I'm calling this a "repost" rather than a "rewrite" because the single
change I made to the previous version covers only a few paragraphs...
but it is a rather important change to Girt's explanation of why Alsotho
can't touch the Ballerana. I'll be sending the second half of the
episode shortly.

And because I forgot to include it with the previous post, here's the
content warning for the series: There will be adult situations in future
episodes, but I will do my best to write them in good taste and will tag
such portions appropriately. There will also be some graphic violence
and dark angsty moments, but tagging those would spoil the fun.

Now... on with the story!



    His life had come to this. Standing atop the cliff that overlooked
the entire city, he took stock of his life one last time, wondering, as
he often did, just where he had gone so wrong. The stack of papers in
his hand always seemed to offer the answer he sought, but it was too
elusive to grasp.
    Take this test, for instance. Its message, written in a teacher's
red ink: "F - ONE MORE AND YOU FAIL THE COURSE." Of course, he couldn't
even remember what course it was anymore, and actually reading the
questions, or even the title at the top of the page, was more effort
than he was willing to exert pondering one failure of many.
    He shuffled the test to the bottom of the stack, and found himself
face to face with a handwritten letter in purple ink - written by a girl
whose name he didn't bother to recall. He'd scratched it out on this
paper, but the rest of the words were still readable. "I never want to
see you again!" was as far as he needed to read. Memories... what good
were they when they were all the same?
    A photograph, himself and a girl his own age. Her formerly striking
face had a jagged red X across it - his own work, that. An etching of a
gravestone was next. He couldn't bring himself to look at the name above
"REST IN PEACE 1990-2037". What good was it to remember the dead? They
were no longer a part of his world. But he was about to join theirs.
    He opened his jacket - it wasn't cold, even atop the cliff, but the
inner pocket would be a perfect place for his suicide note. Of course,
he hadn't written a note. The test, the letter, the photograph, the
etching... those were the pictures that would be worth any thousands of
words he could write. Anyone who might have cared would understand from
those snapshots why he had done what he was about to do.
    The papers tucked securely away in the pocket, he spread his arms
and leapt from the precipice. The wind whistled silently through his
hair as he plummeted toward the ground below, and he closed his eyes to
avoid having to look at the death flying up to meet him. He shut down
all of his senses, waiting for the great darkness to claim him and end
his suffering.
    It sounded, oddly enough, like fingers snapping.
    The sensation of falling stopped abruptly. The air in front of his
face felt cold, like the air right above a hard floor early in the
morning. He opened his eyes, and found himself staring at an enormous
wall. No... it was the ground, inches below him. He was floating! He
felt oddly safe, and calm... yes, it had to be!
    He lifted his head, letting his gaze rest on the man in dark clothes
standing at the base of the cliff. "Am I dead?" he asked the specter.
    "Not quite yet," the figure replied, in a voice that, while cold and
emotionless, was not what he would have expected Death to sound like.
    "You're not Death," he said, disappointed. "Who are you?"
    "My name is never spoken aloud," replied the man, lifting his head
to allow the floating man a glimpse under his hat. His face appeared
quite old. "You can call me Girt."
    "Girt, huh?" The young man looked down at his body, then back at the
old man. "Why am I just floating here?"
    "I've decided to give you a second chance," replied Girt, as if it
was a perfectly natural thing to do. Heck, maybe it was, for him.
    "I don't want a second chance. Just let me fall!"
    Girt shrugged. "Very well." He snapped his black gloved fingers
again, and gravity reasserted itself on the young man. He fell the
remaining few inches to the ground, landing without a scratch.
    He climbed to his feet and brushed the dirt from his mouth with the
back of his arm. "That was dirty, old man. You know how long it took me
to climb up there?"
    In response, Girt merely snapped his fingers yet again. Instantly,
the young man found himself standing atop the cliff once again. He
whirled to find Girt standing just behind him.
    "How did you do that?" he demanded, suddenly recognizing that there
was something not altogether normal about his new acquaintance.
    "I have powers," replied Girt. "But I didn't come here to talk about
myself." He stared off to the side, presenting the young man his
profile. "I'll be frank. I need your help."
    The young man's head swam with questions. Someone with such strange
powers, needing his help? "What do you need MY help for?"
