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He toyed with his ice cube in the glass before him, punching it against the walls of the glass and not trying to push it further into the drink. He stopped for a second and took it up and sipped from the glass. He put it back down in the same ring of condensing water that he had picked it up from on the table. There was no one else here now, some time had passed since the other patrons had shuffled out of the bar and gone stumbling off in their own swirls of merriment and rushes of stupor, intoxicated by the moment if not the alcohol. Echoes of their clinking glasses and the odor of their breath had been cleansed by the air filters hours ago; only their forgotten miseries lay around him, silent as memories waiting for a happy soul to attach to and make them anxious, too.

He picked up his glass again, but before he could swallow, a thought of his own past came to mind to slap away the bliss of blankness that he was enjoying. He brought the drink up closer to his lips but instead of swallowing it he put it back down in a dry spot on the table. His hand released it and he grasped the edges of the table he sat, one hand on each side of the little white table.

His strength dented the round edges as a feeling of frustration and anger boiled up again and made him want to scream his anger at the open and empty room of scattered tables and shoved-under chairs.

"Damn him:" he thought, "Damn him and I hope he's happy."

He released the innocent table a hoisted his glass; he drank down the liquid inside it and kicked back the ice cube with his tongue.

The emptied glass sat for a minute before the 'floater' returned. A small disk that silently flew through the air with another fresh drink, it landed in a different dry spot, then with its repulsor focused above it at the glass's bottom, it slid out from under the drink. Before it left him it flew low over the table. A low powered heat beam dried the water rings and it slid under the empty glass, and rose into the air again, leaving the angry Igrendi.

Instead of drinking, he put the glass back down in a dry spot on the table. The low boil of anger had come back as a rolling torrent. He backhanded the alcohol away from him. It sprayed out in a plume to fall as a fog, the glass spinning in the air and cluttering to land somewhere near the back of the room. The ice cube hit the edge of a table and shattered into little icy fragments like a grenade explosion.

He got up, his wings stretched out naturally in their leathery form like a bat; naturally the muscles flexed as he arose. The forgotten chair of his table clanked backwards away and announced its metallic construction as he got up; his strength made the table and the chair like leaves before an exploding wind.

He turned away from the spilled liquor and still in his anger toward the past, he went to the door and the parapet beyond. He heard the little floater behind him go to retrieve the spilled mess that he left. He brushed through the doorway--his wings scraped the walls on either side as he passed through the portal to the scene of the choking and fuming streets below the parapet.

Off-worlders scurried like insects far below him. He stood at the entrance parapet landing of the bar, and stretched his wings out to full length one last time before he pulled them down and pushed the thin air under them. He sprang to gain a little height, then let himself slip into an accelerating dive that brought him across the street and into the car park where his ride was moored.

The long, sleek lines of the off world construction of metal plate draped and bent to show a molded, round shape some twenty feet long and ten feet wide. The abundantly chrome-plated front end had the useless but eye appealing grillwork masquerading as the spoiler for the radiator behind. Below this and wrapping like a spider's legs around the front sides, was a massive wide chromed bumper, the kind that the off worlders had on ancient ground vehicles of yesteryear in old picture books.

It sported the multiple chromed and smooth tipped spikes that extended forward and completed the smile of his giant, heavy hooded vehicle. The salesman that had sold him the vehicle had called the protrusions 'Bumper Bullets'. But he had no idea what a 'bumper' or what a 'bullet' was for; he thought of it just another funny name of the off worlders.

But he liked the way his car smiled, just the same. Looking at it as he approached, he angled in his glide so that he could view the front of the smiling pink and bright green striped car floating in the air. The anti-gravs were always on. Only the long leash kept it from blowing away in the light breeze one hundred and thirty feet above the ground. His glide took him up and over the arching glass windshield to the cockpit behind. He turned in mid-air, with a 180-degree twist, then stuck his legs down as he abruptly lost airspeed and landed in an accustomed pose on the wide, cushioned seat the size of a living room couch, directly behind the steering wheel.

His wings had folded flat to his back as his weight settled into the couch-seat both of them splayed out to either side. He adjusted himself; in the seat getting his wings in a more comfortable position between his body and the back of the seat. Then he settled his mind by closing the eyes on either side of his normal football shaped head.

The off-worlders relied upon backward facing mirrors to see behind them. All any normal Igrendi needed was to simply look backwards, with a simple movement of the eyes. He had first thought to remove the mirrors, then decided to adjust them outwards and upward to help adorn his car with more sparkle and reflectivity.

The shiny and long broad flying vehicle he had bought had another funny off worlder name. What had the salesman said, oh yes he remembered it. "A 1954 Cadillac Coupe de Ville restyled without the top", he had said. "But this model", he was repeating now what he remembered the salesman had said to him over and over again. "Had the modification of antigravity repulsors added not but fifty years ago." And he had sold him on this point "it's a classic that you can't find anywhere in the galaxy these days, my man!"

The car wasn't costly; the money was easy to get because only on Igrend can the rest of the galaxy find the crystals that power their starships. So the old agrarian economy was replaced and everybody on Igrend had more money than they could ever use in a lifetime! He was told it was like the 'old oil barons on the ancient earth'.

