Shinia gave Mariposa a coldly appraising look; he simply returned her a bland stare. "If he were to agree to keep silent, I could promise him a 10% cut, taken off the top. That would still be worth millions, each year. Otherwise, I cannot afford to have anyone else know about the location of this mine. What do you say, Professor?"

"It would depend upon Mr. Thorner's decision."

Shinia looked back at the detective. "And?"

"Before I agree to anything, I need some answers."

She frowned. "What does that matter now?"

"I'm a cop," he answered with a shrug. "I don't like mysteries. Besides, if we're goin' to trust each other, we need complete honesty between us." When she hesitated he added, "Hey, you have the advantage; humor me."

"Very well," she answered, sighing in resignation. "What do you want to know?"

"What was the deal with me and Pendleton?"

"Ah, the late, unlamented Mr. Pendleton. Well, as I'm sure you've guessed, I hired Pendleton to steal the journal from the museum. I paid him ten thousand up front and promised another fifteen when the job was done. The problem was he got greedy. When I went to pick up the book, he refused to hand it over; he said if I was willing to pay twenty-five grand then it must be worth at least ten times that much. I tried to bluff by saying it was just a family heirloom with purely personal worth, but he didn't buy it. He demanded a hundred thousand, or he would keep it. So I agreed."

"Did you have any intention of paying him?"

"Of course; why not?"

"What with? You told us a couple of days ago you had no money."

"When father died he left me some stock. Of course, it was now worth far less than it originally cost, but it paid dividends. I was able to live on that, along with my income from singing, and contributions from my gentlemen friends. When I found out about the journal, I sold the stock, pawned my jewelry and furs and such, and cleaned out my savings. That gave me fifty thousand. I was willing to give it all to Pendleton as a down payment, so long as he gave me the journal.

"What did it matter? As you now know, this mine can provide at least ten thousand times the amount he demanded; it was chicken feed. The problem was he still wouldn't give me the journal. He wanted to keep it to insure that I wouldn't doublecross him. When I told him we needed it translated, he insisted upon being present at all the consultations with Mariposa. That meant he would find out about the mine, and I couldn't allow that.

"I'd met Pat at the nightclub where I was singing. Initially he was just a good fuck, but then I thought of using him to lean on Pendleton to surrender the journal. He didn't have to know the real story; all I needed was his threat to intimidate Pendleton. You made a good substitute. Unfortunately, it backfired. Soon after you left him, Pendleton came to my house, certain the journal was worth far more than he first thought. He demanded I make him a partner. When I refused, he threatened to destroy the book."

"So you killed him," Mark said, not accusingly, but as a simple statement of fact.

"I had no choice. I was asleep when he came over. I sleep in the nude," she said as an aside to Mariposa. He merely shrugged. "His pounding on the door woke me and I looked out my bedroom window; it overlooks the door. I threw on a robe when I saw it was him. I didn't know what he wanted, but I figured it had something to do with you. I took a gun I keep and slipped it into the pocket of my robe. I then went down and let him in. After I agreed to his demand, I suggested we seal the bargain by having sex. I slipped off the robe to show him my sincerity. At the same time I palmed the gun and managed to hide it behind my back, using my actions to distract him. He looked at me and licked his lips, but then he declined and turned his back. That's when I put the gun to his head and shot him."

"I then showered, dressed, and left. I arranged to have one of the more human-looking Tulpan stake out the house in case you showed up. The idea was to make you believe that someone else had killed Pendleton and that my life was in danger. That way, if I was picked up by the police, you would be my alibi. But there was little danger of that since the Tulpans could hide me. I'm sure you know all about them, Professor."

"A little," he confirmed evenly, "but you have admitted it is the Tulpans themselves and not their hybrids you are actually in league with."

Shinia smiled.

Mark asked, "The Tulpans?"

"Very perceptive," responded the woman to Mariposa, ignoring the lieutenant's question. "I learned about them from my brother's notes. I was living in Massachusetts at the time, attending Arkham's Miskatonic University. His notes made mention of several old books of magic -- the Necronomicon, the Book of Eibon, and so forth -- that told how to contact them. I had a hard time getting access to them, until I seduced a graduate student who worked at the library; he snuck me in one night. I found out that there was an enclave of them under the hills around Dunwich, so I performed the ceremony on Halloween and they contacted me; the student made a proper sacrifice. It was they who told me of the journal; they also put me in touch with their network of hybrids and confidants. Those in turn found the journal at the museum and put me in touch with the Denver mob, who recommended Pendleton. I made contact with the Cairnsford enclave and have been working closely with them ever since."

"Then the people of Aurum . . ." Mark's voice trailed off.

"There was suppose to be an Aurum enclave as well," Shinia confirmed, "but it was wiped out by the influenza epidemic. Apparently it was made up of hybrids who had undergone the full change, but were still human enough to be vulnerable. The people in Aurum are descended from hybrids that did not undergo the complete change; the Bothars used the hybrids to help mine the gold. Probably how they caught the flu."

