Ulysses and the Fugitive 8 his present angle. They looked just like the flying saucers in the B-movies he watched as kid, more like novelty campers than aircraft. He shook his head and began driving back around the way he came. For a moment, he thought he saw the tank turrets moving. Getting closer to his starting point, O'Flannery's stomach fell away as he noticed that the tank turrets were moving. Specifically, they were beginning to track the path of the jeep he was driving. "No, no, no, no!" he screamed, and began cursing. He gunned the engine and swerved in a wide arc away from the perimeter, then barreled toward the tank closest to where he'd gotten the jeep. His half-formed idea was to get close enough to the tank before it or any of the others could fire on him. He wasn't sure what he was going to do once he got to the tank in front of him. He pulled up, then half-jumped, half-fell out of the jeep. He waved his arms over his head, shouting his own name and title as he watched the tank turrets converge on the jeep. O'Flannery had experienced several particularly unfortunate things in his lifetime, added to that list was standing next to an Abrahams tank firing a shell at pointblank range. O'Flannery realized the sky took up the entirety of his field of vision. It's pretty, not too hot either, he felt the words more than thought them. He was vaguely aware of a distant, high- pitched whine that reminded him of...something. He gazed absently at the sky, which was making him sleepy. Shock. I'm in shock, he thought. His brain squirmed with effort. He tried moving his eyes, wiggling his fingers and toes. All of these tiny motions felt laborious, complicated, and very far away. He kept trying. "You are suitable habitation," said a voice he couldn't see; it was the only thing he could hear over the droning whine in his ears. What? Was all he could think in response. "You are suitable habitation," the voice said again. Whoever was talking was doing it right into his brain. Brain damage, injury, O'Flannery thought. "You will be healed," said the voice, "when we are inhabiting you. Now." O'Flannery felt something warm on his torso but couldn't move to see it. The warmth was very pleasant and made his eyelids close. He was feeling good now. Feeling like he needed a rest. Chapter 9 - Returning to the Burn awoke with the sun. Nera still slept next to him. She'd kicked off the covers and was stretched out on her U lysses side facing him. Even asleep she looked tired. One of her ears poked out of her disheveled hair as she drew deep, slow breaths. Aww, she's adorable, Ulysses thought. Nera's eyes snapped open as she let out a scream, interrupting Ulysses's reverie. It took a few seconds for recognition to dawn on her face, despite his attempts at comfort. "You okay?" "I...uh, yes. Sorry. That dream was very... realistic. I forgot where we were. It took me a moment to remember. "