We had gone in all directions, madly. We went around in dizzying circles until I was sadly nauseous. Another city flashed out of existence and we were headed up again. Six Vimana moved away from the rest and sped toward the Akkadi ship. Firing, three flew low while three flew high. From the left, one ship after another fell victim to Nimrod's prowess. I asked Khamuel to cut communications; there was nothing left but the howling of enraged Oliphareans and the calm blathering of a Nakki lunatic.

Barachiel said, “Let me shoot them all. Then we can go home.”

“I know. I know,” said I.

Khamuel asked, “Why do you hesitate?”

“They were part of the fleet,” I said. “Father made a place for all of us."

“And how did that work out?” asked Barachiel. I was stung. Barachiel said, “At least let me shoot the crazy.”

“Which one?” asked Khamuel with a disparaging snort.

Barachiel chuckled, and Khamuel's laugh was trim, but there was no laughter in me. I abhorred killing on philosophical grounds, but more so because my own hands were stained with blood. Taking a life was the easiest, most callous, and indefensible act a man could perpetrate. In death, there was both horror and shame.

“More ships from the north,” said Barachiel.

“I count eight,” said Khamuel.

We were headed south, and diving. Nimrod took out three Vimana and three cities before dropping behind us in a surprise move. He fired on the Taush and Khamuel evaded.

“I already disliked that crazy,” said Barachiel. “Now I really dislike him. Let me shoot him. Please.”

My answer was wholly inadequate. “He was my father's friend.”

The Akkadi ship shot straight up, and we followed. We had been scattered by his sudden move. Bha Huda's ships were reforming as we leveled and flew west. The additional Vimana were coming up behind the Taush.

Khamuel said, “They're maintaining a rearward formation.”

Barachiel said, “Tell me who to shoot.”

I shook the cobwebs from my thinking. I had hesitated long enough; it all fell to me, but my heart still resisted. I disliked Bha Huda, but that was no reason to have him blasted from the sky. That was my reasoning, but the beast within said, shoot him. I knew I would have to give a disagreeable command. Nimrod had to be destroyed, but after that, would I have to fight the Oliphareans?

Snow-capped mountains cast the long shadows of approaching night. The purple gloom matched my inner struggle. I felt defeated. I would have to commit to violence while fighting back the slavering monster inside me. When reason fails, violence prevails.

I told Khamuel, “Open communications.”

As all ships leveled in a cloudless sky and settled into familiar formations, I hailed the Olipharean raaja. “You have ships behind us. Not a wise move.”

Nimrod laughed and said, “You really can't tell which of us will be your end. My butt-colored colleagues seek your life for personal reasons. I would certainly kill you if I didn't already have a target. See that city below? Watch this.”

Alarmed, I watched a missile speed away from the Akkadi ship. My breath caught as the missile fell toward white towers, orange in the evening light. The Vimana sent out desperate salvos, pitifully missing the mark, but ship-to-ship chatter ceased among the Oliphareans as destruction rushed to its goal.

Khamuel said, “Hold on. I'm taking us up.”

My feet lifted from the floor, but I held tenaciously to the handrail. As the Taush bolted vertically into the darker altitudes, I focused on my grip.

“They're firing,” said Barachiel.

Khamuel replied, “So I noticed.”

I took a deep breath, and said to Barachiel, “Take them out.”

“Thanks,” said Barachiel. “Done and done.”

Khamuel leveled out, and my feet found their place. I looked, and where a city once stood, I saw a bright column of smoke. It billowed into the sky taking the form of a grotesque mushroom. I gasped in horror at the complete annihilation of unsuspecting souls. I gasped at the utter disregard Nimrod had for the sanctity of life. Every muscle in my body tensed at the vile chuckle that escaped the Nakki's throat. No chatter came from the remaining Vimana, but I clearly heard sobbing.

Nimrod sighed theatrically and said to no one in particular, “Well, it appears that I am running out of targets” Then, Nimrod taunted Bha Huda directly. “But wait,” said he. “We know of a rather large city. A city filled with useless temples, where useless people worship useless lies. You know my next target, don't you, Bha Huda?”

“Tarakasura!” screamed Bha Huda. “Ravana's bile!”

Nimrod drew out his next word in a playful manner. “Or,” said he. “We can all turn and destroy the counterfeit king. Yes. Let's all blame Jeez. Wasn't it he who marooned you on this sad little planet? Oh, and who set me loose? It was Jeez himself who put me here. I say, let's end his fraudulent reign.”

