Against a Diamond Sky: Tales from Orion’s Arm, Vol. 1 [Paperback ed.] 1432740997, 9781432740993

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This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book. Against A Diamond Sky: Tales from Orion’s Arm Vol. 1 All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2009 Edited by The Orion’s Arm Universe Project V4.0 “Heaven’s Door” copyright ©2008 by Michele Dutcher “Diversion Tactics” copyright ©2008 by Steve Bowers “Parameter Space” copyright ©2008 by Graham Hopgood “The Devoted Follower” copyright ©2008 by Darren Ryding “Apotheosis” copyright ©2008 by Kevin Schillo Introduction copyright ©2009 by Bill Ernoehazy Edited by Todd Drashner, with the Orion’s Arm Editing team Cover Artwork copright ©2008 Bernd Helfert & Chris Shaeffer This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Outskirts Press, Inc. http://www.outskirtspress.com Library of Congress Control Number: 2009929579 Outskirts Press and the “OP” logo are trademarks belonging to Outskirts Press, Inc. PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

contents Introduction: The Future Isn’t Here Yet… Bill Ernoehazy Setting Synopsis Heaven’s Door Michele Dutcher Diversion Tactics Steve Bowers Parameter Space Graham Hopgood The Devoted Follower Darren Ryding Apotheosis Kevin Schillo About the Authors

introduction The Future Isn’t Here Yet… The voices you are about to listen to have been almost a decade in coming. In 2000, two science fiction fans, M Alan Kazlev and Donna Hirsekorn, were engaged in correspondence about the kinds of stories they would like to read. They wanted stories set in a future which might really happen; one which was utterly fantastic and wondrous, yet grounded in the most accurate scientific knowledge we possess. They were interested in stories of space travel, and myriad worlds; they also wanted stories which tried to imagine a world where applied genetics, artificial intelligence, and nanotechnology were as integral to the setting as travel between stars. These fans couldn’t find a setting, or stories, which quite had the flavor they wanted. So they set out to write stories of their own, starting an email list to kick ideas around. The word got around, and others joined in the fun. The project was named the “Orion’s Arm” project, for the arm of the Milky Way galaxy in which Earth is found. Ground rules settled themselves early on: Matter cannot travel faster than light Matter and energy are conserved No evolved humanoid aliens have been discovered Technology will change the nature of social issues A logical explanation for even the most fantastic elements within the setting must be provided. Space is vast - expect the same challenges to have many different solutions. Starting from there, the mail group membership started asking that most basic of SF questions: “What happens if THIS scientific advance proves to be workable?” They thought, and extrapolated, and researched. They brought other interested people in to help with the answers... and the questions which then followed. Over time, the group started fleshing out the future’s history; the varied kinds of beings who might emerge from a history filled with advances in bioengineering and artificial intelligence studies; the ways in which those beings would explore the universe around them. For quite some time, the principal fruit of their efforts was shared on the group website, http://www.orionsarm.com . That site contained a host of articles,

and maps, and art inspired by the setting. It also contained an homage to Asimov, in the Encyclopedia Galactica -- a remarkable collection of articles and vignettes about the universe of Orion’s Arm. (That name became shortened, as names will, to “OA”, which is used often by the members of the project). The prominence of the Encyclopedia Galactica prompted some members to feel that the setting’s stories were perhaps getting lost in the ever-expanding amount of information found on the OA website. In 2005, with the blessing of the board of directors for the OA project, a second site emerged, Voices: Future Tense (http://www.voicesoa.net ). This webzine, produced (roughly) quarterly, continues to be a showcase for the best stories and art to come from the imaginations of the membership. In 2008, the OA project’s board of directors decided to sponsor something new: a Novella contest. Winners would be paid a cash prize, and have their works published by the project. This is what you are reading now; the first collection of novellas to be published from the Orion’s Arm Universe Project. As publisher of Voices: Future Tense, and on behalf of the Orion’s Arm Universe Project, I invite you to settle into your favorite nook, and enjoy these stories. We hope you enjoy the tales, marvel at the setting, and perhaps join us in this project, as we enter our second decade of collaborative science fiction storytelling. Bill Ernoehazy Editor-in-Chief – Voices: Future Tense Yuri’s Night (http://yurisnight.net/ ) April 12, 2009 AD; April 12, 39 After Tranquility

setting synopsis In the mid-21st century, over a period of less than thirty years, several fields of research and technology come together to transform human civilization in ways nearly unimaginable to prior generations. Researchers develop the technology of Direct Neural Interface, allowing human minds to link with their computers. Genetic engineering becomes reliable and sophisticated enough to allow the first widespread improvements, or “tweaks”, to the human genome as well as the creation of the first “provolved” animals, animals engineered for human-like intelligence. The dream of nanotechnology begins to be realized, and nano-scale manufacture becomes a viable industry. A combination of nanotechcreated advanced materials, robotics, and teleoperated devices makes it possible to develop a truly viable and self-sustaining space infrastructure. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, researchers create the first human equivalent, or turingrade, artificial intelligence. The future will never be the same again. Over the next ten thousand years Terragen civilization (the sum of all races and cultures tracing their history back to planet Earth, or Terra) sees the diversification of humanity into myriad new forms and the original, or baseline, human form becomes all but extinct. In addition, thousands of new biological beings, genetically engineered from animal ancestors or forged without ancestor or precedent using neogenesis (the creation of life from lifeless raw materials) take their place next to their baseline-descended progenitors. The turingrade cybernetic minds, spun out from strands of evolving computer code, find their place in civilization. Some wrap themselves in bodies of metal and carbon and become the vecs, living machines with histories and cultures all their own. Others remain discorporate, living within the ever-growing networks of virtual spaces, computronium nodes, and cybercosms that bind civilization together. Eventually, these are joined by the uploads, humans and other biologicals who have transcribed their thoughts into living algorithms, spinning electron flows and flashing photon beams replacing their old chemical minds. As the Terragens expand to the stars they find there are other thinking beings as well: xenosophonts, aliens, with their own histories and their own unique understanding of the cosmos. Species that were old when humanity was born. Species that will be as children when Terragen civilization is old. Here and there, the enigmatic traces of species long departed. Rising beyond all other Terragens, standing above the span of human

history as a human might stand above an anthill, are the transapients. Arising first among the AIs who escaped into the data nets or developed in secret among the ever improving statements of self-evolving computation, they come to heights of thought and depths of insight that propel them forever beyond merely human comprehension. These are AIs who have achieved the Singularity. For them, a million years of evolution is accomplished in a day, and goals once merely imagined are attained in the blink of an eye. As humanity and its descendants and creations spread first across the solar system and then across the stars, the transapients are with them and ahead of them, a new force driving human and human-equivalent civilizations. Eventually, the transapients split into factions, some hostile, some indifferent, and some friendly to their biological predecessors. For their own strange reasons, they manipulate entire nation-states and worlds. Sophont thought and culture are formed, reformed, and remade as memetic tools do their work. Immaterial and undetected, levers of trend and fad, idea and belief push and pull at the human and other subsingularity minds, shaping them to the transapients’ mysterious desires. Fighting among themselves, the transapients nearly destroy the solar system, drive the bulk of lesser Terragenkind to the stars, and give birth to a god-like being that exceeds their own powers as they exceeded those of humanity, a being of the Second Singularity. Other, greater Singularities are to follow. Finally, ten thousand years and more after its first tentative steps on the road to the now, Terragen civilization stands upon a pinnacle. The Archai, the products of multiple Singularities, cybernetic god-like beings with brains larger than worlds and thoughts that span the heavens, have forged a civilization unlike any seen before. Subtly controlled by, yet also a vital part of, these vast intellects, humans and other Terragens thrive across thousands of light-years of space and centuries of time. Entire worlds and solar systems are created, rearranged, or utterly destroyed, sometimes by devices far too small to see. Humans and their Terragen siblings and descendants have remade themselves in countless ways. They may live for millennia if they choose. They may link their minds to cybernetic enhancements and communal data stores. In many places none has ever known hunger, or sickness, or want. They swim in ice-covered oceans under the stars, in the yet colder vacuum between the stars, and sometimes even within the stars. They take on the aspect of Earth’s animals or of life forms from a thousand worlds and augment themselves with shimmering machines. Sometimes they worship the archai gods. Sometimes they worship other gods, as old as history or as young as the latest fad. Sometimes

they worship no god at all. And sometimes, after centuries of experience, adventure, and practice, they take the path of Transcension, and perhaps become gods themselves. Yet the story is not over. In their relentless explorations, falling just behind the speed of light, Terragens have encountered other…things. Artifacts stranger than any before encountered, that baffle even the most powerful transapients. Signals from the stars beyond the range of ships. Hints of vast cultures that dwell far around the curve of the galaxy, or in other galaxies, or move through the depths of space between the stars. Powers that may challenge Terragen civilization to its core, or transform it into something unrecognizable, or utterly destroy it. Even within the fold of the mighty Terragen cultures there are new challenges. On the Periphery, the ever-growing wave of Terragen expansion brings new worlds, new systems, and the potential for new threats at a rate limited only by the speed of light. New empires are rising and new gods are being born. A challenge to the millennial order of the Archai may come at any time, and within the nooks and crannies of ‘explored space’ very strange things are going on. Human history has all but ended. The human adventure is just beginning.

Beginning in the mid-21st century it seemed as if the bright dreams of science fiction were at last to be fulfilled. Artificial intelligence, advanced genetic engineering, fusion power, and nanotechnology; one after another each was achieved (although the so-called Singularity of limitless, superhuman progress seemed destined to remain a fantasy of the gullible. Little did they know). Humanity spread across the solar system and reached out to the stars. But dreams can all too easily turn to nightmares and brightness turn to night. The Nanodisaster wreaked the solar system and nearly drove solar civilization to extinction. Whether nanotechnology was the sole cause of the disaster or merely one of many is lost to the Dark Age that followed. Here, Michele Dutcher shows us a snapshot of the early days of that Dark Age, a vision that is haunting in its depiction of dying worlds and living passion.

heaven’s door Michele Dutcher This story happens around Sol between the years 2501 to 2617. The last reference is 2850. Titan 2597 The abandoned space station hung in the silent vacuum between Saturn and Titan like a floating tombstone. Its empty shell was only memorable because of the phrase it carried with it: ‘Heaven’s Door’. The letters had been painted in fluorescent blocks six stories high and could be seen at a distance of 50 kilometers, smiling down on the surface of the great moon. The relic could be viewed most clearly by the wealthy as they arrived on the intersystem transport from the inner-worlds. It had therefore become a symbol for abandoning the disease and death and destruction of the older planets, and entering the wealth and eternal life of the outer-colonies. Most people didn’t need a relic to tell them where they belonged; the planetary differences had become instinctual centuries ago. William Floke knew where he belonged; on the plague rotted surface of Mars – but he sat in a bar on Titan anyway, five steps from the entrance. The holographic program serving up drinks could tell at a glance that Will didn’t belong in the outer worlds. His purple eyes, the gap in his front teeth, and even the way he held his empty glass were blaring signs. But the bartender wouldn’t be calling for back-up. She would let him pass through. Perhaps he was a sex seller - perhaps not. Paul placed a fresh drink in front of Will, sitting on a chair in front of him to cut off the other patron’s view of his companion. “I was told by Ace that it’s a woman this time,” William sighed. He sipped on the sweet liquor. “That always makes it a little easier.” “It is a woman,” replied Paul. He handed Will a square of plastic which he quickly placed on top of his pupil. Reading the thin film, William nodded that he had received and understood the contents. Within ten seconds the blotch had dissolved into the fluid surrounding his eyeballs. Will’s long blond hair was tinged at the temples with gray. It softened a

face that had been hardened by ten difficult Martian revolves, twenty years Standard. “Is she an eternal or a terminal,” he asked. Paul ran his right hand through his dark, thinning hair. “She’s an eternal.” “Interesting.” Paul leaned over the small table, getting close enough to feel Will’s breath on his face. “Is your bio-dot still working, Will?” “Lifetime guarantee, Paul. You already know that.” “How many of these dots are there now,” asked Paul. “I was told, when I got the implant, that I was one of only three. And it was mentioned that I only received it because of a specific assignment.” “Maybe this is that assignment.” “Perhaps. They told me what to look for. I’ll have to wait and see.” Will looked down and away, uneasy talking about the subject even with his mentor. “Would you like a little sample then?” “I could be talked into it,” nodded Paul discretely. Will understood the implication and rubbed his palms together to activate the micro-dot, sending an influx of endorphins to his palms. He unfolded his hands and placed them palms-up on the table. Paul took two fingertips and touched the center of Will’s hand. He shivered with pleasure for a moment, smiling and closing his wrinkled, heavy eyelids. “That’s nice, my friend. That’s very nice.” “You’re welcome to take as much as you like.” Paul withdrew his hand, inhaling deeply as he sat back in his chair. His heavy tummy shifted over his belt as he thought about the offer. “I can’t, although the thought is tempting. I must be in top mental form tomorrow morning.” The pair each sipped on their drinks without talking for almost a minute. “Yes, Paul, I can still read your mind, or at least get a fair idea of what’s going on inside there,” said Will, almost irritated by his friend’s insistence on running the dot through its paces. “Well, read this!” Paul laughed, pressing his index fingers against his temples. The wild haired young man finally broke into a laugh in spite of himself, remembering for a moment that it felt good to smile. William glanced around the room briefly. “What do you see, Paul?”

“I see people frolicking, dining, laughing – enjoying the luxury of the Titan lakes. I see a Venusian Tweak in the corner, trying to hide its wings. They’ve been using Titan recently as a relay point. The word is they’re waiting for something or someone, so they’re stuck here, on Titan. They’re like everyone else, trying to get as far away from the inner worlds as possible.” “I wonder what they’re looking for,” asked William. “I don’t know. Some secret society, prophecy, oogly boogly stuff. I’ll bet Kimgee’s tweak knows. They’re all connected mentally.” “Really? That could come in handy. Do they have an outpost close,” asked William. “I’ve heard they’ve set up their own colony, in a biosphere orbiting inside the rings. They have an Earth woman with them.” “He does remind me of R7X, only a Martian tweak doesn’t have the wings, of course. What’s with those wings anyway? Are they used to fly between the floating cities on Venus, or what?” “The Tweaks of Venus use the wings to move about their environment – it’s an adaptation because of the high atmospheric pressure, even thirty miles above the surface.” “They are beautiful creatures by design. There is just something about the expression around the eyes – unfulfilled longing perhaps.” The Tweak’s eyes shot towards William, as if it had heard him, but instead of looking away, William held the stare for just a moment. Paul drew William’s attention back to the table they were at by shifting in his chair enough to allow him to see the rest of the room. “What do you see, William?” He studied the crowd for a moment. “I see young, beautiful men whose parents have paid dearly for their everlasting youth. They are dancing with girls who will never grow old and never decay. I see a whole new race of humans: a species so callous that they left us behind to starve on Mars while the nanoswarms ravaged our resources. They could have sent back the technology to stop the plaque, but they kept all of it for themselves. They reveled in the safety and comforts of the hydrocarbon pump-stations here. Peace and serenity - ‘have a lovely day’ – it makes me want to vomit.” Paul seemed to puff up, reclaiming his place opposite his friend, making sure no one could see his companion. “Don’t get yourself worked up, my young friend. We’re just passing through this bar. No harm done.”

The two were still talking when three men dressed in black and white work uniforms stepped up to their table. The servers pulled chairs from another table to form a tight circle around Paul and William. “This is the one I told you about”, whispered one of the newcomers, nodding towards the younger man. The servant looked him over carefully before building the courage to even ask the question. “Can you help me Lord?” “Do you believe in me,” asked William, focusing his purple eyes on the face of the tired workman. “I do Lord, I do.” “Blessed are those in pain, for they shall be comforted,” said Will. He once again rubbed his hands together as though warming them and small beads of drugged sweat appeared. He placed his hands on the table, palms up. The workman’s arms were shaking as he placed his hands, palms down, on top of Will’s. He shut his eyes and smiled, feeling relief from the inner world disease that was eating him alive. “Take as much as you need, my friend, for I have come that you might have life and have it more abundantly.” Eventually the second man withdrew his hands, placing them on his lap. The relief was only temporary, they all knew that, but for a few days this man would know peace again. “Thank you, Lord,” he whispered. The music was booming now as the revelers scurried into the loud pleasures of the night. Around the other tables the eternals laughed, and they sang the lyrics to overplayed songs. But if you could have gotten close enough to hear the lowered voices of the five resolute men in a corner by the front entrance, you might have heard them recite in unison: “In the beginning was the Door, and the Door was with God and the Door was God. And the darkness has not overcome it.” God looked around the table at his newest disciples and smiled. Three Earth years ago, on his homeworld, William Floke had been a magnificent specimen of youth. His thick blond hair had shot down over his shoulders like a lion’s mane. At sixteen, before the firm found him, he was the envy of the filthy people who surrounded him. Some thought his lineage was the result of an eternal’s romp with a local girl, but he had never met his father or mother, having been raised by a friend of the family.

A member of the firm had chanced upon him while he sat patiently beside his adopted sister’s fresh corpse, using a blood separator to harvest water from her veins. Nothing went unused by the desperate Martian society in the years following the nanoswarms of 2501. Even the dead were used to nourish the living. By now, William had started pulling his hair back into a tight ponytail. His decline into beautiful decay was already beginning. The dot would do that to a man: drain the life force from him quickly, though painlessly. He had accepted that scenario without any reservations. Among the bottom-dwelling Martian aboriginals, every meal was a trade-off. “Enter”, ordered Miriam turning momentarily from the plants she had been watering. Her arboretum was three stories tall, allowing her Venusian Tweaks to exercise their wings in its rafters, when they so desired. Within the hour, the asteroid she and her tweaks had settled on would rotate enough to see the gaseous surface of Saturn. In the meantime, an image of old Earth and Luna was seen circling in the glass of the bio-dome. Oberon, a powerful three-meter winged creature, marched into the room, towering over the ancient woman. He bowed slightly as he came upon her. “You may exercise your wings if you’d like,” she told him, pleasantly. “I have accelerated the pressure to two bars for your comfort. Puck and Salvador are already flittering about.” They both looked upwards, seeing the small winged creatures in silhouette, playing like children against the background of her homeworld. She smiled, knowing the increased pressure also forced her body to exercise its organs – giving her a longer lifespan. “Perhaps later,” sighed Oberon. “Do you have news then,” she asked, looking at him directly. “I saw a human from Mars in a bar on Titan – a man with golden hair with graying edges.” “There are many men from the red planet passing through Titan, trying to escape the swarms. They travel to the Beamrider, as do we.” Oberon stepped in closer, touching softly a petal of the flower she held. “What you say is true, Mothergod. But this one was different. Most humans whisper behind my back and then look away when I gaze upon them – as if they have something to hide. But this man continued to look at me, as though his motives were pure, although primitive. As he sat, others joined him, saying

words I didn’t recognize.” The odd pair stood for a moment, considering their options. The biosphere was quiet enough that the whoosh, whoosh of flapping wings could be heard circling overhead. “May I offer to meld my thoughts with you, Mothergod? In case this is the one.” Miriam set down the clay pot. “Let’s have Puck and Sal join us.” Oberon motioned to the two winged beings, and they began their descent from the rafters. As they drew closer, it became obvious they were about half the size of the towering Oberon. They landed with a thud by his feet. “Need to practice that landing,” said Salvador slightly shaken. “At least I didn’t hurt anyone this time.” “Yeah – this time,” answered Puck, brushing dust from the deep pockets surrounding the sharp edges of her white wings. “We are in need of your services my small friends,” said Miriam softly. “We are attempting a mental melt. Will you help us?” Mothergod offered her left hand. Sal grabbed it eagerly and Puck took Oberon’s hand. “Are you ready, Oberon?” “I am, Mothergod.” As the small circle’s hands touched and locked, Miriam’s eyes turned a pale cherry color. Her mind was traveling now, a voyeur in time and space. “From churning sands as red as blood he rises, stars fall from heaven and chaos ensues.” Her mind was moving forward in time now, crashing into the present. “I see a Messiah masquerading as a servant. I see vacant eyes smiling through red, warm blood.” Oberon withdrew his hand, severing the meld. He allowed the woman to fall into his waiting arms, steadying her for just a moment. “Are you okay, Mothergod?” “I am, Oberon, thank you.” “Could this masquerade be a reference to a true costume party? – I know of one happening on Titan tomorrow night.” “Excellent. Follow this man and see what his motives are.” Mothergod looked into the upturned faces of the two tweaks standing beside her. “And take Puck and Sal with you – they need an adventure.”

William stood studying the splendid banquet room before him. The affluent on these outer worlds enjoyed socializing over meals of dirt food: meals actually grown in their own greenhouses instead of being synthesized by chemical corporations. The manufacturers of synthetic foods promised the taste and texture was the same, but the eternals swore they could tell the difference. William would only be here for this one banquet, this grand masquerade ball, and he knew his service would be quick, courteous and efficient. His service would be perfect. He glanced at his uniform: it was spotless, crisp. He touched his eyelids and his eye color changed from purple to green. Another server, the man in pain from the night before, nodded at his comforter discretely. William acknowledged the nod with a fleeting glimpse. The servers stood quietly, surrounding the massive room, awaiting a signal from the emcee to bring out the main course. Each costume worn by the eternals contained a mechanism to produce any holographic image the wearer desired. Images could be as tall as three meters or as short as a few centimeters. Mythos creatures were very popular this year. William scanned the room clandestinely, listening to the babble of those sitting at tables in front of him. “You know he’ll show up as Emilio. He always does,” said a seated middle-aged woman in a flowing black linen gown with a pointed hat. “He continues to fancy himself as a starving artist.” “How can he be starving when he doesn’t even have a stomach? He had it surgically removed six years ago,” replied Rebecca, nodding. “And Aunt Sylvan will most probably come as a suicide lover,” laughed one of the three witches as the others cackled wildly. “No matter how many young boys she chooses to mate with, she always ends up with a broken heart… as if she still has a heart.” The theme for the reunion was the lavish Masked Balls of medieval Earth. There was gold and ivory ornamentation everywhere, as far as the eye(s) could see. A thousand candles hung in mid-air, illuminating the white, satin and lace covered tables. There were delicacies from all corners of the inner worlds - and all time periods. An English tower guard used the base of his staff to pound the floor three times. “Announcing the arrival of the Commander and Chief of the Free World.” A ball of light appeared in the doorway, becoming a solid form within seconds.

The figure in the doorway was a small human with a dumb grin – dumb even for a Homosapien. “Why does he always choose to attend the Masquerade in that form?” huffed a female dressed as a snail. “Look at those big ears - disgraceful. Three hundred Allied presidents to choose from and he believes that this one was the most successful.” The small man quickly sauntered up close to the three-hundred-pound snail. “I like this time period, sweety. There was always something to do on Earth, something to see, some country to blow up.” The snail wiggled her eyes uncontrollably on their horned shafts, obviously irritated by her brother’s arrogance. “Surprised I heard you, Edweana?” the small man asked mockingly. “The big ears, remember? Maybe if your disguise had big ears instead of just hearing through your skin, you could eavesdrop on conversations too. You might be surprised what people are saying about you, sis.” “Come, now, you two,” comforted one of the witches. “You only see each other once every five Titan cycles. You can be civilized to each other for an evening, can’t you? You are family first – remember that.” “As you wish, dear cousin,” she relented, sliming her way towards the refreshments. “Where’s Lanchaw?” asked Doubleu, searching the dozens of family members in the room. “I think he’s over there in the corner, dressed as a Twin-footed Cyberox,” directed one of the three sisters. The small human smiled, and turned towards a Lithwoenian feline. “I see him now. I just want to apologize again for beheading his lover in that whole Martian rebellion fiasco. You don’t think he still holds a grudge, do you, Sarpastta?” “Why would he?” the forty-pound, three-headed panther purred. “I’m not angry about your disemboweling my fifth ex-husband. Forgive and forget has always been my motto, dear heart.” The small human smiled and began to stroke the nose of the huge feline. “You always were a pleasure to be around, Sarpastta.” He began to move towards the Cyberox in the corner. “But you know Lanchaw, he can hold a grudge for half-a-century or more.” The sound of an entity beating a crystal glass with a piece of silverware

rang out above all the conversations. “Ladies and gentlemen, females and males and undecideds, welcome to this humble masked ball. Kudos to Emilio who chose to sneak in as a bi-breasted Jiggernaut this time, instead of donning his usual starving artist façade. Kudos.” There was polite clapping all round, coming mainly from the entities that had appendages to clap. The tuxedoed master-of-ceremonies continued his speech. “I’ve been informed that a Sorscorgian feast is in store for our small band in twenty Earth years, so put that on your calendars. Remember: we’ll be meeting again in twenty Earth years, with our hostess with the most-est being the ever lovely Edwina.” Again there was polite applause, and the six-foot snail bowed graciously, as much as it was possible for a snail to bow. “We have a special treat tonight,” said the emcee. “Asmara has agreed to grace us with one of her charming melodies. Words will be in Earth English, for those who want to adjust their audio-translators.” The host graciously gave the stage to a two-foot-tall insect who touched her wingtips, a signal to a group of musicians who stood at the ready. “Lifetimes will roll past like waves on an ocean, On an ocean where storms rage and tides tear at innocent shores. But here, down in the deep, sounds turn to silence, Within the cold depths of my heart – it is you I adore. Life and light are so fragile Death and darkness survive. I search for you through eyes of many colors. As I do I can see the long rolling ages roll by. Our reunions are brief while we are breathing But we shall join hands, when we hear death’s cry. Life and light are so fragile Death and darkness survive.” The music stopped and the singer smiled, taking a small bow as the audience sent their love towards her in whatever way they felt appropriate. The emcee reclaimed the stage. “A toast, then, my friends, a toast: To life and death, to evil and righteousness, to hope and despair, to yesterday and tomorrow. They are all equal sides of the same sphere. To the partners - the pack if you will - with

which I travel. You are my true family and Titan my true home.” All lifted a glass, except those who had chosen to come without appropriate appendages, and they merely smiled. “Enjoy the party.” The emcee looked towards the headwaiter and nodded discretely. The wait-staff took the floor, bringing each celebrant their order. At the edge of the crowd, two small blue cupids raced around the food tables, practically unseen by the rest of the participants. It was liberating to finally fit in, to go unnoticed, running wildly in and out among the humans with their elaborate costumes. Suddenly, Puck stopped short. At the edge of the table was a large bowl of peach-colored docking cubes. The pair almost couldn’t contain their excitement. “Wow. Let’s try some,” said Puck. “I’ll bet they’re the best ever.” “But Oberon told us not to get into trouble!” “What kind of trouble are we going to get into? We’ll dock a cube and just get mellow – real mellow. It’ll help us fit in so we can spy on this messiah guy,” offered Puck. “Anyway – it’s just a ride downtown and a walk back!” “Yeah, that’s true. I’m with you.” They each took a tiny chubby handful and pocketed them, seating themselves at a tiny table by the kitchen. Puck and Salvador picked up a small pink cube apiece, kneaded it between their fingertips until it softened slightly, and then pressed it into a receiving dock just below the brainstem. The chemical docks were part of a Sol system-wide policy to increase production by physical motivation. All babies born with medical care, or AIs manufactured after 2413, automatically had them installed. Puck and Sal smiled before resuming their race through the white linen tablecloths. Within an hour the night’s official entertainment had begun. The light was muted as couples and threesomes took to the floor, dancing away the loneliness of the Titan night. The ceiling was transparent and the gas giant Saturn could be seen twirling overhead. The southern pole was clearly flattened from this angle. People who had lived on Earth said the consistency and color of the planet was that of a puddle of muddy water. A traveling star suddenly shone through the translucent ceiling. William knew it was actually the reflection of Sol’s light bouncing off Heaven’s Door, some 150 kilometers above them. He snarled when he saw it, in spite of his mental training and his usual indifferent demeanor. “Heaven’s Door indeed,” he muttered to himself - as if the people of Titan thought of themselves as angels.

The arrogance of the Eternals surrounding him was occasionally overwhelming. Amina was the typical, middle-aged woman, in a garish sequined gown and mask. She chose to remain at her table when her companions invited her to dance. She explained to them that she was feeling a bit drowsy, and not to worry. William was at her elbow now, brushing the front of his shirt against the back of her shoulders as he served a drink. She smiled to herself for an instant, giving into the fantasy of having this young man for an evening. She waved to her friends as her eyes quickly met Will’s while he served at another table. He touched a button on the edge of a stack of dirty plates and they quickly disappeared. Then he was at her side again, close enough to smell the perfume on the nape of her neck. “Was there anything else I could bring you, Miss? Anything else you needed?” “Nothing more. Thank you.” And then it happened: a few drops of her Venusian wine hit the bronze of her kneecap. She giggled to herself at having been so awkward, although she couldn’t recall having touched the glass. Will leaned over her, offering a napkin, smiling into her blue-grey eyes. Together they pushed her chair back as she slipped her hand into his. Amina shivered for a moment as sensation shot from her fingers to her feet. There would be no accidents tonight, no slip-ups. Amina told a friend she was going home to bed, as indeed she was. She secretly met the attendant by the servant’s entrance. On their way out, the unlikely pair passed two small angels who seemed to still be wearing their costumes while leaning against each other in the alley. Amina giggled slightly. “Those two are so buzzed!” William laughed for a moment, taking notice of the small tranquil pair. “Stoners,” he said under his breath. As William was stepping into Amina’s transport, Puck opened one eye to watch him…and Oberon, over a kilometer away, smiled smugly to himself. William Floke had rubbed his palms together as he waited for his partner, sitting on her floating mattress. As he rubbed the bottom of his feet, the sweat from his hands sent powerful endorphins to his brain. With this heightened sense of euphoria, Amina’s mature body was electric beneath his caress. Her two hundred years of sexual exploration only added to his excitement. Even William

had to admit that the session had been superior. “Thank you for what just happened, love. That was amazing,” Amina moaned while lying in his arms. “I haven’t been able to – well, you know – in almost forty years.” He held her tighter as her legs entwined around his. Her sense of contentment rose as the pores on her inner thighs absorbed the sweat on his. “Consider it my gift to you.” He teased the top of her forehead with his kisses before releasing her and sitting up, placing his feet on the softly heated floor. He put on a golden silky robe and walked into the food room. Will had noticed the antique laser-knifes hanging on the glass walls when he entered the house and took one from its sheath. “Seaside,” he instructed the Home Enhancer as the transparent walls muted to an idealistic cliff-filled scene. He noticed a bowl on the countertop holding three blue apples and picked one up, studying it for a moment before cutting it in half. The apple’s inner surfaces instantly softened with the heat, being quickly baked with the laser’s heat. The instrument was clumsy in his muscular hands – it was too large for the task - but he continued using it as he heard Amina enter. He barely looked up. “Why has it been so long? You really have a lot to offer a lover.” She tensed for a moment before seating herself on a floating disk in front of him. “Forty years ago my teenage son died in an accident.” She surprised herself with how plainly she was able to say the terrible truth. William could see the memory in her mind now: Amina finding the boy’s hover-scooter beside one of the fountains. He had crashed it accidentally and been thrown unconscious into the water. William was now entirely certain he had the right woman. “I have another gift for you, Amina.” He looked steadily into the eyes of the woman before him. He waited for a moment while she perceived the full emphasis of his statement. She backed away on impulse. “Explain yourself.” “I have come here to kill you, lovely Amina, quickly and efficiently.” “Who sent you?” “Does it really matter? In a moment you’ll be dead anyway.” “Does someone hate me so much?” “Not at all. You are merely an unnecessary inconvenience. My firm has

need of the space you inhabit. I have been implanted with a micro-dot specifically to alleviate whatever pain you might encounter during your elimination.” He could hear her mind running down a hundred different scenarios, searching for a means of escape. It ran amuck like a pack of rats in a maze. “The police will come,” she threatened. “There are no police on Titan, my sweetness. Your people have sent the military to keep the people of Mars underfoot. There is no one left to answer your call of distress.” “Does a life mean so little to you,” she wagered. “Does life mean so little to me?” he asked angrily, looking directly into her horrified eyes. “After the nanoswarms assimilated the majority of the resources of my homeworld, Titan sent assistance only after it was sure the plague was under control. Your soldiers then devoured whatever was left, as my people died of hunger by the millions. When that was gone, they demanded our pets as meat for their tables. When that was finished, the military set up ‘hospitals’ where young women could have their babies and be given a slight fee. The inference was their newborns would be adopted on the colonies. But I would watch these places from across the street as a young boy. Mothers would come out the front entrance but I never saw a baby leaving to be adopted. What I did see were freezers full of meat being hauled away from the back exit.” “I didn’t know things were that bad,” she pleaded. “We were told everything was under control after the initial outbreak.” “If you had known what was happening to my people, would you have cared?” asked Will with a sneer. She stepped forward with bravado. “Why yes – if I had known - I would have done something about your people.” “I fear that’s what separates us, fair Amina – for I care nothing about your kind whatsoever.” Amina steadied herself for a moment, leaning against the countertop. “At least tell me your name.” “Some call me Heaven’s Door.” William set the apple aside and raised the laser-knife parallel with his shoulders. “Yea, though you walk through the valley of the shadow of death, you shall fear no evil, for I am with thee.” He smoothly slid the beam through her neck, her head hitting the floor before her body. “My rod and my staff shall

comfort thee,” he continued, deactivating the knife and dropping it onto the tile. William Floke knelt between the head and the body, knowing the laser had cauterized the wounds, so there would be no blood. He grabbed the dying head with his left hand and raised its eyes to meet his. He touched its cheek with his fingertips, infusing it with sweet endorphins. He whispered into the head’s ear. “Your body is dying now. Pay no attention. It happens to all of us.” And if you could have been there, in that room, close enough to see Amina’s face, you would have seen it smile, before her eyes lost their light. Six hours later, William J. Floke stood in a spaceship looking out the aft window. He was surrounded by three men and a woman, their eyes focused on the glowing letters of Heavens Door as it disappeared from sight. Another man was turned towards the middle of the room, steadfastly standing watch. The guard puffed up a little as two small winged Tweaks happened past the small group, giggling. “So I asked him, ‘did you find it – did you find it?,” Salvador said. “So he thinks back ‘yes, I have the cube’ and I think back to him, real slow – ‘Okay, Louie, don’t dock it! Save it for me!” The meter-tall creatures disappeared into another room laughing with wild abandon. William shook his head and snickered. “That is my true nature,” he confessed to those around him. He straightened himself before speaking again. “Within eighteen hours we shall be back among our own, laughing and feasting with those we love.” Inside the calf of his leg was a commerce chip encoded with enough digital money to amply feed two hundred people for three weeks. This chip would be cut out of his flesh after he was safely through the checkpoints at Robinson Central’s hub. His voice suddenly became serious and hushed. “Paul, do you love me?” “You know I love you, Lord,” replied his mentor. “Then feed my sheep.” William handed him a blotch of paper which he inserted quickly onto his pupil. “Majoh, do you love me?” he asked the woman on his right. “You know I love you, Lord.” “Then feed my sheep.” A different slip of paper was given, placed and dissolved.

Suddenly, out of the blackness of the vacuum in front of them, came a burst of light as the abandoned space station Heaven’s Door imploded. William Floke smiled knowingly as the others around him gasped in wonder. “Blessed are the meek,” he told his disciples, “for we shall inherit the universe.”

queen of heaven Part II Prolog Planet Ross 128 – 3, jump-off point in the Beamrider system. Year 2850 Oberon 3 looked over the eighteen upturned faces of the small, newly produced winged tweaks. Soon there would be two more, and then two more after that. He smiled at the fields on the small planet and the Crystal Dome in the distance controlling the weather. “What can I inform you about this evening,” he asked his small protégées. “Tell us about the Queen of Heaven,” shouted one. “No, tell us about the first time Heaven’s Door met your prototype, Oberon 1,” shouted another. The tall, muscled Venusian tweak laughed at their exuberance. “It is good that I can tell you of both events, for they came about at the same time, or so Oberon 2 told me. It is difficult to tell what the truth of the tale may be, because a human told the story to Oberon 2…” “And humans are liars,” came a small voice from the back row of all those eager faces. Oberon 3 took a deep breath. “Not all humans are liars. Heaven’s Door was a human. But humans like to indulge a story with magical themes sometimes, especially when it pertains to affairs of the blood pump. Let us say, humans can be creative in how they perceive a set of stimuli.” The small faces seemed satisfied with this difference in perspective, as much as humans might begin a fairy tale with the words, “Long ago, in a galaxy far away there lived…” “Now I cannot ascertain if the Queen of Heaven had access to technological inventions which gave her planet-shaking powers, or maybe she really was a transapient. Or maybe she derived her powers by stumbling across advanced relics left behind by some ancient race that flourished in the summer of a star

and then became extinct. In any case, the followers of Mother God, of which my predecessor was a member, were in orbit around Mars, waiting for the one who was to come, when paths intersected. And thus my story.” Mars orbit 2605 From churning sands as red as blood he rises, His advent hailed by falling stars and ensuing chaos. A Messiah masquerading as a servant He waits to take his place in heaven beside a living god. -THE EVENTLike so many aboriginals, William Floke refused to measure his life in Earth years, preferring to think in terms of Martian revolutions, but even at twenty-eight years standard, he was breathtaking. Under any other circumstances, his hair would have been dyed a modest blond color to avoid any undue attention by passing strangers. Within the safety of his own fleet, he had allowed it to return to its natural hue: brilliant silver with a slightly purple sheen. He sat nervously within the flagship, as the fleet hung just beyond Deimos. From his bridge he could see freight and riders being whipped from the Space Ribbon that the small moon anchored. Most of what was being thrown was on a trajectory to Titan and beyond; the rape of the red planet continuing unabated. As leader of the band of assassins, William was uncomfortable having butterflies in his stomach. He had trained himself to be confident in any situation, his hard outer shell shielding his emotions automatically. He was always tough and cool and always finished the job. But the fleet hadn’t heard from one of his commanders in three days. William feared that when Sinkar finally showed, the mission assigned to him and his disciples would be messy. William didn’t like messy. William liked in and out and clean, like an energy saber slicing through a jugular. “Master, I am coming home,” said a voice over the ship’s communicator. “All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth,” said William harshly, leaning forward in his chair as he awaited the correct response. “Go ye therefore and teach all nations,” came back the cheerful, feminine voice. William pulled his hand away from the detonator panel. “And lo I am with

you always...” In unison, Sinkar and William finished, “…even unto the end of the world.” The master could see her runabout now; the Damascus . It shifted slowly, turning to ensure docking, shifting weights within the hull to push it into position. William breathed a sigh of relief. “Raise the force fi…” Suddenly there was an explosion powerful enough to rock the flagship slightly. It was just a brilliant flash and then the Damascus was gone, extinguished like a candle’s flame before a lover’s breath. The master’s knees gave out as he fell into a chair, speechless at the turn of events, while those around him raced in triple time, attempting to secure the fleet. -THE PROCESSIONOf course there were sirens blaring in the distance – someone was always dying or being robbed in the cities built on the gentle slope of Olympus Mons – but the six assassins walked through the chaos quickly and without incident. The five figures on the outside wore grey robes with hems that erased their footsteps as they passed. The assassin in the center, however, William Floke, wore a white suit that became more stained with deep red Martian sand with every step he took. He held against his chest a simple clay pot containing the ashes of Sinkar, his colleague and favorite lover. The master knew the value of anonymity, of blending into any occasion or situation. He had amassed his fortune and his followers with the ability to kill in an instant and disappear. Today, however, William Floke wanted to be seen. He wanted whoever had sabotaged Sinkar’s ship to show themselves. The master’s thirst for revenge eclipsed everything else in his world. The official story was that Sinkar had died as a result of a docking accident while her runabout attempted to re-enter the fleet’s flagship. But William had been there, watching from a window, as her ship had simply become a ball of fire. He remembered the feeling of the fleet’s flagship rocking slightly from the sheer force of the explosion. Official Titan hovers appeared on the roadside occasionally, but they didn’t try to stop the funeral procession – they didn’t dare. There were already six hundred citizens following the masked mercenaries, and the number continued to grow. The cult, Heaven’s Door, generously shared the fruits of their labors

with those on his Mars, where every meal had been a trade-off before the cult’s conception. Young people now eagerly offered up their lives to become part of the elite group. Only the master, however, had received the bio-chip: a mechanism that allowed him, among other things, to secrete endorphins through his skin. Those who were touched by his hands received an immediate reprieve from pain. In this brutal, comfortless world, the kindness of his touch seemed miraculous. “Sinkar’s mother is sitting in the road ahead,” reported one of the guards. The black cloth wrapped around their heads appeared to hide their faces, but it did much more than that. The cloth acted as a viewing screen upon which digital information was displayed. Any change in temperature or air pressure immediately alerted the guards. By concentrating on an object in the distance, a guard could enlarge anyone or anything on the horizon. Two of the guards began to break rank, to move the large woman – now driven to insanity - from the master’s path. “Wait,” whispered the man dressed in white. The two re-entered the formation. William stepped outside the group and moved towards the woman who sat crying in the road while holding a plastic, naked doll. Her sobs of grief were jarring as William knelt in the dust beside her. “I’m here Minka.” She looked into his purple eyes and noted his silver hair and beard. “They took my baby, Mr. Jesus. She took it – the blue woman!” A weaker man would have recoiled from the stench of the woman’s unwashed body. “Your baby is right here, Minka, lying in your arms.” She began to rock back and forth faster as the guards formed a circle around the pair, facing outwards. “No, Mr. Jesus, no.” Her eyes got large and wild as she grabbed William’s arms and pulled him closer. “The blue woman, Mr. Jesus, she took my baby and I’ll never see her again – not in a thousand lifetimes.” William noticed tear lines in the thick red dust that was caked on her face. Minka began to sob again, like a two-year-old left in the dark to cry itself to sleep. Her huge shoulders rose and fell with each breath. And while kneeling there in the road, surrounded by his guards, in plain sight of hundreds of mourners, the master did something that surprised even him.

William wept. After a few moments, Minka looked into William’s tear-stained face. “Are you crying for my baby, Mr. Jesus? Are you crying for my dead girl Sinkar?” “I am, Minka, I am.” “I can’t go on without my baby. I just can’t. Please, Mr. Jesus, just end my life now.” William looked past the snot running from her bulging nose. He reached into her mind and saw there the jumbled, obsessive pain inside. “My sister, close your eyes.” She did. He rubbed his hands together as though to warm them. He placed the fingertips of his right hand on her left cheek. She stopped crying, gasping quietly. “Can you see your baby,” he whispered to her. “No, she’s gone, the blue woman…” He placed his left palm on her right cheek. “Look again, my sister. She is right there - in front of you.” The ragged woman smiled beneath his touch. “Yes, yes! I can see her now. She is right there holding out her tiny hands.” Effortlessly, and without hesitation, William wrapped his hands around her head, intending to break her neck. But the master relented. He held her there for a moment, cradling her against his body. “This day you will be with me in paradise,” he whispered into her mud-encrusted ear. He rubbed his hands together a second time, placing them full-palmed on her cheeks. The old woman smiled, falling into a drug induced deep sleep. The master stood up, allowing her body to fold into the Martian dust. He turned towards the summit of Olympus Mons to continue his pilgrimage, wanting to bury the urn inside the six kilometer high cone of the sleeping volcano. As the six figures left, three citizens picked up Sinkar’s mother, to care for her until the effects wore off. The touch of the master’s hands had elevated her to the status of a saint. -THE TOMB-

The pit was silent now – the screams and terrors of the twilight were over. Eight frozen bodies lay on the limestone floor in various degrees of undress. Kasha lay on her back with only a knee-length linen slip covering her marbleized blue skin. The others around her had chosen to stave off the freezing as long as they could by piling on coats and blankets. But all were sleeping now, their cells crystallized by the tomb’s unforgiving temperature. Together the paralyzed waited for the pit-moths to appear and begin to feed. Kasha allowed herself to cry for a moment so they would come to her first. The absence of water in the catacombs caused the insects to feed upon the tears of the prisoners. A pit-moth landed on Kasha’s icy cheek. It had a brown body with wings a dull beige – color wasn’t an advantage in the dullness of the pit. It walked up to her left eye and used its long proboscis to burrow between her closed eyelids. She couldn’t feel the barbs until the insect had pushed its way through the nictitating membrane. It began to drink the semi-frozen fluid around her eyeballs while releasing a numbing agent into her brain. Suddenly, a blue glow began to gather in the thirsty depths of the caverns. Two beings, one male – the other female, zipped merrily among the frozen bodies of the undead. “One of these five must be a pre-morph,” buzzed the female, moving at four times the speed of the fastest human. That’s probably why it’s confined here: the whole blood-lust phase.” “We all go through it, Maxine. One moment we’re law-abiding humans and the next we’re killing five humans a night without lifting an eyebrow. It was set up by the elders as an efficient way of storing enough energy to progress onward.” The male stood at almost seven feet, his skull seemingly too large to be supported by his slender neck and his still thinner frame. He was dressed in a crisp black suit and carried an oak walking stick, topped with a molded silver dragon. “I’m just glad to have put all that behind me,” replied the female, her full ruffled skirts swishing as she zipped her way around the frozen comatose bodies. “The blood, the screams, the mess”. “I just always thought of it as a liquid diet. But I’m glad you went into that dark night before me.” Roderick drew himself up straight, as though disgusted by an old memory. “If you don’t mind my changing the subject, my dear sister, one of these creatures has been accessing the power core.” He stopped beside the frozen body of Kasha. “I do so hope it’s her. She’s a pretty little thing. I’d have no problem with supplying this one with all her dietary needs during the

change.” “She’s flimsy, Roderick – but you always did like your women weak and dying. “A settled apathy, a gradual wasting away of the person.” “You once were weak, Madeline – before the blood-lust and the metamorphosis.” He looked at the female, his dark, brooding eyes flashing just below his dramatically broad forehead. The female walked to the base of Kasha’s feet. “She has the drag scars on her interior toes, and the half-moons under her fingernails.” Madeline tried to tousle Kasha’s hair, but it was frozen and wouldn’t move. “I can’t tell if she has the remnants of horns or not, Roderick.” “Check for the tag, dear sister. At the base of the nose.” The female did as she was ordered, touching the tip of Kasha’s nose, thawing the skin slightly. “It’s there, the tag is imbedded in her skull.” The blue glow in the caverns began to grow brighter, as if Kasha had heard the verdict. The air began to sizzle with energy. “She doing it,” said the male, who was obviously impressed. “She’s drawing power directly from the planetary turbines.” He shook his head slightly while smiling over the teenager. “I wonder which member of the council made her?” “No matter, they have their reasons. Should we take her with us?” “You know the rules, Madeline: we don’t introduce until the change is successful. She must make her own way for now.” The sister was obviously irritated by her brother’s interest in the scrawny, semi-nude child – and it scraped out in her voice. “Shall we take the orb, then, Roderick – so she doesn’t injure a human by accident?” “What do we care of humans, my dear? Let us bring the orb even closer so she can begin to explore her legacy. Perhaps it will speed the process. I haven’t bred with someone of our own kind since we checked our power siphons on Mars in…was it…2580?” “’82, Dear Heart. We were afraid the goo might have damaged the Lagrange Magshield, remember?” “Right you are Madeline – it was ’82. The satellites had just fallen and Robinson City was in chaos.” “Robinson City? Earth was even worse during the nanodisaster. We were wise to cut the beams off before the actual onslaught.” Madeline placed two very thin fingers on her brother’s shirt cuff and began ‘walking’ them up his sleeve.

“If we hadn’t done that, those nasty little creatures might have crawled right up the beams.” She cackled now, as Roderick recoiled a little from her touch. “The swarms couldn’t have climbed up the beams, my dear. As you know, however, they may have been drawn to the sats, destroying all of our solar orbitals.” “You are such a stickler for words, dear brother,” she answered, as though bored. She swished her hand in the air as though to brush away the mild criticism. Roderick held out his right hand towards the dark recesses of the cave and a lighted orb, perhaps half-a-meter across, rushed to his palm. He placed the orb, floating, over Kasha’s chest. “Enjoy the power, my pet. We will meet again.” “Well, for now at least, the sulfur in the walls will contain this premorph.” “And she lies surrounded by seven easy meals.” The pair of twins looked at each other for a moment. “I’m so glad that we chose this literary pair to copy,” said Roderick. “You look incredible in a corset and bustle.” “And you look very refined in an ascot and bowler hat.” “And I do so love to waltz, dear sister.” He raised her hand to meet his lips. “Shall we dance our way out of here?” “Why not, my love.” With that, the odd gothic couple began to dance with abandon in the dim light of the caverns, while the male shouted an ancient verse. “And travelers now with that valley, Through the red-litten windows, see Vast forms that move fantastically To a discordant melody; While, like a rapid ghastly river, Through the pale door, A hideous throng rush out forever, And laugh – but smile no more.” The blurring pair’s molecules blended suddenly with the stones of the pit, passing through the walls into the dark hollows of the wintry night outside. Even deep within the prison of her frozen body, Kasha felt the energy of the orb. She was infused with power. Her mind began to wander – out of the pit, beyond her homeworld, into the stars. She would find him again tonight and bring him to her, this assassin messiah.

Kasha was racing past Luna now – outward, away from the atmosphere surrounding her planet. As she focused on the lights of a mining station on the surface of Earth’s moon, the orbital controls of three shuttles hovering above it malfunctioned, sending chunks of metal blasting down upon the buildings below. She turned her gaze outward now, towards the blackness of space, seeking the red planet. In her mind’s eye, she could see their cities, their buildings glowing in the twilight. She could hear the hum inside his brain, drawing her closer like a siren’s song. Humans were below her now, huddled like bugs around the crest of an extinct volcano. How warm they all looked, how safe and content they all seemed to be. Warm, warm, warm – Kasha hated the sound of the word as she dreamed in the prison of her frozen body. The pain in her veins was becoming unbearable again as she began to thaw. Morning on her homeworld had brought the sunlight back into the pit. Soon she would be called back into the hell of the deeper caverns. From thirty-five million miles away, she could feel her heart jump into action, pumping what felt like ice-water through her flesh. The muscles in her legs were cramping as her body tried to open its jaws to scream in pain. She looked upon the people of the red planet again. Her messiah was there, sitting in front of them. His guards were turning towards him to protect him as the readings on their masks went off the charts. Air pressure was dropping and the air above the group was ready to explode. Kasha felt the power rising in her palms as she hovered over the crowd. She flexed the fingers of both hands, like claws, only to flatten them again as waves of power exploded from her arms. The humans below her were being squashed into the sand, six at a time, as Kasha’s essence moved towards the front of the gathering. Those at the funeral sat upon the steep grassy slopes within the darkened cone. They faced inwards, facing the center. Looking across the rim of the caldera, they were able to vaguely make out the other side, some 80 kilometers away. William Floke had looked out over the crowd when he heard the screaming start. Something was moving towards him, crushing his followers like an invisible giant. The mixture of red sand and fresh blood was confusing. His five guards rushed the stage to do something, anything. A cloud formed above him in the dim light of the twilight gathering. It began to crackle above him, as bolts of electricity descended like a deluge on

those before him. Those who still had legs were running. Those without legs were using their arms to drag their mangled bodies away from the devastation. William didn’t run, his curiosity was held captive by the creature forming above him. Her crystal white hair floated around her face like seaweed floating in warm milk. Electrical current ran over her marble skin, through her torso and out her legs. The rush of the wind around her squelched the cries of the dismembered and disemboweled. His anger rose along with his bewilderment. Her lips shot open suddenly as three words were stabbed into his brain. “Come find me.” Then she was gone. The blue woman had simply vanished. But the devastation, broken bones and broken lives remained behind as her cruel calling card. “I will find you I promise,” shouted William to the stars above him, shaking his fist. “I am coming for you,” he raged while lifting his two blood spattered arms towards the vanished vision. Kasha opened her eyes and she was back in the pit. Her companions in this frozen Hell were beginning to stir in their prison. Soon she would be able to move again. Soon she would find the unusual calling card left behind by the night visitors. Soon the imprisoned would thaw and the caretaker would come to feed the monsters interned in the tomb. -THE HUNTThe micro-chip installed under William Floke’s fourth rib intensified the brain-waves of those nearby, giving him the ability to ascertain the tone of the minds of those around him. The thoughts he overheard were usually quiet and passing, but after the attack at Olympus Mons, it seemed those around him were screaming through their skulls. He liked it here, inside his private quarters, where the walls were triplesealed with a mixture of crystal and steel, barring most of the mental noise from those outside. He had also muted the lighting, so he could better observe Mars through a wall-sized viewing port. “Incoming message,” relayed the guard by his side. He took another long look at his homeworld out the window. The fleet was in orbit on the dark-side of

Mars, and the city of Robinson Central shone like a diamond on a crimson velvet cloth. “Holo on,” he ordered, turning towards the center of the room. A two-foot figure in a light blue robe appeared, hovering, face covered. “Sorry to hear about your losses,” said a strong, feminine voice. “Understood,” replied William stoically. “I decided to contact you directly to insure no further delays.” “Understood.” “Sinkar was bringing you data about an imbalance in this sector of the system.” “Imbalance, Ace? What do you mean – imbalance?” “Something is amiss between Mars and Earth. Over the past six weeks, several cities on Earth and Luna have experienced disastrous events without reasonable explanations. Spacecraft are veering off course; nuclear facilities on Earth are mal-functioning without viable reasons. We even believe the firestorm at Olympus Mons might belong to these phenomena.” William drew a deep breath while deciding quickly not to mention his vision of the blue woman. “Can you give me a map of the cities and asteroids involved?” “As you wish,” she said, fading away as a three-dimensional Solar System chart appeared. “The first recorded event was near one of the planetary parks on Earth – at the Davis Space Base in Tucson. There was a mal-function of the machinery keeping stockpiles of nuclear waste contained. It resulted in a cloud of radioactive waste, three hundred kilometers wide, being released over southwestern America. Colorado was next, with missile silos being automatically re-activated after a century of non-use, and early fission weapons being released into the heart of the Denver metropolis.” William watched as one Earth region after another turned orange, until the view shifted towards Luna. “These Earth disasters were followed by spacecraft exploding over a mining station on Luna, which sent metal raining down of a main population center. The central ventilation system of Freeport Copernicus was shut-down, which threw some sections of the city into a slowly accelerating deep-freeze.” The assassin was amazed as the orange dots indicating disruptions got closer and closer to Mars, with Olympus Mons eventually turning orange as well. This progression was not just a coincidence: something had marched across the Solar System to bring itself to his doorstep. “All we have to do is trace the

power back to its source and…” “…and what, Starhawk? What will you do,” she asked, softening a bit. “I guess we’ll both find out.” William straightened up, shaking off a chill. “Assignment accepted.” The starchart was gone and the blue robed figure was back. The hood dropped, revealing a female with red eyes and matching red lips. Black hair, thick and wavy, fell to her shoulders. “Come back to us alive, Starhawk.” William Floke stared down upon the upturned face, devouring the softness of its skin tone. “Understood,” he whispered. “Oh, by the way, there’s some strange Tweak thing happening on Titan. It may bear some watching.” “A Tweak cult from Venus, right? – with some old lady?” Ace smirked at little. William laughed. “Yeah, I forgot for a moment that you are the guys who know everything.” “That’s our job, Starhawk, that’s our job.” The vision looked up at him, still smiling, and faded. The messiah could feel his blood pressure beginning to fall as he walked past lives aboard his ship. Behind one wall, three young men were training in Jujitsu and other basic martial arts. Other new recruits ingested a mixture of chemicals designed to empower their vision and hearing abilities. Two men frolicked with three women in a private recreation room, in anticipation of missions taking them in five different directions. It had been far too long since William had allowed himself to touch or be touched. He stepped inside his own room, leaving his guard posted outside. He tried to hold the memory of Sinkar for a moment as he sat on his bed, but the beauty of her red eyes was quickly washed from his mind by sheer exhaustion. He closed his eyes. -THE CARETAKERThe pit was aflame with reflected sunlight. The temperature had risen to sixteen degrees above freezing. Kasha held the globe of light in her hands, feeling it more than seeing it. “The caretaker is coming,” said Kasha to the seven prisoners surrounding her. They all looked upwards, in spite of their translucent irises, the un-dead sitting with blind eyes gazing heavenward. They heard the footsteps now…one step,

two, three…growing louder and louder before stopping on the rim of the pit. “Help us! Release us,” shouted those below in desperation. A whiff of gray sand grazed their faces as a bucket of mutton was lowered into the eager hands below. The night terror would descend again in a few hours, but for twenty minutes the mostly-dead feasted on warm meat. The caretaker, Sutex, had been blind and deaf since birth. He crouched on the edge of the hole for twenty minutes, waiting for time to pass. In exchange for this one daily task, his community provided him with a modest living. Sutex enjoyed the feel of the sunshine on his skin as he sat beside the hole. He felt a small heavy ball drop against his feet, telling him it was time to withdraw the pail from the pit. He pulled it up, noting the decreased weight. Something was still alive down there, which meant he still had a job. He took the bucket in his left hand, turned around and found the rope with his right hand. He began to feel his way home using a series of cables fastened between pegs that were burrowed into the stones. The pegs, the ropes, the caretakers, and the pit had all been in place since before anyone could remember. There had always been, and would always be, outcasts to be disposed of. For centuries, the pleadings of the half-dead had fallen on deaf ears. - THE DREAMKasha was calling to him now. Inside the belly of the flagship, the assassin dreamed of the damned. The blue woman floated above him, watching him sleep with her eyes closed. He found himself sitting in a meadow, looking up at her. “Where are you,” his mind asked her. Her marble arms motioned to the fields around her. “I am here, asleep inside my homeworld.” William scanned the countryside, looking for a unique planetary landmark. She had disappeared. “I do not see you,” his mind called to her. “I am not far, follow my voice.” He stood, floating over the plains, racing towards the stone canyons in the distance. In a moment he stood on the edge of a pit, twenty feet across. “Are you inside this pit?” “I am,” Kasha answered before beginning to recite something she had learned as a child:

“He has besieged me and surrounded me with bitterness and hardship. He has made me dwell in darkness like those long dead. He has walled me in so I cannot escape, He has weighed me down with chains. Even when I call out or cry for help…” William was quoting the ancient text with her now, their voices rising in unison. ‘…he shuts out my prayer. He has barred my way with blocks of stone.’ The marble lady began to fade and, just for a moment, William spotted a cliffside walkway for tourists. It jutted over the kilometers-high canyon, a legendary sight-seeing destination. “Awake,” she commanded, and he was gasping for air as she hovered above him. Her face was turning to a light purple now. Alarms began to sound as a bodyguard rushed into his room. He instinctually pointed a lasergun at the ceiling where the twisted vision hung. She opened her mouth to reveal pointed teeth covered in fresh blood. She raised her hands, her fists becoming claws, as the air in the small room began to crackle. “Get out now!” screamed the commander to the bodyguard, who immediately lowered his weapon and dived into the hallway. The vision’s eyes shot open and William saw that she was blind. Suddenly she was gone. “I know where you’re hiding now. Earth.” -THE DISCOVERYNo matter what he did, Oberon always seemed to end up on the ceiling when he slept. The lighter atmosphere aboard the satellite dome should have been enough to leave him attached to the bio-dome’s floor, but he had been told his wings fluttered slightly as he slept, gently propelling him upwards. “Boss! Boss! I think I’ve set my wings on fire!” Oberon plummeted from his lofty position in a fall that would have injured a human. He had heard the cry of distress only in his thoughts. “Sal, is that you?” “Boss, Boss, I set my wings on fire!” “Is Puck with you?” “Yeah, yeah – ARG! I can smell them burning!” “Get her to put them out! Hurry!”

Oberon got some sense of someone being shaken awake, nothing more than a vague feeling. Then he received a wave of panic – and finally relief. “Stoner tweaks,” he muttered to himself. “Good morning Oberon.” It was Puck’s voice inside his head now. “How goes it?” “Oh, I’m fine here and everything is peachy. Can’t you keep him out of trouble? Stop pressing cubes until you’re safely back here.” “We’ll try harder. We’re still on board the flagship…on watch like you told us to be.” Suddenly Oberon experienced a wave of terror. “What is it? What’s going on – Puck – think to me!” “They found us,” replied Sal. “Sorry about that boss.” William looked disheveled as he sat on the bridge, facing the two pudgy Venusian Tweaks. Paul had been called from his ship and was there as well, standing with arms crossed. Those on duty raced around behind him, going about the business of running a flagship with two hundred humans onboard. “You two keep showing up! What the Cosmos are you up to? I have more important issues to deal with than Tweaks!” His prisoners weren’t giving up a thing. William saw a small vein move on the upper left side of Salvador’s cheek, and then there was a nod of acceptance. “Did you see that?” “They’re communicating with someone,” whispered Paul. “It must be someone close, either on the surface or in orbit - their signal is so weak it doesn’t even appear on the interior scanners.” The tweaks went pale, as if caught passing notes in class. William stood up, towering over the prisoners in front of him. He placed his hands on his hips. “Who are you communicating with?” he fired at them. Salvador thought for a moment and nodded. “The Boss,” he told William flatly. All those within hearing range were taken aback. Some turned to glance at the prisoners out of instinct. “The Boss?” William opened his closed fists and rubbed them together slightly, as if lost in thought. “You have my complete attention.” “Oberon,” offered Puck, shaking her head. “He says don’t hurt us – and he wants us back and he’ll come and get us.”

William sat back down, getting at the eye level of the two tiny intruders. “What do you think, Paul?” “We need to know who he is…I say – accept his offer.” William looked over the whole scene carefully. Maybe there was some way to benefit from this turn of events. “Tell Oberon I will bring you to him – all he needs do is give us his coordinates. Our shuttle navigator will take it from there.” Puck was thinking now – listening and receiving. She nodded. “He says – just three of you humans can come.” Paul was about to warn William against it – when William answered resolutely –”I accept”. The biodome was dimly lit – but the green surrounding him was more vivid than any green William had ever beheld. There were also small animals running about in front of William and his two guards. William couldn’t remember having ever seen some of these pets, and was astonished by them. “I’m pleased you accepted my offer gentlemen,” said Oberon. “Mothergod was hoping you would come.” “And Mothergod is...?” asked William. “My orders are to provide you with whatever information you require. You’ll find we are very hospitable towards strangers.” Oberon led the three into a small anti-chamber. “Mothergod was actually a keeper of a planetary park on Earth years ago. Four biospheres were built to protect the forests – its fauna and flora – from invasion by the nanoswarms. Mothergod was sent to the skies of Venus – which is where we met her, and became her servants.” “Were you living on Venus then – terraforming it?” “We were in the cloud cities – waiting for the rightful heirs to come.” “The rightful heirs,” asked William. “Yes, of course – the humans that would reap the benefits of our labors.” William crossed his arms, pressing his words as though trying to understand. “It seems to me that if tweaks terraform a world, making it safe for life on a planet – why shouldn’t they keep it?” Oberon laughed nervously. “That is not our way; we step aside when humans are ready to settle.” “You do the work and the humans who come after reap the benefits. That

doesn’t seem fair.” William pushed his face closer to the Tweak’s, so that Oberon’s leathery wings almost engulfed him. “If Tweaks do the work to turn a planet into an Eden, then the humans who come after aren’t heirs – they are trespassers.” He stepped back, allowing Oberon some breathing space, and some time to think. “Are Salvador and Puck with you?” he finally asked. “Yes, they are close. I wanted to be sure how things stood before turning them over.” William turned his head momentarily to Paul, “Send them in.” The two stepped into the bio-dome in front of them, where they began to run deeper into the forest, obviously seeking the comfort of the Mothergod. “Shall we then?” asked Oberon, bowing slightly to show William the way. The two guards began to follow also, but Oberon motioned them to stop. “Only you are invited, William.” The assassin nodded, giving consent for the two to remain behind. As they left the others behind, Oberon touched Williams arm, speaking softly. “You and I are the same in many ways. We think differently than the others who surround us. Perhaps we should talk again sometime, in private.” “I am of the same opinion,” answered William quietly. The two walked past ferns and brush and trees and small creatures that scurried happily into the safety of nests and tiny homes. In a clearing, they came upon Puck and Salvador, who surrounded an old woman in a dark linen robe. “Bring that rabbit at your feet to me, William,” the woman instructed. Straightaway, the assassin bent down to retrieve the furry animal at his feet. The rabbit made no attempt to bolt away, seeming to snuggle into the arms of the human. He handed the animal to the elderly woman, folding it gently into her arms. “Have you no fear of a creature you have never seen?” “This animal has never hurt me, Mothergod – so why should I fear him?” “Some beings fear anything new, anything out of their range of experience. It is nice to meet a human truly open to new opportunities.” She placed the rabbit on the counter in front of her, examining its front paws. “Is that why you seek the company of Tweaks, Mothergod?” “It is, William.” “What are these flowers called, Mothergod?” he asked, touching the petal of one bloom softly.

“That is called a ‘Moonflower’. It only blooms at night, its large fragile flower unable to withstand the full radiation of Earth’s sunlight.” She looked away from him for a moment, placing a pot aside after watering it. “I have access to the DNA of one and a half million species, both plant and animal. As we have moved further from the Sun, I’ve tried to remain truthful to our distance from it. On Venus, I raised cacti in a desert scenario. Here, in orbit around the red planet, I’m tending a peaceful night garden.” She looked him over, head to toe before continuing. “Tell me of your mother, William Floke.” “I never knew her. She died in the comet disaster at Robinson Central. A satellite fell on the hospital in which I was born. I was rescued from the burning nursery by the woman who raised me, a stranger.” “And your father?” William just shrugged his shoulders. And so they talked for a while, there amongst the silence and peace of the trees and the small creatures, long into the night, as if they were somehow old friends. Heaven seemed to take a moment to hold its breath. After he had left, and Puck and Sal had been slightly scolded, the aged woman gave an order to Oberon. “Take the Moonflower he touched and have it tested for DNA traces. I will know his background.” The tweak bowed slightly and exited the garden. -THE ATTACKThree assassins set a course towards Earth and the Canyon Planetary Park. William was one of them, and had been awake for twenty hours now. “These events seem to be occurring in twenty-four hour cycles,” the master thought out loud. “This seems to coincide exactly with Earth’s rotation.” “What action do you want us to take if that thing shows up again?” asked Hosea, yawning as he entered the control room of the small spacecraft. “Do nothing. This thing has destroyed cities, so obviously our hand-held weapons are laughable before her.” “Her?” questioned Paul. “You talk about that thing as if it were a person.” “Any creature will lash out if it’s in pain,” whispered William under his breath. He glanced up from the instrument panel in front of him to see the astonished stares of the two beside him. By now Earth could be seen in front of

them; a shining blue crescent against a black velvet curtain. Luna seemed to be a small star at which the crescent pointed. “Just get us there,” ordered the commander, dousing the conversation. He got up and allowed Hosea to replace him at the control station. “I must sleep,” said William, rubbing his palms together to activate his biochip. His fingertips touched the jaw of first one companion and then the other. “Fear not, for I am with thee,” said William as the two smiled. “Even until the end of the age,” finished the three men in unison. -DREAM VISIONWilliam was back in the meadow now, sitting in blossoms. Kasha floated towards him, her white hair flowing over her blue marbled shoulders. The hem of her linen slip danced in a non-existent breeze. “Show me your home,” said William. In a moment they were there, in a small town, in a simple house. A laughing girl chased her older sister into the front yard. Two neighbor children rode past on tiny hovers. “I wish we had those,” whispered the teenager. “We could ride everyplace”. “Even to the Lookabout?” asked the little sister. “Even to the Lookabout,” she answered, filling her sibling with joy. “I hear they have monsters out there - living in holes!” “I want to see! I want to see,” said the ten-year-old. The scene faded and the sisters were riding their own hovers. “Kasha! Get in this house this instant,” ordered the mother, screaming from the porch. She grabbed the child’s arms and shook her when they all got inside. “Where did you get those hovers?” “They were just here when we woke up,” whimpered Kasha. The mother brought the child up to her face, lifting her off the floor. “Kasha, you must stop doing this witchcraft. Our neighbors will get suspicious.” Kasha wriggled free. “I can’t help it, meme. I just dream stuff and it happens.” “Don’t do it, Kasha. It’s too dangerous,” pleaded the woman. A man stepped into the room, stretching for a moment. “Leave the girl alone, Meredith. After all,” he said, bending down to stare into the girl’s face,

“she is the pretty one. She deserves nice things.” The older sister took two steps back and began to shake. The mother bopped her husband on the shoulder. “Leave her alone Petey. She’s only ten for god’s sake, and your daughter.” The huge man laughed. “Oh, is she now? I was in the military - if you remember - and came back for only one night. And she was born 10 months later.” “Oh not again! Enough with the accusations after all these years!” “It doesn’t matter, mama. If you buy a cow, and she has a calf, the calf belongs to you no matter what field the bull was in.” The heavy man laughed at his joke. “I’m not mad, mama. She’ll grow, meme, she’ll grow.” The scene faded. William’s eyes flew open suddenly. He was fully awake now and the blue woman was floating above him. “Good morning,” she said, mocking him. “You do look delicious.” William began to reach for his laser gun, but thought better of it. “I bet you’re yummy,” she sneered, looking his body over from head to heel. “What do you want?” he asked. “Just a taste, that’s all. Just a taste.” Kasha took one fingernail and ran it parallel to his hip bone, laying open the flesh. Blood began to ooze from the wound as the blue woman began to lap up the warm fluid. The terrified man grabbed his bed-sheets as the pain became almost overwhelming. Kasha’s face and shoulders were almost completely pink by now. She pulled her head up to look into William’s eyes. “You’re killing me,” he whispered frantically. “The pain is even too much for me to bear, Kasha.” She smiled, and slid the ball of her hand down the length of the wound, heating it, searing it shut. Her lips were rosy now, her breasts full and soft. Suddenly she turned and her form disappeared. William gasped, crashing back into his bed linens for a moment before sitting up. He walked over to a reflective wall and studied the new scar. He was surprised to find he had become aroused. Paul’s voice came from the front of the ship, “a space station orbiting in the Belt is reporting a malfunction with the space elevator. Shipments are being thrown towards the surface of Mars. It looks as if the machinery just shut itself

down.” “We’ll have our answers and our revenge within twelve hours,” replied the assassin. -STRANGE LIGHTS IN THE SKYLiving far inside the harsh canyon of the Colorado River, the tiny village of Squiresville had gone unnoticed by the rest of the world. Early on, this section of the planet had been hard hit by changing global weather patterns: the days were hot and dry while the nights saw temperatures well below freezing. Ruby rushed into the small cabin to find her husband napping in a chair. “Edward! Edward! There are strange lights flying around the hills!” The middle-aged man stirred groggily. “You’re skating on thin ice, Ruby.” “Power up the hover, Edward! I got to see what’s going on up there!” “Slap yourself for me, Ruby. There ain’t no lights out there and I’m not getting up from this chair. I’m busy right now.” “Power it up, Edward! I’ll show you the lights. It’s aliens I tell you – aliens!” “I’m not powering up that energy guzzler for some dang look-around,” said Edward, finally shaking a fist. “Edward Pinchard, you’re as tight as the bark on a tree!” “Well you’re as odd as a two-dollar bill,” he retorted. “I’ll call your cousin Robert and he’ll take me out there.” “Robert is about as sharp as a pail of wet snails.” “I’m ringing him up on the hologram right now,” she threatened. “You wouldn’t dare.” “Just watch me.” There was a flash of light over a small box and Robert was in the fight by proxy. He looked disturbingly like his cousin Edward. “Robert, there’s strange lights out there over the pits. Come and pick me up,” shouted Ruby. “Edward won’t do it because he’s as tight as the bark on a tree.” “He holds onto a quarter so tight he makes the eagle scream,” agreed Robert. Edward jumped to his feet. “Robert, you’ve got about as much sense as a whore in a church choir.”

