Night Skies Hotel XI: Humanity's Birthright I: In The Eye Of The Beholder free porn video

Synopsis of the Night Skies Hotel Universe: Centuries ago, two world- spanning civilizations made first contact via technology that enabled access to multiple realities. Each civilization was unique in the sense that a single sex dominated it -- Terra's Patriarchy by males, and Gaia's Sisterhood by females. Gaia was the more artistic of the two, had closer links to nature and was more advanced than Terra in some of the sciences, such as biology and physics. Terra, on the other hand, had a cultural drive to explore and dominate other timelines, and excelled in a number of scientific fields, including spaceflight and computers. For a time, scientific and cultural exchanges were profitable for both sides, until a Gaian pathogen was inadvertently introduced into Terra's population and began turning males and females alike into females of Gaia's Sisterhood. The final straw came when the son of a powerful politician was infected. The Patriarchy conquered Gaia, but a remnant of the Sisterhood managed to escape the onslaught. The war has raged for centuries, with the Sisterhood's victories few and far between as the Patriarchy advances through the known timelines, drawing ever closer to Earth and its billions of unsuspecting inhabitants. But the Sisterhood doesn't give up easily and, using the pathogen to swell its ranks and its dimensional transport technology to remain hidden from its nemesis, devises plans to one day retake Gaia and stop the Patriarchy once and for all. *** Historian's note: This story takes place during the "modern" era of the Night Skies Hotel; specifically, in September 2009. *** "This only is denied to God: the power to undo the past." -- Agathon (448 BCE-400 BCE, Timeline 0600), from Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics. *** Night Skies Hotel XI: Humanity's Birthright I: In the Eye of the Beholder By Solari CHAPTER I: THE CAGED DRAGON Darkness. Pain. Screams. It was all the ebony-skinned, muscular man sitting stoically in the chair knew, a smelly, burlap sack covering his head, his hands bound behind the chair by rusted, metal manacles. CRACK! A savage blow rocked his world, leaving him seeing madly spinning stars. He smiled despite this, knowing the torture meant his captors were desperate for the information he had. Information he would never ... THWACK! "Where will your comrades --" THWACK!! "-- strike? How many --" THWACK!!! "-- will there be? What sort of --" THWACK!!!! "-- firepower will they have?" He savored the hysterical edge in his tormentor's otherwise crisp English, its presence empowering him. "What time will they strike?!" his tormentor bellowed. THWACK! THWACK!! THWACK!!! "What time will they strike?!" "I am Centurion Moturo Kali'zat of the 503rd Patriarchal reconnaissance unit," the man recited emotionlessly. "I have allowed myself to be captured twice before by this timeline's authorities, to test their capabilities, and both times I escaped." Moturo slowly turned his head in the direction of his captor's voice. "Rest assured, this time will be no different." "You're a cocky son of a bitch," his captor hissed. "But don't think the learning process was a one-way street. We know what you're capable of, and have some nasty little surprises up our sleeves." The heavy-set, beetle-browed man with thinning brown hair yanked the burlap sack off Moturo's head. The recon trooper squinted, sweat beading his face as the spotlight threw its harsh, white beam squarely into it. "Your unit's actions have maimed and killed thousands, left others transformed and terrorized millions more," his captor said grimly. "You're going to pay dearly for that." "Orders are orders ... sir," Moturo mocked. THWACK! "You insolent fucker!" Another flurry of blows landed in quick succession. Unfazed, the Sentinel grinned, his lips pulled back to reveal gleaming white teeth. "What we've done so far is just the tip of the iceberg. By the time we're finished using your world's schisms against itself, it'll be a stroll in the park to take over TL-600." His grin widened. "A pity, really. We had such high hopes of facing a united timeline. They're always more of a challenge to conquer and pacify -- and my people relish a chall ... OMPFH!" His captor sank a fist into Moturo's gut, then pulled back and delivered a walloping blow -- CRACK! -- to the trooper's jaw. "We've been going back and forth like this for days," he said, "but you can end it anytime you want. Tell us, what the hell were you doing at Egypt's Aswan High Dam?!" Drawing attention away from Arik and Hsan, Moturo thought. Aloud, "You've wasted valuable time, American. The Patriarchy trains its troops -- especially its Sentinels -- to withstand all manner of interrogation and torture." He stared imperiously at his captor. "I'm done playing your game, Captain Travis Banner of Earth's Guardian Council Special Forces. Now, you're going to dance to my tune." Banner glared at Moturo, noting that the trooper was perspiring heavily under the unforgiving glare of the spotlight. Good, the bastard deserves to squirm a little bit, Banner thought. Maybe I'll have the technicians turn up the spotlight even more, just to see him ... Moturo leaped from the chair, snarling, his hands -- no longer restrained by the manacles -- reaching for Banner's throat. The American's training kicked in an instant too late and he tumbled to the floor, Moturo's heavy, muscular body pinning him down. Banner gurgled helplessly; his air supply was being choked off by the thick, steel- like fingers digging relentlessly into his throat. Banner tried to move, but it was impossible. His vision starting to gray and blur, he ground his teeth, trying to activate the distress beacon hidden in a false molar. He knew it had been risky continuing the interrogation after his partner was abruptly called away, but time had been of the essence. That damn Patriarchal recon team has wreaked so much havoc, sowed so much pain and misery and ... His blurry vision tunneled. He wheezed, desperate to buy time. "How ... how did you ...?" "Nanites." Moturo gazed dispassionately at Banner, noting that the man's face was beginning to turn a sickly shade of blue. "All Sentinels have them -- in their blood, their sweat, their tears. They're quite effective at neutralizing all sorts of physical restraints and obstructions." "Perspiration. Oh, God. The spotlight. You were ... perspiring the ... entire time." "Give the man a cigar." Moturo paused, then added, "You might have made a fine Ghulam, Banner." "A slave soldier?" Banner felt light-headed. "Never. I'd rather ... be dead ..." "As you wish, serf." Moturo effortlessly snapped Banner's neck like a twig. Rising from the corpse of his former captor, its head twisted at a grotesque angle, Moturo's nanite-enhanced hearing detected the pounding of booted feet racing toward the cell. "Oh, how I admire their spirit, if nothing else." The Sentinel helped himself to his equipment, which Banner and the others had taken from him and then arrogantly demanded an explanation on its functions. "As if they could have ever hoped to comprehend any of it," Moturo snorted, hiding his near-nakedness beneath a sleek, black underuniform. Mostly satisfied, despite the fact that his directed-energy weapons and cartridges of weaponized Tyrekk's Folly were missing -- It appears Banner and his friends aren't dumb as posts after all, just nearly so, the Sentinel thought -- Moturo took a projectile gun from Banner's holster and made his way toward the locked, metal door that blocked his access to the rest of the Egyptian military base. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Moturo grinned. The barrier wouldn't be a hindrance for long. *** WHOOP! BLAM! WHOOP! BLAM! WHOOP! BLAM! It really isn't fair, Moturo thought, ignoring the howling sirens as he stepped over the bodies of the three guards, stooping only to pick up their guns. He was already focused on the heat signatures of six other men and women converging on his position from adjoining corridors. Here I am, a nanite-enhanced Sentinel using his full capabilities, taking on opponents who really don't know what they're facing, despite what they believe. The towering, well-built black man grinned coldly. After all, did they really think I showed them all of my surprises the other times I allowed myself to be captured? He flicked perspiration into the remaining surveillance cameras, shorting them out as the nanites destroyed the devices' delicate electronic guts. Heavy gunfire echoed in the distance; Moturo "saw" five, three-round bursts zipping toward him and, allowing the nanites to temporarily take command of his muscles, sidestepped three of the deadly bursts. The other two grazed him, but the nano-matrix of his deployed battle armor -- black as night, marked by his unit and rank inscription, along with the bat-winged, fire-breathing dragon insignia of the Patriarchy -- easily shrugged off their kinetic energy. The Sentinel returned fire. Two of the six figures dropped like rag dolls while another two staggered, their grunts of pain music to Moturo's ears. Nonetheless, the four who hadn't fallen were going to be a real problem, judging from what his nanite-enhanced vision revealed. "Bullet-proof gear. Kevlar. Impervious to the peashooters I have," Moturo noted calmly, moving purposefully toward his adversaries. "A laser weapon could slice right through their defenses, but --" Moturo's opponents suddenly pulled back, retreating in an orderly fashion as blast doors crashed into place, sealing off the adjoining corridors. The Sentinel knew his foes were trying to channel him in a certain direction. It's too bad I only have a limited supply of nanites, Moturo thought, or I'd simply use them to tunnel straight through the walls and out of this base. Coming upon the bodies of the man and woman he had just killed, Moturo admired his marksmanship, the remnants of their cratered faces forevermore contorted into shocked expressions. The Sentinel noted that the survivors had taken their dead comrades' M-16 rifles with them, depriving him of harder-hitting weapons. Another smart move on their part, but it only delays the inevitable, Moturo thought. I shan't be confined here much longer. Once out, I'll reestablish contact with Arik and Hsan. He wished he could have added "and the others" to his thoughts, but Moturo couldn't: It was a fact that, over the past two and a half years, this timeline's authorities had succeeded in killing some of the recon unit's Sentinels, usually under the guise of "anti-terrorist" actions, so as not to alarm the unsuspecting public about the true nature of these particular enemies. Yet others had been lost while probing the Sisterhood's activities in this timeline, which appeared to mostly involve abducting and transforming unfortunate males, and some females, into new sisters for use in the war against the Patriarchy. While Moturo felt the loss of his brothers, he didn't give a damn about the people of TL-600. Respect has to be earned, Moturo thought, and about the only thing I respect about the people of TL-600 is their fighting spirit. Otherwise, they're just cattle waiting to be rounded up and put to better use. His thoughts turned to the Sisterhood. They've been really cranky since Arik nearly killed the Queen Dominus and the mistress of the Military Guild with that nanobomb of his, Moturo thought. You'd think that after centuries of fighting, those PMSing bitches would realize that all's fair in love and war. The corridor opened up into a chamber ahead of Moturo. The Sentinel didn't need his nanites to know what awaited him as he entered it: A dozen heavily armed soldiers, including two manning an autocannon, each pointing the business end of his or her weapon squarely at his chest. "FREEZE!" a voice barked. "Oh, my," Moturo said in a droll voice, "I seem to have met my Waterloo." "DROP YOUR WEAPONS!" The Sentinel did as he was commanded, tossing four handguns onto the floor, grinning the entire time as he used the fleeting interlude to ascertain his enemies' positions and weapons. The multi-barreled autocannon posed the biggest threat, its fast rate of fire and large, explosive rounds likely capable of breaching his armored form. "DEACTIVATE YOUR ARMOR. LAY FACE DOWN, HANDS BEHIND YOUR BACK." The lights flickered, then failed with an electric snap and hiss, plunging the chamber into darkness. "Lights out, boys and girls." The thud of heavy weapons fire filled the chamber, the tracer-lit streams of lethal metal passing through Moturo's position, but he was already long gone, scuttling toward the autocannon's position. The screams began in earnest as, in the darkness, the Sentinel literally tore into his opponents, using his unnatural strength to rip arms out of sockets, gouge out eyes and snap necks. A tearing sound and brilliant stream of light filled the chamber as the autocannon went off one last time, then fell silent, its two-man crew dying as they vainly tried to stuff their entrails back into their savaged bellies. Emergency lights kicked in, their wan illumination revealing a literal chamber of horrors, its walls splattered with blood, with moans and groans providing a sort of ghoulish music. Moturo rose from his crouch, his armored figure presiding over a gruesome slaughterhouse: The twelve soldiers lay dead or dying, brave men and women simply outclassed by an enemy whose society had raised him from birth to destroy those who opposed its Champions and dominate those who didn't. A single figure appeared in the far entrance. Moturo's eyes narrowed as he studied the stone-faced man, who stood as tall as he did -- 6'6" -- and sported a fit, muscular form topped off by prematurely graying, close-cropped hair. The Sentinel cocked his helmeted head. "Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in." "I am --" "The Patriarchy knows your identity," Moturo interrupted forcefully, "Colonel Anthony Gage. You're the leader of the Guardian Council's Special Forces." He gestured at the carnage around him. "I'm about to leave, but I can maim and kill more of your troops, if that's what you want." "You're going nowhere." Moturo laughed. "Such spirit! I love it!" Advancing slowly on Gage, his lean face hidden behind a black, shimmering faceplate, he growled, "What's your plan, colonel? Everything we know about you points to a man who's smart and pragmatic. You're not stupid enough to face a Sentinel alone, are you? Of course not. Yet while I sense others in this facility, none are in position to help you." Gage crossed his arms. "I'm not alone." "Sure you are." A third, unseen, voice spoke. "Gage tells the truth, Sentinel Centurion Moturo Kali'zat. He's not alone. He's never been alone." Moturo stumbled to a stop, his eyes widening as, on either side of Gage, fuzzy apparitions appeared, then solidified into the forms of two well-endowed, raven-haired women wearing skintight, chameleonic uniforms. Both were carrying heavy, black guns whose business ends pointed unwaveringly at him. More apparitions appeared around the Sentinel, resolving into frowning, taut-faced gorgeous women who covered him with identical weapons. "They're working together," Moturo muttered, his gaze alternately focusing on Gage and the bitch in the matriarch's uniform next to him. "This ... this is an unexpected development." "Not for us it isn't," Gage offered. The matriarch grinned, fingering the firing stud on her gun. "Time to meet your destiny, Sentinel." A flash of golden light filled Moturo's world, followed an instant later by an all-engulfing darkness. *** "You should have informed us sooner about the prisoner, colonel," Matriarch Sonora observed, shaking her head as she surveyed the chamber. "Lives would have been saved." "Everything was under control until Banner broke protocol," Gage protested. The chamber's main lighting