"What did you intend to do with me?" Mark asked, redirecting her attention to him.

"With Pendleton dead, I needed you to get the journal for me. My only problem was I didn't know how to contact you safely. Then I thought to involve the Professor here. It was just pure dumb luck you were in his office when I came by. I also realized I might need some help in getting to the mine, and as I said I'd fallen in love with you by then. So I thought that once Mariposa told me where the mine was, you and I could find it and then we would be rich. The problem, of course, was that the good professor here played games with me and refused to tell me where the mine was. I thought about having you beat the information out of him, but I realized that you wouldn't harm an innocent man. So I came up with the kidnapping scheme. And I think that just about covers everything.

"So, Mark, you now need to make your choice. Join me, and we'll live like royalty."

Mark looked over at Mariposa. "If I say yes, what would be your decision?"

He looked at Shinia, who looked back earnestly. Then he turned his head towards Mark. "If I agreed to her terms, I would be condoning murder. I am afraid I cannot do that, so I must decline."

Mark looked back at Shinia. "Do you plan to kill him?"

She looked reluctant, but her eyes were like hard, green ice. "I would have no choice. And to show your sincerity you would have to do it for me."

"Yeah," he said in a slow drawl. The lieutenant made a show of considering her offer for a moment, but finally he cocked his head towards Mariposa and answered, "What he said."

Mark studied her reaction carefully. Shinia's expression turned hard at his words. Her face froze into a mask devoid of all sentimentality, false or otherwise, revealing her true feelings at last. Mark saw raw ambition and naked predatory greed flash in her eyes and the sight sent a chill down his back.

"I'm sorry, Mark, I really am," she replied in a voice devoid of pity or warmth. The woman tried to look disappointed, but she could not quite manage to pull it off; instead, she seemed more disappointed by the fact that she could no longer control him than that she had lost a lover. Mark realized then that it was possible Shinia actually did love him, but it was a love given and understood on her own peculiar terms, like everything else in her life. As a final parting gesture, she leaned forward and kissed him perfunctorily, then pulled back, rose to her feet, and walked away.

"You did the right thing, my friend."

For a moment, Mark was not certain if Mariposa was being sarcastic, but then realized that while the man could be devious, he could never be disingenuous. "Yah, well, if I'd said yes I mighta been able to get us out of this."

"Perhaps," Mariposa reflected, "or you might have slid a little further down the slippery slope."

"Hey, fuck you, pal," the lieutenant snapped, "I just picked a bullet in the back of the head rather than fuck you over. You can bite me."

The librarian grunted in derision, which Mark had never heard him do until now. "The problem with hardboiled realism is that it often confuses black and white for right and wrong. One can acknowledge the existence of shades of gray, as well as the necessity for prevarication and guile, and still comprehend right from wrong."

"Spoken like a true swell," growled Mark. "If we get out of this, I got a whole city full of ivory towers you'd feel right at home in."

With no rancor in his voice, Mariposa nonetheless made his reply in a tone which implied he would brook no dispute. "Your comments inform me you do not wish to admit that, despite however much you would like to pretend otherwise, deep within your soul you know what I say is true."

"Like I got time for this shit."

Mark dropped what he considered a ridiculous philosophical debate, and turned to look to his left at the bag containing the pistols and ammunition. If he could get his hands free, if he could reach them, if the goons were too busy getting rich to pay attention to them, if Shinia would continue to watch her hired muscle instead of him . . .

If, if, if . . .

Mark struggled against the ropes. Strained. He could feel the blood gathering in his head, flustering his face, turning his ears red and coating his head with sweat. He gasped from his efforts. The ropes were simply too thick to break. Admitting that fact, he began trying to work one of the knots loose when he heard a strange sound coming from behind. A quick glance behind himself made his eyes go wide. Bastet was sitting behind him in the shadows, her black fur masking her almost completely, her eyes flashing in the reflected lamp light only because she allowed it.

"Doc --"

"I know; do not indicate that you see her."

Mark kept his gaze faced forward. A few moments later he detected movement out of the corner of his left eye as the cat reached the bag. Grabbing it with her teeth, she then began dragging it back behind the two men. A moment later she had dropped it between and slightly behind them. Then he could feel her start to chew on his bonds. The ropes were thick, so he feared it would take her awhile, but even as he completed the thought he felt his hands come free. He shook off the remains of the rope and carefully brought his hands around to his front.

"Take out the guns," Mariposa murmured as the cat began to work on his bonds, "and be ready to move."

"There's no cover," Mark answered as he slowly reached for the bag. "We'll have to try for the tunnel." He pulled the bag open and fished out the pistols, two drum magazines, and four clips; then he shoved half the spoils to the professor, whispering, "You go first."

