Blame Charlie ©

by K Pelle

Chapter 3

I don't know how long I was literally senseless, but I was still able to think.  For instance, I could tell that I was floating face down, which seemed quite strange.  Only, I realized that I didn't feel that I was floating, not exactly, instead I seemed to be suspended in some fashion, but that seemed even stranger.  Strangest of all though, I seemed to be divorced from my senses, yet not completely.  I couldn't see anything.  I couldn't hear a sound.  I couldn't smell an odour or taste anything.  Still, I knew that I was resting face downward.  I have no idea how long I spent simply searching for any other sensation of any kind.  I couldn't feel my heartbeat or tell if I was breathing normally.  Yet somehow I could detect the sensation of floating, but floating within bounds of some sort, and yet I knew I wasn't touching anything.  I recall considering the idea that the liquid in my inner ear might be responsible for that knowledge, after all that's the organ which gives any human a sense of balance, isn't it?  Did that mean that there was nothing left of my body, just my brain?  Yet, if I had eardrums, then I had to have a skull, but I knew a skull couldn't exist on its own, it couldn't live without a torso and the organs within it.  If I had a torso, why couldn't I feel my heartbeat and my respiration?  Finally I decided that I might be in a hospital and under heavy sedation – maybe!  But, then again, maybe not.

Having failed to discover any link between my limited sense of self and any outside influence, I considered my very existence.  Was I still alive, or was this some form of death, perhaps a singularly bothersome form of purgatory?  I even questioned that thought, why was I considering the idea that I was dead, did I have a reason for that notion?  Had I been through some monstrous trauma which was influencing my mind, my inner thoughts and feelings, but I didn't have any answer to that thought either?  For some reason there was a curious blank when I tried to remember recent events.  Why?  What had happened to me?  Had I been the victim of a trauma so malevolent, so intense and so distressing that my mind refused to even revisit the memory of the event?

I clamped down on that thought, reasoning that there must be a reason for my mind's possible aversion to recent events.  Yet the only respite I had to that worrisome tickle was another futile attempt to discover any sensation, but that was frustrating in its own way.  I knew somehow that I had to resist that frustration, for I feared that giving in to frustration would lead me to madness.  Unfortunately I was becoming bored and I recall deciding I needed to develop some sort of mental activity, since I worried that I could go out of my mind because of boredom just as easily.  I had to think of some other method of entertaining myself, another way to pass the time, to kill the boredom of inactivity.

That thought brought up another question, if I had no senses, how was I able to think?  Now that's a philosophical question you can ponder for a long time – I know you can, because I did.  My final decision was that 'I think, therefore I am' and I realized that was a quote, but it took me a long time to dredge up the memory of when and were I had heard it and just as long to think of who had originally said it.  When I did realize where I had heard the quote before, I also realized why I'd had difficulty recalling the author of the phrase.  I had learned it in Latin class in college as 'Cogito ergo sum' a statement by the philosopher René Descartes.  I decided then and there that my brain must have filed that little gem under a file title of 'Latin studies,' if such a thing was possible.

Researching the idea of how memories were filed seemed to naturally become my next method of fighting the incipient boredom which had begun to worry me.  So, I spent much of my time in the next while on that research and although I didn't discover how the brain files memories or how fast it works, I did learn that I have a very good recollection of my past life.  Only those recollections aren't arranged in a concise and consistent manner, at least not as far as I could discover.  My memories certainly weren't being accessed chronologically, nor by subject.

Now as an example of that, I went hunting for my earliest memory and I found that I recalled a day when my grandfather had lifted me onto the back of a donkey, but to get there we had to walk out of the house.  I remember lifting my hand above my eye level to reach the door knob and then not being strong enough to open the door myself, so I must have been about three years old at the time.  However, after that ride on the back of the donkey, my memory skipped forward and I recalled standing beside my grandfather's grave as he was being buried, which happened almost thirty years later.

