Alethea has been pre-occupied of late. I blame it on the ever increasing level of lunacy permeating the entire political structure of Earth. Though neither of us comes from here, it has been our home for these past several years and we are very attached to it. It really is the most special place - unique, almost - in the entire galaxy. Despite her ability to see what most cannot, and to convey that knowledge with clarity and honesty, she can no more change mankind's headlong plunge into another dark age than move the moon in its orbit. Simply put: no one is prepared to listen! Anyway, she dropped by my desk the other day and threw a crumpled piece of paper at me with the words, "You might like to take a look."

After I'd smoothed it out and read the contents - just three lines in all - I realized that Lásico was not the only place in the known galaxy where strange things were happening. Alethea NEVER gives me assignments like this. She's supposed to be the intellectually gifted member of our team - well, according to her - and usually sends me out to delve into the seamier side of human nature. Not that I'm not attracted to those sorts of things - I am - but I've always wanted to investigate more... What's the word? Meaty. Yeah, that's it! I've always wanted to investigate meaty subjects. Oh, wait, I usually do. *giggle.

Lásico is a faraway place: seven hundred and forty-three light years, to be exact. I knew little about it, other than the fact that its socio-technology quotient is in the high 'eights', which means it's pretty advanced. I'd been working really hard, recently, so I decided to pack some of my more esoteric outfits and make the use of my time there as much about having a vacation as getting to the bottom of things.

So, there I was, in Pentico, Lásico's capital city, strolling along a crowded street - Karsa Boulevard, I think it was - minding my own business and drooling over the fashions in the shop fronts, when I noticed a very large man standing on the other side of the street, apparently watching me. I checked again in the reflection in the window in the next store. Yep, he was still there. By the time I'd reached the next store front, he'd disappeared. I assumed it was the paranoia which seizes me sometimes. Hardly surprising, really, considering the scrapes I get into. I shrugged and walked on; but when I turned the corner, I almost bumped into him. He was incredibly light on his feet, considering his bulk, and managed to avoid setting me on my derrière. As I started to fall off my heels, he grabbed me and held me until I'd regained my balance. I was wearing one of my Greer corsets at the time - the shiny red leather one, with chrome trimmings and spring steel stays - so I had trouble catching my breath. Not that he wasn't cause enough to bring on a severe bout of asphyxia, you understand. Anyway, we'd exchanged nods and started to head off in our respective directions when I felt eyes boring into my back. I stopped and turned. He'd done the same. We looked at each other for a few seconds, then walked towards one another. I held out my hand. "I'm Sashi," I said, breathlessly.

He took it and I curtsied. "Freedik," he replied. He smiled. "You like Tinct?"

"Tinct?"

"Is a kind of fish," he explained. "I know of a place for eating Tinct. You come?"

'What a strange way of speaking they have here?' I remember thinking. Anyway, I was a little hungry, and the in-flight cuisine had been, like, awful, so I smiled, slipped my arm through his and let him lead me into the weirdest adventure I've ever had.

It turns out Tinct is a bit like the tiny, bony, oily, and inedible fish on Earth called a Menhaden. They get ground up for oil and fed to chickens, and are removed from the ocean in such large numbers that the incredibly tasty Striped Bass, which eats them at a pinch, is likely to go extinct. Tell me, is there any kind of stupid behavior humans won't engage in if there's money to be made? Anyway, Tinct is edible and, on Lásico, is quite a bit larger. Eating it requires a lot of scraping away of bones and careful removal of the crisp skin, which can be poisonous, all the while under the watchful gaze of one of its enormous, clouded eyes. I knew it was dead, and such, but have you ever noticed how reproachful the unseeing gaze of a fish on your plate is?

As lunch drew to a close, I casually dropped the purpose for my visit into the conversation. Well, the change in Freedik's demeanor was like night and day! And, when he reached across the table, grabbed my wrist and told me I should be on the next flight out of here, you could have knocked me down with a riding crop - and I'm pretty much riding crop resistant, I can tell you.

"I'm sorry if I upset you," I crooned.

"Upset me you did not," he replied. "There are things not spoken of, here."

I decided sounding contrite - even if I wasn't. "I'm sorry if I offended you."

"Religion is very much in front of our minds, here," he said. "It is not politeness to speak of it in the public open. There is a better place for talk," he added, getting up and walking to the cashier's desk, where he placed his right thumb on a scanner, then retrieved his overcoat from the cloakroom attendant.

I joined him outside. He hailed a passing taxi and ushered me inside. The driver waited for instructions, while Freedik recorded his thumb print. "Tarkar and Sippo Street," he called out, and the taxi hissed away from the curb. Motorized vehicles are powered by compressed air on Lásico, by the way.

