thanks, i will.

mainard says this chapter is good, so i hope you all like it.

CHAPTER 32

“But he’s a SLIG!”

Jal snarled. “He’s also a friend, and I trust him more than I trust any mudokon.”

Another mudokon spoke up. “Maybe you’d rather not be among us, then.”

Jal calmed himself. “No, I… I trust you, I just meant that he’s as trustworthy as anyone.”

Int, who’d kept quiet, looked down at Crim, who was silently watching his future be decided for him.

“Come on, we’ll leave them to argue.”

Crim looked up at him. “Leave them?”

Int picked him up. “Trust me,” he said, and carried Crim out of the hut. “You’ll be accepted. There’ll always be people who won’t like it, but Bil and Ana have accepted you, and they’re the ones whose opinion counts. If they let you stay, the others will, however much some of them complain. Besides, I was in favour of ditching you before I heard Jal’s story about how he lost his arm. It made me think, and it’ll make them think too.”

“Where are Sill and Meet?”

“I haven’t seen them. You know them best, where do you think they’d go?”

Crim thought. “I don’t think they like crowds. They’ll have gone somewhere quiet.”

“We could try down by the river, then.”

Meet and Sillan were indeed down by the river, with Ana and several small mudokon children. The children were at the edge of the river, throwing stones into the waters. Sillan hovered above them, making sure none of them fell in. If the children did fall, Sillan would catch them and return them to the bank. Several of them found this fun, and fell into the water deliberately, so that they could be carried back. Ana was sat with Meet, watching the children.

“Ana!”

Ana turned, and saw Int descending the bank. She sighed.

“How is the argument going?”

“They’ll be done in a few days, at this rate.”

Ana sighed again. “Look at the children. They’re more sensible than any of them. They don’t have any prejudices. Look how they’ve taken to… Sillan, was it?”

Crim looked. “They your children?”

Ana smiled, despite herself. “Sort of. We’re all sterile, except for Ulis and Mat. They have the children, and the rest of us take care of them. Me and Bil take care of Art, Dis, and Ela.”

Crim smiled sadly. “We never had family. From birth, we’re brought up to kill. That’s why most of us enjoy it. It’s like we’re pre-programmed to be sadistic.”

“You’re not like that, though.”

“Some of us are less impressionable. We tend to stick together.”

Ana looked down at him. Int had set him down beside her, while he went off to speak with the children. “Where are the others now?”

“I don’t know. Probably dead. It’s just the four of us, now. There were ten in our group, and there were probably more who would have liked to join us, but were afraid.”

“Your ‘Group’?”

“We called ourselves the Slig Revolutionary Movement. I think we were named after this past group of revolutionaries, who all got slaughtered when they rebelled. There was me, Meet, Sill, Greeb, Ret, Til, Gorm, Jal, Sal, and Groz. Groz was a glukkon. He was kind of the son of the Factory Manager. He was caught helping Jal, Meet, Sill, and me to escape. Sal was killed earlier, and then the others were taken to the Drill Hall, and probably executed. We didn’t see them again, anyway. So now it’s just us four.”

Two of the children were approaching them. They were the ones Ana had called Art and Dis. Art was staring unselfconsciously at Crim.

“What is it, you two?” asked Ana.

“Are you a slig?” asked Art.

Crim looked up at him. “Yup. That’s me.”

“Have you come to kill us all? Where’s your robot legs?”

Crim smiled. “I don’t have any pants.”

Dis spoke up. “Why not?”

“Long story. And yes, I have come to kill you all.”

He made a half-hearted lunge at Dis, who giggled and dodged away. Art leapt on Crim, and held him still, laughing all the time.

“Akk! Okay, I surrender! You’ve defeated me!”

Art released Crim, and turned back to join Dis and Ela, who were trying to fall in the river again. Ana smiled. Int came up to join them, with his finger to his lips. He picked Crim up, and called Art’s name. When Art turned, Int threw Crim at his chest. Crim gripped his shoulders and growled into his face. Art screamed and pulled Crim off him. He threw Crim back at Int, who caught him, laughing at Art’s expression of terror.

“That wasn’t funny!”

Int grinned. “Oh, yes it was!” He pretended to throw Crim again, but Crim struggled.

“Put me down! You’ll have to carry on without me. I’m retiring from the job of Evil Bad Guy.”

Despite himself, Art smiled a little, and went off to play with his sisters. Ana was grinning.

“You see, the children don’t have any trouble accepting you.”

Int nodded. “You’ll be fine.”

Crim frowned, and looked back at the hut. The argument hadn’t finished yet, and no-one else had left the hut. “I’m not so sure.”

Hehe, that last scene could be fun to draw... Just wish slig teeth were visible, as a snarl/cheesy grin would be perfect... :D Hmm... maybe I'll experiment... *hunts out a pencil and paper and curls up on the sofa to doodle*

i'd love to see what you come up with!

i think i'll post another chapter. do you remember Arim? mentioned in the prologue...

CHAPTER 33

When Greeb came round, his wrists were aching. They’d been tied together with rough rope. Drak, Briori and Frag were similarly tied. Around them were several mudokons.

“This one’s awake!” The angriest mudokon approached Greeb and gripped him round the neck. “What have you done with my brother?”

One of the other mudokons sighed. “Leave him, Arim, it’s a huge area, there are probably hundreds of patrols that could have captured Orim. It’d be more likely to be the ones nearer to the fence.” The other mudokons nodded their agreement. The one addressed as Arim reluctantly put Greeb down.

“What should we do with them, then?”

“We should just kill them.”

Greeb found his voice. “No! Please! We’ve been looking for you people.”

A mudokon looked him up and down. “I’ll bet you have, but we found you.”

“No, we weren’t trying to find you to kill you, we need your help!”

Arim sneered and turned away. The others also seemed unconvinced. “What for?”

“We’ve escaped from the factory, and we want to find the local mudokon tribe, to join them.”

Arim snorted. “Can’t you do better than that?”

“We’re not all heartless killers, the sligs, we just want to be free. We were barely treated better than the slaves back in the factory. The only reason we never tried to escape was that we’ve got nowhere to go. The mudokons have you natives to turn to, we don’t. We hoped that you’d understand, and let us join you.”

“Why should we believe you?”

One mudokon looked thoughtful. “We should take them back with us.”

Arim looked at his in disbelief. “Are you mad? They’re obviously lying. They just want to find out where the village is, so they can send in troops and destroy it!”

“Well, if that’s true, if we let them go they’ll just follow us. If we take them back with us, we can interrogate them, and find out the truth. If they’ve been lying, we execute them. If they’ve been telling the truth, we let them join us. We need all the allies we can get.”

“But… But what about Orim?”

Another mudokon spoke up. “Five of us are never going to be able to find him and bust him out. Lipp’s right. We should get back, take them with us, and send out a full raiding party to find Orim.”

Outnumbered, Arim relented. “Okay then, but I want to lead the raiding party.”

Lipp nodded. “Agreed. But let’s get home first.”

One of the others glanced at the sligs. “Do we untie them or carry them?”

Arim thought. “Untie their legs, but tie their necks together. If they try to escape then, they’ll strangle themselves.”

Greeb was roughly lifted up, and a rope secured around his neck. The same rope was then tied round Drak, Briori and Frag in the same way, waking them up.

“What?”

“What’s going on?”

“Mudokons!”

Greeb shook his head. “This really isn’t necessary, you know!”

Arim smiled. “It’s for our safety. We don’t trust you yet.”

And the four sligs were led out into the forest.

ah, the hell with it, here's another!

CHAPTER 34

Tillyn glanced up at their captors. “What are you going to do to us?”

The scientist slig looked at them. “You’ve probably heard lots of horror stories about the Labs, haven’t you? Well, most of them are true. But you two are just going to be examined. Dr. Angrak will look at you, examine you, and then decide what to do. He’s one of the nicer scientists. Some of the others would dissect you as soon as look at you, but I’m taking you to him because you’re sligs, like me.”

“Why do we need examination?”

The slig just looked at him. “If I hadn’t told them you needed examination, you’d probably be dead by now. Or worse… Besides, I can see that you friend here isn’t a normal Bigbro, and I’m curious. You can call me Zak, by the way. And you are…?”

“I’m Tillyn, he’s Gormanul.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

Tillyn looked up at Zak. “Any chance of untying us?”

Zak smiled. “We may be friends for now, but I know you’d knock me down and escape if I gave you the chance. Anyway, Supervisor Dran doesn’t trust me, and he’ll be watching the security screens. If he sees that I’ve untied you, it’ll be my body baiting those traps.”

“What’s going to happen to us after the tests?”

Zak’s eyes saddened. “That’s up to Angrak.”

Tillyn nodded silently, and they continued the journey in silence.

Well, the pic is drawed. :D Full colour, too, so I may have to bribe Drag a little... One question - any upper-body distinguishing marks for Crim? And I hope you don't mind, but I de-masked him when I drew it, as I'm a dim Vul and forgot to draw the mask in... :rolleyes: Ah well. You can have the original if you like... :D Gneep. I really really ought to get my fics finished...

Hm. Well, although my computer is revived at last the scanner is still kaputt, as I had to uninstall it to fix it, so you may have to wait a while for the pic... :(

Heh, Zak sounds a little like Foggy (Xar) - without being quite so noisy... :rolleyes:

Hm. Maybe I'll go get Yahoo smeggenger...

Oh, and because I missed it on the first between-chapter skim - what me/Drag/Twisted/DH alliance? My "real" fics don't really have anything to do with that "fic" - hell, I'm not even sure I'm even in it yet - as I don't like having this alter-ego on Oddworld (it's cheating! Sorry DH, bt that's just the way my mind's got stalled in thinking... :) That "Oddworld should have Oddworldian characters") and though Drag and me have collaborated on a couple in Instant Smeggenger - great fun when you're just chatting and suddenly go off on a spontaneous fic - the chronology of them is doing my head in... *realises she's not been breathing and collapses*

[ May 01, 2001: Message edited by: Teal ]

Crim has a heavily scarred tail, and that's about it, sorry.

the comment about the 'Alliance' was a loke, really. although we have begun coordinating...

this next chapter seems more significant than it is, all it really does is show us the god for the first time, and sets things up for later.

