The newly made immortal knew fear.

The great ship loomed in the empty space before him, hiding the deadly rays of the sun that would burn his flesh to ashes within minutes. His heart beat strongly against his chest, pushing the immortal keepers through his veins. Ten kilometers separated him from the huge world ship and the loading bay of the tech ship where he stood. He stared through the metacrystal shielding into the stark, cold-blooded vacuum and again questioned his reasons for being here. But he knew he could not turn back; he did not have a choice. His actions would remove the Enonians from Earth, and he could not return to his family or his mortal life.

He checked over the environment suit once again. One mistake and his newfound immortality would be no more; not even the keepers could protect him against the furious nothingness of space. He convinced himself that the esuit was in perfect working order and began the laborious task of pulling himself into the heavy, cumbersome device. Even in the low gravity field of the loading bay, the esuit was heavy, taxing him with more than twice his earthbound weight. Somehow there was comfort in this--as if the very bulk of the esuit would protect him from the treacherous abyss that was space. But it was not enough to quell his fears.

Once he had the esuit secured about his person, he attached the helmet to the neckpiece and activated the esuit's environment systems. He watched the images projected onto the helmet's holodisplay until it reported all systems normal. He would have to trust the primitive computer. He detached the thrustersled from the latch on the nearby bulkhead and set it on the metallic floor in launch position. The small cargo hold was barely large enough to fit his blaster, extra nuke cells, and the memory cube containing the dormant Serp. He placed his belongings in the hold and then strapped himself into the thrustersled, face down. The small craft, sensing his intentions, electromagnetically coupled with the systems of his esuit and reported its status. The sled was fueled and ready. It did not matter that he was not.

He pressed the green start button on the thrustersled. The sled signaled the bay computers to open the metacrystal shield. As the shield lifted, he heard the faint rush of air escaping into space. The "Ready" light came on. He brought his finger to the red fire button, but stopped when his mind flooded with panic. As a mortal child his companions had laughed at him because he would not climb a tree for fear of falling. And now he was about to hurl himself into the void of space where not even the Earth could catch his fall. But it did not matter--he could not stop now. His finger went down on the fire button and the thrusters ignited. Slowly, the sled and its frightened passenger eased out of the bay, supported only by their combined, inertial mass and the gentle thrust.

It was one thing to fear falling, and quite another to fear falling and not know in which direction one would fall. His mind reeled at the loss of the artificial gravity field. His stomach lurched. He closed his eyes and knew only the sense of acceleration as the sled gradually increased its power output. The image of Lasandra came to his mind, and he remembered her last words to him before he left Earth: "You cannot fail us, for I shall drink your blood if you do," she had said.

Hesitantly, he opened his eyes. The mammoth ship seemed too far away. He programmed the sled to approach the ship's aft thrusters. This would be his entry point--the entry point of a terrified immortal intent on stealing the great ship from its makers. The thrustersled acknowledged his program, and he felt a slight change in velocity. The holodisplay reported ETA in twenty minutes.

It seemed that twenty minutes would last forever--much too long before he could again experience the imagined safety of a large, massive body. He felt his panicked mind trying to shut down, and he fought to keep his eyes open. Manual approach was his intention; he did not trust the primitive brain of the thrustersled to approach their destination without failure. But the remaining mortal part of himself pulled strongly at his mind. It wanted to escape into unconsciousness, and he would not be able to resist.

Before losing consciousness he instructed the sled to wake him five minutes before arrival. And then he let go . . .
 

The bartender set his beer in front of him.

"So? How was your day, Forrest?" he asked, resting his hands on the bar and watching Forrest with his usual friendly smile.

Forrest took a sip and looked up at the man. "About the same as always."

"How's the Forever Project going?"

"Good," Forrest said, smiling. "We're ahead of schedule, for a change."

The bartender nodded. "Must be awful interesting work? I mean, writing the programs that will make the ship go and all that. Takes a lot of smarts. Smarts I ain't got."

"Persistence might be a better word. You don't have to be that smart."

"Yeah, right! I've heard you and your buddies in here talking after work before. You might as well have been talking Martian for all I could understand."

"Yes, but if you knew Martian, Jack."

Jack grinned and left to tend another customer. Forrest glanced at the woman. She responded with a smile and he quickly looked away, feeling strangely disquieted. His role as team leader of the Forever Project at Worldly Machines did not afford him much anonymity. He had encountered "space nuts" before. They were everywhere. But this woman seemed too old for that, too mature. And besides, he was not a spacer, had never even been in space.

The bartender returned.

"Who is the woman with red hair?" Forrest asked, nodding toward her.

"Don't know," Jack said. "But some looker, ain't she?"

"Have you ever seen her in here before?"

"Nope. But I wouldn't mind seeing her in here all she wants." The bartender put on a half smile. "Are you interested?"

"You know better than that, Jack. Just curious."

"Yeah. You're dedicated to your wife and all that. But don't ya ever get the urge for some strange pussy?"

Forrest didn't answer. He took another sip from his beer. "Don't you think there's something strange about her? Something different?"

Jack cocked his head. "Hmm . . . different? Yeah, I can say that. I can't say strange, though. Unless you consider absolutely gorgeous to be strange. You wanna buy her a drink?"

"No. Just curious," Forrest repeated. He looked at the woman and she smiled. Forrest turned away and focused his attention on his beer.