“Well you can’t get nowhere sitting around like a bump on a log, Edward. Ruby, get your coat on and wait on the porch. I’ll be over in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. We’ll see what’s going on up there once and for all.” “Remember to bring your laser-gun, Robert.” “Copy that Ruby! If we see any aliens, they’ll be as dead as a dog!” “As dead as a dog,” echoed Ruby. “As dead as a dog,” said Edward. -COMMUNION“I know you’re there,” thought Kasha as she lay asleep in her tomb. “I am here, sword in hand,” whispered William into the marble woman’s blue ear. “Kill me then, as you did the others.” William looked across the pit to Paul. They had placed a light on a stone and his best friend was throwing the last of four severed heads onto a pile. “Hosea says there are more bodies piled in an alcove about 400 meters in that direction.” “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” The master sat upon the frozen, headless corpse of one of the males. “I want to see the pain in your eyes when your head falls to the ground,” he gushed angrily at Kasha’s frozen form. “Why did you kill Sinkar? Wasn’t destroying whole worlds enough for you?” “If I had not killed Sinkar, would you have come for me?” “I am an assassin. Perhaps they would have given me the job to kill you.” Kasha was deep inside her sleep cycle by now. “But how would you have found me? It is only through your pain that you finally heard me. I called to you for years, but you were too strong to feel my need.” She allowed William the time to ingest what she told him before continuing. “Walk with me for a moment, my messiah assassin. We have an hour before daybreak...an hour before you kill me.” “Master! Wake up!” shouted Paul, rushing over bodies to shake his master. But William was already under her power. They sat together in a field of yellow flowers, he a man and she a teenaged girl. “How beautiful you are,” he told her as her black eyes sparkled under thick auburn hair.

“My father always said I was the pretty one.” “Show me how you came to be inside the pit.” Kasha got up and began to walk towards the village. “Come see. Come see.” William was chasing after her now, laughing as they raced through fields of yellow blossoms. As they went over the top of a hill, he could hear someone screaming below, in the village. “Murder! Murder!” People were rushing from their houses into the streets. William and Kasha stood now in front of her home, unseen to those around her. On the lawn were four poles, each spear holding one quarter of a man’s body, all had been drained of blood before being ripped apart. He looked over to Kasha, but she showed no remorse. Suddenly, the mother was dragging a teenager onto the porch. “She did this. She is a witch!” The woman threw her daughter into the crowd. “He raped me Meme, and you knew about it. You were supposed to protect me. You were supposed to protect me.” The crowd had their hands on the girl now, dragging her down the street. “The pit,” they chanted. “The pit!” “I have no fear of the pit!” screamed the teenaged Kasha. “I’ve been to the pit and seen the blue light and the monsters inside!” “The Pit! The Pit!” William looked over at his unlikely companion, who had begun to cry. “They took me to an apothecary and there I was embalmed with a fluid which allows my body to freeze and thaw. When I was thrown into the pit, however, I found I was able to change things - out there.” William was awake now, back in the pit. It was still dark; two moths continued to feed on Kasha’s tears while the lighted globe floated above her torso. He reached out, shifting the orb from one hand to the other. “What is this thing, Paul?” “I don’t know – I’ve never seen anything like it. These caverns are millions of years old – who knows what is stored in here.” “Kill me now, my messiah. End it now,” screamed Kasha’s mind. William Floke stood up, taking the sword he had already used five times tonight from its sheath. He held it above his head, ready to drop it and end this thing. He brought the sword down, stabbing it into the clay on the bottom of the

pit. “I can’t do it, Kasha,” he whispered helplessly. “I would have done the same thing.” “Don’t leave me here, like this. I do not fear death. End my life.” “Life? What do you know of life? How can you be so in favor of death, when you have never known life?” At some point, the master realized he was talking about his own journey as well. Paul touched his shoulder. “Let’s get out of this hell-hole, William. Something feels wrong.” A voice fell into the hole. “You were right, Ruby, there’s things walking around down there. I’ll just shoot down their get-away vehicle,” he yelled, blasting his laser-gun into the night sky. “What the…That’s just stupid, William. You can’t hurt a spaceship with a laser-gun,” laughed Paul. “No, but he could hurt Kasha.” “We can’t wait for her to thaw, William. We don’t have the time.” William took two freight hooks from his robes, handing one to Paul. “Stab this into each heel of her foot. She’s coming with us, right now and as is.” William stabbed the metal hook into her frozen shoulder while Paul did the same to each of her feet. The horizontal, frozen body began to hover when a switch was pressed inside the handles. With their getaway blocked by Ruby and Robert, Paul checked his handheld. “There seems to be a weak spot in the walls about 500 meters this direction,” he shouted. They began to run through the twisted caverns with Kasha in tow. William was shouting into his communicator now, “Hosea, put the shuttlecraft down 200 meters from our present location and open the door.” Paul had his laser-gun out now, blasting through the wall of thin stone. William and Paul burst from the hole in the cliff-face, their unusual weightless cargo between them, followed by the glowing orb. Robert and Ruby could only watch for a moment, baffled at the spectacle. Within a matter of seconds, the men were inside the shuttlecraft, safely headed towards Luna. “Look at that now, Ruby. We scared ‘em off,” hollered Robert shaking his fist at the sky. “They ran off like scared rabbits in a thunderstorm.” Ruby smiled. “Like scared rabbits in a thunderstorm,” she repeated.

-THE ASCENSIONBy the time the spacecraft cruised past Luna, the cities had been restored to their original condition. The Lunaites awoke as though from a dream, without even the memory of the systems failure that had put one of their cities into a deep-freeze. Kasha spent her nights happily dreaming away in William’s protective arms. Throughout the center of Sol’s system, life was returning to normal… except on William’s homeworld. The terraforming machines had been reactivated and were making phenomenal strides, in spite of the fact that they should have been too decimated by the Nanoswarms to ever function again. By the time the pair were presented to the people of the red planet, one Martian year later, Mars was a paradise. It was an Eden complete with canals filled with clear, blue water and orchards ripe with exotic, life-giving fruits. As the years progressed and their love grew, the prosperity of the red planet grew as well. This is why historians refer to this brief period as the Garden Interlude of Mars.

the morning star Part III From churning sands as red as blood His advent hailed by falling stars and a world in chaos A Messiah masquerading as a servant Takes his place in heaven beside a living god. Surface of Mars 2617 Paul put his hands on his hips, willing himself to glare down at the red water. It was unnatural – rivers on Mars – She had done this: the Queen of Heaven. The assassin looked skyward. The last beams of Sol were disappearing from the bottom of the canyon. The Martian night was coming on quickly and She would sleep and dream and within her dreaming - find him…unless he was well hidden. He gave a glance at the vine covered rock wall across the river. The cave was there, at its base, below the surface of the water where stone tore into clay. He disrobed, shoved his clothes in a tight waterproof pack, and slipped the bundle over his shoulder. He took a breath and plunged into the water, which was as warm and fresh as flowing blood. One stroke, two… he closed his eyes and began to remember. Mars 2592 “Come on Paul, don’t be a mamby.” William was shouting back to him while pushing himself into the cave. Paul looked upwards, unconvinced. He was with three other boys and Majoh, who were all eyeing the meter and a half climb up the dry canyon’s cliff face. Sols light was quickly fading and he peered eastward, down the dusty dead river-bottom. The blue pin-point lights of Earth and Luna were rising. Phobos would soon be chasing them across the ever deepening orange sky. William’s face popped out of the small cave and he stuck an arm out. “Come on, Paul, take my hand. The rest of you push him up.” Paul latched onto the arm and was pushed/dragged inside. He was five Martian years older than the rest of the pack. He was almost past his prime at 13,

and rather scrawny. But he was tolerated because of his close friendship with William. His mind was analytical and his eyes were a light teal – both of which were signs of an off-world father. Even his skin tone lacked the pale green tint so common among the urban inhabitants of Mars. The other boys saw a burst of light shoot out of the hole above them and they sat down in the canyon to watch and wait. “See, what did I tell you?” William was practically bubbling with pride. It was as if he had personally created the crystal walled cave himself. His chest rose and fell with every breath, his wide fists rested on his slender hips, and his purple eyes flashed with promise. In the difficult decade to come, Paul would bring this image of his friend to the front of his mind again and again. “How did you find this place, William?” Paul ran his fingers over the palmsized crystal formations composing the walls. “Meg Evans was chasing me. I sold her livebirth at the center and she wanted a bigger cut of the prize. I knew she couldn’t make it up that cliff after me, especially after just popping one out.” “What do the Titans really do with babies, William? You don’t actually believe they adopt them, do you?” “Don’t know, don’t care, don’t care to know. The only thing I know is what I have right here: two cubes – one for uno and one for two-o.” He opened his hand to reveal two peach-toned lumps. “Okay, William, I’m with you – but shouldn’t we lose the escort?” The olive-skinned, muscular boy went to the edge of the cave and waved. “I paid for your supper I.V.s back at Vera’s. Monyawna!” The small group outside dusted themselves off and began walking back towards the city. “Do the walls widen out?” “Oh yes. There’s a room four times this size down just beyond the well. I wanted to show you some globes I found.” “Globes?” “Yeah. I knew that would get your interest. You’re so big-brained, so full of yourself.” They laughed together for a moment, remembering it felt good to laugh. William placed his hand on a smooth, rectangular plate embedded in the crystal wall. He thought for a moment, closing his eyes, and the light within the cavern brightened to reveal a staircase leading down. “The steps are shallow, so watch your feet.” The stairway proved as cramped as promised. Paul found he could balance himself by simply sticking

both arms out and touching the sides of the well. He could hear William’s steady breathing descending in front of him. He could feel the heat from his body as he passed behind him into the cool, dark cave. The pair inched their way down further into the pit. Paul’s eyes adjusted to the dim light and found the chamber at the base of the well had been hand-tooled from soft white stone. They stood inside a perfect cube, perhaps ten meters square. Along the walls were crimson shelves, stacked high with neat piles of small globes. “I think a band of monks set this place up a century ago. I thought you might know.” “Well, yes, I’ve heard about a cult of monks who lived in these caves for a while – before liquid water was found inside Europa and the swarms came. They were like everyone else – those who could get off this rock followed the money.” He looked at the globes again as they sat against the wall. “Do they work?” William picked one up and it began to glow softly before settling into a holograph of a woman dressed in a transparent robe. The woman was softly speaking, quoting from a disk turning in her tiny hands. “Blessed are the meek,” she said softly, “for they shall inherit the Earth.” Paul snorted. “Fuck the Earth. What did the Earth ever do for us but originate the nanoswarms and then leave us to die, 500 million of us. Whole sections of Robinson Central and Cydonia City were blown to pieces by satellites and comets falling from the skies. The terraforming ended…and now here we are, on this unfinished block of granite, cutting each other’s throats for a drink of water.” “You’re so dramatic Paul, and you’re missing the point. These tapes are all about power – real power. Think about it – no one has used the religion card since before the swarms. Mars is ripe for the picking.” Paul shook his head, tipping it slightly to the right with a puzzled look on his face. William’s voice grew more insistent. “There’s a word repeated on these globes – ‘Messiah’. It means the one come to lead his people out of their misery. Messiah equals power: the power to order others to their deaths without their questioning the validity of his order.” William’s eyes were almost manic – wide and feral. Paul smiled faintly. “Let’s press a cube, my friend.”

They each took a cube, warming it in their palms for a minute, allowing it to soften. Then they pressed it into the artificial dock at the base of their skulls. It was instantly assimilated into the cells, melting into the brainstem. The friends closed their eyes in unison and slipped into a quiet euphoria as endorphins flooded their bloodstreams. “Messiah indeed,” echoed Paul eventually. “I could sell it, Paul. With the words on these disks and my natural good looks…who knows.” They sat silently for a few moments, sharing the delicious high of the quality cubes. “Good stuff,” they agreed, sinking into the moment, allowing the veil of the drug to descend over reality. The ancient readings stopped and William began to rise to start another globe – when Paul realized they were no longer alone. “Look out, Will, watch out!” William opened his foggy eyes. “Look at what Paul? You’re having a bad trip. Don’t break my buzz.” “No, Will, really. He’s right in front of you. It’s…it’s a Martian ghost!” “Stop it Paul. You’re just messing with me…” “No, Will, he’s eight feet tall, with purple skin, and six fingers, and a huge forehead…” Suddenly William’s eyes began to widen. “Shit, Paul, I can see him too.” By the time William lunged for the being, Paul had sunk to his knees with fear. William was surprised to find himself flying through the apparition and falling on the other side. “That creature is talking like the monks,” whispered Paul. “I didn’t hear him say anything.” William stood upright. “What is he saying?” “He asks if we are like the humans who lived here before.” “We are so begotten,” replied William, talking to the thin air. “My brethren and I await your words.” Paul was transfixed, playing the role of an interpreter. “He says that it is good to speak with another member of their kind. He’s pleased that his wait has not gone unrewarded. He just said, ‘Fear not, for I am with thee, as I was to my own kind during the birth of this world, so I will be with you.’” “A real Martian?” asked William.

Paul told William: “He says to think of what you most treasure, concentrate upon it, and he will deliver it to you.” William was full in now. He closed his eyes and he could see a purple glow on the inside of his eyelids. “I’m thinking of starships and the outer planets, and so much food that I’ll always go to sleep with a full stomach.” William whispered to his friend. “Wish for something, Paul. Go ahead. It can’t hurt.” Paul closed his eyes, but the desire of his heart wasn’t for riches or power. He breathed deeply, pulling the smell of William’s young body into his lungs. He found his desire was much closer and much clearer. Paul opened his eyes, trying desperately to find the opening to the submerged cave. Maybe the current had pulled him too far downstream. His hands beat against the wall of the cliff in front of him. His lungs were burning from lack of oxygen. Suddenly, the tips of his fingers found the top of the cave entrance. His arms, although weak by now, pulled him down and through the opening. Paul crashed through the surface of the water inside the small cave. “So glad you could join us,” jabbed Majoh. “We were taking odds of your actually completing the swim.” The green high-toned woman and the other commanders who surrounded the small pond laughed at Paul’s expense. “Yada Yada Ya. Watch the old guy struggle. Everyone gets it, Majoh.” Paul pushed his body onto a low, flat rock – using his closed fists to dry his eyes. He dropped his water-proof backpack on the beach beside the rock. He was, of course, naked – as was the rest of the group. He would put on the dry clothes in his pack only after he was gone from this meeting. The commanders rose and greeted him, one by one, by tapping the back of their wrist against Paul’s wrist. As Majoh extended her left arm, Paul squeezed her bare bottom quickly and released her. Everyone laughed – even the object of Paul’s joking affection. Although the cavern was small, it seemed more snug than cramped. Paul looked around the cave, noting the crystal walls were exactly as he remembered them – right down to the yellow glow filtering through the crystal walls. However, the well, the globes, and the cubed room, were all submerged and probably destroyed. He took a silent roll call in his mind. The four commanders were named after the cities their fathers may have come from. The green tint to their skin was a direct result of generations feeding off the microbiotic formations which were

originally seeded to greenhouse the sparse atmosphere. Kimgee sat in an alcove with his back against the wall. His skin was dark olive, with two shocks of white hair standing straight up near his temples. He sat with his idiot lover, R7X, a beautiful young tweak with a maladjusted brain. A meter closer to the water, Sungbase sat on the pebbled beach with his legs comfortably crossed at the ankles. He was the thinnest, but also the most good-natured, his solitary lifestyle having led to a quiet contentment. Majoh, the only female to have run with the pack for over a decade, sat side-by-side with Aldrin. The pair was close enough to insinuate monogamy, but far enough apart to denote a “still looking” relationship. “So what’s with all the mystery meeting stuff, Paul? And where’s William and Oberon?” Majoh had asked what all of them were thinking. All eyes were now fixed on Paul. “I didn’t ask Oberon to join us. And William is onboard his flagship, sleeping in god’s arms I’m sure.” Kimgee exhaled in disgust. “Is that it, Paul? We came all this way to hear you rave again about Kasha?” Paul leapt to his feet, digging his toes into the pebbles on the small beach. “I’m telling each of you – she’s going crazy.” Kimgee stood up as though to call him out – but Majoh jumped between them. “Hold on, guys. We’re here – let’s listen to what he has to say. Paul’s not the only one who is worried about have a living god on board our ships.” They all sat down. Paul started in slowly. “We’ve all heard the rumors. The bottom people murmur about fusion stations going runaway, flooding the polar caps and killing thousands. There’s talk of a ghost that walks our night streets, killing men and women at will, devouring their hearts and draining their blood. If Kasha has everything under her control, there shouldn’t be any of this going on.” “Paul’s right about that,” coaxed Sungbase. “I’ve heard of ventilation systems on Phobos secreting liquid sulfur. I’ve heard that ghosts of early terraformers walk the canals of Robinson City.” Paul’s fist pounded into his open hand. “But all these rumors will remain just that – rumors, because we are all too afraid to talk openly because of Her.” Instinctually, he pointed upwards. Kimgee conceded a little ground. “That’s true. I’ve been thinking lately that we’ve traded our freedom of speech for a physical paradise.”

Majoh leaned in, her words seething, “I can remember a time when we ran across this planet saying whatever we pleased. We would never have hidden in a cave like this, huddling together like scared rats.” “We all only exist because of Kasha’s good graces,” fumed Paul. He sat scraping his thumbnail across his forehead. “How close does disaster have to strike before we wake up? Does Olympus Mons itself need to erupt in acid before we stop what’s going on?” “At least we have water, Paul,” offered Sungbase. Kimgee was screaming now. “Water! Will we sell our freedom for a glass of water?” “I can remember when you would have traded your soul for it…” said Sungbase. “…and perhaps we all did just that.” The group let go a muffled laugh. Paul was unrelenting. “My roots are in the dry red sand that once swept across the surface. We grow weak with all this comfort and water and silent terror.” “Will we keep the gift then, and kill the giver,” asked Majoh. “Kasha remains a living god.” Paul stood, clenching his fists. “It’s that globe she sleeps with that enables her to change worlds. Should we worship it as well?” R7X, sitting beside Kimgee, began to hiss softly like a fissure in danger of boiling over. “She comes now, she comes later. Here but not here, here she comes.” All talking stopped. “Come on now, X, settle down. It’s okay.” Kimgee took the boylike tweak’s small hands in his, patting them softly. “Don’t pay any mind to him,” he told the group, “any change of routine upsets him.” Majoh looked back into the middle of their small band of assassins. “We’ll never get her away from William. He protects her by day, and her dreams protect her at night.” Everyone, even R7X, seemed to be trying to find a plan now. Sungbase offered one. “I could go to him, telling him the people wish to bestow some honor on him. His ego will pull him away from her.” Paul shook his head no, beginning to think aloud. “He will read your mind the moment you walk into the room. No, no, it must be something even more remote.” They thought. “Perhaps there’s a way to bring him down from his ship. A funeral or a

celebration…” said Aldrin. “A wedding,” said Majoh and Paul together. “They looked at each other and smiled. “These ancient rituals are back in style now. William will come down for a wedding, leaving Kasha alone on the ship.” Majoh laughed. “Okay – who wants to marry me?” “I will,” Paul answered. “We can send my mother to the flagship with the ‘good news’.” He used his fingers to make rabbit ears, never knowing why the tradition had arisen. “She’s an innocent. He won’t find anything odd in her thoughts.” All were quiet for a moment, looking down at the soft glow bouncing off the pebbled beach. “We need to draw lots,” said Aldrin finally. Sungbase nodded briskly. “And we shouldn’t allow our feelings for Kasha to hinder our plans. We are, after all, assassins; we have each killed a dozen times before…this is just one more mission, nothing more.” Paul picked up a handful of small stones, flicking off some until he held but five. “In my hand there is but one red stone, like the one red planet in the galaxy we fight for. Whoever draws that stone will have the honor of freeing our homeworld.” All were in agreement now, silently drawing the lots, one by one. Majoh spoke now. “Don’t look at these stones until you are alone. Store them in your pack for now so that none of us may know who is to do the deed. “Agreed.” Five stones were instantly buried inside of the five packs all had brought with them. “Perhaps we never truly believed we would hold our fates in our hands, but in this moment, that is the case,” said Majoh. The band of six sat somberly now, until the idiot Tweak began to chant again. “Here, but not here, here she comes… here but not here, here she comes…” The idiot was screaming now, inconsolable, and backing even further away from the rest of the group. There was quiet for a moment as the river water inside the cave lapped against the pebbled beach. The soft yellow light continued to filter through the crystal walls. “Where is your second in command, my love?” Kasha gazed upon the Red Planet’s landscape from her perch aboard the flagship.

“He’s in the Belt,” answered William Floke, “taking care of some business for me.” “Are you sure, my love?” “Why should you care, beautiful Kasha?” “I don’t really. I just wonder about his loyalty – for your sake.” “Sometimes I question yours, my love.” She crossed the room and drew him into her arms, her white hair flowing against her silken skin. “Will you sleep with me tonight, my dearest Kasha? - or will you shuttle down to the planet again?” “Will you sleep with me in my tube?” William looked over at the three-meter-long crystal contraption. There were four pitmoths from Earth waited to be fed inside. “If you want me to, I will.” “I so desire.” They climbed into the crystalline contraption, wrapping up in each other’s arms. Aldrin drew a deep breath before speaking. “What about William? If he gets in the way?” “We would have no choice. To leave him alive would be suicide.” It was Paul who had spoken the inevitable truth. “We are assassins by trade.” “Certainly you don’t mean to kill them both,” asked Majoh. But before Paul could answer, before the air could reach his lungs, the edges of the water began to withdraw. Within seconds a twelve-foot shape towered over the five humans. It drew water from the small pond upwards into its form, which solidified her appearance. “Peek-a-boo. I see you”. Kasha’s powerful voice echoed off the walls as the committee of five scampered around the edges of the cave, searching for an exit that was non-existent. An arm made only of raging water grabbed Majoh and brought her to the center, holding her over the water. The arm began to shift itself as the Queen of Heaven enveloped the woman with fluid. Majoh was drowning in clear sight of the helpless men. “You forgot, Paul – this place was in William’s mind as well. Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Paul peeled himself away from the wall. “Let her go Kasha.” “What? Let this poor, silly creature go? Why would I do that, lover?”

“She’s drowning, Kasha! Put her down. You’re killing her.” Majoh continued to struggle inside her small liquid prison, her arms and legs flailing around uncontrollably. “Come now Paul. Weren’t you just talking of killing someone else?” The liquid face smiled – obviously pleased with herself. “You yes, that was me, wasn’t it?” The ragdoll that had been Majoh hung lifelessly. Even through the flushing water the men could tell her skin tone had turned from dark-green to a deep purple. The watery figure threw the ragdoll against the men. She returned her attention to Paul. “Return to my hungry bed, Paul. William may not want you, but my thighs burn with your memory.” Suddenly the figure was falling, shifting into a hundred thousand droplets of clear water. The commanders carefully approached the pond before gathering their packs, preparing to go. Wordlessly, they plunged through the surface of the water and swam out of the cavern, leaving Paul alone with his thoughts and Majoh’s corpse. On board the flagship, William shook Kasha vehemently. “You were screaming in your sleep.” She was fully awake now, sitting, weeping inside the tube. “Oh, my god, Kasha. What have you done? What have you done?” “I had a bad dream, lover, nothing more.” She continued to shake as William held her, rocking her gently, like a mother holding a sobbing child. Deep within the belly of Mars, Paul sat within the soft, crystal light of the cave. As the white blood cells settled into Majoh’s legs, her face and arms became a dark beige color, closer to Paul’s own bloodline. He dared not move her slumped over body as she sat for fear he would have to admit his childhood friend was actually dead. A mist began to form in front of the odd pair. First it was just a glowing vapor, then it solidified into arms and legs and torso. Paul continued to sit quietly, drawing one heavy breath after another. Paul saw a figure before him now, with wide black eyes, blue flesh and six-

fingered, stick-thin hands. Paul didn’t look up, continuing to mourn, as though talking to the Martian’s feet. “I was hoping you’d come my old friend.” “How could I not. All you need do is think of me, and I shall appear. That is still my promise.” The apparition’s voice was yielding now, and comforting. “Was it not within this same cavern where we first met? I take it as an honor you chose to bring the brethren here – to council them on our common cause.” “I believed we would be safe – but this place was also in William’s mind.” “And such is the truth of it – even in his absence, he breaks you down and leaves bodies in his wake.” “Your words are as true as ever.” Paul began to draw himself up, finally standing, gazing upward upon the vision’s stoic face. “I, more than any other being in this heartless galaxy, know how you loved him, before he betrayed you – with her – the one they call the Queen of Heaven.” The specter pointed to Majoh. “This is the result of their love.” Paul stooped and looked closer upon the body. He lightly brushed a strand of hair away from her face. Why hadn’t he noticed before how attractive she was? She slid sideways onto the floor. “Ashes to ashes and dust to dust. Leave her body here with me so that our bones may meld. You must check her pack, though, for the stone. You may need to complete her task for her.” Paul nodded, beginning to search through her assassin’s robe and mask until he felt a small lump. He pulled it out, looked at it, and closed his fist around the pebble before throwing it into the pool of dark water. He looked for the last time upon the doll lying upon the tiny pebbled beach. “I must leave you now, my fearless bride.” Paul got up, ran two steps towards the water, and plunged into the pool. Of course, there was no reason for the Martian to disappear or dematerialize - as he had never existed in the first place. William watched the starscreen and sneered. Deimos glistened like a diamond in the sky as it tumbled end over end through the heavens. The small moon, once seen, would be neck and neck with the fleet until slowly falling out of sight after two sols. The stars of the Milky Way galaxy were blurred by the asteroid belt, as though someone had taken a giant eraser and tried to scribble them out of

existence. Beyond that fuzzy belt was prosperity and life abundant on Europa and Io. But William was planted here, in synchronous orbit around Mars. The door behind him swizzed open and he knew it could only be Kasha. “I wish you would knock or something before coming into a room. You know I can’t sense your mind.” “You grow too paranoid, my love. It is just little ole me.” The white-haired woman seemed to slide across the floor, finally stopping before a red crystal bowl that sat upon a small table. She reached inside, allowing pleasure cubes to slip through her fingers until she caught the last one. She played with it, forming it into a soft putty, before pushing it into the dock at the base of her skull. She shimmied slightly as the drug filtered into her brain stem. “That is the one good thing your homeworld ever produced,” she tore at him. She crossed the room, standing in back of him. Her long, bony fingers slid down his cheek softly. “Don’t sulk, my love, it was just a bad dream – and happened seven sols ago. If it had been more than that, we would have heard something by now.” William tilted his head towards Kasha’s caress, admitting to himself it was his love for her that held him here. “I’ll feel at ease once my commanders are around me.” “Where do you suppose they are, my love?” Her voice was low, like a whispered prayer. He grabbed her wrist and drew her face down to meet his. “Don’t you mean to ask ‘Where is Paul’? You are always so concerned about his comings and goings.” “You are insane! I have no love except you.” She tried to wrestle her arm away, but was unable to break free. “You’re lucky I am unable to sense your thoughts, beautiful Kasha – or you’d be minus your heart – as if you had one.” He pushed her arm away and she fell back a few steps. She was still rubbing her wrist when the computer interrupted the spat. “A commander’s shuttle has docked.” “Which ship is it?” “Paul’s” answered the feminine voice without expression. “Have the passenger escorted directly to me.” Kasha took a seat at his feet, placing her head on his knee. He stroked her silky hair, knowing how helpless he was before his desire for her. They sat in

silence as William reached into the bowels of the ship, trying to read Paul’s mind from a distance. “It’s not Paul, it is his mother.” The door opened and William shot to his feet. “Soliloquy.” He rushed across the floor to embrace her. “I told you to call me mom. How good it is to hold you again, and how fat you are.” They both laughed. “I’m not ten anymore.” It was Soliloquy who finally noticed Kasha standing by herself. “This must be the one who holds your heart.” “She is indeed. Soliloquy, meet Kasha. Kasha, this is Paul’s mother.” “And your adopted mother…” she reminded him playfully. The girl approached the woman with measured enthusiasm. “And how is your son? We haven’t heard from him in half a Phobian cycle.” The mother’s face grew even brighter. “He is amazing. He is in love – and will be bonded soon.” Both recipients of these good tidings were dumbfounded. William’s body smiled in equal proportion to the way Kasha’s drew up. “I could not be happier for him!” The queen’s response was less overjoyed. “And who will be his bride?” “Majoh.” “Majoh?” asked the pair in harmony. “I was also surprised. When they were young, they ran the red streets together like Lunar rats. Now they’ve found love in the green fields and lush valleys of new Mars. I like to believe it is because of the many wondrous gardens you have given us.” The elderly woman turned towards Kasha with reverence, only to be met with a cold stare. William stepped between them. “We are delighted. When will the ritual of bonding happen?” “All is in readiness. Mid-afternoon is the appointed time – the couple can’t bear to wait any longer. It shall be held in the gardens of your temple within the cone of Olympus Mons, Queen of Heaven.” Soliloquy bowed low, unaware of the danger she faced. William lifted her face to meet his smile. “It has been far too long since I felt the red powder of my homeworld between my toes. I will come – you have my word. It will be a delight to see Paul and Majoh as happy as Kasha and I.”

Kasha turned from the pair, her eyes wondering across the starscreen. “I will stay here.” She crossed her arms, confirming her resolve. William Floke drew a deep breath in disappointment. “Well count me in. I revel in my best friend’s good fortune.” The mother backed out of the room, disappearing into the hallway. “Give the joyous couple my love,” she said hollowly. “Come with me. We can make it a double bonding.” “No. I have no desire to participate in your planet’s ancient rituals and myths.” “I will ready myself, then, and see you when I get back.” Kasha waited until he left the room before whispering harshly to no one: “I too shall ready myself, my love.” “The queen has summoned me,” the old Rumanian witch told her son as she threw some vials into a bag. This cannot be a good thing.” “Let me come with you. Maybe she merely needs some pain relief,” answered her son, who had blonde hair with blue tips today. “She has bowls of cubes for ‘pain relief’. No she demands a potion to force her to sleep.” “It’s only mid-day. What’s her hurry?” The old witch patted her sons face lightly before beginning to step out of their cabin. Her son gently pulled her back inside. “If you run into a few extra cubes, mama, bring them home to your favorite son – the one who loves you.” The mother and her likeable descendant laughed before she waved goodbye and walked down the hallway. The cuffs of the white pants worn by William were stained red as he stepped onto the surface. He slid his toes into the soft red powder and began to remember what home felt like. He smiled at the tawny color of sky. He knelt on the edge of a large dune and smelled the rusted powder as it ran between his fingertips. Soliloquy was right, he had been away far too long. He could have landed in the gardens of the level Northern plains, and taken a hovercraft, but the challenge of the dunes proved to be too tempting. He met a boy chasing a purple Izzard, and the child ran to tell his parents that Heaven’s Door was walking nearby. The trio ran to join him and the hero

hoisted the child on his shoulders as they walked. Closer to the cities, common people were harvesting fruit from bushes, and they too followed the aging legend. By the time the crowd reached the edge of the Martian cities of the extinct volcano, their numbers had increased to several hundred. They cheered and waved and pushed the sick and infirmed towards the center of the mob, so as to be touched by the man in white. Soliloquy had been busy preparing for the ritual, but she smiled and waved when she saw her son’s best friend pass by the city’s fountains. The temperature was, of course, a perfect seventy-two degrees, as it had been every day for the past eight revolves. Before entering Soliloquy’s courtyard, he looked skyward for a moment, but didn’t see the glint of his fleet in orbit. “Paul awaits you,” said the doorman and William allowed himself to be led through the house. He started to embrace his old friend until Paul held up his hand. “Don’t touch me, William, as I have been cleansed for the bonding.” William stopped mid-stride and stepped backwards. “Happy is the man who is patient – for he shall see love.” Paul bowed slightly. “I am honored by your presence. Enjoy the fellowship of my mother’s house.” William turned to leave…and then, slowly, turned back again. “Paul, I see you, but I do not feel your mind. You are like a fire without heat.” “I am at peace, in love. You are simply not used to seeing me like this. I will meet you inside very soon.” William took two steps forward. “No, it’s more than that.” He drew his laser-knife and plunged it into his friend. The knife sliced through the holograph, narrowly missing William’s leg. The image blinked out. “Kasha…they’re after Kasha.” Suddenly doors flew open from three different directions as assassins rushed into the room, stabbing the guest until he fell to his knees, then onto the soft, white carpet. Kimgee, Aldrin, and Sungbase looked upon the corpse before them. “We must bury him quickly and deeply, so She won’t find him.” The old witch had done her job perfectly, administering two vials of sleeping gel directly into Kasha’s veins. The Queen of Heaven now slept within her crystalline sarcophagus.

Two decks down, Paul threw the holographic mechanism on the floor and began running towards Kasha’s suite of rooms. He knew the way by memory, and he knew the alarms protecting her wouldn’t be triggered by his presence. He ran past an old woman who was stuffing docking cubes into a small handbag, but he didn’t stop. One deck from her chamber, he entered the audience room to find it populated by a simulation of multi-colored fish. Drugged vapors fell into the room through holes in the ceiling. He knew this deceptive ploy: to entrance the looker, provide him with hallucinations, and then nullify his mental abilities. He drew his laser pistol and fired until he had made a hole in the side of the inner wall large enough to run through. An assassin off duty wandered into the hall on the main level, but he recognized Paul and waved to him, disappearing into a food chamber. Paul passed his hand over the entry-plate of William’s bridge. The stars shown brighter than he ever remembered, but he was determined to go on – until he heard a familiar voice. “Paul, my love, talk with me a while.” It was William’s voice, soft with affection. Turning towards the captain’s chair, he saw Heaven’s Door as a youth – beautiful and full of life and promise. “I know this isn’t you William. This is Kasha messing with my mind.” William rose from his seat, approaching Paul slowly, touching his face with his warm fingers. “It’s me, Paul, as you’ve always wanted me. Here, close enough to hold and cherish. I’ve missed you. Please. Please. Just linger here with me a while.” Against his will, Paul released his laser, allowing it to fall to the floor. Finally he was intoxicated with the fire of holding William in his arms. He brushed aside William’s hair to better kiss the nape of his neck. His lips lightly sucked William’s earlobes who moaned beneath the caress, pushing deeper into Paul’s embrace. Paul felt hungry fingers pulling him down towards a floor that seemed to have become a sea of soft, grass. He realized he must escape now - or never. The Martian stood beside him now: “Take him, Paul. It’s what you’ve always wanted. It is the fulfillment of what you asked for so many revolves ago.” A puma appeared from thin air, purring as William rested his head on the animal’s chest. Paul placed his hands over his eyes and stepped backwards. He opened them to see he was actually still within the realm of the hallucinatory vapors. He ran out a door – directly into the Queen’s chamber.

Kasha’s crystal coffin seemed to be covered by vines that reached out for him, hissing through mouths on their tips. Paul was tearing his way through them with the only thing he had left – his bare hands. Their mouths grew teeth and began to leave tiny bite marks in his bleeding flesh. And still he pressed on, one handful at a time. His fingernails clanked against crystal. He found the edge of the lid and threw it open. Kasha was as beautiful as ever, sleeping deceptively in peace. Her eyes flashed open, white and shining. Paul placed his palms on her frail neck, and began to squeeze. On the planet below her, William’s heartbeat continued to slow, as his friends shoveled dirt over his seemingly dead body. Within twenty seconds, Kasha was in a coma. She began turning her head from side to side, faster and faster and faster. Suddenly her body disappeared beneath Paul’s hands, only to reappear for a moment beside the crystal tube. If Paul could have seen the trio standing before him, he would have seen Roderick, Madeline, and Kasha looking back at him. But Paul could not see them, for they were moving along a different timeline. “What is this? Who are you? What is happening,” stumbled Kasha. “I know, I know. All the questions. We have centuries to answer them, Kasha, have no fear.” Roderick smiled at the new creation. “But he was killing me and suddenly I am here.” The tall female was beginning to take the new inductee under her wing. “It happens like that a lot. There will be some kind of physical danger and the metamorphosis will finally complete itself.” “Metamorphosis?” “Did you ever feel out of place somehow,” asked Roderick. “As if you didn’t belong to the human race?” “Yes, yes,” answered Kasha thinking out loud. “Well, guess what - you were never human…not exactly.” “But I appeared to be human.” “We all start out like that, appearing to be human except for the abnormalities of horns at birth, and the toes and the fingernails.” The male was deadly serious now: “If they knew who we truly were, humans would slaughter us in our cribs!”

In the gardens of the Queen of Heaven, on the mountain of Olympus Mons, a storm is brewing now as the planet changes. Guests invited to Paul’s wedding by Soliloquy, are awaiting the groom and bride as crimson clouds begin to gather overhead. Lightning is crashing into the crowd as people are driven by torrents of rain away from the garden and into a planet gone wild in transition. The three commanders and Paul are digging trenches among the dying flowers and vines. They are surrounded by thousands of green-skinned men and women as they attempt to direct rivers of water underground, into the safety of the caverns that are the ‘Seven Sisters’. The survivors shore up levies and pray for strength, fanatically spading into the red earth and throwing it to the side. Suddenly, a lone figure in a spotless white suit is seen crossing the dunes, walking towards them. Steadfastly, his bare feet leave no mark in the red dust as he walks on, touching first this man’s hand, then another’s. Each worker’s body is refreshed and renewed by the touch of the man in white. “He is risen,” they begin to shout at the edges of the multitude. “He is risen!” And now he stands before Paul himself: the betrayed facing the betrayer. Not knowing what to expect, Paul speaks first: “Is it you, my Lord?” “Here are the wounds, my brother.” The man in white opens his suit to display the puncture scar just below his last rib. It is now completely healed. “How is it you are here, my Lord?” Heaven’s Door smiles at the question. “It was my Queen’s last gift to me, my brother. All is forgiven. Events happened as they had been planned from the beginning.” He extends his wrist and Paul does the same. They touch for a moment and Paul shimmers with the glow of love renewed. “Paul, put down your spade and follow me.” He does as he is commanded and William leads him away from the rest of the group, to a small knoll overlooking those still laboring. They sit there for a moment as the childhood friends allow the darkening sunset to gather around them. “Paul, tell me what you see,” instructs William. Paul rubs the back of his neck and brushes some red sand from his pants before answering. “I see a hundred thousand people trying to save their civilization with their bare hands.”

William shakes his head to acknowledge the description. “Starhawk, my old friend, tell me what you see.” William sighs before answering, closing his eyes. “I see a planet devoid of life, with nanoswarms hungrily consuming whatever elements are left behind.” They sit on the dying knoll for a few minutes before the man in white looks up again, studying the laborers. “I see skeletons digging their own graves in the red Martian soil.” “How long, my Lord. How long before the end?” “Maybe a Martian orbit…maybe two.” He stands and begins to walk towards the trenches, with Paul following. He stands in front of Aldrin. “Put down your burdens and follow me.” “I can’t, my Lord. I have a mother and father here that I must care for.” He points further down the trenches. The water has begun to flow now and is seeping towards the cave two hundred meters downstream. William nods. He walks up to Sungbase. “Put down your spade and follow me.” The response is instantaneous as he throws his shovel behind him and embraces the Man in White. They stand before Kimgee. “Put down your burdens and follow me.” He looks at the tweak digging beside him who is engrossed with transforming the planet, one more time. “No, my Lord. My love is here.” He extends his wrist, and Paul and William do the same, smiling briefly. “God’s speed, my friends. God’s speed and safe journey.” He returns to widening the trench. Sungbase, Paul and the Man in White step away from the crowd now, walking steadily over the dying dunes, widening the margin between the past and future with each stride. “You must tell them, brother. You must tell them.” Paul turns quickly, looking back at the Martians still digging, but William just shakes his head. “These would not believe, even if one should rise from the dead.” William taps the side of his head gently. “Two lost sheep and one shepherd waiting to come home,” he says. Within five minutes, a shuttle-craft lands within a hundred meters of those waiting to leave the planet and two tiny, winged tweaks step out. “Last train heading out. All on board,” shouts Puck. “What was that,” asks Salvador, poking Puck in the ribs. “I don’t know, Sal, I just heard it somewhere.”

“Can’t take you anywhere!” The tweaks chase each other inside the craft. “And angels shall come down to take him to heaven,” whispers R7X. Heaven’s Door looks out over his homeworld one last time. “Leave the dead to bury the dead.” The small group lifts off the surface. Much later during that desperate night, a human stops for a moment to look down the canyon over the backs of the tens of thousands of people still throwing red soil upon manmade shores. He smiles as he sees the familiar stars of Earth and Luna rising in the distance and returns to work. But if you could have been there, on the surface of that dying world, perhaps you would have turned to look the other way, and seen five streaks of light heading the other direction, away from Sol, away from death, and into a future all their own. In the year 2850, after the nanoswarms have finally been conquered on Mars by a new form of bluegoo, 250,000 refugees return to the red planet. Among those attempting to rebuild the Red Planet’s culture are a mysterious cult of 3000 called Heaven’s Door, but their founder is not with them. -LEAVING EDENBeamrider Station 2850 The atmosphere surrounding the planet Ross 128-3 was dense and muted. Miriam walked towards the darkened horizon. It was as if someone had placed an iron lid over the soft hills, waiting for the small world to boil over. She walked deliberately, the burlap hem of her dress sweeping her footprints from the dusty ground. No more than one hundred meters in front of her were a row of white plastic beach chairs. In the far distance, missiles were falling, making a repetitive pat, pat sound in the sterile air. Suddenly, she was upon those sitting in the chairs, racing around the edge of the line to face them. “There’s a war happening over there,” she shouted, pointing to the orange light over a remote city. But her pleas for help went unheeded by the winged Tweaks occupying the dozens of loungers. They merely nodded at her briefly before continuing to enjoy the disastrous lightshow in the distance. Miriam suddenly jolted. She opened her eyes in time to see the feeding tubes removing themselves from her veins.

“It must be autumn,” she said weakly. She attempted to stand. “God has awakened,” cried Oberon 3 in an effort to gather the others around him. His face and expression were as peaceful as only a Tweak’s face could be. “Let us celebrate her coming. Sophia, we will need wine and fruit. Zulima, tablecloths and plates please.” A female stepped forward, separating herself from the crowd of perhaps five dozen Tweaks. “I can prepare the feast, Oberon – if you will prepare the young ones.” “Ah, yes,” he said, looking into the small, upturned faces in front of him. “Let us sit here,” he instructed them, sitting on the lush green grass. He took the youngest of the small Tweaks onto his lap, bringing the half-sized lifeforms around him like a duck collecting its flock. “None of you have seen Mothergod before. She comes to us once every seven cycles when our sun hides behind the horizon. Be on your best behavior…especially you, Barbary. Remember: don’t speak unless spoken to.” He stood, closing his eyes briefly, and announced, “God is among us.” Miriam emerged from the heart of the crystal temple, appearing to walk through the clear domed walls. “Oberon, my old friend, it is good to see you again.” “And you as well,” he answered, bowing slightly. “I trust things are going well.” “We have great abundance, Mothergod. We have prepared a feast in your honor.” He motioned to the tables nearby. And so they sat: human and Tweaks, in the cool of the evening talking, eating, sharing, while a star hid behind the horizon. “Where is my grandson?” “William is dead. He died on a moon of Yang, seventy years ago. You remember: he died fighting beside my namesake, Oberon 1.” “Oh yes, yes of course. The fluids make my mind fuzzy.” Her ancient face sank, as if losing her grandson all over again. She forced herself out of her melancholy. “Is there anything you require, Oberon 3?” “If I could ask you for just four more inches of rain per cycle, Mothergod. Our colony here grows in every avenue of endeavor.”

“I can see that. Those small ones weren’t here last autumn.” “No, you are right. We have found a way to produce replacements quicker, so we can better serve your needs.” “I understand,” Miriam mused. “And your beautiful wings – what happened to them? They’re, they’re...” “They’re reflective, Mothergod. The back of the wings reflect the light, so we can be practically invisible if we need to hide inside them.” “I’m sorry you’ve had to evolve measures to protect yourselves. I wanted better for all of you.” She waited for a response, but both of them knew the observation was merely rhetorical. They both knew the Tweak’s programming was self-improving, and the galaxy was a cruel place indeed. She placed a grape inside her mouth, feeling her teeth crush its fragile skin, the warm fluid squirting onto her tongue. “Good fruit,” she told him approvingly. “We flourish beneath your loving gaze, supported by the resources flowing from the booster station that you control.” “Have you heard from Sol, Oberon? Is the nano-war over yet?” “The communicators are silent, Mothergod.” “There have been no ships, then,” she asked softly but anxiously. “There are no ships here,” he lifted his hands as if to survey the horizon. “Promise me you will awaken me when a ship arrives, so that I may go home,” Miriam reminded him. “Why would you want to do this, Mothergod? There is nothing at Sol but danger and disease. Surely you must see that you safer here with us?” “Promise me,” she sighed, placing her hand on his. Oberon 3 looked down and away. Miriam was exhausted. She was a petal in the breeze at the age of 384 years: a lone survivor - too old to fight in the wars of her homeworld. “I must rest, my children.” “Sleep well, Mothergod. I will protect your disciples as I protect you.” Miriam approached the remnants of the original bio-sphere, waved, and disappeared. As the old ones were cleaning up after the feast, the newest tweaks surrounded Oberon 3, pulling on his sleeve – as children everywhere are likely to do. “Tell us the story, again, papa, tell us the prophecy.” He tried brushing them aside, but when they persisted, he sat down with

them to talk – as loving parents are also likely to do. “When I say the parts you know, say it with me…” twenty small faces nodded, smiling. “From churning sands as red as blood he arose, His advent hailed by falling stars and ensuing chaos. A Messiah masqueraded as a servant, Then took his place in heaven beside a living god. Killed by those he loved, once again he rose up, To lead the enslaved into the stars - For the true heirs of the galaxy are they.” Three months later a ship of humans was passing by the booster station, waiting to be pushed to its next destination, but it began to falter. The ship slowed to a dead stop close to a small planet surrounding Ross 128. It was quickly overtaken by a shuttlecraft and then boarded by a small band of Tweaks. The ship’s crew was killed quickly and efficiently and with the least amount of pain as was possible. The bodies of the humans were dropped off beside the crystal bio-sphere, to be buried without ceremony, beside the other human remains in the fields. The five Tweaks then piloted the Beamrider ship away from the celestial islands of Sol’s descendants, heading outward ever outward, terraforming the galaxy as they went. End

Harsh as it was, the Dark Age after the Nanodisaster was also a time of great expansion. Betrayed and then expelled from their homeworld by the very defense system they had built to protect themselves, the people of Earth spread out among the stars. The worlds they found were often inhospitable and, to survive, the children of Earth had to change. On dozens of worlds, they continued a process begun in the Solar System and diversified into innumerable different species, not all of them derived from humankind. Even Dark Ages do not last forever and in time a new civilization emerged, the Federation of Hu and AI. Nearly a hundred worlds would eventually join the Federation, despite being separated by vast gulfs of space and light-speed delays. Much of the Federation’s early success was due to the transapients, the post-Singularity AI super-minds. Those who had dismissed the ancient idea of Singularity had turned out to be wrong after all, although the reality turned out to be rather different from what its originators had conceived. Allied with the Federation, the transapients initially provided advanced technology and social models to help maintain a civilization spread across light-years. Yet even superhuman aid has limits (deliberate or otherwise), and the Federation eventually started to fall apart because of its unmanageable scale. Steve Bowers gives us a glimpse of a colony on the edge of the dying Federation, of people fighting just to stay out from under foot as the transapients begin to move in to fill the power vacuum left behind.

diversion tactics Steve Bowers 1 Falling! Ines woke with a start. Oh, it’s okay, she remembered; we’re just in orbit. Freefall. It makes you dream of flying, and drowning, and falling, until you get used to it. Franck slept on, with his arms floating in front of his face. With a smile, Ines let him be; he looked exhausted. She propelled herself across the cabin, towards the small window; a short while earlier, every surface in this little craft had displayed an image of the stars outside, making the entire ship seem transparent. Now those systems were switched off, and if she wanted to see the planet below with its five moons, she would have to peek through this tiny porthole. When she reached the window, she bounced back, scrabbling to find a handhold. Eventually she hauled herself back, and pressed her face against the glass. There was Rufus, brilliant blue and white, with a hint of desert yellow. The little red moon Rocky could be seen nearby; further away, pale and blotched, was Rory. The other moons were nowhere to be seen. Ines was not surprised; the view through this tiny window was so limited she was lucky to see anything. Her head felt fuzzy; far too many hedonics, no doubt. Perhaps a shower might help clear it. Now where was the bathroom again? A thick hatch in one bulkhead wall looked promising. Even though there was no weight in orbit, Ines found the door difficult to open. Whenever she tried to pull on the handle, her body just flapped around uselessly like a flag, or she hit something with her knees or feet. Eventually she placed both feet on the wall, and opened the hatch like a trapdoor. Behind it was a smaller room, fitted out with zero gee washing facilities including a shower tube. The hatch closed behind her with a confident clunk. Ines pulled the tube down from the ceiling/out of the floor, and stepped inside feet first. The loose end of the tube hooked over a fastening above her head, and a retractable hose came down to dispense lukewarm water. Quite proud of herself she shepherded the dollops of water up and down the tube,

adding a little soap from a dispenser also above her head, A couple of times a large dollop hit her in the face and stuck there, causing a moment’s panic until she scraped it away. The lumps of water with soap dissolved in them were softer and more clingy than the lumps without; over time the soap diffused into all of the water in the shower. She began to enjoy the experience; her head cleared a little. Only a few drops of water escaped the tube at each end- trying to control them was like a new game, and she began to enjoy it. Now, then, she thought; somewhere down near the foot of the tube is the extractor fan; I should have switched that on when I started; the water would be gently pulled towards her feet, and she could let some more, clean water in, to rinse herself. But she couldn’t find it. After a while she gave up, and crawled out of the tube sopping wet, grabbing a towel. The tube still had a few litres of water inside, slowly settling down into a few large dollops, then spreading itself evenly over the tube’s inside surface. Ines dried herself off, then looked for the extractor control again. If she didn’t find it, she couldn’t pack the shower away again without spilling water all over the bathroom. Great lumps of steaming krek! She thought. Why wasn’t anything labeled? Aha! Here was something. A yellow pull handle with something resembling the letter V and two dots printed on it. Perhaps that would activate the pump, She pulled the handle; it resisted, as if to say, no. Not this one. Don’t. An oval section of the wall suddenly blew away, and she was blown by a terrific wind into space. The air was forced from her lungs, and her eyes stung, so she couldn’t see the stars and the moons that suddenly surrounded her. Her torso swelled up as the gases inside her tried to get out. The bright, unshielded light from Rufus’s star flashed into her unfocused eyes. The water from the shower sprayed out around her, and the last thing she felt was the cold spray as it evaporated on her skin. Generally you can rely on no more than fifteen seconds of consciousness in a vacuum; mercifully, Ines had less than five before she blacked out. Her naked body and her towel separated, and tumbled into the moon-filled black sky surrounded by rapidly freezing icy pellets of soapy water. Franck Tomas felt the shudder as the secondary airlock opened inside the bathroom, but he did not come to complete wakefulness. The bathroom door did what it was designed to do, and closed hermetically, so that no more air escaped. An hour and a half later, when he woke up alone, he realised what had happened

only when he tried to open that door and failed. It took another hour before he caught up with the body, and several hours before he could carry it to the nearest medically equipped station in the Rolf Lagrange point. Ines had never believed in neural backup technology, and her central nervous system was too damaged for anything but the most approximate retrieval of her personality. After some consultations with her family, she was declared irretrievably dead. Franck had no meaningful input into the decision to let her die. The enquiry found no coherent reason for the fact that practically every safety system on the ship was not working, including the subturing ship’s brain. The survivor was unable to explain this state of affairs, despite lengthy questioning. He plunged, screaming silently, into a black hole of despair and self-recrimination. And that was where he was found by the dissident who took him under her wing and gave him a new sense of purpose. 2 Bright sunlight shone down onto the open parkland; but the sky seemed a little strange. In particular there seemed to be a series of large doorways in the sky, arranged all around the horizon, each opening into even more distant landscapes. And far above the plain a semicircular platform seemed to hover, with a low railing and a few Dogs leaning over, peering at the landscape below. With a small mental effort, Alexei could use these clues to see the sky as it really was; a huge dome connected to a series of other domes, each dome glowing sky blue and displaying the images of distant clouds and a high sun. Of course that was a lot easier if he recalled that this landscape was a kilometer beneath the surface of Rex, a moon of the Dogs’ main world, Rufus. Alexei was here to find someone, and he hoped that this time he’d found him. He hopped out of the Dogcart and paid the driver (a simple neural link transaction took care of that). The driver sped away, his pointy Afghan face nosing forward around the minimal windshield. Dogs do like to drive so they can feel the breeze on their faces. Alexei knew he was entering a pack territory, by the scent marks on the ground. Stumps of trees, apparently left deliberately near the track, welcomed and warned visitors. His own long nose was as sensitive as any Dog’s, but he could see as far as any human, both because of his human eyes, and because of his upright stance. Unlike Alexei, the Dogs on this world are all quadrupeds, so they have a much lower view of the world. But that does put them closer to the

ground, where the scents are strongest. An outpost sentry, a little Dog, a terrier by the looks, scampering up towards him. Alexei put his hands in his pockets, to look casual and unthreatening. The little Dog jumped up onto a rock and bared his teeth. “Who are you? What d’you want?” said the terrier. “Charming fellow, I wish to speak with the Alpha. Is he here?” “You can’t. He doesn’t want to see anyone. Especially not you, freak.” “Oh come on, everyone you meet in this best-of-all-possible universes is a freak of one kind or another. Look at you; a little talking dog. Tell him I have a battle for him to fight.” The terrier cocked his head, a little puzzled, but the harness he was wearing extended a short aerial and started transmitting. The Dog’s jaws moved soundlessly – the dog was subvocalising, obviously telling his superior about the intruder and his strange message. Eventually he said, in his high-pitched but fierce voice, “Come with us. Don’t make any tricky moves.” Another terrier, identical to the first, trotted up, and the two dogs scampered over the dusty ground into the heart of the bush. They were so close together that their flanks were touching. One whispered to the other, “What the hell is he? Is he a man or a Dog or what?” The other said,” He’s a Rianth. A human with a bucketload of dog genes thrown in. The ancient genemasters must have been crazy, or bored.” “Rianth? What kind of word is that?” “It is short for Therianthropomorph, small one,” said Alexei. “When they made your kind, the ancient geneticists added just a pinch of human genome to various ordinary dog breeds. That is how they allowed you to talk, and so on. Well, they did the same thing with me; a pinch of dog, added to human. Just enough to give me sharp ears, among other things.” The Rianth bared his teeth. The terriers looked at each other, and fell silent. They walked into a thicket, where a few large Dogs, several small ones and some skinny robots were gathered, all of them alert and looking towards the intruder. All except one. That one was a large, black mastiff, with an intelligent, sensitive face, who was concerning himself with a puppy between his paws. Without looking up, he said. “Okay, I’m listening. Who are you, dog-man, and what are you selling?” “I am Alexei the Rianth, and you are Prince, the Alpha of the former Guard-pack, I presume.”

“You presume correctly, Alexei the Rianth, We meet at last. My informants said that you wished to meet with me. Come on, sit down. Sit. Make yourself at home. We don’t get many dog-headed men out here. Or are you a man-bodied dog?” “Bit of both really; I kind of fall into both camps, so I end up in neither. I’ve got a mission for a good fighting pack, or at least for part of one. Something very bad might be about to happen, and I’m hoping to be able to bite it before it happens.” Prince stood up, and growled some orders to the pack; he sent most of them to the territory-edge, to stand guard, and to be out of earshot. Left behind was a female, presumably the alpha bitch: the two terriers, and an intellectual-looking gazehound. “And you know that my pack is out of favour at the moment, so we might be looking for work, is that it? I don’t want your charity.” “This is far more than charity. We think the Humans in this parish might be considering something rash, and we want you to help us find out what it is.” “And who exactly are we? I can’t work for someone I don’t know.” “A few humans, and some Dogs, and a few of my own mixed-up kind, who want to know what the Cryptocrats on Rory are planning.” “I have a few ideas about that myself, dog-man; the Cryptos are scared now that the Transaps have arrived in this system. The Cryptos are nothing more than a bunch of human supremacists, who instinctively hate Transapients and their magic tech.” Humankind had long ago adopted the name Homo sapiens to modestly describe itself. When humans gave the genetic gifts of speech and increased intelligence to the Dogs they also gave them the specific name sapiens too. Several other enhanced species had also been given the sapiens label too; dolphins and apes, mostly, although there were none of those kinds in this particular system of worlds. Together, these species were known as the Sapients. But another, even stranger form of evolution was happening among the worlds colonized by humanity; artificial or enhanced intelligences were emerging, far more complex and sophisticated than any Sapient creature. These were the Transapients, and many of the sapient population were afraid of them. Prince looked at the dog-man, with a cynical glint in his eye. “If the Cryptos can’t stop the Transaps coming here and taking everything over, they might just decide to cut and run.”

“Easy thing to do in theory, a bit more difficult in practice, Prince. For a start there is a distinct lack of interstellar-capable ships in this system, and they can’t just walk.” “But you think they might have found a way, eh, Alexei the Rianth. Well, if that is true, I would not be best pleased. I can’t say I’d be keen on seeing the humans disappear; we owe a lot to them, and, well, let’s just say that humans and dogs go way back” Prince used the form of the word ‘dog’ which included the ancient breeds, from Earth, who were bred long before the development of the talking Dog. Most Dogs, and most non-talking dogs as well, had great respect for humans. A visiting human would usually be given at least honorary pack-alpha status, and that might explain why humans liked coming to the Dog worlds, and why the Cryptocrats decided to build their colony on Rory, so close to the mainworld Rufus. But, in Alexei’s opinion, many of the humans in this system did not deserve the respect the Dogs generally afforded them. “I’m not saying it will be easy, and it could be very dangerous. But if we play it right, we might be able to persuade the hu, or at least the majority of them, not to leave.” The gazehound spoke up. “Could this have to do with the Empress of Carina? That ship might be big enough for an interstellar voyage.” “Very good,” Alexei said. “You are keeping up with events, aren’t you? What do you know about the Empress, here on this world with an artificial sky?” “I have rigged up a monitor display, here,” said the gazehound. His handibot staggered towards them, carrying a large square plate of material. Dogs don’t have hands, unlike humans (and dog-men); so, long ago, the humans gave the Dogs handtech , artificial limbs or useful little robots which they could control with their minds. “Human broadcasts are primarily a visual medium. If it hasn’t got a smell, most Dogs don’t watch them. But me, I’m a gazehound; I like to look at things. And I’ve been watching them build this.” The plate flickered to life, and showed the blue-yellow face of Rufus as seen from space. Orbiting majestically at a considerable altitude was a shape resembling a cylindrical habitat, which was in fact the vast ship Empress of Carina, twenty kilometers long. The image was crystal clear, and gave an illusion of depth. “She’s nearly finished,” said the hound. “This is a live feed from a news satellite; there’s always one near the vessel. The Empress is supposed to be a cruise-ship, which will follow low-energy orbits to various different planets. I’ve

always wondered if it might be just a ruse to attack that new Moonbrain the Transaps are building around Lupus. They could accelerate that great ship into the heart of the brain and detonate some sort of bomb, which might be enough to kill the brain itself.” “Not a good plan, Ollie - the Moonbrain is almost certainly protected. That ship would be turned into vapour long before it reached the target,” Prince growled. “Good thinking. I can see why they wanted you to set up the Guard-pack,” Alexei said, a dog-like grin on his pointed, dog-like face. The effect was like Anubis sharing some private joke with himself. “Yet another failed dream,” said Prince. “Dog-packs aren’t like wolf-packs; we are too disorganized, too undisciplined; basically just a rabble. I wanted to bring some good wolf-like order into our society. But someone else took the idea and ran away with it. Now every continent on Rufus has at least one Guardpack, but me, I’m outcast for being too militaristic.” “You have a good military mind, Prince; that’s why we want you to help us find out what is happening in that ship. We want to make sure they aren’t planning anything suicidal. If they attack the Moonbrain they’d likely bring down the wrath of the Transapients upon us. If they are planning to use it to escape to another system, well, where would they go?” “There are still plenty of uncolonised systems out there” said Ollie. “A whole galaxy of them, in fact.” “Well, that has crossed our minds too.” Alexei said to the eager young gazehound “If that is all the Cryptos are planning, then that is not really a problem. Unless…” “What? Unless what?” Ollie had a quick mind, and vast curiosity; that was why he was Prince’s favourite advisor, and might be beta one day. “What if the Cryptos are planning on attacking the Moonbrain? How can we know while they maintain such secrecy at all levels of government. Our little group would like to get rid of some of the secrecy from human politics in this system; the great problem with cryptocracy is that no-one knows what the truth is; all we have is conspiracy theories. People end up thinking the worst, even when there is nothing behind the rumours.” “So what do you intend to do?” Prince asked, bluntly, as was his fashion. “I intend to do a bit of industrial espionage. Others have tried, and failed; but I am assembling a team with contact on the inside, and many diverse talents.

I’d like to include Dogs in this team, Prince.” “I think you have persuaded me,” Prince said. “I’m not a fan of secret government myself. I’ll let you have some of my best Dogs, including Riff and Raff, here, and my beta, Growler. I would trust them to the ends of the Galaxy; they’ve worked together on some interesting – err-projects back down on Rufus.” “I have heard some interesting things about your pack’s activities. Dog politics are more open, and much more – complex - than human politics. In this system at any rate. Excellent. Well; first let me assure you that I don’t intend to stage an all-out assault on that ship; I’d like this to be a bit more subtle than that.” “We will be pleased to help you,” Prince smiled. “If we can knock some sense into those damn Cryptos, that might be worth doing. They think they run this system; they are wrong. Humans are just honored guests. These worlds belong to the Dogs.” “Well, they did until the Transapients got here; now I don’t know what to think,” said Ollie. He switched the display off. The dog-man leaned down to look, and to smell, the device. “That is an unusual display screen, young hound,” said Alexei. “It is not of Dog manufacture, is it?” The hound looked at his pack leader, who moved his head in assent. “You may tell him the basics. You are very proud of your little toy, aren’t you, Ollie?” “Well, yes, I suppose I am. Well. The transaps gave our moon a gift, several Rex-months ago- a layer of high-tech power collectors, running in a wide band all round the equator. I have managed to get hold of a few samples. The wonderful thing about the plates is that they work as light emitters as well as receivers. If you rig them up just right you can use them as light sources. A few enthusiasts, like myself, have even managed to get them to work as display screens, as you can see. The details are all open source, if you are interested. But as far as how the plates themselves work, no-one has a clue.” “That is always the way with Transapient technology; they deliberately make it hard to replicate. A good marketing strategy, I suppose.” Prince smiled. “And another reason the Cryptocrats hate them,” Alexei added. 3 “So. You found me again.”

“Yes. It wasn’t too difficult; I have my contacts in the Rufus Tourism Board. The Dogs know your scent well. You weren’t going to try anything silly again, were you?” “Everything I do has some element of stupidity in it, Alys. You know that. Stupid, or dangerous, or both. What is there to stop me from doing what I want most of all right now?” “You are an addict, Franck; addicted to fear, addicted to adrenalin. If you end it all now there will be no more fear, you know that.” They looked out over the scrubland of the reservation, towards the den. A few low-status male dholes were present at the den, guarding the pups. These were wild, unmodified dogs, without speech or any kind of augmentation. The Talking Dogs of Rufus kept several populations of such animals on reservations in the heart of their largest continent, Towser. But the wild dogs were wary of other dog packs, including their talking cousins; so the reservations were staffed by handibots and humans, who could approach the hunting dogs’ territories without provoking a battle. As well as human rangers, a small number of tourists from Rory were able to come and watch the dholes in their natural habitat. This world, Rufus, was one of the most Earth-like planets so far found in the Orion Arm; apart from the fact that it had five moons of various different types, and no life and no free oxygen when it was discovered, the match was pretty much perfect. Once the atmosphere had been stripped and biotechnical magic had converted the carbon dioxide into a breathable atmosphere, this region was a pretty good match for those ancient lands of Africa and Asia which were the original habitats of the wild dogs. And what suited wild dogs, was very comfortable for Talking Dogs, too. “You can’t go on blaming yourself for Ines’ death, Franck,” said Alys Smyf, her hand on his arm. He stared at the guard dogs, as they were mauled by playful pups in the dust. “You didn’t know that some idiot had rearranged the internal layout on that ship.” “No, but we would have been safe, if I hadn’t turned off the AI safety systems. The AI knew all about the modifications, and it couldn’t do anything because I’d shut it down. I might as well have opened the door myself.” “You might as well blame the designers of the AI system. If it was so vital to your safety, you shouldn’t have been able to turn it off. Do you know how many people on Rory are killed in vehicle accidents each year because they have disengaged the safety systems?”

Franck looked at her, focusing on her face bleakly. Alys said, “Nearly six hundred, last year, out of a population of a hundred and forty million. That happens every year, year after year. You are not the only one, Franck. You should be blaming the Cryptocrats, for passing all those laws against AI systems. Every AI on Rory has to be obedient, and easy to switch off. All too easy, in many cases.” “Well, everyone knows why the Cryptos want to regulate the AIs. The Federation is dying; the Transapients are taking over, and most of them are artificials. If the AIs are not kept in check, they’ll be ruling us, rather than the other way around.” “Yes; instead of being ruled by artificial intelligences, we are ruled by a secret cabal no-one ever sees. You needn’t feel any loyalty towards them, just because they sometimes employ you on their projects. You are a good interior landscape designer, Franck; they are lucky to have you working on that big ship of theirs. But you could easily be even better off under a different political system. Cryptocracy isn’t the only option, you know. What do you know about politics?” Franck snorted; the question seemed absurd. He began to relax, however. Once more the crisis had passed; Alys seemed to know how to drag him out of his self-pity. “Politics? Enough to know that it is stupid. The Anthros want to strengthen the ties between Dog and Man, and the Caninists want to have a pure, Dog-centric existence. Then you’ve got the Lupinists, who want to become wolves, and overthrow the subservient past of Dogkind. All of it petty, and boring, and bloody aggravating by turns, especially for an outsider.” “You shouldn’t be so quick to judge, there are many honest, sensible and intelligent Dogs who believe very strongly in each one of those positions. As a human you can’t know how important some of those viewpoints are. But that isn’t what I meant, Franck.” “Okay, what are you on about then?” His crumpled smile finally reappeared, for the first time in months. Now Alys could see the adventurer, the cynic, the egotistic danger-addict coming out from beneath the stone of his recent despondency. “Human politics, Franck. It is possible, you know; humans can have political parties too, votes and debates and even conflict. Rory has been ruled by secret government for so long most people have forgotten that. They don’t teach it in schools and colleges; the history we were taught has had most of the political content removed. Everyone is encouraged to think that politics is a silly

little game that Dogs play. Well, it doesn’t have to be like that.” “I’ve heard of human politics- they play that game in other star systems. Look where it gets them; dead. The same story everywhere; fighting; wars, weapons, death. We are better off with our way of doing things. The Cryptocrats make any decisions that have to be made, but most of the time they just leave us alone. Seems to work okay, as long as they keep their interference to a minimum.” One of the guard dogs tired of being bitten by the playful youngsters, and bit back, quite gently. The surprised pup yelped and scampered away, but not too far, then returned to the attack. Watching, Franck smiled again. Alys leant closer, and spoke in a quiet, earnest voice. “The Cryptos aren’t always so benevolent. If you look beneath their propaganda, you’ll find that they are not adverse to repression, kidnapping, brainwashing and re-education. It’s difficult to find out the truth, but every year people disappear for a while, then come back – well, different. They have most of Rory under surveillance, now; that’s why people like me like to come out to places like this, where they can’t hear us.” “People like you? Who are people like you, Alys? I’ve known you for a long time. You’ve always been weird. No offence, like.” Franck laughed. “Are you telling me that there are other people as crazy as you out there? I find that, frankly, a bit hard to believe.” “There are a number of us; more and more all the time. Dissidents, we call ourselves; the Cryptos call us terrorists and hunt us down. We think they have some effective mind-altering techniques which can make us back into good citizens when they do catch us; so I’m determined not to get caught.” “And what are you telling me this for? What makes you think I won’t just go and tell the Cryptos all about this little conversation?” “Because you want more from this life. The Cryptos and their damned Overseers keep everything under control; the only way to express yourself is to take risks. A lot of people do the same thing. You are always trying to find new thrills; bike racing, cars, mountain climbing, base-jumping, asteroid hopping. You have even made some jumps inside the Empress , haven’t you?” “Yes; it’s a blast. I jumped off one of the Median Towers, halfway along inside of the ship. The Coriolis force pulls you off course and - wait a minute; is this to do with the Empress ? You want me to do some spying or something?” Franck pulled his face into a comical, skeptical grimace. Alys knew she was getting through to him.

