While Hemsford and his troops were exploring the edge of the Pellian Temple Complex with Nova's unknown aid, and while Derek and his party were landing nearby, Paul Rosstowski's party was coming in for a landing in the southern part of the city.

They knew were the enemy was; they were forced to land under Rikashan fire.

As laser charges tinkled and hissed around them, Paul Rosstowski yelled, "Out of your ships on the run, guys! NOW!" and he just barely dodged a burst of fire as the cockpit of his Astro Mallard Jet Recon Boat opened and he jumped and hit the ground. Turning his head back towards the boat he had flown down in, Paul cried, "Hartcliffe! Get the engines off on this crate!"

"You don't 'ave to tell me twice, mate," snapped back Bryan Hartcliffe as he deactivated the engines on the boat he had flown down. "Graham!" he barked over his mike. "Engines off on your boat, and then your five have to hit the ground running!"

"We heard you, Hartcliffe," yelled Graham, the other boat pilot. "What do you want us to do?"

"Easy, take cover and then start shooting, flyboy," barked Rosstowski. Paul undid a grenade and said, "Hey Bryan, I think I can put a stop to some of this crap."

"How? Make a wish?"

"No, chuck a grenade," yelled Paul. He threw the grenade, and it went off near the enemy position, taking care of the enemy troops, and also, incidentally, partly blocking the entrance to the cave.

"Nice move, Paul," snorted Hartcliffe. "We wanna get in that way, and you hadda go and block it."

"Well, there's ten of us," said Rosstowski. "And I'm in command. So let's move our butts and move those rocks. And, also incidentally, some of those corpses."

"Yeah, before they begin to stink the bloody place up," countered Hartcliffe.

A while later, with the rocks cleared, Rosstowski led Hartcliffe and the rest of the party down into the cave. There was something of an ominous feel to it, a feeling that only grew worse as they went forward a few meters and discovered that the floor was slanting down towards a flight of stairs.

Rosstowski noticed that Hartcliffe was sweating. "What's the problem?"

"You know all about me and underground places. Remember?"

"Oh, yeah, that…" said Rosstowski, remembering what Bryan had said when he had confided in him about his fear of underground places back in the 20^th Century when they had to briefly enter an old coal mine shaft in Northeastern Pennsylvania.

"But I'm doin' this," said Hartcliffe. "I am not gonna be chicken, and we are gonna find Angie. So, let's go on, huh?"

For twenty minutes or so, the group walked on in the dim light given off by flashlights that Rosstowski, Hartcliffe, and Graham were carrying.

"You notice something about this passage?" said Graham.

"What?" asked Hartcliffe.

"This isn't a natural cave any longer," mused Rosstowski. "See? These walls are smooth, and not random. And there's joints between these blocks. Very old construction. We're in a man-made complex of some kind."

One of the troopers, a Combat Group Sergeant known as Mancowitz, suddenly jumped away from an archway as soon as he heard a click above him. It was a good thing he did so; especially since a huge brazen blast door slid down with a loud BOOM and sealed the hallway a moment later.

"That damn thing nearly crushed me!" he yelled. Rosstowski noted with discomfort that Mancowitz's voice echoed loudly down the corridor.

"Would you be quiet?" whispered Paul. "I've got a feeling that there's somebody or something around that can hear us."

"Yes, we can hear you, Terrans," whispered a low voice filled with malice that made the party reach for their Astro-Automatics.

"Relax. We're not going to condescend to killing you ourselves. We'll let the Pellians' little pet do so," whispered the evil voice. "Did you know that the Pellians have sick lifeforms on their planet, guarding the secret places of their realm? Not all of them are friendly. We'll see how you like this creature in just a moment. Oh, by the way, we Rikashans don't fancy this thing much, either. You see, it's killed four of our men already."

"Well, let's hope it turns on you!" roared Hartcliffe. "Better yet, why don't 'cha let it eat you or whatever? And where's me wife?"

"Bryan, help!" screamed Angie from somewhere in the darkness.

"ANGIE!" replied the angry British pilot.

"Don't worry, your wife will have a wonderful home in my personal harem," said the evil voice. "My name is Marat, and I am Razov's executive officer. However, he does permit me a share of the spoils. By the way, you'll find her clothes a little further up the passage. We've taken her unfeminine weapon and outfitted her in something more suited to a harem slave! HA HA HA HA HA HA!"

