Bimi's x-craft sputtered disquietingly as he eased out of sniper-space and rolled into the Solar System. His craft was constantly making new and unique noises, presumably in an attempt to irritate him, so he wasn't too bothered. He braced himself as he slowed, losing thousands of nots each second. For kicks, he coasted towards Saturn and circled the planet a few times. It was the rings, of course, that made Saturn his second favorite sight in the galaxy.

  His favorite was Earth. Ah. Good ole’ Earth. My long ago home… bright and blue, a giant marble floating through space, oblivious to the complexities of the universe. If only they knew… He laughed, imagining the Earthlings’ surprise if they discovered they were being monitored by fluorescent green aliens and their recruited spies. He took a technology reading as he flew in. Five, read his screen. That was the same reading reported by the party he was here to rescue. Not a great score, but not a bad one, either. He'd had plenty of time to review the mission notes, so he knew exactly where he was headed. The Ciri had crashed their x-craft into a cliff near the west coast of Africa while searching for a mysterious civilization rumored to be so powerful and technologically advanced that it had come to the attention of the Xenonites. An interview with a native convinced them that where they'd landed certainly wasn't anywhere special, so they'd holed up in a swamp awaiting rescue. On the one hand, Bimi was unhappy about losing his vacation time to chase after lost Ciri, but on the other, he always enjoyed visiting Earth, and he certainly didn't want to leave a couple incompetent spies disgracing its surface any longer than necessary.

  He lowered the x-craft over the Atlantic Ocean and decelerated as he cruised over the sandy beaches of what would one day be called the Ivory Coast. The solid ground was a welcome sight after weeks of staring into sniper-space waiting nervously for a pirate attack. He dropped lower as he approached his destination, but remembering the fate of the others, kept his eye on the ground below to avoid unexpected mountains or outcroppings. If someone could rig their navigational gear to give bad readings (as they’d insisted over the com-link), the same could be done to him.

  Soon he was over the nation-state marked “Atakala?” on the crude map of Africa found in the Instruction Manual for Xenonite Spies. Bimi paid little attention to the map–he’d made many missions to Earth and knew each continent like the back of his hand. He had submitted a few minor updates to the Xenonite maps of Earth, but as a human, still felt safer knowing the Xenonites didn't know everything about his home world.

  His craft swept down over the southern plains as he got his bearings. He turned off the navigational computer, preferring to use his memory of the terrain to guide him to the missing Ciri. He flew over a great marsh and followed a small river north to a shallow lake bristling with reeds and crossed by tiny islands which ran like stepping stones from one end to the other. He changed his course to swing over a range of mountains, noticing that one of them was belching thick black smoke. The Xenonites took regular geo-thermal scans of the planets as their Ciri circled the galaxy collecting information, so of course the Instruction Manual for Xenonite Spies was able to confirm that the peak, called Oort Peak by the locals, was a volcano, and about to erupt. At this point, the fact that the obsidian peak would soon become a fountain of fire and ash should have been apparent to even the most backwards nation on the planet, so Bimi was shocked when, as he coasted overhead, he noticed a pack of men digging a massive trench across the mountains beneath the peak. The sight was so unusual that he circled for another look, convinced he was seeing madness first hand.

  What on Earth? This is the nuttiest thing I’ve ever seen. Surely they realize they are digging beneath an active volcano! He hovered overhead, surveying the scene. The workers were digging as fast as they could. Small plumes of dust revealed that they were using explosives, which also seemed like madness–to use explosives when the ground below was likely filled with molten lava. He scanned the area, zooming in on a long green valley. At one end was a walled city. At the other, a massive camp of what appeared to be an invading army blocked the exit. When the volcano erupted, the city would be toast, and the army could cross into the southern lands unabated–once the fires died out, at least. The army seemed to realize this; its soldiers were stationed well away from the city, looking up at the smoking mountain, smiling into Bimi's camera.

  Bimi tried to comprehend the strange drama playing out. The army thinks the city will be destroyed. But the diggers think that when the volcano erupts, they can divert the lava to destroy the army. The people in the city are staying put… either they don't realize the danger, or they trust the diggers. He looked at the half finished ditches. There was no way the diggers could finish in time; the city was doomed. Already, some had dropped their shovels, backing away from the ditches as the mountain trembled. At best, the people below would have a little more time to flee, for the lava would take longer to reach them, coursing through the half-complete ditch away from the city, then returning down another valley aimed directly at them.

  Something about the city’s plight struck a nerve in Bimi. He zoomed in on the army, recognizing the standards and armor of northern Europe. Those barbarians should not be here. They should be in Europe. If the Xenonites want to prevent wars, they should do something about these invaders, not the peaceful Africans.

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  Perhaps the locals’ ridiculous plan appealed to his sense of spirit and adventure. Or perhaps as a native Egyptian himself, the sight of Germans plundering Africa turned his stomach. Whatever Bimi’s motives, he chose at that moment to break the number one rule of Xenonite Spying.

  He became involved.

