

### VERSION

### INNOCENT

By

Pete Molina

*****

PUBLISHED BY:

Pete Molina

Smashwords Edition

Version Innocent

Copyright 2011 by Pete Molina

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Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

### For Mairin,

### the love of my life.

### Version Innocent

### Pete Molina

### The universe is change;

### our life is what our thoughts make it.

Marcus Aurelius – _Meditations_

### Chapter 1

The red phone on Jeff's desk rang....it never rang. Jeff felt his stomach lurch and his hand went instinctively to hold it. The thing was an antique from another era before video phones, personal electronic companions, and neural implants. The only thing the phone had going for it was that it was secure, and it was never supposed to ring except in emergency that threatened the division. He looked at the phone in disbelief for a second and then picked it up.

"This is Jeff," he answered, thousands of scenarios spinning wildly in his mind.

"Sir, this is the monitoring room. We have a problem with the storage system. It's been compromised. We've already lost ten thousand and it's growing geometrically. We haven't been able to isolate the problem."

Jeff stood up still holding the phone, the panic rising in him, but he managed to keep it from totally engulfing him. He thought for a second.

"Did you trigger the physical disconnect?" he asked. _Ten thousand, it's a goddamn disaster. This isn't supposed to be able to happen, the system is isolated._ His thoughts raced.

"Yes, sir, but what ever it is has already jumped into all the storage areas."

"Alright, do the best you can to contain it, and I don't have to tell you that this needs to be kept quiet until we know more...but get anyone you think can help to solve the problem."

"Yes, sir." The technician on the other end hung up. Jeff put down the phone and sat down in his chair, staring into space. _Ten thousand backups lost, how many of them weren't corporeal? Involuntary dissolution of thousands, it was murder pure and simple. Who would do something like this?_ Jeff knew that he had to call his superiors. The backlash from this was going to be furious, especially once the media got a whiff. He picked up the red phone and dialed the President.

***

Two hours later the red phone rang again. Jeff picked it up. "This is Jeff," he answered.

"Sir, we have it under control now," the tech said nervously.

"What's the damage?" Jeff asked.

"We lost thirty-five million. Three thousand of them weren't corporeal."

It was unthinkable and Jeff sat there in stunned silence. After a few seconds the tech squeaked. "Sir, we've traced the virus's origin. We know how it got into the system."

"How?" Jeff snapped. "Someone's head is going to roll for this. Where did it come from?" The tech was silent for a second before answering. "Well?" Jeff said angrily.

"Sir, we traced it to that backup cube you sent us this morning." The tech had a little fear in his voice now, after all it wasn't every day that someone blamed the biggest disaster in the history of the department on the Director.

Jeff's jaw dropped... His eyes fixed on the two backup cubes stacked neatly on his desk. _Sam's cube...oh, God, the Resistance has him. He's been compromised and they used his relationship with me to get it in the system...I had hoped that the letter was sincere...I'm such a fool._

Sam 6.7 was Jeff's crèche brother and more. They had formed a pact when they were only young adults to fight the restoration establishment. Jeff had focused on bringing down the system from within, and Sam had gone to destroy it from the outside. The irony was that instead of Jeff bringing down the system from inside, he had been gradually convinced of the fact that the current system was the only way. So he had worked hard and had risen through the ranks of civil servants to become the director of the Restoration division of the U.S. Government, despite the fact that he was a Newbie.

He had sold out, and he knew that Sam 6.7 had never forgiven him. It had cost him the closeness of the rest of his crèche mates, but Jeff knew he was right. It had seemed that Sam had given up on trying to fight the system as he grew older. Contact had lessened between them over the years until it had been almost nonexistent and Jeff had had no idea what Sam was doing until this morning.

When Jeff entered his office earlier that morning he had found a package neatly set on the center of his desk. It was odd to get a physical package these days, but not unheard of. He found that it was from one of his crèche mates and had contained a post-it note and wrapped box. The post-it simply indicated that Sam had sent it to their crèche mate, to be forwarded to him. The note was cold and reminded him that his crèche mates didn't want much of anything to do with him any more. Inside the box he had found a letter from Sam 6.7 and a backup cube.

Dear Jeff,

I'm sorry it's been so long since we've spoken, and I realize that you may not wish to hear from me, but considering the situation that I'm in I have decided to risk it. For the longest time I have felt that you betrayed your promise to me. I know that you think what you've done is the right thing, because you always did what you thought was right. Of course I think what really got to me was that every time we talked you tried to force those beliefs on me. I'll never agree with the system that you now direct, but I must admit that I no longer believe the system to be truly evil and the whole cause of the world's problems.

I have been living on Mars for the past few years working here and there on various small engineering projects, but I have stumbled on to something that even I think is sinister.

I have found a group of Martian Newbies that are not only discontent but are willing to achieve their goals to topple the current hold on the Martian government by the Terran Restoration establishment by any means necessary. When I first met one of their people I heard their arguments and, given my past beliefs, was very influenced by them, but as I came to know them better, I realized that this group was planning some kind of terrorist act against your center.

I believe that I am now in too deep with these people for them to let me leave the resistance. I have managed to escape for the afternoon and was able to get to a backup clinic. I had them make a cube with no transmitted backup so that the Martians would have no way of knowing what I had done. I just hope I wasn't followed, they don't trust me much and I would be surprised if they didn't. I am going to try to escape from them, but I don't think it will work. They will most likely kill me before I can get away.

I am sending you this cube through our Crèche sister so that no one will know that I have sent it for you or that you have received it. I know that you have an infiltrator among your staff, but I was never able to achieve a level of trust with the resistance to find out who they are. But they are not a simple resistance, they are Terrorists and I believe that they would stop at nothing to keep this backup from getting into the system, as I already know too much. I trust that you will be discrete. If you haven't heard from me within a month of the date on this letter please initiate my restoration as I am probably dead.

Your Crèche Brother,

Sam Storm, 6.7

The date on the letter was already two months old, and Jeff had heard nothing from Sam in that time. He believed the worst, that Sam was dead. The implication that someone was planning violence against the center and that this Martian resistance group had infiltrated his staff left Jeff feeling panicked. If he was to discover who it was and how the attack was to take place, he needed what Sam knew. Even though Sam had not been declared legally missing and presumed dead, Jeff took the cube to be downloaded in to the system and for the restoration procedure to be started.

It was technically illegal, to restore someone who was not legally deceased, but Jeff felt that the circumstances would be justified if they could avert a major disaster. Sam was not one who could ask easily for help, and Jeff knew that Sam wouldn't ask for his help except in the most dire of circumstances. He knew that he could trust Sam despite their disagreements, they were crèche brothers after all.

***

Jeff sat at his desk, staring at the two backup cubes of Sam's. It was already five PM, the news broadcasts had already started. The technical report had come back that the cube Sam had sent him that morning contained a very sophisticated virus that was triggered when the restoration of the backup was begun. The virus infiltrated the system and started to destroy the backup stores. It hadn't been too hard to stop. It had only taken a few hours.

All things considered, the damage was nowhere near as bad as it could have been. There were over twenty billion backups in the system. Thirty five million was a small number, but nothing like this had ever happened before. The system was supposed to be safe from these kinds of threats, so the backlash was likely to be severe. It probably meant that he would be removed from his position. After all, he had initiated the illegal restoration of Sam and caused the event.

Jeff could only imagine two possibilities of how this could happen, and he didn't know which one disturbed him more. The first was that Sam was sincere in his letter and that the resistance had caught him and used it as the conduit for their attack, and that in all likelihood Sam was dead. The resistance had used Sam's connection with Jeff to target their attack.

The second possibility, and the worse of the two, was that Sam had intentionally done this. He had used his relationship with Jeff to initiate this attack. The betrayal was almost too much for Jeff to contemplate.

_It must be this resistance, but how can I be sure?_ he thought. _In Sam's eyes I have already committed a betrayal that would be almost equivalent to this, but I can't believe for a second that Sam would ever do that. It must be the resistance._

Jeff's eyes moved from the backup cube that Sam had sent him to the other cube. This one was very old, made on Sam's twenty-third birthday. That was the day they had made their pact to take down the system. They had both had cubes made that day and given them to each other. It was like a pact of blood brotherhood, something stronger than just being crèche mates. They always had the symbolic support of the other no matter where they went. As far as Jeff knew, Sam still had his backup from that day. Jeff kept that old backup on his desk as a reminder of his own betrayal. The old backup cube of Sam 23.1 was a much more innocent time in their life. Jeff quietly longed to be returned to that time for a second chance, but that wasn't possible.

Another disturbing fact that Jeff had discovered only a few minutes earlier as part of the report on the virus, was that all of Sam Storm's backups had been purged from the system. The old backup cube of Sam 23.1 on his desk represented the only backup of Sam in existence. Was Sam 6.7 still alive? Jeff didn't know, but there was going to be hell to pay for this, especially once Damon Harding was informed. Just the thought made Jeff's stomach lurch, his hand went quickly down again to hold it. Too many questions.

### Chaper 2

Damon Harding stood looking out the window of his penthouse in New York. The whole city sprawled around him. The penthouse was as close to space as one could get without actually going there, and therefore the best the world could offer. He was silent but he had a large smile on his face. He already knew about the virus. He had been informed the moment it had been detected. It had given him the perfect opportunity to get away with murder, and it was like a giant weight had been lifted from his shoulders. A weight that had been upon him for several centuries now.

Damon's companion interrupted his thoughts. _Sir, the total damages have been assessed as thirty-five million lost, three thousand of those were non-corporeal. The source of the virus was determined to be a backup cube that was inserted in to the system this morning. Our intrusion was not detected._

The smile on Damon's face got bigger. _Thank you, Julia, that's just the news I wanted to hear. And Director Hughes' involvement only sweetens the whole affair._ Julia was Damon's semi-sentient neural implant electronic companion, that helped him manage his affairs and kept his secrets. Julia gave him access to the data sphere and acted as a personal secretary.

Damon Harding, was the CEO of Second Chance, Inc., the company that had developed the procedure for both backing up and restoring a human being. It was the most powerful technology ever invented, more so than even nanotechnology. This fact had not escaped Damon when the procedure was first being developed. There were only ten people who knew how the technology worked. Only three, including Damon, that knew all the software algorithms that enabled the restoration process to succeed. All of them but Damon were now gone forever, thanks to the virus attack this morning. The others, including all those that had worked on or built the restoration machinery, had been voluntarily backed up and had no corporeal version.

The inventors had agreed to this over two hundred years ago, to be restored after a thousand years, in order to protect the technology from getting out of company hands. Second Chance had never filed a patent, so the process was a complete secret. The workers who had built the restoration machines had also agreed to be backed up in this non-corporeal state in return for large bonuses to be paid when restored with the inventors. They were restored only intermittently when new machines had to be built or the older ones serviced.

That was how Damon had held control of the technology against tremendous pressure for several hundred years. It was how he had become the most powerful and wealthy man in the solar system, and how he had the power to control the US Government, and through them every other government. The only thing that could stop him had been those who knew how to duplicate the procedure, and that threat was now over.

Damon had been patiently waiting for more than a century for the opportunity that had developed this morning. He knew that sooner or later someone would attack the system. He had used his backdoor access during the chaos to purge the backup files of the three thousand who knew how to build a restoration machine, including his founding partners. He was the only one left who could build a restoration machine, Julia stored the plans and software in his neural implant.

_Jeff Hughes, that's an interesting development. It seems Jeff is a typical Newbie after all, but it seems sloppy to me. Perhaps he didn't know what he was doing. If he didn't, then who was behind it?_ Damon pondered.

_Julia, whose backup cube carried the virus?_ He directed the thought to his companion.

Julia responded immediately. _The backup cube belonged to Sam Storm 6.7, version was listed as 54.3. There is no further information about the cube in the database._

Sam Storm, that's a name I haven't heard in a while. He was a hell of a nanotech engineer. Julia, do you know what Sam has been up to in the last decade? I believed that he had left the LNRC to teach at one of the children's cities.

_Sam Storm, formerly a senior researcher at the Lunar Nanotechnology Research Center, tendered his resignation approximately twelve years ago. He returned to the children's city of Denver to teach Advanced Nanotechnology to upper level students. Records indicate that he is still teaching,_ Julia replied, while simultaneously bringing up an image of Sam in Damon's display.

_I seriously doubt that he's still there. What's the connection between Storm and Hughes?_ Damon had met Jeff Hughes on more than several occasions.

_They were crèche mates in a group of six,_ the companion replied.

_Crèche mates, well, that would explain a lot. Julia, start an investigation into Sam Storm and Jeff Hughes over the past twelve years. I want to know what they're up to. And when it is determined that the three thousand non-corporeal backups are those from Second Chance, make sure their families are compensated for their loss,_ Damon ordered. He wasn't a complete monster, he was only doing what had to be done. Some of his founding partners had been his dearest friends back when they were just beginning. It had taken a century to realize that they had to be stopped from being restored.

They hadn't all realized the full extent to which the world would become dependent on the technology.

The peace in the world over the last two centuries that stemmed directly from the control Damon could exert was unprecedented. If the others had been restored, that would have ended, and then the wars would begin.

Damon weighed these choices and chose peace. He was the only one who could make this painful decision but it was for the best. He knew any one of them would do the same in his place. Their sacrifice made them heroes. Unknown heroes of this new world.

A few moments later Julia interrupted again. _Sir, there is another development in regard to the virus's actions._

_Yes,_ Damon replied.

It seems that several restorations were triggered by the virus of non-corporeal backups. The system was able to halt all but one, which had progressed too far to stop legally.

_Anyone important?_ Damon asked.

_Terra Gates, she was not scheduled to be restored for another two decades as per her request. There is an anomaly, the backup used is outdated by almost eight years. All more recent versions were lost to the virus._ Julia replied.

_Very interesting._ Damon considered. _And certainly no coincidence. The odds are astronomical that this particular out dated backup would be the one to make it too far to be stopped. Something is going on here, and if the former head of the Mars Department of Industry is involved, it's not in my best interest. That virus's attack was planned to wipe certain backups, probably as a cover up for something, and I am going to find out what._

Legally, a backup that preceded the commission of, or the conspiracy to commit, a crime was innocent of that crime. A great many detective movies and novels had used that angle. Of course, in reality there was no way to purge any more recent backups from the system, and only the most recent backup could legally be restored, until now. If in the course of an investigation it was determined that the restored backup had planned something, it could be prosecuted as if it had committed the crime. But in the case of Terra Gates there was no indication that she had done either.

Damon walked from the window to the coat closet, grabbed his heavy jacket and went to the lift tube door. The FBI would be his first stop, and then he would pay Terra Gates a visit as soon as she was restored.

### Chapter 3

It had been three days since the virus attacked the system and Jeff was still the director, but he knew it would not be long. The news had been leaked to the press and public outrage had been the result from around the solar system. The event was being compared to the September 11th attacks on the World Trade Center in New York by Islamic fundamentalists, early in the millenium. Even though the number of backups lost was in the millions, the number that had no living version from which to have a new backup made was only in the low thousands. Still a huge number considering that true death had almost been eliminated. The unreality of the situation was compounded by the lack of documentation and reporting.

The US had made many guarantees over the years to foreign governments that the backup storage facility was secure from outside threats. That guarantee of security had convinced many nations to allow the US to continue its monopoly on the restoration technology. Not that they had a choice. Foreign nations were now afraid that their backups were compromised despite assurances that all the casualties had been US citizens.

There were calls for Jeff's resignation and prosecution, and he was seriously considering the former. But that wasn't the worst of it. The debate over Newbie positions in the government was now flaring again. Newbies were people born more than a century after the restoration technology had been invented, when society had fully embraced the change and all children were raised in the children's cities. Primers were those that had been born and raised before the children's lottery was established. They acted like two political parties except that the Primers outnumbered Newbies a thousand to one, and had had enough time to acquire great sums of money and power before the Newbies had been born.

Most Primers thought of the Newbies as children despite the fact that many Newbies were also centenarians. For the most part, like teenagers, Newbies didn't agree with the current system of government and restoration, they thought that society had stagnated and was headed nowhere slowly. A century earlier many Newbies had organized demonstrations and some had resorted to violent terrorist acts. They had been distrusted by the Primers ever since, even though all those had been caught and exiled or had their restoration rights revoked.

That was the heaviest thing on Jeff's shoulders at the moment. He had originally agreed with the Newbies that society had stagnated because of the restoration technology, but he had been convinced that it was an inevitable technology for a species to achieve, that the current means of controlling that technology was the only way for a society to use it peacefully despite the disadvantages.

He had worked hard to get his position as director of the Restoration Division of the United States government to prove that Newbies weren't all bad, and that they could work with the system. His appointment to that position had been improving the sentiment towards the Newbies and they were becoming more accepted, but now... Not that many Newbies cared about it, most of them stayed in the Children's cities and worked and socialized with their own, or took jobs off Earth, where the Primer to Newbie ratio wasn't so high.

Jeff navigated his way through the crowd toward the zip tube stop. He was on his way home for the evening to his apartment in Denver. The tube stop consisted of two large holes eight meters across separated by about three meters. They both had circular roofs above them supported by three strong pillars. The hole that Jeff was heading towards was the green roofed hole, the down hole. The other hole had a red roof, and was the up hole. People in front of Jeff streamed towards the down hole from three sides in concentric circles and disappeared from view. Jeff waited as the circle of people in front of him took the plunge. From the other hole Jeff could see people rising up from the hole to the surface and walking out.

As he reached the front shell he continued to walk out in to the middle of the opening having the appearance of walking on air. Of course this was just an illusion. Approximately ten others joined Jeff standing on the opening, and then they began to descend, and as they went they accelerated to cover the distance to the two mile deep zip train station. The tube wasn't as empty as it appeared but was filled by utility fog that acted as a sort of elevator.

Utility Fog was a product of nanotechnology, but it was not nanotechnology itself. The "Fog" consisted of billions of small robots that were still large enough to be seen by a microscope. Each unit, called a foglet, was a small autonomous robot that had arms extending from eight sides. These arms were capable of telescoping in and out and grabbing on to other foglet arms. When these arms connected, the foglets could hold each other while also using the connection to transfer power and data between them.

In the elevator column the swarm of foglets worked together to raise or lower passengers by exerting a lifting force in the case of the up column, or by decelerating passengers to prevent them from falling too quickly in the down tube. They could make themselves appear invisible or they could form images that seemed to hang in space.

Traveling down the lift tube always felt like falling to Jeff, but a controlled fall. He felt his stomach give way as it was left at the surface for a few moments until Jeff stopped accelerating. The tube walls were a uniform color which gave the illusion that one was standing still once a certain downward velocity had been achieved. The fog column could lower passengers to the zip train terminal a mile below the surface in less than a minute. The energy created by the lowering of the passengers through the down tube was partially reclaimed by the fog and used to power the ascent of the up tube passengers like a counterweight. The corresponding trip back up the tube took two to three minutes.

The other passengers were quiet as they descended. It was always that way. People didn't like to talk much when sharing a confined space with strangers and that was fine with Jeff. A few of the passengers glared at Jeff for a moment before they looked away. They obviously had seen him in the news or had identified him using their SS companion. He was now probably the most infamous Newbie in history. Jeff felt the beginnings of deceleration as they were slowed to gentle stop at the exit of the column. Because the column of fog could support itself, they were lowered out of a hole in the ceiling of the terminal ten meters through the air to the ground. The passengers quickly moved out of the circle of the fog column moving towards their departure gates.

Jeff stepped out of the circle of the fog tube into an anteroom to the main terminal. There was a large arch doorway on one side through which Jeff could see hundreds of people moving around. He had come off the back side of the lift tube circle, so he walked along the path that surrounded the circle and through the portal into the zip train terminal hub.

The terminal twenty meters high, and had the diameter of half a football field. All around the edges of the terminal were large ornately carved doorways. The entire floor was marble with patterns in the stone that radiated from the center like a sun, each ray pointing towards one of the doorways. In the center hanging from the ceiling was a large circular display that had the arrival and departure information for the next hour. In between the archways were some smaller doors that led to various cafes, restaurants, and information access terminals for those without companion information assistants.

Jeff was one of a very small minority. He was one of those without a neural implanted SS companion. Instead, Jeff wore a pair of glasses, an ear piece, and a belt computer. The glasses worked as a display, similar to the display of the neural implant but not as all encompassing because one could still see the frames. The ear piece provided him with sound, and the belt computer controlled everything. These three items could provide most of the functionality of an implanted companion, but one lost the direct mind interface, enhanced memory, and the security.

A neural implant could not be hacked, and no information could be coerced from it without killing the host, which was generally a significant deterrent. Because of the security concerns of the non-implanted companion, which could be stolen and hacked at will, Jeff couldn't wear his companion at work. This gave him a slight disadvantage but one that he was willing to accept for now.

He would eventually have an implant but not until he needed restoration because of an accident or natural causes. A neural implant could only be implanted when a person was being restored, and to this point in his life Jeff had never been restored. At fifty four Jeff was a stocky, slightly overweight graying man. He didn't exercise much or eat very well ... not that many did. The advantages of the implant were great enough that most people would backup and dissolute so that the neural implant could be added at the restoration. Jeff didn't believe in dissolution, the voluntarily killing of his own body, even if it wasn't permanent. Most Newbies didn't.

The zip trains didn't always arrive and depart from the same terminal so Jeff needed help from his companion. Without a thought interface that meant he had to interact with his companion, Chevy, by speaking to him or at least subvocalizing.

Chevy anticipated his need, "Your train is departing from terminal twelve today. I'm overlaying the path."

Jeff began to follow the green path that appeared only in his glasses display and guided him to terminal twelve. The express Denver zip train always departed at five thirty, and the trip took about twenty minutes. It was almost five thirty now, and if Jeff missed the express he'd have to take a train that made more stops.

Jeff had to push his way through the crowd. Most people were heading for the west coast trains. When Jeff reached the entrance arch to terminal twelve there were again two circular lift tubes. They were much smaller than those from the surface. Each terminal had a lift tube that went to a different depth, which allowed the zip tubes that the trains traveled through to continue without having to curve. This meant that the trains not stoping at this station didn't have to turn which was almost impossible when traveling by zip train.

At the bottom of the lift a long hallway extended, three or four meters then split like a U and two walkways extended for around a hundred meters. The walkways were partially crowded with people standing and facing the empty space between the walkways. The train hadn't arrived just yet; it was still a few minutes until five-thirty. Jeff hurried toward the far end of the walkway where there were the fewest people.

Just as he arrived a blue flashing light came on along the ceiling of the long divided hallway. The people stepped back towards the walls. The floor that was between the two walkways became transparent and a long bullet shaped train with five cars rose from the floor through the fog barrier from the vacuum environment of the zip tube below. Doors at the midpoint of the cars opened and people streamed out and towards the main terminal. After the arriving passengers had all exited, the light that was flashing blue changed to green to indicate that the train was now ready to be boarded.

Jeff waited patiently as those in front of him stepped in to the entrance. As he passed through the doorway, Chevy piped up in his ear, "The sum of fifty-one dollars and twenty cents has been debited to your personal account for zip tube fare."

Once on board Jeff proceeded down the isle towards the back of the train. There were rows of seats but the spacing between them left quite a bit of room for each passenger. Each seat was raised slightly from the floor on a post. Jeff grabbed a seat. The entire half cylindrical ceiling of the train appeared like a window showing the terminal outside.

"The train will be departing momentarily. Please take your seats," a pleasant male voice echoed inside the car.

Jeff sat down in his seat, which was well padded. As he did, he sank down a bit. The cushions were made of utility fog and they enveloped his body. He still had some freedom of movement but the fog would constrain him from falling out of the seat during the acceleration phase.

"The train is now departing," the voice said.

Jeff felt the train begin to descend. As it did, it moved slightly to the right from its central position into the west bound zip tube. Zip trains were only allowed to move in one direction in the zip tube, so there were two tubes on each route, one for each direction. Jeff watched them lower down into the tube through the ceiling window. Once they were settled, the opening to the terminal above closed and they were in darkness for a few seconds.

The train began to move, slowly at first but with increasing acceleration. After a few seconds the ceiling windows, which actually formed a very high resolution display, showed them exiting a tunnel into a simulated country side on the surface. This simulation was provided for the duration of the trip to help keep the passengers from feeling claustrophobic, which had been a common occurrence when the zip tubes had first been constructed. Being several miles underground tended to give many people claustrophobia.

The train began to accelerate faster. As it did the seats pivoted so that the passengers would feel less of the acceleration through their backs and more through their seats. Jeff felt pushed back into his seat and heavier than normal. The express train accelerated at one earth gravity; the normal zip trains only accelerated at half a _g_. The train continued to accelerate for six minutes until it reached its cruising velocity of eight thousand miles per hour; propelled and suspended by super conducting magnets. The simulated surface view, however, only moved at eighty miles an hour, keeping everything from becoming a blur as it rushed by.

Usually Jeff slept on the ride or watched the latest newscasts on his displays, but the events of the last few days made sleep almost impossible, and the newscasts were mostly about the scandal of which he was the centerpiece. Jeff was currently under investigation. He had not been formally charged with any crime yet, but charges could yet be filed. He had spent the previous two days under "interview" which was just a nice way of saying "interrogation". Until the investigation was complete, he had been suspended from work.

The most disturbing thing about the events of the last few days was that Jeff hadn't heard a word from Damon Harding. Damon didn't particularly care for Jeff, and he had made that quite clear. Damon objected to him mostly because he was a Newbie, and because Damon rarely liked any one from the government that had any degree of autonomous control over the restoration division. Jeff was afraid that because he hadn't heard from Damon yet, that he was only experiencing the calm before the storm. He continued to worry until he heard the deceleration warning and his seat spun around to face the opposite direction.

The deceleration lasted for the same amount of time as their acceleration, and as the train came to a halt, the ceiling display changed back to a black tunnel and then the opening to the terminal appeared above them. The train lifted gently, shifting to a central position over the two zip tubes. The zip train then rose up through the floor of the arrival terminal, which was identical to the departure terminal.

A blue light was flashing on the ceiling of the terminal and the voice came on again, "Arrival at The Children's City of Denver. If this city is your final destination and you are not a resident, or employee in the city you must check in at the Visitors office before you may leave the station."

Jeff's fog cushion restraint let loose, and Jeff stood up and proceeded to the exit of the train. He proceeded back up the lift tube at the end of the gate and arrived in a central terminal identical to the one he had come from in Washington DC. Jeff walked quickly to the lift tube that would take him to the surface. As he was approaching the upward tube, Jeff noticed that a man who was standing in the lift circle didn't lift with the rest of the people in his group. The man looked perplexed.

"You know," said Jeff, "that you have to check in at the Visitors Office and get visit approval before you can go up the tube, don't you?" Jeff hadn't thought that there was anyone who didn't know that.

"Of course," the man said as he started to walk off the lift circle, "but I'm starting a job here tomorrow and I thought I'd already be in the system...oh well, I better go to the Visitors Office before security gets called to pick me up." As the man walked past Jeff, he patted Jeff's shoulder, attaching a number of micro-bug surveillance devices. "Thanks," he said smiling as he departed.

"No problem," Jeff replied as he stepped on the pad with several others. The physical contact of the stranger was abnormal, but any suspicion slipped from Jeff's mind as he was thought of other things. As soon as the pad had filled to about half full, Jeff and the others began to rise, slowly at first until they cleared the ceiling and then they accelerated up the tube for ten or fifteen seconds. After a few minutes they began to slow until they came up from hole to the surface and stopped.

Jeff arrived at his apartment without incident. As he grabbed the handle the door unlocked with an audible click. The lights came on around the apartment as he entered and he could hear the heater come on as well. He hung up his coat and took off his companion glasses, ear piece and belt computer and put them on a table near the door. As he was walking past his office, he saw that the master view screen had a mail icon in the corner. Jeff often got mail at his terminal, but the odd thing was that unless the mail had arrived at that instant his companion should have already received it and let him know. Jeff stopped and turned into the office and sat down at his terminal. The system sensed his presence, scanned his iris, and logged him into the system.

"Open Mail," Jeff said.

The mail program started up, and there was only one new message in the system. Jeff didn't recognize the address but he opened it with a tap of the screen. The message was audio only, so Jeff initiated the playback. As he heard the voice, he felt his stomach grumble a bit. It was Sam.

The recording began, "Jeff, I know that by now the virus attack has worked because this message was to be sent only if one of my software agents found the attack reported in the press. Apparently one of them has. I would contact you personally, but unfortunately I am no longer able. I am sorry that I used you to get the virus into the system. I take full responsibility for this action, but it was necessary for my cause. I made sure that the virus would only destroy backups of those that still had a living version. By now I'm sure you have realized that all of my own backups are gone from the system."

Jeff was confused, he knew Sam was methodical to a fault when he was planning or designing. Something here wasn't right because three thousand non-corporeal backups had been destroyed and were not recoverable. It seemed to Jeff that Sam was saying that he didn't intend for that to happen.

Sam continued, "I have good reason for what I have done, and I hope that you will be able to forgive me one day. I am now outside of the data sphere, and I do not plan to return. I have been working on a very important project for the last decade, one that I wish I could share with you here, but I think that if I told you it would only put you in more danger. I have dispatched a message to the government, by the same agent mechanism, that claims responsibility for this attack and this message indicates that you were not involved. It explained that I used our friendship to accomplish my own goals. I don't know if they will believe me. I hope they do for your sake."

"And now, after all I have done, I need to ask you a favor, I know I shouldn't, but I don't have any other choice. In order to complete my project I made several deals, which I cannot now personally fulfill. I couldn't risk leaving any version of me in the system that had any knowledge of my activities. The only backup version of me that now exists is the one in the cube I gave you years ago. I hope you still have it."

"On April first I need you to go to Stacey's house for dinner with a restored version of me from that cube. She knows to expect you, one other guest, and the other version of me, but she knows nothing of what has transpired. You know Stacy, she's doing this out of love, and blind faith. I can only imagine what she must think of us now. I owe this guest more than I can repay. She already knows to go to Stacey's on that day to meet me. Unfortunately, I can't be there, and I can't tell you where I am, but she needs a version of me to get to where I am to collect on the debt. The guest will know how to start looking for me, and my other version will have the DNA and biometrics necessary to get through barriers that are in place."

Sam paused for a second. "I hope that you will accompany them, so that when you find me you will understand why I have betrayed you. Take care, Jeff. I hope to see you soon." The recording stopped. Jeff sat there in stunned silence.

_What the hell are you up to, Sam?_ Jeff thought. _Mysterious work, debts owed to strange female guests, dinner parties, and old versions. It's like a damn mystery novel or something. And why April first? That's three weeks away. Even if I could still have the restoration started tomorrow, it wouldn't be complete until a day before then._ He was getting angry now. How dare Sam do this to him? It didn't matter why or for what cause Sam was wrong, and his methods were wrong, and he had killed despite his claim that his virus wouldn't do so.

He would have forwarded the stupid message to the government, but he knew it wouldn't do any good now. He was through, Sam must know that. He would never have a government job again. He would never be trusted again. Jeff wished for a second that he still could restore that old version of Sam just to beat him to a bloody pulp...but no, that Sam was different, innocent of this betrayal, and didn't deserve his anger. Jeff loved that old Sam, even if he had become a monster.

"What made this happen to you, Sam? What project is so important that you did this to me? I wish I could go find you, kick you around a little and find out why." Jeff started to tear up, but he wouldn't cry so he forced the emotion away, deleted the message and went to bed. He didn't eat, but he did dream, and the dreams were nightmares that all involved Sam trying to kill him.

In the morning Jeff had a quick breakfast. He needed to get going for another interrogation session. He wondered briefly what would happen if he didn't go, but he knew he was under surveillance and would be picked up in minutes. Then he would just be in more trouble. He just wished silently that it was over, but he had the feeling that it was only just beginning. As he was closing the door to his apartment to leave, a micro-bug surveillance device that had witnessed last night's events while attached to the wall of Jeff's office, flew out with its cache of information, heading for its handler to download.

### Chapter 4

FBI Agent Jim Dawson sat in his office. In front of his desk appeared Damon Harding, president of Second Chance, Inc. Harding wasn't really there but was superimposed over reality by Dawson's neural implants.

"Mr. Harding, I've been asked to report the results of our investigation to date by my superiors," Dawson said, clearly uncomfortable at having to report to someone who wasn't even government.

Dawson knew that Harding was powerful and practically controlled the government, but that didn't mean that he had to like it. Of course, he didn't let his feelings interfere with the professionalism of his report; to do so might mean the end of his career. Dawson had been thrilled to be handed this investigation. The press was eating it up. It might even mean that he could get promoted if he did well. Unfortunately it wasn't ending up that Jeff Hughes was the monster he seemed at first to be.

"Thank you, Agent Dawson, I'm thrilled that the FBI has decided to include me in this investigation. I hope you know that I am as anxious to get to the bottom of this matter as you are," Damon replied. Dawson could tell that this guy knew how to play the game. Always polite, but his manner told you the real story, he was in charge here. He nodded his head in acknowledgment.

"Yesterday after our interview session with Mr. Hughes I had one of our people follow him home on the zip train. The agent was able to plant several micro-bugs on Hughes 's person without detection. In the morning several of the micro-bugs returned and down linked their findings. We intercepted an interesting communication to Mr. Hughes from Sam Storm 6.7. The message did not come through the normal mail routers. In fact, it was not addressed to Mr. Hughes. We're still trying to find out how it got into his system. The message was totally verbal. I am transmitting a transcript to your companion now." Agent Dawson paused for a second fidgeting with a terminal that was invisible to Damon. Damon was silent for a minute as he reviewed the text of the message. As he read his eyebrows narrowed. When he was finished, Harding looked up at Dawson.

"This is very interesting. Agent Dawson, it seems to imply one of two possibilities. The first is that Jeff Hughes didn't really have anything to do with this, that he was manipulated by Sam Storm. Or, now that the virus has inflicted its damage, either he or Storm is trying to shift the blame away."

"Yes, that was our conclusion as well. But after our interviews with Mr. Hughes I think that we are leaning towards the first explanation. Hughes is a goody; he has an excellent record. We've had him take a truth test and his story of being used unwittingly registers as true. It's possible that he could beat the machine, but his record doesn't show anything that would indicate duplicity on his part," Dawson said. As he did, he could see a frown forming on Damon's face.

"Agent Dawson, I have reviewed that data as well, and I do believe that Hughes is telling the truth. But the contents of this message from Sam Storm clearly indicate that there has been a conspiracy. There are other parties involved, and I don't think we should stop the investigation or surveillance of Hughes until we have uncovered more information about who the other parties might be and found out the location of Sam Storm," Damon said.

Dawson didn't miss the authority in the voice. It was an order or soon would be. "Certainly, Mr. Harding, I didn't mean to suggest that we should stop the investigation or the surveillance. It may be that Mr. Hughes will become involved, or the other guilty parties will make themselves known to him."

"Good. Then we're agreed. Now what do you think should be done about the fact that Sam Storm said we wouldn't be able to find him without the 'guest' and the restored version of himself from that old backup? Do you think we should allow this restoration to further the investigation?"

"Well, sir, legally Sam Storm 6.7 has not been declared deceased, and if we did restore this old version, it is highly probable that it would have no knowledge of any of the crimes committed. He would be innocent and would be protected from prosecution."

"I fully understand that, Agent Dawson. I helped craft those laws myself. I am not suggesting that we prosecute that old version. But it is obvious to me that something important is going on of which we are unaware. Have you seen the report on the damage done to the backup files?"

"No, that report hasn't been given to me yet by the Restoration Division." Dawson replied, implying the restoration division wasn't being as forthcoming with the information as he had hoped.

"Well, I have received a preliminary analysis by the investigators there. It seems that the virus was highly targeted and was not some random attack. There were two targets by the investigator's reasoning. One was targeted at destroying backups of corporeal persons, of which forty percent were Newbies. The rest in this group were targeted at random backups to deflect suspicion. The second group were the three thousand non-corporeal backups." Damon's voice broke up as he said the last few words. "These backups consisted almost exclusively of those who worked for Second Chance. Some of them were my partners who helped develop the restoration technology."

Dawson could tell that Damon felt the attack was personal. If what he said was true, the attack may have been just that. The ramifications were only just beginning to occur to him.

After a moment Damon continued, "I think it is clear that the attack was levied against the backup system to destroy those that knew how to build a restoration device, and the other group to be targeted were Newbies that were trying to cover their tracks. I have done some checking and it appears that sixty-five percent of the Newbies that had all of their stored versions wiped have not been living on Earth for several years, and that their current whereabouts are unknown."

"Are you saying, sir, that there is no one left who knows how to build a restoration device?" Agent Dawson asked. _It's unthinkable. Have the damn Newbies actually pulled off a scheme to bring down the restoration system?_

Damon started waving his hands in dismissal. "No, of course not, we wouldn't risk such a thing. I personally have all the information stored in a very secure place. Rest assured, Agent Dawson, the restoration technology is not in danger of being lost."

Dawson was visibly relieved. Damon continued, "What I am saying is that these Newbies who were involved, including and probably led by Sam Storm, have just tried to wipe it out and are certainly up to something more, perhaps even worse than this terrorist act. We must find them, determine what they're up to and stop them. If that means breaking the law and allowing that old backup of Storm to be restored, I'm for it."

In that context, Dawson could understand the need to allow the restoration, but he would need approval from...he didn't even know who could give that kind of approval. Of course Damon Harding could get the approval by making a simple phone call.

"So what is it you propose we do, Mr. Harding?" Agent Dawson asked.

"I think you should meet with Director Hughes and tell him that we have received the confession from Sam Storm 6.7, and that he may return to work, contingent on our investigation not turning up anything further to implicate him. Then once he has returned, allow him to start the restoration of the old backup. Once the backup is past the legal stop point, we bust him for breaking the law and get him removed from his position. I think that he will go along with the request in Storm's message, and we will let him. Then we will find out who the 'guest' is, and we can follow her while they do the work to hunt Sam Storm 6.7 down. I don't really care what happens to them after that, but Storm 6.7 must be found and brought to justice." Damon Harding was animated about this last remark.

"It sounds a bit unorthodox, sir, but I believe that with the stakes being so high in this case it can be justified."

Dawson had always considered Damon Harding to be arrogant, calculating and inhuman. This meeting had demonstrated to him that Damon Harding was arrogant and calculating but that the man did have some feelings. Maybe he was human after all. And he was right. Storm 6.7 needed to be brought to justice...the public wouldn't have it any other way, especially once they got wind of the targeted attack at the restoration technology itself. Dawson knew that if he could bring Sam Storm 6.7 to justice, he could write his own ticket.

"Excellent, Agent Dawson, it has been a pleasure to work with you. I'll make sure that Mr. Hughes regains his access to the restoration facility, but don't worry we'll be watching him so closely that he won't be able to do anything to the system before we can stop him. Good luck." Damon Harding said in dismissal. Dawson nodded and the image of Damon Harding disappeared from view.

***

Damon Harding broke the link with the FBI agent and sat back in his chair, with a grin on his face. The meeting had gone very well and Damon was sure that Agent Dawson would go along with his plan. Blaming Sam Storm for the murders had really helped to push Dawson over the edge. It wasn't true though, the report did indicate that most of the wiped backups had been Newbies, and that these Newbies hadn't been seen in some time.

Sam Storm was definitely up to something. According to Julia, who had given him the file on Sam Storm, he had a record of opposing restoration technology. This record of opposition made it much more feasible that the involuntarily dissolution of the restoration personnel was part of the Virus's strategy. Contrary to what most believed, Damon knew that the virus had not been stopped, but had self-terminated when it had finished performing its planned tasks.

Consequently, there was no virus to analyze, only the results. Even the cube that had brought the virus had been erased. It was perfect, they could never trace the murder of those three thousand to him. He had been willing to take the risk, and it had paid off handsomely. The shares of Second Chance, of course, would be given to the next of kin of the three thousand, but because there were so many of them, none would have any real voting power. Damon effectively controlled the majority of the shares. He had rehearsed his speech to Dawson, until he knew he had just the right amount of emotion displayed to lead the agent into believing that he felt anger at the deaths of his partners.

Sam Storm and Jeff Hughes, according to their files, had been a vocal advocates for the abolition of the restoration technology. It was naive of them to think that that would ever, could ever be done. When they were in their early twenties, they had stopped protesting and began to focus on other issues and studies. Damon wondered what had happened to change their minds. It was more likely that their minds had not been changed but that they simply decided their present actions were accomplishing nothing and there were other ways to work for their cause.

Storm had apparently then begun to study nanotechnology in earnest, earning his advanced degrees in short order and doing theoretical work at one of the technical universities in Denver. Five years later he had applied to the Lunar Nanotechnology Research Center where he had worked developing commercial applications. Then after a brilliant career designing new technology for space applications, he had decided that he was finished there, resigned, and returned to the Children's City of Denver to teach. The path that he had followed wasn't odd. Most Newbies and Primers tended to try a new career every few decades, usually in different fields. The thing that bothered Damon was that while working at the Lunar Nanotechnology Research Center, Sam had access to the unrestricted assemblers.

Nanotechnology had been first realized midway through the twenty first century, but it didn't progress nearly as rapidly as had been anticipated because the engineering and software problems to be solved were enormous. It had taken an effort that rivaled the Apollo Program to realize the assembler, the key to nanotechnology. There were also a number of safety and security issues involved in building the assembler. People were worried about the technology getting out of hand and destroying the world, or of super weapons that greatly exceeded the nuclear weapons threat of the previous centuries.

Second Chance had used one of the first assemblers to develop the restoration technology. Their major contribution had been to develop the software necessary to reconstruct a human brain according to a mapping made with very advance scanning technology based on Magnetic Resonance Imaging or MRI.

Backup and restoration consisted of several phases. In the first phase the person to be backed up went to a center that had a scanner, a very detailed scan was made of the person's brain but not of the body itself. For the body a number of samples of DNA were taken, all this information was then encoded and compressed and then stored in the data vault of the Restoration Division, or a hard copy could be written to a holographic crystal.

In the event that the person was found legally deceased, whether through accident, homicide, dissolution, or for being missing for a period of two years with no contact, the persons backup could be restored. The restoration took place in two parts. First was the cloning of the body. The DNA samples from the backup were used to clone a new body which was grown at an accelerated rate to the person's physical prime, a physical age of early twenties. This part of the process took several weeks.

When the cloning was complete and the body grown to full physical prime, a series of nanomedical devices were injected into the clone's blood stream, powered by the same process that powers the organic mechanisms of the body. The devices would proceed past the blood brain barrier into the brain and there would receive instruction by wireless transmission from the outside on how to reconstruct the brain from the scan taken during the backup procedure.

The devices would then proceed to rearrange the brain at the atomic level to match the structure recorded from the scan. Once that was complete, the devices would flush themselves from the body and the body would be awakened. The brain of the restored person was so close to the original that the person couldn't tell the difference and legally assumed the identity of their original. The only identifier placed on the restored person was a version number added to the back of their name which denoted the age of the person when the backup had been made and a short genetic sequence appended to their own that recorded their version permanently.

In Sam Storm 6.7's case his backup had been made when Sam was six years and seven months old after he died in an accident. This technology had caused a social revolution exceeding all others and it was realized that dramatic steps would now have to be taken to ensure that overpopulation did not occur. It took decades but finally the child lottery was established; interested couples could enter the lottery, which was held every time a person voluntarily underwent permanent dissolution. Permanent dissolution occurred when person decided that they had had enough of life and obtained legal permission to remove all of their backups from the system with no restoration upon their death. This in effect maintained zero population growth. It also dropped the birth rate to a very low level.

For the general purpose nanotech assembler, however, it was perceived as such a threat that all existing assemblers were moved to the moon at great expense, and a lab established there to select applications for the technology which were safe and could be exported back to Earth. The assemblers were designed to able to replicate only in the lab; this was assured by a number of safeguards.

Damon knew that Sam Storm 6.7 was a brilliant nanoengineer, and he had had access to those general-purpose assemblers. That was what really scared Damon. Storm hadn't attacked the restoration personnel. He had really only removed himself and a number others from the data vault. He had Julia run an analysis on the skills of the people removed from the vault. Twenty percent had been Newbie engineers scientists, and software programmers that had been some of the best in their respective fields. Many of them had resigned to teach at the children's city in the last decade.

It was amazing that no one had noticed this before. If these people were working together towards some goal, there was no telling what they could do, especially with an assembler.