Freedik's apartment was housed in a huge, square box of a building in the former industrial section of the city. In places, it was still possible to see relics of that earlier time in the form of storage cylinders, pipes and several run down buildings. Most of the space between the dozen apartment blocks in the neighborhood had been crudely terra-formed to create sprawling, ill-kempt parks, interconnected with pathways and bridges. There was also a large lake, but there were no boats to be seen, nor children playing beside it. No vehicles are permitted in the residential areas, so we had to walk something like half a kilometer to Freedik's place.

An elevator whisked us up to the forty-seventh floor. We walked along a brightly lit corridor until we stood in front of 'Number four thousand, seven hundred and three'. My 'subbie' brain has never quite gotten to grips with mathematics, but even I could figure out there were one hundred apartments on each floor. That meant this block held five thousand of them. They had to be really small, I was thinking. Freedik opened the door and gestured me inside. Jeez, it wasn't so much small as like a one car garage!

Freedik picked up what looked like a TV remote and pressed a button. The room lept into action! The dining table and its attached chairs whisked back into a recess in the wall the moment that a panel slid up to reveal it. The panel closed, another opened and a sofa slid silently into its place. Something pressed against the backs of my thighs. I jumped away from it and looked behind me in time to see a drinks cabinet positioning itself where a few moments earlier a book case had stood. Once the musical chairs had finished, Freedik removed his overcoat, hung it on a newly arrived hook, and sat on the sofa. He patted the seat next to him.

"Is this it?" I asked, incredulously.

He looked around the small room. "It is what makes comfort."

"But, there's only one room," I persisted, having noticed there were no other doors and, presumably, rooms.

"The room moves to fit the need, when it is needed," he replied, mysteriously.

"So, the bed is somewhere behind the walls," I asked. On reflection, that might have sounded a little sluttish, it being three in the afternoon and all, but Freedik seemed not to notice. Then again, he might not sleep in a bed. He might strap on an anti-gravity unit and float around the room all night. I confess, I sometimes fail to do enough research before I launch myself into the unknown. It worries Alethea. I know that. Still, I've mostly gotten away with it.

Freedik got up and poured himself a large measure of clear, syrupy liquid, which looked a little like Vodka. He offered me a glass and we walked to the sofa. I pressed him about the absence of a bed, or bedroom. He explained that every piece of furniture anyone might need, at a particular moment, was kept in a communal storage unit. I supposed it was like a library. When you needed a dining table, you pressed the remote, the library located one - according to your request, like I have six guests - and sent the appropriate item to your apartment through a maze of multi-directional elevators hidden between the walls of adjacent apartments.

"You mean you don't own any of your own things?" I asked.

"Things?"

"Clothes and stuff." I could scarcely conceal my revulsion. I mean, no one gets to wear my thigh boots. "You share your clothes with the other residents?"

Freedik bridled at my suggestion. He sighed, heavily, like Masters and Mistresses do when a submissive really disappoints them! "My clothes, when I wear them, I place in here." He pointed to a small panel to one side of the sofa. "They become clean and locate themselves in my store place. When I order my bed, a box will deliver them to me, so I dress clean when I wake."

Wow! How neat? An automatic laundry that holds your freshly washed clothes until you need them. 'I wonder if they do leather and rubber restoration?' I recall wondering. I sipped my drink.

"You query religion," he said, at length, while getting up to refill our glasses."

"I'd like to know about it," I replied, "if you don't mind telling me."

He handed me my glass, sat down, leaned against the arm of the sofa, so he was looking at me, and crossed his legs. "There be two," he said.

"Religions?"

He nodded.

"And that's a problem?"

"Occasions come for dispute to be raised."

"I know what you mean," I said, with feeling. Alethea's lifestyle is very much a religion to her, and you've no idea how people at large react to it - usually with shock and awe, actually. Mind you, strolling into a Quiki-Mart, wearing a crinoline dress, gloves and a pill box hat with a veil, accompanied by a couple of surgically feminized She-Males, with short, chromium colored hair, dressed in full length maids outfits of black silk, complete with starched white collars and cuffs, is not what I would call, 'Low profile', anymore than yours truly mincing through a store in thigh boots, leather corset-dress and opera length gloves. One time, a store clerk got up enough courage to enquire why Alethea had these creatures with her? What a cheek? The whole point of feminizing attractive twenty-something boys is to make them look like girls. And Clarissa and Georgina do. They are absolutely gorgeous! Anyway, Alethea, once she'd overcome her outrage at being asked such a question, told her, "Not that it's any of your business, but I require someone to carry out my bags." Golly, I totally love that tyrant!

