Fury’s eyes coldly regarded the displaced earth and the spot in which the ship evidently came to rest. Those same eyes rolled up to the current position of Dunnaman’s vessel, some distance away from that spot, having evidently been moved in some fashion. Judging by the creature’s condition, back-breaking labour no doubt. Now, it didn’t take a genius to spot a hole in the man’s façade. 

“Oh, so you are resigned to your fate?” Fury asked rhetorically. “You have acted very strangely then, why bother moving your ship at all if you thought you were stranded on this planet?” The Fireen tired of games very quickly, and he was starting to feel like he was in one. To make matters worse, it was a game of words and wit, not one he was good at. Fury hated things he was bad at, and he hated games. What Fury hated he tended to destroy, it was his nature.

Suddenly, the Fireen’s unnatural eyes saw something else. It was brief, like a flash of light at night, so much so that he second guessed himself immediately. Had the creature just exuded energy for a short period? Had he some form of energy control not unlike that of Antireen control, Fury’s own ability? Fury was on edge, watching Dunnaman more closely now, still sure of himself but just that inkling bit more cautious. Would he be able to coax more displays from the man if things continued? Fury intended to find out.