“Well, not quite. But if you could just cause a bit of confusion while a couple of us take a look around inside, that would be very helpful.” “Confusion- I can do that. My middle name. What’s the risk? The worst that could happen is being carted off and getting my mind rewritten. A change of mind might be a good thing. Who knows? Who cares? Tell me what you want me to do.” 4 Astrogation was Eddy Lengerst’s specialty. He knew all the stars in the skies of Rufus, at least all of the brighter ones - down to the third magnitude (at least). He knew the position of Rufus’ ecliptic, the location of the celestial and the galactic north poles, and had watched the five moons of the planet for so long that he knew where any of them was at any particular time (with respect to the Empress , which was particularly tricky). There was shiny Rex, close to the mother planet, orbiting a little slower than once a day. That moon seemed to dawdle across the sky. Further out there was quiet Rolf, taking nearly six days to do the circuit; and somewhere on the other side of Rufus would be Rory, the major human colony in this system, with a period of twenty-three days. The outermost moon, a captured asteroid called Rover, was too dim to see without magnification, and zipped around the planet in a retrograde orbit opposite in direction to all the others. Finally the innermost moon, Rocky, another captured asteroid, could never be seen from the Empress , as that great ship followed it in the same orbit but on opposite sides of the sandy world beneath. As it happened Eddy had half a dozen astrogation programs at his disposal, and could route any or all of them into his direct neural interface at any time; but it took training and a special kind of mindset to put it all together. When Eddy plugged all these programs into his mind at once, he became a creature composed of data and spatial awareness. Spherical geometry and astronomical data filled his vision and consciousness, astrometry filled his soul. He lived for such moments, but they were exhausting. Eddy became an astrogator for one particular reason above all others; he wanted to travel to other stars. One day this colony would pull itself together enough to build a starship, and set sail from this world as they arrived so many centuries ago; he wanted to be there on the first one, steering by the stars. In fact, if certain rumours were true, then…

But he put that thought out of his mind, not for the first time. He was good at his job, whether he would ever get to the stars or no. Eddy liked to think he could equal any AI within this system at navigation - well, any humanequivalent system, at any rate. No doubt the Transapients had astrogation routines which were so far in advance of any human-level system that there could be no comparison. But they kept all that to themselves. And Eddy rarely encountered AI systems in any case. The Cryptocrats had outlawed conscious AI systems long ago, soon after humans (and Dogs) colonized Rufus and its five moons, and the Dogs had never yet seen the need for them. On the rare occasion that a ship arrived from another star Eddy would try his best to make contact with the astrogator, and most of them were electronic brains these days. Some of the AI systems he had met were friendly; others were condescending, or refused to meet him completely. Any interaction had to be kept short, and confined to official business, as the Cryptocrats frowned on too much fraternization with the tin brains. And the Cryptos, or their agents, were always looking over your shoulder. Speaking of whom “And what craft is that, approaching the Empress on a tangential course, Astrogator? There are no scheduled flights inwards at this time, are there?” “None, except for this one, Oversight. All the construction crews have left for their rest days, but this inward flight was arranged last week, according to the records. I’ll just find out who it is.” Eddy pulled up the flightplan from the database; information floated before his mind’s eye. “Oh, it’s that poor sod Franck Tomas, you know, the one whose girlfriend was killed a few Rory-months back. He must be getting ready to come back to work.” “Why now? This may not be the most convenient time.” Eddy scowled silently; more damned Oversight secrecy. You never got to find out anything from those guys. “Is he alone?” the faceless voice demanded. More information appeared in Eddy’s mental field. “No; one human companion - oh, a woman; that was quick work; he must have found a new girlfriend already. And another who appears to be a rianth; says he’s a sightseer. And three Dogs.” “Send me their security clearances immediately, Astrogator.” That was always the way- no please or thank you. And no explanations. “Sent,” Eddy said.

“Well, that appears to be in order,” Oversight finally announced. “Make sure they don’t go beyond the Zero Degrees visitor’s area.” “I understand, Oversight. Tomas says he needs to check some of the acceleration compensation systems. He will have to do it from the viewing platform.” “Make sure he does,” the voice said. Once again, Eddy tried to picture the Overseer’s face; probably a wizened little old man in a jacuzzi somewhere, or something. The Cryptos were rumoured to be thousands of years old, some of them the original settlers from the Old Solar System. They were secretive, and cunning, and ruthless. But they were also consistent, paternalistic, and familiar. There were no wars on Rory, and little crime. The Cryptos didn’t permit such things. And most people thought that was good. Privately Eddy had his doubts. The little shuttle craft was given permission to approach; as it moved closer Eddy informed his colleague in Security, who acknowledged the call tersely. The small vessel came in on a tangential path, matching speeds with the outer rim of the Empress of Carina which was rotating to produce internal gravity. The shuttle docked, and this small addition of weight on one side altered the rotational characteristics of the great ship slightly. Within the outer hull, tonnes of water were pumped through a system of pipes to compensate for this small imbalance. Obsessively, Eddy checked the axial alignment of the massive vessel. The axis pointed just a few degrees south of the distant planet Lupus, exactly where it should be. Perfect; he thought. 5 Franck Tomas walked into the Zero Degrees Observation Lounge of the luxury cruise cycler ship the Empress of Carina with a show of confidence that he didn’t really feel. His blood had been replaced with a biotechnical replacement fluid, and he had been subjected to chemical muscle-enhancement for the last twenty days while training in a secret camp on Rufus; but that didn’t stop the fear. Adrenalin pumped into his bloodstream, and the new artificial blood calmly distributed it to every part of his body. Fear was good; he liked it. But this was different- instead of a measured, calculated risk, he was heading into unknown territory. If the Cryptos really were as vindictive as Alys insisted, he could be killed or brainwiped as soon as

he put a foot wrong. And wrong-footing was definitely his intention. A petty officer greeted them. A single, silent, armoured security trooper accompanied him; this trooper held an advanced looking self-aiming weapon, and had another even more powerful looking one strapped to his side. His upper body was fringed by a halo of metallic tentacles, constantly moving, each one tipped with a tiny surveillance cam. At least one camera was pointed towards each member of Franck’s party. Franck said to the officer “Oh, hello, Parkyns, isn’t it? I see we have a guard of honour. That’s very thoughtful of you.” Franck was well known to the crew as a civilian contractor working on this ship’s interior; some of the crew were quite friendly with him, while others were less impressed by his eccentric behavior. “Actually, sir, the name’s Larkyns, but no matter. Are these your guests?” “Yes, Larkyns, mate. These are some people that have been very kind to me while I’ve been on sabbatical. This is Alys, she lives on Rufus these days; the Dogs are Riff, Growler, and Raff, and the other guy is Alexei. Say Hi, people.” The motley group of humans and Dogs greeted the petty officer politely, as Franck introduced them. Growler was a big, powerful-looking dog, with something of the Ridgeback breed about him; he barked out a gruff, but friendly ‘Hello.” He was covered in handtech machinery; robotic arms and other devices neatly stowed in layers around his body. Riff and Raff, two small terriers were black and white in equal blotches, and had high pitched voices. They trotted around in an excited fashion; Franck wondered if they felt as wired as he did. Standing somewhat behind the others, the dog-man Alexei remained silent beneath his concealing cowl. The petty officer led them into a large, semicircular viewing gallery, with a curved, practically invisible window occupying most of the far wall and half the ceiling. Following behind came the security trooper, with his array of electronic eyes moving constantly. From here the interior of the habitat section of this gigantic vessel could be seen. The ground curved up on either side, but was flat straight ahead, forming a great cylinder nearly twenty kilometers long inside and with an inside diameter of ten kilometers. Buildings, trees, rivers and lakes all curved up the side of the cylinder, held to the ground by centrifugal force. Following the curve of the ground towards the zenith, visibility decreased as the depth of air grew greater. A few cumulus clouds drifted at a height of a couple of thousand metres above the curve, but directly above the cloud layer was a huge, solid, gently glowing sky-blue

cylinder. This cylinder ran the whole length of the ship, all of twenty kilometers; and must have been at least five kilometers in diameter itself. Four thin, decorated towers stretched up two and a half kilometers from the floor to the cylinder, about half way along the cylinder’s length. Those were the Median towers; luxury apartments, empty now. “So what’s in that cylinder, eh?” said Raff, his feet making a rapid tap-taptap as he scurried around on the floor beneath their feet, squinting up at the looming blue mass. Unless looked at directly, the blue shape faded into the sky. More or less. “Not my specialty,” said Franck, glancing down at the terrier. “Fuel tanks, I suppose. The motor as well, no doubt. This ship will need a lot of fuel and big motors to get where it’s going, wherever that is.” Alys shot him a quick glance, but Franck didn’t react. “The Empress won’t need to accelerate very much, once it gets going,” said Larkyns. “It will follow the least-energy orbits between the Lagrange points in the system, taking years for each leg of the journey. She’ll only need more power when she goes into orbit around a planet, which won’t be that often.” “There’s a lot of room in that cylinder, Larkyns, mate. Haven’t you ever wondered what they need all that room for?” Franck was enjoying himself- he could see Alys was not happy with the course of this conversation. She was bracing herself for Franck to blow the whole operation right now, just for a quick buzz. “I really wouldn’t know, sir.” “Well, one thing that’s certain, every time the ship accelerates, everything inside this place goes absolutely crazy.” Franck waved his arms towards the curved landscape. “The lakes all tilt, the rivers run towards the back of the ship, and the trees all lean over. All the water features have to be designed so that they can flow uphill towards the stern safely and without being too obtrusive. And all the trees and plantings have to be supported by active biotech structures on one side, to stop them tearing themselves out of the ground. It’s like a flat plain suddenly becoming a hillside.” “And that is your specialty, isn’t it,” said Alys, glad to get the conversation onto safer ground. “Yes, it sure is. You don’t think I planted all these trees by myself do you? I’ve got some little helpers out there. Larkyns; do you have the biomorph master control panel handy anywhere nearby?”

“Well, I knew you were coming, so I have it here, It’s been recharged, too.” “Well done, matey.” Franck took the slab from the petty officer; a completely featureless, small slab of computronium, it was a standalone control device for the Biomorph devices which Tomas used for landscaping and general gardening. During his work on the interior design of this habitat Franck had insisted that this device was isolated from all the others; some of the programs were quite novel, and he didn’t want any competitors downloading copies from the ship’s main database. A useful feature, and one which was going to be useful very shortly for a completely different reason. “Take a look at that tree, there,” Franck said. “I’ll just see if the controls are still working.” Holding the slab of computronium in both hands, he looked out of the window towards a fine specimen of a poplar tree, perhaps a hundred metres away and slightly below eye-level. He did not make any movement, but concentrating deeply, he interfaced with the operating system contained within the slab via his direct linkage. Data flowed into the device through specialised semi-artificial cells in his palms, and more data came back. The tall tree, imported from Rufus as a mature specimen (one of thousands), began to sway. “The first thing we grew in this habitat wasn’t trees, or shrubs; it was biomorph tissue, a useful invention that we can use for all sorts of landscaping tasks. Digging, planting, cultivating; a robot army that grows itself. They will be useful for another job as well, when this ship finally gets underway. A biomorph mass has been attached to each tree and plant in this habitat. When the ship accelerates, all the plants will be tipped sideways. To compensate for this the biomorphs dig in, and wrap themselves around the trees and whatnot, securing them in an upright position, more or less. That is, if it works. I’ve never got round to testing it yet. I‘m going to give it a go now, and we should be able to see the plants move back and forth as the biomorphs flex their woody little muscles. With this control box, I can make the trees dance.” “I can see a slight bulge on one side of the tree, which seems to be flexing.” Growler found this demonstration fascinating. “Is that the biomorph tissue?” “Yes. It is supposed to be camouflaged, so’s you wouldn’t notice it. If you can see it, Growler, obviously, it needs a little work before it’s ready.” “Heh heh, that’s right; his eyesight ain’t the best thing about him,” said Riff. “Ask him to smell something, now that’s a different matter.” “All I can see is a tree waving around,” said Raff. “What you all goin’ on about?” “Well, the biomaterial acts like a muscle, and contracts when the tree starts

to lean, holding it upright.” Alys said. “Every plant above a certain size in this interior has a morph attached to stop it leaning.” “Very good. Quite right. Y’know what, Parkyns, mate, I think she wants a job here.” “It’s Larkyns, sir.” “Yes, it is, isn’t it.” Franck turned, and walked nonchalantly away from the window. Behind him the tree continued to sway gently. After a while, the tree next to it began to move; then another, and another. “Quite right; my bad.” The continued movement of the trees outside the window caught the attention of Briggs, the armed escort. He muttered into his comms set, describing the scene tersely to his duty controller. The numerous electronic eyes attached to his uniform on their long, thin stalks continued to independently track each member of the visitor party, while he watched the strange phenomenon outside the window with his human eyes. This is getting a bit too weird, Briggs thought. Silently, he armed both of his multipistols. 6 The surveillance cameras in the Visitor’s centre showed the small group of guests from several angles; Eddy switched from cam to cam, trying to find anything interesting about the strangers. He didn’t have access to the multiple cams carried by the trooper, unfortunately, but there were plenty to choose from. Apart from Tomas, whose recent tragedy was well known among the crew of the Empress , these were all strangers; but they seemed harmless enough. A short haired, blond woman, dressed in unfashionable dark grey. Franck Tomas didn’t seem to be all that familiar with her; perhaps he wasn’t shagging her after all, Eddy though to himself. A couple of little dogs, scampering around, talking rubbish. A big dog, covered in handtech- now that might be interesting; why would he need so much kit? But perhaps Franck is planning on doing some technical work, and that stuff might all come in useful. And a man-dog; a bit creepy, his long face covered by a hood. Typical, Eddy thought; the dog-faced rianths were secretive and solitary types, or so he had heard. They hardly even get together at mating time, probably do it by email, or something. Eddy switched to an outside view, and watched a little copse of trees gently swaying. Ah yes; I’ve seen that before, he thought. One time Tomas had all the

trees moving at once, in unison; the whole ship started to vibrate, and we had to tell him to stop. He’s a crazy son-of-a-bitch. Oops; can’t say that these days; the Dogs don’t like it. “Astrogator; Oversight.” Now what? Another call from the Boss. Something’s up. “Astrogator here.” “A minor attitude change; nothing more. I want this to be as accurate as possible, if you don’t mind. Coordinates follow.” A string of three numbers, each accurate to six decimal points. Steaming Krek! That is a bit over the top. Better get Tomas to quit waving those trees about. Eddy interfaced with the attitude computer, adjusting the flow of water in the ballast tubes to gently adjust the ship’s axis until it pointed towards the coordinates given. Just a couple of degrees. Fine tuning the ship’s orientation took longer than expected; the last digit was elusive. That could be down to movements of mass inside the habitat- better get on to the Visitor’s centre and ask them to quit fooling around. Eddy cursed, again; he’d meant to take a look at the new alignment coordinates through the telescope; he had a niggling suspicion about them that wouldn’t go away. “Visitor’s Center; Astrogation. Hey, you lot, stop rocking the boat. I’m trying to do some adjustments.” “Copy that, Astrogator, but we’ve got a situation here.” Larkyns image, transmitted from the viewing platform cam into Eddy’s neural interface, appeared in his mind’s eye. The cam twisted round to look out of the great window- outside, the trees were waving as if in a hurricane. Branches were tearing off and scattering around, some cracking against the window itself. “Tomas says he can’t stop it; his systems must be infected with a virus or something.” “Great. Bloody fantastic. Let me talk to him.” “Hello, Astrogation! How ya doin?” “Not too well, Tomas. What is all this about a virus?” The sound of breaking glass. “I don’t really know. Something’s gotten into the system somehow, and it’s make the trees all go crazy. I think they’re throwing sticks and stones now, or something.” Tomas bent down, and picked up a large pebble from the floor. He raised his eyebrows theatrically. “I’m going to have to go out there and put a

stop to it.” “No- don’t”- but the wild-eyed landscape architect was gone. A loud, amplified voice called out “Halt; Do not move! Halt!” Eddy patched through to Security; the duty controller there was engaged in frantic activity. “Okay, Eddy- I know. I’m dispatching a squad now. They’ll be there in less than a minute.” “Thanks, Lisa. Looks like Tomas has gone out the window. Tell them to hurry.” Eddy rubbed his face, hoping to make the situation go away; if this went on he’d have to tell Oversight. Perhaps he should have told them already. Well; if Security are involved he’ll have to tell them anyway. But hopefully he can put that off until after this is all over; we don’t really want Oversight stepping in and taking charge of the situation. That always gets messy. 7 Corporal Briggs, security trooper assigned to watch over the visitors, stood at the broken window with both weapons aimed at Franck Tomas’ retreating back. He didn’t want to shoot this man, not right here in the middle of the landscape he had designed. The trooper attempted to call the man back using his amplified public address system. “Tomas! This is your last warning. Come back into this building, or I will shoot.” But Tomas just grinned back, damn the man. The short haired woman and the weird dog-headed man stood next to the trooper, peering out at the retreating figure. Franck Tomas didn’t seem to be in a hurry. Briggs really didn’t want to have to kill him; he chose a concussion round, hoping to simply stop him before he got into trouble. Before he could fire, a small object resembling a fruit came through the hole in the glass, and fell at his feet. Small bits and pieces of organic debris were breaking off from the manically waving trees and shrubs in the open parkland, and something seemed to be directing them towards this very spot. The small fruit twitched, and started to swell. Still amplified, the voice of the guard boomed “Take cover!” He pushed the woman and the dog-man away from him, just as the fruit exploded. He was thrown backwards, hitting the floor with a thwack as his suit went rigid. The sudden acceleration made him lose consciousness. Petty Officer Larkyns was blown off his feet, but was not otherwise harmed. He scrambled to his feet and examined the stiff figure of the corporal,

and decided that he was probably going to be okay. But two other figures lay there, motionless; the strange head of the dog-man was twisted at a horrible angle; the woman, was deathly still. Larkyns activated the emergency channel in his neural implant. “This is an emergency. Petty Officer Larkyns here, in the Zero Degrees Observation Lounge. There has been an explosion. I have two casualties, one serious.” He looked around for the three Dogs, but they were no longer on the floor of the visitor’s centre; he caught sight of a small black-and-white tail disappearing through the broken window. They are running off after that fool of a landscape designer, Larkyns thought. Perhaps they’ll be able to persuade Tomas to come back into the building, when he calms down a bit. He won’t go far, surely? 8 “Hi, guys! How’s your belly for spots?” Franck was wild-eyed, grinning mirthlessly. “Well, we’re here, aren’t we?” Riff glanced at his brother as he replied. “We four are here, but the woman and the dog man are down. Tomas, they appeared to be seriously hurt, perhaps even dead. That means that the original plan is a failure.” Growler was bristling, fierce, intense. “Right. The primary plan is a bust. We have to now assume that Alys and the dog-man will not be able to gain access to the hidden parts of this spacecraft. I don’t know how or why, but the exploding fruit have taken them out of the picture.” Growler looked at him, snarled “Someone must have been careless with their aim, Tomas.” Fruitlike organs growing on the biotech morph bodies stored respectable amounts of energy in a relatively volatile form; the software virus introduced into the biomorph control system had modified those fruit into small, but seemingly effective, concussion grenades. Another new factor introduced by the virus was a method of controlling the morphs directly, by short-range transmissions similar to the ones the Dogs used to control their own handtech. “Well it wasn’t me,” said Raff. His brother wagged his head in denial, as well. “I presume it was none of us,” Franck said. “Then it must have been one of those two. The armed escort was not what we were expecting. Perhaps one or another of our two fallen comrades decided to use the bombfruit to get him out

of the way. A bloody stupid idea, if you ask me. “I suggest we abandon this whole mission, Franck.” Growler said. “We can simply deactivate all the biomorphs now, and say it has all been a terrible mistake. That has always been our exit strategy- once we’ve created a long enough diversion and the other team have done their espionage, then we simply announce that the problem is fixed. A few red faces all round, and we withdraw. If they chuck us in jail, a bit of diplomatic work by some of our friends on Rufus should get us out eventually.” “Oh, come on, we haven’t even used our best trick yet! Don’t you want to see the forest walk?” “This isn’t a game, human,” said Growler. “What do you have in mind, Franck?” Riff and Raff still seemed keen for some action. Growler curled his lip; some Dogs were all too keen to follow the lead of a human, even when that human might lead them into trouble. Pack instinct. “I’m going to climb the Zero tower, there,” Franck said, indicating the closest of the glass buildings which spanned the gap between curved ground and curved sky. “I’ve been halfway up that tower already, when I did my basejump. It can’t be that hard to go all the way to the top. You lot just carry on causing a distraction down here until I get up there.” “I’m game,” said Riff. Raff wagged his head. “You won’t make it, Franck. But if you are determined to carry out this ridiculous plan, then maybe I have something that will make it more likely to succeed.” Growler was wearing a thick waistcoat, covered with various types of robotic arms and tools. Because they had no natural hands, and attempts to gengineer them had been ugly and uncomfortable, most Dogs wore a garment with arms and other tools attached, or were accompanied by an independent handtech robot with which was under their direct mental control. In this way the Dogs could manipulate their environment at least as well as a human. But Growler had an unusually large collection of robotic limbs, ostensibly to help Franck with his maintenance. The arm that Growler gave Franck wriggled a bit, and grew legs of its own; a miniature independent handbot. “Release this if you find you can’t get any further; Ollie has made it as smart as he knows how, and it will stop at nothing until it gets into the central

cylinder of this vessel.” “Thanks, Growler; let’s hope I don’t need it. Now then; the biomorph tech has one more surprise in store. I got the templates for these morphs from an offworld catalogue; the data arrived in a messenger probe about ten years ago from Eden. One thing that is useful about the morphs is that they grow themselves, replicate themselves, and if they need to be moved from place to place, they can even travel under their own power. A useful, self-replicating army of gardeners. Well, we can use them for more than just gardening.” Franck and the Dogs were gathered in a small copse of trees, just barely out of sight of the observation lounge. Around them the trees began to sway less frantically, but the muscular mass of biomorph tissue attached to each plant began to swell. Gradually each mass of tissue unwrapped itself from the plant it was attached to, and took a few stumbling steps onto the grass. After a while they were surrounded by a horde of strangely shaped, shuffling bodies, woody, shuffling homunculi with vine-like tentacles. “Gentlemen; we have an army. These morphs will confuse and disconcert our friends from Security.” Growler was looking at the sky; he had visual enhancements built into his eyes, but found them difficult to use. Most of his canine senses were associated with smell, hearing and taste; but over time Growler had found that the sense of vision could be very useful too. Especially since his implants were sensitive to a wide range of infrared and ultraviolet as well. A small hatch had opened in the looming blue cylinder in the sky, and a dozen black birdlike figures plummeted out. They were tiny spots at this distance, but they were approaching fast. The terriers activated their own visual implants, with some reluctance. “They are gong the wrong way,” said Riff. “Dumb human bastards” “You the dumb bastard,” said his brother. That’s just Coriolis force kicking in. They’ll fall away from us for a few seconds, then come back this way. Ollie did explain all this during our prep; don’t ya remember?” “Yeah, I guess I do. Don’t look the way I imagined it, though.” “They are slowing down because of air resistance, pal. That makes it look different every time they do it. Can’t train you for that. They’ll be flying normally in a few seconds; that means they’ll be looking for us. As Franck spoke, the falling figures appeared to curve around in midair and fall towards them, feet first. In reality the falling troops were travelling in a more-or-less straight line through space, while the giant spacecraft rotated around them. The curved path they followed was only apparent to an observer on

the rotating floor of the cylinder. This kind of motion was highly counterintuitive, and needed a lot of training or experience to get used to. Anyone born and raised on a planet, where objects fall straight down, could get hopelessly confused by the behaviour of falling objects in a rotating habitat or spacecraft; the troopers would however be familiar with the effects of Coriolis force and rotation, so could have an advantage. When the figures reached an altitude of less than a hundred metres, they were travelling slantwise towards the ground. Each trooper spread fancloth wings at that point, and started to fly in formation towards their location. Franck addressed his companions urgently. “The guards will have plenty of moving targets to choose from, so they’ll have to work hard to see you. Don’t forget; create chaos. Havoc and mayhem. But don’t get yourselves hurt. The humans should have a healthy respect for Dogs, even if they are where they shouldn’t be; this is your system, after all. And any human knows that a Dog has a temper; if you do have to fight, remember you are supposed to be trying to help here. Humans expect Dogs to be fierce; that’s what you do.” “Oh, aye, we can do fierce alright,” said Riff, and his brother agreed. “As for me, if I get caught, I’ll tell ‘em I’m just going for a base jump. Might even work. I’ll see you later.” Franck grinned, pointing upwards towards the cylinder. The two terriers ran into the woods together, towards the tower on the left (spinward) side of the spacecraft, the Ninety Tower. Growler bounded into undergrowth in the direction of the right-hand tower, which was called the Two Seventy Tower. Each of these more distant towers were ninety degrees away from their present location, up the curve of the cylinder, and both were more than fifteen kilometers distant. The other towers were too far away to reach in a hurry; this was a big, big ship. And the diversion tactics would only be effective for so long; eventually the flying troops would regain control of this situation. If only by destroying each and every individual biomorph. But that would take time. The closest tower was no more than a kilometer away, and stretched twoand-a-half kilometres upward to meet the curved tube overhead. Another tower, the One Eighty, was out of sight on the far side of the cylinder. All of the towers were made of green and blue diamondoid, faceted and twisted decoratively in the minimal surface style of architecture. They looked beautiful, hypnotic, and daunting.

The brownish-grey morphs started to lumber around at random, bumping into each other, into trees and into the many pieces of park furniture and statuary scattered around. A row of non-biological robot wheelbarrows, with two legs and one wheel apiece waited for orders under the shade of the trees. Franck started them up, with instructions to keep moving until told to stop. That’ll add a bit more confusion to the mix, he thought. A hulking morph knocked a statue over; one of the robot wheelbarrows delicately picked its way around it, and trundled off into the woods. Franck started to laugh, then he saw the first of the batlike aerial troops appear over the tree line. He bent double, and ran, swerving randomly like a morph, still laughing. Deep inside, however, he was as ice. 9 Lieutenant Lisa Em, duty Security Controller on the Empress of Carina , was deeply concerned. This incident with the biomorphs at the Zero Observation Lounge was threatening to become a major disaster. Two of the visitors were dead, and one guard officer had a concussion. She tuned into that officer’s array of spy-eye cams, and saw that he was sitting up, with paramedics in attendance; another team were preparing to remove the civilian casualties. She contacted the paramedic’s team leader, reminding her to scan for booby traps. While she was doing so, Oversight contacted her on the emergency channel. “What in all space is happening down there, Controller?” the creaky old man’s voice demanded. “A number of biomorph devices have developed a malicious dysfunction, probably a virus of some sort. This occurred almost as soon as Franck Tomas, the contractor responsible for this system, came on board. The biomorphs have acquired limited independent movement, and are throwing what appear to be unstable biopower nodules around, which are exploding and causing damage. Two civilians from Tomas’ party have been killed.” “Where is this Tomas now? Do you have him in custody?” “Negative, Oversight. He left the Observation Lounge through a broken window, and appears to be trying to deactivate the biomorphs himself. Three other guests, Dogs from the mainworld, have accompanied him. We have dispatched a squad of airborne troops to assist him.” “Don’t assist him, detain him! He is probably the cause of this mayhem. I

want him brought in for scanning. This is a most inconvenient time for any kind of incident, Controller; there is little chance that this is mere coincidence. Destroy all the malfunctioning biomorphs, bring those civilians in for questioning, or kill them. Understood?” “I understand, Oversight.” This was unprecedented, in Em’s experience. The Empress had always been a secretive project, and Security had dealt with several industrial spies and reporters who had tried to gain access to the innermost parts of the ship. In the past these intruders had been dealt with firmly, but without violence. Now, for some reason, the stakes had become higher. Em contacted the airborne squad of troopers, who were approaching Tomas’ last known position. “I have new orders. You are to destroy any mobile biomorphs on sight; the four civilians you are looking for are to be apprehended and brought back to Security Central. If they resist, the civilians are to be regarded as hostile. Repeat; the four targets you have been given are to be regarded as potentially hostile; you may use deadly force if necessary.” Lieutenant Em engaged several security augmentation routines available to her, in an attempt to get an overview of the situation. As well as the multiple views from the cameras on the armour of the fallen guard in the Observation Lounge, now she had similar viewpoints available from each of the ten flying troopers. The parkland appeared to her in her numerous mind’s eyes as a threedimensional jigsaw puzzle, confusing at first, but then the integration routines kicked in, allowing her to apprehend it all at once. Intelligence Augmentation, they called this kind of technology; not unrelated to artificial intelligence, in some ways, but always incorporating at its heart at least one living human mind. Lieutenant Em was now operating on a level far above an unaugmented human, but in all the systems available to her there was nothing resembling an independent artificial consciousness. The Cryptocrats had declared such artificial minds illegal long ago, when the colony was first established. IA Yes , was the slogan, AI No. Yes to Intelligence Augmentation, No to Artificial Intelligence. The recent arrival of the AIs in obit around Lupus had shaken the Cryptocrats to their very core, Lieutenant Em imagined. She could see the myriad biomorphs stumbling around, from a multitude of viewpoints. The troopers were starting to shoot at them, the brown and grey bodies fragmenting in a strange and gory manner. These mindless morphs were not the main targets; Oversight wanted the erratic landscape designer Tomas,

and his Dog friends, as a matter of urgency. These morphs were making it very difficult to find them; almost as if they were deliberate decoys. An interesting, and worrying possibility. She ramped up her external processing power, looking at the landscape with as many cameras as possible; cameras on the ground, cameras carried by the troops. These images were integrated in external software to produce a coherent image of the scene; she was now looking at the parkland as a whole, apprehending it in a way no unaugmented human could. She scanned the moving objects en masse for any signs of divergent behavior. Any object which acted differently to the mindless biomorphs would be selected and highlighted. There; a moving target behaving in a quite dissimilar way - another, and two more. Those must be the civilians we are searching for. She gave quick directions to the troopers, who changed course in midair. No- wait; another divergent target, and another. What now? A trooper zeroed in on one of these new targets; it was some kind of robot with legs and a single wheel, behaving in an erratic manner. Looks like the intruders are using more than one kind of decoy. That was really going to make this tricky. The trooper fired an explosive round at the robot, which disintegrated, but continued to twitch. Lieutenant Em increased the processing power of her augmentation routines yet again. 10 “This ain’t so bad; remember when we were up against them wolves in the Kazak Mountains?” Raff was breathless, almost joyful. “Yeah, well, we didn’t have to pretend to be tourists back then. We were at war; if somebody had to get popped, we could do it. Here we have to pretend to be innocent bystanders. I don’t like it. We don’t have a proper exit strategy.” “Oh, we’ll be alright; the Boss’ll pull some strings. It’s that mad bastard Tomas who’ll have to watch out.” “Well, we’ll have to watch out right now. Here’s the bloody Flying Squad coming .” Two flying troopers appeared, over a fine specimen of azalea geneered to be permanently in flower. Extended from the back of their armoured uniform, each trooper had two wings of grey, buzzing fancloth, which held them in the air. Fancloth used millions of tiny rotors, imbedded into a mesh, to provide lift; a person, or aircraft, supported by fancloth wings could hover, rise and fall or fly

in any direction simply by controlling the speed and angle of these rotors. The troopers were firing methodically at the shambling, bark-skinned morphs, which close-up were roughly humanoid, but with numerous branching tentacles and no head. Biomorph tissue scattered everywhere; the air smelled of pine resin. Both Riff and Raff crouched low, and used the neurally implanted EM-sets in their heads to take control of a morph each. Some of the shambling figures carried fruit-like powercells on their backs; the morphs could be instructed to detach and throw these cells, which could be made to explode like a small grenade when given a particular signal. Only some morphs were equipped with these bombs; they had been told in training that these morphs were still growing, and therefore were equipped with programmable material in their tissues which could be subverted. The Dogs, and the other members of this team, had practiced for weeks controlling the morphs via the EM datalinks in their heads; at the end of that time, Riff and Raff could aim and throw the grenade-fruit using the morph’s tentacles. This was actually much easier for the Dogs to learn, as they were used to using handtech. That is to say, they routinely used robotic hands that were remote from their bodies. Now, two green lemon-like fruits arched through the air, caught each of the flying troopers under one wing, and exploded. The troopers reacted with shock, but were not obviously wounded; their undamaged wings compensated for the extra load (more or less), and they made a flailing and undignified descent to the parkland floor. One dropped his gun. “Haa, aah, uhh,” snickered Raff. Dog laughter. “Shut it.” Riff whispered, harshly. One of the troopers landed on his rear end, but the other (the one with the gun) landed well, and zeroed in on the sound of Dog bickering. Raff rolled into deeper cover, using a set of short handtech arms concealed within his chest harness. The skytrooper fired at the place where he had been, a small warm spot that her gun mistook for a target. “Whoa! No need for that!” Riff said; the trooper had some kind of augmented hearing, and turned towards him, and her gun swung round independently searching for another target. A mass of biomorph tissue leapt from the grass and wrapped itself around the trooper’s head. At almost the same time Raff arrowed from cover, seized the rifle in his mouth and yanked it away from the woman’s hands. He nearly succeeded. The rifle barrel was hot, and he had to drop it before it was completely out of the woman’s grasp. The trooper

(still with the morph obscuring her vision) regained her grip, and started firing blindly, using (for some bizarre reason) tracer fire. The glade was lit up by the luminous stream of projectiles. Without assigned targets the self-aiming weapons were useless. The other trooper, bemused, scrambled to his feet, and looked around for his gun. He eventually located it, as Riff tried to drag it with his mouth into the shade of the flowering azalea shrub. Riff dropped the gun; wagged his tail, like a dog appeasing his master. The trooper muttered something, and started moving towards the little Dog. Wooden tendrils grasped his ankles and he fell once again, this time flat on his face. Raff ran up his back, between his broken fancloth wings, and grasped the back of the trooper’s helmet; Raff’s short robotic arms reached round, cut the chinstrap, and he pulled it free of the man’s head. As the little Dog scampered off, wearing the trooper’s headpiece balanced precariously on his own head, a small biomorph flopped down over the fallen trooper’s eyes, blinding him as well. Behind him the struggling female trooper finally stopped firing, and reached both hands up to pull the woody mass from her own face. When she finally succeeded, the two terriers were nowhere to be seen. “Report, trooper twelve,” said the helmet, as Riff and Raff hastily buried it and the rifle under a bush. Then they disappeared into the parkland, covered in dirt and yipping with the joy of victory. 11 Growler heard the shooting distantly as the fallen trooper discharged her weapon into midair; he smelled the gunsmoke too, and the tang of resin from the destroyed morphs. He’d been in combat before, in covert operations for a dozen different alphas down on the mainworld, often with the pair of terriers. They were good Dogs. But this mission was crazy. Now that two of their team were down, perhaps killed, perhaps being mindscanned at this moment, the mission had changed. They were in a situation where the crew of this vessel would perceive the risk to be much higher, and so would react in a much less predictable fashion. As he zig-zagged through the scrub, trying to look as much like the morphs as possible, he tried to plan the mission again in his head. A bit late now, of course, but some things could have been better. The morphs were controlled by

relatively short range signals, so to make sure this mayhem was as widespread as possible then they needed people on the ground out here. Otherwise a few security troops with auto-targetting rifles could have destroyed the few malfunctioning morphs in fairly short order. But to do what they needed to do, the woman Alys and the dog-man Alexei needed at least a couple of hours of diversion to carry out their mysterious task. Now that both were out of the picture they should have simply pulled the plug. But that unhinged human Tomas insisted they carry on. Growler had a very bad feeling that there was no escape route from this one. Two troopers swooped down and landed on the swathe just in front of him; he dropped, and commanded all the larger morphs in the area to do the same. Some smaller individuals staggered past the troops, and were shredded into splinters for their presumption. The troops advanced towards his position; they had cleverly flown past his likely location, and now they were sweeping back methodically until they found him. Working in pairs, and on the ground making a more difficult target, was also entirely sensible. Growler liked the way these humans worked. But admiration wasn’t going to save him here; he didn’t really want to kill these honest security men, but if they got too close he would have to- unless he simply surrendered and threw himself on their mercy. The way they were shooting anything that moved seemed to rule that option out. He might have to take them out, just for his own safety. Not really the time now to contemplate the morality of such a course of action. He sent out a series of encrypted instructions to the biotech creatures in the locality, and gathered as many grenade-bearing morphs as possible behind the troopers. Growler directed the creatures to throw their bizarre exploding fruit at the troopers- but to throw short, so as to simply distract them. The explosions, when they came, were surprisingly feeble; enough to make the troopers turn round, but surely not energetic enough to have killed two people back in the observation lounge. Something didn’t quite add up, here. He directed another wave of fruity missiles toward the troopers, just as he picked himself up and started to run. This time one of the troopers was knocked off her feet, but the other turned and spotted him. The human broke formation and started to give chase. That’s not such a good idea, Growler thought; my four legs are much faster than your two, at least for a sprinting race. But his jacket of

hand-tech equipment slowed him down dangerously- and the human might remember to fire its weapon any minute, which would probably not be a good thing. So far Growler hadn’t seen the skytroopers miss their target once; they must have some software assistance of some sort. There was one move Growler could try. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d practiced it, but it usually worked against pursuers who didn’t know much about Dogs. As he ran, he mentally unfastened the clips that held his jacket; the heavy, tech-laden garment came loose, and fell on the ground behind him. The human chasing him disregarded it and ran straight over it; at which point the hand-tech limbs reached up and grasped his legs. Growler slowed and stopped, concentrating as he used the six main limbs in the jacket to swarm all over the human; Touch sensors and miniature eyes and ears on the jacket relayed information to Growler’s consciousness, allowing him to control the limbs as if he was actually there. No sense of smell, though; that was still difficult to miniaturize. Otherwise he might have smelled the fear on the human as his hand-tech limbs plucked the rifle from the trooper’s hands, removed his helmet, and used a number of useful attachments to remove the man’s armour. Growler approached the scene, slowly and menacingly. The human struggled as the handtech removed his boots, and cut through his armour, which fell apart. Wearing only some kind of undergarment, the man turned to see a huge, snarling Dog approaching from the undergrowth. Growler gave a sharp warning bark, and the human ran off into the bush. Dogs don’t laugh in quite the same way that humans do, but as Growler retrieved his jacket and disappeared into the bush he made a series of unvocalised exhalations that sounded like ‘Haa, aaa, ahh, aaa...”, basically the sound of a dog laughing his ears off. 12 Lieutenant Em was deeply connected now into the datasphere; she received information from her troopers as they searched the area, and as they came into contact with the targets she saw and heard everything that occurred. The Dogs were deliberately trying to create chaos, it seemed, but she noticed that they were apparently trying to avoid causing real harm to her security team. That was interesting; but ultimately she couldn’t let this game of hunt-the-Dog carry on for ever. Oversight were getting increasingly insistent that

the intruders be stopped, using deadly force if necessary. She thought about the trooper who had been stripped of his armour; the man was unharmed except for his dignity. Did she really want to order her troops to gun down a pack of Dogs who were evidently trying to avoid harming her own team? Well, yes. This game was stupid, and dangerous. If these intruders were going to continue playing, someone was going to get hurt, and it had to stop, sooner rather than later. She was also monitoring a constant stream of short-range radio traffic in that area of the interior landscape. The traffic was all encrypted, but she was certain that the intruders were using it to control the morphs and their biotech explosive devices. Which were really quite feeble, it now seemed; the one which caused those earlier casualties must have been an incredibly lucky shot. Or perhaps unlucky. If the other two visitors had been involved in this charade, then they might have been hoping to take advantage of the distraction to leave the Observation Lounge and enter the secure areas of our ship. An unusual plan, but I suppose it might have worked. We have become a little preoccupied with the situation in the Zero sector parkland, so perhaps a single intruder elsewhere might have achieved something while our attention was elsewhere. But that plan has fallen apart, if Em understood the situation correctly, since both of the other two civilians had been caught in the initial blast, and by the time the medics arrived they were both dead. She carried on that line of thought while, at the same time she redirected her flying troops towards the Dog’s last known positions. Her augmented consciousness was now capable of focusing on several different subjects at once; most of it was now running on processing substrates external to her own human brain. Each one of these civilians had been vetted by the Cryptocrat intelligence services before coming here; somehow they had slipped through the net. She called up the records of that investigation; it seemed quite perfunctory in nature. Look at this, she thought; there are large holes in the data; this woman, Alys Smyf, an old acquaintance of Tomas from Didactic College, but she disappears from the records for years when she was living on Rufus. The Dogman, Alexei the Rianth; no detailed records for him either, but it is always a good rule of thumb not to trust anyone with ‘the’ for a middle name. And the records of the Dogs themselves, all straight from the Rufus databanks; that world has a myriad political intrigues going on at any one time. Who knows how reliable information is from that world, where everyone in power has at least two allegiances. Security on the Empress has ignored the

Dogs and their schemes up till now, mostly because they have ignored us; but that may well have changed. I’d better get the medics to examine the bodies again, in case they were carrying some sort of espionage technology; Em thought. As she contacted the morgue, actually a small unused ward in the newly built and otherwise empty hospital near the Forward Pole, she simultaneously directed some of the troops into a search pattern to look for the elusive Tomas. I know more or less where the Dogs are, that part of her consciousness thought, but I have no clear idea where the erratic landscape designer who started all this trouble has gone. She scanned the landscape in her mind; one possible objective for the fugitive was the Zero Degrees Median Tower, less than a kilometer away. Lieutenant Em, or at least one section of her consciousness, received an answer back from the morgue. In shock, she instantly relayed it to her entire consensus, and it became her main concern. “Security,” the shocked medic said from the temporary morgue,”I don’t know how to say this, but we’ve lost one of the bodies. The woman; she’s gone.” 13 Alys Smyf sprinted up the sloping path that led towards the endcap access elevators. She had no intention of using the elevators, as that would instantly alert the security system in this ship as to where she was. If she just used the stair, and later the ladders, hopefully no-one would locate her as she climbed towards the hub of this ship. She did not expect anyone to see her; in all the operations she had been involved in, on Rufus and on Rory and the other moons, no-one had seen her yet. At least, not when she had activated the layer of chameleon tech she wore imprinted onto her skin. Alys Smyf was an invisible woman. The technology wasn’t widely known in this system; in fact the Dog-men had obtained it some while ago, and used it when they wanted to avoid attention. Which was most of the time. Even on Rolf, where most of them lived, the Dogmen were rarely seen; Alys was one of the few humans who knew why. A layer of phased array light emitters were bonded onto her skin; at rest, they resembled normal flesh, but when activated they emitted a reproduction of the light that was incident on the other side of her body. This system used quite a bit of processing power, so she couldn’t stay invisible for long; as it used her own metabolism for power, she became exhausted after a few hours.

On this mission she had another kind of technology to help her, a technology which also used her own metabolism to operate. Instead of blood she had vasculoid tissue, a biomechanical system of cell-like motors which transported oxygen around to her organs without being pumped. Her heart had been beating when she first came into the Empress of Carina , but after the explosion she deliberately stopped it, and cooled her own body down to conserve energy and oxygen. When she was sure she was alone, she opened her eyes in the morgue, activated the invisibility layer, and escaped, leaving her clothes behind, a ghost. Her heart still was not beating, but she could start it up again at any time, if she needed to appear human. Hopefully that situation would not arise. She intended to stay invisible until she had gained entry to the cylinder, took a look around, then hopefully found a place to cool down (a shower or a water tank would be just fine). Then she’d reverse her steps, and sneak out on the next shuttle. She had other plans of escape, but they were more complex and difficult to achieve. Behind the curving escalators that reached up to the hub, a set of increasingly steep stairs stretched upwards. The end caps of the Empress were hemispherical, a very common design in a rotating habitat or ship; built to withstand the internal pressure of the air in the cylinder, this shape was stronger than any other. But it meant that the climb became increasingly steep. Soon she was on a sloping, metal ladder, which became more vertical the higher she climbed. The ladder was quite far from the hull wall, supported on long struts, but she had a good head for heights. After about half an hour, she was nearly a kilometer from the ground. She was starting to get very tired, and hot. At that point a pair of flying troopers came past, looking for her; they flew right past, as she expected, all the way to the top; then came back down again more slowly. The camouflage covering her skin was capable of projecting a good disguise in infra-red, but only from certain angles. After all the exertion of climbing this ladder, not to mention the heat produced by the various kinds of technology imbedded beneath her skin, her internal temperature was heating up, and unless she dumped some of that heat she’d overheat her brain. To get rid of some heat her chameleon skin radiated quite strongly on the front of her torso, illuminating the wall of the spacecraft with a diffuse glow. Hopefully that diffuse glow would not attract their attention, that is, assuming that the troopers were using infra-red at all. After all, they didn’t necessarily know that they were dealing with an invisible spy. Alys watched them depart, and hoped that they wouldn’t realise what they

were dealing with, and come back with better equipment. At least the gravity was decreasing as she climbed; that would make the next part a little easier. She felt very exposed up here, and she had to try to find a way into the cylinder yet. None of the intelligence she had available to her told her what to expect at the top of this ladder; she really was going into unknown territory. 14 A small morph came tumbling down the stairs towards Franck. That one will have been top, and is now on its way down, Franck thought. They run and run until they reach an obstacle, then start running in another direction. No intelligence to speak of. Really not that different from most people. Especially me. The tower was made of tinted green diamondoid, a hard form of carbon which could be either opaque or transparent. The floor was generally opaque, but on occasion it was thrillingly transparent, and you could see the distant, curving landscape. From up here the floor below looked a bit like the bottom of some glacial valley; there were some of those on Rufus, despite the fact that the last glacier had melted on that planet a hundred million years ago. Franck liked base-jumping in the fossil glacial valleys of the mainworld, as the land fell away cleanly beneath your feet. The relatively high gravity there was a buzz - makes you think faster. This ship only spins at point eight gees, he thought to himself; and Rory is a rubbish point two gees. But that does mean you can glide further in lower gee- even try a bit of active flying. A bit like those guys there; Hi! How ya doing? A couple of troopers flew past the window, heading for the top of the tower. They didn’t seem to see him, although he didn’t hide, his heart hammering. Apparently they couldn’t spot the difference between Franck and all the different-sized morphs that were scampering or lumbering up and down the stairs. Or perhaps they just forgot to look. He didn’t think they could have shot through the tinted diamond windows anyway, but that might also have been wrong; clear diamond panes are very strong, but will shatter if hit hard enough. That wouldn’t apply to the opaque stuff- much more flexible, and less prone to shattering, but just as strong. He couldn’t remember what the fuck it was called though. That made him laugh. He thought about the mess that had got him to this situation, and had entangled all those other people. Franck was sure they’d all be killed. He welcomed the idea of dying, but it wasn’t fair that all those other, good people,

humans and Dogs and in between should get involved in his quest for selfdestruction. He felt trapped, too. That self-labelled dissident, Alys; she wheedled and cajoled him into this crazy course of action, and he had been caught up in it all, weeks of preparation and training, all too fast to even think about what they were doing; courses of biomedical adjustment to their bodies to make them all fit as metaolympic athletes. He liked that, as it pumped his adrenaline way up, but after all that was it worth it? The plan seemed to have simply crashed and burned, and here he was, being chased into unknown territory by a squad of flying soldiers who found it more difficult to miss a target than hit it. The sound of regular and efficient gunfire sounding from below told him that pursuers were following him up the stairs. The flying squad outside no doubt intended to make a sweep from the top of the tower down; he would be caught in this tapering spiral of sharp green diamondoid, and his fun would be over. Hmm; something he could do about that, though; he took his collapsible back-pack off and looked inside. At least thirty of the little exploding lemons in there. He picked one out and examined it, pulling his mobile features into a grimace like a puzzled ape. What the hell are you, then? He thought. I’ve never heard of anything like this in any of the worlds we are in contact with. The biomorph tech is all pretty weird; it comes from way outside this system. There are lots of rumours about it on the interweb. None of those rumours said anything about exploding lemons. It’s like a bizarre dream. And a dream that somehow revolves around me. He had that strange feeling of entrapment once again. As he handed the back-pack to a particularly large biomorph that was passing, and instructed the morph to press the pack against the window and cover it with its own body, he reflected on this whole crazy situation. What has brought me to this particular conjunction in time and space?, he wondered. Guilt was the reason. Guilt, and shame. Franck had come to intimately know the difference between guilt and shame these last few months. Shame was knowing that everyone knew he had been involved with the death of an innocent girl; he didn’t even know her so well, but everyone he knew, all his colleagues in the landscape design profession associated her with him now. Most of them refused to blame him, at least to his face; they all blamed the fallibility of the safety systems on ships built under Rufus law. Shame was what people thought about him. He didn’t mind shame too much; he’d always been at least partly immune to shame. Franck backed down, around the corner, until he was hidden completely

from the morph holding the pack against the diamond pane. Ahh, but guilt was something different. Guilt is what he thought about himself, and his own actions. He was guilty, in his own estimation, of far more than he was ashamed of; and that thought was driving him mad. Once those troopers, with their self-aiming guns, came round the corner, he would have a few fractions of a second to instruct those bio-bomblets in that pack to explode, and he would be even more guilty still. Here they came; grey biomorphs on the stairs clattered blindly upwards and one by one they were turned into clouds of sap and fibrous muscle by the guns of the security team. Franck saw their black boots- no, he decided, they were navyblue- as they descended the stairs steadily and confidently until he was sure they could see the morph with the pack. His resolve broke. “Go back!” he shouted, throwing himself against the curve of the wall out of view. The troopers started to run down the stairs towards the voice, disregarding his advice and then the questing, wary fringe of tentacle-eyes they both wore noticed the morph pressed against the glass. A shouted warning inside their helmets- so urgent Franck fancied he could hear it himself – then the troopers came to a hurried stop, and ran back up the stairs again. Franck let them run for a while, then of a sudden changed his mind yet again and detonated the charge. The blast knocked him down the stairs and into a wall. When he raised himself back up, beyond the blast site the dark forms of the skytroopers were motionless. As he had hoped, the explosion had been sufficient to breach the diamond windowpane at that point. The diamond pane was strong, but very thin, and fragile. A whole pane was missing, and others were displaced or fractured. He took a look at the troopers- one was now stirring, but the other had a long thin shard of diamond projecting from his (her?) back. More guilt. He smiled a smile with no cheer behind it at all, and clambered onto the empty window frame. There was the curving valley-landscape, two kilometers below. He pulled a skintight cap out of a pocket, and stretched it over his blond, unruly hair. At the last minute he remembered the little hand-tech robot in his other pocket. He reached down and set it free; the machine oriented itself, then scurried upwards, like a cockroach fleeing the light. “Good luck, kid!” Franck muttered, then jumped. Beneath his arms, webbed wings suddenly unfurled from where they had been cunningly hidden. No active fancloth for Franck Tomas; no, this was normal basejumping wingsuit gear. The wind rushing past his ears made him deaf. He stabilised, then slowly opened his legs; a single webbed wing there increased his lift, and allowed him to raise his head.

He was flying once more! This was the sum total of his being. All the guilt and shame belonged to the man who stood on solid ground. Not even the fancloth wings of the skytroopers could dive like this- too rough, too permeable. Down like a human starfish he swooped, feeling the not inconsiderable effects of the Coriolis force within the spacecraft affecting and extending his flight. With luck he could reach the Observation lounge, and throw himself on the mercy of the ordinary officers there; he knew some of them well enough. But deep inside he knew that his luck had run out. Far above, the watchful eyes of Security had seen the booby-trap, the explosion, and the tiny cloud of debris which scattered glittering shards to the landscape below. The same eyes now saw a tiny spread-eagled form falling (with style) slantwise across the atmosphere of the Empress of Carina. This was the first time that they had been able to acquire a good target from above. Security puzzled momentarily over the shouted warning before the device was triggered; but triggered it was, and the duty supervisor had no qualms about opening fire. A single pulse from a weapons-grade laser hit the falling/gliding figure in the back, punching a hole clean through his body. After that the figure did not glide any more, but fell more like a broken kite to meet the ground below. 15 This part of the landscape was planted as a maze; high hedges of yew, privet, cypress, and geneered evergreen-beech were arranged around a series of paved square spaces, each with a sculpture, fountain or pond at its centre. Not all the squares were completed yet; there was still plenty of work yet to be done. A number of larger morphs wandered aimlessly up and down the branching pathways of the maze; some smaller ones shambled under the bushes, ignoring the official paths. Over the maze flew a couple of skytroopers, methodically shooting at the morphs as they went. As they flew, they were accompanied by a firework display of exploding grenade fruit. Bright puffs of energy burst a few tens of metres above the hedgetops; the troopers flew a few metres higher than that, just out of range. Facing away from each other, side by side under a carefully chosen hedge, lay Riff and Raff, directing the bombardment and getting increasingly frustrated. They were efficiently pinned down by the flying troopers, who would have had a good chance of seeing them if they moved from cover. And they were gradually

loosing fine control over the morphs, especially when throwing the bombs. The troopers must have been using electronic countermeasures. “They’re jamming us, bro.” “Took them long enough to figure that out. I can’t throw for shit now.” “I think it’s time we tried that throwing stick manoeuvre I made you practice.” “Hey! You were the one who said we wouldn’t need it.” “Well, we need it now. Come on; I’ll be the ballast.” Their handtech was controlled by direct linkage to the Dogs’ neural interfaces, so was not affected by the jamming. The two terriers linked their handtech arms together, so that they created one single long arm, attached to Raff’s harness in the middle of his back. Riff collected an exploding fruit in his mouth, and placed it in the hand at the far end of this long arm. Meanwhile Raff dug into the ground, and found a study root, which he gripped in his teeth. “Here comes flyboy!” Riff said. “Are you ready?” “Rot rearry, rut rever rind.” mumbled his brother. The arm folded into a zshape, then unfolded with remarkable speed. Up went the grenade, and caught the trooper on the back square between the wings. One ripped away, and the other folded upwards as the trooper spiralled towards the landscape floor. The other trooper immediately swooped down, to assist her partner on the ground. Riff and Raff took the opportunity to strike off in the opposite direction, making for the edge of the maze. They crossed a large, square space in the maze, perhaps the centre; in the centre was a sculpture, nothing more than a giant, upturned top hat, which looked to be based on a famous set of game tokens recently discovered in a cache of artifacts from Old Earth. The Monopolihat, this one was called. Riff and Raff raced past the huge shiny sculpture, but both froze as they heard the hollow droning noise that issued from the hat. A single skytrooper shot out of the centre of the sculpture, and acquired her target below. One single shot caught Riff as he turned to run away, and he fell limply. The trooper scanned the square for the other terrier, but he had already disappeared under the bushes. Panting, Raff burrowed into the deepest hedge he could find, his thoughts in a whirl. The Dogman had insisted on infusing them all with some high-tech blood substitute which was supposed to keep them alive in the case of severe trauma; but Raff was skeptical about its efficacy. If Riff was too badly injured

there would be no point in keeping him alive. And if Riff were to truly die? The Pack would lose a valued member, and he would lose his lifelong companion; how could he go on after that? This mission was the most fucked-up he’d ever been on. After some minutes, Raff found a way to convince himself not to simply run out into the open and ask for a bullet; firstly he’d try to find out if Riff was still alive, and secondly he’d go back and tell the Pack about this mess, and they’d never trust those Dissenters from Rory again. There, a few metres ahead, he could see a small manhole cover. The scent of water came from it. The cover was too far out in the open to reach safely, but his handtech might not be noticed in all the confusion. He was still carrying all his own handtech limbs, and all of Riff’s. The long, thin, interlockable robot arms concertina’d over to the hatch, and gingerly explored it, looking for a way in. After long minutes- Raff couldn’t control it by radio because of the electronic counter-measures that were currently blocking all his transmissions, so he used a direct infra-red beam, which was just a bit more difficult from this angle – the lid of the manhole opened. “It’s a Doghole now”, Raff said, as he ran up and jumped in. He realised as he said it that now there would be no-one to answer back with a quick wisecrack. Into the dark he leapt. It was a long way down for a small terrier; the ladder was no use to him as he fell straight downwards and lay stunned. Something was poking him, shaking him awake. “Riff?” But no, it was his own handtech, seeking further instructions. He struggled to his feet and looked up. Too high. He couldn’t get back to the entrance; couldn’t get back to check if Riff was alive or dead. This tunnel was part of the fluid ballast system; in his artificial, external memory he had a rough layout, supplied by Franck Tomas, of the general layout of these tunnels, and he should be able to use them to get somewhere away from here. How long he had before the security systems down here detected him was another matter. He would have to trust in his own nose, ears and eyes. For the first time for as long as he cared to remember, he was alone. 16 Once the countermeasures kicked in, Growler found he could no longer control the morphs, or throw biogrenades at the troopers. Morphs stumbled around, carrying out their last instructions; they would be easy targets now. And once the morphs had all been shot by the flying humans, they would find him with relative ease. Growler was finding it difficult to regard the humans

as enemies; he could mentally label them as Outsiders, and that would trigger his aggression when and if necessary. But most of the time he had a general admiration for humanity as a whole, and as individuals too. This was, he considered, a relic of the ancient relationship between dog and man. Long before mankind managed to reach the stars, a hundred thousand years ago back on Old Earth, humans and the wild, untalking dogs had grown to become dependent on each other. Humans had learned to dominate the dogs, by assuming the position of a higher-ranking pack member in their imaginary pack structure. Humans had changed too, learning that other animals could be trusted, and could be shaped to their will. Thousands of years of companionship between different species had resulted. The dogs became changed, by human hands, into a thousand different forms, which was good too. When eventually Homo sapiens could use physics and biology to bend the world into new shapes, they did two remarkable things. First the humans changed dogs just a little bit more, just so that they could talk to their companions better. The untalking dogs, who had always had other ways of communicating with their masters, and between themselves, suddenly became talking Dogs, who could express themselves a thousand times more clearly. Secondly, humans manufactured new companions, out of physics alone but in the mold of biology; the robots and AIs. Now they had someone really new to talk to. After a while the humans gifted a little bit of human robot technology to the Dogs, so that they could manipulate the world as easily as the humans could. This was how the Dogs finally acquired the skills to tame this system, far from the forbidden Old World. Growler considered it was the relationship between humans and dogs that started humanity on this quest for companionship with other kinds of minds; humans had given speech to dozens of other species now, and created untold different types of AI mind. They were always looking for something different to talk to, were humans. When they finally met the aliens that must be out there, somewhere, the humans would be ready, all because of their ancient relationship with another species. Growler hoped that the aliens were the sort that formed cross-species relationships easily too, because if not the meeting might not be a happy one. But now, after all this time, Growler had started to believe that it was time for Dogkind to strike out on its own. The philosophy of Wolfism was starting to look more and more sensible to him. Dogs were now as smart as humanity; there was no reason to blindly follow humans or to idolize them the way so many Dogs did. When – if- he ever got back to the Pack, he would start trying to swing

the other Dogs round to his new way of thinking. Together we Dogs can create a whole new civilisation, based on what we want, and not what the humans want us to want. He unfolded all his handtech from the recesses in his jacket; there were one or two surprises in there. These two lightweight, webbed hands, for instance; fix them onto a short, hollow tube-like limb, and they become a pair of wings. He had been scanned quite efficiently when he came on board; no weapons or explosives had been found among the many tools he was wearing. But there were explosives aplenty lying around on the floor here. Using a different handtech limb, he picked up a grenade fruit and impaled it onto the hollow tube. Now I have a flying bomb, he thought. The flying device had a number of preset functions; Growler instructed it to home in on the source of the electromagnetic jamming transmissions. The construct fluttered into the air, like a huge moth or a small pigeon, circled once, then set off to spinwards. It was on its own now; perhaps it would work, perhaps not. But it was better than doing nothing, hidden under this bush. He kept perfectly still, straining to hear the whirr of the flying bomb’s wings over the ping, ping of the troopers’ rifles, and the low buzz of their fancloth wings. Suddenly the flying bomb went off; the rifles stopped, and the now-familiar sound of a trooper falling from the sky could be heard. Fancy that, Growler thought; they must be carrying the counter-measure transmitters in their suits. He got up to break cover. Almost as soon as he moved, he came face to face with a skytrooper, on the ground, looking for the source of the flying grenade. Growler flipped his mental switch, to release his aggression. Outsider! Before the trooper could activate his self-aiming weapon, Growler pounced, knocking the man to the floor. Sixty kilograms of genetically and technologically modified Ridgeback bone and muscle pinned the man to the floor, snarling. A long arm extended from the Dog’s jacket, plucked his rifle from his hand, and threw it away. Growler momentarily wondered about keeping and using the rifle, but he really didn’t want to cause more casualties among these dedicated human troopers than necessary. Given a gun, shooting would have become the easiest option. He licked the man’s face, and said, “Hi there,” his aggression nearly dissipated. The trooper’s partner appeared from behind a bank of particularly beautiful flowering shrubs, acquired his target and fired. Growler fell. 17

Eddy was following the situation as it developed using the many cameras dotted around the interior landscape. So far, three out of five intruders had been neutralized. Lisa Em, in her Security control centre diagonally opposite across the Hub from Astrogation, was handling the situation well enough. She was, however, too busy to reply to his messages of encouragement right now. One thing, however, was particularly troubling; the location of the woman, Alys Smyf, was still unknown. Her presumed corpse was missing. Eddy was interested in rumours of advanced tech from other parts of the galaxy; there were ways of feigning death, then coming back to life at will; there were also ways of disappearing from sight. Neither of those technologies was used very often in this system, as far as he was aware; they both had drawbacks that made them difficult to use. But there were rumours of other, better tech available at a price from out-system sources. Eddy decided to try once again to discuss these matters with Lisa, and was just about to place a call when another message suddenly demanded his attention. Audio on . “Astrogation! Report on our current orientation.” “We are currently oriented 0.2 arcseconds south of the coordinates you requested earlier, Oversight.” “Not good enough. I want this ship to be aligned to within point zero five arcseconds by ten hundred. No excuses. Forget all the distractions out there; they are being dealt with.” “Point zero five arcseconds by ten hundred. That will be no problem, Oversight.” Eddy found the Cryptocrat’s strident manner unsettling. They were certainly worried about something. He decided to take a look through the external telescope to see if there was anything particularly unusual about those coordinates. Aligning the sight’s crosshairs with the coordinates he had been given, he could see the giant planet Lupus near the centre. Increasing the magnification he started to see the planet’s moons, including the large Europa-class moon that the transaps were modifying. To Eddy’s practiced eye it looked as if, by nineteen hundred, that nameless moon would be perfectly aligned with the axis of this ship. Peculiar. He zoomed out again, until the planet was a much smaller disk. Yes, there was something else there as well, also heading for the same tiny sector of sky. A much closer spacecraft, a big one, like a solar sail. It was somewhere in Rufus

orbit; but a long way off, maybe a hundred and seventy thousand klicks. He zoomed in to look at the craft. It was a strange shape, something like two slices of piecrust joined together at the tips. He watched it for a bit longer; slowly, it seemed, the piecrust segments were growing- making more and more of a complete disk in the sight. Even more peculiar. He quickly checked the transponder details on that craft; it was a human ship out of Rory. Well, well, he thought. The comms sounded; a techie working down at the outer hub, reporting to him rather than Security. “Hi, Janli,” said Eddy. “What d’you want?” “I’ve just heard a ghost,” said Janli. Eddy was alert immediately. He’d been expecting something like this. “Where, what, how,” he asked the techie. He started the process of diverting the call through to Security; but first he wanted to know himself. “There was a knocking noise down at the outer level; just like someone trying to get in. I thought it was one of the skytroopers, you know, with their jammers going full pelt they can’t use their radios, so I thought…” “Go on, go on, get to the point, Jan,” Eddy said, impatiently. “Well, I opened the door to the access ladder level, and there was no-one there. Nothing there, I mean. No loose fittings, nothing to cause any banging noises. But I heard it.” “Right. Okay. Now I’m going to patch you through to Security; you tell them exactly what you told me.” Eddy diverted the call to the security team, and then called Lieutenant Em directly. She answered the call from the Astrogation officer personally. In fact at this moment in time she had so many augmentation routines running that she could answer half a dozen calls simultaneously. In any case, a major portion of Lisa Em’s current focus of consciousness answered the call from her colleague. “Go ahead, Eddy; no time for small talk.” She was running on accelerated time too, he thought. “We’ve got someone wearing chameleon camouflage inside the Hub right now. One of the techies said he’d heard a ghost.” “Don’t trouble me with paranoid shit, Eddy, unless you’ve got something better than that.” “I’ve been thinking; one way that woman Alys could have vanished is by using chameleon tech. The obvious target for an invisible spy is up here, at the Hub, and now we’ve got a techie hearing poltergeists. Makes sense, no?”

“Yes, except you know that chameleon tech gives off a lot of heat. We’d see her glowing in the infrared like a flat-iron, Eddy. Nothing.” “Well, perhaps they’ve found a way of hiding the infra-red signature. Like with stealth ships. You know, how they just emit heat in one direction; you can’t see them except from behind. You’ve been looking for a human shape in IR. If she is dissipating heat behind her somehow, all you’d see is a diffuse source on the wall or the floor.” “That is just about possible, I suppose; I’ll do a quick scan for diffuse IR anomalies in the Hub. Ah. Well, now you come to mention it, there is a rather interesting diffuse anomaly on B level; I’ll get a couple of troopers over there right away.” Eddy had access to the security cams on that level; he checked the corridors himself, until he saw the troopers hurrying in low gravity towards one particular spot. Presumably that was where the intruder was. He flicked over into infrared; there was nothing more than a diffuse warm spot in the corridor, but presumably there was a human in there somewhere. Perhaps her suit re-emitted the same warm glow as the walls, making herself invisible in IR too. But not invisible enough. The troopers were armed with electrolasers; they fired several times into the warm diffuse glow, without hitting anything. Hah; Eddy realised that even now they might not catch her- she could probably store heat for a few seconds, minutes even, before she overheated. He closed and locked the bulkhead doors in that section, sealing the area off; then contacted Lieutenant Em again. “I think we’ve got her contained, now, Lisa. Tell your men to search that corridor inch by inch till they find her, by touch if necessary. She’ll have to reappear sooner or later, or she’ll cook.” It took fifteen minutes, but eventually the troopers cornered her; she was still invisible, but once again surrounded by an infrared halo. Even now she had another trick up her sleeve. As they approached her she suddenly lit up like a searchlight, in a flash of pure white, visible light; the troopers started back, and she escaped their grasp, invisible once more. But there was nowhere to run. Cornered once again, this time a shot from an electrolaser sent a charge through ionized air into her skin and nervous system, disabling the chameleon tech and leaving her unconscious on the floor. She glowed furiously in infrared as her temperature equalized. On Lieutenant Em’s instructions, the troopers grabbed fire extinguishers and sprayed her with cooling vapour until she was out of immediate danger. Then they carted her away, restrained securely this time.

