Memoirs of a RAFian

[Cloak]

Merry Christmas!

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER SEVEN:
Keen Interests

"Guys, someone's gotta go investigate these disappearances," Dpsb said, uneasily poking his way into the conversation.

"I'll go," Yarin said, at once.

"No." It was Cloak who spoke. There was a resounding silence after the Realm Walker's pronouncement, as Saffa still glowered at the Nyac. After all, Yarin did not refute her claim.

"What?"

"No, Yarin. You're too close to this," Cloak said.

"That's never stopped you when you're too close to a mission!" Yarin protested.

Cloak said nothing in acknowledgement of this statement.

"You're silence says everything," Yarin growled. "You're not the boss here, you know. You're not even a mod!"

Cloak could have threatened him. He could have intimidated him. He could have straight up attacked him. But, honestly? Cloak wasn't in the mood. He wasn't in the mood to argue or fight or shout. There was a job to do, and they were just wasting their time bickering amongst each other.

"Fine," Cloak said, coolly. It was very evident that Cloak was trying to keep his cool. "Do as you wish, Nyac."

Cloak turned to leave, with Saffa, GH, and Dpsb wordlessly following him out of the forum.

***

Trike was disappointed to learn that none of the brainstems had the genetic material that they were looking for.

"What d'ya mean that these aren't the genetic sequencers we're lookin' for?" Trike complained. He probably should strive to not be so loud. He was kind of out in the open, in front of his saucer. It wasn't even really disguised.

"I meant just what I said, Trichomonas," sniffed Pox. "The precise gene sequences we require weren't in those specific genomes."

"You sayin' that I have been wasting my time out here, wastin' these stupid apes?" Trike said.

"Oh, you know you love it," Pox said.

"True," Trike admitted, a rare moment of Furon humility. If you could call it that. "But I wanna do it my way, Micropox, not yours."

"Semantics, Tichomonas, semantics."

"I'll semantics you, if you send me off on another wild goose chase," Trike threatened.

"I don't know why you try the innuendo, Trichomonas," Pox sighed, "when you know I can't do anything about it."

"Don't be cute with me, Pox!" Trike said, a hair trigger presenting itself. "I will slag you."

"Oh, Trichomonas, you do enjoy your little joke. You know I have backed myself up with my Holopox device." Pox said, differentially.

"You and your corny gizmos."

"Which you are carrying," Pox pointed out.

"Poindexter," Trike grunted.

"Oh. Perhaps you're not up to it? Perhaps Cordyceps would be a willing replacement for your mission. I am in contact with her, you know." Pox said, with a breezy sort of voice.

"Alright! Alright, you infernal nag," Trike grumbled huffily. "I'll bring in your stinkin' brainstems."

With that, Trike left the saucer.

[redtailedsaffa]

Love the subtle Star Wars reference. And I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU RICK ROLLED US

And I loved that Cloak-Yarin exchange - nice little dialogue when tensions rise, people say what they're really thinking. Didn't think this book would have a darker tone to it, but surprise. Awesome.

Merry Christmas to you too!

[Cloak]

Star Wars reference?

Oh, and yeah, that darker tone wasn't in the original outline (which I first made years ago -- a little less than four years or so, if I'm accurate.), that just how the story's turning out. Sometimes, the story just writes itself. Thrn again "Destroy All Humans" is kinda dark, I suppose. After all, it's about an alien taking over the Earth and succeeding, if I'm not mistaken.

And I was trying to be subtle with the Rick Roll! 

And thanks!

[redtailedsaffa]

these are not the genetic sequencers we're lookin' for

[Cloak]

Oh, yeah. Forgot about that.

Gotta go to bed, I guess. Damn insomnia.

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER EIGHT:
Disguise Debaucle

Yarin had chose not to accompany them. That didn't mean that he wasn't going to go off on his own to find and the Furon and . . . Cloak didn't want to know. He'd be happy in his ignorance of the fact of whatever Yarin decided to do. Was that a lazy answer? Perhaps, but Cloak didn't really care at the moment, as long as Yarin didn't get in the way of their investigation.

Yes, Cloak realized the double standard, and the arrogance he was setting himself up for with that line of thinking, but he couldn't be bothered with the semantics right now. Thry had a job to do, and would deal with whatever fallout comes to be at a later date. Yes, he was procrastinating the consequences, but his mind was a little too full right now to think about it any great detail.

And yet, his heart still nagged him. He felt guilt for how he spoke to Yarin, and could help but go over their last interaction and pick it apart, prying even the most minute detail from it. No. No, he couldn't be doing this right now. He shouldn't be doing this right now.

