Extended Version

By Jonathan S. Coolidge, D.O.

Countless ages into the future, the Lykosan Empire has entered into turmoil. The dreams of its long dead founder Queen Moira of Anawind have degenerated into strife between a growing bureaucracy and a hundred billion increasingly dissatisfied people. Meanwhile, in another realm, there will be a city of people, a few of whom will have undergone a strange, magical transformation. These individuals and their children will feel connections to a far away land and will feel internally the injury to their native landscape. Through herbal supplements and selective living arrangements, they will intermingle with the other people of the world, but they will be watched with close scrutiny and fear.

The Lykosan Imperial Armada Starship Wildheart had been exploring deep space for more than half a Lykosan year, amounting to three years in more familiar time measurements. The Darshi class cruiser, measuring one and a half kilometers, had a crew of several thousands living in a virtual colony in space. The Lykosan people were lupine anthropomorphs, having a social structure intimately built around family packs. Most crew members were Native Lykosans of various nationalities, though other races were represented, including an amorphous Jas morale officer and an Illarthi “Furball” tactical helm officer, the latter of whom having prominent, razor sharp saber teeth and unholy claws underneath a deceptively charming coat of thick, iridescent white fur. The captain was from the Lykosan nation of Saclordia, a place with a longstanding history of conquest, battles, and upheaval. He was proud of his heritage, wearing his fur long and thick, with a prominent mane and wavy sideburns, as well as bearing the Saclordian triple crescent moon emblem on a medallion over his medieval plated leather uniform. The bridge of the L.I.A.S. Wildheart was long, wide, and multileveled, with a central command station at the center, giving Captain Vrognoskah quick access to a plethora of activity and information.

The Wildheart was orbiting a planet while her crew was engaged in an archaeology expedition. The remains of one of the vast civilizations that ultimately created the ancestors to the Lykosan people were plentiful around derelict ruins of a city. Vinmahar, the Wildheart’s chief psionic officer, however, suddenly became anxious. She looked around, smelling the air, her triangular ears pointed erect; they folded back suddenly, reflexively. She opened up a panel on a device around her wrist, and an oval-shaped screen appeared in the air in front of her.

“I’m sensing something... something very powerful, and very angry. We need to get out of here, now!”

On the screen appeared Captain Vrognoskah, who took on a stern look, already preparing for battle. “You’ve always had good instincts about these matters. Gather the others now, and just take what you can carry with...” A quake interrupted the transmission, and Vinmahar struggled to keep her balance.

On board the Wildheart, Vrognoskah watched as Vinmahar continued transmitting. “There’s something down here!” She and the others began running to their landing craft. Amidst the flurry of activity on the giant holographic view screen on the bridge, Vinmahar managed to point her wrist camera at the presence on the planet. It resembled a disembodied, floating brain, almost two meters long. “There it is! I’m scanning it telepathically...it’s...it is filled with hate, and anger. It destroyed the colony, and now...” Suddenly, the signal was lost.

“Vinmahar!” Vrognoskah was very dedicated to his crew; his sense of Lykosan family carried over to the bridge crew, which was common among Lykosans who spent a lot of time in close company with others. He was losing a sister.

“I’ve got a view of the expedition,” the Furball tactician observed. The holographic view screen zoomed in on the planet surface, showing the ground disintegrating. “I’ve lost all life signs. Both landing craft are destroyed. The city and surrounding land appears to be disintegrating.”

Vrognoskah widened his eyes. “Fire the Rho disruptors at that vek thogh haugh!”

Greenish light erupted from two assemblies straddling each side of the giant war ship, raining down upon the planet surface, tearing into the fabric of space around the former expedition site. The tactician creature observed the results as they happened on the viewscreen. “The impact has destroyed a [fifty kilometer] radius portion of the planet crust. Massive tectonic activity has begun; a magma plume is forming.” The planet vomited a massive burst of molten material into space. The Wildheart moved aside as a rain of fire shot past. On the planet, the atmosphere began forming massive cloud formations around the open wound. “I doubt anything is down there now; the blast is having a global killer effect.”

“Take that, dhoskah! Back us...”

“Wait, something did survive!” This was the first time the Furball tactician showed surprise since the mission began. The viewer showed a small object leaving the plumes. The visual zoomed in to show a disembodied brain, floating foreword defiantly in space. “Raising deflectors, arming all weapons.” The tactician spoke into an intercom. “All crew to battle stations. Tactical situation, all crew to battle stations.” A flurry of activity carried out.

“Fire disruptors again!” The vessel fired two consecutive volleys at the two-meter target, tearing apart the stray matter from the settling stream of magma behind it. Several bursts of plasma appeared from the brain, striking the great vessel, shaking it. “Fire all weapons!” A series of multicolored bursts erupted from numerous visible and obscured orifices, and walls of missiles erupted, splintering into a massive light show. The brain advanced, unphased. Suddenly, inexplicably, the ship’s triangular front hull began to shake and warp.

“The foreword bow is starting to disintegrate.”

Lieutenant Shirka, acting chief psionic officer, responded. “It’s coming from the brain creature. It has the power to affect matter at the atomic level. It’s too strong; we can’t stop it!”

“You can’t win. You must withdraw.” It was a woman’s voice, but only Vrognoskah heard it. He looked around, but could not find the intruder. “It will destroy you.”

“Then we will die!” Vrognoskah shouted. “Saclords do not retreat!” The crew, sharing the same sentiment, continued their vigilance, even as the bridge began twisting and contorting around them. Explosions began to erupt around the control decks.

“I cannot allow you to perish.” A swirling blue light formed around the Saclord warrior. He grabbed a large blade stored behind his command station, ready to fight the glowing air around him. He watched with horror as his ship exploded around him, only for him to pass to safety, missing the blaze around him. Outside, the great vessel exploded apart and disappeared into a shimmering glitter.

Suidhne Dreamsail sat in the vast lecture hall, focusing intently on a class in session, as her white, spiraling horn on her forehead tilted gently with her head nods. Beside her sat Pengarthe, her companion, whose head was adorned not by one but two horns, both circular, emerging from the lateral aspects of his forehead. Around them, numerous others, with neither Suidhne’s white complexion nor Pengarthe’s cloven hooves, attended the same lecture, also making notes and observing the speaker.

“Magic has been among us at least as long as civilization, and yet many of us act as if it were a new thing. Why is that so? Could it be that we have simply distanced ourselves from magic, having dismissed it as primitive notions in this modern time of artificial hearts and satellite computer networks? Or is it more of a fear of our origins and our inner nature?”

Suddenly, Suidhne felt a fluctuation. Somewhere nearby, an event was taking place, an event that was breaking the continuity of the flow of the universe. Something was coming in from outside; she sensed a Crossover event. She leaned over to Pengarthe, describing her experience, and the two looked around.

Outside, a fog veiled a dense city landscape. Buried deep beneath layers of city architecture, in a darkened alley, a whirlpool of bluish light gave way to an entering traveler. The figure stood more than six feet in height, coated in thick fur and adorned in almost medieval warrior garb. The creature had a wolf’s head, but a thick mane of hair behind him, and long, flowing sideburns, characteristic of his realm of origin. He wore across his chest the triple moon emblem of the old nation of Saclordia, one of the nations that gave rise to the Lykosan Empire. The creature carried in front of him a baroque bastard sword with a serrated edge, featuring a sharp hook near the end, and twisting in shape, forming a bladed guard around the hilt. The weapon was very characteristic of traditional Saclordian weaponry--poorly balanced but very intimidating and quite effective. He looked around, cautiously, his weapon ready. He advanced out of the whirlpool, into the alleyway. Someone walked by, stopping for a moment. He appeared startled and ran. The Saclord followed, loping in a steady gate, stopping at the edge of the alley, looking into a more active street, lit by numerous signs, busy people, and passing vehicles. The people around him were not Lykosan natives; they appeared more like humans, the ancestor race that genetically engineered other races countless millennia ago. However, he was not yet fully aware that these humans had no relation to the ones he thought of; he was not in his home realm of existence. The people looked at him, nervous by his intimidating presence and perhaps somewhat distrustful towards his unusual appearance. He looked around, sniffing the air, listening, his triangular ears focusing on different people and occurrences.

A group of bikers pulled up next to the Saclord, and one of them approached the warrior visitor.

“That’s a cool sword you have there. I don’t mean to be messing with you or anything. I just want to look at it.” The lycanthropomorhic being looked intently at the human in black leather armor, and then drew out a small spherical device. He held it with one hand, balancing his weapon with the other, and placed the orb in his palm. The gang eyed him cautiously, and then the Saclord placed the item into his own garb. It was a translator device; however, it was not working. The biker ambassador continued to approach him. “You look a little stunned there, buddy. Did you just awaken?”

The Saclord tossed the article down smashing it into several pieces, cursing. “Vek thogh haugh!” Several of the biker band stood up, getting ready to fight, until they realized his aggression is towards the article itself. “Shoghor, thogh tah khavek!” As he spoke in an animalistic growl, he gestured dramatically. He then turned and looked at the bikers one by one, sniffing them. “Please to meet you.... Not from I’m around here. I know only little human.”

“That’s cool. Where did you get that sword?”

“From where... I have to been. Looking for giant brain.”

“Someone very smart?”

“No, something very evil.”

Nialle was another being affected by magic, having a decidedly elf-like tall and slender figure, with a broad, wide face, glossy ebony eyes, and slender ears extending outward from her straight, raven black hair. Her one-piece vinyl full body suit captured attention, making her inhuman facial features that much harder to ignore. She approached Suidhne and Pengarthe, almost intuitively aware that the two of them were alerted to something interesting. “Is something going on?”

“Always,” Pengarthe replied. “It must be hot for you in that outfit.”

“This?” Nialle gestured towards the glossy membrane coating her, clearly defining her features as it pressed against them. “OK, I’m nearing my mating season. I promise I’ll behave.”

“Remember that spell I cast a few years back,” Suidhne replied, “so that I could sense Crossover events?”

“You felt something?”

“It felt almost straight out of my past-life regressions. I think something came through, from another realm. This could be our chance to cross over ourselves. That is, if it’s willing to help out.” The three of them walked together away from an active but serene campus, surrounded by a well-groomed landscape of trees and brick architecture. Nearby, however, was a sprawling wall of black and gray buildings with layers of roads and bridges, a veil of smoke, and extensive frenzied activity. The three stood out among a backdrop of other people going about their various affairs, with an occasional passer-by making efforts not to stare at them. They were accustomed to the fact that magical forces would inexplicably alter a few people from time to time. Research on the phenomena had yet to find a way to prevent or reverse the changes, and even surgical approaches had been found to be only temporary. It was a common fear among people that they would find themselves affected. However, a few people actively hoped for the “affliction,” and some who were affected embraced the metamorphosis, referring to it as “the awakening.” Suidhne, Pengarthe, and Nialle had been among those people.

Suidhne and Pengarthe entered Nialle’s car, a bubbly, organic vehicle with an ecologically friendly engine that buzzed quietly compared to the grumbling trucks and other vehicles around them. They pulled out of the soft scenery of the campus, into the complex labyrinth of towers and buildings surrounding the university. Nialle navigated a highly convoluted pathway, dodging other vehicles with the resolve of a skilled video game player, all the while talking with the others as a bombardment of billboards, towers, and complex machinery passed by.