  In one sense, there was nothing wrong with getting involved. The Xenonites were constantly fiddling in the affairs of other races; on Lexon, on M-13, on Earth, always the Xenonites were working to ensure events on a planet were running the way they wanted. Their success rate wasn’t 100%, as with M-13 and the malfunctioning sniper-space drive, and sometimes they completely failed, as with Lexon, but all in all, the Xenonites were happy with their power. No, what was wrong, was fiddling without explicit permission from the Xenonite Council. Changing events on other worlds without a million signed forms or an order from the Supreme Coordinator. Making decisions without submitting a Request for Intervention form or acting on those decisions without logging what you did into the Manual.

  Only one shot. Well, maybe a few. No one will ever know it was I. And even if they did, what would they care? It's not like I'm changing the fate of the world. Er, I am… but for the better. He looked once more at the hapless diggers, running away from the ditches as they fled the falling cinders. Rocks flew from Oort Peak, red hot blocks of fire glowing in the deepening dusk. The diggers were on their way to safety, streaming down the northern peak away from their abandoned ditch, which was already filling with lava, bound for the city below. Bimi took one last pass around the mountains, this time much lower; far lower than Xenonite codes permitted so near to a city, though it was impossible he would be noticed as he flew through the cloud of ash. He let a stream of light-grade missiles drop in a line pointing from the end of the ditch to the camp far below. He smiled as they hit the mountains in successive explosions. The dealer tried to talk me out of those. But I knew they'd come in handy.

  * * * * * * * *

  It has been suggested by some that the psychologies discussed in this book could be applied to that terrible creature, the rabadon. V'hogle and rabadons do share many physical and sociological similarities and are considered related in the same sense as grats and lyons. Yet one must remember that even if they are related, it is only by a thin thread stretched to maximum tautness across countless generations. Attempting to domesticate a Rabadon using the techniques in this book would be akin to approaching a lyon with a ball of string, calling 'Here Gritty, Gritty.' It is possible that one might have success with a young rabadon, training it up as one might train a lyon for the circus, but this has of course never been attempted as no juvenile rabadon has ever been seen, let alone captured.

  Wuter Heins

  Psychology of the V'hogel

  Mordei and Marthah were stumbling wearily across a charred beach when the rabadon arrived. They'd abandoned their overturned vehic days ago, having been forced to flee when a Sheek war-flyr appeared on the horizon and they sensed immediately that it was searching for Quinn, whose body lay gathering sand beside their mangled vehic. Leaving behind the dead leader and the vehic, they spent days circling the Shallow Sea on foot in the general direction of their abandoned farm east of Gabez. As they grew further and further from the northern lands of the Sheeks, their hope of safety increased… until the reptilian creature with great, curving claws and glistening white teeth strode towards them from the south.

  The Hakes grabbed each other in fright, Mordei sheltering Marthah under his thick arms.

  “Why did we ever have to keep it?” sobbed Marthah. “You and your stupid hobby farm. Why couldn’t you be happy with cows and sucazas? You weren't content until you could snare the devil itself.”

  Mordei defended himself even as he watched the approaching creature in terror. “It was in a proper cage. We had no problems for seventeen years. The thing was worth a fortune!”

  “What good is a cage if it doesn't hold the monster in? A lot of use it was on the eighteenth year!” Marthah was angry now, focusing on Mordei instead of the rabadon.

  “Look, it's not every day a war-flyr explodes over your house. It's not my fault the cage was damaged. How was I supposed to plan for that?”

  “It was your idea to live in The Zone. You promised me a ranch house on the Shallow Sea. Instead we spent eighteen years on a zoo in The Zone, and three weeks fleeing the Sheeks and our pet monster!”

  “Oh be quiet. We're here now… there's your sea. Happy?”

  “You Sheek. We're about to die and you're asking me if I'm happy.”

  Mordei didn't respond. He was looking up at the rabadon as it slowly strode closer. He stared into the fiery red eyes, bowls of hatred that glared back at him unblinking. The rabadon's teeth gnashed and Mordei shuddered as he heard them chip.

  Marthah wept bitterly but did not look up.

  “Gulah,” uttered the creature, but the second it spoke, its body seemed to freeze in place. Its scarlet eyes flashed wildly and its body trembled, straining against some invisible force. Its neck stretched forward, but still the body would not follow.

  Marthah finally looked up in time to see the creature's muscles relax, even as it snorted a hot breath at the couple. It flashed a final look of fury and turned away, disgust and rage upon its face. It galloped off, disappearing behind a sandy bluff.

  “Something truly amazing is upon this planet,” stated Mordei in fascination, forgetting his argument with Marthah. “Is this not what the Seven Scrolls say about the rabadon? 'The evil creature will be shut up whilst your leader walks among you.' It is another sign, just like the star!” The star hung overhead, brighter than ever with a tinge of orange surrounding its white center.

  “They do say that,” whispered Marthah, still clinging to Mordei as she watched the rabadon disappear. “They also say, 'You will find him teaching in this building'.”

  “Then let us go and see if he has come! How else does this creature not destroy us for the years of anguish we subjected it to?”

  The two abandoned their route along the Shallow Sea and turned south towards the Site of the Seven Scrolls. They argued no more, but walked together in silence with renewed purpose and strength.