I have no idea how the brain works and I have no idea how fast a memory passes through your mind, but I do know that I reviewed much of my childhood and even more of my adult life before I realized that my situation was changing.  At some indefinable point in time I recognised some form of sensation, some function of some unknown nerve was stimulated and I felt certain that it was not within the limits of my brain.  I didn't know what that sensation was, but it was an expansion to that world of memory which had defined my personal limits for an indeterminate time.  I reached out to it, did my best to hold onto it, to treasure it, for I was certain it was a gateway to more, much more.

Only just as I seemed about to reach some point where I could fully embrace that sensation, it softly and slowly faded away and I seemed to slip into a dreamworld of fantasy.  I found myself in a quiet world that held no true memories, but only elusive sketches of gentle dreams that fluttered weakly past me, leaving no track and no trail I could follow.  Like a silent movie, seen through rippled glass on a foggy night, they were there, but to my logical mind they made no sense.  They existed, but somehow my search of their reason for being led me to a period of quiet rest, a time of peace.

Once more I seemed to awaken – only did I?  Had I been asleep?  Did I have a body of some undefined sort which could awaken?  There were still no sensations except those within my mind, or were there other sensations, sensations that I had yet to discover?  Curiosity drove my mind to reach out, to search and . . . yes that 'outside' sensation was back, but it was still just an indefinable stimulus that somehow impinged on my being.  Having discovered its continued or repeated existence though, I investigated that stimulus carefully, trying not to reach out, but letting the sensations of its existence filter through to me instead.

It seemed to send forth a fluttering sensation, a wave that waxed and waned, a repetitive quaver, similar to a pulse or heartbeat, but faster and weaker than my old heartbeat had felt. It wasn't strong, but that mild throbbing effect gave me a sense of something I hadn't experienced for an unknown period – it gave me a sense of the passage of time.  Somehow just that tiny little item of information was vital to me, for it restored something I had sorely missed – a measure of duration.  I knew that weak fluttering sensation was probably not accurate in any way, yet there was an interval between flutters.  Accurate or not, I knew I was sensing the passage of time and that felt almost as if I was welcoming the return of an old friend.

You may have noticed that I didn't say I was feeling, or hearing, or seeing that faint flutter, because that wasn't a definition I could make.  It was just – there – a measurable, functioning 'something' – a weak pulsing sensation, which existed outside of my voluntary control.  In some strange way that 'something' verified my existence and gave reason to my conscious being.  It gave me hope that I actually had a body – somewhere, somehow.  In some vague manner it gave me reassurance that I was not simply an isolated thought pattern existing in a complete limbo of uncertainty.

That hope gave me assurance and for the first time in ages I was able to fully relax and that relaxation brought on rest.  It was only then that I realized I was unbelievably tired, almost completely exhausted.  That faint pulsing sensation lulled me and for the first time since that brilliant flash of searing light, I seemed to relax fully, then . . . I slept.

I must have slept for a long while, but when I awoke it was to the welcome pulse of a heartbeat, a real honest to gosh heartbeat.  I could feel that steady pulse, but only in my brain – as if the rest of my body didn't exist – yet that steady pulsing rush of blood was back and I welcomed it with my whole being.  It was something I could feel, something I could depend upon and I relished the feeling.  In some strange way I felt that I was no longer in a state of limbo.  I felt alive and I had hope that I might once more become a fully functioning human being.

My memory seemed clearer, my thoughts more vibrant.  Now I was able to recall much more of my past, remembering my times of triumph and tragedy as well as my normal day to day life.  It almost seemed as though I was living my life over again, but now it seemed I was seeing it from an outside viewpoint and I wondered why, but could think of no plausible reason. Yet in some way my memories were quite dispassionate, former high points seemed less satisfying than I recalled, while the tragedies were far less painful than I remembered them being.  It seemed that this version of my memories was little more than a long, weary history.  A recollection so bland and so boring that I nearly fell asleep during the remembrance of the final days before my present situation had developed.