CHAPTER 35

“Come in. Ah, Snikkit, what can –”

Grozit broke off when he saw the expression on Snikkit’s face. It was an expression of contempt.

“What do you want, Snikkit?”

Two drones floated into the room. They stopped one on either side of Snikkit.

“Stand up.”

Grozit laughed. What did Snikkit think he was doing?

“STAND UP!”

Grozit stopped laughing. It was no longer funny. He had never seen Snikkit shout before. And those drones looked uncomfortably like they were… aiming at Grozit.

“What do you think you’re doing, Snikkit?”

“I’m taking what’s mine. Stand up.”

Grozit looked around. He couldn’t see what Snikkit was talking about. “There isn’t anything of yours in here. Now, if you don’t mind…”

Snikkit laughed. It was a hollow laugh. It wasn’t the kind of laugh you laughed when you’d just heard something funny. Nor was it the sort of laugh that you laughed when you were nervous. It was uncharacteristic of Snikkit to ever laugh. Smile, maybe. Snigger, yes. But never laugh.

“You see?” he said, to no one in particular. “He’s so stupid, he doesn’t even know when he’s being threatened!” He leaned across the table towards Grozit. “I’m taking control of the factory. Well, no, that’s a lie, I’ve had control of the factory for years, now; you’ve been nothing more than a puppet. I’ve run everything. You order me to order the workers to do something, and I order them to do what I want them to do. Then I tell you I’ve done as you asked. Are you telling me you didn’t even suspect me?”

Grozit was silent for a second, and then he flared up. “A puppet? You think I do nothing? Do you even know why we are able to cut down the trees? If I were to die now, you wouldn’t know what was happening! Our machinery would just vanish, and the forest would grow back at a rate of knots.”

Snikkit snarled into Grozit’s face. “Want to test that theory?”

Grozit stood up. “Help me.”

It was not so much a plea as a statement of fact. Snikkit looked around, to see who he was talking to, but there was nothing but the two drones.

“There’s no point asking them,” Snikkit said, misinterpreting Grozit. “They’re under my –”

He broke off. He had seen something in the corner of his eye. He spun, to see a patch of pure darkness. It wasn’t just black; it emitted blackness, like one of those holes in space that the scientists were always going on about. It seemed to suck the light out of everything around it. It was growing around them, seeming to swallow all.

~YOU CALLED?

The voice seemed to come straight into Snikkit’s head, as if bypassing his ears. In contrast, Grozit’s voice sounded like a melody.

“This bastard thinks he’s in control! He plans to remove me from my post!”

~ DO YOU?

Snikkit realised that the voice was directed at him. He also had the uncomfortable impression that the black space was staring at him.

“Who are you?”

Grozit laughed. “He is the reason you are not in control! He’s the power behind the whole operation!”

Snikkit made an almost imperceptible nod, and the two Drones flew forward at the hole, guns blazing. There were two small flashes, and the Drones disappeared. Looking round, Snikkit saw that they were hovering behind him, where they had been before.

~ DO NOT TRY ANYTHING LIKE THAT AGAIN. NOW ANSWER MY QUESTION. DO YOU BELIEVE YOU HAVE CONTROL?

Snikkit flustered. “I may not, if what Grozit says is true. But I should have! He is an incompetent! I don’t know how he has made it possible to deforest, but that’s all he has done. He manages things inefficiently! The only reason we didn’t go bankrupt years ago was because I took control of our finances!”

~ IS THIS TRUE?

Grozit looked outraged. “It is not! Snikkit is merely an over ambitious executive with a high view of himself.”

“Then how come these Drones obey my command? How come there aren’t legions of troops backing you up?”

“Well…”

“I bet you couldn’t even say how many trees we cut down yesterday!”

“What, altogether? Well, maybe, 400?”

Snikkit sniggered. “12,000. And that was a bad day. How many sawmills do we have in operation?”

“50?”

“242. How many –”

~ENOUGH. I HAVE HEARD ENOUGH. SNIKKIT, YOU HAVE PROVEN YOURSELF TO BE THE TRUE MANAGER OF THE OPERATION.

Grozit was shocked. “But we had an agreement…”

~OUR AGREEMENT IS VOID. I HAVE A NEW AGREEMENT.

Snikkit smiled. “What shall I do with him?”

~I DO NOT CARE. DO WHAT YOU WILL.

The black mass began to diminish. As it shrunk, a groaning sound filled the air, making it impossible to be heard. Once the mass had disappeared, there was a silence in the room. Snikkit tried to conceal his disappointment of not actually discovering what this ‘agreement’ was, and consoled himself with the fact that he now seemed to have a powerful ally. He turned to Grozit, who was sitting again, a shell-shocked expression on his face. At a signal from Snikkit, the drones flew over towards Grozit.

“Well then, I think it’s time you and your son had some quality time together, in the cells…”

Heh, I think I was overreacting anyway. Headache + lack of sleep + too much caffeine = foot-IN-mouth disease. :D Oh well...

The black blobby thing is the "god," yeah? Heh, I like! It'd be pretty cool as a comic strip (which are bloody hard to do - I tried it and it took a day to do A page... :rolleyes: ) Aaanyway... back to the drawing, which I'm not satisfied with... Can't get him to look startled enough. Hm. And seeing if I can get the photocopier not to eat all the yellow in the pic... Grr!

Watch out for some nice colour pics in the near future (When I've posted them to Drag, who's kindly agreed to scan them for me... :D :D )

[ May 02, 2001: Message edited by: Teal ]

oooo getting good rett :)

Ooh... *gets all tingly* I *drool* like it...

*has a sudden thought* Gee... heh. if you have gods/odds in your fic... I wonder what they'd be like head to head with mine *snickers* that'd be the day...

I loved the attitude behind Snikkit... his knowlegeability...

*winces* 12,000 trees a day. that's HORRIBLE...

but I eagerly await the next section of fic. keep it up man!

i just realised that i have made an unforgivable mistake in that last chapter! see if you can spot it... it's in the LAST chapter, btw, not the one i'm posting now.

ok, once i've posted this i'm up-to-date. no more chapters until i write some more...

CHAPTER 36

“They’re here.”

“Where?”

“All around us.”

Volt had never really gotten used to his pants talking to him, and found it quite easy to pretend they weren’t. After all, he hardly believed it himself.

“I can’t see any.”

Volt nodded. “Me neither.”

His pants responded quietly. “To your left. On the branch overhanging the red bush.”

Rettick surreptitiously glanced in the direction, but couldn’t see anything.

“He’s quite hard to see. They’re camouflaged, you see. Look for where the dappling of the light is slightly different.”

At first Rettick still saw nothing, but after concentrating, he could make out a vague shape, which could be described as Mudokon-shaped. “What are they doing?”

“Watching us. Trying to decide if we pose a threat.”

“What should we do?” Volt looked worried. He was probably hoping he wouldn’t have to run in his creepy new pants.

“Pretend we haven’t seen them. If they think we’ve seen them, they won’t want to run the risk of us being a threat, so they’ll kill us straight away.”

Rettick saw the one he was watching turn its head and apparently communicate with another mudokon. “Do they speak the same language as us?”

“Of course not. I’ve been listening to them a lot, though, so I think I can translate for you. Just pretend only Volt speaks their language, then we can use the excuse of translating for you to let me tell you both what they said.” One of the mudokons made a loud chirping call. “Looks like they’re trying to talk to us. He said, ‘Who are you?’, roughly.”

“What are you going to tell them?”

“I’ll say you are travellers, and that you have important information.”

Volt was surprised as his pants erupted in a combination of chirps and whistles. Answering calls resounded through the branches. Mildar the Pants responded, even louder. The answering call was shrill, then the half-invisible mudokons began to move away into the forest.

“What happened?”

“I’m not sure. I told them we were travellers, and then one of them said to the others something about the way we looked. When I asked them what they had said, they said they’d be back soon, and then they went away.”

“They didn’t say when they’d be back?”

“No.”

Rettick sighed. “We wait, then.”

“Looks like it.”

talking pants, mudokons... confusion... ohh I canna wait for the new chapter. I wanna see what's gonna happen next. *Tries to compose mind to an adequate degree, as it is mud currently. as in mud, dirt and water, not mud, mudokon.*

The vykker is a truly interesting character, unexpected and unique. I'd love to get in contact right now... I'm going to be online till about two oclock today or a little before... so I hope to catch you sometime today rettick. come on line! *whimpers*

i'm online now, i just connected to yahell. where are you? please contact me!

I got a little confuzzled too. I thought you'd transplanted your characters to the new continent at first... But then, maybe that was because I'm associating your muds with my pre-industrialised sligs in that short I wrote... I got it straightened, now though. Getting cool, Ret... :)

(*hint* I'm online! Talk to me! MSN messenger, pr9as@bath.ac.uk... :D )

sorry, don't have msn! yahell and icq, but no msn...

Augh! Augh! Augh! Augh! Uni computers can only just about cope with M$ Smeggenger, and I think 2 would kill 'em... *whimpers*

sorry sorry i ain't been posting much, been writing 'Fragments...'

btw, which of the two stories do people prefer?

i could have sworn i'd already posted these chapters, but there you are

CHAPTER 37

“Hey, wake up!”

Crim felt a slight pain in the ribs.

“Come on, get up, lazy bugger!”

He opened his eyes to see Jal standing over him. He pulled himself up, and saw Int, Bil and Ana standing behind Jal. The sky was dark.

“What happened?”

Int shook his head. “You fell asleep. After playing with the kids.”

“No, I mean in the argument.”

“I think we won,” said Jal, sounding relieved, “They’ve agreed to accept you for now, until after the attack.”

“Attack?”

Jal sighed, nervously. “We’re going to attack the factory. A Full-Scale Assault, not just a raiding party. Maybe 2500 of us. With the Crawler, Meetles, and all the weapons we can carry.”

“When do we leave?”

Int groaned, and Jal took a sharp intake of breath.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Jal hesitated, and then replied. “We think it would be better all round if you stayed here in the village.”

Crim looked shocked, then exploded. “Why? You need everyone you can muster!”

Int laid a hand on his shoulder. “We just feel that you’re not… not fully able. You don’t have free hands to hold a weapon, and we think that your chances of survival wouldn’t be high.”