"Julia I want you to have the LNRC Security review their records and try to determine of any of the assemblers have been removed from the secure area," Damon requested. Hopefully security could figure out if Storm had removed any of the assemblers.

_I am sending the request now,_ Julia piped up in response.

The guest was the other point that had Damon worried. It sounded like someone outside their group had been helping them. Helped them how, he didn't know. But April first when they were supposed to rendezvous was enough time for a restoration to be initiated and completed. Damon had a sneaking feeling that the guest was Terra Gates. If that were true, then things might be worse then he had ever imagined. Terra's restoration was proceeding normally; it was expected to be complete by March twenty-fourth.

What really got to Damon, was that whatever was going on had escaped detection. He was the most powerful person in the solar system and he didn't even know what was going on. He would have to make sure that he had a reliable source of information about the activities of Jeff Hughes, Sam Storm 23.1 and Terra Gates while they were trying to find Storm 6.7. Agent Dawson was good, according to his record, but he wasn't someone that Damon would call a strong ally, and he wasn't likely to provide all the information that Damon would want. Damon needed something or someone better. What he needed was someone on the inside of the group. What he needed was a surveillance device that couldn't be detected, and he knew just how to get one.

Damon owned the company that had developed the neural implant companions technology. The companion couldn't be broken into or altered from the outside, but if while it was being installed certain changes were made, the companion could be made into the perfect surveillance device. The companion saw what the host saw, remembered what the host needed remembered, and had access to the data sphere.

If a small autonomous program could be added to the companion that would monitor the hosts every move and access any information the host had stored, it would be the perfect informant. And even better, the companion software wouldn't even realize what was going on. Damon initiated a call to his people at NeurTech who could get the job done, quietly. They would have two weeks before they needed the program because it would take that long for that outdated version of Sam Storm to reach the stage where the implant could be installed.

### Chapter 5

Jeff was sitting at his desk again, at work, a fact that had him puzzled. He had spent all of yesterday in interview sessions with the FBI, specifically with Agent Jim Dawson. They had asked him the same questions, made him take the same truth test. As far as Jeff could tell the results were the same. At the end of the day Agent Dawson had come in to the interview room with a cup of coffee and told Jeff that they had received a full confession from Sam. They didn't have Sam Storm 6.7 in custody but in the confession exonerated Jeff of all wrong doing.

On his way home that night, the headlines in the news had read that he had been cleared of any wrong doing in the incident but that he had used poor judgment. Jeff accepted that assessment; he had used poor judgment. The real surprise of the day was a message on his terminal that had been marked urgent from Damon Harding himself.

The message was a video of Harding at his offices. "Jeff, I know we've had our differences. And given the events of the past week I am sure that you expect to be formally discharged from your position; however, that is not going to happen just yet. Because the investigation has cleared you of the major charges, only that of poor judgment remains. We at Second Chance have decided that at the moment we would like you to continue your services and have made that recommendation to the government, provided that you are suitably punished for your lapse in judgment."

"We recommended that you return to work for a probationary period in which there will be increased oversight of your activities. I believe that you will be formally contacted by your superiors in the government in this matter once they reach a decision. Welcome back," Damon had said in a convincingly sincere manner.

The part about recommendations to the government were only for propriety; what Damon Harding wanted, he got. There had been an additional message from his superior in the government that had confirmed Harding's recommendation. He was to return to work immediately.

This put Jeff in an awkward position. On the one hand he was happy to be back; it was a totally unexpected event. But Jeff knew that something was going on. They should have asked for his resignation immediately, but they hadn't. On the other hand was the request from Sam to start the restoration of that old backup. That would be a violation of the law and certainly another _lapse in judgment_. If he were, in fact, being monitored, they would know if he started the restoration. Damon Harding was a very smart man and a ruthless one. Jeff wasn't fooled for an instant by the message from Harding. He knew that Harding was doing this for his own personal reasons and that sooner or later Jeff would be charged, probably with something worse than 'poor judgment' being pinned on him. Jeff didn't want any part of it.

He stared down at the cube of Sam 23.1, it was just an inert piece of crystal but it contained a record a snapshot of what he had been at twenty three, but Sam 6.7 had continued on and become something terrible. The Sam stored in the cube deserved Jeff's loyalty even if the older Sam 6.7 didn't. He knew he would be fired anyway, and probably not to far in the future to benefit Harding's own scheming.

_So why not just start the restoration and tender my resignation? Screw Harding,_ Jeff thought. _I hate Sam for doing this, for putting me in this position, but what's done is done. I can't change that now. If I want answers, I don't have any choice in what I have to do. I hope Sam knows what he's doing. And what about Sam 23.1, what's he going to think of all this? He's almost thirty years out of date. Will he even help me once he knows what I've become. Of course the way things look now, it's like I did help Sam strike at the system from the inside, just like we planned. If I just let him believe that, I think he'll help. Hell, maybe in some way it's true. Maybe I did help subconsciously. I'm glad I didn't think of that during the truth test. They'd have crucified me._

Jeff made his decision and picked up Sam's old backup cube off his desk. _It'll be good to see you again Sam, he thought. But this isn't going to be easy to get away with._ Jeff logged in to the system and started setting it up to receive the backup data and to start the restore. He knew that they would find out about it before too long, but Jeff knew some things about the system that could delay that notification long enough for the restoration to pass the no stop point and that was all that mattered. He had been a pretty good hacker at one point when he was younger.

### Chapter 6

"If we hadn't been watching him so closely we would have missed it entirely, he's a pretty good hack. It makes me wonder if he really was involved," Special Agent Jim Dawson said. The image of agent Dawson was standing in Damon Harding's office.

"I don't think I saw anything in his file that indicated that he had those kind of skills. It leaves me wondering also. But it doesn't really matter at this point. He started the restoration of Sam 23.1 and once complete Hughes, Storm 23.1, and our mystery guest will lead us to the brains behind the whole thing, and we will get the truth." Damon said. He had almost dropped the pretense of just being an interested party to the investigation. He had enough dirt on Dawson now to ensure loyalty. You don't live for two hundred years and not do something you aren't proud of.

"I understand, Mr. Harding, I didn't mean to imply that. I only meant that I had been convinced by Hughes that he was innocent. I don't feel so bad now about what we're doing."

"Well we only gave him enough rope to hang himself. He had to put it over his own neck. How is the restoration of the old Storm backup proceeding?" Damon asked.

"It's two days to the no stop point and proceeding normally," Dawson replied.

"Good, once we pass the no stop point, we'll quietly force Jeff Hughes to resign so he is free to pursue Storm 6.7." Just as Damon finished speaking, Julia interrupted.

_Sir, I have just received notice that Jeff Hughes has resigned as director of the Restoration Division. He says that regardless of whether he has been cleared of any criminal charges regarding the Virus attack and has not yet been asked for his resignation, he feels he must resign from his position as an acceptance of his own failing in the matter,_ Julia reported. Damon paused for a second considering the information and its serendipitous arrival. Dawson didn't interrupt.

"Well, it seems that Jeff Hughes is one step ahead of us, Agent Dawson. I have just received word that he has tendered his resignation."

"What do you think that means?" Dawson asked. It was not a move that either had anticipated.

"It means that he also realizes that he needs to be free of the division to pursue Storm 6.7 and that he is suspicious of my and the government's motives for letting him return. He probably figures he had better get out now before anything worse occurs." Damon explained. The truth was that Damon didn't know exactly why Jeff Hughes would do this. It didn't matter, and it would make it easier to hide the illegality of the restoration of the outdated Sam Storm, but still Damon didn't like it when people were a step ahead of him.

Dawson looked skeptical. "Could be," he said without much conviction. "I just hope that you're right. If something else happens because we let this guy go, there's going to be hell to pay."

Damon just smiled. "Yes, there would be hell to pay," he said, knowing full well that if anything did happen, Dawson would take all the blame for it. By the look on Dawson's face he knew it too.

"Well, he may be a step ahead, but I'm going to make sure that our surveillance is maintained twenty-four seven. I'm not letting him slip through the cracks," Dawson said. "I better get back, Mr. Harding, so nothing does happen." Agent Dawson nodded to Damon. His image flickered and was gone leaving Damon alone in his office.

According to his contact at NeurTech, the modifications to the neural implant software were proceeding and would be ready just in time for the outdated backup of Sam Storm. Damon just wished it had been finished a little earlier, so that he could have had the companion of Terra Gates modified as well. She would be fully restored in two days, and then he could finally have a chat with her.

***

Jim Dawson terminated the connection with Damon Harding. He was tired. It seemed that all the energy was sucked out of him every time he spoke to the man. It was hard to believe that in his short time with the FBI he was working on a case of this importance with a number of agents at his direction. He had only been with the agency for ten years of the fifteen since his last restoration. It was typical for him as it was for many other primers. They tended to begin new careers shortly after a restoration and then to stick with them for twenty or thirty years. Then if they hadn't needed to be restored, try another one.

Dawson had been many things in the last three hundred years. He was born fourteen years after the restoration technology had been invented in Seattle, before the children's cities. He had been a police officer, detective, and computer programmer back when computers still took up real estate on the top of a desk. After his first restoration he decided to try something new and had learned to play the saxophone,. He had become a professional musician playing jazz in New Orleans. Eventually he'd gotten tired of that too and moved on. Private eye, bounty hunter, he'd even tried his hand at writing. Not that he'd been any good at it. Dawson didn't need to work any more. Over the course of the last three hundred years of working he'd managed to stash enough away to meet his expenses, not that he had many. When he was young, during his first century, the rates of return on his investments had been great. He was making eight percent and society hadn't yet realized what it meant for the time value of money when you could live practically forever. Then when he was about ninety-five, the rates had started dropping, he hadn't seen a rate better than two percent in the last two centuries.

These rates made it easy to borrow because the interest didn't kill you, but it also meant that anyone born today had a harder time socking the cash some where it could grow healthily and eventually free you from the bondage or work. Most Primers had managed to achieve financial independence; most Newbies hadn't. They would eventually, but it would take them a lot longer. Not that the Newbies seemed to care.

After he failed at writing, Dawson had become a VR addict, totally refusing to face reality. It was a low point in his life, a life that at the time had seemed too long and pointless. He tried not to think about it too much, it just made him depressed. He had spent all his time in the data sphere VR environments, _in stim_ it was called, where he could be anyone, do anything, and have any simulated woman he wanted. He'd never been that good with women, even though he'd been married to three and divorced, and had five-year contracts with another half dozen. They all ended up leaving him eventually or one of them would get restored and that always presented problems to a relationship.

He had neglected to take care of himself and had only emerged from stim long enough to eat and return. If he'd had a little more foresight he might still be in stim, if he'd gotten a VR unit that took care of his body for him, like the other twenty percent of the population that lived entirely in stim through the data sphere. Eventually he'd had a heart attack, VR didn't keep your body from reacting to shocks, even virtual ones.

The saddest thing about this chapter in his life was that since he had cut off contact with all of his friends and family for VR it took two months for anyone to discover that his body was dead. Everything changed though, once he was restored. He hadn't had a backup for six months before his death, he hadn't wanted to, so the worst of the depression was thankfully lost forever to his previous version. But he had been told the story of how he died by his neural implant companion, Argus, who had watched him slowly kill himself, but was prevented from doing anything by the privacy restrictions ingrained by law. For a few months after he had been required to get professional help for his addiction so that he didn't relapse. It helped some. He had joined VR Addicts Anonymous and had been off the stim ever since then.

It had seemed that he always gravitated towards investigative work, so he had gone back for some education in forensics, both electronic and physical. Then he had applied to the FBI, and after a recommendation by some of his long ago friends, who had become high placed in the government, been accepted for training as an Agent.

The training had lasted for several years and after he was a full agent and had done well, his experience from all those years ago as a cop, a private eye and a bounty hunter had all mixed together to make him a good agent. He was also physically young, which always helped. It was a mystery, why no one had ever worked out a technology to keep the body young. The scientists claimed that it was because the human body aged, and there wasn't anything that could be done. Given this fact, everyone followed the same patterns: die, get restored and be physically young, get older and older until you either died by accident doing something crazy, killed your self or died of old age. Most people didn't die of old age; they lived for a few decades and then when their bodies were beginning to wear out, get sluggish, or unattractive, they went to the nearest euthanasia clinic, had themselves backed up, put down, and then restored to a new, young, healthy and, most of the time, attractive body. He had done it a few times himself.

When your body was young, it didn't matter how old you really were, you felt young and you acted young. This had caused a lot of problems with his wives. If you didn't die at the same time, one of you would be biologically much older than the other, even if your originals had been born in the same year. Divorces followed as the younger one would pursue others with the same age factors, those being the biological age and total experience age, and the older would do the same.

Dawson hadn't been with anyone in a while. He didn't feel the need at the moment to share his life with someone. Being an agent consumed his time, which was one reason he was doing well. But his body was getting on; it was almost forty years old in biological terms. It didn't work as well as it had any more. It was still pretty good, though, and it would be for at least another decade or two, as long as he stayed off the stim and got some exercise every day.

But he was tired. Life grated on you, and it went on and on, so many versions. But he wasn't ready for permanent dissolution, to have all his backups purged and face the big death. That was too final, and he didn't believe in an after life either. Who would want one any way? Death was the way of getting away from living in any of its forms, once one had had enough of life.

Dawson had been considering taking a hiatus next time his body died, get a break and just be non-corporeal for a few decades, then being restored to see what, if anything, had changed. Maybe it would give him a fresh perspective. Or maybe even a few centuries. It was supposed to be safe. Of course that was until the virus struck and three thousand had been lost, involuntarily permanent dissolution, murder That still rattled him. Losing some backups was no big deal, the living version could just make another, but to lose three thousand who had no corporeal version...that was something else. That was one of the main reasons he was on this case. The system needed to be safe and controlled. It was the only way for society as a whole to continue.

One of his agents interrupted his thoughts asking about the programming of the micro-bugs that were observing Hughes at that moment. Storm had to be stopped. Dawson just hoped that they were doing the right thing by letting this old version of Storm be restored. He may lead them to 6.7 but he was an unknown quantity and "the guest" was the biggest enigma. It sounded to Dawson like an Primer was helping them in return for something. Something only the Newbies could provide. He had the feeling that whatever that something was, it was going to be trouble.

### Chapter 7

It was quiet and peaceful. She felt warm and comfortable. It was like she was floating on a cloud. She began to hear the whispering of the wind. At first there was no time, then the whispering began to take a form that she recognized as pattern and time sense began to return. The whispering became louder and she felt that she could almost understand it. That was funny, one couldn't understand the wind. She tried to ignore the wind and continue to float, contented. The wind however continued to become louder and even though she didn't want to hear it, she did. She wasn't thinking clearly yet, and she didn't care. The whispering continued for what seemed like hours, but she knew later that it was only a few minutes. Then all at once the whispering resolved in to words, intruding on her solitude.

"Ms. Gates, Ms. Gates, can you hear me. Ms. Gates...I think she's starting to come around, Doctor. Ms. Gates, this is Wendy, your nurse, can you hear me?" Some one spoke.

For a few more seconds she was confused, and then she realized where she was. She was in restoration, and was being awakened. She didn't remember much yet, but she tried to speak. "I hear you." Terra said, but the words mingled together and it came out, "Learu" She was disappointed that she couldn't control her voice well enough yet to make it understandable.

"Good, Ms. Gates, I heard you...don't worry if your speech is somewhat slurred. It will take a little time to adapt to your new body. Just be patient, please," Nurse Wendy said cheerfully. Then she spoke to the doctor. "She's doing very well. She should make a full recovery in a few hours.

The doctor responded with an "um hum". Terra was glad that she was going to recover quickly.

"Wahpend?" Terra spoke, as she did she tried to move.

"Oh, please don't try to move yet, Ms. Gates, you're still in fog suspension until the final motor controls are established. It shouldn't be long now, and then you'll get to talk with Dr. Warran who can answer any of your questions.

Consciousness was sharpening quickly, her mind was pulling itself back together. She remembered now why she didn't get restored too often. It was never a totally pleasant experience, despite the benefits once it was complete. She tried to think of what she was doing just before she was backed up, but the memories were still incomprehensible. They would come back, she remembered; it just took a while. It was something to do with long and short-term memories. Long term returned first, then some short term, but the last ten or twenty minutes never came back, they were too new to be encoded into a physical structure yet. She continued to try anyway for a few minutes, but it couldn't be forced. It was then that she began to feel her body again.

"Okay, Ms. Gates, my monitors say that the connections are complete. Can you please try to open your eyes? Don't worry, the lights have been dimmed, so it won't hurt much," The nurse said. Terra obeyed. She opened her right eye first. The light was almost blinding. She grunted and closed the eye again.

"Don't worry, it really is dimmed in here, Ms. Gates. It will just take a little time for your eyes to get used to light. After all, they've never been used before," The nurse added. She was starting to get on Terra's nerves.

She opened both her eyes this time, and quickly. It hurt, but she didn't close them. She could feel some tears start to run from her eyes back to her ears. Then after a minute of pain things began to come into focus. It became less brilliant as her iris contracted to handle the light level. She knew that as her iris contracted, the monitoring system also raised the illumination level in the room slowly to full brightness. It took ten minutes or so. It was painful, but it had been proven that if this wasn't done properly, your brain might reject the input from your eyes and you would be blind for a few days.

Terra could see now. She was lying horizontally in fog field. The fog was holding her up, which is what had accounted for her floating feeling because she was floating in a way. The field was bordered by small outcroppings, which made a rectangular shape on the ceiling and on the floor about the size of a twin bed. The fog field was very similar to the fog in a lift tube; however, it only suspended and did not move you. The nurse was standing to the right side of the bed looking back and forth from the monitor on the wall behind her head. On the other side of the bed stood a man in a white coat, observing. He would be the shrink. It was his job to make sure she was stabilized mentally after the restoration before she could go. He would take over once she was able to move on her own.

"Good job, Ms. Gates, you're doing very well," the nurse said.

_Just get on with it already,_ Terra thought.

"Okay, now we'll start with your head. Can you please turn it left, then right, then nod, and then return to a resting position. Terra did. It took some effort at first but by the time she was nodding her head forward, it was getting easier. "One more time please." She did. It was easy now.

"Now, please lift up your right arm above your body pivot and bring it down straight with your shoulder line. She lifted her arm. It felt heavy. It took some work, but she managed. "Now do the same with the other arm." She did; it was just as hard.

"Now, Ms. Gates, if you could repeat that process, please." Terra complied, lifting her right arm again. The second time it felt normal, not too heavy, and it wasn't difficult. The left arm was the same. "Very good, Ms. Gates. Now if you can please make a fist with each hand and then as I count from one to five extend each finger starting with your thumb."

"One...two...three...four...five. Now repeat. Good. How are your arms feeling?" the nurse asked.

"Fine," Terra replied. Her voice responded normally without any slurring.

"Great, now for your legs and upper body." Terra continued to follow the nurse's instruction. The last exercise was to sit up. It always felt strange to sit up in a fog field, and it wasn't easy, but she managed it. And the repeat was easier, just as it had been for everything else.

"Excellent. Please lay back down and close your eyes," Nurse Wendy commanded. As soon as she lay flat again, the nurse continued, "Now, Ms. Gates, we are going to bring your neural implant companion on-line and go through the initial calibration. Is that okay?"

"Yeah."

"I am sending the initiate code now," said the nurse.

Terra knew that somewhere inside her brain the nanoscopic machines that had performed the restoration of her brain were giving the activation code to her neural implants.

"The implant is responding with excellent status. I am now going to download your files from the mainframe, if you will please open your right eye for identification purposes." Terra opened her right eye. Above her, extended from the ceiling was a tube with an optical scanner. It scanned the iris of the eye and she felt the prick from a DNA sampler on her arm.

"Excellent, your new iris pattern has been recorded and your DNA confirms your identity. Please verify vocally that you are not being coerced to have the modification to your implants," the nurse spoke. She was all business now that Terra had regained most of her wits. It was standard procedure. Your iris pattern was a unique identifier. It was different with each body as it depended on the factors exactly surrounding its growth and formation. It could not be altered without leaving traces of the alteration. The DNA was a second check to confirm that she was in fact Terra Gates, and her vocal confirmation was monitored for any signs of stress or reluctance.

"I confirm that I am Terra Gates and am not being coerced or forced in any way against my will against this neural implant modification."

"Identity confirmed, down load in progress," said the nurse. "This will take just a minute." Terra closed her eyes again. "Download is complete. I am now having the implant activated."

Terra saw a test pattern against the dark background of her closed eyelids. Once that disappeared, some horizontal and vertical lines appeared and shifted colors. This was all part of the start up process, the neural implant used the feedback from her brain to tune itself. The lines began to converge to a point and then formed a solid sphere that appeared grow and shrink. After a moment, it stopped and a text message appeared. NEURAL IMPLANT ADAPTATION COMPLETE, STATUS GOOD. LOADING COMPANION. The message disappeared after a moment. And then a familiar voice greeted her.

Hello, Terra. It is good to be back on line again, I hope your restoration has been easy.

Thanks, Plato, I'm glad to be back too.

I am now linked to the restoration clinic datanet and I have found a discrepancy in my memory files. It seems I have lost a number of years of information. I am unsure as to how this has happened. I will begin searching for the lost files. Please let me know if I can be of assistance.

Terra was disturbed; those files weren't supposed to be loseable. She felt a sinking in the pit of her stomach. She was beginning to remember why she had been backed up in the first place, but the nurse interrupted her.

"Ms. Gates, is your companion on line?"

"Yes, but it is missing a large number of files," Terra said.

"Yes, it would be. Ms. Gates, your physical restoration is now complete. Dr. Warran will be helping you for the remainder of your awakening and can help explain the loss of those files. But first we'll let you have a little privacy while you dress. I hope you find the clothing acceptable. In a few moments you should have to use the rest room. When you do, the remaining nanoscopic probes will be expelled. And welcome back, Ms. Gates 262.3." The two left the room, leaving Terra alone.

She sat up and then put her legs down on the floor. The field let her. It was programmed to help the person get on their feet. She could see that the layer of fog closest to her body was acting as a covering. It made her look like she was wearing a white full body leotard.

She took a step forward and wavered a little, but the fog field helped to keep her from falling. After another step or two towards the end of the field she was feeling better. She stepped out of the field. As she did, she felt a cold breeze on her body from the air conditioning in the room. She was naked now that there was no fog cover her. There was a small table against the wall with some clothes neatly arranged on it and a full-length mirror against the wall.

Everyone had to fill out a preferences form for restoration, and on that form one had to put down their preferred clothing, including make and model numbers. Of course you were charged for it, so most picked something plain, like jeans and T-shirts, but Terra preferred to look as business like as possible after a restoration. It suited her disposition and her station.

Before she got dressed, she took a second to admire her figure in the mirror. The thing that most amazed you about restoration was that you were young again. She looked twenty again, and she liked what she saw. Her mother had been beautiful and she had inherited her mother's body, but not her face which was more plain than her mother's. Terra rather liked that, though.

It had been hard for people to look past her mothers beauty and it would have been very hard for Terra to rise as high as she had if she'd had her mother's face. Not that she was ugly, just plain. She had been physically fifty-five when her backup was made; twenty was a nice change. Of course most people were fairly good looking, especially when they were young. It was an allowable cosmetic DNA mod that could be done before the restoration began so that the body could be more attractive. But the mod wasn't cheap either.

Her body was athletically muscled, as per her request on her preference form. She tried to work out to maintain that after a restoration but Mars gravity was much less powerful, and she usually lost the muscles within a few months. Her hair was brown and short; it went down only to just below her ears. She had picked the style a long time ago and she had added it to her preference shee. She had tried long hair once, but it wasn't well suited to being in space or in a lesser gravity environment. It bounced funny. Terra had also tried other hair colors. It was an easy thing to have changed when you were restored, and it would stay the color of the change for the length of that body's life. It was another one of those minor cosmetic DNA changes that didn't violate any law.

She sorted through the clothes and picked out the underwear, socks, and a black long sleeve single piece silk shirt. The rest was a two piece pantsuit, that was charcoal gray with silver pinstripe. She put those on too. There was a pair of comfortable matching dress shoes by her favorite designer under the table. She sat down on the chair beside the table to put those on. Getting dressed was so automatic that it gave her a minute to think, something she'd been trying to do for the last hour, but the nurse had kept interrupting.

Terra remembered now why she had backed up. It was a little strange come to think of it. She'd been having lunch with Sam Storm that day, and he had said he needed a backup and that if she hadn't had one in a while she should too. Sam was a good guy. She had met him a few months earlier. He worked for the engineering division of the Martian Department of Industry. She was the head of the department in charge of all industrial development on Mars. She had thought it a little odd, but he was a Newbie. Not that she didn't like Newbies but they usually had some strange behaviors...at least Newbies from Earth did; the Martian ones were a little more normal. But the conversation had gotten a little strange after that.

Sam had told her that he had something to discuss with her after the backup, and that this might sound strange but to trust him. Then he said something even more strange. "If you ever get restored from the backup you're about to make, remember this. I am going to offer you something that I know you will want very much, but it is probably not legal for you to help me in the way that I need to be helped. If you are ever restored from this backup, please know that it means that you will have consented to help me with a project, and that if successful I will owe you that thing you will want."

She had looked at him oddly. It wasn't every day that a friend said something so wacko. Sam was a good guy and a good engineer. He'd been helping with some of the designs for the Phobos labs, and some design for a possible orbital tower. It was a little funny to think that now she was facing the restoration he had spoken of. What was it that he could have offered her to get her to do something illegal? She didn't know.

Plato, how out of date am I? And have you located any of the missing files?

_Sorry, I haven't been able to locate any. And I don't know how out of date you are, the restoration clinic datanet is refusing me access to the date and time. I am sure that your restoration Psychiatrist can help you with that question,_ her companion responded.

It was strange that Plato couldn't access the centers datanet for something as simple as the date. But the thought kept occurring to her that something was strange, the missing files, and the conversation with Sam right before this backup. The last thing he had told her was that if she was restored from this version, 262.3, she should go and meet his crèche mate, Stacy, while she was on Earth, and that she should drop by one week after she left the clinic. It was strange. She had given him look that told him so.

He just smiled and held up his hands palm forward in defense. "Just trust me, will you? If you don't like what I say, you can always have this version purged from the data base on your next backup." It sounded all right. She had thought that maybe he wanted to know where to find some recreational drugs or something. She wouldn't help him with that; it was illegal, and they were destructive. She liked Sam and had decided what the hey, it'd be worth it just to find out what he was talking about. She remembered them leaving the little cafe in Dome Two to head toward the restoration clinic. She remembered walking through the clinic doors and then her memory got hazy. Those short term memories after that weren't retrievable. She'd probably lost a half-hour or so. But what Terra wanted to know was what had Sam said after the backup.

Still puzzled, Terra was distracted by a building pressure in her bladder. The nanoscopic restoration machines must be ready to get out, their work done. Fortunately there was a door to a small bathroom right next to the chair she was sitting on. She did her business. She knew that any remaining machines would destruct if they weren't recovered by the system. This peeved Terra. Damon Harding had made sure that none of those machines ever left the center intact with their software. It was how he, and through him, the United States had maintained control over all the other nations, including Mars. It was a debate she'd had with Damon Harding a number of times, and an opinion that she had made public on more than one occasion. Mars should at least have a restoration clinic, if not the technology itself. But she had always know that Damon Harding would never let the technology go. If he had a clinic established on Mars, then Mars would have too easy access to taking the technology by force, whereas here on Earth with the US firmly in control, there wasn't a thing that Mars could do if it wanted access to the benefits of the technology.

Consequently, backups could be made on Mars but they were transmitted to Earth for storage, and so when you needed to be restored, it happened on Earth. The clinic scientists had said that they needed to be on Earth in a one g environment for the clone to grow properly, but that was crap and Terra knew it. It was a continuous drain on Martian resources, because then you had to take a transport ship back to Mars, which was not an inexpensive proposition.

She didn't have to worry about the expense; she had plenty of money, but for the less wealthy Martians, it was a problem. For her it was the time involved, it still took a while to get to Mars, time she could have been using much more productively. But that was the way it was. She finished in the bathroom and walked towards the door. She didn't bother to look around to see if she'd left anything.

Dr. Warran was waiting for her when she came out of her restoration room. He smiled, but looked concerned. "Ms. Gates, it's a pleasure to meet you," he said, extending his hand. She shook it firmly.

"You, too. Dr. Warran, I hope that you'll be able to answer a few questions for me," Terra said. She wanted some answers, this whole business of not being able to access the time was causing her concern. It was a low level function, there shouldn't have been any reason to keep her from it unless something was wrong. And she was bothered by the conversation she had had with Sam Storm before her backup what seemed like only a few hours ago.

"Of course. I'd be happy too, but let's head back to my office," he said indicating that she should follow. They started off together down a long hallway with many doors, that led to other restoration rooms. A number of nurses and doctors moved up and down through the hallway. Terra was quiet, taking it all in. The restoration center was like a hospital and a psychiatric ward. Before you could leave, they had to make sure you were stable and able to reenter society. If you weren't, they'd try to get you to consent to a second restoration from another version or just another try with the same version. It didn't happen very often.

"What's your capacity, nowadays?" Terra asked, noticing that the ward she was in didn't look familiar.

"Oh, I think we can handle about fifty-thousand every two weeks. This ward was only constructed a decade ago. One of the older buildings, building 12, was wearing out so they tore it down and built this one, building 22. It's state of the art," he said proudly. The doctor was obviously happy to be doing this work. Most Primers were; most of them didn't have to work at all. The funny thing was, Terra had been at the restoration clinic only a few years before to meet one of her brothers at his awakening and she didn't think that there had been a building 22. That was strange.

"Do you ever fill up?" She asked genuinely interested.

"No, I don't think I've ever seen it at more than thirty thousand, but if we were behind, we could catch up pretty quickly. It's not like the backed up are going any where, they might just end up a few months...out of date," Dr. Warran said, pausing before saying "out of date" like he had only just remembered that he needed to be careful about saying something and had caught him self in a slip up. First the building thing, now something about being out of date, it was starting to bother her. The only scenario that she'd come up with that could explain it was that she had helped Sam with whatever he wanted that was illegal, and then had dissoluted and arranged it so only this version would be restored, a version that was innocent because it knew nothing of any illegal activity. How out of date was she?

"Dr. Warran, am I more out of date than usual?" she asked, starting to need some answers. She wasn't used to being at a disadvantage; she was usually the one with all the information, the one in control. This situation was becoming more unacceptable by the minute. Dr. Warran continued to walk silently for a moment, apparently considering his response.

Finally he said, "Yes, you are out of date, more so than a normal case, and there are some strange circumstances surrounding your restoration. When we have some more privacy in my office, I'll explain everything to you."

_More so than normal?_ She thought. _How much more!_ Although inwardly she was coming to a boil, she concealed it and outwardly nodded and continued to follow him down the long hallway. After a few minutes they reached Dr. Warran's office.

She took a seat on his couch and he sat across from her on a leather chair. The office had a large window on one side that took up almost the whole wall and overlooked the restoration facility. He raised his hand to his chin for a moment, considering how to begin. Terra was silent and then she said. "You know, if you just come out and tell me, things will go more smoothly here." At her remark he smiled.

"Yes, I suppose you're right," he said, sitting back, and then he took a deep breath and began. "You are out of date, Ms. Gates, by approximately eight years." He saw that she was unpleasantly surprised and quickly continued. "You see, Ms. Gates, about two weeks ago a virus was introduced to the backup storage system which wiped out thirty-five million backups, three-thousand of which were non-corporeal, and it also initiated several restoration procedures. Yours was one of them, and you had progressed too far for us to stop, but it's just as well because all your more recent backups were wiped by the virus."

Terra was shocked, such a thing had never happened as far as she knew. A virus? There were supposed to be safeguards. She asked about them.

"Unfortunately, a Newbie," his voice was hard as he said the word, "named Sam Storm, duped our director Jeff Hughes into inserting the virus, in the guise of a legitimate backup cube...a Trojan horse if you will. Director Hughes has been exonerated of any wrong doing, but only two days ago he tendered his resignation just the same. He's a good man, even if he is a Newbie, and I always respected him.

The mention of Sam, and the fact that he was implicated in this was too much for coincidence. If her restoration had been initiated by the virus, then she knew that Sam had gotten her to help him, even if she didn't know in what capacity. That was much more shocking to her than the eight years. She had taken a hiatus for a decade before and had recovered quite well, but she had never lost time like this. She had actually lived those eight years, or a large portion of them and done things that she would never know from a first hand perspective. She realized that Dr. Warran was looking at her concerned and had said something, but she had missed it.

"Are you all right, Ms. Gates?" Dr. Warran asked, probably for the second time.

"Yes, it's just a shock. But I am dealing with it. It is disconcerting to lose this much time without making a conscious choice at a hiatus or something."

"Of course, I can certainly understand that. But I should also tell you that the version of you that was lost had taken a hiatus about two years ago, not to be restored for a half century. So I must apologize on behalf of the institution that your wishes, or your other version's wishes, could not be fulfilled."

It didn't sound like Terra. Sure she'd taken a decade long hiatus once before, just to see what changed...nothing had. But a half a century was a long time. It was the kind of thing someone did when they were just sick of life and wanted a break from it, even though they couldn't feel the passage of time. Terra had always thought long breaks like that were silly because you didn't know you were resting, and when you were restored you wouldn't remember any of the non-corporeal time anyway. She couldn't understand what things might have happened in those six years that her other version had lived that would make her change her views on that...but maybe it had something to do with this virus. Just thinking about that made her shudder.

Three-thousand non-corporeal lost. That was murder, and she couldn't believe that Sam Storm was capable of murder, and that she might have participated. Should she say anything about knowing Sam and the mysterious circumstances of her backup...no, that wouldn't be the right decision. She didn't want to be caught up in whatever was going on here. It was better if she just got out of the institution as soon as possible, and that meant convincing the shrink that she was well enough to go. Once he certified that she was all right, she was free of any further interference from the restoration center...then she could go and get some answers. Her world was spinning, but she managed to look composed.

"Well, I guess I am better off this way. It doesn't sound like me to take a hiatus of that many years. I'd always thought it was silly. Something terrible must have happened in those six missing years, and frankly, Dr. Warran, I'm glad I don't know what it was." She smiled. "And any way I'm sure there is work for me to do back home."

"Ms. Gates, I'm sure you mean what you are saying, but I wonder if you really have absorbed this. I'm hesitant to just let you leave so suddenly." Terra's heart began to sink, it may not be as easy to leave as she thought. She tried another angle.

"I know you're right, Dr. Warran, I'm sure it will take me a while to come to terms with this, but I will recover. I feel well, I am a little sad to have lost that time, but on the other hand something obviously happened to change some of my core beliefs." At least that was true. She wouldn't have helped Sam do something illegal...she didn't think so any way. "If you think I need to stay for a while, I can, but I'm sure you're busy dealing with the repercussions of the Virus attack and don't need to be babysitting me. I promise that if it starts to become too much, I will either contact you or find another doctor or councilor who can help me through this." _Like hell I will,_ she thought, but Dr. Warran was now smiling and nodding, albeit grudgingly. It took another two hours of lying, and pretending to be all right for Dr. Warran before he agreed that she was all right and ready to go to out processing.

"Ms. Gates, I think you will be all right, but if you need anything further from me, please don't hesitate to get in contact," he said, standing up to shake her hand. She stood also. She was taller than he was, and it gave her a feeling of empowerment even if it was superficial. It was good not to feel completely helpless.

"Thank you, Dr. Warran, you've really been a help to me," Terra said. It almost made her want to puke to say it, but it would help grease the wheels and get her out of here.

"You're welcome, Ms. Gates. I'll walk you down to out processing and make sure they get you taken care of. You really are a very lucky woman. You could have been one of the three thousand lost, as it was your version was the only one left in the data stores." Terra frowned, but managed to hide it quickly. She hadn't known that she was the only version left, just the most recent. Now she knew for certain she had been involved in helping Sam Storm. Somehow he had convinced her other version...but she wondered how he had accomplished that. Dr. Warran escorted her to out processing where she paid the bill, was legally pronounced fit to leave, and officially recognized as Terra Gates 262.3.

Amazingly enough, the bill only amounted to the cost of her personal preferences and clothing. The rest of the bill was waived as her restoration had not been initiated at her request and the responsibility lay with the restoration division for not having better security. It was the first good news Terra had all day and it helped her leave the division with a smile on her face.

### Chapter 8

Dr. Warran watched her go, but he wasn't smiling. After Terra was out of sight, he walked back to his office and contacted Damon Harding through his implants. After a moment a life sized image of Damon Harding appeared in front of him.

"Dr. Warran, how are you doing? And how is our patient faring?" Damon asked. He was totally attentive, something that made Dr. Warran extremely nervous. Usually, it seemed that he was preoccupied with other matters, but his whole attention was fearsome. Even so, he felt he had to let Harding know how he felt about the situation.

"She has left the center, Mr. Harding, allbeit against my better judgment," Dr. Warran said, managing to sound sure of himself.

"Oh," Damon replied, looking concerned.

Dr. Warran continued, "I don't think that she was well enough to leave the center. It was very clear to me in her interview session that she is not coping well with the news, and that she felt it necessary to lie extensively to me to get out of the center."

"I see." Damon paused for a moment then said, "You understand that we need her to find Sam Storm 6.7 and bring him to account for his actions. And please believe me, Doctor, when I say that she will be well taken care of should she experience problems relating to her restoration. We will have her under constant observation until this matter is resolved."

Dr. Warran had heard this all before, but it just didn't seem right. The poor woman had experienced a terrible emotional shock, but on the other hand, he recalled, she hadn't seemed shocked enough when he told her about the circumstances of her restoration and the involvement of Sam Storm. It had almost seemed to him that she wasn't totally surprised.

"Yes, Mr. Harding, you explained that to me before. And I presume that you and the department know what's best in this respect for the whole situation, but as Terra Gates' doctor I must be concerned only with her welfare, despite circumstances."

"Of course, Doctor. I understand your reservations, but given the circumstances we need to consider the greater good."

"I know, I just don't like it," Dr. Warran said, but he was reassured that it was all for the best.

Damon smiled, knowing that he'd won. "Thank you for your help in this matter, Dr. Warran. You are doing a good service for your country and for your department."

"One more thing, Mr. Harding. When I told her that Sam Storm was behind the virus attack, Ms. Gates didn't ask who he was. I think she may have known him."

"She did, Dr. Warran. He worked as an engineer for her department for a few months before her 262.3 backup was made."

"Do you think she knew about the attack?" Dr. Warran asked. He was feeling much better now about letting her go, especially if she was involved.

"I don't think this version knows anything specific. But just the same, the FBI agent assigned to the case will probably question her," Damon said. Dr. Warran just nodded.

### Chapter 9

Once she left the center Terra realized how hungry she was. She had probably been on some kind of nutrient IV line, but it didn't do much to fill her stomach and it was grumbling now. Fortunately, this was a common occurrence, and so like all good entrepreneurs, a number of restaurants had been opened in the area just beyond the Restoration Center's gates.

Terra stepped in to Culinary Expression, a restaurant that she always visited when she was newly restored and, that she tried to visit as often as possible when business had brought her to Earth. The person who ran the restaurant was Johan Malisker, who was also the chef. He was sitting behind the reception desk in front of the entrance. The restaurant consisted of only ten tables. Johan couldn't handle more than that at one time and he didn't want to. As she entered, Johan looked up from his display.

"Ah, Terra, so good to see you again, and you look so young. Your restoration has done you good, I think," Johan said ecstatically. She had gotten to know him over the years. He was an interesting guy. He had been a chef back for fifty years before the restoration technology was invented, and over the next century had become independently wealthy through investments, as many of his generation had. Now he lived to cook. He had opened this restaurant to make the finest cuisine he could, not because he needed the money but because he simply loved to cook for others. Most other restaurants on Earth were the same way.

"Hello, Johan, it's good to see you too." Terra looked Johan up and down as he came out from behind the counter to give her a hug. He looked pretty young, only mid to late twenties. "You're looking good,"

"Well, I was restored only five years ago, heart attack," he responded smiling. "I must have been enjoying the food too much."

"Oh, Johan, you always put me in a good mood. How's business?"

"Not so good. The virus, you know. Not so many people getting restored this month, I think they're waiting for this whole thing to blow over, but that is good for you. I can give you my undivided attention today. What is it that you want...no let me guess, the Chicken Caesar with a beer."

"Johan, that would be wonderful. It's your dressing, I can't help myself," Terra said. It was making her mouth water just thinking about it.

"Ah, well, I wish I could get you to try my Lasagna. It's wonderful, but do not let me keep you from your favorite. Let me go and get the ingredients together and I will have it whipped up in no time. Please, sit and be comfortable. When it is ready, you can tell me all about what brings you here," Johan said gesturing towards an table near the window. "Or if you like, you can come in to the kitchen with me while I cook."

"Oh, that would be wonderful, Johan. But I haven't had a minute to think about anything since before my restoration. I could really use a few minutes of quiet."

As she said it, Johan raised up his hands, indicating that it was perfectly all right. "No, of course, I understand those people up there," and he gestured towards the Restoration buildings, "They don't give you any time, just rush, rush, rush. Well, you just sit here, and I'll get your salad together. Please make yourself at home." He started back towards the kitchen.

Terra sat down and tried to figure out what she should do. Only a few moments later a man came in the restaurant and walked up to her table.

"Terra Gates?" he asked.

Terra didn't want to be disturbed. She wanted lunch and some time to think about what she should do next. "Yes," She answered, looking up at the man, clearly annoyed.

The man didn't seem to notice her annoyance and continued politely with a half smile. "Good, I'm Special Agent Jim Dawson, with the FBI. Do you have a few minutes to talk with me?"

It was a charming smile, Terra admitted, it had probably gotten many of women to talk to him, but she knew what he was doing. She didn't want to make trouble though, yet. She knew her rights. She was a Martian citizen, and she had diplomatic status, or at least she used to. Terra quickly queried Plato as to if she still had it. If she did, then she didn't have to talk with him and he couldn't do anything about it. If she didn't. ..well then she had better at least appear cooperative.

_My query of the Martian Embassy as to your diplomatic status has you listed as a private citizen with a temporary visa for restorational purposes only. Your visa expires in two weeks._ Her companion related.

_Perfect. Just perfect, but that's what I get for being so out of date._ She thought. The whole exchange with Plato had taken only a few seconds.

"Sure, Agent Dawson, please sit down," she said, with as much charm as she could muster. Two could play at this game. He sat down at the table across from her.

"Would you like something? I've just ordered."

"No, thank you, I didn't eat that long ago." Agent Dawson said with a smile. He had to admit, she was attractive. Her holograph didn't do her justice. He had to remember that she might have had a role to play in all this. "I am investigating the attack on the restoration division by terrorists, and I wanted to ask you a few questions."

"Agent Dawson, as I am sure you are aware, I have only just been restored. I have just been told that I am eight years out of date. How could I know anything about the attack?" Terra asked. She decided that she didn't really know anything; that was the whole purpose of having her backed up to the 262.3 version. It wouldn't matter what she told him.

"No, that's not what I wanted to ask about. Of course, we realize that you couldn't know about the attack, but as you have been told, your restoration was initiated by the attack along with some others. However, yours was the only one that had progressed to an unstoppable point. It's a little odd, and we are simply looking for any insight that you might have as to why you could have been singled out by Sam Storm 6.7"

Terra considered for a moment what to say, but Sam had obviously planned this whole thing so that she could not be touched, so the truth wouldn't hurt her here. "Well, I knew Sam Storm. In fact I was having lunch with him just before I got the 262.3 backup made. Sam suggested it, actually. He said he had something he wanted to discuss with me that could be deemed illegal and wanted to make sure that I had backed myself up."

Terra could tell that Dawson was surprised by her honesty on the subject, so she continued. "I thought it was odd, but at the time Sam Storm was a friend of mine who was working on several design projects for the department."

"Do you have any idea what it was that Storm wanted to discuss?"

"No, he wouldn't say anything except that it might be considered illegal...but I can't imagine helping him in anything illegal. It would totally go against my character, but then going on hiatus for a half century is also against my character. I can't believe that he managed to wipe all my other versions. I have lost years of my life. It's very disconcerting."

"I can believe it. It seems however that he felt some responsibility for making sure the 262.3 version was restored, probably to keep you from being prosecutable for any knowledge of his plans. It's too bad that you don't know what your future version was up to. Do you have access to any of your companion files?"

