Beastchild

mucous-like substance of a uniform gray-, brown color.
        He was on a narrow, winding path. Each step he took down this trail only isolated him farther from whatever place he had begun his journey, for the tangled mass of vegetation flourishing on the forest bottom closed in behind him as swiftly as he advanced. There was no going back.
        There seemed to be things hiding in the trees, He moved on.
        Eventually, the trail began to narrow. Vines, stalks, and ropy roots, pressed closer, closer, until he could no longer walk without the chilling touch of the cold, slimy life forms.
        He tucked his tail between his legs, wrapping it around his left thigh in the age-old reaction to danger, to the unknown, to that which made the scales of the scalp tighten and ache.
        To the naoli, a voice chanted monotonously from nowhere, the human mind was unfathomable…
        Still, the forest closed in on him. He could almost see it moving.
        The things in the swaying trees whispered to one another.
        They were whispering about him.
        To the human, the same voice said, the naoli mind was equally mysterious…
        Yes, definitely, something was moving in the trees. In several places, simultaneously, he caught a shivering, shimmering, rippling action. He was not certain whether he was seeing the movements of a dozen creatures spread along his flank-or whether one was being hidden behind the trunks and the leaves, watching.
        The confrontation, the chanter chanted, was an inevitability. It was clear that the naoli had to move first in order to protect its very future…
        Now, the trail had ceased to exist. Ahead, there was only dark vegetation. It seemed to writhe.
        He looked behind. The trail had closed.
        The naoli met the aliens…
        Hulann saw that the small, bare circle where he stood was rapidly being encroached upon by the eerie fungus-like vines. A tentacle of green slithered over his foot, making him leap in surprise.
        The naoli saw the danger…
        The forest reared up, snaring him with its chlorophyl ropes. He found his arms pinned at his sides by clutching leaves. Roots had grown up one side of his feet, across them, down the other side and into the earth again. He could not move.
        The movement of the things in the trees came closer.
        He tried to scream.
        If the naoli had not acted, the voices saidThe things in the trees sprang, great dark shapes leaping onto him, engulfing him, chilly, wet things with fog for eyes and fingers that touched the insides of his over-mind, squeezing the warmth out of it… -the naoli would have died! The voice finished.
        And Hulann died. The dark beasts sucked away his warmth, and he slipped out of his body forever.
        There was a moment of intense blackness. Then the Phasersystem began to feed colors to him again, as it was feeding to nearly all the naoli on the occupation force. Amber to soothe the nerves again. Then blue to engender a sense of pride and fulfillment.
        Then the last stage of the psychological conditioning/ propaganda began. The questioning to determine fitness:
        Why did the naoli strike first?
        Hulann's overmind replied and was monitored by the main computer behind the Phasersystem. "For survival of our race."
        Why did the naoli strike so completely?
        "The human race was tenacious, ingenius. If the naoli had not been thorough, the human race would have grown, regrouped, and destroyed the naoli forever."
        Should any naoli feel guilt over this extinction of the human race?
        "Guilt has no role in it. One cannot feel guilt over something on so cosmic a scale. Nature ordained the meeting of our races. Since we have met with the other eleven races without trouble, it must have been intended as a test to match us against the humans. We did not wish to war. It was a natural necessity. I feel no guilt."
        There was a pause in the Phasersystem's interrogation. A moment later, the voice continued, but on a slightly different tonal level. Hulann knew that he had been taken off the general program of questions and was receiving individual attention from a more refined portion of the computer's "brain."
        You have registered eighteen points on a scale of one hundred in relation to your sense of guilt.
        Hulann was surprised.
        Is this a conscious guilt? the computer