“I’m as good a fighter as anyone here!”

Jal tried to keep his voice calm. “You were as good a fighter as anyone, but you have to remember your disability. It sometimes seems as if you almost forget about it.”

Crim spluttered. “But… I’ve learned to cope! I can hold weapons in my feeding tentacles, and run quite fast on my hands!”

Ana spoke up. “There’s something else.”

Crim turned to her, calming. “What?”

Int bit his lip. “We didn’t really want to say, but, well, you’re a slig. You’re not exactly popular. Several of the tribe, including our best warrior, Incal, would happily stick a knife in your back if they thought they could get away with it. In a battle, there would be lots of opportunities to do so, and we don’t want to lose you. Or Incal, for that matter, as we’d have to exile him if he did kill you.”

Crim was speechless for a while. “So I’m stuck here in the village, alone, because one of your warriors dislikes me?”

“You won’t be alone. The kids are staying. And Int.”

Crim looked at Int, surprised. “Why are you staying?”

Int sighed. “Someone has to look after Bil and Ana’s kids. That’s me.”

“Why doesn’t one of them stay?”

This time it was Ana’s turn to sigh. “If me or Bil stayed, we’d be thinking about each other all of the time. And the kids would pick up on that; they’d become depressed like us. Int’s good with them, he can keep them happy. We noticed that they enjoy having you around; that’s one reason why we want you to stay: so that you can help to keep the kids’ minds off the fact that their parents are out there somewhere getting killed.” She smiled, humourlessly. “Besides, we’d never hear the last of it from Art if one of us stayed!”

Crim frowned. “How can you joke? Do you really think you’re just going out there to die?”

Ana sighed deeply. “I really don’t know. They have weapons that are far superior to ours, and they outnumber us. We have a chance…”

There was an embarrassed silence.

Int cleared his throat. “We should –”

“Ana! Int!”

They all turned, to see a young mudokon running towards them, an excited look on his face.

Int called to him. “What is it, Neb?”

The mudokon reached them, almost out of breath. “Arim’s back!”

Ana looked surprised. “Where’s he been the past week?”

“You’d better come and see for yourself: they’ve captured a patrol!”

With that, the mudokon turned away from them and ran back the way he had come. Ana ran after him, and the others followed, confused.

CHAPTER 38

“I keep telling you, we weren’t on patrol! We were running away ourselves!”

The guard snorted. “You expect us to believe that? Sligs are well-known for making up anything they need to say to save their lives.”

“But it’s true!”

“Oh, leave it, Drak, they’re never going to believe us. Just wait until the leaders get here, maybe they’ll be more reasonable.”

Their guards saw the veiled insult. “Shut up, Slig!”

Greeb lay back. Apart from his sore head and aching neck, he felt pretty good. After all, they’d been trying to find the local mudokons, and now they had. He had hoped to meet on more equal ground, but he was confident that they could get the leaders of the tribe to believe them. Mudokons were generally more reasonable than, say, Glukkons. He could only hope that none of these had ever been slaves…

Something was happening. There was a small group of mudokons entering the hut. He sat up to see more clearly. The first three to enter were unfamiliar, but he could barely believe his eyes when he saw the fourth.

“Jal!”

“Greeb! We thought you were dead!” Jal rushed towards Greeb, ignoring the disapproving calls of the guards. Greeb stood and threw his arms unashamedly around his friend. Ana, in the doorway, frowned.

“You two know each other?”

Jal broke away from Greeb, smiling. “Know each other? This slig saved my life, at least twice!”

Crim called up from the floor. “Hey, someone lift me up!”

Seeing Crim, Greeb laughed, and picked him up. “You alive too, eh? Are Meet, Sill, and Groz here too?”

Jal’s face fell at the mention of Groz’s name. “Meet and Sill should be here soon.”

Greeb waited for him to continue, but saw the look on his face. “And… Groz?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

Jal coughed uncomfortably. “He won’t be coming.”

“Not… Dead?”

Jal shook his head. “No, not dead. Probably not. Not yet, anyway. He let the guards at the factory catch him, so that the rest of us could escape.”

Int spoke up. “Groz? This is your Glukkon, is it?”

“Yeah.” Jal suddenly looked around. “What about the others? Rettick, Till, and Gorm?”

Greeb said nothing, but turned to look back at the forest. Before he could reply, Arim rushed in, closely followed by Bil.

“There they are! The bastards!”

Bil flashed Ana a look, behind Arim’s back. “The sligs?”

“Of course I mean the fucking sligs! We caught them patrolling the edge of the logging operation.”

Ana was alarmed. “Logging operation?”

“Arim says that the Glukkons have started to chop down the trees.”

“I thought that was impossible!”

“That’s what I said.”

Arim turned. “Don’t you believe me? Why would I lie to you?” He pointed angrily at Greeb. “They’re the ones you should be interrogating, not me! They kidnapped my little brother because he saw what they were doing!”

Briori spoke up indignantly. “We were just as surprised as you, and we’ve never even seen your brother.”

Arim flared up, charging across the room to throw his hands around Briori’s neck. If Briori had been a normal slig, Arim would probably have killed him, enraged as he was. But not even an incensed mudokon like Arim could defeat a Bigbro single-handedly. Briori caught Arim’s arms and threw him across the room. One of the mudokon guards swung his staff across the back of Briori’s head, knocking him to the ground. Briori stood, angrily, but was held back by Frag, who could calculate Odds a lot better than Briori. Jal stepped in between the sligs and Arim, who was readying himself for another attack.

“Stop!”

Neb and Lipp stepped up behind Arim, to hold him back. Frag patted Briori on the shoulder, calming him. Briori’s steroids were beginning to wear off, and he was more than ready to fight to the death.

“Greeb here is a friend of mine, and any friends of Greeb are friends of mine. Now, I don’t believe Greeb would kidnap anyone, and I know that none of us knew about this Logging. Whoever is running it must be covering it up well.”

Greeb interrupted. “Incredibly well. You haven’t seen the size of it. You’d have thought we’d have heard of something that massive.”

“Exactly. Now, I don’t know you very well, Arim, and I don’t know, err…”

Briori was in no state to speak for himself, so Frag filled in. “Briori.”

“Briori [Thank you]. I don’t know you, Briori, at all. But I know most of you, and you all seem to be the sort of people who should be able to get along. Now, Bil, if what Arim says is true –”

“It is.”

“– then we’ll have to rethink our battle plans.”

Greeb looked up. “Battle plans?”

Crim whispered to him. “They’re planning to attack the factory.”

Jal frowned at the interruptions, but continued nonetheless. “Obviously, the enemy is greater than we thought. We won’t just come up against the Factory itself, but there is this Logging Industry to take out. I don’t know about you, but I don’t think that just the 3000 of us will be able to do it alone.”

Ana frowned. “What are you suggesting?”

Jal took a deep breath. “I’d estimate that there are about 4000 sligs working in the factory alone.” Ignoring protestations from Arim and some of the other guards, he continued. “If just half of those join us, that would nearly double our fighting strength. Not to mention the fact that they have access to the factory armouries.”

Arim broke free. “Are you suggesting we cooperate with them?” He almost spat out the words.

“Well, yes.”

Arim slowly walked up to Jal, the disgusted expression on his face getting stronger with every step. When their faces were almost touching, Arim paused. The whole room held its breath, and then Arim spat in Jal’s face. Then he turned his back and exited the hut.

“Arim!” Ana followed him out of the hut.

Neb and several other mudokons were nodding. “He’s right. We can’t be expected to cooperate with them.” And he also left.

“Wait…” Bil sighed, and turned to Jal. “Don’t worry, they’ll come around. They just need some time to think. I think they’ll see that we can’t destroy the factory on our own.”

Drak snorted. “I wasn’t too keen on the idea of joining the muds in the first place, but if they’re all like that, I don’t wanna be part of it.” He attempted to leave, but a stout wooden staff barred his way.

“You’re not going anywhere.” The guard narrowed his eyes, as if daring Drak to try and get past him. Drak swung back his fist, but Greeb held it.

“It’s not worth it, Drak. Let them sort it out.”

“And if they decide to kill us all?”

Greeb’s eyes met Jal’s, their expressions of despair mirroring each other. “They won’t.”

Bil and Int began to walk out. Jal caught up with them. “Where are you going?”

“We need to sort this out,” Bil replied, “And find those two other friends of yours. I was a bit worried when they didn’t turn up.”

Jal turned back to the others. “Will you –”

Greeb nodded. “We’ll be okay.”

Jal made to pick up Crim, but was stopped by one of the guards, who shook his head. “He stays here.”

“But you know we can trust him!”

“He’s a slig.”

Jal paused, and then took one last glance at the sligs before walking out.

you did, what happened was that while the server was being updated we lost 2 days worth of posts...

i am curious to know which of my fics people prefer. escpecially Teal and Mai, who are the only people who regularly reply...

welcome back to this guy here...

CHAPTER 39

The door was thrown open, and they were shoved roughly inside. There was a flight of steps from the door down into the dark depths of the cell. The walls and the floor were made of a uniform cold, hard material, like glass. Gormanul hit the ground first, and twisted to catch Tillyn before he hit the hard floor. They lay there, exhausted. The tests had been rigorous, not just medical tests but physical ones as well, testing their endurance levels. When he caught his breath, Tillyn rolled off Gormanul onto the floor.

“Are you okay?”

Gormanul nodded, but Tillyn could see he was in pain by the expression in his eyes, lit up by his goggles. Gorm always tried to hide his pain, which had unfortunately resulted in him receiving far worse torture than Tillyn, who had screamed at the first tounches of the knife. The Vykkers seemed to have been testing their pain barriers, but Gorm gritted his teeth and tried to pretend he wasn’t suffering, so they had almost killed him trying to reach his pain barrier.

“You’re not okay. You’re bleeding badly.”

Gorm mouthed some words, but Tillyn couldn’t make them out in the darkness. He lay his hand on his companion’s shoulder, and sat beside him. Whatever pain Gormanul was in, there was nothing they could do about it now, so it would be best to let him rest. Tillyn looked around the cell. Now that his eyes had gotten used to the darkness, he could see that it wasn’t as dark as he had thought. In fact, there was a dull purple light coming from the walls and the floor. It seemed to come from all around them. It wasn’t very bright, but just bright enough to let them see how dark it was, as it were. The only light worth mentioning came from the tiny window in the door, through which could be seen the ever-present slig guard’s head, and the occasional passing head of the Intern making its rounds.

