See that Part 5? Yes, that's right, this was what was originally going to be merely one out of the five story threads that Dais started... However, Dais is nowhere to be found, and I am left here all alone to recount the tale of Clrauss... *sniff* ***************** The Reason for Our Sorrow, Part 5 *          Clrauss cried in pain as the scale was ripped away, exposing the fragile flesh underneath. Tears streamed down his face as he convulsed against the iron binding, only to have the pain be greater. He let out another scream as hands grasped him, prying open his tough skin.          Clrauss felt the hands withdraw, but he still writhed in agony, still felt the horror of having his weakness exposed. He screamed on and on, beyond words or any other communication. Terror and fear racked his body as he strained, with quickly fading strength, against the clasps that bound him.          "Now!" His senses echoed the shout into an endless hell of noise. Clrauss screamed as a fiery lance of pain, infinitely thin and long, drove in to his side. He writhed, his every fiber vibrating in agony. He felt it thrust into his body, bloodthirsty and damning. He screamed.          The point was withdrawn after an eternity of fire. He yelled, rage channeling through him. Clrauss clawed at everything around him, twisting his body into unnatural shapes. Hands grabbed him, mocking and taunting, those of demons. He saw nothing in the glare of the blinding light, nothing except the darkness closing over him... *          "He's growing worse everyday." Williams lifted the cup to his lips, sipping at the steaming drink. He grimaced, and looked up towards the face across from him. Adamson watched him, with a cold and calculating look. "As you well know."          Adamson scowled. "It wasn't my decision to import the subject from his normal habitude." Williams stood up quickly, spilling coffee across the small table. "Stop using your damn fancy words, Chris! We're talking about a living being!" He threw the cup aside, and shoved his chair in.          Adamson drank from his own cup, with the faint traces of a smile. "Please try to control yourself, Mr. Williams. Actual emotions are not necessary for this project." Williams slammed his hands on the table, staring straight at Adamson. "Damn you!" Adamson merely stared back.          He threw up his hands, and sighed. "Just wish you could accept it – damn, no - him for what he is." Adamson's head jerked up, his face serious. "We are aware of sentience, and the worth of that sentience. But at this point, the variables have not been defined." He resumed his drinking.          Williams growled, and stomped away. Near the door to the break room, he saw Livinger, who beckoned him with a wave. Glancing back for a moment, Williams moved over to him. Livinger looked confused. "Hey, what are you doing? We still got fifteen minutes left!"          Williams nodded. "Yeah, I just felt like looking in on him." Livinger stared at him, puzzled, before realization dawned. "Oh! You mean the scaly?" He looked at Williams. Williams glared at him for a moment, then stomped off into the hall.          Livinger shrugged. "Wonder what got into him?"          He sat in the chair for a minute, musing about this turn of events, when someone tapped his shoulder. He turned around. "Wha-"          Adamson grabbed his collar and pulled him up. Livinger struggled against the other man's grip. "Wha-what is..." Adamson slammed him against the wall. "Never." Livinger hit the wall again. "Never!"          "Never what?" Livinger gasped, forcing his breath out. Adamson looked at his coolly for a moment. "Never assume superiority over what you don't understand." He dropped Livinger to the ground, and straightened his clothes. "Is that clear?"          Livinger scrambled at the ground, catching hold and raising himself to a stand. He looked fearfully at Adamson "Y-y-yes.... Yes sir!" Adamson pointed out the door, and Livinger shot out, running at a steady pace. Adamson scowled, glanced back into the empty room, and left. ***************** Chains *          "Ahem."          The guard on duty looked up from his desk, his face clearly showing his irritation. It quickly changed to alertness when he saw who had entered. He stood in such a way that his paperwork blew off the desk, swirled through a few drafts, and came to rest at the feet of the arrival. "Sir, I'm sorry...wasn't expecting you-" The visitor strode forward, paying no heed to the papers his boots were tearing. "I'm here to see the lizard," he growled. "Do I have to ask clearance for that? Or have you people started to think with your brains?" The guard looked at him in shock for a moment, before reaching wordlessly down to his desk. When his questing hand found nothing, he looked to the scattered papers, and swore. "Sir, I..."          "Forget it!" The man strode past the guard, ignoring his pleading. Walking at a quick pace, the man moved angrily through the halls. Approaching a split, he turned to another man, who had just come into the hall. "Which way to the lab?" The man jumped, and looked up. "Ga...er...wh..Which one?" The first man growled. "The lizard! I'm here to see the lizard!" The other man stammered nervously. "Uh...It's...it's...to...it's...to...your...left..." he murmured, before a thought struck him.          "Sir...where is your clearance?" The first man stared at him darkly, and shoved him aside, stomping down the left hallway. *          The door slammed open. Williams snapped around, startled. The man moved into the room, looking over the various people working at consoles and desks. Williams rose up and moved over to the man. "General Burns?" The man named as Burns looked Williams over, contempt obvious in his face. "Not you." He began to walk the length of the room. Williams gaped for a moment, before moving to match the man's stride.          It was not easy. Burns radiated a fierce anger, and workers scattered out of his way, coming around to meet with Williams. Finally he pushed through, to where the general was approaching another man. Adamson.          "You're already here!"          Adamson turned to Burns, his mouth turned up at the edges. "I've always been here, General." Burns growled, and Williams moved over to stand near them. "General...your visit was...sudden." The man grunted, and looked at Adamson. "Where is it?" he demanded. Williams stammered, but Adamson signaled a nearby window.          "He's in there."          All three turned to look in the next room. There, a small bed and table laid, each showing signs of heavy damage. Burns growled. "Where is the thing?" A figure edged into sight, moving around the room at a careful hop. It could be mistaken for a large lizard at first sight, except that it stood on its hind legs, just shorter than a man, with a glint of cold cunning in its eye. It sensed movement, and turned towards the three at the window. Baring its fangs, the creature hissed at the men, extending inch-long claws from its hands that glinted like cold steel. A brightly colored mane rose erect on the back of its next. Williams could hear the general let out a slow whistle, before turning to Adamson.          "Amazing. What the hell is it?" Adamson shrugged. "We're looking into that. But you've received all the data we have." Burns nodded. "I know. That doesn't help any." He took another glance at the creature, which was examining a wall, and giving occasional glances to the trio. Williams noticed the cracks were greater then yesterday. The creature had obviously been at work on it.          The general turned back to Adamson. "And how much will it cost to get another one of these?" Williams recoiled in shock at the idea, as Adamson talked calmly to Burns. "I assume you mean a female?" Williams turned. "A female?" he murmured.          Adamson nodded. "For mating purposes." Burn's grunted an agreement.          Williams stared at the two men. "But...but...we haven't been able to..." Burns scowled. "It's not my job. If I give you the money, you're the ones that will have to do it." Adamson nodded. Burns continued: "This is the best thing we're on to for now...and we need all of these things we can get. Williams!" Williams looked questioningly at the general.          "You're a bright boy, by the looks of it... So you know the current situation with Japan?" Williams thought for a moment, then nodded. "An...arms race, I believe." Burns nodded. "Yes. It's their stuff against our stuff, any day now. We gotta have the better gun." He looked to the reptilian being in the next room, and he scowled deeply. "Let the Asians build all the guns they want. In there, we have the perfect soldier.          "Whatever the hell it is." ***************** Journey *          Clrauss sat and thought.          There was no easy way out of his prison. The walls were thick, too thick to break down without eons of patience. He scanned the area he had dug at for so long. All he ever did was make the crevices deeper. For all he knew, the wall was twenty paces thick. The ceiling was worse; it was just as resilient, and harder to reach. The floor? He could hardly scratch the hard metal it was made of. He idly wondered what kind of weapon they had used on him, leaving him without any wound, yet rendering him unconscious long enough to put him here. He had been groggy and uncoordinated for hours after waking from the effects. But that was not the problem at hand.          The most obvious weak point would be the sheet of what looked like ice, set in a gap in the wall. But no ice was that tough. He had swung a piece of the broken wooden object at the stuff, and all that happened was a hollow booming sound. There was only the slightest suggestion of a scratch afterward. No ice was that transparent, either. He had heard, once, of a tribe that had melted sand to get something like this. If that was so... These strange people were far more advanced than his kind. But so flimsy and weak! Sometimes, one of the odd creatures watched him from that portal, but they were always wary, almost frightened. He flexed his own steel-cord muscles, examining the ripples that ran over the glistening, hard scales on his arm as a result, grimacing again at how thin he had become. What might have once passed for food sat in a corner, growing distasteful forms of fungus. He refused to acknowledge the corner next to it, from which an even worse aroma rose. As long as he kept his mouth shut, he wouldn't have to taste what it did to the air, but unfortunately, that didn't keep it from being there.          