Not a noise issued as I imagined the Oliphareans seriously considering Nimrod's proposal. He tried to confuse us. He used our emotions against us, and it seemed he might turn us against each other. He did well enough shooting down the Vimana. Was this sudden ploy telling? Had he spent his last missile or did he simply enjoy cruelty?

Khamuel toggled off the communications and turned to cast a worried look my way. “We must put an end to this,” he said.

“I agree,” said Barachiel. “This crazy really chaps my cheeks.”

“Open,” I said to Khamuel. “I'll inform them they're about to lose.”

Barachiel cheered. “Alright!”

Khamuel nodded, and said, “Home in time for supper."

Sound returned to the Taush in stark savagery. Bha Huda yelled, “All ships on Jeez!”

Crish yelled to match the raaja, “Kill the king!”

Nimrod repeated merrily, “Kill the king!”

Barachiel said, “Take us down.”

I had only time to focus on the turning Vimana before Khamuel banked left and dove. My feet left the floor, and all I could manage was to ask stupidly, “What's happening?”

“They're all firing on us,” answered Khamuel as the Taush jerked right, then up, then down.

I lost my sense of direction. I was tossed like a cloth doll, and I heard Barachiel yelling in wild abandon. “Take that! And That! Didn't see that coming, did you? Ha! I got you now!”

Then, I felt a jolt pass through my hands, and the Taush lurched back in a faltering manner.

“We're hit!” yelled Khamuel. “Adjusting. Hold on.”

The muscles in my hands cramped, but I held. I felt superfluous and at imminent risk of flying from the rail into the seats. The moment stretched long, accented by the joyful hooting of Barachiel as he shot down ship after ship.

All my fears banged around in my head. My body flailed helplessly. My internal landscape was a mess of fears, regrets, and sad recollections; a tangled eternity of disjointed apprehension through which my rage roiled to the top. The inner beast mocked my decline, and anger was my only expression.

“Evil!” I screamed. “Damn all of you!”

Bha Huda ordered, “Shoot him down.”

I was a futile flag flapping in the wind of calamity. While Khamuel reported his evasive maneuvers, while Barachiel hooted gleefully, while Crish and Bha Huda raged, and Nimrod took in the amusement with a chortle, a bile rose in my throat.

I had been raised from prince to king, I had survived an assassination, and I could still feel the hard cane of Lamet as he struck me repeatedly. I had lived through the deaths of Otoallo and Imabelai. I commanded the deaths of Siri and Akhil and destroyed an entire village of primitives.

I endured eternity to reach a place to rest my feet. I made the transition from atomic to molecular. I had commanded a vast space-faring armada, not quite filling the shoes of my father. I witnessed the deaths of so many dear souls, that I could not count them all. I had been through so much, but all I could think was I didn't want to die in a burning ship.

“Just clipped,” said Khamuel as my feet found the floor.

My monster asked me, will you let your friends die?

“No. No. No,” said I. I shook my head back and forth, unwilling to set my beast free, yet, knowing with a sad certainty that he was already loose. I clenched my teeth and shut my eyes.

Then, the flood let loose. I opened my eyes as we flew into dark storm clouds. Sight of the other ships was lost, the firing ceased, and all that remained were orange markers and ship-to-ship chatter. Lightning flashed and I spoke without thinking.

“What vermin you are. What idiots! You kill those you most need and abuse the spirit attempting self-justification. I despise you. I repent of former kindness.” I used the last of my wind to cast my message through the dark void.

Nimrod spoke. “You okay, Jeez? Sorry, I bungled my shot. I'll do better next time.”

Barachiel said, “Of course, it had to be him. The Oliphareans can't hit anything.”

Bha Huda's voice came loud and clear. “I have saved my best for last. Turn loose the Maelstrom.”

“Incoming!” yelled Khamuel, and once more, I was hanging to the rail with my feet in the air. Khamuel turned us on our side to avoid the missile.

Barachiel said, “Launching flares.”

The Maelstrom detonated near the Taush and sent us tumbling. Khamuel and Barachiel joined me at top volume. Then, I was tossed savagely and my hands were wrenched from the rail. I fell into the seats and struck my head a brutal blow. I felt my back rake across metal as I fetched up in the door of the weapons room, where I took the frame, pulled myself to my feet, and screamed raw rage. The stars I saw were blood-red.

I lost my sanity there, and I succumbed to the beast. I shifted to a clear place between the black clouds and looked about. Lightning seared the air around me, and I spotted my prey. I shifted inside the Vimana. In the cramped interior, two blues looked up from their instruments, startled and confused. I bellowed, they screamed, and I raked the space before me with a white-hot hand.

