Deathstalker 08 - Deathstalker Coda

refers to as the Conversation Pit, is called Solar. And this . . . is the only kind of show the Light People can get on these days. They know the odds are stacked against them from the start, but they’re obsessed with getting their warning across. I understand why, but . . . no one listens. No one cares. It all happened so very far away, and so long ago.”
    She turned up the volume as Woss lowered himself into what looked very like a throne, set over the Conversation Pit. The single Illuminati looked smaller and shabbier on the television screen. The harsh studio lighting bleached out its delicate rainbow colors. The Illuminati wrapped its wings tightly about its body, perhaps for comfort. Woss leaned back in his throne, utterly at ease, dispensing judgement and jokes for the eager live audience, and barely allowing Solar to get a word in edgewise.
    “So, Solar, tell us all about yourself, you strange-looking person, you. Do you have any strange powers or abilities? Can you get radio signals on those antennae? Can you tell us this week’s winning lottery number? No, not a lot of use, are you? So it’s just the wings, then . . . Shame, shame, shame. Still, let me ask you the question I just know our viewers want me to ask: since none of you Light Bulb People seem to be guys or gals, how do you produce more little Illuminati? I mean, pardon my bluntness, but you people don’t seem to have any equipment to do anything with! Unless those aren’t really antennae after all! Just a joke, just a joke. Maybe I should ask you about pollination. For all I know, you could have been shagging your dressing room!”
    There was loud sycophantic laughter and cheers from his audience. Woss smiled and waved his hands about. Owen scowled.
    “Why is he giving Solar such a hard time?”
    “Because that’s what he does. Because he can,” said Hellen. “The Illuminati were our first contact, and they turned out to be boring. And that of course was unforgivable. So now everyone just makes fun of them, in the hope they’ll take the hint, and leave. That way Humanity can just forget all about them.”
    There was a break in the show, for a series of loud and frankly rather obnoxious ads, and then Woss and Solar were back again. Woss tried halfheartedly to get Solar to give him a piggyback, and fly him around the studio. Solar declined. Woss sniffed loudly.
    “Too good for us, eh? Well, don’t get too cocky, or the Terror might come after you with a bloody big butterfly net! Hey, if you’re really part moth, maybe we’d better keep you away from the studio lighting! I don’t think we’re insured for self-immolation!”
    The audience howled with laughter, only to break off suddenly as Solar suddenly spread out his wings to their full extent. He rose slowly up into the air, his wings barely moving, until he was looking down at Woss and his audience.
    “We came here to tell you that you are not alone. And that you are in danger. But it seems you are determined not to hear our message.”
    “Hey,” said Allan Woss. “No one invited you here. And the only place for messages is in the ad breaks. Learn some new tricks, if you want people to pay attention. In the meantime, don’t call us and we won’t call you.”
    Hellen turned the television off, and bustled over to comfort Lucifer, who was staring at the floor, his wings wrapped tightly around him.
    “Now, now, dear; don’t get upset. No one really cares what Allan Woss has to say. Some of us still remember when he was just a glamor weather boy who couldn’t even pronounce precipitation.”
    Owen watched Hellen offer her brisk form of comfort to the Illuminati. He’d seen her kind before, the overprotective kind who’d offer support to a little lost alien in the same way they’d look after some abandoned child or dog. Just because it was the right thing to do. Well meaning, but . . .
    “Hellen,” said Owen. “How did you get involved with the Illuminati?”
    She looked round and smiled, absently patting Lucifer on the shoulder. “I never got over their being our first alien contact. I waited my whole life to meet a real live alien. I can still see the magic and glamor in them. So I stuck with them, when everyone else just fell away. People should be ashamed! Just because they didn’t come in big ships, with big weapons . . . The Light People are incredible beings!”
    “They do make an impact,” Owen agreed. “When I first saw Lucifer coming straight at me, I