Date:         Thu, 21 Sep 1995 08:56:25 -0500
Reply-To:     "Robert A. Gansler" <rgansler@FACSTAFF.WISC.EDU>
Sender:       Highlander TV show stories <HLFIC-L@PSUVM.PSU.EDU>
From:         "Robert A. Gansler" <rgansler@FACSTAFF.WISC.EDU>
Subject:      Rulers of the World (Part 3 of 16)

Rulers of the World (Part 3 of 16)
A Highlander/War of the Worlds Crossover
A ContiNEWity Story by Bob Gansler

* 1995: The streets
   Duncan made his way through the filthy streets.  Things had gotten far
worse here than he had expected.  Paris was still Paris, but even that city
had lost some of its luster lately.  There was litter everywhere.  The local
residents were dressed in drab colors.  Most were clothed in outfits that
were sorely in need of mending.  Duncan wondered how society had taken such
a nose-dive.  It was about as bad as he had ever seen in his Immortal lifetime.

* 1995: The Marketplace
   The man that Duncan referred to as Martan walked through the Marketplace.
 He passed through the crowds of people and the hundreds of tables where
people bought, sold, and bartered all sorts of goods.  It was no man,
however, only the appearance of one.  Inside of the human shell was the
alien known as Mordex.  Mordex thought about how he had come to acquire this
extremely powerful human form...

** 1989: The streets
   A trio of men walked down the dark alleyway.  To the ears of the drunks
that lined the alley, the men were talking in a very strange language.
   "Stinking foreigners" was the common thought to the drunks, at least
those that were sober enough to form a coherent thought.  The trio paid no
mind to the comments of the locals.
   A businessman with some very severe looking burns covering his body
began, <We must find me a new body and soon, comrades.  This one cannot last
much longer.>
   A healthier looking construction worker responded, <Agreed, Mordex.  Why
don't you take one of these lowlifes?>
   The third man, apparently a police officer, chuckled at the suggestion.
<Yes, with all the alcohol these human scum have imbibed, you'll be able to
forget the pain that the current host is causing you now.  Ha ha ha.>
   Mordex scowled at his associates. <Laugh if you will, but soon those host
bodies of yours will wear out and you will be in same predicament as I am.
The radiation therapy can only allow us to inhabit these bodies for so long.
 Then the human tissue begins to break down ...>
   The policeman interrupted, <Spare us the medical treatise on these lower
life forms.  We will certainly assist you in procuring a new body, won't we,
Spotak?>
   <Most assuredly, Gafon.  We must preserve our three,> responded the
construction worker.
   Spotak continued, <However, these vermin are not suitable candidates.  We
must find someone else.>
   Suddenly, a masked man in a trenchcoat carrying a number of bags rounded
the corner into the alley.  The trio noticed the man immediately.  They
looked at each other and shared a smile.  This one would be more than
adequate for Mordex.
   When the masked man caught sight of Spotak in his police uniform, he
skidded to a halt and unleashed a string of expletives.  He did not what to
do.  He could not go back, that was certain.  He did not want to give up.
It had been such an easy heist initially.  Finally, he decided that he would
fight his way through.  What would a few more deaths mean at this point.
   The policeman and the two others approached him silently.  He considered
this a little strange; cops always liked shouting commands, but this one
said nothing.  Whatever the reason, he was not going to let him bother him.
As he ran toward the trio, he reached inside his coat and began draw
something out.  Before he could, the three men were on him with lightning
speed.  The masked man dropped the bags and tried to get his assailants off
of him.  He could not even get one off; they were so strong.  Two of them
pinned his arms down.  Suddenly, he felt something drive into his abdomen.
He screamed out in pain and then fell silent.
   Mordex's alien arm worked his way into the masked man body.  Within a few
seconds, he had transferred his alien self into the masked man.  The form of
the businessman quickly melted into a pool of sludge.
   As Mordex finished the transfer to the masked man, Spotak and Gafon
released the body and began to dust themselves off, keeping an eye on the
drunks that inhabited this dreary place.
   Gafon pointed to the thousands of dollar bills that had spilled out of
the masked man's bag.  <Look, the scum's currency.  They assign value to
scraps of paper.>
   Spotak nodded, <They are a worthless lot.>
   Mordex meanwhile began to complete taking control of the body.  As he
tapped into the human's brain, he was overcome by a jolt of excruciating
pain.  The body convulsed violently as Spotak and Gafon took notice of this
most unconventional transfer.  Mordex's own mind was being flooded with all
sorts of memories of times and places distant.  He struggled to keep control
and slowly fought off the pain and the convulsions.  Spotak and Gafon agreed
that it was the most unusual takeover they had ever witnessed.
   Spotak offered the new Mordex a hand up. <Mordex, are you feeling
acceptable?  Is there something wrong with this human host.>
   Mordex accepted Spotak's aid gracefully. <I am not sure.  This body feels
different.  As if it is not quite human.>
   Gafon offered, "Maybe it was deranged or addicted to the mind-altering
drugs that these humans seem to enjoy."
   <I do not think so.  However, I am having some difficulty accessing this
body's memories.  There seem to be considerably more than a human this age
should have.  This human has been many places, been many people.>
   Gafon looked at Spotak. <Drugs, without a doubt.>
   Spotak nodded. <Yes, unquestionably.  Let's get back to the base.>
   Gafon added. <We will find out there how the mission to the Great Plains
region progressed.>
   Spotak agreed. <Yes, hopefully they were successful in procuring
sufficient radioactive supplies from the humans' nuclear power plants there.>
   Mordex was oblivious to his comrades' conversation.  He could not seem to
get a fix on what this human called himself.  Then he remembered that humans
typically carried a form of identification with them.  He reached into his
pocket and pulled out a wallet.  He fished out a driver's license and read
the name - John Martan.
Bob G.
EPRI HVAC&R Center
rgansler@facstaff.wisc.edu

"Reality - a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there."
"dS >=q/T : It's not just a good idea, it's the law!"
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