Freedik went on to explain, in his quirky manner, that there are, essentially, only two religions on Lásico, though there were countless cults, just like on Earth, proselytizing everything from the world is the back of a giant frog (its spiny back being the mountains) to 'we don't really exist' nihilism. One of these two religions, and the most widely supported, The Church of Domas the Artificer, taught Devine Creation and Evolution. It encompassed the belief that the Creator, whom they called Noshadar, having brought the universe into being, turned his back on it and left it to Nature and Evolution to populate with life. That sorta fits with Alethea's belief. She holds that, since Nature is fallible - unlike the Creator - it is Nature we should blame when a young child dies of leukemia, rather than simply accepting the condescending explanation, usually offered by the religious community, that the Creator moves in mysterious ways. It's elegant, really! The second religious movement on Lásico, The Church of the Eastern Light, parallels the Intelligent Design movement on Earth. They, too, believe that Lásico was created only a short time ago, and that humanoids have lived alongside the creatures whose fossils litter that part of the planet referred to as the 'Bad Lands', which are located in the south of the 'Huga Besa Wass' [Great Basalt Desert].

"So, which one do you support?" I asked.

"It is not to be polite to make question," he replied.

I shrugged. It wasn't the most supportive gesture I could have made, but it reflected my frustration.

I suppose Freedik realized he'd deprived me of any understanding I might be looking to gain, and he added, in a whisper, "I make fast to belief that Creation is very long time since."

"So, you're an Evolutionist!" I cried, triumphantly. Quite why I was so happy made no sense. What did I care that his beliefs were remotely like my own? Besides, it was none of my business what he believed. Still, a girl has to take affirmation where she finds it, I guess! I sensed there was more than a simple difference of religious opinion going on here, however. People were being attacked in the streets. Some of them were half eaten, like a carnivore had ripped chunks of flesh from their bodies. At first glance, it was just some nutcase doing it. But the three-lined note Alethea had thrown at me didn't say that. It said it was the work of religious fundamentalists. I have to be careful, here. I am talking about the Creationists on Lásico. Okay? I am NOT expressing an opinion about Earth-side religious movements, so don't start beating up on me. Alethea does enough of that!

Fortunately, Freedik seemed to want to talk about it, but not, I guess, without my prompting him a little, just so he could claim our conversation was kind of 'missionary' work. I wondered, briefly, if the government of Lásico was in the habit of spying on its citizens. What if it was? The two religions operated quite openly and the Government seemed not to have a preference so, whether he confessed membership of one or the other, or not, our conversation was unlikely to bother anyone who might be listening. He placed his glass on the floor and rummaged in his pocket, extracting a small, silver colored object, shaped like a pebble. He passed his hand over it, then twisted and placed it on the floor by the window. He relaxed against the arm of the sofa and let his hands fall to his lap. "We talk, now, for short time."

"Is that some kind of jamming device?" I asked.

He nodded, then said, "There are being rumors."

I leaned forward, all ears. "What kind of rumors?"

"They are for all things living at one time. They say rock bones are..."

"You mean 'fossils'?" I interjected.

He looked confused, forcing me to explain a process I know little about, except for the La Brea Tar Pits - which I almost became a part of, once. "

"There were monsters about here, in old times," he said, clearly struggling, as I had done, over the concept of the mineralization of animal skeletons.

"So, what's doing the killing at night?" That really threw him off balance! Yet, he knew what I was asking. His expression told me he did. "What do you do, Freedik?" I asked, throwing him a soft ball, just in case he needed time to compose himself before answering.

He shot me an appreciative look. "I am news teller."

"A reporter, you mean?"

It took a couple of seconds of me trying different job titles before he understood. "I am," he said.

I pulled the crumpled piece of paper from the top of my thigh boot and showed it to him. "Did you write this?"

He examined it, briefly. "Harik makes it," he said.

"Harik? Is he a friend?"

"He is news teller."

"And he sent it to me?"

"So I think."

"Why me? Why not contact the police, if he had information about these murders."

"He telling me Government is knowing what is killing. He telling me they wish him disappear."

"Do you know where he is?"

"He is found many sol cycles ago. He was gone to salvation."

My eyes widened. "You mean he's dead? Murdered?"

"He telling me you come when he telling you what passes."

"So, we didn't meet by accident?"

He flushed.

"S'okay," I said. "So, tell me about these night time attacks."