Looking around, Tillyn was surprised to see that they weren’t alone in the cell. There was a dark figure sitting in one corner. Tillyn couldn’t make out any details, but it seemed to be unmoving. Tillyn stood, unsteadily, and walked over to that corner. He put out his hand to the figure, but it spoke before he touched it.

“There’s no need to touch me. I’m awake.”

The figure didn’t move at all as it spoke, which it did with a mudokon’s voice. Tillyn withdrew his hand, and tried to see where the figure’s head was, but couldn’t make it out.

“I’m Tillyn, he’s Gormanul.”

“Orim. You new?”

“I suppose. How long have you been here?”

There was a pause. “Too long. You lose track of time.”

“Do you know if there’s any way out of the cell?”

“Only the door.”

Tillyn half-turned to look up at it. “Could we knock it down?”

“It has a timed lock on it. It can only open at feeding time.”

“Maybe we could surprise the guard when he comes in. When’s feeding time?”

The figure made a movement. Judging by where Tillyn had estimated its head to be, the movement could have been a shrug. “Couple of days.”

There was a pause while Tillyn took this in. “You mean they only feed us every two days?”

Head shaking. “No, every three. They fed me yesterday.” There was a brief pause. “On the other hand, maybe they’ll feed us more often now you’re here!”

Tillyn sat down against a wall. The cell certainly seemed inescapable, if this Orim could be believed. He needed to think.

I truely need to apologise for this being so short. my internet is still quite dead unfortunately and I am dismally short of time at work here... but a very brief message. the flavor of your works rettick are quite pleasing, with a nice solid base, adorned with a myriad of excellent embellishments. to be completely truthful, this fic is awesome... but your other, Fragments, is developing into something truly captivating. the main character is utterly intriguing... so, though it is a close tie... I would say... Fragments. keep up the good work. oops! gotta go! *waves* damn finals week.... *grumble*

bad news :( i only got about 5 new chapters to post here, compared with 15 in Fragments...

hope you like it; it's a bit of an info-giving chapter this.

CHAPTER 40

“Yes?”

Dr. Angrak’s wide head came round the edge of the door. The Director smiled. Angrak was almost permanently looking over his shoulder, terrified that the Director might find out about things like Angrak letting research creatures go. Angrak was totally unaware that the Director knew all about it. He thought of it as a regrettable quirk, but nothing dangerous. They had plenty of research animals to spare. Anyway, it’s always better to have someone living in fear of being discovered than to have him punished for it. It gave the director an extra hold over Angrak.

“I have the medical reports on the two new arrivals, sir.”

“Anything unusual to report?”

Angrak licked his lips. The Director could see that he was sweating. “Zak was right, they’re not normal.”

“Explain.”

“The large one is not a normal Bigbro. Our tests indicate that he has been genetically, rather than chemically, altered to the size he is now.” He paused, “He is quite like some of the early experimental super-sligs. As you no doubt recall, the experiments were unsuccessful, and we began to produce the steroids for the Bigbros instead. This particular individual seems almost pathologically shy, and resembles Specimen 46, which was reported destroyed 11 years ago. Somhow,” he said, sweating, “he seems to have escaped.”

The Director inwardly smiled. Angrak was still not confessing to releasing test subjects, even in the face of this evidence. The Director decided to play for a while. “Who was responsible for the destruction of the specimen?”

Angrak shuddered visibly. “At that time? I honestly can’t remember…”

“I seem to recall that it was you, actually…”

“Well,” he stuttered, “I wasn’t actually directly responsible. Obviously there was an oversight, and the security wasn’t strong enough.”

The Director decided to let Angrak off the hook. “Well, that was a long time ago. It’s a little late to discipline you now. What about the other one?”

Angrak was obviously relieved. “The other one is, if anything, more intriguing than Specimen 46. The unusual thing is, she’s a female.”

When Angrak paused, the Director realised that this must be an important fact. “Is that unusual?”

“As you know, Glukkons are almost pathologically paranoid of competition. When a batch of sligs or mudokons is born, the females are all killed, so that escapees are unable to breed. That way, the Magog Cartel controls all of the breeding, and no one else is able to breed a rival workforce. Only about 1 in 500 females survives this, and even then almost none escape the Sterilisation.”

The Director nodded. He knew about this, at least. The Cartel had all of its workers sterilised, to further reduce the risk of breeding. “You seem to imply that this specimen has.”

Angrak nodded. “She is a fully functional, fertile female.”

There was a pause. The Director hadn’t known of the rarity of females, but he knew how rare it was to find a fertile slig or mudokon. The new specimen was very valuable indeed. The Cartel would pay a lot of Moolah to have her killed, so it was in the Labs’ best interests to keep hold of her until they had negotiated a good price with the Cartel. He looked up. How much could he trust Angrak to not let them escape? He had never let anything important go, only test subjects they were finished with, but he always seemed to have a little too much empathy for the subjects. The Director wasn’t sure if Angrak would be able to watch a subject he has already released once be experimented upon. As for the other, Angrak wouldn’t want it to be destroyed, but it must be, to get the right price from the Cartel.

“Keep them in high security for now. I shall contact the Cartel.”

Angrak nodded, and paused. After a few moments, he seemed to realise that he’d been excused, and turned to amble away. The Director decided to keep a close eye on Angrak throughout these... difficult times.

i feel i've been neglecting UO in favour of Fragments. i think fragments is better, but UO was my first, so i've written some more.

so here it is... the triumphant return etc.

CHAPTER 41

“I tell you, it’s creepy.”

“I can imagine. I’m glad my pants don’t talk to me!”

“Shh…”

Volt and Rettick shut up, but could hear nothing.

“What?”

Mildar made an exasperated sound. “I heard something; shut up!”

They fell quiet again. This time, they heard a faint rustle of leaves. They prepared for flight, in case it was caused by wildlife. When the cause of the rustling emerged, however, it was almost as far from wildlife as possible.

“At Last! I thought I’d never see another slig!”

Volt and Rettick were speechless. The slig before them was quite tall, and a darker shade of green than they were. It was clearly quite a bit older than them, but wasn’t haggard and grey, in the same way most old sligs were; this slig had obviously been keeping fit. Even Mildar seemed surprised at the sight of a slig among the forest mudokons.

“I’m Mebek. I haven’t seen another slig for years! I’m so glad to see you!” He turned and called into the trees, making the same chirping noise that the mudokons had made.

“He says we’re unarmed,” translated Mildar.

At his call, the mudokons began appearing, as if from nowhere, until they were completely surrounded.

“Don’t worry; they won’t hurt you. They were a bit suspicious at first, but as long as you don’t do anything to lose their trust, they’ll be fine with you.”

Several mudokons approached Volt and Rettick, chirping loudly. [“They’re just asking Mebek about you.” Mildar translated.]

“So where have you come from?” asked Mebek.

After a second, Rettick replied. “We used to work in the factory.”

Mebek looked puzzled. “Factory?”

Volt looked at him, concerned. “Was the factory not there when you came here? You must have been here a long time, if you’ve never heard of Grozit’s Weapons Factory.”

Mebek looked at him in surprise. “Grozit? Short, wide glukkon? He’s alive?”

“Well, yeah. Why did you think he was dead?”

He sighed. “Because he never came back for me.”

This took a second to sink in, then Rettick worked it out. “You knew Grozit?”

“It sounds like we have a lot to talk about. Would you like to accompany us back to our village, and we can exchange stories.”

Just as suddenly as they had arrived, the mudokons began to disappear into the trees once more. Mebek turned and began to walk off.

“Come on!”

Puzzled, Volt and Rettick followed.

CHAPTER 42

Jal shook his head, as he walked in the darkness. Arim had run away somewhere, along with Neb and several other mudokons. Ana had gone to find them, and now she was lost as well. He, Bil, Int, and the others had been searching for hours, to no avail. The missing mudokons hadn’t shown up in any of their houses. After two hours, Jal had left Bil and Int to continue their search, and had gone to find Meet and Sillan, whom he hadn’t seen for a while, and was worried about.

What was wrong with those idiots? Couldn’t they see that cooperation with the sligs was the only way that they were going to achieve victory in the upcoming battle? And now they’d split the tribe in two with their pathetic posturing. Jal hoped that they were happy. Well, no, he hoped that they were miserable; he was being ironic.

Was that Sill? He thought he could see that silvery shape hovering down by the river. He changed direction to meet them.

“Hey! Sill!”

The silvery shape moved; it was him. As Jal ran towards him, he saw Meet standing beneath him. The two were never far apart. Meet turned to face Jal.

“Hi.”

Sill bleeped a greeting.

Jal, a little out of breath, tried to tell them everything. “Greeb’s back, but the-”

“We heard.” Meet never sounded too cheerful, but he sounded particularly low today, for obvious reasons. “Ana was just telling us.” He nodded his head in the direction of the river, where a figure that Jal hadn’t noticed was sitting dejectedly by the waterside. Jal walked down the bank and sat beside her.

Ana looked up. “It’s all falling apart, isn’t it?”

Jal put his arm around her. “We’re just having a few problems. They won’t last. We have a common enemy, after all.”

“Incal’s left as well. With Arim, probably. They were two of our best warriors, and they took a lot of others with them.”

“Bil’ll find them. Him and Int have organised a search party.”

“What if they’ve left the valley? For good, I mean?”

Jal said nothing, but sat there with Ana for a long while, watching the river go by.

There was a bleep from Sillan and a call from Meet. Jal stood up, and saw a large party of mudokons heading towards them. He could see Bil, Int, and Arim, as well as several others, both from Arim’s runaways and from the search party. The tall mudokon with the purple skin and long feather that walked beside Int was probably the one known as Incal.

“Hey, Ana! They’ve found them!”

As Ana stood up, her face lit up, and she ran to Arim and threw her arms around him. Then she hugged Bil. “You found them! Well done!”

Bil was quite surprised to see Ana. “We were worried about you; we thought you’d be with this lot. When you weren’t, we didn’t know what to do.”