“I think I may have found a lead on someone who can help us. I discovered a lady named Melody Dreamsail online. She could be a relative of yours.”

“I wonder if she’s related to the Melody Dreamsail of old family history,” Suidhne responded. “According to family lore, she was the sixth child of Spiritwalker Dreamsail, the founder of the mystical realm of Dream Haven. She was a musician like her father, but an enemy caused her to lose her voice in a battle before Dream Haven fell.”

“Spiritwalker was half elf, and immortal, as I recall.” Pengarthe added.

“So was her mother Miriel. For all we know, this lady could be Melody herself.”

“Maybe,” Nialle postulated, “but I don’t think so. I spoke with her.”

“Online?” Pengarthe asked. “You can simulate voices easily online.”

“Did the old Dreamsail family lore say anything about Melody having three eyes, then?”

Suidhne wrinkled her forehead for a moment. “No.”

“Then it probably wasn’t her.”

The Saclordian warrior held onto his traveling companion, a fair-colored maiden decorated with tattoos partially visible against an incomplete outfit of black leather armor. Her light hair was long above her temple, but nearly completely shaved below her ear level. Her companions consisted of others similarly adorned, a band of people as much outcast as the metaphysically afflicted. The visiting warrior creature blended in fairly well as they traveled the convoluted roadways in the deep layers underneath the city. His people were pack animals, living and working as family units in close company. This traveling gang was to him a familiar social structure, apparently at once feared and respected by the culture of this world as warriors. They pulled into a parlor that for all intents could have been underground. The place was by establishment a bar, but it also served as a meeting ground for the underworld. The walls were decorated with a mixture of poetry, bizarre images of vampiresque people, and arcane symbols. As dark, atmospheric background music played, numerous outcasts gathered, celebrating their eccentricities. To the Saclord, this was a familiar scene; he could just as easily be walking into a pub on Ikiran poetry night. A number of the people looked up at him, impressed with his appearance. A group of underworld darklings approached him, and he introduced himself.

“I am Vrognoskah of SacTalharauch, captain of the late vessel L.I.A.S. Wildheart.” His introduction was diplomatic and very familiar, but his language skills fell apart somewhat afterwards. “We battled giant a floating brain monster, and ship was destroyed. Somehow I accidentally fell into this world in battle, and I vek thogh haugh survived!”

“So, you’re not simply a werewolf?” A tall, lanky man with numerous metallic articles imbedded in his face approached him.

“I am a Saclordian warrior! I’m ready to fight to death! Its! But I fell away just as the ship it destroyed!” He leaned foreword and sniffed the skinny figure dwarfed before him. “Who are you.”

“I am Kyle, of the ones who seek the Awakening. So, is that your online persona, or is it for poetry night?”

Shadows lengthened across the landscape, until as evening approached, the skyline consumed the sun. Light from the city itself became predominate, bathed in mist and fog. Cars continued to pour relentlessly through the massive networks of roads and bridges intertwining through countless buildings, while the barrage of multimedia images increased in intensity.

A wooded reservation sat amidst the perpetual activity, bearing an old gateway sign with the name “Morgana Residence.” Inside was an apartment complex of sorts, with a number of tree houses, log cabins, and other exotic homes.

Suidhne, Pengarthe, and Nialle gathered in a room within the complex, decorated with a curious mixture of arcane magical trinkets, books, and technological devices. In the center was a small, flat triangular gadget, with the three of them gathered around somewhat asymmetrically. Pengarthe operated a small cluster of other devices as they looked on, while Nialle guided her. “Go to BMP seven, and that will bring up the Akane subdirectory. From there, summon ‘Melody.’ That should do it.” To someone fluent with the technology, the description sounded straightforward enough. To anyone else, it might sound very much like the word salad of an undifferentiated schizophrenic. “Don’t forget to black book her location with a macro.”

“Of course.” Pengarthe replied. At that moment, a ghostly shape materialized over the triangular gadget, taking the semi-translucent shape of a light colored figure wearing an ornate mixture of predominately blue and gold clothing and jewelry. She was clearly one of the “awakened,” having long, slender, pointed ears and a long, sloped face that was not entirely human. She was very elegant in form, and had a certain arcane look of immortal experience and a slit in her skin, midline over her brow. She lifted aside the hood of her royal blue cloak, revealing platinum blond, wavy hair, emblazoned with a white streak. Then, her forehead slit opened, revealing a third eye, while she squinted the other two.

“Greetings, Suidhne Dreamsail and Pengarthe Ash. Nialle, it is good to see you again.” The ghostly figure looked around at the three of them. “I am Melody Dreamsail. Nialle informs me that you are in the seeking the means of ‘Crossover,’ the means of traveling from one realm of existence to another. I have also foreseen your encountering a means of obtaining that power. I wish to help you in your endeavor, as I believe we have common interests.” She turned towards Suidhne. “I also believe we have kinship.”

“Melody,” Suidhne asked, “are you related to Melody, daughter of Spiritwalker?”

“Yes,” she replied with a smile.” And so are you. All Dreamsails are related.”

“Are we all awakened?”

“I do not know, but if there are those who are not, they will be.” She looked at Pengarthe next. Her median eye came to a close, and her appearance became less immediately startling, though she maintained an exotic presence. “I would like to meet with you.”

“Are you in Collinwood?” Pengarthe asked.

“I can be.”

“There is a garden on the campus of Keller University, shared by their Botany and Metaphysics departments....”

In darkness, much of the oppressive aspects of the dense Collinwood cityscape was obscured. Away from the city activity, on the oasis of Keller University’s botanical garden, Suidhne, Pengarthe, and Nialle gathered under a wood, vine, and flower tent, surrounded by black, yellow, and orange blossoms and warm light. A single, cloaked and hooded figure strolled foreword along one of several stone pathways, winding around various colorful bushes. Melody presented herself, appearing even more unearthly in person.

“I am capable of seeing into the near future from time to time. I’ve seen your encountering a traveler from another realm, and it is very important that I find him, because he plays an important part in another vision of mine.”

“Do you know why he is here?” Pengarthe asked. “Is he a wizard?”

“He has never crossed over before, and did not come here intentionally. I do not know exactly where he is, but by finding you, I believe I can find him, because you will encounter him.”

Suidhne reacted. “If he is here by accident, then is there any chance he can help us find Crossover?”

“You will give him Crossover.”

“Us?” Nialle asked. “We’re giving him Crossover?”

“That is what I foresaw. You will help him return to his world, and then he will destroy a powerful monster there.”

“But, how can we give him Crossover, when we don’t have it ourselves?”

“I will give it to you.” She gestured, and a spiraling whorl of blue and white energy appeared, creating a distortion in the space in its center, increasing until an opening appeared in the fabric of space, revealing on the other side a bizarre, alien landscape. A faint gust of warm air blew in from the other world. Beyond the portal, hills and valleys were lined with a baroque, plantlike growth, creating a complex forest of interweaving, twisting shapes. Warm light from an orange sun poured over the landscape, and scattered amidst the growth were several distant settlements. Overhead, several flying vessels floated in the sky. “I invite you to come with me.”

Pengarthe walked around the floating whirlpool of energy, viewing the other world from both sides, inspecting the flow of warm air and gazing upon the alien terrain beyond. He stepped into and across the portal, and then backed into his own realm. He nods, and the others follow, accompanied by the mysterious Melody Dreamsail. They entered the setting, going from nighttime in their familiar world to afternoon in the other world. Melody led them into a cluster of organic huts nearby.

“This is the outskirts of Zynskistra, the capital of the province of Saclordia, on the planet Lykosa,” Melody explained, in the comforts of the curved, ceramic housing, as warm orange light poured in from outside. “Lykosans appear somewhat like werewolves; they are part wolf and part human not only in appearance, but in genetics. The Lykosan Empire stemmed from this planet over 100 Lykosan years ago, a Lykosan year being about five and one eighth of our years. Their first ruler, Queen Moira, united their civilization just as they were beginning to colonize other planets in their own star system, and early on in her reign, they gained interstellar capabilities and made contact with other civilizations.” Melody noticed a distant look on Suidhne, and gestured concern.

“It’s an old memory. I remember things from past lives, and something hit a chord from my past. You said that the Lykosans are part human?”

“It seems that many millennia ago, humans in this universe engaged in genetic engineering experiments and expanded into a huge civilization--an intergalactic one. But, it fell apart and left the Lykosans to start over from scratch.”

Images flickered momentarily in Suidhne’s mind, of someone she once was. This was a young man, experiencing something similar to The Awakening. But, he was the first one, and no one around him knew that world to contain anything but the mundane. The transformation was very painful to him, both physically and psychologically. She could see him, curled up and writhing, shape shifting for the first time. She shook the image from her mind and refocused her thoughts. “What about the one we’re giving Crossover?”

“He is a Saclordian, a native of this province. They’re a culture of warriors, but they are used to outsiders. The Lykosan Empire is very diverse, though most beings in this province are Native Lykosans with Saclordian ancestry. He was leading an exploration mission for the empire, investigating the ruins of their human creators. However, they encountered a powerful entity that destroyed their vessel; there were only two survivors. He most likely wants revenge, but to find the entity and survive fighting it, he will need extraordinary power-power that I do not have. But, somehow, you will find that power and bestow it upon him.”

Pengarthe stood up and approached Melody. “That is rather clear and vivid for a premonition. How do you know so much about this person?” He became increasingly wary. “Suidhne has told me legends about Crossovers; in her past lives she dealt with them a lot. They have a lot of hidden agendas and get very manipulative.” He stood back for a moment, assuming a guarding stance between Melody and the others. “So, let’s hear the rest of it. First, you are the Melody Dreamsail of Suidhne’s family lore, so where did the extra eyeball come from? And, what part did you have in the fight?”

“I was curious about the expedition; I wanted to see what they would find, so I watched from a distance, in an astrally projected state. But, I sensed the presence of the powerful force. I knew the Lykosans would fight it, and I knew they would lose, but there was no way to convince them of that. Therefore, I teleported the captain of the ship away, because at that moment I had a premonition of his destroying the creature later....”

“So, lucky for him, you had a premonition. if you didn’t have one, you would have let him die?”

Melody winced, and then spoke with a fatigued resolve. “Crossover ethics are a very complicated issue. After centuries of debate and contemplation, the general consensus is to involve others as little as possible.” Believe me, this is something that has been gone over time and again.

“In other words, only when it’s convenient?”

“I have seen entire worlds destroyed, simply because someone showed off a little! Some have abandoned Crossover altogether rather than facing the philosophical ramifications. I came to Saclordia because Lykosans are used to dealing with the unusual, and thus my mere presence would not disrupt the flow of the universe around me. I only hope I haven’t started another cascade of events leading to a world’s destruction, either yours or mine. If guilt is what you are after, trust me on this one--I already have plenty.”

Suidhne came foreword. “She’s right, Pengarthe. Remember our meditations on my life as Vlk’rin? He watched his universe fall into chaos because people started dabbling in that colorful potion from a neighboring universe.”

Melody’s tone faded rapidly, and her eyes apparently enlarged appreciably. “My God and Goddess, I remember that. I was there! Are you Vlk’rin?”

Pengarthe made an aside to Nialle. “I might add, that in the accounts I read, Crossovers frequently annoyed company with tangential conversation, consisting of topic after topic with little or no introduction to the rest of the party.