They came to a mound of a strange ash. Cloak thought it odd and highly suspect that these piles of ash had not been investigated. Granted, there wasn't really a lot of ash. You could fit this particular mound into a mason jar, so it may have simply been overlooked and not willfully neglected. Local law enforcement didn't have the kind of training the RAFians had, so they may have been a little out of their league.

It was little wonder why the RAFians get called in for things like this.

Then Cloak sensed it, as not a word passed amongst those present. He looked directly at what most onlookers would assume to be a stereotypical hippie. Bellbottoms, sandals (which was ridiculous in this weather), white shirt, green vest, peace-symbol medallions, thick column of facial hair, long hair that trailed down his back, and literal rose-colored glasses. The man had a long thin nose, and a wiry frame. But this was not what Cloak saw.

He saw the details of the man, of course, but as a ghostly afterimage. He saw the Furon thoroughly ensconced in the disguise as someone would gaze through a window. He was not fooled by the Holobob, and he felt the predatory feline instincts queue up inside him. He tried to ignore these hunting instincts.

"So foolish," Cloak growled, more animalistic than anything else.

"What is?" Dpsb said.

"Why are you looking at that . . ." GH said, then his eyes narrowed.

"Wow." Saffa commented. "That's a good disguise. I can't tell that he's the Furon. It's almost as if he morphed."

Cloak only processed this in a semiconscious way. He had his eyes locked on the Furon, knowing him to be responsible for these tragedies, though he really hadn't any tangible proof. Cloak stalked towards him, very feline in his movements -- every one deliberate and focused.

"Wh-What are you doing?" the Furon said, affecting a weak-willed human personality. At least, it was affected in his disguise's voice, which was weird because Cloak heard it overlayed with the Furon's true monotone voice. The Realm Walker could tell that he didn't feel the fear he pretended to, despite being really unable to emote as a Furon. "Wha do you want?"

Well, it could be understandable if the Furon was afraid, seeing an eight-foot-tall, cloaked tiger-man start to bear down on you, closing distance with remarkable silence and speed. But Furons tend to be an arrogant and conceit bunch, so Trike felt no fear.

"Stop! D-Don't come any c-closer! Or I'll . . . I'll . . ."

"Drop the act, Furon." Cloak growled, a tiger growl intermingling with his words.

"What did you call me? 'Furon'? What's th--"

Dpsb, Saffa, GH, and Leatherhead (yes, Leatherhead) started to have some doubts.

"I can see through your disguise, you idiot." Cloak said, almost menacingly. "But, no matter, no matter. You want to keep up this facade? Fine. You can't maintain you holographic projection forever."

The projection's face went blank, almost as if it were noting but a mannequin.

"So, you have a simple choice." Cloak spoke in a low voice. "Drop the pretense, and disguise, and we can get this over with. Or we can play the attrition game. The choice is yours."

[Cloak]

Might be a bit long than the requisite twenty chapters.

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER NINE:
Ch-Ch-Changes

There seemed to be a stalemate. Cloqk could have attacked him at any moment, of course, but that woukd have resulted in tremendous backlash on the part of the RAFians by the public. Bern Bridges was alreqdy engaging in a virulent smear campaign, which, fortunately, had no real footing in the minds of the people. So, Cloak was content to play this little game -- perhaps he had allowed his feline instincts some reign after all.

The Furon seemed to try to think of a way out of this. If he revealed himself to these people that would pretty much make getting Micropox's accursed brainstems nigh near impossible, and it was hard enough to do without being noticed. He still kept his disguise's face as vacant qnd unemotional as a mannequin's, though whether or not he realized it was questionable.

All the RAFians had to do was wait out the clock. This time they held all the cards. So, the Furon tried to read their minds. He couldn't read Cloak's mind, due to his Realm Walker physiology, which (though he would vehemently deny it) scared him. So, he tried the others, only to discover some odd interference.

"You," he said, addressing Dpsb. His Holobobbed form mimicked his deadpan, monotone delivery, though the voice was human not Furon. "Call off your pet and I won't tell them your secret."

Cloak, incensed, snarled, "I am pet to no one, Furon."

"Call him off, or I will reveal your secret." Trike called out.His Holobob was close to failing. "Now, boy!"

But then his Holobob failed, and the Furon beneath such high resolution veneer was revealed. Saffa was tempted to compare it with Chee holograms, but thought better of it.