“I was here with Sillan and Meet, until Jal came along.” She pulled back, and looked Bil in the face. “Have you lot sorted everything out now?” She looked from Bil and Int to Arim and Incal, who looked at their feet.

Bill put his arm around her. “We’ve come to a compromise. We thought of a way of deciding whether or not we should cooperate that we all respect.”

“What?”

Bil drew a deep breath. “We’re going to ask Mat and Ulis.”

Standing behind Ana, Jal didn’t understand the significance of this, but Ana was shocked. “It’s that serious?”

Bil nodded. “They need to know. I mean, we’re about to go to war. They deserve to have a say in who we ally with.”

“But we haven’t had to take a problem to them for years!”

“This is a big problem.”

Jal shook his head. “Hang on, who are Mat and Ulis again?”

Bil turned to him. “Our King and Queen.”

“Well, surely they deserve a say, then! I mean, if they’re King and Queen…”

Bil sighed. “It isn’t like that. You don’t know Ulis. She’s very secretive. None of us have ever even seen her, apart from Mat, of course. She doesn’t like crowds, and she doesn’t like responsibilities. Mat is normally her spokesperson, the one we see. Ulis hasn’t even left her hut for more than a decade. They don’t bother themselves with the running of the village, although they like to be informed. We’ve told them that we’re going to war, but we never asked them. If we ever have an argument than we can’t sort out by ourselves, we take it to them. They’re kind of the Ultimate Supreme Court, but we haven’t asked them anything for a long time.”

“So this is serious, then?”

Bil nodded. “Very.”

c'mon... chapters don't write themselves, you know... let's have a bit of support for the writerr...

i have chapter's, but i aint posting till you do

okay, so maybe i am going to post, but only because i really want to...

CHAPTER 43

The cell was silent. The two Glukkons faced each other across the room, not speaking, as they had done since Grozit Sr. had been thrown into the cell. They had barely spoken a word since then, except for a few embarrassed greetings at first, which soon petered out.

Grozit Jr. had had enough. “So…”

His father looked up at him. “What?”

Groz licked his lips. “I bet you feel a bit stupid now, don’t you?”

Grozit sighed and lay down on his bunk. “Piss off.”

Groz sighed, and stood. He raised one handfoot before himself, and reached out to the doorway. The forcefield burned him, just as it had every time he tested it. Grozit sniggered.

“It’s not going to go away if you keep touching it, you know!”

Groz glared at him. “It’s not going to go away if you stop thinking about it, either!”

“No, but at least I can get some sleep.”

Groz said nothing, but sat back onto his bunk. Grozit turned over to face him. “When was the last time we were fed?”

Groz sighed. “Half an hour ago, dad.”

“I’m hungry again.”

Groz moaned and turned away. “Pig,” he said quietly.

“Heard that.”

“Good.”

There was another long silence, punctuated only by the constant hum of the forcefield.

“The sligs don’t follow him, you know.”

“Shut up, dad. You know that the sligs don’t matter any more. You put the drones into operation, remember?” He shot a glance at the silvery orb hovering on the other side of the forcefield, watching but not exactly seeing. He reached out one handfoot off the end of the bed and removed a wall panel, revealing the circuitry beneath. Grozit sat up, curious.

“What’re you doing?”

“Don’t look at it! Pretend it isn’t happening! Just act normal. The drones aren’t very observant, and this one’s just been programmed to watch us, I think, and zap us if we manage to leave the cell. It doesn’t seem that bothered by what we do inside, but I’m worried about cameras, so it’s best to be as discreet as I can.”

Grozit lay back down again. “So what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to deactivate the forcefield.”

“What good’ll that do if that tin can’ll zap us as soon as we set foot outside?”

Groz shot a stare at his father. “It’s a start.”

They lay there, Groz’s handfeet working furiously.

CHAPTER 44

All things considered, Snikkit was pleased with the way things had turned out. That fool Grozit hadn’t been hard to get rid of, and although he still had no idea what that… that thing was, it had left him alone so far since he took control, so he didn’t think he really had to worry about it. None of the junior executives seemed to mind Snikkit coming to power, as it meant a step up the promotion ladder for most of them, and of course the slaves really had no choice.

His mood was about to take a turn for the worse.

“Sir?”

A slig messenger [he’d allowed sligs to remain in certain jobs: those jobs that involved communicating with Snikkit. Of course, not in any post that required weapons…] was standing in the entrance to his office.

“What?”

The slig looked very nervous. This was a bad sign. “We’ve intercepted a message from the Labs, sir.”

“Who was it sent to?”

“Cartel Central, sir.”

That got Snikkit’s attention. “What? What about?” The Labs were, like the rest of the forest operation, meant to remain a secret from Cartel Central, so that their profits would remain tax-free. Of course, the Labs wouldn’t lose anything when Central took control away from Snikkit, but they must have some kind of profitable idea, or they’d have left things as they were.

“They say that they have captured a… a female slig, sir. A Fertile one.”

There was a pause. So that was their idea. They intended to sell the slig to the Cartel, for fear of breeding their own sligs. Of course, it was an idle threat; they couldn’t breed sligs unless they had a fertile male as well.

But what if they did? Maybe they’d been keeping one, waiting until they found a female. Or what if they could refertilise sligs or something, with some new technology? Maybe they could clone sligs so that they’d be fertile. This was certainly worth checking out; if they could, then some people back at Central would get very pissed off, and come down here to stomp around and try and intimidate the Vykkers.

And if they did that, they’d discover our logging operations…

He stood up. “Send a message to Central saying that I’ll investigate the claims, so there’s no need to send any inspectors or anything, and prepare a Flyer to take me down to the labs. Keep an eye on things while I’m gone, and call me if anything happens. Anything at all.”

“Aye sir.”

okay, this time i really mean it, no more chapters until people reply!

CHAPTER 45

Tillyn opened her eyes to see Gormanul’s dark shape pacing up and down before the doorway. Occasionally he would pause to inspect the lock, shake the door, or tap the window glass. The slig guard on the other side was watching his futile efforts with amused interest, but with no real concern. Orim was probably right; the cell was inescapable.

“I wouldn’t bother. Orim says it can’t be broken down or anything.”

Gorm turned to her. “Orim?”

Tillyn paused. She hadn’t thought that maybe Gorm didn’t know about Orim. “You mean you haven’t noticed him?” She turned away, waited until her eyes got accustomed to the dark, and then pointed. “He’s over there. He’s our cellmate.”

Gorm approached Orim, who was asleep. He gently lifted Orim to his feet, and looked at him. Orim stirred, and looked back. “Hello,” he said, sleepily.

Gorm looked at him suspiciously. “Hello,” he said, as he sat him back down on the floor. He walked across the cell, and sat down beside Tillyn. Tillyn shook her head. Gorm had never been very good at talking to strangers. He lost all confidence. He was perfectly good at hurting things when he felt he had to, but was totally at a loss when it came to talking to people.

Tillyn glanced at the guard. He seemed to have lost interest in the activities in the cell, and had turned his back on the door. As she watched, he was distracted by something to his left. His head disappeared briefly out of sight, to be replaced by another slig, who Tillyn recognised as the scientist slig who’d brought them here, Zak.

The door swung open, and Zak leaned inside. “Quickly,” he whispered, “Come on!”

Gormanul, unsure of himself, looked at Tillyn, who was already standing up. She turned to him, beckoning him. Orim was already standing up, but seemed unsure of what to do. Tillyn grabbed his arm and made for the door. After a moment’s hesitation, Gorm followed.

Out in the corridor, the first thing that met their eyes was Dr. Angrak injecting something into the guard slig, who was lying unconscious against a wall. An Intern was standing with its back to them, facing the wall.

“What’s he doing?” Tillyn asked, pointing to the Vykker.

“The Doc? He’s just administering a Lethal Injection to the guard.” Zak’s voice was very matter-of-fact; it seemed that he saw this sort of thing on a regular basis.

“Why?”

“So he doesn’t tell anyone who it was who knocked him out. It’s totally painless.” Zak’s calm tone was quite unnerving. Tillyn glanced at the Intern.

“What about him?”

Zak followed her gaze. “The Intern? We bribed it to look the other way and forget all about this.”

“Bribed it? With moolah?”

Zak shook his head. “With enough Sedative Drugs to make him forget all about this.”

As Tillyn watched, the Intern filled up a small syringe from a large jar, and began to stick the needle into his arm. Tillyn shivered, and turned away. The Vykker seemed to be done.

“This way, please…” His voice grated on Tillyn’s ears, but she followed. The Vykker’s eyebrows rose when he saw Orim, but he shrugged and said nothing.

As they walked, Tillyn strode beside Zak. “Where are you taking us?”

“To the flyer hangar.”

“Why?”

Zak looked at her as if she were stupid. “So you can get away, of course!”

Tillyn raised an eyebrow. “You’re letting us go?”

Zak snorted. “Of course. You’re a very important young lady.”

Tillyn wasn’t sure whether to laugh or punch him. “A WHAT?!”

Zak paused, puzzled, and then threw back his head and laughed. “You mean you don’t know? You’re the one great hope for the slig race to finally be free and you don’t know?”

Tillyn looked around in bewilderment, not sure what was happening. “What are you talking about?”

“Do I have to spell it out for you? You’re Female!”

Tillyn stopped walking, and Gorm bumped into her. Zak stopped with her. “I’m a what?”

“Oh, for Odd’s sake, do you mean you’ve never suspected a thing? Do they teach you nothing in school these days?”

“But… But how could I be female?”

“You were born female. The Glukkons missed you when they were checking for females, and then somehow you escaped the sterilisation process.”

This was too much. “You mean I’m fertile?”

“Hurry up, you two!” Dr. Angrak made no attempt to keep his impatience from his voice. “Do you want us all to be killed?”

Slightly dazed, Tillyn staggered forward. They continued in silence for a while, until Gormanul tensed slightly, and gripped Tillyn’s shoulder. “What’s wrong, Gorm,” she asked, “Have you heard something?”