"We go together --"

"No arguin', doc," he hissed. "You'll need time to saddle the horses. Get out and back to camp; I'll cover you." The lieutenant could tell his plan didn't sit well with Mariposa, but he added, "Don't worry, I'll catch up."

The librarian said nothing to Mark, speaking to his cat instead as he scooped up the gun and his share of the ammunition. "Bastet, stay with him."

Mark waited until the cat had disappeared back into the shadows, then jumped up shouting, "Now!"

As the pack of goons turned to the sound Mark blasted away randomly into their midst. Mariposa leapt to his feet and sped off for the tunnel. At the same instant, Shinia spun around. She looked in shock from Mark to Mariposa and back, then raised her rifle towards the escaping librarian. Mark threw himself at her. She tried to whirl on him, but he caught hold of the rifle and they struggled for possession of it. He thought he could take it from her easily, but he discovered to his surprise that she was stronger than she had let on. They were in fact even matched.

A shot rang out as the burglar fired on Mariposa, but because his grip was clumsy he missed, hitting the wall above the tunnel just as the librarian disappeared into it. He started forward to give chase, but Bastet flew out of nowhere at the goon's head. Claws like deep sea fish hooks sank into neck and scalp, razored teeth clamping on an ear. The goon's scream echoed through the caverns, a pitiful bellow filled with shock and terror. All thoughts of pursuit were gone. Instead the misshapen burglar threw his stunted arms above his head, thrashing and grabbing, desperate to pry Bastet from his bleeding dome. The cat hung on with a fearsome tenacity, however, forcing the goon to throw himself backward. The pair hit the cavern wall with a tremendous thud, Bastet absorbing most of the blow. Stunned, the cat hit the wall and fell to the ground.

The burglar, taking advantage of its distraction, grabbed up the rifle he had dropped and then swung it like a club. Mark slugged Shinia, then leveled his pistol at the goon. But, before he could get off a shot, the goon struck Bastet square on the back with the side of the butt. For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still. Then, as Mark watched, the stock of the rifle flew up and backward across the cave. Stunned into flabbergasted surprise, the goon merely stood watching as the cat simply shook itself.

And suddenly, Mark realized why the burglar had gone immobile. The cat, now standing on its hind feet, was growing, both upward and outward. Its arms and legs lengthened, its paws transformed into hands and feet. Its claws extended into talons, its muscles bulked and its head widened until finally it resembled a gorilla, a gorilla with upper canines the length of sabers. It stood for a moment, looking down on the burglar, snarled, then swiped at him once, shredding his face and throat and chest. Not waiting to see the resulting explosion of blood, the remade feline turned on the rest of the goons, roaring like a devil tiger.

Mark snapped out of his daze at that point and was just about to head for the exit when he was confronted by Shinia who had regained her feet. Catching him completely unawares, she slugged him in the face and wrenched the rifle from his hands. He tried to strike back, but she rammed the gun into his ribs and, flashing him a thin and evil smile, made to pull the trigger. Before she could, however, the ground spasmed and opened beneath her. She fell a few feet, but then suddenly the ground snapped closed and she found herself trapped, her body from just beneath her breasts on downward stuck fast. Panic-stricken, she looked up desperately, screaming, "Mark! Help me! Mark!"

Without thinking, Mark reached down and took hold of the woman's hands. He pulled, but could not budge her, almost as if someone, or something, was below her, trying to pull her down. The lieutenant stopped to take a deep breath before redoubling his efforts when suddenly, two huge paws with enormous claws appeared from below and took hold of Shinia's chest. As he watched, dumbfounded, they pulled on her and she disappeared into the hole, slipping out of his grasp as if she was never there. He listened to her rapidly fading screams, until he could hear it no more.

At the same instant, holes opened under the other goons, and they too were sucked down as well in the grip of huge ursine, mole-like paws. Bastet tried to grab for one or two, but even she, in her enhanced form, could not hold any of them. Mark noted that the head goon was awake, watching in horror as his comrades disappeared. When he noted the lieutenant watching him, he rolled to his feet and ran for the back of the cavern.

Bastet dropped on all fours to give chase, but Mark shouted, "No! Go guard the doc." The monster-cat hesitated for a moment, then turned on its heels and bounded off for the tunnel. With each leap it shrank until by the time it reached the exit it had regained its normal size and form.

At the same time, Mark grabbed up the rifle Shinia had dropped, cocked the bolt to make certain it was loaded, picked up one of the lanterns, and set off after the burglar. As he shone the light along the back wall, he spotted the opening to another tunnel, this one leading deeper into the interior of the cliff. He suspended the lantern from one elbow and cradled the rifle in both hands, holding it ready to shoot. He then entered the tunnel and proceeded cautiously forward.