Well, there was some excitement and aggravation during the months of my life which had centered around my involvement with Helen and her family.  Then there was a break after the divorce, while I had been working hard at turning a run-down ranch into a profitable venture.  Upgrading and improving that ranch had been a long, hard effort, but at the same time it had been quite dull and boring in many ways.  That period had been satisfying though, knowing that I was not only improving the ranch, but also the lives of several workers, some of those worker's grandparents had worked for Grandad when he started the ranch.  Both José and Diego's grandfather's had worked for Grandad, and for some unknown reason I was 'El Patrón' to them from the day I moved into the old house that Grandad had built.

Now I'd spent many of my youthful summers on Grandad's ranch and had picked up some Spanish during that time, so I had an idea what that term meant to those people.  It was a term of great respect and even had connotations that approached a family connection of sorts.  If anything, that term pressured me into be just as respectful toward them as they were to me.  It felt almost as if I was impelled to treat them well, otherwise I felt I'd be demeaning my family's name in their eyes, and somehow I just couldn't allow that to happen.  So when I first took over the ranch, there were many times when I would pause before making a decision and ask myself, 'What would Grandad do?' but over the course of the next few years that question changed.  I would still pause quiteoften and think before making a decision, but it wasn't long before I learned to ask myself, "What would be best for the ranch?"  Quite often that question led me to asking the people involved for their opinion and for some reason, perhaps just by asking questions, the people on the ranch became closer – first friends, then almost family.  I'm not sure when it happened, but there came a time when being called 'Patrón' no longer felt either strange or undeserved.

Recently though the problems we'd had with Charlie and his strange friend had deepened that feeling.  Once I had lost my patience with Charlie and his ilk, my people had assisted me in running them off of the ranch.  Then had come the day when we had been invaded and had ridden to the Dome to run them off one last time.

Memory brought back the last few moments of that attempt clearly . . .

Once more I seemed to be on the top of the dome, lying behind a rock . . .

I scrambled around to look back toward the dip and saw a weird looking pole rising upward – weird because the pole was very thin, but there was a roughly spherical apparatus of some sort on the top . . .

Suddenly there was another shot and a bullet ricocheting off the rock I was trying to hide behind.  I was ducking as I heard a third shot, then a yelp which sounded like it came from a woman . . .

Suddenly there were three quick pistol shots and ricochets off the rock I was hiding behind, then I heard the sound of a rifle . . .

That damn ball of barbed wire lit up like a thousand watt light bulb.  I closed my eyes against the glare, but when I looked again I saw something like a cloud or a ring of smoke form around the ball as it dimmed and the brightness faded away . . .

That strange ring of smoke expanded, reached me and suddenly I heard a loud raucous noise, then felt tired, weak, worn out and sleepy, but then the pressure eased slightly . . .

I managed to lift my head, saw that the sphere was glowing again, gradually becoming brighter once more.  It lit up and another cloud formed, then rolled over me . . .

I realized that in someway I was being robbed of energy by that damn cloud and there was nothing I could seem to do to fight off the feeling of utter lethargy as it sucked energy from my body . . .

When the cloud had rolled past I could scarcely move, yet I simply had to do something . . .

I felt angered, infuriated, enraged, consumed by ravening rage . . .

Those memories of anger and feelings of utter frustration were crystal clear, almost as if I was living through that firefight once more.

Somehow I was able to fight off the weakness, lift the rifle and just as that ball of barbed wire began to glow a third time, I fired my rifle . . .

And once more there came a bright flare, a flash of heat, a loud noise . . .

I had felt those sensations before!  I recalled that exact instant, when I had been sucked into a miasma of pain and terror before the blackness of death had struck and the relief of dying had washed over my body . . . only this time, there was a change from my previous recollection.

This time I felt the heat intensify.

It seemed as if I was surrounded by flames.