“He was a past life of mine,” Suidhne continued. You knew him?”

“Yes. I knew him.” Melody glanced for a moment at Suidhne, noticing her ghostly white skin and prominent bust cleavage against a black bra top. “You’ve changed a bit.”

Pengarthe interjected. “Wait. You said there were two survivors. Where and what is the second?”

Back in Collinwood, within the deep layers of the city, Vrognoskah, the one known as Kyle, and the other members of the pack strolled near a club blaring loud music, featuring an occasional flicker of green light from inside, and guarded by two formidable figures. The Saclordian noticed something and began to sniff the air around him, his triangular ears pointing towards a nearby alley. He walked over, the others filling in behind him. He drew his sword and brandished it, preparing for combat. A slender, lean figure suddenly jumped out of one of the walls. Vrognoskah lunged at it with his weapon, growling, and the figure responded with a complex series of dodges, knocking around alley refuse. The figure deflected off a nearby wall, fliped, and landed in front of the Saclordian. He roared and advanced with a rapid series of swings and strikes, as the figure frantically bounced and deflected around the area before finally landing on top of his blade, balanced with incredible dexterity.

Vrognoskah looked at his target, kneeling and leaning towards him, carefully balanced on his large, heavy weapon as he held both of them up. The two eyed each other for several seconds, before it finally responded.

“Kha gnech? Vrognoskah Kha ghech?”

The Saclordian grinned as the lean figure jumped off of the sword, into view. He was a short and slender elven form, dressed in dark, leafy clothing that shifted in color and appearance. Even his facial features appeared to refine themselves as he settled down. His clothing transformed into a black leather style matching that of the people around him. Vrognoskah turned to him and asked, “How is your human?”

“I’m pretty fluent, Captain,” the being replied. “Are there any other survivors?”

“I’ve not seen others since the blew up. I think only the destroyer made it and us. Since then is my new pack these.” He gestured to the others.

The one known as Kyle approached the entity, impressed by his extreme lankiness. “I have never seen such a being as yourself.”

“I am known as Danit, of the Cunae Sidhe. While I have seen humans before, I have never seen this place. We are from elsewhere. How far, I do not know.”

Downtown Zynskistra consisted of a series of tall, slender buildings surrounded by a huge labyrinth of natural and artificial loops and knots projecting horizontally and vertically. A large, wide oval screen filled the side of one of the largest structures, on which a constant barrage of news was broadcast, echoing for nearly half a mile as images flashed and announcers described local events as well as events happening on other planets. The speakers, mostly lupine Native Lykosans, spoke in the hard, choppy language of Saclordia, combined with dynamic gestures that were characteristic of formal Lykosan language.

“...Continuing a movement for Cunae Sidhe independence. The Cunan representatives have denied rumors of open support of these wild acts of terrorism, stating simply that while the Cunan people have pushed for sovereign status outside the Lykosan Empire, they choose to do so via peaceful means.

“The Imperial Armada vessel L.I.A.S. Persistence is the second vessel to disappear near the Tehvach Tohn expedition, an archaeological survey initiated by the crew of the now missing vessel L.I.A.S. Wildheart. Details of the expedition’s findings to date remain classified by order of Fleet Admiral Turan, but he has issued a formal statement.”

A dark-featured, lean Lykosan appeared. “The Lykosan Empire encourages all citizens and the people of all members of the Thraeti-R’Pannor Interstellar Treaty Organization to stay clear of the Ghadhedri Region, the area of space where the Tehvach Tohn expedition took place. We have come across a serious hazard in this region and are working underway to restore security to this remote area of space.”

The previous announcer returned. “Admiral Turan denied rumors that the disappearance of either vessel related to anti-government movements, either inside or outside the Lykosan Empire.”

“We found a hostile force. It appears to be unique to that location. The Lykosan Empire has dealt with such beings before, and some, such as the Ilarthians, now walk among us. However, diplomatic measures seem to be failing.”

The newscaster resumed. “Members of the Thraeti-R’Pannor Peace Consortium have opened up an investigation of their own, and are currently inquiring about a planetary explosion and evidence of the use of Holskoven Rho weaponry. In other interstellar news, the Smell/Scent DVT Corperation announced that it will merge with Kirishan Technologies...”

Melody looked back at the others, who simply stared up at the screen with a new sense of amazement. Each of them wore a translation device over an ear, converting the screen images’ yipping, barking, and dynamic sign language into something akin to the above paragraphs. They walked along a bustling streetway, surrounded mostly by native Lykosans, intermixed by an occasional member of a myriad mixture of other races. Melody led them into one of a number of circular orifices, each decorated by a hodge-podge of lighted signs decorated with the complex scratch marks of both Kahlenian--the official language of the empire--and the local Saclordian.

“This is the Lykosan equivalent of a coffee bar,” Melody commented.

“...The Saclordians are Lykosans, but not all Lykosans are Saclords.” Nialle thought out loud. “The Lykosans are werewolves, and they have a big empire in space. I think I’ve got that part. Now what’s a Tehvach Tohn again, and who are the Cunae?”

Pengarthe commented, “Legend has it that more than one being went insane just trying to follow Crossovers in conversation.”

“It was hard for me the first time, too,” Melody interjected. “The Cunae Sidhe, and their distant cousins the Ehlan Sidhe, are two races who were conquered about sixty y...about three hundred of our years ago, back when Lykosa was a more aggressive, conquering force. They were allowed to maintain self government and even given new technologies, as well as spots in the imperial parliament, and so like many others were agreeable to Lykosan rule at the time.”

As Melody explained, the others fidgeted with their translators, converting ornate scratch marks on a central obelisk on the table into a menu, complete with prices in both regular Lykosan currency and a separate second currency, evidently used only to buy essentials such as food.

“The Tehvach Tohn system is a star system on the edge of familiar space, where Lykosa has found ruins of an ancient civilization--one which appears to have created them, as well as a number of other members of this galaxy.”

“Do you have enough Spavorks to cover a round of Yoozas, or should we stick with the Viffluf Nezzum so you can ration your Veemas?” Nialle asked, kinking her head to one side.

A fleet of seven imperial battleships closed in on the wreckage of the L.I.A.S. Persistence, adrift in space. The captain of the lead ship observed in a large, panoramic field of view as the twisted, warped hull of the former Yetil Class vessel came into sight. The foredeck still displayed defiantly the emblem of the Lykosan Empire, but the distorted, derilect ruins were lifeless.

The fleet crews were standing ready for action at any given moment. Tension grew as the seven bridge crews saw the warped wreckage of the last leviathan cruiser. It was of the same class as three of the vessels of the fleet, and two other ships, including the lead vessel, were similar to the L.I.A.S. Wildheart, the other ship recently lost. The lead vessel, the Treyella, named in honor of the psychically empowered second Lykosan Emperoress, had some experimental modifications that amplified the powers of psionic individuals. The other two were older ships providing backup to round out the force.

“Captain,” a bridge officer on the Treyella informed the slender, black, yellow-eyed central figure, “I’m detecting an electromagnetic distortion field headed towards us.”

“Psionics, what are your scans?”

“It is difficult to read...strong emotion...massive direction and focus of intent...it’s shielding itself, Captain! It’s building up an energy surge. We’re under attack!”

“All ships, fire at will. Attack pattern Yellow belt number four. Inform Command Ship Number Three, we have engaged.” There was, of course, no “Command Ship Number Three.” However, it was a popular Lykosan tactic to signal to fictitious ships as a deceptive tactic. The Treyella and three other cruisers advanced forward, while the remaining three ships assumed arc paths, converging upon the adversary from the side in three directions.

The adversary, nearly a pinpoint in space, let loose a forceful distortion wave that rippled through space, tearing into the four ships in the frontal assault. The two older ships buckled and ripped apart instantly in the blast, while the newer, Yetil class support ship held fast, its starboard hull exploding in brilliant splinters. The lead ship Treyella shook and rolled, but advanced undamaged, as though it were floating on water disturbed by a brief, harmless splash.

“Vessels Yatsura and Sactovor have been destroyed! Vigilance III has taken damage, power down 20%, at least thirty-seven casualties. Our psionic shield is holding, no damage to our vessel.”

The two survivors and the other three ships simultaneously opened fire with a barrage of spatial disruptor blasts. Brilliant green bursts struck the floating adversary from four directions, bathing it in tortuous ripples in the fabric of space around it. The floating protoplasmic form continued its slow, relentless drift forward, unphased. The Treyella and her companion ship then fired a massive volley of missiles, each splintering in stages in succession into numerous smaller fragments, until a massive curtain of shrapnel stormed on the floating form in all directions. Bursts of light emerged from the other ships. All the while, the entity advanced as though walking through a gentle shower. The five vessels began to rock from the shock waves of the first spatial disruptor blasts, and each backed away slightly.

“Still no effect on the hostile entity.”

“Long range sensors are detecting a buoy signal-it’s from a scout ship.”

“It’s preparing for another strike, this time much larger.” The comment came from the Treyella’s chief psionics officer, a heavy set gray lupine figure. “The other ships won’t survive.”

“This is Treyella; all other vessels, retreat now. Repeat, retreat now and fall back to position.... “ As the orders were given, the ripple fired out from the brain creature. Three of the ships managed to evade the blast, hapazardously turning around and withdrawing in random directions. The other, a Yetil class battleship, caught by the wave as it was turning, flattened and rippled, and then broke into three large fragments and a field of scattered pieces. The Treyella rocked back and forth but stood her ground, slipping through the waves.

The brain sat in space as the cyclopean L.I.A.S. Treyella boldly advanced upon it, until the one and a half kilometer giant filled space in front of the entity. The vast, pointed triangular front hull hung over the creature authoritatively. Then, the vessel sent a telepathic message.

“This is Captain Harvach of the L.I.A.S. Treyella, representing the Lykosan Empire. You have declared war on us and have caused numerous deaths. None-the- less, in the interests of science and knowledge, we are prepared to negotiate a cease-fire and put an end to this conflict.”

“I will not surrender.” The entity sent its reply telepathically to the entire crew.

“Yes, you will.” Captain Harvach replied, and then gestured to his chief psionic officer, who was housed in an alcove, connected to the bridge of the Treyella. A piercing white light burst from an assembly previously hidden on the vast hull, cutting into the creature’s left hemisphere, cutting across several gyri.

The creature reacted with a massive telepathic shreik, and a number of the crew collapsed, some quiverring in epileptic seizures, while others simply dropped. Others clamped down on their heads, howling and moaning as a piercing migraine overtook them. Harvach jolted foreward for a moment, nearly vomiting. He steadied himself. The chief psionist stood firm with a wide-eyed stare in his alcove, holding himself upright. “...We’re...at a...stand-off, captain...I don’t know how...much longer...I can...”

Harvach ran to one of the others, who was shaking and spasming frantically. “Take us out of here! Medical emergency on the bridge--seven down, others injured.” He then looked at the image of the creature on the panoramic view of space around him. “This is not over.” He then turned back towards his crew. “Intercept the buoy if you can, but get us out of here.”

The L.I.A.S. Treyella backed away, turning its massive form around the floating creature and then disappearing in a burst of luminescence as it generated a controlled space warp, allowing it to travel more than a thousand times the speed of light.