I watched with feral satisfaction as everything my hand touched burst into burning destruction. Ceiling gone, I swiped again. I yelled and thrashed like a maniac as all matter vanished terribly at my touch. Instruments gone. Walls gone. Bulkheads gone. Warding hands gone. Screaming heads gone.

I found myself falling through the dark sky, burning debris all about. I shifted to another ship and another pair of screaming blues. My hands reached out in ferocious arcs of annihilation. Pleading and screaming mattered not to me. Lighting issued from my mouth like a writhing ethereal creature decimating all it touched. I fell through fire and sought another ship.

I fed on destruction, becoming stronger. I inhaled the desperation of the blues, and their pleading screams of terror only fueled my rage. I stood suspended in the storm surrounded by roiling black clouds. No thought reached my heart for Jeez was gone. I grasped the night in a dance of blazing hot bolts. I remember laughing like Nimrod and hating myself while laughing at my hatred.

There was naught but the black storm, the rage of lightning, and the vacuum of my spirit as it drew all matter to an end. I shifted to the outer hull of a speeding Vimana and peeled away the layers with hands of devastation. Nothing stood in my way. Panting, I placed my feet on the deck behind two terrified blues. I relished the fear in their eyes.

The pilot screamed, “Stay away!”

His shipmate called into a mouthpiece, “Raaja! The infidel!” Those were the last words he spoke.

Then, I stood behind two blues as one said into his mouthpiece, “Run, raaja. Escape.”

As he realized my presence, the other blue turned and fired a hand weapon at me, but the bolt struck my outstretched hand and failed. I stepped forward and shoved my hand through his head. The body fell, and Crish turned to me.

Almost spitting the word, Crish said, “Tarakasura!” but, that's all I let him say.

I shifted here and there. I entered the clouds with eyes closed, ever shifting. I took hold of the largest Vimana and rode as one rides an unwilling mare, one hand in the wind. There was an evil joy in my laugh, for I knew Bha Huda was inside. I focused my intent, and shifted just beyond the wall, where I stood with head down watching the rain drip from my hair. I looked up and casually walked forward.

Two blues ran at me; they died and fell from my touch. A third blue, whimpering at the sight of his dead comrades, tried to skirt my position and duck into a side chamber. I put my finger through his temple. I turned and approached Bha Huda as he stood from the controls. I stopped and smiled wickedly into his wide eyes.

Bha Huda had shaved his head. His thick black mustache was missing. I wanted to laugh at the weight he had put on, at the great roll of flesh around his waist. Even his long ears seemed fat. I took a step forward and stopped; Bha Huda backed into the controls. I could feel the Vimana veer from course. I lifted between the two of us a white-hot hand. It pulsed with energy, and Bha Huda turned his face from the heat.

The scene seemed distant and surreal. Some shred of reason warned that I would soon be lost, that I was on a course of self-destruction. Bha Huda seemed thin like a specter; a pastel wisp and not a man.

Bha Huda said, “I knew you were the bane of my people. Doom has the upper hand.”

I killed him on the spot; I hated his voice. I screamed and thrashed violently, then fell through the sky, watching the Vimana explode above me. I shifted, and I shifted again. My power kept me from falling. My power turned me in a circle as I sought Nimrod. I had the upper hand, as Bha Huda said, but I was far from sated.

I saw Vimana expediting escape and I let them go. I sought a vile spirit I had turned loose on the world. I sought an evil that put LUC to shame. And what about you? I asked myself. Shut it! I answered.

Then, it was before me. I flew through the driving rain one shift at a time. I slowed my hand deliberately; I could not make this too fast. If I killed Nimrod too quickly, I would be unsatisfied. I had to slow down and think. I needed a plan; something grand.

And so, I stood in the Akkadi ship. I tilted my eyes up through the hair that fell across my face. I panted in loud breaths for the world around me was fading, and I feared I might not see the end of Nimrod. I had to hold on just a little longer. I inhaled and held it, fighting my trembling flesh.

Nimrod turned in his seat, crossed his arms, and smiled; his breathing apparatus was on his head but not his mask. “Your father spoke of shifting. I'm impressed. What now? Have you come to fight?”

I exhaled slowly. “I've come to destroy you,” said I.

“As you did the Vimana?” asked Nimrod amused.

“As I did the Vimana,” I replied. I shook my head and refocused my eyes.

Nimrod tilted back his head and laughed. The laugh grew loud and abrasive. Was he mad? For that matter, was I mad? Reality had lost its wet luster. I no longer felt bound. I hated his laughter, and as I screamed painfully, the lightning struck. It touched everything with probing fingers. A pale fading smoke filled my senses as my final thoughts were for Khamuel and Barachiel.