. . . . . Drawn away from civilization with its frequent wars and hardships, Smietank, the elder, led his family into a desert of space called Cosmos. He knew Cosmos to be a vast, uncharted region. And he had heard rumors that somewhere in Cosmos was a stable curstar, a gigantic, slowly spinning white-hot mass just ripe for spiraling. Tank was seeking a place in space where he and his family could live and grow in peace.

. . . . . Tank and Temprasl had chosen each other and had spawned six children. Together they found the hidden curstar and caused it to spin faster and to explode into a single-plane spiral. Matter in the spiral arms came together to form more and more complex elements, which became major and minor clusters, galaxies, stars, planets, moons and dust. To this day Tank's Dust continues to spawn new galaxies, stars and solar systems throughout the curstar spiral.

. . . . . For more than eighty trillennia, or about eighty-three billion years, Tank enjoyed the peace he had so deeply desired. Then he was drawn into battle by one of his sons, Setané. His place as elder challenged, Tank had no choice but to meet his son on the battlefield. He fell by the hand of Setané. Before he perished to the next level, known as Wondeath, he bestowed the power of time upon his two eldest children, Jovishé and Gahn.

. . . . . Tank was always very secretive about his life before Cosmos. He had mentioned only that he had been in conflict with both warring factions in his home space. Having barely escaped with his life, he had come to Cosmos to become the good father, the grand father of life and peace in this curstar spiral.

. . . . . At a later time in a surprise move her son, Setané, took her prisoner. He was planning to overthrow Smietank, the elder, and to gain the power of time. A brief lapse of wisdom caused Temprasl to choose to stay with Setané. Tank believed that she left him for Setané to try to convince her son to cease and desist. However, her absence had a weakening effect upon Tank.

. . . . . Setané had given his new mate a personal guard of six golafe. He had instructed them to protect Temprasl unless she turned on him. Then they were to attack and kill her. He did this because when a female has decided to turn on her mate, the male is rendered helpless and at her mercy. And too, Setané was not totally convinced of Temprasl's loyalty to him.

. . . . . On the field of battle Temprasl arrived with her protective guard. She watched as Tank and Setané enjoined in a fierce fight to the Wondeath. As careful as the elder was, Setané gained the upper hand and slew Smietank. As the final blow of Setané's asword came down, Temprasl screamed. Her cry could be heard well beyond the seven spiral arms. She quickly faced off with Setané and prepared to kill him, but her guard came between them. No match for her, three of them fell instantly, and two more felt her asword soon after. Then, realizing her evil deed, Temprasl spoke to her one remaining guard. She told him to tell his master that she would be waiting for him in Wondeath with her true love, Smietank, the elder. At this, she turned her asword upon herself. As Temprasl slowly drifted from cosmos, her children, even Setané, sadly and loudly mourned for a billion years.

. . . . . Setané's armies have grown steadily in number. Recently Jovishé and Gahn issued a joint temporary edict allowing open love among golafe. They hoped that this would promote a speedy increase in the number of warriors to fight Setané's forces. I owe my life to the open union between Gahn and Lambia, who were the first to make love under the edict. By setting this example, Jovishé and Gahn have renewed the balance of power. While in most areas evil still outnumbers good, between the open love edict and the rehab of captured, once-evil golafe, a numerical balance is returning to Cosmos.

. . . . . Jovishé and Gahn long ago agreed that "Tank's Code," their father's unshaking belief that it is evil to kill, would be strictly followed by all their forces. As warriors we are trained both to kill and to capture, imprison. Gahn and Jovishé teach that there is a subtle moment in the heat of winning a battle, a moment of truth, when it could go either way. We are trained to recognize this moment so that we will not break Tank's Code.

. . . . . Jovishé does not require our worship; she expects only our allegiance. We look forward to the day when Jovishé contains Setané to bring peace once again to Cosmos.

. . . . . I fail to comprehend how he can keep to Tank's Code. When he told me of the Wondeath of his father and mother, my grandparents, the pain in his eyes was unmistakably intense. I wanted to race off, find Setané and slay him a thousand times. A slow, agonizing Wondeath in the insides of a monstrous quarzh would be too good for this most evil of all evil golafe. Yet Gahn forbids it. He and Jovishé promise grueling punishments to anyone who breaks Tank's Code. I hope with earnest desire that when next we meet, I will persuade Setané to fall on his own asword. Even this thought could earn me several slow-lives as a comb-jellyfish. Yet how can I not feel this way? My father admonishes me to love my uncle, to hope for his upcoming rehab. And it is all I can do to contain my hatred. Gahn says for me to see Setané as misguided, unwise and foolish. Yet I can only view him with contempt in the extremest.