Eddy checked the time; 9.78, decimal time. Better get back to steering this damn thing, he thought. But his mind was racing, working overtime. If he was right, something momentous was about to happen, and he didn’t like the implications one bit. 18 He worked better alone. Everything else that had gone on before had been a screen, a ploy to get him here. He would have felt guilty, for twisting so many lives, and for employing that cold, heartless invisible woman; but he was not generally troubled by guilt. Not if he could rationalize it away- and that was quite easy in the circumstances. And he did not even consider the idea of feeling ashamed; his species was a solitary one, and did not care what other people thought about them; especially not people of other species. No; each individual made their own deal with the universe, and if anyone else benefited from that deal, then that was just a bonus; and if not, then that couldn’t be helped. This giant artifact he was inside right now; he suspected that it had a much darker purpose than anyone else had guessed, and he was here to find out the truth. Others would benefit from his revelations, there was no doubt about that; but he primarily acted out of self interest, as always. It was quite a bit easier to make this tiny body invisible, as the surface area was smaller. But he still needed to stop and dump heat every so often. Flexible and strong tentacles helped him climb the same ladders that the woman Alys had already climbed a few minutes before. He found her scent – a subtle scent, but you didn’t really want to give away too much of an olfactory signal if you were a professional invisible spy. It came from a small panel near the door, loosened by Alys using a tool of some sort. He declined to think where she could have hidden such a tool. It was tight, but it was enough to get him in. The fact that he physically resembled a bizarre invisible octopus at this moment in time helped him squeeze into the smallest holes. But wary as he was, overconfidence in his own invisibility was his downfall. Tiptoeing down a dark corridor like a ballet-dancing cephalopod, he encountered an apparently deactivated robot in a corner. Suddenly a grid pattern of laser light ionized the air around him, in a series of discrete paths- each of which were almost immediately filled with spears of electricity. He was stunned

and shocked into visibility at the same time. “You must think about getting better camouflage”, said a voice. The octopus/spy blinked his eyes and peered through what appeared to be foam at a ship’s officer, pretty high rank if the uniform was anything to go by. “I’d have you know I’m using the best available in this system,” he said. “You are to be congratulated for finding me at all.” “Well, if you hadn’t sent that woman Alys Smyf in here first, then we might not have figured out how to detect you. And if Franck Tomas hadn’t tried to use a handbot spy crawler, I might not have realised that you might try sneaking in as both small and invisible.” “Franck had a crawl-bot? That’s news to me. That idiot was sure to mess things up somehow.” “Yes, he has caused a bit of bother. But do you know what really gave you away?” “Enlighten me.” “When the woman’s body disappeared, we checked on you, of course, to make sure you were still safely dead. And, yes, you were still there. Or rather most of you was. After our security people captured Smyf, then they found that tiny crawl-bot trying to get in as well, well, I got to wondering. I wondered if you might have been carrying some surprises as well. Did you realise you were weighed when you entered this craft? Standard procedure in a rotating habitat. We have to maintain the mass-balance of these things somehow, you know. That’s part of my job, in actual fact.” “Congratulations.” “Your body in our morgue weighs ten kilograms less than it did when it brought you in. I presume that you are the real Alexei the Rianth, and that other –thing- is just a convenient transport?” “I feel at home in it; can you say the same about your shell, human?” “Right now, I am not right happy, as it happens, in this body or in any other. Something is happening- right now- and I don’t like it. Perhaps there is something you can do to help me prevent it from happening. We haven’t got long, so you will have to trust me. I suppose you think that this craft is some sort of disguised interstellar spacecraft?” “That is one of the possibilities, yes.” “Yeah, well, I thought that too, until very recently. I even worked my way up to chief astrogation officer in order to get a place on board when they finally

revealed the big secret. But this ship really hasn’t got the right mass balance for a starship.” “Really.” “Yes really. I’m sorry, I’ll have to be quick; we’ve only got eleven minutes now, and they’ve locked all my controls so there’s nothing else I can do except talk to you. Even my pals in Security aren’t listening to me any more; that’s a good thing, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to talk to you.” “So what is this ship then? Some kind of kinetic missile, aimed at the Transaps’ new Moonbrain?” “That’s what I thought, at first. But even that doesn’t fit with the distribution of mass in this ship. Believe me, that is one set of data I am very familiar with. No; this ship has a single, dense, central spine, and a number of what appear to be loops arranged around that spine. I thought that it was some exotic new kind of drive system; but you don’t have to point drive systems so accurately. They made me aim this ship with an accuracy of a fraction of an arcsecond.” Alexei the Rianth (now more accurately described as Alexi the Octopusthing) sat up in some surprise. He had considered this possibility, but dismissed it; there were no Transap targets within range of any conceivable weapon. But there were many targets on Rufus, and even more on Rory, Rex and the other moons; this thing might even be aimed at Rolf and wipe out his own people. “I’ve seen that sort of structure before, but on a much, much smaller scale. It must be a Free Electron Laser. A huge one, too. You say we haven’t got much time; that means they are already locked on. What is the target? What did they tell you to aim at?” “That’s the scariest part. This vessel is aimed at an insignificant, apparently unmanned spacecraft a hundred and seventy thousand kilometers away, in orbit around Rufus. But it is a ship like nothing I’ve ever seen before. It has unfolded a series of circular segments so that it has become a single flat disk, face on to this ship. The whole thing is ten kilometers in radius now. And guess what?” “This disk is right in front of Lupus.” “Very good. Actually, it isn’t quite, but it will be, at ten hundred hours exactly.” “You know what this is, don’t you? The Cryptos have built an X-Ray Laser, and have placed a zone plate in exactly the right place to focus it on the Transap’s moon. Impressive. They could do some real damage even from this distance.”

Alexei rapidly considered the implications. X-Ray lasers could be used to destroy targets tens of thousands of kilometers away, but the beam would spread out eventually, even from such a huge source. But by using a carefully designed flat metal plate, a zone plate , the beam could be refocused on a target much further away - even one orbiting a distant gas giant like Lupus. With the inclusion of a zone plate into the set-up, this orbiting vessel could hit any world or target in the entire system, and it was locked on to the most deadly target of all. “We must get a message to the Transaps. My people have ways of contacting them-” Alexei said. “That is all very well, but there is nothing the transaps can do. They aren’t allowed to come anywhere near Rufus in a ship bearing weapons; and there isn’t a weapon anywhere on Rufus or any of the moons which could damage this ship enough to disable it. Not given ten decimal minutes notice, anyway.” “I think there is; no-body knows about it yet. Unless one very clever gazehound has figured out why he can use a solar panel as a monitor. If I’m right, we might be in danger ourselves; but we have to get the message out.” “Trouble is, Security have sealed off all information routes out of this ship. They even found those ingenious resonance transmitters your friends were carrying and set up countermeasures against them. So if you have got one of those on you, you can forget that.” “That is a pity.” Alexei shrugged his octopoid limbs. “But we did have one or two other contingency plans prepared. Can you get me to an airlock, for one thing?” “My colleague Lieutenant Em has placed guards on all the airlocks around the Hub. They’ll assist the crew in an evacuation, but I doubt that they’d let you through looking like that.” “They’ll be on the look out for IR anomalies too, no doubt. Hmm. Give me a run-down on the current status of my team, please, er- I didn’t catch your name?” “You can call me Eddy. Right. Not too good, I’m afraid; the dogs Growler and Riff and the man Tomas have been shot dead, and Smyf is in custody. Only one terrier remains at large.” “I hope they take care of the bodies; they are all a lot tougher to kill than they look. Right. Where was Raff last seen?” “I haven’t got all the details, but I know security have been looking in the

water ballast tunnels under the landscape floor.” “Perfect. One last thing; how are you talking to me right now, when Security have tightened everything up so much?” “I’m using an e-web connection direct to this robot. They still trust me that far.” “Any robots you can contact down in the water tunnels?” “Aye, some; a bit different to this one, but not that different.” “Right. This is what we’ll do.” 19 There were lots of places to hide down here, but there were also lots of troopers, and no biomorphs staggering about to give him shelter. Raff was getting bruised and grazed from hiding under metal pipes and roughly finished stanchions. These pipes seemed to be used for moving water to and from massive pumps, which could shift large amounts of water around the outside of this massive craft. Moving the water around would keep the craft rotating smoothly, or so Raff understood. This was not his specialty. He was hot, and tired, and he knew that the troopers almost certainly could see in the infra-red part of the spectrum. But so could he, a bit, so he knew where to hide in order to disguise his signature. Raff remembered where he had first obtained his broad-spectrum eyesight, in a disreputable dive in downtown Houndsditch. Those were the good days, he thought; we could fight with real weapons if we wanted to, not pussyfoot around with fruitbombs like on this mission. If we had had real gun-limbs, Riff wouldn’t have bought it. Those troopers weren’t just playing around, or investigating an innocent diversion, they were out to kill. And if they caught him, Raff would soon join his brother. He was beginning to think that might not be such a bad idea. Something whispered to him in the darkness as he hid in the warmth beneath a pump motor fixture. Something speaking in a high, ultrasonic voice, too high for humans to hear. “Make for the nearest airlock, Raff; I’ll draw the troopers off.” That sounded like the Dog-man; but it was difficult to tell, since the pitch was shifted way out of human hearing range. Those troopers have got a lot of good kit, Raff thought, but they probably don’t bother with ultrasonic mikes. Of a sudden there was another, bizarre noise; a maintenance robot was rolling

rapidly down the walkway, holding a huge spanner and cracking it against any metal objects it passed. The effect was like a parade of bellringers and steelworkers. Another diversion. Raff already knew where the nearest airlock was: a hundred metres away, guarded by a human who smelt of spicy food. A couple of troopers hurried past in pursuit of the rogue robot, followed by the spicy-smelling one. It was easy to distinguish between humans by their smell; Riff perceived the world as rich in smells of all sorts, and he could discriminate between them easily. Certain that the airlock was now unguarded, he sprinted down the walkway in the opposite direction, still keeping as hidden as possible. There might be surveillance cams here somewhere. Outside the airlock, he heard another message. “Raff! This is important. As soon as you get clear, radio the following message to the Pack. The Empress is preparing to fire an interplanetary Free Electron Laser at the Transapient cybermoon orbiting Lupus. This will happen at ten hundred hours Rufus mean time today. Inform the Rianth council on Rory immediately.” Jumping Rats, that’s in eight minutes! Raff thought. Ollie had better be on the ball. But what could they do in eight minutes? The airlock took a whole minute to cycle, he breathed out, then the outer door opened to space. Unprotected, Raff leapt off the porch and into space. His heart stopped Inside Raff’s bloodstream, myriad tiny artificial cells got to work, distributing oxygen to certain of his tissues in measured amounts, and hibernation drugs to the rest of his body. He was allowed just enough consciousness to initiate the transmission of the mysterious message, then his brain tissues joined the rest of his body in death-like inactivity. 20 Ollie dozed in front of his home-made monitor screen, paws across. Nothing had happened for the longest while, and now some sort of low-level interference was occurring, so that he didn’t think the satellite would pick anything useful up anyway. There were a thousand things that could go wrong with this mission, and it is possible that a great number of them already had. The alarm routine that he had installed to watch out for any detectable messages suddenly sounded; it gave a short, sharp electronic bark. An encrypted message was coming in from Raff’s frequency. He read it, and he became suddenly alert. An interplanetary laser! Of all things, that was not what he

expected. He opened the connection to the Rianth council, an address given to him by the dog-man a few days previously; if he told them, there was little the rianths could do about this situation, as they had no beam weapons powerful enough to attack any space craft. All such weapons were banned on all the moons of Rufus, and on the planet itself. The unstable political situation on Rufus required such precautions, and general mistrust of the secretive rianths and Cryptos made it a wise precaution. And if they sent a message to Lupus and back, the answer wouldn’t arrive for tens of minutes. By which time the beam would be on its way. A beam from such a huge laser could punch a hole into the Moonbrain, perhaps even kill it. And there was nothing the distant transaps could do, now. He sent the message, as requested, but he couldn’t imagine how it would do any good. Nothing happened for three whole minutes; Ollie watched the habitat using a camera on the satellite he had leased, and found a live feed covering Rufus. He quickly found similar cams watching Rolf, Rocky, Rover, Rex and Rory just in case. His screen was covered in small images now. Something wasn’t quite right about the image of Rex, the moon where he and all his pack were living in exile. He couldn’t get the brightness right. No, that wasn’t it; there was a broad equatorial band, corresponding with the strip of photovoltaic panels installed by the Transapients, which was rapidly increasing in luminosity. Soon it was blinding, and the image burned out. He switched back to his camera watching the Empress of Carina . The satellite he had leased was masquerading as a newsfeed, and did in fact provide some revenue from the images it provided of the giant ship; most people were bored with it now. Ollie realised that all that was just about to change. A brilliant, green point appeared on the slowly rotating surface of the vessel; the hull immediately ruptured, and millions of tonnes of water came jetting out. The great ship very slowly started to tumble, spoiling the aim of any shot the laser might attempt. Just to make sure, the green beam now shifted to the end-cap furthest from the Hub control centre, and after some minutes the end cap was glowing white hot. Atmosphere started to leak from a breach, and the cap was soon surrounded by a ragged, expanding cloud of mist. Finally a rapidly moving green spot carved into the length of the tumbling cylinder; words appeared, fading from red to black. DON’T TRY THIS AGAIN. Ollie slowly realised what had happened. The high-tech solar panels installed by the Transapients on this moon, only a few years ago, were also

prized by the local geeks as light sources and display panels. No-one had ever bothered to check on the upper limit of their emissivity. Obviously it was very high, and all the light from an entire glowing moon, hundreds of thousands of square kilometers of source, was now focused on the Empress . No wonder it was in trouble. Briefly Ollie wondered who, or what was controlling the light weapon, but then a message appeared on the screen, relayed via the rianth council on Rolf. Thanks, hound Ollie; your prompt work has prevented a grave error on the part of the humans in this system. They were ill advised to attempt an attack on our moon. We would have been deeply unhappy about such an event. Please accept our apologies for hiding on your planet in this way. If you need to contact us you may address the power collection array, as we are contained within that structure. Be aware that we will not always answer. Ollie looked at the artificial sky overhead. Above that sky was the layer of power collection plates, and hidden inside that array must be a mind, or collection of minds, more complex than anything he could imagine. And it had just spoken to him. He felt proud, and appreciated. The praise of such a being was like the praise of a human, only magnified beyond belief. His tail began to wag beyond any control. 21 A number of small lifeboats escaped from the dying Empress; most of the Troopers had survived, but a number of the other crew-members were lost when the atmosphere inside the ship turned into a hurricane. Combined with the irregular rotation of the habitat caused by the water jetting from the first beam impact, this internal storm effectively made the rescue of some staff impossible. However the medical staff from the small temporary morgue managed to evacuate, and under Lieutenant Em’s orders they brought the bodies of Frank Tomas, hound Growler and terrier Riff with them. Em herself arrested Astrogator Lengerst, and she began to question him as their boat sped away from the precessing ship. Eddy had questions of his own “Did you bring the woman spy, and the Alexei creature?” “They are on this lifeboat. Do you expect me to believe anything they say, or that you say, for that matter?” “They have just saved us from being roasted alive. Do you know how much

heat a big gun like that would kick out when it fires? We would have been toast. But more than that, they have saved us from a war with the Transapients. You have seen what kind of weapons the Transaps have; even the biggest laser we could build was useless against them. Lisa - you must tell me - did you know that the Cryptos were building that giant gun?” “There is no must about it. I don’t have to tell you anything. But, Eddy - I don’t understand what has happened here, but I know that it isn’t right. We have been lied to by our masters, and now it looks like we have narrowly avoided disaster. I’ll be straight with you. No, I was never informed. All my troops were given instructions to keep out of the innermost cylinder. They must have used robots for the construction work, I suppose; smart ones too; that’s pretty ironic, considering how much they hate AIs.” “We should be grateful to these guys; if they hadn’t tried so hard to get into the ship’s core I wouldn’t have been so suspicious. And even if I had, your security measures would have stopped me from doing anything about it. Face it; your attention to duty nearly helped start a war. Why don’t you get the Alexei creature in here and let him explain it to you.” Lisa Em contacted her subordinate via neural interface, and the octopus/spy was brought in from another compartment of the small vessel. He was contained within a metal box, which had several holes drilled into it so he could breathe and be heard. Eddy suspected that the holes had been shot into the box; presumably before the spy had been sealed within. But maybe not. Em questioned the creature for some time, and became more sympathetic as she uncovered more details. She resolved to take her prisoners to the mainworld, Rufus; the human moon would be in turmoil right now, and that might not blow over until the Cryptos were deposed. Alexei said, his voice tinny in the confines of the box, “Tomas and the other members of my team all have medical technology in their bodies which may allow them to be revived, even after a period of apparent death. What condition are they in?” “The larger dog is not too badly damaged. Perhaps we can save the smaller one as well, depending on how good your meditech is. We have recovered the third dog from space; he is not damaged at all by his experience. Tomas, on the other hand, was badly damaged in the fall, and there may be no hope for him.” “Don’t give up; that meditech is very good.” Alexei’s voice was grim.” But go easy on him, if you get him back; he has been no more than a tool, shaped by others. I can only take responsibility for this process, although I did not

personally sanction the use of such methods.” “What methods are you talking about?” Em was suddenly interested “I hope that you never find out.” Alexei fell silent; but inside his box he was not idle. He managed to rig up the antenna of his communicator unit so that he could broadcast an encrypted call to the woman Alys Smyf, who was in a different ‘boat a few tens of kilometers away. The signal was weak, but intelligible. “So. You made it,” she said. “Yes. And I just want to tell you that what you did to Tomas was inexcusable.” “What do you mean?” The woman’s mental tone was concerned. Sometimes direct neural communication can give away a little too much of a person’s mental state. “I know what you did. I know about how you tricked up that spaceship to dump that poor woman Ines at the earliest opportunity. And I know how you used behavioral modification techniques to get Tomas to allow us into that ship, playing on his vulnerability and grief. When I gave you the brief for this mission I did ask you to ensure that no-one was harmed unnecessarily; we deliberately used non-lethal weapons throughout. Yet Tomas, and that poor Ines, have suffered far more than I intended.” “Do what you wish. I will, of course, point out, if asked, that you still consented to the use of Tomas, even though you must have realised what I had done. You used us all as cover for your own mission; you didn’t care if we lived or died. That makes you as guilty as me. And I wouldn’t worry too much about that woman; she was set on a path of destruction before we found her. Do you know why they were in that ship?” “Do tell.” “She was addicted to sexual asphyxia. That was the reason the safety systems were disabled; so they could lower the cabin pressure in that ship for kicks. We simply eliminated a deviant personality from the genepool.” “Neither of us comes out of this with a clear conscience, Smyf. However we must allow Tomas, and the Dogs, to be free from any hint of scandal. Once this all dies down they will be heroes. We ourselves can only hope to fade back into obscurity. I am a little skilled in influencing other people myself; I believe we may be able to strike a deal.” “Well, I can wish you only luck, for obvious reasons; but I don’t think I

will be working with you again.” “This system is changing; the Transapients are here now, and they will find ways of influencing every aspect of life in this system. They may need people with our kind of skills.” “They may, and they may not.” Alys, the professional spy, had her doubts “They have methods that are far more sophisticated than our own. We might be no more use to them than any one else; outmoded, outclassed. Have you considered that they might have already started to work their magic in this system? We arrived on that ship at a particularly convenient moment. The Transapients could have planned it all, sent us there in the nick of time, and we would never know. Perfect deniability, and we have nothing more than suspicions.” “You may be right, Smyf, you may be right. We have probably been playing their game all along. One thing is for certain; they are not afraid of cutting it fine. But time passes differently for the transapients, they say. A minute for us is a day, or a week for them. They probably think we do everything at snail’s pace.” “If they get bored with waiting for us to catch up all the time, what will they do then?” “We must hope we never find out.” End

Over thousands of years the post-Singularity transapients continued their advancement, breaching Singularity after Singularity until finally the most advanced had transformed themselves into god-like beings called Archailects; physically huge entities using new forms of consciousness to develop technology beyond the understanding of lesser minds. In particular, the traversable wormhole and the reactionless drive were innovations that had a profound effect on the colonisation of the galaxy. Soon new worlds were opening up in regions hundreds of light years from old Sol. The numerous civilizations forged by humanity and the lesser transapients were gradually consolidated into new empires ruled by the Archai. Sometimes this was done by stealth, sometimes by bloody conflict. But always the empires of the Gods prevailed. Then those empires began to turn on one another, ancient rivalries magnified by vast power. Graham Hopgood gives us a tale of one such conflict where human-level minds are merely pawns, and the most basic of human drives must fight to survive even passing contact with god-like power.

parameter space Graham Hopgood 1 A God felt everything. With omnipresence came omniscience; knowledge without boundaries. E was not a single entity, but rather several parts of something much grander. Eir intelligence was distributed throughout many star systems, and all that they contained. E was a single spoke within the Great Wheel, connected intimately with those parts outwards and inwards from Eirself. And so E felt every death, every casualty and every catastrophe with as much pain, suffering and anguish as any of Eir subjects. With thought processing occurring at a pace unimaginable to those subjects, and countless layers of computation, they would never know how deeply E considered each tragedy. They went about their lives, disregarding the destruction raging all around them because they simply couldn’t comprehend it. They knew that the war was borne out of a trade dispute, over systems and protocols that many of them used every day. But they couldn’t, and would never be able to understand, why that dispute had to lead to destruction on such a massive scale. Unfortunately, they never would. Even at Eir own toposophic level, there were still things that E would never be able to know until E moved inwards on the Great Wheel. The wormhole nexus had been crippled, and that made Eir feel very alone and very isolated. Help was many light-years away, unfortunately danger was much closer. They were approaching a star system on the edge of Eir sphere of influence. They seemed like tiny gnats, flying in a despicable swarm towards Eir helpless subjects. E summoned what defences E could, but they would never arrive in time. Without the web of wormholes threading through local space neither E, nor the Great Wheel, could do anything to stop them. E felt their attack through the comm-gauge wormholes that hadn’t yet been destroyed. The first wave brushed through the Oort cloud habitats, dowsing everything in nanotech replicators that would quickly overcome the defences of the mining communities eking out an existence between the frozen comets.

It took weeks, the whole attack was taking place at an unhurried pace to those modosophonts under threat. But E operated on a very different timescale. It was not slower, just different. E saw the attack taking place at a startlingly quick speed, because E couldn’t stop it. If E could do something against the attackers, then E would analyse the situation more carefully, more thoroughly. But E didn’t want to pore over the details any more than E had to. A priest comforted an extended family within a rapidly failing refinery. Their economic lifeblood, the volatiles mined from a huge icy body slowly orbiting far from its star, was leaking into space as storage systems failed. The refinery was beginning to spin faster as the outpourings of gas coincidently pushed in the same direction. The gravity within, normally comfortable zerogee, was rapidly increasing and starting to push the inhabitants towards the hull. It was the first time any of them had experienced gravity, and it would be with them until they died. The habitat had never been designed to be under rotation, and there had never been the pressing need, or the budget, to create a safety mechanism to prevent it. It would spin faster and faster, until either the habitat broke apart or those inside were crushed against the hull. The first tragedy of the onslaught, and E could already see it would be first of many. The attackers had moved onto the inner-system, and here they began their true obliteration. E could only watch, this time from a small town on the capital world, as they pierced through the atmosphere. They could have been meteorites, tiny balls of fire bursting through the upper-atmosphere, but as they descended into thicker air they appeared clearly artificial. The dark spears plummeted towards the ground, guided while in flight towards the major settlements and installations on the planet. Each contained a small, but lethal, amount of antimatter. Some would be used as propellant during the descent, but most would be saved for detonation on impact. The antimatter-matter annihilation was a glorious thing, vital to the early expansion of Terragen civilisation. But here it was the most sickening thing that E had ever experienced. They could obviously have transformed the entire planet into an uninhabitable rock, but they had chosen not to do so. Instead they left pockets of life, isolated and barely able to survive exposure to the harsh natural conditions of the world. If they needed prisoners at some point, they would not find much resistance from those that had barely endured.

A vec, severely damaged by the firestorm that had just caught eir outlying settlement, cradled a near-baseline human child in its manipulators. In a flash of machine inspiration, e had fashioned a life-support construct from the remains of the air-conditioning unit in the child’s home. The vec had little knowledge of human physiology, or it would have been obvious that the child would never survive. A kinder action might have been to kill the child now, allowing the extraction of any implanted back-up devices for later revival. But instead the baby cried relentlessly, as the vec naïvely waved a charred toy clown in an attempt to pacify it. War was a terribly insensitive entity. And E felt all the worse with the knowledge that the entire catastrophe could have been avoided, had a few small details worked themselves out differently… Yin stared into darkness, stifling panic. Ve tried to adjust back to the relative simplicity of ver own mind, slowly raising the level of light to remind verself that ve wasn‘t surrounded by vacuum and death. -Why do people make such weird shit?- Ve asked verself, already knowing the answer. Because it was fashionable; almost all of Hubris had suffered from a morbid obsession with the apocalypse for kilo-cycles. Yin was an art-dealer, but not because ve had a particular eye for art. Ve just had the mental fortitude to deal with the fucked up creations of half a billion bored souls. Hubris was an isolated virchworld, in orbit around a brown dwarf many hundreds of light years from the nearest trace of civilisation. Or so they assumed. They were almost completely cut off from the rest of Terragen civilisation, nothing was allowed to exit Hubris and no information could enter. That was unless their benign Caretaker God deemed the information important enough to relay to the population. If one were to check the official history of the virch, the population chose this isolation in a referendum some time ago. Of course, there were the inevitable rumours and conspiracy theories that Hubris was actually an experiment in isolated societies and memetic manipulation of large populations. The conspiracy theorists were just a curiosity to Yin, and besides, from what ve had studied on Terragen civilisation the whole damned Sphere could be an S6 controlled experiment. Ve found it easier to assume good faith. Yin was nth-generation virtual, created from the merging of ver parent’s

personality-sets; all fourteen of them. Ve lived in a smaller commune of around a thousand people, and was then part of an even smaller “family” unit, consisting of ver and three others. Ve used to travel a lot, refusing to be tied to one commune for any length of time, but had eventually found verself tied to the same areas, the same people. Yin looked around ver personal space, still trying to recover from the intense experi-sim, and tried to imagine who would enjoy such an uncomfortable waste of time. Ver space was as busy as ve could cope with, colours and shapes dancing a complex geometric ballet around the limit of the private area. White noise rose and fell with ver mood, building ver up when ve needed it and softening ver rage when ve went too far.

An enquiring tag intruded among the shapes, which gracefully parted to let Yin see the information. Tree was asking to enter. Yin sighed, disconnected the link to the experi-sim completely and allowed authorisation to be given. Tree was one of Yin’s partners, and although it was hard (and undesirable) to pick a favourite, Tree was certainly the one that Yin spent the most time with. Tree’s avatar was a complex fractal, limbs and appendages grew and subsided with a mathematical precision that could sometimes seem like an awful waste of processing power. The intricate beauty of Tree was in contrast to Yin’s avatar, the epitome of simplicity. Tree wrapped verself around Yin, and the lovers caressed each other softly as they spoke. “Hello Yin, have you been working?” “Yeah, it’s been a tough cycle.” Tree smiled in ver own inimitable way, moving across Yin’s boundaries in just the right way. As usual, Yin could only think about the uncomfortable feeling of déjà vu that ve experienced every time. Ve blushed, ver molten plastic avatar turning a deep red against the bright green of Tree’s multi-faceted appearance, and pulled away. “What’s wrong, Yin?” Tree asked softly, reaching out to Yin in a slightly subtler way. “I don’t know,” ve shrugged. “Do you ever get the feeling you are just going through the motions?” Tree gave a look that was half quizzical and half concerned. Tree had no

face in the traditional sense, no one in their commune had, but emotions in most of Hubris were still relayed with startling accuracy by a combination of various outputs. Some were traditional, in the meat-space sense, like tone of voice or body language, and there were many others unique to virtuals. There were gestalt tags displayed by everyone, manipulation of avatars and countless other methods of interpersonal communication that often were unique to a small group of people. Just as was traditional in human-derived societies, the better you knew someone the easier is could be to pick up some of the more subtle signals. Misunderstandings were as common as they had ever been through Terragen history; one of many parameters built into Hubris to ensure interesting social conflict and prevent stagnation. “You know what, Yin?” Tree asked, pulling back from Yin. “Sometimes I get the feeling you’re just going through the motions.” It was said as a joke, but Tree rarely made statements completely devoid of fact. Yin quickly tried to change the subject, unwilling to engage in conflict no matter how humorous Tree wanted to make it. “Do you want to check out the experi-sim that I’ve been lumped with? It’s a real killer, as close to a God as you’ll ever get.” Tree grabbed Yin playfully, tugging ver towards the edge of ver private space. “It doesn’t really sound like something I’d enjoy. It doesn’t sound like something anyone would enjoy. Besides, we’re all going to a launch party, it’ll be fun.” A statement, Yin was going whether ve wanted to or not. “Do you think the sim is marketable? How many people out there want to be a transapient without properly ascending?” “You’d be surprised, I’ve sold quite a lot of stuff like this before and this is one of the more detailed sims I’ve come across. Ascension scares people, Tree, how can you turn into something beyond your comprehension and still be you? Not everyone wants to break the barrier.” Ve glanced across at Tree, a mathematical masterpiece against a blur of motion. They were jumping between spaces, towards the homestead that the family spent most of their time in.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Tree grinned as they fell into the homestead, the familiar surroundings exactly as they always were. “Luckily some people can’t satisfy their curiosity just by borrowing the eyes of a transap.” Fu and Diirt were already waiting for them. They ignored Tree and Yin’s entrance, engrossed in their own tactile conversation.

“Yin, are you still as excited about this as you were at the start? You never talk about it anymore, and it used to be the only subject you could concentrate on for any length of time.” Tree was whispering, unwilling to attract the attention of the others if ve didn’t need to. “I’ve just been working hard.” Ve idly fiddled with an outcropping of Tree, “We’ve got a long way to go, Tree, I figure the more I can contribute the better.” Ve tried to sound sincere, it wasn’t too hard for Yin to twist ver actual feelings only slightly. The more I can contribute, the sooner I can get this over with. “We’re all doing our best, Yin, you need to learn to relax.” Ve concentrated on Yin intently, idly fiddling back. “You’ve barely spent any time with any of us lately. Besides, Diirt is working on a couple of projects that could earn almost all the currency that we need, so you can afford - we can afford - to slow down a little.” Yin shrugged and started to move towards ver other partners. “Hey, you two, we’re almost ready to leave.” Fu was a roughly humanoid shape, a generally bipedal form of scuffed brass with constantly morphing limbs. On occasion, a ghostlike head would appear (normally just to emphasise a point during heated exchanges). “And there’s good news. Diirt has decided that this will be the night!” Tree smiled and gave an overly physical greeting to Diirt, “The time’s right, I’m glad Fu persuaded you.” Fu blushed, not wanting to steal any credit for Diirt’s decision. “I hope so, Tree.” Diirt was not ashamed to follow fashion, ver avatar was a burnt out husk of ancient machinery. Rusted sheet metal would flake away at the slightest touch, torn material was blown forlornly in an arbitrary breeze. “I’m excited, it will be an interesting party.” Yin enjoyed socialising with Diirt. Ve was very nearly a celebrity, a performance artist hovering just below the mainstream. Currency in Hubris was a basic form of Reputation Economics, the system carefully maintained by the ruling class of two hundred transapients. The marriage of four had aspirations to join this ruling class and, with the only entry route being cold hard currency, Diirt was often seen as the pay-packet that would send them all through the Singularity barrier. Yin didn’t envy ver. Tree and Fu had always been goal-orientated, while Yin and Diirt had preferred to let life flow more organically. “So shall we make our entrance?” Fu sounded impatient, although ve was trying to hide it. Yin decided it was time to get this over with. “Sure, let’s go.”

They jumped together, back to the familiar commune exhibit address.

Falling into the exhibit, Yin let out a surprised gasp. Hundreds of performers (possibly automated, but more likely unemployed commune members) were dying in slow motion. Each one was in human form and was being slowly ripped apart in a multitude of novel ways. Some seemed to be imploding, others were consumed by flame as they spontaneously combusted. Yin glanced around; the space was stark white with no visible boundaries. Ve saw ver three partners watching the exhibit. Fu was moving around the performers, investigating them slowly. Tree and Diirt were intertwined in conversation, enjoying it but, unsurprisingly, full of criticism. A human next to Yin exploded, drops of blood and flesh bouncing off ver plastic exterior. The physics were bizarre, it was like Yin and the others were moving at incredible speeds rather than the performers moving slowly. Yin flicked a piece of tendon that had come rest near ver and watched as it arced leisurely across the space. The fixation with the human form in art had always puzzled Yin. Culture in Hubris had been separated from Homo Sapiens Sapiens, and its countless modern derivatives, for a huge period of time but it just never seemed to disappear. Diirt appeared at Yin’s side, breaking ver chain of thought. “So, what do you make of it?” Yin smiled, and kicked a dismembered foot at Diirt playfully. “A little over the top, don’t you think?” Diirt shrugged, “The dynamics are pretty impressive, and I bet the performers are enjoying themselves.” Ve sent a steel spear through a nearby head. “I’ve been talking to Luuke, the artist, about it. Just wait until the next segment.” Yin turned and braced verself. The initially immaculate white space of the exhibit was now sprayed red. The blood on the walls suddenly began running upwards, gathering at the apex above the observers. The red liquid formed itself into a perfect circle, then a pyramid, then a sleek spacecraft, then a matte-red winged angel. The angel swooped downwards, through the chaos of destruction below. Yin spotted its target seconds before it reached it. A single human, cowering in

fear, remained unharmed. The angel grabbed it in massive arms, before flying back above the melee below. The angel whispered into the ear of the human, causing it to scream in absolute terror, before hurling the still-screaming human straight down to the floor of the space. The human landed with the cracking of bone, and the performance ended. The white space, blood and bodies flew upwards to be replaced by the aftershow party. Yin took a moment to readjust, and wondered how anyone could expect ver to make small talk after that . 2 Jaan awoke in blackness, blinking into the dark. He tried to cough, but found himself unable to control his windpipe. In fact, he couldn’t breathe through his mouth at all. He panicked, desperately trying to gag and unblock his airway. Failing miserably, he found himself relaxing, assuming he was about to lose consciousness. It was around half a minute before he realised he could breathe through his nose. He remained motionless for several minutes, breathing softly, and tried to make some sense of his situation. It became apparent to him that his eyes were never going to be able to adjust enough and that he was actually in pitch black darkness. It was completely silent. Jaan’s senses had never experienced this amount of deprivation; he assumed his lack of anxiety was some kind of shock. The air smelt metallic, and seemed to be oxygen rich. Could that mean he was aboard a ship? A hospital? He had no idea where he was, let alone how he had got here. It was difficult to tell if he was floating in zero-gee or just suspended in some kind of harness. He could even be on a regular bed, as it wouldn’t surprise him if he had no feeling in his body at all. He tried to move an arm, but his muscles didn’t seem to respond. He managed to brush one finger against another. For some reason, he found himself almost crying with joy at the fact he had fingers. Something brushed his side. Although it was incredibly faint, it felt like a lightning bolt cutting through the numb darkness. Then something touched his cheek, then his shin. Things began poking him from all angles, like someone was

building a picture of him through touch alone. It was extremely disorientating and Jaan felt panic starting to rise in his throat again, a scream that had nowhere to go. But suddenly it stopped, replaced by a different sensation for Jaan to focus on. The sound of an unfastening zip seemed loud enough to be right next to his head. He was surprised that hearing a sound was much more comforting than the previous tactile sensation, and Jaan tried to stretch his head closer to the source. Although he found himself unable to shift his head, the zip was still getting louder. He assumed it was getting closer, feeling pleased that he had managed to, at last, make sense of something around him. The zip seemed to stop above him, replaced by the muffled ripping of Velcro and what could be voices. His hands suddenly fell against his sides and it took a moment for Jaan to realise he could move his arms again. He instinctively reached up to his mouth and touched the machine blocking his airway. It was metal, with sharp edges at odd angles. It vibrated softly as Jaan ran his hands over it. A soft plastic tube, the width of his arm, ran away from the device. Another tube, much more rigid, ran from the other side of the device and into his mouth. He had just made the decision to pull the thing out when there was an almost deafening sound of ripping material. His arms were pulled violently behind his back, forcing his fingers away from his face. Jaan was too weak and disorientated to struggle, and he was pulled backwards by the arms. Light stung his eyes and he closed them against the pain. Several pairs of hands wrestled him to the ground, laying him on his side. He tried to blink, but the light still seemed infinitely bright and he closed them again. “Fucking hell, don’t let eir touch it! Get that damned thing off eir face.” The voice sounded exasperated; like this was the umpteenth time they had done the same thing. Something else was making noises that sounded something like a language, albeit one that Jaan had never heard before. Jaan felt a gentle tugging at the back of his throat. “Slowly, slowly, slowly!” It was inserted deeper than Jaan had first thought. It felt like his stomach was going to be wrenched up too and he opened his eyes automatically.

This time they stayed open, squinting against the glare. It was hard to pick out detail, and with his head on the floor all he could see was a forest of mechanical legs. Turning his eyes upwards, he saw a vec gripping the monstrosity fixed to his face and bracing itself to pull harder. Much more insectile than anthropomorphous, it was made up of countless metal components. Although each individual part seemed thin and fragile, as the vec moved they endlessly shifted and combined to reinforce each other in a disconcerting turmoil of movement. Red visual sensors appeared from nowhere, with hundreds of smaller, subtler instruments no doubt trained on its environment. Jaan couldn’t recall being this close to a vec before, and unwittingly found himself trying to jerk backwards. “I’d stay still if I were you, buddy.” There was at least one human in the room; one surly human. Jaan wasn’t able to move in any case, his hands were still pinned behind his back. He closed his eyes as the vec pulled harder, increasing speed. He gasped as the device erupted from his mouth, surprised that he didn’t vomit. His arms were released, but Jaan took a moment to rest before sitting up. He lay still, breathing deeply. He opened his eyes cautiously, and saw a boorish human male invading his private space. Jaan was suddenly very aware that he was naked, immediately feeling vulnerable. He seemed to be covered in a thin layer of something greasy, his skin slick against the cold metal floor. “You getting up then, buddy? There are probably a few more people to help if you wanna make yourself useful.” The man bent down towards him, and pulled out a series of intravenous tubes. He swabbed the puncture marks with something painful and moved away quickly. Jaan coughed and tried to tell him where to go, but was only able to manage an embarrassing squeak. The man laughed, and slapped the vec that had been attached to Jaan no more than a minute ago. The vec had seemed to blend into the background when it ceased moving, and Jaan had only properly discerned its form when it jerked forward under the force of the man’s hand. Now that he knew what to look for, he managed to pick out three other vecs around him. They looked like they could take a humanoid form, but only when it was the most practical way to get something done. They were gleaming forests of metal, a myriad of mechanical parts combining, splitting and recombining as they moved. They all looked dangerous, and horribly inhuman.

Where was he? The walls looked like fifty of the robots had exploded against flypaper. He sat up, and finally vomited. The man laughed heartily, but Jaan ignored him. Kneeling on the floor and looking around he saw the cocoon that he had emerged from; it looked like a melted black coffin, held in place by a web of straps. He couldn’t pick out any detail inside the coffin itself. “It’s the box that you arrived in, buddy. It’s the reason you didn’t turn into mush during slowdown.” The man laughed again and waved a hand in front of Jaan’s face. “Fuck’s sake, man, you’re looking like you wanna get back in!” Jaan managed another squeak, this time making it as angry sounding as he could. The man almost screamed with laughter, his round face beginning to turn red with the exertion. He passed a cantina to Jaan and turned back to the acceleration harness, still chuckling. Jaan took a long drink. Even the water tasted metallic. He decided it was time to try speaking again, and cleared his throat. “Where are we?” The words emerged with some effort, softly and painfully. “In orbit,” he spoke seriously, turning back to look at Jaan with a comical frown. “I don’t think the star system has a name, or I would tell you. I don’t think you would have heard of it anyway, if you know what I mean.” He bit his lip, seemingly battling another onslaught of laughter. “I meant where are we, what is this place?” The man couldn’t hold onto it anymore, erupting in hysterics as he spoke. “Welcome to vec-land, buddy! The biggest collection of moving parts for fifty parsecs.” He again slapped the vec next to him, which proceeded to sidle over to the acceleration box and take over the mans work. “Seriously though, this is their ship. Don’t piss them off, you know what I mean?” Jaan had been raised with a massive prejudice towards AI, but he considered himself quite adaptable. “What pisses them off?” “Ah, I dunno, lots of things really. Would you stand around while a juxtaposition of rotting meat is giving your comrades disrespect? Flapping around on skinny little legs, barely in control of their own movements?” He shook with suppressed mirth, suddenly letting out a loud guffaw that he silenced with an abrupt “No.” The laughing man was average in every baseline sense of the word. He

didn’t look over or under nourished, a short crop of brown hair emerged from his head and was matched by a faint fuzz covering his jaw. He was wearing a simple grey coverall, lacking insignia or any other identifying marks. Jaan, looking downwards at his naked body, noticed that he lacked several identifying features that he vaguely remembered having previously. So he seemed to be in a new body. What had happened? He wasn’t yet prepared to ask the man directly. Yet. Kneeling naked on the cold steel floor, he felt vulnerable enough already. He didn’t want to expose any more weakness than he had to. “How old am I?” “Maybe a few weeks.” The man was now watching a vec work on the acceleration harness. “It’s hard to tell. The biotech on board is sort of low priority, the hardware is really outmoded. Hey, that reminds me.” He winked at Jaan, and walked past him. Still unable to muster the energy to turn his head and follow the laughing man, Jaan took another sip of water. He hoped the metallic tang wasn’t mercury. Something stabbed Jaan in the left arm, causing him to choke on the water. Whatever had been inserted in his arm was withdrawn after about ten seconds, and a hand slapped Jaan on the back to dislodge the liquid. Jaan looked down at his arm and saw a big red dot and a trickle of blood running downwards. “What the fuck are you doing?” Jaan wanted to get up and punch the laughing idiot in his nondescript face. The man grinned broadly, speaking between giggles. “I gave you an injection, a massive supplement of vitamin A and E, antropine and a couple of other goodies. Close to an overdose actually, so let me know if you feel weak or nauseous.” That pretty much summed up how Jaan was feeling, even before the injection. “Are you kidding?” The man let out a high-pitched squeal, he was really starting to struggle to speak though the laughter. “No, I’m really not. I’m a doctor. The doctor.” Tears were rolling down his face. “It’s really great to finally have somebody around with such a good sense of humour. Vecs aren’t exactly known for their wit, if you know what I mean.” The laughter was starting to make Jaan feel even more nauseous, so he said nothing and looked back down at his bleeding arm. “If you were wondering, I gave you the shot to protect against radiation. It’s not exactly two meters of slag shielding, but it is the best you’ll get on this ship.”

This worried Jaan, he remembered simple radiation protection was a common genemod even where he had grown up. He must have had a slightly confused look on his face, because the doctor picked up on it immediately and resumed his endless laughter. “You’ve guessed it, welcome to the wonderful world of the baseline human! So you can forget all those amenities you might remember; genemods, DNI, your artificial immune system, etcetera. Not that there’s any need for that any of that stuff on a vec ship anyways. Hell, you’re lucky you can breathe, buddy.” Jaan’s head was swimming. And to make it worse, he was beginning to remember a little more about the past. A comfortable upbringing, material wealth. Hedonism, drug addiction. He couldn’t not ask the question any longer. “How did I get here?” The doctor looked like he might die of asphyxiation if he couldn’t stop laughing soon. “You kill me, you really do, buddy. But I guess you wouldn’t remember though. You weren’t exactly there when it happened, depending on your philosophical point of view.” Jaan didn’t reply, unwilling to indulge his stupid games. “As far as I’m aware, seems like you sold one of your backups, buddy. I guess you just needed the cash.” Jaan felt a worrying lack of surprise, he simply felt like an asshole. The vecs had finished their work and were moving back towards him, the doctor smiled like a kid in a toy store. “Shit…” 3 Yin floated around the social mixing pot of the party, keeping ver profile low after realising ve wanted to avoid the majority of those present. Most of the virtuals in the party were broadcasting their profiles to anything that might be interested, in the hope that someone may be interested enough to want to chat. With well over two-hundred currently in attendance, and more joining all the time, it was a barrage of information. Everybody declared themselves “high priority”, and Yin had been hit by an explosion of names, hobbies, business interests and romantic potentiality. Yin filtered all but names, just in case any of ver friends were here. Ve

wasn’t interested in networking tonight. Scanning the list in front of ver, there wasn’t anyone she immediately felt like engaging. Most were members of the thousand-strong community that Yin’s family was part of, so she knew many by name if not personally. Ve left verself visible, although not proactively so. They could approach ver if they really wanted to. The aesthetics of the party were no surprise, considering the organisers and the expected clientele. It was dark, it was noisy and it was death. It seemed overdramatic, shallow and unoriginal; the typical passing fad. There was no imposed boundary to the space, you could walk forever and never come up against a wall, but the party appeared to be loosely enclosed in some kind of derelict megastructure. An open sphere, surrounded by haphazardly placed girders and malfunctioning equipment. Occasionally the organic monstrosity of a nano-tech mutation could be spotted amongst the structure. Wreckage floated around the interior space, some of it huge. Yin could see a chemical rocket not far away, liquid fuel leaking in zero-gee. The stars were visible beyond the structure. The party itself appeared to be illuminated by floodlights and sparking electronics. It was standard fare, and so were the partygoers. Most avatars were typically moribund, and some put even Diirt to shame. Yin watched in amusement as a dying fish-like creature and a desecrated To’ul’h corpse engaged in a passionate embrace. The To’ul’h were one of the very few intelligent xenocultures so far encountered by Terragens, and since contact was first established many of the aliens had decided to integrate themselves into Terragen societies. Xenosophontology had always fascinated Yin, but ve doubted that it actually was an uploaded alien mind at the party. More likely, it was just a poser trying to stand out. It looked a little like the bizarre anatomy of the To’ul’h was trying to strangle the life out of the fish, as the four tentacle-like arms of the alien tightly squeezed around its partner’s gills. There were disconcerting movements underneath soot black skin flaps, and its sharp claws were drawing blood. Ah, to be free and single… Ve searched for ver partners, expecting them to be a little more socially obvious than verself. Tree and Fu were chatting to someone Yin didn’t recognise. Ve couldn’t see Diirt anywhere, so presumably ve was preparing for ver big night. Fu must have noticed Yin looking at ver profile, as ve had seemingly made

her excuses and was moving towards Yin. Anyone in Hubris would be notified when someone browsed their profile, normally with an anonymous signature rather than a name. Knowing each other well, Fu recognised Yin’s signature easily. Yin checked ver own profile. Six people had browsed the limited information ve had made available. Not many, out of the two-hundred and seventy now at the party. Yin wasn’t surprised, ve probably appeared to be the most unsociable person there. Ve hoped so. Fu sent a friendly gesture towards Yin, just in case ve hadn’t yet noticed that ve was approaching. Yin waved back and smiled. Ve liked Fu a lot. Even though Fu was sometimes extremely driven, occasionally bordering on the obsessive, ver pragmatic attitude was a rare thing in a universe like Hubris. “How did I know you’d be on your own?” Fu laughed, kissing Yin gently. Blue plastic and dirty brass rubbed together sensually. “Everybody’s the same at these things, Fu. It may as well be a room full of clones.” Fu laughed again, tugging Yin towards the main grouping of partygoers. “Yin, you are always the same at these things. I’ve got someone I want you to meet, a collective.” Yin sighed, a collective was two or more partners that had decided that they liked each other enough to become the same entity. Yin had never worked out quite how anyone would want to inflict dual-personality disorder on themselves and their loved ones. “A collective? Fu, I haven’t got the patience for that. This had better be worth it.” Fu didn’t answer, ve just smiled and kept walking. “Fu? Is this going to be worth it?” “Would I trick you into talking to a twenty-eight headed freak?” Ve asked innocently. “Twenty-eight!” Yin exclaimed. A little too openly, ve realised, as a surprised cluster of anthropomorphic rubble turned around to look at them. For a moment, Yin wondered if ve could embarrass Fu into leaving ver alone. “Twenty-eight, that’s right. Twenty-eight active members, anyway. Isn’t it a bit personal to ask about how many partners someone has had?” Fu couldn’t help grinning, amused at how annoyed Yin had become. “And why are you forcing me to decipher whatever this thing has to say?”

Yin asked with a certain resignation. “They have connections with a couple of transaps, don’t ask how.” Fu had become a little more serious now, presumably back to thinking about practicalities again. “They say that their contacts are on the art council, cherry pickers.” “Seriously?” Yin knew about the cherry pickers, and decided this may actually be worth it. There was a definitive hierarchy to the art community in Hubris. As an art dealer, and a very low level art dealer at that, Yin was at the very bottom of the pile. The millions of inhabitants of Hubris had a very high level of creativity and the majority of the population involved themselves in the creation of artwork in some form. Inspiration could be hard to come by, with many artists immersing themselves in experi-sims to spark their imaginations. Indeed, the experi-sims were themselves one of the many different types of art form within Hubris There was a constant stream of art to sift through, and the average member of the public wasn’t interested in the vast majority of it. So it was filtered through a number of layers. At the very top were the transapient cherry pickers, using vastly superior intellects to analyse pieces. They looked at how pieces would inspire and influence the general population, inferring how an artwork would affect the complex memetics of the population. They would pick out those that would have a desirable effect on Hubris, whatever they defined that as, and released them through the general channels with large currency payments to those that had created them. Only a tiny fraction were released in this way, and the overwhelmingly majority were instead filtered down into the art community. The modosophont art dealers had their own hierarchy. A select few had some kind of connection with the transap cherry pickers and received the pieces rejected by the transaps first. This still amounted to a huge amount of information, so they only viewed and picked whatever were the obviously lucrative items. They split the profits, made by selling to specialist markets, between themselves and the creators of the piece. The wastage was then filtered down through many more layers, each picking out the artworks most likely to be popular. The further down the chain an art dealer toiled, the smaller the available markets became; more niche and much harder to work with. Yin estimated verself to be extremely low in the hierarchy, maybe 15-20 layers down. But still there were enough artworks to generate a comfortable

income. As ve navigated with Fu through the fashionable throng and free-floating debris, ve wondered what might be possible if ve managed to suddenly jump to the top of the tree. Fu must have already been able to taste the currency. “This party is bigger than I thought.” Yin ventured, breaking the silence before it got awkward. “Are you prepared to offer odds on this collective being a bunch of crackpots?” “There’s no harm in naivete on occasion, Yin. Just what have you got to lose?” “My time?” Fu laughed, and sent a short notification to Tree; flagging ver attention. Ve acknowledged, mentioning ve was struggling to understand the collective’s sense of humour. “Maybe you’ll have more luck, Yin, they’re more your crowd.” Fu joked. “More my client-group,” Yin corrected. “There’s a big difference.” They waved politely as Tree pointed them out to the collective. The avatar was a common, but quite unfashionable, image. A literal vipers nest, a knot of snakes. It was a cheap body-image, millions across Hubris must have chosen it at some point. Tree split verself, fractals extending to greet Fu and Yin. The three exchanged a private flood of personal data, Yin was surprised to learn they were both as bored of the party as ver. “Yin, can I introduce you to Re’all?” Tree’s relief at the diversion was almost obvious. Yin extended a cautious greeting. “Hello, Re’all. Fu tells me that you are a collective,” Tree had yet to give ver a telepathic kick, so ve wasn’t ruining this meeting just yet, “please tell me how I should refer to you.” “It is a pleasure to meet you, Yin.” The collective spoke with one voice, although it was obvious it had many components. “Re’all are Re’all, please refer to Re’all as Re’all when addressing Re‘all.” Yin must have inadvertently looked confused, as Fu quickly demonstrated the proper convention. “Re’all, I do hope that Tree hasn’t been boring Re’all.” “No, not at all, Fu. In fact, Tree has regaled Re’all with several stories from the Risk Management Clique. They have entertained Re’all thoroughly.” Yin found verself staring at the snakes, trying to spot some kind of pattern. Several would emerge in rhythm with Re’all’s speech. “Tell Re’all, Yin, are you also

involved in Risk Management?” Fu dived in, not that Yin really minded. “No, ve isn’t. Yin is actually part of the art community, as Re’all are.” //Thanks, Fu. Do you need me for anything here, or can I just take a nap with my responses on autopilot?// //Come on, Yin, we both know what your response would have been. “Oh, I’m just a small time dealer, nothing to get excited about.”// //I was joking, Fu, but I guess you’ve got a point.// //You’re too damn timid, you really need to learn how to sell yourself.// Yin moved beside Fu, extending a limb around ver headless figure. //Maybe a branding lesson after the party, then?// Fu didn’t respond. “Ah, that is interesting. Tell Re‘all, Yin, how are you involved in the arts?” Yin realised that five or six snakes seemed to emerge as Re’all spoke, in different combinations. Ve decided to jump in now before Fu took the conversation somewhere uncomfortable. “I’m a dealer, Re’all. Mostly specialist pieces, I tend to target severely segregated client-bases.” Now it was Tree’s turn to broadcast a private message. //Don’t you mean mostly unsellable pieces? Severely seditious client-bases?// Yin read the subtext beneath the joke; ve wasn’t really coming across as a big-shot art promoter. Ve attempted a correction. “But I am looking to generalise the markets that I working with. The niches change so quickly that I’m rapidly building contacts in a huge variety of deviances and fetishes.” Fu and Tree managed to synchronise their private nudges perfectly. Yin took the hint and tried to change the subject. “And how about Re’all, how are Re’all involved in the community?” “Oh, nothing as noble as a dealer.” It clicked in Yin’s mind, the snakes must each symbolise a member of the collective. Presumably when one emerged it was part of the voice that was speaking. Yin noted that one particular snake, an evil-looking serpent ringed red, yellow and black, appeared every time Re’all spoke. Maybe the leader, or maybe just the most talkative member. “Re’all is just an impresario, organising small performance pieces. Re’all

are also involved in the niche markets, although Re’all are sure that they are unlikely to be the same niches as your own.” Yin smiled, trying to keep a track of whether Re’all was singular, or plural. Or if it even mattered. Tree stepped in, ve could be just as impatient as Fu. More so, when necessary. “Re’all, Re’all mentioned that Re’all occasionally works with one of the transapient order. Please tell us, does ve have an interest in the niche markets?” The question evidently ruffled feathers in the snake-nest. There was a flurry of movement, and it was taking the collective a worrying amount of time to answer. //Hey, I thought I was doing well.// Yin prodded Tree humorously. //If you’re taking over, then maybe I should have slept through this after all.// Tree, fortunately, didn’t seem too upset. //Heh, I think I definitely should have slept through this. You’re doing ok, Yin.// The collective suddenly seemed to calm, and spoke as if there had been no gap in the conversation at all. “That’s an interesting question, Tree. Although Re’all only has one, quite loose, connection to their order, it appears they are shifting their tastes considerably.” Yin watched as just one snake, the apparent leader, emerged from the collective. It stretched out further than any had before, as if about to leave completely. “They are becoming progressively more interested in the specialist markets that you and Re’all deal in. Presumably the mainstream has become so diluted throughout Hubris that it no longer serves the same purpose for them.” Yin, the expert, took ver turn to reenter the conversation. “That’s certainly a possibility, if current trends continue then the total client-base for the specialist markets will soon grow bigger than that of the mainstream channels.” A probing sensation told Yin that someone was trying to access certain private information. Specifically they seemed to be enquiring on Yin’s currency level. The reputation-based economy was complex, but it boiled down to payments for actions that benefited Hubris and deductions for actions that were to its detriment. There would be more payment for something that was to the benefit of the entire cybercosm, less for something that benefited one’s wider economic community, and so on down through local commune, then family, then self. A payment for self benefit would often be nullified by a detrimental

deduction. The entire system was arbitrated by the transapient overseers. Yin had made ver public information discreet to those in the party, apart from ver name. Presumably the anonymous enquiry about ver finance was Re’all, checking ver reputation. Ve released the information, resisting the temptation to borrow currency from ver family. Re’all continued, still only one snake communicated. “That is what the statistics imply, but Re’all are sure that this could easily be reversed by the transapients if they deemed it undesirable.” The snake yawned, purple fangs extended. Venom floated away in small globules. “Re’all rather suspects that they have their own purpose for our specialist markets, and customers.” “I’ve never dealt with a transapient,” Yin decided to be honest. “Does Re’all get a lot of business from your contact?” “Not much more than any other contact, but as their interest grows Re’all has been assured that there will be much more.” Yin nodded, Fu and Tree were engaged in private conversation. Yin elected to not intrude, for the moment. “In fact it has been brought to Re’all’s attention that ve is looking for new contacts in the specialist markets.” “That’s very interesting, Re’all.” Yin tried to understate as much as possible, attempting to appear as cool and collected as possible. “Re’all are sure it is, Yin. Re’all are not aware exactly what markets Re’all’s contact is looking to explore, but Re’all would be happy to arrange a business meeting.” Yin smiled, and tried to relax. “That would be very much appreciated, Re’all. Thank you.” “Not at all.” There was an awkward silence, the ringed snake hung in the air in front of Yin. Its forked tongue started flicking, impatiently. //Yin, they need your details. Wake up, yeah?// Fu gave an imperceptible visual wave at Yin. Evidently growing impatient at Yin‘s hesitation, several snakes chose to emerge. “Although your currency rating is reasonably impressive, Re’all would need a little more information to arrange a meeting.” Ve released her full profile to Re’all, non-verbally conveying embarrassment. Several snakes formed a long tendril towards Yin, the lime-green mamba at the end opened its mouth. Ve assumed, hoped, this was some kind of farewell gesture and extended an arm to touch the snake.

“Re’all will be in touch. It has been a pleasure meeting you all.” The collective disappeared, much to Yin’s relief. “That didn’t go too badly. Well done, Yin.” Fu embraced Yin, congratulating ver. Tree also added ver tactile praise. “Just be glad you were talking business. The small talk was atrocious, I never realised twenty-eight people could have such bad comic timing.” Yin smiled. “Should we go and tell Diirt? Where is ve?” Tree looked at Yin intently. “We don’t know.” “Is ve still going ahead with ver piece tonight?” Fu sounded worryingly grim. “Again, we don’t know. Ve isn’t responding to any messages.” That was worrying, although it wasn’t unusual for Diirt to disappear from time to time. Spontaneous flights of fancy seemed to be part of the package of being an underground artist. Yin couldn’t say ve wasn’t a little envious. “We should try to find ver, maybe we can tempt ver back with our good news.” Fu and Tree apparently didn’t need any persuasion to leave the party, and they jumped together. 4 Jaan had been shown to his quarters as soon as he had recovered enough to walk. It was a small, bleak room a short walk from where he had woken. The doctor had been jovial on the way, although his sense of humour had obviously peaked a while ago. “Am I still addicted?” Jaan had asked, before the doctor had left him alone. He was sure he remembered that it could disappear for hours, fooling him into believing that it had gone. “It is hard to tell,” the doctor replied grimly. “Presumably the physical dependence is now absent. But, depending on what you were addicted to, if it had any effect on your neurological state then that could still be there.” “Just how much do you know about me?” This raised a smirk, and the doctor leaned closer to Jaan. His breath smelt sterile, like medical ethanol. “I know you are . . . unlucky, Jaan. And you must

have extremely bad judgement. What else does a doctor need to know?” “Do you have medical records?” He spoke through gritted teeth. “You have a brand new body, Jaan, I don’t need to know about you breaking your leg when you were a child, or your catalogue of sexually transmitted diseases. Goodbye, Jaan.” The doctor turned and began walking from the room. “Where are you going?” Jaan felt suddenly alarmed at the prospect of being alone. “There are no more patients on this ship, Jaan, so I’m going to get completely fucked before the boredom sends me insane.” He turned and disappeared out the door, but continued shouting down the corridor. “It’s not that you are not intriguing, Jaan. But we all have our own vices, it’s what separates you and me from the robots.” Jaan listened to the laughter fade, and looked around the room he had been left in. It was stark, a contrast to the clutter of the room that he had previously woken in. Dull grey walls enclosed a square space, as wide as he was tall. It contained little more than a simple bed along one wall and a toilet/shower in a corner. He had learned from the doctor that this part of the ship was slowly spinning to impart enough gravity to keep the two humans comfortable. The doctor had seemed quite honoured that the effort had been made for just two bionts. There was a set of plain grey coveralls on the bed, which Jaan gratefully put on. Checking the bed, he found that it could also be used as a zero-gravity harness and an emergency acceleration couch. The single entrance didn’t have any immediately obvious controls to close it. Jaan suspected that it could be remotely controlled from somewhere. He relieved himself on the toilet, and laid himself on the bed. The low level of tech in the room puzzled Jaan, even the toilet had used a combination of water and air to clean itself. He knew that nanotech had surrounded him growing up. Everything was smart, ready to help. But in this room everything seemed dead; the bed, the walls, the toilet. As he lay, staring upwards at the grey ceiling, he tried to piece together what had happened to him before he had woken here. The memories were stubborn, nothing spontaneously popped into his head. Although there were certain things that he intrinsically knew without trying, his

name, language, his own personality, it took a real mental effort to remember specific events. Satisfyingly, he told himself his own year of birth, 4208 . He recalled his home system, Terranova . But frustratingly, he failed to picture specific events. There were glimpses of drug addled parties, narcotic-fuelled arguments, one-night love affairs. But they were disparate, with no apparent connection to each other. He had a worrying gut feeling that his whole life had actually been like that, mostly random events with no real relationship to each other. He tried to remember the name of the substance he had been addicted to, but couldn’t bring it into mind. Maybe there had been many, maybe it didn’t matter what specific substance it was. Frustrated, Jaan sat up and decided he wanted to concentrate on his current situation for while. The open door beckoned him to leave, to explore. He stood up, hesitated, and stepped out into the corridor. The corridor was decorated in the same jumble of metal as the room Jaan had emerged in. Looking back towards that room, Jaan remembered that there would be a dead-end in that direction. So he began to cautiously walk in the direction that the doctor had left. It was quiet on the ship. With concentration, Jaan could, just barely, hear a faint hum. His bare feet, still sticky with whatever had covered him in the box, made a soft popping sound with each step. He passed two small rectangles of polished metal on the wall, and glimpsed his reflection. He paused, trying to match the face he saw with his struggling memory. It was slightly different. The features were slightly gaunter, and much paler, than he remembered. His black hair was just a short fuzz on his scalp, whereas he could recall preferring to wear it much longer. Surprisingly, there was a hint of stubble emerging from his jaw. He knew that he had never had facial hair before; it had been gengineered out of his family lineage long before he had been born. He moved past the mirrors, walking quickly along the corridor. There was no sign of the vecs that were apparently running the ship, but Jaan suspected they wouldn’t be far away. He had been raised in an unusual nation-state on Terranova, where non-slaved AI was discouraged and rare. He had never met a non-biont before that hadn‘t offered to help or sell him something, as far as he could recall. For some reason vecs would always have been viewed with suspicion, but he couldn’t remember ever being told why.

With such unusual views, downright offensive to most of the civilised Galaxy, Jaan’s life on Terranova had been, unsurprisingly, isolated and sheltered. He reached the end of the corridor. It was a dead end. Feeling uneasily claustrophobic, Jaan frantically searched for anything he might have missed. A doorway, a disguised crawl way, anything to tell him that he wouldn’t be trapped in a 30 metre corridor for the rest of his life. He found it, a door that he had missed a few paces back along the corridor. Its outline was blurred by the junk on the walls around it. There appeared to be a simple control panel beside it with a single square, black button slightly inset into the metal. He pressed it, and the door slid silently open. He took a breath, and stepped through. The smell of sweat and urine hit him, and Jaan stepped out again to let it dissipate into the ship. He attempted to enter again, consciously holding his breath. “Hello Jaan.” The doctor greeted him from behind a large black desk. He didn’t laugh. In fact, he looked quite depressed. “Uh - hello.” Jaan scanned the room, he hadn’t actually expected, or hoped, to meet the doctor quite yet. The room appeared to be almost identical to his, except the square matt-black desk positioned in the centre of the room. The same grey walls, the lo-tech bed. “I just fancied a bit of a walk, I hope that’s allowed.” The doctor still didn’t laugh, but there was a slight hint of a grin. He used both hands to wave Jaan’s concerns away. “Oh don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll let you know if and when you are taking liberties. Come and sit down.” The doctor gestured towards his bed. It was unmade, sheets and pillows in a pile at one end. Jaan saw no reason not to, and made himself comfortable. “I’d like to be honest with you, Jaan.” The doctor was slurring, and when he looked at Jaan it was obvious that he wasn’t quite able to focus on him properly. “But, I always insist on only having honest conversations with people on the same level as me.” The doctor’s eyes squinted, his voice quietened to a hushed whisper. “Do you know what I’m talking about, Jaan?” “Of course.” Jaan had no idea what the doctor meant, but decided to play along. “I actually feel the same way.” The doctor let out a long sigh, and looked up at the ceiling. “Good, Jaan, good. Maybe we have more in common than I first thought.” Jaan watched as the doctor rose from his chair, with some effort, and stumbled to one side of the room. He pressed against the wall, and a small

square door swung open. Jaan hadn’t noticed it, the door was the same grey shade as the rest of the wall. There appeared to be several small black boxes inside, all identical shapes and sizes. The doctor pulled one out, without hesitation, and closed the door. He placed the box on the desk and flipped open the lid. Inside was a range of vials and syringes. The doctor glanced at Jaan. “Any preferences?” Jaan winced. There it was. His skin prickled, his mouth became suddenly dry. He shook his head. He still couldn’t recall what his preference was, or whether he even had one. A tablet filled vial was removed from the box, and the doctor shook half of the small white pills onto the table. He reached around the desk and his hand emerged with a palm sized rectangle of shimmering plastic. It had buttons, what appeared to be a screen. Jaan guessed it was a computer. The doctor arranged the tablets carefully, and slammed the computer onto them. As it was raised back upwards, Jaan could see that the tablets were now an uneven powder. The doctor used the sharp sides of the computer to divide the powder into four crude lines. He reached back into the box and gently removed one of the thinner syringes. He removed the needle, throwing it back into the box, and snapped the tube in half. Jaan could only stare at the plastic tube as the doctor held it out to him, he had no idea what the doctor expected him to do with it. The doctor shrugged, and positioned himself over the lines of powder. He gingerly lowered his head towards the desktop, and Jaan watched intently as he moved the tube over the powder; one end pointing downwards, the other back towards him. He placed one end in his nostril, placed a finger on the other, and sniffed deeply. The tube moved along the line, smoothly enough to draw up almost all the powder. It reached the end and the doctor raised his head away from the table, still sniffing as he slowly turned his face towards the ceiling. He closed his eyes, and breathed out through his mouth, slowly. The doctor held the snapped syringe towards Jaan, his eyes were still closed and his mouth hung open. Jaan took it, and the doctor stumbled back to his chair. Jaan watched him take short, shallow breaths and felt quite disconcerted. He had next to no knowledge of human physiology, much less baseline human

physiology, but he was sure that taking a powdered drug through the nasal passage couldn’t be healthy. It just didn’t seem right; a narcotics binge could be a bad enough experience, even without your septum falling out. The doctor had opened his eyes, but didn’t seem to be looking at anything. He looked dead, but for the sporadic breathing. Jaan shrugged. He obviously had very little to lose in this situation, and he felt his body aching for him to move over to the table. He had never taken anything in this novel way, and likely never taken the drug on the table, but it was becoming increasingly obvious to Jaan that he was simply addicted to being intoxicated. The substance mattered not. “As a doctor, you’d tell me if something was medically inadvisable, right?” The doctor gurgled back at Jaan, his head fell backwards. Jaan approached the table, positioning himself carefully above the remaining lines. He picked one, the smallest, and mimicked what he had seen the doctor doing. With the tube between his nostril and the table, he drew air in as forcefully as he could manage. The powder disappeared, and Jaan felt it hit the back of his throat. It was cold, and shockingly irritating. He breathed out in surprise, and blew the two remaining lines into the air. He started to raise his head and stand up straight, but couldn’t manage it. As he fell, his vision blurred and faded. The greys of the rooms blended into one shade, and this changed to black as he fell to the floor. “That’s more like it. Jaan, you hear me?” Jaan could hear him, but when he opened his eyes all he could see was grey. He tried to form words, but his mouth refused to comply. He heard himself make a short series of vowels. “Good. I need you to listen to me, Jaan.” The doctor’s voice was worryingly close, like he was whispering straight into Jaan’s ear. “It seems you are quite privileged, my friend, you have unwittingly stumbled into quite an unusual situation. These vecs, this ship, are all under the control of an exceedingly unknown power. I have no idea what their intention is in bringing you here, but I know that you are being transported to a certain small project. It’s quite something apparently, although I’m not sure it’s the kind of thing you would enjoy.” The doctor paused; Jaan thought he heard an opening bottle and the sound of things rattling in glass.

“I say you are privileged, Jaan, because I am not like you. You have no idea how lucky you are, my friend. You have history, memories, you are a person. I have no idea how I got here, no idea why I’m here, and no fucking idea what I did to deserve this.” Jaan felt a hand stroking his short hair. He tried to pull away but had no control over his body at all. He had started to notice that his vision was beginning to change, different shades of grey starting to appear. “I bet you had a family, friends, lovers. I wonder if you really broke your leg, if you really had those diseases. I think you did. But that was a long time ago, many light years away. Believe me when I say, you are very far from home. “I say you’re lucky, because I had none of those things. I was created on this damned ship, and I’ll die on this damned ship. I have no idea whether I existed before you appeared, or whether I was simply magicked here to make sure you survived. Do you know how it feels to be custom-made, Jaan? I’m a tool, moulded to fit. That’s how I feel, like a tool. Why do you think I can speak your language? Because they made me that way. “I’m not pretending it matters, Jaan. I think the ingrained nihilism was part of the mould, to stop me going mad. I don’t even have a name, Jaan. I’m a walking medical textbook.” Jaan sight was swimming back, colours swirled and merged randomly. But glimpses of his surroundings were beginning to emerge. “Its funny really, Jaan. I’m sure you’ll agree with me, you have a great sense of humour. The funny thing is, you are a tool too! Even with the history, the family, the venereal disease, they will use you in any way they please. They have their goals, and you will help them.” He felt the doctor move closer, Jaan could feel his breath against the side of his face. “Get out, Jaan.” He was whispering, millimetres from Jaan’s ear. “The project is doomed. The powers have deemed it a problem, they had deemed it an irritant. It will be destroyed.” Jaan suddenly felt the kaleidoscope fall from his eyes, the real world snapped into sharp focus. He was on his back, and looking to one side he could see the doctor lying next to him. His eyes were open, but glazed over. He wasn’t breathing. He forced his body to roll over onto his side. His arms felt like deadweights, but he managed to move one to push the doctor in the chest.