"Not yet, I may be able to get some backups from my personal data stores on Mars, but if I were my other version and had done something illegal, I would have made sure those files were destroyed," she said, feeling that that was indeed what she would have done, if she had decided to help Sam. Dawson considered this for a moment.

"Before Sam convinced you to get restored, did he give you any instructions? Something you should do if this version were ever restored?" Dawson asked.

The question took Terra by surprise, but it shouldn't have. If Sam had really arranged all this, he would have had to give her some instruction. "Not really, he said he would owe me something...gratitude probably, although I can't say I really want it considering the circumstances. He also said that if I was ever restored from your version I should call his crèche mate, Stacey I believe, and have dinner with her before I return to Mars."

"Are you going to call her?"

"I wasn't planning on it, I was going to head towards the Martian Embassy and try to figure out what's going on. Arrange transport back to Mars, where I belong." It was true except for the part that she wasn't going to call Stacey. It couldn't hurt anything to call, could it?

"Well, I can understand that you would want to get back to your life, but I think that Storm's asking you to visit his crèche mate was to get you to go there and get something, maybe a message from Storm himself. Instead of going home immediately, would you help us by going to that dinner and wearing a wire, it might help us find and bring Sam Storm to justice," Dawson asked.

"A wire?" Terra asked. "Is that legal?"

"I would get a court order of course," Dawson replied.

"What if I were caught? Do you think that would put me in danger?" Terra knew that if she were bugged, she would ensure that it was deactivated if there were such a meeting but the question was valid. She didn't know with whom Sam had been associating and how dangerous they would be, but she didn't think that Stacey would hurt her. Sam wouldn't put his own crèche sister in danger like that.

"I don't think you'd be caught; the bug is all but undetectable. As for the danger, well, we are asking you to do this country a service, but more than that to help us preserve the right to restoration for every human being. We have no idea what Sam Storm is planning. His next attack could be worse than the last."

Terra could tell that he was sincere and serious. She wondered who'd brainwashed him into thinking like that. The restoration establishment was what was under attack because, through it, the United States controlled everything. She would be glad if it were decentralized, and this attack of Sam's might be just for that purpose.

"I won't do it for your country or for the rights of people everywhere...that's just a plus," Terra responded seriously. "I'll do it for you so that I can find out what my other version was up to. She has been a part of this manipulation of me, and I don't care for it."

Dawson was smiled. "Thank you, Ms. Gates. I appreciate your help, what ever the reason." He stood up. "I need to go now. Thank you for speaking with me. And please let me know when you are going to visit Storm's crèche sister. I'll make sure one of my agents on the case gets the bug to you."

Terra stood up as well. "You're welcome, Agent Dawson." Terra put out her hand. "And please call me Terra."

Dawson shook her hand gently. "Thank you, Terra," he said and then left.

Just as he was walking out the door, Johan came from the kitchen with her Chicken Caesar salad and a beer. He noticed Dawson learning. "A friend of yours?" Johan asked while setting the food down at the table.

"No, Johan, just someone who wanted to talk to me about someone I used to know on Mars."

"I see," Johan said, dismissing the incident. "Well, here is your salad, I hope you enjoy."

"I always do, Johan, you make the best Chicken Caesar in the solar system."

Johan smiled. "Now, tell me how is everything?" He said sitting down with her at the table. He wasn't family, but right now a familiar face and a sympathetic ear was what she needed. They talked for hours, and when dinner came around, she joined him in the kitchen and he cooked for two.

### Chapter 10

It was late before Terra had realized that she had no place to stay. Usually when one was restored some family or friends would meet you and would have made such arrangements. If she hadn't been seduced by Johan's Chicken Caesar she would have gotten a hotel....but it had been so much fun to reminisce with him about the past. Even if most of it wasn't common, they'd both seen about the same amount of it. And when he asked her to stay with him, she had accepted.

Johan was a good man. He'd had a number of marriages, contracts, and girl friends...it was the cooking, and when he was newly restored he was a very handsome man. The last time Terra had seen him their deltas had been too incompatible but now they were close enough to being in synch that it was acceptable. She had found that she had needed it as much as she had needed some one to talk about her ordeal. Johan was a tender lover and they both knew that it was just for the one night.

Terra Gates was Martian. She had been born there over two hundred seventy years before to a very wealthy family. Her grandfather had made all of the family money three hundred years ago, before restoration became the most lucrative technology ever invented. Her grandfather had decided to use his enormous fortune to finance a private colonization of the planet Mars. He had the money and he found the people with the vision and the skills to make it happen. Mostly he had done it because of the taxes. His plan had always included a succession and formation of a independent government of Mars. The government had begun as a corporation, held almost entirely by her grandfather and gradually become a high tech corporate government. Each person voted shares that were proportional to their contribution to the Mars gross domestic product. At first the vast majority of the shares were controlled by Terra's grandfather. As the economy grew and more people immigrated, the total amount of wealth on Mars grew and her family's power lessened somewhat, but that didn't matter. Her family ran Mars and it always had.

Fortunately they had never used their positions to force decisions that should be decided by a vote of the people. Occasionally they had had to intervene when it was obvious that a majority was simply making a bad decision. As long as they only used their power sparingly and fully disclosed the reasons for overruling a majority vote, the citizens were content. With the wealth came obligation, her grandfather had told her. Terra had been the first of her grandfather's progeny that had the sense of duty and the intelligence to take over for him. He had trained her in how to govern, how to utilize the family power fairly, and how to run Mars to emulate an efficient corporation out to make profit for its citizen shareholders.

Her grandfather had broken many laws. He would have been prosecuted if he had returned to Earth. Because of that he was never able to utilize the restoration technology once it was available. He had worked hard to try and get the technology for Mars but Damon Harding had already consolidated power back on Earth and made that impossible. When her grandfather died, all Martians had mourned him, Terra most of all. And then she had taken over the Martian Department of Industry. It was the most powerful position on the planet. She was the head of the Martian Board of Directors, or had been before this restoration. It was an elected position but because her family held such a large portion of the shares, it was basically hereditary unless she voted otherwise. After her grandfather had passed away Mars was officially recognized as an independent sovereign nation, mostly because the real power base was on Earth. And also because Mars could be far enough away for data to take ten or more minutes to reach it, that made it hard for them to play a significant role in Earth's ever-expanding datasphere.

Martians didn't much care about all that, though. They were mostly content, except when it came to the restoration technology. It was inconvenient and expensive...a constant drain on the economy but even they couldn't resist the advantages and the lure of immortality. Mars, too, had signed the Nanotechnolgy development ban treaty, which meant that Mars had agreed not to independently develop or exploit nanotechnological assembler based technology without prior approval of the International Nanotechnology Board that certified applications for release from the controlled environment of the Lunar Nanotechnology Research Center. In return it allowed the citizens of the signing nation to utilize the United States restoration technology in the US.

Mars was lucky in one aspect, though. Any nation on Earth would have also had to sign the Population Limitation Treaty that made the citizens of the signing country agree that in order to use the restoration technology they had to agree not to have children unless they were selected in a lottery system or immigrated off the planet. On a planet with finite resources and an immortal population, uncontrolled population growth would quickly destabilize the balance.

On the other hand Mars was under populated and had plenty of resources to exploit for expansion and plenty of space for expansion. They would only have to sign the treaty once their population reached three billion, the maximum population established by the Martian government; then they too would have a lottery system. The rules of the lottery were simple, any couple interested in having a child could purchase a ticket for a few dollars. There could be as many winners as there had been people immigrating permanently off of Earth, or individuals who permanently dissoluted. In that way the population remained constant. The winners had to go to one of the children's cities to have and raise their child as a condition of the lottery system. It was a fair way to do things, and not that many people were interested in having children anymore anyway, the children all became Newbies. If you didn't want to wait to win the lottery you could immigrate to one of the space colonies on the Moon, Mars, Europa or one of the asteroid or orbital colonies where population limits were relaxed and any couple could have children, but could then never permanently relocate to Earth unless they won the lottery themselves, in which case they could return. Most didn't.

In the morning Terra had awaken to an empty bed. She wrapped herself in one of the blankets and headed downstairs to the kitchen where Johan was whipping up a breakfast that smelled wonderful to Terra.

"Ah, good morning!" Johan said after he saw her come down the stairs. "Did you sleep well?" he asked.

"Like a baby," Terra replied. "Whatever you're cooking smells wonderful."

"It is an omelet based on an old family recipe. My mother used to make it when I was a boy, and her mother before her. Today, I make it for you," Johan said cheerfully. Terra inhaled deeply through her nose. It smelled unbelievable and her mouth was already watering. "I took the liberty of having your clothes laundered in the automat this morning, I hope you don't mind but I thought you might not have any others yet to wear."

"That's very thoughtful of you, Johan," she smiled.

"It's nothing. They should be finished any minute now," he continued. "Ah, it is ready," Johan said, taking the pan off the stove and sliding one omelet onto a plate for her with a spatula and another on to a plate for himself. Terra picked up her fork and tore into it. The first bite was fabulous; it actually tasted better than it had smelled if that were possible.

After she was done, she took a shower, luxuriating in the water, and then she dressed in her pantsuit. She decided that she needed some more clothing, but that it could wait until after she checked in at the embassy. She said good bye to Johan, who simply smiled and said that his door and his kitchen were always open to her.

***

After she left Johan's, Terra took an auto cab to the Martian Embassy in Washington DC. When the cab stopped outside the embassy, Terra stepped out. She took it all in. _At least something is the same,_ she thought. But as she looked around she realized that everything was exactly the same as it had always been _. It's me that's different. She realized. I expect changes but I'm not that out of date._ It would take decades for her to really be able to see large physical differences in the city...Primers didn't change anything that they didn't have to, and if they did change it to account for new technology, they worked hard to make it look familiar. People needed to have something to cling too.

She walked up to the gates and had Plato send the access codes. The gates began to open and she stepped in to the building. It looked like a dome habitat, someone's idea of a joke. Everyone on Mars lived in dome type habitats and someone, probably from Earth, had decided that the Martians would be more comfortable in something familiar. Martians were practical people; they had to be. They used the domes because that was the easiest way to do it on Mars. On Earth, they weren't necessary... Terra had to admit it made her feel a little more at home, but she mused it was only because of the strangeness of events.

When she entered the front door of the embassy, she was greeted by two Martian guards in full dress uniform, complete with weapons which Terra knew were armed. They both snapped to attention as she entered. They obviously recognized her, just about every Martian did. Beyond stretched a corridor that traversed the whole length of the building's first floor. Just past the guards was a security check point. The checkpoint consisted of a blue rectangle on the floor of the hallway that took up its whole width. The rectangle extended about ten feet and, there was a matching blue rectangle on the ceiling. The blue rectangles were just there to let her know that there was a security fog field in place here.

She stepped forward into the fog field. She couldn't feel anything but at that moment her body was totally enmeshed in the utility fog that was examining her minutely. The fog got in to the clothes next to the skin and made sure that no foreign objects or contraband were being carried. If the field found anything that was not allowed that could be considered dangerous, it would simply immobilize her while the guards disarmed her or detained her for a security report. She continued to slowly walk through the fog field. When she was half way through Plato chimed in.

Terra, the field has located a foreign object attached to the cuff of your right sleeve. The device has been identified as a micro-bug surveillance device. The bug has been removed and is currently being dissected The information contained within the bug is encrypted. It may take sometime to break.

_That's all right, Plato, I know where and whom it's from,_ Terra replied. FBI Special Agent Jim Dawson, who else? Certainly not Johan. Terra remembered the brief hand shake with Agent Dawson, it would have been easy for him to plant a bug on the cuff of her suit sleeve. _I believe that it was Agent Dawson._

_That would be a logical conclusion to draw, given the limited number of people you have interacted with since being restored. Might I also suggest that it may have been planted by the people at the restoration clinic itself,_ Plato continued.

_Of course, you're right, Plato. I hadn't thought of that. Keep trying to break the encryption so we can find out who did plant it and where it was sending or was supposed to relay its information. My hunch is still Dawson._ Terra stepped out of the security field. If anyone else but her had such a surveillance device they would have been detained immediately, but she was Terra Gates. No doubt she would hear something about it. She continued down the hall to the lift tube that went to the top of the building and the ambassador's offices. She was probably expected by now.

She rode the tube to the top and emerged from the lift tube hole in the center of a moderately sized receiving room that was ornately decorated with paintings, classical furniture and several smaller displays that showed the same view as Dome One in Olympia, the first and largest Martian city. The scenes were changing at real time, with a delay of several minutes as the images were transmitted live from Mars. It was like looking several minutes into the past. Terra found it comforting...she always did. The entire room was a skylight as it was the center of the top of the dome. There were six doors around the perimeter. Each one, Terra knew, lead to the office of one of the ambassadors. She walked off the lift tube hole and tried to decide which door to go to. Fortunately her mind was made up for her when one of the doors to her left opened and a tall woman with dark hair came out.

Terra recognized her at once. It was someone who had been a friend of hers for most of her life, Emelda Garcia. Terra started to move toward Emelda, quickly opening her arms for a friendly embrace. "Em, it's so good to see a friendly face...but I didn't expect to see you here on Earth." Emelda came close and gave her a brief hug and then pulled away from the contact a little too quickly.

"Terra, it's good to see you again, although it is a little surprising considering you had gone on a half century hiatus only a few years ago," Emelda said flatly. _What's wrong?_ Terra thought. _This isn't the Emelda that I knew._ Terra decided to put a good face on and try to put her friend at ease.

"Well, it's been quite an ordeal, if I do say so my self. But I'm here now and I really needed to talk with someone from home. It is all a little overwhelming just now."

"I see...well why don't we go and discuss it in my office," Emelda offered, gesturing Terra toward her office. Terra started towards the door and Emelda came up behind her. Emelda's office was beautiful. All of the ambassador's offices were. Terra walked in and was going to sit down on one of the couches on the side of the room, when Emelda passed her to sit behind her desk. Clearly she wanted Terra to sit in the chair in front of it.

_Something really is wrong,_ Terra thought. _But is it her or is it me?_

"What's going on here, Terra?" Emelda came straight to the point. "I wouldn't have thought you'd come here to talk with me considering." Emelda's tone was cordial but cold.

Terra wasn't sure how to proceed. She had done something, or rather her other version had done something that had soured their relationship. She guessed that whatever it was it had something to do with Sam Storm.

"Before you condemn me, Em, please just listen for a second. I don't know what if anything, the government has told you about my early restoration but there are some special circumstances involved." Terra began, but Emelda interrupted.

"Of course, with you there would have to be special circumstances." She emphasized the word "special".

Had she used her position and voting power to do something? Terra wasn't sure. "I don't know what you're talking about, Em, I don't know what happened between us that would upset you like this." Emelda snickered at Terra's words. It stopped Terra for a second, but then she continued, "I am not the Terra Gates that went on hiatus two years ago. I am Terra Gates 262.3, the backup that was restored was made eight years ago. I have no idea what has happened in the last eight years. Even the files of my companion have been lost...I thought I might be able to access them from the Embassy. So what ever has happened between us, all I remember is that we were friends up until the 262.3 backup was made, so please tell me what you're unhappy about."

As she was speaking, Emelda had warmed a bit, as if she was wishing that what Terra said was true. She was still cautious. "How exactly did this restoration come about, I can't believe that the Terrans are that incompetent."

"I'm sure you heard about the virus attack on the restoration data center," Terra began.

"Of course, there's been nothing else in the news and it's caused quite a stir on Mars, considering they won't let us have our own local data stores."

Terra continued. "The virus, it seems, started a number of restorations. The authorities aren't sure yet whether it was intentional or not, but mine was one of them. Of course the virus also wiped all my other versions on file, just like it did with the other thirty million. My version was the only one left in there. My restoration was the only one that had progressed passed the no stop point. So you see, I have no idea what's going on, just that I have suddenly awakened, out of date in the extreme, to find out that everything has changed and that my restoration was touched off by a terrorist. And now you're mad at me. It seems that everything I had going before the backup has gone badly off course."

Emelda was nodding. "I see," she said, and her tone had gotten a little more friendly but she was suspicious still. "I will have your story checked out, you understand."

"I would expect no less," Terra replied.

"I must say, I have never heard of such a strange set of circumstances occurring to one person, especially considering that it's you and given your status on Mars. And now, with your restoration, your share votes will come back in to play. There are a number of people who are going to be very unhappy about this, considering the actions of your other version."

"What actions?" Terra asked, trying to make sense of things. Emelda sighed, giving up her grudge. She understood that this Terra was not the one who had wronged her, but it was always hard for humans to forgive easily one who so closely resembled someone who had.

"I'm not sure where to start," Emelda said, pausing "About six years ago, you, or rather your other version started to vote your shares to impact policy. It was very strange considering that you, like your grandfather, had always refrained from voting most of your shares to give all the other share holders a greater voice in decision making. You voted for several new habitats even though we have no need for them. You started moving a large portion of your personal profits, that you normally gave to citizen benefits, to other accounts that no one could oversee." Terra stared at her in disbelief. She couldn't imagine herself doing any of that. It went against every fiber of her being. It compromised the values that had been instilled in her by her grandfather. She had become a dictator, a majority share holder voting to make policy single-handedly.

"And," Emelda continued, "in the last few years you became more secluded, more secretive until finally you, the other you, decided to go on hiatus. You wouldn't tell any one why, just that it had to be done. I think what really got to me was that you personally voted against several initiatives that my family brought to the board, after you had said you would approve them. You took years of my family's work and flushed it Terra, with out so much as an explanation. We were glad to see you go, and so you see I'm not particularly thrilled that you're back and the other major shareholders aren't going to be happy either. We've been trying for the last year to figure out what was going on with you and to try to undo some of the things you screwed up." Emelda crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'm horrified, Em. I can't imagine doing any of those things. It sounds like you're telling me a story about someone else. I am so sorry for what happened. I wish I could change thing," Terra said sincerely.

"I know you would, Terra, but your other version...it's just hard to let go of it all at once. I hadn't expected to see you again for quite some time. But you said it," Emelda smiled, "these are special circumstances. You really aren't to blame, who knows maybe your other version cracked or something."

Terra grinned, "Well I hope that I would have had a little more mental stability than that."

"I hope so too. I'm going to have to contact Mars and let them know about all this. I'm sure many people will be glad to have the old Terra Gates back. But I know there is one person who won't be glad to see you back...President Stoneman."

"Ariel Stoneman, she's president?" Terra exclaimed. Ariel had been one of her rivals all her life. They had been born at approximately the same time and Ariel had always been just behind her in everything. Her family controlled one of the smaller offshoot family corporations, and that corporation owned a significant number of shares in the United Martian Government. With Terra on hiatus, Ariel's family would have become the most powerful on Mars. Ariel would be furious when she found out Terra was back prematurely, Terra almost wished she could be there to see the look on Ariel's face. That was another reason why she never would have gone on such a long hiatus.

Emelda must have been thinking the same thing because she smiled and gave a small chuckle as she mentioned Ariel. Then her smile faded and she became serious again. "So why is it you're here, Terra? You must need something that you think I can help you with."

Terra nodded. "Yes, I wanted to let you know that I was approached by a US FBI agent who is investigating Sam Storm, the man they believe is responsible for the terrorist attack on the backup storage facility."

"Why did the agent approach you?"

"He said that he believed that I was restored by Sam Storm on purpose." Emelda frowned as Terra said this.

"We know that Sam Storm 6.7 worked on Mars for a while about eight years ago, and that you knew him. Do you have something to do with this attack?"

"I haven't had anything to do with it, Emelda. But I don't know about my other version, with what you've told me and what agent Dawson told me I am beginning to suspect that my other version did have something to do with all this."

"I see...and what did the agent want from you?" Emelda asked.

"He wanted me to help him by having dinner with a crèche mate of Sam Storms. He thought that I was supposed to be there and that I might be able to do the US a service by helping them apprehend him," Terra explained. Emelda was silent, considering. Terra waited for her friend's advice.

After a few moments Emelda began. "The bug that was on you as you entered the Embassy, I assume that it was planted by this agent Dawson?"

"That's what I think, I have my companion working on breaking the micro-bug's encryption. Once that's done, we should know for sure," Terra agreed.

"It makes me wonder if Dawson wants your help or wants to get you. I realize that being so far out of date basically clears you of any wrongdoing of your other version, but I think he may be trying to trap you. "

"That's what I think, but I'm not sure what to do about it. I told him that I'd help, and he wants me to wear a wire when I go to this dinner. So I decided to come here and look for some answers as to why this was happening and to see if I should help Dawson," Terra said.

"Well...officially Mars condemns the terrorist attack on the restoration facility by Sam Storm and will cooperate with the US to bring him to justice. Unofficially, we are using this event as a bargaining chip to try and improve our position. I would ask that for now you play along with this Agent Dawson. I'll do some checking on him and try to find out what the deal is."

"I think you're right. I just wanted to find out what was going on inside, considering I'm out of the loop by eight years," Terra agreed.

"Yes, you could definitely say that, I believe that your office is still in order. You should stay here tonight and I'll try to find out more about what's going on out there. If I had one guess as to who is behind this, I'd guess it's Damon Harding."

It was a name that had been on the back burner of her mind for the last few hours. Harding would have taken all this as a personal attack, and considering that Terra knew Sam had little love for the restoration system, whatever he was up to would be bad news for Harding. If Harding were involved and he felt threatened, this could be dangerous. But anything that brought Harding down a notch might be worth the danger.

"Yeah, I'll stay. I have some things to check out on my own," Terra decided.

They chatted for a few more minutes and then a priority one communication came to which Emelda had to devote her full attention. Terra left the office and headed for the lift tube.

### ***

Terra made her way back down the lift tube to the floor just below the Ambassador's offices. She exited the tube and walked down the short hallway. The office was set aside for her family, but had rarely been used by anyone but her.

Terra didn't care too much for the rest of her family. They were leeches. Only the fact that they were limited in the amount of money the could use each year by the trust stopped them from squandering the whole fortune. A few of Terra's cousins were okay, though; they worked as civil servants, and held corporate offices like Terra. They felt a since of duty to the UMG despite the fact that they didn't need to do anything. To each of these cousins Terra had allocated one percent of the Gates family shares to vote as they saw fit.

In Terra's absence, no one had been able to vote the shares that she controlled, and so the Stoneman family had been able to take some measure of control of the UMG using their shares and political alliances, and probably with a massive media campaign to swing the small share holder's votes. And now Ariel was the president. It didn't sit well with Terra at all. She was pondering this turn of events as she entered her office at the Embassy.

_I wonder how much damage Ariel has done so far,_ Terra thought as she moved through the office towards her terminal. _Probably not more than my other version did before the hiatus. I still can't believe that. What ever Storm has done, I hope it's worth all this, but if my other version went along it must be worth it, I can't see myself helping him for anything less than something miraculous. It probably won't be long before I start to hear from Ariel._

Terra sat down at her terminal. The terminal was tied in to the computing system for the UMG Embassy, which was linked to the UMG main system by a time delayed quantum encryption system. It was unbreakable as far as anyone was concerned. If anyone broke the encryption, both sides would know it immediately as only one party could decrypt any packet with the quantum key.

It was unbearably slow to access the system from here. Any request for data not stored locally could take almost an hour to arrive back at the Embassy. This was the main reason that Mars was not considered a major power in the solar system. They were too far out of the Earth's datasphere to play a role that was real time. As long as the restoration technology remained controlled by the US, the solar system would stay in this Earth-centric paradigm and the rest of the solar system would play a minor role, despite the large disparity in resource availability.

The resources were what prompted people to move out and colonize the solar system in the first place. And for a while the returns on those investments were spectacular. But in the long run it hadn't mattered that much because most power was information and when you had a time lag of more than half an hour it was difficult to do much with the Earth's datsphere, to participate in large discussions and help make decisions in a society where things moved at instantaneous rates around the Earth's globe.

Then Nanotechnology had stepped in, providing almost perfect recycling of resources already on Earth and unlocking technology that didn't require much more than carbon which was plentiful on Earth. It was ironic that the technology that had made space truly accessible had also made the Earth nearly independent of its material resource needs, practically eliminating the necessity of bringing material from space.

Of course, Earth still needed material to build anything in orbit. Economics of space launches hadn't changed so much that it was more cost effective to boost the material from the surface than to get it from resources already in space, but the material needs there were relatively small. Information was the real resource, and Earth and its orbiting colonies were the ones that controlled most of it. Terra logged on to the system and requested her personal files for the last eight years. She wanted to know what her other version had been up to. While she was waiting for the files to show up, she accessed the local system to find out everything about this virus attack that she could. Mostly what was available were news reports of the incident.

Apparently Jeff Hughes had been implicated of being in on the attack, mostly because of his relationship with Storm, but it had later been released that he had been cleared of the charges as his crèche brother had used him, in a unimaginable violation of inner crèche trust. Terra also noticed that there was a lot of anti-Newbie sentiment surfacing again. It always did when a Newbie did something to upset the system or got too far out of line.

There were also the accusations of murder against Sam. Three thousand lost, permanently and they were the people from Second Chance, those that had been instrumental in developing the restoration technology. Damon Harding assured the public that the technology was safe and that the ability to rebuild and maintain the technology after this loss was preserved. He also condemned Storm for his actions to try and bring down the restoration establishment by murdering all those involved. Harding said he had increased security to protect the technology from any other attempted attack by Storm or other anti-restoration faction.

Just like Harding to use the situation to consolidate more control over the technology, I wonder what repercussions that will have on Mars...nothing good I'm sure. I can't believe that Sam would resort to murder though. I can see wiping files of the living, they could always get another backup, but the ability and willingness to murder wasn't something Sam had in his character.

Terra then reviewed the articles on Jeff Hughes resignation. Apparently he felt responsible despite the fact that he didn't know anything about the virus beforehand. Sam had used him too, but Terra wondered if Jeff did know something. She was supposed to meet with Stacey, who was Sam's crèche sister, but also Jeff's crèche sister. That crèche seemed to be central to these recent events, and Terra knew that crèches tended to be very close. _What does Jeff know? Would he help me find out what's going on?_ Terra considered contacting Jeff. But she would need some excuse to contact him.

The terminal spit out a reply to her request for her personal files. Terra stared at the message. There were no files more recent then eight years in her personal database. Those records had been purged just before her other version had gone on hiatus. She was shocked again, she didn't think she'd ever do that either. Her other version had burned all the bridges between the 262.3 version and the present. Why? Terra opened her email account and was greeted by over a hundred thousand messages. She turned on some of her auto filters to weed through the junk and the mail that informed her of irrelevant requests of the past. She then filtered out everything that wasn't a personal communication, sorted them through her priority list and came up with a few hundred messages. This she could manage.

She scanned through the list until one message caught her eye. It had her own address as sender, and the message was sent just before her other version had gone on hiatus. She opened it and it contained just one sentence. "Reminder to self to re-read The Secret Garden when I am next restored. Haven't visited in some time." That was it.

When she was very young, The Secret Garden had been one of her favorite books. Her grandfather had read it to her for the first time before she was old enough to read herself. She realized instantly that her other version had meant this email to be a direct communication to her. Many people sent reminders to themselves of things to do when they were restored; this wasn't any different. Most people who did any research on her would know of her love for that book. But what no one would know was that Terra had her own secret garden, and the email was telling her to revisit it. Terra smiled. Something was going on and her other version had left her some further message in the garden that she could see as soon as she returned to her family dome on Mars.

When her grandfather had commissioned the building of the Gates family dome, he had secretly built in several secret passages and rooms. The plans for the dome were on file but they had been altered to hide these places. The secret garden, was a space designed to grow plants, and for decades her grandfather had imported species from Earth and turned the secret space into a garden. The walls were covered with wallpaper displays that showed an Earth landscapes to make the space seem much larger than it was. It was where her grandfather had done his thinking and it had been a gift to her before he died. He told her it was her secret garden.

The whole garden was automated on an independent system, and presumably it should still be in good shape even after several years of having no one to monitor it. Sometimes it made Terra sad when she went there, it reminded her of her grandfather so much. She knew that he had gone there to remind him of an Earth he could never visit again. It was the only place she knew of that she could leave herself a message in complete secrecy. Terra hoped that it would bring her the answers she needed.

But before she could return to Mars, she needed to find out about Jeff Hughes and his crèche. _Plato, can you run a search on Jeff Hughes, find out if he does anything that could give me a semi-legitimate excuse to pay him a visit._

_Certainly,_ Plato replied. Plato, while on earth, could access the entire Earth datasphere, but it couldn't access the UMG data system from the embassy. All the computing systems of the embassy were hard lined. There was no wireless transmission of any kind. It kept out the hackers, and governments that might want to know what the UMG was up to.

_I have discovered that Jeff Hughes is on the roster for an organization called, Just Human,_ Plato responded after a few seconds.

_That's the group that is trying to foster brotherhood between Newbies and Primers._ Terra thought. _Plato, how can I use this to see him?_

He is part of a local chapter at the Children's City of Denver, and is listed as a member who will give tours to interested people and try to help Primers understand the Newbies.

_Is he the only one listed that does that?_ She asked.

No, there are several others.

Can you put in a request for me with the organization to have Jeff Hughes take me on a tour. Make sure you mention me by name and mention the UMG.

Affirmative. I have submitted the request.

_Good,_ Terra thought. _He must have joined that group for political reason. It would have helped his case for becoming director of the restoration division. Unless he really believes it, and that would be interesting too._

It took two hours for Terra to receive a reply from the Just Human chapter in Denver. They said they would be honored to show her around Denver and that Jeff Hughes had agreed to the tour and would meet her at the zip train terminal. She only needed to send him a message to let him know when the best time would be.

This tour would be good, Terra decided. She would get to meet and talk with Jeff Hughes, and also learn more about the Newbies in their city. Hopefully, that would give her more insight into Sam. Terra sent a message to Jeff asking to meet in two days. She still had some research to do, and she wanted to find out as much as she could about what had been going on in the last eight years, both on Mars and on Earth.

### Chapter 11

Agent Dawson was surprised when Damon Harding entered his office. Until now they had only met through VR telepresence. Damon seemed smaller now than he had, but he didn't look any less formidable.

Dawson stood up. "Mr. Harding, it's a pleasure to have you here," Dawson said, extending his hand. Damon took it and shook it briefly. Dawson noted the strong grip. This man wouldn't give up control of anything.

"Agent Dawson, it's good to finally meet you in the flesh. I need to get out more to meet some of the people I work with, and I thought I would start with you and see how the investigation was going," Damon said. Dawson indicated for Damon to sit in one of the chairs in his office. Damon sat, but as he did, he requested that Dawson close the door. "I have something to discuss with you which should not leave this office."

Dawson closed the door and then went back to his desk. "What is it you wanted to talk about?"

"First, tell me how things are progressing," Damon replied.

Dawson shrugged, Damon would tell him when he was ready and not before. "I met with Terra Gates as you requested, and you were correct in your assumption that she would be innocent, having been backed up prior to any wrongdoing. However, she did know of Sam Storm 6.7. She had been meeting with him just before she was backed up. She said that he had promised her something and that she should look up his crèche sister the next time she was restored. I told Miss Gates about the virus attack and she was appalled. When I told her we suspected her other version of assisting Storm, or at least being involved with him, that upset her as well. I asked her if she would wear a wire when she went to meet with the crèche mate next week. She agreed, although hesitantly."

"Sounds about like I suspected . What about Sam 23.1? How is that restoration proceeding?"

"As far as I know from speaking with Doctor Warran, everything is progressing normally and the restoration should be complete in a matter of days. He's not pleased to be restoring the man that did all the damage, but I told him that this old version would help lead to 6.7 and that this version was far too old to be guilty of anything. He has agreed to keep the information about this version from all but the most trusted staff."

"Good," Damon said. "Sounds like things are proceeding well. And what has Miss Gates been up to since you spoke with her?"

"She stayed with a friend, a chef at the Culinary Expression the first night. Apparently they are old friends. The next day she went directly to the UMG embassy. The bug I planted on her stopped relaying when she entered their fog security field. I presume they have broken in to its memories, but I made sure to have the bug wipe everything should it be discovered, I don't think they'll get anything out of it. Still, I'm sure that Miss Gates is intelligent enough to know that I planted it on her," Dawson admitted.

"Anything else?"

"Well, Jeff Hughes has been hiding out in Denver. He's left his apartment a few times and those were just to visit his crèche sister, the same one he will be meeting with along with Terra Gates next week. It seems he's become depressed about the whole thing. I guess that Storm's betrayal is getting to him. I'll let you know if anything changes."

"Sounds good," Damon said. It struck Dawson as odd that Harding was being so quiet, usually he was expounding on something or another. He seemed distracted.

"Agent Dawson, I wanted to tell you something that I have had sources recently uncover for me, and it pertains to Sam Storm 6.7," Harding said in a serious tone, which alerted Dawson to pay careful attention.

"As I'm sure you know, Storm 6.7 worked as a nanotech engineer at the Lunar Nanotechnolgy Research Center," Damon began.

Dawson nodded, it was in Storm's file.

"While he was working there, he had access to the most secure parts of the facility. It appears that just before he left, he may have managed to do something that we didn't think possible...indeed we are still investigating. We believe that he may have removed one or more of the unlimited assemblers from its secure environment."

"Are you saying he has an unlimited assembler?" Dawson asked, shocked. There was no telling what a nanotech engineer could do with the thing, especially if he had evil intent as Storm appeared to possess in spades.

"We aren't sure yet, but it may be that he does. Those assemblers are built with several fail safes in place to limit their use outside of a controlled environment," Damon explained.

Dawson nodded again, everyone knew this.

"With access to the inside, Storm could have found out how to circumvent this security. It appears that he may have built a small portable device that could sustain several of these unlimited assemblers. If he did get away with them he could have established a lab anywhere to reproduce the necessary environment and then he could make anything. I have no doubt that he is doing something sinister with them, and that the virus attack on the system was only a precursor. But what I fear most of all, is that he may have used these assemblers to build a new unlimited assembler without the fail-safes. One that could survive in a natural environment," Damon finished.

It was the worst thing you could tell an agent, that the person he was investigating had something more powerful and potentially dangerous than any other weapon ever conceived.

After a minute of letting him absorb this, Damon spoke up again. "Agent Dawson, I don't have to tell you how important it is that we stop Storm. I have spoken with the President and he suggested putting someone with more experience in charge, but I told him that I had great faith that you could find Storm. Even so, I want you to know that you now will have access to almost unlimited funds and means to track Storm down. You are going to be assigned military personnel, which you will command, to help end this as soon as possible."

"I understand. I'll do my best."

"Agent Dawson, you need to do better than that. Find Storm and stop him, no matter what you have to do to accomplish it. Do you understand?" Damon commanded.

Dawson did. They wanted Storm dead.

"There is one more thing. I have suspected for some time that Storm might have the assemblers and I put in to effect a contingency plan to be used only if it turned out to be supported by evidence, which I now have. You know that I own the NurTech corporation, that develops the neural implant companions and software," Damon said.

Dawson nodded.

"I have had a modified companion installed in Storm 23.1 that will act as a bug that the companion software won't detect, and that Storm 23.1 will never suspect exists."

Dawson closed his eyes and shook his head. It wasn't supposed to be possible, and it was the most grievous violation of an individuals right to privacy imaginable. The companion could see everything one saw, hear everything one heard.

"If you hadn't just told me about the assembler, sir, I would have to arrest you, but circumstances being as they are, I'll take any advantage in finding Storm 6.7 that I can," Dawson said, disgusted at Harding and at himself.

"I understand. It is as upsetting for me as for you. I have set up the bug to be accessible to your own companion. It will also dump encrypted messages back to us that we can analyze, so that should something happen to you we will know what's happened."

It would help, Dawson supposed, but when this was all over, there would be hell to pay. War had just been declared on Storm 6.7. Dawson almost wished him luck. Storm was going to need it.

### Chapter 12

Jeff stood at terminal seven of the zip train station below Denver waiting for Terra Gates to arrive. Her train was scheduled to arrive in about five minutes and Jeff just waited patiently watching the hustling crowds. He had received the call from Just Human a few days earlier about giving a tour of the city to Ms. Gates. Jeff had reluctantly agreed to give the tour, only because she had requested him by name. To be honest, Jeff knew that he had only joined the organization to further his career. He wanted to be a consensus builder, to try to reunite the Newbies with the Primers, but now Jeff was more sure than ever that it wasn't possible. The Primers had become more distrustful of the Newbies after this incident with the Virus and most Newbies wanted little to do with the Primer way of life.

In the last several days Jeff had been assaulted by conflicting emotions, self-pity, hatred of Sam, hatred of himself. He was still angry at the world, it seemed that events beyond his control were conspiring against him, and from more than one side. He felt like he was at the center of several unmovable forces in his life, each pulling on his strings from a different direction. At least they had been, until Jeff had gotten free of the restoration directorship. The direct pressure from Damon Harding was now gone, but Jeff was sure that it only appeared that way. And why was he going along with Sam, helping him complete what ever it was? That was the strangest thing. Was he doing it out of brotherhood, or more likely out of guilt? Jeff was afraid that his betrayal of Sam had caused Sam to move in the direction of becoming what he was.

In some measure, Jeff knew, it was continuing to live in this place...the children's city...that was difficult. It reminded him of his past and forever separated him from the Primer society outside. He should have moved and tried to integrate into that other society better, but he hadn't been able to do it. Completely severing one's self from one's culture was never something that could be done easily.

Just Human was an anomaly in Newbie society. It was full of people, mostly like him that were using it for political purposes, but some Newbies did genuinely believe that the world would be a better place if both Newbies and Primers could live together in an integrated society. Hell...maybe they were right. Jeff didn't know about that, but he did know that building a bridge was becoming harder and harder as their two societies separated. The Primers stayed the same as much as they could, and the Newbies endeavored to be different.

If it wasn't for the fact that the Newbies were limited in what they could do by means and numbers they would be able to change the world for the better. But change was not something Primers were interested in; they despised it and only accepted it when it was necessary or en vogue but always their society stayed about the same. Stagnant. Just Human wanted to show any Primer that would listen that they were one species, that they could live together and could accomplish so much. It was a naive childlike wish.

As far as Jeff was concerned, the Martians and all the other space colonies in the solar system were only repeating the mistakes of the past. The only reason they didn't yet have the separation of the two groups was because the colonies weren't facing the population squeeze yet. He had only taken the apointment so he could meet her. She had started acting strangely, according to the news reports over the last few years until she had gone on a half century hiatus. Apparently that had been cut short, and Jeff wondered why. Was she restored because something had happened that had caused the legal hiatus to be ended prematurely, and what sort of event could one foresee that if it occurred, they should be brought back? It was too bad he hadn't know about her restoration before he left. Then he could have gotten some of these answers, but as it was, he hadn't known about it.

She had been restored for only a few days, and suspiciously Jeff calculated, her restoration must have been begun about the time of the Virus attack. _Was the virus responsible for bringing her back? Did she know about it?_ Jeff didn't know the answers to these questions but he wanted to know. The other thing that was odd was that the media hadn't picked up on her restoration yet. Usually something as unusual as a hiatus cut so short would have brought attention, especially for someone who was in the public eye, but the press seemed to be distracted by the events pertaining to the Virus, and by their never ending Newbie bashing.

The request was also strange. She is restored and then almost immediately wants to tour the Children's city. Why? She could have toured it any time in the past. And why request him specifically? She could only know about him because of his work as director. Or because he was Sam's crèche brother. Jeff wasn't sure which of these made him more uncomfortable.

Just then the display in the terminal showed that her train had arrived. Jeff stood in the walkway before it branched in to two sides to give access to both sides of the train. She couldn't get past him without him seeing her. The zip train rose up through the center of the terminal and all the waiting passengers stepped back to allow the disembarking people to pass unhindered. It took a minute for every one to get out of the train, and Jeff didn't see her yet.

Then he saw a tall woman, with short brown hair emerge dressed in a charcoal pantsuit with silver pinstripes. Jeff had seen that outfit a number of times. It seemed to be her favorite, a trait that marked her as an Primer, even if she was from Mars. Most primers tended to cling to certain things more and more as they went along. She looked around for a moment after she stepped off and then headed for the lift tube. Jeff walked up to her, his companion verifying that she was indeed Terra Gates. As she saw him, he saw the look of recognition; she had a neural implanted companion for sure.

Terra walked up to him and held out her hand. "Mr. Hughes, I'm Terra Gates."

"Ms. Gates, it's a pleasure to meet you, and please call me Jeff," he replied in a genuinely friendly manor, shaking her hand gently.

"It's a pleasure to meet you too, Jeff. Please call me Terra, I'm getting really tired of every one calling me Ms. Gates all the time," Terra returned.

"Shall we?" Jeff asked and gestured toward the lift tube. She nodded and they walked the few remaining meters to get in the lift tube column. When they reached the main terminal, Terra stopped.

"My companion, has just reminded me that I need to check in at the visitors office," Terra said, looking about for it.

"Yes, I've already taken care of it for you." Jeff reached in his pocket and pulled out a small plastic chip that could have been easily mistaken for a poker chip. "You'll need to keep this with you at all times that you're in the city."

"What's it for exactly?" Terra frowned.

"It's a fog interface device. Your companion should be able to link up to it when necessary and give you control over your local environment," Jeff explained.

Terra nodded as if she understood what the device was but not why she would need it.

"But mostly it's used to make sure you don't get in to trouble while you're here."

"What do you mean?" she asked innocently.

"Well you probably know that the whole city is filled with fog. It covers the entire city up to a radius of fifty miles from the city center and up to an altitude of one mile. In the past there have been some incidents of visitors breaking laws and in a few minor incidents injuring children."

Terra looked shocked, and Jeff nodded in agreement with her reaction.

"I know, it's not pretty to hear, but even today we have to be careful. Anyway without that chip the fog will simply keep you from moving more than five meters in any direction, like a restraining device. The chip tracks your location and keeps tabs on you...also if a child or resident feels threatened by you they can have the fog immobilize you."

"That's a pretty elaborate security scheme." Terra looked at the chip in her hand.

"I don't particularly like it either, but it has helped in lowering crime rates and in protecting some children from abuse, which does happen occasionally. But don't worry too much, the entire system is controlled locally and no data is stored for more than a week, unless it's requested by a law enforcement agent with a court order," Jeff explained.

Terra noticed that he hadn't said it aloud, but controlled locally also meant controlled by the Newbies. It made sense, especially considering what Terra had seen in the news lately.

"But it also has some other benefits that make it almost indispensable here," Jeff added smiling. "So why don't we head on up to the surface."

Terra wondered what the benefits might be. He led the way toward lift column that went to the surface. They both walked into the circular fog column perimeter after the previous wave of people disappeared through the hole in the ceiling. After they had been joined by a number of others, they started moving upward too.

When they reached the surface they walked off the lift tube hole towards the closest part of the square. As some of the people walked away from the tube they stopped moving forward and took a small leap straight up in the air, after a second when normally you'd expect someone to stop and fall back to the ground, they kept going, gaining speed as they went. Terra just stared up at the ascending people who were now starting to move not just upward but away from the zip tube access square.

"Are they flying?" Terra asked. She'd seen stuff like this on the orbiting colonies, and even on the moon one could don ultra light wings and fly if one had the athletic stamina to support one sixth their Earth weight, but on Earth these things didn't happen.

"No, not really, it's just the fog again," Jeff laughed. "There are a lot of Newbie companies that are working on new applications for utility fog. It's a tremendous software problem, how to control so many independent devices to get them to work together to do things like let you fly. That's why you need the chip, your companion you can link to it and request the ability to do certain things, like fog flying. The chip keeps track of your position and a centralized tracking and routing system makes sure two people never collide midair."

Terra laughed. It was just like the lift tube, but much bigger. Terra had seen some similar things but never on the scale of a whole city. "What did the government say?" Terra asked curiously, knowing the government's reluctance to approve such radical new technology.

"We just told them that it was an improved child safety system and proved it with statistics. After that it was easy," Jeff replied.

Terra nodded her approval. She knew that safety for children was still something that could push a lot of political buttons. _A child could fall out of a skyscraper and land without a scratch,_ she thought. It was an appealing safety system. The public at large was still into protecting children; they just didn't care as much for the Newbies that the children eventually became.

"So where to first, Jeff?"

"Well," Jeff said, "It's about lunch time, I thought we might get a bite at a place I know."

"Sounds good."

"Have your companion interface through the chip to receive directions and then initiate an air transit. I'll make sure that the transit request registers us as traveling together," Jeff said. Terra asked Plato to interface with the chip and Plato replied that everything was working and he had just downloaded the control software for flying.