Dr. Angrak turned. “Why have we –”

He never completed that sentence, and the sound of machine gun fire drowned out any replies. Angrak spun as bullets chopped his body, then fell to the ground. The others saw a Vykker and two sligs briefly, before the firing resumed. They dived down a side corridor to their right, but not before a bullet drove itself into Tillyn’s upper right arm. She let out a cry, and Gormanul lifted her in his arms and ran, closely followed by Orim and Zak.

Out of breath, Zak panted. “If we can… If we take a left soon, we should… be able to reach the Flyer Hangar.”

Nodding, Gormanul twisted to the left, pulling Orim and Zak with him, as a hail of bullets flew down the corridor behind them. The click of slig feet behind them spurred them on. They took another left and a right, so that their pursuers didn’t get a clear shot at their backs, and Zak pointed to a large set of doors ahead. He put on an extra spurt of speed, and typed in a code on the external lock. The doors swung open as they heard their pursuers turn the corner behind them, and bullets began to ricochet from the walls around them.

Leading the way, Zak ran through the doors and dived to the left. The others followed, to see Zak fiercely typing into the internal lock. The doors just managed to swing shut before the guards reached it. A light above them flashed, saying: ‘Sealed’. They could hear their pursuers banging on the door outside, but Tillyn breathed a sigh of relief, and turned to look around.

There was only one flyer in the Hanger, a small three-person one. Its rounded oblong shape looked slightly menacing in the dim light. Through the main windscreen, they could see that the inside was dark. Zak held up a small square of card. “This’ll let you use the flyer. It has an autopilot, don’t worry.”

Tillyn turned. “ ‘Us’? What about you? Aren’t you coming?”

Zak shook his head sadly. “There’s only room for three, or the Flyer won’t take off. You’re the one we need to get away, and you’ll need him to protect you and the mudokon can guide you to the native territories.”

“But… They’ll torture you and kill you.”

“No they won’t.” Quickly but calmly, Zak drew a small pistol from a pocket, and held it to his head.

“No!”

Tillyn tried to grab it from him, but he squeezed the trigger before her hands (one of which was weak as a result of the bullet wedged in it) could stop him. The weapon produced only a small noise, and there was very little blood, but Zak’s eyes curled up into his head, and his body slumped to the floor. Tillyn caught it, but its weight caused her bullet-wound to hurt, and she dropped the body to the floor. She stood for a few seconds looking at the still corpse. The hangar was silent except for the muffled bangs from the other side of the door.

A hand lay on her shoulder. She looked up into the sympathetic eyes of Gormanul. They stood, looking into each other’s eyes for a few seconds, then Gorm gently but firmly led her to the flyer, where Orim had already inserted the security card.

The instrument panel was brightly lit up, and a computerised voice asked them if it could help them.

“Errm… Close the hatch,” Orim said, “And, err, start the engines?”

The Hatchway closed, and they felt the jerk of startup, followed by the hum of the engines. Orim glanced at Tillyn, his eyes asking for help.

“Take us out?” she suggested.

They were shocked by the sudden movement, but became accustomed to it. As they flew towards the Hangar doors, they began to open. The difference in pressure sucked many of the objects from the hangar out into the air, including Zak’s body, which began to fall down towards the dusty ground. Before it hit, though, they were too far away to see clearly.

ah, who am i kidding, no-one's ever going to post here... long chap here, if anyone's still reading...

CHAPTER 46

“Maybe he never intended to return, I don’t know, but he’d seemed so… so honest when he left. Something must have changed.”

Rettick and Volt exchanged glances. They had a good idea of what had changed, but weren’t sure if it was safe to say it here. They were in Mebek’s hut, just outside the Forest Mudokons’ village. Apparently Mebek had refused to be given a hut within the village, insisting that he wasn’t a part of the village, but that he was just passing through, despite having been there for almost three years now. Apart from Volt and Rettick (and Mildar, of course), Mebek was the only other occupant of the hut, having told the mudokons that they needed to speak privately. Even so, Rettick wouldn’t put it past the ever-suspicious mudokons to be listening on the other side of the wall.

“He’d always been keen on the idea of exploring the forest, and he kind of brought me round to the idea as well. When he received permission for extended leave, he invited me to join him on this journey. We were the best of friends at the time, and I jumped at the chance. We travelled light, and made good progress: we’d learned which plants can be safely eaten, and how to catch certain non-poisonous animals.

“Then, after about two months’ travel, we startled a small herd of Nokkims, who were making a rare trip out in the open.”

“What are Nokkims?” Volt piped up.

“They’re insect-like creatures, related (we decided) to Paramites, but vegetarian. They live in packs, inside the branches and trunks of the trees, feeding on the soft pulp and sap. They’re quite harmless unless you make any sudden movements or loud noises near them, at which point they will attack you. We managed to fend them off, but one of the badly bit my arm.” Mebek twisted in his chair, to show them the scars running up and down his arm. “We’d seen signs of the Forest Muds before, but we hadn’t been able to talk to them or make any kind of close contact with them; they’d pretty much avoided us until now.

“But when they saw that I was injured, they must have decided that they couldn’t just let me die – and I would have died; nokkim bites are poisonous – so they approached us, and took us back to their village, where they began to patch me up. It was taking a while, though, and Grozit got restless, and so he decided to go on ahead, and come back to get me in a month or so, once my treatment was completed. But he never came back. I’ve always assumed he was killed. Now it seems that something else happened.”

Rettick glanced at Volt, then leaned forward. “We have a good idea what happened to Grozit, but first we need to make sure that we’re secure here. Is there anyone else listening, that you know of? Are you sure that no one could be listening through the walls?”

Mebek laughed, nervously. “No, the walls are soundproof. Anything you say here won’t go beyond these walls unless you want it to. Why? Why don’t you want them to hear this?”

Volt leaned forward. “I think Mildar would be better at explaining this.”

Mebek’s brow furrowed, confused. “Mildar? Who? I thought your names were Volt and Ret?”

Rettick laid a hand on Mebek’s shoulder. “Just close your eyes for a few seconds. We’ll explain later.”

Mebek seemed about to protest, then shrugged, and closed his eyes reluctantly. In deference to Mildar’s dislike of being watched as he changed, Volt and Rettick also closed theirs.

There was a shrill metallic screech, which faded to a dull groan, like a bone being slowly wrenched from its socket. When Rettick opened his eyes once more, an old Vykker sat beside him, holding Volt in his arms. Rettick noticed that Mildar had chosen a more natural Vykker look than the one in which he had first met Rettick, but had still got rid of some of his scars. He seemed to be trying to present the least threatening image he could. He sat Volt down between them.

“You can open your eyes now.”

Mebek slowly opened his eyes a little slit, then opened them wide when he saw the Vykker sitting before him. After a few seconds, his eyes registered Volt’s current lack of pants, and he stared suspiciously at Mildar.

“You were his –”

“Yes,” Mildar agreed, “There was a good reason. I’ve got the ability to change my physical form. Unfortunately, the people of this village already know of me and don’t like me.”

Mebek’s face lost none of its suspicion. “They’ve told me about you. Didn’t you impersonate one of them?”

“That was me, yes.”

Mebek smiled slightly. “Idiot. Should have approached them as yourself; they’d have accepted you then.”

“Well, sometimes people make mistakes.”

“Mm.” Mebek leaned forward a little. “So why are you so desperate to get in here then?”

“Well, actually, it’s mainly because of what happened to your old friend.”

“What, Grozit? What happened to him?”

Mildar licked his lips hesitantly. “Well, we don’t know the full story – we never knew about your part in this, for example – but from what we’ve been able to work out, after he left here (we don’t know how long after) he probably found some kind of temple, where he met – and don’t just laugh – a god.” Mebek didn’t laugh. “Anyway, to cut a long story short, he made a deal that allowed him to exploit the forest, something that had previously been impossible, due to the protection provided for the forest by that god. We came here to warn these people, and to persuade them to help us in trying to stop Grozit.”

Mebek looked slightly dazed. “I can’t believe that Grozit would want to destroy the forest.” He looked up at the trio before him. “He loved it so much.”

“We don’t know exactly what happened there. It is possible that it was the god that corrupted Grozit, instead of the other way round. Either way, it’s important that we stop him, agreed?” Mebek didn’t respond. “Agreed?”

Dejectedly, Mebek nodded. “I’d heard about this god. The villagers make sacrifices to it occasionally. They call it the Grilken or something like that. They live in total fear of it. Or they used to.”

“What happened?”

Mebek was silent for a moment. “They believe that the Shrykull has returned to rid them of it. Some say they’ve seen it in the forest.”

Mildar exchanged glances with his companions. “The Crossbreed. It was originally designed to look like the Shrykull, to ensure that mudokons wouldn’t want to attack it until it was too late.”

Mebek looked up, puzzled. “What?”

“Were the Vykkers’ Labs around when you were last out there?”

“No, but I’d read about them. They’ve been putting in little appearances now and again for ages now.”

“Not they. We. [“So that’s what a Vykker looks like,” Mebek stared] And we’re sticking around now; don’t ask me why, I never got to make executive decisions. Anyway, we’ve been experimenting a lot with genetics recently, and produced a few creatures, mostly based on combinations of existing creatures. One of our recent creations was roughly based upon a scrab, with more than a bit of paramite in it. It was designed to look like the shrykull, to confuse any mudokons it attacked, until it killed them.”

Mebek leaned over to Rettick. “And this guy’s on our side?” Rettick nodded, although he wasn’t too sure himself.

“Anyway, it escaped just after I did, and it’s lost somewhere in the forest.” Mildar looked down, thoughtfully. “Maybe we can use this to our advantage.”

Volt looked up at him. “How?”

“Well, if we assume that Grozit stumbled onto this Grilken’s temple, then the easiest way to find it would be to ask the mudokons to lead us there, but we already know that they seem quite suspicious of us.”

Rett folded his arms. “What’s your point?”

Mildar reached into a pocket in his loincloth, and pulled out the homing beacon he had used in the forest. “I can sort of control the creature with this. As well as attracting or repelling it, I can hold it in position, and stop it from killing people. I could lure it here, and we could present it as the Shrykull, with ourselves as acolytes. We’ve come here to guide the Shrykull to the Grilken’s temple, to destroy it, and would they like to show us the way.”

Rettick grinned and shook his head. “So, basically, this god-type thing comes down from wherever the hell it is mudokon gods come from, with all his magic and all, intending to magic away this other god, and basically just asks for directions? That doesn’t sound very god-like to me!”