. . . . . Nor am I completely satisfied with Gahn's explanation for why he will not use the power of time to save his warriors from Wondeath. He tells me something about needing to be in close proximity of the battle. So I say, "Well! This means that I could slay the enemy and you, father, would never know." And he just responds with, "You would know, and therefore I would know." Perhaps I am blinded by the Wondeath of my beloved Shenash. I abide Gahn's words, but I do not understand him. Setané deserves only Wondeath, slow and cruel the same as his nature. Sometimes I hate my father.

. . . . . Do you not find it of more than just a little interest that Earth is loaded with both good and evil? Have you never wondered why we have so much evil? Or why, with all the good there is, evil never quite seems to get conquered? Why evil keeps returning? How about why it is often difficult to tell good from evil? Is it too much of a stretch to accept that a balance on Earth between good and bad is maintained for an express purpose?

. . . . . The vast majority of living things on Earth are captured warriors who are recuperating from battle and being confronted by "the good" as well as "the evil" in all their myriad forms. Each of these warriors have received billions of years of training administered by Setané. Until captured they know little or nothing about their enemy, only that they must fight, win and kill. Here on Earth these fighters are exposed to both good and evil, and a high percentage of them become impressed by the fact that Setané's way leads only to suffering, to nothing else. There is suffering and then you die. Yes, peace has its sufferings, too. Yet in peace, not all is suffering; in peace when you suffer you get to choose how and when you suffer. In war, someone else chooses how you suffer. In peace there is freedom. In war this is not so; one cannot be free if one is tied to the discipline of war. Setané knows all this, but somehow fails to relate this and many other aspects of the good to his following.

. . . . . What else can be said about Setané that has not been repeated billions of times by billions of people? The evil here on Earth is very much like the rest of evil in Cosmos, just on a slower, smaller scale. Yet pale is the evil anywhere when compared to that of Setané. Our languages have no words to describe Setané's level of evil. You must dig deeply, perhaps more deeply than ever before in order to remember just how truly evil Setané can be. He is indescribably malicious!

. . . . . Lambia, one of the most beautiful golafe in Cosmos, has never officially remated. She will not speak of it, but it is believed by some that she may hope to one day confront Setané. Because she is still his mate, she can invoke the female instinct and render him helpless. And she is enough like her mother so that she may disregard Tank's Code long enough to slay Setané. Yet in truth, she has become well known for her generous mercy. So no one really expects her to do more than capture Setané if she gets the chance.

. . . . . This one tempted me once back in a time before I knew Shenash. Had she been willing, I would have gladly become her mate. Here on Earth we sometimes say that sex with a certain someone is "outta this world!" I can truthfully say that making love with Lambia is "outta this universe!" In fact, it was her teaching that impressed Shenash. Though Shen was older than I, she had no qualms about choosing me, because Lambia had shown me many ways to please her.

. . . . . Oh! Shen. Would that we could have had a long life together.

. . . . . One more thing about Lambia: She has never needed recuperation from battle. Never has she spent time as any form of slow-life. There was a man in history you may recall by the name of Wyatt Earp. Defying all laws of chance, he was never wounded. Legendary Lambia despite countless, long battles with the enemy, has never felt more than the wind of an asword. I once saw her fight, and beat, the entire first line of attacking enemy. She had been first to the front and had put them all down before her forces could join her. And without a scratch she continued to beat down the enemy. Shen and I both served under her. Lambia is poetry in fighting motion!

. . . . . I suppose he would prove out to be a good sort when you get to know him. Trouble is, nobody really knows him. Maton has stayed neutral these many trillennia. He keeps to himself and is rarely seen. He and Faun are twins, which may explain why Faun is so outgoing, to make up for her brother twin's reclusive nature.

. . . . . Maton's fighting can only be described as steady and methodical. He wields an asword with grace and precision. I have fought him in a battle-game, and can say that if you make one little mistake, he will have you. He just wears you down. Once he was forced to do battle during an attack by evil forces. He became one of the few who have sparred with Setané personally. Maton was wounded critically by his brother and has never fully recovered. He spends his time in slow-life for the most part. Presently he is here on Earth living in England, where he has resided for several thousand years.

. . . . . I once saw her, in the midst of battle and long before the moment of truth, slowly lay down her asword and open her arms to the enemy. I almost shouted out as the cursed, evil warrior brought her weapon to bear. But try as she might, she could not bring herself to hurt Faun. She soon gave up, then on the spot and without rehab she swore allegiance to Faun and Jovishé!

. . . . . There is something about being in close proximity to this one. She can make you forget that there even is a war going on. Faun is the doctor, the nurse, the battlefield medic. Her corps cares for the wounded until Gahn places them for recuperation. She will get right up in your face when she thinks she is right. And you melt. Faun is the most prolific of all golafe. She has more children than the rest of us put together.

. . . . . Never officially mated, Faun awaits Setané to mend his ways. Before the time of war he was her favorite, and she hopes to become his mate or mistress when he returns to peace. Nothing short of astounding, Faun is feisty!