Preface

I had never given much thought to the manner of my death – though I had what humans might call a "feeling" that it would involve radiation poisoning – but, even if I had, I would not have expected it to be like this.

Staring across the long room, into the crazed eyes of the hunter, I allowed myself a moment of pride: it was noble to die in the place of my t'hy'la. As the hunter stalked forward to kill me, I heard, as illogical as it may be, echoes of my mother's voice in my head, from when she read aloud to me when I was a child. My thoughts – my feelings – mirrored closely the ending to one of humanity's greatest romances: "It is a far, far better thing I do than I have ever done, a far, far better rest I go to than I have ever known."

A Few Notes from Of Glorious Plumage: BalthamosTears asked for an apocalyptic story, but my muse told me to do this. I'm sorry. Also, this will be long. Maybe. If my attention span lasts.

A Disclaimer from Of Glorious Plumage: I own....nothing. Well, that's actually a lie, because I own my clothes and a computer and some books and a Spock action figure and a Kirk action figure and other non-important things. What I don't own is Star Trek. Also, I don't own Twilight. Also, I'm not making any money off of this. Does that cover my ass enough that law enforcment officals don't toss me in jail and fine me out of my college savings?