mind. Then the sound came again. Cept different. Majorly different. Causing her ta cringe, and try ta hear around it ta make sure that what ever had put dem here hadn't heard his scream.

There was a moment of relative silence. A very brief moment. And in that small passing of time she heard nuttin. Nuttin but the dripping of water. Again she pressed her ear ta the cold metal. Her voice hissing as he again screamed. This time punctuating it with as many words of insult and intent toward Patch and Ryan as could possibly come ta anyone's mind. Why da hell was he so ticked off at da quack and da rodent?

Again there was silence. But she expected it ta be broken at any second if she didn't manage ta get his attention. Her voice still not up ta par as she spoke his name again, including several croaked expletives. Yes!! It seemed as though she had his attention.

Then he called back. His voice only slightly lower then what it had been. "Hello?" Finally. "Travers... if dats you ya better shut yer friggin trap and listen ta me. And listen ta me good." What had been vaguely familiar now became very very clear. If dat weren't Payne it was a very good mock up.

He attempted ta move. But the pain that screamed through him said no way José ta that plan of action. Again a few choice words escaped him. All she could do was swallow what little moisture she had in her mouth. Tryin ta gain a bit more normality ta her voice. "Travers.... are ya listenin." He mutter that he was. Addin that when he got outta here he was gonna do some serious bodily harm ta a certain medic and rat.

She frowned, her hand ballin inta a fist. "An' jus' what makes ya tink dat dey ain't on der way here. Or trapped in what ever da hell it was dat we were in. Just so's ya know... dat weren't no freakin fun show dat I went through." Her words caused him ta stop. What the hell did she mean. Before she could continue he told her what Patch and Ryan had done ta him. Briefly she explained ta him what had happened ta her. Avoiding goin inta detail. What greeted her when she finished was silence. Her voice low as she called ta him. Then again.

Damn, what if he were out cold again. Then she heard something. "Travers?"

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Subj: Mamma Bears Lesson For The Day Date: 8/14/97 9:47:10 AM From: Ryax

Ulrithen walked into the large room, anger evident in his every motion. His eyes glanced over the three drowesses standing on either side the matron mother. Sabrae, looked on from her throne at the approach of the weapons master, a smile curling her wrinkled lips. She raised a hand, ordering him to stop without words, and leaned back. The low growl that passed Ulrithen's lips was unmistakable. He had a personal interest in one of the prisoners that were recently brought in. Sabrae, knew this.

"" she turned a dry gaze toward him, smirking callously "" The low growl came again. He hated being toyed with.

"" The words barely passed Ulrithen's clenched teeth as he spoke them. Normally any Drow male who spoke with such disrespect to the matron mother would have been killed on the spot. But being weapons master had its privileges. Not to mention being the best weapons master in all the Drow houses in Nizralteth.

"" The words floated from Sabrea's lips, carrying a casual yet condescending tone which she knew would only serve to fuel the flames raging within the weapons master. "" her gaze shifted to her fingers, idly examining a jeweled ring. "<...if you doubt your.. skill as a teacher well then...>" She let the words hang, turning a bored look back to Ulrithen. Again, came the growl. Ulrithen stood silent for a moment, breathing deeply, and pushing at the anger that threatened to invade his voice.

"" Again, the words struggled to get passed clenched teeth. ""

"" She leaned forward in an obvious feint of anger.

"" The smile that passed his lips was genuine.

"" Sabrea's smiled matched Ulrithen's. "" Her smile widened even as his faded. "" She waved him off without another word and sunk back into her throne. Seething, Ulrithen stormed out, headed towards the dungeon, and towards a certain prisoner. ________________________________________

Subj: The Lesson Date: 8/14/97 9:49:57 AM From: Ryax

Viconia, one of the drowesses, who had been watching the exchange by her mother’s side turned to her, a slight look of confusion on her face.

"" Viconia's question brought a smirk to Sabrea's lips, but before she could answer, Nulliira, cut in.

""

"" Sabrae smiled to Viconia "<...a little praise is good. You certainly don't want anyone feeling that you think them totally useless. Mainly, the point is to always let them know you are in control.>"

"" Nulliira added quickly, bringing a chuckle from her mother.

"" Sabrae chuckled again, shifting her weight to relax in her throne. The women were silent for a while, each one lost in her own thoughts till Viconia stepped in front of the jewel decorated throne.

"" She turned and, without another word, left the room. Sabrae frowned slightly at her departure.

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Subj: First Contact Date: 8/14/97 9:54:04 AM From: LinTravers

What Sal said made sense. He had known Ryan and Patch were practical jokers, but, as far as he had heard, no joke had ever gone to the point of serious injury. Even if it had, Ryan would never have left him with broken limbs.

Still, he couldn't figure out why a bunch of Drow would want to kidnap Doom Bringers. Lost in thought, he hadn't realized he had slipped into silence until he heard Sal call out his name once again. He was about to answer when he heard something else. Footsteps, and it didn't bode well.

He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden pounding on what he assumed was Sal's cell door. The male voice that followed was obviously in a fury, though the language was lost to Travers. Soon, the grating of metal on stone as his own cell door was opened shot pain through his ears and into his teeth. Suddenly, real pain coursed through his body as he was yanked to his feet by his shirtfront to be faced with the fetid breath of his aggressor.

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Subj: Rage Date: 8/14/97 9:56:55 AM From: Ryax

(( By the way, in case you all were wondering... everything said with these '< >' means it's being said in Drow. ))

Ulrithen walked into the dungeon room in time to hear the screaming. One of the prisoners had awaken. He then heard another voice which silenced the first. They exchanged a few words but their conversation would come to an abrupt end.