He had no idea what "Oil" or "Baron" meant--such funny off worlder names! Igrendi money was only used by the Igrendi to buy the antiques of their heritage, things without off worlder names. He had a good antiques business, but remembering this reignited his anger. Earlier this morning, his shop was vandalized.

All money of his world was used for, was for the Igrendi to buy from other Igrendi stuff that only Igrendi people wanted, that without the funny names. In that line he was a merchant of Igrendi oddities, a dealer of ancient decorations and baubles. It was this fact that made him angry earlier, for a criminal had visited him.

This morning the thief had entered like an off-worlder, whomever it was had crawled up through the heating ducts and into the locked front of his shop. The rotten bastard had crushed and broken some of his finest blown glass spheres that he had in the showcase in front, but what drove him to a drinking rage was that the lop-winged, thief had broken into his private room! Some of his finest hand blown glass globes were now gone.

The Igrendi spent a few satisfying moments devising slow, gruesome tortures for the intruder, but stopped when he realized that he was crushing his steering wheel instead.

He winced a little, ashamed of himself for taking his anger out on his own beautiful car. He used some of the great strength that he had and managed to bend it back.

He then decided to go back to his shop, to clean up the mess, to sweep his losses into the garbage, to put his mind at ease and work at something. He bent down and pushed the button that started the engines of the redesigned car. He pulled the lever that released the leash clamp to the mooring bar that held his car to this place. The automatic system reeled in the leash line. He turned the bent wheel and shot forward as he pressed down on the ancient accelerator. The car flew forward and away leaving a hot light breeze.

The car was on a flat trajectory and he decided to pull up. Making sure that there was room first, he pulled back on the lever to point the engine exhausts to incline the exhausts to make the car nose up in the air. He gained altitude now and was flying along with several other '54 Cadillac Coupe De Villes that where pink, with bright green stripes but with their mirrors broken off.

After flying around and admiring his car against the reflection of it with other cars' paint jobs. The other drivers were admiring their cars in the reflection of his mirrors. They waved, and he nodded back, he thought that "there sure are a lot of people with my good taste." He flew off to his broken up shop.

After he moored the car behind his shop on its long leash line. The Igrendi went winging around to the front door, where a plate shield barred the entry. He unlocked it and shoved it into its slot pocket. Now all that filled the door was a new screen, designed by off-worlders that kept out the atmosphere and the flying animals, but allowed a person to enter. Passing through the screen and into the shop, the dark but thin force field felt like the edges of paper pulled across his exposed skin. He went directly to the open back door.

It was ready if he needed to use it, but he always used the front door. (Off-worlders would shake their heads, and ask, "If you have a back door and it's always open, why do you always only use and lock the front, Igrendi?" He never could explain. It was just another one of the dumb off-worlder questions.) He looked at his pink with bright green striped car floating in the breeze, tugging at its leash, clamped to the mooring mast out back. Then he remembered what he was doing, and grabbed for the 'cleaner'.

He went back to front of the shop where the mess still lay. Some of it was missing, as the police had taken some of the pieces with them for evidence. He pointed the 'cleaner' at the remaining debris and disintegrated it off the stone slab floor. Now that the mess was gone, he went back to his private room to see what he wanted to keep and disintegrate the refuse.

Walking back, he kicked a forgotten glass globe with something contained inside it, with his foot. Cursing a little he bent to pick it up and noticed something he had never seen before. At this angle as he knelt to pick up the unbroken globe, he saw a glint of something, far back inside his private room. Part of the wall plate was pried out and something was exposed. He put the globe on a cushion on his pillow display, and dropped the 'cleaner' in one of the pockets of his coat.

He walked back to his private room. He went inside and got down on hands and knees to look under his desk of the darkened with age Diadem wood.

Not shiny or reflective the very dark black wood had hid this anomaly from him. The plate had been pulled back long ago, for there was dust and debris cluttered around it. He retrieved the cleaner and removed the dirt and debris. He crawled under his desk and pulled on the plate in the wall.

He had inherited this shop from a distant cousin of his clutch. The old owner had said nothing of loose metal plates in the wall, and he was a little excited. He thought "this was really new, was that thief looking for this very place?" He couldn't really get at it, so he crawled out and put his hands on the heavy wooden desk. After many tries he had only moved it a couple of inches. He went back out into his shop to look for a tool.

Rummaging around he found a long metal bar and an ancient weapon of the Igrendi, a chain-axe. Though the axe was replaced by the invention of the 'Broiler' a weapon that by which of a beam upon contact to the flesh of any living being, or even dead ones, causes the contacted area to desiccate, or lose all moisture instantly turning the area effected into dust.

The axe was at one time a very nasty weapon itself, it was designed in such a way as to last hundreds of years as long as it was cleaned and greased every once in a while. Though a bit dusty and long overdue for a recharge this somewhat heavy weapon was none the less still a dangerous one. But in the state of discharge as it was now it was little more than a hammer.

