Dirty, polluted water splashed about, sending ripples across it's surface. It was impossible to see into the water's murky depths. The creature shuddered. After hours of walking, running and sometimes crawling through the underground sewage tunnels of London, the creature waded through the dirty water. It was tired, and on the run. After being hunted by several pink, fleshy humanoids native to this planet -who seemed to know an astounding amount about him- had given chase when he was in the streets above. It seemed so long ago now. It was dark when he had arrived there, in the vast metropolis of London. With the bustling streets and manic walkways, he had been dazzled. Everything was so different. People walked around scantily clad with pieces of cloth, drinking something his scanner had identified as alcohol. The people sang and laughed, enjoying the night.

The creature sighed. That was when they found him. He had just turned into an alleyway when five people, dressed in considerably more, leaped out at him. One held a rectangular wad of 'paper' and named him. Veluxian: Native to the planet Grathe. He had panicked. Someone had seen through his disguise.

"After it!" one had called as he pelted back down the alley, brandishing a projective weapon.

The creature grunted as it rounded another gloomy corner. He had been told that the Terrans were blissfully ignorant; they knew nothing of intergalactic travel. The Planet had been treated like a petting zoo for hundreds of years by the Veluxian people. Why was everything going wrong? Was it his disguise? Was the holographic inducer not working? He couldn't be sure. All he knew was, the smell in the tunnels was blacking his powers of detection. He could smell a Chillib half a kilometre away, yet he couldn't sense much past four feet in any direction at the moment.

He suddenly became aware of a presence behind him. It was to his left. The Veluxian froze. They had found him. He could feel them coming closer; he didn't need his sense of smell or his eyesight to know that. They were so very close.

He decided to move, leaping from the water onto the walls. He clung onto the thin walkways with his toes, and then ran. He near sidestepped his way through the tunnels, searching for some natural light: a grate or a manhole... anything. Even now, he could feel the Terrans getting closer and closer. He tensed, and increased his speed.

With his determination to escape and his impossible speed, he almost missed the thin rays of artificial lamplight cascading through a partially covered drain. He slid to a halt, hopped back to the drain and scaled the wall. It was tough, with very little to grip, but his four sharp digits dug into the cement with little difficulty. He had long since abandoned his holographic camouflage and opted for his own natural blue tinged skin. He should be proud of his homeworld, not ashamed. Why should he hide his heritage?

The drain was small, but his alien body could take the strain; his body could constrict itself into small spaces. He could manage a drain. He listed the cold iron grate out of place and began to worm his way through, tail swishing behind him. He could feel the panic now, rising in him. The Terrans were literally on his heels. With a wild flop like an fish out of water, the Veluxian slid through the narrow gap. He was on the dark and deserted streets now, which meant he could catch his flight back to Grathe. All he needed to do was send the signal, and the Interstellar Cruiser would come rolling along the sky and pick him up. He could be back in the empty vacuum of space in no time.

Suddenly, he was cast into the light. Two wise beams of pure white had erupted form an automatic vehicle that hurtled down the street. He squinted. The two Terrans that were inside the metal box were there when he was ambushed. There were with the others.

Clever, he thought. Have some people follow him, bellow ground and above. He admired their ingenuity, despite the fact that they were after him.

He snapped back to reality and span. He threw one foot forwards and started a run- but he only got that far. One of the heavily clad Terrans had escaped the confines of the vehicle and torn up the street, weapon aloft. He had shot two little slithers of glass at him. They had penetrated the layers of skin and dug into his flesh. They had shot out an electric charge upon contact, and paralyzed his limbs. His tail flopped hopelessly as his body fell to the rough tarmac road. The two figures towered over him and sighed in relief. They seemed pleased with themselves; they had finally caught him.

The Veluxian barked a harsh growl at them. Their faced quickly became serious and they looked down at him. One murmured something to the other and they briskly walked back to their travelling machine. The other stayed stationary, looking down at his capture with unmasked fascination. The Veluxian scowled.

"Who are you?" he spat, in a bark-like attempt at the English language. For a Veluxian, he was actually quite skilled. The Terran thought for a moment. He inhaled loudly through his teeth and buried his hands in his pockets. He smiled down at the paralyzed blue alien at his feet.

"We are the Crown Knights."