flickered on, then -- with another snap and hiss -- fizzled again. "You were fortunate we were nearby, looking into some old ruins." Gage's nod was barely perceptible. "Yes, we were." His voice was stiff. "The Sentinel undoubtedly had multiple escape plans in place. All Banner did was give him an immediate opening." Sonora studied the fried light fixtures. "Never underestimate Sentinels, Gage, especially those who are seemingly unarmed. Weaponized nanites are among their unseen armaments." Four women lifted Moturo's insensate form -- his nanite-powered combat armor recessed into the utilitarian black underuniform he wore -- into a silvery, 7-foot-long pod, then gripped its handles. Sonora and Gage looked on dispassionately as the group disappeared in a golden glow, transported up to a Chimera command craft that would take the Sentinel to the Night Skies Hotel. "We were fooled," Gage grudgingly admitted. "Having captured Sentinel Centurion Moturo Kali'zat twice before, and learning the hard way how good he is at escaping, we thought we were prepared the third time around." He watched as body recovery teams entered the chamber and went about their grim business. "Obviously, it wasn't enough." He jabbed an accusing finger at Sonora. "Of course, it would benefit us immensely if the Sisterhood shares its nanite-detection technology." "As we speak, the Sisterhood is actively opposing the Patriarchy in more than two dozen timelines," the matriarch noted dispassionately. "They're focused on us and our sudden ferocity, a trait we really haven't shown since the First and Second campaigns. It diverts most of their attention from your timeline, to the point where all you've had to deal with is a single, elite recon unit." Sonora shot Gage a piercing look. "My point being, if we were to give you advanced technology while members of that recon unit are still freely roaming your world, it would be the equivalent of painting a big target on your backs and yelling, ?Hey! We're allies of the Sisterhood! Come kill us, already!'" She paused, then added, "And as bad as that recon unit is, you really don't want the Patriarchy to commit more of its resources to TL-600 -- and neither does the Sisterhood." "Then the sooner we finish off that recon team, the better," Gage grumbled. "Agreed. Only then can the proposed alliance move to the next stage." "I look forward to that day." Gage closed his eyes, bowing his head as the limp bodies of a young man and woman, cut down in the prime of their lives, were carried past him. "In the meantime, I need to go over the intel we gleaned from this incident -- and write condolence letters to some families." The matriarch understood the pain Gage felt, having lost many of her beloved sisters-in-arms during the centuries of fighting. "Well, for what it's worth, TL-600 has been doing pretty good," Sonora said gently. "Just so long as you stick to killing the Sentinels from a distance, rather than trying to capture them for interrogation." She licked her full, red, sensuous lips and smiled. "Leave that to us." *** Consciousness gradually returned to Moturo. Cracking open an eye, he scanned his surroundings while trying to make sense of his still-fuzzy memories. He was in a small, utilitarian room that had a single, closed entrance. Its golden-colored metal walls and floors emitted a soft, diffused white light and were warm to the touch. He sensed, more than felt, a heartbeat-like rhythm, seemingly filling the air all around him, its pulse almost like a mother's lullaby. Moturo grimaced. As if I'd know, he thought, never having known my mother. Probably some nameless slave slut who's long dead now. The Sentinel tried to move, but found that his nude form was restrained, upright, against a wall by some sort of invisible force. He tested the bond again, only to stifle a howl as a jolt of pain seared his nerve endings. The jolt crystallized his memories. "The Sisterhood and TL-600 ... they've formed an alliance against the Patriarchy!" he whispered fiercely. "Grand Fleet Lord Devus' suspicions were right!" "An alliance? Not quite yet, but we're working on it." Moturo grimaced. It was a woman's voice. Twisting his head in its direction, he found himself gazing into the sparkling, emerald-green eyes of one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. She wasn't there a moment ago! he swore to himself. Her creamy white, oval-shaped face with its pert nose and full, red pouty lips was framed by a lush, cascading mane of ringleted, shiny, black hair. She wore nondescript clothing, but it did little to hide her fit form or its generous assets -- including her soft, feminine hands with long, elegant, short-nailed fingers, a very nice, yet firm, bosom, a round rear and wide, baby-bearing hips. A very male part of Moturo reacted instinctually -- he wanted to mate with this woman, to impregnate her with his seed. She smiled, flashing a set of perfect, white teeth. "Sorry, but I'm a Joined woman. It wouldn't be proper for me to mate with you." Moturo's face slackened with shock. "How did you know what I was thinking?" he demanded. "How?!" The woman tsked. "You know how. You're just too frightened to admit it." Her smile turned predatory. "You're deep within the Night Skies Hotel. You're our prisoner. We've stripped you of all your defenses. You've been here for days, unconscious, breathing our air. We've given you our water and fed you our food." She paused, drawing out the torture. "The pathogen is inside you, multiplying, opening your mind to our thoughts, and vice-versa. And, soon, with a bit of help from me, it will bring out the woman hidden within you." Moturo gritted his teeth. Nothing happened. Refusing to panic, he focused his mind on a single word: TERMINATE. Again, nothing happened. TERMINATE! TERMINATE!! A flicker of desperation erupted into a torrent. TERMINATE!!! "Silly male," the woman laughed, slinking in closer to the Sentinel, "we've replaced your false, poison tooth with a real tooth -- enamel, nerve pulp, and all." She leered at him. "And your suicide nanites? On their own, they could have killed you the moment they detected the pathogen in your bloodstream. But since they were slaved to a particular mental command from you, and you were out of it, they couldn't. And so we had time to scrub them from your system. Oh, the wonders of biotechnology!" "Bitch!" "Oh, yes, and not just any bitch, my dear Sentinel, but the Queen Dominus bitch herself." Moturo's defiance grew. So this is the woman Arik nearly killed. Aloud, "I'm not impressed, bitch." "You will be." Artemis reached in, clasping his hands in her own. Her flesh was warm, moist and soft. Smiling enigmatically, she kissed his knuckles, then released his hands. Moturo stared at her, more confused than anything else. He knew the bitches could be unpredictable, but this took the cake. Maybe being on the losing side of a centuries-long war has knocked a screw loose or something, the Sentinel thought. "You underestimate my capabilities, my dear Moturo," Artemis pronounced, reading his mind. "But you're young, so it's not entirely unexpected. Your family tree, as such, wasn't even a seedling yet when the battles of the First and Second campaigns were fought. But soon, very soon, you will become a part of the Fifth Campaign in a way you never imagined." "I will nev --" Moturo stopped. His hands were tingling. "What the ...?!" Before his eyes, the Sentinel's hands changed, losing their masculinity as flesh and bone warped and shifted into smaller, softer proportions. Fingers lengthened and thinned, and nails grew outward, stretching into half-inch long, ruby-red talons. The changes stopped and, from the wrist down, Moturo sported a pair of delicate, chocolate-colored hands that would be the envy of any ordinary woman. But was Moturo grateful for the gift he was given? Of course not. "AUGH! You bitch, you fucking bitch!" the Sentinel screamed, any pretense of discipline gone, instantly swept away