Once again, he brought his mind back to where he was. After examining each inch of the barren, white- washed room again, he returned to the slightly damaged wall, extended his metallic claws, and set about making the cracks wider, deeper, bit by bit. * Deep in Africa...          Christopher Adamson and Robert Williams had to shout to be heard over the whining rotors of the cramped helicopter. There was room for plenty of passengers, but there were plenty of passengers, as well as a large stock of cargo.          "Are you sure you want to go through with this?" yelled Adamson.          After taking a couple seconds to puzzle out what he had said, Williams replied, "Absolutely!" He wore a look of grim determination. Adamson shrugged and let it lie.          The others, sitting further back, wore lightweight plastic armor, along with belts studded with flash grenades and gas canisters. Helmets, complete with face shields and gas masks, adorned the walls next to each soldier. Everything was painted in the mottled green of camouflage. Long bazooka-like weapons sat in a case to the back, though they were far less lethal; instead of explosive shells, each had weighted nets designed to tangle around whatever the target was. They were all nervously excited, talking to each other in what passed for low tones in the roaring helicopter, ready to face the danger they would jump headfirst into. Only their leader retained his cool calm.          Outside the windows, lush green forests covered rolling hills. Occasional clouds dotted the azure blue sky, and the blazing sun beat down on it all. A perfect day for hunting.          After another few minutes, Adamson tapped the pilot's shoulder and pointed to a small field sprinkled with brightly colored flowers. "That's the closest we're likely to get," he shouted. The pilot nodded, and the rotors' whining dropped a few notes. The soldiers shifted anxiously. As the helicopter tilted and began its descent, the soldiers reached for their helmets and made sure their safety harnesses were secure. Williams and Adamson reached for their headsets and secured them over one ear, pushing the microphones in front of their mouths.          And they dropped into the jungle.          The rotors quieted to a slightly more bearable level as the steel behemoth hovered just above the ground. As soon as the helicopter had steadied, the soldiers in the back began grabbing the netguns and passing them to the others. Williams armed himself with a tape recorder. Both of the scientists accepted a utility belt offered by the nearest armored soldier, holding flare guns and first aid supplies, among other things. The doors slid open, and they poured out into the surrounding scene.          The grass waved violently from the rotor blades' movement, seeming to kick up a huge, green lake into a violent storm. Flower petals broke from their nourishing stems and drifted into the air all around them, hurriedly floating away from the giant metallic creature that had invaded their land.          The first soldiers jumped, and fell a few surprised feet before hitting the ground concealed by the tall, waving grasses. The ones after were more careful, seeing what had happened. Finally, the scientists jumped out and followed the soldiers away from the vehicle. They gave a thumbs-up to the pilot, who returned it and turned back to his controls. The rotors sped up, whipping the grass into a frenzy, and the helicopter slowly lifted away from the ground and hovered into the distance. It would return with the signal from either Adamson's or Williams' flareguns, with a harness on a winch to pull them out of wherever they signaled from. Much of the equipment would probably have to be left behind to compensate for what they would bring with them on the return trip.          They walked to the edge of the clearing, where two of the soldiers had pulled out machetes from somewhere among all their gear, and started hacking away at the undergrowth. Soon, the green of the jungle swallowed them, dimming the sun and cooling the air. Animal cries rang out in the distance. The trunks of the visible trees were covered with moss and vines, until only a glimpse of bark was visible here and there. Ferns and bushes crammed together below, making the machetes a requirement to get anywhere at all.          Adamson tested his headset. "Rob, this is Chris, come in Rob." They had agreed on using first names on the expedition, for no better reason than that they were a few syllables shorter.          "This is Rob, I hear you," Williams replied. A mild static pervaded the background of the voices.          Meanwhile, the soldiers made a roll call, their voices crackling in the headsets.          "This is Wolf, all troops call in."          "Hawkeye, standing by."          "Red Rover, standing by."          "Tin Can, standing by."          "Maestro, standing by."          "Rollerball, standing by."          "All radios check."          The leader of the group, Wolf, kept strict discipline among his troops. They were hired soldiers, but they were still highly disciplined and well-trained, and most importantly, each had seen his fair share of fighting. If they had regular names, neither Adamson nor Williams had ever heard them.          It seemed like an eternity, trudging through the thick growth, hacking against the vegetation trying to block their way. Insects buzzed around their heads, attracted by the smell of sweat. Some of them were biting painfully. Williams thought he would scratch his skin off before too long. Suddenly, they burst out of the foliage, and what they saw stunned them into silence. The first one to recover was one of the nameless soldiers, who began uttering a string of profanities. ***************** Insight *          The underbrush still lay thick about their feet, but the ground had obviously been cleared some time before. The canopy remained whole, the leaves and branches weaving a screen against the sun overhead. For several feet around them, there was nothing obstructing their path.          In the center of the clearing, a dozen small dwellings seemed to rise out of the ground. They were obviously abandoned, but more startling was how they seemed somehow alien, created by an intelligence foreign to humans. Thatched roofs covered most of them, where the roofs were not caved in altogether. Dirt made the sloping walls look like oversized molehills, and the doorways were too squat for a man to get through without bending over. Adamson felt a crick in his neck just looking at them. The dwellings themselves looked too short.          Wooden carvings lay about haphazardly, some whimsical, some practical, most marred in places by what must have been claws. Williams, dictating softly to his tape recorder, must have realized what arose in Adamson's mind as soon as he saw the first building. The reptiles had built this place.          The soldiers darted about, exchanging messages rapid-fire, ensuring the scientists' safety. Adamson picked his way around the village, examining the wood tools and toys scattered about. The place must have been abandoned in a hurry for the amount of tools left behind. Something caught his eye - a glint in the grass. He walked over to it and bent down for a closer look. When he saw what it was, he called to Williams.          Williams hurried over, took a glance, and swore. Adamson picked it up and examined the long shaft of the spear. The tip, however, wasn't flint. It was metal.          If this was metal, then the lizards had discovered how to make it. His opinion of them raised a few notches. They lived in organized groups; they were tool-makers and tool-users. They had enough ingenuity to make metal. Looking at the spear tip more closely, he saw too few rust spots for it to be straight iron. Steel, then. Even more amazing. But it must have been costly to make. Williams was speaking to his recorder at a rapid pace, but barely too low for Adamson to make out what he was saying.          After picking through the rest of the small village, Adamson had found another spear, and a length of rough twisted rope tied between a pair of trees. He tossed one of the spears to Williams, who grinned at him.          "Never seen anything like this in my entire life," Williams remarked. "An entirely new culture, something the world never knew about until we stumbled across it. I'm so high on adrenaline I'm shaking."          Adamson looked at his overexcited companion. "Maybe you should have avoided coffee this morning, Rob."          Williams stared at Adamson. "Doesn't anything excite you, Chris? You're always so damn cool and emotionless."          Adamson began walking towards one of the houses. "Emotions are too intrusive. I have learned to suppress them. Considering your actions, perhaps you should acquire the same ability."          Williams trailed after him, grumbling under his breath about the similarities between Adamson's emotions and double-digit Kelvin temperatures.          Inside the dwelling, a few layers of woven plant fiber were layered on the floor, presumably for sleeping. An earthenware pot sat in the back, holding a small amount of stagnant water. Small plants grew through everything. There was a small pit in the middle, filled with ashes and coals. Directly above it was a hole in the roof, obviously for letting smoke out. Lying to the side of the fire was a piece of rounded wood, carved with intricate designs. So they had art, as well as tools and metal. Williams described it to his dutiful recorder. Adamson idly wondered how much time was left on it.          