    "It is difficult to explain," Girt apologized. "But I will try my
best." He cleared his throat before beginning his story. "For years,
evil forces have been working to destroy this Universe. They possess
abilities that human science cannot explain - powers that make them
undefeatable by any means known to most humans. Only the Ballerana have
the power to fight them."
    "Great. Nice story," said the young man dismissively. "But what does
it have to do with me?" A strange thought occurred to him, and he gaped.
"Don't tell me... that I'M one of these 'Ballerana'?"
    Girt shook his head. "No. The Ballerana are all female, and have
special powers that can counter those of the evil ones. Until recently,
the Ballerana have held their own in the conflict. However, the evil
ones have begun to employ a new force against which the Ballerana are
helpless. Thus, they need you to protect them."
    "What can I do?" the young man asked in disbelief. "If these
'Ballerana' don't have the power to beat the 'new force', what chance
would I have?"
    "There are certain uses to which the power of the Ballerana cannot
be put," replied Girt. "However, a human who is not restricted by the
limitations of those powers would be able to defeat the threats that the
Ballerana cannot handle on their own."
    "So why me?" he repeated. "Why not go get somebody big and strong?"
    "I cannot answer that question now," said Girt. "You are not ready
to know the answer."
    "So, you're hiding something?" asked the young man, taking a
meaningful step toward the cliff edge. "Forget it, then. If you can't
tell me the whole story, I'm not interested."
    Girt held up a hand to stop him. "Before you go, there's someone I'd
like you to meet." He snapped his fingers, causing a woman to appear
next to him. The young man couldn't help staring at her long blonde
hair, smooth legs and arms, the way she filled her tight clothes...
    He took a careful step toward her, expecting her to disappear the
second he breathed. "Is she... real?"
    The woman smiled cordially. "Hello. My name is Verlinda."
    "Verlinda is the leader of the Ballerana," explained Girt. "The rest
are just as lovely."
    The old man's words barely reached the young man, as his senses were
getting their fill of the beautiful woman. So this was a Ballerana? "I'm
listening," he lied. "What do you want me to do?" He reached out to take
her hand and kiss it, but she abruptly vanished with a snap of Girt's
fingers. "Hey!" he shouted at Girt. "What gives?"
    Girt's stare was stone cold. "Listen well. Your touch will weaken
her; your kiss will poison her; and if you come any closer than that,
she will die. You will be devoting your life to protecting these women,
for though the Ballerana have the power to fight the evil that seeks to
consume this Universe, they cannot use that power to defend themselves."
His words carried an air of regret, but his tone was as flat as ever.
What was he feeling? "That's where you come in," he continued. "You will
be the Defender."
    "So, let me get this straight. I'm going to spend the rest of my
life surrounded by beautiful women that I can't even touch?" It sounded
like Hell! "I don't get it! How am I supposed to save them if I can't
touch them?" And a better question... "Why can't I touch them, anyway?"
    "You may touch them, if it is necessary to save their lives," Girt
corrected him. "But there must be no love in your touch, or you will do
more harm than good."
    The young man squinted in confusion. "I don't follow you. What do
you mean 'love in my touch'?"
    "The Ballerana have very powerful magic," began Girt. The young man
started to protest, saying that he didn't believe in magic, but one
glance at Girt's fingertips reminded him that he was going to have to
open his mind to new experiences. "It is because of that magic that they
have no emotions of their own. Instead, they pick up on the emotions of
others and empathize with them. The Defender will have the closest bond
with them, and thus the strongest empathy. If you are afraid, she will
be afraid. If you are angry, she will be angry. And if you fall in love
with her... she will return that love."
    "Sounds better than the women I've known," the young man said
morosely. "What's the catch?"
    Girt shook his head sadly. "The emotions of the Ballerana are very
unstable. Most emotions are manageable, but the longing that a love-torn
Ballerana feels will destroy her. Physical contact only makes that
longing stronger; the more intimate the contact, the greater the emotion
it provokes. Yet even the power of love alone will tear away at her from
the inside until it kills her. That is why you must never allow yourself
to fall in love with a Ballerana."
    The young man shook his head. "I could never do that. I'm in love
already." His heart skipped a beat at the mere mental image of the woman
he'd seen. "I'd love them all to death in no time."