"" He pounded a fist against Sal's cell door with enough force, that a Drow shouldn't have had, to leave a dent that would have been visible on her side if, of course, she had had enough light to see. The noise echoed across the narrow hall as he pulled the door to Travers's cell open. He stepped into the cell and snatched Travers up by his shirt.

"" He stopped short remembering the surface dweller would most likely not understand the Drow language. "If I hear one more sound coming from this cell, other than your pathetic groans, I will silence you permanently." He punctuated his words by easily tossing Travers across the cell, and into the far wall. "" He turned, leaving Travers in his pain, closed the cell door, and moved on to his next victim. When he entered Kat's cell she was either asleep or unconscious. Either way her eye flicked open as the boot connected with her gut. She didn't have time to even wonder where the pain came from before she was hit again, and again, and again. Luckily, for her, Ulrithen was able to keep his strength in check through his anger filled tantrum or Kat would have been dead from the first blow. He grabbed her by her shirt and held her at eye level to him. Pure hatred burning in his voice. "Umrean will pay by watching you die. Then I shall kill him myself!" He flung her like a rage doll through the open door of her cell. She flew into the narrow hallway and slammed into the wall, instantly being knocked unconscious. She was out before her body even hit the ground. Ulrithen stepped out of the cell and slammed the door shut behind him. He reached down, grabbing Kat's shirt collar from behind, and drug her across the stone floor into a large room. Reaching down again, he wrapped his hand around her neck, and lifted her into the air. Pushing her up against the a wall he shackled one of her wrists, then the other. He let go of her neck, letting her slump down, then lifted her chin smiling to himself. He pulled her eye patch off and secured it over his own eye. He flipped the eyepatch up, glancing at his side as a shriveled form in a floating chair come up to him. The thing in the chair looked up at Kat and smiled.

"Now the fun begins."

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Subj: Just Hanging Around (1) Date: 8/14/97 10:08:55 AM From: KatrylleM

The sharp, pungent odor thrust under her nose caused her head to snap back, only to rebound as it hit hard against the stone wall behind her. Weakly, she moaned once, then seemed to fall unconscious again.

She wasn't allowed to stay there, however. Once more the odor invaded her senses, bringing with it all the intense pain in her body. Her moan, stronger this time, was accompanied by the slightly violent shaking of her head. She tried to swat away the source of the smell, but her arms refused to separate themselves from their current position high above and slightly behind her head. She moaned again.

"Welcome back... to the......living, Ms. Morgahn...or perhaps... you would prefer... Ms. Zy'Thyrn." The monotone mechanical voice punctuated by the deep rasping sounds gave her chills. The next sentence didn't help the feeling much. "In either case,... enjoy it... while you can.... You'll not be ...among us... for much longer."

Kat lifted her head slowly, painfully. Flicking her single gold-flecked green eye casually over the room, she tried to get her bearings in the dimness before settling her gaze on the.....thing....in the hover chair, seemingly protected by two Drow males on either side. Kat's eye narrowed as she recognized her own eyepatch on the taller Drow and she swore this man was gonna pay for what he had done to her in the cell.

It was obvious she had been moved from her cell. The room around her was dimly lit, presumably from Lolth's "moonrise" filtering in through the two large, arched openings set in the brick along one wall.

To say it was sparse would be an understatement. Apart from several sets of manacles on the walls, the only other fixture was a table in a shadowed corner. She could tell that several items lined the table, but the lack of brighter light had prevented her from determining what those items were. Still, she knew that table meant trouble in it's severest form.

The.....creature, for lack of a better word, could have been Drow once. Truth be told, however, there wasn't much left of him to tell what he had been before whatever horrible accident transformed him into what sat before her. Slowly, her gaze slid up his mangled body to rest on his face. The look of contempt she held for him the entire way up was suddenly replaced by indescribable terror.

The eyes. How many nights had she been pulled, screaming hysterically from nightmares because of those eyes? The first few months they had returned from Pelvar, the fear of those nightmares had kept her awake for almost a week at a time. If Ryan hadn't tranq'd her, she probably would have died from exhaustion. And now, the man... no...the *monster* she had been told died in Ryan's initial fly by bombings of Darrak's base sat before her.

"CorDynne." Was all she could manage to whisper before they were interrupted by the arrival of Sabrae and her three daughters.

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Subj: Just Hanging Around (2) Date: 8/14/97 10:09:29 AM From: KatrylleM

Despite her age, about 876 human years according to Ry, the Drow matron moved with a grace born of all Elves, Drow included. Without even so much as a nod in CorDynne's direction, she headed straight for Kat. Slowly, the house matron paced in front of her prisoner as if sizing up cattle for the slaughter. Hands on her hips, the woman stopped suddenly and stared at Kat for a long moment. Indifference tinged with the tiniest shade of disgust shone in the woman's eyes.

The Matron stood a little taller than Kat, her white hair long and thick, but lacking the luster of youth. Kat was amazed at how many wrinkles Sabrae could maintain on her face alone. If Kat had been in friendlier circumstances, she might have compared the woman's face to a prune. Still, the eyes held all the Drowess' wisdom and strength. Those eyes made one forget the frailness the rest of Sabrea's body seemed project.

"I am Sabrae Zarteth Zicrendeath, Matron to this house. My eldest daughter..." she casually waved a hand in the general direction of the other women "...is Nulliira Artamin Zicrendeath, my second is Umrea Ilteth Zicrendeath and lastly, Viconia Ilrea Zicrendeath. You, I have been told, are Joslynne ZyThyrn, woman to Umrean Hozilteth Zicrendeath, traitor to me and my house."

Kat's terror had been replaced by contempt once again at the women's arrival. So much so, in fact, she was actually able to squeeze a sarcastic chuckle past pain-inflamed ribs and throat.