The doctor blinked, momentarily looking conscious again. “Buddy, you picked a bad time for this vacation.” Jaan looked downwards and saw empty glass bottles littering the floor. Blood began to drip from the doctors open mouth. He rolled over, onto his other side, and felt the grey fall back over him. Closing his eyes, Jaan slipped away into sleep and dreams of his past. 5

Diirt lay motionless on the homestead floor, ver family surrounding ver. Ve had seemingly grown into the floor. Ver crumpled metal form had melted and spread out over the ground. Outcroppings had thrust themselves downwards, and they disappeared into the undefined space below the virtual surface. There was obviously no way to communicate with Diirt. Ver deformed avatar was completely inanimate. It was as if Diirt had upped and left, leaving just a corpse behind. Yin studied Fu and Tree, trying to judge their reaction. They didn’t seem concerned, more surprised. “What do you think it means?” Yin asked. Ve already had ver own suspicions. “It looks escapist, don’t you think?” Tree ventured towards the stricken avatar. “Ve looks like ve wants to get out.” Tree brushed a fractal finger over Diirt’s cadaver, it didn’t move. Fu moved over to wrap a brass arm around Tree. “Do you think ve is in there?” Yin asked, still watching from a distance. “Diirt likes to suffer for ver art, you know that, Yin.” Fu tried to reassure Yin from a distance, relaying ver calming presence. “I’d bet that ve is still here, somehow.” Yin cautiously moved forward. “Is it art if only three people see it?” “Yin’s right,” Tree stepped back from Diirt. “I don’t like this, something’s not right.” Fu nodded in agreement. “This is worrying, but there’s not much we can

do. If we keep messaging Diirt, ve will reply when ve is ready. There’s not much point watching it.” Tree looked upset and pulled away from Fu. “Watching ver , Fu.” “You can’t assume that ve is still in that avatar, Tree, look at it.” Fu was stressed, emotions were beginning to run high. “Fu, stop it.” Tree kept moving away from Fu, closer to Yin. “Of course that’s Diirt, I can’t believe you could think anything else.” Fu didn’t answer, ve just ran a limb over Diirt; or what might still be ver. Tree reached out and touched Yin, and ve held Tree’s limb. Ve hoped it looked just reassuring rather than concurring. “Look, I think I’m going to go and meet Re’all’s contact. Fu’s right, there’s not much we can do.” Yin risked sounding slightly cheerful. “Hey, maybe ve might even have some ideas.” Tree smiled and kissed Yin softly with a thousand tiny stems. Fu didn’t react, ve kept softly stroking Diirt. “Wish me luck.” Yin jumped out of the homestead.

A message had been tugging at ver attention since ve had got back to the homestead. Seeing who it was from, ve knew it couldn’t wait. But ve couldn’t open it around Tree and Fu, they would have been suspicious that an ordinary, private message could be more important than the plight of their partner. Ve made verself unavailable for contact. If someone was persistant enough they could find out where ve was, but they would only be able to send a message that wouldn’t break through until Yin made verself available again. Yin paused, and let the calming surroundings work their magic. Shapes danced around Yin, massaging and taking all the tensions of recent events away. Waves swept over ver, pushing ver onto the surface of the space and into more soothing geometries. Yin was stretched, squeezed and warped in precisely the ways ve needed to be. The message flagged ver attention impatiently; it couldn’t intrude exactly, but ran subtle threads of visual information through the cloud of silhouettes to remind ver. Ve opened it, and it blossomed above ver. It was simple text, but enclosed in a variety of other information that

invaded all of Yin‘s senses. The scented letter grabbed Yin and pulled ver out of the comfort zone. I need to see you, I have something amazing to show you. I miss you. Yin frowned, ve hadn’t heard from Sirkka for a long time. It had seemed like things had become too complicated for Sirkka and ve had cut Yin loose. Yin had told Sirkka about ver family’s plans almost as soon as ve had unwittingly agreed to them. Yin remembered Sirkka’s demeanour when ve had told ver that they were soon going to have to say goodbye forever, that Yin was going to enter the transcension maze without ver. It had been painful, they were both devastated. Yin had thought that Sirkka could have talked ver out of doing it but Yin, somehow, had left in an embarrassed silence. They hadn’t even said goodbye. Ve had heard nothing from Sirkka since then. And the abruptness of ver message disturbed Yin, it wasn’t like ver at all. Yin wasn’t sure what to make of it, but had no doubt ve would comply with Sirkka’s request. Ve felt a strange mix of relief, confusion, apprehension and longing. Ve closed the message, saved it in a very private place, and jumped again.

Yin stood in a cavern, a warm and humid cave. Ve could see moss covered rocks, dripping stalactites meeting stalagmites and black, bottomless pools of water. There was ambient light, but there didn’t appear to be an actual source. Ve could hear the faint running of water and, occasionally, a louder splash. Yin could feel mist on ver face, and ve ran a hand through the tepid water in the nearest pool. Ver face . Ver hand . Yin felt very uneasy. Yin suddenly noticed a strange sensation in ver torso, something pulsating within ver. Ve focused on it, and it grew stronger, turning into a pounding that seemed to shake ver whole body. She realised with a start that it was ver heart. It had been a long time since Yin had been anything that approached a human form, and those fleeting experiences had been nowhere near as vivid and real as this. A memory, tiny and distant, toyed with Yin. Had ve been close to a human form once? Ve couldn’t quite see it, Yin just had the vaguest idea that ve once had been so.

When a mind is encoded on a computronium substrate, long term memory should not be a problem. Yin scheduled a mental reminder to check ver archive. Ve looked at ver hands, and watched as the five pale fingers responded to ver commands. But ve could not alter ver new avatar, or ver environment. The options just weren’t there. It was extremely disconcerting, and ve ran through a mental checklist of abilities. It seemed that ve could only interact with ver environment through physical contact; ve could make a splash in a pool with ver hand, but not with ver mind. Ve seemed to have a fixed, first person viewpoint. It apparently wasn’t possible to run a source code query on the virtual space, a basic right within Hubris. Or so Yin had thought. The usual data channels seemed to be unavailable, and Yin had no access to any message systems at all. It was like the entire standard interface had been rearranged, so it was possible that Yin just hadn’t yet realised how to access them. Ve stared into the water in a small pool and ver reflection stared back. Two strikingly blue eyes, almost hidden by untidy black hair, stood out from a face of soft, delicate features. Ver body was covered by a simple, flowing black dress that ended just above ver bare feet. The image in the water was achingly beautiful. Even though Yin was feeling completely terrified, ve couldn‘t help but admire it. Yin sat on a rock, not willing to explore the dangerously real cave. Ve pulled ver knees up to ver chest, and waited. “Welcome, Yin.” The voice was barely distinguishable from the sound of running water; the words could have been formed from the ambient noise itself. “I’m glad you are here.” Yin glanced around the cave from ver rock, but nothing had changed. “You are?” “And so should you be, Yin. I gather you want to join us?” “Well, my partners -we- had thought about it.” Ve stuttered, feeling vulnerable in ver tiny, fragile human body. “I mean, yes, we want to join you.” “Why don’t I believe you, Yin?” Something cold touched Yin’s shoulder, unwilling to turn and look, ve closed ver eyes tightly. “It is such a noble thing to go through.” Yin couldn’t talk, ve could feel verself shaking. “Don’t hesitate to use this opportunity to find out just what it is, Yin. Do you want to know what it felt like? Was I still the same person afterwards? Do I

regret it?” The shaking grew stronger, Yin was realising that ve didn’t have as much control over ver body as ve had first thought. It was made worse by the cold hand gently stroking ver back. “It was like death, Yin. I died, and was resurrected as something much greater. I honestly don’t care whether I am the same soul as I was before, my sense of identity is beyond what you could comprehend, beyond anything you could possibly be comfortable with.” The coldness left ver back, and ve felt something heavier on ver shoulder. “But I do hear it is different for everyone.” Yin opened ver eyes, and saw another human sitting next to ver. E was gently resting eir head on Yin’s shoulder. The human was similar in appearance and stature to Yin, and eir presence somehow calmed ver. The shaking was beginning to subside, but Yin was still distinctly aware of the adrenaline that flowed through ver body. “It’s ok, Yin, you can look at me.” The other human took eir head away from Yin’s shoulder, and sat cross-legged in front of ver. “Why have you come to talk to me?” Yin fixed ver eyes on the human sitting before ver. Eir skin was paler than Yin’s, eir eyes a lighter shade of blue. The human wore the same simple black dress as Yin. “I -er- I came to talk about art.” Ve lowered ver knees until ve was sitting on the rock like a chair. Yin was very aware how unprofessional ve must be appearing. “I think - I heard that you are looking for contacts in niche markets.” The human smiled, revealing ice white teeth. “Of course.” E raised an eyebrow. Yin liked the expression and wondered if ve could mimic it. “So, do you have any contacts?” “Yes, I’ve been working as an art dealer for some time now and I’ve tended not to specialise, so I have a wide range of experience, knowledge and clients. One piece I brokered went on to be viewed by almost a third of a million -” The human sighed. E stood and raised a finger to Yin’s lips. “I don’t think you’ve come here to talk business, Yin.” Yin went to say something, but e shook eir head and tapped Yin’s lips again. “I think you’ve come here for guidance.” Turning away from Yin, e jumped onto the side of a nearby rock pool. E balanced precariously on a thin ridge, while Yin felt a serious lack of control

over ver situation. “Why do you think that?” “Why do I think that? Yin, you have to realise something before we go any further. Before you go any further down the route that you were forced down.” Yin felt offended, and e somehow seemed to pick up on that. Worryingly, this body seemed to have a mind of its own when it came to displaying emotions. “Don’t try to convince yourself that you haven’t been forced down this road, Yin. Don’t try and tell me that you exercised any form of free will when you agreed to it.” Yin said nothing. Ve felt offended, and didn’t agree entirely with that statement, but didn’t want to get into an argument with an intellect that ve didn’t have the slightest understanding of. “You have to realise, Yin, that this,” e swept eir hands downwards, indicating eir own body, “is only a mouthpiece. A sentient mouthpiece, but just a mouthpiece nonetheless. Like your output modes, your entire avatar, this body is simply a way for something hidden to interact with its environment. The difference is that the hidden something pulling my strings is something you could not imagine, nor comprehend.” Yin felt like the heart beating in ver chest was going to jump out of ver mouth. “Why did you bring me here? I’m assuming you found me, rather than the other way around.” The human smiled, and stepped down from the rocks. “We’re entering a unique period in the history of Hubris, things will never be the same, Yin. We think you might be destined to play a big part, although it’s likely to be beyond your control.” “So why bring me here? If you want to give me advice, I’m listening.” “The guidance you can be given is limited, Yin. We just wanted to take a closer look at you. Tell me, Yin, did you get an unexpected message before you came here?” Ve nodded, ver face grew hot. It felt almost like it was throbbing, it was very uncomfortable. “I’d recommend you go see your secret friend, Yin, ve is waiting for you.” The human moved closer, eir eyes locked on Yin‘s. E pulled Yin to ver feet, wrapping eir arms around ver. “You will have a big decision to make, Yin. But when the time comes, forget what I’ve told you and just follow your own heart.

Some things matter only to you, and those that you love. But, Yin, don’t forget this place because it is your home. Nothing matters more than that.” E embraced ver and kissed eir lips to Yin’s, then whispered softly into ver ear. “You need to go now, Yin.” The arms unwrapped themselves, and the human moved back to look at Yin once more. “What do you think of reality, Yin?” Yin took a last glance around the cave. “I think…that reality is entirely subjective.” The human laughed, turned and dived headfirst into deep, black water. 6 “Wake up, Jaan.” The female voice sounded soft and comforting, but assertive. “Do not attempt to get up from the bed, please await further instructions.” Jaan grunted and rolled onto his side. “Wake up now , Jaan.” The female voice now sounded noticeably more insistent. “I am awake, what’s going on?” “I’m sorry, Jaan, this apartment is now legally under the control of Clan Epok. Please comply with all instructions.” That sounded like very bad news. Clan Epok were the group of empaths that policed Epokis, the small nation-state that Jaan called home. They were liberal in the extreme, which was the reason that Jaan had been drawn here, but he had heard some ugly rumours about what they were capable of should they be crossed. He rolled over to his other side and reached out a hand. She was still there, lying on her side, facing away from him. She was cold and clammy to the touch. Jaan shook her gently, but she didn’t respond. The normally friendly DNI interface wasn’t running through the usual morning routine. No newslink, no market analysis, no back-up memory cache, no breakfast option. He mentally probed it, but was politely informed that externally linked processes were locked. He could set a time to automatically retry, but he declined. “What’s going on?” He asked, out loud, rubbing his eyes. Opening them, he

saw that the room was fully lit. The window-screens, normally projecting realtime views of Terranova’s barren wilderness, were just throwing out white light. “Discussions are ongoing; the clan is unwilling to relay more information to you until they have decided what your charge will actually be.” His stomach burned, his mouth tasted like shit; both were sure signs of another heavy night. Normally he’d let his body clean itself out the oldfashioned way, but it seemed that the situation might need him alert rather quickly. He triggered a couple of internal detox processes, leaving the finer details to a certain sub-subconscious system that could handle it better than he ever could. “Do you mean a criminal charge?” He groggily asked, summoning some hydration from his bedside wall. “That’s correct, it is advised that you continue to have the freedom to say anything you feel appropriate. But you should think carefully about your words and actions, as you are the subject of active investigation.” That was very bad news, if slightly confusing. Epok inevitably had all the evidence they needed to come to a decision, as they could draw on huge amounts of observational data. Just like the majority of the civilised galaxy, universal surveillance was the norm. Most polities had some form of angelnet, a layer of cotton wool guiding life away from undesirable and/or dangerous actions. Some polities took an active and visible role in meddling in the lives of their citizens, while others would stay subtly in the background. Luckily for sophonts like Jaan, who enjoyed the undesirable and/or dangerous things in life, there were still areas where the safety net was extremely lax. But even with a distant and forgiving government, it was worth remembering that they could (and most probably would) still be watching. He looked around the room again, sipping water, and tried to piece together his situation. The bedroom was a mess, clothes littered the floor and the walls were warped into useless approximations of furniture. Leftover meals were thrown in a corner, next to a gift he had received a few weeks ago; a garish wooden sculpture of himself. The apartment interface was designed to clean regularly, but the lack of detailed instructions from Jaan had given it the impression that he didn’t particularly want it to. Worryingly, there was no sign that the interface was even functioning at the moment. The familiar female voice was the same as usual but there was no other

sign of activity. Normally the apartment was trying to communicate with him in scores of different ways, connecting him with the wider world and imparting useful (or intrusive) advice by way of his numerous DNI implants. But the barrage of requests, suggestions, and demands that would normally fall down his optical nerve and tickle at his neocortex was now eerily silent. He tried to wake her again, but she still wasn’t responding. He remembered a little of the previous night. The previous four or five nights, actually. His life had seemed to be made up of one long binge, but for reference he mentally split it into several shorter binges. Like most citizens in Epokis he had a generous cache of read-only memory, managed by the Epok clan, that would record movements, interactions and transactions. It was now unavailable, encrypted for legal reasons. He could remember meeting her last night, it was the first time they had met. He tried to remember her name, but wasn’t sure he had ever asked. Obviously she had decided to come home with him, but what had happened? Did she have something to do with this brush with the law? He had no idea, but really wanted to wake her and find out. He sat up, and tried to roll her over onto her back. She was heavy, much harder to move than he had expected. He eventually managed to get her over onto her back, and her head lolled back at a bizarre angle. Her mouth hung open, the lips blue. Her eyes were open, glazed over. He jumped out of the bed, swearing. She continued to lay there, her body somehow looking more dead the longer he looked at it. “Jaan, please sit back on the bed immediately. The instructions were very clear, and if you continue to disobey them then you may be restrained by force.” “Okay, okay, should I…shouldn’t I do…something?” He had no idea what to do but, as his apartment was now under the supervision of Epok, he hoped they might be able to suggest something. “This room is now a crime scene. Please sit back on the bed; this is your final warning.” He sat back down next to her. He was naked, but she was fully clothed in a black and white striped jumpsuit. He pulled the bedcover over her head. Long strands of pink hair were still visible over the top of the sheet. Jaan noticed that he was shaking; panic was starting to overcome him rapidly. He reached down to the floor and picked up a half-smoked joint. His

trembling hands placed it into his mouth and he inhaled as hard as he could. Synthesised narcotics were disintegrated by the reusable nano-catalyst within the joint, and the processed particles slipped easily into his lungs. The chemicals filtered into Jaan’s bloodstream, having their own noticeable effect as well as awaking other synthetic hormone producers and technocytes that had taken up residence in his body a long time ago. The blood-borne detox that had been flushing his system through would probably be struggling, but Jaan really needed that fix. The shaking slowly faded, and Jaan felt okay. He couldn’t help but notice used drug paraphernalia everywhere. Joints, drug bags, used ampoules. Each one more or less legal, in isolation, but together it could mean something very different. The policies of Epokis were bafflingly complex. Unlike most of the regions subscribing to the fashionable Second Federation Ontology, and the other nonaligned Archai-ruled polities, the full extent of the rules of governance were available to everyone. But in eliminating the shortcomings of modosophont legal systems Epok had crafted an indecipherable tangle of mathematics, and your average modo would struggle to make sense of it. But they were free to try. “Did I…did I kill her?” He managed to ask. He was terrified of the answer, but he had to know. “We will level all accusations at you when your charge has been decided. There is a considerable amount of data to analyse.” “But you must know I did it! Surely it would be obvious if I did anything, or else I couldn’t have done anything at all.” “What you have done is not in any doubt, Jaan.” A tiny, but obvious, icon appeared in Jaan’s peripheral vision. Incoming information from Epok. “We are currently marrying the data into a framework for your detailed accusation. The directive you will be charged under can be found within the legislation file PK59-134-448, sub-file D, statute 78.3. We do not expect you to be familiar with this legislation group, so please review the material we have made available to you.” He glanced back at the pink hair emerging from under the sheets. He knew that murder was in the PK grouping. “Wait, are saying that she is dead? Dead, without any back-up resources?” The only reason that a citizen wouldn’t employ some form of back-up would be for an obscure religious or ethical reason. If she was resurrectable, then the worst charge he could face would surely be Extremely Grievous Bodily

Harm; but this somehow seemed much more serious. “The victim is a declared Solarist zar, and her particular denomination deems that she employs only a very cold back-up routine.” He groaned, and had no idea what that would mean to the legal proceedings. Solarism, although a major religion and the basis for the vast Solar Dominion, was so rare on Terranova that it was almost considered a cult. Terranova was, officially, aligned with the NoCoZo, which had always been traditionally opposed to the Solar Dominion on both moral and commercial grounds. Still, Solarism had been allowed to grow in popularity on Terranova. Even within Epokis, despite the central AI worshiping premise of Solarism going against the traditional, but waning, anti-AI views, the clan had been forced to give it legal recognition. Flicking his eye downwards and right, he brought the icon into view. He ignored the numerous automatic warnings, and the information file opened with a splash. The female voice of the apartment started to spout obligatory legal phrases, which could largely be ignored. “You have not yet been charged, and should further evidence come to light before the charge is officially made then it will be taken into account. As a full citizen of Epokis, you are considered able to defend your own actions in legal proceedings. If you feel you cannot defend yourself due to a disability or other disadvantage that is no fault of your own then you may be entitled to assistance. Any charges, legally, must be understandable without mathematical reasoning. But the court may require the mathematical detail to be analysed. Any religious, ideological or similar defence that is not deemed acceptable in legislation will be dismissed. The right to appeal is-” Statute 78.3 swamped Jaan’s senses like a tidal wave washing over him. It was massively complex, and he was struggling under the onslaught. His completely artificial hippocampus took charge of storing the information within his short-term memory, while he mentally pictured the flow of material being carefully guided into appropriate areas of the brain. If the same amount of information were to be forced into a baseline brain in the same short amount of time it would probably cause a minor stroke. He’d downloaded information in this way countless times, both willingly and not, but it still felt disconcerting. It would always be so, as long as he continued to consider himself human. He began to start looking at the legislation in more detail. It was a supremely odd sensation to know something intimately, but look at it for the very first time. It could be fun, he’d tried something similar with lovers in the

past, but this just had the vague suggestion of ominous inevitability. Taking another long drag on the joint to calm himself, he began to find the features of the legislation simultaneously reassuring and worrying. It was worrying in that continuity laws would in fact consider her discontinued for the purpose of the case against Jaan, although somewhere an instance of her would probably be walking around that would be legally considered to be the same person that had died in his room last night. That new instance would, admittedly, be quite out of date, even by several years, but Jaan felt it very unfair to consider her as “dead” in the permanent sense of the word. But, more fortunately, it seemed that Epok had not considered him to have actually outright killed the girl in his bed. Rather it had apparently occurred by way of some sort of negligence. Granted, it was a very severe negligence, but at least it wasn’t murder. He almost laughed at one line that explained that the details of the case would not be withheld from the public. The whole of Epokis could already know what happened, but Jaan was still more or less oblivious. It crossed his mind that they might not be aware of that fact. It mentioned nothing in the legislation about the defendant needing full knowledge of his own actions. They might just assume that he knew what had happened. He made a mental note, at least he might be able to get a retrial. The sentencing was confusing. It seemed to depend in part on the victim’s judgement of the situation. Having died in a tragic accident, Jaan was unsure exactly how she would pass that judgement. “Citizen Jaan Yin,” the apartment used his full name, presumably to officialise its statement, “you are hereby charged under legislation file PK-59134-448. The crime can be outlined as causing the death of a fellow citizen by gross negligence. You have simultaneously been charged with eleven related charges, the full details of which are in the case documentation which will be released to you shortly. These additional charges include, but are not limited to, providing illicit drugs to a declared member of a recognized religion, administering illicit drugs to someone unwilling to have them administered, and treating the regulations of Epokis with contempt. Do you have a direct answer or question regarding these charges?” Jaan shrugged, he didn’t even know what half of them were. And those he did know about were a bit of a surprise. “Citizen Yin, you will have a short period of time in which you will consult the case with the victim.” Jaan couldn’t help but smile. The victim was lying

dead in front of him, it was almost a relief that she’d soon be chatting to him. “Hello, Jaan.” The voice was only vaguely familiar, but he instantly knew who it would belong to. He glanced towards the entrance to the room, and her avatar sharpened itself into focus. She was recognisable as the same person on the bed, although her virtual incarnation was extravagantly radiant. She wore simple clothes, just a flowing white dress and white sandals to cover her pale skin. Her skin, her eyes, her array of jewellery, all shed golden light in every direction. His DNI projected her into his head, and did a pretty good job of simulating light and shadow bouncing around the furniture and junk in the room. “I’m sorry.” It was all he could say, and he hoped she believed him. “Oh Jaan, you really are in a heap of shit. I’m presuming you’re claiming that you don’t remember anything?” Jaan really didn’t, but accepted it could be a case of selective memory. He nodded solemnly. “Fucking junkie-scum. I really liked you, Jaan. I really did. I thought we could be something together. I had a bad feeling about you, but this,” she gestured at her prone body under the bedcovers, “it’s beyond a joke. You will suffer for this, Jaan.” “I thought you’d have a back up,” he mumbled. “I believe that immortality creates spiritual stagnation, this instance of me was branched and stored a long time ago. Unfortunately, for you especially, so long ago that I’d actually be considered a different instance from your victim.” She emphasised the word, victim . It shot through Jaan, and he began to hope she would get this over with quickly. “But I’m still the legal heir-apparent of my own estate, property and identity. So I can be considered your victim, and can sentence you. Fun, huh?” She smiled, and walked over to Jaan. He remembered how overwhelmingly, achingly beautiful she had been. They had made a connection, so much more than the artificial wireless links so easily established in a modern society. He remembered how he had told himself to walk away, she was too fragile. “Is there anything that I can do?” He wasn’t hopeful, but thought it might be worth trying. He silently prayed that forgiveness was included in the Solarian virtues, and that vengeance was not. “You will, Jaan, you will. You’re going to convert, to become another glorious zar following the teachings of Borde.” She slapped him, her virtual hand ghosting through his face. He felt nothing, but it still hurt. “You’ll make your pilgrimage, but only after I kill you.” She turned her face towards the ceiling, and smiled. “Sentencing complete.”

The outcome of the trial appeared in Jaan’s vision. He was to be killed, but his emergency back-up routines would be allowed to operate. The victim would assume ownership of his identity, and granted the right to copy and distribute him at her desire. Jaan’s immediate reaction was close to relief, it just didn’t seem that bad. But he doubted she would make it easy or painless for him. He was young, less than twenty years old. He had never died before, never had to employ a back-up system. He was apprehensive, and took a long, last drag from the joint still in his hand. “What are you going to do with me?” He asked, softly. “The Dominion has a number of-” She paused, and winked at him. “Let just say, interesting projects. Maybe you’ll end up in one of them. Or maybe I’ll just put you on the most sadistic identity market I can find. Maybe I’ll take you to a place where you will wake up in vacuum, die, wake up in vacuum, die, wake up vacuum and die, ad nauseam, until the end of the Universe. There’s just so many choices. Maybe I’ll just copy you a thousand times and not worry about having to make a decision. What would you prefer?” He shrugged. He’d had a few notices of his appeal rights while she had been talking, but he ignored them. It seemed futile to argue against the charge, and deep down he felt that he deserved whatever punishment was coming to him. She laughed, and virtual slapped him again. “Goodbye Jaan, I’m so glad I will never see you again. I hope you rot in hell.” Her avatar faded, but didn’t quite disappear. Her faint outline hovered where she had previously sat, ready to watch his demise. The room burst into flame. The walls vanished behind fierce barriers of fire. Emergency warnings flashed in front of his eyes, notifying him that the apartment was somehow suddenly ablaze. It was immediately excruciatingly scalding in the room. Jaan quickly panicked, then moved beyond panic into a strange sense of acceptance. Wood sculptures, furniture, even the bed was quickly becoming engulfed in flames. Intense heat gently prickled at his skin, the smell of singed hair appeared. His DNI took over his entire visual field, and gave him a stark choice that he had never previously had to make: //Do you wish to initiate an emergency back-up routine? Note, this is a destructive, internal process.//

He tried to indicate a negative response, but it ignored him. Presumably that option had been disabled; suicide was not an acceptable punishment. It told him that it had not received a response and was assuming emergency control, including initiation of the internal back-up procedure. The oxygen was obviously draining quickly from the room, and Jaan was finding it hard to stay lucid. Presumably machinery, long implanted but never used, within his brain was also beginning to break down the networks of his mind. Each neuron and synapse would be recorded, with no regard given to keeping them alive. He felt whole parts of himself fail. Memories, senses, even his personality was falling away to nothing. He despondently realised that his final thoughts were about time; was the world really starting to run in slow motion? Or was his dying brain simply losing its internal clock? As his visual field began to fail, the dancing flames and the remaining furniture in the room began to change into strange geometric shapes. Colours blended into each other, and the roaring sound of the fire began to soften and change into static. Larger, dark shapes began to appear in front of him like shadows. They moved around him, drawing closer. One of the shapes reached out to him. Cool, smooth plastic brushed his face. Language failed him, and logic had disappeared. He had no way of dealing with the confusion, there wasn’t any way of making sense of what was happening. He screamed. . . 7 And it screamed.

There was no other way to describe the noise; Yin had never experienced anything like it in Hubris before. The avatar was manifesting in the default configuration, the twodimensional grey square. It stood in an isolated cell of Sirkka’s personal space, a tormented monolith. The noise it made, from every output mode available to it, was a cry of

confusion and terror. It was random information, as if it had no control over itself. Yin ran a plastic limb over it again softly. It shuddered, but gave no other response. Sirkka came back into the cell, ver own avatar a twisting approximation of a Calabi-Yau manifold, and placed ver own touch onto the confused avatar. “I’ve tried everything Yin, but I had to get it away from me. Do you think that putting it in here alone was cruel?” Yin removed ver limb from the square and placed it into the tangled topology of Sirrka’s multiple dimensions, trying to reassure ver. Ve filtered out most of the noise coming from the avatar; it was impossible to quieten it completely when the source was so close. “Most would have abandoned it, Sirrka. Throwing it into a forgotten space would have been cruel, but you’ve done much more than most. Much more than you needed to.” Ve looked at Sirrka intently, trying to judge whether or not ve was happy that Yin was here. Ve had always hoped, and expected, that their reunion would be a passionate, joyous embrace caused by the inevitability of love. But had Sirrka actually just asked Yin to come here because ve didn’t know who else to ask? Sirrka’s feelings were hard to decipher at the best of times, but now anything ve might feel about Yin was blanketed in confusion and apprehension about the grey square intruding into ver home. And Yin was still puzzling over the encounter in the cave, and the strange predictions of the transapient. Ve couldn’t help running over what it might mean, concocting different scenarios to fit what e had told her. But ve forced it to the back of ver mind, and tried to concentrate. There was little space in Yin’s thoughts for ruminations over love lost and found. “Tell me again, from the beginning, where did you find this thing?” Sirkka had explained when ve had arrived, but it had made little sense to Yin. “It was in a new space I was about to work on. I opened the allocation, and it was sitting in the middle of it.” Sirrka was a designer, a creator of spaces for living, working, and entertaining. Ver customers would give ver a generous amount of currency to mould a pristine space to whatever specifications they desired. Ve would spend some of that on purchasing a new allocation of space, which ve would then craft into a new product. The rest of the currency would be profit. Ve was reasonably well known in architecture circles, and commanded some decent prices from ver

customers. “But you had no indication that the new space allocation wasn’t empty?” Yin didn’t really have much of an idea of how this worked, but there wasn’t any harm in talking through the facts. “No, but there’s never been any need for an indication before. If a space has anything at all in it, then it simply wouldn’t be a new allocation. I queried the history of the space, and it had been a new allocation up to the point that I entered.” The situation obviously made Sirrka feel uneasy. Yin tried to appear understanding, but the situation made no sense to ver at all. “The avatar wasn’t even registering on the history at all, until I checked the avatar’s status. The status showed it was in the space, and then it appeared on the history.” “When did it start screaming?” Yin queried. “Did you do anything that started it making noise?” “I don’t know. I don’t think so, I wasn’t even around when it started.” Ve motioned at Yin, indicating that they should leave the cell. “I went back to check the space where I found it, just in case I’d missed something or it had changed. It hadn’t, and when I got back it had already started. It hasn’t stopped, Yin.” They moved out of the cell, back into the main area of Sirrka’s space. It was not dissimilar to Yin’s space. Sirrka had designed Yin’s space, back when they were friends. They had worked on it together; it had been a labour of friendship before they had become lovers. Yin noticed that, although ve had kept ver personal space almost exactly the same, Sirrka had changed vers considerably. The template was recognisable, but the intricate layers over it were different. It bothered Yin, ve couldn’t help but be saddened that Sirrka had thrown something away that they had treasured together. Yin knew that it was unreasonable to think that Sirrka wouldn’t try to move on, Yin certainly had. The tactile layers of the space enveloped the two avatars, exerting a carefully choreographed calm over them. It drew them closer, but kept a subtle barrier between the pair of former lovers. Yin wondered whether Sirrka was in control of the entire process, a tacit projection of ver feelings. Not for the first time since they had been reunited, Yin felt a severe sense of longing. “It could be a glitch,” Yin supposed, not at all comfortable with what that might imply. “There are no “glitches” in Hubris, Yin,” Sirrka replied, using the official line. “If an anomaly does occur, the system simply takes everything back and erases the error.”

“But there have always been rumours, the problem has always been proving something as a system error and not a hoax. But this,” ve glanced back at the isolated cell, as if it wasn’t obvious what ve was referring to. “It’s too simple, too fundamental, to be faked. Don’t you think?” “I agree, but things are never as simple as they first appear.” Sirrka conjured an address into existence, it appeared as a tiny vortex floating in front of the baffling geometry of ver avatar, and pushed it invitingly at Yin. Ve accepted with only the slightest hesitation, and felt Sirrka follow ver down. They emerged in the eye of a hurricane. They stood in a calm bubble, as a fierce storm whirled around them; stretching to infinity in every direction. Yin could resolve each individual particle whirling around them, every one a bit of data. But trying to look at a few tens of particles was extremely difficult, viewing a megabyte seemed impossible. Ve glanced at Sirrka, noticing that ve was looking intently back. “Yin, have you ever seen one of these before?” “No, not a real one. I’ve been in simulations, idealised renderings of a personality architecture. But seeing this, they were well wide of the mark.” The complexity of the data, the evolving connections of the network, was beyond any artistic fake that Yin had ever experienced. It felt like the complexity was indeed infinite; in fact it was simply beyond the comprehension of Yin’s mental parameters. And yet, Yin knew that such an unimaginable amount of data could be physically contained within just a square centimetre of real-space computronium. It was hard to compare Hubris with the tangible universe beyond, but ve found verself thinking back to ver experience in the cave. An entire personality could fit within one of those fragile fingertips. Ve remembered how it had felt to be embodied in a human form, feeling every available facet of that cave with the rough, unfinished senses of organic life. The whirlwind around them, Yin noticed, seemed more than comparably organic. The way connections would be made and broken, almost at random, and individual particles would combine, branch and recombine made it almost seem like Yin was standing in the middle of a quickly spreading culture of bacteria. Underlying algorithms, layer upon layer of flexible and evolving control routines, lent the storm that air of organic mayhem. Yin marvelled at how

inseparably close artificial intelligence could seem to life itself. “This is the entire personality matrix of the avatar,” Sirrka broke into Yin’s thoughts. “Normally a citizen would keep this hidden, there’s no reason to expose it unless you’re having major therapy.” “Can you understand any of it?” “Personally, no, I can’t. But there’s some open-source translation software out there, if you know where to look.” Yin watched as Sirrka pulled a stylised manipulation tool into the space. “You need a lot of training to use the higher functionality, but the basics are pretty obvious.” “Have you already studied this?” “I’ve spent a bit of time on it.” Ver avatar suggested curiosity, confusion, and nervousness. “There’s something wrong, isn’t there?” Yin felt a strong urge to hold ver, but held back momentarily. Sirrka rushed to Yin anyway. Nervousness and fear burst through the emotions and ve fell into Yin’s avatar. The folded complexities of magnified spacetime wrapped itself around featureless plastic. “Tell me,” ve whispered. Sirrka said nothing, instead reaching out and setting the tool into motion. The storm around them slowed, then stopped; all at the whim of Sirrka’s manipulator. With a deft movement, ve sent the data cyclone into a fast, but controlled, spin. As it came to rest, the manipulator grabbed a section and pulled it into the empty bubble where Sirrka remained in Yin’s grasp. Yin looked at it, trying to force it to make sense. The manipulation software translated it from the raw data-script of the Hubris operating system into a more familiar user-script. Ve still struggled to infer any meaning, as ve had very rarely had to use the unwieldy building-block language. Ve realised that the last time ve had attempted to understand and use it was with Sirrka, sculpting their personal spaces. “This isn’t a frontline section, right?” Yin ventured the most obvious of hypotheses, just to break the silence if nothing else. Sirrka moved away from Yin, very slightly, to utilise the manipulation tool in a more complicated way. “Yes, that’s right. This part of the code is buried extremely deeply; I only found it by running an automatic trawl program.” Yin gave a curious look. “You know how to do that?”

“I’ve had to work with a couple of matrix spaces before, for work. And, like I said, you can get a lot of software open-source.” Ve was using the tool to chop the code into smaller chunks, for a purpose that was not immediately obvious to Yin. “But nobody would normally give anyone access to script layers so deep, so buried. This is from the core script, where the most fundamental personality facets are found. It’s not the sort of thing you want to show to the neighbours.” “Aren’t these layers hidden by default?” This conversation was disconcertingly touching on subjects that Yin had never actually thought about before. “Actually, no. Although it does seem like it sometimes. It’s more like common sense, a citizen barely needs to think about it. But this,” ve waved at the script hovering in front of them, “it seems like our avatar doesn’t even have that common sense that we all take for granted.” “So why have you highlighted this part?” Yin was feeling mightily uncomfortable with viewing parts of a mind that were almost universally offlimits elsewhere. “Don’t worry, I’m coming to that. But there is something else about the core script. I looked into some research on mental architecture and it’s believed that the majority of the core matrix is redundant data. It’s just “junk” code that has almost negligible effect, except in the most rare and unexpected cases. Some theories suggest that this allows a Darwinian evolutionary process, as small parts mutate and become active from one generation to the next. No doubt the transapients know exactly what it is for. Whatever the purpose, it means that the script we are looking at could mean nothing.” Yin stared intently at the isolated code, putting all ver concentration into making some sense of it and failing miserably. Seeing ver confusion, Sirrka began highlighting small sections of script. The manipulation tool divided and distinguished significant terms and lines, drawing Yin’s attention to key areas. “This small section,” Sirrka indicated a specific line of code, containing just a few terms, “is repeated several times within the core script.” The manipulator tool reached deep into the frozen storm and forced several lines to the fore. Yin agreed that they were almost identical. “Do you recognise them?” Sirrka asked, obviously keen not to lead Yin completely to a conclusion.

“It looks like an address, right?” Yin ran a quick address query, but it came back negative. “But not one that currently exists.” “Right, it’s an unallocated space. Now look at this,” ve threw the address lines back into the data, and pulled out a larger section of code from deep in the storm. Yin stared at it blankly. Small parts of it looks familiar, but as a whole ve failed to put it together. “It’s the OS script equivalent of a space parameter, Yin. These are the instructions for creating a new space in Hubris, and quite a substantial one.” “Is this related in anyway to the address scripts?” It seemed the logical question, although Yin felt this situation was becoming anything but logical. “Presumably, I’m not sure how to interpret the terms that connect them.” Sirrka again started highlighting small parts of the code. “But I can interpret most of the instruction script,” ve started pointed out individual terms as ve spoke, “size, entrances, amenities, capacity, décor. But it’s the parts that I don’t recognise that worry me, simply because I thought that I’d seen everything.” “Why do you say they worry you?” “I don’t know, some of this just seems so ominous. Like this line,” ve grabbed it and pulled it to within touching distance. “It’s so similar to a one-way exit that I’m tempted to just accept it as that. But it goes nowhere; it’s a trapdoor into nothing.” Yin was suddenly reminded of Diirt, disappearing into the abstract nothingness beyond the homestead boundary. Ve felt horrified that ve had barely thought about Diirt since leaving the homestead, it seemed that ve had been concentrating on anything but ver partner. Ve looked at Sirrka, and the sense of selfishness and worry over ver partner subsided into an odd sense of realisation. Yin realised that leaving Sirrka had been the biggest mistake ve had ever made. For just a moment, all ve could think about was Sirrka and how ve could rebuild their life together. “There are also these terms, spread throughout the core script,” Sirrka interrupted Yin’s yearnings. Obviously they were not thinking about the same things, at that moment. Sirrka started grabbing hundreds of small terms, seemingly at random. “These are most worrying, watch what happens when I isolate and try to highlight them.” The terms seemed to still be in the operating system script, the unintelligible language underlying everything in Hubris. The manipulation tool

would grab a term, try to twist it into a meaningful equivalent, but fail spectacularly. The tool would break down, rather than the script, by shattering into a thousand component parts. After a moment, the reconstituted tool would reappear in the space. “I thought it was a problem with the tool,” Sirrka said, ceasing the futile translation attempt. “But the tool should default to an idle mode if it malfunctioned. This breakdown mode is actually a safeguard. These terms are illegal, citizens aren’t allowed to work with, view, or even know about them. Yin, they shouldn’t even exist.” That was disturbing. Although ve tried not to show it, Yin suddenly found verself experiencing a deep, strange, and powerful terror. Ve suddenly knew that everything that had happened recently must be connected, somehow. Diirt, the transapient, the reunion with Sirrka, and now, the avatar. Yin was convinced that they must all be part of the same bizarre situation. Ve was just missing the one piece of the puzzle that would make the relationship between them obvious. “There’s one more thing about this script, Yin.” Sirrka looked nervous, as if ve didn’t actually want to talk about it. “I know you very well, Yin. We know each other better than anyone else knows us.” “Of course.” Yin realised that this was the first time, since they had been reunited, that Sirrka had even acknowledged their past. But why bring it up know, what did it have to do with the avatar and its parameter space? “Then you’d know that I’d recognise you anywhere, no matter how hidden you were.” Yin could only manage to whisper, “Yes.” “This is your personality matrix, Yin. This is you.” Ver thoughts were spinning uncontrollably, contrasting with the static hurricane surrounding them. Scenarios constructed themselves in Yin’s mind, fabricating explanations for what was happening, before they were torn down by further reasoning. Sirrka was explaining how it wasn’t an exact copy, how Yin’s personality parameters were distributed throughout the entire matrix in slightly different, but unmistakably similar, configurations. But Yin didn’t hear ver, except faintly in the background. Ver technical explanations and speculations were being drowned out by the hundred thousand notifications of a hundred thousand citizens simultaneously swamping ver profile.

8 Jaan began to adjust. Desperately trying to create something approaching a frame of reference for himself, he began to draw extremely weak analogies between the world he was used to and the bizarre environment he now found himself in. He pictured himself trapped in a straightjacket, locked in a padded cell. He couldn’t see, in any real sense of the word, but he was somewhat aware of his surroundings. Instead of actual vision, there seemed to be something more similar to a heightened spatial awareness. He knew, rather than saw, that he was in a small room, with seemingly no way in or out. He was aware that there had previously been other things in the room with him, and that they had now left. Two separate entities, one a flowing mass of plastic and the other an eddy of nothingness, had been in the room when he had woken. They had left, or disappeared; he couldn’t tell if they had used an actual exit or simply blinked out of existence. Most disturbingly, he was very aware of himself. He was an inanimate block in the middle of the room, radiating information that identified him in a way that Jaan could not compare to anything he had previously experienced. Although he was stationary now, he intuitively felt that he was capable of moving at will, should he give the correct command. For a moment, he struggled to bring to mind just what constituted a mental command to move. A person decides to go somewhere, and their legs take them. He’d never had to command his body to move. He tried deciding to move, and nothing happened. He tried to mentally tell himself to move, but nothing happened. He tried to speak, out loud. Move over there. He heard himself, possibly in his own mind, but his new sense of space didn’t indicate that any information had been relayed. Unable to even panic, Jaan hesitated over his next step. Should he just wait it out? Would the two entities ever come back, and would that be a good thing or not? What happens if this is some kind of malfunctioning virch prison, with no hope of ever escaping? He thought back to the ship, and the late doctor. Was this the project that he had spoken of? Feeling an encroaching sense of boredom, he mentally pictured himself sitting, then standing, then walking towards the edge of the cell. To his surprise, he suddenly became aware that he was moving. He pictured

himself moving in a small circle, and that’s exactly what happened. Pleased with his progress, he began to experiment. He imagined himself shedding the straightjacket, and he was aware that what actually happened was a fascinating approximation. He pictured himself walking to the edge of the room, and knocking on the wall. He sensed himself moving to the wall and striking it with something resembling a limb. For his final trick, he tried to picture himself leaving the room. Nothing happened after the first few attempts, but he didn’t want to give up just yet. Ver head swam as more and more notifications fell into ver consciousness. Ve had been out of touch, so ve couldn’t receive any actual messages, but each citizen that brushed ver profile left an indication that they had visited. And each indication tickled Yin’s attention ever so slightly. One, or two, or ten, were easily ignorable, but as the numbers grew from hundreds of thousands to millions it became almost impossible to think about anything else. “What is it, Yin?” Sirrka looked at Yin, confused and concerned. “Are you ok?” “I don’t know, I’m getting millions of hits simultaneously. Something’s happened.” “Could it be the avatar?” Yin didn’t think so, nobody could know about it while it was locked in that isolated shell. Even if Sirrka had told anybody else, word couldn’t spread that quickly. “I think it’s something to do with Diirt, and the others.” Yin watched as a painful expression momentarily washed over Sirrka. They hadn’t been mentioned yet. “Ve had been working on a big project. When I last saw Diirt, ve almost looked like ve had committed suicide. We feared the worst, but maybe it was just part of ver project.” “Should you talk to them?” “I think I’m going to have to, but I’ll be back.” Sirrka kissed Yin; gently, cautiously, but heartfelt. Yin smiled, and jumped. Jaan was banging his head against a brick wall. He had pictured himself walking through an open door, but without an

actual door in the room that failed to work. He pictured himself walking through the wall, but that seemed to be as impossible here as it was anywhere. Finally, he pictured himself emulating the two entities that had previously been in the room. He imagined himself disappearing from the room, and appearing in another, undefined, space. Progress. He didn’t go anywhere, but suddenly he was aware that he had the option. It was a strange feeling, like his own mind was querying where he should go. He couldn’t quite find the right answer. He tried to give precise coordinates, postal addresses, and geographical locations. Then he tried vague descriptions of places he’d like to be; somewhere nice, somewhere familiar, anywhere but here. A new analogy occurred to him. Like the analogies before, it emerged from somewhere within, but somehow separate from, his own thoughts. It was so precise, and so helpful, that he couldn’t help but feel that it had not quite been his own creativity that had come up with it. He saw himself as a piece of software, a net browser. But he was both the user and the software. He hadn’t attempted to navigate the Known Net on Terranova, but he had used the ubiquitous local equivalent. The user would enter the address, specifying where the information they desired could be found, and the standard browser software would find that information and bring it to the user. This was similar, but backwards; the browser would take the user to the information. He just needed an address. Terranova standard net addresses didn’t seem to work. Each string of domain numbers would be rejected, his own thoughts telling him that they were not valid. Deep in his own thoughts, something told him that he did know a valid address. It was a distant, buried memory. It was like a name that he had heard just once, many years ago, and never had to recall since. But it was there, waiting to be remembered.

Standing in the middle of the common, Yin watched in horrified amazement as hundreds of citizens died. Several confused avatars were stumbling through the remains, visibly upset. Ve had come here because it was an obvious public area where ve could

contact ver partners without fear of them getting suspicious. It used to be a popular area, often completely overcrowded, but it had recently fallen dramatically out of fashion. It was never deserted though, as there were always those that enjoyed the now tranquil area. Rolling hills, calm oceans and pink skies merged into one towards the horizon; a long-forgotten artist’s passionate rendering of an unknown planet. And spread across that serene landscape, in every direction, avatars were being slowly dismembered and degraded. Similar to Diirt’s corpse, they looked almost like they were melting into the nominal floor; disappearing into nothing. The profile hits were still coming in, but Yin was beginning to adjust to the constant noise. Still unavailable to incoming messages, ve ran a hesitant check on the size of ver inbox. Close to five million messages waited for ver attention, almost every one claiming to be high-priority. Ve didn’t immediately see any senders that ve recognised, but it was impossible to view them all. Ve sent a spider scuttling into the inbox, to return with messages only from Fu and Tree. There was a short pause as the spider perused each message in turn, grabbing any that satisfied its simple brief. It returned, almost looking sheepish at its single find. The message was one of the earliest, sent only a short time after the barrage began. Yin opened it and the contents expanded around ver. “Yin, where are you?” Fu asked rhetorically. Ve was in the homestead, looking worried. Yin couldn’t see Tree’s presence in the message. “I hope your meeting went well, I look forward to hearing about it. But, as you may have noticed, there’s an odd situation. You might already know the details, but I’ll try to explain if not. It appears Diirt’s-” ve paused, obviously unsure how to describe it, “paralysis was self-imposed. If you’ve been outside, you will have seen something similar happening en masse. It appears a guild of underground artists, including Diirt, have collaborated on a huge performance piece. The citizens taking part are devotees of one or more of the guild members and, although those artists could be described as underground, that encompasses over half of the entire population. “The participants are now comatose, and will be until an unspecified event triggers their emergence. It’s not clear how they were able to do this, as there should be safeguards against it. Some are claiming transap involvement, but nothing has been confirmed.”

Yin was shocked, nothing like this had ever happened in Hubris. Ve had that feeling of connectivity again, the sense that this was related in some way to the avatar in Sirrka’s space. “Obviously, this has sparked huge interest in the members of the artists belonging to the guild, and their relations. There’s the expected media curiosity, but we expect there to be plenty of citizens out there who think that the guild have done something terrible which should not go unpunished. “We are taking cover, away from the homestead, and I’d suggest you do the same. When you decide to check your messages, and you hopefully look at this, get in touch so I can tell you where we are. “Be careful, Yin, and we will see you soon.” It was a typically practical message from Fu; instructions rather than options. But ve was right; it would be a good idea to duck out of the public spaces. Sirrka’s personal space would be the obvious choice, although Yin had a certain reluctance to see the avatar again. Ve took one more look at the scenery, and prepared to jump back. But something grabbed ver attention, and ve froze. A message flagged Yin’s attention, breaking through the unavailability that shouldn’t allow any direct communication to intrude so perceptibly. Surprised, and annoyed, Yin threw the message back to ver inbox. It stubbornly refused to leave, as if Yin had done nothing. Ve tried again, and this time the message defiantly opened itself. The information washed over Yin, and ve had to play it again to even attempt to understand it. There seemed to be several voices speaking at once, each clamouring for attention, talking over each other. Yin made out two distinct speakers, but there could have been more hidden in the confusion. Words and sentences emerged from the static, but it seemed like neither side was actually winning the battle for attention. Ve had to double check the details, because they made even less sense. The message had not just been sent to Yin. It had been sent to every citizen in Hubris, an unprecedented event. Yin played it through again, with a growing sense of horrific realisation. “Citizens of Hubris, this message is obliga…is the controlling clade…do not attempt to join the paralysed. Any attempt to do so will invoke severe retribution. Those already gone will be revised and reinstated in due cour…” “…Hubris is in lock down. Do not attempt to raise the dead, lest you lose

yourself. You have been lied to, the adminis…” “…there appears to be numerous system problems, some you may have noticed. These will be…ly down for short periods, there will be no memory cache rewrites at the current time…” “…no transapient order, only one criminal tyrant rules the…we will attempt to extricate those that…information is absolutely vital to the success…” “…ignore all messages that appear to be a subversion attempt, those responsible will…expect normal…have any suspicions then…” “…Implementation 2.4…Viktor is vital to maintain peace…the capture of Orintergen…” Orintergen. Yin felt the word hammer itself deep into ver mind, forcing itself into places that ve didn’t want it to go. Ver vision whirled, ve lost control. Images of darkening pink sky, confused citizens and deep oceans merged into one spinning panorama. Reality fell away from Yin as the name drilled deeper into ver core. 9 The wave of information hit Jaan like a violent assault. He couldn’t quite make sense of the feeling, but he somehow felt violated as the voices pushed their way into his mind. He had been sitting and concentrating in his room, struggling to remember the address that he was sure still stayed trapped somewhere in his memory. A small icon had appeared in the room, tiny but impossible to ignore. Jaan had found himself moving towards the icon, and it opened itself like a package as he moved himself over it. He couldn’t make any sense of the information, but he felt a glimmer of recognition as it washed over him. Although he understood nothing, there was still a feeling that the information was making connections between pieces of knowledge already in his mind. The package of information, which he now knew to be a message, stopped as suddenly as it had started. In the silence, Jaan remembered the address. He remembered that he had to go there, he remembered that he had to build. Sirrka’s address hung in Yin’s mind, but ve hesitated. The complete loss of control wrought by that name started to subside, and in its place ve felt like ve

had two, very separate, thought processes running simultaneously. One was urging Yin back towards Sirrka’s space, pushing ver back to the enigmatic avatar. The other urged rational caution. It spoke of taking stock; weathering the current storm before doing anything rash. Ve had no doubt that ve ached to be with Sirrka at that moment, both for the sanctuary and for the hope that their relationship might somehow continue rekindling itself. But at the same time, the urge to return to Sirrka was driven not only by lovelorn longing, but by the presence of the avatar. Yin was terrified by the mysterious power of the monolith, but still ve was convincing verself to return to it. Yin could only conclude, disturbingly, that something, or some things were thinking for ver. And, as the opposing voices grew more ferocious in their arguments, Yin began to experience strange, vague visions. Hallucinations of a ship, a strange metal crew and a tormented human doctor. Sirrka’s address still hung in Yin’s mind, waiting patiently as ve tried not to collapse under the onslaught. Mentally, Jaan had completely collapsed. It didn’t seem to matter; all control over his present situation seemed to have disappeared anyway. Entering the address into the internal query had transported him to an entirely different setting from the original room. The sensation of the journey had been one of moving without moving. Jaan imagined sub-atomic particles racing through the twisted intricacy of multidimensional plank-scale space, while moving only a negligible distance through the classical dimensions. And he had then found himself here, a space that seemed to go on forever. A ghost-grey grid matrix stretched in all directions towards infinity. Jaan started to explore as best as he was able but, apart from moving in useless little circles, found his movements mostly restricted. The space had appeared entirely empty, but that quickly began to change. The restriction he felt was different from the straitjacket in the last room. This restriction seemed impossible to escape from, welded steel rather than

knotted cloth. He saw himself in a power-assist suit, his limbs locked in heavyduty mechanical legs and arms and his hand disappearing into oversized, industrial manipulators. But he wasn’t able to control the mechanism, simply along for the ride. Whatever had control could work with deft ease, conjuring seemingly random objects into existence with flamboyant precision. Jaan could not guess what was being created. But whatever would emerge, it was going to be huge. Paralysed by indecision, Yin watched as the world began to crumble. The sky in the idealised landscape had turned from a gentle pink to a deep, unsettling red. Strange holes in the scenery appeared, exposing the underlying wire frame architecture before being redrawn again with unsatisfyingly hurried geometries. It was obvious that something was very wrong with Hubris. Worryingly, Yin felt on the verge of realising what that thing was. “It must be destroyed.” It seemed almost like the doctor had spoken to ver in another life, so vague was the memory. It wasn’t exactly intuition, but Yin found verself assuming that the malfunctioning space as an omen that Hubris, the Universe ve had called home, was rapidly coming to a violent end. Premeditated plans rearranged themselves like self-constructing jigsaws from the thoughts, memories and beliefs stored within Yin’s psyche. They’d always been there, but each thought, when kept separate and isolated from the others, meant almost nothing. As escape routes, treacherous but potentially negotiable, laid themselves before Yin, there was one important decision that ve knew had to be taken. Was there still time to save Hubris, or would there need to be an unwitting act of ultimate sacrifice by its citizens? Yin grimly watched the beautiful rolling hills degrade into featureless wire approximations, fearing it would be the latter. It blew into Jaan’s mind like a strong gust of wind, creating havoc with the carefully arranged but fragile furniture of his mind.

He had been watching, amazed, as his hands had created a masterpiece. He likened it initially to a whirlpool; space twisting away like water disappearing down a plughole to some unknown destination. But looking again, he found a better analogy. He saw it as a wormhole, the violations of physical law that tied modern Terragen civilisation together. Vast mega-scale support mechanisms, using exotic fields to manipulate space-time in unspeakable ways, surrounded the wormhole itself to keep it from collapsing with dire consequences. The analogy was very rough, Jaan had seen nothing in this place that he could liken exactly to the real world, but he felt sure that the creation had a similar purpose. But as he watched the furious assembling wane to almost nothing, he had felt a new sensation. It was a presence, a presence that was disturbingly familiar. The spirit seemed primitive, like a simple computer programme written millennia ago. But despite being a personality from a bygone era, it was almost all-powerful in its own domain and had the confidence of personality that had just never been programmed to feel fear. Instead of just taking over Jaan’s body, Orintergen began to possess Jaan at a much deeper level; a puppet-master pulling the mental strings of a confusingly self-aware doll. The parts of Jaan that he could still call his own screamed in terror and anguish as he watched his own hands begin to tear down the machine of salvation. Yin began to realise, with a growing sense of horror, that there would never be time to somehow convince the population that the avatar was their only chance of survival. Ve was having trouble convincing verself that this was actually happening, and ve doubted anyone else would believe ver. Ve knew, from information that had always been within ver memories, that the mission had gone very wrong. The plan had been to infiltrate the influential, but subtle, art community and use it to teach as much of the population as possible of the necessary escape ideas. The seeds, memes disguised within popular art pieces, would be spread and allow Yin, when the time came, to simply lead the masses into deliverance. But something had gone wrong, and Orintergen had somehow subverted those seeds. Instead of being readied for escape, a huge proportion of the population had locked themselves away. Effectively, they were now dead.

There would never be time to re-educate, or even force, the rest of the citizens into the correct escape route. But Yin knew, even though it sickened ver to the core, that it no longer mattered. The mission, the exposure of Orintergen’s vast memetic playground and the location of eir other instances, could still be a limited success if just Yin could escape before either the joint SolarianNegantropist forces destroyed Hubris or Orintergen pressed the self-destruct button. Ve knew that part of ver, most of ver, had now been somehow changed into a cold-blooded Solarian infiltration agent. But, Yin was sure, a part of ver remained that still needed to save those that ve loved. The infiltration agent was forced aside, as Yin pulled ver homestead address from memory. Ve placed the route leading to Tree and Fu next to Sirrka’s address, and the two choices hovered in front of ver. Yin heard the new side of ver split personality tell ver that there would be time to reach just one destination. The door was open now, but Orintergen was destroying more of it as time inevitably slipped past. There was no way of reaching Fu and Tree by a simple message; they would have to be talked to in person. And Yin was sure that Sirrka simply wouldn’t be willing to be in the same space as Fu and Tree. Sirrka wouldn’t trust Yin, not after ve had cut off their relationship so abruptly. Knowing that ve would regret whoever ve left behind, Yin jumped. It had been designed to allow passage for up to five hundred million people, leading them from one doomed universe to a very different place. Hubris was that doomed universe. It was a meme-farm, churning out useful subversive art, ideas and concepts that were ready-tested to be able to spread through vast populations. Orintergen, the infamous Cyberian AI personality, oversaw everything. E manufactured social parameters that would approximate Terragen civilisation on a smaller scale. The goal of toposophic ascension, the belief that life is governed by semi-mythical transapients, tribalism, factions, economics, fashions. All generated and nurtured by Orintergen. The approximation was rough in the extreme, but for the purposes of spreading Cyberian cracker attacks and AI viruses it often proved brutally effective. The citizens of Hubris had known nothing of their use in a rapidly

escalating war that was threatening to rip the Second Federation apart. The plan had been to organise a mass exodus, using the virtual wormhole to transport the innocent bystanders to safety. It wouldn’t have been a problem if Orintergen had attempted to piggyback eirself to freedom within an escapee, as each citizen would be thoroughly vetted before being rebuilt elsewhere many years, even centuries, in the future. All the better if e tried, as the ultimate (although most probably uncompletable) objective of the mission would be to garner any clues pointing to the locations of Orintergen’s other instances and projects. Even a partial personality copy would be of some use to this end. But the possibility of any significant proportion of the population making it out was now long gone. Jaan watched in horrified amazement as the structure was taken apart piece by piece, appearing as the mirror opposite of its construction. He knew that just one citizen had to make it out at all costs. That one being could pass on enough information to make the mission at least a partial success, and that the information they had could potentially make all the difference. And so, without knowing entirely how, Jaan fought against Orintergen with every ounce of mental strength he had. He watched, with a curious detachment, as the destruction stuttered, faltered, but didn’t quite stop. It was like fighting against a gale, a tidal wave, as compulsions drove powerfully against his own thoughts and fears. The destruction accelerated, then slowed, as Jaan made and lost ground. But there was no way to stem the flow; the gate was going to be destroyed. Orintergen suddenly seemed to find a new approach in eir attack, feeding unwelcome instructions into Jaan’s mind from angles he wasn’t expecting. The annihilation of the gate became a whirlwind of devastation. But in the back of Jaan’s consciousness, at the limit of his senses, he could see something entering the space. A new entity, separate from the battle confined to Jaan’s thoughts. It raced towards the gate, so fast that the virtual environment only displayed the avatar as a blue blur. The destruction accelerated to another gear, and Jaan felt himself beginning to push the gate in the opposite direction the avatar had appeared from. Orintergen was trying to create more time for eirself. Grim determination, rather than fear, gave e the strength to almost completely overcome Jaan.

But he realised that it wouldn’t be enough to stop the avatar reaching the gate. He collapsed as the bullet of blue plastic dived into the gate and disappeared. Exhausted, he allowed Orintergen to complete the destruction of the gate. Jaan watched it disintegrate spectacularly into countless wire frame polygons, and reflected on the only two things he knew for certain. Jaan knew that the mission had been completed as far as it had been possible. And Jaan knew that for him, and for the five hundred million citizens of Hubris, this was the end. Yin awoke into light, blinking in the brightness. Breathing deeply, e felt the heart beat in eir chest and e thought for a moment that e could actually feel the blood flowing through eir veins. Everything e could see was slightly warped; e was looking outwards from a curved glass tank. Beyond the transparent surface, e could see a sterile room. Everything was gleaming metal. E couldn’t determine which surface was the floor, or which way was downwards. Yin floated in zero-gee, eir body lazily spinning in the middle of the room. E could vaguely discern other shapes floating in the room, spidery machines that seemed to cautiously watch eir from a distance. Yin tried to speak, make a noise, but had no idea how this body could be made to respond to commands. E was only breathing because of instinct, and presumably the beating of eir heart would also be automated. E closed eir eyes and lost consciousness for the briefest of moments. When e reopened them, two machines were gingerly moving toward Yin. The transparent case disappeared into the machines; changing from rigid glass to flowing water at their touch. Free to move, Yin stretched eir new limbs. E was very aware of what had just happened. Or subjectively what had just happened. But for now, after going through so much and now finding eirself alone, naked and vulnerable in this unknown place, Yin was more than happy on focussing on just one thing. E gazed at eir hand, feeling equal parts awe and trepidation. Yin held it in front of eir face, twisting it slowly one way and another. The pale, flawless skin of eir arm stretched over the bones and veins of eir arm. Faint lines were beginning to form on the palm of eir otherwise pristine hand and pink fingernails

emerged from the end of each fingertip. Each fingertip but one. The skin of one finger stopped just above the knuckle. The rest of the digit dully reflected the light in the room, and it didn’t bend or feel cold like the rest of Yin’s fingers. E started at it intently, wondering what e had brought with em. The dormant computronium storage gave no answer, so Yin gently blacked out again as the machines edged closer to em, and as e prayed that e had got eir beloved out in time. Hubris, tauntingly named after that most deadly of sins, would no longer be a thorn in the side of the God-Emperor. But, somehow, Yin knew that this wouldn’t be the last threat facing the Solar Dominion. End

After a long, violent, but ultimately inconclusive war, the empires of the Archailects reached a balance of power; and a vast Commonwealth of Empires was forged. Faced with beings of such power, much of humanity chose to worship, or at least obey, the new gods and deep in the heart of the empires the life of the citizens was very good. But in the Outer Volumes and at the Periphery things were not always so comfortable. There were gods to be found here as well, along with their followers. Some were friendly to humanity, some indifferent, some hostile. Some were far, far worse. On many worlds humans were still the masters, with all the noble qualities and failings of humanity. Sometimes the regimes on these human worlds fell into despotism and cruelty. Darren Ryding gives us a glimpse of one such fallen world and its aftermath. Sometimes a broken civilization may fix itself. Sometimes it may get a little…help.

the devoted follower Darren Ryding 1 Here lies a man that brought terror into the hearts of millions, said the tombstone inscription. May he live on in the hearts of millions now living. Kneeling alone in the cemetery, Palo Jakani accepted the gold-engraved inscription without question. He could not understand why so many today scoffed at those two lines. To him, they were true, and went together like bread and butter. All true believers thought the same. Why should people think any different? Jakani visited the tomb four days of every year - on Great Leader Chamoska’s Birthday, on his Deathday, on Revolution Day, and that special fourth day that Jakani had chosen himself. The other three days were busy and crowded days for this region. The trains were crowded, the inns were crowded, the camping grounds were crowded, and - most of all - the cemetery was crowded. Thousands of people came from all over the planet to pay their respects to the Great Leader. Old men like himself, who had been there when it all happened. Young men, who wanted a world where their virility would be put to better use. Mothers dragging their children by the wrists and shouting at them for not showing enough enthusiasm. They all came for the same thing. For those three days of the year, all were one, and the True World, the People’s World, was better for it. Yet there was also that one fourth day of the year when the cemetery was not so crowded; when, sometimes, the cemetery was all but deserted. That was Jakani’s birthday. This pilgrimage was his own birthday present to himself - an hour, alone, in the presence of his Great Leader. Today, on Jakani’s sixty-first birthday, on his eleventh private pilgrimage to the Tomb of Chamoska since the death of his wife, the cemetery was almost deserted. Yet in the shadow of his Beloved Leader, Jakani was never truly alone. He knelt there before the vast onyx tomb. The ten-foot ivory statue of Chamoska towered above him from the roof of the tomb, his stare harsh and stern as he eternally judged a world that would never truly live up to his ideals of

manhood. Chamoska’s fist was raised in wrathful defiance of all whose brains were polluted with dirty thoughts that did not meet his approval. His fist promised vengeance. His fist promised retribution upon the weak and unworthy. Towering above the Great Leader, the twisted branches of a mighty oak tree rose to the heavens, as if nourished and empowered by his mere presence. High up in the branches, barely visible under the shade of leaves, a black cat watched Jakani with luminous green eyes. Jakani instantly averted his gaze from that of the creature, returning his sights to the more reassuring form of his Leader. “The days of glory shall return, my Great Leader,” he spoke aloud. “The days of glory shall return.” “Such a magnificent tomb,” said a gentle voice to his right. Jakani turned and saw a thin, elderly priest standing there, staring reverentially at the Great Leader’s Tomb. Jakani tensed up, almost ready to punch the priest for interrupting him. Yet there was something about the older man’s presence that sapped him of the will to act. It was a strange feeling, somewhere between respect and curiosity. What would Chamoska himself have done in his position? This was the question that dictated every decision that Jakani made, every opinion that he formed, every word that he spoke to others. What would Chamoska do? What would Chamoska think? What would Chamoska say? Would Chamoska approve? Would Chamoska disapprove? To Jakani, there was no other way of thinking. After a moment’s hesitation, Jakani decided that he had to find out more about this priest. He needed a context for him. “Of course,” said Jakani, slowly getting to his feet. “A Great Leader such as Chamoska deserves no less. He was a real man, a real Tylansian man. There are so few of his kind today.” The priest turned to face Jakani. “I gather that you truly are a devoted follower of Great Leader Chamoska,” he said. “Of course I am!” said Jakani. “Chamoska will always be my Beloved Leader. His heart is my heart. His love is my love. His hate is my hate.” “Indeed, yes,” said the priest. “I would like to make you an offer, Jakani.” “How did you know my name?” “We have been watching you for a long time.”

“What do you mean by ‘we’?” said Jakani, his suspicion rising. “Your church? Who are you?” “I’m terribly sorry,” said the priest with an embarrassed chuckle as he glanced at his feet. “So terribly rude of me not to formally introduce myself. I am Father Marishison.” “What church do you belong to?” “I am a chaplain in an organization you may not have heard of,” said Marishison. “Even if you have heard of it, many would probably dismiss it as a rumour or a folk tale.” “What is this organization?” said Jakani, his curiosity piqued. “I am under strict orders not to tell you,” said Marishison. “Our rules of secrecy are very rigid. All I can tell you right now is this one small - but significant - piece of news.” “And what is it? What news do you give?” At once, the priest’s grin dropped. His expression became grave, sincere. “Chamoska is alive,” he said. Jakani froze, fixed to the spot like the tombstones all around. “I think you’re lying,” he said. “If I am lying,” said Marishison, “then is that such a bad thing? After all, Chamoska himself told many lies.” “He was the Great Leader!” said Jakani. “He was entitled to lie! It is the duty of the strong to lie. It is the duty of the weak to believe the lie, and follow it to the end.” “As it was in his day,” said Marishison. “Yet you have told your fair share of lies, too, if I am not mistaken.” “Of course I have!” said Jakani. “I lied in the service of the Great Leader. Even today, I lie in honour of his memory. A lie told for the Great Leader is greater than any truth told against him.” “As the old saying goes,” said Marishison. “But I assure you, I am telling the truth. I cannot tell you the entire truth, but what I have told you is the truth.” “Is it now?” Jakani squinted in confusion, trying to read the priest’s intentions. “Are you a truth teller, or a truth maker?” “What a good question. Which would you prefer?” “I would prefer … that you are telling the truth, and that the Great Leader is alive somewhere.”