    "But without your protection, they will all die at the hands of the
evil ones," Girt pointed out. "I know, and they know, that you are only
human. You will make mistakes, and some of the Ballerana will suffer for
them. But they are depending on you to save the rest of them. You have
been chosen to be the Defender. If you can't handle that..." He glanced
meaningfully at the cliff edge. "... you may as well jump."
    "So what happens if I do jump?" he asked hypothetically. "What if
I'm not willing to take the risk? What's in this for me?"
    "I'm offering you a second chance at life," replied Girt, obviously
missing the underlying acceptance in the young man's tone. "You've never
made anything out of the life that you began, have you?" The question
left no room for an answer, but Girt clearly knew the truth. "But you
can make a difference in the lives of the Ballerana. And when the fight
is over, I will be able to give you a new life." He paused meaningfully.
"You can be the success that you never were in this life."
    Who could pass up a chance like that? "All right, I'll do it,"
agreed the young man, trying not to let his enthusiasm show too much.
"So what exactly do I do? Do I get magical powers like you?"
    Girt shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry. You're not ready." And with
that, he dealt the young man a swift kick, knocking him over the edge.

BALLERANA
Episode 1: The Man With No Past

    The young man tried to open his eyes, only to find them already
open. The total blackness was all he could see. His feet felt as if they
were touching something that would pass for a ground, though. He turned
his head, scanning the endless darkness.
    "This way," said Girt's voice. He turned to face it, and finally
made out the shape of the old man, slightly less dark than the space
around him.
    "What is this place?" he asked, afraid to take his eyes off of Girt
for fear of losing him to the darkness again.
    "This is a Universe that exists beyond the dimensions of space and
time. Space and time do not exist here except as you choose to perceive
them. It is here where I will train you to be the Defender."
    "Train me?" he shot back skeptically. "Why should I trust you? You
pushed me off of that cliff!"
    "You jumped," Girt replied matter-of-factly.
    "Yeah, and then you pushed me!" the younger retorted, then realized
how ludicrous it sounded. "What kind of start is that?"
    "You had to tie up the loose ends of your former life," Girt
explained. "You are no longer who you were. Your old life is over."
    "Old life is over..." repeated the young man, uncomprehending. "So
I'm dead, but I'm still alive? How is that possible?"
    "I have the power," Girt reminded him. "Now, you will need to choose
a new name for yourself."
    "A new name? Why?"
    "If you've grown attached to your old name, you may keep it," Girt
offered graciously.
    He shook his head. "Nah, I hate my old name. It reminds me of the
mess I made of my life."
    Girt nodded. "Then choose a new one."
    "What should I call myself?" the young man mused, mulling over
possibilities. "Something heroic, I think..." Names flashed through his
mind... yet one word seemed to persist as the others swam past. "What do
you think of the name Alsotho?" he asked.
    Girt nodded. "It is indeed a name for a hero."
    Alsotho shook his head. "It's weird... I don't know why I chose that
name. But I like it."
    "It suits you well," agreed Girt. "So, shall we proceed? You must
learn how to be the Defender."
    "Right," agreed Alsotho. "So what exactly do I have to do?"
    "First, you must learn to fight," said Girt.
    "I still don't see why you couldn't have gotten someone who already
knew how to fight," Alsotho grumbled, lowering his voice so that Girt
couldn't hear. Raising his voice, he replied, "I took a martial arts
class for a few years. I could probably remember a bit of it."
    "Good," Girt said sincerely. "Then let's see how much skill you
possess." He swung his arm in an underhand circle, as if pitching a
softball. At the terminus of the arc, he snapped his fingers, producing
a long bo staff, which flew from his hand at Alsotho.
    Alsotho managed to catch the weapon despite his surprise, and spun
it in his hands, staring at it. "A staff? I've never used one of these
before," he admitted.
    "Then it's a good time to start, isn't it?" asked Girt, snapping his
fingers again to create a staff of his own. He advanced on Alsotho,
swinging the staff menacingly.
    "Hey, aren't you supposed to be teaching me?" protested Alsotho as
he backed away.
    "If you want to live, you'll learn," replied Girt, swinging at
Alsotho's head.