"Eh...lookie wha' we've got here, fellas. Snow White an' her three dorks. I hate t'tell y'this, Snow ol' girl, but I dinnae know any Umrean Hozilteth Zicrenwhosits." She saw it coming and she cussed her quick mouth with every step the large male Drow who wore her eyepatch took towards her. But it was too late. Prone as she was, there was nothing she could do to stop the Drow from punching her full in the midsection with a gem studded gauntlet while Sabrae looked on, smirking. Now, she was sure she was going to die, and very shortly.

The punch had knocked all the breath from her body and, hanging from her wrists as she was, getting it back would *not* be an easy chore. Tears streamed down Kat's cheeks as she struggled hard against the chains on her wrists and ankles, trying to pull her body into a ball, trying to breathe. Her obvious distress had no effect on the Matron who, as her prisoner's struggles weakened, gripped Kat's chin in her fingers. Squeezing hard, forcing her victim to look at her, the Matron's cold smile penetrated Kat's soul. "Oh, but I believe you do, Joslynne. Where as he has always been Umrean to me, to the surface dwellers, he is known simply as Ryax."

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Subj: Turn About is Fair Play 19 Date: 8/15/97 9:03:52 AM From: Ben Stinel

It was pitch dark and Jacob was hungry. He had followed the three Dark Elves who had survived him through the tunnel for days without a bite to eat and it was catching up to him. Four days ago he had encountered a huge spider like creature. He had heard it in the dark before he had risked firing up the light saber. He had nearly dropped the blade when he had seen the monster. The thought of it still sent shivers up his spine. Luckily it had been more startled by the sudden light then he had been by the sight of it. The strange blade of light he wielded had saved his life. He pressed the darkened hilt to his head and breathed deeply. The water that flowed along the walls now was welcome. It filled his belly even if it didn't give him the strength that food would. He had been hungry even before the spider had attacked him, but he hadn't been able to make himself cut it open and take the meat. Now he wished he had.

He was at a crossroads in the tunnels. Not the first one either. The first had crossed his path that morning. That was when the water had started flowing along the walls too. The tunnel he had emerged from had a look like it was freshly dug. Now they were all paved with finely carved bricks. He had stopped at the first cross way and listened for his quarry for three minutes before he finally moved on a hunch down the left tunnel. Luckily he had been right. After a short run, he had heard them talking in a language he didn't recognize. The three Dark Elves moved incredibly fast and incredibly quietly. His own footsteps had echoed until he had torn apart a shirt from his nap sack and wrapped the cloth around his boots. Now he stood at what must have been the twentieth intersection and closed his eyes. He only stood there for a mater of seconds but when he opened his eyes he continued down the same tunnel he had come out of. The Elves hadn't turned here. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew. He had made the right choice at every point up till now and he wasn't going to start doubting his instincts now.

A telltale rattling sounded ahead of him. Numbly he brought the strange cylinder to bear. This wouldn't be the first of the spider like beasts to die on the blade. When the glow of the saber reached the black creature he saw that it was snuffling at some sort of satchel. He didn't hesitate. The spider's head and most of its forelegs were off as quickly as he could swing. As the spider died he picked up the bag. It had been chewing at the leather, trying to get at the contents. He undid the strap and looked inside. Bread! He pulled out four loaves and started stuffing pieces of the first one into his mouth before he had the buckle of his own bag open for the other three. The Elves must have been startled by the spider to drop food.

He walked on in darkness as he ate the loaf. By the time he had swallowed the last bit of bread and was thinking about starting in on another loaf it occurred to him that the Elves were moving a lot faster. He didn't know how he knew, he just did. He couldn't hear them but he knew the same way he knew which tunnels they had taken. It wasn't the spider. There was something else. Something in the walls…

Ahead of him a section of the tunnel wall fell inwards. Focused beams of light shined out and he could see little helmeted heads poking out. Voices were chattering in a strange language he didn't recognize. One of them stepped into the tunnel and said something back to the people inside. The little person stood about four feet tall and was skinny. When one of the lights still in the hole shined on its face Jacob saw too big eyes on a too small chinless face and he couldn't see any hair under the person's helmet. The gnome carried a hefty looking pickax on its shoulder and had a sturdy set of chisels strapped to its belt.

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Subj: Turn About is Fair Play 20 Date: 8/15/97 9:04:29 AM From: Ben Stinel

Knowing the kinds of creatures he had encountered already, Jacob wasted no time in lighting his saber and moving where the gnomish people could see him. The one already in the tunnel let out some sort of exclamation before bounding back into the dark cave they had made in the wall. Jacob moved slowly towards the opening, keeping the saber out where they were certain to see it. Their lights fell on him and he heard murmurs of surprise.

A single voice spoke out in that strange tongue. He didn't understand any of it but it sounded like a question.

"I don't understand you," he said cautiously.

"Oahh… Surface Dweller," the voice said. More talking amongst themselves and eventually he heard the scamper of one set of feet moving down the tunnel the gnomes had just dug. A moment later the footsteps returned with company. A single gnome moved forward till it was silhouetted by the lights of the helmets and stopped. The gnome looked at him for a moment in silence. The gnomes behind it fell silent as if they were all waiting for something.

"You surface dweller?" the voice asked.

"You speak my language?" Jacob said, surprised.

"Mother make me learn. Never need before. Thought she was silly. Guess I wrong."

"Who are you?" Jacob asked.

"We tunnel diggers. Who are you? How you get here?"

"I'm hunting Dark Elves. I followed three of them down here."

The gnome looked shocked, "You hunt Drow in underdark you find you the one being hunted."

"They tried to kill me." Jacob insisted.

"Better reason not to follow. Turn off light. You come with us. We help you."