"I'm coming!" yelled Hartcliffe, who was promptly restrained by both Rosstowski and Graham.

"Hey!" protested Bryan.

"This isn't just for you and her," said Rosstowski. "The mission! Remember the mission! Wildstar still has to lead men and concentrate on his job, even though he or we have no idea what happened to Nova, or even know if she's dead or alive."

"Bull. We know what's happened to Angie! She's probably about to be raped by that filthy alien pervert!"

"Hartcliffe, we have a job to do," snapped Rosstowski. "If something happens to me, you're in charge of this party. Or have you forgotten your rank and forgotten that you’re a Black Tiger?"

Bryan stood there for a moment with his fists clenched. "Okay….so you don't rank me out to Wildstar, let's do our jobs. But if I see that filthy mother and Angie together, I'll do all I can to rescue her, not only because she's me wife, but also because she's a fellow Tiger. The bloody Black Tigers never leave anyone behind if they can avoid it!"

"Now you're thinking…" said Rosstowski. "Let's go."

They went a few more steps, and suddenly, Rosstowski stumbled against a rock on the floor of the dimly lit passage. His gloved hands flew out to ward him off from the wall, but he still stumbled into the wall….

…which began to turn about as soon as his hands hit it. Before he could react, something like a secret door in a traditional Victorian haunted house spun around, throwing Rosstowski off into an unknown darkness somewhere, sealing shut with a loud click.

"Hartcliffe! He's stuck behind this!" yelled Graham. "It's some kind of crazy booby-trap! I can't open it!"

"Keep trying, Graham…Aspinall, Colon, Evans, you help him!" ordered Hartcliffe as three Tigers went to help Graham. "Mancowitz, Schultz, Garrett, Nguyen, and…you other Marine…what's your name?"

"Private First Class Preston, sir!" barked a very young looking Space Marine who stood near Garrett and Nguyen, who were fellow Marines.

"Quiet, Private, they'll hear ya," whispered Hartcliffe. "Okay, we've got me, two temporary Star Force troopers from Combat, and three permanent Troopers from Marine Group. We're goin' forward to scout out this passage and see if we can see any signs of the enemy. We're splittin' up into pairs…you follow me, Mancowitz. Schultz, you take Garrett, Lance Corporal Nguyen, you take Preston and look out for the bleedin' kid!" said Hartcliffe, who was suddenly sounding like the officer he was. "We're keepin' close…everyone keep your eyes peeled."  

"Yessir," they all responded.

"Let's move," said Hartcliffe.

They slowly moved down the passage, being sure to keep their eyes peeled.

A few meters down the passage, Hartcliffe spied a bundle. Before he could issue an order, Preston ran up to it.

"Hey! What are you doing?" asked Nguyen.

"Checking this out, Corporal. It looks familiar." He stopped and knelt down, looking at the bundle of black, gold, and white cloth. "It looks like a Black Tiger uniform, female issue," he said, poking at the bundle with the barrel of his Astro-Automatic. "Uniform, tights, boots, even ladies' underwear," he said with a blush. "Dog tags…they'll tell us who it belonged to…"

"Hey…don't pick it up!" said Mancowitz.

"Why not, Sarge?" asked Preston as he picked up the bundle.

Behind them, a heavy barred portcullis fell from a crack in the overhead and slammed shut, sealing off the way back. Another one slammed to ahead of them, and green blaster fire began to rake the passage.

Preston didn't get down fast enough; the first bolt of fire killed the teenager with just seven months' worth of EDF service. The second surge of energy caught Schultz.

Hartcliffe and the others hit the ground just in time and were soon returning fire through the portcullis that was before them. After a quick, fierce firefight, some screams were heard off in the darkness, and the Rikashan blaster fire stopped.

Hartcliffe threw himself against the barred door. It refused to move. In anger and frustration, he body-slammed the door again with a loud four-letter word added for good measure. Another slam, and another curse or two made him realize the door wasn't about to move for him.

"We're trapped, damnit!" he yelled.

"Maybe we can lift it up from below, sir," suggested Nguyen.

"Or maybe we can burn through it with our weapons?" said Mancowitz.