He drank the beer while staring at himself in the mirror behind the bar. He tried not to think about the woman. He had just arrived at Jack's Place--his usual after work habit--and already he was becoming obsessed with a stranger. It was not so unusual for him to become attracted to other women, even mildly obsessed on occasion. He could never reveal his fantasy life to his wife. He assumed everyone had a fantasy life of some kind. It was simply human nature. Of course, he had never cheated on his wife and he had no plans to do so now. Yet he could not stop thinking about the enigmatic and strangely beautiful woman sitting at the end of the bar.

What was it about her, he wondered?

Sexual attraction?

There was certainly that, but there was more . . .

Curiosity?

Yes. As he had told Jack, he was curious about her. But still there was more . . .

Need?

That too, he admitted to himself. And the need was strong--too strong. But it did not make sense. He had learned of her existence no more than ten minutes ago. Why should he feel this way about her? And why so strongly? It was as if she were causing this to happen--as if her mere presence made him desire her uncontrollably. This was all preposterous. He could not develop such feelings for a stranger so quickly. He loved his wife and his young daughter. He was happy with his situation and did not need this perplexingly beautiful woman for any reason. Yet, even as he had these thoughts, he knew that he did need--and desire--the strange, compelling woman.

Forrest gulped down the last of his beer and placed the empty mug on the counter. He looked to the end of the bar. The woman was not there. He felt reluctant relief. Apparently she had given up on him and gone in search of another companion. He was tempted to ask Jack if he had seen her leave, but did not. A vague sense of disappointment entered his mind. He had wanted her, however unwillingly, and knew he might never see her again.

Forrest stood up. Jack gave him a curious look, as if he knew what Forrest was thinking.

"Going already?" Jack asked. "Your friends haven't got here yet."

"Yeah. I told Melinda I'd be home early." This was a lie. He just wanted to leave before the woman had a chance to return and confuse him further.

"Well, give Melinda my regards," the bartender said.

"Will do," Forrest said, and headed for the exit.

It was night out, but the heavy overcast had not allowed the summer heat to dissipate. He stood under the canopy and studied the sky, absently wondering if it would rain. A warm, humid breeze brushed his face. He did not want to go home. He was not sure why. It was a feeling of discontent--unresolved desire--that bothered him, although he could not have labeled it so. He assumed it had something to do with the woman, but could not understand what or why. The tension was too much. It felt like there was something he was supposed to do--something he needed to do. Only he did not know what. And he didn't want to be around Melinda while feeling this way. He was tempted to go to another bar--a place where no one knew him--and drink his nerves calm. But that was not his nature. There was no where to go but home. And perhaps a night with Melinda was all he needed anyway. He started for his car.

"Come with me," a female voice said.

"What?" he blurted, looking in her direction.

It was the strange woman who spoke. She stood on the sidewalk no more than three meters away. She wore a red dress that stopped just above her knees, and a red, waist-length coat covering a white silk blouse. Forrest judged her to be about twenty-five years old, and she was tantalizing. He felt the desire for her grow within him. He did not know what to say.

"Come with me," she repeated. Something in her eyes . . .

"Who are you?" Forrest asked.

"A friend. I want you to come with me."

"Why?"

"For pleasure, of course" she answered, her eyes radiant.

"You are selling sex?"

"No. I am your lover." She did not seem offended.

Forrest studied her. He had been warned about genoclonic agents attempting to get information out of him about the Forever. But he had dealt with genoclones before. She did not look or act like a genoclone. And using sex as a tool was not a genoclonic trait.

"You are not my lover. And I cannot come with you," he said.

She took a couple of steps in his direction, her eyes penetrating his. "But you must! You know you must."

Forrest stared into her eyes. There was a depth--a profundity--in her eyes that was not normal. It was like looking into the cosmic depths of space, or infinitely back into time. He was reminded of the time when as a child he had first viewed a distant galaxy through his father's telescope. The sense of awe had overwhelmed him. And this woman . . . but it could not be. It was impossible. He shook his head as if to throw the feeling from his mind.

"I know no such thing," he said. "Why have you approached me? You do not know me."

"Oh, but I do!" She moved closer. "You are Forrest Hauser. You are thirty-two years old and a computer scientist at Worldly Machines. You have a wife, Melinda, and an eight-year-old daughter, Susan. You are quite wealthy with a fine home in a rich neighborhood." She paused briefly, as though to gauge his reaction. "I know these details, and much more, Forrest. I know not only who you are, but what you are--your ambitions, desires, needs, innermost secrets--"

"Stop it!" Forrest demanded. "The details you cite are easily known. But you cannot know my inner feelings. In any case, it does not matter. I cannot come with you. I'm sorry. I must leave now."

He started to move. She stepped into his path and placed her hands on his chest. Her touch sent an energy into his body, filling his being. It was an unearthly energy, and he wanted it. She tilted her head up to his and he felt her hot breath on his face. He felt his self-will evaporating and knew she might gain control of him. Something in her scent . . .

"Come with me, my lover," she said.

"I cannot. My wife is waiting for me. I must go," he said, weakly.

"She will not know."

"I will know. What do you want from me? Who are you?"

"I told you. I am your lover."

"That is not an answer. I don't understand you. Why do you want me?"

She smiled brightly. "Perhaps because I desire you. Do you not find me attractive?"

"I . . . yes, I do. But it is not important. I have too much to lose. Please--"

"And everything to gain," she said. Her lips brushed his. The fire of lust exploded in his mind.