Suddenly, a voice crackled in his headset. "Chris, this is Wolf, come in Chris."          "Chris here, what's the situation?"          "I think we've found a path."          Adamson darted out of the hut, with Williams in tow. He saw the group leader wave and hurried over to him. Wolf pointed wordlessly at the side of the clearing. It was hard to tell, but the undergrowth was thinner in a small swath of the jungle wall. "Bring in the others, we're going to follow it."          Wolf nodded, and began issuing orders across the headsets. *          The going was a lot easier along the path. Machetes were almost unnecessary. The insects still buzzed and bit, but they were only a minor nuisance after the excitement of finding the village. Williams unconsciously checked to make sure his recorder was securely in place on his belt. A sentient race! An entire society of sentient beings, waiting to be brought out of obscurity, waiting to be discovered and taught. A completely unique race equal to their own. This is what he lived for – the discovery and wonder of life itself, of the beauty and variety of nature at her best.          He tripped on a hidden root and nearly fell. Adamson caught his arm and steadied him. Once again, Williams checked to make sure the recorder was intact and still in place. The discoveries it testified of were far too important to lose on the side of a path in the jungles of Africa. He also made sure the spear was secure on his back, tied there with a makeshift harness made from the twine found in the abandoned village.          They traveled for a while longer, with the sun peaking and beginning to sink over their shoulders. Occasionally, a shaft of light broke through the heavy canopy, illuminating a bar of dancing pollen and dust motes shimmering in the steaming air. Animals bounded away in the trees or rustled frantically through the bushes. Trees, ancient columns of life, broke out of the foliage to tower above and spread their light-thirsty leaves across the sky. The jungle was beautiful, vibrant, almost humming with energy slow to move and tough as iron, remaining silent underneath their feet as they treaded the narrow path.          A rustle in the bushes, louder than the others, shocked Williams out of his reverie. The soldiers quickly formed a tight circle around the scientists as they searched the jungle fervently.          Wolf's voice hissed in the headsets. "Visual?"          "Neg, Wolf," one of the others replied in a whisper.          Another rustle.          Two or three of the soldiers slowly, cautiously unclipped flash grenades from their belts. Williams tensed, ready to throw his arm in front of his face when the blinding flash would go off.          The jungle was still around them. A bird gave a raucous cry from in the trees to one side. No one dared move.          Without warning, a green blur flew from a bush and struck one of the soldiers. He flew back into Williams and Adamson, and the three went down in a tangled heap.          "Flash!" shouted Wolf, the word echoing twice as loud in the headsets.          Williams squeezed his eyes shut and buried them in the crook of his elbow. Even then, in his peripheral vision, he was sure he caught a momentary flicker of light. An agonized scream, completely inhuman, echoed through the trees. A heavy rustling told the tale: The lizard was alive, but its vision was temporarily gone, and it was beating a hasty retreat as best as it could.          When Williams opened his eyes again, two soldiers were running after the lizard, until a sharp order from Wolf stopped them. Another soldier was standing up; presumably he was the one who was attacked. He examined his plastic armor and swore creatively. He pointed out a series of parallel scratches to his teammates, almost deep enough to cut through, but not quite. Another second of assault from the lizard, and they might have been minus one member of the party. Williams was uncomfortably aware of the spear on his back. If they could attack with such ferocity without the aid of weapons, what did they have the spears for? The answer hit him suddenly – it was for hunting. If the animals were wary of the lizards, they needed some way to extend their reach. A thrown spear was perfect for the job.          A bit shaken, and jittery from the mutual adrenaline rush, the group pressed on along the path. The rest of the lizards would soon know they were there; they needed to act fast. ***************** Captives *          Clrauss kept a tight rein on his elation. This could be a trap, he reasoned.          Where mere cracks once creased the wall, a large hole now exposed overlapping thin metal plates, thin enough to damage and remove with his claws. He was careful to keep the chunk of stone nearby, to replace in case one of the creatures decided to check on him. It was only by sheer luck that the large piece had broken off; some hidden flaw in the stone, weak enough to give from pressure at exactly the right point in the right direction. In a frustrated rage, he had lashed out at the wall with his tail, and the chunk just fell out. He had stood there for a few seconds, too stunned to move, before examining the result of his handiwork.          