I could have sworn that my head and my whole back were on fire! Then the pain struck!

This time there was no feeling of instant relief.

I knew that my whole body was on fire, but I was helpless to do anything about it.

There is no way possible to describe the sheer agony I was going through.

I think I tried to scream, but even that seemed to be impossible . . .

Then everything slowly faded away.  There was no heat, no pain, no anger, no dreams, no memories . . .

Nothing.  Once more I was protected.  Once more I was in limbo.

Yet this was not the limbo I had experienced previously.

I was no longer within the safety of my own memories, instead I was searching, seeking something outside of myself . . .

I awoke to a dream, yet it wasn't a dream, but how I knew that I wasn't dreaming was hidden from my curiosity.  The dream seemed to solidify and somehow I felt I was eavesdropping on either a military exercise or else a rescue mission, but I was unsure which.  It seemed I was viewing and feeling the thoughts of strangers, unemotional entities, almost mechanical in pattern of thought and definitely something outside of myself.  At first the thought patterns seemed to be little more than gibberish, then suddenly I could understand what was being said or thought . . .

"Intruder is down by action of native population, repeat, intruder is down.  Transporter was enabled and initiated, but _ _ (Bzzzzzt) _ _.  Repeat, intruder down by action of native population, but transporter enabled and initiated.  Request orders," 'voice' one squealed in an unbelievably high tone.

"Priority One; initiate full secondary shield and protect native population from damage.  Cancel transporter function if possible.  Protect and salvage all viable life forms.  Rescue, maintain and stabilize all necessary life function, then if possible return to former status.  If former status not achievable, transport to 9787654-a12.  Repeat Salvage and restore all possible native life forms!" a second, commanding 'voice' barked in a much lower tone.

"Transporter shield intact ... _ _ (Zzzzzz) _ _ (pop) _ _...  extreme radioact- ... _ _ (fizz) _ _ ... -brodzax and two native felons ... (pop) ... damaged beyond recovery.  ... _ _one native ... _ _ (pop) _ _ (beep) _ _ (fizz) _ _ ...  Three additional ... (pop) _ _ (bee-eep) _ _ ... minor burns, scrapes and contusions.  Please redirect transporter to 9787654-a12 if possible.  Send ..._ _ (Bang) _ _ ... medical aid." a third 'voice' suddenly sounded.

"Warning, transporter action has destabilized local geological anomaly, eruption of magma and gasses within caldera created by displacement will ... _ _ (pop) _ _ (beep) _ _ ... rising magma and poisonous gasses ... (snap) _ _ (crackle) _ _ ... local area will be ... _ _ bzzzzz _ _ ...  Salvage lifeforms and ... (bang) _ _bzzzzz _ _... transship now."

"Affirmative to all actions, geophysical reaction makes former status unachievable, seal, protect and transship to 9787654-a12 with all haste. Repeat, seal, protect all life forms, then transship complete spheroid and related salvage to 9787654-a12 with all haste."

Then I felt a very brief period of intense cold and utter lassitude.


I awoke in my own bedroom, in my own house, but something about the light flooding in the window puzzled me, somehow it was the wrong colour.  Then I realized where I was and in astonishment I struggled to sit up, wondering just how I had gotten from the top of the dome to my bed?

"Yeek," came a sound from nearby and I turned my head just in time to see a fur covered figure dash out the door.

"What the hell was that?" I asked myself quietly, not believing my own eyes.

It had resembled a figure out of a science fiction tale – almost like a 'little fuzzy' from one of H.B. Piper's 'Little Fuzzy' novels.  I tried to roll out of bed, but I felt very weak, so I had hardly started to push back the covers when Maria came dashing into the room.

"Patrón, you are finally back with us!" she squealed in excitement, then she was rushing to the bed and throwing her arms around me.  "Oh, jefe, it is so good to see you again."

After a brief hug, she pulled back and I could see tears in her eyes.