Captain Vrognoskah and Danit Cuna rode with the human pack, roaring through winding freeways interlacing the Collinwood skyline. They passed a sea of cars coasting along a complex concrete river, each filled with passengers and drivers gazing at the travelling warriors.

They came to a stop in front of yet another hidden, recessed cluster of buildings, some of which were bearing metaphysical symbols. They entered one particular one, which featured a number of sparkling crystalline articles dangling in the window, towards which Danit found himself momentarily reflexively drawn. Overhead was a sign: “Madame Iva’s Divination and Metaphysical Shop.” Inside was a hodge-podge of old and new books, curious trinkets, and jars of herbs, as well as a few discs designed to be read by electronic equipment. A gray-haired but energetic lady greeted the group.

“Hello, Kyle. What did you find this time?”

“This is a Sack Lord, from the Lykosan Empire, and his companion, a something or other Sidhe.”

Greetings, prophetess,” Vrognoskah stated. “We’re to find out we are here and why do we.”

“That is,” Danit offered, “we’re not from around here, and we’d like to know where we are and how we got here. We were both pulled out of our place and time into this world.”

Madame Iva looked carefully at the two travellers, one a large, bestial form and the other a slender, gossamer form. Brief images flashed into her mind of the near future. The bestial one sometime soon would plunge the enormous, jagged edged blade he had been carrying with him into what looked like a large protoplasmic form resembling a disembodied brain. This would happen in some large, metallic hallway filled with twisted, grotesque remains of what looked like creatures similar to him. The image was disturbing, even frightening to her, as the broken, distorted bodies of the others resembled nightmares she used to have.

“You are going to destroy something, but only after it does terrible, indescribable things to people around you.”

Vrognoskah had mixed reactions. However, he seemed content with one point. “Then I’ll it seen again? And this time will finish destroying it?”

“But how do we get to it?” Danit asked.

Iva stared into space before the two of them, and looked into the near future again. She saw a splendid, elegant maiden in a royal blue cloak. Suddenly, unexpectedly, she opened a third eye in her forehead, and Iva jolted back. “You are out of some sort of dreamworld. You will be delivered back there by...a group of the Awakened.” She then looked at Danit, and had another brief vision. Iva started to blush.

“What is it? What are you seeing now?”

“You will find a mate.”

The L.I.A.S. Treyella approached a small, derelict scout ship adrift in space, monotonously repeating an electronic signal. On board the Treyella, Captain Harvach and the crew watched on a projected oval screen image the contents of the message; it was a small archaeology expedition, unprepared for what they would find. The crew of the Treyella watched as the scout ship crew described encountering an entity resembling a floating brain, advancing and destroying them. They sent out a warning, of course, to anyone else who might find this hostile force.

One thing did not make sense, however. The message was dated almost fifty days ago, placing their encounter before even the destruction of the first Armada vessel, the Wildheart. Fleet Admiral Turan and the Armada Command would surely have gained knowledge beforehand about the creature, and based on the scout ship’s tactical data, they would have known that even a ship like the Wildheart would not have stood much of a chance alone. Harvach looked puzzled, and even suspicious.

“This just does not make sense. Let’s review our mission briefings from Admiral Turan.”

The floating oval window displayed the emblem of the Lykosan Empire; accompanied by the jagged, claw mark-like lettering of their main written language. Then, Admiral Turan appeared, a thick-furred, gray-muzzled individual. “The following mission briefing is classified at level 4 security, and is effective time index 06.21.70.098. The Lykosan Imperial Armada Starships Treyella, Endurance III, Yatsura....”

“Can you skip that part?”

“Aye, sir.” The image blurred a moment as Admiral Turan soundlessly lectured and gestured with the speed of a car advertisement. He then resumed normal speed and spoke audibly again. “...Persistence broke contact with us, informing us that they were engaging the entity. Against orders, they evidently engaged the entity, and have not been heard from since. This entity, based on information gained from the first encounter with the Wildheart, appears to have psionic capabilities more advanced than anything previously known to Lykosan science. It is therefore felt that...”

“Wait, pause! Now, back up and play that last part again.”

The old admiral silently gestured backwards for a moment, and then resumed speaking. “...Gained from the first encounter with the Wildheart, appears to have psionic capabilities...”

“This whole thing makes no more sense than putting a Saclord like Captain Vrognoskah in charge of an archaeology expedition in the first place.”

“Sir, are you suggesting that there are portions of this mission that we have not been briefed of?”

“You curiously miss overhearing a priority beacon of tactical information sent by a ship exploring old ruins. Then, you send a brand new battleship with a crazed Saclord and his devout crew coincidentally to the same ruins.” Captain Harvach looked around his centrally located chair, at the bridges and decks around him, inquisitively. “Did I miss anything?”

“The L.I.A.S. Persistence.” It was their chief psionist speaking up. “Sir, according to the Admiral, they went against orders and attacked the entity.”

“But, did they really go against orders?”

“I have a feeling they didn’t.... And so do you.”

“How perceptive. Bring the scout ship aboard, and let’s see if we can locate any remains of the Persistence while we’re out here. I hope I’m wrong about this, and I’m assuming personal responsibility for our actions. We’ve got the crews and lives of two great ships--the Persistence and the Wildheart--to exonerate.”

Suidhne, Pengarthe, Nialle, and Melody had made their way back into Collinwood, into the dark alleys and back corners where their prophesized monster slayer should be. Collinwood was a large city, and the underground scene was fairly sizable, but two beings from another reality would no doubt find a way to stand out. Suidhne’s, Pengarthe’s, and Nialle’s association with fellow Awakened gave them the network to search, which lead them to Elder Spawn’s, a hard rock club.

Just as Vrognoskah and Danit exited Elder Spawn’s, a small group of four Awakened individuals approached them.

“We have been looking for you.” Suidhne introduced herself to Vrognoskah and Danit. “You must be from the crew of the L.I.A.S. Wildheart. I am Suidhne Dreamsail.”

Vrognoskah looked closely at the bleached white woman with the unicorn horn, her black pupils, fingernails, and lips contrasting sharply against the rest of her skin. “You must be the dream people here to return me to my world. Do any of you have three eyes?”

“That would be me. I am Melody Dreamsail.”

Danit looked at Suidhne, then at Melody, who had more human flesh tones, though she was platinum blond. Melody’s third eye blinked quietly. “Yes,” Danit nodded. “I can see the family resemblance.”

Vrognoskah looked at Melody. “Wait, I remember you.” He glared, drawing his great sword. “You saved my life, you vek thogh hagh!” He lunged at Melody, who dodged aside and surprisingly, grabbed his arm, using his own momentum and force against him, causing him to trip. As he fell, she struck a nerve in his hand, causing his massive blade to tumble out of control, clattering to the ground. Melody Dreamsail had evidently learned advanced fighting techniques at some point in her life-enough to respond to a Saclordian warrior.

Danit at the same time launched himself at Pengarthe, his muscular satyr form being the largest target of the group. However, Nialle stepped in. Her build was similar to Danit’s; both were inhumanly slender and seemingly frail but in fact very agile. The two rapidly exchanged a complex series of volleys and punches, each person intensely focused on the other.

Vrognoskah growled and launched at Melody with his open, clawed hands, charging furiously upon her. He proceeded to rip into her arm, pummeling her to the ground. He raked at her several times, but she rolled aside and lunged back at him, grabbing his throat. He stood up, pulling Melody with him, off the ground. Swinging from side to side, he knocked Melody back and forth between his fists. He tried to lunge into her face and bite it apart, but as he leaned, he saw Melody’s three eyes.

Within her was some sort of spiritual attunement; she had become possessed by some ultra-powerful dark presence, emanating from the third eye. Vrognoskah could see a terrible war goddess figure before him, warning him that she could destroy him at any moment if she so desired. She then fell back, landing on her feet, staring at Vrognoskah with her arms still extended foreword, shaking. “Please, don’t summon her. Not now.”

Danit had by this point grabbed Nialle’s four-fingered hands, and he was trying to wrestle her to the ground. But, for some reason, he was weakening; he could not understand why at first. Nialle had become very wide-eyed, her all-black glossy orbs gazing at Danit in an almost sensual manner. She looked at once confused and fascinated. Then, Danit realized that it was the scent of her sweat around her neck, escaping from her tightly adherent body suit, that was affecting his strength. Somehow, she was subduing him. Danit pulled himself loose from her and darted back.

“Captain?” Danit called out to Vrognoskah. “They’re using some sort of sorcery.” He looked at Nialle’s sharply defined, glistening figure, feeling arousal welling up within him. Nialle gazed back at his own well-defined form, drawn to the appearance of his nearly nude form, decorated with clusters of leaves. She found his long, sloped face and slick skin inviting, and felt her breasts press against their vinyl confinement.

“We underestimated our opponents. That was our undoing.”

“This has to be some sort of mind trick!”

Nialle approached Danit. “This isn’t a trick. I think...I think we’ve entered some sort of mating cycle.”

“She’s joined with some dark spirit,” Vrognoskah responded. “Kali, Eponya, Elodei, or another Vachtori goddess of war. They have a lot of them. She has one of them, too!”

“We did not come here to fight you,” Melody informed the subdued Saclord warrior. “We need you for a prophecy, to destroy a powerful evil force.”

“Keep talking,” Vrognoskah answered.

Amidst a vast field of Saclordian foliage, a swirling blue whirlpool of light opened up, and Melody stepped through, followed by Pengarthe, Suidhne, Nialle, Danit, and Vrognoskah. They were now outside Melody’s home in the outskirts of the Saclordian capital. Vrognoskah looked around in disbelief; suddenly, they had walked back from an alien landscape to what was practically his home city.

Vrognoskah turned to Danit. “Legends are about this thing. It is said Queen Moira did this to worlds.”

“And Queen Treyella,” Danit added. “Some believe she used this type of power to take over the Avarin star system. I know that some Lykosans have strong psionic capabilities, but I always thought that the legends about Queen Moira and the Anawind Dynasty were exaggerated.”

“Queen Moira was very gentle,” Melody answered. “That is, for a Lykosan from that era. Her successor Treyella was far more aggressive. I met each of them over 90 Lykosan years ago.”

They made their way indoor, through an oval clearing and an entry tunnel, into a stone clearing. The place was typical of Lykosan housing in that it had a central den with alcoves and oval doorways leading to other rooms. It was unusually small, but unlike most Lykosan dwellings it had only one regular occupant. The place was decorated with a number of curious artifacts and items, as well as crystalline blue and lavender decorations. Clusters of greenery grew around scattered light sources; they were plants more typical of Collinwood than Lykosa, though they were from neither of those worlds.

Melody proceeded to explain. “The physics of what some call ‘Crossover’ are by their very nature highly variable and hard to predict, but there are certain constants. One is that on occasion, someone gains the ability to go between worlds. This power is accompanied by other abilities that differ from person to person, but tie into their personality. Crossover is a phenomenon of will, and we have the ability to pass it along, but only one person at a time.”

“Why only one person at a time?” Danit inquired, watching Nialle carefully as she gazed back at him, stroking her upper chest, pacing suggestively.

“Maybe it is some sort of built-in safeguard to the universe. I’ve seen worlds without this limitation, and they fell rapidly into chaos. It is a strange sensation to be there when the laws of physics disintegrate before you. Here, when you receive the power of Crossover, you are immediately able to pass it along to someone else, but it takes a year or more-a Collinwood year that is, which is about a fifth of a Lykosan year--before you can pass it along again.”

