by Brian Fisher
Chapter 43
A primal, blood-searing scream ripped out of Nom's throat. He writhed in delicious agony as his bones cracked and knit back together. The air burned as it filled his lungs again, breath after torturous breath. Life was still his, his to use to serve his masters.
Nom crawled to his feet and looked around. His lair was ruined. The walls were buckled, ripped, and charred. Great rifts had been torn open in the floor and ceiling, as if a giant had picked up the world, and cracked it like an egg. The little creature that had been with him was gone, apparently crushed in some explosion. No matter, he would serve his masters anyway.
He checked his suit, and turned on the invisibility feature. It was again time for him to serve the Masters. They knew he had failed. This was his opportunity, his one chance to redeem himself. He had to find T'Sula Mir, retrieve the package from her, and kill her at all cost. She had to die. The last part he would savor. Extinguishing her life would be almost as sweet as finally being released from his own.
Nom picked his way around the debris and found his exit. It occurred to him that his bomb had failed. There should not have been anything left of this wretched planet, and yet there was. Something had gone wrong. Someone was going to pay for this. They were going to pay dearly.
A sinister smile crawled across his pale, sickened face. He would redeem himself to the Ta'Reeth. Yes, he would, and all of the pathetic, insignificant people that tried to stop him were going to suffer first, and then they would all die.