"How do you feel?" her hand held my wrist and I knew she was checking my pulse.

"Weak," I managed to mumble, but my throat was so dry I had trouble forcing my voice to make any sound.

"Donna, Donna, come quick! Bring water, or better yet, some of that fresh broth.  El Patrón is back and like all of us were, he is weak and probably very thirsty, eh, jefe?"

"I know, I know, the same as everyone is when they first return to us," came a voice from the hall.

Then a goddess carrying a tray came into the room, but that goddess was wearing one of Granny's old dresses – only she filled out that dress in ways Granny never had.  Tall, curvaceous, and stunningly beautiful, she had long auburn hair and a delightful smile, but I don't remember ever having seen her before.  Believe me, if I had seen her before, I was certain that I would have remembered – with a face and figure like hers, she was unforgettable.

"Hi, hero," she murmured in a soft contralto tone.  "Don't even think about trying to get out of that bed.  Maria, Swish and I will care for you for now."

She was an absolutely dazzling vision and I'll swear I lost all ability to do anything but stare at her in utter disbelief.  I had never seen a woman who looked so unbelievably beautiful, so gorgeous.  I was stunned.  I literally couldn't speak, in fact if I'd tried I would only have drooled, dry mouth and all.

I supposed I must have been staring, because Maria managed to move to the other side of the bed without me noticing.  Then before I even realized what they were doing, Maria and that raving beauty managed to raise my upper torso to a semi-reclining position and prop me up with pillows.  Seconds later I was being offered a sip of hot broth.  That first sip tasted so wonderful that I felt I could drink a gallon of it, but only a few swallows left me feeling extremely full.  When I was offered another sip, I had to shake my head, but that auburn haired beauty just smiled and nodded.

"Are you feeling full, jefe?" Maria asked softly.

"Yeah!" I tried to sound emphatic, but my voice barely croaked out the word.

"Here, Dave just take a tiny sip of water," the gorgeous woman on my other side offered me a drink from a different glass.  "That broth is loaded with vitamins, minerals and all sorts of good things for your health, but for some reason it doesn't loosen up the vocal cords.  No problem though, plain old water will make it easier for you to talk."

I took a sip of water, then another and finally I felt my throat ease a little, so I looked the stranger lady in the eye and asked;  "Excuse me, but just who are you?"

For some reason that seemed to strike her as funny and she broke into laughter.  Even Maria grinned, then winked at me.

"Sorry for laughing," the auburn haired woman chortled,  "I was the RCMP officer who barged into the clearing on top of the dome and set off the whole battle that got you so badly hurt.  It just slipped my mind that you didn't know who I was."

"Umm, sorry to say so, but I still don't know your name."

"Oh, I'm Donna, formerly Donna Fairweather, but since my separation from my bastard ex-husband can't be much more final, I think I'll go back to being Donna Sandoza."

"Lady, I don't know if you're trying to confuse me or not, but you're doing a good job of muddling your background and making me wonder just why you're here."

"Well, in the first place I don't exactly have anywhere else to live, so Maria, José and Diego decided I could stay in one of your spare rooms for now.  I've been trying to help out by looking after the place, even though all I've had to do until now was clean things a bit.  However since you're back with us, you're going to need care and attention for a few days and I'm certainly willing to care for you.  Which reminds me, you're still recovering and you need to rest."

So Maria and Donna eased me back down on the bed,  tucked the blankets around my body and left the room.  I tried to relax then, but before I could settle down, that little animal I'd seen before appeared at the bottom of the bed.

As soon as I saw it I realized that my previous idea that it had resembled Piper's 'Fuzzies' was far from the drawings I had seen made from his descriptions.  Instead the animal which faced me had a head resembling that of a fox, but it's shoulders, arms and hands were similar to those of a chimpanzee.  Yes, it definitely had hands, but only three fingers and was that a ... yes, it looked like an opposable thumb, so it might be a tool user.  Next question, was it mammalian or ... yes, it appeared to have breasts and nipples, so not just a mammal, but from the shape I supposed the figure was a female.  Of course since it stood at the end of the bed I couldn't see it's lower body, but from what I could see it seemed to be almost fully covered with reddish brown fur.  That would have probably have eliminated the chance of seeing if it was male or female by looking for other visible characteristics.