Pengarthe added, “Melody gave the power to Suidhne, who in turn gave the power to me. I then proceeded to give Crossover capability to Nialle.”

“Now I will give it to one of you,” Nialle continued. “But, you should give it to the other. The last one in line will, of course, have the ability to pass it along to someone else.”

“Captain,” Danit said respectfully, “if I go first, then you can pass it along.”

“Noble of you but risky. You’ll have to get it from Nialle, who is she’s eager to give you it.” He smirked slightly with that observation as Danit looked at Nialle, who continued posturing suggestively.

Danit approached Nialle. “We are from...” He spoke with a whisper, and then blushed, clearing his throat and continuing. The Cunae Sidhe lose their voice when stimulated, in much the same way some people sneeze. “We are from different worlds...” He regained his voice, but it sounded softened and shaky. “...Yet somehow we must be the same species.” He felt his skin flushing, which only served to arouse Nialle further.

“I’ve seen the same species on many different worlds,” Melody commented. “I’ve seen people similar to Lykosan natives elsewhere, and you would not believe all the places I’ve seen humans.”

“But that’s just it.” Nialle also found herself struggling to break out of a whisper. “I used to be human, and so did Pengarthe. Suidhne may have been born different, but most of the Awakened are at heart human.” She tried to shake off her urges, finding herself at odds with her Awakening for the first time since the initial ordeal over her compulsion towards Danit.

“Maybe the Awakening is some new form of Crossover event,” Pengarthe postulated. He noticed that Melody looked disturbed by that proposal.

“If that’s the case,” Melody commented, “then you must use absolute caution with Crossover, and it may already be too late. Your world may be about to fall apart.”

“Can we stop it?” Suidhne asked.

“Maybe,” Melody answered. “Just do not let the old patterns happen again.”

“In the mean time,” Nialle whispered to Danit, “I have to bestow upon you Crossover.” She gestured for him to follow her into a private chamber.

Pengarthe and Suidhne looked at Melody, who simply responded, “If Nialle is Cunae Sidhe, we’re not going to stop her urges.”

Danit backed into Melody’s bedroom chamber, Nialle advancing. Her vinyl body suit creaked suggestively as her hips swayed. Danit felt his leafy decorations withdraw into his body, leaving him fully exposed. Nialle had given in to her mating instincts.

“As Cunae, I’m comfortable with our biology, “ Danit explains frantically. “And believe me, I find you as appealing as you seem to find me. But, if you’re really supposed to be human, and you’ve got human morals...then I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

Nialle rotated her back towards Danit, keeping eye contact and tilting her head. “Can you help unzip me? It’s very hot in this thing.” Nialle’s outfit had a midline zipper chained to a collar around her neck, with a single latch that released both. “It’s hard to reach.” Danit looked around frantically, noticing a padlock on one of Melody’s jewelry boxes. He backed over to it as Nialle slowly advanced forward, her thighs rubbing against each other. Danit felt his own sexual organ swelling. However, he concentrated on a plan of defense. He used his inherent Cunae shape shifting ability to stretch one finger into the lock’s keyhole and work it open.

Nialle reached both arms conspicuously behind her neck and started to unfasten her collar. Danit responded by reaching towards her, placing both arms around the back of her neck. She smiled and exhaled happily, feeling a slight click behind her neck. She tugged on her collar but noticed that it was still fitted securely around her neck. She reached around the back of her neck; at first thinking Danit simply missed the release latch, until she palpated the padlock. At that moment, she realized Danit had trapped her in her body suit. She tugged frantically on the padlock and the back of her collar for a moment, and then eyed Danit, posturing. “Danit let me out.” Danit backed away, catching his breath, still coated with sweat. Nialle tugged against her collar, and then clawed against the glossy black membrane pressing tightly against her, unable to break its seal over her skin. She continued advancing on Danit, enraptured by her own captivity. “Let me out!”

Danit backed away as Nialle advanced, realizing that his strategy backfired. Nialle’s advances continued, and he found himself further stimulated by her vein efforts to escape her vinyl body suit. He backed into a wall, with Nialle dancing slowly before him. She bit at the vinyl coating over her right hand, and then tugged at it over her arm. As she cornered Danit, she felt her entire body sweating profusely sealed inside the black membrane. She pressed up against him, whispering again, “let me out!”

Danit stumbled and fell onto an oval bed. Nialle immediately seized the opportunity to climb on top of him, continuing her pleas, her voice diminished to a whisper. She sat up in front of him, her legs apart, her aperture between locked behind the vinyl barrier. She kinked her head slightly, smiling with a sudden realization, and then climbed on top of Danit, whispering. “To give you crossover, I have to touch you. So, you’ll have to let me out.”

Danit paused for a moment, trying to hold back his sense of enrapturement. His own voice had also become a whisper. “You can still touch with your lips.”

She leaned over him, her face peering into his with a cat-like gaze. “Let me out, and I’ll give you crossover.”

“Give me crossover, and then I’ll let you out.” Danit replied, regaining control even as she maneuvered on top of him. Nialle gently lowered her face into Danit’s. All was quiet for a moment except the subtle sounds of Nialle’s body pressing in vein against its slick encasement. A faint blue light swirled around Nialle, and then her lips touched Danit’s. He tried to gasp, but Nialle covered his mouth with hers. He wriggled slightly as a tremendous pulsing surge passed between the two of them, followed by bolts of brilliant blue and white light. Nialle tightened for a moment, but then became limp in Danit’s arms as stray sparks of light flickered and crackled. He suddenly, deeply exhaled, drenched in sweat. Nialle dropped beside Danit, stroking his glistening chest and abdomen for a moment before lying on her back in bed beside him. She sighed with pleasure, squinting her eyes, tugging at the edge of her body suit, unable to pull it past the upper, inner edge of her breasts; her own sweat remained trapped inside her outfit, causing it to adhere more tightly to her.

“Danit,” she whispered, closing her eyes and gasping. “You can let me out now.” She smiled somewhat mischievously; Danit smiled back. She leaned towards him, tugging on her collar, gesturing.

“If I let you out now, I’m not sure I could forgive myself.” Nialle responded by jumping on him, gasping with frustration. “Besides, if you’re Cunae Sidhe, you could pick the lock.”

“I tried. I don’t seem to be able to do what you do. Now, can you let me out?”

“I’m sure Melody has a key.”

“I believe I may have seen your adversary before, Vrognoskah,” Suidhne advised the Saclord warrior. “If I took a moment to see one of my past lives, I think it could give us insight.”

Suidhne sat comfortably, as Pengarthe gently, affectionately stroked her hair. Her eyes glazed over slightly, then she drifted back, as if sinking into the organic Lykosan furniture behind her. “I am Lukos Empiros... it is after the era of the Second Wolven Empire.”

Lukos Antropos was not quite a single entity, but not quite many beings either. He consisted of thousands of individual copies of himself, termed “tracers,” interconnected with each other, exchanging awareness from one moment to the next. The largest of these was a fifty-kilometer long starship composed in part of thousands of these bodies interwoven together, along with a nearly equal amount of another entity, his mate Elodea. Elodea was as old as he was; the two had evolved together over millennia, and she, too, had an expanded consciousness with multiple simultaneous selves.

An intellectual rival appeared, whose body consisted only of a floating, dismembered brain about a meter in length with a rudimentary spinal cord connected to exposed small organs suspended on its underside. It was called a “gheidei,” and the entity had the ability to shape reality around itself and around a range of a billion miles. In an effort to increase its range, it had spent the past several years studying some of the breakthroughs in cosmic string physics. Suddenly in a bold maneuver, it tied itself into the fabric of the universe and began growing in size.

Lukos Antropos was there when it happened, and one of his self duplicates responded by analyzing the creature’s actions and employing the same methods. Lukos’s tracer being interwove himself into the cosmic strings composing the fabric of the universe, in an effort to catch up to the gheidei monster. He knew the gheidei would take over all of known existence, in effect transforming itself into a hostile God unless Lukos stopped it. As space and time warped around the two beings, they fought each other with volleys of primordial energy and quantum mechanical laws. The gheidei had created some sort of psychic filter around itself, preventing it from being overwhelmed by the experience of expanding one’s self into the universe. Lukos had no such filter in place, and the sense of expanding consciousness and universal awareness flooded him, at first nearly causing the gheidei to overtake him. However, this same consciousness gave him new insight that ultimately gave him the strategic edge. He overtook the gheidei, and at that instant the gheidei suddenly broke apart into a flurry of random particles.

There were other gheidei out there, but most were content to live peacefully. This one being was an exception. As for Lukos’s tracer, he became a separate entity. From time to time, a tracer would have enough life experience to cause him to want to become a separate being in his own right, and such was the case of this one tracer who found some new form of universal consciousness. He predicted that some day the rest of Lukos Antropos would learn what he did, and at that point he would re-join the collective consciousness. This would happen several thousand years later, after Lukos Antropos had become Lukos Empiros, an even more advanced consciousness who was interwoven even more tightly with his companion Elodea.

Suidhne sat foreword, pulling herself back to a grounded state. “A gheidei can control the fabric of existence around it. The creature has a solid sense of awareness all around it; there is no way to sneak up on it.”

“Maybe in regular space,” Pengarthe noted. “But we have this Crossover thing. We have the one thing it doesn’t-we have magic.”

“So we can sneak up on it, and then die grotesquely and painfully as soon as we show up,” Nialle interjected. “What a great idea! How do we get past the fact that it’s omnipotent?”

“I don’t think this one has figured out cosmic strings yet, or else the Lykosan universe would already have been conquered.” Melody explained. “I can create a limited form of shielding against its effects; that’s how I was able to rescue Danit and Captain Vrognoskah. I can stabilize reality-not enough to save a starship, but enough to protect a few people, just long enough to get close to it, assuming we can lure it out of space, into an atmosphere. I couldn’t make it vulnerable to spatial disruptor weapons, however.”

“If it is a bunch of material, then I could slice it apart if you kept my reality together.” Vrognoskah replies.

“There is no way to know whether or not that will work, and I couldn’t make your ship’s spatial disruptors affect it.”

“I have to try, and you did say I would kill it first.”

Danit walked in, enveloped in sweat and Cunae pheromones. He appeared dazed somewhat, but not completely unfocused. Nialle then entered, her arms folded across her chest and her lips pouting. She was still in her glossy black body suit. Danit guided her towards Melody. “I found a way to subdue her instincts for the time being.” As Danit answered with a scratchy, reemerging voice, Nialle threw her hair back defiantly, showing the padlock binding her collar to her back zipper, holding her captive inside her outfit. She approached Melody, flustered.

“I’d really like the key, because sometime soon I’m going to have to go to the bathroom.”

The L.I.A.S. Treyella sat in space, stationary, amidst the ruins of the fellow vessel Persistence. The captain sat, contemplating, in the command chair as debris drifted in the projected space around him. A log replayed the orders from Fleet Admiral Turan, suspended in an oval window floating in space.

“...Failing negotiation, you are to engage the hostile entity. Use of Holskoven Rho weaponry is authorized.”

“So, it is official. The crew of the late L.I.A.S. Persistence was acting under orders. They were to engage the hostile force with their Yetil class cruiser, even though Imperial Command knew already that that force could easily destroy a more powerful Darshi class battle cruiser like Vrognoskah’s ship. So, are we here to wipe out the evidence, or does the Fleet Admiral expect us to die as well?”