The length of the tunnel was not great, and soon Mark found himself emerging into another cavern. Unlike the first, it had a low roof and was narrow, but it stretched so far away before him the beam from his lantern was lost in the gloom. Slipping it off his arm, he held the lantern up and quickly scanned the area of the cave around him, but he saw no one. The cavern was not empty, though. Embedded into the opposite wall was a gigantic piece of crystal, unlike anything he had ever seen before. Curious, he approached it.

In the light of the lantern it appeared more like a block of ice, with smooth contours rather than sharp facets. Like ice, it was translucent on the surface, but its depths were opaque, though the color was gray rather than blue. As he came closer, Mark could feel the air around it grow cold, until finally he found he could approach it no closer than a distance of three feet without getting dangerously chilled. There was no illumination within the thing, but he could sense a throb in the air and through the rock under his feet. It was like the beat of a huge heart, a vibrating whisper he felt rather than heard. After a moment's inspection, he decided the crystal looked more like a brain -- the same general shape, similar surface convolutions, and the fact that it was divided into two hemispheres and several lobes.

Mark continued to study the alien object for a long moment until a growing shadow reflected from one of its many facets. The lieutenant set his lantern down, then whirled about to spot the burglar coming at him at a dead run. Ready for him this time, Mark jerked his rifle to his shoulder, sighted, and fired. The goon clutched at his stomach, but came on. Cocking the bolt, Mark aimed and fired again, staggering the burglar once more, but not stopping him. Mark fired twice more, the first shot grazing the side of the goon's skull, the second slamming pointblank into his forehead just above the eyes. The brute stopped dead in his tracks, his body jerking, arms cartwheeling madly. And then, the goon simply disappeared.

Surprised, Mark searched for him cautiously in the dark, finally discovering the ragged edge of a cliff. The lieutenant edged up closer and shone his light down its face; the beam was swallowed up by the gloom. With a shock, Mark suddenly realized why that was: the whole rear of the cavern was an immense pocket deep inside the mountain behind the cliff, one so enormous that he could not discern the bottom, the sides, or far walls.

The lieutenant was not nervous about heights, but the thought of the gargantuan black gulf yawning in front of him made him dizzy, and he quickly stepped away from it. When he turned around, however, a baker's dozen of figures appeared in the light before him. Twelve were literal monsters: moles the size and shape of grizzly bears, with solid black short-fuzzed fur except for a mop of crimson hair on the crowns of their heads, crouched on their haunches as they formed a semi-circle around him; the thirteenth that stood between him and them looked more human, but was obviously related to its fellows. Mark had the momentary thought that this is what the burglar would have finally looked like had he lived to finish his change.

The Tulpans in the rear tried to shield their eyes from the lantern and were obviously in pain; the hybrid in front of them blinked but seemed more comfortable. It suddenly dawned on Mark that being subterranean they would probably not be used to light, even the weak illumination of the lantern.

"Do you mind turning that aside, please?" the hybrid requested.

Its voice was even higher pitched and harder to understand than the burglar's, but Mark could make out what it was saying if he concentrated. He did as instructed and set the lantern down. The incidental light reflecting off the walls was enough to see by, and the Tulpans relaxed.

Mark leveled the rifle at the hybrid, but it merely chuckled, "You expelled one shell back in the front cave," it reminded him, "and then you fired four more. I believe you're empty Mr. Thorner."

The lieutenant cocked the bolt to make sure, but no shell was expelled. Of course, he still had his pistol, but it was in his shoulder holster, and the hybrid was close enough to take his head off if it wished to do so. Since it did not seem inclined to do so, Mark relaxed a bit and asked, "What'd ya want from me?"

"To thank you, Mr. Thorner, and to ask your cooperation."

"For what . . . on both counts."

"We want to thank you for playing your part in bringing Shinia here, and we ask that you tell no one else about what you have seen here today."

"What do ya mean?" Again, he referred to both ideas.

"We are an old race, Mr. Thorner; not as old as the Deep Ones, but we were already civilized a million years before man's ancestors came down from the trees. We live underground, as you can well imagine, but we have built great cities. One of them lies below us here."

Surprised, Mark hooked a thumb back behind himself. "You mean down there?"

"Exactly; it is larger that the entirety of your Manhattan Island; it is older than Jericho. You can see it, if you close the lantern and let your eyes adjust to the darkness."

Curious, Mark leaned down and closed the flaps on the lantern's lens. He then turned around and looked. For the first few moments all he could see was an intense blackness, but as he waited patiently tiny points of light became discernable, like stars in the night sky. The lights grew both brighter and more numerous, until a vast carpet of them stretched off into the far distance. A few moments more and the dim outlines of spires and towers began to become visible. Then, in a sudden instant, he recognized it for what it was, and he gasped in shock as the city seemed to leap into clear focus in his mind.

Wheeling from an attack of vertigo, Mark staggered back and turned around, knocking over the lantern as he did so. The sudden blast of light blinded him for a moment, but he blinked his eyes clear.