"I can't--"

"You must," she said into his ear.

Her power was more than he could resist. She wanted him--she had him.

"Where will we go?" he asked, confused.

"Follow me," she said, and took his hand into hers.

She led him around the building to the parking lot of Jack's Place. A black limousine with dark tinted windows waited. A short, muscular male with long, black hair stood by the car. He opened a rear door. The woman motioned for him to enter, and he did, moving to the far side. She followed and sat close to him. The driver got in and started the car. They pulled out of the parking lot. As they left, Forrest studied the grounds. It was curiously absent of people. He could see none of the small groups of people that tended to gather around the bar this time of night. Nor could he see anyone outside the surrounding shops and restaurants--no one walking the sidewalks, entering or exiting doorways. It was as though an unseen force had sent them away. Forrest was glad that he was not seen leaving with the woman, but the lack of people disturbed him.

"Where are we going?" Forrest asked.

"My place," she answered, her voice oddly without tone. He sensed that her interest in him was an act. She had a purpose, and perhaps her actions were not entirely natural to her. But she was skillful. She would occasionally touch him, moving closer to him, making him desire her. If it was an act, it was very convincing. Forrest was not sure if he was reading her correctly.

As they rode away from the business district, Forrest became increasingly aware of her body. She was too perfect. His desired for her was greater than he had ever felt for anyone in his life. He could not understand why. This was more than simple lust. He felt he was in a trance, the world unreal, his will not his own.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"My name is Lasandra."

"Lasandra is your name, but who are you?"

"My name is all you need to know for now. All will come to light later."

"What are you talking about?"

"This is just the beginning," she said, looking into his eyes. She smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

He could not yet know how true her words would be.

Twenty minutes later they were in the oldest part of town. They turned onto a residential street bordered with huge oak trees overhanging the road. Street lamps provided minimal light. It looked like they were driving through a cave. Many of the homes were of Victorian architecture. Most had been renovated and converted into apartments to house students from the nearby university. A few were single family homes occupied by the descendants of the original builders. Still others stood empty, in need of repair. The driver turned into a driveway made of bricks and drove under the trees the nearly fifty meters to the old house. He stopped at the front of the house, leaving the engine running. He got out and opened the car door for them. Forrest climbed out and Lasandra followed. The driver got back in and drove the car to the rear of the house.

The house appeared to be abandoned. Even in the dim light, Forrest could see the wooden, two-story building was rotting away for lack of paint. Screens were torn and windows broken. The surrounding yard was unattended and overgrown. Grass stood tall in places, speckled with weeds and wildflowers. Ornamental shrubs were in need of trimming and mangled by parasitic vines. The whole place had an ominous feel about it.

No light came from the house.

"Why are we here?" Forrest asked.

"This is where I live," she answered.

"This place looks abandoned."

"Good," she replied. "We planned it that way."

"Who's we?"

She put a finger to his lips and whispered, "You ask too many questions." She started up the steps of the front porch. Forrest did not follow. She stopped and turned to face him.

"Do you plan to spend the night out here?" she asked, smiling in her unnatural way.

"I don't seem to have any plans," Forrest said.

"Come with me."

Forrest hesitated. "I don't understand what is happening. Why are we here? What are we going to do?"

Lasandra kept her smile, but a hint of concern showed. "What do you think we are going to do? We are going to make love. Love like you have never known before."

"But why?" He began to tremble. Contradictory forces worked at his mind. He desired her, but knew he was not supposed to have her. Something was very wrong . . .

Lasandra came down the steps and put her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his. Her touch sent fire through his body.

"Because I need you," she said. "And because you need me." She kissed him hard. His soul erupted with passion. He returned her kiss, helpless to do otherwise.

Lasandra pushed him away from her, looking at him with a distance Forrest did not see. She took his hand and led him up the steps and into the house. She motioned him into the sitting room. The room was lit by several table lamps, their glow dim and yellow. She went to the bar and made a drink. "This will calm your nerves," she said, giving him the drink. "Please be seated. I will be back in a moment." She smiled at him and left the room.

Forrest did not want her to leave, but he watched her go and then sat down. He drank from the glass. It tasted of whiskey and something metallic he could not identify. He studied his surroundings. The inside of the house was very different from the outside. It was clean and organized to the point of being clinical. The room was sparingly decorated. A couch, polished end tables, a couple of upholstered chairs, extravagant but sterile and unused. The walls appeared to be freshly painted, and nothing was in disrepair. The windows had been boarded over and painted to blend with the walls. It seemed the residents did not want sunlight to enter.

Several paintings adorned the walls. Forrest went to look closer. Some depicted what looked like scenes of warships doing battle in space, yet the paintings were obviously quite old. Other paintings were of people with bizarre hair styles and clothing--as if not of earthly origin. These were also very old, perhaps centuries old. He returned to his seat and thought about the paintings. What kind of mind so very long ago could have envisioned spaceships? And who were the subjects of the other paintings? He knew of no period in Earth's history when such people existed.

He finished his drink and placed the empty glass on the end table. He stood with the intention of reexamining the paintings. The floor swayed beneath his feet. The drink did not seem that strong. Was he drunk? He tried walking about the room and it seemed the floor would not stay put. He experienced visual distortions. Objects seemed to undulate like molded gelatin during a slow motion earthquake. The paintings on the walls became animated. He went to the painting over the mantelpiece, and in it he saw spaceships doing battle with each other. He watched as ships came and went from the window of the painting, sometimes being blown to bits by an enemy ship. He closed his eyes and shook his head. But the scenario continued when he opened them.

