So! * take a deep breath because nervosai *

About the FF, I actually said everything I had to say in the foreword ... for the time being. Therefore only the request: Don't tear me up in the air right away! Let me at least a little cure, but criticism is of course always welcome, as long as it is reasonably constructive.

Ok, now have fun ... or not :-)

Chapter 1: Alien World

It was a hot day and the sun burned relentlessly on the streets of Chicago. The exhaust fumes from the city hung over it like a big bell, only increasing the heat underneath. The city council recently asked the population to abandon all motorized vehicles and instead to walk or use bicycles. But still the traffic rolled incessantly through the urban canyons. The sun was already hiding behind a gray haze, but unfortunately did not lose its effect.The air stood.

Around noon, the smog alarm was called, the first in the history of the city. Police patrols on wheels and on horseback invariably stopped anything with an engine. Like a giant animal that was shot down, Chicago came to rest. The street noise ceased, the piercing hum of running engines disappeared, only the hum of the flies buzzing around the dog poo on the sidewalks could be heard. Life froze. Those who could moved into an air-conditioned office or such a shop; everyone else stayed in their apartments.

In the small workshop on the New South Side, Charly brooded wearily. Customers were out of the question because nobody was allowed to drive. The boys would hardly walk either, although they wouldn't let the police stop them either. As she brooded, the air conditioning began to purr ominously. When Charly noticed it, it was already too late.A single, white cloud of steam pushed out of the gray box and oozed upwards. Charly got up with an "Oh no.", Slowly and fogged the system with the fire extinguisher.

She then escaped from the fumes outside, but was forced to stop by a wall of sheer heat. Immediately the sweat came out of her pores and made her slightly tanned skin shine like silk. With a jerk she took off the shirt of her mechanic's outfit and stood in front of her workshop in only a tank top and jeans shorts. She looked up in disbelief, as if the mist-shrouded sun could tell her why she tormented the inhabitants of the metropolis. Where was the wind that Chicago was so famous for? There was not a breeze in the "Windy City".

Suddenly Charly noticed a shadow in the sky. It was small, fairly high up, she believed, but it grew quickly and was moving at breakneck speed across town toward Lake Michigan.Soon he was out of sight, hidden behind the giants of the city, the skyscrapers of the Downtown Core. Charly was still staring at the point where the shadow had left her field of vision. A strange feeling took hold of her, as if she had a very intense deja vu. But there was nothing more to be seen, so she turned her head back to the ground and let her gaze wander over the empty street.

Lake Michigan must have been more comfortable now than it was here, she mused, denying that her curiosity was forcing her to think so. Charly went back to the workshop and looked for her old bike. The rusty bike creaked as she swung herself into the saddle and rolled down the street. Even the airstream did not cool her, it was just as hot as stagnant air. Slowly she came to the outskirts and the lake was long on her left, another kilometer further and she had left the city behind her.Immediately the air cleared and stopped burning her throat and lungs. With screeching brakes, she came to a stop.

Charly stared at a light gray, delicate column of smoke on the shoreline of this side of the lake, which licked out of the forest and writhed like a snake. She pedaled again and headed straight for the forest. She received a cooling shade when she jumped off her bike and simply left it to continue on foot. Half-running she hurried across the soft ground until she saw something glistening through the trees, which made her stop.

Slowly she stalked on until only a tree separated her from the aisle that the silvery monster had cut into the forest. Charly waited. The thin column of smoke rose from the muzzle of the ship, which slowly became more and more delicate, for the earth smothered the fire that it caused. Everything remained calm, not even a bird twittered in the branches.Charly examined the ship more closely. Its slender, streamlined shape had driven it deep into the ground; only the wings, which were placed close to the fuselage, had stopped its forward movement. The tail fin was torn off directly on the hull and was probably somewhere in the forest. What worried Charly, however, was the fact that the side hatch was open. The corresponding door lay dented on the floor and showed traces of explosives.