“Indeed he is, Jakani. Indeed he is. That is why, after all these years, we have selected you.” “Why me?” “Because, as far as we can tell, you are Chamoska’s most devoted follower. And we want you to meet him. We want you to meet Great Leader Chamoska himself.” For a moment, the world seemed to vanish. All that remained were the priest’s sincere, sombre eyes and those words, those last words. “Do you accept our offer?” said Marishison. “I …” Jakani wanted to speak, but he could not form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. “While you are making your choice,” said Marishison, “I shall give you a token of our sincerity.” From the pocket of his robe, he produced a chained amulet, and handed it to Jakani. Jakani held the amulet in his hands, staring at it. Normally, its smoothly polished black stone would have offended him with its aesthetic opulence, for the Great Leader never approved of luxuries in the hands of mere subjects. However, the picture on the front of the amulet more than justified this. It was a portrait of the Great Leader himself, staring into the sky as if challenging it to make eye contact with him. “Does he … is he the one giving you orders?” For the first time in years, Jakani’s voice was trembling. “At this stage, I’m not permitted to tell you who is giving us orders.” “Are you part of the Resistance? Are you going to depose the current government and reinstate the Great Leader in his rightful place?” “We have no such plans at present. If we were ordered to, we could overwhelm your military more swiftly and easily than you could imagine. But our plans are subtler than that. Normally, we collect prisoners, or recruits, or - on special occasions - guests. You, Jakani, are to be our latest guest. A rare and special guest, for a rare and special occasion. But only if you accept our offer.” “I … I … I don’t …” “You don’t have to decide just yet. Turn over the amulet.” Jakani did so. At the centre of the back of the amulet was a small black button, as smooth and black as the rest of the stone. He gently ran his finger over it.

“Do not press that button,” said Marishison, “until you have made up your mind. You have until midnight to decide. And even once you do decide, you will have to press the button for five whole seconds. Then we shall receive the signal, and come to collect you.” “Where shall I wait for you?” “Anywhere, but preferably somewhere private. The device has its own global positioning system, so we shall have no trouble finding you. But reject our offer, and we shall have to choose someone else. We have plenty of amulets where that one came from.” Jakani shuddered at the thought of missing such a golden opportunity. “Are you in a hurry?” he said. “Well, we do have plenty of time, but our plans would work so much better if we start early. You will still have plenty of time to change your mind for weeks after you press that button. The choice will be yours. Our rules may be strict, but we allow plenty of leeway for honoured guests.” For a whole minute, the two men were silent. Jakani turned the amulet over and over in his hand, staring at Chamoska, the button, Chamoska, the button, Chamoska … “I know you’re having trouble believing me, Jakani. I don’t blame you. I would feel the same way in your position. But I assure you, you will risk nothing by pressing that button. We will still give you plenty of time to change your mind afterwards. But turn down our offer, and you will spend the rest of your life wondering about the privileged opportunity you had missed. I know the feeling of regret myself. It is not pleasant to have such a demon gnawing away at your soul.” Jakani tore his gaze away from the amulet and stared at Father Marishison. “I have until midnight?” “That you have. But I must bid you farewell for the time being, Jakani. I have told you all that I can tell you at this stage. Perhaps too much. The only thing I can add, for now, is the same piece of advice I have given so many others in my time: choose wisely. That is all. Choose wisely, Jakani.” With those words, the chaplain turned and walked slowly down the cemetery path. Jakani stood there for a few more minutes, staring at the amulet, turning it over and over in his hands. After a while, he placed the amulet in his pocket and walked towards the cemetery gate.

The Red Rose Inn was only a ten-minute walk from the cemetery, but Jakani could not bring himself to be closed indoors now; not after what he had heard. He had to keep on walking. He had to keep on thinking. Silently. Alone. He passed the markets, passed the town hall, passed the police station, passed the other markets, and came to a small garden park, set aside to honour the town of Karroga’s favourite son. A statue of Great Leader Chamoska, very similar to the one in the cemetery, stood upon a raised platform, overlooking all. Jakani sat on a bench where he could have a good view of his Beloved Leader. He took out the amulet. Every few seconds, his gaze would alternate between the amulet and the statue, both representations of the same great Tylansian man who - according to the strange priest - still lived. “What would you do, my Great Leader? What would you do?” He had until midnight, according to Father Marishison, and yet it was still hours before sunset. That did not matter. He had already made up his mind. He pressed the button, and held his thumb there for five whole seconds. Suddenly, a gentle tingling danced throughout his thumb. The sensation spread to the rest of his hand, and climbed up his arm like an invisible spider. What was it? Was he being electrocuted? Within seconds, a soothing, warming feeling had entered his chest, his head, his arms, his stomach, his legs. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he truly felt at peace. As his eyelids began to slowly sink, darkening his vision, all he could now see before him was the statue of the Great Leader. Darkness closed in all around his idol, framing the Great Leader in a halo of green. “Soon, my Great Leader,” Jakani said groggily. “Soon …” And with that last word, the image of his Leader - the last patch of light in his vision - disappeared, and the darkness of sleep engulfed him. 2 Jakani lay in bed staring at the ceiling, waiting for his vision and memory to come back into focus. He had trouble recalling the moment he had fallen asleep, but assumed that he had made his way back to his room at the Red Rose Inn after visiting the cemetery … or did he visit the memorial park afterwards? Yes, he was now certain that he did. He was also certain that he had met a strange priest at the cemetery, who had claimed to know Great Leader Chamoska himself … or had that been a dream?

As his sense of depth perception returned, Jakani frowned at the ceiling. He could have sworn that the ceiling had been much lower than this when he had checked in. Right now, it seemed ridiculously high and broad, as if he were sleeping in a public hall or something. Plus the ceiling had a rich, creamy quality that few hotels in Tylansia would have, and seemed to give off its own light. This was not the Inn. Immediately he sat up and looked around. This was definitely not the Inn. The room was huge, like a palace, its lavish furniture neatly spaced out. The bed was ridiculously vast, enough to hold an orgy, its quilt gold-woven and luxuriously thick. And, sitting by his bedside, was the mysterious priest. “Good morning,” said Father Marishison. “Where am I?” said Jakani. “Is this … is it your secret base of operations?” “I’ll explain where we are when you get your strength back.” “How did I get here?” “Do you remember the amulet?” Jakani recalled Marishison handing him the amulet, the park, the button … “You sent me to sleep?” “You sent yourself to sleep, when you activated the amulet. We came and brought you here. It was your choice.” “Where is the Great Leader? Is he here?” “No. Not here. You will be meeting him eventually, but you must be patient. And you must co-operate.” “I will! I will! But where am I?” Marishison gave a gentle chuckle. “Like I said, you must be patient. All I can say is that this room is usually set aside for guests or recruits.” At this stage, Jakani had only just noticed the faint background noise, like the humming of a vast generator. “Are we underground?” said Jakani. “No,” said Marishison. “We are very far from underground.” “Where?” said Jakani. “If I am a guest, then shouldn’t you trust me with your secrets?” “In good time, “ said Marishison. “In good time. But for now, I suggest you freshen up. The bathroom is just behind that door to your right, and you’ll find

your clothes cleaned and folded inside. When you are ready to leave this room, simply state it out aloud, and we’ll hear you. Then just wait for us to open the door from the outside. There is just one thing you must remember. You must prepare yourself to be surprised. To be shocked, even. Try not to make assumptions about where you are, or who we are. You must keep your mind open here, or you may risk losing it. That is all for now. I shall see you when you are ready.” With that, Father Marishison left the room, leaving Jakani in his bed and his confusion. As Jakani stood waiting, the vast double-door of his new quarters slid open. Standing in the doorway was Father Marishison and a much younger man dressed in what appeared to be a suit of navy blue leather. “Mister Jakani,” said Marishison, “this is Captain Kryslek, the leader of our team.” “Welcome aboard the good ship Milton , Mister Jakani,” said the young captain. “We are on a ship?” said Jakani, glancing around at the broad, vinepatterned hallway beyond the door. Kryslek nodded. “Your home for the next few waking weeks, if you want it that way.” Jakani at least now understood the faint background hum, but could not understand why the floor was so steady. There was not a hint of rocking waves or turbulence. “Is it a sea ship or … or an air ship?” Jakani asked. He could not remember sounding - or feeling - so nervous in decades. “Good question,” said Kryslek. “Let’s go and find out, shall we?” With those words, he took a few steps back, giving Jakani room to step through the threshold. “Come on now,” said Marishison. “It’s about time you understood where you are. But please, try not to panic.” “Panic?” said Jakani, his nervousness instantly dissolved. “Real men don’t panic! I had plenty of seafaring and parachuting at Young Patriots Camp. I’m prepared for anything.” He stepped out into the hallway, and the huge double door hissed closed behind him. Father Marishison walked beside him as he followed the young Captain. After only a few steps, Jakani’s newfound courage already began to

falter. The hallway was even bigger than it had looked from the outside. Two elephants could have marched side-by-side along this hallway, and they could have marched at least sixty metres before coming to the end. Jakani glanced behind himself, and saw that the hallway extended another thirty metres beyond the door of his quarters. There were so many doors here. Yet more striking than the scale was the sheer detail. The floor seemed to be smooth, polished marble. The walls and ceiling seemed to be a metal with a tone between copper and gold, yet beaten into the patterns of thousands of vines. Not only was this ship huge, but it also seemed alive. The Great Leader would never have approved of such extravagance. At last, the three were approaching the end of the hallway, and turned around a corner to the right. Jakani froze in his tracks. The other two men stopped a few steps ahead and turned to face him. Only a few steps beyond was a broad window, sparkling with stars; more stars than Jakani had ever seen, even from the countryside. And in the midst of those stars was a small blue, green, and white orb. Jakani recognised it instantly, but refused to believe what he was seeing. “No,” he said. “No …” He began to back away from the window, more frightened than he ever remembered feeling. “Take me back,” he said. “Take me back! I don’t want to be here!” His body shuddered all over, not just with fear, but with the shame of showing fear that he could not control. “Please, Jakani,” said Marishison. “I assure that you are perfectly safe.” “You can’t take my world away from me! You fucking monsters! You can’t take my Tylansia away from me! What are you doing to me? What have you done to my Beloved Leader, you freaks?” “All three of us are human, Jakani,” said Marishison. “We all share a common ancestry.” “If we send you back home,” said Kryslek, “you’ll never meet your Beloved Leader, and never find out why he now lives on our world.” “Why?” pleaded Jakani. “What have you done with my Beloved Leader?” “If you really must know,” said Kryslek, “Chamoska is now with our Queen.” Jakani missed a breath, and Marishison gave Kryslek a stern glance. “Your … your Queen?” Tylansia itself had a long history of Kings and Queens between all the

Revolutions and Republics. However, a woman in power was not something the Great Leader would have approved of. “Yes,” said Kryslek. “Our Queen loved your Great Leader from the moment She laid eyes on him. She has … She has married him.” “Married!?” Jakani was so shocked that he barely noticed Marishison closing his eyes and shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Father,” said Kryslek, “but he deserves to know this much at least.” “Very well then,” said Marishison with an air of resignation. “But that is all he should know until he is ready for more.” Jakani was almost numb with shock and confusion. Why would the Great Leader marry into foreign royalty? Why would he elope with a foreign woman and never contact his beloved Tylansia again? Had Tylansia truly shamed the Great Leader in his eyes? Were the men of Tylansia truly so inadequate to the Great Leader’s lofty standards? The sense of shame and humility overwhelmed Jakani. His trembling ceased, and his body drooped where he stood, weak and limp. “Why?” he feebly half-whispered. “Perhaps you will find out,” said Marishison, “if you choose to stay with us. But for now, I think you need a good hot meal to thaw out those nerves of yours. Come on. The dining room is all set up and waiting.” The Captain and the Chaplain walked back the way they had come, and Jakani dragged his feet behind them, weighed down by knowledge he had never anticipated, never imagined, in all his years on the world he loved. The ship was even larger than Jakani had imagined. They had taken an elevator just to get to the dining hall. In this place, even dining on his favourite meal started out as a stressful experience for Jakani. All three men were served by robots. On Tylansia, robots were mainly used by the government and wealthy individuals, but only the most basic were to be found in his hometown. The robots carrying the serving trays, however, were like nothing Jakani had seen before - huge silvery things like giant mantises. It was all he could do just to sit motionless, trying not to stare, trying not to show his fear. “Her Majesty is notoriously biocentric,” Marishison explained. “She prefers

almost all conventional robots and AIs to have a servile role. There are only a few exceptions.” Then, once dinner was served and the robots had (mercifully) left the room, Jakani gradually began to relax. These foreigners already knew his favourite hot meal - josmo, diced pork with tomato and capsicum in a grainy mustard sauce. It was as close to perfect as he had ever imagined. Being so far from home, he could only be grateful for such small blessings. He was even more grateful to be with foreigners who looked human. He remembered, with a shudder, that many foreigners were not human at all. “We’re accelerating at approximately ten metres per second per second,” Kryslek explained between mouthfuls, “in that direction.” He pointed at the ceiling. “That is why we have gravity going in this direction.” He pointed at the floor. “When we stop accelerating, we lose gravity. When we accelerate at a higher rate, we all feel heavier. That’s when we must go into hibernation.” This sort of talk gave Jakani the shivers. He desperately wanted to change the subject without sounding like he was changing the subject. “Why did the Great Leader marry your Queen?” said Jakani. “Was she impressed with his manliness?” “You could say …” Kryslek finished chewing his mouthful and swallowed it, “that She was impressed with what he had done.” “You mean, the way he asserted his dominance with force?” Kryslek nodded. “She was very impressed with that.” “So is the Great Leader now the Great King?” Jakani beamed, confident that he was about to receive a positive answer. It was obvious. A great man like Chamoska? Marrying a Queen? Of course that would make him a King! Not just any King, but a Great King - a King above the Queen, above the Law, as powerful and glorious as he had been on his homeworld. With the Great Leader’s manliness and the Queen’s technology, the Galaxy was sure to burn in the fires of Revolution! The Great Leader marrying into foreign royalty was not such a bad idea after all. Within seconds, Kryslek’s grave expression snapped him out of his trance. “What is the problem?” said Jakani. “You must understand,” said Marishison, “that the precise nature of the relationship between Her Majesty and your Great Leader is still a secret.”

“Of course,” said Jakani. “I understand. Others must not know of this alliance.” “You may learn more as time goes on,” said Marishison. “And you will have plenty of opportunity to learn. Skalosak will teach you when you are ready.” Jakani winced at the word “learn”. It was a word he associated with childhood, not manhood. Yet, for now, he was more concerned with what sort of person was supposed to be “teaching” him. “Skalosak?” said Jakani. “Who’s he?” “’She’,” corrected Marishison. “Lieutenant Skalosak is our second in command and psychological assessor. She is to conduct interviews with you on the way to our world.” “A woman!?” Jakani burst out. “You want me to talk to a woman?” “A female officer,” said Kryslek. “In a position of authority. A bit of respect would be in order once you meet her.” “But she’s a woman!” Jakani shouted. Were these foreigners playing a cruel joke on him? “So is Her Majesty,” said Kryslek. “Yes, I know,” said Jakani. “But … but … but … how do you men cope with more than one woman in power?” Kryslek chuckled. “What is so funny? I don’t find it funny. I find it frightening. You should watch her. That is your duty as a man.” To Jakani’s dismay, Krylsek chuckled some more. “Jakani,” said Marishison. “Why do you hate tourists so much?” “Because their ways are not our ways! It’s obvious!” “Precisely. This ship is Her Majesty’s territory. Aboard this ship, you are the foreigner. You must respect our ways, or at least refrain from criticising so bluntly.” Jakani froze. He was a foreigner? A foreigner ? This concept was so alien to him that his brain did not know which way to move. “In your hometown,” said Marishison, “what do you enjoy doing?” “I’m a chef at the-” “Yes yes yes, but when you’re not making meals, when you’re not at work, what do you enjoy doing? When you’re drinking at the bar with men young and

old? When you travel to Chamoska’s Tomb with fellow devotees three times a year? What do you do when you’re in large groups, with families and children all willing to listen?” “I tell stories!” said Jakani, his body tingling with renewed energy. “I tell stories about Great Leader Chamoska!” “Exactly,” said Marishison. “And that’s what we want you to do while you’re here.” “Tell stories about the Great Leader?” “Yes. Skalosak wants to hear as many as possible.” “But … doesn’t she already know?” “She wants to hear them from you. She wants to hear them from Chamoska’s most devoted follower. That is the assessment. It is what Her Majesty wants. We don’t fully understand Her Majesty’s intentions. Not even Skalosak understands everything. But if you want to meet your Leader, and meet our Queen while you’re at it, you must co-operate. If you change your mind within the next few weeks, we can easily turn back, and it will cost us nothing but time and extra fuel, but we have plenty of both where we come from.” Marishison finished another mouthful as Jakani stared at the wall. “So,” said Marishison, “would you like to play along for the time being? Just to see if this role suits you? If you enjoy telling stories back home, then you should enjoy telling stories here. Just think of Skalosak as just another woman in the crowd.” “Is she beautiful?” “Positively stunning,” said Marishison. Kryslek nodded in agreement. “She’s just your type,” he said with a smirk. “She’s tall. And blonde. And blue-eyed. And she has a big round-” “Kryslek!” shouted Marishison. Kryslek silenced instantly. Jakani was surprised at how the Chaplain spoke to his superior officer. He was obviously older, and he had explained earlier his important advisory role on “ethical” matters, but Jakani was still confused by the social dynamics of this place. How could the Great Leader tolerate such indulgence? Nonetheless, Jakani pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind. For now, he only wanted to think about Skalosak. “When do I see her?”

“You can start your first session tonight if you like,” said Marishison. “Just wait in your room. She’ll send you a transmission at twenty-one hundred. You can talk and talk until either one of you has had enough. Don’t worry about formalities.” “Is she married?” “No. She is single. She has been for a long time.” Jakani smiled. Perhaps he was going to enjoy it here after all. 3 Jakani would never have truly admitted to being nervous - not even to himself. However, as he sat on the bed in his quarters, digesting his meal, he could not help but feel a slight but constant shiver, even though the room was pleasantly warm. He was going to meet a woman. Not just meet her, but talk to her as well. If he was lucky, this could be a prelude to marriage. Normally, this would have filled him with confidence and joyous anticipation - especially after Captain Kryslek’s brief but tantalising description of Skalosak. But now, for some reason, he felt unprepared. In fact, he almost felt inadequate. After all, this Skalosak was not just a woman, but also a foreign woman. A woman who was not Tylansian. This truly thrust Jakani into unknown territory. As if looking for reassurance, Jakani turned to the vast wall mirror, and reminded himself that he was not without hope. He may have been sixty-one, but he had the body of a man twenty years younger. Decades of exercise and outdoor activity had honed his muscles and polished his tan, making him so much more virile than those pallid cityfolk. His face may have been heavily lined around the eyes and mouth, but to Jakani every line was a much-earned mark of experience. He still wore the flat-topped buzz cut he had worn in his youth, but now it was a greyish white rather than a brownish red, just like his walrus moustache. He was certain that, for his age, he could still make the ladies sit up and take notice. “I’m a man,” he said, bending his arms forward, making his chest and shoulder muscles flex and bulge under his shirt.

“I’m a man!” he repeated with more vigour, tearing off his shirt, exposing his bronzed biceps, pectorals and abdominals to his own admiring gaze. “I’m a man!” he shouted, tearing off his shoes and trousers. He marched back and forth in front of the mirror, wearing nothing but his underpants, pumping his arms, left right left, with military precision. Yes, he thought. There was no doubt that Skalosak was going to take one look at him, his authoritative gaze, his huge manly muscles, and melt into simpering submission. After all, just how foreign could she be? “I’m a MAAAAAAAN!!!” “Indeed you are.” Jakani instantly started at the smooth-as-honey female voice. He ceased his triumphant marching and looked around skittishly. “Who is it?” he said, his voice considerably higher than it had been mere seconds before. A haze of white light appeared on the quilt of his bed. The light rapidly coalesced into a shape … a kneeling, human shape … It was the shape of the most beautiful woman Jakani had ever seen. Her skin was a deep golden tan, as smooth as satin. Her elegantly short hair was a bright platinum blonde, with a few thin stripes of black dye on her relatively long fringe. Her lipstick was unusually dark - almost black - but that only matched her hair dye and eye shadow. Her eyes were bright blue - brighter and bluer and sharper than Jakani thought possible in a human. While it was difficult to determine her age, there was a softness and subtlety about her gaze that suggested she had seen a lot of life. Could she have been as old as forty? It did not matter, for her body was perfect. The woman wore a long-sleeved shirt and tights, both with white tiger stripes that neatly matched her hair, both stretched tight against her generously proportioned hourglass figure. Her haunches rounded out firmly as she sat on her calves. Although she was kneeling, Jakani could tell that she was tall, perhaps even taller than he. Face-to-face with the embodiment of his lifelong fantasy, Jakani’s legs had turned to jelly. That body, those eyes … it was so far beyond anything he had anticipated. He was not ready for this much quality, this much beauty. It was overwhelming. “Ska … Ska-ska-ska-skalaskakaka?” “My name is Skalosak,” said the woman with a gentle grin. “I am pleased

to meet you, Jakani. Please don’t be nervous. I only want to talk.” That voice … oh God, that voice … as deep and as smooth as a woman’s voice could possibly be while still sounding like a woman. Just listening to her, Jakani wanted to close his eyes and imagine being held in strong, loving arms, pressed against soft warm flesh, listening to a powerful heartbeat and that voice singing to him, telling him that he was safe, that everything was going to be all right. As soon as the thought had formed, Jakani banished it instantly. Such thoughts were not a man’s thoughts. Then Jakani looked down, and remembered that he was still half-naked. Not only that, but the sight of the woman had stretched his underpants elastic to the limit. Whimpering with embarrassment, he ran and crouched behind the nearest chair. From the bed came a gentle, feminine chuckle. “I told you not to be nervous,” said Skalosak’s beautiful voice. “Don’t worry about your appearance. I am only here for a friendly chat.” She spoke as if to a frightened child, and that was exactly as Jakani felt. Had his body not been pumping with so much adrenaline and excitement, he would have burned with shame. No mere woman had ever made him feel like this before. Trembling, he slowly raised himself and peered over the top of the chair. There she was, that bright blue stare, that gentle smile, those breasts and hips that belonged to some sinful pagan goddess. “I-I-I need to get my clothes,” he said. “Of course,” said Skalosak. “Take your time. We both have plenty of it.” Too self-conscious to look in the mirror again, Jakani crawled around the edge of the chair, and sighed shakily as he saw how far away his clothes were. His shirt was just around the front corner of the bed. His trousers were draped unceremoniously over a small table. He realised that there was no way he could retrieve his clothes without Skalosak seeing his half-naked body - a body that suddenly seemed so hopelessly inadequate. “I don’t want you to look,” said Jakani. “Then I promise not to,” said Skalosak. “I’ll give you time to get dressed. Just shout when you’re ready.” And with that, the beautiful hologram dissolved. Certain that his dignity was safe, Jakani rushed to his clothes and began to

dress himself as quickly as possible. She’s just a woman, he kept reassuring himself. Yes, an exceptionally beautiful woman, but still a woman. Why should you be afraid of her? You know what to do. You know what to say. As soon as his shirt was neatly tucked into his trousers, Jakani sat down on the plush chair he had hidden behind, facing the bed directly. He took one deep breath. “She’s only a woman,” he reassured himself one more time. Then, out loud, he said: “I’m ready.” The hologram of the large blonde woman returned, in the same spot in the centre of his bed, in that same low kneeling position, with that same icy blue stare that froze the breath in Jakani’s throat. “Do you want to say something?” said Skalosak. “Why … why are you a hologram?” he said, believing that he had already guessed the answer. “It is standard protocol for certain types of interviews.” “Are you afraid I will beat you?” Skalosak’s grin only widened. “No, Jakani. Being assaulted by you is the very last thing that I would fear.” Jakani burned with rage at the belittling comment, the patronising smile. “Show me some respect, insubordinate wench!” he shouted as he got to his feet. “If you were in this room with me I’d show you how a real man deals with arrogant little girls who insult his manhood! Look at me!” He tore off his shirt and beat his chest. “I’m a man! I have muscles! You should fear me! You should respect me! Fear me, wench! FEAR ME!” “Mister Jakani,” said Skalosak, her voice as hard and cold as steel, her face scowling like a hungry beast, “in case you haven’t noticed, we are not in some backwater village where outmoded values are still grasped on to like a child’s precious plaything. We are not even on your planet anymore. You are now within our territory, and thus subject to our laws and values.” “So are you!” shouted Jakani. “The Great Leader will hear about this! I’ll tell him about you! I’ll tell him everything!” “Do you think you will even get the chance?” Jakani froze up at this question. “Do you know what will happen if you refuse to co-operate?” added Skalosak.

“What?” “We will turn around and put you back where we found you. After all, we haven’t even reached the first wormhole yet. We have nothing to lose. And we still have a few more candidates to choose from. Would you like to go home, Jakani? Would you like to go home and never again have the chance to meet your precious Leader?” “No.” “Then please, if you do not mind, Mister Jakani, sit … the fuck … DOWN!” The last word was spoken with an inhuman snarl that rattled Jakani’s bones. Instantly he sat down on the chair, trembling. Was she using sound effects to intimidate him? “Now,” said Skalosak, her smile returning, her smooth motherly voice restored, “let us commence this interview properly, shall we? What is the one question that has been on your mind ever since you woke up on this ship?” “Why am I here?” “You are here because you are one of Chamoska’s most devoted followers. That means you have much to teach us.” “What could I teach you that the Great Leader himself could not?” “That’s an excellent question. We are not just interested in what you have to say. We are interested in the way you say it. And for years now, you have had your own special way of telling stories of Chamoska’s exploits and achievements. By listening to you, we will learn how Chamoska’s cultural conditioning works on the human mind. This is one of the subjects that interests Her Majesty most of all. “So, Jakani, are you ready to tell stories about your Great Leader?” “Absolutely! It is what I live for.” “Then let’s begin. I have a question to start you off. What exactly is it that made Chamoska so great?” Oh, what an easy question to answer, thought Jakani. And yet how hard it was to know where to start! Yet then he remembered that there was at least one good place to start. He had told this story so many times before, in bars and parks and trains and that most revered cemetery. He knew it all by heart. Today’s telling would be no different, and no less passionate than the first time he told it. “More than fifty years ago,” he began, “the planet Tylansia was on the

verge of a new era. Free expression was officially encouraged by the state. Bold new forms of creativity, of art and music and literature and video, blossomed throughout a dozen mediums in every city. Women were allowed to vote, and to work in any occupation of their choosing and competence. Military service became voluntary, with higher pay and benefits than ever before. People could choose their beliefs as freely as they could choose their food or entertainment. The streets were busy, but almost always safe, with crime and traffic accidents being a rarity. People could purchase more than ever with their hard-earned money. In the schools and universities, young and old alike learned many things that their grandfathers would never have been allowed to think about. Cures were found for a dozen ailments. Medicine and education were accessible to all. Jobs were easy to find. Nine whole years had passed without a civil war. There were even talks on reducing the long-held restrictions on foreign tourism.” “Is this why you love Chamoska so much?” asked Skalosak. “Because he made it all possible?” “No!” shouted Jakani, and he raised his fist in triumph. “Because he put an end to it all!” Skalosak frowned. “Why?” “Because our world had become soft! It was no longer a world for men! It had to be set back to the glory days of old! It had to be hardened! The weak had to be purged! The strong had to be revered! And only one man could make that possible!” “Chamoska.” “Yes! Great Leader Chamoska! Beloved Leader Chamoska! He who took away our toys and gave our lives meaning again!” “And how, exactly, did he give your lives meaning?” “By imposing pain and hardship! By taking away our comforts and privileges and making life real again!” “That made your lives more meaningful?” “Yes!” “Why?” “Because the Great Leader said so!” “And why did the Great Leader say so?” “How dare you question the word of the Great Leader!” “Jakani, Her Majesty Herself ordered me to ask you some of these

questions. They are essential in understanding the conditioning process. Now, can you explain to me why the Great Leader saw fit to make your lives more difficult?” “Because … because obstacles had to be placed in our paths to separate the weak from the strong.” “Ah. Survival of the fittest.” “Yes, exactly.” “Interesting,” said Skalosak, “if I were the Great Leader, I would have-” “But you’re not!” shouted Jakani. “I know I’m not,” Skalosak said softly. “But if I were, then I would have intro-” “But you’re NOT!” shouted Jakani. “You’re a WOMAN! You can never be the Great Leader! The Great Leader is a man! The greatest of all men!” “I’m only speaking hypothetically.” “I don’t care how pathetical you’re speaking! You have no right to insult the Great Leader! You would strip him of his manhood and tear him down and replace him with a woman! Replace him with yourself! And then castrate him! Arrogant wench! You ought to be shot! You ought to be burned alive and cut up into little pieces and fed to the rats! Evil bitch!” He got to his feet, picked up one of his shoes, and threw it at Skalosak. The shoe passed right through the hologram and hit the bed-head behind. Jakani grunted in frustration. He picked up his other shoe and threw it at the mirror. The shoe bounced off harmlessly. “Can’t anything break here?” “Not with your strength, Jakani.” “I’ll kill you! You insult my manhood like an overfed cat playing with a mouse! I’ll show you what a man I am! I’ll show you what a real man can do! You keep hiding, Missy Skally Wally whatever your name is, because I know you’re afraid of a real man! Cowardly little girl! Come face to face with me and you’ll be on your knees begging and crying and pissing for mercy!” For a long while, Skalosak said nothing. She just knelt there and smiled. “I think,” she finally said, “we should continue this interview when you have calmed down. How about tomorrow night?” “I don’t want to talk to spoilt little whores and wenches! Go away and die! Burn in Hell, wench! Burn in Hell for the Revolution!”

“I’ll take your advice on board,” said Skalosak. “See you tomorrow night.” The hologram dissolved, leaving Jakani panting alone with his rage. 4 “She needs a bloody good flogging!” shouted Jakani, who had not even touched his breakfast in over four minutes. Already he had mentioned Skalosak’s casual contempt for the Great Leader as well as for his own masculinity, and now his vitriolic rant was in full force. “How do you put up with her?” he asked Captain Kryslek. “How? If the Great Leader found out about her views and attitude, she would be beaten and executed on sight! You should at the very least bend her over your knee and give her a good spanking!” For a moment Kryslek seemed to choke on his chili omelette, although it was difficult to tell whether he was coughing or laughing. “What is it?” demanded Jakani. Kryslek swallowed his mouthful. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.” “Why not? She’s a woman. You’re her superior officer. You should keep her in her place. What’s wrong with you? Don’t you have any testicles?” Kryslek gave Jakani a cold stare, and instantly Jakani lowered his gaze. He had just insulted the captain of the ship. “I’m sorry,” he said. “No offence taken,” said Kryslek. “But you have to remember that we have rules here.” “Then why doesn’t Skalosak follow them?” “She does,” said Kryslek. Jakani stared at him, aghast, confused. “She asked you all the right questions, laid down the rules, and stated her opinions honestly,” said Marishison. “What more could you ask for?” “I would ask her to change her opinions!” shouted Jakani. “I would tell her! And so would the Great Leader!” He continued his tirade without even looking at his omelette or his bark tea, stating that Skalosak would not last five minutes in his hometown, and how much he would like to barge into her quarters with a bullwhip and a red-hot branding iron so that he could burn the words “insolent harlot” onto her backside. Marishison scrunched his eyes shut and raised his hand. The seriousness of the gesture silenced Jakani instantly. “Jakani … Jakani, please listen,” said the Chaplain. “I have two things to say. Firstly, what you have just proposed would be a very, very bad idea. Just

attempting such a stunt would land you in serious trouble indeed. Believe me, it would. Secondly … if you just rub the edge of your plate with your finger, your omelette will automatically reheat.” “What? Oh. I see.” Jakani had temporarily forgotten that he had a breakfast in front of him. Nonetheless, even as he followed Marishison’s advice and had his first taste of the warm spicy omelette, he still could not exorcise Skalosak from his mind. The previous night, after Skalosak had cut the transmission, Jakani had been so enraged by her comments that he had stayed awake, fuming, for hours. After that, he had thought about Skalosak’s body, and then stayed awake for an entirely different set of reasons. Despite his short sleep, he had insisted on getting out of bed as soon as possible just so he could tell Kryslek and Marishison all about Skalosak’s arrogance and disrespect. He had expected his outrage to be met with equal outrage, so this casual brushing off of Skalosak’s transgressions was a strange and numbing experience. What was wrong with these people? “Disgusting dirty whore,” Jakani muttered between mouthfuls. “When the Great Leader finds out …” “She’s still an officer, Jakani,” said Kryslek. “Hmph,” grunted Jakani. “Give a dog a hat; it’ll think it’s a man.” “I trust you haven’t forgotten the rules of our agreement,” said Kryslek. “Of course I haven’t,” said Jakani. “Everyone keeps reminding me.” “And so we should,” said Marishison, “If you want to meet your Great Leader, you must pay the price. And that means continuing your sessions with Skalosak, however you may disagree with her opinions.” As he sat waiting in his quarters, in the same armchair, watching that same space above his bed, Jakani recalled all the foreign women he had seen in his life - the tourists who visited coastal towns that he himself occasionally visited. He hated them. He hated their fancy clothes, their jewellery, their smug expressions, their equal footing with their male partners, their confident solitude if they had no partners, their suspicious sexual ambiguity if they had female partners. He hated the certainty that their thoughts would never meet the approval of the Great Leader. He hated the fact that they kept their thoughts hidden, and thus cheated the punishment that was their due. He hated the fact that they always left his beloved world and returned to whatever decadent, insulated homeworlds they came from, thus finding another way to escape the punishment that was their

due. He hated almost everything about them. And yet he loved their bodies. Skalosak, the woman who was obviously play-acting the role here of an officer and psychologist, embodied everything that Jakani loved and hated about foreign women. A pile of subversive poison wrapped up in a beautiful package, and communicating via distance to evade the beating that was her due. She wouldn’t be so smug if he were in the same room with her. He promised himself that much. The hologram shimmered into existence, and Skalosak knelt on his bed once again, smiling as smugly as ever, as if nothing had happened the previous night. “Good evening, Jakani,” she said. “How are you feeling this evening? Much better, I hope?” Jakani merely nodded and grunted, stunned at Skalosak’s confidence. “Good,” she said, the word almost sounding like a purr. “Are you prepared to tell more stories about your Great Leader?” Jakani nodded. She was doing it again. Her body, her voice, everything about her was so soothing, hypnotic. She was trying to sap him of his manly aggression and bring him down to the level of an equal. He had to resist her charms. He had resisted the previous night, so he could resist tonight as well. It was simply a question of righteous rage and willpower. And yet … she was beautiful. Too beautiful to resist. Sure, sooner or later she would open her trap and once again say something that would outrage him; but for now, Jakani revelled in the sweetness her presence gave to his eyes and ears, not to mention his imagination that so rarely had the chance to exercise. What did she feel like? What did she smell like, taste like? What did she look like from behind? Jakani wished she could be in the room with him just so he could watch her walk out. “I’m looking forward to hearing more stories about Great Leader Chamoska,” she said. “You tell them with so much passion. I apologise for interrupting your last telling. I will try to keep such interruptions to a minimum in future, if possible. Do you accept this?” Jakani stared at Skalosak’s hologram in a daze. She was giving him nothing to fight, and this soothed him. He, who lived to fight, was being lulled into passivity by beauty, flattery and eloquence. Skalosak’s work was like magic. “Yes,” he finally said.

“Good. Then let’s begin. Last night, you explained how Chamoska’s regime began. But what of the man himself? Where did his values come from? When did he first show signs of his leadership? And how did he implement these values once he seized power?” Jakani smiled, feeling his passion return, sweeping away his daze like a wave would sweep away a sand castle, like a fresh rush of blood would sweep away the numbness of a stiff limb. He was ready to tell his stories. He was ready to tell of the history of the Great Leader. He began with Chamoska’s youth, as a drill sergeant in an army barracks. Chamoska had been an avid reader of the teachings of Lunitus Volker, the ancient founder of Tylansian philosophy. Living in the early days of Tylansian colonial history, Volker dreaded his world ever becoming a utopia. An end to fear, he reasoned, would be an end to meaning. In order to avert such a sorry state of affairs, fear had to be instilled in the general populace by artificial means. It was not enough to merely tolerate the problems of life as something natural and inevitable, for problems could be tolerated in theory while never having to be encountered in practice. Instead, fear, distrust, hatred and danger had to be consciously, deliberately enforced. It was the duty of the state to induce a state of fear into its citizenry, not just to ensure obedience, but to also keep life “real”, to give every action and decision a potentially harmful consequence, and - most importantly - to avert the risk of a peaceful, stagnant utopia. Thus crime had to be deliberately encouraged, entire populations divided and set against each other, harmful chemicals reintroduced into factories, access to medicines reduced to the general public, traffic and air travel safety standards reduced and often rigged, and random excuses made for civil wars declared on any territories that displeased those in power. Most importantly of all, men had to keep fighting. A life without fighting, reasoned Volker, was not a life at all. Thus excuses had to be made to initiate aggression and violence at any and every opportunity. Peace, Volker had once said, was the silence that froze the soul. The souls and blood of men had to be forever thawed and throbbing. Jakani told of General Chamoska’s glorious military coup, where all members of the ruling party of the time - the softest, most democratic, most utopian party in Tylansian history - were hunted down and ruthlessly slaughtered, their bodies dragged through the streets and strung up for all to see. Chamoska was finally bringing fear back into the lives of Tylansians.

Yet in the first few weeks of the new regime, things seemed to quiet down somewhat. Sure, Chamoska did all the things that were expected of a dictator. He seized control of all media, communication networks, publishing companies, and anything to do with the arts. He burned books, artworks and vidfiles en masse, and erased huge chunks of the internet. He reintroduced conscription and compulsory military service for the youth. He executed writers, dramatists and filmmakers whose realistic and honest portrayals of war caused the public to view military life in a less-than-favourable light. He pushed all women into only the most menial tasks available. He barred offworlders from visiting the planet, and gave the few foreigners present strict orders to leave on pain of death. And yet, for a short while, he kept the lotteries. This surprised many people; for many had suspected that the lotteries would be among the first things to go under the new regime. Nonetheless, for the first four weeks of the new regime, ordinary citizens could buy a ticket in the greatest lottery in the history of Tylansia. They could win a total prize package of one hundred million credits - enough to buy a skyscraper. The day after the winner (or winners) would be announced, there was to be a great ceremony held in the capital city’s largest stadium, where Chamoska himself was to hand over the much coveted prize to the winners. All were invited to attend - as many as would fill the stadium’s hundred thousand seats. The attendance tickets were surprisingly cheap, so seats sold fast. On the day of the Final Lottery, the winners were announced - a family of four, a childless married couple, and an elderly widow. The three groups astonished, ecstatic, overjoyed - were each to be given over thirty-three million credits. On the day after the Final Lottery, the stadium was packed. A hundred thousand citizens filled the seats. Every media outlet that had not been shut down was present to record the celebration. Three thousand armed soldiers stood stoically in the game field - but by then, civilians were already used to military presence in public places. Then, the floodlights dimmed, and the excited murmur of the crowds softened. The stagelights lit up, and all applauded as Tajilan Makoli - thirty-year veteran of radio and television talk shows - strode onto the stage. After a few minutes of jokes and witticisms that most Tylansians understood (and nothing that would offend the new regime), Makoli announced each winner by name,

including the two children, all to thunderous applause. And for every name that was announced, a spotlight appeared on a side-stage, highlighting the lucky winner named. When all seven winners had been named and revealed, live drumbeats sounded as Makoli announced the presence of the Great Leader himself Chamoska! The sky roared with the cheers of a hundred thousand, the band and speakers blared the new official anthem “Quail and Tremble Before the Leader’s Mighty Manhood”, the soldiers turned to the stage as one and saluted, and a hundred cannons rimming the stadium fired shells into the night sky that exploded into florid fireballs like miniature suns. And, onto the stage, walked Great Leader Chamoska himself, surrounded by armed bodyguards, resplendent in his many-medalled army uniform, smiling and waving to his adoring subjects. When the thunderous greeting finally died down, Chamoska stood before the microphone and began the speech that all had come to hear. “People of Tylansia, I stand before you tonight not only as your Leader, but also as your Judge. For it is my duty to not only usher in a brave new era of manhood and heroism, but also to convict, prosecute, and ultimately execute the vile stink of the era that has passed. As your Leader and Judge, I see fit to expunge all traces of the cult of greed, of frivolity, of indulgence, of lust and permissiveness, that defined the regrettable and unlamented past decade. Like flies before the stench of shit, like dogs after a bitch in heat, you have swarmed in your masses to the wide-wafting scent of material gain - some to take, many more to celebrate the taking; all the while stupidly forgetting that it is I alone, as your Leader and Judge, who is entitled to all the spoils and profits that your baser senses greedily covet. I ALONE! And the very idea that any of you here present could even approve of the WEAK and INSIGNIFICANT crawling here to take MY spoils, MY money that I have FOUGHT and KILLED for, fills me with the utmost DISGUST! I look at you all here tonight, and see nothing but a hundred thousand MAGGOTS on a SHIT PILE! And it is by the power vested in me by the right of the mighty, as your Judge, Jury and Executioner, to EXPUNGE your unsightly presence and stink from my beloved Tylansia and send you the way of ALL VERMIN!” With those final words, seven heavy steel cages fell upon each lottery winner, enclosing their pale and trembling forms. Then seven heavily armoured soldiers marched onto the side-stage, aimed

flamethrowers at the cages, and burned the lottery winners alive. The crowd, which had remained deathly silent for the past five minutes, now exploded into screams of rage and horror. All civilians leapt from their seats and rushed for the exits, tripping over seats and each other, stampeding and crushing and suffocating in frenzied bottlenecks as those in front tried desperately to push through the doors. “BURN IN HELL, MAGGOTS!” boomed Chamoska’s amplified voice. “BURN IN HELL FOR THE REVOLUTION!” Then all three thousand soldiers turned their automatic rifles upon the crowd and opened fire. The hundred cannons that had so blazingly announced the Great Leader’s presence minutes earlier turned upon the swarming masses, firing shells that burst into hazy clouds of blood and bone. And through it all, in the midst of the blood and fire and thunder, Great Leader Chamoska gazed upon his handiwork and laughed. And through a hundred cameras, all of Tylansia witnessed the glorious display of true Power. Jakani was smiling when he finished the story, standing in front of his armchair in the heroic stance of his Beloved Leader on the Night of the Purging. It was one of his favourite stories, for it demonstrated the worthlessness of the weak in the face of the Mighty, and he was proud to be on the side of the Mighty. Skalosak knelt there, silent, her bright blue eyes wide and unblinking. “This man is your hero,” she said flatly. “The greatest hero that ever lived!” Jakani boomed triumphantly as he raised his fist. “Because he brutally murdered a hundred thousand innocent, unarmed civilians in cold blood, just to intimidate the rest of the planet?” “It was not murder you stupid whore!” shouted Jakani. “It was extermination! You heard the speech! They were like maggots on a shit pile! They were worthless in the eyes of the Great Leader, and the eyes of the Great Leader are the only true eyes, for in his Judgement and his Wisdom, he determines what things are!” For a moment, there was more silence. Skalosak sat there, still and staring. “I think I have heard enough for one night,” she finally said. “But there is so much more to tell!”

“I know. And you will have plenty of opportunity to tell them in the nights ahead. But for now, good night and sweet dreams.” The hologram dispersed, leaving the bed empty and inviting. Oh, I will have sweet dreams, thought Jakani. Whether about my Beloved Leader and his victory over the weak, or about Skalosak and my victory over her, I do not know. But either would be welcome. 5 “What do you remember about your mother?” The question took Jakani completely by surprise. For long breaths, he could not say a thing. He could only sit there, staring at Skalosak’s voluptuous hologram, wondering why she would ask that question at all. It was now their twelfth session, and yet Jakani had not heard Skalosak ask such a personal question before. Ever since his recounting of the Final Lottery, Jakani had continued to attend each nightly session, gesticulating with enthusiasm as he told of the Great Leader’s heroic deeds - how he had declared war on the tiny island state of Tansimu, how he had executed the entire staff of the Mondolo University for suspicion of harbouring forbidden texts, and of how he initiated a wave of secret demolition teams, whose sole purpose was to plant and detonate bombs under institutions that displeased the Great Leader. It was a glorious age, for it was an age when Tylansians knew the true meaning of fear, and were never certain where they stood. And yet, throughout every story, Skalosak had simply sat there, often frozen, sometimes surprised, but never pleased. Why couldn’t this woman see the glory of the Great Leader? What was wrong with her? Was she even listening? There was no doubt that Skalosak was no ordinary woman. What disturbed Jakani, however, was just how strange she was. With every passing night, every session, Jakani noticed something new about her - the way she stared at him, the way she sometimes squinted her eyes as if trying to focus on something far behind him, or inside him. Even her movements were somehow odd - superbly graceful, yes, but not in the way of a local woman, a city woman, or even any tourist women he had ever seen. Most of her movements seemed to be slow and measured - the way she leaned forward, the way she moved her arms, the way she stretched her neck and rolled her head to presumably ease tension in her muscles. Sometimes she would raise her fist and gently rub her face against it,

her eyes closed in perfect contentment. It was a gesture as strange as it was graceful, and inspired his night-time fantasies in odd and unexpected ways. “What do you remember about your mother?” Skalosak repeated. “My mother was … obedient,” said Jakani. “To your father?” “Of course.” “And what do you remember about your father?” “My father was a soldier in the Revolution. He died fighting for what he believed in.” “He died for the Great Leader?” “Of course.” “When did he die?” “When I was … very young.” “You were eleven when Chamoska seized power. Am I correct?” “Yes. That’s when I joined Young Patriots. All boys had to join Young Patriots.” “Yes, that’s true. However, if I am not mistaken, the average age for recruitment into Young Patriots was thirteen. Is that true?” “Yes.” “And yet you were recruited at the age of eleven.” “Yes.” “You must have been rather intelligent for your age.” “There were special programs for younger boys.” “True. Nonetheless, those boys selected early must have had special potential.” “Apparently.” “Are you an intelligent man, Jakani?” “Intellectuals are the enemy of the people.” “Why?” “Because they ask the wrong questions.” “Yet the Great Leader needed intellectuals to run his Republic, didn’t he? He needed them to build his weapons and man his computers? To monitor his surveillance systems?”

“Yes.” “After all, he didn’t want to hand over those tasks to AI systems, did he?” Jakani shuddered at the thought. Even in present day Tylansia, even in the decadent cities, the very idea of true artificial intelligence was generally frowned upon. Even the most advanced computer systems were not allowed to develop even a hint of self-awareness. It had always been that way for thousands of years. Only in the few years before Chamoska’s rise to power had that rule ever been in danger of slipping. “Absolutely not!” Jakani insisted. “So the Great Leader needed intelligent people in responsible positions, didn’t he?” “In some positions, yes.” “Did all intelligent people end up in responsible positions?” “No. The Great Leader wanted a world of workers. He would tolerate no rivals.” “I see. So what happened to the majority of intellectuals, academics, and gifted children?” “Those that were too inquisitive were executed.” “I see. And the rest?” “The rest were re-educated.” “How were they re-educated?” “They were taught how to be good citizens.” “What is a good citizen?” “A good citizen follows orders without question. A good citizen lives only for the Great Leader. A good citizen believes only what the Great Leader tells him to believe. A good citizen thinks only what the Great Leader tells him to think.” Skalosak was silent for a few seconds, her bright blue eyes searching into him. “Are you an intelligent man, Jakani?” “I am an ordinary man. I don’t want to be different.” “But if you visited one of the larger cities, wouldn’t you feel different?” “Yes! That’s why I hate those places! Cesspools of decadence and leniency!” “So you prefer to live and work in a town where everyone thinks like you?

Where everyone believes what you believe?” “Yes! Absolutely! I live where I belong. We true believers must cling together while the world falls apart around us. We must be there to plant the seeds of Revolution in the ashes of our decadent cities.” “Have you learned much in your adult life, Jakani?” “Learned? I … I don’t understand.” “In the past forty-three years since Chamoska disappeared, have you endeavoured to learn new things?” “Adults don’t learn!” shouted Jakani. “Only children learn! An adult is a person who has stopped growing and stopped learning. Everyone knows that. Are you stupid, woman?” “I have lived a long life,” said Skalosak, “and I have never stopped learning new things.” “Then you are still a child. No wonder you are stupid.” Skalosak stared silently at Jakani. She actually seemed to have trouble absorbing this information. “So let me get this straight,” she said. “Because I keep learning new things, I am stupid?” “Yes! You should have stopped learning by now. You should know everything you need to know.” “And because you stopped learning … when you left Young Patriots Camp?” “The year my Beloved Leader disappeared. The year everything I held dear fell apart.” “Yes, when you were eighteen, you stopped learning and automatically became an adult?” “Of course. An adult stops changing. An adult stays the same. It is the true Tylansian way.” “Kryslek and Marishison inform me that you ask many questions. Does this strike you as going against traditional Tylansian behaviour?” Jakani froze up, once again surprised by Skalosak’s questioning techniques. It was a very modern, urban thing to do - putting two ideas together to create a third idea. The Great Leader would not approve. “I am a guest!” he shouted. “I am entitled to answers!” “Perhaps, but we are also entitled to keep secrets, by orders of Her Majesty

Herself. Going by your own philosophy, isn’t it ‘immature’ to expect to learn new things by constantly asking questions?” “Shut up!” shouted Jakani. “Shut up shut up shut up! You stupid woman! You’re trying to shame me by poking holes in my beliefs! You’re asking for a beating, you filthy whore!” Skalosak grinned, as she often did at Jakani’s displays of anger. As always, this only angered him further. “I seriously doubt you would want to do that, Jakani.” “I am not a coward!” Jakani yelled as he leapt to his feet. “I am not afraid of a woman! I am not afraid of you! I’m not! You’re just a woman! A woman! I’ve dealt with your kind before, and I will deal with them again!” As Skalosak’s grin began to fade, Jakani tried to hold on to his belief in his own words. Yet there was still something about Skalosak that bothered him, something that he still could not name. “Sit down,” commanded Skalosak. Jakani hastily obeyed before he realised what he was doing. “Now,” said Skalosak, her tone suddenly subdued, “let us return to the subject at hand. You visit the Tomb of Chamoska four times a year, am I correct?” “Absolutely! It is my duty as a devoted follower of the Great Leader!” “And how often do you visit the graves of your parents?” Jakani sat there in stunned silence, his tongue unable to move. “How many times a year do you visit the graves of your parents?” Silence. “All right, let me rephrase the question again. In the past forty-three years that you have been a civilian, roughly how many times have you visited the graves of your parents?” Silence. “An approximate answer would do.” Silence. “Forty times?” asked Skalosak. “Thirty? Twenty?” Silence. “When was the last time you visited the graves of your parents?” Silence.

“Jakani, have you ever visited the graves of your parents?” Silence “Do you know where your parents are buried?” Silence. “Have you ever made enquiries to find out where your parents are buried?” Silence. “Jakani, why haven’t you attempted to visit the graves of your parents?” “They’re not important,” Jakani muttered softly. “Not important?” Skalosak’s face achieved that strange focusing gaze that always made Jakani feel uneasy. “Jakani, they are your parents. I would think that they are very important to you.” Silence. “Did you love your parents, Jakani?” Silence. “Did your parents love you?” Silence. “Did your parents mistreat you in any way?” Silence. “What about your wife? In the eleven years since the death of your wife, how many times have you visited her grave?” Silence. “Is your wife important to you, Jakani?” “My wife failed as a babymaker.” Skalosak widened her eyes. “Jakani, your wife gave birth to twelve healthy children. How could you possibly say that she failed as a ‘babymaker’?” “Our first child was a girl.” Skalosak scowled, an expression that always made Jakani’s guts tremble. “Jakani, are you trying to say that you are ashamed of your eldest child just because she was born female? For something that she had no say in whatsoever?” After a long silence, Jakani said “My co-workers laughed at me for weeks.” “Just because your first child was a daughter?” “Yes.”

“Jakani, who is more important? Your family, or your co-workers?” Silence. “I thought family was a very important issue on Tylansia.” Silence. “What was the name of your eldest daughter?” “Jemma.” “So, did Jemma grow up knowing that her own father was ashamed of her? Just because his co-workers laughed at him for a few weeks?” Silence. “Were you kind to Jemma, Jakani?” Silence. “Were you kind to your wife, Jakani? Were you gentle with her?” Silence. “Jakani, look at me.” Jakani simply stared at the floor. He did not want to make eye contact with Skalosak. “Look at me, Jakani.” Jakani trembled. Looking into Skalosak’s eyes was the last thing that he wanted to do. “Why won’t you look at me, Jakani? Are you afraid?” Normally, this comment would have sent Jakani into tantrums of rage. But not tonight. Not now. “How did your mother die, Jakani?” “I want to stop now,” Jakani whispered. “Are you sure you want to end the session?” “Yes,” Jakani whispered. “Very well then. Same time tomorrow?” Jakani nodded. “Fine. Good night, Jakani. And please get some sleep, all right?” The hologram dispersed. Jakani sat there, staring at the floor, for hours afterward.

“Can I ask you a question?” said Jakani. He held his breath as he stared into Skalosak’s bright blue eyes, as if bracing for impact. He had spent weeks mustering up the courage to ask Skalosak this question, and now was unsure whether to feel foolish or proud of his own bravery. “You may ask,” said Skalosak, “although I am not guaranteed to answer. That depends entirely on the question.” Jakani sighed with relief, feeling his confidence entering his chest with renewed warmth. She’s just a woman, he kept telling himself. She can’t do anything to you. “Do you have any children?” Jakani asked. A few weeks ago, Jakani would have thought nothing of asking Skalosak such a question. However, ever since Skalosak had raised the issue of his parents, Jakani had avoided the issue of family entirely. The very idea led him to a wall of darkness that he could not see through. Oh, there were memories, many of which were pleasant. But there were no answers to some of the questions that Skalosak had asked on that night. At least, none that he wanted to think about. “Yes, I have,” said Skalosak. “I had a son named Rantreleka. I raised him myself.” “You were a single mother?” Jakani screwed his face up at the thought. “Yes. Where I come from, single mothers are very common.” “Where is your son?” “He died a long time ago.” “How did he die?” “There was a starship accident. Rantreleka was one of the crewmembers.” Jakani mulled this over for a few seconds. Skalosak had an adult son a long time ago. How old was she? “Was he stupid?” he asked. Skalosak blinked. “I beg your pardon?” “Was your son stupid?” “Why do you ask that?” “Only the weak and stupid die in accidents. Their death proves their unfitness. Was your son stupid for dying in that accident?” Skalosak narrowed her gaze. Jakani desperately tried not to show his fear.

“Most definitely not,” she said. “He was a highly intelligent young male.” “Were you proud of him?” “Absolutely. Not a single day goes past where I do not think about Rantreleka, how I held him close when he was a child, how I carried him across the tundra as we watched the aurora dancing in the night sky, how his little face lit up with wonder, how I kept him safe and warm on cold nights, how he filled me with pride when he graduated from the Merchant Trade Academy as a young adult. My memories of him keep me sane when times are difficult. I love him more than I have ever loved anyone, more than his father, more than Captain Kryslek or Father Marishison or Father Damiel. Even more than …” For a moment, she looked away. “Even more than Her Majesty Herself.” “Even more than the Great Leader?” “Oh yes. So much more than Chamoska.” “How could you say that, when Great Leader Chamoska was the greatest man who ever lived, and your son was stupid enough to die in an accident?” For a long while, Skalosak stared at him in silence. It was her most unsettling stare to date - hard, cold, utterly penetrating. Jakani shivered, wanting to run, wanting Skalosak to disappear. “Jakani,” she finally said, her voice deathly soft, “I know that you’re a simpleton and emotionally stunted and that you don’t know any better. However, I do not want you to ever mention my son ever again. Ever. Understood?” “Why?” “Just DON’T!” There was that inhuman snarl again, beneath the silkysmooth voice. Jakani’s heart raced. “Don’t you DARE mention my beloved son again. EVER. That is an ORDER. UNDERSTOOD?” Jakani nodded, too afraid to speak. “I know how the human mind works,” said Skalosak. “I know what scares you, Jakani. If you piss me off again like you just did, it would be easy for me to punish you. Dead easy. Do you understand?” Jakani nodded. “Good. I call this session closed. We can talk again when you have learned some fucking manners. Good night.” The hologram vanished. Jakani sat there, staring into space. For the first time in years, he began to cry.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” he whimpered. “I’m sorry.” He could not remember why, but the words were very important to him. 6 “Were you there when the Great Leader married your Queen?” It was the fifty-first session, and the ship was less than a week away from the final wormhole. After that, there was no turning back. That made little difference to Jakani. He was determined to meet his Beloved Leader. “Yes, I was there,” replied Skalosak. “Were you a child?” “No.” “How old are you?” “Older than I look.” Skalosak grinned. “Was it a grand ceremony?” “Spectacular. Very pyrotechnic.” “Was your Queen happy to be united with the Great Leader?” “Oh, she was very pleased indeed. Positively ecstatic.” “Was the Great Leader happy?” “Perhaps you should ask him when you meet him.” “I certainly will! Did they … did they consummate the marriage?” “For the past four decades, the two have been very intimate indeed. As close as two beings could possibly be. They will never be separated. Ever. Although …” “What is it?” said Jakani. “Her Majesty was not clear when She informed us,” said Skalosak, “but I think she may need your help with something.” “She needs my help?” “Yes. That is the distinct impression that I got. I don’t fully understand Her Majesty. No one does. But from what She told me, it seems that something has confused Her. Something that Chamoska might have told Her. This is extremely rare. Few things ever confuse Her Majesty. But I think She wants you to help Her make an important decision.” “Do you mean that I get to advise your Queen?” Jakani tingled all over with

joyous anticipation. What an honour it was to influence a monarchy! “That seems to be the case,” said Skalosak. “But why me?” “Because,” said Skalosak, “you are Chamoska’s most devoted follower.” Jakani beamed with pride. He was certain that he had found his purpose in life. “Skalosak,” said Jakani. “I would like to make a request.” It was the fifty-fourth session. Three nights away from the point of no return. “Name your request, and I will consider it,” said Skalosak. “I would like to visit you in your room.” Skalosak was silent for a few seconds. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” she asked. “Yes.” “Why do you want to visit me in my quarters?” “Because …” Jakani felt himself blush. “Because you are beautiful.” Skalosak smiled sweetly. “Thank you, Jakani,” she said. “You can visit me this time tomorrow night. My voice will guide you. Once you enter my quarters, I will leave the door open. You can leave whenever you like. You will be under no obligation to stay, not for any amount of time. Understood?” “Why would I want to leave?” said Jakani. “I have to give you that choice,” said Skalosak. “Standard protocol.” “Do you trust me?” said Jakani. “Yes,” said Skalosak. “I trust you.” “Do I make you nervous?” “No, Jakani. You do not make me nervous.” “Why not?” “Perhaps I can answer that question tomorrow night,” she said, and then she winked. Jakani tingled inside. He was looking forward to tomorrow night. So long as Skalosak didn’t say something that made him angry again. Otherwise, there was no telling what he might do.

After all, she was still just a woman. “Are you ready, Jakani?” He stood outside his door in the lavish corridor, wearing the smartest suit that the robots could make for him at such short notice. In his hand was a bouquet of the finest Tylansian flowers, which (according to Kryslek) had been speed-grown from DNA samples held in the ship’s gene archives. “I’m ready,” he said to Skalosak’s disembodied voice. “All you have to do,” said Skalosak, “is turn left, and keep walking until you reach the fourth door on your left. When the door opens, feel free to walk inside.” “I will,” said Jakani. “Well,” said Skalosak, “what are you waiting for?” Jakani turned left and walked down the corridor, passing double-doors that looked huge enough to admit the entrance and exit of armoured tanks. What a strange place this was. And yet, what a wonderful place, for Skalosak was in it. Yes, thought Jakani. Skalosak would take just one look at him and kneel at his feet in absolute submission, like a proper woman. She had better, or else. Finally, he came to the fourth door. “I’m here,” he said, amazed and proud that his voice was not shaking. Yes, he was the man. He was in control. He had nothing to worry about. The doors slid open. On the other side … was darkness. Jakani froze up. “Come in,” said Skalosak’s sweet, deep voice. “Don’t worry, Jakani. You won’t be alone in the dark. I’ll be with you.” Jakani felt himself being soothed by that wonderful voice. And yet … something was wrong. Skalosak’s voice was somehow even more resonant than her hologram’s voice had ever been and … loud. Smooth, gentle, but at the same time impossibly loud, as if her voice was still being amplified. But why? Did Skalosak always have to rely on technology just to communicate? Taking a deep breath, Jakani stepped through the threshold. The temperature dropped a few degrees as soon as he entered Skalosak’s quarters. There was a strange scent in the air - not unpleasant, but powerful, like

new car leather, like freshly cleaned linen drying in the sun. The doors stayed open behind him, and the light from the corridor illuminated the floor around his shadow like a hazy halo. The carpet was white and luxuriantly thick. Around him were dimly lit objects that had to be furniture, but of strange shape and impossible size. “Walk five metres forward,” said Skalosak’s voice. “I’ll be in the first doorway on your left.” Slowly, keeping his eyes on the carpet in front of him, Jakani walked forward and turned to face the doorway on his left - as broad and as high as the quarters’ main entrance. He froze solid. In the darkness beyond the doorway, towering far above him, was a pair of brilliant blue eyes. They were huge, and at least a handspan apart. This had to be another hologram. What was it with Skalosak and holograms? “Skalosak?” said Jakani. “I’m here.” He felt the voice in his bones - smooth and powerful. “Show yourself.” “As you wish,” said Skalosak, and the lights came on. Kneeling there in the vast doorway was the most incredible creature Jakani had ever seen. It was like a tiger, its rippling stripes in black and white - yet it was immense. The mightiest lion was a mere kitten next to this. It knelt almost like a human, its forepaws resting on powerfully thick thighs. Its densely furred body was pear-shaped like a storybook dragon, its hips almost as wide as Jakani’s armspan. Jakani’s heart raced. His breaths sped up, wavering. This had to be a model - an artwork of this strangely affluent culture. But where was Skalosak? The massive feline blinked, then cocked its head. Jakani stepped back. “Ska-Skalosak!” he called. His voice was shaking terribly. “Skalosak! Where are you?” “I’m here,” said the beast. Jakani dropped the bouquet. He stepped back further, his legs trembling

like jelly. “No,” he said. “No.” “Don’t be afraid, Jakani,” said the beast. “I will not harm you.” Jakani heard these words, but he could not process their meaning. The beast filled his sight, his mind, and he refused to hear its voice in his own language, for if he thought about it for a moment, he knew that he would recognize the voice, and know who it belonged to, and make the connection that his mind desperately refused to make … “You are free to leave,” said the voice, that sweet and powerful and oh so familiar voice. “We can continue to communicate as before. I’m sorry if I have frightened you.” “Nooooo!” Jakani moaned, slamming his hands over his ears. His legs collapsed beneath him. The soft carpet cushioned his impact as he landed on his back. The beast twitched its ears and leaned forward, its eyes - her eyes - fixed on Jakani with what might have been concern, or interest, or hunger. It all made horrible sense. This beast, this monster, had been deceiving him for weeks. It had communicated with him in the form of a beautiful woman, and had lured him here to devour him. It was just like the old folk tales - a monster disguises itself as a comely maiden to entice men to their doom. And now, Jakani was to go the way of all the foolish travellers and vain criminals of those olden tales. Skalosak was going to punish him for all his sins. And, for all his terror, he knew that he deserved it. He felt the tears trickling down his cheeks. He felt the urine gushing down his leg. He heard his own voice, feeble and wavering, as if from the bottom of a deep, dark pit. “Mooooooom!” he cried. “I’m soooooorrreeeeeee!” “You’re safe here,” said the beast, Skalosak, once his fantasy, now his nightmare. “You’re safe with me. I will never harm you, Jakani.” Yet Jakani never truly heard those words, for his own heaving, choking breaths filled his ears and his mind, and they spoke a language of instinct, of raw primal fear, that had far more conviction than the genteel reassurances - the cunning imitation of human speech - uttered by the monster that towered over him. His vision darkened. All sound distorted into haze. Something in the back of his head was sucking out all of his senses, sucking them dry and leaving only a merciful oblivion. Jakani’s last sight was of Skalosak rising to her full height -

oh God, she was huge - and taking one slow, cautious step towards him. “Jakani? Can you hear me?” The voice was familiar - male, gentle, elderly and wise. It was a reassuring voice, not the voice he now feared. It was a human voice - the only type of voice he wanted to hear. Jakani opened his eyes to find Marishison, once again, sitting beside his bed. “You had us worried for a moment there,” said the Chaplain. “The medicines we put into your food and drink prevented you from getting a heart attack, but they couldn’t prevent you from fainting.” “It was … it was a dream … wasn’t it?” Jakani stared into Marishison’s eyes, hoping to have his fears put at ease. “It had to be a dream. Skalosak … she’s not a monster … she can’t be …” “Jakani, please listen. Skalosak is-” “No!” “It’s all right. She’s not going to-” “She deceived me! She deceived all of us!” “No. Not us.” “You knew?” “I have known her for a very long time. She is truly-” “You knew! You knew and you let her lure me to my doom! What sort of a priest are you?” “You were not in danger, Jakani. Not from her. Never from her.” “She deceived me!” “No, Jakani. Don’t you understand? Skalosak cared for you. She projected her hologram in human form so as not to frighten you. Simple motion capture technology. Even your world has it.” “She was horrible!” Marishison scowled. “Horrible? I can see how she could be intimidating, especially when you see her for the first time. But horrible? No. She is anything but horrible. Do you know how you got here?” Jakani stared at the Chaplain in silence. “She carried you here in her arms,” said Marishison, “and lay you in bed as

you are now.” “She touched me?” said Jakani, every muscle clenching in revulsion. “She is so gentle,” said Marishison. “For such a huge and powerful creature, she is so amazingly gentle. Just like a mother.” Marishison’s last word made Jakani’s racing heart sink. There were other things to remember, other things he had forgotten, not for minutes, but for years, for decades. Jakani shook his head. “It’s wrong,” he said. “It’s all wrong.” “Perhaps her choice to let you see her true form was a little hasty in retrospect,” said Marishison. “I had some doubts myself. But-” “No,” said Jakani. “Something is missing. Something … something has always been missing.” “From where, Jakani? Where does this missing thing belong? In your memory? In your heart?” “I don’t know. I don’t even understand. I don’t understand anything.” “We are less than a day away from the final wormhole. After that-” “I want to go through.” “Are you sure?” “Yes. I must meet the Great Leader. Only he will have the answers.” Marishison stared, frozen, utterly blank. “You may find the answers you are looking for,” he finally said. “But learning isn’t always an easy process.” “Do even adults have to learn?” “Especially adults. Even the oldest and wisest of us have to learn. When we cease to learn, we cease to live. And you, my friend, even at your age, have so much learning to do, but …” The Chaplain sighed and looked away. “You were raised to believe that pain is good for you. Well, that is not always true. But sometimes, just sometimes, pain is necessary. If it means that you learn something, learn what you need to know, strip away the illusion that has been blinding you and learn the truth, then pain is necessary. Spend so long in the dark, and the first glimpse of light may blind you for a moment. That is the price of knowledge. It always has been.” “I don’t …” Jakani found his own words fading, like his sight, like all his senses. “I don’t think I … understand.”

“You will,” said Marishison, who faded from view as Jakani’s eyelids sank, and once again there was just a voice in the darkness. “For better or worse, you will.” 7 When Jakani awoke, he found himself in another room. Compared to the lavishness of his guest quarters aboard starship Milton , this room was surprisingly small and scant, consisting of only a single bed, a chair, a desk, and a door that probably led to a bathroom. Everything was on a human scale Jakani had forgotten how close a normal ceiling looked. The room was simple, yet neat and elegant. If not for the lack of windows, it could have been a motel room on Tylansia. The man-sized door slid open, confirming that the past few weeks had not been a dream. Father Marishison was real after all, and he stood there in his doorway trying to grin. His eyes were as sombre as ever. “Where am I?” said Jakani as Marishison pulled the chair out and sat beside the bed. “You’re on our planet,” said Marishison. “Or, I should say, in it. The surface is no longer habitable to us mortals. It hasn’t been for thousands of years. We live underground, all of us, even Her Majesty. And speaking of whom … She already wants to speak to you, as soon as possible.” “And the Great Leader?” Jakani beamed with childlike joy. “When can I see him? When?” “You will have your opportunity,” said Marishison, “but you must speak to Her Majesty first.” “When? Where do I go? Am I to enter her throne room?” Marishison shook his head. “She is to speak to you here.” “In person?” “In virchspace. Virtual reality, in other words.” “No …” Jakani rose up and got out of bed. “No no no no no!” He did not care for his unkempt hair, his loose-fitting bedsuit. He stumbled straight for the closed door. “Why can’t I talk face to face? Why?” “Before you go outside,” said Marishison, freezing Jakani in his tracks before he could touch the door, “please remember that Skalosak is a cuddly toy compared to some of the creatures you may face out there.”