And had been used in that way for some time. He took it with him along with the long bar. And went back over to his desk. After about an hour or so of beating up his desk he managed to get it away from the wall enough to get at the wall plate. He stopped for a moment to catch his breath, so he sat down in his chair. He felt the 'cleaner' in a side pocket of the large coat that he wore, and laid the axe across his lap.

It had been an eventful day, upon getting up this morning; he had gone towards the shower and discovered that the power had gone off during the night and that the backup system had not kicked in. So he couldn't shower, that was the beginning of his anger, it started with this setback thinking about it he was at the time thinking of just going back to bed and sleeping for another hour or two, maybe the problem would fix itself.

Well that usually never happens, he's the one that usually calls the fix it company, to send a robot over to fix the problem. He tried his own method but the banging on the wall wasn't working this time, (it didn't work the last time either, it just made him feel better doing it).

He went to the front door screen and stuck just his head out to see what kind of day it was. There was a package lying on the parapet landing of his front apartment, some writing was on it but he couldn't read what it said. He decided that it was sent to the wrong address and someone else would come back and take it to the right place. Because if it was for him to receive, first he would have remembered ordering it, or it would be saying hello to him as soon as he poked his head out the screen door.

Neither one was the case so he went back to call in the problem to the fix it company. The phone did not work either, so he went to get dressed instead. He went to a closet and pulled out a long overcoat and put that on. He went back to the bedroom and put the same pants on that he had wore the previous day. It wasn't too bad of an arrangement he thought looking in the mirror, but the coat looked better when he put it on with his wings sticking through the wing slots in back. He pulled on a pair of cloth lined short topped boots.

"Now Mister Galvroodre Ekahshtan you look quite the proper gentlemen. All you need now is a shirt, but I don't have a shirt", he said "because the power is off and I put the last one in the hamper". Finding out that there were not any to be had, now he was angry again.

He went and put on the only shirt that he had, that was the one hanging on the wall. It was a gaudy brown and red thing with a back but no front. Going out the screen front door he tripped over the package and nearly fell off the landing. Cursing a mighty threat he took up the package and it tore open the rest of the way, out fell a glass globe with something inside of it. He caught it before it hit the stone slab pavement of his parapet landing, but in so doing lost the rest of the packaging to the wind and it was gone in several different directions at once. Again he was going to curse but thought better of it since the next time that he did the building, his building might collapse.

Later after he got to the shop he was putting it in his display case but some of the glass globes were not behaving right, so he had put it on the stone floor to rearrange them, it was then that the power in his shop sputtered then failed. First a flicker then click the lights dimmed out, the display stopped completely. Disgusted he moved away from them and the new globe he felt his wing touch it slightly, and it wobbled spinning just off its axis and then under a table cabinet. He was going off to find out which wall he was supposed to bang on to get the power back on.

He went out the back screen this being an actually emergency, and spread his wings to glide over and around to the front door screen and locked the plate back to protect it from thieves. He then flew back around and across the way to a small bar. He went inside to make a call to the Fix-it Company. He talked for over an hour to the different Igrendi about where he lived and who he was and what his problem was, again and again the same thing until he was finally connected to the right party on the other end.

After three hours had passed he was able to get another party of the company to send a robot to his apartment building to fix the power there too. Finally after the entire morning had passed he became hungry and decided to eat something here at this bar. He saw the robot fly up to his back door screen after a half an hour after he was done eating, and stop. He went out and flew over to the back door screen too. And the both of them went into his darkened shop. That's when he found out that he had been broken into.

He went back out the power was still down and the robot shut down all of a sudden. He thought that a little odd but went back to the bar across the way and contacted the police.

After several hours passed by he finally got the right party and seconds later a detective and two flying robot policemen flew up to his back door. He told the detective the whole story, and left since the detective bade him to "leave it to me." That's when he went to the bar that he was angry in. He opened his eyes again.

"Well I'll have to get going on this the day is almost gone." He said out loud, he got up and pulled the plate off the wall by use of the 'hammer'. He looked inside and pulled out and ancient device of some kind. It was small and cylindrical with an orange glass end and a white glass one at the other end.

He heard some other Igrendi calling at his back screen. He went through to find two males of his race in dark suits with their wings sticking out the back. They said they were from the fix it company and had come to get their robot that had gone off line early in the day. He led them into the shop and picked up the globe again, to keep the two from kicking it to pieces, and then let them pick up their robot and leave. He went back to his private room, and sat again in his chair.

He stood up and pulled open an old style window to the waning light of the sun and studied the cylinder then. He fumbled it and dropped it when it suddenly brightened and the white end lit up to a bright glow. And yes it fell directly on top of his last globe, the one he found on his doorstep that morning to shards!

"Ah Oil Baron, Bumper Bullets," he exclaimed in a now wore out curse. He didn't know what the words meant so one curse is as good as another is. The thing inside started to glow; bending down he picked up the cylinder and the new glowing thing...

He was in bright white sunlight in a shock, he was still looking to where the thing that lit up that used to be inside his last globe had been. His foot had been against the old axe and he was looking at grass on his floor. He looked up to the sky and saw a fire engine red sun at full noon above him, "OIL BARON BUMPER BULLETS!" : he yelled at the sun.

End of chapter two