What he told me came close to blowing my mind! Harik claimed, because he had no proof at this time, that the people who had been found, half eaten, had been attacked by some kind of humanoid-animal hybrid. He claimed they were chimeras and that the Government knew about them! In fact, according to Harik, the Minister of the Interior, himself, had ordered the existence of these chimeras to be suppressed. But why? "You mean to say there's more than one of them?", I asked, nervously.

The 'jammer' beeped twice. Whoever was trying to listen had cracked its frequency.

Freedik twisted to retrieve it. "We eat more, I think." He stood and pressed a key on the remote. I barely had time to stand up before the sofa started to disappear into the wall.

A couple of times, I sensed we were being followed, but I couldn't spot anyone in particular. Freedik dragged me through two taxi changes, separated by a brisk stroll through a department store. A short walk through narrow streets brought us to a small restaurant, 'Durazno', jammed between two old-style tenement blocks. Over a plate of green salad, sprinkled with some sprat-like fish, and washed down with a robust red wine - a little like un-diluted Ribena for those who are familiar with the product - Freedik told me more about Harik's investigation and subsequent discoveries. There's a saying that nothing really happens without the knowledge and consent of the Government - any Government, on any world. That premise had been Harik's start point. He'd consulted several biologists, paleo-biologists and zoologists in an attempt to ascertain the nature of the creatures which had, so far, killed a dozen people. None of these 'experts' had any idea of what species it might be, though the paleo-biologist suggested the bite pattern was similar to a long extinct animal called a Praetoxia Carnovoria. An example - or rather its fossilized remains - was still on display at the Morsonian Museum. The paleo-biologist was able to make this determination because Harik had shown him a copy of a post-mortem report, which he'd obtained by bribing a mortuary attendant. Because all of the post-mortems in the case had been classified as 'Confidential', a log of the copy process was recorded. It was that transaction which alerted the authorities to Harik's investigation.

Putting two and two together and coming up with 'five', when everyone is telling you it's 'four', is why there are so few, really good reporters. Harik obviously figured that if a long-extinct creature had suddenly returned to life, it must have had some help. That, or the Creator was back on the job!

Genetic Engineering Labs. are everywhere on Lásico, researching and developing new species of cereal plants, medical diagnostic procedures and drugs. Two were undertaking programs connected to the re-stocking of the oceans with 'improved' versions of recently disappeared fish species. Improved in the sense that they are more tolerant of pollution, which was another area in which vast sums of Government money were being invested in a search for an all-embracing bacteria-based remedy. If I was investigating this mystery, I would have started by asking the question, "Who would benefit from bringing these creatures back to life?" Somehow, speaking that question out loud gave it more impact. The answer, which came in an instant, made me shiver: the religion which promoted Intelligent Design. Nah, I told myself. Its some entrepreneur trying to create a new attraction, whose enthusiasm got the best of him and who's opponents were conspiring to defeat him by arranging for some of his exhibits to get over the wall. So, who did Harik think was behind it? I asked Freedik.

He told me his colleague had spent weeks looking into the "Jurassic Park' theory and had come to the conclusion that it was a 'blind alley'. He then started submitting Information Release Requests (I.R.R.'s) to the Government's Public Information Office, requesting the names of donors to the Cabinet Officers. Savry DeLoin, the present Minister of the Interior and an outspoken critic of 'Creation and Evolution', had deep ties to the community from which Telli Vermack, the leader of The Church of the Eastern Light, came. A second I.R.R. revealed that The Church of the Eastern Light was a major contributor to Savry DeLoin's election campaign fund.

As Minister of the Interior, Savry DeLoin had oversight over the security apparatus, which he'd doubtless employed to monitor Harik's activities, and was employing now to determine whether the threat to his position had been buried with Harik, or not.

I'm pretty resilient and resourceful, when it comes to my job, but taking on a Government is always problematic. Taking on Organized Religion is even worse! I guess the real question should be, 'What happens if I unearth the truth? Does the treacherous bozo end up doing hard time, or do I get the shaft? You might think the choice is obvious, tell the truth and hang the repercussions. Well, you're entitled to engage in your arm-chair quarterbacking. Me? I always walked away, because these events were not happening on my world and I had no investment in them, other than an attachment to the concept of truth always being better than lies; nor would the word of an outsider carry much weight. It's an easy reach for a Government, or any Organization for that matter, to claim I'm only interested in stirring up dissent, of undermining the people's faith in their leaders - be they secular or otherwise; and it works, most of the time. So, I usually concentrate on getting the information out to the galaxy at large, while helping, if I can, local reporters tell the story - if they want to. After all, they're the ones who end up paying the price, if there is a price to pay - witness the untimely death of Youl Scofa at the hands of his own government, because he knew too much while I, on the other hand, get off free and clear, to boast of my accomplishments and tell of my adventures. Do I ever suffer from a guilty conscience? I mean, I'm not the one who ordered their death. I'm not the one who pulled the trigger. But, yes, sometimes I do.