“Are we to engage in a mutiny, or should we go foreword, knowing that we’re helping throw away good people?”

“I’m not wasting your life or the life of any of my crew unless I know we can win. We have a chance, but we need more than that. Set course for Conduit Station KDE 2, and instruct the other ships to meet us there. That could put us close to the hostile entity, but probably not close enough to alert it to us. Once we reach the space fold conduit network, we can take our findings and go public with them.”

The great vessel rotated in space, swinging around into position, then she surrounded herself in a glowing warp shell and bolted foreword, disappearing in the photon equivalent of a sonic boom. As the ship outraced its image in the relativistic paradox of FTL travel, the captain and crew watched as a view of distorted space unfolded in front of them.

The psionics officer was the first to flinch. Suddenly, a burst of energy struck the ship’s warp shell, knocking it into sub-light speed, tumbling foreword. The great vessel caught herself and turned upwards, back onto course. Around the command deck, alarms accompanied a flurry of activity. “We’re under attack! The hostile entity has detected us!”

“Can we re-engage warp shell?”

In response, a floating window in space appeared on the command deck, showing the image of a frantic Saclordian engineer. “They’ve knocked out the Kirishan resonator, and the auxiliary shell generators are overloaded! But Captain, the Rho disruptors still have full power.”

“So much for living to sing,” the captain mused for a brief instant, quoting a Vachtorian idiom about the virtue of not fighting when carrying vital information. “Target all weapons on the entity. Psionics, keep us alive and fighting as long as you can.”

“Intruder alert, deck one!” The message echoed several times as a bright, swirling flash of light appeared on the command deck. Several of the bridge crew grabbed weapons, both projectile and crude blades, brandishing each in a defensive posture around the captain, who stood up, brandishing his two slender, Vachtorian fighting blades. Before them, a swirling blue pool of energy opened up, and a heavily armored Saclordian warrior stepped through.

“Vrognoskah? Captain Vrognoskah, is that you?”

“Captain Harvach! It’s a long story.” Melody stepped through next, followed by Melody, Suidhne, and Pengarthe. A second portal of light appeared, with Danit and Nialle emerging. Vrognoskah introduced them, briskly. “They’re here to help us destroy the gheidei.”

“He means the floating brain,” Pengarthe explained.

“I’m holding psionic shields, but I don’t know how long I can keep them up.”

“Rho disruptors firing.” The vessel shook as its firepower poured out. However, predictably, the gheidei drifted forward unaffected. It appeared suspended in space on the viewer before the command crew and the Crossovers with them.

“Psionics, how are you at premonitions?” Vrognoskah asked.

“I’ve been scored at rating five, but you’re not going to like what I’m foreseeing.”

“If we lure the creature on board, could someone crush or impale it?”

“It will take the combined psionic effort of myself and your travel companions.” He suddenly had the same flash of insight that Madame Iva foresaw, of Vrognoskah slaying the monster, surrounded by twisted bodies. “It could work, but it will cost a lot of lives.”

“Any alternatives?” Captain Harvach asked, with a certain sense of concern.

The psionist closed his eyes for a moment, invoking a visualization of what could come to pass. He had a brief image of the ship twisting apart, disintegrating. “We have to get close. Its range is far greater than ours.” He paused again. “It’s looking for power.” He looked at Melody Dreamsail. “It would be very interested in knowing how you got here.”

Melody concentrated for a moment, then her third eye became wide open. “It knows we’re here. It’s on its way now.”

The outer hull of the great vessel burst open as the gheidei moved forward, into the Treyella’s hallways and corridors. The intruder alert sounded as numerous mostly Lykosan crew ran frantically. Overhead, Captain Harvach announced. “This is the captain speaking. The intruder is the same entity we encountered earlier, and is the same one that is responsible for the destruction of the Imperial vessels Wildheart and Persistence, as well as the ships from our own mission fleet. It is capable of massive destruction, and is to be approached only by crewmembers with psionic ratings of three or greater. All other personnel are to stay clear...” The signal came to an abrupt stop, as the gheidei ripped its way through floors and ceilings.

On the main control deck, Captain Harvach shrieked for a moment, then began to disintegrate. Melody and the chief psionist were both suspended in deep concentration, with a surge of energy holding Harvach together. “No!” Harvach answered. “Save your strength! Vrognoskah, the Treyella’s your ship now.”

The psionist pressed against his eyes, attempting to hold back a developing migraine. “It’s on its way; it homed in on your signal, Captain.” He then looked up with watery eyes. “It was an honor to serve with you, Captain.” At that moment, Harvach erupted into a splatter of protoplasm.

Crewmembers ran frantically down the organic gray corridors and hallways of the ship, fleeing the advancing entity. Suddenly, one of them caught fire and melted, while an unseen force flung another into a wall, causing him to merge grotesquely with the support column. Yet another sat on the floor, writhing, with both legs and one arm separated from his body. Amidst the surreal, feverish imagery, the floating brain drifted forward.

The command deck crew scattered, with the exception of the chief psionist and three other Lykosans, plus Captain Vrognoskah, Danit, and Melody’s company. They gathered around as Vrognoskah readied his massive sword, waiting for the monster to arrive. Even as the view screen tracked the intruder’s course through the ship towards the bridge, the command deck ground plating shook, then tore open. The gheidei emerged. It hovered for a moment, taking in the space around it, causing reality to ripple momentarily.

Vrognoskah charged the monster, but was thrown back, against a projected image of the ship’s engineering section, then onto the ground behind the others. The psionics crew gathered around the gheidei and concentrated. Melody’s third eye opened, and she approached the entity. The brain rotated, facing Melody front-on. “Melody Dreamsail, you have a power I require.”

One of the psionists suddenly shrieked, falling back, her legs and arms fusing together. Another psionist suddenly exploded. Vrognoskah lunged forward and bisected the gheidei’s hemispheres with his oversized sword. The creature sent out a telepathic shriek, causing the surrounding walls to explode. Sparks flew between the two halves of the gheidei as it fought to hold itself together. Suddenly, Vrognoskah’s head exploded. Melody then fell back, struggling to stand. Pengarthe picked up Vrognoskah’s sword and struck the gheidei, slicing it hapazardously into several fragments. Sparks exchanged among the fragments, chaotically and randomly. Water suddenly appeared overhead, splashing down to the floor. The shattered and broken walls of the control room then turned bright green, and a growth of orange plants erupted around the entry corridor. “It’s having a seizure!” Suidhne shouted. Suddenly, all was silent as the organic fragments of gheidei plopped to the wet ground.

Nialle ran over to the headless body of Vrognoskah. She held it for a moment, shaking from the encounter. She then noticed the surviving two psionists, one of whom had become severely disfigured. The other was supporting the injured one, who was starting to wriggle. As Pengarthe, Suidhne, and Melody gathered around her, Nialle had a sudden impression that she could help her.

The disfigured psionist looked up for a moment, opening her eyes. She flopped from side to side, wriggling as if a fish out of water. She struggled to peel her arms free from her hips. Finally, she addressed the others. “I can’t move.” She lifted her head up and twitched her fused body slightly. “...Is it gone?”

“Yes, it’s gone,” Danit replied. “You’re going to need reconstructive surgery.”

Nialle reached behind her neck, unfastening her collar and unzipping the back portion of her body suit. She pulled her arms and hands free, partially emerging from her coating, and placed her hands over the psionist’s feet, beginning to concentrate. A warm orange light emanated from her palms as Nialle closed her eyes and lifted her head, and the psionist’s arms began to separate from her body. Nialle continued to concentrate, stroking the now mermaid-like body of the psionist, causing the tissues of her body and overlying fur to melt back into a normal Lykosan form. Her legs peeled apart from each other, leaving a long, flowing tail in their wake. She opened her eyes and turned to the healthier psionist. “I don’t think I can help Captain Vrognoskah.” She looked over at the headless body. The healed psionist curled up, shaking her re-formed arms and legs, gasping.

“There are others...” She quivered. “...I can feel their pain, too. Their bodies are twisted and disfigured like mine was...they’re scared.”

“I’ve been there.”

“I am Treveska, second psionist of the Lykosan Imperial Armada Starship Treyella. Can you help them?”

“I think so.” She looked at the hole in the floor created by the gheidei, and then at one of the remaining active view screens, showing similar damage throughout the triangular front hull of the Treyella. “This could take awhile, however.”

Nialle worked frantically to free a stunned Lykosan crewmember that had ended up bonded to the contorted hallway. His back muscles and fascia were exposed, though Nialle was frantically using some sort of magic power to close them. Her arms were unwrapped; her glossy outfit was peeled back above her breasts, with her sleeves dangling. Treveska was with them, stroking the face of the one being healed, offering comfort.

“It’s gone now; we made it through.”

“It was headed towards the control deck...” The crewmember answered. “Did it reach the captain?”

“Most of the major officers are gone; they died honorably in battle.” She gestures to Nialle. “A group of other-worlders are helping us repair the damage.” Treveska’s fear had given way to determination. “Once this is settled, we are headed back to Lykosa.”

Nialle sighed, catching her breath. “That’s the last of them.” The crewman’s back was healed, covered with a healthy mane of dark gray and white fur. As he slowly pulled himself up, two others accompanied him. Nialle turned to Treveska.

“I was wondering if I could ask for a favor.”

“I’d still like to know more about what you’re showing me.” Danit accompanied Treveska to the arboretum, entering a series of smaller side chambers apart from the grand main chamber forest.

“So would I,” Treveska replied. “All we know for certain is that it’s from a far away world, and it seems to have certain properties we do not really understand very well.” She led Danit into one of the small, open holding chambers, an organically shaped alcove with a smooth, warm interior lining. “We felt you might know more about it, with your experience as a navigator and this ‘Crossover’ ability.” Treveska stepped out, and touched a panel hidden in an adjacent wall. Suddenly, a transparent barrier slid across the doorway, trapping Danit inside. He jumped forward, striking the barrier and then pressing his hands against it, confused for a moment.

Treveska looked back at Danit across from the glass-like partition. As Nialle then stepped into view, Treveska gestured towards her. “It’s an interesting life form, so I appreciate your willingness to be our diplomat.”

Nialle unzipped the rest of her back, while tilting her hips back and forth. She then placed her hands against the barrier between her and Danit. As he looked at Nialle, he curled his hands into fists and pounded against the barrier. It vibrated softly, but he remained contained inside. “In the old days,” she whispered, “Lykosan diplomats used to mate with their counterpart functionaries.” Danit pounded again against the glass-like barrier, but he already realized he was trapped. Nialle gently tapped her fingertips across from his now open hands pressed against the glass-like panel, and then she pressed the lower tip of her waist against it, teasing Danit inside. She tilts her head and smiles, staring at Danit with her glassy eyes. “I guess Captain Treveska is a bit old-fashioned.”

Nialle peeled off her tight-fitting outfit, exposing underlying slick, wet skin. Treveska opened the doorway slightly, and Nialle entered the chamber. Danit backed away as Nialle pressed against him, causing him to flush and grow warm. Treveska closed the transparent pane again. Danit jumped around Nialle, hammering in vein against the barrier even as he felt Nialle’s moist form against his. Nialle reached around, stroking him as he watched Treveska turn away. The Lykosan turned for a moment, saying simply, “I’ll be back to let you out later.”