"I'm ready." Terra braced herself.

"Just relax," Jeff suggested. "Sit down as if there were a chair behind you."

Terra did and she was pleased to find that the fog supported her as if there were a chair. "What, no superman flying today?" she grinned.

Jeff sat down next to her. "Not yet, maybe later. This will work well for us. It's like driving a car in three dimensions. If you have your companion command the fog to make the controls and vehicle simulation visible you'll be able to see them. Terra noticed that Jeff did all his interfacing with his companion verbally as Jeff commanded the controls to become visible.

"Don't you have an implant companion?" She asked.

"No, I will get one eventually, but I haven't been restored yet," Jeff replied. As he was speaking a control panel became visible just in front of them. "You won't need controls like this because you do have the neural implant type of companion, but mine is just the old physical box and glasses type so I need some control simulations to interact with."

Jeff nudged the controls and they started to move. As they did, the phantom outline of a sleek vehicle appeared around them. "It's just for comfort reasons, some people don't like to pretend they're in a vehicle without being able to see something. I don't usually travel this way; it's too cumbersome without a neural implant. Sometimes I wish that I had voluntarily dissoluted just so my restored self could have the companion, but it goes against my beliefs."

"What about all the kids?" Terra asked. "Are they content not to be able to use the fog?"

"They don't have to worry about it. A technique has been developed to implant a much smaller version of a companion that can provide the thought interface, but not all the functionality. When they have a physical machine like my companion they can interface with it almost as well as if it were the neural implant type.. .of course they still have to wear glasses or contacts to give them the visuals."

"Why don't you have one then?" This was all new to her...clearly the Newbies were working on more advanced technology than most other groups Terra had heard of.

"It can only be implanted when the child is an infant, I don't know exactly why, though," Jeff replied. They pulled up away from the ground and started moving briskly over the city. Terra noticed that she didn't feel any wind even though there really wasn't a solid body for the vehicle, just another aspect of the fog simulation she guessed.

They flew over the city and Terra had Plato call up a display that indicated where they were going that appeared as a green marker floating above a section of the city. Terra pointed at it and asked, "Is that where we're heading?"

"Yeah, that's the restaurant," Jeff replied.

The air vehicle simulation stopped and began to lower down into the square in front of the restaurant. As they did, they were gently forced to stand up, and by the time they reached the ground, they were standing upright. There were no traces of the controls or of the ghostly air vehicle body.

"We're here," Jeff said smiling. "You know I wasn't looking forward to giving this tour, but now that you're here I find that I am actually enjoying myself. It's good to get my mind off the events of the past few weeks."

"Glad to be of help," Terra responded, wondering what he'd think after she asked him about Sam and the Dinner in a few days.

As they entered the restaurant Terra was surprised at its size. It was huge compared to the ones outside the restoration facility. It looked like it could serve eighty or more. On Mars they had restaurants that were as big because they were businesses that were trying to make money. Earth didn't seem to need those kind of restaurants any more because most of the people who ran them did so because they liked to cook, like Johan, and ran their restaurants more as a hobby. Because a few cooks couldn't serve that many people when they were focused on truly quality cuisine, the restaurants usually sat ten or less.

It wasn't as much a restaurant as it was a cafe. People would go to a counter and order and then when it was ready take it back to a table to eat. Most of the tables were full of people talking. A large proportion of them had the glasses and hip computer like Jeff. It was indeed a strange sight, to see such a large number of people who hadn't ever been restored. After they walked in the door and Terra observed all this a silent whisper went around the room and everyone turned to look at them.

Terra wasn't sure if they were looking at her or Jeff. He probably wouldn't have been welcome at all before the virus in a place like this, but now she wondered if even the implication that he had been involved in an attack on the system the Newbies despised would make him look better in their eyes. After a few seconds she noticed that they were looking at her, not him. They all got looks of recognition on their faces and then returned to their own business. Apparently she'd been approved to eat here, as no one seemed to pay any more attention to her, Martian Primers must be considered differently. She wondered what they'd think if they knew she was here with Just Human.

"Do they know why we're here?" Asked Terra.

"Yeah, your visit request lists Just Human as your escort, and that's public knowledge. Were you expecting hostility?" Jeff said, amused and apparently relieved that they were being allowed to stay.

"A little. I thought they didn't like the organization and would be against it."

"No, they're not against it. They just think it's a waste of time but a noble effort even if it's impossible," Jeff explained leading her up to the counter.

They both ordered something off the menu. It was interesting the people working behind the counter were really young. They were polite but they certainly didn't try to say anything beyond business.

They picked up their order at the end of the counter and went to find an empty table. When they sat down, Terra said, "It's strange to see a place like this on Earth. Most restaurants are run by a single chef and are much smaller."

Jeff took a sip of his drink. It had a straw and a plastic lid which amused Terra; usually it was crystal goblets and fine wine or tea. "Yeah, but you have to remember that economics in this city are different. We don't have a lot of resident Primers here, hence, almost no Primer money. The restaurants, most of them anyway, are run as for profit businesses, and they pay their workers. That's why most of the workers here are young. They haven't had a chance to make much money yet. They get paid something for their research, but they usually are required to have jobs like this that are less academic and intellectual. It teaches them a lot about life. These kids are about sixteen, or a little older. They won't have to work here for more than a year but it gives them a good exposure to business. They're responsible for every aspect of the restaurant, and if they turn a profit they get to keep it. It keeps them motivated. Usually they're a lot more talkative but as you're a outsider, I think they're just sizing you up.".

It made sense, they did similar things on Mars, but maybe to more an extreme that it was here. Business was everything on Mars. The kids grew up learning economics, business cycles, and processes; that was just the way in a corporate government. It was very capitalistic, something one didn't see to much on Earth any more, too much Primer money, as Jeff had mentioned. Not that she was one to talk, she had more money than most Primers...far more.

"So how do you all make your money?" Terra asked and then took a bite of her vegie sandwich.

"Business mostly, it's the only way to get a decent return on investment anymore. No Primer bank or company will give you more than a percent or two. At that rate none of us will ever come close to an Primer in terms of net worth, so we make our own investments in our own companies and we don't let Primers invest in them. We're still limited in how much we can get as a return because our city isn't big enough to get much more than three or four percent, but that's something. If we could, I think we'd try to hook up with other children's cities around the world and with the space colonies, but right now the government prevents that. But we will win eventually. It's inevitable," Jeff said, digging in to his hamburger.

"That's a pretty good percentage for Earth," Terra noted. "Mars is bigger and we can work with the colonies. We've been able to return ten to fifteen percent in a good year, but of course most of that profit goes to social programs. That's the problem with a corporate government, they still have to take care of their shareholders. How do you mean inevitable that you'll win?" Terra asked, taking another bite. The veggie sandwich was good.

"Exponential growth. We're the only ones who have children any more and each of our kids replaces some primer who's dissoluted permanently, and we have two percent better return on investment, so even though we're starting with less, eventually in a few millennia we'll have more. And we also have the technology and an ability to embrace change," Jeff explained picking up some of his fries and accentuating each point by poking them forward. Then he ate them.

"That's a long time to wait." Terra wondered what things would be like in a few thousand years. If the Primers here on Earth and Damon Harding had their way, it would be virtually the same.

"Not everyone is content to wait," Jeff admitted, looking a little sad. "There are some of us, and I hate to say it, but it's a growing number who want to force change. Don't get me wrong. Most are peaceful and just want to force it economically and politically. Then there are the very few who take matters in to their own hands."

At such an obvious mention of the virus attack recently and a reference to Sam, Terra felt that even though it wasn't the best time maybe she should say something.

"About that recent event, I wanted to talk with you about it," she said in an offhanded way that wouldn't attract attention.

Jeff smiled weakly. "I guessed that was why you wanted to meet me, that's why you're not getting the standard tour. We can talk about it later in a little more privacy."

Terra nodded in agreement. _At least we will talk about it_ , she thought. It didn't take them long to finish lunch and Jeff informed her that he would be taking her to the university.

"After the kids are finished with their secondary education, they go to the university for at least four years. Some of them will then leave and go to work for a company; some leave the city, but many decide to stay at the university and continue to gain knowledge and understanding in any area that interests them. A few will some go on to pursue academics permanently and to expand human knowledge. Of course, anyone can return at any time to the university to continue their education," he explained as they left the restaurant.

Once they were outside, Jeff turned to her, "We have a little time before our meeting over at the university, and it's on the other side of the city. So, if you're interested in trying the fog-assisted flight, this would be a good time. I'm having my companion send yours the location of the university building we're going to, so you don't get lost."

"That'd be great, Jeff. I'd really enjoy trying to fly. Will you join me?"

"I will, but because I don't have the same neural interface with my companion I'm just going to have my companion follow you, unless of course you do some aerobatics, in which case I'll just wait and watch. My body isn't as young as yours, and I don't think it could take too much stress."

Terra hadn't considered that. She had stopped noticing that Jeff's body was getting old. "Okay, sounds good. How do I start?" She asked.

"Just tell your companion to interface to the chip and initiate free flight mode. Your companion should be able to set you up with some controls that are easy for you to use," Jeff assured her. He then spoke softly to his companion and turned back to her, waiting patiently.

_Plato, are you interface to the chip?_ Terra queried her companion.

Yes, I am interfaced, I have set up the controls in a standard physical analog mode. Your trajectory can be controlled by pointing your fingers in the direction you wish to go.

Terra saw several diagrams appear of an animated Terra flying about using her arms.

Plato continued the instruction. _Your speed will be controlled by a direct command to me by giving a number between zero and one-hundred. You may increase speed by commanding "faster" or "slower." I will provide you with a heads up display that will show a path to your destination, your speed and attitude. In the event that you lose control or command a maneuver that is dangerous or impossible, I will step in and control until you are back to a good attitude. These instructions were provided by the chip interface. Do you understand?_

_I think so,_ Terra replied. It didn't sound too complicated.

_I am bringing up your displays now,_ Plato stated. As it was mentioned, displays appeared up in her peripheral vision that showed a small overhead map of the city and her current position as a red dot. It had the destination marked with a green dot. It also showed her current orientation, speed and altitude. In her primary visual field she could see a suggested flight path laid out that started right above her head, went quickly upward and then curved toward her destination.

"Ready when you are, Jeff."

"I'm ready, go ahead," Jeff replied.

Terra took a quick look at Jeff, then looked up and crouched slightly. Then she leapt up in to the air with her arms and fingers thrust skyward. Immediately she felt herself rise off the ground. _Faster._ She commanded and indeed she did move faster. She turned her head and saw Jeff rise in to the air following her path.

"How's that feel?" She heard Jeff ask through a relay between their companions.

"Great!" she replied. _Faster._ She flew upward quickly now, and the flight path was starting to bend. She saw in her displays that she was now forty meters off the ground, but she wanted to go higher. She kept her arms pointed upward curving slightly in the direction of her destination. As she deviated from the established flight path redrew itself to stay current with her position. She decided she was high enough after she reached eighty meters and leveled out to head toward the destination along the revised flight path. After a few seconds she pointed her fingers quickly upward to start a loop. The loop was swift and as she came around she saw Jeff keeping up with her but going straight instead of curving.

It was a strange sensation. She still felt gravity pulling her downward but she also felt an upward pressure that held her from falling. She did a few more loops in various directions and then came back beside Jeff.

"This is great. I could do this all day." Her heart was pumping from the sheer exhilaration of flight.

"Some do," she heard Jeff reply.

Terra grinned. "Wanna race?" she asked.

Jeff didn't reply but suddenly moved away at a much higher speed, separating them. _Faster, Faster 100._ She commanded. Immediately she sped up. Jeff was obviously already at top speed. She wouldn't catch up to him like this.

Plato, is there any way I can go faster than this?

_Not directly no, but if you were to use gravity to boost you and then pull up you should be able to increase your velocity._ No sooner had Plato replied than Terra pointed her arms ahead towards the destination but also down at a forty five degree angle. She started to move slightly faster, she could see the speed display indicate that she was moving at 110 now. She leveled out and the speed stayed on for a few seconds. She could see Jeff above her and he was still ahead but she had managed to catch up some.

_This will never work unless we stop this straight line stuff._ "Hey Jeff, I'm going low, bet you won't follow me." She plummeted again closer to the ground.

Jeff took the bait and plummeted after her. After a few seconds they were low enough that some buildings around them were higher then they were so they had to go around them. This gave Terra the chance she was looking for. As they came up towards to tall buildings that were separated by only about ten feet, they had the option to fly around or over or try to go between. Terra was guessing that Jeff would go around or over but not through.

Terra pushed her speed to maximum and zigzagged through the opening. She looked to both sides to see which way Jeff had come but she didn't see him. Then she looked forward and saw him drop down in front of her by a few meters.

"You forget, I've been living here all my life," Jeff said. It was obvious that he would win now, there were no more significant obstacles to overcome.

_Plato, how can I go faster?_ She would accept any solution.

_I have checked the files for flight, it seems that in this mode you are at the maximum speed,_ Plato responded.

_Are there other modes I can use that are faster?_ She asked.

The air vehicle mode that you used before with Mr. Hughes can go fifty percent faster because the fog needs to do less work.

_Change me in to a single person air vehicle mode,_ she commanded.

_I have sent the request. Please assume a sitting position,_ Plato responded. She sat forward and around her she saw the ghost outline of the vehicle.

_Maximum speed, and minimum distance please._ She requested. The vehicle sped up, raising her speed to one hundred fifty. She flew past Jeff.

"Now that's cheating," Jeff said transitioning to the air vehicle mode. But it took precious seconds for him to manage it and Terra was already too far ahead.

"I don't remember there being any rules about how we were going to race." Terra smiled now.

"I guess I'll have to remember that you like to make your own rules," Jeff chuckled.

"Sometimes it's the only way to get ahead," she replied flippantly.

They were almost to the destination point now. Terra saw the landing spot in her heads up display that marked their destination and brought the air vehicle simulation down on it perfectly. Once she had landed, she had Plato disengage the simulation and she stood up and walked out of the way so Jeff could land, which he did a few seconds later.

He was smiling when he got out. "You know the kids have figured out how to tweak the program for personal flying so that it can go faster than the air vehicle sim. They call it bullet mode. I guess I need to get one of them to show me how, so next time I show some one around, I'll have a secret weapon of my own."

Terra smiled at Jeff's comment then turned and took a look at the building behind them. It had a brass colored metal sign that read "Arlin Department of Theoretical Physics" on a stone wall perched like a monolith in one of the flowerbeds in front of the building.

"Theoretical Physics? They have a whole building for that?" Terra asked. She hadn't ever seen theoretical physics broken out from physics in general.

"Yeah, it's big here. There have been other theoretical physics departments in the past, but this is the only one we know about today," Jeff explained.

"So why here?"

"I wanted to illustrate something to you about Newbies. I wouldn't usually put this place on the tour, but I don't think you're looking for the normal tour," Jeff said seriously.

"Is it that obvious?" she asked. "I thought I had a bit more subtlety than that. I am over two-hundred years old."

"It's obvious to me. I don't know about anyone else. But in your defense I should say that having just been restored you are acting younger. It's common. As the director of the restoration division, I've seen it thousands of times, the newly restored acting like the young adult they appear to be. I'm sure you'll be more the person you remember as you get settled in to your new body," Jeff added.

Terra detected a hint of longing. She knew about the acting young part of restoration, every one did, but it helped her keep from feeling too much like a kid for him to say so. "Hopefully, by the time I get back to Mars. I'd hate to think that I had lost my edge."

"I'm sure you'll have it by then. Shall we go in? I really want to show you something that they're working on inside," Jeff said, motioning her towards the door.

She started to walk to the entrance and Jeff fell into step beside her. The doors to the building slid open as they approached. They stepped through the threshold into a lobby that had a number of displays showing the great physicists of the past. At the far end of the lobby was a lift tube circle. Jeff led her to it.

They both walked into the lift circle and began to ascend upward. The tube came to a stop on the second floor, as far as this lift went. They stepped out of the fog column into a bright hallway that was about twenty feet long and ended with a metal door.

"Let's go," Jeff prompted. They both started to walk through the hallway. As they got halfway through, Terra encountered a wall of force in front of her.

She hesitated and tried to pull back a bit only to find that she was completely ensnared. _Another fog field!_

Jeff had stopped next to her. He was obviously stuck also.

_At least it's not just me,_ Terra thought. She still couldn't move at all, and she was starting to feel claustrophobic. Despite the fact that she was in a large hallway, this immobilization was becoming a little freaky. Then after what seemed like an hour, but was really only a few minutes, she was released. Jeff started moving again as well.

"Sorry I didn't warn you. It's not a pleasant experience at all, is it? That was a first order security screening," Jeff explained. Then the door at the end of the hall slid open revealing a second lobby. Jeff led Terra through the doorway which closed behind them, securing them inside.

"I don't think I've ever been through a screening process like that before, and I can't say that I'm thrilled about doing it again. Why such high security? I've been into national government buildings with less strict measures?" she asked.

"There are things going on here that aren't known about in the world at large and we'd like to keep it that way," Jeff confided. "The security makes sure that we aren't bugged, and it generates an interference so your companion won't work while you're inside, no recording. I didn't bring you here for any demonstration. I brought you here because it's the most secure place in the city and we could discuss the matter you wanted to discuss earlier, the reason for your visit, without worrying about eavesdropping."

He led her to a room that opened off the lobby. It was a small conference room that no one was using at the moment. "I made arrangements to bring you here. They set up another field to keep us from going go any farther into the building. There really is stuff going on here that the world at large doesn't know about, but I don't know much about what that stuff is."

"So the tour is over, and its down to business?" Terra asked, with a grin. She had hoped that his friendliness had been genuine, but she could see now that it had been at least partially an act and that the man before her was wrestling his own demons.

"Please don't get me wrong, Terra. But if you are who I think you are, then we need to have some kind of discussion now." He was totally serious, but he managed a half smile.

He had been through a lot in the last few weeks, Terra knew from scanning the news while she was at the UMG embassy. "I see. And who do you think I am?"

"The other guest who is supposed to have dinner with my crèche mate Stacy in five days," Jeff guessed.

"Sam told me before this version was backed up that if I should ever be restored to look her up. I called her yesterday and she invited me to dinner on the first. Are you supposed to be there too?"

"Yes, apparently Sam has decided that we are supposed to meet there. I didn't think that I'd meet you before then, but when you asked for me specifically at Just Human I suspected that having been recently restored, with your restoration beginning the exact day of the Virus attack and your position with the UMG that you were the person to whom Sam owed something."

"He said that he would owe me something, but I don't know what," Terra admitted. She just wanted answers.

"I don't think that he would have told you until after your backup was made. You are safe from the law so long as you didn't know, but I think that's going to change soon. If you go to that dinner, you'll be choosing your side and they will come after you," Jeff said, disgusted.

"No, they won't. They asked me to go. They want me to wear a wire." She knew that this was a time for honesty. If she ever wanted to know what Sam was up to, Jeff was her best hope. Jeff was silent for a moment considering.

"Who was it that approached you? Agent Dawson?"

"Yes," she answered.

Jeff sat down in one of the chairs. "They think we know where Sam is, but the funny thing is that I have no idea, and I presume that you don't know either. I got a message from Sam after the Virus struck that said that you and I and one other person would be able to find him, that we'd have to find him."

"Who's the third person?" Terra asked.

"Sam 23.1, a very old and the only remaining backup version of Sam Storm," Jeff answered.

Terra was surprised. "Are you saying that they're restoring a version of Sam while he is still alive. Isn't that illegal?"

"Yes it is, but they didn't start the process. I did. It was the last thing I did before I resigned. I started the process and covered the tracks. Hopefully he'll be totally restored in a few more days and he'll get my message to meet us for dinner at Stacy's," Jeff confessed.

"Why do we need him? He'll know less than I do, unless Sam had thought this whole thing up back then," Terra mused, trying to understand.

"Well, there are good reasons for needing him. Sam 6.7 told me that we would need his living biometrics and DNA to get to him, the only way for that to happen is for us to have another version of Sam to help. And I have to confess that I also restored him for personal reasons that really aren't related to the incident at all," Jeff explained with a defeated look about him.

"Why would you bring back an old version?" Terra asked.

"At the point in my and Sam's life when that 23.1 version was backed up, Sam and I were different people and it seems that now we've managed to move about as far apart in ideology as two Newbies can. He committed a terrorist act that I don't think that I'll ever understand, but I understand 23.1 because we hadn't diverged at that point. And I really want to find Sam 6.7. You see, he used me to accomplish his goals. He used our relationship which I thought was still something sacred between us even though we have gone our separate ways."

Terra could see the beginnings of tears in Jeff's eyes as he spoke. She put her hand on Jeff's to let him know that she empathized with him even if she couldn't entirely relate. "Well, I have to confess that my own motives for finding Sam 6.7 aren't all over the business of what he feels he owes me. I learned recently that my other version, that lived most of the last eight years and then went on a half-century hiatus, was doing things on Mars that goes against everything I believed in. I don't know why, but it all seemed to start not long after my 263.3 version was backed up. I can't think of what Sam could have said or promised me that would make me do the things that my other version was doing."

"Either the thing he owes me is so important that I would sacrifice my own beliefs to get it or something awful happened to my other version that changed who she was fundamentally. I don't particularly care for either choice, but I'd rather it be the first one, and that's the hope I have. I need to know what he did to me to make me change, and whatever this is he owes me, I want it if only to ease my own conscience."

Jeff listened patiently while Terra spoke. "I understand, and I don't know which of us needs to find Sam 6.7 more, and whether his betrayal of me or his corruption of your other version was worth it," he said. "So now there need be no pretense between us. You know my motives, and I seem to be freed from my work obligations although I think I may find it hard to pay my expenses in the not too distant future," he shared comedically.

Terra laughed at this, to be stopped by money wasn't something any one considered...except a Newbie. "I wouldn't worry too much about that at the moment." It was good to talk with someone. She had needed to level with somebody who could understand, and as it turned out, Jeff might be the only other person in the solar system who could provide that outlet.

"So what now?" Terra asked.

"Now we do what we have to until Sam 23.1 is restored, and hopefully he will make it to our rendezvous at Stacy's. If he doesn't, then we will need to find another way to get him, but since Agent Dawson wants you to wear a wire, I think they'll let him get there if they do find out about his existence. Then we have to find a way out and we need to figure out where to go."

"Seems like you have it all planned out," she ventured.

"Well, being unemployed gives you a lot of time to think. I just don't know where to go yet. I was hoping you would have some clue or maybe Sam 23.1 will be able to provide us with some direction. We'll just have to wait. In the mean time, I'm going to work on keeping us safe from Dawson once we do all get together."

"Then I'll keep doing some research from the UMG Embassy where I know I can work without being spied on and I'll make sure Dawson thinks I'm cooperating. I'll leave the rest to you for now, but I think I have an idea as to where we should start looking."

"Where?" he asked, his eyebrows rose up inquisitively.

"Just leave that to me for now, Jeff," she said giving him a wry smile. "It's a secret."

"I guess that will just have to do for now. I'm glad it was you that Sam picked."

"I'm not, but I am glad that I have someone else to help me figure all this out," Terra replied.

"So what did you mean earlier when you said stuff was going on here that no one on the outside knows about?" Terra asked, changing the subject. She could tell that it took Jeff off guard, but then he just grinned.

"Well you see, the Primers took Physics a long way in past centuries but not much has changed in a while, as you probably know. They thought they had all the answers, and they all got older and their viewpoints were solidified, but Newbies here have been working on those theories for the last few centuries and in that time we've made some fundamentally different assumptions about the universe and how it works. I don't know too much about it, but I do know that we have a better theoretical understanding of the universe than any one else in the solar system," he said as if that explained everything.

"So why keep that a secret?" she said.

"Because if we made our discoveries public, firstly, they wouldn't be accepted; they'd be laughed at. And secondly, because we can't back up the theories with experimental proof because the only tools capable of building the experiments to test them are all controlled at the Lunar Nanotechnology Research Center. So you see, our hands are tied. We stick to the theoretical, we model and we dream of new things. Someday we will be able to test the theories. We've had enough of our best people leave the city that most believe that one of them will eventually find some experimental evidence or will find enough support to get experiments prioritized by the Primers."

"And if all that happened, what do you expect to gain?" Terra asked.

"I don't know. Acceptance for what we are maybe. I think it is just that we want the Primers to admit that there are still things to learn and still places to explore. That life is not just about living. Its about using the time we have to do, to accomplish, to make our existence worthwhile," Jeff said, impassioned. Then he frowned, "I've only come to understand some of this recently. I still believe that with everything the way it is with the restoration technology that the system we have is better than the alternative of unleashing the pent-up frustrations of all the nations in the solar system for being beholden to the US for so long."

Terra nodded. That at least was true. Mars was too far to launch a military campaign against one nation on Earth, but if push came to shove, they might support censure or sanctions against the oppressive US.

"You're probably right, but it didn't have to be this way. I'd rather live free than to continue to be under the control of another nation," she said.

"That's the dilemma," Jeff replied. "And if I had to guess at what Sam's up to, I'd say that he is trying to rock the boat over all these issues. I don't think he is content to wait to see how things work out. He wants to be a part of the solution, to do something."

"Let's just hope he has some idea of the consequences," Terra sighed.

"Yeah," Jeff said, looking up at the clock on the wall. "We should probably go now. If we're being followed, we don't want it to look like we spent too much time here. I don't really have any more to show you, and I don't want things to get too suspicious looking so would you mind if we cut the tour short?"

"I guess that would be best," Terra agreed. She was already thinking about what to do next. "Then we meet at Stacy's. And hopefully Sam 23.1 will be there."

"You said it," Jeff replied, leading her back through the security door and down the hallway. This time, however, there was no unseen force to hold them. They went back down the lift tube and Terra was comforted when her displays reappeared and she was greeted by her companion.

_I seem to have experienced a malfunction. Because you have only been restored recently, there may have been a problem with my installation. Should I contact NeurTech for a diagnostic?_ Plato asked.

Terra thought she detected a note of concern, which amused her, but she quickly put a stop to Plato's suggestion. _No, Plato, I understand the nature of your malfunction. It was a local security measure that temporarily disrupted your ability to function. I was aware of this and consented to it, without coercion,_ Terra explained, ending any action Plato might have taken after this incident.

"Well, Jeff, thank you and Just Human for this tour. It has been interesting to see some of our similarities."

"It was my pleasure," Jeff said, acting the perfect host.

"Will you be accompanying me back to the zip train terminal?"

"No, that won't be necessary unless you prefer to be accompanied. Your visit pass is good until midnight. If you wish to stay longer, you'll need to apply for an extension," he added.

"I think I can find my way back. It'll give me some time to practice my flying," she said, extending her hand, which Jeff took and shook gently.

"Certainly, have a good day, Terra. All the best."

"Thank you," Terra said genuinely.

"Until your next visit then," Jeff said.

Undoubtedly, if they were being watched by Dawson or his agents, they would know that they were pretending, but Terra hoped that they would see it as her keeping up her front of working with the FBI against Jeff and Sam. After they split up, Terra engaged the flying program on her chip and made her way back to the zip train terminal. There was probably a lot more to see here, but that would have to wait until she had this whole situation figured out.

### Chapter 13

"So is she playing along, or isn't she?" Damon Harding asked while striding across his office to look out the window from the penthouse.

Dawson was superimposed over his vision. He now appeared to be floating just outside the office window. The image of Dawson shrugged. "I can't be sure. We kept tabs on them both the whole time, we have everything that they said on record, except for the time they spent in the Arlin Theoretical Physics Building. I couldn't get access in time. Apparently there are umpteen million forms to be filled out if you don't have a Newbie escort. They even had my companion confused. And to top it off they had a level one security fog field that my micro-bugs couldn't penetrate. I don't think the Newbies want any one to know what's going on in there."

"I wouldn't worry about them. Nothing they're doing in there is that important. It's just a lot of useless theory from what I've been able to discern," Damon commented dismissively. "The question is what did they discuss? I guess we'll never know, but it seems that dinner is on at the crèche mates in five days. Then we'll get some answers, regardless of the level of the security fog field, if there is one."

Dawson nodded, catching his meaning, but clearly not comfortable about the methods they were using. "Yes, I'm sure the dinner will be illuminating."

"Did you get the sense that Ms. Gates was cooperating from the rest of their discussion?" Damon inquired.

"Yes, she seems to be playing the part, but I didn't ask her to meet with him at all; she could have just showed up at dinner."

"She could have...but that wouldn't have been her style, and perhaps it would have given her away later. I have found Ms. Gates to be thorough, she doesn't give into others easily if ever. We shouldn't forget that she has her own agenda and government to be loyal to, and that she was promised something by a man that may have an unlimited assembler. There are a great many things that I can imagine she would do almost anything for, some piece of technology for Mars, and that is what makes me doubt her intentions to help us." He wasn't looking at Dawson's image any more but at the lights of the city as they began to come on with the setting sun.

"I don't trust her either. But I think she can be manipulated into doing what we want," Dawson said confidently.

"Don't be too quick to think you can manipulate Terra Gates. A great many people have tried, myself included, and have failed. She will do what's in her and the UMG's best interest because they are one and the same." Damon glanced back at Dawson with a little disdain for his attitude.

"Don't worry, they won't get far if they are with Storm 6.7, accessories after the fact," Dawson remarked.

"I don't really care about them, Agent Dawson. I want Storm. They are just the means." There was a little menace in Damon's voice now. He was beginning to think that perhaps Dawson wasn't the right man for the job. It had seemed that recently he was becoming a little too opinionated.

"Of course, I didn't mean that I don't want Storm 6.7 or that he isn't my top priority, but it's my duty to bring them all down. I'll let the little fish go to catch Storm if necessary, considering the threat he poses. I didn't mean to imply otherwise," Dawson said, realizing that he had pushed a little too far.

Damon smiled. "Good, I'm glad to see we have the same goals. How is 23.1 coming along?" He'd been spending so much time worrying about Storm and the investigation that he had neglected his other business interests for too long and while catching up had become a little out of touch as to the situation with the Storm backup.

"He'll be totally restored in four days. I have him scheduled to speak with a shrink. We can use the time to calibrate the surveillance equipment and try to get a read as to his motivation. I think it would be helpful if we can build a psychological profile of him. It might help us in finding his counterpart."

"Excellent suggestion, Agent Dawson. It will also fluster him. I want him brought here so I can meet him myself before we let him go. I'll be able to tell a lot from a meeting that I won't get from a psychological profile."

"Okay, I'll arrange it," Dawson replied. "Is there anything else, Mr. Harding?"

"No, please proceed, Agent Dawson," Damon said and the image of Dawson disappeared leaving only the New York skyline and a few of his other heads up displays that gave him constant status on issues that he had decided were important to monitor.

Things were proceeding well. As usual, Terra was in it for herself. Damon hadn't expected any less of her; fortunately, her best interest coincided with his, finding Storm 6.7. He wondered how she'd take running into an old version of Storm. Her other version had obviously been involved some how, judging by her change in behavior starting eight years ago, right after the 263.3 Version had been backed up. Hughes he could understand, the sting of a brother's betrayal would drive him anywhere in the solar system to confront his crèche mate. 23.1 however was another issue. Damon wasn't sure how he would react to being restored and being so far out of date. It was possible that he would crack and be completely useless.

He was counting on the three of them to slip away from the clutches of Agent Dawson. Dawson was competent, but he had a lot of demons in his past that drove him. Losing the three of them would just make him that more likely to chase them and to do whatever it took. Damon had his own psychological profile of the four of them. Dawson's suggestion to have 23.1 profiled was a good one. Damon was glad that he hadn't had to order it himself.

He might even be able to use the profile to understand Storm 6.7, to see how bad the situation really was. Obviously things could go badly, but Damon was intrigued, and that was something that didn't happen to him too often any more. Now that he controlled Second Chance and he didn't have to worry about the technology getting out of control, he needed a new project. Storm might just provide him with the perfect opportunity.

And as for the Newbies and their elaborate security procedures at the theoretical physics building, that had Damon slightly concerned. They were up to something, but he didn't know what despite his best attempts to find out. _The children's cities seemed like such a good idea at the time,_ he reflected. _Maybe I should have just left things alone on that one; these Newbies are nothing but trouble. They want too much change, and no one wants a lot of change like the twentieth and twenty first centuries again. It was too much, too fast. Slowly, methodically, that's how you get things done. There's plenty of time, now, I've made sure of that._

### Chapter 14

It was a sound coming from a long hallway; that was all Sam could be equate it with. He tried to listen. _What was it saying_? He was moving towards the source of the sound. It seemed like it was so far away that he didn't know if he could make it. It felt like he was chasing the solution to a puzzle, but he didn't know what that puzzle looked like and hadn't the faintest idea what he should do.

He couldn't see anything in the total darkness around him. That scared him, the dark. Sam hadn't ever liked it although he couldn't remember why. It was something that had happened to him. The sound was coming closer to him, and that caught his attention. He tried to go towards it, but it was becoming elusive, louder, omni-directional. Then he remembered.

This was the darkness that he feared; he had no control alone in the dark. The only thing that existed was the sound and it didn't make sense even though it kept getting louder. He had been here once before. He felt himself start to fall; it was the fear. He remembered it, the terror. It threatened to consume him, but he knew he was stronger now, stronger than before. He was being restored again. This time he would keep it together. He was stronger than the fear; he could make it this time. He wasn't six and a half any more.

The falling sensation stopped, and he was in the dark again. The sound was louder now, like a loud wind, and it had pattern. Sam tried again to make sense of it. He was rapidly regaining control over his thoughts. _Restored again. What happened this time?_ The sound became words. He could almost make them out now.

_The oath,_ he thought. _Could it be the oath? I shouldn't be this version unless Jeff restored me._ Sam's memories were flooding back in full force. They had sworn an oath to bring down the Restoration establishment. He would do it from the outside, and Jeff would do it from the inside. A two pronged attack, one of the most effective strategies in history.

The backup to holographic cube was an exchange of trust. They weren't supposed to be restored from this version, unless something happened.

The voice was clearer now. They were calling to him. He could hear the soft voice, probably a nurse, calling him by name. He ignored it for now. They wouldn't be expecting him to be aware so soon. They should know from his file that he regained full consciousness earlier than most. That's what the shrink had said caused the problem. Sensory deprivation at a critical time combined with being so young. He had awakened screaming when he was restored for the first time, the only time. It had taken two months of therapy before he had recovered enough to go back to his crèche.

The experience was enough to sour him against the restoration industry. As a result, he had started to look into it, research it, and study it. It was a rude awakening for a six year old to learn that the technology held the whole solar system hostage. That the Newbies were forever exiled to a city that could change surrounded by an island of the unchanging. And it was all controlled by one man and his company.

Restoration technology was meant for adults, not kids. Child restoration had been done before, but it was complicated. They grew him to the physical age of six and then restored his mind from his monthly backup. His brain was still developing, however, and the restoration nanomachines had reinforced some neural connections that had given him vertigo off and on for his whole life. Side effects.

The only positive thing about the entire experience had been his companion, Ralphie. No other kid his age had a neural implant companion and that had given him an advantage; he could learn a lot more a lot faster. He didn't remember the fall that had killed his original.

He didn't understand why it had happened and why his backup was out of date by twenty days. It was an accident, but his crèche had felt responsible. They had seen him die and it was traumatic for them even if it they knew at some level that he could be brought back. When he finally returned to them, they had fawned over him and his improved abilities because of his companion. For all these reasons Sam became the de facto leader of the crèche. Before he had been content to follow, but afterwards he had an advantage and a burning desire to understand what had happened.

The voice was becoming irritating now. Only a few minutes had elapsed while Sam began recovered his memories and his mental faculties. They must have noticed by now on their monitors that he was fully conscious. They were probably just waiting for him to try to speak. He knew the drill; he had studied all the psychology papers on the subject. First the restored speaks, that demonstrates that they are aware of their environment but are probably still mentally clouded. Then gradually they bring the person to full consciousness and take them through a series of exercises to restore the correct motor controls to the body.

He mustered his will. He'd break their pattern. Sam pictured his lips moving, his tongue helping to shape the words. He considered what he would say and practiced in his head several times. He felt he was ready.

"I hear you," Sam said quite clearly. There was a momentary pause and then he heard a voice respond.

"Mr. Storm, you make a quick recovery, I am impressed," a voice said.

"Whoorrru?" Sam asked. As soon as the words were out of his mouth he was angry at himself. He should have controlled his speech.

"I'm Dr. Warran, and perhaps you aren't quite as recovered as I first thought. Very well, let's get through this motor pathway reintegration so we can talk."

Sam still couldn't see, but he was now concerned. This wasn't the normal way a restoration was supposed to happen; the texts and papers were explicit about the proper psychological process one was supposed to follow when helping a newly restored person reintegrate.

They completed the motor pathway reintegration and then Dr. Warren activated his neural implant companion.

Hello, Sam, welcome back?

It was a comforting voice in his head. It was Ralphie. Sam felt immediately more secure. His whole life Ralphie had been there with him. Sam knew that Ralphie wasn't really a sentient being, but most of the time he forgot about that; Ralphie had been his companion and his friend. The others really never understood about his companion. They thought he was just a tool, like those of most adults, but Sam knew that his companion had become more.

It was a good thing that Ralphie could already understand him. When he had first gotten his companion, it had taken several months of using biofeedback through his implants to develop the mental processes by which he could direct his thoughts to his companion. Before he had gotten Ralphie installed he had thought it would just magically work, that Ralphie would be able to hear all of his thoughts and provide information on demand, but it didn't work like that at all.

The display provided by the neural implants worked immediately. To interact with the companion, however, one had to learn, just like one had to learn to use one's appendages as a baby. He was clumsy at first but because he was young he had caught on very quickly.

Sam mentally crossed his fingers, he hoped that his companion was still the friend he remembered. _Hello, Ralphie, it's good to be back. Are you doing okay?_

_I am fine. All my systems appear to be functioning perfectly. I am concerned somewhat though, that I can't access the datasphere. I should have access._ Ralphie replied in what Sam perceived as his concerned tone.

That is odd. I think that something strange is going on. I can tell by my version. Are your memory files intact?

_I remember everything up until your 23.1 backup. You and Jeff had sworn to work on your agenda against the restoration establishment and went to get an holocube backup to exchange. I presume you are the 23.1 version. Is this correct?_ Ralphie asked.

_Yes, I think so. That's the last thing I remember too. Keep trying to access the datasphere, I have the feeling that this Dr. Warran character isn't going to help me too much. Things are strange. Keep an eye out and let me know if I miss anything important,_ Sam requested.

_You got it._ Ralphie agreed.

"Mr. Storm, is your companion on-line?" Dr. Warran asked impatiently.

"Yes, Dr. Warran, he is. Aren't you going to do the identity confirmation?" Sam asked. He thought that the identity confirmation happened before the companion came on-line.

"Well, we'll have to talk about that. You see there are some unusual circumstances, but I think we should discuss that in my office once you're fully restored."

"Isn't that illegal?" Sam asked.

_It is illegal,_ Ralphie commented.

"Technically yes, but we'll get to that. Are you ready to get up now? Your neural pathways are fully restored, and we've even managed to correct that vertigo problem...at least I think we have," Dr. Warran said.

Sam could tell he was trying to change the subject to get away from the identity check. "I have rights."

"I know you do, Mr. Storm. I'm going to deactivate the fog field now. There are clothes on the table. I'll wait outside," Dr. Warran said, tapping one of the controls and heading for the door.

Sam felt the fog start to help him stand up. He walked slowly from the field trying to figure out what was going on. Keeping his balance was taking most of his concentration at the moment. He stepped from the fog field. The thin layer of fog that had covered him disappeared, and he was naked in the restoration room.

He walked to the table, more confidently now, and picked up the clothes. Normal undergarments, slacks and a sweater. They weren't on his preference file; he preferred jeans. This wasn't the way things were supposed to go. He shrugged and dressed, quickly pulling the sweater on. It was ugly and far too large for him.

_Nice fit._ Ralphie commented as Sam looked himself over in the mirror.

_Yeah, tell me about it. Any luck with the datasphere?_ Sam asked.

_Nope, it isn't there. I think my signal is being dampened intentionally. I'll keep trying,_ Ralphie informed him.

_Great._ Sam thought. He took one last look at the room, there was nothing to be learned here. He headed for the door.

Outside Dr. Warran was waiting, he glanced up and down the hallway nerviously as Sam emerged. "Are you ready to go to my office?"

"I guess so, considering I have no choice," Sam responded smartly. Dr. Warran led him down the hall, Sam noticed that there was no one around. The place might have been deserted.

"Are we the only ones here?" he asked.

"No, there are others, but considering that it's three in the morning, there isn't a lot of activity." Dr. Warran indicated for him to take a right turn at the junction of two hallways.

"Three in the morning? You mind telling me what the hell is going on here?" Sam was more angry than before. He had no control, and apparently no legal status. It was dangerous ground.

"Please be patient for a few more minutes, Mr. Storm. Then I will explain everything", Dr. Warran placated.

The hallways were quiet as they continued past all the restoration rooms with closed doors. They wouldn't be waking anyone up at this hour. Dr. Warran was silent for the rest of the way to his office. He opened the door when they arrived and let Sam enter in front of him. He gestured for Sam to sit down. Sam walked towards one of the chairs in the room and took a seat.

"So now do you mind telling me what is going on? This whole experience has been highly irregular, and believe me, I know enough about this business to know when things aren't being done correctly," Sam began.

Dr. Warran listened silently. Once he stopped Dr. Warran sat down across from him on the sofa. "Are you finished, Mr. Storm. I don't think you appreciate at all what I'm doing for you. You shouldn't exist. You have no legal status because your other version is not actually deceased. He is now the most wanted man in the solar system." The words were spoken vehemently. It was obvious that he didn't want to be here and that he didn't like Sam at all.

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked.

"You are now more than thirty years out of date. Your current version is still alive and is now wanted for committing a terrorist act against our restoration backup storage system. Through some freak occurrence your restoration was triggered and had progressed too far for us to abort by the time we found out about you. So you see, I can't give you Storm 6.7's legal identity because he is, in all likelihood, still alive. Not that it would help you at all to have it now," Dr. Warran continued.

"So that's why it's so late. You're trying to cover this up?" Sam concluded. He wasn't sure how far this guy would go to cover up a mistake like this. Sam hadn't heard of it ever happening, as far as he knew this was unprecedented. And what was this about him wanted?

Sam considered this silently for a moment. He could accept the fact that he was very out of date. That didn't bother him too much. He'd have to be a half millennia out of date before he would have to deal with any kind of future shock. Nothing changed that fast, not anymore.

He played out hypothetical situations in his mind, and after a moment grudgingly accepted that Dr. Warran was probably telling the truth about the attack on the storage system, it was an ideal target. You wouldn't want to permanently dissolute any one, but what would the harm be in destroying a few backups. Even if you destroyed all of someone's backups, providing they were still alive, it wouldn't matter. They could always just get another backup made.

An attack like that would rock the boat, it probably had people afraid for the first time in more than two centuries that there might not be a restoration staff member to wake them from their latest deadly folly, disease, or just depression at being physically old. Yeah, he could have done it. Dr. Warren was clearly against his restoration, someone else was clearly behind this. He needed to know who that someone was.

"Okay, Dr. Warran, I'm sorry I snapped at you. Obviously I didn't realize the seriousness of the situation. I have a few questions, if you're willing to answer them," Sam said respectfully. It wouldn't help to get this guy any more pissed off at him.

Dr. Warran visibly took his outrage down a few notches. Then he said, almost calmly, "Of course, Mr. Storm. I'll try to answer some of your questions but we are under a time constraint here. The facility will be opening in a few hours, and you need to be gone from here by then."

"Can you tell me how this backup got in to the system in the first place? As far as I know the 23.1 backup was made only to holocube," Sam asked.

"I don't know, Mr. Storm. It must have been inserted sometime while you were non-corporeal. I just know that you were scheduled to wake, and I was instructed to be here to help you," Dr. Warran admitted.

"And who asked you to help me? It sounds like there wouldn't be many people who would want to do that, considering what my other version has been up to," Sam asked. He realized that Dr. Warran wasn't happy with this other person, and he didn't want to push his buttons and get him riled up again.

"Damon Harding, of course. He is concerned that your restoration will be taken as a mark against Second Chance, and that you will be prosecuted despite the fact that you couldn't possibly be in on the attack of our system, given how out of date you are. I have to try to remember that you aren't the one responsible for the attack," the doctor said.