We caught a taxi to my hotel so I could ditch the five inch heels and change into something a little more appropriate for night time spying on monsters and such. When I reappeared from my bedroom, I was, like, a total ninja babe! I think Freedik's expression meant he was impressed with my dedication, though I could have been wrong, I suppose. Anyway, I didn't care. Midnight blue is so me!

The taxi dropped us off in mid-town. It was pretty quiet, considering the hour, with just a few people scurrying about as if they had somewhere important to be. I'd established there'd been no attacks during the daytime so, maybe, they were heading for home, as fast as they could, because they didn't want to risk getting eaten when the creepy crawlies came out of their hiding places.

We made our way to the top of a two story building. Having settled ourselves, I checked and rechecked the handy little weapon I'd brought with me. Freedik looked shocked that I should have it. I gave him a sheepish grin and explained it wasn't really a weapon. Well, it was, of course; but, where I come from, you don't call a thirty kilowatt blaster a weapon, more a fly swatter!

You, the reader, might be wondering at this point how come we were sure something was going to happen. We weren't, but being there put us well out of earshot as far as the security service was concerned, and it gave Freedik an opportunity to show me some of Harik's notes, which were held on a small 'filer' he'd hidden in an air-conditioning unit on that very same roof. The I.R.R. forms were there, of course, on storage slivers, as well as the copy of the post-mortem report, and a large, plastic coated paper map of the 'Bad Lands'. I've never been good with maps and I held this one upside down all the while Freedik was telling me about the discovery of a new fossil specimen in the 'Huga Besa Wass'. Just six months after this significant scientific find was announced, the creature was seen running the length of Ligti Street - the one we were overlooking - baying at the moon, until a passing freight truck hit it head on!

Pretty darned spooky, you might say. And, you'd be right!

I suggested to Freedik that we needed to try and identify the genetic research laboratory where this miracle of Intelligent Design was being enacted. He looked at me like I was, you know, crazy. I grinned and said, 'Yes, it was crazy', but how else did a long dead species get to reappear? I told him that, unless we gathered that piece of information, we would never get to the bottom of the mystery. Correction. He would never get to the bottom of it! To take his mind off the problem, and the risk, I pressed him about the rest of the Government. Did DeLoin have much support from his colleagues, or was he just a lone, religious fanatic? Freedik was pretty certain that DeLoin had at least two allies: the Minister of Finance, Arby Guscake, and the Minister for Trade and Development, Piro Sizemor. All three had been seen at the septuacentennial celebrations of the founding of The Church of the Eastern Light, held the previous year.

"Holy cow," I said. "You mean this doctrinal dispute has been raging for nearly seven hundred years?"

"Not so," he told me. For all that time, The Church of Domas the Artificer had reigned supreme, while The Church of the Eastern Light had labored in obscurity. Then, seven years ago, Telli Vermack had emerged as the leader of The Church of the Eastern Light after a 'knock down', 'shoot 'em up', Eschatological Conclave, held in his home town of Hooti. From that point on, it had become a deadly adversary to The Church of Domas the Artificer and, using its great wealth, newly acquired from a group of Interstellar Traders and Tami Florador, the sole owner of the largest Mining Conglomerate on Lásico, The Egyt Corporation, it had begun the fight for the salvation of Lásico's soul. Quite why these multi-trillionaires had seen fit to bankroll The Church of the Eastern Light at this time, Freedik was uncertain. But, bankroll it they did, and to considerable effect. New churches were built, missionaries were recruited, in the thousands, local politicians were co-opted and, during the last government elections, three candidates, the aforementioned DeLoin, Guscake and Sizemor, were backed to the hilt by this group. The Egyt Corporation was Arby Guscake's largest donor in his effort to follow his father, and his grandfather before him, into public service. Despite the size of Guscake's war chest, however, he was a snip to be defeated by the incumbent, Yash Wycroft. Fortunately for Guscake, Wycroft succumbed to cardiac arrest, unexpectedly, while eating his favorite meal of diced Torgafluss [like Dill Pickle] and Guscake squeaked home. The Egyt Corporation was recently awarded sole mining rights to Acnia, the largest piece of real estate in the distant asteroid belt. Of course, that's just coincidence! Nothing more. [Ya think?]