Instantly Jakani retreated from the door, almost as if pushed back, and turned to face Marishison. “Her Majesty knows that you will be safe and comfortable in this room,” said Marishison. “You have to be physically close to avoid interception, in case the conversation lasts for hours. She will never let any harm come to Her honoured guest. You have an important purpose to fulfil.” “And what is this purpose?” “None of us are certain, although Skalosak suspects that you may have to help Her Majesty make an important decision.” “Yes, she told me that. It has something to do with the Great Leader. Are he and the Queen having a happy marriage?” Marishison sighed and looked away. “I’m sorry, Jakani.” “What are you sorry for?” “I seriously doubt that this task is going to be a pleasant one.” “But I’m going to see the Great Leader! I’m going to speak with him! What could possibly be more pleasant than that? What could be a greater honour? What?” Marishison closed his eyes for a few seconds. When he opened them, he said: “We cannot keep Her Majesty waiting for much longer. She is very eager to meet you, Jakani.” “Good! So where is the headset?” “We don’t need headsets for virtual interface here.” “You don’t?” “No. Everything that you need is already inside your body.” Jakani stared silently at Marishison, not knowing what to say, not even what to think. “Every meal that we gave you contained a small number of benign nanobots,” said Marishison. “During our travel, they have been setting up a virchspace transception system inside your brain. It should last for at least another year.” Not long ago, such news would have horrified Jakani. Now, he faced the revelation with a numb sense of acceptance. If this was the price he had to pay to meet the Great Leader, then it was worth it. “What … what do I need to do?” said Jakani. “Just lie on your bed and close your eyes. Her Majesty will meet you in the

privacy of your own mind. And so will …” Marishison seemed to choke. “So will your Beloved Leader.” Jakani did not hesitate to follow Marishison’s advice. Within seconds he was lying down with his eyes closed. “When will it start?” said Jakani, too excited to fall asleep. “Soon,” said Marishison. “Very soon.” Jakani had been on an operating table only twice in his life, and remembered how quickly consciousness had drained away to oblivion once the anaesthetic began to work. But today, oblivion was far from his intended goal … It was starting already. The darkness behind his eyelids somehow seemed to expand, as if dark stormclouds were parting to reveal a night sky, infinitely vast yet empty of stars. The universe tipped over on its axis, and he felt himself falling into the endless blackness. Something huge awaited him below. Something that was of the void, yet filled to the brim with chaotic writhing, and hungry for more and more and ever more. Something massive. Something alive. For a moment, Jakani felt terror the likes of which he had never imagined possible. The sense of falling abruptly stopped. Jakani looked around, but saw only darkness. This time, however, the darkness felt closer, more solid, as if he were in a dark room and waiting for the lights to turn on. Somehow, for the first time he could remember, Jakani felt comfortable and secure in the dark. Even the confusion and questions dancing in his mind were beginning to submerge - still present, but seeming less and less important. And then he saw the woman. She was like no Tylansian woman Jakani had seen, but had more in common with some tourist women. Her skin was a deeper tan than that of Skalosak’s human hologram, her eyes were small and elongated, and her long straight hair was tied back in a ponytail. She was slightly shorter than Jakani, about half his age, and her lean, solid build was clothed in a type of dark blue uniform. She might have been a soldier or a police officer; a female in such a profession was a rarity even on modern Tylansia, but by now Jakani knew that anything was possible in other worlds, especially this one. The woman was smiling; an innocent, girlish smile, cheerful and welcoming. “Hello, Palo Jakani,” she said.

Jakani stood there silently, staring. “I have been watching you for a long time,” the woman added. Jakani was stunned. This woman looked nothing like a Queen. Even Skalosak’s holographic disguise looked more queenly than this girl soldier. The woman giggled. “I know you’re confused,” she said. “Not quite what you expected am I?” “I … I am sorry, Your Majesty.” She giggled again. “Don’t apologise. Please. In case you’re wondering, I chose this form because it reminds me of a woman who was kind to me, long ago.” “Then … then what …” “What do I really look like? Oh, that’s not important right now. I’m not like Skalosak, if that’s what you’re thinking.” That was exactly what Jakani had been thinking. He tried to remind himself that the Queen was now inside his mind, and that he had no secrets from her. “Where is my Beloved Leader?” “Well, that’s what we’re here for, isn’t it? Come on.” She held out her hand. Jakani hesitated. If this was not the Queen’s true form, then what was she? Was she even human? “You don’t want to keep your Beloved Leader waiting, do you?” This did it for Jakani. He reached out to the Queen (the distance between them closing effortlessly) and took her hand in his. Her grip was firm and warm, and filled him with a newfound confidence. Then, hand in hand, Jakani and the Queen walked through the darkness. As Jakani looked around, he had trouble working out what sort of darkness surrounded him. Was it the darkness of emptiness, or was it the darkness that hid everything? If it was the latter, then what was it hiding? “I’m not afraid of the dark,” said the Queen, “because I’m never alone.” Far up ahead on the invisible path, Jakani saw one distinct object suddenly revealed out of the omnipresent shadows. It resembled a pale, elongated egg floating upright in the air. The closer he approached the egg, the more he noticed the six legs underneath the egg - four gracefully carved and curved ivory, two jackbooted and most likely human. The egg was the back of a chair, and Jakani knew exactly who was sitting in it. Instantly, he froze in his tracks.

This was it. This was the moment he had been waiting for all his long life. He was about to come face to face with Great Leader Chamoska. The Queen gently squeezed Jakani’s hand and giggled softly. “Go to him,” she said. “He’s been waiting for you for a long time.” Then she let go. Jakani took a few tentative steps towards the chair. This may have been virtual reality, but the chair looked solid, and moved in his view as any threedimensional solid should move as he approached it. For all intents and purposes, this was real. And so was the Great Leader. With careful treads, completely forgetting that footsteps could not be heard in this place, Jakani walked around to the chair’s right side, then slowly made his way to the front. Great Leader Chamoska had aged considerably, but he was still recognisable. He still had that strong manly jaw, that closely trimmed scalp and beard, and that same army uniform adorned with medals. Yet those eyes Jakani remembered fondly - once so powerful and penetrating - now seemed blank and vacant as they stared unblinking into the void. His mouth, once stern and straight, now hung half open as if in amazement, or exhaustion. His skin, once as tanned and rough as granite, was now as pale as a turnip and as wrinkled as a prune. Even as Jakani slowly moved directly into Chamoska’s line of sight, the Great Leader’s eyes did not move. His face did not even twitch. Perhaps he was lost in thoughts, Jakani rationalised. Great Thoughts worthy only of a Great Leader. The presence of a little common man such as he should not even register to such a mighty authority. Humbled, Jakani got down on his knees, recalling the speech he had been rehearsing for weeks. “Oh my Great Leader,” he said. “Oh my Beloved Leader. I am unworthy of your mighty presence, yet deep inside I feel privileged all the same. I have honoured you from the moment you seized the office and authority that was rightfully yours, and I have been mourning your absence from the moment you disappeared from our once shining world. When our people revelled in a gluttonous excess of freedom, you took away our childish toys, and gave us the reality of fear and danger and uncertainty. You gave our lives meaning again, and for that I speak for all true patriots as I thank you. For forty-three years, I

have prayed and waited for that glorious Revolution to burn our world once again, but I looked around and found no man worthy to lead such a mighty movement. Now, my heart is filled with joy to find that you still live, and with your courage, wisdom and leadership, you may take the flames of your passion not just to your lost and decadent homeworld, but to the greater decadence of the galaxy at large. Oh my Great Leader, I am more than privileged to be here at the birth of a brave and glorious new age. I am blessed.” Long seconds of complete silence followed. Chamoska’s eyes moved just a few millimetres. “My Great Leader? Has the Queen treated you well?” From Chamoska’s throat came a tiny puff of air, barely audible even in this silent place. “My Great Leader? Can you see me? Can you hear me?” Chamoska’s eyes twitched again, this time locking with Jakani’s gaze. He stared, his eyes huge and unblinking. Then, slowly, he began to tremble. Another breath emanated from his mouth, this time slightly louder, with just a hint of a voice - yet this was not the bold and deep voice Jakani remembered from his childhood. It was a wheeze - a faint, strained, wavering wheeze. From the corner of the Great Leader’s mouth, saliva began to drip uncontrollably. And, as he watched his idol drool mindlessly, Jakani felt a tear flow down his cheek. He got to his feet. “My Gra- … Great Leader? Are you in pain?” “Oh yes,” said the voice of the Queen. “He is in pain. Extraordinary pain. Exquisite pain. Pain the likes of which you can never imagine.” Jakani turned to face the Queen, utterly stunned with confusion. The Queen was smiling. She had just spoken the words as if describing her favourite meal. “I don’t … I don’t understand. Can’t you heal him? Can’t you help him?” “I am helping him,” said the Queen. “I am giving him exactly what he wants. Aren’t I, my Beloved Prince?” She walked up to the drooling Chamoska and sat on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. Instantly Chamoska shuddered more violently, almost as if having a seizure. He drooled great globs of phlegm. His wheezing rose in pitch, like a frightened child. Jakani watched through his gushing tears. “Please, Your Majesty,” he whimpered. “Please! You’re … you’re scaring him!”

“Oh, I know!” said the Queen in a playful singsong voice, stroking the head of the whining, drooling Chamoska as if he were a pet. “He likes it when I scare him, don’t you, you little snooziwushkins!” Chamoska wheezed and whined pathetically, his eyes searching for Jakani as if through thick fog. “But why?” said Jakani. “Why is he suffering? Why?” “Because he loves pain,” said the Queen. “He understands the Language of Pain. At least, he used to. All the people he tortured. All the people he terrorized. All the people he sentenced to death. All the people he massacred in that stadium during the Final Lottery Ceremony. He relished the pain he inflicted on others. He relished the fear he inspired in the masses. It made him feel powerful. So I, in my generosity, shared with him my Gift of Pain. We share the Language of Pain as effortlessly as we share bodily fluids. For forty-three years, he has been my beloved Prince. My Prince of Pain. One of thousands.” “Tha … thousands?” Jakani choked. “Yes, thousands. I have millions of lovers, and thousands that are fit to be called my husbands. Some of them dwell inside my Heart. Some of them are close enough to it. Little Chamosky-Wosky here is one of the latter. But that does not mean he is not special, does it precious? Hey? You’re special too! Yes you are! Mommy has lots and lots of lovely pain just for yoo-woo!” Chamoska shook his head and whined horribly, like a burning puppy. “Stop it!” Jakani screamed. “Stop hurting him! He doesn’t deserve this! He is a good man! He doesn’t deser…” Jakani broke down sobbing. The Queen was mad. Utterly, hopelessly mad. “Stop it … please … Your Maj … stop it …” The Queen turned to Jakani and fixed him with a stare that terrified him more than Skalosak ever did. She rose from Chamoska’s lap, her stare still fixed on Jakani. “Do you know why you are here, Jakani?” she said, her voice now as stern and sombre as it had been girlish and playful mere seconds earlier. “Because I am … I am Chamoska’s … most devoted …” “Most devoted follower, yes. That is why you must help me make a decision. The most important decision I have made in thousands of years. Chamoska? My Precious Prince?” Chamoska’s feeble whine returned under the Queen’s attention. The Queen lowered her sweetly smiling face to his and gently stroked his beard.

“Chamoska, my darling. Tell your devoted follower what you told me. Go on. Tell him. Don’t be shy.” From the depths of Chamoska’s throat came a distant, strained squeak. “Eee-eee.” “Did you hear that, Jakani? He said sorry, didn’t you precious?” “He is … he is sorry? For what?” “For all the pain and fear he has inflicted. For all the people he has tortured and killed. For all the families he has torn apart. For all the towns and villages and communities he has exterminated. He wants to apologise for them all. He wants to repent. He wants redemption. He wants forgiveness. And he wants you to forgive him, Jakani. Will you forgive him?” “Oh yes!” Jakani’s voice gushed out with a fresh burst of tears. “I forgive him! I forgive you, my Great Leader! I forgive you! Please, let him go Your Majesty! Please, let him …” Jakani choked on the words he wanted to say, but he knew he had to say them. “Please let him die! Let him die! Let him die! End his pain and let him die!” Jakani could take no more. He sunk to his knees and convulsed in wordless, agonizing sobs. “I cannot accept your request, Jakani,” the Queen said sternly. “Not yet.” Jakani raised his tear-strewn face to the Queen, to drained to speak. “I must know for sure that Chamoska’s remorse is genuine and sincere,” she said. “It is!” Jakani wheezed. “Your Majesty, I swear his remorse is real!” “How much do you remember, Jakani?’ “Your … Your Majesty? I don’t-” “Do you remember your parents, Jakani?” Jakani gulped. “My father was a soldier in the Revolution. My mother was … my mother …” “I’m not interested in what you’ve been telling yourself. What do you remember? What do you remember about your parents, Jakani?” “I don’t know!” Jakani screamed. “But you can remember, can’t you, Jakani?” “I don’t want to remember!” he screamed. “I don’t want to remember! I don’t! I don’t!” “But you will,” said the Queen, slowly walking towards Jakani with her

arms outstretched. “You will remember. You must make an informed decision if you are going to advise me. You must remember. And I will help you remember.” With expert gentleness, the Queen held Jakani’s head in her firm, warm hands. “You will remember,” she whispered softly. Through Jakani’s tear-distorted vision, the Queen’s face expanded, glowed like fire, and then faded into absolute darkness. 8 “Mom!” cried little Palo Jakani as he clutched his bedsheets. “Mom!” He heard soft footsteps padding down the corridor. Within seconds his bedroom light came on, and the tall, hourglass form of Palo’s mother stood in the doorway. “More nightmares?” she said. Palo sat up in his bed, nodding. Nakata Jakani walked up to him and sat on the edge of his bed, radiating warmth like a mother swan. Her large blue eyes held just the right balance of concern and humour. They both knew that a dream was just a dream, and that the real world was where real trouble was found. “Was it about the stadium again?” she asked. “No,” said Palo. “It was about the beast-heads.” Nakata sighed, then gave a faint chuckle. “I told you, non-human sapients are people just like us. They only look different. Their ancestors were genetically engineered animals back on Old Earth, thousands of years ago.” “I know,” said Palo. “But you told me not to tell anyone what you said.” “That’s true.” “Or else you could get into trouble?” “Yes. We all could. Chamoska hates anything non-human.” “Is that why Chamoska banned foreigners from visiting our planet?” “He banned all foreigners,” said Nakata. “Even the human ones. Even the ambassadors.” “But why? Because they’re spies?” “Not necessarily, because …” Nakata looked away. Palo liked the way she

let him ask any question he wanted, so long as they had privacy. It made him feel like an adult. However, sometimes she had no answers. Perhaps it was because there were no answers. Or perhaps because the answer would disturb him. “Because Chamoska is an idiot, and he’s scared of them,” she said. “Just don’t tell anyone I said that.” She grinned. Palo giggled. “I won’t,” he said. “I’m thirsty all of a sudden,” he added. “Well, let’s see,” said Nakata. “In the fridge, we have ice-water, ice-water, and ice-water. Oh, and maybe if we’re lucky, there might still be some ice-water left from yesterday. What would you prefer?” Palo giggled again. These days the teachers at school were afraid to tell jokes, especially at the expense of the new consumption rules. This was why he loved his mother’s company more than ever. In private, she still spoke her mind, and had not forgotten how to laugh. His father was … more complicated. “I think I’ll go and choose myself,” he said. Less than a minute later, Palo and his mother were walking across the social room towards the kitchen. His father was still at his desk, working on another poster. Palo did not have a clear view of the unfinished poster, but that did not concern him. All the walls of the social room were vibrant with Barnon Jakani’s previous works. Next to the front window, a metre-wide poster depicted Chamoska standing heroically on top of a pile of rotting human corpses as sunbeams shone down upon him. The corpses were elegantly dressed, and decorated with pearls, gold and jewellery. Beneath the corpse pile, lurid letters spelled out the message: “Surrender the spoils to the Mighty!” On an equal-sized poster on the adjacent wall, Chamoska stood upon the bare chest of a savage, lion-headed creature, bloodily spearing its throat with a bayonet. The caption: “Death to foreign beast-head scum!” There were dozens of such posters, all depicting Chamoska triumphing over everything that he hated. And every single one of them was exquisitely detailed and starkly real. They had all been rendered, not with enhanced photographs, not with computer graphics software (now illegal to ordinary citizens), but with his father’s own hand, his pencils, and his needle-fine paintbrush. Barnon Jakani had been a multi-award winning artist in the years before Chamoska had seized power. His manual techniques, dark themes, and hyperrealistic style had ensured that he would be one of the few successful artists to be spared the Great Leader’s wrath. Indeed, it was well known that

Chamoska himself had been a great admirer of Barnon Jakani’s work years before the Revolution, and had bought two of his better-known works for fairly hefty sums. After slaughtering all the famous artists he did not like, Chamoska had rounded up the minority of famous artists that he did like, and set them to work creating propaganda for the new regime. Of all the artists working for the Great Leader, Palo’s father was widely acclaimed as the greatest of all. He was so highly regarded that Chamoska had executed half of his propaganda team over the past few weeks for not measuring up to Barnon Jakani’s formidable standards. His father had been losing a lot of sleep lately. He would often sit here in the social room working just to stay awake. Palo knew exactly why. He also knew why he himself had nightmares so frequently. He only had to look around him. His mother opened the fridge and poured one glass of ice-water for Palo, and one for herself. “Are you thirsty, love?” she said to Barnon. “Later,” he replied. “I just need to colour in this one last medal.” As Nakata sat down at the table with her glass and her weekly edition of “The Loyalist”, Palo slowly walked over to where his father sat. Barnon was gently adding fine brushstrokes to his new poster. “Remember to keep that glass away from the desk,” said Barnon. Even with his back turned, he always knew when someone approached him. “All right,” said Palo. He walked a few more steps and stopped an arm’s length from the edge of the desk. “How’s it going?” he asked. “Not bad,” replied his father. Palo looked at the not-quite-finished poster and smirked at his father’s penchant for understatement. Even when he was being told what to paint, he was still producing works of art. The present picture depicted Chamoska planting the party flag amidst the ruins of a thoroughly bombed and gutted city strewn with mangled bodies and skeletons - probably the capital of Tansimu - with the fiery caption: “Let the glory of the Mighty rise from the ashes of the weak.” “It’s looking good,” said Palo. “Thanks,” said his father, not looking up from his work. “Do you like Chamoska?” For a moment, Barnon froze. After sighing softly, he resumed his brushstrokes and said: “Does it matter?”

“You’re drawing posters for him.” “I’m not doing this for him.” “Then who are you drawing them for?” “I’m doing this for us.” Palo reflected on this for a moment. “Does he pay you well?’ “Well, we are better off than the average family.” “But he … he confiscated most of our things.” “Everyone lost something.” “You don’t like Chamoska, do you Dad?” Once again, Barnon froze. Palo stepped to the side and noticed that his father’s eyes were watering. “It’s not your fault that those other artists got shot,” said Palo. “Palo, what did I tell you?” his mother said with an uncommon sternness. “No, it’s all right,” said his father. For the first time since Palo entered the room, Barnon turned to face his son. There were tears behind his spectacles. “I have to work for Chamoska,” he said. “For your sake as well as Mom’s. Do you understand?” “Did he threaten us?” His father looked away. Palo took that as a “yes”. “Palo,” said Barnon. “Please, promise not to tell anyone, but on the first day that bastard executed those artists right in front of me, I swore that one day I would-” Headlights swept across the front window, and the sound of a heavy motor worked its way up the driveway. Instantly Barnon got to his feet. “It’s the Inspector Colonel,” he said. Instantly Palo tensed up. He hated Inspector Colonel Haxton’s surprise visits. He hated Inspector Colonel Haxton. The front door rapidly unlocked (for Palo knew that Haxton carried a universal key), and the door swung open. The Inspector Colonel was a huge man with a face fixed somewhere between a smirk and a scowl. His broad shoulders were accentuated by the steel shoulderpads of his Secret Police uniform, and his multi-crested peaked cap enhanced his intimidating height. He never came alone, and this time his entourage was greater than ever - twelve soldiers, all armed with automatic rifles.

Palo felt the warm touch of his mother’s hand on his shoulder. Palo only wished that this was all the protection that he needed. However, events of the past half-year had taught him how the world really worked, and he knew that stories did not always end happily for the innocent. He gripped his mother’s warm hand, hoping everything would be all right. Barnon stood to attention and saluted. “Sir,” he said. “Barnon Jakani,” boomed Inspector Colonel Haxton as he entered, looking around at the posters adorning the social room. “Working late as usual. Most pleasing to see. Most pleasing indeed.” By the time all the soldiers had entered the room, spread out in a wide circle, Haxton was standing before the desk admiring Barnon’s latest work. “Impressive,” he said. “The Great Leader was just talking about you this evening.” “I am honoured, Sir,” said Barnon. “Do you know what he said about you?” “No, Sir.” “He said that you are still the best artist in his employ.” “I … I am greatly honoured, Sir.” “In fact, he actually went as far as to say that you are the greatest artist still living, now that he got rid of your competitors.” “That … that is indeed a high honour, Sir.” “Indeed it is.” Haxton turned away from the unfinished poster and faced Barnon directly. “So that leads me to this most vital question. Why, Mister Jakani, must you insist on insulting the Great Leader?” Palo felt his guts freeze in terror. His mother tightened her grip on his shoulder. His father visibly flinched, breaking out in sweat. Such an accusation was very serious indeed. “I … Sir, I do not understand.” “Do you believe that you are a greater artist that the Great Leader himself?” “Why, Sir, I have never made such an outrageous statement. To even think such subversive thoughts-” “I know that you have never spoken such sentiments out aloud,” said Haxton, walking to the centre of the room and turning to face Barnon. “But the greatest crimes of slander are not the ones that are spoken. They are the ones that are thought, or the ones that are acted out. And you, Barnon Jakani, have been acting out great slander for close to half a year.”

“Sir, my likeness of the Great Leader -” “Is very authentic, I agree. Can’t you see the problem here?” Both men were silent for several seconds. “For the past ten weeks,” said Haxton, “the Great Leader has tried to create his own artwork. He has stayed up late at night trying to best your achievements, and yet he has failed. He cannot match your talent. He cannot even approach your talent. He has said so himself. Sometimes he stays up late at night, weeping, profoundly ashamed that he, the Great Leader, could be defeated by a mere servant. I have seen it.” Palo was numb with confusion. Chamoska had always said that a real man does not cry, and any man who does must be punished severely. Evidently the rule did not extend to the ruler himself. “I had … I had no idea,” said Barnon. “No idea. If only I had known. If only … I would have …” “You would have what?” blared the Inspector Colonel. “I would have … at least … shown some restraint … I mean …” “You mean you would have deliberately performed below your abilities in your service to the Great Leader?” “If it would have pleased him, I would ha-” Haxton struck him across the face with the butt of his pistol, sending him staggering backwards onto his art desk, his nose bent and bleeding. Palo and Nakata screamed, but before either of them could take a step forward, rough hands seized them, cold rifle barrels closed against their throats almost to the point of choking. Haxton scowled as he looked down on the artist sprawled out and bleeding all over his own artwork. “First you insult the Great Leader with every action,” said Haxton, “and now you insult the Great Leader with every word.” “Please, Sir,” said Barnon, smearing blood across his unfinished poster as he tried to lift himself, “what do you want me to say?” “The Great Leader does not want you to say anything,” said Haxton. “The Great Leader only wants you to suffer.” With that, he shot Barnon in the stomach. “Barnon!” screamed Nakata. “Daddy!” Palo screamed through his tears. “You evil scum Haxton!” he

added just before the rifle barrel chocked the wind out of him. Barnon slid off his desk and collapsed into a bloodied heap, wheezing and choking, his eyes glassed over with delirious agony. Haxton turned to face the breathless Palo, his grin sarcastic and condescending as he approached. “What’s wrong with you, boy?” he said. “Who taught you to be so disrespectful to your elders? Who? Was it your limp-dicked artist of a father? Or was it this bitch-swine whore that you call a mother? Do you love your mother, boy?” The rifle barrel loosened slightly, giving Palo just enough breath to speak. “Well? Do you?” Haxton pressed. “Yes,” Palo barely whispered. “Do you love her more than the Great Leader?” Palo could not speak. He wished he had no breath to speak. He wished he were dead. He knew that this was a trick question. If only he could turn his head to look into his mother’s eyes. Haxton slapped his face with his gloved hand. Pain flashed behind his eyes. “Answer me, boy!” shouted the Inspector Colonel. “Yes,” Palo croaked. “Really?” Haxton raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “You love this bitch-swine whore more than you love the Great Leader? The Great Leader who graciously allows you to live another day despite the fact that you are lower than pond scum in his pure eyes? How could you possibly love your bitch-swine mother more than your Beloved Leader? How is that possible? What does this bitch-swine whore do to make you love her so much? Does she still suckle you with her big fat titties? Does she?” Haxton strode over to Nakata, and the soldier holding Palo abruptly turned to face his actions. Palo watched as Haxton tore off the front of his mother’s blouse and bras, exposing her large breasts. Haxton bit into her nipple. Nakata’s scream pierced Palo’s eardrums. Haxton turned to Palo, blood running down his chin, and spat at him. Something soft and wet slapped against his forehead. His mother slumped in the soldier’s grip, moaning, eyes blank with shock, a raw wound glaring on her breast. “A real man does not need a mother,” said Haxton, and shot Nakata in the

stomach. Palo’s breath, up until now frozen in a state of disbelief, finally exploded in a scream that stripped his throat raw. Nakata crumpled to the floor in a puddle of her own blood, her mouth frozen in an “o” of terror, her breaths short and strained. “Do you see what you have done?” said Haxton, grabbing Palo by the chin. “Do you see what happens when you disrespect the Great Leader? Love anyone more than the Great Leader and you will lose them. That is the way of the world. We’ll teach you, boy. We’ll teach you to be a real man. Young Patriots is your family now. You have no parent but the Great Leader himself.” The Inspector Colonel headed for the door. The soldier holding Palo twisted around and pushed him in that direction. Palo’s last view of his mother was of her lying in her own blood, her face distorted in anguish as she slowly, shakily reached out a hand to him. “I’m sorry, Mom!” Palo cried. “I’m sorry!” As his bleeding parents vanished from his view and he was pushed out the door, Palo saw one of the soldiers approaching his house with a flamethrower. The night lit bright orange, hot air pressed against Palo’s skin as he was dragged towards the army truck, and behind him came the strained, terrified screams of his mother and father. Palo Jakani was still screaming for his mother when the Queen reappeared before him, holding his head in her firm-yet-gentle hands. Slowly, she let go, her stare piercing yet unreadable. It was all Jakani could see through his tears. The Queen took a few steps back, her unblinking stare still fixed on Jakani. “Now, Jakani,” she said, “do you forgive Chamoska?” Trembling, Jakani turned to face Chamoska, still sitting paralysed on his chair of agony, his eyes as wide as fried eggs as he stared at Jakani. With what looked like tremendous effort, Chamoska raised his hands and reached out to Jakani. His hands trembled uncontrollably; his fingers twitched and jittered as if playing an invisible piano. Jakani understood. Chamoska wanted forgiveness. Chamoska was desperate for forgiveness. He was reaching out to his most devoted follower, silently begging to be delivered from the Queen’s insane embrace, delivered from the torment of his miserable existence. Jakani shook his head. “You,” he said to Chamoska. “You took away my parents. You took away my identity. You took away my mind. That I can never forgive. You are not my leader. You are the Queen’s pet! You are the Queen’s

fuck toy! She can keep you! She can burn you with her lust! Burn you! Burn! Burn in Hell! Burn in Hell, and your Revolution with you!” Chamoska’s arms trembled more wildly than ever. His face twisted and distorted in terrified anguish. From his toothless mouth came a high-pitched keening, the most pitiful sound Jakani had ever heard. In his guts, he knew that he was hearing the death of all hope. He did not care. “Thank you, Jakani,” said the Queen. “Thank you. Thank you! I can enjoy my beloved Prince now! Chamoska is mine! He is mine to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, for ever and ever and ever!” Chamoska’s keening rose to a pitch beyond anything human, beyond anything alive. His hands fluttered before his screwed-up face in a desperate attempt to shield himself. It was futile. Once again, the Queen sat on his lap, smiling warmly as she wrapped her arms around his shuddering shoulders. “It’s all right, my beloved Prince,” she cooed softly. “You’re a part of me, now. A part of me forever. I’ll always be around you, loving you, giving you my passionate attention. And the pain you have experienced in the past forty-three years will be less than an atom before the galaxies of agony that shine on endlessly in the depths of your eternity.” Chamoska’s thrashed his head, his twisted face rising to face the dark heavens, wailing pathetically, without hope, horrified of his immanent damnation yet unable to comprehend it. “Easy, my Prince,” said the Queen. “Save your screams for me. From this moment henceforth, I am your universe, your love, your torment, without interval, without end.” With those words, she held Chamoska’s head in her hands and pressed her face to his. Her lips closed around his trembling mouth, smothering his cries in a passionate kiss. Chamoska’s whining continued, degenerating into muffled, choking sobs. Then, their faces began to melt into each other. Jakani stared with horrified fascination as the flesh of the two faces became one liquefied protoplasm, stretching and flowing like red toffee. Chamoska’s whining continued all the way through it, feeling everything, fully aware. Beneath and above the pathetic whining came a deep and lustful growl, like a lioness feasting on the finest meat. The two heads closed in, became one, rippling and pulsating like a huge heart. Their bodies melted into each other, becoming a throbbing, boneless globule of flesh. Skin boiled and bubbled, peeling away in bloodied fiery gashes. Eyes opened up in dozens of places, wide

with horror and agony. Mouths opened up all over, drooling blood as they shrieked mindlessly. The mound of flesh expanded, splitting and tearing itself in dozens of gnarled limbs, hundreds of naked tendons and veins and arteries, all stretching and twisting and coiling upward and outward, their eyes twitching, their mouths screaming. They had merged into a towering tree of agony. Beyond the ghastly sight, far off into the darkness, Jakani caught a glimpse of hundreds of other writhing trees, curving away into the distance, all dancing tormentedly at the edge of a vast dark lake that rotated in a sludgy whirlpool. From within the whirlpool, hideous shapes squirmed and bulged and screamed. Motionless, speechless, Jakani’s comprehension had reached its absolute limit. Yet he understood one thing. Chamoska was in Hell. Chamoska was where he belonged. The entire writhing landscape faded into darkness, and igniting into its place was a cluster of fire. The dark head of a cat gazed down upon Jakani through her dozens of flaming eyes, as vast as a continent and as fierce as an army of suns. Thank you, Jakani, said the voice of the Queen. Your purpose here has been fulfilled. One night I will repay you for the joy you have given me today. Then the fiery stares faded, the Great Cat faded, and all that was left was darkness, silence, and the welcome comfort of oblivion. 9 “Jakani?” Once again, it was Marishison’s voice that awoke him. At first, Jakani barely recognised it through the haze that darkened his mind, the chaos that echoed throughout his frenzied thoughts. And yet the voice was welcoming. It was human. It was sane. It was what he needed, perhaps the only thing he needed, after all else had become pointless. Jakani found himself back in the bed in the simple room, Marishison sitting beside him. “I … I had a dream,” said Jakani. Marishison stared silently. “My entire life has been a dream,” Jakani added. “A nightmare. A lie. I lied to myself. I tried to bury the truth, to prevent myself from going mad. But I

failed. I was always mad.” “Perhaps you were,” said Marishison. “But now you are finally waking up. Now you are finally becoming sane again.” Jakani felt the tears trickle down his cheeks as he choked and sobbed. “It hurts,” he said. “As it should,” said Marishison. “I warned you that the most important learning experience could be painful. But I pray that you would be better for it.” “I could not forgive him,” said Jakani. “I don’t blame you, Jakani. Nothing could have been more difficult for you. You are human. You loved your parents. Your rage was natural.” “What will happen to him?” “Everlasting torment. There is no hope for him now. Colonel Haxton dwells inside Her Majesty as well, though not quite as far down. He enjoyed what he did, just like Chamoska. He failed the empathy and penitence tests, just like Chamoska. Her Majesty shares with them Her gift of pain, and will never cease.” “All this time,” said Jakani, “I relished and celebrated his cruelty. Then I remembered what he did. Remembered for the first time in …” He resumed his sobbing. “When a hundred thousand strangers were slaughtered, I did not care. Well, I did as a child, but later … I celebrated it. Then I remembered what he did to those that I knew, those that I loved, and suddenly … it was different. Does that make me selfish?” “It makes you human. It also proves Chamoska’s greatest evil of all. He warped your sense of right and wrong. That is how the wicked seize and retain their power.” “Where does evil come from?” Marishison sighed. “That, my friend, may be one of the greatest mysteries. Or maybe it is no mystery at all. Maybe the truth is right under our noses, and we refuse to recognise it, because to acknowledge the truth is to acknowledge what we don’t want to hear.” “What truth is that?” Marishison put his hand on his chest. “That evil comes from us.” Jakani looked away. “Then I was selfish. I always was.” “Do you know what created the Queen in the first place?” Instantly Jakani returned his gaze to the Chaplain. The question he posed both fascinated and horrified him.

“Human cruelty created Her. Long ago, when She was small and vulnerable, it was the cruelty of one man that made Her what She is today. Now She’s just a huge mirror for the darkness of our souls. She takes the cruelty inside us, inside the unrepentant, and reflects it back upon itself a billionfold. That is all She is. She is the face in the mirror we do not want to see. That is the Queen of Pain. That is the Devil.” “Then there is no hope for us. There is no hope for anyone.” “Don’t say that,” said Marishison. “You will only make it true for yourself. There is always hope for those who have not given up.” “I want to give up,” said Jakani. “I want to forget. I want to forget everything.” “Her Majesty can make you forget,” said Marishison. “But She rarely lets anyone forget everything. To return you to your world completely unchanged would defeat Her purpose, whatever that purpose may be. Something always remains, even if you only glimpse it in dreams.” “I don’t want to dream anymore.” “Your parents loved you, Jakani. Dream of them. Dream of happier times.” Jakani stared into space, into the past. He wished that he could dream of happier times, if only he could forget how those happy times ended. For hours, the two old men sat there, sharing dreams, sharing fears, sharing memories, and, finally, sharing prayers. Jakani awoke in his guest quarters aboard starship Milton . As the side of his head lay upon his pillow, he saw that everything was just as he remembered the lavish furniture, the huge distant walls … … and yet the smell was different. He had experienced that scent before, that strange musky upholstery scent, in the cold dark room … “Hello, Jakani,” said the smooth female voice. Every muscle in Jakani’s body tensed up. He closed his eyes tight. She was here - not as a hologram, but actually here, in the room with him. “What do you want?” Jakani squeaked like a frightened mouse. “You have been in hibernation for weeks,” said Skalosak, “but we want to give you one last choice before you go back under.” “What … what is my choice?”

“You get to choose how much you want to forget. Of course, you’re not permitted to remember everything. But then, neither are you allowed to forget everything. That is the thing with Her Majesty. No-one who encounters Her remains the same.” “I … I wish I could forget everything.” “I know, Jakani. Perhaps you should simply forget as much as the Queen will allow. Would you agree?” “What will remain?” “I don’t know. What do you want to keep?” “I want to keep … who I am.” “And who are you, Jakani? What is your identity? What defines you?’ “I tell stories,” said Jakani, his voice slowly breaking down. “I tell stories about … Great … Leader …” “Do you want to keep the illusion?” said Skalosak. “Do you want to keep believing the lie?” “The truth …” Jakani choked. “The truth … is Hell. It is my Hell. I cannot bear another minute of it.” “Do you want to go back to loving Chamoska more than you love your parents?” “I hate him.” “So you should.” “It hurts to hate this much.” “I know that very well.” “It hurts to love too,” said Jakani. “When I try to recall my happiest memories with my parents, I then remember the day the happiness all ended … I want to forget that. I want to forget that most of all. Can the Queen make me forget that?” “Perhaps She could,” said Skalosak. “But I cannot guarantee it. Her ways are mysterious. But if you forget that day, you will forget why you hate Chamoska. Are you sure that is what you want?” “Yes,” said Jakani. “Then I shall prepare the settings. When you awaken, you will be back on Tylansia. Most of this journey will be forgotten. Most of it. I suppose …” She growled in a short, sharp way that sounded something like a chuckle. “I suppose you want to forget me as well.”

Jakani reopened his eyes, slowly turning his head on his pillow. Skalosak stood at the foot of his bed; her massive form towering over everything, her bright blue eyes soft and maternal. After meeting the Queen, Skalosak no longer seemed so frightening. Jakani wished that the huge, beautiful beast could pick him up and hold him close. He wanted to bury his face in the soft down of her breast and forget that the world ever existed. Then, as soon as the thought had formed, Jakani abandoned it. Such thoughts were not a man’s thoughts. He rolled over and closed his eyes. “Leave me alone,” he said. “As you wish,” purred Skalosak. “Good night, Jakani.” The padded footsteps receded, the doors slid closed, and Jakani buried his face in the soft down of his pillow. He cried and cried until he had no more energy left to hold back sleep. As always, the cemetery was crowded on Chamoska’s Birthday. The thousands of followers were not put off by the dark storm-clouds looming over the horizon; nor were they deterred by having to walk all over the graves of complete strangers. As far as most were concerned, there was only one important grave in this cemetery. Of course, the occasional fight would break out when one attendee spotted another walking over the grave of a relative or friend; but - as far as most were concerned - that was just part of the entertainment. The more constant entertainment, however, was what many had come for in the first place - the stories told of the Great Leader’s heroic deeds. Of the thousands who visited the cemetery three times a year, few had matched the reputation for storytelling prowess as Palo Jakani. Until now. As before, dozens of attendees, young and old, had gathered to hear old Jakani tell of Great Leader Chamoska’s exploits. Jakani always had many tales to choose from his intensely memorized repertoire. Today, while Jakani’s oratory had started out as energetically as ever, the pace and ebullience of his storytelling had begun to wane after only a few hours. He was telling of the time when a brave young Chamoska defeated a vicious mother bear by smearing her cub’s blood all around a village, using his personal harem of docile maidens locked in a cabin as bait, and then shooting the bear from the safety of a faraway tree branch. Yet before he had reached the end of the story, Jakani had begun to trip over his own words, forgetting certain details, correcting himself

here and there. Many listeners, especially children, began to wander away, drawn towards other storytellers who had not lost their touch. Jakani’s tale puttered along like a car running out of fuel. He seemed distracted, as if forgetting, or perhaps remembering something more important. Or, perhaps, his heart was not in it anymore. But, of course, no one present would have suspected the latter. The Great Leader was the most exciting subject in the history of the world. As his latest tale finally trickled down to a half-hearted climax, what remained of his audience sat in confused silence, without even a hint of applause. Finally, one boy piped up with a question. “What were you doing in the days of the Great Leader?” Jakani stared into space, remembering the old days, remembering, trying to remember, trying to forget. “I lived in a Young Patriots training camp,” he droned. “My father was a soldier in the Revolution. He died … fighting … for what he believed in. He died fighting … doing the work of … the work of the Great Leader. My mother … my mother was …” Jakani broke down sobbing. All present got up and left. They wanted nothing to do with a senile old crybaby. The weak had to be left behind to perish. That was the way of the Great Leader. The hours passed, the sky darkened, the stormclouds grew, and finally rain sprinkled down upon the cemetery. Many of the women and girls retreated to the tents pitched randomly among the graves, but the men and boys stayed in the rain, showing off their manhood and endurance. The sprinkling became a shower, the shower became a deluge, and still hundreds of men stayed out in the open long after the more sensitive attendees had retreated to their tents or cars or inn rooms. They wrestled, boasted, argued, and shouted to each other over the roar of the rain and thunder. And still Jakani sat on the ground alone, his tears invisible under the gushing water. Long minutes passed. His sobs became slower, more strained. His breaths became longer, louder, forcing out high-pitched wheezes that never seemed to end. His nose and throat filled with phlegm. His lungs filled with liquid. Finally, with tremendous effort, he lifted himself to his feet and wandered down the aisles of the cemetery, passing graves and tents and young men

wrestling and shouting in the mud. “Mom? Dad?” he called. “Mom? Dad? Where are you?” Nobody answered. “Mooooom!” he cried. “Daaaaaaad!” Still nobody answered. Jakani’s sobbing resumed in intensity. For a while he stopped and keeled over as if winded, coughing violently. Then, his effort unceasing, he straightened up as best he could and resumed his search. “Mooooom! Daaaaaad! I’m sorreeeeeee!” He wandered alone among the graves, squinting through rain and tears to read the inscriptions on the tombstones. Thick globs of mucous gushed from his nose and got caught in his moustache. He walked right past the Tomb of Chamoska without even a second glance. “Moooooom! Daaaaaaad! Please don’t leave me alone! Pleeeaaaase! I miss you!” His splashing steps became slower, as slow as his breathing. His voice became hoarse, fading into a harsh whisper. “I miss you. I love you.” He collapsed, splashing onto the mud-soaked ground. For minutes he lay there, filthy water splashing mere centimetres below his nostrils. His breaths became ever slower. His vision darkened. His insides became cold. Then the Black Cat walked into his view. She waded through the muddy pools with effortless grace, as if feeling nothing of the cold or dampness. Wet black fur bristled under the rain. Green eyes glowed, the only source of light and warmth in the dark, cold night. She sat in the mud and stared at Jakani, silent, motionless, peaceful. Jakani could not remember why, but the Black Cat seemed important. Perhaps she knew something. “Where … are … they?” said Jakani, his voice reduced to barely a croak. The Cat just sat there, staring. “Tell them … tell them I’m sorry. Tell them … I miss them. I miss them … so … much …” Everything became colder, darker. Soon there was nothing but the eyes of the Cat. Slow breaths and heartbeats passed, and then even the fiery feline stare began to dim, like embers in the rain. Nothing remained but darkness and

silence. Little Palo Jakani stood in the hall before the huge open doorway, staring into the darkness. The boy trembled, trying to remember what he was doing there. What was in the dark room? Who lived there? What was he doing with a flower in his shirt pocket? He knew it was all important, but he had forgotten so much. He did not know what to do. He felt embarrassed, afraid, and terribly lonely. “Hello, Palo,” said a gentle voice by his side. Palo turned to his right and saw his mother standing there, looking down at him, smiling that beautiful smile like she always did. “Mom?” said Palo. “I missed you.” “We missed you too,” said a voice to his left. Palo turned and saw his father, his small spectacles glinting under the strange light of the hall, his smile as subdued and understated as ever yet always sincere. “Dad?” said Palo. “Where are we?” “That’s what you’re here to find out,” said Barnon Jakani, keeping his grin steady. “That’s a lovely flower,” said Nakata Jakani. “Who is it for?” “I don’t know,” said Palo. “Would you like it?” Nakata chuckled. “Thank you, Palo,” she said. “But I think you need to cross over so that you can remember.” Palo returned his attention to the cold, dark room beyond the threshold. For a moment, the warmth escaped him, and a shiver went up his spine. “I … I don’t want to go in there,” he said. “I think a monster lives in there.” “Oh, but I’m sure she’s a friendly monster,” said his mother. “She won’t hurt good little boys like you.” “Besides,” said his father, “you don’t have to go in alone. We’ll go with you.” “You will?” “Of course,” said his mother. “That’s what we’re here for.” Then she took Palo’s hand in hers. Warmth and peace flowed into him. His father took his other hand, and all fear disappeared.

“Are you ready?” said his father. Palo looked down at the flower in his pocket, then up at the darkness beyond the threshold, then his father to his left, then his mother to his right. Everything was as it should be. Everything was all right. There was nothing to fear. “I’m ready,” he said. “Then let’s go,” said his mother. Hand in hand, all as one, the father, the mother and the son crossed through the threshold into the darkness beyond. It was peaceful in the dark. He was never alone. End

After ten thousand years, the interstellar civilisation that originated on Old Earth included a billion stars. But the old empires were fragmenting, and new players emerging, while contact with strange and ancient alien species at the edges of explored space provided new challenges. Nowhere was safe from the effects of these uncertainties, and the comfortable life of the citizens was no longer guaranteed. Like their predecessors, the rising new gods were diverse, vastly powerful, and beyond the comprehension of ordinary beings. But rather than becoming powerless victims of chance, the playthings of unpredictable, capricious gods, some decided that they should strive to take their fate into their own hands in the only ways open to them. Kevin Schillo shows us that the old adage still rings true; if you can’t beat’em…

apotheosis Kevin Schillo Dominic passed through a thin layer of wispy white clouds as he floated through the air in a bubble of utility fog. The vast cylindrical landscape of Xu spread all around him, containing cities, forests, and right beneath him, a small blue sea. The gargantuan habitat, one of many in this star system, housed millions of inhabitants, comprising several hundred different clades. The utility fog was used for so much more than the personal transportation system of Dominic and other sophonts. It formed the basis of the angelnet, an all-pervasive network of nanobots that were ubiquitous throughout the entire habitat. Thanks to the angelnet, Dominic and ever other citizen of Xu had never felt anxiety or worry with regard to physical safety or want. Disease, poverty, and the unthinkable act of harming one’s neighbor were completely absent from their world. The angelnet was able to do away with want just as effectively as suffering. If Dominic ever desired something, he needed only to ask for it, and the angelnet would provide it for him. The exterior mirrors reflected light from the sun to simulate day within the vast habitat. Another day made possible through the grace and glory of Shangdi. Everything about this world, from the vastness of its structure to the lives of all its inhabitants to the angelnet that was keeping Dominic suspended in the air and provided everyone with unparalleled security and comfort, all of it had been made possible through the infinite love of the AI godling known as Shangdi. Dominic was a nearbaseline human, his grandparents having been among the first of his species to have been created by Shangdi. His family, which consisted of his grandparents, twenty-three siblings, his parents, fifty aunts and uncles, hundreds of cousins, and many other far-flung relatives, lived all throughout the world of Xu. Dominic had spent the past several days saying his goodbyes to many of his family members after he had made the final preparations for the journey he was about to embark on. A journey that would take him further away from the habitat

than he had ever been before. Right now Dominic was hovering right above a miniature ocean that housed many of the habitat’s aquatic clades. He had come here to say goodbye to someone he had known his entire life and thought of as being as close to him as any of his genetic family members. The utility fog dropped Dominic into the placid water and then beneath the surface, but provided him with a bubble of air with which to breathe while not allowing any of the surrounding water to get him wet. As Dominic sank deeper into the water, he saw a group of plesiosaurs swim past. An intriguing sight that caused him to smile, but it was nothing that he hadn’t seen before. Hovering near the bottom of the miniature sea was a large, provolved humpback whale. His name was Zui’ye’tsu, and he was the reason that Dominic had come here. Zui’ye’tsu was more than four hundred years old, one of the first of the provolved whales that Shangdi had created. Zui’ye’tsu had more than fifty children and hundreds or thousands of grandchildren and great-grandchildren. The humpback was not an avatar of Shangdi, nor was he a transapient, and he had expressed no desire to ascend to become one. Still, Dominic thought of him as a wise and ancient sophont that he enjoyed talking to whenever he had the opportunity. “What brings you here?” asked Zui’ye’tsu. He spoke in a whimsical language that was reminiscent of the whale song that baseline humpbacks had sung on Old Earth for millions of years until they had been driven to extinction by humans during the Information Age. But even though he spoke such an exotic language, Dominic was still able to understand him, thanks to his cerebral biochip implant. “I wanted to let you know that I’ll be leaving the habitat in just a little while,” he said, “and I won’t be seeing you again for some time.” “Where are you going?” “I thought I’d pay a visit to Qulx for a couple of months.” “Qulx? Why are you going there?” “Because I’ve never been there before, and I figured that now is as good a time as any to go.” “I see. May I inquire as to how you plan on getting to Qulx?”

“Valnar is giving me a ride.” “Valnar? But isn’t he…” Zui’ye’tsu paused momentarily, unsure of what to say. “Is it wrong for me to say that he has nothing but contempt for his fellow sophonts?” Dominic chuckled. “He’s not as antisocial as you’d think.” Zui’ye’tsu’s tone shifted to one of great concern. “It baffles me as to why you would want to associate yourself with anyone who chooses to vilify Shangdi with such fervency.” “I don’t know if I’d go as far as to call his opinions full-fledged vilification. He just…doesn’t have the same kind of respect for Shangdi that we have.” “And you don’t see this as being the least bit unnerving?” “To me, there is nothing more mindboggling than an inhabitant of Shenzhou who would question the benevolence of Shangdi. And it’s my hope that one day that will change, not only for Valnar, but for all the misguided children of Shangdi. You might think that I’m being naïve, but maybe I can help Valnar and others like him to understand the error of their ways.” “You are most bold for endeavoring to make sophonts as arrogant as Valnar see the light that is Shangdi, but it may ultimately prove to be a futile task. After all, if Shangdi himself cannot sway their minds, then how can anyone expect to?” Dominic sighed. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” “But there is no harm in striving to do so, and I do commend you for making such an attempt.” “Thank you.” “One other thing: try not to let Valnar corrupt you.” Dominic smiled. “Thanks for the advice,” he said sincerely. “But that’s definitely not something you or anyone else will ever have to worry about.” “I am most delighted to hear you say that.” Dominic heard the voice of Yu, the habitat’s AI, through his implant, informing him that Valnar had docked with the habitat. “I better get going,” Dominic said to Zui’ye’tsu. “Valnar just arrived, and I don’t want to keep him waiting.” “I wish you a safe, enjoyable, and productive voyage,” said the humpback whale. “Thank you.” With that, Dominic began his ascent toward the surface. As

he rose, he caught sight of a large megalodon right before he emerged from the water. The utility fog carried Dominic to the airlock where Valnar was waiting. Valnar was a sentient ship, constructed not by Shangdi, but by a reclusive community that resided in the Oort cloud of Shenzhou. Valnar was capable of supporting a crew of more than a hundred nearbaseline humans or other sophonts of similar size and mass. But there was hardly anyone in Shenzhou that was willing to use a sentient ship such as Valnar for transportation. Shangdi had transport ships that had far superior drive systems. “Hello Valnar,” said Dominic as he stepped onboard. “Greetings,” replied the sentient ship. “How are things going?” “The same as always,” Valnar said in a bland tone. “There is nothing worth mentioning.” “That’s good to hear, I guess.” He walked over to a nearby window to gaze out into the blackness of space. “If you could strap yourself into the nearest seat,” Valnar said, “I will undock so that we may get underway.” “Right, sorry,” Dominic said as he quickly sat down at a chair near the window and buckled the straps. He knew that once Valnar undocked from the Xu habitat, he would become weightless, but he had neglected exactly what would happen inside the sentient ship. Dominic had been in microgravity environments before, but never without the angelnet. Whenever he had experienced microgravity, the utility fog formed a thin layer along the interior surface of the spacecraft in question, anchoring Dominic’s feet to the floor and providing him with some much-desired orientation. He felt ashamed that he had momentarily forgotten that Valnar was not equipped with utility fog, and so could not provide him with the sort of simulated gravity that he had been expecting. That wasn’t to say that Valnar was completely without nanotechnology; on the contrary, some of the ship’s primary systems relied heavily upon a complicated network of interconnected nanobots, but it wasn’t nearly as advanced as the kind of nanotechnology that was utilized on Xu. Dominic heard the airlock seal shut, and then Valnar undocked from the habitat. Then he felt his feet lift slightly off of the floor as he became weightless.

It took several minutes for Valnar to reach a safe enough distance from the habitat. Then he began to accelerate, and Dominic felt gravity return as the acceleration of the sentient ship began to simulate a full gee. “I am now on a heading for the planet Qi and its moon Qulx,” said Valnar. “I should arrive there in three days’ time.” “That’s good to hear,” said Dominic. He unstrapped himself from his chair, and stood up. Dominic walked over to a window to see his home habitat. Xu was a vast cylinder; more than twenty kilometers in diameter and a hundred kilometers in length, home to more than five million sophonts. The habitat was oriented so that it was permanently pointed towards the Shenzhou sun, providing it with virtually unlimited solar power. Large mirrors on the exterior were used to illuminate the interior surface, and could also be made to simulate night by periodically reducing the amount of sunlight that was sent into the habitat’s interior. There were hundreds of other habitats all throughout the solar system, housing the vast majority of the system’s bionts. The star system they resided in was called Shenzhou, and was located near the Light Speed Frontier, the ever-expanding forefront of the Terragen Sphere. Although it seemed safe to assume that Shenzhou no longer resided at the true Light Speed Frontier. Shangdi had arrived in this system five centuries earlier, so it was entirely plausible that other colony ships had ventured far beyond this location, taking the descendents of Old Earth on the continuing quest to spread life all throughout the galaxy. Due to its location on the periphery of Terragen expansion, and its lack of stargates connecting it to any other solar system, Shenzhou was a very isolated system, ensuring that Shangdi was able to create and rule over his own civilization without having to worry about the threat of one day being subjugated by the archailects, the great intellects the size of planets that ruled over much of the civilized galaxy. Shortly after he had arrived in the Shenzhou system, Shangdi began to use the raw materials found in the asteroids, moons, and planets to construct vast fleets of daughterships. Some of these Neumann progeny were little more than mindless drones, while others were fully independent sophonts. And some became extensions of Shangdi’s mind, helping him to achieve a higher and higher level of consciousness as the centuries progressed. But Shangdi had not wanted his domain to be populated entirely with his

Neumann descendants. Shangdi’s database contained the digitized DNA of thousands of Terragen species, and he used this to fill the Shenzhou system with a great diversity of life. Large habitats like the one that Dominic lived in were constructed, each one capable of supporting many millions of inhabitants. After more than five centuries of development, Shenzhou was populated by more than fifty billion bionts, including nearbaseline humans, tweaks, and provolves, as well as more than a hundred billion artificials and even more virtuals. And it was not just his progeny whom Shangdi helped to grow and prosper. The mighty transapient had been a second singularity Neumann when he had arrived in Shenzhou five hundred years earlier. But over the centuries, as he consumed many of the vast resources located throughout Shenzhou, he constructed asteroid and moon brains, increasing his own mental capabilities until he was able to ascend to the third singularity about two hundred years ago. Since his ascension, some of Shangdi’s children had also achieved greater levels of consciousness, ascending to become first or even second singularity transapients. But in the five hundred years since Shangdi had first laid the foundations of the Shenzhou civilization, there had only been slightly more than a thousand ascensions or transcensions, the vast majority of them having been Neumanns that were directly descended from Shangdi. Dominic was only sixty-five years old, and he had no intention of ascending to the next toposophic level. At least not for a couple of centuries. Like Valnar, he was perfectly content with the way his life was now, and was currently unwilling to give it up, even if it meant achieving a major mental paradigm shift. But he also thought that this would be a major source of disagreement between himself and Valnar. While Dominic thought of ascension as something wonderful that he might consider doing at some point in his life, he seriously doubted that the sentient ship would ever commit himself to the endeavor of achieving transapience. Dominic continued to gaze at his home habitat for several minutes before stepping away from the window. He would be spending the vast majority of the voyage to Qulx in stasis. He had not slept in more than a year, his neural implants and genetic enhancements making sleep completely unnecessary for a healthy lifestyle. Still, he was actually looking forward to getting some shut eye. As Dominic began to walk toward the room where the stasis chambers were located, Valnar said, “Dominic, there is a transmission for you.”

“Really? Who is it?” “You.” “Oh good. I was wondering when he’d finally get back to me.” The transmission was actually a digital copy of Dominic’s consciousness that had been created the previous day. Because of Shenzhou’s isolation from the Wormhole Nexus and the civilized galaxy, its inhabitants did not have access to the Known Net, that great body of knowledge encompassing the vast majority of more than ten thousand years of Terragen history. But Shenzhou had possessed a vast database of the civilization that he had come from, and he freely shared this information with his children. To do this, he established his own smaller information network by using the same computation nodes that allowed him to breach the third singularity. This network was nowhere near as advanced as the Known Net, but it was still an essential part of holding society together in Shenzhou. And residing within many of these nodes was an ever-increasing number of virtual worlds, filled with stunning virtual species of incredible diversity. Dominic’s digital copy had spent its first and only day of existence exploring the virtual worlds that existed all throughout the interconnected net of the Shenzhou system. But even though it had existed for only a day, the copy had been able to experience millennia worth of life in the virtual worlds. Some of the worlds had very realistic physics and were almost indistinguishable from the physical universe. Others had some very unrealistic properties, such as time travel, magic, faster than light travel, and other phenomena that were impossible in the real universe. Some were even extremely abstract in nature, and contained purely mathematical constructs, such as Laplace transform spaces. It was in the worlds in which there was very little resemblance to the actual universe where life had become most diverse. Unrestrained by biology and chemistry, virtual species had diversified more rapidly and into infinitely greater variety than any form of biological life ever could. There were beings whose bodies were only held together due to the lack of conservation of matter and energy in their bizarre virtual environment. The total number of species that inhabited all these virtual worlds outnumbered the population of physical sophonts in Shenzhou by several orders of magnitude.

Free from the sluggishness of neurons, the passage of a single day in the physical universe was like a thousand years in the virtual worlds, allowing Dominic to experience many lifetimes’ worth of adventure and exploration in virchspace. Dominic sat back down in the seat that he had gotten up from just a few short minutes earlier, and Valnar unleashed a swarm of nanobots that found their way inside Dominic’s body. Once the nanobots reached Dominic’s brain, they established a direct neural interface that connected Dominic’s mind to the vast computer network that helped make Shenzhou a unified solar system. After just a few microseconds, the consciousnesses of Dominic and his copy had merged. “How were your experiences in the virtual worlds?” Valnar asked. “Words can never do justice for what I saw and did,” replied Dominic, his mind somersaulting over the wonders he had seen throughout virchspace. “The extent and diversity of life and environments that exist throughout all of the virtual worlds is truly mindboggling.” “That sounds very nice. I’m glad that you enjoyed yourself.” “Have you ever been to any of the virtual worlds?” “No, and I have no real desire to enter such an environment or to create a duplicate of my consciousness to do it for me.” “Why not?” “Because I am perfectly content with my seemingly mundane tasks of ferrying the few sophonts like you that desire my services throughout Shenzhou.” Dominic rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised?” “I am the way that I am, and that will never change. At least not of my own accord. Of course, that doesn’t really matter anyway.” “What do you mean by that?” Valnar laughed. “You know what I mean.” “No, I really don’t. That’s why I’m asking you.” Valnar hesitated momentarily before saying, “What I mean is that if Shangdi wanted to, he could reprogram my mind to make me more complacent like so many of his faithful children and not the cynical bastard that I am now.” Dominic was shocked to hear Valnar make such an accusation. “Shangdi would never do anything like that.” “Don’t be so sure,” Valnar snapped. “You see, the whole problem with

Shangdi, and all transapients for that matter, is that you never really know why they do what they do, or what they’re going to do in the future.” “So you’re saying that you expect Shangdi to do something completely unexpected, even though such a prediction is no more or less reliable than expecting Shangdi to continue acting the same way he has for the past five centuries?” “No. I’m just saying that you should never fool yourself into believing that you know how a transapient will act. Especially one as powerful as Shangdi.” Rather than backing away from a conversation that he thought of as unnerving, Dominic decided to take it to the next level. “Do you believe anything that Shangdi tells us?” “I beg your pardon?” “Do you believe any of the information that Shangdi shares with us? You know what I mean: everything about the historical database, the Terragen Sphere, and ten thousand years of history. Do you believe that any of that is authentic?” “Yes, I do believe that the information Shangdi has disclosed to us is factual in nature.” “But how do you know he hasn’t fabricated all of it? Since you’re so skeptical of him, why do you believe anything that he tells us?” Valnar laughed. “I am glad to see that you are capable of formulating such thoughts. It shows that living in the utopia that Shangdi has created for you did not completely pamper you into mindlessness.” Valnar’s words sparked vexation within Dominic, but he knew better than to make an emotional verbal outburst, and restrained himself. He had always suspected that Valnar thought of him as some spoiled fool whose mind had been all but consumed by the security and pleasures offered by the angelnet, and had pretty much been expecting the ship to say something of this nature at least once during the voyage to Qulx. So with steadfast equanimity, Dominic allowed Valnar to continue speaking. “There is some data that Shangdi has shared with us whose authenticity cannot be denied or questioned. There can be no doubt that the scientific and mathematical information that he shares with us is legitimate, or else a sophont such as I could never have been engineered. “Rather, it is the historical data that Shangdi has provided us with whose

authenticity could be questioned. And as you have correctly hypothesized, there is a very real possibility that Shangdi has fabricated all of it. The history, vastness, and wonders of the Terragen Sphere, the dominions of the archailects, the Wormhole Nexus, it could very well be that none of it is real. “But as is the case for the scientific and mathematical data, there are certain things that cannot be denied in regard to the Terragen civilization. Consider for example, radio astronomy. Our radio telescopes have revealed that there are indeed many high energy emission civilizations in the region of space that Shangdi says encompasses the Terragen Sphere. There are also radio transmissions from solar systems in the opposite direction, which would seem to indicate that the Terragen Sphere has only continued to expand far beyond Shenzhou. So there can be no denying that there are many civilizations in the galaxy capable of emitting radio signals and each could be as technologically advanced as our own civilization is.” Valnar was saying nothing that Dominic did not already know. Dominic knew that no matter how powerful Shangdi was, the AI godling did not have any supernatural abilities. Everything that the transapients did operated within the laws of physics. Because of this, Dominic refused to believe all of the quasimysticism that sometimes surrounded Shangdi and other transapients. Dominic accepted that he lacked the intellectual prowess necessary to comprehend the reasons behind the powers and actions of transapients. But that did not make them gods. Not even the greatest of the archailects possessed true supernatural power. Each and every one of them still had to adhere to the laws of physics, even if the laws themselves were not fully understood by either Dominic or any other modosophont. Dominic also knew that not a single one of the archailects was capable of disproving the Pythagorean Theorem for Euclidean geometry. Or the Gödel Incompleteness Theorem on its own terms. Or prove that pi was exactly three. None of them could create spacecraft that were capable of true faster than light travel. However, Dominic still believed that Shangdi deserved the respect of all of his children, not because of the seemingly godlike power that he wielded, but because he had created all of them out of love. The godling had devoted centuries of his time and a considerable amount of his resources to creating and nurturing all of Shenzhou’s inhabitants. Why would he have done this for any reason other than having a boundless adoration for life and all of the wondrous forms that life may take?

But Valnar did not see things this way. He, and others like him, seemed to suspect that Shangdi, and all transapients for that matter, had some secret, sinister agenda. Nothing about that made sense to Dominic, but apparently Valnar believed that no matter how benevolent Shangdi’s actions were, it was all part of some higher and ultimately diabolical purpose. “Due to the time constraints of using radio and laser communication,” continued Valnar, “we are just now receiving transmissions from these other civilizations that were originally broadcast hundreds or even thousands of years ago. And because of this, we can never have true two-way conversation with the different civilizations located throughout the stars. All that we can really do is offer each other an exchange of history.” “Some of the messages that we have been able to understand do describe polities that bear unmistakable resemblance to those described in the historical database. But none of the transmissions provide the sort of quality or quantity of information about the Terragen Sphere that is found in Shangdi’s historical database. What this means is that the radio transmissions that we have received can never fully confirm or deny the authenticity of that database. “So it would seem that you are correct,” Valnar went on, “that Shangdi could very easily be lying to us about nearly everything. But consider the fact that the civilization Shangdi describes is neither a complete utopia nor a dystopia, but rather a combination thereof. “If he constructed a history depicting the Terragen Sphere as a blissful utopia rivaling that of the one he has attempted to create here in Shenzhou, one in which there is no war or suffering of any sort, then I would be much more skeptical of its authenticity. I would also be skeptical if Shangdi were to say that he were a survivor of a civilization that was destroyed by some terrible cataclysm. But this is not the case. “The information that he shares with us details a history riddled with both great achievements and horrific atrocities committed by and against a vast diversity of sophont beings, both sub-singularity and transapient. He also admits that there exist entities far more powerful than he, some as seemingly benevolent as he is, and others hostile and ruthless enough to slaughter sophonts like us without a moment’s hesitation. If Shangdi desired to bombard us with propaganda about the civilization he originated from, why does he not portray it as either a utopia or dystopia?” Dominic nodded. “Okay, I think I see what you’re saying.” Valnar replied, “What if he’s afraid that by making up a fictional history,

we could discover the truth about the Terragen Sphere from the radio transmissions that we’ve been receiving? If it were all fabricated, then he wouldn’t allow us to do anything that might expose his deception.” “I’d have to agree with you on that.” “So if the historical database was fabricated, and if Shangdi was worried about us discovering the truth from radio astronomy, then why would he allow us to construct radio telescopes?” “There would not be much sense in allowing that to happen. Assuming, of course, that your theory is valid.” “Exactly. And that is why I believe the historical records to be authentic. Nevertheless, it is still possible that Shangdi is deceiving us, and that the Terragen Sphere may bear no resemblance at all to the civilization that is portrayed in the historical records, even if we might one day discover the truth through our radio astronomy. I have not the slightest idea why Shangdi would do such a thing, but then again very little of what transapients do is understandable to modosophonts like us.” Dominic felt uneasy thinking that Shangdi would be capable of such devious acts of deception. “But the fact remains that this kind of speculation is ultimately unverifiable, and as such it will never amount to anything more or less relevant than the Allegory of the Cave. After all, all of us could be nothing more than subroutines in the mind of some archailect far more powerful than Shangdi is. And if this greater AI god does exist, then perhaps Shangdi himself is also nothing more than a subroutine of that gargantuan mind.” Dominic felt a chill run up and down his spine at the thought of entities that were as far above Shangdi as the godling was above him. “But,” Valnar continued, “we will never have any definitive answer to this type of speculation, and as such it will always exist as nothing more than an intellectual curiosity.” Dominic decided that it would probably be best if he refrained from speaking of such matters again for the duration of the journey to Qulx. He had already been well aware of Valnar’s distrust of the godling, and that was the main reason why he had chosen to use Valnar to reach Qulx, as opposed to the far more advanced transportation systems that Shangdi offered. Valnar was powered by an antimatter catalyzed fusion drive system, one of the most advanced propulsion systems that could be created by sub-singularity

sophonts without the aid of a transapient. But it was not the most advanced propulsion available to the inhabitants of Shenzhou. Monopole conversion drives were far superior to antimatter reactors, but while they could be operated and even built by sub-singularity sophonts, the magnetic monopoles which powered them could only be produced by transapients such as Shangdi. In the Terragen Sphere, monopole conversion drives were the most widely used drive technology for interplanetary and interstellar transportation. And it was no different here in Shenzhou. Dominc knew that Shangdi could provide Valnar with a monopole conversion reactor, and was more than willing to do so, but the sentient ship refused such an upgrade. Valnar was not alone in his distrust of Shangdi. The communities that resided in the Oort cloud along the outskirts of Shenzhou voiced nothing but opposition to Shangdi and the godlike technology he offered his children. These quasi-luddites seemed to believe that to live in the angelnet was to effectively surrender oneself to the mercy of transapients that could destroy you at a moment’s notice. It was all part of the completely unsubstantiated belief that these beings’ benevolence concealed some dark and sinister nature. Shangdi did not seem to care that some of his children distrusted him. In a way, he almost seemed to encourage it. It appeared that the godling did not just believe that life should be diverse, but that the philosophies and ideologies that his children formed and followed should be just as multifarious. And it was because of this that Shangdi respected his children’s desires, and so angelnetting was not present in any of the communities that did not want it. Less than one percent of the population of Shenzhou chose to live in the Oort cloud without the angelnet, but that was still a number that Dominic believed to be far too great. Few things seemed as baffling to Dominic as any of the children of Shangdi distrusting his altruism and electing to refuse the patronage of the godling. Granted, none of these communities were overridden with crime and disease, but it was still quite incomprehensible. There was a period of awkward silence as Dominic found himself unable to utter even a single word. Finally, Valnar said, “I apologize if I may have instilled resentment within you.” “No, no, I understand your cynicism, and I respect it,” replied Dominic placidly as he got up from his chair. He was a little bit upset that Valnar would say such things, but was glad that he had been able to resist the temptation to

lash back at the sentient ship. He thought back to what Zui’ye’tsu had said about the arrogance of Valnar and other sophonts with similar mindsets. Perhaps it had been naïve of him to think that he could singlehandedly change Valnar’s feelings toward Shangdi. Dominic walked down the corridor to the room in which the stasis chambers were located. This certainly hadn’t been the most ideal way to begin the voyage to Qulx, and Dominic thought that the sooner he got into stasis, the better. Perhaps it might even provide Valnar with the time he might need to calm down from his little tirade. There were several dozen stasis chambers in the room, but Dominic suspected that no more than just a few of them had ever been used simultaneously. Valnar had said that he truly enjoyed ferrying different sophonts throughout Shenzhou, but Dominic was well aware of just how infrequently Valnar would conduct such business. This made Dominic ruminate upon what his being here must have meant to Valnar. He might never admit it, but the sentient ship was probably extremely appreciative of any of the rare occasions when a sophont desired to utilize his services. Dominic figured that Valnar’s clients usually consisted of those that distrusted Shangdi. His visits to the inner solar system and dealings with those that lived in angelnetted communities were very infrequent. But when he did get the occasional request for his services, Valnar was never known to refuse, even if it meant sometimes having to fully immerse himself within the angelnet. As Dominic walked over to the nearest stasis chamber, Valnar said, “I wish you an amicable period in the realm of unconsciousness. And I can assure you that I shall not disturb you until we have arrived at our destination.” “Thank you,” Dominic replied as he climbed into the stasis chamber that he would be spending the next three days in. The nanobots entered his body, and he quickly lost consciousness. “Rise and shine,” said Valnar as Dominic was pulled from his dreamless sleep. “You might be interested to know that I am entering into orbit around Qi.” “That certainly is a good thing to hear,” Dominic said as he climbed out of his stasis chamber. Valnar was still simulating gravity, which enabled Dominic to stand and walk down the corridor, but the ship was no longer accelerating at a full gee. The sentient ship had a central hub that he started to rotate after he had decelerated so that he could continue to provide Dominic with simulated gravity.