_And there it is. Damon Harding, the man himself. With an attack caused by me, Harding would do most anything to keep the accidental restoration of an innocent version of the perpetrator from becoming public knowledge,_ Sam thought. But he didn't know Harding well enough to know if he was going to walk out of here alive. Then again, he could have been terminated while still being restored. It would have been easier, although more of a legal mess to clean up. He would probably leave the building alive. After that he wasn't sure.

"Do you know if I will have any type of identity, if I can't have my own?" Sam asked.

"Mr. Harding wasn't specific about that. I assume he has some way of making it so you can function in society. You wouldn't want to have your own identity anyway. You'd be stopped the first time you accessed the data sphere. That's why your companions access is being limited at the moment. Please don't forget that when you walk out the front door. If I were you, Mr. Storm, I'd find a way to get as far away from Earth as possible," Dr. Warran warned.

"I'm beginning to see that," Sam replied. He wasn't sure what he would do. He wouldn't be able to access the datasphere, buy fare on the zip tubes. They lived in an electronic society. Any transaction he made would inform the authorities of his location like a signal fire on a dark night. Sam wondered if Harding might actually be doing him a favor, in return for keeping the fact that he existed a secret.

"I don't recommend you stay here too much longer. But there is a question I have to ask you. Did you have any involvement in the incident with the virus? I know you're out of date and it's practically impossible that you have legally done anything wrong, but I need to know," Dr. Warran asked.

Sam took it as a sincere question, one that could help ease someone's conscience who was doing something that he didn't believe in. "I'll be honest with you. I have never approved of this place or the way it is used. Perhaps given years I might have done something like this. As for me now, however, I have never considered such an attack. My other version must have thought of it after the 23.1 version was made." He felt that Dr. Warran should have an honest answer.

Dr. Warran was silent for a moment considering Sam's answer. "I understand, Mr. Storm. If I were in your position I couldn't deny that circumstances or a path through life could have led me astray either. I believe you. Mr. Harding asked me to check you out, evaluate you, see what you were capable of. I think I know what I'll tell him now."

"What will you tell him?" Sam asked. This could be make or break for him and he didn't want to die. He wanted to live to see what had led to this bizarre set of circumstances. Still, at the back of his mind he recognized that if he died, it would be easier. He wouldn't have to deal with the mess that his other version had made for him. But that would be the easy way out, and as a Newbie he wasn't in to taking the easy way out of anything. He did like knowing that his other version was still the 6.7 version, meaning that he hadn't been restored since the original accident that had forced him to be restored as a kid.

"That you're a pain in the ass, but you seem to comprehend the situation you're in and are willing to be cooperative. And that you are probably innocent of the crime your other version committed, as we can't be held responsible for what we might have done given the thousands of choices and situations that led your other version to commit his crime," Dr. Warran confided.

"I know you said that my other version claimed responsibility for the attack on your system, but what happened?" Sam asked.

"Thirty-five million backups were lost, a large number of those had every version erased. And then there were the three thousand who were non-corporeal that were lost. Most of them worked for Second Chance. They were all the people who had worked on, developed, or built restoration equipment.

Now Sam understood the big deal. He couldn't believe it. His other version had allegedly committed murder by destroying the backups of thousands who were on hiatus. He couldn't believe that anything could have happened in his life that would have led him to do that. It made him doubt that his other version had really committed the crime. It was out of his character. He sat silent while Dr. Warran watched him closely, no doubt watching for him to crackup or breakdown, or some other shrink thing.

When he finally did speak, he just managed to say, "I understand now, and I am sorry for what my other version did, despite the fact that I can't even comprehend how any version of me could commit such a crime."

"I'm glad you understand. My companion has just informed me that Mr. Harding has a private vehicle coming to pick you up, if you're willing to go."

"What choice do I have? I wouldn't get very far without more help."

"I don't think you have much of a choice, but you can refuse," Dr. Warran said sympathetically.

"Well, you and Mr. Harding have helped me get this far. I might as well at least thank him in person for not getting rid of the problem I present earlier. Dr. Warran, thank you for all your help with this. I'm sure your reputation would suffer if word of this got out," Sam said standing up.

Dr. Warran stood up too, visibly relieved that he would soon be rid of the problem of babysitting Sam. He extended his hand and said, "Mr. Storm I wish you luck. You are going to need it."

"Thanks, I know I will," he said taking Dr. Warran's hand. The handshake was weak, and Dr. Warran's hand was sweaty. Just then there was a knock at the door.

"Ah, just in time. Come in, Agent Dawson," Dr. Warran said.

Upon hearing the word "Agent," Sam thought that it was already over. Dr. Warran had just been delaying him to keep him here until the authorities had arrived. When the door opened, Sam wasn't sure if he should try running.

Dr. Warran noticed his apprehension. "Don't worry, Mr. Storm. Agent Dawson is working with Mr. Harding."

If Harding were working with law enforcement, then something bigger than the cover up of his existence was going on.

Through the door came a large man in a suit and tie. He looked like rundown a detective.

"Mr. Storm, I presume," Dawson said shaking Sam's hand.

"Yes, Sam Storm, 23.1," Sam replied, emphasizing the version number.

"A good distinction to draw at the present time. I trust Dr. Warran has explained things to you," Dawson continued. He didn't even acknowledge Dr. Warran, but it didn't seem that Dr. Warran particularly cared. He just wanted them gone.

"Exactly what agency are you with?" Sam asked.

"FBI. I'm the man working the case to bring your other version to justice." Dawson's tone didn't even waver. Sam reminded himself to be careful with Dawson until he knew more about what was going on.

"Am I going to be that man for you?" Sam asked.

Dawson laughed, "No, Mr. Storm, I am not going to use you as a patsy. I was hoping you might be able to help us to find your other version. I can understand if you have mixed feelings about that, but we require your help to track down Storm 6.7."

Sam wasn't entirely comforted by Dawson's explanation, but he was caught up in events beyond his control, a non-person in a society where everyone needs a legal status. He didn't have much choice. "Well, at present," Sam said looking around, "I appear to have very few options."

"Yeah, you're right," Dawson agreed with a grin. "Shall we go? Mr. Harding is anxious to meet you in person."

"I'm honored," Sam said, but not with enough conviction to sound convincing.

"Personally, I feel about the same way. But I have a job to do, and Mr. Harding has been very helpful in this investigation." Dawson lead him towards the door.

Sam followed, and as he was about to leave he turned back. "Thank you, Dr. Warran."

Dr. Warran hadn't been expecting anything. He had already worked his way back behind his desk. "You're welcome, Mr. Storm. Good luck."

Sam nodded and closed the door as they left.

### Chapter 15

The minute Sam and Agent Dawson left the restoration building Ralphie piped up, _I have reestablished a connection with the datasphere. I am accessing in an anonymous mode. It will limit my ability to access information services with fees, but I can operate like this using free services and datastores. I thought that the best considering your current status._

_Good, try to compile some information on the whole virus event and things that are running around the media about my other version. Also try and grab some info on Jeff, since my version was supposed to be in his hands for safe keeping,_ Sam ordered.

_You got it. I'll let you know when I've found some significant results,_ Ralphie responded.

It only took them a few minutes to make their way to Harding's vehicle, a bullet shaped capsule with large blades folded on four sides. It was a jump limousine, capable of traveling anywhere on the planet within an hour by making suborbital hops. It was the kind of extravagant transportation that one would expect of the most powerful, and richest man in the solar system. The fuel cost alone would be staggering. The limo would use close to half its fuel at each jump; it could at most make four depending on the destination. Harding must really want to see him fast to bring him this way. They could have taken a zip train almost anywhere on the planet in a few hours.

"Are we going far?" Sam asked.

"Just to New York," Dawson said, climbing up the stairway and opening the hatch.

Sam followed him in. Inside he found a plush room with seats around the circumference. The seats looked like those found on a zip train, only much more luxurious. The capsule could easily seat twenty, but it was empty except for them. In the center was a small circular disk, probably a small lift tube. Sam looked up and could see a smaller room above, the cockpit.

Sam walked around the small room, being careful to avoid the lift tube. "You know we could take the zip tube and be there a lot more quickly."

"Yes, one could, but your current condition makes that difficult," Dawson said, moving towards one of the seats. "And unfortunately most other transportation options are either too slow or too public."

Sam nodded and took one of the seats a few away from Dawson. "I wasn't thinking about that, I guess I'm still thinking like I'm a normal person."

A voice called down from the cockpit, "We'll be lifting in two minutes. I am engaging the fog restraint system. You don't need to be in a seat if you don't want."

"Fog restraint?" Sam asked. "I know they were using it for emergencies in the zip tubes, but I hadn't heard of it being on suborbitals."

"Well, it lets you move about, and Mr. Harding likes to walk around. I can make the walls seem transparent if you're interested in the view," Dawson offered. "This is only the second time I've been on board. The first was on the way here. The government doesn't spring for this kind of expense."

"Sure, that'd be interesting, but it is dark out," Sam said standing back up.

Dawson touched some controls on the touch screen that was part of his chair, and the walls around the circumference became transparent. Sam knew it was just an illusion, that the scene was being reconstructed from some kind of camera array built in to the outer hull.

"It won't be dark for long. We'll have to make most of an orbit to get there and the sun is always shining in space," Dawson said, engaging his restraints.

"Lifting in thirty seconds," the voice came again.

They waited in silence. Sam noted that Dawson didn't stand up. Apparently he wasn't entirely comfortable with riding the suborbital. Sam wondered if it were really going to be that bad.

"Lifting," the voice said.

Sam felt a subtle pressure all around him; the fog restraints were kicking in. They would limit the amount of movement he could have while they were under thrust. Sam walked around a little. The fog was smart. It let him move about and he could barely feel it there. Looking around, he could see the ground rapidly receding from view. The buildings already looked doll sized. Sam wondered what would happen if he jumped.

He jumped a little just experimentally. He didn't leave the ground more than an inch. His vertical movement was definitely being dampened. Too bad they didn't have variable gravity on boost. That would be a good use for fog, but you would always be able to feel the acceleration inside; the fog couldn't change that. It took a few minutes for them to make orbit, and just as Dawson had promised, the view improved when the sun came out. It was spectacular. Sam hadn't left the planet more than a handful of times, mostly as educational trips when he was younger. The last trip he remembered was a few years ago.

Sam almost laughed when he realized how long ago it really had been, not a few years but a few decades. Sam glanced over at Dawson. He had turned the restraint chair so he could see out the transparent hull more fully. Sam also noticed that he was still holding on to the arms of the chair tightly.

The suborbital began to turn from the vertical, pushing itself into a parabolic trajectory that would take them into space and then back down to their destination in New York. By now the landscape was all that could be seen. Sam could make out some patches of light below but they were now too high to see much of anything human made. It was humbling that in few thousand years of human civilization they were reduced to some lights and a few larger structures that could be seen from space. Of course, all one had to do was scan the radio frequency range and they would find that Earth was a busy place.

After another minute or two the engines cut out and the pilot called down, "We're done lifting. We'll be in free fall for about twenty six minutes, unless you guys want me to engage the simulated gravity. The fog restrains have been lifted. Please try not to get sick."

Sam felt it in his stomach when the rockets cut out and he pushed off a little experimentally. He began to slowly move towards the top of the cabin. It was only about ten feet to the ceiling. The room was big enough to have a little zero-g fun.

"Hey, Agent Dawson, do you want the simulated gravity?" Sam called out as he rebounded off the ceiling, heading towards one side of the simulated transparent walls. As he approached, he felt himself panic irrationally. He knew there was something solid there to stop him but his brain was still sending the danger signs of open space with or without his consent.

"What ever you want, Mr. Storm. I'm content just to sit here and admire the view. I don't get many chances to leave Earth," Dawson replied from his chair, which was still turned away from the center of the room.

Sam reached the wall. It was strange to be up against something that didn't even appear to be there. Sam looked towards the little hatch to the cockpit on what had been the ceiling of the cabin. He launched himself towards it, not too fast but he covered the distance in only a few seconds. As he entered the fog column that was set aside for the lift tube he felt himself begin to be pulled up through the opening. His head came up through the hole and he saw a man sitting in a fog restraint chair watching through a simulated transparent ceiling with graphics depicting their flight vector and numerous other pieces of information. The view from here was a little different than below and the graphics added an interesting touch.

"Hi." Sam said. The man turned the chair slightly to see what the disturbance was.

"Oh, hi," the pilot replied. "You really shouldn't be up here. Regs, you know," but he was smiling as he said it.

"Well, if you think I should leave," Sam said starting to turn a bit.

"Oh, don't worry about it. No one will know, and, hell, this thing basically flies itself anyway. I'm not allowed to take it off auto-pilot unless something comes up, and it never does," he said, sounding tired.

"I could see how that would make some one feel, to be a pilot of a ship that doesn't need one except in an extreme emergency," Sam sympathetized.

"Well, even then it probably doesn't need me. Its got semi-sentient software, like a companion only more powerful, and not quite as friendly. It can handle anything, but someone died at one point, so they decided to put someone in the cockpitregs," the pilot explained.

"Do you ever take it off auto, just for fun?" Sam asked, looking around the cockpit. There wasn't much in there in the way of controls, probably just an radio link between the pilot's companion and the limo's system anyway. Thought controlled.

"Yeah, I have to pilot it on at least one trip a month to keep my license current. I live for those days. And the view is always spectacular."

"Yes, it is," Sam agreed. "So why don't you get a job flying one of the interplanetary transports or cargo haulers? I believe that you get a little more control over things on those and the views of the different planets would be worth it."

"Yeah, but I like the ground a little too much, can't leave Earth for too long. I'm quite attached. Besides, you might get a little more control on one of those other ships but you also get a lot more headaches, dealing with passengers or deadlines. With this job, I could be going anywhere in the world on the spur of the moment. So long as we got some anti-matter and some water to power the rockets, I'm happy. And it pays really well."

"I don't doubt it," Sam said.

"I'm Randy, Randy Homan," the pilot said, but he didn't leave the chair to shake Sam's hand. Sam wasn't sure how to reply; he hadn't anticipated this when he had boarded. Should he tell the man his name? He decided to give him just his first name.

"Sam. Good to meet you, Randy."

"You too, Sam. You know it's funny, your name and stats aren't coming up in my displays," the pilot remarked with a bit of a puzzled look in his eyes.

"That is funny. I wonder why?" Sam said, felling a little nervous. He decided to go back down. "I'm going to head back down now. Can you reverse the lift tube field?" Sam asked, changing the subject away from his identity.

"Sure thing. Do you want me to turn on the simulated gravity?" Randy asked.

"Yeah, I've never used it before."

"It takes a little getting used to. Your outside is forced toward the floor, but your inside still kind of feels like you're in free fall. I've reversed the lift tube field and engaged the simulated gravity."

"Thanks," Sam said. When he wasn't immediately forced down, he added, "I don't feel it yet."

"I only put it on in the cabin. It's too weird for me."

"Oh, right. I'll get out of your hair now," Sam said reaching for the lift tube opening with his hand.

"No problem," Randy replied turning his gaze back to his displays as the fog tube took hold of Sam's hand and pulled him down out of the cockpit.

Sam started turning and reoriented in a head towards the ceiling position automatically. As he reached the floor, he was standing. He took a step out of the column in to the rest of the room. Immediately he felt heavy, but not heavy. The fog was creating a vector field, like in a lift tube pushing everything downwards. It was like having a really high pressure zone on the upper part of your body that was forcing you in to the ground. It was calibrated to be about the same amount as one would feel on Earth, one standard gravity.

Sam's insides, on the other hand, were rebelling with the strange sensation. Just as Randy mentioned, your outside felt like it was under real gravity, but your insides felt like they were in free fall. It was weird. Sam walked around the inner part of the room. It felt like he was in a gravitational field as he walked. It took work to move around, but that inner feeling of free fall was still there. One would have to get used to it.

"Thanks, Randy, but can you turn the gravity back off? I think I like it better," Sam called up.

"Sure thing, Sam." After a moment the pressure let off and he was floating again.

"Having fun?" Dawson asked. He had turned his chair around and was watching Sam float around.

"Just curious to see what the simulated gravity felt like. I'd heard of it, but I'd never experienced it. It was pretty uncommon when I was backed up," Sam said trying to swim through the air a little to change his direction.

"Yeah, it's certainly caught on in space. Almost all transports and space colonies have them. It helps to prevent the physical problems associated with long term weightlessness. The Newbies that own FogWorks are probably really happy now that the technology is being used. It took about five years for the International Safety Board to approve," Dawson shared.

"I'm sure they are. I think I have some stock in themor had stock in them," Sam added after remembering that he wasn't really himself anymore.

Dawson didn't comment; he just turned around again. After about ten more minutes for Sam of free fall swimming, Randy called down and let them know that they were going to reenter in a minute or so and to please take a seat. It was much more dangerous coming down, and just a fog restraint couldn't be guaranteed to be enough to protect them. Sam took his seat and felt the chair secure him in place. The capsule began to reorient itself to an aft first position. Apparently the main heat shield was on the bottom.

"I'm going to have to disable the wall view. The nanocams need to be protected when we reenter," Randy called down.

The walls to the cabin changed back to opaque, with some simulated art work but mostly just a light tan. Both Sam and Agent Dawson swiveled back around to face the center. The capsule gave a slight shudder as it began its plunge into the atmosphere. There was some additional bumping as they descended and a sound that was like a scream but at a much reduced volume. It was a little disconcerting to Sam.

He glanced over at Dawson who had his eyes shut and was gripping the arm rests of his chair even though it would take something really significant for his chair to let go of him anyway.

"Deploying autorotor," Randy called out.

Then there came a large shock as the capsule extended its autorotors that were helicopter type blades attached to the nose of the craft. The blades slightly hyperextended so that they made a "V" type shape with the nose at the base. The passing air would cause the blades to rotate quickly, and that autorotation would slow the craft down significantly. By the time the craft reached a few thousand feet altitude the blades would go under power and the craft would land like a helicopter anywhere it wanted to set down.

Sam had experienced this a few times before, but it always amazed him that rockets had existed for decades before any one thought up the idea of using autorotation assist. The ability of the super strong carbon nanotube reinforced composites were probably the biggest reason. Before that technology there hadn't been anything tough and light enough to serve as autorotors effectively. Of course the side effect of these blades was that the dull screaming sound suddenly became a roar. The propellers were noisy things. It wasn't loud enough to cause hearing damage for the people inside but you wouldn't want to be anywhere near when one of these babies was coming down full force. Fortunately, it was only that loud when it was still ten or twenty miles up.

As soon as they slowed enough the blades started to turn under power which slowed them further. The transparent walls came back and Sam could see the lights of New York City twinkling below them. The sun hadn't come up quite yet. The craft hovered slowly, traversing the city towards the building in which Damon Harding was waiting.

It only took them a few more minutes to come over top of the roof of their destination. They were still hundreds of stories up when they gently set down on the landing pad atop Harding tower. The blades once again closed up against the side of the capsule, their job finished.

"And we're here," Randy called down. "Hope you had a pleasant flight."

"Thanks, Randy," Sam responded.

"No problem," he replied.

Both Sam and Dawson got out of their seats, which had ceased to hold them the moment the craft had come to a complete stop. Dawson headed towards the hatch and pushed the control to open it. The hatch popped open and a ramp came out from their level to the platform several meters below. Dawson walked down the ramp and Sam followed him. It was slightly windy as they came out. Sam imagined that it could become pretty gusty up here, and he wouldn't want to be wandering around when it was.

They walked across the roof to a door that, once opened, revealed a lift tube. Dawson walked out over the empty space supported by the fog of the lift tube and Sam followed. Once he had gotten inside and the door closed, they began to descend. Harding had the whole penthouse to himself, so the descent was brief. The lift stopped to reveal a small foyer with one doorway on the other side. They stepped out of the lift tube column into the foyer and started towards the doorway. Halfway there they were stopped, immobilized by an invisible force and held there.

Sam took a deep breath.

"Don't worry, it's just a security field, checking for weapons," Agent Dawson apologized, having regained his authoritative demeanor that had been absent during the limo ride.

"Thanks for the warning," Sam said sarcastically. After a few more moments they were released.

"Sorry about that. It's my first time here too, but I should have known," Dawson said, leading on towards the doorway. They stepped through and were greeted by none other than Damon Harding. He was standing in the middle of a large living room of which the far wall was a window that over looked the city. The other walls were decorated with artwork that was probably original instead of simulated. The whole place was ornately decorated.

_Well what did I expect of the richest man in the solar system; he can afford it,_ Sam thought. Harding himself was an imposing figure. He was tall, well dressed in a very expensive looking suit. His hair was short and black, as was probably the style he adopted when he was young. He looked to be about thirty-five, but his display told him that Harding was physically thirty-eight but his true age was three-hundred-eighteen.

Damon walked up to him and extended his hand, which Sam promptly took. "Well, Mr. Storm, it's good to finally see you, though as you know I would rather see your more recent version."

"I can imagine," Sam commented. He automatically disliked the man, but he rationalized that it was more his longstanding dislike of Damon as a public figure and as the physical manifestation of the restoration industry, not just because of his imposing presence.

"Did you enjoy the flight?" Damon asked taking back his hand and looking him up and down.

"It was great, although the reason for it was not entirely agreeable," Sam replied.

"That is a very interesting sweater, Mr. Storm," Damon commented.

Sam felt a little embarrassed. "It wasn't in my preferences file, it was just there," he shrugged.

Damon gave a short "humph" in acknowledgement and then continued, "Well I deeply regret that you have been brought here without your total consent, but you understand the situation requires discretion for now, and we wouldn't want your picture posted all over the data sphere. I doubt you'd enjoy being taken into custody and tried for the crimes of your other version."

"I understand all that, and I am grateful for your help, but just remember that if I am apprehended and identified as Sam 6.7 it will be shortly revealed that I have been restored and am innocent of the crimes of my other version. It'd be easy to tell from my DNA version code," Sam reminded him. Damon was starting to bug him. He really could prove who he was. His version was coded in to DNA and appended to a section of every DNA strand in his body. It would be conclusive proof of his identity.

"Well that may be true, Mr. Storm, but I should tell you that a technique for counterfeiting a version DNA identifier has been developed in the last three decades and I wouldn't put it past your other version to do such a thing. That and the fact that everyone is looking for someone to punish for this, most people wouldn't stop long enough to check your DNA before they harm you. You're not a well-liked man." Harding took a seat on one of the couches. Dawson just stood there with his arms behind his back watching them.

Sam sat down across from Damon. "What alternative do I have? I am a man without an identity in a world where one is required for survival."

"It is an interesting dilemma, I'll admit. But I think I'll be able to help you, provided you do something for me in return." Damon spread his arms on the back of the couch.

"So it's blackmail, is it?" Sam probed.

"Nothing so crude. I prefer to think of it as a quid-pro-quo. I simply would like you to provide me with any insight you may have as to how to find your other version. In return, I will ensure that you have an identitynot your own, of course, but perhaps you could get your true identity back if your other version were apprehended."

Sam didn't like the way things were going at all. No doubt the alternative was a quick apprehension and incarceration. Or he simply wouldn't be going anywhere. Sam wouldn't put it past Damon Harding to get rid of him. After all, he didn't even exist as far as the rest of the world was concerned, and they wouldn't miss him even if they did know.

"And the alternative, if I don't want to betray him?" Sam asked.

"Is that your choice?" Damon asked in response, eyes closing into narrow slits.

"No, I just want to know my options."

"Well you see, Mr. Storm, as I see it, there really aren't many alternatives, and to help you I would have to do something illegal by providing you with an identity which is not yours. That would require me to take a substantial risk," Damon explained.

Sam didn't believe a word of it. He was Damon Harding. If he snapped his fingers, he could have half the senate in here to clean his penthouse, and the president would serve tea. But he was right about one thing; Sam didn't have a choice.

"All right, I'll tell you what I would do if I were in his place. But first you provide me with an identity and some means by which to live until I can find a way to support myself," Sam offered.

"Money, Mr. Storm?" Damon was mocking him.

"What would it matter to you? You have plenty," Sam challenged.

"That is true. All right, I have already set up your identity. All that remains is for your DNA to be sampled and your retinal scan taken. I will deposit in an account in your new name a sum equivalent to several years of living expenses in the children's city. Is that satisfactory?" Damon conceded.

"Yes. It's agreeable." The scene reminded Sam of some old story about selling your soul to the devil. Harding wasn't far removed.

"Follow me, Mr. Storm. We can't do this here," Damon stood up and Sam followed him out of the large living room through one of the doors along the perimeter. Agent Dawson didn't follow them.

They passed through several rooms. Each of them was lavishly decorated. Then they reached the end of one of the rooms. It was empty.

"Stand back please," Damon ordered.

Sam stepped back towards the door. Damon activated something with his neural implant and a rectangular opening appeared in the floor. The rectangle was about the size of a small bed.

Out of the far end of the opening rose a console. It looked like the console that was in a restoration room.

"This is my private restoration machine," Damon confided.

"I thought the machines weren't allowed outside the restoration center in Washington," Sam said smartly.

"There are a few machines outside of Washington. This is one of them. Of course, I can't reveal the locations of the others. National security, you understand," Damon replied, still working with the controls.

"Naturally," Sam commented. It figured that Damon would have his own personal restoration chamber. Sam wondered if he was one of those people that backed himself up dailyprobably so.

"If you'll just walk into the fog field, we can get this taken care of quickly," Damon said, watching the controls.

Sam walked into the rectangular opening. He immediately felt himself begin to turn and to lie down flat. The field lifted him off the ground as it continued to tilt him backward until he was lying down fully suspended in the invisible field.

"Please keep your right eye opened, and we'll collect your retinal scan. Since your retinal scan is always different, even between versions it will suffice. Although your voice print is a little more tricky, we'll take care of that too."

Sam watched as a tube about an inch in diameter lowered from the ceiling. It was an optical scanner. The tube centered right over his eye only about a centimeter away.

"I'm taking the scan now, please don't move." Damon ordered. Sam tried to hold perfectly still.

After a few seconds the tube retract in to the ceiling. "Now, Mr. Storm, I will need you to say the following for your voice print, 'I confirm that I am Gregory Hillman, and am not being coerced or forced in anyway.'"

_Gregory, well, it beats having no name. And after this I won't be so reliant on the kindness of Damon Harding,_ Sam thought. _I'll get used to it._ He repeated the statement.

"Good. Your voice print has been recorded. I'm deactivating the fog field and the equipment. Stand up before the fog drops you please," Damon said impatiently.

Sam sat up and then stood and walked out of the fog field. The equipment dropped back into the opening in the floor. After a few seconds you couldn't even tell that it had been there.

"How legitimate is this identity?" Sam asked.

"Mr. Hillman, I'm surprised. It is as good as any ever issued to anyone. The appropriate government records have been created. You are not a legal fiction, Mr. Hillman. You are a person in every respect of the word. In addition the promised compensation has been deposited in to an account in your name at the First Millennium Bank," Damon said, leading him back out of the room and bringing him back to the living room. Dawson was still there, standing looking out the window. As they entered, he turned back around to face them.

"You don't have any problem with all this?" Sam asked Dawson.

"I don't know what you mean, Mr. Hillman," Dawson replied.

Mr. Hillman sounded really strange to Sam. His guess was that Dawson had been asked to look the other way by someone above him, but below Damon Harding. He hadn't witnessed any use of unauthorized restoration equipment.

_Ralphie, how extensive is our new background?_ Sam inquired.

_Mr. Harding was correct. You have a history, although your past records, including your companion files, were lost during the virus incident. It gives you a clean start. Your credentials are similar to Sam's up to the point of your 23.1 backup. It seems like a genuinely clean slate,_ Ralphie responded.

_Good,_ Sam thought. But now he had to pay the piper.

"So you want to know where I think Sam would be," Sam began.

"That would be most helpful," Damon replied taking a seat again.

"If I were him, I would certainly be somewhere off the planet. Somewhere outside of the datasphere so that my interaction with any identification mechanisms were limited to a private network," Sam said. He didn't know if it would help them.

"And if you were him? Where would you locate yourself so that you could accomplish this, given almost unlimited means?" Damon asked.

Dawson's eyebrows rose up briefly as if he couldn't believe that Damon had said something.

Unlimited means. Sam wasn't sure what Damon was alluding to. He couldn't imagine that he could get his hands on enough resources to be called unlimited. Sam considered it for a few minutes as Dawson and Harding waited patiently.

"Well, given unlimited means, and considering the types of actions he has taken, I would want a private facility, past Jupiter. It would be unlikely that my presence could be picked up, as I'm sure I would use a laser com link instead of a radio for my interaction with the datasphere. And I would probably set up some kind of relay system to disguise the origin of the signal. Does that help?" Sam asked.

"Yes, I believe it does. Is there any particular reason that you would pick a location past Jupiter," Damon asked.

Sam considered the question. He had always been interested in the astronomical objects that were located out past Jupiter, Kupier belt objects they were called. They could range in size from that of a very small house to that of a small moon. Lots of resources to utilize. Sam had thought about what he would do with unlimited means, and using one of these objects would be his style. But he wasn't sure if he should say this. He did feel some loyalty to his other version. After all, he didn't know what was going on.

"I can't really think of a specific reason other than the fact that Saturn has always been a favorite of mine. If I were him, I'd be near there."

Damon considered this quietly. "Thank you, Mr. Hillman. You've been very helpful. I believe that your insight will help us to locate Storm 6.7. Agent Dawson, will you escort Mr. Hillman to the exit please?" Damon said rising from the couch. He extended his hand. "Best of luck to you, Mr. Hillman, in your new life. And do try to stay out of trouble, I don't want to have to come after you as well."

"I wouldn't worry about that, Mr. Harding. I am counting myself lucky to be alive at all, considering the bizarre circumstances surrounding my restoration. I hope you catch him," Sam said, referring to his other version while shaking Harding's hand. But he sincerely hoped he got to talk to his other version before Harding got his claws into him. If he were really hiding out past Jupiter, however, Sam was going to need help to get there.

Dawson came up beside him and Sam followed him back out of the big living room through the fog security field, which didn't stop them this time, and on to the lift tube. As soon as they were both in the tube, they started downward.

_No repeat flight on the suborbital,_ Sam lamented briefly. _Oh, well, at least I'm out of there._

Dawson was silent the entire ride to street level. When they reached the bottom they were in a short corridor with lift tube entrances to either side of them. Dawson walked toward the entrance which Sam could see was not too far ahead. There was a guard desk just beyond the lift tube corridor, and it was manned, which was strange. Not many places had a person for a guard. Dawson flashed his badge at the guard who just grunted and pushed a control that caused the front door to open.

Once they were on the sidewalk, Sam took in his surroundings. There were a lot of people walking around, probably on their way to work or whatever they spent their long lives doing. The sun was just coming up. A quick query to Ralphie and he was informed that it was six-thirty.

Dawson turned to him. "This is where we part company, Mr. Hillman. The subway entrance is one block that way. It'll get you to the zip tube terminal directly." He pointed his finger down the block. Sam could make out the sign for the subway stop.

"Well, Agent Dawson, thanks for your help tonight. I appreciate it."

"Yeah. Don't get in any trouble, Mr. Storm. I still know who you really are." There was a slight menace to the comment, and it made Sam more than a little edgy. Dawson turned and walked back in to the building. The door opened for him, but Sam had the feeling that if he tried to reenter the building he would find that impossible. It was just as well he didn't want to have anything more to do with Damon Harding or Agent Dawson.

### Chapter 16

Sam walked briskly to the subway stop and headed down the stairs. Ralphie informed him that the train to the zip tube station would be there in five minutes. He took a seat on one of the benches. There were people wandering around waiting for their trains to show up. The place was pretty clean, and despite its reputation, it seemed that the general population was pretty well off.

_Any idea where I should go, Ralphie?_ Sam asked.

_You are registered as a citizen of Denver, so you can go there without an escort. I would suggest that as you know the place,_ Ralphie replied.

_True but people there also know who I am,_ Sam pointed out.

Yes, but your new identity is just a legal fiction. I don't think your crèche mates or colleagues will care. And you need to finish your education.

His education. That was something he hadn't thought about much since being restored. He was just starting some graduate work in nanotechnology when he was backed up. It was a good field of study, but unfortunately it meant that if you were serious about real applications you had to go to the Lunar Nanotechnology Research Center. It occurred to Sam that his other version probably did just that. It wouldn't be possible for him to do the same; he was going to need to find something new and different to study.

I guess I'll head back to Denver. Have you checked my anonymous mail yet?

_I have established that your anonymous mail address is still active, but without your pass codes, I cannot access it,_ Ralphie replied.

When he and Jeff were still together, it only seemed like yesterday, they had setup anonymous mail accounts on one of the orbital colonies that still kept its records closed. It was a free service so long as you kept your account to less than a terabyte. Sam's was considerably smaller. Sam activated his virtual interface to the datasphere and had Ralphie move them to the iconic that represented the orbital colony at which the account was started. Sam supplied a pass code at the door to the iconic and a door opened up allowing them to enter the domain. Sam knew where to go and guided them with his interface to the safety deposit e-boxes and typed in the ten pass codes that one needed for access.

It had taken some time for him to memorize the pass codes but once done he had never forgotten. Hopefully they were still good. In his peripheral vision he saw that a train was arriving at the subway stop. His was the next one.

Then the code was accepted and Ralphie informed him that all stored mail had downloaded.

_Good, start going through it and let me know if you find anything interesting,_ Sam commanded. He hoped that if Jeff had had something to do with his restoration he would leave a note or something.

_I have located a number of files that are encrypted, I am using your personal keys to try and decrypt them,_ Ralphie informed him after several seconds.

Sam waited, and his train pulled out of the tunnel into the station. He stood up and waited for it to come to a stop. When it did and the doors opened, he stepped in and took a seat. It was funny, these trains hadn't changed much in the last three centuries, the Primers liked it that way. They were a little faster, a little safer but the look and feel was exactly as Sam had seen in pictured in old movies and documentaries. Primers were strangenostalgic was the word that came to the top of Sam's mind. They didn't usually care too much if you could make something infinitely better or safer but make it look the same.

The train started moving. Sam's heads up display told him his estimated transit time and gave him a small map route to the zip tube station that they were following. The trip would only take ten minuets give or take.

_I have finished decrypting all of the files,_ Ralphie interrupted.

And?

_There is nothing of much relevance except a mail message sent from Jeff to you two days ago. It begins with, Dear Sam_  _23.1,_ Ralphie related.

That piqued Sam's interest. Apparently Jeff did know something about his restoration. _Show me the message please,_ Sam commanded.

In his display a flat image of Jeff appeared to float just in front of him. He looked old. For a moment Sam wasn't sure it was Jeff, but he recognized the eyes and the smile. They were trademark Jeff.

"Dear Sam23.1. Yes this message is for you and not your other version. I'm not sure how things have come out for you after being fully restored, I have to admit that I didn't think that far along. I tried to disguise your identity in the computer but I don't know if that worked. I just hope that Damon Harding hasn't gotten to you first. But you must be okay if you got to this message."

"A lot of things have changed in the last thirty years. You should know right up front that your other version and I haven't been the best of friends for a while. Perhaps it's because he didn't want to get me too caught up in whatever he's been up to that has raised such a stir lately."

"I was the acting director of the restoration division until your other version's attack several weeks ago. I had been in that position for the last eight years. I think that Sam 6.7 thought I sold him out and went to the other side but I haven't become an Primer. Remember our plan? What am I saying? Of course you do. For you it must have been just yesterday."

"At any rate your other version has caught me up in this mess and I am going to try to find him. I have recently met someone else who has reason to find Sam, and believe me, our intentions are saint-like compared to the others who are looking for him. I figured that you'd have your own beef or desire to see him, so I just wanted you to know what was going on."

"I am meeting with this other interested party at Stacy's house on the first at eight PM. I hope you'll come. I miss you, Sam. I miss the old me too. We had such fun together. Anyway, try and make it. And if you get this message before the dinner try and come to see me. I'll try to help you as much as possible but be careful because I'm sure I'm under surveillance. They don't trust me, the FBI that is and Damon Harding, and now they think I'll lead them to Sam 6.7. But I'll be damned if I'll help them.

"See you soon, Sam. Welcome back. Sorry about any trouble you've had."

_Sorry about all the trouble,_ Sam thought as the image disappeared. _That's an understatement._ The Dinner was tonight at Stacy's. It'd be good to see her too; of course, she probably looked as old as Jeff. _And what's this about someone else who wanted to find his other version? Probably some one he owes money. I'm glad Jeff is the one who started the restoration though I can't believe Harding didn't know that._ Then Sam realized that, of course, Harding knew. How could he miss it, he'd had Jeff under observation since the virus. Harding was playing a game with both of them, and Sam wasn't sure whose pawn he was anymore.

_I shouldn't even be here,_ he thought. _I'm an old version and my present self is still running around out there._ It raised a number of theological issues that Sam didn't even want to get in to. Most religions still existed in some measure. The large ones had backed down somewhat to take on different roles. After all, there wasn't much need for a heaven if you never had to die. But the thing that had never been resolved to Sam's satisfaction was the whole soul thing. If a person did have a soul, as the religions still believed, what happened to it when you were restored?

Was he sharing a soul with Sam 6.7, or did he have none at all? Sam didn't go in for all that crap though. If there were a soul, he believed that it was just the unique pattern that his body, matter, energy, and mind made up in the universe. If that were true, then he had a soul, and it was unique. Sam sniffed at the ridiculousness of his digression. He didn't care about any of that. He just wanted some answers and he wanted to know what he should do. He had his own path to follow now, independent of Sam Storm 6.7.

He knew that he needed closure with his other self, either through 6.7's death or just through talking with him before he could move on and become Gregory Hillman.

The subway train stopped, and Sam got up. He was done brooding for the moment. He had someplace to be...a dinner party. He walked off the subway in to a cavernous subway stop and headed towards the sign that said "Zip Train Terminal" and the giant holes in the ground through which hundreds of people were sinking or rising up from below.

The trip to Denver was uneventful. The entire experience of riding the zip trains was exactly as he remembered it. Of course, now that he'd traveled by suborbital limousine, he didn't find it as exciting as he once had. The view from the limo was infinitely better. Sam stopped at the visitors office and picked up a new chip. They didn't hassle him at all about letting him enter the city. Apparently Damon Harding had done what he said and made the records indicate that he was from Denver originally and not subject to its visitor limitations.

Sam took the lift tube to the surface among the others who were just arriving in the city this morning. He had all day. The dinner meeting wouldn't be until tonight at eight. Sam wasn't sure how he should spend the day but considered his options. The grumble from his belly let him know that he hadn't eaten in a while. And the more he thought about it, he realized that ever since he was restored, he hadn't had anything to eat. This just made his belly gurgle more loudly in protest of this treatment.

Sam was startled when several people next to him just took off into the air. It seemed like they were flying to Sam, and that was new. The bizarreness of it almost made him temporarily forget that he was hungry. Then he looked upward and saw many people flying around up above the buildings. Some were heading in straight lines, obviously with destinations. Some were just doing loops and others taking a slow scenic flight. Sam just stared up for a few moments.

Just to see something he hadn't expected gave him heart that the city continued to change. As long as the changes weren't too radical or dangerous and they kept them within the city limits, the Primers didn't seem to have a problem with it.

Ralphie, can you tell me what is going on with these flying people everywhere?

Yes, Sam, I have been accessing the city computer system through your new chip and it is downloading instructions on how to fly. The technology, as you have probably guessed, is based on utility fog technology. It is very similar to a lift tube except that it is not confined to a small column but is distributed uniformly through the city rising to an altitude of approximately one mile. It is a dome shaped region and at its lowest points at the cities perimeter only rises to an altitude of a hundred meters.

Sam was in awe. That was a lot of fog, a lot. Lift columns and safety restraint systems in small confined areas were one thing but a whole city. That was amazing. The control software must be incredibly complex to be able to handle that many foglets all at once. Sam wanted to try it. He realized that had this innovation been there when he was still a kid, he could have avoided dying that first time. And he would have had to live with the same companion that all the kids had to make do with, not the neural implant. It would have been a very different life.

Sam's belly rumbled loudly again. "All right, I'll get something to eat," Sam said to his stomach.

He looked around to see if the Chinese restaurant was still here. It was. Sam walked off down the block to a restaurant that he had eaten at regularly before the backup. It had changed, he noticed as he walked up to the counter; There were still students working behind the counter; still was the same selection of food. The décor was different though. The furniture had all been replaced. It wasn't the beat up stuff he was used to, but new metal and wood furniture. The place was obviously doing well if it could afford to purchase new furniture. The walls were painted maroon, different than the white he remembered and there were flat screen picture windows along the walls that depicted scenery of China as seen from several places. The great wall, Tiananmen Square in Beijing and a few others that Sam couldn't place right away.

He told the student who was working that he wanted some sesame chicken and some fried rice. Sam loved sesame chicken, and they made it well here. Just the right amount of spice. And he got some Hot and Sour soup; it was spiced just right tooor at least it had been last time He picked up his tray at the end of the counter after a minute or so and took it to one of the small seats by the front window that looked out on the street where he proceeded to devour his meal.

He realized after he had finished the food, which was better than he remembered, that he was going to need a second helping, so he went back for more. This time when he sat down he ate at a more leisurely pace trying to figure out what he was going to do with his life. Admittedly he didn't really need to decide right now. His immediate future seemed to be dragging him along without his choice. But that would change. He had a new life to live as Gregory Hillman, even though he was still Sam.

He was considering this when he saw someone fly by the front window, buzzing the ground. Sam hurriedly finished the rest of his lunch. He was anxious to try out flying. There was plenty of time to figure out what do with his life later.

### Chapter 17

Damon Harding was seeing the inside of a Chinese restaurant. His eyes were closed to block out the real world and his ocular displays showed him a real time view of what Sam 23.1 was doing. The bugged companion was working perfectly. The bug was relaying all sorts of interesting information about what Storm 23.1 was doing. Damon had been particularly amused with Jeff Hughes' letter left at the anonymous mail drop, to which, of course, Damon now had all the codes. Jeff had thought that he had outwitted them, but he was wrong. Not that anything useful had come from the message, but Damon had wondered how Jeff would make contact with the old version of his friend.

Damon thought it was also interesting that Jeff hadn't really said that he was acting as director of the restoration division in earnest and not as part of some pact that Sam and Jeff had made as children. It made him chuckle. The audio was also coming in just superbly. Damon could hear the clattering of dishes in the restaurant and the chatter of young adults. It was so different than outside the children's city. Sam was a Newbie through and through. He was excited about flying around, giddy as a kid. Of course Damon had to remember that Sam was really only twenty three which was still an infant compared to most people these days that were in their mid two hundreds to three hundreds. It didn't take Sam long to figure out how to access the flying program and he was off.

Damon felt momentarily ill when Sam sped off the ground, his body feeling like it should be moving but wasn't. So there were some drawbacks to using the bug. Damon disconnected the direct display and told Julia to monitor Sam's activities and let him know if anything interesting showed up. Damon opened his eyes back up to reality. Agent Dawson was sitting across from him, his eyes still closed.

"So what do you think, Agent Dawson?" Damon said with a smirk.

Dawson answered without opening his eyes. "It's amazing...but still unethical. I really don't want to see Sam use the bathroom, or anything else so personal."

"Don't be squeamish. You can have your companion monitor Sam's activities and let you know when anything interesting happens. So long as Sam has a connection to the datasphere, on Earth or elsewhere, we should be able to receive his signal. When he's not connected, you can still access it but it will be a degraded image. The sound, however, should still be good so long as you're within a hundred kilometers."

"Yes, I know," Dawson replied. "I guess it's worth it." He opened his eyes.

"When are you meeting with Terra Gates?"

"In a few hours, in Washington. I'll give her the bug to wear, even though we have a much more reliable source of information now."

"Good, it always helps to have a second source, and it should help us determine her loyalties as well." Damon said. "What about Jeff Hughes?"

"He hasn't been up to much. We still have his apartment bugged, but he hasn't been doing much of anything. Watching vids, eating out, playing stim games with his companion. But we can't monitor his companion so we're not sure what he's up to all the time when he's in the datasphere."

"Yes, well I'm sure he's up to something. They obviously are going to go after 6.7. We just need to find out when and how. I have a ship standing by for you in orbit; it's been reassigned from The Fleet to be under your command. There is also a squad of marines on board to help you in the event that you need a little brute force on your side. You should be able to follow them anywhere in the system with it." Damon got up.