"Stupid, fecking --" Trike raged, as he blasted some sort of energy discharge from his weapon, which Cloak blithely caught with little fanfare. Then he condensed it as a child would with modeling clay, and replyed with an irreverent, "Play-Doh."

Then he threw at at the Furon as Leatherhead threaded through his feet, until the Furon resorted to using his jetpack. Putting him in range of the thrown and returned energy discharge.

This caused a few colloidal droplets to rain down on Leatherhead, who was finding himself dealing eith a sappy tree branch. GH had freed him befor the first globule landed on the juvenile alligator, but no one seemed to notice this. Not even GH, as the Furon tried to attack them again and flee towards his saucer.

Cloak had vanished beneath the ground. GH branished his guitar, which glowed with energy down the length of it and transformed into its hoverbike state. Saffa was flying in hawk morph -- her Psycholeopterran morph was to too bulky and slow for her needs. Dpsb simply flew, feeling uneasy about the secret he had yet to disclose.

***

The Furon was headed directly for his saucer, elated that he escaped such a powerful creature's wrath, though embarrassed that he couldn't beat it. It wasn't gonna be something that he would brag about. His path to the saucer was clear. But what was that standing atop it?

"You'd think you'd land your saucer in some place, I don't know, inconspicuous?" it said.

<You cannot be serious,> a dismissive, telepathic voice said. It appeared to come from the roosting bird to his left, but that wasn't possible. This backward species didn't have snatching tech. <It is seriously out in the open.>

"Well, it is weakness to exploit." GH said, arriving in style, to the Furon's right.

"Let me --" Dpsb said, unable to hide a childish eagerness.

Cloak dug his fingers into the saucer's hull, the metal yielding towards the Master of the Metal element. He ripped it in two. The entire saucer. Ripped into halves. It caused the saucer to explode. Unbeknowst to the RAFians, killing Micropox. It didn't occur to Cloak that there might be two Furons. He didn't take the time to Metalsight the interior of the saucer.

"Do you have any idea --"

But there was a bellowing roar, but it sounded more odd than terrifying. Then a rush of greenish-brown and Trike was lifted into the air by a strange creature.

Saffa was finishing morphing back, with only bits of hawk remaining around her hairline, and she was reconsidering morphing back. But she noticed something about this humanoid creature. "Is that . . ."

After the creature killed Trike, it seemed to calm down, holding its head. It was humanoid, the size of a six-year-old human child, with a broad, thick tail behind it. It possessed sharp claws and an elongated mouth filled with teeth. But its eyes . . . there was an innocence and a mischievousness behind them.

GH actually dropped his guitar in sheer shock. He couldn't believe it. None of the RAFians could. All were dumbfounded at this unexpected happening.

"L . . . Leatherhead?" GH said, voice but a whisper.

Leatherhead looked up at him and said, ". . . Daddy?"

[guitarhero01234]

. . . Just take my karma.

[redtailedsaffa]

I'm sitting at a table full of relatives and I'm trying very very hard not to let out a manic laugh at that ending.

[Cloak]

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER TEN:
Meanwhile!

While that bombshell was happen, Yarin was investigating another city. He was sure that there would be more than one location, more than one point of invasion. It just made logical sense. That way if one city is compromised, then the whole invasion isn't totally compromised, and it could continue, if in an infiltration way.

Yarin remembered the feeling of a Furon mind. He remembered seeing nothing but conceited overconfidence and sadistic masochism. He would never forget how tainted and dirty and fragile their minds felt. The fragility that he helped cultivate with that Reproduction Destabilizing Unit of his. He had only ever made that one and he had felt a guilt for ever using it.

Though he would never admit it to himself, but this is one reason that he so ardently wishes for validation for his Food Yield Increaser. To prove that he could create something good to atone for this great mistake of his. He never relished what he did, and he never approved of the Nyac government deciding to plant the thouht that the Furon's salvation lies in the brainstems of the dominant species of this mudball.

He was still in ship, scanning for Furon saucers. Yarin could help but muse on these happenings. He never forgave himself for causing the genetic damage to the Furon genome, preventing them from being able to reproduce, forcing them to utilize cloning and mind transference to perpetuate their species. It was all his fault. It was his fool's endeavor, blinded by indignant rage and righteous anger. He had always displaced that fury onto the very species that he unintentionally --

But that wasn't true, was it? He had made the device to hurt the Furons. To hurt them for defiling his homeland, his homeworld. For invading Nya with the intention of conquering it. For causing the genocides of countless of other species. He had wanted to harm them. He had wanted to maim them.