Jacob nodded and his saber shut off. The gnome was nothing more then a dark shape in the lights of the lamps. It motioned to him to follow and he did. When he entered the gnomish tunnel the gnomes all started chattering in their language again. This was great sport to have a surface dweller with them Jacob guessed. He wondered where they were taking him.

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Subj: The Walls Have... Eyes? Date: 8/15/97 6:37:18 PM From: The Karne

Near the top of the elevator shaft, at what I sensed was the ground level, I swung myself in a tight arc till I could kick at the sensors that opened the doors when the elevator grew close. They opened, and then I was freed to the normal world. So to speak. I moved down the corridors of the base, passing silently by the open doors. Feeling the adrenaline and liquidhate my body generated at times like these drain away.

But it didn't take me long to find the first dead body.

It was a technician. I'd seen him around before. He, along with five other men, were strewn about just outside the Mess hall. I rolled over the corpse, he'd been gunned down by a light assault rifle. I scowled, a horrid thought occurring to me. No. Never. Of course not. I stood, stepping slower, more carefully over the corpses. Only a hundred feet on I found the door to a security station smashed open. The dent in the door looked suspiciously like the type I'd do.

There was suddenly a far off shrillness, piercing my mind...... the door's substance pinched in on itself into primitive bamboo. I snarled, kicking the door open a second time, heading into the station. Inside was a man with no face. Most of it was strewn across the consoles. I shoved him off the keyboard, and switched on the cameras.

I watched the members of the base move and run and shout. Some of them spun about, firing wildly at images that were certainly NOT supposed to be inside the base. There was a small group who'd barricaded themselves in the gym using the exercise machines and were trying to hold off an army of what looked like very, very large gerbils using weapons they'd probably looted from one of the security stations. On some of the screens, normalcy had returned, leaving the living to look about confusedly. The dead didn't look anywhere but into the face of the God that made them, of course. But they seemed to outnumber the living and that made them deserve mention.

One of the external cameras showed the most interesting views. There was a shuttle descending towards the base. They hadn't sent any identifying codes... which meant they were either hostile, or they were aware of the holo situation. Of course, if they hadn't been fired upon by the orbital guns in place, they must have SOME codes. They'd be landing soon. I flicked towards the landing pad cameras. They were lined with anti-aircraft weaponry that didn't seem to by fading like some of the other 'worlds'. I drifted over the control panels, to turn the communication panel on. I didn't have the shuttle's exact location and I certainly lacked their code. Damnit! I had to overkill it. I hit the 'All Channels' button and sent my voice out on every wavelength known to mankind, blanketing an area the size of Idaho.

"Incoming unidentified shuttle, this is the Doom Bringer base..." Damn, it had been so, so long since he'd had to use radio protocol... "Advise NOT using a landing site within line-of sight of the base..." I was flipping through the screens when I suddenly saw a very familiar scene. Drow. Many of them. They were bearing several Doom Bringers in various states of consciousness in a procession of dark skin. The corridor they traversed was utterly clear of otherworldliness for hundreds of yards in both directions. They had a direction, and they were real.

I spat out accidentally, "HELL!" I finished hurriedly, "This is Ghanste, passcode 28712. Turn away from present course!" Then I dropped the mic as they started to reply, turning to tear the galvanized steel door off the front of the weapons locker that was stored in every security station... just in case. I had some Drow to waste.

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Subj: Thinking himself a hero.... Date: 8/15/97 8:36:55 PM From: The Karne

I sprinted through the halls of the base. Silence was a thing of the past, the weapons I'd hurriedly strapped on clattered together. As I ran, I slapped a clip into two of the M-41 gauss rifles I'd liberated from the locker, yanking back the bolts with my teeth. So when I skidded around the last turn and suddenly came into view of the procession from behind. When I saw the one carrying an unconscious Kat, I was ready first.

At the range of two hundred feet, I popped off a careful three round burst at the one carrying her, all three bullets punching right through his spine only a few inches below his shoulders, well above Kat's form. Out his front to stitch an irregular triangle in the wall. He fell bonelessly, dropping my commander. The Drow weren't totally stupid. They immediately spread out of their line, the ones with prisoners dropping to the floor behind their prone forms. I swept out a burst from each of my weapons, blasting two men in half who weren't fast enough to duck behind a prisoner or a side-corridor. I slid back out of their hallway and around the corner smoothly as several minute hand bow bolts whistled past me. I knew they were poisoned.

I spun back into the corridor, sprinting towards them as they reloaded hurriedly, to duck back into a side corridor fifty feet closer. I could hear them chattering to each other in Drowish. Something about picture worlds. Reactivation.

I didn't have time for this maneuvering. I rounded the corridor again, charging. I cut loose recklessly, sending rounds ricocheting wildly around the corridor as I fired at waist height to try to keep them ducked down.

It didn't work. One evidentially prized himself as a hero. He leapt from cover to drop an ill-aimed shot on my silhouette. I holed him seventeen times before the sting of the impact registered. Stuck shallowly in my left bicep was a pencil-sized bolt. It wouldn't even be considered a flesh wound if the poison in it wasn't already taking effect. My time was running out.

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Subj: A Question of Insanity Date: 8/25/97 4:34:27 AM From: KatrylleM

She was breathing....more importantly, she was furious. Perhaps Ry had been right. Perhaps she was insane. A sane person in her current situation would have been seeped in terror or deep despair. Not Kat. She was furious.

Perhaps the "insanity" had communicated itself to Sabrae. Suddenly, the house matron released Kat's chin and took a step back, a flicker of nervousness passing through her eyes for a mere fraction of an instant. But Kat didn't notice. Still drawing deep gasps of breath into her lungs, she glared at the man who had punched her with more hatred and rage than he had ever seen before. She knew who he was from the moment she had seen him. She had heard all the stories about him and she knew why he took great pleasure in her torture.