"Or maybe Preston can help us," said Hartcliffe.

"How?" said Nguyen. "The stupid kid's dead…and he hadda mess with that boobytrap…"

"He has grenades on his body, Lance Corporal," said Hartcliffe in sarcastic tones. "Now, if we nick those, and if we can get back like…thirty meters…down by the other door, and put these suckers on time-release…" said Hartcliffe.

"Not bad, sir," said Nguyen.

"That's why they pay me more than you, mate," chuckled Hartcliffe. "You may not believe it, man, but I can figure out useful crap in a tight spot."

Paul Rosstowski found himself sliding down what seemed to be an endless tunnel that went on and on like some sort of weird funhouse ride. The chute also had utterly smooth walls; all of his attempts to steady himself led to naught.

After about five minutes worth of falling and sliding, he fell hard onto a stone floor. His impact left him knocked silly for about three minutes.

When Paul got his wits about him again, he found himself lying on the floor inside a dimly-lit chamber illuminated only with guttering torches.

Not far away, there was a locked iron door. Paul found out it was locked by rattling it several times.

"What's this?" Paul mumbled as he tripped over something on the floor. Picking up a torch off the wall with one hand, and his Astro-Automatic with the other, Rosstowski discovered that what he had tripped over was something that looked like a human skeleton.

"Not 'human', but Pellian," he said to himself as he examined the remnants of the robes it had been dressed in. "Remember, Paul, you aren't in the ruins of Philly any more. I thought Telezart looked bad, but this place is much worse. Wonder where I am?"

Off in the distance, he heard a voice screaming, "Keep your hands off me! Please! Stop it! Don't touch my clothes! Not that you idiots dressed me in much!"

"Angie!" he yelled. "ANGIE!" he cried out as he heard what were unmistakably Angelique Hartcliffe's screams over harsh laughter. Then he heard several slaps, and heard some guttural words in what he guessed was Rikashan as her screams intensified. Then, her screams went down to soft mews as he heard guttural sounds from one of the Rikashans that gave a nasty picture of what had probably just happened to Angie.

With his teeth gritted, Paul Rosstowski tried to shake open the door, but nothing budged.

He wheeled around as a previously unseen portcullis went up with a loud grating noise. Then, there came the sound of heavy footsteps, accompanied by groans.

"What the hell is that?" said Paul as he shone the torch over to the door.

A shape of something larger than human stature was shambling slowly into the room.

"Great…that damn passage put me into some kind of monster's den," said Paul as the ground shook a few times under his feet thanks to seismic disturbances in the planet's crust. Stones fell from the ceiling, but they only bounced off the creature that was shambling into the room.

The thing was visible to the light of Paul's torch a moment later.

The creature seemed to be made from clay, one huge animated block of clay. It had two legs, two thick arms, was over two meters tall, and its head emerged from its shoulders like a weird parody of a human being. Shapes resembling clothing were carved into its body, and something resembling a necklace with an undecipherable word carved in its center was carved in its chest. Its head had a face on it, or the unmoving, un-alive parody of one. About its "forehead", beneath its "hair" there was a headband of some kind carved into the massive grey clay-like stuff that made up this creature, and it bore another undecipherable word in its center.

"That thing looks like a refugee from the Late, Late Show," yelled Paul as he got a bead on it. "Hey you! You…golem…or zombie or whatever you are! Stop it! I'm armed!"

The creature opened its "mouth" and a guttural, primitive moan came out. It kept on coming.

"I don't want to hurt you!" yelled Paul. "Stop, stop!"

It kept on coming, tearing away the ornate brass holder that held one of the torches to the wall as if it was made of paper. It snarled again, and kept on coming, holding the twisted metal before it in its right hand like a club.

Rosstowski fired at it. His gun's blue surge of laser energy went through the creature, leaving a good-sized hole in its stomach that he could see through.

Paul's shot didn't faze the creature, let alone stop it. Paul fired again at its right hand, but the hand stayed attached even though a good chunk of its wrist fell away. The thing swung the piece of metal at Paul, who ducked just in time as he scurried away.

Rosstowski noticed that the creature's attack left a dent in the stone wall that was several centimeters deep. The wounds he had managed to shoot in the thing were just closing right up as new clay appeared from nowhere and sealed the hole and the rent he had made in the clay monster.