"It is beautiful, is it not?"

"It's fantastic!" he sputtered.

"We have lived here for ten millennia; generation upon generation has been born here. Most have gone on to other enclaves, but still millions once occupied this place." The creature fell silent for a moment, then added in what sounded like a mournful tone, "Now, there are barely a thousand of us. You see, Mr. Thorner, we are dying."

"Why? What happened?"

"My father happened. Nearly seven decades ago he discovered the opening in the outer cliff that led to the gold cave. He brought back others to mine the gold and found his town. His family had been allied to our race for centuries, so he knew the ritual to contact us. We sealed a pack with him and his followers: in exchange for our help in mining the gold, they would join with us. And thus it was so. As they depleted the gold on the surface, we enlarged the cave, exposing more of the pipes. In their turn they participated in our ceremonies and they mated their sons and daughters to ours. The Elder Bothar himself mated with my mother, and I was the result.

"You no doubt have seen the folk of Aurum?" Mark nodded his affirmative. "They are the descendants of the offspring of those first matings, who themselves mated with normal humans before they underwent the change to this." He gestured at himself. "The Bothars and the other families prospered from their partnership with us, and we gained the strength and youth of your race to revitalize ours. Unfortunately, it also brought about our doom.

"To make access between our two enclaves easier, we excavated this antechamber." He gestured around himself. "In doing so, we exposed that." And he pointed at the crystal.

"I don't understand," Mark objected, glancing back at the crystalline brain. "What affect could that have on you?"

"Do you not feel it, Mr. Thorner?"

"Feel what?"

"Close your eyes," the hybrid replied, "and open your mind; it will speak to you."

Mark scowled. "I don't have time for games."

"I assure you," the hybrid cut him off, "this is no game. Do as I say."

The hybrid spoke as quietly as he had before, but there was a hardness to his tone that told Mark he not only meant what he said, but that he was prepared to back it up with force if necessary. Sighing, the lieutenant closed his eyes. He had no idea how to "open" his mind, so instead he tried to empty it of thoughts. It wasn't easy, but after a short while he found he had quieted the mental babble within his skull. And then, he perceived the voice, though "voice" was not really an exact description of what he felt.

The tremor caressing his mind felt somewhat of music, though what had entered his mind was not a song or even an orchestral piece. Yet there were tones organized into specific rhythms that obeyed mathematical precepts completely alien to his experience. He felt what was happening was incomprehensible, and yet, a small part of his brain seemed certain that if he could just focus his thoughts that he would be able to decipher the messages coming to him. And then, images suddenly flooded his brain, submerging his own thoughts in something alien.

The sights jamming their way into his mind were not like what he saw in a movie theater, a projection playing against his closed eyelids. Rather the images surrounded him, as if he stood in the middle of a giant amphitheater while a play was enacted around him. Only he was also suspended above the stage and the action occurred within a globe all around him.

He was in outer space; that much at least he recognized immediately from what he saw. But it was not the familiar star field of the night sky. Instead he was surrounded by incandescent, multi-hued clouds. Between them and him were black opaque clouds that looked like patches and columns of thick, sooty smoke. He could see no stars, but the background glowed as if the clouds themselves were on fire. Both sets of clouds roiled and billowed as if strongly agitated. As he watched, a dense ball budded off a black column and began to drift away. As it did so, it shrank in on itself and started to glow, then burst into light so intense Mark mentally blinked. When his vision cleared the ball had become a bright blue sun, which violently threw off jets and shells of material from its own body.

His attention shifted to a tiny object within his immediate foreground. At first he could not make out what it was, but as it gradually approached he could see that it was the crystalline brain. In the depths of the cosmos it displayed vibrant life; sparks and flashes swarmed through it, following specific courses like blood through veins, creating unique patterns Mark could sense were its thoughts. Indeed, he could perceive their nature. Unfettered by gravity, the thing was happy, free to explore the universe and to converse with the beings which populated it. To be sure, the brain expressed its pleasure in song. Its voice consisted of radio waves structured in complex patterns of constructive and destructive interferences. And, though the rhythms, cadences, and harmonies were alien to the music produced by human tongues, Mark could comprehend it, could feel the charged emotion behind it and he smiled as its jubilance and mirth cleansed him, easing his fears and pains.

Time passed. The brain drifted out of the stellar nursery and into the vastness of interstellar space, and Mark followed. Its delight did not dim and its song expressed its expectant excitement. It spotted a nearby yellow star, and expending some of its energy reserves, it changed its direction to head for it. Such stars often had planets, with intelligent beings, and it was eager to see what this one might contain. Besides, it could use the gravity to boost its speed. Gradually it drifted through the vast surrounding cometary cloud and skimmed past the outer belt of small icy moons, approaching the central star off to one side and at an oblique angle, to use the gravity to sling it around and towards the galactic center. As it grew closer it opened its senses and concentrated, searching for signals that might indicate intelligence amongst the system's background noise.