Freedik had given me a lot of useful information, but I still needed that original question to be answered so I said, "What about genetics labs.? Are any of those donors beneficiaries of large, government contracts?"

Freedik spent a while in thought, then started riffling through Harik's notes. At length, he passed the filer to me and pointed. There, highlighted in blue, was a a single entry: Terach Uniadas [Life Inc.]. Located on the outskirts of the city, in a brand new industrial park, they had several hundred patents already lodged with the Patent Office and sixty more pending. Though there was no reference to their working on the creation of new species - well, duh! - they were the acknowledged experts in genetic manipulation. "It's worth a look," I said.

Freedik took the filer from me and placed it back in its hidey hole. We made our way down through the building and into the street where we hailed a passing taxi.

"We need to separate," I told Freedik in response to his curious look as I told the taxi driver to take us to his apartment block. He seemed genuinely relieved and settled back. And, before you think I'd suddenly turned into a lone gunslinger, I hadn't. But, Freedik was putting too much heat on me, just by being Harik's friend.

Once I'd dropped Freedik off, I directed the taxi driver to take me to my hotel. There were two messages from Alethea waiting for me when I arrived. The first was a casual enquiry as to my general state of health. She worries about me. Bless her twisted, 'Dommie' mind! The second was a plea for me to call as soon as I could.

I placed a call to her as soon as I reached my room. She sounded relieved to hear I was okay, but wouldn't say why she was worried. As I endeavored to sooth her concerns, my eyes wandered around the room. Something caught my eye! One of the drawers in the wardrobe off to the right side of my bed wasn't fully closed. I got up and wandered over to it, thinking maybe I hadn't closed it properly. When I checked inside, I realized I'd been the victim of a thorough but poorly conducted search. I never leave my underwear in such disarray. I'm a 'black' on the left, 'colored' in the middle, and 'white' on the right kind of girl!

I let Alethea talk herself out, then fired a sentence containing my 'safe' word, 'Geronimo', at her; and, believe me, that's no easy task. I had to smile. DeLoin's people would be working all through the night, trying to work out what it meant, but Alethea understood well enough. I finished by telling her I needed her to contact 'Aunt Agatha' and tell her I'd be seeing her in a few days, or so. Then I hung up with a broad grin on my face. Alethea might be a tyrannical - some might say, psychopathic - task master, but when she decides to take you under her wing, you know she's got your back and will move the stars in their orbits if that's what it takes to bring you home safe. I slept well that night. The following morning, I went shopping and spent the rest of the day sightseeing.

The City of Hooti is one of those places which seem to have been frozen in time. Progress hadn't been shunned because it had nothing to offer, but because it had too much to offer. Telli Vermack ruled his fiefdom with an iron rod, wrapped in the cloth of religious certitude. His flock's lives were subjected to scrutiny, guided by scripture and circumscribed by Vermack's version of the 'Brown Shirts', who wandered the streets carrying long sticks, which they used to censure the fleeting and unconscious transgressions of the 'faithful'. That's why I'd gone shopping the previous morning. I needed a long, brown dress which covered every inch of my gorgeousness. My hands were covered with brown cotton gloves. My hair was restrained and hidden with a brown cotton scarf and my face was devoid of makeup. Trust me, I've looked sexier!

Even though I'd gone to such lengths, I was still subjected to intense scrutiny at the Hooti City Limits. My skirts were tugged and measured, my 'sensible' shoes were examined, my sleeves and gloves were checked to ensure there was no chance of my wrist being exposed to daylight. My luggage was checked and my toothbrush and paste confiscated. 'Thank goodness I left my 'toys' back at the hotel,' I thought to myself.

Propriety ensured, I was permitted to leave the checkpoint and take a coneedi [Ox cart] to a guest house. Inside, every female was dressed like me - no exceptions. No one wore jewelry, nail polish, wedding rings - no nothing. Just meters and meters of drab brown cloth. I asked for something to drink and was given water. I asked for something to eat and was given a plate containing two slices of whole wheat bread, complete with the odd piece of grit, diced Torgafluss, a few shriveled pieces of cured fish and something that looked like an unripened tomato. Even so, I had trouble finishing this paltry meal because, unbeknownst to the Guardians at the checkpoint, I was still tightly corseted beneath my drab exterior. Condemn me to the fires of hell, if you must, but I don't take off my corset for anyone! The thought prompted a grin. Big mistake! Huge! I found myself being chastened for my 'un-godliness' by a blob of lard who positioned herself directly in front of me.

"Are you of the faith?" she demanded.