    Alsotho clumsily parried the blow with his own staff, nearly losing
his grip in the process. "Hey, watch it!" he shouted. This wasn't like
any lesson he'd ever had before!
    "Do you think your enemies will be concerned for your health?" asked
Girt, thrusting at Alsotho's chest. Alsotho turned to avoid the strike,
adjusting his grip on his own staff. He quickly glanced at Girt's hands
and tried to mirror their position.
    "That works a bit better," he said, swinging the staff at Girt. Girt
easily turned the blow aside and nodded proudly.
    "You'll learn, eventually," assessed Girt, stepping up the pace of
his attacks. "You'll be an excellent Defender." During that sentence, he
got in three more swings at Alsotho and parried one without pausing in
his own attack. Alsotho continued to defend himself as best he could,
attacking when he saw an opening, but Girt blocked every swing without
seeming to try.
    "You know, you're a lot better than me," panted Alsotho as they
fought. "Why don't you be the Defender yourself?"
    "I have no part in this battle," replied Girt, nearly taking off
Alsotho's head in mid-sentence. "Even training a Defender may be
overstepping my bounds, but it is a risk I must take, for the sake of
the Ballerana."
    "Whatever," Alsotho said lifelessly, not willing to pursue the issue
further at the risk of losing his concentration. He poured all of his
effort into controlling the staff, and very nearly managed to bring an
end down on Girt's foot before his mentor stepped out of the way and
attacked anew from the side.
    The fight continued for what seemed like hours, and Alsotho could
feel his skill improving as he fought, but not once did he manage to
strike Girt. Even the combinations he created failed to penetrate Girt's
perfect defense, while Girt raised more than a few bruises on Alsotho's
skin.
    Finally, Alsotho stepped back and let the staff fall from his hands.
"I don't think I'll ever be good enough to beat you."
    Suddenly, Alsotho felt the sharp sting of Girt's staff against his
ankle, and his legs were swept out from under him in a flash. "Hey, what
the -" he shouted, as he floated several feet above where he believed
the ground to be. He hadn't even seen Girt move!
    "We have time," said Girt, leaning against his staff. "In fact, we
have all the time we need."
    From that moment on, Alsotho's real training began. Girt schooled
him in fighting with various weapons, all by the same method - "The
Desperation Method" as Alsotho thought of it. The katana, the spear, the
dagger, and various other sharp weapons left Alsotho rather bloody
before he became skilled enough to hold his own. Striking weapons such
as staffs and hammers were more his style, and he found quite a natural
knack for the nunchaku early on. The hand-to-hand fights were the most
exciting, especially when Girt suddenly drew a pistol and started firing
at Alsotho. Surprisingly, Alsotho found himself reflexively dodging the
bullets until he could get close enough to kick the weapon out of Girt's
hand. Perhaps all of this training was paying off...
    Was it years later, or perhaps only months, when Alsotho finally
took the initiative during one of his sparring sessions with Girt? It
happened, perhaps coincidentally, while they were practicing the bo
staff...
    "Looks like we're back to where we began again," said Alsotho,
having no trouble holding his own against Girt's assault now.
    "So it would seem," replied Girt.
    Alsotho sighed. "So much for a conversation starter." A few blocked
swings later, he tried again. "So, what do you think, old man? Am I
getting better yet or what?"
    "The purpose of training is to improve ourselves," replied Girt.
    "That's not what I meant!" shouted Alsotho, nearly letting Girt get
in a good swing in his distraction. "I mean, how far am I in my
training? You haven't said a single thing about my progress since we
started!"
    "True," Girt confirmed. "I haven't. How observant of you to notice."
    "Can't you at least say 'Alsotho, you're learning so quickly,' or
'You handle that stick like a pro,' or even 'You have such a determined
look in your eyes, like a champion!'"
    Girt scratched his chin with one hand while the other spun the staff
to block Alsotho's attacks. "You fish for compliments in a very outgoing
way," he said at last.
    Alsotho groaned in exasperation. "What about my skills? How close am
I to becoming the Defender?"
    "As close as you think you are," Girt replied smoothly.
    Alsotho's shock allowed Girt to rap him in the side before he
returned to his paces. "What do you mean by that?" he asked.