by the sight of his new, slutty hands. He had seen the training holos of captured Patriarchal troops being turned into women, but the holos were nothing compared to the real deal. "They'll never take me back like this! You BITCH! You fucking BITCH!" "Your outburst amuses me, sister-to-be," Artemis observed. "But you're right: You're damaged goods to the Patriarchy -- they'll never take you back with hands like that." She smirked. "So, let's do something to make you feel more at home in the Sisterhood." Kneeling at Moturo's feet, she gently massaged the Sentinel's still form, starting with his toes and working her way up. Wherever her hands touched, skin softened, hair retracted and scars and blemishes vanished. Moturo looked on, speechless, his eyes big as saucers as his mind struggled to comprehend what was happening to his body -- and, increasingly, his very sense of self. It took Artemis twenty minutes to finish the massage. Admiring her handiwork, she said, "I like what I see, and this is just the beginning." "If you were an honorable foe," Moturo whispered, regaining his ability to speak, "you would end this torture and kill me." The Queen Dominus' eyes narrowed. "It fascinates me that you, of all people, would bring up the subject of honor. You, whose actions led to the deaths of thousands in March 2007 when your recon unit destroyed a major part of TL-600's ability to gather, refine and distribute petroleum. You, whose disruptions since then have killed, maimed and terrorized other innocent lives ..." her voice trailed off. A small, sad smile crossed her face. "It's ironic that you're asking for an honorable exit from this life, considering you were part of a unit whose remaining members continue to deny it to so many others." "Whatever, bitch. It's not like you or the Sisterhood carry any moral weight about right and wrong!" "The Champions started the war when they attacked Gaia!" Artemis snarled, quivering with sudden fury. "They conquered my homeworld! They killed my mother!! They abducted my soulmate!!!" Her voice became a screech. "They decimated Gaia!!!! They exterminated our allies!!!!! They --" "We hurt you bad, didn't we?" Moturo growled. "Good. I hope the pain never ends, bitch. I hope you live long enough to see the last of your people, the whores of the timelines, die at our hands." "Never." Artemis was resolute. "The Sisterhood has done some things since Gaia's fall that our foremothers, in their innocence, would have found appalling." Her face was mere inches from his. "We live with that fact day in and day out, eating at our souls. I can only imagine what it's like for the Patriarchy, whose sins are orders of magnitude worse than anything we've ever done." She drew back. "That said, two wrongs don't make a right. The Fifth Campaign will break the 800-plus-year cycle of war once and for all." Artemis smiled. "And you're going to help us." Moturo snorted. "Then get it over with. One more gun-toting bitch isn't going to make a difference." "Oh, my dear Sentinel. You're going to be so much more than a run-of- the-mill member of the Sisterhood," Artemis murmured. "You see, we don't acquire Sentinels very often. So, when we do -- well, let's just say that some of our best matriarchs have come from the Patriarchy." Her words were like an ice pick rammed into Moturo's heart. "Oh, gods, no," he croaked. "You --" "Oh, goddesses, yes!" Artemis purred. She unzipped her slacks, their crotch already dimpled with feminine dew, and reached in, gently stroking her Venus mound's inner vaginal lips. "I'm not wearing panties," she cooed. "They'd just get in the way of things." Artemis closed her eyes, savoring the exquisite sensation emanating from between her legs. Moments later, she quaked, then sighed. "That hit the spot," she said, withdrawing her hands. They were slathered in a clear, jelly-like substance. "Royal jelly -- it's the pathogen in its most potent form," Artemis explained. "Using this, a woman doesn't even have to have intercourse with a male to complete his transformation. It also lessens the risk of his mind being shattered. But only queens and guild mistresses can produce it." She paused, listening to Moturo's ragged breathing. "Obviously, I'm one of them." Artemis grabbed Moturo's nipples, gently twisting them in her fingers. He screamed as, instantly, they grew erect and bloomed in size and sensitivity. In the next moment, his aerolae were spreading out and thickening, surrounding his new female nipples, pushing them out from his still-flat chest. "Nice. Very nice," the Queen Dominus observed. "Now, for the next step." She released Moturo's nipples, only to cup his chest in her hands and begin, literally, kneading his breasts into existence. The flesh continued growing outward as Artemis repeated the exercise, her eyes locked on the Sentinel's swelling assets -- assets that, in perhaps two minutes' time, became newly rounded, full-nippled tits jutting proudly from his hairless, feminine chest. "They definitely won't take you back now," the Queen Dominus said gleefully. She wrapped her full, red, pouty-lipped mouth around one of Moturo's pencil eraser-sized nipples and suckled, slathering it in her hot, pathogen-rich saliva. "Ooh. You're already producing milk!" she exclaimed, licking daintily at a thin, white trail dribbling down her chin. "You'll be able to breast-feed your newborn children!" Moturo didn't acknowledge her. He stared up Artemis, seemingly lost to the outside world as, within his body, a losing battle was being fought at a cellular and genetic level. The pathogen was rewriting his DNA, inserting itself into every nook and cranny -- and now it was breaching his mind's defenses. Artemis grabbed his balls, squeezing and pushing at them, forcing them up into his body, where they changed into egg-laden ovaries. She smiled as his now-empty scrotum pulled tight against his crotch and fissured, splitting into two, thick, outer labial lips. The thin, red fissure deepened, opening a tunnel into his body, a tunnel that linked up with a developing womb, which in turn sprouted a pair of fallopian tubes that snaked their way into his newly formed ovaries. "Your new, internal plumbing is just about finished, Moturo," she whispered into his ear. "Now it's time for some additional work on your exterior." The Queen Dominus tugged at the Sentinel's short, curly black hair, pulling it into long, thick locks of shiny, straight blackness that spilled past Moturo's smaller shoulders, tumbling down his back to tickle his buttocks. As his hips began cracking and widening into baby- bearing proportions, she cupped his firm, muscular ass cheeks in her soft hands and began kneading. New layers of feminine fat appeared wherever she kneaded, adding a fullness and softness to a behind that was now as plump and round as any woman's. Reaching between Moturo's legs, Artemis slipped a finger into her sister's vaginal cleft and grunted approvingly, pulling out after gently massaging her clitoris with her thumb and lightly touching her unbroken hymen. Placing a hand across Moturo's vagina, she focused briefly, gently teasing out a bare, Venus mound. Finally, Artemis traced her finger over his mound, causing a line of thick, curly black pubic hair to sprout in its wake, forming the outline of an inverted triangle that quickly filled in. "Let's see ... what are we missing?" Artemis asked herself, admiring her handiwork as an artist would a painting. "Nipples, check. Breasts, check. Vagina, check. Nice, long, thick hair, check. Great ass, check. Good hips, check. Ah, I see!" And so she leaned in and gently kissed Moturo. After a moment's hesitation, the new sister's lips parted, and she reciprocated Artemis' action, their soft, pink tongues dueling playfully. At the same time, the Queen Dominus tickled her throat, further warping already-changing vocal cords. A while later, their mouths separated, a thin, silvery thread of hot saliva linking the two women for