Ulrithen. She guessed that he hadn't changed much from the time Ry had left Nizralteth. He was tall for a Drow...about 5'9 1/2 and very muscular. His hair was shorter than most, only hanging to just above shoulder length. Three scars shone brightly across his left cheek, reminders of all the hatreds between he and Ry. On each hand, a gem studded gauntlet, a different colored gem decorating each knuckle. Now, as if in anticipation of tormenting Ry, he wore Kat's eyepatch across his forehead, the patch flipped upwards so he could see through both eyes. At the moment, confusion shone in those eyes.

Her voice was hoarse as she forced the words past the wheezing in her chest, her manacled fists clenched as tightly as her jaw. "Y'll *nae* b'touchin me agin wi' tha' hand, sir. I'll see t'tha' m'self." The confusion switched to anger at her insolent words and again he drew back his fist.

It never connected. The sound of fragile bones breaking was soon drowned out by his scream of agony as his hand began to morph itself into something only vaguely recognizable. Clutching the now useless appendage to his chest, the Drow fell to his knees, words she could only guess at tumbling from his lips. The morphing moved to his wrist.

She was so intent on damaging the man who had become her personal enemy, she did not see the matron move to the shadowed table. Suddenly, white-hot light flared through her head, growing stronger with every passing millisecond, causing her own screams to mingle with his. The last thing she remembered seeing before the blackness overtook her once again was Sabrae holding what looked to be a small glass fishbowl, an odd looking fish staring intently at her from it's depths.

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Subj: Re:Turn About Date: 8/28/97 8:39:27 PM From: The Karne

There have been many more people have been anesthetized then there have been shot with knock out darts. These people will never understand the interesting swimming your vision does as you stumble a few steps from the first dart... or the pinpricks of half a dozen more smacking into you.

That didn't stop me. I stumbled towards them still, feeling the rifles buck in my hands as I blasted at them. I could feel my Drill Sergeant in the back of my head. I could hear him shouting in my ear, "There are going to be times when you will not be able to aim. When you see this happening, don't even try. Swing your barrel horizontally past the center of bulk and fire ten round bursts. Never let up." I raked the rifles back and forth with no discrimination, knowing the prisoners were on the ground and I couldn't hit them. Stumbling past the corpses of the Drow I'd cut in two. Finally, I was down to just one. One lonely little loser fumbling desperately with a small remote controller.

He looked up at me, stark fear on his face. Not that I could tell, it was swirling madly. I raised my rifle and leveled it at his chest. The muzzle wavered uncertainly but it would certainly still hit him. I snatched at the trigger.

Click. Again. Click. I yanked at the bolt, to try to clear it. Tried again. Click. Click.

I cursed aloud, dropping the rifle and reaching for him. But he'd used the half-second I'd given him wisely. He reactivated the holos. I swung about desperately, kicking into the air where he used to be, where now there was only what looked like the inside of a computer mainframe, all chips and electric pathways. The thing in front of me that looked like a lump of ultra-tech electronics shattered as I hit it. At the same exact moment, the holos (at least, the ones I could see) died away. In front of me was the Drow, curled into a fetal ball, his hands clutching at the pit of his stomach where my heavy boots had impacted. Cursing me in his eloquent language... punctuated less by exclamatory phrases and more by the near-croupy coughs he hacked out. With the coughs came more then a pint of blood and nearly as much bile.

I turned and stumbled away, the darts making things worse every moment. I glanced down and noticed there were over a dozen in me. Damn. I neared the prisoners.... Travers, Payne, Kat... can't think... I felt myself kneel next to Kat's prone form, shaking her, knowing I had to get her to leave on her own power. There was no way I could carry her to safety like this.

She mumbled something, rolling over... her visage swum suddenly. It became darker. Ears pointier. Then her empty hand became filled with one of the Drow hand bows. It twanged softly as a dart pricked me in the stomach. I looked down at it, blinking, as the psuedo-Kat smirked and deactivated the holo around her. It was still a her... but more savage... more cruel... I felt myself going.

I picked up the rifle as I my consciousness fled, and I brought it the stock down on her smiling face. I heard something crack and blood gushed around the blunt end of the stock. Then I saw only darkness.

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Subj: Back to Inquiry... again Date: 8/28/97 8:54:13 PM From: The Karne

"Course, by now," Martin said, "I'd had the time to figure out that the psuedo-Kat had had either some form of... redundant holoporjector on her... or else, the holos hadn't been dropped. Just changed to look like the corridor... either way, it served the same purpose."

The interrogator in the booth sighed. "As you've said before."

Martin looked at the glass like there was an idiot on the other side. "You want to hear this again or not?"

"I'm not sure. This is the third time and every time it's worded exactly the same way. The psyche says you've got the fabled eidetic memory. Tells me you could've made this all up... since you don't respond to polygraph and standard truth-drugs you'd be made in the shade.... if we didn't have the video camera's time-date signatures."

"Then show me this damned video." Martin demanded.

The interrogator sneered out his words. "Why should I? Think about it, Ghanste. You bought that damned distraction tactic in the lower halls. You left the areas the security cameras could cover for nearly a week after you wasted those technicians holoed-up as VC. According to you, just long enough to kill and blow up this Sooner man. When you got back you told the shuttle there were anti-aircraft emplacements on the deck. Took them nearly three hours to find out that was a lie. Damnit, Ghanste, you're a self-professed expert with these electronics. You should've known the enemy could arrange their holos over existing people. You knew, Ghanste. Damn you, you KNEW!!" The microphone squealed loudly enough to make Martin wince as its bass readout went redline. "Every step of the way you helped sow confusion. You aided, you abetted, you're in this up to your damned neck."