    "You are becoming very strong," explained Girt. "But you yourself
must be the judge of when you are ready. When you feel that you can no
longer learn from me, then we will stop this training. But your own
training will never end."
    "It won't?"
    "There is always more to learn," Girt continued wistfully, "even if
I cannot teach you any more. You would be a fool to think you knew
everything there was to know. But from that point, you will be your own
teacher, and your experience as the Defender will be your training."
    "I see," said Alsotho, pretending to consider the slightly cryptic
remark. Suddenly, he swung his arm in a motion so fast that not even his
own eyes could track it. The end of the staff swept Girt's feet from
under him, leaving the old man floating horizontally in the air. "I
think that about does it," he said, hefting the staff to his shoulder.
"I'm as ready as I'm ever going to be."
    Girt nodded. "Excellent. Then it is time for you to meet the
Ballerana." He snapped his fingers, and the darkness became a suburban
alley. Walls covered with what appeared to be styrofoam rose to both
sides, while the back of the alley was marked off by a rusted metal
fence. Alsotho poked dubiously at the styrofoam.
    "Safety covering," replied Girt, both feet on the ground once again.
"It dampens impacts to reduce damage in automobile accidents. All
buildings on this planet are covered with it."
    "This planet?" asked Alsotho. "You mean we're not on Earth?"
    "Remember, the Ballerana fight across the Universe, not just on your
planet." Girt patted Alsotho on the back. "It is unlikely that we will
ever return to your home planet."
    Never see home again? Alsotho shook his head in disbelief. Sure,
there was nothing left for him there... but it was still the planet he'd
grown up on. Now that he thought about it, he'd always taken the Earth
for granted, hadn't he? Even though it was a depressing, polluted,
overpopulated, diseased ball of dirt probably a billion miles away, he
missed...
    "Follow me," said Girt, stepping to the mouth of the alley. "We're
not far from where the Ballerana live."
    Alsotho meekly followed Girt into a street covered with cement
rather than asphalt. The sidewalks themselves were paved with what felt
like rubber, cushioned to provide comfort for those walking on it.
Vehicles that looked like cars without wheels floated past with familiar
Doppler-pitched engine sounds, inches above the road surface below. At
the intersections, one road surface formed a tall bridge above the
other, allowing the cars to pass without crashing into each other. Cars
that needed to turn merely floated off to the side of the bridge until
they could slip into an opening in the traffic above or below. Doors in
the sides of the bridges apparently offered access to pedestrians
wishing to cross the streets.
    The buildings on each side of the street looked like store fronts,
although the signs were written in a language that appeared to be made
of shapes that almost looked like heiroglyphics - he could make out the
occasional picture of an eye, or a book, among the symbols. The
customers entering and exiting the buildings looked human, except that
many of them had hair colors unlike any Alsotho had ever seen: greens,
blues, purples, and no small number of multicolored styles were as
common as shades of brown and other familiar colors.
    Finally, Alsotho stared up into the deep blue sky, where a few birds
and airplanes, and even what appeared to be some kind of space shuttle,
were flying past. The sun was red, and a bit larger than the one he was
used to, but it was warm just the same. "You know," he decided aloud, "I
think I'm going to like it here."
    Girt turned to the door of the building they were in front of. "This
is the place," he announced.
    Alsotho peered through the windows and saw what appeared to be the
interior of a restaurant. Waitresses carried trays of food from the door
in the small bakery in the back to the customers sitting at booths or
tables, stopping along the way back to hand other customers their
checks. Confused, he looked up at the sign, forgetting that he couldn't
read it. Amazingly enough, he understood the symbols.
    "House of Muffins," he read aloud. "Girt, what are we doing here?"
    "Maybe I thought you might be hungry," replied Girt. "Come with me."
He entered the restaurant, and Alsotho joined him, still clueless but
lacking any better ideas.
    The restaurant felt even more familiar from the inside, as they were
greeted by a woman with creamy white skin and hair with lengthwise
stripes of pearl and ebony coloring, wearing a pink apron with a picture
of a muffin on it. She bowed her head slightly, greeting them with a
well-rehearsed yet still friendly "Welcome to the House of Muffins!"
When she looked up, she smiled in recognition. "Oh, welcome back, Girt!"
    "Alsotho, I'd like you to meet Orachnille," said Girt, indicating
the woman. "Orachnille, this is Alsotho, the Defender."