"I am Saaawishhhh," I seemed to hear, then I realized that the animal hadn't opened it's mouth but before I could comment, it did.  "You are correct. I am not speaking aloud, I communicate by what you would probably call mental telepathy."

"Oh sure, and I'm Harry Houdini," I snorted in disbelief.

"No, you are not Harry Houdini, who was not a telepath either, but only a skilled illusionist.  I have read of him in your encyclopaedia, so I know whereof I speak.  And, just so you know, I do realize that the word 'speak' is a poor term for what I do, since instead I 'think – at a distance.'  However to return to our discussion of Mr. Houdini, you differ from him in that you truly are a telepath, and will become quite skilled once you are fully trained."

"So if I 'think at you,' without speaking aloud, you're going to be able to understand what I'm thinking?" I tried silently, and a touch disbelievingly.

"Oh, very good, Dave.  That was excellent.  I was able to understand you perfectly."

"I must be dreaming or maybe this is a nightmare." I grumbled and closed my eyes, doing my best to will myself to sleep, only sleep wouldn't come.

"You do not require sleep at the moment, just rest." I 'heard' that damn fox intrude into my thoughts and I couldn't seem to block her out.

"Yes, that could well become a problem in the future, so later, while you are resting I will teach you to block extraneous thoughts." Sawish 'sent,' along with a reinforcement of her 'name.'  "First you should know that I am but the latest in a series of medical personal who have assisted your recovery since you were rescued.  My function is as a teacher of the means of mental communication commonly used by my people, but I have also been trained to some extent in the care and treatment of the ills of your species."

"Okay, so which are you in real life, a teacher or a nurse?" I snapped as I opened my eyes and stared at her.

I swear, she grinned at me, then winked as she hopped up and settled at the foot of my bed in a tailor's squat.

"Actually, before your species were discovered and your group was rescued, I was what you might consider to be a kindergarten teacher for the youth of my species." Sawish chuckled.  "When your group was found and rescued, I volunteered to be retrained in order to be able to function as an intermediary as well as a teacher to your group."

"I don't understand, you've been referring to my 'group' and saying that we were 'rescued.'  What is that all about?" I frowned at her.

"Well, to put it plainly, you and three other individuals interfered with the theft of a small section of your planet by an individual of a race called the Kalibrodzax.  When you, José and Diego, along with Donna, responded to the Kalibrodzax's invasion of your territory, then destroyed their transportation/teleportation device, one of our scouts happened to be nearby.  That ship alerted more of our scout ships which had followed the rogue Kalibrodzax ship into your galaxy, but they had lost contact.  Our scout was seeking to reestablish that contact when the individual Kalibrodzax operated the machine which would have allow transport of the stolen real-estate.  The scout detected that initiation instantaneously, but was unable to interfere in time to prevent the initial separation and lift function of the machine.  You and your group succeeded in stopping the main transport function of the Kalibrodzax operation, which allowed our scouts to act in unison and effect a rescue of all those who were endangered by the rougue's actions."

Her 'voice' paused and then it seemed as if I 'remembered' what others had seen of that rescue.


Suddenly it seemed 'I' was looking down at a planet from space and my 'real' brain recognised it as the Earth, then I recognised 'my' target – 'I' was rushing towards the northwestern portion of the North American continent.  Only there were multiple views, which meant 'I' was just one of a group of scouts and all of us were converging on an area denoted by a bright red marker.  'I' knew that the marker denoted the signature of equipment which was used by the Kalibrodzax to subdue, lift and transport material.  That equipment was extremely dangerous to any life form other than a Kalibrodzax, who were natives of a heavily irradiated world, a world of heavy elements, but short on lighter elements.