Quietly, Martin said, "Kat's been gone eight days?" Then he abruptly leapt to his feet, the chains, nearly indestructible, didn't give way... (they never would)... but the brackets that held them to the mere stainless steel table tore like tissue paper. A second later, the hardened descries between them was knocked off its brackets. If it had been mounted like it was on a spaceship, Martin would never have been able to get through it. But now he was perched in a predatory crouch on the sill of the view plate. Smiling humorlessly at his interrogator, murmuring, "Now I've got some questions for you."

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Subj: ??? Date: 9/6/97 11:21:21 PM From: Ryax

A groan passed his lips as Ryax's eyes slowly opened. How long had he been unconscious?? He still felt a stinging pain where the poison darts hit home. That, along with the pounding headache he had, made his awakening an unpleasant one to say the least. He shook his head to try and clear the cobwebs, but knew that was a mistake the instant he did it. Another groan escaped through his clenched teeth as he tried to bite back the pain. His head rolled back against the wall he was chained to and he balled his hands into fists. Again, a mistake. Pain shot through his sore wrists. He was chained to the wall, hands clamped high above his head, and was forced to stand on the tips of his toes to keep the shackles from digging farther into his wrists. Senses finally coming to him, his first thought was of Kat. His eyes, already shifted to infravision, looked over the cell he was in. He expected to be put in the same cell as her, Sabrae was a twisted woman, and he was right. He recognized her form sprawled on the floor in a corner. She shifted, as though waking. He wondered how long he'd been out and if she even knew he was there. Then he thought of LaeAnn, Darbis, Limnear, and Ticala. The plan had been for him, Limnear, and LaeAnn to be captured. Darbis, and Ticala were to go to a nearby snivarbly village and enlist help. They would know Ryax. He had time. Whatever Sabrae had planned would take time. She wouldn't go through all this trouble just to sacrifice him quickly.

Ry looked to the door of his cell as it opened. Ulrithen stepped through, and the sneer on his face was unmistakable. Though, what got Ry's attention, was the eyepatch he was currently wearing. He would die for that.

"" In response, Ry got a fist in his gut.

"

" He smiled wide, taunting the Drow. For that, Ry found another fist in his gut fallowed by one to his jaw.

"" Ulrithen's voice echoed throughout the dungeon. Ry took a deep breath, clenching his jaw.

"" Ryax's voice became cold as he spoke through clenched teeth. To the side he heard Kat's soft groan. She was awake, and Ulrithen smiled, turning to walk towards her.

""

"" Both Ry and Ulrithen turned at the sound of Viconia's voice as she walked into the cell. ""

"" Ryax growled "<...he's already dead.>"

"" Ulrithen stepped up in Ry's face, snarling with sincere hatred for the man, and balled his gauntlet clad fists. "<...you are more than welcomed to try.>"

"" Ryax leaned forward, matching Ulrithen's snarl with the same sincerity. "<...I'm a better man than ye'll ever be.>" The flurry of blows came with resounding speed and force. The last one aimed at Ry's jaw, snapping his head back against the wall. A wave of unconsciousness swept over him but Ry wouldn't let himself fall into the pit of blackness. He spit out the pool of blood that formed in his mouth even as streams of it flowed from his nose and lip. Viconia stepped up.

"" Her voice was cold, brief, and demanded that Ulrithen do just that.

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Subj: More ??? Date: 9/6/97 11:22:06 PM From: Ryax

"" Her voice was cold, brief, and demanded that Ulrithen do just that. She stood in front of Ry after Ulrithen left, and just looked at him. Ry quirked a brow at her, not saying anything, then glanced towards Kat kneeling in the corner. She had to be filled with confusion and curiosity as to what was going on and being said. Ry never talked to her about Zesstra so she never fully understood why Ulrithen hated him so much. He only told her that he did, and she never asked why, which was okay with Ry 'cause he didn't really like talking about past loves. Despite what Kat says, he felt she wasn't comfortable hearing about those parts of his past. His instincts were usually right, or maybe *he* was the one uneasy about it but either way, the subject had been skipped. His eyes moved back to Viconia, who was still silently standing in front of him, just looking at him with a mixture of emotions crossing her face.

"" Ry had to ask finally.

"" Her voice betrayed her statement. ""

""

"" Her voice cracked. ""

"" The slap that fallowed his words took him by surprise.

" He looked into her eyes, confused, and saw only pain and anger.

"" He asked, but she didn't answer. She just stood there silently for what seemed like hours.