    "Pleased to meet you," said Orachnille.
    "Likewise," said Alsotho, unsure of whether a handshake or bow would
be appropriate. He decided to simply wait to see if Orachnille made any
gesture, but she didn't. He relaxed, assuming that no gesture was
customary on this planet. He felt safe asking the question that had been
bothering him. "Are you a Ballerana?"
    Orachnille smiled, slightly amused. "You don't know how to tell, do
you? Well, don't let my mannerisms fool you. I'm a Ballerana, all right.
The others are waiting for you in the back." She motioned for Alsotho to
follow her, then led the way to the back of the seating area. She paused
at the start of a short hallway with three doors - two restrooms on the
left, and a single door marked "PRIVATE" in picture-script on the right.
"He's all yours, Girt. I'm still on the clock."
    "I understand," said Girt. "Enjoy the rest of your shift." While
Orachnille returned to her work, Girt opened the door on the right and
stepped through into another hallway that turned a corner a bit further
on. Alsotho followed him, closing the door behind himself.
    "Say, Girt, what's with the restaurant front?" he asked.
    "This is no front," replied Girt. "The House of Muffins is a real
restaurant. The Ballerana cannot afford to be out in the open. If their
home were ever found, their lives would be in jeopardy."
    "I see," Alsotho said wistfully as Girt rounded the corner. A few
steps later, he rounded the corner himself - and his jaw dropped at the
sight before him. The near end of the large room contained a long dining
table surrounded by chairs. A pair of doors along the left wall
presumably led to bedrooms, or perhaps a private bathroom. The far wall
opened into a small kitchen. Alsotho's eyes were drawn, however, to the
right half of the large room, which was set up as a living room. The
Ballerana were there, lounging on the sofas and sitting in armchairs -
and all in clothing that closely hugged their bodies - or at least, what
portions of their bodies were clothed. Even the long-sleeved shirts and
ankle-length pants that some of them wore were skintight. Alsotho
swallowed. Except in a couple of adult movies, he'd never seen so much
femininity in one place at any time, and these women were so...
uninhibited!
    A bony finger tapped Alsotho on the shoulder. "Try not to stare,"
advised Girt. "You're embarrassing them."
    They weren't the only ones. Alsotho felt the blood rushing to his
face to color his cheeks as the Ballerana watched him as if waiting for
him to do something. As he started to lower his eyes, the Ballerana
glanced back and forth at each other, then as one, shrieked as if
suddenly realizing how scantily they were clothed. Those on the sofas
quickly covered themselves with cushions, while the ones in the chairs
made do with their own arms.
    "I'm sorry!" he quickly apologized. "I didn't mean to stare! It's
just that... you're all so..."
    "Please, don't apologize," said a familiar voice. "We're the ones
who should apologize. We completely overlooked the effects of our own
sex appeal on men. We really should have dressed more conservatively."
    "We usually try to wear clothes that don't restrict our movements,"
added another Ballerana. "But if you find our uniforms too revealing, we
can change them."
    "No, don't do that," replied Alsotho, forcing himself to look up.
The Ballerana had replaced the cushions and no longer looked
uncomfortable under his gaze. "I just let my testosterone get to me for
a second there. I've got a lot to get used to."
    "Undoubtedly," agreed the first Ballerana, a blonde in a white
one-piece bathing suit. Alsotho recognized her as the Ballerana he had
seen on the cliff. "Things will seem strange at first, but before long,
you'll probably forget that it was ever any other way."
    Alsotho scratched his head, doubtful but willing to give anything a
try at this point. "So, I suppose we should make our introductions..."
    "Of course!" cried Verlinda. "I'm just so forgetful today..." She
put her hand on her chest. "I'm Verlinda. We met briefly when Girt was
describing your new job." She indicated the deep red-haired woman on the
sofa. "This is Shumiko..."
    "Hello," said Shumiko, waving.
    "Lorudas," continued Verlinda.
    "You're exactly what I expected, Alsotho," said the Ballerana in the
other chair, whose hair was mostly raven-black, with a few streaks of
aging gray.
    "Of course he is, Lorudas," Shumiko put in. "Everything is exactly
what you expected."