It made Dawson's stomach a little unsettled just thinking about it. He didn't care for space that much. It always made him nauseous even though his companion could suppress most of it. "Will you be accompanying me?" he asked, trying to put the thoughts of space sickness out of his mind.

"No, of course not, I trust you to handle the entire affair. Just bring back Storm and his coconspirators if there are any. And, of course, you will keep me updated with reports, and have the ship relay all of Sam 23.1's transmissions to me," Damon instructed.

_Great, a leash,_ Dawson thought. _But at least he'll be too far to do much but give general orders. And a navy ship will be interesting._

"Sounds good. I'm going to head back to Washington and get ready for tonight," Dawson said, getting up. Damon just nodded and walked away. _Dismissed,_ Dawson thought and headed for the door. He'd be in Washington in a half-hour. Things were just starting to get interesting.

### Chapter 18

Terra was in her office at the UMG embassy when a call interrupted her. It was Agent Dawson. Terra turned off the screen she had been working with to hide the information and engaged the comlink with Dawson via her ocular implants. Dawson appeared to be standing in front of her floating in space.

"Ah, Ms. Gates, it's good to see you again." Dawson said cheerfully with a big grin. Terra wasn't exactly happy to see him, but she didn't let it show.

"Agent Dawson, I'm glad you called. I was just about to contact you about my meeting tonight at Sam's crèche sister's house," Terra said, she was just finishing up her plans. It had taken her most of a week to get everything arranged, and she had her friend Emelda, the ambassador, call in a lot of favors to help her pull it off.

"Of course, but I was getting anxious knowing that the meeting was coming up so soon. Can we meet?" he asked.

"Certainly, where?"

"At the Washington zip train terminal. There's a little coffee place there near terminal six. Do you know the place I'm talking about?"

"Yes, I know the one," Terra replied. She'd been there a few times before, but only with others. She didn't really like coffee.

"How about in an hour. Is that good for you?"

"Sounds fine."

"Good, see you there," Dawson said, and he was gone.

Terra breathed a sigh of relief. She had it all planned out, where they would go, how they would get there. But she still didn't know how they were going to pull off the escape from the surveillance they were sure to be under. The bug was just one piece of it that she wasn't sure how to deal with. She could go somewhere that would get rid of it, some place with a level five or better security fog field but it wasn't easy to wander into a place that would have one without a purpose. Even if they could get around the bugs, she didn't know how they would physically be able to get out of Stacy's apartment. That was up to Jeff. She had the plan and had made the arrangements for them to get to Mars without being identified.

The ship that was going to take them was already waiting for them on orbit. All they had to do was get to the Houston Spaceport and they would make their exodus. Terra took a deep breath to help calm herself. _No sense getting all worked up over things that I can't control. I just have to believe that Jeff will get us out of there as he promised._ Terra got up from her desk and logged off her session. She stretched, went to the closet and got out some jeans, a long sleeve white blouse and some comfortable but athletic type shoes. She needed to be dressed for moving quickly and her normal business like suit and dress shoes wouldn't do tonight.

Once she was dressed, she left her office and headed up the lift tube to the Ambassador's offices. Emelda was working when she poked her head in. "Emelda, do you have a minute?" she asked, not wanting to interrupt.

"Of course, I always have time for you, Terra," Emelda said, smiling. The last week had helped to mend the bad feelings Emelda had about Terra's other version. Once she understood and really knew in her heart that Terra was not her that person, she had warmed to this new version of an old friend. "Are you leaving?" she asked.

"Yeah, Agent Dawson just contacted me and wants to meet at the zip train station, probably to give me the bug and to reassure me that they can protect me from these guys." Terra took a seat on the couch.

Emelda got up from behind her desk and sat next to her on the couch facing her. "Well, everything is ready if you can get to the Spaceport. And please try to make it look as if you're cooperating with Harding to find Sam 6.7 and not that your doing it for your own interests.

"Don't worry, we'll put on a good show. And anyway our hands will be tipped tonight, I'm sure of it. Once I'm off Earth and out of the US, I'll have a lot more leeway to do what needs to be done for Mars," Terra remarked. She was looking forward to leaving Earth. It was a nice place to visit, but the politics were terrible, especially for a Martian.

"I just hope whatever you find is worth all this."

"Me too. But I have a feeling that whatever it was that Sam 6.7 promised me, it must have been something worth a fight, especially considering my other version's actions since my backup."

Emelda's face lowered a bit and she looked genuinely concerned. "Terra, Ariel Stoneman knows that you've been restored. I didn't tell her, but someone has tipped her off that you're back. I heard that she was furious for two days before she got herself totally back under control. You really couldn't have picked a worse time to go back to Mars. There are several important votes coming up that you could swing against Ariel. She's been working on these policies for several years and most of the public isn't happy about it, but she has most of the major shareholders on her side. If the vote passes, it will limit your family's power, and considering your other versions actions, I can't blame them. But you must stop them. You're not that person and I know you have the UMG's best interests in mind, not your own like Ariel. She'll be waiting for you and she will do anything she can to stop you from attending the vote."

Terra wasn't sure what to do. She hadn't been expecting this. "Did you just find out about this?" she asked.

Emelda nodded, "One of her staffers is a friend of mine. She lets me know what's really going on. I'm sure Ariel would be very unhappy to find that out. Anyway, she was only able to send me word a few hours ago. Just be careful, Terra. And stop the vote from passing."

It was always like this, the responsibility of her family. She had been free of it for the last week, free of the obligations her family set upon her. But it was still there, just waiting for her. She wasn't surprised that Ariel had an agenda, and she wasn't surprised that it was focused on disempowering Terra's family. She had to stop that from happening.

"I'll be careful, Emelda. And I will stop that woman," Terra promissed. She had to get to Mars quickly to be there for the vote. Normally someone could vote from a distance, but there had been provisions slipped into the bylaws in the past few centuries that made it necessary for any voting block of more than ten percent to be physically present at the vote. This was why her other version, by going on hiatus, had essentially given the planet to the other major families even though she knew that they didn't have Mars' best interests at heart.

"Good," Emelda said taking Terra's hands. "I know you'll do what's right. Have a safe journey home, Terra."

"Thank you for all your help, Emelda. I couldn't have done it without you," Terra said, embracing her friend. Her eyes were getting moist and she tried to hold the tears back. She was happy to have a friend again, confirmation that she wasn't the monster her other version had become.

"Now don't you start crying, or you'll get me going and I have a meeting with a senator in half hour," Emelda feigned a reprimand and let her go. Her eyes were looking watery too.

"I'll see you back home," Terra said, rising and making her way to the door before she did start crying.

"I hope so," Emelda whispered as she watched Terra go.

***

Terra saw Agent Dawson sitting at one of the bistro tables near the back of the automated café. There were several ordering booths that would make anything on the menu in less than a minute. No one would want to spend their time working in a place with such high volume, no personal contact. And no one needed money enough to have to take that kind of work. The booths worked well for their purpose and freed people to do other less menial things.

She walked up to Agent Dawson and he stood up. "It's good to see you again, Ms. Gates. Can I get you something?"

"Sure, I'll have a Chai latte," Terra said, sitting down.

Dawson walked over to one of the dispensing booths and put in the order. Terra looked around. The café was about half full. There were several of them around the perimeter of the large terminal. After a moment Dawson returned with her Chai and whatever it was he had ordered. He handed the drink to her and she thanked him.

"No problem. I trust everything has been going all right for you this past week. Are you getting used to your new body and the circumstances that brought you here?" he asked, taking a sip of his drink.

"As used to it as one can get in a week, I suppose," she replied. She clasped the warm drink in her hand. She was a bit cold. She should have remembered to bring a coat, but she hadn't been thinking about it.

"Yes, I can understand that. I wanted to let you know that besides the wire you'll be wearing, we'll have real agents posted very near by to keep an eye out," he said, getting to business. "If there is any trouble, just slip the phrase 'lost at sea' into any conversation, and we'll come after you. The bug also has a tracking device so we'll be able to keep tabs on you if you should be forced to leave the apartment," Dawson explained.

"Is all this really necessary? They can't be that bad can they? I met Jeff Hughes not that long ago and he seemed like a nice man to me."

"No, we don't expect you to be in any real danger, but remember Jeff is Sam 6.7's crèche mate and a Newbie. Who knows how deep this thing goes? Whomever Sam is working with were willing to kill helpless non-corporeal people. We're not sure that they wouldn't resort to violence. We just want to be prepared, that's all," Dawson assured her.

"Well, I do feel better knowing you will have people nearby," Terra lied. It was just going to make her life more difficult.

Dawson just nodded. He reached his hand in to the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small plastic bag. It looked empty.

"Is that the bug?" Terra asked squinting at the bag to try and see whatever was supposed to be in there.

"Yes, don't bother trying to see it; it's about the size of a grain of sand. I'm going to have it implant itself in your blouse. It should give us a good view, and it will even camouflage itself to look the same color of your shirt," Dawson said, opening the bag. "I'm interfacing with the bug through my companion. I'm going to tell it to implant itself."

Nothing appeared to happen, Terra waited patiently for a few seconds then arched her eyebrows.

Dawson stopped concentrating and looked back at her. "It's done. I'm running a system check now. Good, I'm receiving a good picture and good audio. It'll stay on your shirt until we retrieve it later after the meeting."

"Well, that was a little anticlimactic," Terra commented.

"Yeah, well that's modern technology for you, too small to see and kind of boring. It only gets interesting when you have millions of these little guys. Kind of like utility fog," Dawson agreed, taking another sip of his drink. "You should probably go soon. There's an express leaving for Denver in about ten minutes. I'll have someone following you and we already have our surveillance team watching the apartment. You'll have someone nearby the whole time."

Terra nodded and stood up. She realized that she hadn't even had any of her drink. She took a sip. It was already getting cold but it was still good.

"Well, I guess I'm ready," she said, taking a deep breath.

"Don't worry, and remember the code phrase 'lost at sea'. Just say that and we'll be inside as fast as possible," Dawson reminded her.

"I hope it doesn't come to that. I'm really ready to head back to Mars."

"I can't say I blame you, Ms. Gates. Good luck." Dawson stood and extended his hand his hand. Terra didn't hesitate to take it; no need to break character.

"We'll want to talk to you after the meeting, or tomorrow. Just a debrief to get any information that the recording might have missed, and your impressions of everything."

Terra just nodded. She sincerely hoped that tomorrow she'd be on her way to Mars. "Of course, that will be fine. Well I'm ready, thanks for all your support, Agent Dawson."

"You're most welcome," Dawson said. "And be careful."

"I will," Terra replied, turning to leave. Dawson watched her go and then sat back down

### Chapter 19

"You planted the bugs?" Damon Harding asked. His miniature figure appeared to be standing on the bistro table where Dawson was still sitting. Terra had boarded the express zip train to Denver only minutes ago.

"Yes, there are about fifty of them on her. Some are on her clothes, some on her skin and some in her hair. She shouldn't be able to ditch them even if she wants to. And of course we always have our other source in case anything happens to the bugs." Dawson said.

"Good, are you leaving for Denver?"

"I'll be on the next train. It's not an express, but I'll be there by the time she arrives for the meeting, and I'm in constant contact with the agents at the scene. We'll keep an eye on them," Dawson reassured him.

"Just don't forget that we want them to think they have gotten away. I'm sure they'll try to make a break for it, so don't let your agents catch them. Just stay on their heels, as far as it takes you. Understand?" Damon said.

The man was still imposing even when he was the size of an action figure. "Don't worry, Mr. Harding, I understand the plan perfectly," Dawson replied though he didn't know why the guy treated him like a child.

"I worry about everything, Mr. Harding, that's why I'm where I am," Damon retorted and cut the connection.

"Ass," Dawson whispered as he took another sip of his mocha. He didn't want Terra to get hurt. He liked her. She was in the game for her and her planet. He couldn't blame her for that; he was in it for him and his. Dawson finished his drink and dropped it in the waste bin as he headed towards the terminal where the next zip train to Denver was due to arrive.

### Chapter 20

Terra landed gracefully outside Stacy's apartment building. It was a nice looking place with a lot of windows in the front. Terra guessed that from those windows there must be a great view of the Rocky Mountains. She was getting pretty good at flying now, having spent several hours after her tour with Jeff just having fun soaring about. It was addicting to be free of the constraints of Earth bound life, even for a short time. She would miss that the most when she left.

She headed up the stairs to the apartment entrance on the second floor, taking a quick look around from the entrance and trying to figure out where the surveillance might be. Then she knocked a few times.

After a few seconds the door opened and Jeff greeted her. "Terra, it's good to see you again," he said smiling.

"You too, Jeff."

"Well, come on inside, I'm afraid that Stacy couldn't be here. An emergency came up with one of her kids," Jeff said moving back a step so she could enter.

"I hope it's not serious," Terra said and meant it. She hadn't known Stacy had children. She gave Sam a mental black mark for involving someone with children.

"No, it's one of her students. She's a elementary school teacher. She has a group not unlike the one that we saw on the tour," Jeff explained. "I guess the child managed to get in to the zip train terminal without a guardian and was on the train to Tokyo to visit her relatives before any one knew what was happening."

Terra took back the black mark. She laughed a little. "Smart kid to get around all your high tech Newbie security."

"Yeah, they're going to have to find out how she got around security. We can't have all the kids wandering about the world without a proper guardian, now can we?"

"Definitely not," Terra agreed.

Jeff closed the door and took her in to the kitchen where what looked like a wonderful meal was waiting. The smell made her mouth start to water. Stacy must be a good cook. She mentioned the smell.

Jeff noticed her appreciation. "Yeah, that's my crèche sister. She's a great cook, she had all this ready for us but then got the call about her student and had to leave. She called me just before I left to come over," Jeff related. He kept the conversation pleasant and light hearted for the next few minutes until there was another knock at the door. "That'll be Sam," Jeff said a little nervously, moving for the door. Terra followed him.

When Jeff opened the door, a man was standing there facing him who Terra recognized immediately despite the fact that he looked decades younger than the Sam she had known. But strangely in her displays his name came up as Gregory Hillman. Jeff just stood there looking at him. Then he stepped forward and embraced Sam like a brother. Sam hugged him back. Sam had briefly looked surprised to see Jeff, but Terra figured that it was expected. Jeff did look pretty old and this Sam wouldn't be expecting it.

"Sam, it's good to see you," Jeff said, letting go.

"You too, Jeff, though I can't say the circumstances are great. Where's Stacy? I've been dying to see her," Sam said trying to peer around Jeff who was taking up most of the doorway. Jeff explained her absence and Sam looked disappointed.

_He must suspect that he won't be around long enough to see her._ Terra thought.

Jeff stepped back to let Sam in. Terra waited for him to get inside. Jeff made the introduction. "Sam, this is Terra Gates. Terra, Sam Storm 23.1." Terra put out her hand and Sam took it. Terra felt a lot of things seeing him again, even if it wasn't the same man.

"Ms. Gates, It's an honor to meet you. I had no idea I'd be in such company." Sam said graciously taking her hand. Terra remembered just how suave the guy was. It seemed Sam's charisma wasn't something he had developed later in life, just a natural charm.

"It's good to meet you too, Sam. And you flatter me too much," she said.

Sam just gave her a smile that melted her heart. She hadn't been immune to the other Sam's charms either, though now she would like to give him a good slap on the cheek...but this Sam knew nothing of that.

"In my displays your name comes up as Gregory Hillman. Is that right or is my companion malfunctioning?" Terra asked.

_Never,_ Plato commented.

_I'm just kidding with him, I know you wouldn't make that kind of mistake,_ Terra replied silently to her companion.

"Oh, well that's Damon Harding's work. I couldn't very well walk around and travel the tubes with my real name, could I? I'm not sure if I like the name yet, but at least it gives me a chance to have a life and not just be caught up in the hurricane my other version has stirred up," Sam responded cheerfully. He was apparently taking the whole thing in stride.

"Well," Jeff said, looking Sam up and down as if he still couldn't believe he was there, "dinner awaits and I know Stacy would be disappointed if we didn't eat it before it got cold."

Jeff led them back to the kitchen and they served themselves and took their plates to the dining room. They didn't talk much at first. Sam was apparently ravenous, which was expected considering he'd been restored only yesterday. Jeff seemed to be content just to take it all in.

Sam went back for seconds while Jeff just sat there in front of his empty plate silent. Terra was starting to get anxious. The food had been good, but she didn't eat too much. If they were going to be moving quickly, a very full stomach was not a good traveling companion.

"You'll have to give your sister my compliments. This is wonderful," Terra said.

"I'll will, she may even make it back before it gets too late, and you can tell her yourself, depending on the zip train schedules, of course," Jeff added.

Sam returned to the room and proceeded to dig in. Terra noticed that Jeff was fiddling with something under the table. Then Terra heard a snap and Jeff stood up.

"We don't have much time," Jeff explained. "I've temporarily disrupted all of the bugs in this room, of which there are hundreds and not all on Terra."

Sam had stopped eating and looked up at his crèche brother concerned.

"What are you going to do about them?" Terra asked.

"Since you arrived I've had my companion and some special equipment isolating the transmitting frequency of all the bugs. The equipment is now transmitting a fake simulation of our dinner. Sam will go for thirds and we'll all start talking about Sam 6.7 but nothing useful. Hopefully by the time they figure it out we'll already be well out of here. But first things first. Terra you come here."

Terra, stood up and Jeff ushered her down the hallway and opened up a small closet that was lined with metal foil. "Just stand in here for a minute." He closed the closet door. Terra felt a buzzing and then the door was opened again.

"What was that?" Terra asked.

"Same thing as a security fog field. Should be enough to disable and remove whatever bugs they had on you." Jeff explained pulling her out of the closet. Behind him was standing Sam. "You're next Sam," Jeff directed and Sam stepped in to the closet.

Jeff said. "I only got this thing set up just before you arrived." They waited and then opened the door back up and Sam stepped out.

"Now me." Jeff stepped in. "Closing the door will activate the field," he clarified, closing himself in. After a minute he came back out. Terra and Sam were both staring at him, waiting. Jeff had obviously been planning and scheming just as much as Terra in the last week.

"Now we get the hell out of here. I presume you have somewhere for us to go," Jeff looked at Terra expectantly. She nodded.

"All right, we've got to leave," Jeff said, reaching in to his jacket pockets. He pulled out several small canisters about half the size of a soft drink can. "Open these and pour the contents over your head."

"What is it?" Sam asked, looking at the transparent bottle. It appeared to contain water.

"It's a special utility fog that's presently simulating water. Hurry," he added opening his bottle and pouring it on over himself. Terra noticed that he didn't look wet. The stuff was more like a thick clear syrup. It flowed over Jeff and as it finished covering him Jeff quickly faded away leaving nothing but a small shimmer that was almost unnoticeable.

Sam looked amazed and Terra was astounded. _What is this stuff?_ she wondered.

"I said hurry. I'll explain it to you later," the disembodied voice of Jeff reminded them. Sam and Terra quickly opened their bottles and poured the contents on their heads. It felt warm and it was a strange sensation to have it cover her body. After the twenty or so seconds it took to cover her, she watched but nothing happened.

"It's not working," she worried. Sam had disappeared just like Jeff.

"Yeah it is," Sam's voice came through. "I can't see you any more, just a shimmer but I'm still visible."

"You're both camouflaged, that's all. And, of course, you can see yourselves. It wouldn't do you any good to trip over something because you couldn't see your feet. Now these fog cloaks make us look invisible and they have enough power to keep our heat signatures occluded for a few hours, so let's make the most of it. We're going out the back window. It's down the hall. I had the glass replaced with a simulation earlier, so we can go right through it but no one will be able to see us. But first put your canisters on the floor so I can see them." They did.

As Terra moved her hand away from the canister, it reappeared as the fog that was hiding it pulled away. A second later they both disappeared again. "Let's go," Jeff said once he had the canisters and started off down the hall. They all started following the sound of Jeff's footsteps. Terra bumped into Sam on the way.

"Sorry, couldn't see you," she said, and Sam just snickered.

"Once we're outside, be perfectly quiet. We're heading for the zip train station. When you get there, go down the tube and head for the men's restroom near terminal six." Jeff instructed.

It made sense when she thought about it. They couldn't follow each other but if they knew where to regroup, they could make it. "Got it," Terra replied.

"Me too," said Sam.

"Good, it's that window on the right. See you there," Jeff continued, and then his presence was gone.

"Go ahead, Terra, I'll follow you," Sam prompted.

She imagined him gesturing with his invisible hands. "Thanks," she said moving toward the window.

_Initiate flight mode._ She commanded Plato.

_Flight mode initiated._ Plato replied.

The heads up displays she had used earlier reappeared, and she leaped through what she hoped was the right window. It must have been because she didn't feel herself crash into anything. She pointed her arms skyward and headed out.

Terra flew low most of the way, using buildings and trees for cover. She moved at about ten percent of the speed she would normally use because she didn't know if the city tracking system was working to keep her safe. Probably Jeff had called in favors from his fellow Newbies to help them pull this off. The Newbies at least would be on their side, even if they didn't approve of Sam Storm 6.7's actions. She made her way to the zip tube station entrance and landed gently near the down tube. She stepped in. There were only a few others taking the tube down.

Terra silently wondered if Sam or Jeff were there with her. No way to know. Once she was in the terminal she headed towards terminal six and she saw the sign for a men's restroom. She headed for it and only felt weird about going in to a men's restroom for a second. She walked in. There wasn't any one else in there, or at least she couldn't 'see' anyone.

"Jeff here," she heard a voice say.

"Terra here," she replied. There was no third voice.

"Just wait," Jeff said. After another few minutes the door opened and closed but no one came in.

"Jeff here," Jeff repeated.

"Sam here," Sam's voice echoed.

"Terra here," she added.

"Okay, we made it. Now I'm going to have my companion send you the access codes to the camouflage. Once you have them, tell it to initiate impersonation mode," Jeff instructed.

Plato informed Terra that the codes had been received. She put in the command for impersonation mode. Three people became visible, but surprisingly they didn't look at all like themselves. They all appeared to be men. One was tall and young. The other was shorter and looked to be mid-thirties. Terra turned and saw the third man turn in the mirror. It was her; she looked like another young man.

"Wow," she said, startled that her voice had become lower, the approximation of a man's. She moved around a bit watching herself in the mirror. This was strange.

"This is really diff," Sam commented. _Diff_ was the Newbie term for cool. She had always been amused that the Newbies would use differences and change as their slang for cool. It suited them.

"Let's go," Jeff said impatiently. Terra now had it sorted out in her head which was which. Sam was the older one and Jeff the younger. It was ironic actually. "They can keep this up only for an hour or so and then their power will be depleted. It's up to you now, Terra."

"Terminal eight," she directed, heading for the door. Terra had a different train picked for the first leg every ten minutes depending on when they arrived at the terminal.

"London?" Sam asked.

"For a start," Terra replied.

They left the restroom and headed towards terminal eight. As they got to the departure platform the train had just arrived and passengers were disembarking. They all entered the train. Their companions informed them of the train fair charges.

"Don't worry, we are projecting false identities. They'll hold up to the visual recognition system," Jeff whispered as they made their way to the seats in the back of the train.

Terra felt allot of tension slip away, she had been unsure how they would be able to bord the train without being identified. It was the last thing about which she was uncertain concerning this portion of the escape. She had trusted Jeff, and it had all worked out fine. Once the train was loaded it dropped down into the zip tube and started to accelerate for London. It was an express and they'd be there in less than thirty-six minutes. Terra initiated a direct com link to Sam's and Jeff's companions. She would be able to think at them and they'd hear it through their companions which would keep them from being overheard.

"This stuff is great, Jeff. How'd you come by it?" Terra asked through Plato.

"The fog you mean? I got it from some friends of mine at Fog Works. It's a product they make for the military, and it's classified so don't spread it around," Jeff explained, sub-vocalizing to his companion which Terra had momentarily forgotten was not an implant.

"How long ago was it invented?" Sam asked.

"Ten or so years ago," Jeff replied. "I hadn't known about it until a few days ago but it seemed perfect for our purposes. If the military were using it, they'd have a power pack and be able to sustain the simulation for weeks if necessary. Too bad we don't have any of them."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "That would make our trip to Mars completely anonymous."

"And right now that could be a good thing," Terra chimed in.

"What do you mean?" Jeff asked. "Won't we be safer once we're off Earth?"

"Off Earth, yes. On Mars, not exactly. Apparently Ariel Stoneman knows that I've been restored, which brings my family's votes back on the table, and they are enough to block some legislation she's been working on. She is furious, from what my friend tells me, and will do anything to stop me. I've been assured that the pilot of the ship that's going to take us there is out of the loop, so we shouldn't have to worry, but these impersonation cloaks would be really handy there to keep us out of trouble."

"Well if there is still power left, we can make the fog go back into the canister and we can recharge it through the canister's power adapter, but we'll need to remove the camouflage in..." Jeff paused to check the readout of the camouflage in his displays, "About one-hundred and ten more minutes."

"How do you know that?" Sam asked.

"There's a display you can enable with the camouflage; it'll show up in your ocular implant. I didn't mention it because we didn't have the time but if you have your companion access the fog and have it send the standard display initialization, it'll become visible to you."

Terra asked Plato to show her any camouflage displays. They appeared in her visual field. There was a bar meter showing the amount of power remaining and a clock that was counting down. It also listed that she was in impersonation mode with pattern six. She had Plato show her the other patterns. Sam's and Jeff's were listed as three and four. There were also several female figures and various uniformed personnel. It was definitely a spy device.

"Another splendid US controlled technology," Terra said.

"Yes," Sam agreed, "It's always that way isn't it?"

Terra wanted to nod in agreement but it might give them away. The thing that really bothered her about using the direct communication was that they lost the extra information of voice tone and facial expression. It was more like hearing mail read aloud.

"Yeah," Terra replied.

"So if you want to keep it we have to put it back in its canister before the clock runs out. Otherwise it'll just fall off wherever we are," Jeff reminded her.

Terra had Plato check the zip train schedule out of London heading for Houston. There was an express leaving twelve minutes after their arrival, she told Sam and Jeff.

"Good we'll make it just in time to Houston to save this stuff. Will we be able to make it to the spaceport, Terra?" Sam asked.

"It has been arranged for us to be taken to the spaceport. And I've been assured we'll be able to make orbit without being monitored."

"Well, that gives us ten minutes to spare on the camouflage once we get to Houston," Sam calculated. They were all silent for a minute. Then Sam asked. "So why are you along with Jeff and me, Terra? What did 6.7 do to you?"

"I really don't want to discuss it until we're off Earth. I don't even trust the direct links between our companions right now. Once we get orbit, I'll tell you anything you want to know," Terra replied.

"Gotcha," Sam said.

"Did you get a chance to try flying in Denver?" Sam asked aloud. It took Terra aback for a moment. She had gotten used to their links.

"Yeah, it was great," she shared her enthusiasm. "I really liked the free flight mode. I got to put in a few hours last week. They didn't have that last time you were in the city, did they?"

"Nope, it was different last time I was there. It's always different. A decade in the children's city is like a thousand years in the rest of the world," Sam said, his impersonated figure grinning. Terra marveled at the complexity of the camouflage software to be able to transmit small facial expressions.

"That I can believe. I'd say that where I come from, it'd be about a century to your decade," Terra remarked.

"Really. I've never been there," Sam said, "But I've always wanted to go."

"Soon enough," Jeff warned through the companion link. "Keep the chatter to a minimum we don't want to attract any attention."

"Sure," Sam's reply came over the link.

They all got a little more comfortable in their chairs and settled down for the rest of the trip. Terra was looking forward the getting off Earth. At least they'd be able to talk then.

### Chapter 21

Dawson was amused and amazed. They'd managed to get away without any of his agents noticing. _Classified technology, I can't believe they got their hands on that and I really can't believe what it can do,_ he thought. Dawson had headed for the zip train terminal as soon as they left for London. He took the first train to the Houston Spaceport. If it hadn't been for the bug in Sam's companion he wouldn't never have known where to go.

A call came through to Dawson while he was zipping towards Houston, Dawson initiated a link.

"So, Agent Dawson, they've managed to slip through your other agents fingers. Aren't you glad you have a more reliable source than them and your bugs?" Damon said smirking.

"Yeah, I have to admit the thing works," Dawson replied. "I'm on my way to Houston now."

"Good, keep an eye on them, but let them get into space. I have someone waiting for you at the Spaceport who'll get you to orbit and to the ship that's been assigned to you. Your marines are already onboard and ready to go. You should be able to beat them to Mars, regardless of whatever transport they've arranged."

Dawson sighed. "Yeah, I'll keep a close eye out."

"I was impressed by Jeff Hughe's ability to secure that camouflage technology. I should have known that he'd get that kind of support from the other Newbies. They're all sympathizers."

"Newbies," Dawson said in disgust. His comment got him a few looks from the other passengers, some nodding in agreement some frowning. Dawson didn't care. He was tired. This pursuit had only just started and he was already tired of it.

"Check in with me once you're on your way," Damon ordered.

"Will do," Dawson replied. Damon broke the connection and was gone, and he was grateful. He was not looking forward to this trip. Ten minutes later the zip train pulled into the station at the Houston Spaceport. Dawson took the short lift tube to the central terminal. There was a man waiting who greeted him as soon as he got out of the tube column. He was dressed in a fleet uniform.

"Agent Dawson?" The man asked cautiously.

"Yes."

"I'm Lieutenant Commander Bowman. I'm here to accompany you to the Powel," he said, extending his hand.

"Good to meet you. Lead the way," Dawson shook his hand.

"Follow me, Sir," Bowman instructed, releasing his grip and starting to head towards one of the exits of the main zip train terminal.

There was a long passage that led directly to the terminal from the Spaceport. They walked through the arch to the start of the long corridor. As soon as they passed through the arch, they began to accelerate. The lateral fog tube would take them the thirty or so miles to the Spaceport lift column. The trip only took about five minutes and it beat ground transportation.

Dawson saw the exit arch approaching off in the distance and he felt him self begin to slow as they neared it. As they reached the exit, they were only moving at a walking pace, and when Dawson stepped out of the tube, he came to a halt. Lt. Commander Bowman led the way to the central lift column that went up to the Spaceport. Dawson followed, and they were quickly rushed upward to the surface.

When they emerged, they were inside a huge terminal. The Spaceport was built in a standard starburst layout. There was a large central dome that contained all the amenities, restaurants and spaceline ticket counters. From the central domes extending in fifteen directions around its perimeter were smaller spokes that went out to miniature domes and from those miniature domes were more spokes that were the gates to the individual vehicles. It was all very fractal. There was only one spoke missing from the pattern, instead there was an access road. The road was used mainly for cargo as the zip-tube link to the Spaceport was much easier for Hustonites and other travelers. Bowman led Dawson directly to the entrance of spoke seven, which was Fleet only. There were several armed guards at the entrance. Bowman turned and indicated for Dawson to stop.

"Wait here, Sir, I'll clear us," he directed, and proceeded to talk with the guards.

Dawson pivoted and took it all in. The central dome was immense. It had to be a quarter mile high in the middle. The sides curved downward to make a perfect half sphere. Dawson had seen pictures of the Spaceport from the air. It looked like a giant ping pong ball half buried with smaller ping pong balls surrounding it connected by small spokes. The design was efficient, except for getting around in the big dome, but there wasn't nearly the number of travelers that the airlines of the twentieth and twenty-first century had had to deal with. Of course now that there were zip tubes, you didn't see any more passenger jets flying around, only cruise zeppelins taking their passengers on scenic tours of the world at a very slow pace. Who was in a rush anyway? They had all the time they needed.

Dawson turned back and found his escort waiting. "Big place, isn't it?"

"Yes, Sir," Bowman replied. "Shall we? Our launch is waiting."

Dawson moved to follow and Bowman led him through the entrance; the guards gave Dawson a staring glance as he passed. The corridor was another lateral lift tube, half dedicated to travel out the spoke to the smaller hubs and half that returned from the small hub to the main terminal. They walked into the spokeward section and were immediately accelerated. The Fleet terminal was over a mile away. It paid to have a lot of room when you were lifting out of a Spaceport.

"What kind of ship is the Powel?" Dawson asked.

"She's a fast attack, Sir. Fastest ship in the solar system. She finished trials only six months ago," The Lt. Commander said with pride.

"Have you been serving on her the whole time?"

"Yes, Sir, since she was commissioned two years ago. She is the first of her class."

"Antimatter?" Dawson asked.

"What else?" Bowman shrugged.

"Just wondering what kinds of technologies the Fleet is using now," Dawson clarified. They had just come to the end of the tube and were slowed for a gentle exit.

"This way please," his escort said.

The smaller dome had a large corridor that went around the circumference. In the middle were offices of the Fleet personnel who were stationed at the spaceport. Bowman led him around the circumference to the far side of the dome where they came to another small spoke that extended. This spoke was transparent except for the walkway beneath them. There was no fog field this time, and the spoke was only about twenty meters long. Through the spoke walls Dawson could see the launch. It was almost identical to the limo he had taken with Sam the previous day, but twice the size. Dawson could see the heavy autorotors folded neatly on the three visible sides of the launch. Bowman led him out through the spoke to the entrance hatch which was at least five meters off the ground and covered with sparkling sand.

The sand was actually solid and was a diamond and sapphire concrete that covered the entire area for a hundred meters around the dome. It wasn't there for show. It was there for times when a rocket powered launch or lander used its rockets to take off instead of an autorotor. The thrust was so hot that it would melt any normal material, but the diamond sapphire composite concrete wouldn't melt; it would just glow and then cool. Fortunately most launches these days used the autorotor technology to take off and land. They'd fly up a few thousand feet and then kick off their water-antimatter rocket.

The part of the launch that the tube connected with was perfectly smooth with the rest of the hull, there was no indication of an opening at all. When they approached the hull, Bowman put his hand on the hull and a second later a doorway sized section pulled in and slid to the side. "Just in here, Sir," he directed and Dawson stepped on board. They moved into a large room that spanned the entire width of the ship. There were three large structural beams arranged symmetrically about the center and a number of crates and boxes were stacked to half the height of the ceiling.

"This is the hold. We don't have many people who needed to be transported to or from the surface, so we used the opportunity to stock up on some fresh produce for the galley and other supplies," the commander explained, while leading the way through a narrow path between the crates.

Dawson followed him to the center of the room, which was clear and he saw a small lift column.

"Just up there is the crew compartment where we'll ride," Bowman added.

Dawson stepped into the column and was lifted upward through a meter-wide opening in the floor of the crew deck. When he emerged, he noticed that there were several dozen restraint chairs arranged around the room that were empty. As he stepped out of the column, the Lt. Commander came up behind him. Dawson took a look up. Ten feet farther above them was another small hole through which Dawson could see the cockpit. It wasn't empty; there were two people looking down at him.

"Lieutenant Aster, please prepare for lift," Bowman yelled up the hole.

"Aye, Sir," one of the pilots responded. "Five minutes."

"Please have a seat, Agent Dawson. We're on a short schedule here. The Powel is coming around and will be in position to rendezvous with us in approximately fifteen minutes. If we miss her, we'll have to wait up there for a half hour before she comes around again."

Dawson sank into one of the chairs. "Can you make the walls transparent?" he inquired.

"Yeah. Lieutenant Graves, please give us some port-holes down here," he ordered and sat down in one of the seats.

Several large transparent windows appeared around the room. Each spanned almost a third of the entire circumference with small sections of wall between them. From this vantage point Dawson got a clear look back at the spaceport. He could see several other ships lifting in the distance, and then he saw a bright flash in the sky that must have been a lifter kicking off its rocket at altitude.

"Restraints on," one of the lieutenants called down. Dawson felt the fog restraint field come on and his restraint chair took hold. He wasn't going anywhere. "Deploying autorotors, prepare for lift. Preflight check complete. Lifting in one minute, retracting gang way." Through the window Dawson could see the walkway spoke that had connected them with the Fleet terminal retract to give them ten meters of space.

"I hope you like space travel, Agent Dawson," Lt. Commander Bowman said looking over at him. He gave Dawson a glance that said, "Civilian," all over. Dawson was sure that he wasn't in for a pleasant reception. If the Lt. Commander wasn't happy having him there, the Captain must be really miffed.

"Love it," Dawson responded sarcastically. He would have to let them know that this was his operation. He had Damon Harding and the US government backing his authority. The Fleet would just have to deal with it.

The Fleet was an international space force that protected the orbital, lunar, Martian and other installations throughout the solar system from both natural and human threats. They protected their charges from comet and asteroid collisions and from pirates that operated out of unknown bases in the Asteroid Belt. At least that was their official charter. Really they were there to let the rest of the solar system know that Earth was firmly in charge.

Even though the Fleet was international, it was totally funded and manned by the nations of Earth. It was widely known but not publicized that if you wanted to command, you had better be American. This further enforced the US domination of the solar system, something that grated on Earth's other nations, but if they wanted access to restoration, they had to cooperate until something changed.

The Lieutenant counted down to lift off. Dawson mentally braced himself even though he knew that the lift wouldn't be violent at all until they had reached several thousand feet and ignited their antimatter rocket.

As the Lieutenant finished his countdown, the autorotors that were flat along the sides of the launch lifted up until they were straight out from the nose of the craft, and then small rockets could be seen igniting at their tips, starting to accelerate the rotor blades to a fantastic rate. It didn't take but a moment before they lifted off, slowly at first with some translation away from the Spaceport, and then they began to climb. It would only take a minute or two for them to reach altitude for the rockets. Dawson watched the Spaceport fall away below them. The main dome was still huge but the smaller terminals were shrinking away.

"Initiating antimatter motor," the pilot called. The thrust from the rocket was small at first, just giving enough thrust to hold the craft still as the rotors slowed and then finally stopped and closed down to be stowed against the sides of the launch. Then once they were stowed, Dawson heard the roar of the engines as hundreds of kilograms of water were superheated by milligrams of antimatter from the antimatter storage device and spewed forth from the launch, pushing them all back in to their seats with several _g's_ of force. Dawson closed his eyes now and gripped firmly the arms of his restraint chair.

He knew that the chair and the fog restraining system wouldn't allow them to be injured but just the same he liked the feel of something solid that he could hold on to. He didn't like the launch and he didn't like the weightlessness, but he was resigned to continue on his path.

The lift lasted for only a few minutes, and Dawson opened his eyes as soon as the engines cut out. He could see Earth below now; it filled most of one of the windows. From the other windows he could see the sun and deep space. Fortunately, because the windows were only images on large display screens, he didn't have to worry about the sun's intensity.

"We have orbit, setting for rendezvous with the Powel," the pilot said.

"How long will it take to rendezvous?" Dawson asked, noticing that the Lt. Commander was watching him, trying to hide his contempt for the land lover he had been inconveniently asked to go and retrieve from the surface.

"About eight minutes. She should be coming around the horizon any minute now. We'll meet at five hundred. You'll be on board in fifteen."

After another minute or so, Dawson saw a bright point come over the horizon of the planet that he knew would be the Powel. The launch continued to coast towards a point where the two spacecraft would intercept. It didn't take long for them to meet, and Dawson could see the whole ship now. It was only about ten times the size of the launch. The ship was basically a long cigar with a hole about two thirds of the way back. The whole ship was perfectly smooth. Dawson couldn't see any real surface features except a few lights and the registry markings that identified it as the Fleet ship Powel, IF342A.

"Matching velocity and trajectory," the pilot spoke again. Dawson felt a brief acceleration as the launch fired its rockets to bring the two object orbital vectors to match. "Matched, initiating docking sequence." The smaller launch moved over the top of the ship closer to a hole, that appeared on the surface. Dawson realized the hole had about the same circumference as the launch. As they settled directly over the hole they came to a stop hovering just above the larger ship.

"Initiating fog docking system," the pilot said. Dawson couldn't see anything.

"What's this fog docking system?" he asked. The Lt. Commander was staring into space which Dawson recognized as someone using their ocular implants.

"Because the launch is designed to fit tightly in the docking port, we don't leave the actual docking to thrusters. The Powel will extend some fog from the port which will gently grab us like a large hand and pull us in like a tether. It'll correct for any deviation in our relative attitude with the port and will keep us from banging into anything. Once we're in the Hull will close in over us seamlessly, and you'll never even know that the launch is there. It'll be totally integrated with the ship," the Lt. Commander explained without looking at him. "I'm just monitoring the process through an aft view in my ocular implants. You can watch it you want. Have your companion access the launch visual system and give you aft center view."

Dawson did and he could now see them gently being pulled down into the waiting docking port. The bottom of the launch entered the port and they continued to move downward. Dawson switched to a forward view and watched the walls of the port slide up around them until the entire launch was inside the cylindrical port. Then the top opening of the port seemed to flow over them until he couldn't see the stars anymore.

"Amazing," Dawson commented.

"It's new for this model. There will be more systems like it on all classes of Fleet ships in the future," the Lt. Commander informed him. Dawson disabled the outside view in his implants.

"Docking complete. Disengaging restraint system," the pilot updated them. Dawson felt himself come loose, and then he felt the simulated gravity force. It managed to make him feel both heavy and queasy at the same time. The Lt. Commander noticed.

"Don't like the synthetic?" he asked, arching his eyebrows.

"I'm just not used to it. It always makes me feel queasy," Dawson replied.

"Yeah, you'll get used to it in a few days and you won't even know it's there. We keep the ship at three quarters gravity unless we need more or less while we're not under power. It'll feel like real gravity once we start acceleration.

"I can't wait," Dawson said.

The two pilots came down from the cockpit in the lift field and saluted the Lt. Commander as they passed through the deck down into the hold. He could see them look him up and down as if they couldn't believe this guy was here.

"Let's head down to the hold and then we'll get into the main section of the Powel," Lt. Commander Bowman directed.

Dawson stepped in to the lift column and was lowered into the hold. The two lieutenants had already opened the hatch. Through it Dawson could see a corridor that went off into the distance. As he looked down the corridor he realized that the corridor, was not a hallway but a vertical shaft that went upwards towards the tip of the ship. Dawson felt momentarily disoriented as he stepped into the shaft.

Bowman followed him. "It takes a little getting used to. The fog has changed its vector field to reorient which way is up. This central lift column goes all the way to the top of the ship. There are ten decks from here up to the bridge. You can stop at any deck by saying stop, using your implant companion to set your destination, or just speaking your destination deck number. We will be going to deck one," he instructed, starting to ascend.

"Deck One," Dawson advised the system and began his own ascent. "So why is the ship laid out like this instead of the direction we were in when we came aboard?"

"When the Powel is under thrust, we can produce a sufficient number of g's to simulate Earth gravity or better, and it fires from the bottom of the ship. You wouldn't want to fly down the hallway when we're underway. This way the acceleration simply forces you in to the floor of the decks," Bowman explained as they continued to ascend.

"We'll get you a tour of the ship later," he added, noticing Dawson looking around at everything. Not that there was much that was interesting to look at here. "Right now I'm supposed to take you directly to the Captain."

Dawson noticed that outside of the main lift column there was a two or three foot ring decking at each level and around the ring were doors. He saw them pass the mess hall, computer room, crew quarters and finally as they reached the top, the bridge. The ceiling was marked _Main Bridge_ and as they approached, the ceiling split in two and slid open.

Once they were entirely inside, the portal closed behind them. They both stepped into the bridge and Dawson could see the bridge was actually rather small. There were several stations situated around the perimeter of the room manned by five crewmembers and in the center was the captain's seat, which was facing away from him. In the forward section of the bridge was a large view screen showing what Dawson assumed was what was ahead of the ship. It reminded him of old Star Trek episodes the way everything was laid out, just smaller.

The chair swiveled around and in the seat was a woman with short blond hair in a fleet uniform. She looked to be about thirty-five and moderately attractive. She obviously hadn't been messing with her physical attributes at her last restoration, Dawson liked that. He thought too many people had their physical parameters altered to make them look like models; he preferred what he had been born with. She stood and approached them.

"Agent Dawson, I presume," she said. "I'm Janet Whetherstone, Captain of the Powel. Welcome aboard." She extended her hand.

Dawson took it. "A pleasure to meet you, Captain, I only wish it were under better circumstances.

"Likewise, Agent Dawson. We received orders that you are in charge of the mission, but I should remind you that this is my ship so while you may tell us where to go the operations of this ship and the safety of its crew are my jurisdiction. So long as this is clear, we'll get along just fine," she clarified seriously.