Charly finally took up all courage and stepped out from behind the tree into the newly created clearing. Still nothing moved, so she walked over to the ship and carefully peered inside. Inside it was dark and as stuffy as anywhere. Instruments flashed in the cockpit and a nervous little lamp announced lack of fuel. Charly ran her fingers over the faucets, the sockets of which had a sober, yet decorative shape and had a matt sheen. The seats of the pilot and co-pilot were covered with soft leather, which, however, was deeply cut in one.The lining oozed out of the crack and had spread in small, soft flakes on the floor and the seat.

Charly picked up one of them and looked at the dark red color on it. blood! , it shot through her head and she let the plastic fall again, startled. The young woman turned around quickly and let her gaze wander through the torso, but there was nothing and nobody. A metal void with no windows, seats or anything else in it. The young mechanic could only make out a blanket. She lay in the back of the ship and was covered in dirt. Charly wrinkled her nose. Who or what ended up here? She sincerely hoped that there might be no more of these fish-headed creeps, because one was more than enough for her. She thought with disgust of the fat, smelly Limburger.

With a sigh, Charly got back out of the ship into the sunshine. With one hand still on the ship, she scanned the area with her eyes when suddenly something hissed past her and then dug into the ground.Partly frightened, partly amazed, Charly looked down at the long arrow that was stuck in the ground next to her left foot. His finger-thick, black-brown shaft had an oily sheen, almost as if it had been painted, and the fiery red feathers on it gave it a dangerous appearance. Just as Charly was about to bend down to pull him out of the ground, a second arrow hissed and brushed her back. With a cry of pain, the young woman fell to her knees and reached back. There was bright red blood on her fingers.

She looked around frantically. The second arrow was not far from her and this time it had white feathers, but otherwise she couldn't make out anything in the area. Fear rose in her. If she hadn't bent down, the arrow would have hit her right in the chest. In a short-circuit reaction, she grabbed the arrow that was stuck in the ground in front of her and crawled back into the ship, where she crouched next to the door and listened fearfully outside.For a long time nothing moved, so Charly devoted part of her attention to the arrow, which she had held tightly in her fist. She turned it in her hands in awe. It was obviously made of wood, but it weighed little and felt perfectly smooth. The red feathers are slightly twisted, which should make the arrow rotate in flight.

Then the woman looked at the top. This shone bright silver, although some dust was now stuck to it. When Charly tried to wipe it away, she cut herself on the sharp edge of the triangular arrowhead. Below the triangle on each side of the shaft protruded two backward curved tips made of the same metal. At the thought that she had only narrowly escaped a hit, Charly's neck hairs stood up. She didn't want to imagine what kind of wound there would be if this harpoon-like bullet buried itself in a person.Suddenly she froze. A branch had cracked outside, she could hear it clearly. A shadow appeared in the rectangular sunspot that the door cast into the interior of the ship. Charly pressed closer to the wall and stared spellbound at the broad-shouldered silhouette, the head of which had an idiosyncratic shape. A thousand thoughts made their way through the axons in her brain as she slowly edged up the wall, clutching the arrow tightly. A thought manifested itself, became clearer, more definite: the arrow in her hand would be in her defense, no matter who or what came in the door.

She grasped the shaft in such a way that a downward movement of her forearm sent the razor-sharp point toward her adversary. With her arm raised and her heart pounding wildly, she stood by the door and waited for the things to come ...The first thing she saw was a hand gripping the frame of the hatch, then a leg entering. Trembling, she tightened her grip on the arrow, which now suddenly appeared much too thin. Finally the hand pulled a muscular torso through the hatch. At that moment Charly closed her eyes and struck.

Fingers tightly closed around her wrist and thus stopped the half-hearted attack, and an astonished and at the same time soothing: "Woah!" Shoulders fell. Charly opened her eyes in one last rebound and gripped the arrow, which she was still holding in her hand, more tightly again. She looked up and froze.

Her reflection looked at her through the two green glasses of a pair of sunglasses she knew well. Her gaze wandered wearily over the yellow-brown fur-covered features, down to the lips, which were a sobering: "Charlie.", said. Rather mechanically, she replied:" Rico? ", then her legs gave way. All the tension of the last few minutes left her, dissolved and she sank into a wonderfully calm darkness.

“You missed her.” Mockery and slight