Chapter 8

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Chapter Eight

These fragile bodies of touch and taste

This vibrant skin -- this hair like lace

Spirits open to the thrust of grace

Never a breath you can afford to waste

When you're lovers in a dangerous time

Lovers in a dangerous time

- "Lovers in a Dangerous Time" by Bruce Cockburn

A military style base sat in what could have been called the center of the expanse, between outer space and the rift entrance, like the ugly girl at the high school dance. It was made up of a series of nondescript tents and shacks. Stakes with yellowish glow bulbs on top surrounded the tent like tikki lights at the neighbor's evening barbeque. Otherwise, the surrounding area was darker than a black hole. There were opaque squares in spots that pretended to be windows and gave hints of somethings moving back and forth, sometimes sitting.

A trail of these somethings in the distance, noted by their bobbing torches, walked in a single-file line were approaching the encampment. Sand storms swirled due to violent winds made it difficult to walk and the gravity was inconsistent, bone crushing in spots while in other areas one would bounce like a 60s lunar astronaut. The creatures drudged along deliberately because getting to the camp meant living – dying in this alien desert would not give their death meaning and many were uncertain if dying there their souls could find heaven.

A human looked out of one of the tent windows and upon making out the figures informed his superior, "Another group is returning, sir."

"Good," declared the disfigured creature in the wheelchair. "How many?"

The human took off his glasses, removing his eye balls along with the frames, rubbed them against his blood stained lab coat, put them back on his face and leaned forward to get a better look. Certain, he finally answered, "15, maybe 20, sir. More than before, that much is certain."

"Ah!" said the irritated creature, "Still barely over 50% of what we sent to the Center."

"You said so yourself, sir, these creatures are weak, even the angry ones." The human's commentary was dismissed by the creature and the human sought to regain favor by saying, "Yet, you are correct, as always, master, as this is a low rate of return."

The creature piloted his sophisticated Hover Round toward the large, illuminated chair in the center back of the room. It motioned the human to assist. The human removed the heavy blanket that should have covered the creature's legs and lifted the creature into elaborately jeweled throne. Certain the creature was properly arranged, the human removed the electro-mechanical leg set from underneath the throne's platform and attached them appropriately to the creature. The creature stood up and gave a hideous grin of satisfaction as he moved each leg as if they had always been there.

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