The L.I.A.S. Treyella emerged through space fold conduit gateway Noelykosa / Avarin, one of the busiest artificial wormholes in the Lykosan Empire, and the last portal in the L.I.A.S. Treyella’s pathway home. A second Darshi class cruiser followed behind, flanked by two Yetil class ships, both sizable as well at over a kilometer in length each. Acting Captain Treveska sat in a makeshift chair on the command deck, while a science team probed and studied the orange flora around the entryway. Danit Cuna sat at the navigation station, while the other surviving Lykosan psionist and a young, wide-eyed officer operated two other stations. Melody Dreamsail filled in as their chief psionist. The ship defiantly marched forward, its triangular forward hull bent and scarred, with a gaping hole on the starboard side. The kilometer-and-a-half-long cruiser, one of the newest ships of the fleet, drew attention to itself as it approached the mammoth Heart of Lykosa 9 space station, parking in its conspicuously located upper assembly, in one of its six docking rings reserved for oversized vessels. The standard connection port could not line up properly due to the hull distortion, but an alternate, universal docking port could be extended, designed to accommodate some of the more unusual ships of the fleet. The other Darshi class cruiser advanced in line and parked next to her sister ship. The two Yetil class ships were barely able to fit in the standard docking ports in the main assembly. Hundreds of thousands of Lykosans watched from the station and from other ships, both from the Imperial Armada and from the private sector, as well as from several visiting diplomatic ships. One such vessel, from the Thraeti-R’Pannor Peace Consortium, watched with great interest in particular. Numerous media agencies also observed the spectacle and broadcast it throughout the planet Lykosa below and via quantum-synchronization transmitter arrays throughout the Lykosan Empire.

“...Damaged lead ship has been identified as the L.I.A.S. Treyella, part of the attack fleet that was sent to engage the mysterious force responsible for the destruction of at least two Imperial Armada vessels. The fate of the other three ships from the attack fleet remain unknown at this time.” The newscaster paused for a moment, fidgeting with a device in his ear; he suddenly became even more enthusiastic. “I have just been informed that the captain of the Treyella is about to issue a statement, and word has it that his... make that her... statement is not an official statement from the Imperial Armada.”

“This is Treveska, acting captain of the Lykosan Imperial Armada Starship Treyella. My vessel and three others recently engaged an entity known as a ‘gheidei,’ a creature with psionic capabilities in excess of rating 15, with the potential range of an entire star system. The entity was hostile, and all attempts at peaceful negotiations were unsuccessful. I have available flight logs and visual recordings that confirm this, and I am confident the Thraeti-R’Pannor Peace Consortium will support the actions of the Lykosan Imperial Armada.” Treveska paused for a moment, then continued. “I am invoking the Captain’s Initiative under the Flinn Act and opening an investigation of the discrepancies in the orders that resulted in the destruction of the Armada starships Wildheart, Persistence, Sactovor, Yatsura, and Motomo. I am submitting to the investigation the remains of a long range scientific vessel, which encountered the gheidei and sent vital tactical data, which was withheld from the Armada vessels.”

After a pause, the newscaster returned. “We will provide more coverage of this as it becomes available. The Flinn Act, of course, is an Imperial law governing the Armada, giving starship captains the right to challenge higher-ranking officials if they can produce evidence of motives against the interest of the Empire. It was, curiously enough, created in response to the same Captain Wildheart for whom the late starship Wildheart was named, regarding a claim of corruption during Admiral Flinn’s administration more than 90 years....”

Captain Treveska briskly marched down a corridor with a rather official atmosphere, accompanied by Melody Dreamsail, Danit Cuna, Suidhne, Pengarthe, and Nialle. Treveska and Pengarthe both brandished oversized Saclordian swords, Pengarthe’s being Vrognoskah’s blade, the one that he used to kill the gheidei. The curious lot of six mixed individuals stormed into a large, circular room with a gathering of prominent Lykosan officials. Outside, visible beyond wide, panoramic oval windows, was the L.I.A.S. Treyella’s twisted front hull, glaring in at the officials inside, while a number of tiny lights and objects came and went, beginning repairs. Underneath the windows, the captains of the other three surviving vessels sat, each with his own distinct expression, each glaring across the room to the other side, at the single, solitary figure of Fleet Admiral Turan. At the far end of the room, a royal mediator sat, accompanied by four guards.

Treveska stepped forward, introducing her companions. “Throughout history, starship crew members have learned to expect the unexpected and to put aside normal perceptions of reality. A few days ago, I was simply a supporting crewmember of an experimental department; today by unfortunate circumstances I am captain. My acting Chief Navigator Danit of Cuna is the sole-surviving member of the crew of the lost vessel L.I.A.S. Wildheart.” As she spoke, she gestured towards each individual. “Melody Dreamsail comes to us from a different realm of existence, and she made possible our defeating the creature known as a ‘gheidei’ by using her realm-traveling powers to bring us these individuals. Pengarthe Ash made the final killing blow, though the creature was dying from a wound created by the late Captain Vrognoskah. Suidhne Dreamsail provided information about the creature by recalling past life experiences in an alternate timeline. Nialle used an unfamiliar healing power to reverse bizarre deformities inflicted upon 154 surviving crewmembers, including myself. As captain of the Treyella, I wish to recommend the Gold Moon Award of Honor to each of these individuals, including the late Captain Vrognoskah.”

“Your recommendation is noted,” replied the magistrate overseeing the proceeding. “Though some of the named individuals are not even citizens of the Lykosan Empire, we will consider their acts of valor, taking into account this unusual context.”

“I now wish to address the orders to send our ships with important strategic information withheld, directly resulting in their destruction. I ask that the crews of the vessels Wildheart and Persistence be exonerated of the official claim that they were acting against orders, when in fact they were both acting on honest intention, but with dishonest directives.” Treveska stormed over to Admiral Turan; the four guards walked over, posturing. Treveska respectfully stopped for a moment, but boldly pointed her great sword towards the admiral. “Admiral Turan! You sent thousands of valiant Lykosan warriors to their death! For what purpose?” She paced back and forth. “You’re hiding something, I can tell. I’m a rating 3 telepath, so I know you’re hiding something. Was it to embarrass the Lykosan Empire? Are you sympathetic to one of the underground movements? Is that it?”

“Not simply to embarrass,” the admiral answered. “I destroyed four of your heavy cruisers and damaged another!” Admiral Turan replied with a certain sense of pride. “I accomplished this as one individual, and there are hundreds of thousands more like me. We know the Empire is failing in its duties; Queen Moira’s vision is dying. It is time to let our colonies stand apart. It’s time to let our people be free as Moira originally intended, and not mired down in layers of bureaucracy, taxes, and regulations.”

“So, you would throw away your career and the lives of our best people to make a political statement? This was senseless, you Vek Thogh Hagh!”

“Please refrain from ad hominum remarks,” the royal overseer replied, with a formal, noble quality. “It is disrespectful towards the admiral.”

“You are hiding something, Sir.” Pengarthe said to the fleet admiral. “There’s something about you that doesn’t seem right.” He approached the admiral; the guards positioned themselves in response, ready to stop Pengarthe’s potential use of his newly inherited Saclordian weapon. He then looked squarely at the admiral for several seconds. “You’re not a Lykosan.”

The admiral lurched forward, baring his teeth, hackles raised. The guards gestured him back, while the magistrate responded. “You are out of order. Any further direct disrespect of the admiralty, citizen or otherwise, will be answered.”

“Forgive me, your honor,” Pengarthe answered with a bow. “But, that is not what I meant. What I mean is that he is not one of your people or species.” Pengarthe gestured towards the admiral. “He doesn’t really look like that. He’s some sort of shape shifter.”

Nialle stepped in. “Maybe he’s a werewolf who found a place where he could wolf out and no one would notice. Or, maybe he’s a spy from another galactic empire. Whatever he is, it seems he’s not one of whatever you people are. Your honor, I would like to petition the magistrate to ask the court to request the admiral to clarify the nature of his not-ness.” She stepped up beside Pengarthe and gazed at him with her glassy eyes. “Whatever you’re doing, please be right about this.”

“Fleet Admiral Turan,” the magistrate responded, “is there any validity to their claims?”

“Yes, there is validity.” He paused for a minute, and then continued. “For the last 11 years I have maintained the identity of Turan of Welveska, from the Tovil province of Khalenia. I, as others like me, have positioned myself inside the Lykosan Empire, ready to strike when least expected. I am Bolianovilis of Elahn, citizen of the Free Sovereignty of the Cunae and Elahn Sidhe. He looked at Danit and then at Nialle. “Our people are more like each other than our Lykosan tyrants.”

“Though we are similar,” Danit answers. “We do have our differences. Please, show my otherworld friends what an Elahn Sidhe looks like.”

The admiral disrobed and moved into the center of the hearing chamber, to a spot light. The guards surrounded him in four directions, as the others watched, backing away. His forearms suddenly split in half, and a gaping vertical mouth opened in the center of his chest, teeth glistening. The coat of fur retracted, revealing a dull, grayish skin. The creature’s head collapsed, leaving only a remnant stump except for two prominent eyestalks, a “V” shaped structure with tufts of hair flowing behind each eyestalk.

“As you can see,” Danit said to Nialle and the others, “we do have a few differences.”

Suidhne, Pengarthe, Melody, Nialle, and Danit walked forward inside a vast ceremonial hall, surrounded by massive, curved support beams between enormous windows, showing beyond the three moons of Lykosa against a busy night sky, with the planet below hidden from view. The Treyella’s front hull was visible, now opened up with exposed interior renovations. Other giant vessels peered in, as did a number of smaller ones in the distance. Flanking both sides of Suidhne and the others were legions of Lykosan warriors in formation, bearing polished weapons and in organic armor with sparkling metal exoskeletons. As the five walked towards a reception at the center of the great room, an elegant and yet lively ceremonial music played, one with a metaphysical flavor.

Emperor Merigell III, the king of the Lykosan Empire, and his wife, Queen Barlannia, presided over the ritual. The Emperor wore across his chest the symbol of the Lykosan Empire, an abstract, sharp figure suggestive of perhaps a sword and a pair of wings. His gray fur was thick and flowing, and he carried about himself an atmosphere of aged wisdom, with a very subtle trace of sadness, as though in anticipation of events to come. Queen Barlannia had an arcane quality about her, suggestive more of a priestess than of a political ruler. This sense of raw presence and empowerment carried was coupled with an intimidating quality. The rest of the royal family stood in a circle around them, with four others standing opposite each other in four quadrants. Opposite the royal couple, an archway had been placed, with an opening in the circle, beside which one of the members of the royal family stood, brandishing an ornate but fully functional elaborate blade weapon. As Suidhne and her companions reached the archway, the guardian stopped them, addressing her. The ceremonial music faded out, and all was quiet.

“Before you enter the presence of the Lord and the Lady of our many worlds, you must each be ready to show that you are of the light.” He gazed directly at Suidhne. “Who are you.”

“I am Suidhne of the House of Dreamsail.”

“Why are you here?”

“I have been invited here by His Majesty for the Rite of the Gold Moon.”

“And how do you come?”

“I come in harmony.”

