‘Darian,’ said Alaliaq in his cold monotone voice, ‘the old man offered you a meal, I offer you glory. Tell me, boy, do you want to eat for a day or do you want to live forever?’ Darian shrunk his head.
         ‘I’ll take the glory.’ he said.
         ‘Good,’ said Alaliaq, ‘than you will take the truck.’
         Darian snuck out of the house, gathered Alaliaq from the bushes, and crept up to the truck. The key, luckily, was still in the ignition, so he placed Alaliaq’s jar on the passenger seat, started up the truck, and began to pull out. However, the rancher must not have fallen asleep yet because not a moment after the truck fired up, a loud shout could be heard and steps pounding down the stairs. The haggard, old man bolted out of the house with a plasma rifle in his hands.
         ‘Why you treacherous, little, good-fer-nothin’, punk!’ he shouted, ‘I fed ya, I housed ya, and this is how ya pay me back!?’ Darian didn’t wait to reply but hit the accelerator and skidded out.
         The rancher yelled, ‘Take this, ya son-of-a-bitch!’ and bright, white plasma bolts whizzed by the truck.
         ‘Oh! Snap!’ yelled Darian and he sped out of the driveway and down the road. ‘Mwa ha, excellent.’ murmured Alaliaq.
         For four circads they drove down that dusty highway. The sun set in the west and the great disc of Thoriam grew into a full, bright circle shining a ghostly, orange light on the Epaphian landscape. On into the long-night they drove, stopping only for Darian to sleep and to eat some of the dry wafers he stole from the rancher’s cupboards. When they had finally pulled up to an inn in the small town on the western shore of the Anician Sea named Arahas, Thoriam was shrinking again and Darian was about ready to expire. Searching through the truck’s compartments, he couldn’t believe his good fortune to find both a small satchel full of money and a fully charged plasma pistol. The satchel he tied onto his belt and the pistol he stowed in the inside pocket of his jacket. He found a rucksack behind the seat and promptly stuffed Alaliaq inside and tied it up.
         ‘I need to stop and rest,’ he said, ‘but, I’m afraid I need to hide you in here. I’m not sure how these people will think about a talking head-in-a-jar.’ He put the rucksack on his back and stepped inside the inn.
         ‘Yeess,’ croaked the man at the counter, ‘How can I help you, young sir?’ he said with an air of impatience.
         ‘Oh, hi,’ said Darian, ‘I was wondering if maybe you might have a place to stay for the night.’
         ‘Ha!’ sneered the man, ‘there ain’t no room here, if that’s what you want. In fact,’ he added, ‘I don’t believe there’s a goddamned room in this whole sleazy town.’
         Darian sighed. ‘Well, can one at least find a place to drink around here?’
         ‘Aye,’ said the clerk, ‘there be a pub ’round back. Though, I’d watch myself if I were you. This can be a rough town.’
         ‘I’ll be careful.’ said Darian.
         ‘YOU’LL BE DEAD!’ shot the man, wide-eyed and glaring. Darian looked at him for a second and turned around to leave, not knowing what else to say. As he walked back out the door, the robotic voice of that infernal head issued from the rucksack.
         ‘You have failed to find us quarters for our rest, Earth boy,’ it said, ‘We will only find trouble in this place, it is best we be on our way.’
         ‘Shut up.’ said Darian, ‘I’ve walked the whole long-day across the shrubland, stole a man’s truck and drove for half the long-night with nothing to eat but dry wafers. I’m getting a drink.’
         The pub, it turned out, was nearly empty, but the men at the one occupied table were all rough looking characters just as the clerk had suggested. Darian, however, was too exhausted to care and strolled by unnoticed to the bar and ordered a drink. The bartender looked him over. He stooped up close and said, ‘You ain’t from around here, are you son?’
        ‘Uh, no,’ said Darian, ‘I’m just passing through.’