“It’d be more like offering to allow them to accompany us.”

“And when we get there?” Volt’s voice sounded hollow, coming from below the others. “What are our plans for actually killing the thing?”

Mildar grimaced. “I… I hadn’t actually thought that far.”

“I mean, this thing’s a god, how can we possibly hope to kill it?”

“We may not have to, if we can persuade it that we are the right side here.”

Rettick rolled his eyes. “So we go there and basically hope it likes us?”

Mildar shot a glance at Rettick, fire in his eyes. “We have to try something, or the forest is ancient history.”

Rett sighed, and got to his feet. “All right. Let’s try it.”

*purrs with glee* ah glad to see more of this wonderful fic posted. I was beinging to wonder if you had given up on writting it....

only one? *sigh* oh well, getting better...

okay, here's a mudokon king. i know this is almost certainly totally inaccurate, but what the hell, i've seen worse...

CHAPTER 47

The Nest Building was huge. It was by far the biggest building in the village, and the only one Jal had seen that was at least partially constructed from stone. Coincidentally, it was also the oldest looking building, making Jal wonder if the skill of stoneworking had been lost over the years. If it had, he mused, it was merely one symptom of the decay that was occurring throughout Mudos. A decay, he reminded himself, that they were about to attempt to turn back.

He glanced to his left, at Arim, who was fuming silently at the mere suggestion of cooperation with sligs. Int, on his right, was staring fixedly at the only entrance to the Nest Building, which Bil had walked into only ten minutes previously. Jal wondered what Int was thinking. He looked worried, but whether he was worried for the sligs or worried about the upcoming battle, it was hard to tell.

Looking around, Jal saw some children playing on a rock, laughing unselfconsciously. He thought he recognised some of them as Bil and Ana’s children, but he couldn’t really remember what they looked like. He wondered what would happen to them. Whether the attack on the factory was successful or not, life wouldn’t be the same any more. If they were lucky, things would change for the better, but it would be too much to ask to have no casualties. Bil and Ana might be killed, and then where would their children be? Int would probably look after them, but what if the factory’s forces organised a counterattack on the village? If all the warriors died in the attack, who would defend the village? No, he shouldn’t think like that. They were going to succeed, they would win.

Something was happening; Jal felt Arim and Int standing next to him. He stood as well, and saw the curtains in the doorway parting. Bil strode out, and held the curtain aside while another figure ducked under the lintel, then straightened. The mudokon was tall, at least a foot taller than Bil, and wore long robes. Its skin was a very light shade of green, and Jal guessed that it didn’t get out in the sunlight much.

Bil cleared his throat. “Mat, may I introduce Jal, the newcomer. The friend of the sligs.”

A slight smile, almost unnoticeable, played on Mat’s lips. He strode forward until he stood over Jal. It was strange. Although Mat wasn’t that much taller than Jal, he had a bearing that suggested that Jal was very small and insignificant beside him. He studied Jal as if he were studying a laboratory specimen. Eventually, he placed a hand on Jal’s shoulder. “Come,” he said, tonelessly, and turned to walk back into the Nest Building. Jal stood uncertainly, but then saw Bil’s frantic gestures to follow Mat, so he hurried to catch up with the tall king. He had the presence of mind to hold the curtains open while Mat walked in.

Jal found himself in a kind of anteroom, with a few chairs and wall decorations, but little else. As soon as Jal let the curtains drop, Mat visibly sagged, suddenly seeming very small indeed. He sat unsteadily on a chair, and motioned for Jal to sit beside him.

“Sorry about that,” he sighed, “I have to keep up appearances. It’s hard to stay regal at times like these.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For looking down on you like that. It’s just that it’s what people expect.” Mat closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “Got a headache now. Not used to the light.”

Jal cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Have you given any thought as to whether or not to cooperate with the sligs?”

Mat said nothing for a while, just holding his head in his hands. “You don’t understand how hard these decisions are for us. Normally they don’t bother to consult us about anything. We’re just functional. They think that, as long as we don’t ask them to have children, they don’t ask us for advice. So when they do ask us, it’s when it’s vitally important. You can’t imagine the pressure on me here. Ulis does most of the decision-making – after all, who’d argue with her? – but I’m the one who has to tell them. And what if they don’t like the decision? What happens then? Do they go along with us anyway, or do they just do what they like?” He fell silent. “There hasn’t been an issue this contentious brought before us for a long time. Usually the decisions they bring before us are decisions that they already know the solutions to, but don’t like it, so they want us to tell them to do it, to absolve them of responsibility. But this issue has divided the community, and whatever we say, we’ll alienate half of the village.”

There was a long pause. Mat seemed to be waiting for Jal to say something, so Jal cleared his throat. “If you’d met some of these sligs, you wouldn’t hesitate. I trust them with my life. During Abe’s assault on the Soulstorm Brewery, I lost my arm while Abe was trying to get me to safety. Abe and his companions left me for dead, but two sligs risked their lives to get me back to safety and to conceal me until we could escape. Both of those sligs are now being held prisoner until you decide what to do with them. I trust them implicitly, and there are many others like them.” Mat remained silent, looking at his feet, so Jal continued: “The tribe can’t win this battle on its own. We’d be outnumbered and outgunned. If we join forces with the slig workers in the factory and the logging operation, we’d double our own forces at the cost of the enemy’s.”

Mat nodded. Jal could see tears in his eyes. He looked up. “You realise that this will not be a popular decision? I hope we don’t lose anyone here, but from what I’ve heard, there might be a few deserters if I make this decision.”

Mat was looking strangely small and lost. Jal put his hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be worth it. It’s the right decision.”

Something seemed to click within Mat, and he stood, regaining his air of regality. Drawing a deep breath, he strode out through the Nest doorway to announce his decision. Jal watched him go with the utmost sympathy. At that moment Jal wouldn’t have wanted to be King for the world.

come people! reply! let this poor guy know you are reading this great fic! *taps claws in annoyence*

*sigh* only dragadon replies. and then only because i made her promise to...

CHAPTER 48

The Guard Captain opened the door to the Director’s Office, and was greeted by a large metal paperweight, which struck him on the forehead. When he ceased cursing and looked up through the pain, the Director was once more sat calmly at his desk, his expression betraying none of the anger and frustration that had flung the paperweight at the Captain. “You have a report for me?”

The Captain knew better than to mention the paperweight attack, so he drew himself up, and drew a deep breath. “Three prisoners escaped, sir. Specimens 46, 304, and 392. A mudokon and two sligs.”

“Including the female?” The Director was impassive. It was clear by the anger showed as the Captain walked in that he already knew all of this, but was merely playing.

The Captain swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

“I see. And your men killed Dr. Angrak, of course.”

The Captain began to turn an unhealthy shade of blue. “Well…”

“Despite my specific orders that he was to be kept alive?”

“In a way, yes, sir.”

The Director leaned forward. “Captain, you have served me well up until now, so I am inclined to be lenient with you.”

The Captain’s face flushed with relief. “Oh, Thank-”

The intercom buzzed. When the Director pressed the button, a slig voice filtered through. “Sorry to bother you, sir, but President Snikkit just called, he says he’s on his way here.”

The Director frowned. This was one piece of bad news he hadn’t been expecting. “Why?”

“Says he’s investigating claims about a female slig being held here, and says he wants to negotiate for her to be released into his custody.”

The Director’s smile spread across his face once more. He’d hoped that Snikkit would have intercepted that message.

“Sir? That isn’t all. Supervisor Dran’s also on his way to see you. He says he’s recaptured Specimen 101 – the Scrab-Paramite hybrid that escaped – and wonders if there is some kind of reward.”

The Director smiled. “Ah, a piece of good news. What rank are you?”

The slig voice hesitated. “Lieutenant, sir.”

“Wrong. You are now promoted to Guard Captain. Send Snikkat and Dran up to my office when they get here. And Captain?”

The newly-appointed Captain seemed hesitant. “Sir?”

The Director smiled a wolf-like smile. “Your predecessor is in here. Take him away and dispose of him, would you? Use your imagination.”

“Yes, sir.”

The former Guard Captain turned pale as his successor entered the office, but his fevered glance at the Director brought only a satisfied smile, then he was led away.

another great chap REtt.

*growls* am I the only one reading this fic? If not REPLY to Odds sake! Before I get medevil!

Spider: ut oh...better der as she says...*dives into a fox hole and puts on a helmet*

hey thats my gig...

Spider: *sheepish grin*

*sigh* RIGHT. THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER I AM POSTING UNTIL SOMEONE OTHER THAN DRAG REPLIES! I REALLY MEAN IT THIS TIME!

CHAPTER 49

A wire suddenly came loose in Groz’s handfoot. Standing up hurriedly, he tentatively reached out a handfoot to where the forcefield had been. It passed safely through where the forcefield had previously been. Unfortunately, the extended handfoot drew the attention of the guarding Drone, which suddenly made a high-pitched buzz, which ceased when Groz withdrew his handfoot. Groz sat down on his bunk, hoping that the drones weren’t very quick on the uptake. After a couple of minutes, it seemed that the drone had decided that what had happened had been a statistical fluke that it could safely ignore, of something. For whatever reason, it returned to its usual stationary position, from which it could watch the cell silently.

Groz glanced at his father, who was asleep. Just as well, thought Groz, He’d probably just make a run for it and get us both killed anyway…

CHAPTER 50

As the Flyer flew, its occupants sat in silence, broken only by the occasional sharp intake of breath from Tillyn, as Gormanul tended to her bullet wound. Orim stared out of the windows, occasionally correcting the course of the flyer as it flew.

Turning back from the window, he cleared his throat. “So, you’re a female then, are you?”

There was a terse silence from behind him, then Tillyn replied slowly. “So it seems.”

“Never met a female slig before.”

“Neither have I.” With that, Tillyn turned her back on Orim, and Gormanul continued to sew up the wound. The silence enveloped them once more, until Tillyn turned back to Orim. “Where are we going now?”

“My village. My Home. The Mudoris Tribe.”

“Why there?”

“Well,” Orim hesitated, “It’s my home.”

“But do you think they’ll accept us there?”