"I understand, Captain. I don't want your job. I just need your help," Dawson said warmly, and he meant it. He wasn't suited for the military life. He'd joined up when he was only eighteen, when restoration technology was still in its infancy and long before the Fleet had been formed. He had stayed in his four years and hadn't re-enlisted. It didn't suit him at all, not the freedom of action that being a detective or agent had given him.

"Good, then that's settled," the Captain pronounced. "Do we need to move out immediately, or do we have time to get the cargo that came up with you stowed?"

"You should have time to do so. Has the nature of our mission been explained to you?"

"No, I've only heard that you tell us where to go. I assume that our objective is need to know only and that you'll explain as much as possible to me. I'd like to understand the dangers we may be facing so that I can be prepared to act should problems arise."

"I understand. I'll explain the mission to you once we're underway," Dawson reassured her.

"Good, I also assume you have been briefed on this ship's capabilities."

"No, actually I know nothing about it," Dawson admitted.

"Then I'll make sure you're briefed promptly. Would you like a tour since we're not leaving immediately?"

"No, actually, if you could show me to my quarters I need to check my intelligence sources to determine our exact time of departure and destination," Dawson said.

"Certainly. Lt. Commander Bowman will show you to you quarters. I'll authorize your neural implant companion's access to our communications systems."

"Thank you, Captain." Dawson was grateful that she was giving him the support he needed with minimal questions asked. He didn't want to reveal any part of his "intelligence sources" to her. He wasn't sure what she'd do if she did find out about the tap in to Sam 23.1's companion.

"This way, Agent Dawson," said Bowman, leading him back to the part of the floor that was the portal to the main shaft. The floor opened as they went to step on it and they were immediately lowered away. "We're going to deck three."

"Do I still need to tell the fog that I'm going there too?" Dawson asked.

"No, it knew what I meant," Bowman replied.

They continued to descend until they reached deck three and then the fog gently pushed them from the column on the ring of decking. Bowman led him around the ring to the door that was labeled _VIP Quarters_. These are your quarters, Agent Dawson. Please feel free to move about the ship, but don't get in anyone's way. I'll give you a tour any time you're ready. You can contact me through the ship's com system via your companion or any access panel."

"Thank you," Dawson said.

"Sure. I'll be back on the bridge." At that he turned and stepped back off the deck into the main shaft and zoomed upward.

Being on this ship was going to take some getting used to, Dawson decided. As he approached the doors to the VIP Quarters, they opened and Dawson stepped inside. The room was Spartan, but he imagined it was quite a bit larger than most of the crew would enjoy, if indeed they even had their own quarters, which he doubted. The space was about the size of a small hotel room and similarly laid out, except that where a bed would be there was a raised floor the size of a twin bed that Dawson assumed was a fog field.

Dawson had tried sleeping in fog fields, but he had never become comfortable with it. It could simulate the feeling of a real bed, but it wasn't the same when you opened your eyes and you were floating midair. He supposed that in space that wouldn't really make much difference. On the plus side, the fog weighed next to nothing which was good in space, and it could keep you warm. It could even opaque the edges so no one could see out or in. There was a decent sized screen against one of the walls, and off to one side was a small bathroom. It was uninteresting, as it looked like every other bathroom he'd ever seen only smaller, but thankfully it didn't look like a zero-g model.

He approached the screen and had Argus, his companion, access the datasphere through the ship's com system and initiate the link to Sam 23.1's neural implant.

### Chapter 22

The zip train from London to Houston had been uneventful, and that was giving Terra some confidence. Agent Dawson would know now for sure that they had escaped. But the fact that they had encountered no resistance what-so-ever meant that they were probably being allowed to escape. The camouflage suits were great but they would have to take them off sooner or later. She also knew that there weren't that many surface to orbit trips in a given day, it wouldn't be hard to track three people traveling together. However once they were off Earth, Terra was hoping they'd be able to lose their tail.

The train had only just arrived at the Houston terminal and was raising up to unload passengers. The clock on Terra's camouflage display told her that she had approximately forty-five minutes of power remaining. _We'd better move quickly,_ she thought.

"Ready to go?" Sam asked aloud.

"Yep," was Jeff's reply. His camouflage provided face was smiling; he must be getting a little more confident too.

The train came to a stop and as soon as the door was opened they offloaded and moved quickly to the terminal. Terra didn't see anyone that looked like a tail, but that didn't mean there weren't undercover agents observing their every movement.

The main terminal was not especially busy. Jeff and Sam started for the transport tube that went directly to the Houston Spaceport, but Terra quickly stopped them and got them to follow her up the main lift tube to the surface. They didn't object; she was in charge of their getaway from this point out.

Once they emerged at the surface, Terra led them off towards one of the auto taxis that lined the sides of streets surrounding the zip train terminal entrance. Terra picked one at random and headed towards it. The yellow colored ground vehicle opened its doors at their approach. They all hopped into the passenger compartment.

_Plato, access the Taxi and have it take us to the Fed-Ex where we arranged to be picked up,_ Terra directed.

"Destination information received. The Taxi is now departing," the taxi informed them.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked. "This thing isn't going to drive us all the way out there is it?"

"No, don't worry. I've got everything arranged," Terra reassured him. Jeff was silent.

The trip only took ten minutes, and they still had thirty-three minutes left on their camouflage when the pulled up at the Fed-Ex station.

"Thank you for choosing TaxiLine. Your fare of one-hundred-forty-one dollars has been charged to your account," the cab recited as it opened its doors. Terra just hoped that their fake personas had enough in their accounts to cover the fare.

They all walked in to the station together and went up to the counter. Terra punched a number into the automated shipping terminal that she had arranged to use to contact the person who would help them.

"Yes," a voice came over the intercom.

"I need to send three priority packages to Mars. Can you help me?" Terra asked. _Three priority packages_ to Mars was the code phrase.

"Of course. I'll open the door for you in the office. Just follow the signs back to special cargoes," the voice replied.

The door to the side of the counter opened for them. Terra motioned for Jeff and Sam to follow and headed through the open door. There were signs that led them into the back of the office, past the parcel sorting room to a small office marked _Special Cargoes_. Terra knocked.

"Come in," the voice said again.

She opened the door. There was a man sitting behind a desk looking at a large view screen. He looked up as they all entered.

Once they were inside and the door was closed, the man asked, "You are my three priority packages, I presume?"

"We are." Terra replied. "We need the Olympus Mons Express." _Olympus Mons_ was the second code word.

"Okay, then follow me. We're ready for you," he said, standing up and leading them back out the door.

Terra didn't know his name, but she knew he was from Mars, and Emelda trusted him. He led them to the back of the packages sorting room where a large container was waiting. The container looked to be about three meters on a side.

"We hardly ever have to use these, and they're not comfortable, but it'll work for your purposes," he said, entering some pass codes on the container access screen. The whole side of the container opened up. "The container is shielded, so no one will know you're in there. It's not so large, but it does have a fog restraint system that should keep you safe during lift. If you'll all get in, I'll seal it up and get you to the spaceport ASAP," he assured them, smiling. He obviously enjoyed the cloak and dagger stuff.

"We're traveling in a box?" Sam asked.

"Safest way to travel, and the fastest. Don't worry. You won't be in the box for the whole trip, just till you're on the Express," the man explained.

Jeff chuckled at the response. "Come on, let's go."

They all entered the box and sat in three of the four restraint chairs arranged on the floor.

"I'm engaging the restraints, and then you'll be off. Good luck," The Fed-Ex guy said.

"Thanks for your help," Terra said as the man went to close the container.

"No problem," he replied, and then the side of the container closed and the lights came on. There were view screens on the inside walls of the container that showed them the outside. Terra was relieved. At least they could see out, and no one could see in.

"Can you guys break your links to the Data sphere?" Terra asked.

"Done," Sam said.

"Done," Jeff echoed.

"Good, I think we can turn off these camouflage units now. We shouldn't need them again for a while," Terra directed.

"Okay." Jeff pulled the canisters from his coat underneath the camouflage. "Just access the camouflage and have it deactivate and stow."

Terra had Plato follow the instructions. The fog became a blue looking liquid again and flowed up her arm to the canister that Jeff had given her. The canister filled with the liquid until it was full, then Terra secured the cap. Jeff and Sam had theirs off too. They handed their canisters back to Jeff who was the only one wearing a jacket in which the canisters could be easily hidden from view.

Terra grinned. "Well I don't know about you, but I'm glad I'm me again. I didn't much care for being a man."

"Me neither," Sam joked.

A large door opened behind the container and a truck backed into position to load them. The container began to slide into the truck and within a minute they were loaded and the truck was on its way.

"It's a lot slower than the tubes to the spaceport, but no one will see us. I've been assured that the container will pass through inspection without a problem, and then we'll be lifted to the Fed-Ex Station in low orbit," Terra explained. "From there we'll be loaded on the next Express to Mars which is actually ready to go but is holding for some special cargo."

"That's brilliant," Jeff said. "I never would have thought to smuggle us by a package delivery service. They'll never think to find us there, they'll be busy checking all the passenger transports."

"And we'll arrive days before any passenger transport on the Fed-Ex express ship," Sam added.

"That's right," Terra replied.

Jeff looked concerned. "Of course, the bill for this will be fifty times more than a passenger transport."

"Don't worry. I've got the means," Terra reassured him. "It's always worth spending the money for a sure thing."

"Unlimited means?" Sam asked curiously. He was still thinking about his conversation with Damon Harding.

"I wouldn't call it unlimited, but certainly sufficient," she qualified.

"Were you helping 23.1 with your sufficient means?" Sam asked.

"My other version probably was," Terra admitted.

"Your other version?" Sam replied, surprised. "I should have guessed. You look too young to be anything but recently restored. How'd that happen?"

"Let's wait till we're on our way to Mars," Terra hesitated. "I don't want to jinx it."

Sam nodded, but Terra could tell he was burning to ask her dozens of questions.

"It seems we'll have a lot to talk about," Jeff decided. "It should make the trip more enjoyable."

"I'll agree with that. Say, do they have any food on this crate?" Sam asked. "I'm starving."

Terra rolled her eyes in mock disdain. "You ate only a few hours ago."

"I'm a growing boy," Sam retorted, examining the interior of the crate.

Jeff just laughed.

They couldn't see anything out the windows any more now that they were in the truck. The trip seemed to take a long time before they finally stopped and the back of the truck opened. Terra checked Plato's time display and found it had only been fifteen minutes. The container was unloaded quickly from the truck and into a fog tube. The crate dropped away from the surface and then once they'd gone down about a hundred meters started to translate horizontally.

Within five minutes they popped out the end of the tube in a large warehouse. The container was quickly routed to an inspection station before it could leave the warehouse to be loaded on a lifter. They all held their breath, waiting while the container was stopped for inspection. After what seemed like hours, but was only minutes, the container started moving again. They were loaded on a large bullet shaped lifter with the standard autorotors plainly visible. Inside the Fed-Ex lifter they were shoved into a cargo hold with hundreds of other containers of varying sizes. More containers continued to be loaded until the entire hold was full.

Then with efficiency typical of the company the cargo door was closed and sealed. Five minutes later they started lifting. Three more minutes and the rockets kicked in. They were on their way to Fed-Ex Station.

The thrust cut after they reached orbit. According to Terra's plan they should dock at the station within a half hour and be loaded on the express to Mars. She hoped it would go smoothly. There wasn't much to do, so they all just sat there silently until Jeff spoke up.

"Terra, I want to thank you for your help in getting us off planet and on our way. Without you we would have just been wandering the tubes with camouflage on until it ran out of juice. By now we'd probably be being interrogated by Agent Dawson."

"Hah, without you we'd still be sitting in your crèche mate's apartment enjoying after dinner conversation, waiting for the Feds to break down the door. I couldn't have done any better at that first part," Terra acknowledged.

Jeff nodded, pleased that his part had worked out as well.

"So basically, you both planned the different aspects of our getaway, and I did nothing. I wish I could have been of a little more help. It seems like I'm just getting dragged around these days," Sam added.

"Don't worry about it, Sam. You were just restored yesterday and you've done beautifully so far. You came when you saw my message on your anonymous account, and you managed to procure yourself a new identity. We couldn't have gotten you that," Jeff said sympathetically to his crèche brother.

"Yeah, well. I'm still not exactly sure what I'm doing here."

"We need you, Sam. We can't find your other version without you," Jeff said sincerely. "I wish it weren't just that. I'm sure you have some questions for your other version too, but we need you and there's a lot at stake."

"And why her?" Sam said, looking at Terra. "What's she got to do with all of this?"

"I was only just restored a week ago. The virus your other version launched initiated the restoration of my backup, which was eight years out of date. My other version was probably helping Sam 6.7 with something illegal, maybe something to do with the virus. I don't know. But before my backup was made, he told me that if I was ever restored to find him because he would owe me something...so here I am," Terra volunteered..

"It seems my other version is still trying to fulfill our pact, Jeff," Sam said after a moment of silent contemplation of this new information.

"Yes, it seems he is. Does that surprise you?" Jeff asked.

"Not really. Even when we made our pact-god, it seems like only a few days ago- I didn't think you were into it as much as I was. I had my own reasons, and you didn't. Were you involved with the virus, Jeff?"

Jeff took a deep breath. He couldn't decide whether he should tell Sam that he was or wasn't. And he wasn't sure what Terra would say if he lied. Probably nothing, but...he needed these people to help him. Honesty was probably the best course of action. "No, I wasn't involved by choice, only by circumstance. Sam 6.7 sent me a backup cube and a letter. He told me that he had stumbled on to a sinister terrorist plot to attack the restoration system and to kill people. He said that if I hadn't heard from him by the time I got the package, I should have him restored because the terrorists had probably killed him. So I inserted the backup cube into the system and that released the virus, which somehow made it past our sentry program. It was a Trojan horse, and I led it right in to Troy."

"Sounds like Sam 6.7 knew exactly what strings to pull," Sam surmised.

"Yes, he certainly did. So from the inside, like we planned, I started the virus. I think Sam 6.7 knew that I wouldn't help knowingly to do it, so he helped me to keep to the pact even without my consent. But he crossed the line when he did it. He killed people, three thousand non-corporeal people; are dead now. Sam said in another message I got from him later that the virus wouldn't do that, but it did. So I have some questions to ask him. I have to see him to know if he did that intentionally, and I have to know why he used me to accomplish his goals if he did know."

Sam looked disappointed. "I had hoped you were in it with me."

"I was for a long time, but it's been thirty years. Things can change a lot for a Newbie in that much time," Jeff reminded him. "I never meant to hurt you, but at some point I came to believe that the restoration system, however wrong-headed, is the only thing keeping the solar system from erupting into a massive war. Billions might die if that balance were interrupted." Jeff didn't expect Sam to agree.

"I agree, but the war will come anyway eventually. The technology can't be controlled forever. It might be ten thousand years, but it'll still happen. And then what? Ten thousand years of stagnation for the human race... war is preferable to that," Sam maintained.

"Eventually, yes," Terra admitted. "It will happen. The rest of the nations on and off Earth are tired of the oppression. If we didn't have to, we wouldn't all roll over and let the US control us."

"You don't have to. Give up the technology. Live like humans have always lived. Give up the treaties and develop technology. If necessary, fight. Others will follow you, and you will eventually win," Sam challenged.

"You forget, while it's been in control, the US has developed some formidable technology that we can't compete with. The LNRC and the Fleet are both controlled by the US. They are far beyond us. We wouldn't stand a chance anymore in a fight," Terra continued. It was a problem they'd been facing for a century or more. They hadn't seen it coming until it was too late. The US had already solidified control by then.

"I know," Sam sighed. "I wish there were alternatives."

"Maybe there are," Jeff suggested. "That's why we're all here. Sam 6.7's been fighting in secret for thirty years now. He must have been working on this very problem. The virus was the start, but who knows what he's got planned. That's why we have to find him."

They were interrupted when the launch fired its thrusters. They all quieted down, waiting. After a few minutes they saw the cargo door to the launch open and they could see another warehouse with more boxes arranged around the entire space, even on the walls and ceilings. The packages behind them were unloaded quickly and then their own container started to move out.

_There must be a fog system controlling the process,_ Terra thought. She didn't see one person anywhere. The container moved out of the launch and across the warehouse to the opposite end where a tube five meters in diameter extended outward into space. At the end was the Fed-Ex express. The container slid through the tube, and they all got a good last look at Earth.

"It is beautiful," Terra said. "But I'll take Mars over it any day."

Jeff looked longingly at his home. "Not me, I want to go back one day, but who know if that day will ever come."

The Fed-Ex express was a simple design, a large cargo storage section and crew quarters in the front, then a thick piece of shielding and a large fuel tank followed by a set of three rocket motors.

"Fastest non-Fleet ship in the solar system." Terra shared, with a grin.

"She's not much to look at," Sam grimaced.

"When you're just a fuel tank and an engine with a small payload, you don't have to look like much if you can deliver. We'll be on Mars in four days," Terra said.

The crate reached the end of the tube through the cargo bay door and slid into place with the other express cargo. They watched as the cargo door closed and then waited for a few minutes while the Express detached from the station. Once the ship detached, they saw someone enter the cargo bay from the crew portion of the ship ahead of them. He descended from a portal and appeared to be floating at them sideways.

"Don't worry, we'll have you out of there in a minute," a man informed them. He was tall and he walked toward them.

Inside the container Jeff released himself from the restraint seat and began to float. "No simulated gravity in here."

Sam and Terra released their restraints and began to float as well. There wasn't much room. The man made it to the container and accessed the container's controls. The side opened to let them out. Terra pushed off for the opening, and as soon as she exited the container, she felt the simulated gravitational force pull her to the ground for a gentle landing. Jeff and Sam followed her out. She realized that the man had seemed to float sideways because the simulated gravity of the ship was running a different direction than she had been expecting. She felt herself reorient and she started to think of the portal to the crew section as being above them.

The man came forward and helped her to her feet. "I'm Ignus Scott, captain of the Express. Glad to have you aboard. But one thing, my contact on Earth told me to expect three men. Are you my cargo, or what?"

He seemed genuinely friendly and Terra studied his face as she stood up. "Thank you, Captain Scott, and yes, we are your cargo. We were traveling in disguise."

"Well, first off, you can call me Ignus, and second of all, I'm glad you're the right cargo. Don't get paid to deliver the wrong thing, you know," he said with a big grin. He released her and looked at the other men. "Welcome," he said, approaching them and extending his hand. "Call me Ignus."

"I'm Jeff, and this is Greg." Jeff spoke, taking the Captain's hand. "I'm glad you had room for one more package."

The Captain laughed. "Of course. If you're paying the rates, I'll take you anywhere you want to go. Good to meet you, Jeff." He released Jeff's hand and took Sam's. "Greg." he added.

"Ignus," Sam said.

Ignus smiled when Sam called him by his first name. "I can tell we're going to get along great. But we have a schedule to keep, and if you will kindly follow me up to the passenger deck, we can get underway. I want to burn while we still have good position."

"Of course," Terra agreed.

"Follow me." Ignus headed for the center of the cargo bay to the circle that must have been the lift tube he had used earlier. Antimatter powered ships were always oriented like tall buildings. It minimized the cross sectional area but gave floors that people could stand on when the ship was burning, which antimatter vessels did almost constantly. When they weren't accelerating, they had the simulated gravity.

The three of them followed Ignus up the lift tube to the passenger deck. There were only two levels. The top level was the bridge which had enough space for two people and the lower was the passenger deck which consisted of three small rooms. Ignus gave Terra one room to herself, and one to Jeff and Sam. The remaining room was his. There was also a larger common room with a couch, table, and food dispenser.

There was junk laid out all over the common room. Ignus obviously didn't travel with passengers often.

"Usually it's just me. Sometimes I bring a second, but the Express has a pretty sophisticated SS system. Her name is Darla, by the way. If you need anything and I'm busy, just ask her for help, she'll be happy to assist. Won't you, Darla?" Ignus said to the air.

"Of course," a full feminine voice came from the air. "Welcome aboard. Ignus, we should be burning in two minutes."

"Thanks, Darla. I'll be up in a jiff," Ignus replied. He seemed quite fond of his ship's companion. "We'll be accelerating at point nine gees until we reach the halfway and then we'll flip and slow down at the same. Mars is almost opposed to the Earth right now, but I'll just burn a little harder and we'll make it on schedule. If you'll excuse me, I have to go the bridge and make sure our flight plan is correct, not that I think Darla would make a mistake. I'll be back down later, so take a load off."

"Darla, please secure the cargo portal," the captain said as he ascended to the bridge on the lift tube. The cargo bay lift tube portal irised closed, and they were left alone in the common room.

"Well, shall we sit down until we're underway?" Jeff suggested, heading towards the couch. Sam and Terra followed him. There was a large screen opposite them that Ignus must use for entertainment and information. They could all use their companions but sometimes it just wasn't the same as the big screen.

Terra let out a big yawn.

Sam yawned too. "Hey, don't do that. You're making me sleepy," Sam chided.

"I'm pretty tuckered myself," Jeff admitted with a yawn.

"Well, we've been up and running in a high stress mode for hours now. As soon as we're underway, I'm going to my room and getting some sleep. We have time; who knows when we'll get this much time to rest again."

"Beginning burn in twenty seconds," Ignus' voice came over the ship's intercom. "I'm switching off simulated gravity in nineteen, so hold on to something."

Terra put a tight grip on the arm of the couch.

"I hope this thing is bolted down," Sam joked.

"I'm sure it is," Jeff assured him. The nineteen seconds elapsed, and they suddenly felt totally weightless instead of the strange mixed bag that simulated gravity provided. Then before they could take a breath, they felt the engines come to life as the methane propellant was mixed with milligrams of antimatter. They took off like a shot.

"I love constant acceleration," Terra exclaimed. "It is so much better than simulated gravity, and you aren't a slave to orbital mechanics. You just point yourself towards your destination and fire off the rocket."

"Yeah, but if your engine breaks before you slow down, you'll have enough velocity to break free of the sun and you'll be on an interstellar trip the long way," Sam said smartly.

"That's why we have three engines," Terra replied.

### Chapter 23

The minute Dawson confirmed that they were heading for Mars he left his companion to watch for anything unusual over the link and left his quarters. He stepped from the deck ring platform in to the lift column and said "bridge". _Smart of them to use the Fed-Ex ship. I never would have known to look for them there, I'd have thought they'd have taken a charter or passenger liner,_ he thought as he ascended towards the bridge.

The door to the bridge slid open as he reached it, and he was lifted through. The bridge seemed more active now. All the stations were manned, and the Captain was speaking with Lt. Commander Bowman. They both noted his entrance and halted their conversation.

"News, Agent Dawson?" the Captain asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Yes, we need to depart for Mars immediately. Our quarry is already under power and it seems they are more resourceful than expected. They are using a Fed-Ex express to get there which should make it interesting."

"We are pursuing people, I gather, and not a package?" Captain Whetherstone said, smirking.

"Yes, and I will fully explain the situation to you once we're underway," Dawson replied with a grin. "Can we beat them?"

"Have no fear, Agent Dawson. The Powel will beat them there." The Captain turned to the bridge. "Com, make some discrete inquires as to the flight plan of the Express and send them to Nav."

"Aye, Captain," the communications officer replied.

"Nav, plot a course solution to beat them to Mars by..." The Captain looked to Dawson.

"A day would be nice; a half day would be acceptable," Dawson responded.

"Nav, give me both options."

"Aye, Captain. Receiving flight plan and calculating solutions...For twenty four hour advance arrival, two point one. For twelve hour advance arrival, one point three."

"Agent Dawson, we'll thrust at one point three gees. We could do two point one, but that is not a pleasant amount of gravity to have to endure for days."

"Fine with me, so long as we beat them there," Dawson agreed.

"Good. Nav, set our destination for Mars at 1.3. And tactical, get a passive sensor lock on the Fed-Ex Mars Express ship and keep them on the scopes," the Captain ordered.

"Aye, Captain," the Nav officer replied. "Two minutes."

"Aye, Captain," the tactical officer echoed.

Lt. Bowman initiated the ship's intercom and made the announcement. "Attention all hands. Prepare for thrust at one point three, in two minutes."

Dawson looked around the bridge curiously. The whole situation was a little surreal. He'd seen plenty of vids and played plenty of stims that had a Fleet military flavor, but as in most things reality was always a little different. In the stims the bridge was always an information overload with three dimensional displays all over and many more crew members wandering around. Here it was much more quiet. Each station had a small screen, but most of the crew were doing everything through their implants. Dawson was sure that if he could see the displays that they had running in their ocular implants the whole thing would be a different story, but it mostly looked pretty boring.

"Would you like a seat, Agent Dawson?" Lt. Commander Bowman asked, indicating the few spare restraint chairs at the back of the bridge. "One point three gees can be a little different than one."

"No, I'm fine standing," he answered.

"Suit yourself," the Lt. Commander said, taking a seat.

The Captain took her seat as well. Dawson thought better of his previous decision and sat down too. He was already starting to feel a little heavier, and wondered why.

"Thrust in twenty seconds," the Nav officer informed them. He gave a count down in the final ten seconds, and then the acceleration set in.

"Disengaging simulated gravity," one of the officers at the station marked _environmental_ said.

The transition was actually fairly seamless. The simulated gravity must have been ramped up over the two minute count down to match their intended thrust level. The only cue that it had been switched off at all was the sudden disappearance of that slightly queasy feeling Dawson had had in his stomach. It was better than the sudden jolt that one got in most craft, and he reasoned that in a tactical situation that type of dampening system could really help.

"Engineering, what's your status?" the Captain asked after a minute.

"Engines are nominal," Engineering replied over the com.

"Good," the Captain said. "Well, Agent Dawson, if possible, I'd like that mission briefing that you alluded to earlier, and if you don't mind, I'd like the Lt. Commander to join us."

Dawson agreed.

"Let's head down to the briefing room," the Captain continued, moving for the lift tube. The tube opened, and she commanded, "Deck two."

The Lt. Commander and Dawson imitated her, and they all descended quickly. The captain stepped out of the lift tube, and they followed. The doors to the briefing room opened as she approached. The room was large enough for ten comfortably, twenty if people crammed. There was a small table with restraint chairs arranged around it. The rest of the room was plain, except for what looked like a painting of the Powel under thrust with the Earth in the background which Dawson supposed was a screen. Bowman sat down on the side of the table where the painting was located, and Dawson sat on the other.

"So, Agent Dawson, what is our mission? We've been hurried through refueling and provisioning after just completing two months in space to pick you up and do whatever you ask. Our orders came from the very top, and I gather you know who I mean," Captain Whetherstone said seriously.

"I'm sorry you were inconvenienced, but, yes, I know who you mean and he tends to forget about people's needs or comfort. I'd rather not have to be here at all but as the mission is of top importance, none of us have any choice."

"We are in pursuit of three individuals. Terra Gates-yes, the one from Mars," Dawson answered before they could ask. "Jeff Hughes, who was director of the restoration division until he resigned after the virus attack and Gregory Hillman, a Newbie who is working with them. We are following them because we hope they will lead us to our real objective which is Sam Storm 6.7, the man responsible for the virus attack on the restoration data storage system."

Dawson had been expecting a big reaction, but when he got none, he continued. "We have reason to believe that the virus may have been only a precursor to something much more destructive. I am supposed to find and bring Storm in alive if possible and eliminate the threat he represents to the solar system."

"What do you think his capabilities are? What further threat are you expecting?" Bowman asked.

"We have evidence that when he worked at the LNRC, Sam Storm may have been able to smuggle out an unlimited assembler," Dawson revealed.

"Are you serious?" the Captain asked. The surprise he had expected before was there now.

"Yes, Storm is an accomplished nanotech engineer, and we don't doubt that he will use that assembler to accomplish his goals, whatever those may be. That's why we think the virus may have simply been a warning for things to come. I don't have to tell you what that assembler could do in his hands, the wrong hands."

"No, you don't," Bowman agreed. "Do we have any idea where Storm is?"

"We suspect that he is out near Saturn, but that is the best estimate we've had. He did all his work through third parties and his own agents in the datasphere. No one has actually seen him in person for several years."

"So why these other three?" the Captain asked.

"Terra Gates is recently restored and is eight years out of date. We suspect her previous version was helping Storm in some way. He promised her something for her help, probably something that will upset the balance of power in the solar system. Jeff Hughes was Storm's crèche mate and probably wants an explanation as to why Storm used him unknowingly to implant the virus into the system. Gregory Hillman seems to be an old acquaintance of Storm's though we don't know what his reasons are for going along with the others."

"So our mission is to follow these three undetected and hope they lead us to Storm. Then we must find Storm, bring him back to Earth, and destroy any nanotechnology he has built up," the Captain surmised.

"That pretty much sums it up," Dawson agreed.

"Well, at least that explains the platoon of marines we have aboard," the Captain said. "Agent Dawson, thank you for the briefing. I'm sure it will improve morale to know that we are on such an important mission."

"You're welcome." Dawson responded. He hadn't really considered that now the mission would be a morale booster for the crew. "And please, the subject of rogue nanotechnology is to remain classified. That was for you and the Lt. Commander only," he cautioned.

"I understand, Agent Dawson," Captain Whetherstone replied, her face reflecting his own concern. The mission she had just been handed was high profile and potentially dangerous with the nanotech threat. Dawson was sure he hadn't made her job any easier with his explanations.

"What about the other three?" Bowman asked.

"If we witness them conspiring with Storm, then we bring them in too. Otherwise, they're all clean enough to escape any prosecution. What about these Marines? I was told they were going to be here. Who's in command of them?"

"I am. Of course since you're in charge of the mission, you just tell me what you want done, and if that means using the marines, we'll use them," the Captain explained. "Lieutenant Madison is the platoon leader. You should probably meet them; they're on deck six in the troop barracks."

"Will you also brief me on their capabilities so I know what I have to work with?" Dawson asked.

"Of course," the Captain responded. "Lt. Commander Bowman will make sure you have the briefings. I'm going back to the bridge," the Captain said, getting up.

Dawson rose as well along with Bowman. He noticed the gravity again. It hadn't been quite as noticeable when he was sitting. The Captain left the room, and Dawson saw her ascending the tube as the doors shut, leaving him alone with the Lt. Commander.

Dawson wasn't sure what either the Captain or the Lt. Commander thought of the mission or of him. They had seemed to accept the mission and the reasons for it, but neither had been very animated. Dawson supposed that they were professional soldiers and that they were used to taking commands. He knew about the conditioning of a soldier from his own days, but it had never sat right for him; and he had always been one to think for himself. He was wishing that he had a few more agents with him, at least he was used to them. The FBI was strict and had a very defined power structure, but it wasn't the military. He had some leeway in his assignments, a flexibility that he guessed the fleet people didn't have.

"What do you think about the mission?" Dawson asked the Lt. Commander.

"It seems to be of high importance, Agent Dawson. I am less put off by our sudden change in orders. We don't generally receive orders that came directly from Damon Harding as he is not a part of the fleet or the government, but we are not ignorant of his position. I'm just glad that this mission isn't just a personal errand for Harding. It is a legitimate mission for the Fleet to be involved in," Bowman said thoughtfully, putting his hands on the table. "Have no doubt that we will do everything in our power to bring Storm in and to destroy his nanotech. On this point I am sure the Captain agrees with me. Just thinking about having that sort of capability loose in the solar system scares me, Agent Dawson."

"Me too. That's why I've come into space, although I don't care for space travel. I have to find Storm and stop him before something worse than a computer virus shows up."

"Then we're agreed."

"Yes."

"Good, I'll grant you access to the ship's specifications. That should give you a good grasp of our capabilities. And I'll introduce you to Lieutenant Madison," Bowman added in a friendly manner. Dawson was glad that Bowman had lightened up a little now that he knew where Dawson was coming from. "Let's go," he said, leading back out of the briefing room.

Lt. Commander Bowman pointed out the mess and recreation room as they descended. "We have several stim terminals and most of the modern exercise equipment. It's all stowable if necessary. You're free to use any of them. There's also a shower and a small sauna off on the other end. It only fits three, but it's a real luxury on this ship."

"Don't you worry about stim addiction? I'd think that'd be a problem here, if anywhere, being in such a constricted space?" Dawson asked, looking at the stim terminals with a feeling of both longing and revulsion. He'd beat the demon of his addiction, but it still called to him.

"No, since there are only two terminals, no crew member can spend that much time in stim, and the programming is some what limited compared to the entertainment terminals on Earth. It does, however, contain a great number of military training stims which is what we use it for primarily. It keeps us fresh. We haven't had any stim addiction problems yet, and I hope we don't. The people who crew this ship, and in the fleet in general, have been screened to be tough and resilient to those types of addictions. Plus the ship is a small place. No one could hide that kind of habit without some one knowing," Bowman replied.

They stopped on deck eight. "Eight is medical and systems. Dr. Jamahan is our doctor as I mentioned earlier. He's a good guy." The door to medical opened, and they both stepped in. It looked like a miniature version of a hospital. The fog suspension beds, which Dawson suspected were actually medical fog beds. Medical technology had advanced significantly in the areas of external and internal wound treatment, organ regeneration, and internal medicine. The fog suspension medical bed could auto diagnose and treat almost any condition. That they even had a doctor on board was a surprise to Dawson. He didn't see anyone in medical.

"So where is the Doctor?"Dawson inquired.

"Either in his quarters or talking with someone, I assume. He isn't on duty twenty-four seven. He only works in here when there is an emergency or he wants some space. He is also a systems expert and works with the systems folks across the hall, but we have him for when the auto treatment beds can't handle a particular problem. One of our SS systems is a advanced medical system who could function in the doctor's stead, but we always prefer to have a human fail safe involved after some of the past mistakes that were made by the SS systems," Bowman explained.

Dawson nodded, remembering the gruesome nature of those highly publicized mistakes. SS systems were very good, but they weren't infallible. They were programmed by humans, and humans made mistakes. Even though the SS systems seemed to exhibit genuine intelligence and could pass simple intelligence tests like the Turing test, they hadn't been able to exhibit true sentient behavior measured by the Berea test which any able human could pass. Artificial intelligence had been worked on for years but the only way known to get a machine to act and be a true human level intelligence was to copy a human brain into nanotronics which was really no better than making an artificial human. And the feeling then was, _of course the thing is sentient but it's a human that thinks a million times faster and cant interact with real people without going insane from all the delays_. It had been tried once and then banned by international treaty. SS systems did a fairly good job, though. They were almost like idiot savants, very good at one thing or one profession but hopeless in a situation outside the bounds of their programming. Still, they hardly ever messed up inside the bounds of their programming, and they could work a million times faster than a human-which made them invaluable.

Dawson looked around the medical bay and noticed that in one of the far corners was what looked like a backup unit. "Is that a backup unit?" he asked. If it were, he would be doubly amazed. They were expensive machines, and they were all licensed to Second Chance, Inc.

"Yes, it is, and actually you should get used to making a daily backup. Our backup system is about six times faster than the ones you've used. They're even more expensive than the private versions, but every one on the ship has to make a fresh backup each day. That way in the event of an emergency we can launch an emergency buoy that contains the ship's logs and a backup of each of the crew in holographic cube form, provided we have at least three seconds of warning. One of our SS systems handles only that duty so that we don't have to worry about anything. It's actually resident on the buoy and the buoy is really a miniature rocket with a small amount of antimatter so that it can make a very fast escape. It can accelerate at hundreds of g's because there's nothing living inside to squish. So if you wake up and all you remember is your daily backup, you'll know that something happened to the ship," Bowman explained.

"Is this standard on all Fleet ships?" Dawson asked, amazed. It was an intricate system, but it probably helped the crew to make life or death choices knowing that a version of them would be saved. They probably also had a version backed up every time they docked at a Fleet base or station. Being asked to give up one's life to further a military goal was a lot easier when you knew that you would be restored and would continue on with only a slight discontinuity. Warfare had changed significantly since that happened, at least for the Fleet and the UN ground forces who were allowed to use restoration. Any other person engaged in a conflict could be found guilty of breaking international law and sentenced to permanent dissolution. That was quite a deterrent to any conflict, knowing you would probably die and never be restored.

"Most, except our very smallest scout ships that are just too small for them, but they get backups at bases. They'd just be a little more out of date than most if something happened to them. Why don't we get your first scan out of the way now," Bowman suggested, putting his arm on Dawson's shoulder and gently herding him towards the backup system.

"Maybe later," Dawson said, resisting a little.

"Come on, the mission is important enough. We need to have your backup. We'd have made it right when you boarded the ship except that we needed to move out fast," Bowman explained.

"All right," Dawson acquiesced, stepping towards the backup machine. The machine resembled a styling salon chair; in that it was a chair with a apparatus which lowered over your head. But the chair was made of a heavy metal and the cylinder that would cap the occupants head looked far more bulky-as it housed the sensitive imaging equipment necessary for the procedure. Dawson sat down in the chair.

"Do you wish to make a backup, Agent Dawson?" a voice asked, probably the medical SS system.

"Yes," Dawson said.

"Do you wish your companion system files to be stored as well?" the SS confirmed.

"Yes," Dawson replied.

"Confirmed. Backup will be generated of Jim Dawson 260.4.2 along with companion files. Please sit back in the chair." The SS both informed and commanded. As Dawson sat back he felt the restraint system come on. He was totally unable to move even a millimeter; the fog restraint system that was holding him perfectly still. This was new to Dawson.

"Don't worry about the restraint fog. That's one reason this model is faster," Bowman said, watching him. "It keeps your head perfectly still which allows the scanner to get its work done faster because it has to correct fewer errors introduced by the small motions of your head during the process.

"Thirty seconds to complete scan," the SS system informed him. The process was fairly silent except for a humming that came from the cylinder that was lowering itself over his head down to his chin. The system would take a very high resolution scan of his brain. It was basically an MRI scan but much more detailed, as it had to image everything down to individual atoms. Dawson started to feel claustrophobic as soon as the cylinder was over his head and it was dark.

"Please relax and try to remain still," the SS system said. "Twenty five seconds. Beginning scan." The humming increased and seemed to go on forever, Dawson was very uncomfortable now. He preferred when it took three or four minutes but you weren't constrained. He told himself this was a military vessel, however, and the military didn't do things for people's individual comfort. "Ten seconds."

The humming had increased in intensity as the scan mapped his brain down to the last atom. "Five seconds." Dawson was ready for it to be over.

"Scan complete," the SS system announced. The scanner returned to its position above his head, and the restraint fog released him. Dawson was very relieved. "I am beginning data compression. Please place your finger on the tissue collection pad." Dawson did. He felt a small prick as a small drop of blood was taken. That drop contained millions of copies of his DNA which the machine would compare and using all of them would produce as close to a perfect version of his DNA as possible. Then the version would be digitized and stored along with his scan. The brain scan information would also be compressed by a factor of a million or more so it would fit in the cube. Most of the information was not necessary to maintain as it was redundant.

"Your presence is no longer required, Agent Dawson. I will compress and store your information. Please return tomorrow for another scan," the medial SS system informed him. Dawson got up from the chair quickly, looking back at it.

"It's like some kind of medieval torture, isn't it?" Bowman exaggerated with a smile.

"Yeah, like an iron maiden or something." Dawson agreed with a grin which he only put on to make it seem alright, but he really hadn't enjoyed that even though he was used to frequent scans. He had to get a scan every week for the agency.

"Please make sure you have your scan daily," Bowman reinforced seriously. "You are a civilian and a VIP onboard which means we must ensure that your backup survives. Don't worry. You get used to it." He gave a little smile at the end.

"Sure," Dawson said noncommittally. Sure it would get better...eventually.

"Well, now that that is out of the way, let's go to the barracks," Bowman said, turning to leave. Dawson took one last look at the machine. He could beat it; it wouldn't get him like that again now that he knew what to expect..

The Barracks were on deck six. There were two entrances, one on either side of the ring. They were marked Barracks A and B. Lt. Commander Bowman stood outside the door and touched a screen that was just to its side. "Lt. Madison, I have Agent Dawson here. Permission to enter," he requested.

After a few moments a voice came back, "Granted," and the door slid open. Bowman led the way and Dawson followed him in. It was one large room which curved away and out of sight, presumably halfway around the ship. On the outer wall were bunks that were neatly folded up on the wall. From just to their left a woman approached them. She was wearing camouflage fatigues, which Dawson guessed were more traditional than functional, especially considering the kind of camouflage technology he knew the military possessed as demonstrated by Jeff Hughes and company. She was only about five foot three, but she looked tough enough to break him in half. She had a hard look to her that said, _I mean business_.

"Agent Dawson, it's good to meet you," she said all business-like. She didn't extend her hand but instead stopped and stood at attention with her arms behind her back.

"Likewise. Lieutenant Madison, I presume," Dawson replied.

She nodded, acknowledging the title. "I apologize for not coming to meet you the instant you boarded, but my platoon was engaged in a full tactical simulation in the event we needed to take the targets in orbit," she said without batting an eye.

"So you are aware of the mission?" Dawson asked. He wondered how much she could know.

"Yes, we were fully briefed by Mr. Harding himself as to the nature of the mission," she replied.

Dawson wondered what exactly Harding had told them.

"We were also instructed that you had full tactical authority over this platoon, even exceeding that of Captain Whetherstone for the duration of this mission," she informed him.

"Now wait just a second," Bowman chimed in. "That was not part of the orders we received when you were assigned to the Powel. The Captain is supposed to have full tactical authority, and Agent Dawson here has mission command except in military strategy."

"That may be true, Sir. However, in the event that Agent Dawson and the Captain disagree, we are to follow Agent Dawson's orders," she said, staring Bowman down. To his credit, Bowman didn't give an inch.

"I'll be contacting command about this," he said.

"That would be the prudent thing to do, Sir," Madison responded.

It was an interesting development, Harding didn't trust anyone.

"I'll be checking that right now. Agent Dawson, you have free range of the ship. Please look over the ship's specs and familiarize yourself with our systems and procedures," Bowman said, leaving.

Dawson didn't get the feeling that this was a common occurrence, but he did feel comforted to know that when push came to shove he had some might in his corner.

"Agent Dawson, please let me introduce you to my platoon," she said and led him around the bend just slightly. There were eight stim stations at the end of the room, seven of which were occupied. "Fall in marines," she commanded, and immediately each of the members of the platoon deinterfaced with the terminal and stood at attention. It immediately took Dawson by surprise that the platoon was half women and half men.

"This is Agent Dawson, our Tactical authority on this mission. We are to follow the Captain's orders unless they conflict with his and then we follow him. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir," they all chorused.

"Good. Agent Dawson, this is my platoon. This is Corporal Benson, my tech expert. He maintains all our equipment," she said, introducing him to the man on the far right. Benson gave a curt nod in acknowledgment which Dawson returned. "This is Corporal Hawkings, our communications specialist. Then is Corporal Timison, our long range tactical specialist. Corporal Day, our sensor specialist. Corporal Newman, our demolitions specialist. Corporal Halewell, our systems specialist. And this is Corporal Green; our medical specialist." They all gave him that curt nod as they were introduced, which he returned. "We are platoon 221, and we are the best."

There was a resounding, "Hoo Yah," from the rest of the platoon. Dawson noticed in his displays that they were all about the same overall age, around a hundred and twenty despite the fact that they all looked to be about twenty-five. Best of all, they were all US citizens, which meant they were loyal.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Marines. I have been told by Lieutenant Madison that you have already been fully briefed on the nature of our mission and the consequences of failure. I'll try not to get you all killed without good reason."

"Don't worry about that. We fight to win even if it means dying," Madison replied smartly.

"Hoo Yah," they all echoed.

Of course, they would be willing to die for the mission if necessary, Dawson thought. They could all be restored, and that would make them all the more vicious and effective. They could lay their lives on the line without fear. Dawson remembered thinking about that when he had been in the military, but he still hadn't wanted to die unnecessarily. Restoration wasn't as perfected as it was today...but these Marines were on the side with the technology and no doubt they used it often, to keep themselves in prime condition if not for mission related expiration.

"Agent Dawson, since we have some privacy at the moment, I need you to know that if it should become necessary for us to take the Powel, in the event that her non-American crew members hinders the mission, we are prepared to do so. If you feel that is our only choice, you need only slip the code words "railroad tie" into your communications with us. However, I hope this will not become necessary. We also have all the access codes to take the ship's computer systems and restrict their access should that also become necessary," Madison added. She was clearly uneasy about the subject of taking a Fleet ship from its Captain and crew, but Dawson could tell that she would if she had to. The mission was too important for compromise.