    "What are you talking about?" asked Alsotho. "And how did Lorudas
know my name?"
    "I can view the future," replied Lorudas. "I've known about you for
quite a while."
    The younger looking green-haired girl on the far end of the sofa
stood up indignantly. "Hey, what about me! You weren't going to forget
me again, were you?"
    "She was getting to you next," Shumiko assured her.
    "I'll bet she was," the girl shot back.
    "Would you please stop brooding?" Shumiko requested with no trace of
emotion. "Just because you have no magic doesn't give you the right to
sulk all the time."
    "And it doesn't give you the right to ignore me completely either,"
returned the girl.
    Alsotho turned imploringly to Girt, who simply shrugged. "Even
though they have no emotions of their own, they are still women."
    Verlinda banged her hand on the coffee table for attention. "I'm
getting a little tired of this bickering!" she shouted. "Alsotho doesn't
want to have to deal with this right now!" The others quickly fell
deferently silent. Verlinda took a relieved breath. "Alsotho, let me
introduce Dallimia. Even though she has no power, she's still important
to all of us."
    Alsotho bowed politely. "I'm pleased to meet all of you." He
straightened up and pulled a chair from the dining room to sit on. "So,
when do the others get here?"
    Verlinda looked almost downcast. "There are no others... that we
know of."
    Alsotho took a quick count. "So, this is it? Just the five of you?"
    "There used to be many more Ballerana," replied Verlinda. "We fought
the Vermaldrin all throughout the Universe. However, the Vermaldrin have
recently gained new allies, and most of us have died trying to fight
them."
    "And the five of you are the only survivors?" asked Alsotho.
    "There may be more," replied Verlinda. "We called the remaining
Ballerana together and moved in here with Orachnille. Since then, we
have hidden from the Vermaldrin together, sustained only by strength in
numbers. And now, these are numbers we have. We have lost most of our
strength, and more of us die on every mission. That is why we need you
to help us fight the Vermaldrin."
    "Vermaldrin..." Alsotho rolled the unfamiliar word on his tongue. It
didn't sound very pleasant. "These Vermaldrin... are the bad guys?"
    "Girt's our expert on the subject," replied Verlinda. "Tell him,
Girt."
    Alsotho turned to face Girt while the old man made his speech. "The
beings that we call Vermaldrin were originally a relatively peaceful
species in another Universe, a species with the ability to manipulate
time and space in subtle ways. However, the use of that power was slowly
draining the energy of that Universe. Unwilling to give up their power,
they sought another source of energy, and found a way to enter this
Universe. Here, not only are their abilities many times more powerful,
but the energy that they drain is stolen from this Universe and not
their own."
    "And those are the Vermaldrin?" asked Alsotho.
    Girt nodded. "The increased energy of this Universe corrupted the
minds of those who sought to control it. Their desires became evil, and
they began to enjoy the suffering of others, even their own species.
Once they tapped into that power, they became Vermaldrin, able to
perform manipulations of space and time that defy human science, but
enslaved by their insatiable need to destroy."
    "Doesn't sound like much of a weakness," said Alsotho, suddenly
beginning to doubt the wisdom of joining this battle. "How exactly do
you fight them?"
    Shumiko clenched a fist in what appeared to be pride. "Don't forget,
we have powers too. We're not completely helpless."
    "That's what's confusing me," said Alsotho. "You've got magic
powers, and so do the bad guys, but I'm just an ordinary human. Why do
you need me?" Before he could get an answer, an important detail came to
him. Something Girt had mentioned... "What's this 'new force' the
Vermaldrin are using? Girt never said anything about it."
    Verlinda sighed. "You'll have to find out, sooner or later... but
you aren't going to like it."
    "Don't bother trying to soften the blow," said Shumiko. "Just tell
him that he'll be fighting humans."
    Alsotho fell out of his chair in shock, causing the Ballerana to
jump. "Humans?"
    Verlinda nodded. "Once, the Vermaldrin fought us alone, one at a
time, and for the most part, they were easy to defeat. But about ten
months ago, something changed. The Vermaldrin have been operating much
more efficiently, and they've also begun to employ humans." She looked
down at her palms. "We can't fight humans. Our powers only work against
the Vermaldrin. So when their humans slaves attack us, we're helpless."
