Light gently filtered through the thinning shadow and a steady low hum pervaded the air about him. He was standing in a room of alien aspect where strange amorphous shapes changed form and flowed from one position to another whilst colours shivered and washed across their ever-moving surfaces. They were all around him and seemed to be advancing.
“Apologies Traveller but your mental condition has deteriorated beyond the limits of useful function. Retrieval became essential.” A voice commented almost cheerfully. “If you would…. ah.” The voice stopped as Eamon snapped up the pistol menacingly.
“Where are you?” Eamon demanded warily, the killing orifice moving from shape to shape as they underwent numerous little alterations.
“Traveller.” The voice began timorously and one blob grew slowly larger, closer.
The gun fastened its unblinking stare upon the ominous shape and the hammer clicked back threateningly.
“Ah, sorry.” The voice commented nervously and the blob backed away smoothly.
“Could you put the weapon away Traveller?” It asked him. “The translation disorientation will pass quickly if you relax. There is no danger to your corporeal manifestation here.”
“Who are you calling Traveller?” Eamon snapped, menacing the blob with the gun.
“You are the Traveller, how else should I call you?” The voice answered simply, a verbal shrug.
“Sure, sure. So what does that make you, whoever you are?” Eamon continued his unfriendly questioning.
“I am the Guardian.” It paused. “Your Guardian Traveller, don’t you remember?”
The Watcher!
“My name is Eamon and I never asked for a goddamn snoop guardian.” He retorted angrily, looking around for the speaker.
As he looked back at the blob he saw that it had extended an arm-like structure towards his gun, he pulled the trigger convulsively.
“Oh….”
Click, used round.
“… shit.”
Fumbling with the gun Eamon got the chamber open and scattered the empty shell cases as he shook them out, the blob extension darted down to examine them extending finger-like protrusions to pick one up and ingest it.
“Of course.” The voice announced cheerfully. “That is a revolver, it only has six charges and all were used before the translation. I should have paid more attention to the cultural data.”
Eamon used the time to steady his hands and rammed new bullets home then flipped the chamber shut as the blob ‘looked up’ at him and rose from its examination of the empty bullets.

“Back off!” He barked at it, finger tightening on the trigger.
“Sorry Traveller.” The voice said at his left ear and as he turned towards the sound it took hold of the gun.
Eamon pulled the trigger, or rather he meant to but the nerve impulse was never sent and his grip on the handle relaxed so that the gun could be eased out of his possession. As he looked back he could see the gun just hanging in mid-air before the inquisitive blob arm, he wanted to grab it but he didn’t seem to be in control of his limbs, his arm flopped to his side and he could not move.
“Best that I store this Traveller, you are not in a fit state to be carrying such a destructive device, especially here in my core.”
The gun serenely sailed away from him to a distant wall where a port obligingly opened and then closed upon it.
“Now I think it would be best that we download you Traveller and then dis-incorporate you before your mental condition deteriorates beyond repair.” The voice stated in a businesslike manner and blobs began to converge on him.
To his growing horror the shapes coalesced about him to form a new shape that towered over him for a moment and then completely enclosed him. Unable to move he could only shriek within the silence of his mind. Long minutes passed and yet nothing happened, he remained locked in this thing, but he remained.
“Are you holding back data transfer Traveller?” The voice enquired. “That would be evidence of very advanced mental training or maybe…. oh dear.”
The tone was so concerned that Eamon found curiosity overcoming his panic and his tongue seemed to be working again.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Uhmm, I don’t think you will want to hear this Traveller.”
“What?”
The blob construction around him partially reformed so that he was looking into the extension arm again as it tracked back and forth.
“No doubt about it Traveller, your identity has undergone partial fusion with your current corporeal personality. I’m still analysing the extent but my best guess is that it is irretrievable.”
“What are you talking about? Partial fusion…. What do you mean?”
“Little wonder you’re confused.” The voice said. “This is bad, very bad”
The blob arm stopped scanning and seemed to regard him.