only a moment longer. "You taste great, Monora," Artemis proclaimed, using Moturo's new name for the first time, watching the former Sentinel's mouth becoming full and pouty like her own. A thick layer of shimmering, bright red lipstick painted Monora's mouth as it curved upward in a tentative smile -- one that faltered. "Monora? That doesn't sound quite right. I ... I'm Moturo. I am a Sentinel. I belong to the 503rd Patriarchal reconnaissance unit. I am --" His voice trailed off as he saw his firm, generous, chocolate-colored bosom protruding proudly from his chest, his erect nipples leaking a mix of milk and warm, clear fluid. Only then did he feel the emptiness between his legs, the cushion of his buttocks and, worst of all, a yearning to pass the gift of womanhood on to another male. He looked up at Artemis, his brown eyes questioning. "I ... I --" A sparkling, emerald-green tide spread through his irises, forcing the brown to the edges, then washing it out entirely. There was a moment of silence, the gentle, rhythmic heartbeat of the Night Skies Hotel's Infinity crystal the only thing that could be sensed. Artemis looked on expectantly. "I am Monora." Her emerald-green eyes glittered. "I belong to, and serve, a loving Sisterhood." *** CHAPTER II: RESURRECTION *** "Well, don't you look like the cat who just ate the canary," Tegan observed wryly, looking up from her experiment to see Artemis walking jauntily into the laboratory. "You would, too, had you just initiated a Sentinel into our ranks," the Queen Dominus chirped, coming over to the scientist. "Monora is currently satiating her lust on, ironically, a wannabe gangsta rapper. However, I expect her to be of great benefit to us once she's past the initial phase -- in fact, I think she'll earn a matriarch's feathers in no time at all." "Good. I'm sure Basima and the Military Guild can use all the help they can get." Artemis nodded gravely. "Agreed. Now, tell me: What's the latest progress in getting those crystalline artifacts to do something other than occupy shelf space and soak up irreplaceable lab time?" The artifacts -- two crystals, one red and one green -- had been given to the Sisterhood two and a half years ago by Earth's Guardian Council, as part of an exchange intended to pave the way for a full alliance between the powers. Believed to date to a time period roughly 14,000 years in Earth's past, the crystals were etched with a language that bore an uncanny resemblance to Gaia's ancestral tongue. In the years since the exchange, the words had been roughly translated to mean: "The all-seeing fount of knowledge." Needless to say, the finding had whetted the Science Guild's appetite, which immediately devoted as many of its resources as possible to unraveling the mystery of the crystals and other, related, artifacts the Sisterhood possessed. More than once, however, the attention and resources lavished by the guild were undercut by the needs of Project Gaia's Aegis, an equally important endeavor that held the promise of ending, once and for all, the war between the Sisterhood's remnant and the Patriarchy. "Well," Tegan said, gesturing toward a device that held the two artifacts and a micro Infinity crystal in its slots, "we've discovered that these particular artifacts respond only to dark energy -- and lap it up like there's no tomorrow." She removed the micro Infinity crystal from its slot, handing it to Artemis. "By the goddesses!" the Queen Dominus gasped. The crystal was cold and dark. "Are you telling me the artifacts did this?!" Tegan nodded. "In a matter of seconds, no less. Their power demands were simply too much for the micro crystal to handle -- it burned out, unable to handle the flow of dark energy." She sighed. "If that wasn't enough, this micro was optimized to handle power demands. Extrapolating the results onto other classes of Infinity crystals finds greater endurance times, but only a few minutes at most." "How far up the scale did you go?" "Large Infinity crystals were the highest we went -- and those almost did the trick, I think." Artemis frowned, deep in thought. "That leaves only the giga-class of Infinity crystal," she finally said. Tegan nodded in silent agreement. Artemis knew what the scientist wanted -- And, she admitted to herself, what I want, too: answers. Particularly regarding the ancient plague, especially with the Patriarchy still hellbent on finding a reservoir of the diabolical stuff to use against us. "OK, link the artifacts to the hotel's crystal, but make sure all safeguards are in place to sever the connection instantly, if need be." "You're not comfortable with this," Tegan noted, reading her queen's body language. "I'm not," the Queen Dominus agreed. "But the Night Skies Hotel's Infinity crystal is the oldest and most powerful of the giga-class crystals. If it can't handle the artifacts' power demands ..." "As much as it pains me to say this, we could always abandon this line of research, my queen," Tegan said softly. "We have other leads on links between our preherstoric ancestors and TL-600, after all. For starters, those unusual formations on the ocean floor off the coast of Cuba that Seren told us about. Other possible ruins, as well." Artemis shook her head. "We've invested too much to give up now," she said. "Besides, most of those alleged ruins are going to be hard to properly investigate without drawing attention to ourselves -- just ask Sonora and Trissa about that -- something we can't afford until the alliance with TL-600 has been cemented and our presence publicly acknowledged to the masses by their leaders." "Very well, then. My team and I will get to work on it right away." "How long?" Tegan ran some quick mental calculations. "Four days." "Excellent. I'll inform Seren." Artemis saw Tegan's questioning look. "Those artifacts are as much a part of TL-600's herstory as they are ours," the Queen Dominus explained. "Besides, this will give Seren and her colleagues a chance to see a side of the Sisterhood they haven't experienced yet." *** "You promise you'll be back in time, mother?" Seren looked up from packing the last of her bags, seeing her beautiful little girl standing in the doorway. "Yes, honeybunch, I'll be back. I wouldn't miss seeing you sing for anything." Nine-year-old Kimora smiled and rushed into her mother's arms. "Hey, there!" Seren laughed, swinging her only child high into the air. "Aren't you full of energy this morning!" "I love you." "You're the light of my life, little one." Seren buried her face in Kimora's dark hair, inhaling her scent. God, Seren thought, she has so much of Tritt in her. "Truly, the light of my life." There was a discreet cough from the doorway. "Seren? The Hummingbird has alighted. It's waiting for you." The voice belonged to Etrusca, Kimora's nanny, who had the necessary security clearances and training to assist Seren in caring not only for Kimora, but Traci as well. "Tell the sisters I'll be up shortly." Gazing into her daughter's big, brown eyes, Seren smiled and tousled her hair. "You behave yourself, now, OK? Don't give Etrusca any grief or I'll hear about it." Kimora hugged her mother. "I'll be good. I always am." The girl's tone grew serious. "I'll help keep an eye on Traci, too." Seren blinked back sudden, unbidden tears. "That's my littler trooper." She stood, deftly sidestepping Etrusca as the young woman came in and picked up her bags. "I'll be counting the hours until I can hold you again, honeybunch." With a final, longing look at Kimora, Seren stepped out of the bedroom and into the apartment's hallway, heading toward the main entrance. Passing by the living room, she heard the television blaring; poking her head inside, she saw Traci sitting on the sofa, staring at the big- screen plasma set. An old "Jerry Springer" show was on, one that was actually a tamer-than-usual episode. Traci looked at it passively, with no animation or energy whatsoever on her part. Seren pursed her lips. I