But the crystalline creature grew careless. It had not considered that the system might have been a double, one whose second sun was a failed star, one that had been unable to ignite its fusion furnace. The gravity of such systems were hideously dangerous to such as the brain. Its conflicting currents were far too intricate for a being as young as it to navigate, and when it panicked and tried to change course drastically, it instead threw itself directly into the gas giant's grasp.

The giant's gravity caught it and yanked it around its equator, then flung it off on a direct collision with the sun. It struggled to alter its trajectory, but dared not expend too much energy, lest it end with not enough to continue its life. Its only hope lay in intercepting another planet and using its gravity to propel it out of the system and danger. As luck would have it, such a planet lay close to its present path, a blue, green and brown world covered in clouds. Expending far more of its reserves than it could afford to use, it jerked towards the planet. As it moved forward, its desperate bid seemed as if it would work! The brain could feel itself being pulled away from the sun and back out into deep space. As it careened past the planet, it felt the force of the gravitational attraction yank it completely free of the sun's grasp. Its speed accelerated dramatically, and the planet's grip weaken as the distance between them increased. But even as it exalted in its deliverance, another body, the planet's huge moon, was suddenly imposed in its path. Before it could react it skimmed across the moon's surface and was violently redirected toward the planet itself! It slammed into the atmosphere wailing in terror and misery. Then it was silenced as the planet engulfed it.

For thousands of millennia it lay comatose, buried beneath miles of crust. Gradually, however, awareness returned to it. The brain discovered it was trapped, imprisoned in solid rock and held fast by gravity. It could perceive its surroundings but dimly, as a man whose head was wrapped in bandages would see only blurred images and hear only muffled sounds. It nearly went mad from the isolation and its own despondency, and if it were not for its memories it would have succumbed to lunacy. Instead it retreated into a fantasy world reliving its past journeys, and thus passed more thousands of millennia in a dream-like state.

Yet it was dying. In its attempt to escape this system, it had used too much of its energy reserves, and as time went by even its dormancy could preserve only a tiny portion of what it had left. Soon its reserves would be totally exhausted, and then it would slip into unconsciousness and finally die. Or it would have, if it had not been uncovered by the beings who inhabited its new planet. Still trapped by gravity and imprisoned under rock, its perceptions could not extend far, but they reached far enough that it could feel the lifeforce of millions of creatures nearby. More than that, it found that it could actually tap that lifeforce and drain it off.

Its first efforts were crude, and it accidentally killed thousands, but the lifeforce it consumed sustained it as its own energy reserves would have, and what it did not need immediately it found it could store. Moreover, as its reserves increased, so did the range of its perception, which in turn increased the number of beings it could feel, which increased the amount of energy it could consume, and so forth. It experienced a surge of hope that it might be able to escape its prison -- if it could absorb enough energy. That would take time. The brain instantly realized it had to moderate its feeding, had to keep the beings around it alive so it could continue to feed off them. But it was patient, as any traveler of the cosmos would be, and it knew it was only a matter of time.

Yet its song was now one of desperate longing, tinged with a fatalistic fear and colored by its shame of the lives it would have to destroy to preserve its own existence.

"Jesus Pearly Christ!"

Mark's eyes snapped open and the link was severed. He lost his balance as a wave of dizziness swept over him. He almost toppled to the ground, but the hybrid caught him and held him erect until he regained his equilibrium.

It then released its grip, saying, "You understand now, do you not Mr. Thorner?"

"Hell, yes, I do. That thing's eatin' you alive."

"Exactly. It consumes our vital energy, killing us off, albeit slowly, making us weaker with each new generation."

"So the Bothars, all the key families of Aurum," mused Mark, "they didn't bite it from influenza, did they?"

"The disease was certainly deadly, but why do you think it decimated the families that trafficked with us while leaving the rest intact? It is because their association with us made them susceptible to its influence, and thus they were too weak to fight off the illness when it descended upon them. We were not vulnerable to the sickness, but we have been weakened to the point where we can no longer reproduce on our own. We must have fresh blood from the outside to sustain our numbers, otherwise we will perish."

As a chill ran down Mark's spine the hybrid chuckled, adding, "Have no fear; you are not suitable. For one thing, you are male; we need females. For another, we need females from the original families that trafficked with us."

"And Shinia's a Bothar."

"Exactly."

"But one woman can't be enough!"

"No, it isn't, but it is a start."

"What about the people of Aurum?"

"We need pure, untainted blood, and the people of Aurum have been contaminated by the crystalline entity. It was important that Shinia be brought here, and we are grateful for the part you played in that."

"She was in contact with your race before she even came out here."

"True, which is how we found out about her."

"So why couldn't one of your people bring her here?"

"No other member of our race will come here, as long as that thing still lives."