He carefully pried at the metal plates. They concealed nothing more than a few colorful shiny threads in a narrow gap between the stones, as if there were two walls with nothing in the space between them but these odd shiny threads. With a bit of work, he made the hole large enough to hit the wall behind it with his tail. If it worked once, it might work again.          He took careful aim, spun, and lashed out. His tail hit the wall, and he felt it give. He also hit the threads, which snapped. He was hurled across the room by an unseen force that slammed through his entire body and made him convulse in a single giant spasm.          After the flecks finished dancing across his vision, Clrauss realized that the room was no longer lit. The portal showed only darkness. He looked at the hole again. Whatever had hit him might still be there, but there was nothing but the strands... Maybe it was the strands. But why would a few thin strings hold so much force?          Well, it hadn't killed him, however much it had surprised him. He would try again.          Groping around in the pitch-black prison, he found the wall, and at length, the hole. He found the threads, broken in the middle, but doing nothing. Feeling further back, he discovered that his attack had opened up the second wall. In an instant, he was clawing frantically at the edges of the hole, trying to widen it further, trying to escape. *          In Adamson's opinion, nothing could have gone worse. No, he took it back - they had their specimen, and at least most of them were still alive. He grimaced as they crashed through the underbrush, recalling the soldier who had gone down amid two or three lizards, tearing his armor apart and killing him with vicious efficiency. They had made liberal use of the smoke and flash grenades, but they hadn't been enough. Only the unconscious scaly body they carried between them, cocooned in a net, to recompense for the two they left behind.          The second person left behind was what really grated on Adamson. Once they had caught their lizard and started running, they realized Williams wasn't there. Maybe one of the lizards who had tackled their guards... Adamson shuddered, shying away from that line of thought.          Branches and leaves whipped at his face, obscuring vision and leaving scratches that would have to be attended to. Finally, Wolf ordered a stop; they had reached a small break in the canopy where a large stream forced a path through the monolithic trees. Adamson pulled out his flaregun, and with a nod from Wolf, fired a fiercely luminescent red flare through the gap. It would only be a few minutes, now.          He moved over to look at the lizard. It was slightly smaller than their subject back at the lab, but the most notable difference was the lack of a brightly colored frill at the back of the head. Its nostrils flared minutely as its chest rose and fell. Twisting around to reach into his pouch hanging on his belt, he removed a carefully packaged hypodermic needle. Removing the foam encasing the tip, he knelt down next to the unconscious lizard. He reached over to its arm, and began prying at a single tough scale. When he managed to get it loose enough to inject the tranquilizer, the lizard's eyes snapped open.          It shrieked and thrashed at Adamson, who shouted in surprise and leaped back. The lizard continued to flail about, trying to tear apart the net, trying to tear apart its captives. Three of the soldiers piled on top of it, only barely managing to grab its extremities and restrain it long enough for Adamson to inject the tranquilizer.          The lizard bucked and heaved as he pushed the needle into the exposed patch of skin, screaming as if it were being skinned alive. Adamson was hard pressed to keep the needle from breaking, but managed to inject the drug. Once finished, he hopped back out of range of the lizard's claws, and the soldiers did the same, letting it tangle itself further in the net. After a couple minutes, it was unconscious. It would stay that way for a good three hours.          Once they were satisfied with the condition of the lizard, they heard the distinct sound of rotors in the distance. Wolf double-checked his homing beacon. As the treetops began whipping about from the helicopter's rotors, two soldiers hauled the captive up onto their shoulders. A harness dropped down from above the trees, attached to a rope. They secured the lizard, and it ascended. The rest waited until the harness appeared again, and they went up one at a time. Wolf went up last.          On the return trip, Adamson brooded. What fate could have befallen his companion? ***************** Things are progressing very slowly... Life has a tendency to intrude on such things. No guarantees as to when I'll get more done. -SparroHawc