wish they could take her off those damn sedatives, she thought, irritated. But the archaeologist knew that's all it was, a wish. If the sedatives were removed, Traci's sex drive would reassert itself, which wasn't a good thing, considering she was the result of Tritt being exposed to Tyrekk's Folly by the Patriarchy while imprisoned on TL-171 -- Uhrth. It was a bastardized version of the Sisterhood's pathogen, one which left its male victims as permanent, bimbo-like females. "Traci?" Seren called out softly. The woman didn't stir. Seren spoke louder. "Traci!" Her curly brown-haired head turned toward Seren. Sunglasses hid the buxom woman's golden-hued eyes. "Yes ... oh, Seren! It's you! I'm sorry ... I must have zoned out there for a moment." "You really should be watching something other than ?Jerry Springer,' you know," Seren chided. Traci smiled wanly. "True. But I just feel so tired today." Nonetheless, her long, crimson-nailed hand darted to the remote and, after a bit of fumbling, tapped a pair of buttons. Animal Planet's "Meerkat Manor" filled the 50-inch, 1080p high-definition screen. "There. That better?" Seren laughed. "Definitely!" Hearing the nanny calling her name, Seren spoke faster. "I'll be back from this business trip by the end of the week and, uh --" Seren's voice faltered "-- I just wanted to let you know that I love you like a sister." Her face flushing at Traci's confused expression and words -- "Well, I'd hope so. You're my older sister, after all!" -- Seren ducked out of the room, her mind awhirl. I wish she could understand that she's really Tritt, that she's really my husband. But she can't, damnit, thanks to Tyrekk's Folly! Almost running toward the apartment's entrance, where Etrusca was patiently waiting after delivering Seren's bags to the Hummingbird, she heard Kimora's plaintive voice. Turning, she saw her daughter standing outside her bedroom, biting her lip. "Yes, honeybunch, what is it? Momma's really got to get going --" "I want dad back. I like Traci, and she's fun to be around when she's with it, but it's not the same." "I know how you feel, Kimora," Seren said. Her heart nearly broke, seeing her daughter's serious little face. Oh, how she's had to grow up so fast! It isn't fair to either of us! Aloud, "I've wanted to see, hold and love your father again for more than four years now." "Tell the sisters to never give up, to try harder, that they owe us." "I will." Seren then turned and stepped out of the apartment. Looking back one last time, she saw Etrusca incline her head, then close the door. Making her way toward the roof, Kimora's parting words echoed in her mind. "If only it were that simple, honeybunch," Seren whispered regretfully. "If only." *** Stepping out onto the apartment tower's roof, Seren spared a look at the neighborhood around it. Homes dotted the lush, rolling green landscape below her, linked by roads that had only a few vehicles on them. Copses of old-growth trees -- mainly oaks, maples and pines spared by the bulldozers -- filled in many areas, while newer trees were planted near the homes and other apartment towers. In the distance, she spied the "privacy barrier" that surrounded the neighborhood -- in reality, a 15-foot-tall, 6-foot-thick, steel- reinforced concrete blast barricade disguised as a rammed-earth wall. Hidden within and near the wall were heavy weapons emplacements, including anti-aircraft guns, additions made two and a half years ago after it was learned that an elite Patriarchal reconnaissance unit was prowling the planet. From her vantage point, Seren spied men and women manning the barrier's two main entrances and patrolling its perimeter. They wore civilian clothing and affected civilian behaviors, but she knew they were really highly trained special forces personnel with but one duty: protect and defend the people living inside the barrier. Such was life within the aptly named Solitude, a United Nations-built district in rural Virginia that was home to most of the people, including members of Earth's Guardian Council and their families, who were aware that their Earth was merely one of a staggering number of parallel Earths, all inhabiting the seemingly endless multiverse. "It's enough to make one wonder what life's really all about," Seren said wistfully. "There could be another me out there right now, no more than a quantum ripple away, living another life." Ahead of her, the outlines of the Hummingbird -- a key-shaped ship whose fore was wide and rounded while its aft tapered into a thick, conical form -- appeared out of thin air, its translucent lines shimmering into solidity. It was the Sisterhood's successor to the Floater-class of vehicles, which had been the private and public workhorses back in the old days on long-conquered Gaia. A circular doorway cycled opened, revealing not only Seren's neatly stacked bags, but a carpeted, bejeweled interior and the pilot and co- pilot as well -- two buxom, raven-haired women with entrancing, emerald-green eyes. Climbing aboard, Seren sat in a plush seat and, moments later, marveled as the ship "vanished" around her -- Wow, she thought, it's sort of like the invisible jet used by the comic book character Wonder Woman! -- and lifted off with nary a sound. It was with a mixture of exhilaration and fear that she watched the roof drop away below, becoming smaller and smaller until, eventually, Solitude itself wasn't much bigger than an oversized postage stamp. Clearly, this was no ordinary, run-of-the-mill Hummingbird used for hauling cargo or carrying lineages. No, this Hummingbird was obviously a high-end, diplomatic model meant to ferry what the Sisterhood considered to be important dignitaries. Seren grinned, deciding to fulfill the role expected of her. "Take me to your leaders," Seren gravely commanded, a small smile tugging at her mouth. "Will do, ma'am," the pilot said, her eyes twinkling as her hands flew across a holographic display. A gateway opened up and, this time, the Hummingbird really did vanish - - disappearing for an instant as it leapt into the vortex and reappeared moments later above the Andean Altiplano in South America, where the Night Skies Hotel awaited its guest. *** Queen Dominus Artemis surveyed the scene before her: Rows upon rows of occupied chairs sat in the lush, green meadow before the dais she stood on, which itself fronted the pulsing heart of the Night Skies Hotel -- the largest and oldest of the Infinity crystals, the one from which so many others could trace their origins to. It rose majestically into the cloudless, azure sky, its 20-foot-thick, emerald-green pillar aglow as it slowly pulsed, its capabilities nowhere near being fully tapped. Well, that's going to change pretty damn soon, Artemis thought, looking thoughtfully at the hubbub of activity going on around the crystal's base, which was deeply embedded in the soil. Its crystalline roots, ranging from the size of tree trunks to no thicker than a line of thread, were a jumbled mass spread throughout the arboretum and beyond, linking every aspect of the hotel to the power source. Short of somehow neutralizing the crystal itself, there would never be a way to knock out power to the entire Night Skies Hotel complex, so dense and tangled was its root system. It was an intentionally organic design dating back to the year 820 CE, when the Sisterhood made the transition to crystalline-based technology. "How much longer, Tegan?" Artemis called out impatiently. "Another minute, that's all," the scientist said absent-mindedly, her mind fully attuned to a shimmering, crystalline tendril no thicker than a straw that had just burst out of the ground. "I'm encoding it with the final fail-safes." "Good, because I think our guests are getting bored." Artemis smiled. "I'd offer them drinks and food, but I doubt they'd accept, despite our assurances about its safety." The smile faltered. "Goddesses! With that sort of paranoia, I'm surprised some of them didn't