Paul fell over a block of stone, and hit the ground hard. His Astro-Automatic went flying…right into the creature's chest.

The thing stopped, puzzled by the Terran weapon. It moved it around in its hand, and then squished it hard with one of those gross, hamlike hands. A moment later, the twisted remains of Paul's weapon fell to the floor with a dull clunk.

Paul then just dodged a block of loose stone that the creature threw at him. Realizing he was being backed into a corner, he thrust his torch at the monster, thinking that maybe fire would hurt it.

The creature just grabbed the burning torch and threw it away. In the dim light of the two remaining torches, Paul saw his very death coming.

He began to pray to under his breath…not a Catholic prayer, oddly enough, but a barely remembered "sinner's prayer" he had once seen on a pamphlet and remembered. Saying the prayer with an attitude of faith was supposed to secure one forgiveness of all of their sins directly from the Big Guy Himself, Paul remembered.

Paul had just barely finished his prayer when the creature put its cold, clammy hands right around his neck and began squeezing. As Paul's breath was cut off, he thought, Well, Lord, if You heard that, at least I'm assured I'll go to the right place since I know You paid the price for me. I guess You can soon tell me why You decided in Your Wisdom I should die alone like this without ever meeting Aliscea. I guess Wildstar can carry on the mission, if he's still alive, that is….

Right before Paul blacked out, he saw another torch bobbing its way into the room through his blurry eyes.

A young girl's high voice yelled "R'Tanda! Shar! Daga…ShaR!"

The strangling stopped, and then, a moment later, the clay hands went limp.

Literally speechless, Paul Rosstowski saw someone in a black floor-length hooded cloak and sandals come running into the room. The face was invisible under the hood, but Paul guessed that the hand holding the torch was feminine.

"Can you breathe?" said a somewhat high, cultured voice in an accent that somehow reminded Rosstowski of either Mary Poppins or a female singer from Britain.

"Barely," gasped Paul in a guttural voice.

"Good. I think I got to you right in time, Paul Rosstowski. Can you move?"

"I'm not gonna…be good at it…" coughed Paul. He fell into a spasm of coughing as the young girl guided him away from the creature with strong but gentle hands.

"You’re clear? Good," said the girl. "Over here…stand a few get'renth away from it…nice! Now, back to the clay from which you were made! Y'veh!"

To Paul's shock, the quiet, statue-like form that had been the creature quickly lost its shape and "melted" back down into a huge glob of shapeless clay at the girl's command.

"Not a bad trick," mumbled Paul. "What was that thing?"

"A golem, in your tongue." said the girl. "Behind that iron door lies the originals of our Sacred Scriptures. This creature was made long ago by the priests of our people to guard the Scriptures and to guard the sanctity of the room in which the original scrolls lay. However, the Rikashans learned the secret word that enables one to control it and they commanded it to kill you Earth people. When I said that word again, and then ordered it to stop, it went dead. That word was carved above its head. When I said another word, the Secret Name of the Most High carved on the pendant about its chest, the spell that animated it faded, and it became clay again. A simple task, if one knows what she is doing, of course," said the girl as she plunged her torch into the dead mass of clay and then sat down on it, perhaps showing her mastery over what had been a monster. "I can assure you, by the way, that your prayer was heard. You now possess life eternal, so far as I can see it with the vision given to me, since I can perceive many things. "

"You know who and what I am?"

Under her hood, the girl giggled. "Oh? You haven't guessed it, yet? It must be the lack of oxygen to your brain; that golem almost strangled you. I'm surprised you don't recognize my voice, although maybe it's because you're not hearing me in your mind anymore, nor seeing me as a translucent astral vision. Although, I daresay, taking the hood off would help, too. Permit me to introduce myself, my love," said the girl as she sat up and threw her hood back.

A face startlingly like Nova's appeared in the dim torchlight, although Paul noticed that the hair was both longer and just a little darker than that of his friend.

"I am Aliscea D'Shal, Lady and Astral Protector of Pellias. I have seen you from afar, Paul Rosstowski of Earth, and I know you love me from afar."

Paul's heart sped up, and feelings awoke inside him that were so strong that he thought his heart would burst. "Yes, I do, too," he stammered. "I…I think I love you."