Then it came to him. He was not drunk! Lasandra had given him some kind of drug. But why? What did she have planned? He tried to reason through the haze in his mind, but the drug would not let him. The primitive parts of his brain flooded his consciousness with fear and impending terror.

He turned and stumbled toward the front door. His instincts told him he must get out of here. He paused briefly to regain some sense of relationship to the real world, and then continued. He was almost to the front door when he realized he was not alone.

A lone figure stood in the shadows of the foyer. As he approached, the figure stepped into the shadowy light.

"You cannot leave," the voice said, deep and resonant, the voice of a male.

Forrest recognized him as the driver who had brought him to this place.

"I must," he blurted. The drug made it difficult to speak.

"Lasandra does not want you to leave. You must remain." The driver spoke with calm forcefulness.

"Please! Let me leave!"

"I cannot allow that. Why do you wish to leave? Nothing will harm you here."

Forrest studied the man as best he could. He was indeed short and muscular as had been Forrest's original impression. His skin was the same pale white as Lasandra. He wore what appeared to be leather trousers dyed black, and a white silk shirt.

"I'm afraid," Forrest said.

"No need to be afraid. Lasandra wishes only to bring you pleasure. She will be with you in a moment. Please sit and wait."

"No! I am leaving!" Forrest almost shouted. He started toward the door.

The driver blocked his path. He put his strong hands to the sides of Forrest's head and held him steady. Forrest looked into the man's eyes and saw the same infinity he had seen in Lasandra.

"Do you wish clearness?" the man asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Clearness, mortal! Clearness! Do you wish it?" The driver seemed angry. Forrest could not understand why.

"Yes!" Forrest cried.

The driver pulled Forrest's forehead to his own and pressed hard. Forrest felt something powerful flow into him.

And suddenly the world was perfectly clear.

The effect of the drug had been terminated and Forrest wondered why it was he had wanted to leave. He did not wonder at the fact the driver was no longer present.

He turned and went back into the sitting room. The room was steady, the paintings on the walls no longer in motion. Reality seemed normal. He could not understand his earlier confusion.

He sat on the couch and waited, a man mentally blind, a man who could not know or prevent that which was in store for him.

In another part of the house, Lasandra stood naked with her hair dripping wet. Mandoss entered the room.

"Well?" she asked. "How did he respond?"

"Badly. I had to blank his mind."

"Damn!" she cursed. "We can try again?"

"No. The keepers went directly to his brain without remaining in his blood. He was hallucinating wildly. Any more, and we might lose him."

She picked up a towel and began drying her hair. "I do not wish to engage in the blood sharing."

"Nor do I. But we have no choice. We need his knowledge."

"It will be dangerous for us. He is a strong one," she said.

"It is a risk we must take. He waits for you," Mandoss said, and then turned and left the room.

Lasandra looked at herself in the vanity mirror and removed the colored lenses from her eyes. "Well, human mortal," she said aloud, "you are in for one hell of a fuck."

Forrest heard her coming, but this seemed strangely unimportant. She stood naked in front of him, her long, night black hair falling over her breasts. Her eyes, equally dark, eyed him resolutely. He did not know who or what she was.

"Awaken," she said.

The chaos again gripped his mind. The room tilted and wavered, and reality was electric with impossible colors. He was vaguely aware of someone standing in front of him.

"Help me," he pleaded.

"You are fine. You are merely hallucinating. Enjoy the experience."

He studied her as best he could through the distortions of his senses.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Lasandra."

But she was not Lasandra. Even his malfunctioning brain could see this was true. Her hair and eyes were the wrong color, and her flesh, once only pale white, had now taken on a greenish tint.

"You are not Lasandra! What has she done to me?"

"But I am Lasandra, mere mortal. I have only removed my protective shields so you can see what I really look like. And I have removed my clothing for your pleasure."

Forrest tried to digest this information.

"I don't understand what is happening to me. Can you make it stop?"

"I gave you a drug to enhance your experience of our lovemaking. Do you not want it?"

"No! I do not want it."

Lasandra moved closer to him and placed her hands to the sides of his head. She pulled his face to her full breasts.

"Let your mind be quiet," she said.

Forrest felt his mind slow down--not quite normal--but slower. He felt her breasts against his face, and the rage of intense lust entered his body. He desired her flesh and this was all he could think about.

"Do you want me?" she asked.

"Yes, I want you." He had no choice.

"Then touch me, my mortal. Touch my body wherever wish."

He put his arms around her and pulled her naked body tightly against him. The touch of her flesh was otherworldly and charged with a power he could never have imagined. He desired the power. He moved his hands along her back and down across her smooth legs. He could not get enough of her. Grabbing her arms, he pushed her back from him. He put his hands on her breasts, and almost lost his balance when the violent pleasure struck his mind. He kissed and licked her breasts feverishly, but it was not enough. He moved a hand to the moist place between her legs and explored her most private flesh. This was more than his mortal mind could endure. He fainted and fell to the floor.

Lasandra looked down at his prostrate form.

"Weak mortal! I would drink your blood if we did not require you!"