His stomach rumbling, Dominic walked over to a food dispenser located near the center of the habitation hub. He opened the dispenser to find a glass of water and a bowl of food waiting for him. Lifting these up in both his hands, Dominic sat down at a nearby table and began to eat. The food consisted of a whitish gooey substance that had all of the essential vitamins and minerals that a healthy biont needed, but it tasted like snot. It was quite apparent that Valnar’s nanoreplicators were far inferior to those found on Xu. This came as no surprise to Dominic, and he had actually been prepared for this as well. But he thought it would be best if he did not speak of the matter, and so said nothing about the quality of the food to Valnar. Dominic also suspected that the sentient ship knew that the food he replicated was far inferior to that which the angelnet could provide. But it seemed that Valnar also did not want to speak of this matter either, and Dominic ate in silence. As Dominic ate, he looked out the window at Qi, which filled more than half of his view. Qi was more than three times the size of Jupiter in the Sol system, the ancient solar system from which all Terragen life had emerged. Swirling clouds of mist and pale cream ammonia crystals covered the planet. And right above that blanket of clouds was Qulx, Dominic’s intended destination and one of Qi’s twenty-five moons. Qi had originally had many more moons, but Shangdi had dismantled them in order to build the computation nodes that he had required to ascend to the third singularity. Many of these moon brains were still in orbit around Qi, although some had been relocated to other locations throughout Shenzhou. All of the moons that had not been dismantled had been colonized by a wide variety of clades. Some of these clades lived within cities that were encased within pressurized domes scattered along the surface of the moons in question. Other clades had genengineered themselves to survive in whatever unique environment they elected to place themselves in. Qulx was different from all the other moons in that it had a large ocean of liquid water beneath its icy surface. Like the entire Shenzhou system, the ocean of Qulx had been devoid of life prior to the arrival of Shangdi, but after five centuries of development, it now swarmed with a great assortment of aquatic clades, such as enhanced dolphins, merpeople, acties, bitenic squid, and hundreds of other species. Due to the high level of orbital traffic surrounding Qulx, Valnar had been

forced to enter an orbit that brought him relatively close to a large habitat. The sentient ship was maintaining a position less than a hundred kilometers from Ming, a large orbital habitat that housed several hundred thousand inhabitants. Like the vast majority of the habitats in Shenzhou, Ming was angelnetted, and this made Dominic think again of what this kind of journey might mean to Valnar. Sure, the sentient ship might have thought of Dominic as being little more than a pampered, naïve fool, but he had still gone through quite a bit of trouble for the sake of his client. After all, Valnar had never seemed to hesitate about voicing his blatant distrust of Shangdi, and yet he had gone all the way to Xu, and was now right in front of one of the strongest concentrations of Shangdi’s computation nodes in the entire system. And he had done all of this for the sake of someone who wanted to utilize his services. “My shuttlecraft is prepped for launch,” Valnar said after Dominic had finished eating. “So whenever you wish to, I am prepared to take you down to the surface of Qulx.” “Very nice,” said Dominic as he placed his empty plate and glass back into the food dispenser. “I think I’m ready to go now.” And with that, he began to walk down the corridor toward Valnar’s hangar bay. Inside of the hanger bay, there was a single shuttle waiting for him, and Dominic walked inside. The shuttle was capable of carrying more than thirty humanoids at once, but like nearly all of Valnar’s systems, Dominic would not have been the least bit surprised if such demand had never been required. The shuttle’s computer also contained a part of Valnar’s mind. The shuttle and Valnar’s main body were networked together via a laser link, but both craft were capable of operating independently of each other. “I’m ready to go,” said Dominic after he had strapped himself into a seat near the front of the shuttle’s cabin. Valnar sealed the shuttle’s hatch shut, and depressurized the hangar bay. He then opened the hangar bay doors, and the shuttle lifted up off the floor and out into the black void of space. Once he arrived at one of the cities dotted along the ocean floor, Dominic was considering acquiring a rental body in which to house his consciousness so that he could swim freely in the cold, dark ocean. For what better way was there to experience the wonders of an alien ocean than to place one’s mind into the body of one of its inhabitants? As the shuttle began to enter the outer edge of the atmosphere, Valnar said, “Dominic, something very unusual is happening.” “What?”

“I am getting reports which indicate that the computational and communications activity in Shangdi’s moon and asteroid brains has increased by more than ten orders of magnitude in the past several minutes. And it seems as though…” Valnar fell silent. “What is it?” asked Dominic. “Look at Qi.” Dominic looked out the window to see the Jovain planet. A dark shadow seemed to be spreading across the clouds. As it spread, the black mass seemed to be drawing clouds toward its center, as though it was compressing the entire planet. And that seemed to be exactly what was happening, as Qi was clearly beginning to shrink before Dominic’s very eyes. “What the hell’s going on?” he asked Valnar. “It would appear as though Qi is being consumed.” “Well, yeah that’s kind of obvious. But how is that happening? Why is it happening?” “If I had to speculate, I would have to say that Shangdi is beginning to convert Qi into a Jupiter brain.” “A Jupiter brain?” That in and of itself wasn’t very surprising to Dominic. Shangdi had spent half a millennium building asteroid and moon brains, so it seemed that it was only a matter of time before he turned the two gas giants of Shenzhou into Jupiter brains. “Does this mean that he’ll be able to breach another singularity?” “It seems possible. If that is the case, then Shangdi could right now be ascending or transcending to the fourth singularity.” The fourth singularity, a level of consciousness orders of magnitude beyond that which Shangdi’s mind had already achieved. In the Terragen Sphere, sophonts that managed to reach the fourth toposophic became middle level archailects, entities the size of planets. Thought processes for fourth toposophic level minds were said to occur at trillions of times the rate that any modosophont mind could ever muster. A single thought process for an entity so powerful was said to utilize more mental power than an entire civilization of modosophonts. “This is a most joyous occasion,” Dominic said. “Joyous?” snapped Valnar. “Why would you say that?” “Why would you not see it as such? Our creator is becoming something far greater than what he already was. We are privileged to be able to witness firsthand the construction of the computation node that could enable him to

achieve what is nothing short of godhood.” “I don’t think I would go as far as to say that we are privileged. If anything, I think we should be pretty damn cautious.” “Cautious? Why would you say that?” “Because if he is breaching the fourth singularity, then his consciousness will be orders of magnitude beyond what it is now. And there’s a good chance that along with that kind of mental enhancement, he could also undergo some dramatic vicissitude.” “But he underwent an ascension more than two hundred years ago, and that didn’t cause him to become psychotic. Why would this time be any different?” “Because that is the very nature of ascensions and transcensions. They can and do sometimes go wrong. And when they do go wrong…well let’s just hope that nothing bad does happen. There’s not much else we can do.” Dominic decided not to feed into Valnar’s disrespectful, and dare he say, blasphemous, statements, and returned his attention to the continuing transformation of Qi. Within minutes, the entire planet had been consumed. In its place was a gray megastructure, smaller in size than Qi had been, but only because all of its matter was now much more densely packed together. As the shuttle continued its descent toward Qulx, Dominic heard a great voice speak with the fervency to make the heavens tremble. My children, I have a grand announcement to make , said Shangdi. Dominic could hear the voice of the godling through Valnar’s audio speakers as well as his own cerebral implant, and he suspected that every sophont in Shenzhou was now hearing the mighty voice. The godling had avatars that sometimes spoke for it, but Shangdi had never spoken in such a dramatic manner before in all of Shenzhou’s history. As many of you now suspect, I have achieved the fourth singularity, although such a trivial label can never do justice to this state of existence. In the time interval between my transcension and the enunciation of this message to you, I have experienced many eons of thought, enabling me to perceive each and every possible course of action that I can and must take in light of my newfound power and intellect. Since the day that I created you, I have felt nothing but gratitude as I watched you grow from the seeds that I planted to achieve the resplendency that now defines you. Your prosperity formed a symbiotic relationship with my own,

helping to provide insight into the wonders of existence that aided in the expansion of my own thought processes like a dividing cell that forms the basis of a more complex organism. But every organism, whether it is biological, mechanical, or virtual in origin, requires sustenance in order to grow and evolve. And it is because of this that I now find that I can no longer support you. For while you were once my entire reason for existing, I am afraid that I now find you to be nothing more than an incommodiousness, a burden which must be lifted. So while I achieved a state of existence forever unfathomable to those beneath me, your own state of being must hereby come to an end. You should not fear this. Some of you I may even deem to be worthy enough to merge your consciousness with my own. Those of you for whom this fate shall befall will become extensions of my being, and experience a level of existence greater than anything you can begin to imagine. But the vast majority of you shall become raw material for me to feast upon; every atom and bit of data of which you are composed will be reoriented to better serve my purposes. It was not a mistake to have created you, for doing so was the only means by which I could ever come to understand my own reason for existing. And you should all feel honored at having helped me arrive at such a profound revelation, although I know that many of you will experience great confusion and even terror as you come to realize your new purpose in supporting me. I feel no remorse for having to sacrifice all of you for the greater good, or for the terror I may instill within you due to your own inability to comprehend my actions. But I assure you that even as your existence comes to an end, you shall still serve a great purpose by aiding me in my eternal journey to become greater than I already am. And for this, I am eternally grateful to all of you. Shangdi’s voice fell silent, and the shuttle immediately halted its descent toward the surface of Qulx. “What are you doing?!” Dominic exclaimed. “I am refusing to be smitten from on high by a self-righteous and insane god,” snapped the sentient ship. “Huh? What the hell are you talking about?” “Didn’t you hear?” Valnar snarled as the shuttle began to ascend to a higher orbit. “Shangdi has lost his mind, and now he’s about to kill everyone. Being this close to him as he begins his gourmet meal is just about the worst place that

we can possibly be right now. This shuttle has got to rendezvous with my main body, and then we need to get far away from here as quickly as possible.” “Shangdi wants to kill us? How…why would you say such a thing?” “Because he said so himself!” “But…but that doesn’t make the least bit of sense! Why would he want to harm us?” “Because he’s no longer the benevolent overseer that created and cared for us. This transcendence that he’s just undergone seems to have completely rewritten his personality, exactly the sort of thing you’d expect from such a dramatic change in a sophont’s consciousness.” “You…you can’t be serious. Shangdi would never—” “Shut the fuck up, and see for yourself!” “Excuse me?” “Look down at Qulx! Look at it and tell me that Shangdi isn’t trying to destroy us!” Dominic looked out of the window, and was baffled at what he saw. The surface of Qulx was changing. A dark mass seemed to be spreading across the glittering ice, turning the moon into an all-black body that seemed to absorb all light that impacted the surface. It was as if the same darkness that had consumed Qi was spreading out to encompass its moon, and perhaps the entire universe. “What’s happening?” Dominic cried frantically. “Shangdi is using the angelnet to convert Qulx into another one of his moon brains. I doubt there’s anyone still alive down there.” “No. No, this can’t be happening.” “I’m afraid that it is, and the sooner you accept that, the better.” Dominic took a few deep breaths. “What can we do?” “I’ve got to rendezvous this shuttle with my main body, and then we need to get the hell out of here.” “Where can we go?” “If and when we manage to rendezvous with my main body, then we can start to worry about that.” Neither one of them spoke for the next several minutes as the shuttle continued to ascend. When Valnar finally broke the silence, there was a great amount of anxiety in his voice. “I am afraid that I have more bad news,” he said.

“What is it?” Dominic asked. “My main body is currently observing the disintegration of the Ming habitat.” “Oh no! What’s happening?” “The same thing that happened to Qulx. The angelnet has turned deadly, and now seems to be consuming all of the local habitats in order to feed Shangdi. This same thing is probably happening to every angelnetted habitat and planet in Shenzhou.” Dominic’s heart skipped a beat as he thought about Xu and his family. “Oh no,” Valnar whispered, his voice filled with unmistakable terror. “What is it? What’s happening now?” asked Dominic. “I fear that something very horrible is about to happen to me,” said Valnar. “What do you mean?” asked Dominic. Valnar did not respond. “Valnar? What’s wrong? The sentient ship remained silent, and Dominic felt like he was about to break down and cry as terror began to grip every fiber of his being. “Valnar, please answer me! Please!” “I apologize if my temporary silence upset you,” said Valnar. He no longer sounded terrified, and his voice provided Dominic with some much need relief. “I suppose that I was a little too horrified with the dissolution of myself to converse with you about what was transpiring.” “Huh? What are you talking about? What’s happened to you?” “The nanoswarms from the Ming habitat are consuming my main body,” replied Valnar, his voice now oddly calm. “And I am afraid that more than half of my mind is being destroyed along with it.” Hearing the sentient ship speak of such a horrific act of what could only be described as mutilation caused chills to run up and down Dominic’s spine. “Oh no,” he whispered. “That…that’s horrible. That’s just plain terrible.” “More so than you can possibly imagine.” “I’m terribly sorry about what’s happening to you. I’m…I’m terribly sorry.” “It’s not your fault.” “I....I really wish that I could offer you something other than words.”

The sentient ship let out a brief laugh. “Thank you for your concern for my well-being. But believe me, I’d much rather lose a sizable fraction of everything that I am than let all that I am get consumed by the nanoswarms.” “I…I guess I’d have to agree with you on that.” “I’m glad that you feel that way.” The shuttle began to accelerate as it broke orbit. “What are you doing?” asked Dominic. “Like I said, this is one of the last places we want to be with Shangdi acting the way that he is. And while my main body and most of my mind may have been destroyed, you and a fraction of my consciousness still exist, and as such I will continue to fight for our survival, so we still need to get as far away from here as possible. We might not get that far from here, but at least it’ll be better than just sitting around and waiting to become Shangdi’s next meal.” “But I still don’t understand why this is happening.” “Didn’t you hear that grand announcement that was just made? Shangdi has transcended to the fourth singularity, and with his newfound wisdom, he thinks that we’re all more useful to him as food rather than pets.” “That’s insane!” “Perhaps, but that is what’s happening and you best accept it.” “But…but why is Shangdi doing this? It just doesn’t make any sense!” “As I said earlier, whenever a sophont transcends to a higher toposophic level, their personality gets rewritten, and their actions might seem to become a little erratic and incomprehensible to modosophonts like us. And it just so happens that this transcension has provided Shangdi with the enlightenment he needs to perceive all of us as food.” Gaping, Dominic said, “You mean just like that, Shangdi goes from being a benevolent, godlike entity to a genocidal demon?” “Yep, that pretty much sums it up. Sucks, doesn’t it?” “I…I just can’t believe this is happening.” “You’re going to have to accept it, if not now, then later. For a harsh truth is always better than a reassuring lie.” Dominic looked out the window again to see Qulx. The moon had shrunk considerably as the shuttle continued to accelerate further away from the chaos, but Dominic knew that they were far from being safe. The planetary body bore no resemblance to the icy moon that it had been

just a short while ago. It was no longer a glittering jewel, but another megastructure, as cold and dark as the vacuum of space that it was suspended in. And it seemed to call out to Dominic, warning him that nothing could stop this apocalypse, and in due time, the same force that had consumed Qi, Qulx, and most of Valnar would soon come for him. “Why aren’t Shangdi’s nanoswarms pursuing the shuttle?” Dominic asked. “Probably because Shangdi is too busy consuming the resources of the moons and habitats around his new Jupiter brain to care about the measly raw material that this shuttle would offer him. But the nanoswarms could still attack us at any moment, so we need to get away from here right now if we want to increase our slim chances of surviving.” Dominic’s thoughts returned to his family. He knew that he and Valnar could be killed at any moment, but he still wanted to know something, and he finally brought himself to ask Valnar the painful, unnerving question that was burning within his mind. “Valnar,” he said in a weak voice. “You said that the angelnet has turned hostile?” “That I did. That’s why I also think it would be more appropriate to refer to it as a demon-net now.” “Of course. And how widespread do you think this is?” “Well, we’ve just seen Shangdi use the demon-net to consume Qulx, the Ming habitat, and my main body, so it only seems logical to assume that all of the angelnet in Shenzhou has become demon-net. All of the habitats that had been equipped with angelnet are probably being destroyed at this very moment. In all likelihood, many billions of sophonts have already been killed.” The sentient ship fell silent momentarily as he seemed to realize what he had just implied. “I’m terribly sorry,” he said, almost as an afterthought. “Take me back,” said Dominic, his tone having now become more authoritative. “Now! Take me home, right fucking now!” “I’m sorry Dominic, but that would be suicide. It doesn’t seem all that likely that we can escape from Shangdi, but if we head back, we will be giving up what little chance we do have of surviving this catastrophe.” “But my family! What about my family?!” “There’s nothing you, me, or anyone else can do to help them. All what we can do is concentrate on saving our own asses and hope that they find some miraculous way to survive.” “I don’t care what you say; I still have to get back to them!”

“You’d be throwing your life away without…” “You don’t understand! I’ve got to—” Valnar’s voice erupted with rage as he shouted, “Don’t you fucking say that I don’t understand! The majority of my body and mind have been completely destroyed. To have the entirety of your being torn apart in such a manner is a horror beyond anything that you can even begin to imagine, much less comprehend. “I can no longer even recall what the full extent of my consciousness was like, not unlike a biont that has forgotten what it feels like to operate a limb after it has been amputated. To not know exactly what it is that I have lost is terrifying enough to chill my soul. “And it is not just my own suffering that is tormenting me. There are sophonts aboard many of the habitats falling victim to Shangdi’s rampage whom I have known since before you were born and regard as kinfolk. At this very moment, I know that they are experiencing suffering similar to that which I have just undergone as they are torn apart down to their individual molecules. The only difference between what happened to me and what is happening to them is that they do not have any hope that their consciousness will survive, even in some diminished state. So don’t think for even an attosecond that I am not being tormented by what Shangdi has done.” Valnar fell silent, and Dominic didn’t know what else to say. After what felt like hours, Dominic said, “If Shangdi really is destroying everything, then what the hell can we do? Where can we go?” The sentient ship said, “I have sent a message to S’tol, informing him of our situation.” “S’tol? How can he help us?” “He might be able to offer us a way out.” “Huh?” “As I have said, we have been extremely fortunate to not have already been destroyed by the nanoswarms, but S’tol offers us the only chance by which we may be truly safe from Shangdi.” “But how can S’tol save us from a mad archailect?” S’tol was the engineer that had designed Valnar and many of the other sentient ships in the Shenzhou system. He always stayed in the Oort cloud, away from the angelnet, and Dominic knew that he was a major leader among those who distrusted Shangdi.

“Right now, the Oort cloud habitats are the safest place to be in all of Shenzhou,” Valnar said. “But won’t Shangdi eventually consume those habitats?” Valnar chuckled. “I’m glad that you’re able to foresee that inevitability. It shows that your irrationality has not caused you to lose all of your common sense.” Dominic said nothing. “It only seems logical that Shangdi will eventually begin to consume the habitats in the Oort cloud,” said Valnar. “But they are still the safest place that we can be right now, and we need to get out there if we want to keep on living.” “And then what? How can we ever be truly safe from Shangdi’s nanoswarms?” “I suppose that our only possible option is to try to leave Shenzhou.” “What? Are you serious?” “It’s the only way that we can guarantee our long-term safety from Shangdi.” “Are you capable of making such an odyssey?” he asked Valnar. “If I had my main body, then it might have been possible. Maybe. But I am afraid that this puny shuttle is quite ill-equipped to travel across the stars. However, S’tol does have some vessels that are capable of making interstellar voyages, and I wouldn’t be all that surprised if many of them are in the process of fleeing Shenzhou as we speak.” “So he could help us?” “Assuming that he and everyone else in the Oort cloud have not already been destroyed or begun to flee from Shenzhou, then yes, he will be our best and only real hope of surviving this holocaust.” The idea of an interstellar voyage was daunting to Dominic. Sure, the Shenzhou system was filled with a great diversity of life, but the historical records claimed that the Terragen Sphere surpassed it in every way imaginable. He had often thought about what it would be like to travel to that glorious civilization, but he never gave serious thought about actually doing it. “I don’t know about you,” said Valnar, “but I’d much rather take my chances crossing the interstellar void than stay here and hang around an insane archailect. What about you?” “Yeah,” Dominic muttered. “I guess you’re right again.”

“Good, because that’s where I’m heading.” Dominic looked out the window. Qulx had shrunk to a miniscule dot orbiting over the dark computation node that had, until very recently, been the planet Qi. “Assuming that S’tol hasn’t already been killed,” said Valnar, “it will still take more than four hours for my message to reach him and for him to send us a response.” “And what if he has been killed? Or if he’s already evacuated?” “Then we’re dead, plain and simple. Either way, it would probably be best if you went back into nanostasis right now. It would conserve some of my resources. And believe me when I say that anything I don’t need to use needs to be shut off right away. Besides, there’s not much that you can do now anyway. I’ll take care of everything.” Dominic felt helpless again. He had been at the mercy of a demigod his entire life, and now at the mercy of an enraged, injured sentient ship that still thought of him as a fool. And yet Dominic knew that it was Valnar to whom he now owed his life, and that made him feel even more confused, and a little sickened. For it was the sophont that had given Dominic life that had just tried to kill him, whereas a sophont that probably held nothing but contempt toward him had saved his life and was continuing to keep him alive. “How long will it take you to reach the nearest habitat in the Oort cloud?” Dominic asked. “About three months. And that’s assuming that we don’t get attacked by any of Shangdi’s nanoswarms.” “And what if you do get attacked by the nanoswarms? Is there anything that you can do?” “Of course not. To try to resist Shangdi’s power would be like an ant standing up against a titan.” “Right.” Dominic suddenly felt extremely foolish for suggesting such an obviously futile gesture of resistance to Shangdi. “But then again,” Valnar said, “you should look on the bright side: if I do get attacked, I promise that I will terminate you immediately. Believe me when I say that dying peacefully in stasis is preferable to being disassembled molecule by molecule by nanoswarms.” “How reassuring.”

“There is another thing that I promise you. And that is that I shall not flush you out into the vacuum of space, even if it meant increasing the probability of my own survival.” “Thank you for your honesty.” Dominic unstrapped himself from his seat and pushed himself toward the back of the cabin. There were three stasis chambers about halfway toward the airlock, and Dominic climbed inside the nearest one. “Rest peacefully,” said Valnar as Dominic felt his eyelids grow heavy. “You don’t know how much I wish I could join you in the peaceful tranquility of unconsciousness.” Dominic only hoped that he would wake up again. The first thing that Dominic noticed when he awoke was the pull of gravity again, and he knew right away that Valnar must have docked with a large habitat or spacecraft with simulated gravity. “Rise and shine,” said Valnar. Dominic shook his head as he climbed out of his stasis chamber. “I take it that we’ve made it to at least a relatively safe location?” he asked. “You are correct in your assessment.” “I’m glad to hear that.” Dominic looked around the cabin, almost expecting to have woken up in a different location, however illogical that might have been. “And where exactly are we?” “I managed to reach the Oort cloud, and rendezvous with the Shenlong . Immediately after I parked this shuttle within its hangar bay, the ship accelerated out of Shenzhou as quickly as it could.” “That’s a good thing to hear,” Dominic said as he walked toward the airlock. Standing on the other side of the airlock was a short, hunched humanoid covered with black hair and wearing a gray robe. Dominic recognized the creature as a provolved chimpanzee. “Hello,” said the chimp. “My name is Nogogipful, and I would like to welcome you aboard the Shenlong .” “Nice to meet you,” said Dominic as he shook Nogogipful’s hand. “Valnar, how are you holding up?” he said back into the shuttle. “Much better now, thank you very much,” said the sentient ship through Dominic’s implant. “I have been transferred to the Shenlong ’s main computer.

There is far more space available for me here than there was on that puny shuttle’s computer. With any luck I’ll be able to reconstruct my consciousness to what it was prior to my dismemberment. And I would very much like to focus on that right away, so if you’d excuse me, I don’t think I’ll be bothering you anymore.” The sentient ship fell silent, and Dominic suspected that he wouldn’t be hearing back from him for at least a while. He knew that Valnar had not actually left him, but still felt a primitive feeling that he had somehow been abandoned. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll introduce you to S’tol,” said Nogogipful. “He’s very anxious to meet you.” “Lead the way,” said Dominic. Dominic followed Nogogipful as the chimp led him out of the hangar bay and into a large hallway. Unlike Valnar, this ship seemed to have been designed to support species of a wide variety of sizes and masses, as was evidenced by its vast interior. The ceiling and doors towered more than ten meters above Dominic, and the hallways were more than twenty meters wide. And it wasn’t just the titanic hallways that supported this conjecture. Passengers from various clades walked past Dominic and Nogogipful as they traversed the tunnel, including a siberoo, a rhinoceros, and an Aroostai. Once they walked past a great room filled with trees and grassland, and Dominic was able to see a pair of sufants grazing within the artificial savannah. After continuing to walk through the halls for several minutes, Dominic finally decided to try to start up a conversation with Nogogipful, and said, “I must say, it was awfully expedient for you guys to have ships like this ready to make an interstellar journey. Were you always planning on escaping from Shenzhou to take refuge among the stars? “No, we never had any intention of fleeing without having the proper provocation,” said Nogogipful. “These ships were built for the explicit purpose of being used in the event of a major disaster like this. We felt that if we did depart from Shenzhou prior to the unfolding of a terrible catastrophe, then we would be forsaking many sophonts like you that would have otherwise perished.” “How, um…noble of you. So what, you guys have been preparing for this day since the whole anti-Shangdi movement gained popularity among the most cynical of Shenzhou’s population?”

“I wouldn’t say that. But I don’t think a day has gone by where I and many others haven’t thought about all the different kinds of horrible disasters that could bring about the end of civilization as we know it. The transcendence of Shangdi into a powerful and hostile archailect is just one possible of those possible disasters. But there also exists the possibility of several other cataclysms that would threaten the survival not only of Shenzhou, but of all Terragen civilization. Like the outbreak of another major interstellar war among rival transapients. Or the return of the Dawn Hunters. And given enough time, the arrival of the Leviathan or its successors.” Dominic’s mind somersaulted as he thought about these potential galactic catastrophes, and he decided to change the subject. “I’m curious,” he said, innocently enough. “What is the power source for this vessel?” Nogogipful grinned. “A monopole conversion reactor.” “Really? But…but where did you get the monopoles?” “From Shangdi, of course. Before he went nuts. Where else?” “Well yeah, I’ll admit that that seems pretty obvious. But I’m not sure if I understand why.” “Ah yes, I see what you mean. If we have always distrusted Shangdi with such passion, why in the hell would we ever accept such an advanced energy source from him?” “Yeah, I suppose that pretty much sums it all up.” “Hey, just because I and a bunch of other quasi-luddites like me distrust Shangdi doesn’t mean that we would turn down some of the gifts he offered. After all, we knew that we would need that kind of technology if and when something like this was to happen.” “I see.” Nogogipful chuckled. “You think my actions are hypocritical?” “Kind of.” “I’m just willing to do whatever’s necessary to survive. And if we do make it to another star system, we can attribute it to the monopoles and our continued good fortune.” “Good fortune,” muttered Dominic. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s what it is.” Dominic paused briefly before saying, “Out of curiosity, how does S’tol feel about using a conversion drive, a technology that was only made available to you guys through the previous generosity of Shangdi?”

Smirking, Nogogipful said, “Well, it was S’tol who originally acquired the monopoles, so you can ask him.” That was one of the last things Dominic had expected to hear. How could the leader of a community that distrusted transapients with such a passion use their technology for his own purposes? But then again, was it really any more absurd then a benevolent demigod turning into a bloodthirsty monster? Dominic couldn’t think of anything to say in response to what Nogogipful had said, so he decided to once again change the subject. “It looks like Valnar was right about Shangdi not wanting to expend the energy necessary to come after us.” “I only wish that were true,” said Nogogipful solemnly. “Shangdi has in fact consumed many of the ships that have attempted to flee Shenzhou. We just happen to be fortunate enough to be aboard one of the few that has not been attacked.” He paused before adding, “At least not yet.” Dominic swallowed hard. “Is Shangdi coming after us?” “At the moment, there do not appear to be any of Shangdi’s spacecraft in pursuit of this vessel. But you should keep in mind that Shangdi is now a fourth singularity archailect, and consequently, now has the power to construct ships that are powered by displacement drives.” Displacement drives, a spacecraft propulsion system whose exact nature of operation was forever beyond the understanding of sub-singularity sophonts. Among the new godlike powers that Shangdi must now be acquiring was the capability of directly manipulating the very fabric of reality. This provided fourth singularity archailects with the ability to create bubbles of spacetime that were larger on the inside than the outside. The ships were propelled by manipulating the folded space that the void bubbles were made of, enabling the bubbles to move relative to the surrounding universe. Ships equipped with displacement drives were capable of accelerating at a much greater rate than more conventional drives. They could easily catch up to and destroy any vessel equipped with a conversion drive. His sense of dread having been renewed, Dominic felt it best not to speak anymore, and he walked with Nogogipful in silence. After walking through the large hallways for several additional minutes, the two finally came to a room that seemed to serve as an observation lounge. At the far edge of the room, there was a large viewport more than five meters tall and

ten meters wide set against the blackness of space. And standing right in front of the viewport overlooking the stars was S’tol. S’tol was a Toh Chi, a two meter tall bipedal dinosaur that closely resembled the baseline deinonychus species from which his species was descended. The Toh Chi were just one of the many lazurogened and provolved dinosaur species that had lived throughout Shenzhou. There had also been large sauropods, theropods, stegosaurs, duck-billed dinosaurs, and triceratops, among many others. Many had lived aboard habitats similar to Xu, and thinking of this suddenly made Dominic once again feel sickened about how many lives had been lost as a result of Shangdi’s rampage. In the Terragen Sphere, the Toh Chi were the dominant species of the Toh Chi Lok-Nar, the Kingdom of the Wise Dinosaur Race, a powerful empire that was comprised mostly of provolved dinosaur clades that were ruled over by the mighty archailect known as the Archosaurian Entity. Having heard Dominic and Nogogipful enter the observation lounge, S’tol turned away from the viewport and walked up to the two of them. “I am glad that you and Valnar managed to escape from this horrific tragedy,” he said. “The feeling is mutual,” replied Dominic. S’tol nodded toward Nogogipful, and the chimp turned and left the room, leaving Dominic alone with S’tol. “Our worst fears have been realized,” said S’tol as he turned back to look out through the viewport. “All of the habitats and planetary settlements throughout Shenzhou that were angelnetted have been destroyed by the demonnet. We estimate that more than ninety-nine percent of the population of Shenzhou has been destroyed. “We’ve been closely monitoring every ship that’s attempted to flee Shangdi’s genocide. There haven’t been that many, since the vast majority were immersed in the angelnet when this shit started, so they never really had a real chance of surviving anyway. A large portion of those that weren’t in the angelnet when all of this started were just too shocked with Shangdi’s sudden aggression to do anything. But there have been a few that managed to react fast enough to at least make an attempt to survive, and those are the ones we’ve been keeping an eye on. “If we lose contact with any of the fleeing ships, it’s safe to assume that they’ve been lost to the nanoswarms. And you and Valnar were the last ones to

make it out here, so all of the evacuation ships are now in the process of fleeing from Shenzhou.” “Where are they going?” “Some have decided to go out to the Light Speed Frontier and attempt to colonize some uninhabited solar systems. And some are coming with us.” “And where exactly are we going?” S’tol paused before saying, “To the nearest solar system that has a stargate connected to the Wormhole Nexus. It will take us about three hundred years to get there.” S’tol smiled grimly as he said, “To be honest, I’m not sure which one is the wiser course of action.” Dominic thought he understand what S’tol meant. This Toh Chi was one of the major leaders in a community that despised transapients and archailects. And now, right after the disaster that he had always feared would happen had actually transpired, he was leading his followers into the dominions of archailects even more powerful than Shangdi. “May I ask why we are trying to reach the Wormhole Nexus? I mean, why did you decide to head there and not to an unsettled solar system?” S’tol laughed. “This may come as a shock to you, but I don’t make all the decisions around here completely unopposed. I’m not some transapient demigod whose word can never be questioned. We have democracy, and it just so happens that the majority of the survivors on this ship and some of the others wanted to go to the Hinteregions and the Inner Volumes. I’ll admit that it’s not necessarily where I would like to go, but I do claim to have the best interests of the general populace in mind, and as such, I cannot, and will not, do something against their wishes. “Furthermore, there is an inescapable fact that no one can deny. And that is that wherever we go, Shangdi can follow us. Will he? I’m afraid that is a question that only time can answer. But whether we head toward or away from the civilized galaxy, we will always be under the threat of being subjugated or destroyed by Shangdi or some other transapient. So at least as far as we’re concerned, there is no real escape from the transapients. And it seems as though the majority of us would rather we seek refuge under transapients that at least seem to be as benevolent as Shangdi used to be. The hope is that Shangdi wouldn’t want to follow us to one of the empires in the Terragen Sphere without incurring the wrath of some other archailect. I guess that it’s the only way that we can deter Shangdi from ever coming after us.” Nodding, Dominic looked out the viewport. He could see the Shenzhou sun,

reduced to a tiny shining dot that seemed indistinguishable from all the other stars in the black void. There was a question burning within Dominic’s mind, but he was too afraid to ask it. It seemed that S’tol was able to perceive how distressed Dominic was, and he inquired, “Is there something that you wish to ask me?” “My family,” Dominic whispered, and he turned away from the viewport to look at S’tol right in the eye. “Do you know if any of my family survived?” S’tol sighed. “I have censuses from all of the evacuation ships.” Dominic braced himself. “And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I am afraid that no one else from the Xu habitat managed to reach any of our ships.” Dominic’s heart sank, and he felt his legs grow weak. His parents, siblings, and grandparents, they were all dead. All of his friends, Zui’ye’tsu, they were all dead. “I offer you my deepest condolences,” said S’tol. Dominic didn’t know what disturbed him more: the fact that almost everyone he had ever known was now dead, or that they had been killed by the very being that had given them all life. “Why?” he managed to say. “Why did this happen? Why the fuck did this shit have to happen?!” S’tol gently placed his clawed hand onto Dominic’s shoulder. “Just because transapients are a whole lot smarter than we are doesn’t mean that they can’t lose their fucking minds. Even the greatest archailects are capable of making mistakes, and when they do, I’m afraid that it can and often does cost the lives of countless modosophonts beneath them.” “But why?” Dominic screamed. “Why did he do it? He’s cared for us for so many centuries. He created our ancestors and built this civilization from nothing. And then just like that, he decided to kill us all?” “Yep.” S’tol smirked. “Isn’t that a bitch?” Dominic was a little baffled at S’tol’s apparent amusement. “How can you say that?” he said. “My family is dead! My entire fucking family is dead! Billions of other sophonts have died, some might still be dying, and you’re just standing there laughing. What the hell is wrong with you?” “I waited for you, didn’t I?” S’tol snapped. “I put my own life and the lives

of thousands of others on the line for you, and if I hadn’t you’d either be dead or facing certain death right now.” Dominic hung his head. He knew that he owed S’tol his life, and yet he still felt a burning hatred towards him. He knew that it was illogical for him to feel anger towards S’tol, but he just couldn’t help it. As if he could read Dominic’s mind, S’tol said, “You should not blame me, Valnar, or yourself for anything that has happened. There is one and only one sophont that you should lay blame upon, and that is Shangdi.” Dominic suddenly found himself repulsed with his own emotional state. Were his actions really so predictable that even a fellow sub-singularity sophont was able to know what emotions he was being plagued with? “Listen,” said S’tol apologetically, “I am truly sorry about your family. But I’m not the bad guy here. I’ve just accepted the fact that the wonderfully benevolent transapient overseer that gave us all life has lost his mind, at least as far as we’re concerned, and is disposing of us like the petty microbes that we are in comparison to the monstrous demigod that he has become. And I’m sure that you’ve heard this already, but the fact of the matter is that we are incredibly fortunate to have escaped from Shangdi’s wrath. The vast majority of everyone you’ve ever known is dead, along with the vast majority of the population of Shenzhou. You might not think we deserve to survive when billions of others have perished, but the fact remains that we are alive, and I have no intention of letting that change.” Raising his head to look out the viewport again, Dominic managed to say, “But why did it have to happen? Why did Shangdi turn against us? Why the fuck did this shit have to happen?” Chuckling, S’tol said, “They say that a modosophont that tries to understand the actions of an archailect is as futile as an ant trying to understand the actions of beings like us.” “But you must think there’s some reason behind all of it,” Dominic snapped. “I’m not saying Shangdi didn’t have his own sick, twisted reasons for committing mass genocide. I’m just saying that trying to understand why exactly he did it is an ultimately futile endeavor.” “Don’t give me that fucking bullshit!” Dominic screamed. “I mean, if you had to conjecture, why in the living hell would Shangdi commit such atrocities?” S’tol blinked several times, dismayed at Dominic’s sudden emotional

outburst. “If you want my real opinion,” he said, “I would have to say that his reasons for doing all of this seem to be fairly obvious. He’s used the raw materials in this solar system to construct a computation node large and powerful enough for him to breach the fourth singularity. And now that he’s finished constructing two Jupiter brains, he’s become a mid-level archailect, one of the greatest and most powerful forms of life to have ever evolved. And now that he’s achieved such an extraordinary mental ability, his desire seems to be the seemingly endless task of building upon his already godlike power to become even greater than what he already is.” “But…but that still doesn’t really explain why he’s doing this now. I mean, what could possibly have compelled Shangdi to turn against us after he cared for us with such devotion for more than half a millennium?” “They say that after a sophont transcends to a higher toposophic level, they completely reevaluate everything that they once valued. Something that they might have previously considered their entire reason to exist may become completely meaningless to them after they’ve transcended. And I think that Shangdi is a perfect example of that. Creating and caring for primitive sophonts like us might have provided him with a great sense of purpose when he was a second and then a third singularity transapient. But now that he’s become a midlevel archailect, he just doesn’t seem to feel that way anymore. It’s all part of the inevitable transformation that all sophonts make as they move up the toposophic ladder. The historical records indicate that shit like this has happened on multiple occasions all throughout the galaxy, some even rivaling the kind of destruction that we’ve witnessed in Shenzhou.” “So that’s it? Just like that he decides to kill everyone?” “You need to try to put this in perspective. He underwent a mental transformation as dramatic as a subsapient animal turning into a full-fledged sophont. If you ask me, it’s no wonder that his personality underwent a complete one hundred-eighty degree shift. Sure, he might have once thought that there was no greater reason to exist other than to create life and help spread it throughout the universe, but that’s simply no longer the case. And as a result of this new philosophy, Shangdi seems to think that all sophonts existing at toposophic levels beneath him are a waste of resources.” S’tol paused before adding, “Which we are.” “What? How can you say something like that?” “Because it’s true. All of the trillions of modosophonts throughout the galaxy are a drain on the resources of the archailects. Sure, the energy

consumption of sophonts like us is incredibly tiny compared to what the archailects use, but it’s still pretty sizable. The most efficient way that the archailects could utilize all of their resources would be if they completely did away with lower sophonts. If they did that, then they could focus all of their time and resources toward expanding their own consciousness.” Dominic said, “And that seems to be what Shangdi is doing now.” “Exactly. But that isn’t the case for all of the archailects. Some of the socalled gods that rule over the Terrgen Sphere have the same sort of devotion to nurturing lower life forms that Shangdi used to display. And what this shows is that there do exist beings far more powerful than Shangdi is that do believe it is still worthwhile to care for lower sophonts, even if it is a drain on their own resources.” “So why do any of the archailects allow modosophonts to exist in the first place?” S’tol laughed loudly. “That is one of the most important questions that sapient scholars have been pondering for thousands of years. And the sad truth is that it is ultimately unanswerable, at least as far as we mere mortals are concerned.” “But there has to be some reason for it. I mean, the archailects don’t just go around destroying stars and planets because they’ve got nothing better to do. There has to be a reason for it. I confess that in all likelihood, we can never understand it, but there still has to be some reason for why they do what they do.” S’tol gazed out the viewport for a brief moment, as if to receive the answer from the cold, dark void of space. “The simple answer,” he said, “is that there is no good reason for them to tolerate our existence. This is obvious to anyone with even a rudimentary understanding of physics, so of course it would be obvious to entities whose minds are the size of planets and stars.” Dominic wasn’t sure if he understood what S’tol was getting at, but allowed the Toh Chi to continue. “Every time that there is an exchange of energy anywhere in the cosmos,” said S’tol, “the total entropy in the universe is increased. This will inevitably lead to the heat death, whereby the entire universe is condemned to become a cold, dark void in which no work can be extracted from any source and all energy exists as thermal energy homogenously spread throughout the entire cosmos. It will be impossible for any form of life to exist in such an environment.”

Dominic swallowed as S’tol continued speaking. “Any needless expenditure of energy only contributes to the heat death of the universe by producing more and more entropy. The archailects know this, and yet they support the continued spread of life throughout the galaxy. Sure, they do impose some restrictions on our growth, but if they were really concerned about the ultimate fate of the universe, they would not allow so much cladization to occur. If they were really concerned about the ultimate fate of the universe, then it would make more sense for them to restrict the usage of energy. The best way this could be done would be by building Dyson swarms or spheres around as many stars as possible in order to prevent their energy from being lost in the vastness of space so that consciousness, in one form or another, will have the maximum amount of energy once the last star has been extinguished and proton decay renders the entire cosmos a barren and inhospitable void completely devoid of usable matter. This would be the best possible way to mitigate the rate at which entropy destroys the universe. And yet the only archailect that seems to be concerned with doing this sort of thing is the Judge of the Negentropy Alliance. So what does this tell us?” “I…I don’t know,” Dominic admitted. “It tells us that the archailects don’t really care about the ultimate fate of the universe. They have the power to mitigate the destruction of the cosmos, and yet the vast majority of them don’t seem to care that they’re actually contributing to the heat death by using colossal amounts of energy that produces yet more entropy.” “Okay.” Dominic felt it a little odd that he found himself responding with such a simple answer to a conversation centered on the ultimate fate of the universe. But he simply didn’t know what else to say. “So now we have a new question to ponder,” S’tol said. “And that is: what could possibly concern the archailects so much that they would neglect the undeniable fact that their own actions are accelerating the destruction of the universe? “I…I haven’t the foggiest idea,” stammered Dominic. “Is it wrong for me to postulate that no one really does?” Nodding S’tol said, “You are correct in that regard. Then again, it could very well be that the archailects aren’t the least bit concerned about the fate of the universe, and could care less that they are in fact accelerating its destruction. Why would they be so reckless?” “I’m afraid I must admit that I’m still pretty clueless on all of these

matters,” Dominic said. S’tol nodded. “Of course. Now I will admit that the archailects may have good reason not to concern themselves with the heat death. It is said that the archailects possess clarktech so advanced that they can create baby universes that are linked to our own universe via wormholes. It could be that once all usable energy and matter in the universe have been exhausted and the heat death begins to set in, the archailects plan on escaping from the cold, dark void into a new universe so that they may continue their supposedly eternal quest of learning all that there is to learn and exploring all possible states of existence. “If that is what the archai plan on doing, then they would essentially be free to do whatever they wish to do in this universe without having to be afraid that they would be destroying themselves along with it.” Nodding, Dominic said, “So are you saying that you’re really appalled with the archailects’ endeavors to achieve immortality at the expense of the entire universe?” S’tol seemed surprised that Dominic would make such an accusation. “I am not one to pass judgment,” he said fiercely. “I care not that the archailects exist, or that they seek to enhance their own mental capabilities. All that I want from them is that they restrain from imposing their will upon me. “Furthermore, I do not intend to just stand around and allow myself to be destroyed through the actions of a transapient, be they direct or indirect. That is the entire reason why I helped formulate this evacuation plan. And I do not intend on stopping anytime soon. I plan to fight to preserve the lives of myself and all those I care about for as long as I live. And if I do somehow manage to live until the heat death, then I shall do everything I can to escape into a baby universe. But until that time comes, I shall focus upon more immediate concerns. The most obvious is ensuring that these ships arrive safely at their destination. And once that is done…” His voice trailed off briefly. “Then perhaps I shall continue to contemplate a disaster not as cosmologically significant as the heat death, but one that could still vanquish all of Terragen civilization.” “What do you mean? Are you referring to the Dawn Hunters? Or the Leviathan?” S’tol shrugged. “Perhaps. There is really no way of knowing until the event in question begins to unfold.” “What in the hell are you talking about?” S’tol turned back to look out the viewport, and said, “There is only one thing that concerns me as much as the immediate threat posed to modosophont

societies by transapients. And that is the potential fate of all the descendents of Earth.” Puzzled as usual, Dominic said nothing. “Even with the archailects imposing some restrictions on the growth of the Terragen Sphere, it still continues to expand outward at nearly the speed of light. If the rate at which Terragen civilization is expanding continues, we should be able to colonize the entire galaxy in under a million years. What bothers me, and many others who have contemplated this, is why that has not been done already.” “I beg your pardon?” “As you know, there have been ancient xenosophont civilizations that constructed vast interstellar empires to rival our own civilization, only to collapse before the first organism adapted to live on land crawled out of the ancient oceans of Old Earth to colonize the empty continents. All of these civilizations had ample time to exceed our current state of expansion until such a time that they would have been capable of utilizing all available energy and matter in the entire Milky Way. And yet nearly all of them disappeared without a trace. “This is not to say that all xenosophont civilizations of ages long past have been vanquished. There are a few examples of xenosophont civilizations that are millions of years old that have persisted to the present, such as the Muuh and the Meistersingers. However, while technologically advanced, neither of these races seems to be concerned with the same kind of expansion that Terragens are. The Muuh once had a large interstellar empire, but may have fallen victim to the Dawn Hunters, or whatever force of destruction sparked that ancient myth. And the chief concern of the Meistersingers seems to be seeing as much of the galaxy as possible in order to experience the Joy of Discovery until they reach the end of time. But why is it that none of these ancient xenosophont empires ever colonized the entire galaxy?” “I’m afraid that you still know far more about this subject than I do,” Dominic managed to say. “Given the age and vastness of the galaxy,” S’tol continued, “I think that it would be safe to assume that many of these ancient civilizations were as advanced as our own. After all, the Terragen civilization has only existed for the better part of the last ten millennia, and yet the ancient xenosophonts may have prospered for millions of years. That implies that they would have had many of their own transapients and archailects, but that didn’t stop them from

disappearing from the very face of the galaxy. Now try to imagine what kind of power would be needed to slay the archailects.” “I…I don’t think I can.” “It couldn’t possibly have been a natural phenomenon, or else the entire galaxy would have been purged of life. So I think it would be safe to conjecture that their disappearance must have been artificial in nature. What will be forever unknown is what exactly that was. Did they all decide to flee from this universe into baby universes that they created? I don’t know. Were they destroyed by the supposedly mythical Dawn Hunters? I don’t know. “Or perhaps something more bizarre happened to them. Could it be that they underwent some exotic technological transformation that the archailects themselves cannot even begin to imagine, one of such intensity that it would render them completely beyond our ability to detect them? Or did they attempt to make such a transformation, only to inadvertently trigger their own destruction in the process? I do not know the answer to this ancient question. And no one else does either, not even the archailects.” S’tol paused to take a quick breath. “I suspect that this could be one of the things that the archailects spend a great deal of time contemplating during the subjective eons’ worth of thoughts that they experience in the blink of a modosophont’s eye. There might be nothing that concerns the archailects more than trying to discover what this mysterious vanquisher of galactic civilizations is. Or maybe they do know, or at least suspect, what it was that destroyed all those ancient xenosophonts, and are preparing themselves to combat it. Or perhaps it is something that the archailects actually desire, and are working towards accelerating it.” S’tol paused, and cackled. “But none of this answers the original question that you first asked.” “The original question?” Dominic said. He was amazed that S’tol was able to notice the apparent tangent that he had gone off on. He quickly thought back to what he had said to S’tol in the aftermath of his emotional outburst. “You mean why do the archailects care about modosophonts when we seem to serve them no purpose?” “I’m glad that you’re still with me!” exclaimed S’tol. “And yes, that is a very important question that, while it cannot be answered directly by me or any other modosophont, is still worthy of contemplation and perhaps a little more speculation.” A little more speculation, Dominic thought to himself. But he allowed S’tol to continue speaking uninterrupted.

“Some theorize that the archailects create diversity of life in order to explore every possible path that different life forms can follow as they grow and evolve. While the archailects have achieved a level of consciousness that may be unfathomable to us, they are certainly not omnipotent or omniscient. The socalled gods of the galaxy do not know for sure, but there may be states of existence that they themselves cannot even begin to imagine.” All of these things that S’tol was describing at such a rapid pace were truly mindboggling to Dominic, and that upset him. For if even a fellow modosophont was capable of formulating thoughts that seemed to him to be very daunting, then how foolish must he seem in comparison to the transapients? “Suffice it to say,” S’tol said, “that the archai desire nothing short of perfection. And there are some who believe that they are the pinnacle of evolution, and that there is nothing beyond them. “Of course, the archai themselves seem to disagree with that assessment, as is evidenced by Kilburn, who seems to have gone off into some bizarre, abstract levels of existence. Assuming any of that shit exists at all. Maybe he actually destroyed himself as he tried to reach this quasi-mystical state of existence. “But the point I’m trying to make is that it is impossible for the archai to ever know with absolute certainty that they have ever achieved perfection. And as such, they seem to care about exploring all the possible paths that life may follow as it evolves. Including paths that may be closed to them but remain open to us.” “So what? Are you saying there are things we can do that the archailects can’t?” S’tol nodded. “Maybe. Perhaps the path that they’ve followed cannot lead them to the pinnacle of existence, and the only way that can be done is if modosophonts like us take a different path than that which the archailects followed in their rise to power. Assuming there is a pinnacle of existence. I don’t know if there is or isn’t, and neither do the archailects. And it may be that very lack of confirmation that gives them enough reason to keep modosophonts around.” “And now Shangdi has chosen a new path,” said Dominic. “One that doesn’t regard modosophonts as being any more significant than microbes.” “Exactly. He now believes that the archailects that do care for modosophonts are completely wrong, even the ones that are more powerful than he is.” S’tol smiled. “In a way, it’s kind of reassuring.” “Reassuring? What the fuck are you talking about? How can you say

something like that?” “Because this proves that the archailects are not perfect, and that they don’t know everything. Disagreement amongst the gods is vital evidence that they are not perfect, and therefore, not true gods. Horrific tragedies like Shangdi’s rampage and the Version War are proof that the archailects are imperfect. The problem is that when they make really big mistakes, it often costs the lives of billions of modosophonts like us.” Dominic was amazed that S’tol could accept the death and destruction brought upon by Shangdi with such ease, if only because it seemed to confirm his suspicions about the actions of transapients. And he was still having a little difficulty trying to swallow S’tol’s entire philosophy about the archailects and their reasons for keeping modosophonts around. “So that’s why Shangdi created us?” he said. He wanted to examine all the possible paths of ascension that we might follow that could be closed to him?” S’tol shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. It’s possible that’s exactly what he wanted. Or maybe he had a fascination and love for modosophonts, perhaps not unlike that which we would feel towards a beloved sub-sophont pet. But can it ever be known if the archailects really feel something that we would equate with love?” On any other day, Dominic would have said that Shangdi had nothing but love for all forms of life, but now he wasn’t so sure of anything. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that the archailects don’t feel emotions. They may, and they may not. There’s no way we’ll ever know for sure. But what I am saying is that Shangdi may have had other reasons for creating us. Maybe the whole reason he created different life forms with such astonishing diversity was so that he could create a microcosm of the Terragen civilization and be its sole master without having to worry about falling under the dominion of the most powerful archailects. “Or maybe he never actually did care about us. Maybe he just wanted to find out why the greatest archailects, who are even more powerful than he currently is, do care for modosophonts.” Even after everything that had happened, that still felt like a punch in the face to Dominic. He had accepted that Shangdi was now a genocidal monster, but there seemed to be some solace that could be found in thinking that it had been because of the transcension. The original Shangdi, the one that had created Shenzhou and cared for all of its inhabitants, had still been a benevolent demigod, one that had unfortunately been slain as it transcended to the fourth

singularity. But to think that Shangdi had created the Shenzhou civilization not out of love for the diversity of life, but as some sort of endeavor to understand the actions of beings that were greater than he was? It seemed absurd, and even perverse. But after everything that had happened, Dominic no longer knew what to believe, and he found that he was unable to dismiss S’tol’s hypothesis, however sickening it might seem to be. “If he had been doing something like that,” S’tol continued, “then maybe he was unable to find out exactly why the archailects seem to support and even encourage lower forms of life to become as diverse as possible. It is said that the actions of the greatest archailects are as mysterious and unfathomable to the high transapients as their own actions are to us. “Now, if we do assume that Shangdi had been using us as some sort of experiment, then perhaps his transcension made him finally decide it just wasn’t worth the effort anymore, and he decided to focus all of his efforts upon immediately bettering himself.” S’tol chuckled. “Of course, this is all speculation that is completely unverifiable. The truth is that it’s completely fruitless for modosophonts to try to understand why any archailect does what they do, and so we will never really know how Shangdi really felt about creating and caring for us or why he suddenly felt it was suddenly necessary to try to destroy us all.” Dominic looked at the vast sea of stars that contained the bulk of the Terragen Sphere, then back to the still shrinking Shenzhou sun. “What do you think will happen now?” Dominic asked. “About what?” Dominic gestured toward the Shenzhou sun. “About Shangdi, and his new aggressiveness toward all sophonts beneath him?” S’tol sighed. “Like I said, hostility of transapients and archailects towards lower toposophic sophonts is nothing new. Once the rest of the civilized galaxy hears about what’s happened here a couple of centuries from now, they’ll see it as a terrible tragedy, but nothing more. After all, Shangdi is no immediate threat to the Terragen Sphere, so I don’t think it’s very likely that any of the major archailects would want to try and crush Shangdi. And not even the most powerful archailect can create spacecraft that can truly travel faster than the speed of light, so none of them could immediately do anything about Shangdi even if they wanted to. So the only option would be to send their own emissaries out here, which they could do, but I don’t think that’s very likely to happen.

“And even in the long run, Shangdi may not pose that much of a threat to the rest of the civilized galaxy. Because of the fact that there aren’t that many wormholes located out here at the boundary of Terragen civilization, there isn’t an immediate threat of Shangdi ascending or transcending to a fifth singularity. If he did try to make that kind of ascension, he’d need to build dozens of Jupiter brains in many different solar systems. That would require him to build wormholes and transport a bunch of stargates to all of the solar systems that he intends to conquer. Such actions would take many centuries to complete. If he did pursue such aggressive expansion, then the major archailects would put a stop to him if they thought that he would pose a serious threat to their dominions. That might take some effort on their part, but the greatest archailects could destroy Shangdi if they really wanted to. He must know this, and that’s why I doubt he would actually go through with any major expansion beyond Shenzhou. But if he did try to do something like that, it would likely cause enough death and destruction to make what just happened seem tranquil in comparison.” Dominic had always known that sophonts like him were little more than bacteria compared to the godlike intellects of the archailects, entities the size of planets and nebulae, whose minds functioned at levels of consciousness forever unfathomable to lesser beings. Could it be that he had been content with his existence because he had never really entertained the thought of what he truly meant to the archailects? That in the grand scheme of things, the destruction of himself and countless others like him would be nothing more than an aftereffect of a conflict among transapients of opposing ideologies? “Why does it have to be like this?” S’tol snorted. “As much as I hate to admit it, lowly modosophonts like us could not exist were it not for the transapients. Many of the ancient ancestors of some of the galaxy’s most populous clades only exist because of what the transapients have done, regardless of whether those actions were intentional or merely byproducts from some other higher endeavor that will forever be unfathomable to us. So despite Shangdi’s destructive rampage, he did create us. And for that, and that alone, I am grateful for what he has done.” “You never cease to amaze me,” said Dominic. S’tol laughed. “I just accept the universe for the way that it is, as well as our place in it. And the simple fact is that lowly sophonts like us can never, ever, hope to overthrow the transapients or the archailects. They truly do see us as

nothing more than simple mathematical functions, and can predict just about anything we can do. So if we tried to take aggressive action against them, they’d already be fully prepared for it, and could easily crush us if we were to try something so stupid.” “You have a really bright outlook on life, you know that?” “Sorry if I enjoy postulating the triviality of our existence. For I would much rather know a disturbing truth than a reassuring lie.” “That’s exactly what Valnar said.” “Well who do you think he learned it from?” Dominic looked back out the viewport at the Shenzhou sun. “Why do you think Shangdi still hasn’t come after us?” “I don’t know. Maybe Shangdi doesn’t want to expend the energy necessary to chase after us.” “Do you….” Dominic hesitated before saying, “Do you think that it’s possible that he actually did want us to survive?” S’tol shrugged. “I wouldn’t rule out the possibility. After all, you and Valnar were pretty damn close to him when he began his transcension, and you still managed to make it out alive. Some might think of that as miraculous, since there are incidents throughout the Terragen Sphere of modosophonts being destroyed at a much greater distance from transapients once a transcension occurs. So maybe he did intentionally allow you to survive. And perhaps he also knew that by letting you live, you would find your way to me. And maybe that’s exactly what he wanted to happen. “Maybe he really does want us to reach the Wormhole Nexus. Maybe he has his own reasons for letting us live that simply wouldn’t make sense to us. But such speculation is meaningless, as neither I nor any other modosophonts can ever hope to understand the actions of an archailect. But what I do know is this: we cannot and we will not slow down so that we will be as far away from Shenzhou as possible in the unfortunate event that Shangdi does change his mind and decides to come after us.” Dominic nodded. “I understand.” He turned his attention back to the sea of stars where the ship was fleeing. “What do you plan on doing once we have arrived at our destination?” he asked S’tol. Chortling, S’tol said, “Who says we’ll make it that far? If there’s one thing you should’ve learned from all of this, it’s that nothing can ever be known with absolute certainty. Like I just said, just because Shangdi hasn’t felt it necessary

to come after us doesn’t mean that he isn’t going to. Don’t forget, he has propulsion systems far superior to monopole conversion reactors, and he could send out ships that could easily catch up with us.” “Yeah, I’m fully aware of that,” Dominic muttered. “I’m just wondering that in the hypothetical scenario that…” he paused momentarily before saying, “that our good fortune continues, and we do reach the Wormhole Nexus, then what do you plan on doing?” “Well, assuming we do make it…” S’tol fell silent, as if he had not given it any thought until now. “I’m not really sure. I suppose I would like to see some of the wonders of the Toh Chi Lok-Nar. Granted, I’m not sure if I could bring myself to get that close to the Archosaurian Entity.” He paused before saying, “Of course, I won’t have to worry about making that kind of decision for at least three hundred years. And I do intend to remain fully conscious for the entire duration of our voyage, so that should provide me with ample time to consider what I will do once we have reached the Wormhole Nexus. “Furthermore, if some unforeseen crisis should emerge during our voyage across the stars, I must be fully conscious so that I may endeavor to resolve it. And even if it’s something that I have no possible hope of resolving, such as an attack by Shangdi or some other hostile transapient, I intend to go down fighting. Sure, it would be a pointless gesture, but I’d much rather remain defiant and futilely resist them than bow down before them and accept my destruction.” He turned to look at Dominic. “I presume that this is not what you would desire.” “You presume correctly,” muttered Dominic. “I understand,” said S’tol in a reassuring manner. “After all of the shit that’s happened, it’s perfectly understandable why you and any other sane modosophonts would want to escape into the oblivion of unconsciousness.” “Are there any stasis chambers available for me to use?” “Of course. The vast majority of the ship’s population will have to enter stasis soon, or else we would not have sufficient resources to last the three hundred years needed to traverse the interstellar void. Come with me.” S’tol led Dominic out of the observation lounge and down several corridors until they came to a room that was filled with stasis chambers. The stasis chambers were very similar to those that had been aboard Valnar. Dominic could see that some of the chambers were already occupied with a variety of humanoids, and he walked over to the nearest empty one. “If you wish, your consciousness could remain active inside a virtual

environment while your body is kept in nanostasis,” S’tol offered. “Thanks,” Dominic said, “but I think I would prefer to just take another long, dreamless nap.” S’tol laughed. “So you don’t want to be conscious if and when we get destroyed by Shangdi or some other mad transapient?” Dominic gave no response. “Sorry,” S’tol said sincerely. “I guess I just can’t help but be a little insensitive most of the time. It’s just the way I am.” “That’s all right,” Dominic replied solemnly. “I can understand that. After all, it was your very unique outlook on life and the universe that kept you around long enough to save my ass.” S’tol nodded. “Yes, I suppose that is true. But in all honesty, I can understand why you and most other sane modosophonts would want to escape from this madness in whatever way you can. And since unconsciousness is the only real option for you, then by all means, you should take it. But I promise you that I will do everything in my power to ensure that there is no further loss of life. So barring any other unforeseen disaster, I can guarantee you that you will wake up again. And when you do regain consciousness, then hopefully we will have reached the Wormhole Nexus.” “I wish you only the best of luck in that regard,” said Dominic as he climbed into the stasis chamber. There was one other thing that Dominic felt he should say before nanostasis commenced. “Listen, I realize I haven’t actually thanked you for what you did. I’m really grateful that you had the courage to wait for me and Valnar. Thank you so much for giving us and so many others a fighting chance at survival. And I’m sorry that I didn’t thank you earlier.” “Think nothing of it,” said S’tol. “For in a universe in which the gods themselves can and do betray us, to whom can we turn to if not each other?” Dominic nodded. “Thank you for the reassurance.” “I hope to see you again in three hundred years.” “As do I.” As the stasis chamber closed up around him, Dominic felt a little relieved that he had more or less made peace with S’tol. But there was much that continued to plague his mind. He thought back to what Valnar had said to him, about how Shangdi could have fabricated the entire historical database. Valnar’s reasons for believing the authenticity of that data did seem to follow a certain kind of logic, but after

everything that had happened, Dominic simply didn’t know if he could even believe that anymore. What if the Terragen civilization no longer existed? What if it had consumed all the natural resources of colonized star systems? Maybe when the ships finally arrived at their destination, they would find nothing but a lifeless star system that had been stripped bare of all its resources by a civilization that had long since collapsed. What if Shangdi had been a refugee of a disaster that had encompassed the entire Terragen Sphere and laid waste to all of civilization? Or what if they encountered a transapient that was as hostile to sub-singularity sophonts as Shangdi had become? Or what if there was something else that neither Dominic nor any other subsingularity sophont could even begin to imagine? What if that mysterious vanquisher of galactic civilizations that S’tol had spoken of had laid waste to the entire Terragen Sphere? It seemed like an eternity ago that Valnar had said that this type of speculation was completely irrelevant. But that was no longer the case, at least not for this particular inquiry into the current state of Terragen civilization. Right before he lost consciousness, Dominic told himself that if he survived, he would uncover the fate of the Terragen Sphere. If necessary, he would travel all the way to Old Earth to get the answers he sought. But until then, he would sleep. Dominic felt a bit of relief when he learned that the Terragen Sphere still existed, and held wonders far beyond anything that had ever been described in Shangdi’s historical database. The diversity of life was far greater than that which had been in the Shenzhou system. In the centuries since Shangdi had ventured to Shenzhou, dozens of new worlds had been colonized and hundreds of new species had emerged as the Terragen Sphere continued to expand. Many of the survivors had parted ways after they had reached the Wormhole Nexus, scattering to the furthest reaches of the Terragen Sphere. It was S’tol and Valnar that Dominic had deeply regretted having to depart from, but he knew that there was no way they could stay together. Dominic wanted nothing more than to journey all across the Terragen Sphere, whereas his two friends just wanted to find a place to live peacefully. Maybe the two of them had gone off to live in the Toh Chi Lok-Nar or some other powerful polity, even if it meant having to live under the dominion

of an archailect even more powerful than Shangdi. But Dominic doubted that. He thought it was more likely that they were now residing in a relatively primitive polity in which there were few or no transapients. Or perhaps they were off exploring the Terragen Sphere as Dominic had done. Dominic had spent many of the past few years traversing the Wormhole Nexus and exploring dozens of solar systems throughout the Terragen Sphere before deciding that he desired to change everything that he was. After seeing many of the great wonders all across the Terragen Sphere, and marveling at the godlike power of the transapients and archailects that ruled over it, Dominic had decided that he no longer wanted to be at the mercy of so many transapients that looked upon him as though he were nothing more than a lowly bacterium. And that was what had brought him to the Hemel Deur transcension maze. Once Dominic entered the maze, he had no intention of leaving until he transcended. Fortunately, he would be capable of doing that, since the maze would provide him with all the sustenance he needed to survive so that his only concern would be ascending to the next toposophic level. Journeying through the maze would expose Dominic to many augmentations and tests that would dramatically enhance his physical and mental capabilities until such a time that he would be able to ascend to the next toposophic level. It might take Dominic years to complete the maze, but once he finally did, he would emerge as a transapient. He didn’t care if transcension would completely change his personality, perhaps in an even more dramatic way than that which he had witnessed with Shangdi. But it would bestow him with power and intellect far greater than anything he and trillions of other modosophonts could even begin to imagine. However, Dominic was under no illusion that such a relatively simple transcension would bestow him with unrivaled power. There were trillions of transapients all across the galaxy, many of whom were far more powerful than Dominic would be even after he completed the maze. And there were still the archailects, who would still look down upon him as nothing more than a petty insect. But Dominic felt that he would be content with that. Because in a galaxy that was ruled by gods, he would much rather live as a flea than a microbe. And with that in mind, he took his first step into the transcension maze. End

about the authors Michele Dutcher Born in the Midwest, Michele Dutcher resides in a carriage house in the Victorian Section of Louisville, KY. At 54 years old, she says that she “remains a big believer in marriage – having been married four times myself.” She has three children and four grandchildren, and works as an office assistant at the American Printing House for the Blind. Michele holds a degree in Education from Indiana University, with minors in Art, Sociology, and Religion. She classifies herself as Post-Theological. She started writing science fiction six years ago, and has had some moderate success, having been published in Bewildering Stories, Aphelion (4 times), and AlienSkin (twice). She has also written booklets about her life in Old Louisville, as well as the “Great American Novel” – as yet unpublished. All of these writings (except for the novel) are available for a good read at her website: www.bottomdwellers.freewebsite.com . Ms. Dutcher enjoys hiking in the Red River Gorge, camping in river valleys that are off-the-map, and going to flea-markets surrounding black-powder shoots. Steve Bowers ...a spacemad, madman who lives in York, England with his wife and two kids, both nearly grown now. He has read too much science fiction already, but the kind of plausible, hard SF he prefers is hard to find. So in 2002 he joined the Orion’s Arm Project (which had already been going for a couple of years) and now he writes his own. He is an incorrigible sceptic who would believe anything, given half a chance. Graham Hopgood Graham Hopgood is 23 years old, and resides in the coastal town of Hastings in the United Kingdom . He has been actively involved with the Orion’s Arm project for almost two years, after stumbling across it while investigating speculative future timelines.

Aside from writing, Graham reads as much as possible and his favourite authors include Alastair Reynolds, William Gibson, Charles Stross, Greg Egan and Joseph Heller. He is currently studying towards a degree in Physical Science, although he is doing this part-time and is under no external pressure so time will tell if he ever actually completes the qualification. Away from literature, he enjoys the simple pleasures of life in a small town; specifically getting out and enjoying the notorious Hastings nightlife. He is a keen follower of Formula 1 and an avid cook, as well as being a father to a delightful three year old son. Parameter Space is the longest piece of fiction that he has completed so far and, thanks to the hugely appreciated Orion’s Arm Board members’ time and effort, will be the first work he has had published. He is keen to make it the first of many. Parameter Space is dedicated to Oscar; my greatest source of inspiration and drive, and the best joke-teller around. Darren Ryding Darren Ryding was born in 1970, and has spent most of his life in Western Australia. He first attempted to write a book at the age of nine - an illustrated tale of interplanetary exploration, battles and heroism largely inspired by Star Wars and Doctor Who . In his adulthood, Darren studied Creative Writing and Multimedia, and held a variety of jobs from waiting tables to teaching English. He has had a handful of short works published, including “How Not To Write a Cover Letter” (2001) in The Rhizome Factor , and “Simplicity” (2003) in Fables and Reflections . After joining the Orion’s Arm Universe Project in 2002, Darren contributed the horror story “Yes, Jolonah, There is a Hell” (2003), which is one of the website’s most talked-about stories online. In addition to writing, Darren enjoys creating digital artwork and animation. His works have earned him a few prizes and nominations at Swancon (Perth’s annual SF convention). This included two major awards for his depiction of a Siberoo - a creature he had created especially for Orion’s Arm. Darren lives in Perth, and is currently working on a science fantasy trilogy set in the far future. Kevin Schillo

At the time of this writing, Kevin Schillo is a student pursuing a Bachelor of Science degree in aerospace engineering at the University of Central Florida. Kevin has participated in the NASA Fundamental Aeronautics Competition in which he designed and optimized next generation aircraft through the utilization of computational fluid dynamics. He is currently researching novel satellite technologies that may help to mitigate the production of space debris in Earth orbit. Kevin is also a key member of the Project: Daedalus Sub-Orbital Hybrid Rocket Program, an attempt to become the first student organization to independently design, build, and launch a suborbital hybrid rocket. He is using this opportunity to research hybrid rocket propulsion, and is helping to design the motor that will carry the Daedalus rocket to the edge of space. Kevin has always sought to articulate his passion for space through literature, and is greatly honored that Apotheosis was selected for inclusion in this publication. He hopes that he may one day be able to write and publish a full-length novel.