"May I come away with thee?"

"Uh…uh…Yea, I would have it," said Paul, agreeing with the sentiments but wondering why he was using such strange language. "But…why are we moving so quickly? I've dreamt of you, seen you, but I barely know you!"

"It's the same with you, Paul, and it feels funny to me, too. I knew you from afar, and loved you from afar. You did the same when our minds touched, even though you may not have known it."

"But…we're so different…but, funny…I feel like I've known you all my life. I used to dream about you…you know…when I was married to my ex…even then, I dreamed about you!"

"You saw me from afar." smiled Aliscea. "Just as I saw you and dreamed of you…years ago."

"It's like…I was really meant for you, wasn't it?"

"Yes, and me for you. I knew I'd meet you someday, even though I didn't even know where you'd come from. For that reason, Paul, I've never been…with a man before."

"I don't know if my marriage was really even a true marriage," mused Paul.

"What did you have of her, Paul?" asked Aliscea as she yawned, and then stretched, a stretch that started at her neck and went down to her toes. Paul guessed that the body swathed by those clothes was a very young and limber one, somehow…one that looked gorgeous unveiled.

Why am I thinking that? thought Paul. We've just met! "We're so different," he stammered, "and yet…"

"May I finish it?" asked Aliscea. "We almost believe in the same things, although the names and words we use to describe the Most High and the Visions He gives are different in our cultures. But come. We don't have long, though, Paul," she said. "Pellias grows weaker by the moment, and Mother and I have a harder time holding it together moment by moment. But, it was destined that I meet you. Come to me, I have a secret to show you."

"Good. We must proceed. Now," said Aliscea with a tone of command as she stood up and cast away her cloak. Paul saw that, beneath, she was clad only in the short black long-sleeved dress and ornate sandals and necklace he had seen her wearing in the vision on the Argo's bridge in a time that seemed like a long, long eternity ago.

Aliscea knelt before Paul on the floor of the chamber and murmured some more words. Then, she stood. "Considering that I am the Matrix-Bearer, and have the Authority to make and record such an oath, and being of sound mind, and being of the same understanding and same faith in the Eternal One and His Living Word Eternal, I now ask this of thee. Do you, Paul Rosstowski, consent to take me, Aliscea D'Shal, as your mate?"

"I do," gulped Paul, staggered at how fast this was proceeding.

"Likewise, do I, Aliscea D'Shal, take thee, Paul Rosstowski, to be my mate. Wilt thou, Paul Rosstowski, joined eternally unto Him Who reigns forever, join with me in the bond of heart, soul, spirit and body known as Shalinskar, to share with me from afar my thoughts, to share my fears, to share my innermost feelings?"

"I do."

"Likewise, do I, Aliscea D'Shal consent to share the bond of Shalinskar with thee, who art now both Pellian and Terran. Wilt thou bond in body with me, subordinate to the Will above all Wills to be ready to bear issue at His Pleasure?"

Paul really gulped at that one. "I do."

"I do consent unto the same. And wilt thou share unto me even though a spear pierce thy heart, the bond to defeat the Dark Lord, minion of the first Rebel and accuser, and all his spawn and servants?"

"I do."

"I consent unto the same unto death." She held hands with him for a moment, and, for a moment, everything else fell away.

Paul felt some of her fears and hopes passing into him, and he felt some of his passing into her. Before they knew it, they were kissing, holding an embrace right there in the cold chamber, kneeling together on the stone floor as the very ground of Pellias shook deep beneath the chamber. They ignored the ground quake that caused more stones to tumble off the inner top of the dungeon wall.

They held hands, and Paul felt himself being led out of the room. An iron door opened before Aliscea's murmured command, and they found themselves going down a corridor deeper in the complex. They then went up a long, long staircase and then came above ground for a moment, and Paul was startled to feel snowflakes hitting his face. The ground shook again.

"Pellias is dying," said Aliscea. "She will never see another dawn, but our people might. To ensure this happens, we must get indoors, through that door, and then finish what we must do, with all phases of the bond of Shalinskar we started. Then we must finish before we meet my mother, your Captain, Nova, Desslok, and all of the others who are waiting for us."

"They're waiting for us?" said Paul.