bring along their own oxygen tanks." "Got it!" Tegan gave the Queen Dominus a thumbs up sign. "You're good to go!" Artemis moved to the front of the dais, her eyes solemnly scanning the dignitaries, picking out not only Seren, but also Colonel Anthony Gage among the representatives from Earth's Guardian Council. As for the Sisterhood, its representatives included Corona, mistress of the Culture Guild; Megan; Tessa; and the newly minted Monora. Conspicuously absent was Basima, mistress of the Military Guild; she was currently engaged with her matriarchs, including Sonora, in planning and waging war against the encroaching Patriarchy in dozens of timelines -- in particular, TL-579, aka Enlil. "Today is a herstoric moment," Artemis boomed, sonicphones amplifying her voice. "For it is today we shall learn more about the intertwined herstory of Gaia and TL-600." A smattering of applause erupted from the crowd. Inclining her head and smiling softly, the Queen Dominus continued: "What was it that brought Gaia's unexpectedly advanced ancestors to TL-600 more than 14,000 years ago? What did they do when they were here? What sort of civilization did they have? And what --" Artemis' countenance darkened "-- ultimately led to the plague that swept not only Gaia, but TL-600 as well, wiping out both timelines' predecessors? "It is these these questions that we seek answers to, along with other enlightenment, and not only for Gaia, but for the people of TL-600 as well," Artemis concluded. She made a small motion with her hand and, moments later, Tegan's crystalline tendril wound its way onto and across the dais toward Artemis. At the same time, one of Tegan's assistants carefully handed two inscribed crystals -- one red, one green -- to the Queen Dominus. The relics. The ones whose words had been translated to mean, "The all- seeing fount of knowledge." Artemis allowed the tendril to wrap itself around first the red crystal, then its green counterpart. Nothing happened, nor would anything happen until she focused her mind and gave the appropriate command. A bird-like trill filled the suddenly still meadow. It was Artemis, speaking in the musical, native tongue of Gaia. There followed, in quick succession, another trill, two warbles, a squawk and two whistles. The tendril flared, its brilliance nearly blinding. The relics were sucking in dark energy, much as a newborn babe at its mother's breast drinks her milk. It wasn't enough. Other tendrils in the Infinity crystal's root system went silent, their dark energy siphoned off by the now-thickening tendril feeding the relics. The main crystal compensated, rerouting power to other parts of its root system, keeping the hotel complex at full power. Still, it wasn't enough. Thick, cable-like roots were the next to lose their dark energy as it was voraciously gobbled up by the relics, with no apparent results to show for their seemingly insatiable hunger. The relics widened their search for the all-sustaining dark energy. Now tree trunk-sized roots fell silent, their energy drawn off by the relics, which had started to glow with an unearthly light. A heartbeat- like pulse became audible, filling the meadow, followed an instant later by a similar pulse -- the first originating from the relics, the second from the Infinity crystal. The crowd gasped. Artemis followed their shocked gazes and had to clamp down on her own rising fear as she saw entire sections of the hotel complex going dark, enough of the root system compromised to the point that the main crystal could no longer fully compensate. Not since the terrible days of the First and Second campaigns had the hotel suffered such an extensive loss of power. "By the goddesses' blackest hearts!" Artemis cried out. "Tegan --!" "I know, I know!" the scientist said, once again turning her mind inward to focus on the tendril. "At least 70 percent of the root system has to be idled in order for these sorts of power interruptions!" Inside the hotel complex, chaos was spreading despite the Sisterhood's knowledge, and preparation for, the power disruptions that had been deemed a possibility: Club XXXscape plunged into darkness, leaving hundreds of sisters huddled in the inky blackness. The Las Vegas-style casino came to a screeching halt, its machines blinkered by the power loss, its showgirls, pit bosses and other employees left with nothing to do but wait and hope for the best. Worse yet, two of the major housing blocs for hotel employees blacked out, catching more than a thousand women in various states of dress and undress, in showers and baths and saunas and not, eating, reading and in the rapture of sex. About the only ones not directly affected were those who were in the middle of their sleep cycles. At least there aren't any native guests to worry about, Artemis thought, briefly opening her telepathic link to her sisters and instantly regretting it. While the hotel complex had manifested on the Andean Altiplano, it hadn't revealed itself to what few inhabitants there were in its immediate environs. "Artemis! Are things under control?!" Seren demanded. "Yes!" the Queen Dominus snapped. "The fail-safes don't kick in unless the primary Infinity crystal is threatened -- and it's not!" Her harsh tone immediately softened. "My apologies, Seren. We knew disruptions were possible, but had hoped they wouldn't materialize this fast or be so extensive." "Well, they did, and --" The heartbeat-like pulse emanating from the Infinity crystal suddenly increased in frequency and intensity, and the crystal's glare filled the meadow, not yet painful, but quickly getting there. "-- oh, my God," Seren finished, staring up in awe at the spectacle before her. It was no longer possible to distinguish between the heartbeat of the Infinity crystal or that of the relics. They were beating in complete unison. And then it happened: the fail-safes kicked in. Or, rather, tried to kick in. The twin heartbeats stuttered, falling out of sync -- but the interruption lasted for only an instant. In the next instant, the Infinity crystal and relics were as one again, pulsing faster and becoming brighter. "It's time to put a stop this." Artemis moved toward the Infinity crystal, her arms outstretched, the musical language of ancient Gaia emerging not only from her mouth, but singing through her mind, reaching out to the crystal with its telepathic capabilities. "I will have no more of this!" "NO!" A form hurtled across the dais, slamming into the Queen Dominus, sending her headfirst onto the meadow floor, where she landed with a heavy THUMP! "Even you, Artemis, who has forged the deepest mindbond with the crystal, cannot stop the chain reaction now!" "Corona!" Artemis yelled as Seren and Gage helped her to her feet. "I knew what I was doing!" "Those fail-safes were your own, and look at what happened to them!" The Culture Guild's mistress gave her queen a pleading look. "The torrent of energy pouring through the crystal would have blown your mind apart! Is that what you want?! To die? To --" The arboretum trembled ever so slightly. "-- what was that?" The earthquake struck the Night Skies Hotel, jolting the complex to its very foundation. And, while the physical damage was negligible -- the complex having been built tough in the first place and further reinforced over the centuries -- the same couldn't be said for the psyches of its inhabitants. Corona, Tegan and the others on the dais were tossed off like so many ragdolls, landing in crumpled heaps on the heaving, quaking ground, where Artemis, Seren and the other dignitaries had fallen to their hands and knees, riding out the land's turbulence. Twelve agonizingly slow seconds passed before the quake subsided, and an eerie stillness returned. Artemis scrambled over to Corona's side, her earlier anger replaced by concern for her friend. "Thank the goddesses you're still in one piece!" the Queen Dominus murmured, checking Corona's vital signs and finding nothing amiss, other