The silence of the cell was finally broken as the sound of light footsteps came towards them. Viconia looked to Kat, her features changing to that of disgust and contempt, then she snapped her gaze back to Ry. Her hands came up and she signaled to him roughly in Drow sign. Ry's confusion deepened at her signaled words.

````I will always be her mother`````

Just then Sabrae walked in, fallowed by Nullira and Umrea. Sabrae grinned wickedly, her gaze never leaving Ryax as she motioned for another to enter the cell. Ry's confusion slipped away slowly as his instincts pulled his gaze down toward the entering Drowess. His question to Viconia had been answered, but a dozen more were raised as he looked into the hate filled eyes... of his daughter.

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Subj: Delusions or Trickery? Date: 9/7/97 7:16:33 AM From: KatrylleM

This wasn't funny any more. They had somehow found a way into her mind to pull the memories that had fed their holograms. They had beaten and starved her. None of it mattered. None of it meant a thing compared to this newest torture.

She had been pulled from unconsciousness by the sweetest sound she had not heard in a long time. Perhaps he pulled her from another nightmare. She shifted, trying to reach out for him, needing his warmth in the darkness. She groaned in pain.

The realization came back hard, smacking her right between the eyes with every throbbing muscle and aching bone in her body. Still, she heard his voice. She almost cried. She was in Nizralteth. She was in Sabrea's clutches and somehow, Sabrae had found a way to imitate Ry's voice.

She would not allow herself to fall for the crude trickery. *They* did not know Ry was currently on some plane of the Abyss, fighting some demon for his life and sanity. The forgery was good, but not good enough.

She tried to get to her feet, but only succeeded as far as her hands and knees. The simple movement threw her on a fast moving carousel with little to no sympathy for her pain or the reeling of her empty stomach.

The dizziness finally caused her to wretch. The coppery taste of blood in her mouth told her troubles had just gotten worse.

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Subj: Turn About Intruder (1) Date: 9/8/97 9:15:43 AM From: Ben Stinel

The gnome, he had learned, was named Frank. Jacob found this just the slightest bit hard to handle. Why on earth a creature so far removed from society above ground would have such an ordinary name was beyond him. Later, he learned that Frank was short for something completely unpronounceable and he felt much better.

They had taken him along in their tunnels, leaving behind a crew to seal off the passageway they'd accidentally burrowed into. These tunnels were all fresh and it was some time before they passed into older passageways. The gnomes, he learned, called themselves Svirfneblin and they were taking him to meet their Burrow Warden to tell him of his dilemma.

After a couple of hours of walking along the passageways they came to their destination. A large party of Svirfneblin who were busily biting into the rock face with their digging tools. Jacob realized with a little bit of shock that they had quite a pile of gems gathered together.

Frank hurried him past the diggers and took him right up to a grizzled looking gnome who was barking orders to the others. The two exchanged a few words in their gnomish dialect and eventually the grizzled gnome turned to say a few words to Jacob.

"He want know where you come from," Frank told him.

Jacob opened his mouth to answer and then stopped as he realized something disquieting. He didn't know. He didn't know where he was from and he didn't know that this was because it was an aspect of the character that Ben Stinel had never bothered to come up with.

"You okay, Jacob?" Frank asked. "You no look happy."

"I can't remember where I'm from," Jacob said.

"You hit head?"

"No. I remember all sorts of other things about my childhood. My parent's names. I had a brother who used to beat me up… I just don't remember where it all happened."

Frank said a few things to his boss and the grizzled gnome shouted over to a group of the Svirfneblin. One of them broke away from the group and came over to them. The grizzled gnome said a few things to this new gnome and Frank tossed in a word here and there. When they were finished the new gnome looked at him.

"Jjarrff is…" Frank searched for the word for a moment, "person who use remedies?"

"A doctor?"

"Yes. He look at you."

Jjarrff motioned for him to bend down and Jacob complied. The Svirfneblin doctor took his head in his hands and looked in each of his eyes before turning his head and peering into his ears. He even went so far as to sniff his breath and look down his throat before he asked, in English, "You are overlander?"

"Yes."

"What do you remember?"

"My friend and I were helping a girl find her father and we were attacked by some Drow. They killed an enemy of mine and then tried to kill me. I killed them first."

"In overland? How many Drow you kill?"

Jacob nodded, "Six or seven."

"Seven Drow!" the doctor exclaimed, "They must be very confused in overland for you kill seven. You have look you go very fast often. You ride animal?"

"Yes, I have a horse."

The doctor continued his examination, "What horse's name?"

"Raven," he said without thinking then he frowned again, "I mean… Bolt. His name is Bolt."

The doctor looked at him before turning back to the Burrow Warden. They exchanged a few words before the doctor turned back to him, "You look like drug used on you. I guess Drow responsible. You remember things but they at odds, yes?"

Jacob nodded, confused.

"Drug called Mesoath. It affect mind. Make you think what you see is real. Weak illusionists use sometimes to fool people."

"Is there an antidote?"

The doctor dug around in his satchel for a minute and pulled out a small vial. He poured some water into a glass and mixed the vial contents in with it, "I give you. Take about three hours to work. You remember, good as new."

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Subj: Turn About Intruder (2) Date: 9/8/97 9:16:55 AM From: Ben Stinel

The doctor dug around in his satchel for a minute and pulled out a small vial. He poured some water into a glass and mixed the vial contents in with it, "I give you. Take about three hours to work. You remember, good as new."

Jacob downed the contents of the glass and grimaced. The water was harder then any he had tasted before, full of minerals and tiny dissolved rock fragments. He hardly tasted whatever it was the doctor had mixed in with it at all.

"You sit here. I come back in while. Check how you remember," the doctor told him before going off back to the group of gnomes he had left. The Burrow Warden had gone back about his business a while ago, shouting orders and making sure nothing was left undone.

Jacob sat down and Frank sat next to him, opening a little bag.

"You hungry?" Frank asked him. "Lunch time."

"Yes!" Jacob said, "What have you got?"

Frank looked through the bag, "Granite sandwich, on Rye. Quartz salad with gold dressing. Lime pudding?"

Jacob was surprised by the contents, "Uhmm.. That lime pudding sounds good. Can I have some of that?"