And he did. He did it under the banner of self-preservation. He told himself that it was for the greater good. He told himself . . . but it was all lies, wasn't it? The worst kind of lie. A self-deceiving lie.

What he did was an awful act. No manner the reason, he would lose in courts of decency. How must his actions have looked to impartial third parties? He thought he knew. And he felt a bit more self-loathing for it.

But no matter, no matter. What is past is past, what is done is done. The past is gone and immutable, and there can be no changing it. He did what he did, and there was no changing it now. He had to get his preoccupied mind back on the task at hand.

"I knew it," he said, when his scans uncovered a Furon saucer coming into the planet's atmosphere. He maneuvered his ship into an attack position, and pursued the saucer, apparently undetected.

He fired the first shot, and it lanced into the saucer's hull, leaving a very angry burn mark on the saucer. This time Yarin was the one who took the initiative. This time it was the Nyac who attacked first. This time it was the Nyac who was the aggressor.

Despite himself, Yarin savored these factors.

[redtailedsaffa]

It's eerie how many parallels to the real world - the victim minority pushing back against their aggressor who sees it differently - can be drawn from stories like this.

[Cloak]

Well, the Nyac aren't technically a minority, but your point still stands, Saffa. Anyway, new book ideas.

• Book DCCCLIV: "The Clockwork Syndrome" -- The RAFians must find a cure to a strange malady.
• Book DCCCLV: "Hostage Snatching" -- The RAFians must deal with an unscrupulous man, claiming to be a human/Furon hybrid.
• Book DCCCLVI: "A Wandmaker is Broken" -- Broken finds a new passion.
• Book DCCCLVII: "Body Benders" -- The RAFians get drawn in again to the antics of four ghosts, who are addicted to the living.

There. Don't think I have rehashed anything, but, if I did, I think I can work around it.

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER ELEVEN:
Decisive Dogfight

The saucer turned around -- or at least, Yarin assumed that it did. It was difficult to tell at this vantage point. It seemed to hesitate, seemingly recognizing the ship as Nyac in design. It remained idle for a few long minutes, as Yarin waited with oppressed glee. He would send a message to the Furons with this victory.

They would learn that they couldn't just indiscriminately attack innocent civilizations. They would learn that their genocidal tendacies were abhorrent. They would learn. They would.

But that was thing about violence and vendettas. They have a dangerous habit of consuming their holders with vitriolic hatred and fiery wrath, pushing all else out of their minds and hearts. They know nothing else but hatred and anger, which, in turn, leads to suffering. It was a very dangerous path to go down. Very dangerous indeed.

One could excuse, to at least try to excuse, their actions with a veneer a selflessness and doing it for the greater good. But boil away that veneer, and what's beneath is just a thirst for revenge and hatred. It atrophies one's soul . . .

During this sudden self-refleftion, the Furon saucer had fired its self-entitled "death ray". Yarin's ship shields had blocked the majority of it. And what little got through didn't even tickle the hull of Yarin's ship.

"You'd think they'd update their weaponry in fifty, sixty years or so." Yarin mumbled. Or perhaps the Furons thought so little of the resistance the Earth could put up that they decided to not send any of their "A-game" ships and weaponry. Yarin couldn't help but feel a little disappointed at the thought.

It was a game of superiority in the Nyac's subconscious. A way of proving hiw much better Nyacs were to Furons. But he wasn't really aware of this, and was just acting in a way he thought right.

The next death ray blast was fully absorbed by the shields, which did not falter at all. This dogfight was going to be over quickly. This Furon saucer clearly was a junker with a fresh coat of paint. Yarin couldn't prevent the disappointment from flooding him, like an ice-cold venom.

The Furons would learn nothing from the destruction of this ship. It was a junker. They wouldn't even care about it. Who knows? There very well might not even be a real Furon pilot inside. It could be being flown remotely. Any thrill he got from this battle had left him, leaving feeling listless and empty.

He powered his weapons, and fired. He was aiming to destroy the saucer, and he succeeded, apparently forgetting about the Furon mind he had sensed earlier. He was being reckless, and he didn't even realize it.

[Cloak]

Yep. Likihood of exceeding twenty chapters is increasing . . . ever so much.

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER TWELVE:
I Will Survive!

Cordyceps, Cordy for short, happened to be on that saucer that Yarin indiscriminately slagged. Unlike Yarin, she was genuinely trying to destroy his ship with this outdated technology. Yet the Furons refused to admit their spacefaring tech was somewhat outdated, considering they spending more time and funds on cloning and weaponry. One would assume that they saw their saucers as weapons, but apparently they were far too confident with the efficaciousness of their saucers, without any real concrete reason.