"Yes. We don't have time. To do what I have to do unharmed, we must emerge together from the bridal chamber at once. I swear, despite everything that happens, that I will be at your side forever. You understand?"

"Yes," said Paul, as incredible feelings ran through him as he felt an incredible love and desire for this strange woman who stood beside him.

Then, in a gesture he had never done with his ex-wife, Paul swept Aliscea off her feet and they ran together through a doorway into a vast building. Then, they ran down stairs into a tunnel, and then ran along other tunnels. As they ran, Paul continued sensing a growing, increasing urgency, a loving, holy desire to be with his wife. He told himself that, although this was a strange place to have such a desire, in a city collapsing into a ruin of disaster and war it felt right somehow. Even in the midst of war…a war he could tell was still going on since he saw a Gamilon destroyer rushing overhead, bombarding some spot in the city, followed by two flights of Black Tigers from the Argo.

The thoughts, the fears, the shared jokes, all shared at glance after glance, without a word. Finally, they stopped.

"We’re here," said Aliscea. "A suitable place, near the edge of the tombs deep underneath our Temple. Here, we shall be married."

When they were there, in a room that contained a bed, Paul felt great, and not only for the most obvious, carnal reason.

They lay down together, sharing their first kiss. There, the sharing of feelings and sensations and thoughts and memories went on, combining gorgeously with the feel of romance as they kissed, hugged, and then stripped their bodies bare along with their thoughts, hopes, fears, and defenses.

Everything else melted into a gorgeous, passionate haze as they held hands, knew what they had done in school, knew what the slang in their languages meant, and passed together into a void of happiness where they could have died together, and it wouldn't have even mattered. They sang to each other, in Pellian, in Terran English, in whatever they could think of…

A long time passed.

Paul Rosstowski woke up, realized he was in bed, and wondered what had happened.

Then, he realized his bunk on the Argo had no silken sheets, nor was it surrounded by candles.

He realized, with a start, that he was lying there next to a beautiful young lady who was as bare as a newborn child.

She woke up. For a moment, he thought, he feared, he was committing adultery with Nova, until he looked into the dark eyes and saw they were even deeper and more mysterious than those of Mrs. Wildstar, and that the blond hair around both of them was almost waist-length on the girl.

"Paul, don't worry about it. Memory loss sometimes happens after a Joining."

"Ahhh…"

"I'm Aliscea Rosstowski, maiden name D'Shal, your wife of three and a half hours per all of the laws and religious strictures of Pellias. I am clergy here as well as half of the top of the surviving Government. It's like we flew to Rome and got married by the Pope. "

"Hey mom, I just got married by and got married to Mother Superior," chuckled Paul.

Aliscea giggled at that. "Mother Superior jump the gun…" she sang, knowing the tune perfectly. "But, tell me, aren't I much cuter than the nun back at your old church?"

"Hell, yes!" he said, laughing as he and Aliscea ended up having a pillow fight with pillows he didn't know were there. Then, and only then, did he look around. "Uh…where are we? Is this some kind of…communal bunkhouse? People in bed, it's so quiet. Are they asleep?"

"No, they're dead. You see, we had to do what we had to do in the edge of a tomb," said Aliscea as she got up and began to dress, ignoring the shocked look on Paul's face. "And our Joining restored my energies, although we must complete the bond later. Now, and only now, after helping to hold Pellias together, can I show your people what I must show them."

"What do you have to show them?"

"Why Pellias is here. Why, and how. And I must show you all the face of our mutual enemy. We have not declared war on him, he has declared war on us. He is a legend, and a nightmare all at once. He seeks the destruction, or subjugation, of all intelligent life. He is like death itself. And he is a most personal and mortal enemy."

"Who is he?"

"Ekogaru the Great. And, by an unholy marriage, long, long ago, he became my forefather, father through many fathers of my father, who returned to his service. By many generations, he is also my great-grandfather many times removed," said Aliscea with her teeth gritted as she tied one of her sandals back on. "But, come. You'll learn that soon. And you'll be wise to take a sword from one of the dead ones over there. I grant you permission, husband."

"Why…will I need a sword?" asked Paul as he pulled his Star Force shirt back on.

"Because the remnants of the damn Rikashans know where we are. And they're coming."