than for a dazed look in the mistress' eyes. Around them, similar scenes of compassion were unfolding: Megan assisting Monora to her feet; Seren and Gage moving about, giving first aid and comforting words where needed; and other dignitaries, of all races, creeds, and cultures, lending each other a helping hand. Artemis marveled at the scene, seeing a microcosm of unity -- as brief as it might be -- that, if properly nurtured, would one day lead to the Patriarchy's final defeat and the liberation of its empire of timelines. "Is it over?" Artemis rose, lifting Corona with her. "I think so," the Queen Dominus said cautiously. Turning toward the Infinity crystal, she saw that it still glowed fiercely, along with the artifacts, which were engulfed by the now tree trunk-thick crystalline tendril. But the heartbeat-like pulses were missing, a calming stillness filling the arboretum in their absence. "This, ah, this didn't go quite as planned," Artemis announced, surprised to hear that the sonicphone system was still functioning. The neutral-faced dignitaries crowded around her. "The Science Guild will do some tweaking in the coming days and weeks to resolve these issues so we can move --" WHUMP! The dais exploded, raining debris all around Artemis and the dignitaries. "-- now what?!" the Queen Dominus yelped, a plaintive note in her voice. The ground continued convulsing around the base of the Infinity crystal, finally splitting open as not one or two or even three, but a dozen log-thick crystalline shoots sprouted and reached for the sky. They grew and grew and grew, until finally stopping 10 or so feet below the height of the main crystal. One by one, the shoots began glowing, drawing in even more dark energy, further augmenting the flow from the main crystal into the artifacts. Artemis and the others drew back, shading their eyes from the intensity, a glare that was building to the point of supernova brilliance. And then it happened: A spear of pure, white light shot up from a shoot, quickly followed by another spear of light from its neighbor, a process repeated ten more times before the main crystal itself blasted a gigantic beam of energy straight up through Earth's atmosphere. Combining with the lesser beams beyond the atmosphere, the now-massive stream of energy roared past the shocked inhabitants aboard the international space station, reaching for a distant, desolate point upon the cratered and scarred surface of the moon. The beam vaporized the lunar regolith covering the region, along with an unmanned Chinese lander, exposing bedrock to light for the first time in nearly 14,000 years -- and revealing a giant pyramid, one that dwarfed anything the ancient Egyptians had ever built, literally sculpted from a single, gargantuan block of blue-veined, black crystal. The energy set off a reaction within the strange pyramid, causing it to shimmer with a golden energy that rapidly intensified as it drew in its own dark energy, almost as if it were a giant battery powering up for the first time in untold ages. The pyramid shot out a stream of golden light into the airless void around it, then dimmed once more, returning to its age-old slumber. This thick, pulsating glob of energy swept past a space shuttle, leaving its crew slack-jawed in amazement. Near Earth's exosphere, the blob split into multiple, massive balls of energy that "caged" the planet and then disintegrated into a sleet of golden energy that plummeted toward its surface. The day side of the planet didn't get much of a show, but it was a different story on the night side, where people witnessed a global aurora borealis, the most beautiful they had ever seen, with sheets of golden energy dancing in the skies before seemingly plunging toward the ground, merging not only with land and water, but people as well. Of those shafts, a single one reached out toward a specific location in the Andean Altiplano of central South America. Angling toward the Night Skies Hotel complex, it struck the Infinity crystal, coursing through it and into the relics, shattering them. "Wow!" "Ooh!" "Aah!" Artemis, Seren and the other dignitaries watched with apprehension as the red and green shards sublimed into two masses of electrically charged energy. The roiling energy merged, forming a yellowish cloud, a cloud that coalesced into the form of a tall, adult human male holding a wooden staff engraved with odd-looking glyphs and elegant, cursive script. The being's long, flowing white hair and short, white beard lent it an air of ageless wisdom that reinforced its regal appearance. The entity slowly scanned the crowd in front of it, its head swiveling from side to side. Turning its attention to Artemis, its silver-colored eyes studied her, as if it were reading her soul. Finally, it spoke: "Greetings, Neera. It gladdens me to see that you survived the Sorrows." *** Artemis blinked. "What? I'm sorry, but you're mistaken. I'm not --" "You are Neera," the entity repeated, "and you're one of Haven's finest alpha apexes." "Haven? Alpha apexes? The Sorrows? What the --" Artemis shook her head, flustered by the unexpected turn of events. "Who ... who -- what are you?" the Queen Dominus stammered. "I am Janus, a Beholder of the Oversoul, the all-seeing fount of knowledge," the entity stated. Concern creased its face. "You seem confused, Neera. Are you ill? Do you require medical attention?" "I'm not confused, I'm not ill and I don't need medical attention," Artemis said flatly. It's time to take charge of the situation, she thought. "It's you who might need help. I am Queen Dominus Artemis, leader of Gaia's Sisterhood." She gestured to those around her. "This is Corona, mistress of the Sisterhood's Culture Guild. Over there is Seren, representative of Earth's Guardian Council. And that imposing, pissed off-looking man next to her? He's Colonel Anthony Gage, commanding officer of the special forces troops that are the Guardian Council's teeth." "No one here knows what the hell you're talking about, Beholder," Gage said tersely. The silvery-eyed entity silently shifted its gaze skyward, leaving the Queen Dominus with the distinct impression that it was acquiring more information, a thought further reinforced when the Beholder's form brightened from within, revealing not human organs and blood vessels, but a solid, yellow crystal core aglow with energy, surrounded by some sort of clear liquid. In due time the glow faded, and the entity returned its attention to Artemis and the others, regarding them with a now-bewildered look. "Well, what is it?" It was Artemis, unnerved by the entity's attitude. The Beholder stirred. "You are the spitting image of Neera -- and yet, more than 14,000 years have passed since I was last activated," Janus whispered. "Yes. We dated the shale your crystals were buried in to roughly 12,000 BCE," Artemis affirmed. "They were dug out of the seabed off the coast of Cuba," Seren added, "more than a mile below the ocean's surface, amid the ruins of what might once have been a city." Artemis nodded. "Other ruins and relics have also been --" An eerie keening filled the arboretum, cutting off the Queen Dominus. She and the others involuntarily stepped back, shocked by the Beholder's wail. They traded uneasy glances, unused to seeing grief in anything other than another human being, and the Beholder was clearly not human. "The world I knew is gone!" Janus cried out. "Others of my kind are unresponsive, and I am isolated from the Oversoul. The omnisexes are nowhere to be found. None of the magnificent CITIrings and megalithic cities of the Consensus -- teeming with the people I was sworn to serve and enlighten -- grace the skies nor dot the land! "Then there's the planet itself ... the ice sheets have retreated, exposing land that now blooms with life ... oceans have risen, drowning other lands ... there are deserts where savannas and forests once dominated and vice-versa. And the beasts -- so many have vanished, includi