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straight across the forehead and straight at the back of the neck. The women wore theirs in a variety of lengths, though in each case it was straight and evenly cut, whether at the shoulders or across the middle of the back. Facial hair was not in evidence, and I was later to learn is completely unknown among them. Their skin was blue in color, with a wide variation of shades. Some were as dark as the inside of a Teflon frying pan, while others were almost a baby blue. The clothing they wore was an interesting contradiction of utilitarianism and style. They wore a black body suit from their necks to their ankles, which was tighter, and of thinner material than the spandex biking pants that had been popular shortly before I left my home planet. Through the material, every muscle was visible as it strained to heft the swords which almost every Amatharian used in his defense. Over their body suit the knights of Amathar wore a tabard-nothing more than a long strip of cloth eighteen inches wide, with a hole so that it fit over the head. It reached down to below the knees in front and in back, but was completely open on the sides. On both the front and back panels was emblazoned a great symbol, that was the coat of arms for that knight, and which was different from one to the other.
    I waded into the closest skirmish where four Amatharians, two men and two women, were holding off a score of the Zoasians. One humanoid had drawn his sword and was cutting up the nearest foe. The others used their light rifles. The snake-men were using rifle and pistol versions of their ugly death ray. They didn't carry swords, apparently being too slow to use them effectively. With a great leap of my earthly power, I closed the gap to the nearest Zoasian. I swung my sword but it was deflected by the being’s body-armor, a feature I heretofore hadn't noticed. It covered his body from neck to tail, and appeared to be made of some type of synthetic plasticized leather material. It was studded with horns and crests of bright metal, but was otherwise as black as the snake-man himself. The Zoasian was evidently not hurt by my blow, the armor having absorbed the shock, but he was surprised. He opened his mouth wide and hissed at me with a great forked tongue. Then he brought forth his powerful hand with the ray-weapon in its grasp. I was too quick for him though, and with a mighty sweep of my sword arm, I removed his hand between the wrist and the elbow. He didn't cry out, but reeled backwards in pain. I should have finished him off quickly, but I didn't. Something instead caught my eye.
    Just over the shoulder of my opponent, I spied one of the Amatharians fighting against great odds. It was one of the females. She was breathtakingly beautiful. Her hair was long and black and straight. Her skin was flawless and of a deep metallic blue color, like the steel beams of a building under construction. She was about six foot two and powerfully built, though not by any means unfeminine. Her black body-suit covered her from the top of her neck to the top of her shining black boots. Her white tabard was surrounded by gold braid and was emblazoned with the most beautiful crest--two crossed swords over a flaming sun--and the back of it trailed behind her in the wind like the cape of some fantastic comic book heroine. She had abandoned her light weapon and was using her sword, carving up several Zoasians at once like a butcher with a row of fresh steaks. With each stroke the sword blade seemed to glow with the pride and the glory of battle. I had decided to rush to the aid of this beautiful vision, when out of the corner of my eye I saw a looming form. It was the Zoasian with whom I had been previously engaged. Before I could turn toward him he slammed his remaining fist into the side of my head. I was tossed twenty feet by the force of the blow. I fell to the ground and everything went black. I opened my eyes to look into the face of my friend Malagor. He opened his