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Nick opened his eyes and immediately shut them again. ‘Ow! Too much light.’ His head hurt. He had certainly had too much of something last night. He was not quite sure what though, or indeed where he was. He looked bewilderedly round the room, casting his half open eyes over the sparkly top and leather trousers that were strewn over the floor. Well they aren’t mine, he thought. His head was really pounding. It was like that night with Alf on Gilda 4. Alf? Where was she? Why wasn’t she here? OH MY GOD! Cy! The name flashed like a glitter ball in his mind. I was in the bar yeah, remember that okay, then we left and had coffee… OH MY GOD I’M IN HIS BED! After the coffee he could remember nothing. There was a funny taste in his mouth. His head was still pounding. He struggled to his feet and looked around for his pants. Waterguard Humba had somewhat reluctantly allowed Alf to leave and look for Vera and her friend the Doctor. She was a determined young filly, he thought, and he somehow felt he had be more likely to get to the truth behind the murder by allowing her to investigate it for him. Alf swung her rucksack over her shoulder and squinted in the light of the early morning sun. Gidi’s main town – its only town, according to the Doctor - was really nothing more than a series of beaten down tracks with huts and run-down old shacks in between them. Humba had given her rough directions to the mansion where Vera apparently lived with a young man called Cy. As she walked down the dirt track, which ran along the edge of the town, she saw something else which caught her eye. A strange looking guy, emerging from the store opposite. He was dressed more like a conjurer than a native of Gidi, and on his face he wore a nervous frown. He looked around all the time, like a frightened rabbit, and his eyes we shielded by a battered Fedora. Alf shrunk into the shadows of the store and watched him leave. He carried what looked like a carpetbag and walked briskly but unsteadily. He seemed to be treading along the same track she had been told by Humba to follow, so keeping to the shadows she decided to trail him. The Doctor was sat on a faded floral sofa, waiting for Vera to bring him his tea. The living room of the old house was stuffy and dingy. The windows did not seem to have been opened for years, and the pictures that hung on the wall seemed to have been chosen not to be in coordination with each other, let alone the carpet, which the Doctor preferred not to consider. Old newspaper cuttings and the centre folds of magazines were pinned on the walls, old sports stars and celebrities and, somewhat curiously, pages from a scientific journal. The Doctor took it upon himself to try and open one of the tall windows, but it stayed stubbornly closed. As he peered through the yellowing net curtains at the distant awakening town, he glanced down and found something on the windowsill. A book. He picked up the small object and carefully opened the first page. It seemed to contain a scribbled circuit diagram, and further rambling pages of notes followed. ‘A scientific journal,’ mused the Doctor. ‘How very interesting. Read on, Doctor? Well, you know reading other people’s diaries is against your moral code, but in this case…’ He turned another page, and drew in breath. Printed in bold ink letters was a name that the Doctor recognised. A name that chilled him to his bones. The name was Invigh Endlemann. ‘Endlemann… but he disappeared,’ the Doctor murmured to himself. ‘On the planet Vrij! How very odd that his diary should find its way here.’ ‘Tea up!’ called Vera, pushing open the door with her tray. The Doctor was no longer smiling. ‘What is this?’ he demanded, holding out the notebook. Vera went pale. ‘What do you know?’ he continued. ‘What is going on Vera?’ Vera sunk onto the sofa, crestfallen. ‘Oh, Doctor,’ she said. ‘I’ve been a stupid old woman…’ ‘I think it’s time you told me everything.’ In the kitchen a worried man with a worried mind walked in and took off his battered Fedora hat that had obviously seen better days. Professor Endlemann glanced with distaste at a pan full of charred eggs, which was gently smoking on the stove. He had been disconcerted to discover that on his way back from the village he had been followed all the way by the girl he had seen last night as he dumped the body of Hansen. It was serendipity her being there at the right time to be framed for the murder. It could have taken the gaze of the Waterguards off them for a while. Obviously that fool Humba was not as stupid as he seemed to be. A stranger on Gidi was cause enough for concern, but with the work they were doing… luckily, he had taken a diversion through the woods and lost her, but she would have to be taken care of. He walked to some stone steps at the other end of the room. Descending into the gloominess, he shook his head absentmindedly. As Endlemann reached a door set into the wall at the foot of the steps, he heard an excited yelp from the other side. Puzzled, he nervously opened the door to see a rapturous Cy, dancing round. ‘Endy!’ Cy screamed. ‘Come and see what’s happened!’ ‘What’s happened?’ Endlemann asked nervously, following him. Cy pointed to the tank at the far end of the cellar laboratory. The curtain had been pulled apart. ‘My God! It’s… It’s…’ ‘Fabulous!’ exclaimed Cy. ‘Its alive! The Protii is alive!’ In the tank, swimming within the green goo, was a creature, part-insect, part-dinosaur. Skeleton wings were folded back against its thin frame. A tail flicked gently against the sides of the tank, and its mouth bore two pincers, that snapped inaudibly. Most frightening of all, were its bulbous green eyes, which flicked open and stared at them both from within its glass prison. It chittered, and unheard by its two onlookers, came a soft reply, chanting and waiting. ‘Born of anger, born of evil. Born of anger, born of evil…’ Upstairs in Cy’s bedroom, Nick had finished getting dressed. Suddenly, something hit him; a shockwave of pain that rocketed through his entire body. He cried out, and beneath it all, as if sliding under his skin like a sonic vibration, he could hear the words again, this time even more clearly and with ever growing intensity. His mouth moved to echo them. ‘Born of… anger…’ Nick whispered, suddenly calm again. ‘Born of… evil… Yes. Yes, I understand. I can hear you. I’m here. I AM you.’ In the cellar, Cy breathed out and watched the creature in the tank. ‘You shall live again,’ he whispered. ‘You must live again.’ ‘How has this happened?’ Endlemann asked, to which Cy simply smiled. ‘I’ve found the key to unlock the power of the Protii,’ he replied. ‘And his name… is Nick.’
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