    "So that's why Girt has been training me to fight," Alsotho
realized. "You want me to fight the humans, while you take care of the
Vermaldrin."
    "They are hardly the cream of society," Lorudas clarified. "These
are humans who have sold their souls to darkness for personal gain. The
Vermaldrin offer them rewards to appeal to their greed in exchange for
loyalty."
    "As difficult as it may be to kill another human," said Verlinda,
"you will have to learn to cope with it. You are our only hope for
survival, and your own life will be in danger as well, once you become
part of our battle. You will have no choice but to fight."
    Alsotho slowly nodded. "I understand. I'll do my best to protect
you."
    "And we'll protect you from the Vermaldrin," replied Verlinda. She
heaved a relieved sigh. "I'm so glad we won't have to worry about the
humans anymore!"
    "I'M relieved I won't have to fight those Vermaldrin!" returned
Alsotho. After a short pause, he palmed his forehead and shook his head,
adding, "Man, I've got to get used to that!"
    "You will, in time," Lorudas assured him. "But your time with us
will not be as long as you expect."
    That didn't sound good. "What do you mean?" Alsotho asked with a
sinking heart.
    "I'm sorry," Lorudas said glumly. "I really don't know. My
predictions are never wrong, but I can't always understand them
completely."
    "Maybe you should keep them to yourself," suggested Alsotho.
"Knowing the future is never a good thing."
    "I wish I could," replied Lorudas. "However, my clairvoyance is
uncontrollable. When I see the future, it is as clear as the present to
me, and I can't distinguish between the two. For example, I see the
upcoming battle as if it were happening right now."
    Alsotho did a double take. "Upcoming battle...?" He heard the door
to the restaurant open and close, and footsteps charged down the
hallway. He dropped into a fighting stance between the door and the
Ballerana, ready to attack as soon as his foe appeared. Fortunately, the
first thing he noticed as the intruder rounded the corner was her pink
apron.
    "Guys, I've got bad news," said Orachnille. "There's a man out there
with a gun!"
    "Can't the police take care of him?" asked Alsotho, although
Lorudas' prediction reverberated in his head, telling him the answer
even before Orachnille could confirm it.
    "No, he's here for us," she said. "He's definitely a Vermaldrin spy,
which means that his Vermaldrin boss is nearby. Ordinary humans would be
nothing but targets for a Vermaldrin."
    "So we've got to fight this guy ourselves?" Alsotho asked, then
quickly corrected himself. "Or rather, *I* have to fight him by myself?"
    Orachnille nodded. "He knows we're here. He must have seen you and
Girt arrive and known who you were."
    "Unbelievable," Shumiko said sincerely. "What are the odds of a spy
happening to be in the right place at the right time?"
    "We can worry about how he found us later," Dallimia pointed out.
"Right now, we have to prevent him from getting to us!"
    Alsotho adjusted his coat slightly. "I guess that's my cue."
    "Alsotho, be very careful," advised Shumiko. "The Vermaldrin don't
know where we are, and we intend to keep it that way. If this spy is
supposed to report back and fails, they'll probably come looking for him
and find us. We need to capture him alive and figure out how to
fabricate a report to his superiors."
    "Is that all?" Alsotho asked facetiously. "Maybe you'd like me to
patch a leaky dam while I'm out there?"
    "Just go," ordered Verlinda. "We'll try to back you up if anything
goes wrong."
    "Right." Alsotho saluted and started down the long hallway to the
restaurant. "What a way to start a new job," he mumbled to himself. "I
have to hold a guy hostage, when HE'S the one with the gun..."

END EPISODE 1, PART 1

-------------------------------------------------

SHEERI: Hai!
OTTO: Excuse me?
SHEERI: Hai! It means "yes" or "OK" in Japanese!
OTTO: OK, OK... I know you had a bad time finding work in Japan, and I
know this gig was the only thing you could get, but if you're gonna be
in an American comic strip, you're gonna hafta speak English! Japanese
lines might be cute and all, but we're not a manga... It just doesn't
have a place here, OK?
SHEERI: Hai, hai... Gomen ne.
OTTO: Which is Japanese for "in one ear and out the other," apparently.

My webpage: http://www.rose-hulman.edu/~katinamp

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