When it became clear that she was going to lose the saucer, she gathered all the tech she could inside a sixth-dimensional bag, something she stole from Nya, and abandoned ship. She floated down to the planet's surface, using her jetpack and the saucer's explosion to cover her escape.

Once on the ground, she took out her Snatcher device. She couldn't Holobob, but this was infinitely better and far more useful. She had also inherited Trike's mission to collect brainstems, and she had to be clever and smart about it. Not leaving any trails for anyone to follow.

Cordy had always thought that Trike was inept and a loser. In fact, she was pretty much sure that all males of every species was like that. Since she had never met a species like a Namekian, she assumed all species had two genders. And she favored a matriarchy over a patriarchy.

She looked around. She was too exposed, even in this forest. It was too cold for her liking, really. And she was obviously no human. She couldn't complete her objective without stealth. Here is where the Holobob would have been useful, but the Snatcher was infinitely more useful, if not a bit persnickety.

She did not like the snow on the ground. It might alert prospectives to her presence. She reached out telepathically, which didn't have the range of a Nyac, and was a bit impetuous as any ol' Nyac could sense such a thing. But she discovered that to her left, there were three adolescents with a young adult human. She didn't know enough about humans or their mentalities to distinguish if they were male or female, but if there was a female there, she would choose that one.

She approached the camp, slowly and cautiously, making liberal use of her jetpack when needed. Good. She appeared to be unnoticed. She place a hand to her head to scan their minds, which was all that she could do at the moment. Furons were unable to penetrate the deeper recesses of another mind, unless the target was voluntary, unlike the relepathic finesse of Nyac. It was why they initiated the invasion of Nya. Sheer jealousy over their telepathic prowess. They had arrogantly assumed that they were a weak, pacifist race. They were wrong.

Between this telepathic scanning and snatches of human speech, she managed to gather a few nuggets of information.

Sally Rath. That was the leader of this little troop. She was an adult female. Sassy in nature, but with a naivety that could be exploitable. She could be a good candidate. After all, she was female. And females were the superior gender. Everyone knew that. Any one who didn't was an idiot.

Stevie Naylor. The smallest and possibly the weakest one of the group. He was a human adolescent male. He was fraught with insecurities and vulnerabilities. He would fall easily, but he could be a good candidate to divine the weaknesses of the others.

Dylan Peladeau. The most emotionally volatile of the group, though not really "out-of-control", "murderous" sort of volatile. He was also clearly the strongest body and will. But his buttons could be pushed easily, but he might be the most difficult canditate to use for infiltration. He might even be able to alert the others.

Jonah Phillips. The most benign of the group. A hanger-on. A voice of "reason" -- in another words, he contributed nothing worthwhile to the group, according to Furon sensibilities. Yet, he wasn't the weak link, but he was still weak.

Cordy needed to make a choice of her disguise. Her choice was natural, and she had a way of making it unseen by her fellows. Granted, the tech was still untested and in its infancy, so this would be more of a test than objective completion. She was about to make her move when her decision was made for her.

[Cloak]

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
First Snatch

"Dylan, go get some more firewood," Sally instructed.

"Hey, Wuss!" Dylan said, addressing meek Stevie. "Get us some firewood."

Sally sighed, shaking her head. "Dylan, I told you to get it."

"And I told Wuss." Dylan said, aggressively. Then he threw a pebble at Stevie. "Go on, Wuss!"

Instead of asserting himself, like he should've, he complied with little resistance. He demonstrated this submissiveness and subservience, proving himself basically the omega male of the group. If he had asserted himself, the group dynamic may have been different. He, unbeknownst to him, was heading in Cordy's direction.

Cordy wasn't particularly happy. Stevie wasn't the prospective candidate that she wanted, but she found herself curious. Were human males really as useless as male Furons? She was well out of sight of the other humans and she waited until Stevie was out of sight of the others too.

Her hand flew to her head and a beam of psionic energy launched from her forehead into Stevie's. Right between his eyes. There was a brief struggle before Cordy was enveloped in the psionic energy and drawn inside Stevie's body, bag and all. Stevie's body lurched, shoulders rolling forward, chin bobbed to his chest. Before immediately righting himself, but with Cordy in full and absolute control of the teenager's body.