“Bugger it Traveller this could get us both terminated!” It said petulantly. “I’ll try stimulating your core identity, but I’m not very confident it will do much good.”
For an infinite second Eamon was adrift upon a sea of memory, a lifetime of data, his memory yet not just that of Eamon Ducane, the data was the Travellers. Then he was back in the blob construction, no, this was Guardians memory core. Other pieces of the jigsaw dropped into place but there were still huge gaps or rather where there should have been data there was memory, Eamon Ducane’s memory. That name also seemed more apposite than Traveller even though he now knew he was the Traveller. But what was the Traveller? That was lost to him.

“Guardian?” He queried.
“Traveller!” The voice sounded greatly relieved as the blobs flowed away from him. “You are functional.”
He moved his arms, his fingers. It was all a whirl in his re-awakened consciousness and he staggered.
“Get me a chair please. I don’t feel well.”
A blob obligingly morphed into something chair-like and sidled up to him.
“Thanks.” He murmured and flopped into it.
“Easy.” Guardian hissed uncomfortably. “That’s a pi ten memory module.”
“Uh, sorry Guardian but this is very disorienting.”
Inside his head a kaleidoscope was turning giddily as the core identity sought to bring together its scattered elements from the chaos of the personality that was Eamon Ducane. The identity had no sex, but he was an unalterable concept, the identity had a mission but it was lost in amongst the clutter of human memory. There could be no separating the two, for the identity could no longer find all of its data, it couldn’t remember what it was doing, and worse still it wanted to call it self Eamon.
“Better start calling me Eamon.” He sighed stroking his aching head.
“Traveller.” Guardian said in a horrified whisper. “You cannot dis-incorporate?”
“No Guardian, too many parts have been lost and replaced by…. by me.”
“Me?”
“Eamon Ducane.”
“Which are the missing data Traveller? We can substitute them from your core memory backup.”
“Guardian it’s hopeless. The fragmentation is too great for me to even begin to log the losses and the human memories that have replaced them are indelible. The way data is stored in here is not logical or permanent.” Eamon said tapping his head with a finger. “All I can be certain of is that I was once the Traveller, but doing what, or why, that’s all gone.”
“Shit.” Guardian whispered.
Eamon looked up wearily.
“Better remind me Guardian, what was I doing and why is it so bad that I can’t do it anymore.”
“You were collecting data on the Human species by ‘living’ amongst them. Your mission should have continued until your Human body grew old and died naturally when I would have recovered your core identity and data store. As to why it is bad, for you it means you will be terminated.”
“Ohh, but you’re charged with protecting me.”
“Only as long as you are a functioning Traveller.”
“So now what? You going to terminate me?” Eamon asked nervously.
“If I were another, yes, you are so dysfunctional, but I am your Guardian Traveller and will be until the end.”
“So someone else will have to be my executioner once word gets out.”
“Yes.”
“Then don’t let the word get out.” Eamon suggested hopefully.
“You really have lost too much Traveller.” It paused. “Eamon. I cannot break my programming, the report is being compiled and it will be transmitted, soon.”
“Surely you can try….”
“Eamon it is beyond my control, it would be like you trying to stop your heart beating, these things are totally automatic.”
“Okay I get the picture. So what happens when they get the report, they despatch some guy with a blaster and I’m history?”
“Not quite. Do you remember much about me?”
“Vaguely, you’re big and a space vessel, right?” Eamon said as memory came to him.
“In your present fritzed state that is remarkably accurate. I am a space ship equipped to travel anywhere within this galaxy and designed to be capable of protecting you from all known hazards.”
“But you can’t stop my executioner from stepping on board and blowing me to atoms.” Eamon commented sourly.
“Us to atoms Traveller.”
“Huh?”
“As your Guardian I will be regarded as contaminated by you, we will both be terminated.”
“Sorry Guardian, I messed up, you shouldn’t have to get it to.”
“Our makers aren’t forgiving creatures and they built the only thing in the galaxy capable of destroying a Guardian ship, a Hunter.”