"I'm just visiting here from Oupa," I replied. Then, I gave her the sign Freedik had shown me, which all members of the Church of the Eastern Light used when greeting those from the outlying regions. I raised my right hand, thumb and forefinger extended, forming a 'V', with my palm towards my boobies. 'V' for 'Vermack'. What an arrogant shit? But, aren't they all, these little men who claim newfound enlightenment and promptly promote themselves to the position of Grand High Poobar? What were the odds Vermack was nothing grander than a stationary salesman until, overnight, he got 'religion'?

She made the 'V' sign, herself, then gave me the once over, including checking my skirts under the table - an act which required she bend over. She straightened up breathing hard. 'This beatch needs a month on a Stairmaster,' I thought to myself. I cannot begin to tell you how hard it was to stifle another grin!

"We do not encourage outsiders to come here, exposing our ways to questioning and ridicule," she hissed.

"I came to see and to understand," I told her. I waved my hand around the room. "I'm sure you have much to teach those of us who live in Oupa."

That mollified her a touch, I guess, and she withdrew without another word. I finished my meal, drank a second cup of water and paid the bill.

Outside in the street, once more, I decided to take a slow stroll. The sun was harsh at this time of day, so I reached inside my shoulder bag for a pair of sunglasses. In one of the arms was a small camera and I was happily snapping away when a Guardian ran towards me, brandishing his staff. Instinctively, I removed the glasses and placed them in his outstretched hand. He dropped them on the cobbles and ground them to rubble. "Shit, what a complete and total crap-hole this place is," I intoned as I walked away from him.

"Silence!" the Guardian screamed.

I pretended to look at the bread in a nearby store front. The Guardian watched me for a while, then sauntered off to beat the living crap out of some other miscreant.

"Services are at sundown," the woman at the hotel desk informed me as I made my way to the stairs to go up to my room. I smiled and thanked her, then climbed to the second floor and opened my door. "This is getting tedious," I mumbled as I took in the chaos that greeted me. My bags had been searched, messily and openly, as is the way in societies governed by self-appointed bullies. The Department of the Interior Police who'd searched my room, back in Pentico, were simply checking me out. They wanted to know who I was and what I might be up to. They were playing a waiting game, secure in the knowledge that they could deal with me if needs be. The fact that I knew they'd been there had more to do with their incompetence rather than any desire on their part to 'put me on notice'. In Hooti, the Guardians weren't so obtuse: their task was to root out deviance and punish it, on the spot. And they advertised that fact!

I lay down on the hard bed and considered my next move.

I arrived outside the church just as the sun was setting. Across from the entrance, a powerful looking tow truck had been parked, attached to which was trailer, on which was a large cage. A bored looking man leaned against the front fender. On the door of the truck was the logo of 'Life Inc.'. Well, I was so excited by this observation I nearly wet myself! Gathering my senses, as well as I ever do, I followed the throng passing through the portico of the largest Church of the Eastern Light on the planet. It was a massive pile of stone and glass, built with a donation from the Egyt Corporation. How hypocritical that a building which celebrated the 'spiritual world' should be funded by an organization which had profited from the ruthless destruction of the 'physical' one? But, such is the way of things.

I sat next to what I took to be a family, consisting of a man, a woman and six children, of widely differing ages. The inside of the Church featured a high arched roof supported by two dozen columns and a large, glass window at the far end. Below it was a huge table, covered with red cloth. In the center of the table, an ornate metal flask had been placed. It was the only artifact to be seen anywhere in the church. A lectern stood off to the left of the table. There was no choir, just a battery of cameras, operated by members of the Church. A hush fell over the congregation as the man himself, Telli Vermack, walked across the marbled floor and took his place at the lectern.

"Brethren," he began, "we are assembled here..a today..a to bear witness to......."

My mind drifted off to thoughts of Harik, Freedik, Alethea, the strange creatures terrorizing nighttime Pentico... Oh, and Aunt Agatha. After my use of the 'safe' word, Geronimo, during our conversation, Alethea would have immediately dispatched her luxuriously furnished freighter, Leõnis - that's her birth sign, by the way - to Lásico, where it would be ready pick me up and get me off the planet. Alethea is fairly widely known, as is her ship. 'Aunt Agatha' is our codename for it.

Vermack slammed his hand into the lectern, waking me with a start. I looked at my neighbors, but their eyes were held, spellbound, on Vermack's every movement. Every word was carefully chosen for its ability to reinforce his propaganda and hold over his followers. It was both a masterful performance and a terrifying experience! Every word that dropped from his spittle speckled lips conveyed his deep-seated bigotry. There was not the slightest hint of tolerance. There was only venomous contempt for anyone who did not share his warped view of creation and humankind's place in it. Gosh, if only I'd had my little fly swatter with me....