"Well, at least one of Micropox's blasted gadgets works from the start," she spoke through Stevie. To Realm Walker ears, her hostile, aggressive, monotone Furon voice would be heard more audibly than Stevie's voice. But to everyone else, she sounded just like Stevie. Well, aside from tone of voice and infliction that is. But now that she body snatched Stevie, was able to delve into more than just surface thoughts (which had functionally ceased, as his true mind was in a suspended animated state, like a drugged stupor). She was able to delve into his memories, but she was restricted to only his recent memories of the past four days. She wondered if this was true for all prospectives -- her term for potential snatching victims -- or if it varied with all of them. "Well, that's interesting."

Then she realized that she could feel a strange pulsing feeling in her -- no, his -- adominal area, beneath his ribs, but above the area where is legs met his body. Right behind that indention on his belly. What was that? It was disconcerting. It had seemed strong at first, but was now seeming to get weaker. Was it this human resisting her control? Possibly, though this human was one of the meeker samples of the species, she was sure.

Yes, the pulsating was weakening, she decided, as she walked Stevie back to his group, with the full intention of impersonating him. She notice that the pulsating was getting weaker incrementally, gradually, and couldn't figure out precisely why.

"Hey! Where's the firewood, you prick?" Dylan demanded aggressively.

Cordy did not feel like playing meek to such an inferior species, not to mention an inferior gender. (She ignored the fact that she inhabited a male body currently). She narrowed Stevie's eyes, curled his lip in disgust.

"What's that?" Dylan snarled. "I didn't quite hear you."

"Oh, shut up, you useless sack of flesh," Cordy snarled right back. The pulsing was barely noticeable now. "You want firewood? Get off your backside and get it yourself."

Dylan sidled right up next to Cordy, and punched Stevie's gut. Hard.

"Don't you ever speak to me like that. Ever. Again." Dylan said, punctuating the last two words with two addition punches. The pulsating abruptly stopped and there was no sound, but if elt like their should have been a popping sound.

[redtailedsaffa]

Hey, I don't blame her. Any time you tell a young male to do something, they just start talking. Being the only woman on a board, you notice these things.

[Cloak]

New chapter.
 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
Realizations

Sally screamed.

"Wha . . ." Dylan said, not really grasping what had happened.

"What the hell is that thing?!" Jonah demanded.

Cordyceps had popped out of Stevie's body, but not of her own volition. She was forced out with Stevie's death. A death that he wouldn't ever remember . . . because, well, he was dead. Cordy quickly sent out a brainwave that induced euphoria in the human brains, by inducing them to release endorphins. She wasn't sure if it would work, but was relieved when it did.

The three quickly forgot about Cordy, lost in euphoria, almost as if they were under the influence of a psychedelic drug or something similar. Cordy knew that this state wouldn't last long, but they wouldn't remember anything up to ten minutes. She moved to snatch Sally, after quickly and diligently gathering up Stevie's brainstem.

She was going to snatch the clearly superior female, but the benign male got in the way and the psionic beam instead connected to him just moments before rhe euphoria inducement was beginning to wear off.

Jonah's shoulder rolled foward as his chin briefly touched his chest before bobbing back up with Cordy in charge. She felt the pulsating in his stomach, and realized what it was. She spoke aloud to herself, just as the euphoria inducement was wearing off and the other two were "coming down", "So the pulsing is the lifeforce of the host. Good to know."

She knew that if she was to keep her cover, she would have to pretend to be human. It was necessary not to call attention to herself. . . .

***

Oh, crapbaskets. Yarin thought suddenly. He had suddenly remembered that he had managed to scan the mind of a Furon inside that derelict saucer. He was so keen on his self-analysis that he had allow that little detail to completely slip his mind.

It was rather embarrassing. Something that he expected that he wouldn't be entirely truthful to the other RAFians about. But he still had to clean up the mess that he had neglected.  He landed his ship in the nearest landing zone. He quickly disembarked, and scanned for any local minds. Fortunately, humans and Furons were not protected from his telepathic scan as  Realm Walkers were.

He couldn't sense anything. This did not bode well.

He walked, looking very concerned. If anyone perished, their blood would be on his four negligent hands . . . please . . . please don't let anyone have perished at the hands of the Furon . . .

When the Nyac came to the next clearing, his heart dropped with alarming ragpidity. There, upon the snow-strewn ground, were three prone forms. Motionless. Blue and cold to the touch. Lifeless. Dead.

He was too late to save these three poor adolescent humans. But he couldn't tell their cause of death. It wasn't anything physical that he could see. It was some sort of tech he wasn't familiar with. Of this, he was sure.