She picked him up with the strength of a man twice her weight and carried him up the stairs to the second floor of the old house. At the end of a long hallway she entered the room where his life would be changed forever. She laid him down on the large, wooden bed and removed his clothing. She then sat next to him and stroked his organ to full hardness.

He awakened, his mind an inferno of desire.

"Do you want me?" she asked. She did not smile.

"Yes, I want you," he answered, desperation in his voice.

"How do you want me, mortal?"

"Forever," he said.

He had no idea how true that would be.

She sat across him and pushed his engorged organ into her vagina. Slowly she moved her body up and down while tightening her vaginal muscles with a strength he would not have believed possible. He closed his eyes, his mind a blaze of hallucinatory emotion. She worked on him, slowly at first, then faster and faster until he was about to explode. Then she stopped, his organ still buried in her flesh. He looked at her, confused.

"Do you want to live forever?" she asked.

There was no doubt in his mind.

"Yes," he said.

"Good!"

She reached for the gleaming, ornate knife that lay upon the bedside table. She held the knife in front of him, its jewels sparkling in the light of the room.

"Do you know what the knife is for?" she asked.

"No." He looked at the knife with fear.

"This instrument is the beginning of your new life. From this point forward nothing will ever be the same for you. Do you wish to proceed?"

"I don't understand. What are you going to do?"

"You will not be hurt. Believe in me. Do you wish to proceed?"

"I don't know."

She clamped her vaginal muscles down on his organ to the point of causing pain. Angrily, she said, "You may live forever, or you may die! Do you want to live forever?"

"Yes," he said, weakly.

She smiled at him with a smile that was not the smile of the Lasandra who had picked him up at Jack's Place. It was the smile of a being he would never have believed existed. And for the first time he noticed her fangs and the red glow in her eyes.

She held the knife in her left hand and cut a deep slice into the palm of her free hand. Her blood ran down her arm and dripped onto his torso, burning him. She moved the knife to her right hand and sliced open her left palm. As the precious fluid dripped from her hands, she rubbed her blood into the flesh of his body. Her hands moved with an alien quickness. Not a centimeter of his body would be left unblooded. And the blood stung with the sting of a thousand fire ants. He groaned in agony. It felt as if his flesh were being ripped from his body. But before he could scream, he lost consciousness.

And the dreams began . . .

One-hundred-thousand years before Jesus Christ walked the lands of the planet Earth, a war, twelve and one-half light-years distant, raged. It was the greatest war in the known galaxy. A war between two powerful families: the Pascanians and the Enonians. Great warships made running attacks on the home planets of their enemies, killing the populations by the millions. Great battles were fought in space, ships firing antimatter torpedoes until one side was eliminated, their bodies turned into atomic plasma.

Lord Enon sat on his throne, his command center buried deep within the rock of an asteroid. His Commander of Defense and Commander of Offense stood at his side.

"How many dead?" Lord Enon demanded, his voice harsh.

"Our attacking force was destroyed," the Commander of Offense answered. His tone was carefully without color.

"No, No! I mean how many Enonians dead? How many of us are left?" Lord Enon was clearly angry.

It was the Commander of Defense who spoke next. "Thirteen billion dead, my Lord. We estimate that several million are still alive on Enonia. But the planet is under attack and our defensive forces are outnumbered. We cannot survive. If we--"

"Do you suggest we surrender?" Lord Enon stared hard at his commander.

"Yes, Lord. If we surrender, enough of our people will survive so we can transition to mortality and repopulate, otherwise--"

Lord Enon struck the commander with the back of his hand.

"We have been at war for ten-thousand ortons, Commander! Do you think I will surrender now? Will I let the billions that have died be for nothing? Enonians do not surrender!" He turned and looked at his Commander of Offense. "What remains of our offensive forces?"

"Three-hundred warships, ten-thousand fighters. Half a million are still alive and ready to fight, my Lord."

Lord Enon sat in thought for several moments before speaking. "It is clear we cannot win this war. It is also clear we cannot surrender. Therefore, we must think of survival for our people."

"What is your plan, Lord Enon?" the Commander of Offense asked.

Lord Enon spoke without looking at either of his commanders.

"We will divide our offensive force in half. Commander of Offense, you will choose your best commander to lead an attack on Pascania. Instruct him not to allow Pascanian forces to leave the battle zone. He must make the battle last as long as possible to give us time. And especially, he must keep the Pascanian forces away from the asteroid field. Both of you will go with the defensive force to Enonia and destroy the Pascanian fleet. They will not expect us to divide our offensive force, so the defeat should be an easy one. Once done, evacuate all survivors from the planet. Instruct all evacuees to bring as much food, equipment and other essentials as they can carry. At the completion of the evacuation, destroy all remaining cities and military installations. It must look like the planet has been destroyed completely with no survivors. Then bring the survivors to the asteroids and we will hide here until we can repopulate. Do you understand these instructions?"

Both commanders acknowledged their understanding.

"Then do it!" Lord Enon commanded.

The commanders turned to leave.

"Mandoss!"

The Commander of Defense stopped and turned to face Lord Enon.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"I must speak with you alone."

Mandoss approached Lord Enon's throne as the other commander left the chamber. Lord Enon put his hands on the commander's shoulders.

"You are the first son of my third brother, are you not, Mandoss?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Then it is with great sadness that I must give you special instructions."

"Yes, my Lord."

"There is a flaw in my plan. Do you know what it is?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Tell me."