Frank happily pulled out the pudding and handed it to him. Jacob took the lid off the container and stopped. It was a whitish gray color. Lime pudding must mean Lime Stone, he realized. He smiled at Frank as the gnome handed him a spoon and decided what the hell? He took the spoon and scooped some up. It tasted like rocks, he'd expected that, but it was smooth and creamy so he went ahead and ate it. By the time he'd gotten to the bottom of the pudding he'd realized that it really did have a distinct flavor all its own.

"You like?" Frank asked.

Jacob nodded, "It's unusual, but it's good."

Frank grinned broadly.

A sudden commotion on the far side of the cavern made the pair of them look up. The group of gnomes that had stayed behind to seal the passageway was hustling in a pair of tall overlanders. After a moment Jacob realized they merely looked tall next to the gnomes. Neither of them was taller then he was.

The Burrow Warden was heading towards the commotion and as he passed them he motioned to the pair of them, "Frank!" he called along with a few gnomish words.

"Friends of yours?" Frank asked.

"I don't know," he answered honestly.

"Look like I lucky to learn overland. Really come handy today," Frank said before standing and trotting over. Jacob frowned but stood and followed as well.

The overlanders were looking around the group of gnomes that had surrounded them and glancing at each other like they were wondering what they had gotten into. The crowd of gnomes parted to make way for the Burrow Warden and Frank. Jacob followed them in and the crowd started closing again behind him.

The warden was prattling on at the newcomers in gnomish and the pair were looking at each other, totally confused now. Frank cut in and started translating for them. Now that they had an interpreter the pair of overlanders started to explain why they had come. Jacob paid only perfunctory attention, none of it making any sense to him, but he perked up suddenly when they mentioned the Drow. And a name. Ryax.

"I know that name," he cut in, "I know Ryax."

"And who are you, sir?" one of them asked him.

"Benjamin Stinel," he said. Then he realized the words that had come from his mouth hadn't been "Jacob Belferd." On the other side of the crowd Jacob… Ben… could see the gnomish doctor beaming with pride that his remedy had worked. At least a little bit.

"I don't know the name," said the one who had been explaining the situation to the gnomes.

"I do," said the second. "Aren't you the commander of the Doom Bringers?"

Ben threw an exasperated glance at Frank who explained for him, "He loose some memory. Still don't know where he from."

The first overlander started again. "Well, as long as you're willing to help, I don't care where you're from. That light saber looks like it would come in handy in a fight against the Drow."

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Subj: Turn About Intruder (3) Date: 9/8/97 9:17:33 AM From: Ben Stinel

The first overlander started again. "Well, as long as you're willing to help, I don't care where you're from. That light saber looks like it would come in handy in a fight against the Drow."

"It's already killed a few of them," Ben said. "Those miserable creatures tried to kill me and they took my memory. I'd be glad to help."

"Well welcome aboard, Ben." The overlander stuck out his hand and Ben shook it firmly. "How about the rest of you? You willing to help?"

The Burrow Warden glanced at one of his assistants after receiving Frank's translation and then nodded to the overlander. "We help."

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Subj: Some Rescue! Date: 9/22/97 3:50:17 AM From: LinTravers

The whispered movements near by pulled him from unconsciousness. It wasn't the normal sounds of the rats that constantly sniffed around for food. He groaned once as he tried to shift his broken and swollen leg and was immediately shushed by a voice not muffled by stone and metal. He frowned in the darkness.

"Who's there?" His croaking whisper barely carried past his swollen lips.

The voice near by shushed him again adding a very soft and very feminine "relax". In the blackness, he could hear the extremely slow dragging of chains across stone and moments later, he felt a light touch on his leg. He winced, biting his lip to keep back the groan as she gently probed up his legs to his torso, then his arms, apparently assessing his injuries. Lastly, she slid calfskin-gloved fingers over his face, very softly pulling his lip from between his teeth. Next, he felt her lay the length of him, her sweet breath brushing over his ear and neck as she whispered very close to them.

"Are you a Doom Bringer? Just nod." He followed her instructions. "You know Ryax then, right?" Again he nodded very slightly. "Alright. You're not going to believe this, but he's here, along with myself and another friend, to save you and the others."

He couldn't help it. He laughed, then cried out as the broken ends of his ribs rubbed against each other. Tears stung his swollen eyes as she suddenly clamped the leather glove over his mouth hard, the angry, insistent hiss of her voice in his ear telling him to shut up or they were both dead. With his good arm, he pushed her hand away from his face, half growling, half croaking "Nice try, lady. Ryax isn't here. He isn't even in a place where he can hear what has happened, so why don't you take your lies and find someone else to bother. I was in the middle of a nice harem dream."

Her grip on his bicep was strong. "Listen to me. I have proof I am who I say. Katrylle Morgahn's real name is Joslynne ZyThyrn, she didn't know it until about a year ago and, after his death, your brother, Jack Morgahn, told her he had wanted to proposed to her by hologram, giving her the rings that would have been their wedding rings if he hadn't died. She currently wears the one he had created for her on her right hand, ring finger, and his is around her neck on a chain because she never took the time to resize it as she wanted to."

He hadn't realized he was holding his breath as she spoke. There were only three other people, Kat included, who knew this information. Ben and Ryax were the others. His mind raced with the possibilities that this woman was telling the truth, but the only thing his swollen lips spoke were words from an ancient movie he once seen about two men and a Wookie and the rescue attempt of a princess. "This is some rescue!"

________________________________________

In the darkness of her lone cell, through the blood red haze of pain and despare, it had taken Kat a very long time to push herself past the probablity that the Ryax she had seen hours earlier was the same man who had filled all of her sleeping hours for the past several months....hell, for the past several years. Once she *had* entertained the thought, no matter how slight it was, that her husband was close, it took everything she had to try to reach him mentally.

The connection was there. Faint....so very faint...but there. She couldn't gain specifics, only vague immages of incredible pain and it filled her not only with an overpowering sense of relief, but terror as well. She barely remembered the form haning on the wall, speaking to the Drow in their own language, but she knew it had not gone well for him. Some how, some way, she had to find a reserve of energy deep inside herself to reach him....both physically and mentally.

Breathing deeply, she ignored the sharp pain each breath induced in several ribs as she crossed her legs. Very slowly, she let her mind and body begin to relax as Mogneio had taught her and, within moments, she found herself looking down at her own battered body. 