"So destroy it."

"We cannot, Mr. Thorner, at least we do not know how. Besides, we have no right to do so."

"No right! It's killin' you. You've got the right to survive."

"So does it."

Mark was about to object further, but then he considered what the hybrid said carefully. It violated his sense of justice, but this was not a crime of passion, or greed, or sadism; indeed, he could not even be sure it was a crime at all. On the streets of New York he would not hesitate to kill anyone who threatened him, his occasional partners or any of their colleagues, or his friends, and he would not give a damn about proper procedure or legal niceties such as constitutional rights. He also found it surprisingly easy to think of other examples. The Great War had been fought to end the need to ever make war again, but life in the trenches was a matter of survival -- kill or be killed. In the midst of the Depression many men had lost their work and now could barely feed themselves or their families, but he would still gladly take another man's job to feed himself. Many towns died out when the economic collapse destroyed their livelihoods, yet those which survived, like Cairnsford, gladly fed off the resources of their less fortunate neighbors. Germany threatened to overrun Europe, yet it was fighting its way back from a humiliating defeat and crushing reparations that had nearly crippled it permanently. The whole world and everyone in it, he realized, was fighting to survive at one level or another.

Still; "Okay, I get it," said the lieutenant. "What right do I have to deny this thing its life? I'll tell ya -- the same right it has to gnaw on yer innards as if ya were a Coney Island frank instead'a goddamned livin' people."

"You do not appreciate the situation --"

"Yeah, blah blah blah. I've met your type before, and I'll let you know right now, the only reason naive goofs like you are still around to argue for 'a better way' is because people like me are here to do the dirty work to make all your lives easier."

His mood turning black, the lieutenant indicated the brain before him and snapped, "Move away."

"We cannot. We have been under its influence for so long we have become dependent upon it. Were we to leave, we would die. Besides, we guard it."

"You guard it!" Mark snapped in utter disbelief.

"My apologies, I misspoke. We guard against it, not for it. We protect others from coming under its influence. In time it will spread its influence on its own accord, but if it could enslave others and send them off as its agents, its influence would spread faster. Given enough time, we may eventually discover a way to contain it, or send it back from where it came, but for now, all we can do is quarantine it. That is why we cannot allow ourselves to die out. And that is why no one else must know of this place, or come here. So we must ask that you keep what you have seen and heard here to yourself."

Mark fumbled in his pockets for ammunition. As he reloaded his rifle, he said, "You fuckers are insane, and I've had enough."

"You cannot injure the --"

"Shut up," snapped the lieutenant. "Just shut up. You skunks make me sick. That thing feeds on you. If we fill it full of lead, it dies -- not you. I was in its mind. I know. But I also know yer stupid enough to think this thing has the right ta kill alla you, an' yer all too noble to kill it back." As he finished loading his rifle, Mark let the weapon fall into a non-threatening carry position in his hand, adding, "And so, with alla you fast enough to stop me if I try to destroy it, I'd say we got a stalemate on our hands."

"No, Mr. Thorner, we do not, not if you agree to keep secret all you have seen."

"Look, you fuckers may be willin' to commit suicide, but I don't hafta ta let ya, not if it's that bigga threat. If you won't do nothin', then get outa my way and let me do it."

The hybrid Bothar sadly shook its head. "You still do not understand. The problem is not that we will not destroy it; the problem is that we could not even if we wanted to. You wish to shoot it with your rifle and lead bullets; very well, do so, we will not stop you. But consider this before you do. While it traveled through the outer reaches of our solar system it was bombarded by meteors a hundred times harder and a thousand times faster than your bullets. Do you see any marks on it? What about burning it? In the stellar nursery it was flooded by radiation that would reduce our world to a cinder in seconds. Perhaps you would use a ton or more of your dynamite. Yet it has stood in the shadow of exploding suns. Considering all of that, do you seriously believe anything you could conceive of could possibly harm it?

"So we cannot destroy it; neither can we leave its vicinity; and we cannot allow it to enslave others as it has enslaved us. What other choice do we have but to survive and guard it against all those who would, through accident or design, unleash it upon the world? Tell me, Mr. Thorner, what other choice do we have?"

The lieutenant stared at the hybrid, stared past it to the crystal brain. Weighing everything that had happen to him since his arrival, he finally let loose a defeated sigh, then said, "I don't know." He then threw up his hands. "None, I guess."

"Then no matter how much you may despise us, please go and leave us to our fate."