"If Enonia appears to be destroyed, and no survivors are evident, civilian or military, then who defeated the Pascanian fleet now attacking the planet?"

"That is correct. The Pascanians will come looking for the force that did so. And where will they look?"

"The asteroids."

"And how do we prevent that?"

"We must create a diversion."

"Exactly. Here is what I want you to do. As far as the Pascanians are concerned, our offensive force has been destroyed, but our defensive force must have survived, at least in part, to defeat the Pascanian fleet now at Enonia. You must destroy all but one of the defensive warships. Select ten-thousand Enonians, men, women and children and bring them to the remaining warship. You know of the planet we call Eden circling a sun much like our own, twelve light-years distant?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Good. You will set course for Eden as if to escape. The Pascanians will detect you and pursue you. They will come with many warships, and you will give them a good chase, but eventually allow them to catch you. And then you will surrender."

"You want me to surrender?"

"Mandoss, you must. The Pascanians must be made to believe the Enonians on board your ship are all that is left. You will tell them I was aboard another warship that was destroyed. You must make them believe they have won the war. The lives of the Enonians hiding in the asteroids will depend on the success of your mission. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"And you will do this?"

"Yes, my Lord."

Lord Enon was silent for a moment.

"Then go my son; the future of the Enonian people depends on you."

Mandoss turned and left the chamber, a sadness in his heart.

Forrest awoke with a start. He was lying naked in the same bed where Lasandra had taken him. But now his arms and legs were strapped to the bedposts. He lifted his head to look at his body. There was no evidence of the blood Lasandra had smeared over his body. The sounds of a machine came from his right, a pumping sound He turned his head and saw mechanical apparatus placed between himself and the bed on the opposite side of the room. Lasandra lay in the other bed, fully clothed, apparently asleep. A drawing needle was implanted in her arm with tubing running to the apparatus. A second needle was implanted in his arm. He and Lasandra were connected by the machine that separated them. Transfusion.

"Lasandra?" he called.

She did not respond. Forrest looked at the ceiling of the room without actually seeing it. His body did not burn now as it had with the bloody ordeal with Lasandra. But his body did not feel normal. Even though he lay still, it felt his body was extremely active, as if every muscle in his body oscillated with microscopic motion. He felt hot, the sweat falling from his pores profusely. The hallucinations produced by the drug Lasandra had given him were not present, but a sense of vertigo was still with him. He wanted to throw up.

He turned and looked at Lasandra.

"Lasandra!" He called, louder this time.

She opened her eyes and turned her head toward him, a look of loathing on her face.

"You dare to wake me!" she spat.

"I must know what is happening."

"You said you wanted to live forever, did you not?"

"I don't know what that means. Tell me what is happening. Please!"

"I am sharing my blood with you, mortal." She did not try to hide the contempt in her voice.

"But why?" he pleaded.

"You will know soon enough, mortal." She closed her eyes.

Forrest waited, but she did not continue.

"Lasandra, did Enon survive?"

Lasandra sat up and stared at him with genuine surprise.

Mandoss was on the bridge of the great warship as it sped toward Eden. Within centas they would be far enough away from the planetary system to engage the bounce field. He was tempted to do so. But he knew the Pascanians would know he was going to Eden and follow. No, he must do as Enon had commanded and allow the ship and its occupants to be captured.

There was, of course, no communication with the Enonian complement hiding in the asteroids; he could only hope the plan was going as expected. Scans revealed that ten Pascanian warships were in pursuit.

Mandoss studied the bridge crew. They, like the rest of the occupants of the warship, did not know their surrender was planned. They fully believed his intention was to escape to Eden to build a new world. Mandoss felt remorse. He wished he could unload the burden he carried, but he could not be sure how the crew would react. Tensions were very high, and mutiny was not unknown in Enonian history.

The communications officer turned from her station and looked at Mandoss. Eletel was a beautiful woman, tall and slender, with the long, black hair typical of the Enonian family. "Commander Mandoss, why do we not up to drive level seven? At level five the Pascanian ships will reach us in ten centas."

"Engineering reports a problem with the subluminal engines. If we up the drive, they could blow. They are working on the problem. Until then we will have to depend on our shields and defensive maneuvers to protect us." Mandoss did not enjoy telling her lies.

"I do not mean to be disrespectful, my Lord, but if we are the only survivors, why do we not engage the Nothingness Drive now? That would certainly take care of the Pascanians warships pursuing us."

"I share your concern, Subcommander Eletel. But if we bounce now the gravitational forces of the planetary system may be seriously altered. We must wait until we are out of range."

"But why do we care about the planetary system? Only Pascanians are left. Let them die! Let their planet fall into the sun! What do we care?"

Mandoss glared at her. Other crew members were now heeding the conversation. "Do you have no feeling for the world we are leaving behind? Our history is in the planetary system behind us. Our planet is part of the system. Do you wish to destroy it? Have you not considered that one day we might return?"

Eletel blushed. "I am sorry, Lord Mandoss. I was not thinking. A lot has happened too fast."

"I am sorry, too, Subcommander Eletel. I should not have spoke harshly to you. We are all under a lot of pressure."

Mandoss thought for a moment. He looked at his crew and then spoke.

"We cannot be sure we are the only survivors. Other ships were involved in the evacuation. Just because we cannot detect them in our space, does not mean they were destroyed. They may be hiding somewhere. We do not know and cannot engage superluminal flight until we are out of range."