Suddenly, a heavy curtain, off to Vermack's left, was drawn aside and three men entered. One was wearing what appeared to be a sheet, slit at the center to form a crude poncho, covering him to the knees. Around his neck, he wore a heavy leather collar - much too large for his neck - to which a chain held by one of the others was attached. I was intrigued! The man seemed strangely stiff, as if he were drugged. The man holding the chain crouched down and attached the free end to a heavy ring, set in the floor. He stood and moved back a little, while Vermack stepped down from the lecturn and positioned himself directly behind 'poncho man'. He began to pray aloud, calling on His Creator, Noshadar, to bring forth a miracle.

The congregation stood and began to sway from side to side, as one, while Vermack continued his chant-like prayer. The third man walked to the large table, picked up the metal flask and returned with it to Vermack's side. As the chanting increased in pace and volume, the cameras were moved closer to 'poncho man'. Vermack suddenly stopped chanting, took the flask from the man who'd retrieved it and blessed it. He removed the cap, raised his eyes to the ceiling and asked of 'poncho man', "Do you come to this freely, brother?"

The man's response was inaudible.

"Do you place yourself in the hands of Noshadar, that he may use you to establish his truth among those willing to receive it, and confound those who reject it?"

This time, the man's reply, 'I do so place myself in the hands of Noshadar, and submit to his will', was clearly audible.

Vermack offered him the flask.

The man took it, tilted his head and drank until it was empty.

"Blessed is he who submits to the will of Noshadar," Vermack said. The man collapsed on the floor and started writhing in agony.

At first, I thought he'd been poisoned, but the writhing slowly subsided and the man lay breathing quietly for several minutes. Then, his appearance began to change... Slowly at first, then faster and faster. His face lengthened, his eyes widened, his ears shrunk until they were merely holes. His back curved, his upper arms shrank, his fingers shortened, his nails changed into claws and, all the while, his skin was turning from soft and slightly tanned, to greenish-blue scales. Finally, as the hair on his head dropped out, leaving a small fringe between his eyes, he opened his huge, fang filled mouth and let out a roar which sent a chill down my back. The short hairs on my neck stood erect. Every thought in my mind was suppressed, except: 'Do I flee or fight?' Somewhere in my primitive brain, the logic circuits were still functioning. "Fight? Fight? Are you kidding? Start running, you dummy!"

The Praetoxia Carnovoria, all two hundred kilos of it, strained at the leash. It twisted this way and that, trying to free itself. Suddenly, as if it had decided the man who'd retrieved the flask was responsible for its capture, the creature threw out its left paw and raked the man's thigh with its razor sharp talons. The man screamed. His leg buckled and he fell to his knees, just within reach of the creature's other paw. A second rake of its talons opened him from knee to crotch. His femoral artery gushed. Vermack raised his hands above his head and praised Noshadar. The congregation burst into song. The injured man fell backwards, dead.

A dozen men entered carrying some kind of cattle prod and several more chains. The prod turned out to be a tranquilizer dart, attached to the end of a long handle. A quick jab and, seconds later, the creature was subdued enough to be removed from the church to, presumably, the cage in the parking lot. It would be wandering the streets of Pentico in a few hour's time, I assumed.

I won't bore the reader with a detailed summary of my escape from Hooti. Let's leave it that I gathered my skirts as soon as I left the church and traveled across country until I hit a road where I hitched a ride back to Pentico and the safety of my hotel room.

Before I left Lásico, I returned to the roof top and added my eye-witness account to the filer and data slivers concealed in the air conditioner. I also returned to the restaurant and left a cryptic message for Freedik, telling him what I'd done and promising we'd meet up again, one day.

I boarded Leõnis in high spirits, to be greeted by Alethea. She was alone, she told me, having left the girls to spring clean her home. Free of Lásico's gravity, we dined and talked. Later, as the ship located the first of the six connectives that would take us home, I made my way to my stateroom. I slept well, that night, snuggled beneath the covers, with my bear, Edward, wrapped in my arms: the safest place in all the universe!

Editor's Note:   Since publication, SciFi-Babe has learned that Freedik managed to pass the information Harik, he and Sashi had obtained to Lásico's Attorney General, Murku Span. It is not clear whether or not Freedik will be given the protection of Lásico's 'whistleblower' laws or, indeed, whether any legal action will be undertaken against Vermack or Life Inc.. Still, the truth is out. Maybe, in the end, that's the best we can hope for and all that really matters? There have also been no further attacks on the citizens of Pentico!