The guardian gestured Suidhne past, into the gateway, where a second member of the royalty greeted her, ringing a metallic cylinder, releasing a small cloud of vapor around her as the chime echoed. The guardian then addressed Pengarthe. “Who are you.”

“I am Pengarthe Ash, of the city of Collinwood, from a world outside your domain. As Suidhne, I come by royal invitation for the Rite of the Gold Moon. I come with full respect of the Lykosan Empire.”

The guardian eyed Pengarthe closely, and then gestured him past. He then turned to Nialle, looking upon her. “Who are you?”

“I am Nialle, of Collinwood. I, um, live in a tree house in the Morgana Residence. I’m also here for that Gold Moon rite thingy.”

“And how do you come?”

“Uh, I come being really nice and not hurting anybody or anything.” She looked over his shoulder for a moment, and points towards Pengarthe, as a second chime released incense vapors over him. Suidhne had taken a position in front of the Emperor and Empress. “I’m with them.”

After the guardian gestured Nialle past, Danit approached, and was greeted with the anticipated question, “who are you?”

“I am Danit of the Cunae Sidhe. I come for the Rite of the Gold Moon, by invitation of His Majesty Emperor Merigell the Third. I come in perfect trust as a citizen of the Lykosan Empire and a servant in the Lykosan Imperial Armada.”

The guardian grants Danit passage, and then turns to Melody, the last of the five. He looks upon her with a sense of tense reservation. “Who are you?”

“I am Melody Dreamsail, second daughter of Spiritwalker Dreamsail.” She closed her third eye, and her face began to flush. “I come... by royal invitation, for the Rite of the Gold Moon. I come with goodwill towards the Lykosan Empire and its people.”

The guardian leaned forward, blocking the gateway with his weapon. “That which resides within Melody Dreamsail, answer me; are you of the light?”

Melody leaned forward for a moment, then stood back up, third eye wide open. Her features appeared to shift somewhat; though no actual metamorphosis occurred, she seemed to be older. Her voice became stronger, deeper, and firm. “I make the light,” her voice echoed. “I am the destroyer; I give you light when I rend apart that which obstructs it.”

“She has a symbiosis with Helhadha, the Goddess of War, Magic, and Time.”

“I go by many names. To the people of Saclordia, I bring balance. To the people of Vachtor, I undermine. To the Cunae Sidhe, I am the possible.” She turned to the guardian. “I trust I may enter, as you have called me here.”

“...By all means.” As the guardian responded, Melody’s form entered the circle. As she passed the gateway, she struck the chime cylinder herself, dropping her dark blue hooded robe as she came in. The Emperor and Empress welcomed her with open arms. Empress Barlannia turned addressed her. “Welcome, my sister. We have foreseen your coming.”

“Twilight is approaching.” Melody then collapsed to the floor. Nialle and several of the Lykosans present helped arouse her to consciousness. Pengarthe turned to Nialle.

“This must be another ‘Crossover’ thing.” Nialle responded with simply by blinking her wide, glassy eyes, and holding an entranced expression.

Melody sat down for a moment, imbibing a cup of elixer given to her by one of the others. She then lifted herself up. “Forgive me, your Majesties. A long time ago, I formed a bond with a powerful trans-world consciousness. From time to time, she overtakes me in this manner.”

“There is no dishonor, and nothing to forgive,” Queen Barlannia replied. “You are here to receive the high honor of the Gold Moon. It is natural that if you are a priestess, the Goddess would be here with you for this occasion.”

The passage of time could not easily be determined as the ceremony played out, but the ritual might have lasted another hour or two, as beautiful, strangely dressed performers reenacted both historical and legendary events, accompanied by a mixture of live, primordial drumming and wind instruments with recordings of futuristic, psychedelic music. The five world-travelers found themselves in a light trance in the center of what could best be described as an elaborate performance art piece. In a dreamlike series of events, they saw the dawn of Lykosan civilization and its rise through a series of kingdoms and wars. They rode with Lord Tesshu as he sailed around the world in his quest home. They accompanied the world in both mourning and celebrating the first flight to the Lykosan moon Misa, crewed by three astronauts who never made it back. They watched blasts of fire consume the planet in a nuclear war. They rode with Saclordian colonists and the homeworld people of the Northwest Interterritorial Alliance as the entire Noelykosan star system entered into a war; they watched as Moira Anawind appeared amidst that conflict and unified the people, creating the Lykosan Empire. They rode with the Saclordian warrior Yetil as he joined the Illarthians, overthrowing their reptilian overlords.

They flew through the stars, along side legendary figures and strange alien allies against a mysterious black-cloaked invader. They saw a great asteroid belt that would some day become the center of the Empire, but not until after Queen Moira’s sister Treyella slew the eight clusters of mind-conquering creatures that turned the first colonists against each other in war. They saw vast fleets of Lykosan and alien ships fight against a giant creature that ate entire planets. Lykosan history, both valiant and disturbing, unfolded in rapid pace in a mixture of ultra-modern and primitive, primeval story-telling methods.

Finally, the story of the battle against the gheidei unfolded, and Suidhne, Pengarthe, Melody, Nialle, and Danit were incorperated into Lykosan legend.

Treveska, before hidden behind veils among the royal family, emerged carrying medallions made of solid gold, consisting of a crescent overhanging a circle. She placed the medallions one by one around the necks of the five world travelers. Queen Barlannia then presented a silver medallion, consisting of a circle flanked on left and right by a pair of crescents. She gestured Treveska to stand beside Suidhne, Pengarthe, and the others, and then displayed the medallion before the young captain.

“For your display of confidence and leadership under exceptionally difficult circumstances;” Emperor Merigell spoke warmly, “on behalf of the Lykosan Empire, and by unanimous petition of the crew of the L.I.A.S. Treyella, we offer you the Rite of the Silver Moon.” Treveska accepted the medallion quietly, and nodded. Merigell placed the jewelry around her neck, and continued, “you have annexed yourself and your companions into legend, and you shall be remembered for many generations to come.”

“It’s now official,” Treveska stated. “I’ve been given the Treyella as a permanent assignment.” She and Suidhne, Pengarthe, Nialle, Danit, and Melody sat, gathered around inside Suidhne’s home in the Morgana Residence in Collinwood. “They diverted building supplies from the homeworld shipyards that were originally intended for three unfinished Darshi class cruisers, so the Treyella will be launching in a little over two months. That is, Lykosan months.” She flips open a small, handheld device and presses a few buttons depicting slashes and slants, receiving a readout of some claw marks. “I think that means thirty seven or eight days over here. I asked for Danit as a new Chief Navigator; however, he’s been given a special assignment instead.”

“You’re my assignment,” Danit answers, looking outside Suidhne’s window, into the dark green of the nocturnal Morgana Residence foliage, and towards the city’s flood of light beyond. “I’m an official Lykosan Imperial Ambassador to alternate realities. Not a very common profession, but some say Queen Moira herself once held that profession.” He approached Treveska. “Captain Vrognoskah died before he could pass this ‘Crossover’ power to anyone else, and it will be a long time before any of us can pass it on again-about the length of a year here. Luckily, a year here is a little less than a fifth of a Lykosan year, so it will not be that long.”

Treveska added, “the orange plant, by the way, was a species found seven years ago by an Avery/Doodlebug deep space expedition. The Avery/Doodlebug alliance consists of two of the biggest wanderers of our universe, the beings who invented most of our space warping technology, just to find ways to wander farther, to give you an idea how remote any one of their deep space missions are. They didn’t officially find anything interesting at the time, but the Lykosan embassy at the Avery homeworld is double-checking that. Our xeno-medicine experts suspect that the gheidei simply incidentally created it from subconscious memories when it had its seizures, and they think it does not mean anything else, but try telling that to a bunch of Lykosans.”

Danit then sat down beside Nialle, who began stroking his hair affectionately. “I see you have changed outfits,” Danit observed, noting that Nialle had replaced her glossy body suit with a lighter, less evocative manner of dress.

“Danit, I don’t think we’re the same species,” Nialle answered. “I think we’re closely related-close enough to set off my mating instincts,” she states, stroking his chest momentarily before resuming work on his neck. “But, we’re not quite the same. You can turn into things. I can’t. I certainly tried when I first Awakened.”

“Do the technical details really matter? Over the last few days, you’ve become a warrior, a lover, a healer, a traveler to alternate dimensions, and a legend; that’s more shape-shifting than most of the Cunae do in a lifetime.”

“Just one thing, Danit. Are you really that closely related to whatever thing that admiral was?”

“The Ehlan Sidhe? We are both from the same star system on neighboring worlds, and we both have legends of a common origin, of our two people arriving from a far away land, called Fahri. Suidhne, does any of this sound familiar in your past lives?”

“I think so. The image of that one Ehlan Sidhe certainly felt familiar-rather ominous, in fact.”

Melody interjected. “It should, Suidhne. In your lifetime as Vlkos Rinan, a group of Ehlan Sidhe studied the works of the now long gone Ceimos magi, and aligned themselves with a person named Nodas Blackwell. You were a very powerful entity at the time, but Blackwell and his Ehlan Sidhe allies nearly brought you down and almost destroyed a world you had created.”

“So far this never came up in any of my meditations. I’ll want to go over this some time in more detail. What happened to this ‘Blackwell’?”

“Nodas was ultimately banished to one of the Dark Realms, a cluster of realities my father Spiritwalker had dealt with in his youth. I’ve seen him there since then, with some of his Ehlan Sidhe followers, but I don’t know whether or not all of them were banished with him. It is unlikely but possible that some of the minions of Blackwell could be around today, walking unseen inside the Lykosan Empire.”

“Well,” Nialle sighs. “That was really very reassuring. I’m going to go to bed now and try not to have any nightmares about any Minions of Blackwell.”

Treveska turns to Nialle. “It’s the gheidei that is bothering you. You keep projecting images of all the twisted bodies you healed. Seeing me here reminds you. As a rating three psionist, I can’t help but see these things.”

“Maybe,” Nialle answers. “But as a rating four strangeling, I think you could be seeing your own thoughts while your head is pointed at me.”

The L.I.A.S. Treyella emerged from her mooring along side the imperial station, backing out and rotating towards open space. Onlookers from the station and other ships gazed as the vessel eclipsed the sun, bathed in its warm orange glow. Once twisted and bent, the hull now sparkled with a mirror-like polish as the mammoth vessel departed.

On the command deck, Melody Dreamsail strummed a guitar, while the Lykosan crew who had gathered around played drums and other musical instruments. Pengarthe was among them, enjoying the rhythm and playing reasonably well. Danit and Nialle danced with each other against the backdrop of musicians and the stars beyond. Melody handed her instrument to her distant relative Suidhne, seeing if she could draw upon past life experience and remember how to play anything. Suidhne held the guitar for a moment, playing a single chord, and then another. She paused for a moment. She then turned it over, holding it left-handed. She tried it again, playing a few notes, stopping several times, working around as if accustomed to a backwards version of the instrument she now held. She returned the guitar to Melody and then joined Danit, Nialle, and a few of the Lykosans dancing. A few minutes later, a giant, furry creature with saber teeth runs in, gleefully handing Suidhne a second guitar-one with backwards strings. The music stops and eyes are upon Suidhne for a moment as she begins playing. A song manages to emerge, and the others join in, improvising a rhythm as the L.I.A.S. Treyella drifts off to worlds beyond.