No one said anything and Mandoss took their silence as understanding.

Forrest opened his eyes and was confused. He had not been aware he was asleep. He was still in the same room connected to the transfusion machine. He had no idea how much time had passed; it could have been days.

"Lasandra?"

"Lasandra is not here." The voice was male.

Forrest turned and saw it was the black haired driver who occupied the other bed.

"Are you sharing your blood with me, too?" he asked.

"We are all sharing our blood with you, mortal."

"Please tell me why."

The driver scowled at him with black, truculent eyes.

"You will know the reason when it is time. Now do not speak!"

The driver spoke with a power Forrest could not understand.

"Your name is Mandoss," he said, but Mandoss did not listen.

Mandoss studied the three-dimensional image projected to the center of the bridge. The Pascanian warships flanked them in all directions. The shields were up to full strength, but could not withstand the bombardment of antimatter torpedoes from the Pascanian warships for long.

Eletel spoke. "The command ship is signaling. Shall I put them through?"

"On the screen," Mandoss said.

The screen came to life and the image of Pascanian High Commander Cokrel appeared.

"Ah, Commander Mandoss, I see. Only you would have the audacity to flee the system. Did you not think we would follow?"

"I fully expected you to follow," Mandoss said, his voice purposely neutral.

"Of course you did. And now you will surrender. Lower your shields."

"I shall not surrender!"

"Now, Commander, be reasonable. We know you are having engine problems; you were such an easy catch. Do you really expect to make it all the way to Eden in a crippled ship?"

"It is our subluminal engines that are failing. Our bounce drive is intact. And we can use it. Now might be a good time!"

A fleeting look of concern crossed Commander Cokrel's face, but then he returned to gloating.

"I think not, Commander. If your Nothingness Drive is intact, why have you not engaged it before now?"

"We do not wish to destroy the planetary system of our origin."

"Now, now, Commander Mandoss, you can do better than that. Why should you care? You could have engaged your bounce field at any time and perhaps done away with the entire Pascanian society--"

"We still can, Cokrel!" Mandoss purposely dropped the Commander's title, which to Pascanians and Enonians alike was an insult.

"Then why do you not, Mandoss?"

"I have already told you that."

"But I did not believe you. Could it be there are still Enonians in the system? You certainly would not wish to destroy your own kind."

"We are the only survivors, and we do intend to survive."

"I do not believe you."

"I do not care what you believe."

"Then you do not deny the existence of Enonians still within the system. Where are they, Mandoss? An asteroid field, perhaps?"

"I have already told you that we are the only survivors. You can believe me or not. In any case, we will not surrender."

"Commander Mandoss, we already know Enonians are hiding in the asteroids. We know their location and have warships on the way there as we speak."

Mandoss struggled to maintain his composure at this news.

"I hope you will not be too disappointed, Cokrel."

"Oh, we do not expect to be disappointed, Mandoss. With the destruction of the Enonian asteroids and the capture of your ship, the war will be over. There will be peace in the system at long last."

"There will be no peace as long as I am alive!"

"I can remedy that, Mandoss!"

The two commanders stared at each other through their respective view screens. Decas passed, and then Commander Cokrel spoke to someone off screen. He turned back to Mandoss.

"Commander Mandoss, a member of the High Council of Pascania wishes to speak with you."

The view shifted to an imposing man with unusually light colored hair.

"Commander Mandoss, I am Dexfel of the High Council."

"Yes. I know of you."

"I am afraid Commander Cokrel has been too hard on you. It is not our intention to destroy your ship. We wish this war to end and the killing to stop. If indeed there are Enonians in the asteroids, we will not destroy them. There is no reason for us to kill any of your family. Their numbers are too few. Do you believe me?"

Despite himself, Mandoss felt himself believing the man.

"You are Pascanian. You are not to be trusted."

"I am sorry you feel that way." He paused half a deca, and then continued.

"We understand it is your intention to relocate to Eden. If you will surrender your ship, we will take you to Eden. And if we find other Enonians in the system we will transport them to Eden as well. This is the decision of the High Council of Pascania. You have my word as a member of the High Council."

"Why not just let us go? We can get there without your help."

"It is your ship we want, Commander Mandoss, not your family. If we allowed you to keep your ship, you might return to wage war on us."

Mandoss thought for a moment. "Why do you make this offer? This is not typical of the Pascanian mind!"

"Commander, perhaps you do not know the Pascanian mind. There are those of us on the High Council who truly want the killing to stop. We do not wish to commit genocide. Pascanians and Enonians are of common origin. We were once one people."

"So, you intend to leave us stranded on Eden."

"Yes, that is true, but we prefer the term relocation. Is not relocation better than imprisonment or death?"

"Is that a threat?"

"I will not lie to you, Commander Mandoss. If you do not surrender your ship we will be forced to destroy you. Think about it, Commander. You have one centa to make your decision."

The view screen went blank.

The bridge crew was transfixed on Mandoss.

"Your opinions?" he demanded.

Mandoss and Eletel stood over the naked, sleeping human.

"How is the transition going? Will he convert?" It was Eletel asking the questions.

"Yes, he will convert," Mandoss said, "But it will take time. He has the usual weaknesses of humans, but this one is more intelligent than most. He is strong. We will have to watch him closely until the transition is complete, even after he makes his first kill."

"I wish we did not need him," Eletel said.