Mark sighed, a deep exasperated sound of total surrender. "Ya know, I came here for a vacation. I traveled halfway 'cross the country just to get away from it all. And ya know what, there is no gettin' away from it all. I don't have to be around Zarnak to get tangled up with this goddamned cosmic nonsense, and I don't have to be in New York to find stupidity --"

"Stupidity?!" The Bothar hybrid could not roar, but its voice held such force Mark easily imagined it was anyway. "Do you want this thing to spread its power all over the face of the globe? Is your worldview so grim and desperate that you can no longer conceive of self-sacrifice? Or even recognize it? You have admitted that we have no choice but to do what we do, yet you still despise us for doing it, since we refuse to do what we cannot --"

"No! Godfuckindamnit, you don't know that, but you won't try. You won't even fight back. That's what I mean by stupidity." Frustrated beyond measure, and wanting nothing more than to escape this lunatic asylum, Mark added, "So, fine, all right, I agree. I won't tell anyone about you guys or your city -- not even your fuckin' crystal -- nobody, not even Jaim. And I won't say shit about the mine either."

"It is not necessary for you to go that far. You see, Mr. Thorner, you are wrong even in this last assumption. We will fight back, given the means, but we do not know what means can be used. If what you said about your life is true, though, we perceive that in your travels you may meet with people who do, or may be able to find out. If you know such people, and if you trust them, we would encourage you to tell them of our predicament, in the hope that they may be able to help us. You may in fact be our salvation, Mr. Thorner."

No longer possessing the energy to argue back, and strangely awed in any event, Mark only nodded.

Satisfied, the hybrid answered, "Then you are free to go, Mr. Thorner."

The lieutenant hesitated for a moment, thinking of Shinia. The long-dormant portion of his mind that she had awakened suggested that he ask the hybrid to take good care of her. Yet the more cynical dominant portion wondered just how stupid being around her had made him, and, unnoticed, the subordinate portion retreated into the dark recesses it had emerged from.

Snorting with disgust at the notion, Mark turned and headed back to the tunnel. The throng of Tulpans parted to allow his exit. As he entered the tunnel, however, the hybrid called out, "Feel free to help yourself to the gold on your way out, and come back for more whenever you wish."

"Yeah, money," Mark sneered, "that'll fix everything."

Mariposa was waiting for him at the ledge on the cliff. Seeing the librarian there where he could fall back into harm's way, he growled, "I thought I told ya to get the horses saddled?"

"I did; they are ready to go. However, when Bastet was the only one to come out of the tunnel, I became concerned."

"Well, . . ." Mark shrugged, "no harm done, I guess; let's go."

The pair started down the trail. When they reached the horses, however, Mariposa revealed, "Bastet informed me of what happened."

Mark took a moment to slip his rifle into its saddle holster, then checked the slack on his saddle cinch. "Yah, it was your typical triple-cross: Shinia doublecrossed us, but the Tulpans doublecrossed her. Fortunately, they didn't care about us, just her and the hybrids."

"What became of her chief henchman?"

Mark looked Jaim in eye over the back of his horse. "I shot him."

Mariposa asked no further questions, and the lieutenant volunteered no further information. The librarian merely sighed with relief, announcing, "Then it is over."

"All over, doc." Mark looked over at Bastet, sitting on the saddle bags of Mariposa's horse. It looked back with narrowed eyes. The lieutenant realized that it knew something more had happened. Furthermore, he realized it most likely new exactly what. However, he also understood that it would keep its own counsel.

Would've liked to hear ya purrin', pussycat, he thought, but I guess that'd be expectin' too much.

"Doc," he said, unexpectedly compelled to finish an earlier conversation, "you're half right about me. I'm just idealistic enough to believe in justice, and I've dedicated my life to law and order. But I'm too old and too street-smart to be as straight-arrow as you. I'll bend the law when I have ta, I'll even break the moral code of society; whatever it takes to get the job done."

Jaim stared back at him for a moment, then said, "I understand, Mr. Thorner. We come from two different worlds. We are both men of principle; they are simple vastly different principles. But we do have one thing in common: we both fight evil, cosmic or otherwise, each in our own way. I am proud to have known you and to have worked with you."

"Hey," responded Mark, forcing himself to manage a lopsided smile. "Same here, doc."

As they mounted their horses, Mark winced from a sudden pain in his right thigh. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the fist-sized lump of gold he had taken. He hefted it in his hand and tossed it up into the air a couple of times. Then he offered it to Jaim. The librarian shook his head.

"I have enough money to last me the entirety of my long life. You keep it; I imagine a police detective is not paid very well, and in the current economic climate I'm sure you could use the extra credit."

"Nah," answered Mark, staring at the librarian, "I'd probably just blow it on booze and dames. And, I've had enough of both of those for a while." Yet he slid it into a saddle bag, saying, "Still, there's always the widows and orphans' fund."

Mariposa looked into the lieutenant's eyes and could see he meant what he said. Bastet felt the same vibrations as her master and began to purr, loudly and warmly, all for Mark's benefit.

The lieutenant smiled at the sound, then reached for a cigar. As he lit it, he remarked casually, "Have I gotta a tale to tell the both of ya!"

Created: October 28, 2006; Updated: October 29, 2006