A bright flare of light appeared in the foothills of a coastal mountain range, then that flare grew into a circle which was suddenly enclosed in an indistinct dome, the upper half of a globe.  The dome flickered and disappeared for a brief period, then it reappeared, seemingly stronger and lasting almost twice as long before it too shattered and disintegrated, but 'I / we' knew it would reappear.  When it next appeared it was not just stronger, but much more substantial, then suddenly it lurched upward.  Yet at the same instant that it lifted, it flared, flashing into a solid globe of brilliant flame, the upper half made up of burning gasses and the lower half formed of the flaming solid material torn from the planet.  That burning globe instantly shot skyward, lifting clear of the planetary surface and streaking into space.  What was left behind was a gaping hole, a circular cavity that extended miles downward into the planetary crust.  A cavity so deep that it reached the planetary mantle, so the crater immediately began filling with flowing magma, spewing forth steam, smoke and hot gasses.

Suddenly 'I' was inside that globe and there was a much smaller conflagration centered on the peak of a large knoll.  This 'I' had a birds eye view of the dome, looking down into the central depression where the rogue Kalibrodzax was scrambling to operate a crude transportation device.  Clearly the time was out of phase with what I'd just seen because the 'I' who was observing saw me raise my rifle and shoot the antenna of the rogue Kalibrodzax's device, which cause the flare. 'I' was unable to prevent that initial explosion or the first few seconds of the following conflagration, but 'I' was able to initiate a stabilisation field and dissipate the initial heat of the flaming elements which had been affected.  Then, though 'we' were already influenced by the initial lifting action of the transportation device 'I' was able to initiate a temporal lock, placing everything including 'my' body and 'my' transport device in stasis.

Then suddenly the 'I' that my human self was (sensing?) changed to a second view.  This new 'I' was looking down from above that roiling caldera and a thousand, no - a million or more tiny silver dots were forming a net, moving outward from that eruption of poison gas and burning lava.  As that net shifted just in front of the areas in danger of imminent inundation by lava, flame or gas, everything seemed to lift and vanish.  This was a rescue mission, a salvage operation of a viable ecology, so all life forms, all habitats, all artifacts were salvaged to be lifted, shifted, sorted and transported.  No bird, no beast, no living form could be left behind, every possible thing and every minute habitat must be rescued, down to the smallest microbe.

To 'my' species life was precious and the tragedy left behind by the actions of a rogue Kalibrodzax was not to be tolerated.  Somehow 'I' felt responsible for what had happened, so in one way or another, this ecological niche had to be saved and restored.  My species had been victim to the Kalibrodzax at one time, but now we sought to block those rogues who still persisted in the old ways.  Besides, our patrols had been hunting the rogue who perpetrated this evil, but had lost his trail, which allowed him the freedom to commit this outrage, so we owed these sentients and we would repay that debt.  'I' knew none of these beings could be repatriated to this planet, not in this time frame, but somewhere in the vastness of space the beings and materials 'we' rescued here and now would be restored and reanimated.  Protecting and preserving sentient life was part of 'our' creed, essentially the code of existence for 'our' species.


Then suddenly I was again 'myself' and no longer part of that rescue squad.  Once more I was staring into Sawish's eyes and I could see that she was pleased.

"You understand the recollections of our travellers and can adjust to the shift of perspective well.  That is a bonus, for you can communicate with them on a one to one basis in a much easier manner, which will be useful during future operations of a similar type, jefe Dave." Sawish stood then and hopped off the bed to land lightly, then turned to face me.  "Now that you know more of how your rescue was accomplished you should rest more easily, but that last effort of understanding a different perspective of existence has tired you unduly.  A nice long rest is truly what you need for now.  Good night, Dave."

With that Sawish waved her hand and sleep washed over me like a wave washing over a rock on the beach.

Chapter_04