"Remember our purpose," Mandoss said. "Are you ready?"

"I will never be ready, only willing."

She went and sat on the second bed. Mandoss stuck the drawing needle into her arm and activated the transfusion machine. Eletel laid back on the bed and prepared to sleep.

"It goes better if you sleep," Mandoss agreed.

From across the room, the human mumbled in his sleep. "Surrender."

"Then it is settled," Mandoss said. "Signal the Pascanian Command Ship."

The image of Commander Cokrel filled the screen.

"So, Commander Mandoss, you have made your decision?"

"I have made my decision, but I will not present it to you. Summon High Councilman Dexfel."

"Lord Dexfel is not available at the moment. You will report your decision to me."

"No, Cokrel, not to you!"

Cokrel frowned and stood steadfast for a deca. The screen blanked, and then Lord Dexfel came on.

"Commander Mandoss, I assume you have made a decision."

"I have, but first you must give me your word."

"I have already given you my word, Commander."

"I want to hear it again, High Councilman Dexfel. You must give me your word that all persons aboard this ship will be transported to Eden for resettlement and that all necessary supplies and equipment will be provided. And you must give me your word that if any Enonians are still alive in the system, they too will be transported to Eden to join us. And further you must give me your word that our keepers will not be altered."

Dexfel studied Mandoss and then said, "You have my word."

"Your word of honor?"

"My word of honor, Commander Mandoss."

"Then I surrender my ship to you, Lord Dexfel."

Dexfel smiled and said, "You will not regret your decision, Commander Mandoss."

The screen blanked.

"Drop the shields," Mandoss commanded.

"Shields are falling," a crew member reported.

Security Chief Lasandra approached Mandoss.

"I do not trust him," she said. "His word is not worth the vile Pascanian blood flowing in his veins!"

"Nor do I trust him," Mandoss responded. "But we have no other course to take. We can only hope he will keep his word."

"And if he does not?"

"Then we will die with dignity."

Mandoss would not know if Lord Enon's plan had worked for one-hundred-thousand Earth years.

Forrest Hauser awoke with a suddenness that frightened him. He was still in the same room, but now he was alone. He lay naked on the bed, no longer bound or attached to the transfusion machine. His body was drenched in sweat and his heart pounded. Moving his feet to the hardwood floor, he tried to stand, but was overcome with vertigo and a sickness in his stomach. He sat on the bed, waiting for his body to adjust.

He had no way of knowing how many days he had been bound to the bed, or how many of these strange beings had shared their blood with him. He had vague memories of several occupants in the other bed. The many dreams were not so vague, however. He could clearly remember the events of his dreams, as if they had been real. But he could not understand why he had the dreams, or what they meant.

I must get out of here, he thought. He fought the sickness and weakly walked to the other bed where someone (something) had laid his clothes. While putting the clothes on, he noticed the putrid odor of his body. Lasandra had said he would live forever, but he smelled and felt like he was dying. Perhaps he was already dead, but too confused to know it.

There was a stillness to the house, and despite the lack of windows in the room, he sensed it was daylight outside. He felt he could just walk away and nothing would stop him.

He moved about the room a few minutes to exercise his legs and adjust to the sickness, and then walked through the open door into the hallway. The stairway was at the end of the hall. All other doors were closed, and the hallway itself curiously without any objects, no paintings on the walls, no furniture, nothing.

Forrest made his way to the stairs and stood quietly on the landing. He looked down the stairway and felt his phobic fear of heights--but no time for that now. He listened carefully, but could hear nothing. Gripping the rail, he slowly, laboriously made his way down the steps, trying not to lose his balance. At the ground floor he stopped and again listened. Still no sounds. He moved toward the foyer, ignoring the sitting room where Lasandra had seduced him (how many?) days before.

He approached the heavy, wooden door. He was not alone.

"Avoid the sunlight," the gentle, but strong, voice said from behind him.

Forrest turned and stared at Mandoss who stood just beyond the foyer. He wore a black uniform similar to that of the Mandoss in the dreams. But this Mandoss had pale, green tinted skin.

"Mandoss, why are you letting me leave?"

"You know my name so soon?" His voice expressed surprise.

"Yes, I know your name. I don't know who or what you are, but I know you are evil, that you have done something to me--I don't know what--and that you are not of this world."

Mandoss stood silently for several moments before he spoke in the same gentle voice.

"Evil is a relative term. In time you will come to understand that my companions and I are not evil. Rather, we are creatures of this universe who are trying to survive, the same as your species. Do we not have a right to life, the same as any species?"

"What are you?" Forrest asked.

"You will come to understand all in time."

"That is no answer!"

"It is all I can tell you now."

"I am leaving!" Forrest turned to the door.

"Avoid the sunlight," Mandoss repeated.

"What do you mean by that?" Forrest did not look at Mandoss.

"You are changing. You will become more sensitive to sunlight with time. I tell you this for your own good."

Forrest spun around. "You do nothing for my good! You give me drugs to poison my mind. You keep me prisoner and force your blood into my body. I don't know why you've done these things, but I know that now I will leave and heal myself and be done with you."

Forrest pulled the heavy door open and flinched as the bright sunlight hit his eyes. Mandoss stepped backward to avoid the reflected rays of the sun.

Forrest paused. "Why are you letting me go?"

"I know you will return," Mandoss said.

"How can you say that?"

"Because you are becoming one of us."