“They’re very broadminded. Besides, can you think of anywhere better?”

Defeated, Tillyn groaned and sat back. “Sorry, but I’ve lost nearly all of my friends, and I’ve just been told that I’ve been mistaken about my own ****ing gender all my life, so I’m not in the best of moods right now.”

Orim nodded, but didn’t quite appear sure he understood. Tillyn couldn’t blame him. It was a bit of a stupid thing to be confused about, when you thought about it, but then she’d never even considered the possibility that she was female. After all, she didn’t know any other females [as far as I know, she added silently], and had always thought that Skillya was the only female slig in existence. She wondered how many others there were, wandering around thinking they were male.

Orim was suddenly tense. Tillyn sat up, ignoring the pain. “What is it?”

“There’s another flyer ahead.” Orim bent over the controls, pulling up a joystick. Their flyer bucked as he pulled on the joystick, and Tillyn cried out as Gormanul’s needle buried itself in her arm. As the flyer righted itself, and Orim switched back to autopilot, Tillyn pulled herself up next to him, burning with anger.

“What the **** did you do that for?”

“We were going to crash –” Orim began.

“Do you even know how to fly?”

“Well, no…”

“Snikkit.” Gormanul’s voice rose above the others. Tillyn turned to him.

“What?”

“On that flyer. It was Snikkit.”

Tillyn looked behind them, as if she could see Snikkit from here. “You sure?”

Gormanul nodded.

“Who’s Snikkit?” asked Orim.

“A high-up Glukk from the factory.” Tillyn frowned. “I wonder where he’s going…”

hey rett if you want to borrow Malice to maim some ppl just let me know *grins evilly*

BTW great chaps.

Malice: just maim? borrrriiinnnnnggggg

quit you!

fine! just f*ck you all then! that's it! no more of this fic ever now! if you don't care, then i don't care! just f*ck you!

*sits cross legged and does puppy faces* There, I'll sit on this spot just here and be patient... *hopeful face*

*tries to do the constructive-criticism-thingy but has no time left on line* Damn!

Maybe tomorrow :)

HURRAY! SOMEONE ELSE IS READING, AFTER ALL!

[one reader just isn't enough for a greedy writer like me, sorry drag...]

CHAPTER 51

“Look after Crim, won’t you?” Jal’s eyes gave away his concern.

Int nodded. “I think you’re going to need more looking after than us.”

A voice from their feet rose in agreement. “Yeah, I can look after myself!”

They were gathered on the crest of the hills surrounding the valley. Most of them were going into battle, but a few, such as Int, were staying to take care of the children. True to their word, the warriors had accepted Mat’s decision to cooperate with the sligs, but were making no attempt to conceal their distaste while they did. The stolen Crawler was being loaded with supplies and weapons. It was large enough to comfortably accommodate 800 passengers, so with a little squeezing, they expected to be able to get nearly all 2000 of their warriors on board. Alongside the Crawler, Meetles were being kitted out, for scouting missions. It had been relatively easy to alter the layout to include a Meetle roost, so they were taking 50 of their best into battle with them. Bil, Ana, Jal, and Greeb were stood with Int and Crim, saying awkward goodbyes.

Bil smiled. “We shouldn’t be long. In a week, we’ll either be returning victorious, or we’ll be dead.”

Int mirrored the smile. “See you in a week, then.”

Arim approached from the crawler, making a point of not looking at Greeb. “We’re just about ready to go, Bil.”

Bil turned. “Take care of the kids, Int.”

Int nodded, gloomily. “Good luck. Let’s hope you don’t need it.”

They stood in silence for a while, wondering if this would be the last time they would see each other, Then they boarded the Crawler, and Int and Crim watched it slowly pull away from the Village. They stood watching until they could no longer see the huge vehicle in the darkness.

Oh, didn't envision Crawlers as that big... Wouldn't it sink into the ground?

Anyway. Um... *tries to think of more to say, but can't, so gives up*

well, it's very wide and not very tall, so it doesn't have much pressure on the ground [that ground-hugging shape is why it's called a Crawler, by the way...]

CHAPTER 52

The Crowd was huge. When they’d passed through the village in the trees the day before, it hadn’t seemed large enough to house this many people, and yet here they were, waiting expectantly for some information about the newcomers. Twitching the curtain nervously, Rettick mentally steeled himself. If this goes wrong, he thought, then we may well end up dead, or at least prisoners. He hoped to Odd that Mildar knew what he was doing.

He turned to look back at the others in the Hut. Volt was pacing the floor impatiently, or trying to, except that he had two less limbs than he usually had when he paced impatiently, so he fell down a lot. Mebek and Mildar were having an animated discussion that Rett couldn’t quite catch. Mildar was holding his homing beacon, and frowning. Periodically he would hit the side of the beacon, then shake it, and hold it up to his ear, his brows knotting in frustration.

“What’s wrong?”

Mildar looked up at Rettick. “Damn thing doesn’t seem to be working. I think it must have been damaged somehow. I think I can get it working, but it’ll take a minute.”
Mebek sighed. “I’d better go out and talk to them.” As he strode worriedly out, he snagged Rett’s elbow, pulling him along.

“Hey, what ya doing?”

“You’ll have to speak to them as well, as one of the ‘Shrykull’’s servants, and Volt can’t go out without pants, or we’ll have to explain that as well. It’ll be easy.” And with that, he pulled Rettick out onto the wide branch outside his hut.

As they emerged, a murmuring rose up in the crowd, and then fell silent at Mebek’s gestures. Clearing his throat, Mebek spoke out across the crowd in a loud, clear voice. His Chirps and Warblings silenced even the most impatient and noisy villagers, and even Rettick, who couldn’t understand the language, felt moved by the sounds. Mebek seemed able to comfort and arouse interest at once, and this language had a rhythm and melody that Rettick’s own lacked. Rettick’s worries seemed to evapourate, and he realised that, when it came to his turn to speak to the crowd, it didn’t really matter if he made a faux pas, because everything he said would have to be translated by Mebek. The melodic language flowed through him like a wave of calm flowed over his mind, soothing away the little wrinkles of worry, and relaxing the tension from his body, so much that he barely noticed when Mebek stopped talking and turned to him.

“Your turn.”

Rettick stood up straight again. “What have you said to them?”

“Just that the Shrykull has finally returned to rid them of the Grilken, and that you are its loyal servants.”

Rettick looked out uneasily, his anxiety returning. “What should I say?”

“Just introduce yourself, really, and tell them you want several of their number to accompany you on your quest. Oh, and at the end, resent the Shrykull to them.”

“Present it? How?”

“That’s up to your Vykker friend. Now hurry up, they’re getting impatient.” He stepped to the side, giving Rettick centre stage.

Rettick swallowed. The sense of anticipation in the air above the mass of villagers was palpable. Clearing his throat, Rettick opened his mouth. “Friends…”

Cheers arose from the crowd at his first words, drowning out everything he said after that point, but the villagers didn’t care. Their god had returned to rid them of a hated enemy, and its Acolyte was speaking to them. To Them. The sense of anticipation had been replaced by an immense collective rejoicing. Their arms waved in the dappled light that emerged from between the leaves above their heads. In places, a single shaft of light shone down on a certain mudokon or group of mudokons, and Rettick could see the expressions of sheer joy on their faces. Rettick realised that they’d been waiting for this moment for centuries, and felt a rush of pride that he was the focus of their rejoicing. This pride was short-lived, however, as he felt a pang of guilt at what they were doing to these people. These people believed that their salvation was at hand, when in reality Rettick was just an ordinary slig, and he and Volt and Mildar were most likely about to die, and the forest would be destroyed, these villagers along with it.

The guilt became Determination. We can’t let them down, he thought, We are going to end their troubles, and the Deforestation will end. It has to… Glancing at Mebek, he mouthed ‘Quiet them down!’ Mebek chirped out above the noise, silencing the cheers. Swallowing, Rettick opened his mouth once more. “And now, we bring to you your Saviour: The Shrykull!” Not knowing which way to turn to present it, he went down on his knees, as the crowd cheered, hoping to gods Mildar had got the Homing Beacon working…

ooo i hope Mildar does have it working...or else Rettick is going to be looking really stupid...

anywho...glad to see more keep it coming!

here's another one, fresh from the fingers...

CHAPTER 53

“So, gentlemen, what brings you here?”

The slig was the first to speak. “We’ve recaptured the escaped crossbreed. It stumbled into one of our traps. It didn’t even try to fight us, it just tried to keep walking in the direction it was going. We wondered if there was a reward for its capture?”

Snikkit frowned at him. “I thought I gave orders that you weren’t to go after the creature!”

The Director smiled at Dran’s discomfort. “Oh please, there’s no need to fight amongst ourselves. After all, the creature has been recaptured, and there was no harm done. Logging is back on schedule, and I don’t believe we have any further problems, do we?”

Snikkit’s frown deepened. “What about this female slig you have? Have you destroyed it yet?”

For the first time, The Director seemed ill at ease. “Not quite.”

“Well, when were you planning on doing it? Might I remind you that if Central Office sends an Inspector here, this operation will be closed down, and you will lose out on this profitable opportunity for study.”

Supervisor Dran’s Mobile Fone bleeped. “Excuse me,” he said, as he strolled into the corner to take the call.

The Director smiled to cover his unease. “We will have her destroyed as soon as she is recaptured…”

Snikkit stood up in panic. “You mean she’s escaped? How?”

“You can trust that the person responsible has been disciplined. Terminally, I expect, depending on the imagination of his Successor…”

“That’s unimportant, do you know where-”

“A Crawler?” Dran’s voice interrupted Snikkit’s, and the other two stopped arguing to listen. “How Far? What size was it? The Factory? What sort of defences do they have back there? Well, did you see how well the Mudokons were armed? Oh well, never mind, well done. Yes, I’m with Snikkit and the Director now, we’ll think about how to deal with them now. Thank you for the information. Goodbye.” With anxiety in his eyes, Dran closed his Fone and turned back to the others. “We have a problem…”

ut oh...Looks like Rettick is going to look foolish...oh dear...

Malice: want me to put him out of his misery?

NO! I am NOT going to like you start invading other fics! Now get out!

Malice: fine then *snorts and leaves*

Oy...anywho...keep it up Rett