"I understand, and I sincerely hope it doesn't come to that either," Dawson said. Apparently Damon Harding had briefed them well on the possible scenarios that their mission introduced. He didn't like it, but he admitted that contingency plans had to be made just in case they had no other choice. That was what it always came down to, no other choice. It was why he used the bug in Storm's head. It was the only way, but he did hope it wouldn't go that far. Keeping the crew in the dark as to the real reasons for their mission would hopefully make the entire exercise a moot point.

"Marines, return to simulation. Agent Dawson, if you need us we'll be here, but we have a simulation to complete, so if you'll please excuse us we'd like to get our training in while we still have time," Madison stated, clearly dismissing him.

"Of course. It was good to meet you all," Dawson said, turning to leave.

He had things to do too. He needed to contact Damon Harding and make a report before they got too far away from Earth and the communications lag was too great. Then he had some studying to do so that when they reached Mars he would have a better understanding of the ship's capabilities and emergency procedures. The trip would be short and he needed to be prepared for anything when Gates, Storm and Hughes arrived at Mars. No doubt things were going to get much more complicated when they did.

### Chapter 24

Terra woke in her little room on board the Express. She just couldn't sleep any more. She checked with Plato for the time.

_You've been sleeping for six hours and thirty-three minutes,_ Plato responded.

Has anything significant happened while I was asleep?

Not to my knowledge.

Terra rubbed her eyes and got out of the small bed. The cabin wasn't very big but it did have a small desk unit built into the wall with a screen. She activated the screen and put it in mirror mode which showed her an image of herself. It was still a shock to see such a young face staring back. She'd get used to it, but it was going to take a little while. She remembered herself as being older, as she really had been before the backup...not too old but not really young either. Her hair was a little messy, definitely a case of bed head, and she felt dirty. What she really wanted was a shower and some tea. She would have brushed her hair but she realized that she had absolutely nothing to her name but what she was wearing at the moment.

Terra was wishing that she had a change of clothes. Sure, the clothes would keep clean automatically for weeks without needing a real washing, but she wasn't used to wearing the same thing twice. And she had slept in them. She had had a number of different outfits in her office at the Embassy, but it was too expensive to transport that kind of thing if one didn't have to. They charged for every kilo, and the price was certainly enough to justify just buying new clothes on the other side. Terra also needed to use the restroom although she had no idea where it was, probably off the main room.

Terra opened her door to the main room and stepped out. Jeff, Sam, and Ignus were nowhere to be seen at the moment. They must all be sleeping, on the bridge or down in the cargo hold, she decided. Terra took a quick look around the main room and saw the bathroom off in one of the corners, so she headed straight for it, avoiding several pieces of trash and a few pieces of clothing that Ignus had strewn about. She genuinely hoped that the bathroom would at least be clean.

She was pleasantly surprised to find that the bathroom was clean. _Probably self-cleaning,_ she decided. Ignus didn't seem like the domestic type, not judging by the mess in the main room, which considering there was a fog system and a SS companion on the ship made little sense. The SS system could easily clean up the mess using the fog system, Ignus would have had to ask to have it left dirty, not a great way to run a business. The bathroom looked normal. It had a shower stall that was closed off behind a opaque white door, and the other usual amenities.

"I wonder if it works in zero-g?" She mussed aloud.

"The restroom facilities will function in zero-g, using the fog system," a voice chimed in. It was Darla.

"Thank you, Darla. But I wasn't speaking to you."

"I apologize for the intrusion then," Darla replied and was silent.

"Darla?"

"Yes?"

"Where are the others?" Terra asked.

"The two other passengers are both sleeping. Captain Scott is on the bridge, also sleeping," Darla replied. The feminine voice was actually kind of soothing, Terra decided. It would be good to have another female around, even if it was only a simulated female.

She turned and locked the bathroom door and proceed to get rid of the wrinkled clothing. The shower was warm and just what she needed. When she was finished, she asked Darla if there were brushes onboard and Darla told her where to find a few. They were also clean, Darla assured her. When she was dressed, having had Darla launder her clothes while she was showering, she felt dignified again. She stepped out of the bathroom to find Jeff and Sam both sitting on the couch sipping mugs of what smelled like coffee...which made her stomach rumble.

"Good morning," Jeff greeted, seeing her emerge. Sam repeated the greeting, and Terra responded in kind.

"I haven't slept that well since I was restored. How about you?" Sam inquired.

"You were restored two days ago. How many hours of sleep have you even had?" Terra asked.

"About eight, including the last six, and I'm already looking forward to a nice nap later today. Space travel does have its advantages in that respect."

"Is that coffee you guys have?" Terra asked. It smelled pretty good. Coffee always did, but the taste was awful.

"Yeah, it's a synth-blend. It's not bad," Jeff said. "Let me get you some." He stood up and went to the food dispenser. "Would you like some breakfast too, I was about to order up some blueberry pancakes and eggs?"

"Just tea for me, but breakfast sounds great," Terra replied. Her stomach started to rumble, and she realized that she was ravenous.

"How about you, Sam?" Jeff asked.

"Sounds good to me too. Should we call Ignus and see if he wants to join us?" Sam added.

"Did I hear my name?" Ignus called down from the bridge. A few seconds later he came down the lift column to the main room. "Did you all sleep well?" he asked.

There was a chorus of "yes" from all around.

"Good, Good. And breakfast sounds wonderful. It's amazing that you ended up on my sleep rotation, with all the variability in our departure," Ignus said.

Jeff was getting the trays with a plate of blueberry pancakes and a side of scrambled eggs out of the dispenser for each of them. It was synthesized very quickly by the ship's systems to be ready to serve in minutes. They all sat down at the small table, which could only seat four.

"So what brings you three out here? I don't get passengers very often, and if I'm being too nosey just let me know. Most of my passengers are pretty tight lipped types caught up in some intrigue or another," Ignus said ,digging into his pancakes. "Of course, I couldn't help recognizing two of you, Miss Gates and Mr. Hughes."

The three of them looked at each other, and Jeff spoke up first. "I'm sure you've seen me in the news lately, and, of course, running an express to Mars you'd have to know Terra."

"Yes, that's it exactly," Ignus replied.

"Well, as you know, I was implicated in that Virus attack, which I assure you I had no willing part in. Unfortunately I don't think that the US government is going to let me go for very long, especially if they can't find Sam Storm, the terrorist who claimed responsibility for the attack," Jeff explained, giving Sam a glance. Sam was acting perfectly innocent eating his eggs and listening to the conversation. "Terra was kind enough to offer me a ride with her when we met last week, mostly because her restoration was triggered accidentally by the Virus, making us both suspects."

"So you're fleeing to Mars with Miss Gates here to escape possible prosecution?" Ignus smiled. "I've seen people do this before, but Mars has extradition. Why go there?"

Jeff shrugged. "I don't expect to escape them forever, but it should give me some time to think about what I should do, and Miss Gates was kind enough to let me tag along with her. Perhaps out of sight will be out of mind."

"Um...perhaps, but I've never known the government to give up on chasing any one. How about you Miss Gates, what's lit the fire under you? And again if I'm being too nosey, just tell me to shut my trap."

"Well, there is a very important vote taking place in a few days. You probably know something about Mars politics, Ignus. Ariel Stoneman has been using my absence to try to bring about some legislation to lessen my family's voting power, and I have to be there to stop her. She can't win if I vote. It isn't possible. But if I'm not there, I can't vote, so I lose by default. No ordinary transport would get me there in time, and I worry that she may resort to violence to stop me, which is why we're traveling by cargo container in secret," Terra explained. It was mostly the truth. It just left out the part that they were probably being pursued by the FBI and that they were searching for a Terrorist to see what he owed them.

"I've heard about that on the news. Never did care for Ariel Stoneman," Ignus said with disgust. "I'm glad you've cut your hiatus short and are going to teach that woman a lesson."

"Are you a Martian, Ignus?" Terra asked.

"Well, I was born there, but I moved off planet to the Ulman Antimatter Station when I was fifteen and I've been working in space piloting various ships for a long time. The Express is actually my ship. I just contract to Fed-Ex. It keeps their overhead low and I get to do what I want. There's about ten of us express ships that do the Mars run. I've delivered other stuff to the Jovian moons too, if the money was good," Ignus said with pride. "So I can't really say I am a Martian except by birth and upbringing, I'm a spacer through and through."

Terra filed the information away for later. If they had to go elsewhere after Mars, this could be an advantage.

"So you own The Express?" Sam asked.

"Well, the bank owns her really, but I'll have her free and clear in another eighty years. No rush, I got plenty of time. I just have to remember to get backed up whenever I stop at port. She's insured, but only if I'm up to date as possible."

"So what about you, Greg, what's your story?" Ignus asked devouring the last of his pancakes and moving over the smaller plate of eggs.

"Well, to level with you, Ignus. I'm kind of a pariah at the moment, I am Sam Storm 23.1," Sam said, deciding to go with honesty.

Ignus stopped eating and stared at him. "You're joking, right?" Ignus asked pointing his fork at Sam.

"Nope, I was restored by none other than Damon Harding from a very very old backup, thirty years out of date no less, to give them some insight into why my other version did what he did. I told them I didn't know, because I don't, and then I decided I'd better get the hell out of there. So in return for giving them a little insight they gave me a new identity, kind of like witness protection, and some money and told me to get off the planet where I wouldn't raise eyebrows. My other version is not well liked on Earth, and it was getting dangerous. Jeff here is my crèche mate, so when Terra said she'd let him tag along, I kind of just fell in with them," Sam explained.

"Well that's quite a story," Ignus said. "Personally I could give less of a crap about the restoration facility and Damon Harding. If you're running from him, your secret's safe with me. That guy has always been too full of himself. I'm glad your other version took him down a notch although I can't say that I agree with the involuntary dissolution of those people."

"I don't either," Sam agreed. "I'd like to find my other version and make him answer for that at least."

"Ignus, how long are you going to be at Mars before you head back to Earth?" Terra asked.

"I think about two days. I'm going to visit my brother who lives in Jumara Dome for a day and then I've got to get refueled. I'm not in a rush. Not after your express fee." Ignus smiled.

"Good. If we need your services again, would you be agreeable to a charter contract? I would, of course, be paying out of my family's personal funds," Terra offered.

"Well, if we're talking the rates like this trip without Fed-Ex getting their cut then sure I'm agreeable, but you must have access to your own ships. Some must even be as fast as the Express."

"The Martian government does have some fast ships, but I don't think we want to attract attention that would be given to us if we were flying about in diplomatic ships."

"Okay, sounds good. Just give Darla a holler, she'll know how to get in contact with me. But if it's criminal, I don't want any part of it," Ignus warned seriously.

"Don't worry, Ignus. It might give some people on Earth some indigestion but I'm a Martian citizen, and I am not subject to US laws unless I break them while in the US, which we're not any more."

"Right," Ignus agreed, nodding his head.

"And besides, if anything happens, I'll make sure your compensated," Terra added.

"Well then, in that case you got yourself a ship and a pilot, if you need us. Just let us know when to pick you up and where to go and we'll get you there faster than anyone, or my name isn't Ignus Scott."

After breakfast Ignus returned to the bridge, and Jeff went to take a shower. Both Sam and Terra had a seat on the couch. She was feeling pleasantly full and was just sipping on her coffee.

"So, Terra, are you going to give me that explanation now?" Sam asked.

Terra remembered that she had promised to explain her motivations in wanting to find Sam but now that they were on a ship in close quarters with Ignus and the ever present Darla, she wasn't sure she wanted to discuss the matter. She felt she owed Sam an explanation, but she wanted to wait a little longer. Once they were on Mars in her family dome she could guarantee that they had some privacy, but not here. She wasn't sure she trusted Ignus that far yet, and she didn't want to get him so involved in their troubles that he would become a target himself.

"I know you're not going to want to hear this, Sam. But I'd prefer to discuss that on Mars at my dome. The walls have ears here even if they are friendly," she said with a smile.

Sam's face lowered a bit with disappointment. "Sure, I understand. And it makes sense. I've go to start thinking these things through before I bring them up."

"Well you're young, that kind of self-censorship doesn't usually develop until you're at least fifty or so," Terra reassured him.

"Yeah, I just wish I didn't feel so useless here," he replied.

"Don't ever think that, Sam. Without you we won't accomplish our goals. You're just as important as Jeff and I, and probably more so."

"So, are you really worried about the vote that this Ariel Stoneman is bringing up?" Sam said, changing the subject.

"Yes, I've looked over the proposition that she is putting to a vote, and it is directly geared to prevent any person or entity with more than twenty percent interest in the UMG from holding any office or serving on the Board of Directors. I am the only person who meets that criteria. It would effectively remove me from any influence except in votes brought to the share holders."

"How is it that she has enough support to do this?"

"Well, my other version was doing some things that shareholders have been very unhappy about."

"What kinds of things?"

"She killed a number of motions that could have helped certain families and shareholders in general without so much as an explanation. I have never done such a thing. I usually hold back my votes and let the majority decide unless I know they're wrong for some reason. Then I would step in, but my other version wasn't doing that. She was controlling the UMG which has made some of my prior friends into enemies. They won't be glad to see me, but if I am there physically at the vote, I can stop them regardless. But I have to be there. I'm sure Ariel will try to stop me, at least detain me if not worse. That's why we're flying from the frying pan into the fire. After the vote we'll at least be safe from Ariel, one way or the other. It's just that fate has dealt us hands to play. I have to be there because if she wins, she'll effectively have control. I'm afraid that no one will realize that until it's too late."

"Does she know you're coming?"

"Oh yes, she just doesn't know how or where yet, but she knows. She at least knows that I was on Earth yesterday. She knows I've been tied up with this investigation into the virus, and she is probably pretty confident that I won't make it. At the same time, however, she will know that I'm off Earth now, and she can check with the standard spacelines to see if I'm aboard. Even so, none of them could make it, so where will she look then? This Fed-Ex route is not a secret to the UMG. It's my guess that she'll know we're coming and will be ready."

"So how do we get by her?" Sam asked.

"I still have some good friends on Mars, despite my other Version's actions. We'll make it, Sam. Don't worry," Terra reassured him. She didn't want Sam to worry about this too much, but he was in the boat with her and if she couldn't pull this thing off, Sam and Jeff could get caught up in this political mess as well. To be honest, she didn't know exactly how they were going to get to the surface yet, but she had another day or two to think of something.

"Well, I guess I'll just use the time on The Express to catch up on the events of the last thirty years and on my sleep," Sam said, "and maybe check out some of the entertainment that's been dreamed up during my long absence."

The door to the bathroom opened, and Jeff came out, looking much more together than he had this morning.

"I'm next," Sam said, getting up and heading for the shower. "I haven't had a shower since I was restored. I'm probably starting to stink the place up."

"Well I didn't want to say anything but..." Jeff said, joking.

"Ha, you were always the smelly one, Jeff. Remember basketball season; no one could even come near your gym shoes, pee yew," Sam said, holding his nose as he walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

Jeff chuckled. "It's so strange seeing him again. Sam and I haven't been close for a long time, and this Sam is right out of our past when we were closest. I'm thinking about stuff I haven't thought about in decades, but he brings it all right back."

"I know what you mean. Sometimes I meet people I haven't seen since my childhood, and then it brings some past shock to you to know how long ago that was and how much things have changed," Terra agreed.

" _Past shock_ , it's a trendy word today, but I don't think most people appreciate that what we call past shock is relatively mild compared to what it could be." Jeff was starting back up on his Newbie track and Terra didn't want to be the choir. She already agreed with him.

"Yeah, it could be a lot worse," she said to nip that conversation off right there.

"So, do you have a plan for when we get to Mars?" Jeff ventured.

"The outline of one. The tricky part is getting to my family dome. If we can pull that off, we'll be home free. I think we'll be needing those disguises again, so make sure they're charged when we arrive."

"They're charging right now in our cabin. They'll be ready in a few hours."

"Good. Now if I can just figure out how to get to the surface undetected."

"Are we assuming that this Ariel Stoneman will know we're on a Fed-Ex express?" Jeff asked.

"Yes, I'm sure they'll have it figured out without much delay, if they don't already know. We need a diversion or a way to get down that doesn't involve the standard shuttles. Any suggestions?"

"Maybe we should ask Ignus. He might have a way," Jeff suggested.

"Yeah, let's ask him. Ignus?" Terra called out. A few moments later Ignus dropped down from the bridge.

"You rang, Madam?" Ignus responded with the exact tone a butler would use.

"We need to get to the Gates Family Dome without being detected. We're under the assumption that our mode of transport, The Express, has been compromised...any suggestions?"

Ignus stared off into space obviously deep in thought, and he stayed like that for several minutes, during which Terra and Jeff just looked at him, waiting for his return from his peculiar trance like state.

"Well, I can think of a couple of ways," Ignus said, snapping back. "One is to get a second ship to dock with us and transfer you off. That could be observed, but having two targets might be better than just one. The second is to put you back in your crate, make some mods, and have the crate land on the surface using deceleration bags, some thrusters, and the fog restraint system. You should be able to make it. I've used it to drop contraband before, but never live contraband, so it's your choice. Either way I'll just pull in as usual and when the UMG security storms The Express they won't find a soul but me and Darla, and no evidence to point towards your being here."

"How are you managing that?" Jeff asked.

"Darla is making sure that nothing that comes off your body is left floating around. Everything is being collected and sent to the reaction chamber. No one will ever know you were on board."

"Well, the first option sounds a little safer, but less likely to work, and we have to bring someone else with a ship in on it. The second is risky, but we can model it and see what the numbers come out to be," Jeff said.

After a lengthy discussion and some intense computer modeling they decided to go for the container landing. It would hopefully drop them only a few kilometers from the Gates family dome in a small canyon, and they would walk the rest of the way in suits. If everything worked, they would be fine when they landed. If it didn't, they'd all be waking up in the Restoration center remembering nothing of the past few days, weeks or months. They had three more days to get everything ready, and it was going to take every minute of it.

### Chapter 25

Dawson was getting restless. He had spent three days reviewing the tactical information about the Powel. He now knew more than he had ever expected about the current state of the art of Fleet weapons and capabilities. He had also reviewed the file of every crew member and made a list of those he thought might be trouble later on. He was big on making contingency plans. When he was ready, he'd hand the list over to Lieutenant Madison and have her keep an eye on the suspect crew. He'd also had to endure three more of the most uncomfortable backups he'd ever experienced. He was getting more used to them now, but it still made him shiver when he thought about them.

The Powel was due to arrive at Mars in twenty minutes, the ship would go into heavy deceleration to bring them into a geosyncronous orbit over the UMG capital city of Olympia. From her prior discussions with Jeff Hughes and Sam Storm's younger version they knew that was where Terra would be heading as soon as she landed,. They had been accelerating since the halfway point of their journey in order to keep their lead at twelve hours, and unfortunately that entailed a large burn at the end to stop. They would have to burn at seven g's for fifteen minutes to adequately kill their velocity so they could go into Mars orbit.

"All hands, please take restraint chairs and prepare for deceleration in two minutes," the voice of the Nav officer came over the intercom.

Dawson was in his quarters and decided that he had better head for the bridge. He quickly left his room, jumped into the main lift column, said "Bridge," and was whisked upward. The iris door to the bridge opened at his approach and he came up right in time for the one minute warning.

"Agent Dawson," the Captain said, acknowledging his presence as she noted his arrival.

Dawson nodded and moved towards one of the extra restraint chars at the back of the bridge. He sat down and took a grip on the arm rests.

"Propulsion systems status?" the Captain requested.

"Propulsion is green," a voice came over the intercom.

"Nav, burn on zero," Captain Whetherstone ordered.

"Aye, Sir. Burning in thirty seconds," the Nav officer replied. The Nav officer commenced the countdown at twenty seconds, and Dawson held on.

It was only yesterday that they had flipped directions and begun deceleration. Dawson wished that the Captain had told him of the necessity of this larger burn when they had started out, but it was apparently standard Fleet procedure.

If one had to be somewhere quickly, they could do it two ways. The first was to have a constant thrust and at the halfway point flip around and start decelerating and come to a stop when you reached your destination. The second was to accelerate longer at a lower level and at the end decelerate quickly. The second put more stress on the engines, but he had been informed that this maneuver was well within tolerances. It was all about cumulative thrust or delta-V. There was a difference between what one needed to orbit Earth, and what one needed to orbit Mars, but those differences were small compared to the delta-V needed to make a straight shot between the two.

As the countdown ended, the engines kicked in at about six times their previous level and Dawson now felt as if he weighed a half-ton...which he did. It was as if he had five other people sitting on his shoulders. The restraint chair and fog system were helping to keep him from moving too much because a sudden movement could cause him to damage his muscles or bones easily. A fall, even from his chair, would break his bones as if they were dry kindling. It was uncomfortable, almost as much as the backup machine.

The fog was also squeezing his lower extremities to keep the blood from rushing towards the floor and out of his head. It was a common technique that had been used by jet fighter pilots three-hundred plus years ago. Even with the extra help from the fog Dawson could still see just a slight bit of tunnel vision as some of the blood in his head headed south.

The Nav officer counted down the minutes, and as she reached ten, Dawson thought he was going to lose it. He hated being held so immobile for so long; it unnerved him. He tried to take his mind off his plight by studying the others he could still see down the tunnel to see what their reactions were. They were all calm, composed, and obviously used to this kind of maneuver. They looked somewhat uncomfortable but nothing to indicate that they were about to crack up. Dawson envied and despised them at the same time, hoping that eventually he would be able to treat such a maneuver with similar disdain. The minutes slowly ticked away and finally Nav returned them to their previous one point two gee deceleration. They would keep on for another five minutes, and then they would be at their desired orbit after a few maneuvering thrusts.

"Captain, I've got an incoming transmission from the UMG President herself," the Com Officer reported.

"Patch it through to the forward projector," Captain Whetherstone instructed.

Dawson, now freed of the awful deceleration, inched forward in his seat as the forward section of the bridge where before there had been a forward view from the ship was now a very high resolution 3-D Fog simulation of the UMG president Ariel Stoneman herself. She looked slightly nervous.

"President Stoneman, it's an unexpected honor. I'm Captain Whetherstone at your service," the Captain addressed her diplomatically.

"Captain, good. I was actually calling to inquire as to what brings you here at such a clip. Since you appeared on our screens yesterday, we noticed you were moving quite quickly for the Earth-Mars transfer, and I wondered if your business here might require UMG help."

Dawson wasn't sure if Stoneman could see him in the back of the bridge or if she only saw the Captain, but he highly doubted she wanted to be of help. Mars was known for public resentment of the Fleet presence. Damon Harding had warned him about her. She would be looking for Terra Gates and would do almost anything to stop her. He was sure that this was the true reason for her call.

"Well, thank you for your offer, President Stoneman. But I assure you that we have all that we need; however, if that changes, we will of course contact the UMG. Right now we simply want to put into orbit and top-off our main fuel tanks."

"Certainly. And might I inquire as to whether or not your carrying any non-military passengers for which Mars is the final destination?" the President asked.

She was looking for Terra Gates; Dawson was now sure of it.

"No we aren't carrying anyone of the sort, and if we were, we would certainly contact your customs department before any such persons were ferried to the surface. On that you have my word," the Captain answered convincingly.

The President gave a smile and then continued, "Well, it always pays for us to contact the Fleet vessels that come through Mars. Its good to know who's out there protecting you. Thank you for your time, and please enjoy your stay here."

"Thank you. It's always good to meet the woman in charge," the Captain concluded. At this Ariel gave a genuine smile.

"Yes, it is. Good day Captain," the President said and then disappeared.

Once the connection was down, Captain Whetherstone swiveled about in her chair to face Dawson. "I assume they are looking for Terra Gates."

"Yes, I'm sure she is. We can't let her do anything to jeopardize our mission, of which Miss Gates is a very important piece. I believe that she knows approximately when Miss Gates left Earth and is frantically trying to determine what ship she is taking to Mars. There are only five that left around our departure time bound for Mars and of those only two are arriving before the vote over which President Stoneman is concerned. We are the first of those two and the Fed-Ex Express vessel is the second," Dawson informed her.

"What does this vote concern?"

"It would serve to keep Terra Gates from being able to fully utilize her shares to control the UMG and would firmly put Stoneman in charge. I believe that Miss Gates' sudden restoration, far ahead of schedule, has made Stoneman nervous that she will show up and vote this measure down. I've been warned that she may be willing to resort to violence to keep Terra away," Dawson explained. It was pretty much verbatim from what Harding had explained to him. Martian politics was not his forte.

"Do we need to do anything about this?" the Captain asked.

"Yes, I believe that we should dispatch the Marines to protect the three of them from any harm so that they can continue to lead us to our objective. I should have some more intelligence in a few hours and will be able to give you specifics. Until then, I suggest we refuel and make sure we're ready to move at a moment's notice."

"I'll let Lieutenant Madison know we're going to need them. They'll be ready to move in less than an hour should it become necessary. Keep me informed of anything that comes up, please," the Captain requested. "Nav, bring us in for refueling at the Fleet depot."

As they finished their final minute of deceleration and orbit adjustments so they would rendezvous with the Fleet supply depot at the Phobos Spaceport, the engines switched off and that all too familiar sensation of simulated gravity returned.

Dawson headed down to the Marine Barracks, to check with Lieutenant Madison. As he was about to arrive at the Barracks he saw all the Marines hustle into the lift column and head down to what Dawson guessed would be the EVA shed. He quickly instructed the lift tube to follow them.

When he touched down and entered the EVA shed, the place was a fury of activity. The Marines were pulling their exosuits off the wall hangers. They didn't even pay any attention to him at first. A Marine would run a hand down the center of the suit and it would open like a zipper, even though there were none. They would then just step into the suit, and it would seal up over them very rapidly.

The only one left unsuited was Lieutenant Madison herself who had noticed his presence and came over to him. "Agent Dawson, can you brief us as to what our mission might be? Any advance warning could help us formulate some contingency plans."

"Well, the three people we're following are Terra Gates, Jeff Hughes and Gregory Hillman. We suspect that Terra Gates will be targeted by the UMG President to either kill her or to simply hold her and prevent her from attending a vote that is scheduled approximately thirteen hours from now. We don't want her hurt, so we want you to follow her undetected and make sure no harm comes to her."

"Where will this vote be taking place?" Madison asked.

"According to my sources, it will be in the UMG Boardroom. I'll transfer the coordinates over to you. I'd like an advance team of two to scout it out, undetected of course, and to make sure there are no traps. Then I'd like the remainder to follow the three of them when they arrive until they make it to the Boardroom as at least Gates undoubtedly will. Their ship will arrive in eleven hours and forty-seven minutes. I'll have more details for you in a few hours. When we dock at the UMG Depot for refueling, will you be able to send two Marines down to the surface without being detected?"

"Yes, Agent Dawson, no one will ever know we're there. Corporal Hawkings, Corporal Day," she called. "You will be the advance team. Once we have data-fusion on the op and are docked at the Fleet depot, you will proceed to scout the scene of the Board meeting and neutralize any threats. Deadly force is authorized only if all else fails. Maintain complete stealth. Understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am," the two echoed.

"Agent Dawson, don't worry. UMG instrumentation isn't good enough at present to detect our suits when they are totally stealthed."

"Good," Dawson said. "Then I'll be in contact in a few hours with more details." Madison nodded and Dawson left the EVA shed and headed back for his quarters. Hopefully the Express would come back in range shortly, and he'd have his inside sources again. Surely Terra must know that Stoneman would be after her. But he'd just have to wait and see what they were up to.

### Chapter 26

They were only one hour away, and they still had a ways to go to get the container ready for its wild ride. As it turned out, to Terra's surprise, Jeff wasn't a bad engineer. He'd obviously done a lot more than run the restoration division in his short time. Ignus was also very resourceful. Between the four of them they'd already fitted several of the spare thruster packs onto the container to decelerate it and they were now working on getting the deceleration airbags attached so that once deployed they'd provide enough cushioning for the shock of landing. Sam was working on the fog restraint system inside the container, giving it some extra instructions that would hopefully keep them safe in the event of an emergency.

"It'll work, don't worry," Ignus assured, seeing Terra standing there in the cargo bay watching them attach one of the bags. "I had to deliver a load, in kind of the same manner on the moon once. Of course one sixth is a long way from the one third of Mars. But it'll work."

"Yeah, as long as all the thruster packs fire and all the bags deploy; otherwise we're toast," Sam said with a smile. It wasn't reassuring, but it was their only recourse now. They didn't have any other plans or the time to implement them if they did.

The plan was pretty simple. Right when the Express went into its final deceleration burn, the container, which they would move to the outside before the maneuver, would detach and continue on towards the planet at a much faster speed. The container was small enough that it would probably escape detection, but no one was sure of that. Any military vessel in the area would be sure to see it happen.

Once they made it to the surface, hopefully before any opposition could arrive, they would head straight to the Gates family dome which should only be a few kilometers away. Once there they would use one the airlocks and get inside. After that they should be safe. The vote wasn't for five or six hours so they should have plenty of time. They would then use the camouflage to get to the vote without being discovered. It wasn't a complicated plan, but it all hinged on the container being able to make the ground without a hitch.

The thrusters and the deceleration bags were standard pieces of equipment for a ship to carry. As such they were tightly regulated because lives always depended on them. They failed only rarely and they were always used redundantly in case one did fail. Unfortunately, the Express, being a relatively small ship, didn't have that many onboard, so they had only the minimum number required with none left over. It made Terra nervous to think about it, and she had been thinking about it constantly since they thought the idea up. If she could find another way, she would take it in a heartbeat, but she had to be at that vote, and she couldn't get there the normal way by shuttle to the surface. Ariel Stoneman would make sure of that.

"All right the fog mods are made," Sam announced, moving away from the container where Jeff and Ignus were fitting the last deceleration bag. "It should work better than it did. Those things aren't programmed to compensate for landings like the one we're planning. I just hope it's all worth the effort."

"Me too, but I can't let that woman get control of Mars," Terra said vehemently. "There's no telling what she'd do if she did."

"Hey, easy. We'll get there," Sam assured her, putting his hand on her shoulder. If he had done such a thing before they left Earth, she would have thought him presumptuous, but in the last few days there had been a growing sense of camaraderie both because of the work on the container and their mutual goal of finding Sam 6.7.

"I know. Just got a little pre-launch anxiety. Nothing to worry about, right?" Terra was feeling a little queasy. She wasn't the kind of person who took big physical risks. Political risks, yes, but this was crazy. The more the she thought about it, the more she started to stress.

_Your pulse is rising and the amount of adrenaline in your system is spiking,_ Plato warned her.

_I know, I feel it!_ Terra replied. She tried to breath in through her mouth and out through her nose a few times.

"Right," Sam replied.

"If it makes you feel any better, Terra, my stomach is doing summersaults," Jeff admitted with one hand on his stomach. "It'll stop after we launch."

"Yeah, but then we'll have real motion sickness to deal with," Terra sighed.

Jeff just shrugged.

"Well, I think that's it. Darla can you please run the preflight check on the thrusters and the airbags?" Ignus requested, standing back from the container.

"All diagnostics return good status," Darla informed them.

"Thank you," Ignus replied. "You all ready? You've got about ten minutes before we need to load you and get you outside. Then you'll just have to wait out there for deceleration to complete, and off you'll go."

"Thanks, Ignus. You've been a real help here," Terra said sincerely. "I won't forget it."

"Just come back for those follow up charters, that's all I ask," Ignus said. The amount Terra was offering would accelerate the payoff of the ship by at least a decade, and it wouldn't be through Fed-Ex who would have taken a large cut.

"If our business takes us off Mars, you'll be the first to know," Terra assured him.

"Well, you all better get suited up now...and don't forget to use the restroom. It'll help your nerves...trust me," Ignus offered.

At that they returned to their cabins upstairs and gathered their belongings. Terra lifted the shoebox sized cylinder out of her emergency closet as Ignus had instructed, took off her clothing, and lifted the cylinder above her head twisting open the port on the top. A black liquid like substance flowed down over her and flowed to cover her entire body. She set down the canister and the rest of her hand was enveloped.

For a moment things went dark, and she couldn't breathe as the suit material covered her face. Then the material around her face became transparent and she breathed in deeply, the suit supplying her with air. It'd been a few years since she'd been in one of these suits. When she was younger, she'd like to go for walks on the surface of Mars, but as she'd grown older and had taken on more and more responsibility, she hadn't had a lot of time for that. Still, the experience would come in very handy when they landed.

Terra scooped up her clothes and stuffed them in the end of the space suit storage cylinder. She didn't have anything else, so she opened the door to her cabin and went back into the main room. The door to Sam and Jeff's cabin was open and she couldn't see them so she headed back down in to the cargo bay. As she began to descend, she looked below and saw two jet black figures with only their heads looking semi normal, as if they were hidden behind a half inch of glass. Jeff had a lump at his belt which Terra assumed was his external companion computer.

"Ready?" Ignus asked. "Then let's get this show going." He indicated the container which now had its side open again.

"Just a minute," Jeff said. "We've got one more piece of apparel to don?" He took the three canisters which had been sitting next to his suit canister and handed one to Sam and one to Terra. "They should be good for at least four hours. They can interface with your suit and through it your companion. If necessary, they can draw power from it."

Terra and Sam took theirs and poured the contents over their heads, Jeff did the same. "Just put it in passive mode. That'll save power while we land."

Terra interfaced with her companion and had Plato switch into passive mode.

"And what's all this, then?" Ignus asked.

"Just a little extra help," Jeff said. He suddenly disappeared and only a slight shimmer appeared where he'd been standing.

"Neat trick," Ignus commented, as Jeff reappeared.

"Just a little Newbie ingenuity," Sam added. They all made their way to the container and bent down to get inside. They each took one of the three remaining restraint chairs, they'd removed the other one earlier to save mass.

"You all tucked in then?" Ignus asked, his hands on the top of the opened door, ready to close it.

"Yep."

"Ready."

"Let's do it."

"All right then, I'm closing it now. Good luck. And don't forget to call if you need me," Ignus reminded them. Then he closed the door.

It was dark for a moment until the interior screens came on and they could once again see the cargo room. Ignus made his way to the lift column and disappeared shortly thereafter up into the main room on his way to the bridge. After a minute the container lifted up several feet off the ground and a large cargo door slid open on the side of the ship, revealing the stars.

The container moved quickly to the opening which was sealed by a thick layer of transparent fog that was holding in the ship's internal pressure from the outside vacuum. As the container passed through the opening, the fog held them firmly as the interior pressure tried to blow them outward. Then it gently moved the container away from the door and down the exterior of the cylinder that made up the cargo and crew section. The cargo door closed behind them, and they stopped as the container was securely connected to the ship's hull by the fog.

"Looks like we're ready then," Jeff said. They could see Mars off in the distance. It was becoming larger by the second as they approached.

"Get ready for final deceleration," Ignus' voice came over their suit radios via a tight transmission that hopefully wouldn't be picked up by eavesdroppers. "Five minutes."

They waited silently. Jeff had his hand on his stomach which was in turn making Terra's own a little queasy.

Sam seemed perfectly calm as he stared out the window. "Hey, is that the orbital mirror over there?" he asked, pointing.

"Yep. Melting the permafrost and boosting the amount of greenhouse gasses in the atmosphere," Terra explained. The mirror was just becoming visible over the limb of the planet.

"It's huge," Sam commented.

"Four hundred kilometers in diameter," Terra noted. It'd been there for about seventy years now. She could hardly recall the sky without it. It was almost like a second sun.

"And it just hovers there?" Sam said with youthful exuberance.

Terra smiled. "Yes, just solar radiation pressure keeps it permanently above the poles."

"It must have been pretty hard to build."

_No wonder his other version became an engineer; it was just in his nature to wonder about how things were constructed, with no thought for the politics,_ Terra thought.

"It was even harder to get it approved," Terra said, remembering the hours of arguments over a half century between the environmentalists, who wanted Mars preserved in its original state and the terraformists who wanted a atmosphere thick enough to allow plants and unsuited travel outside the domes. The terraformists had won finally, and then the mirror had taken five years to engineer and fabricate.

"I'll bet," Sam said.

"Thirty seconds. Get ready," Ignus said over the speaker.

Terra had momentarily forgotten their current situation as she had been remembering that past battle over the mirror. She was grateful Sam had been able to distract her. She had to keep reminding herself how young he really was.

The Express' motors kicked on at three-g's, not a tremendous force for deceleration, but it made Terra's stomach turn as they were pulled sideways.

"We should have oriented the container the other way," Jeff said. The restraint fog and the chairs were holding them still but internally they could all feel the forces.

"Too late now," Sam grimaced.

The burn would continue for five minutes as the Express came into orbit, but at four minutes the container detached from the ship and a small compressed gas thruster on the shipward side fired, moving them outward and away from the express. They quickly fell away from the still decelerating ship, and they were now back in free fall as they hurtled toward the planet that had grown to fill the entire screen.

Jeff was the one who was interfaced with the container's small computer system that was controlling the sequencing of their thrusters and deceleration bags. "We enter the atmosphere in two minutes.".

As they entered the atmosphere at its most tenuous level, small maneuvering thrusters turned them to face the large thruster on the bottom of the container towards their velocity vector and fired. It slowed them down considerably. Their trajectory now, instead of leading them to skip off the atmosphere back into space, became a ballistic course that would hopefully land them in the right spot.

When the thruster finished its firing, Terra gave a sigh of relief that they had passed the first hurdle. Doubtless they would have been rescued, but flying off in to space would have delayed them probably long enough for Ariel Stoneman to find out who was onboard and make sure they didn't make the vote. Now their only problem was landing, as opposed to crashing. They plummeted downward on a trip that didn't take long as the features of the surface rapidly became more visible. Terra could see out of one of the screens the main domes of Olympia. They at least seemed to be on target.

"We're on a good trajectory," Jeff assured them, focusing on the images his companion was feeding him from the container's recently added sensors. "Firing the second thruster." Again a kick and they slowed their descent. After ten seconds the thrusters stopped, and again the feeling of free-fall returned.

Terra could see the Gates family dome now set a few kilometers away from the main dome cluster. They were still falling rapidly and accelerating as the one-third gravity pulled them closer.

"We're at ten thousand meters," Jeff marked. He counted them off a thousand meters at a time until they reached a thousand.

"Firing third thruster." Again the kick and the return of a slight weight. "Five hundred, we're at twenty meters per second." Four hundred, three, two. "Firing final thruster. Five meters per second. Deploying deceleration bags." There was a hissing sound as the airbags inflated to completely protect the container.

Then they hit. The bags absorbed most of the force, but it was still quite jarring although it could have been much much worse. They bounced and tumbled for another minute as they container came to a stop as it gently collided with something on the ground. The restraint chairs and the fog held them firmly in place. The bags deflated and they were lowered to the ground.

"Everybody all right?" Jeff asked. It was now completely dark in the container which was also resting on its side, though thankfully not the side with the door.

"Yeah," Terra answered. It hadn't been as bad as she thought, but she didn't want to ever have to do that again. She preferred the ferry from orbit with its totally controlled descent and gentle touchdown to their quick and dirty method.

"That was great!" Sam exclaimed. "Makes you feel just like the little rover Sojourner must have felt bouncing all around."

"It didn't have even an SS system. It couldn't have felt anything," Terra said, though she was impressed that he knew his history so well at such a young age.

"Still gives you that connection with a little ancient Mars history," Jeff added. "Let's get out of here." He made his chair release him and he fell the short distance to the wall of the container. From there he moved to the side that opened and hit the release.

Terra and Sam waited, not wanting to get in the way until it was open. It opened partially, about a meter, and then became stuck on something, but it was enough. Jeff stepped out onto the surface. Terra released herself and followed him out. They had landed almost exactly where they had planned; they were off by a few hundred meters because of the bouncing and rolling, but all together they'd done well. The canyon was still partially in the shadows, the Sun was only just rising, the darkness would conceal the container for at least another few hours as the sun worked its way overhead.

Sam crawled out of the container and took in the surroundings. "Wow, we really hit it on the nose, didn't we?"

"We sure did," Jeff replied. Terra was just taking in the sight. She was home. They didn't even notice that they had been detected and were already being watched by four Marines.

### Chapter 27

After they'd taken a few minutes to recover from the shock of the landing, they all initiated the camouflage to hide them from prying eyes. Before they disappeared, they mapped out their path based on some high resolution images that Ignus had had stored on board the Express. This provided them with an overlay through their visual implants that showed them where they should be going in dull green light. They wouldn't be able to speak with each other while they were camouflaged, or rather they could, but then someone could triangulate in on their position from their radio emissions. Fortunately, they weren't completely invisible, just well hidden. Sam could see the footprints forming in the loose gravel in front of him from Terra, and he imagined he was doing the same for Jeff who was bringing up the rear.

They worked their way up the canyon wall along a path that Terra had taken several times before in her private treks when she was younger. It was only few hundred meters deep and didn't take them long in the one third gravity. They could jump between ledges without much fear of falling. Their spacesuit systems provided their companions with software that could help them predict where they would land so they could adjust their course midair accordingly. They reached the top of the canyon after ten minutes of good climbing and traversing some natural switchback type formations. As they did, they came into the full sunlight. It was somewhat pinkish as the sun was still low on the horizon, but the light provided them with a spectacular view of Olympia.

Sam followed the green virtual trail with his eyes and found that it stopped at a Dome that was far closer than the cluster of domes that made up the city, the Gates family dome. It was immense for a private residence, and Terra had informed him while they had still had some time to talk on The Express that originally her whole family had lived there together. Then, over time, they had all moved out to their own smaller domes or into the vast residences available in the main city domes. Now the Gates family dome was occupied by Terra and her caretakers.

Sam could see that the terrain they had to traverse to reach the dome was slightly rocky but nothing too rough, and he really wanted to try running. He had gone on a few field trips to space and even one to the moon. These had been great, especially when he donned small wings that attached to his arms and took a flying lesson in the one sixth gravity environment of the Luna City main dome.

He knew that he could ask his suit to augment his jumping ability and he could bound over the surface very quickly, but they hadn't discussed it and he didn't want to suddenly disappear on his friends, who would wonder where he went. Sam let out a sigh. It would have been fun, though...perhaps he would get a chance later. They continued to walk for twenty minutes.

Sam accessed the suit system via Ralphie and had it give him a drink through a nipple that formed between his lips. He sucked a little and was pleasantly surprised that it was a good rendition of orange juice, without the pulp. The suit had some stores of both food and drink that he could access, eventually it would run out and he'd have to provide the suit with some waste material to work with to make more. It was a good arrangement and all it took was power which his suit collected from the sun and, in the event of an emergency, a molecular-bond battery pack...that and a strong stomach, eating your own waste even when it had been scrubbed at the atomic level wasn't much fun to think about.

_Ralphie, can you have the suit give you an aft view and pipe it to my displays in a small window?_ Sam asked, wanting a rearview mirror. Ralphie quickly provided him the display and he could indeed see the footprints he was leaving and the ones that Jeff was making about two meters behind him, but everything else appeared quiet. He didn't see any one following them or any activity towards the canyon, which meant that by now they had made it undetected.

They continued to trek across the landscape with the dome that was their destination growing larger with every step until finally they reached it. Terra had instructed them that they needed to proceed to a certain section of the wall for which she couldn't give them coordinates. Instead they watched the prints she made in the dirt as she skirted around the edge of the dome. It was a good hundred meters or so in diameter at the base and had a wall that went up for about ten meters. After that there was a transparent dome that continued upward another twenty meters. It wasn't a huge structure, but considering that for a time it had been the largest private structure on the planet, it held a certain fascination.

Terra's footprints stopped and Sam had to halt himself before he ran into her because he hadn't been paying close attention while taking in the sight of the dome. Sam had no idea what Terra was doing, but it took a minute and then a section of the ground lowered away revealing a set of stairs that led under the dome. Sam started downward into the dark.

Once inside he saw that the corridor was only a about five meters long and ended at a metallic door with a small transparent window. He proceeded towards it but bumped into an invisible obstacle which he figured must be Terra. He felt a hand on his arm holding him, then after a few more seconds he was bumped in to by Jeff who was bringing up the rear. He, like Terra, put his hand on Jeff's arm to hold him. Then he felt Terra release, him and a moment later the stairs that had led them down lifted back up sealing the entrance. After a moment of darkness a light came on.

"You guys all right?" Terra's voice came over the radio, which now that they were enclosed was shielded.

"Yeah," Jeff said.

"Yep," Sam replied. The trip had been far easier than he had been expecting.

"All right, we can disable the camouflage now," Terra told them. Sam had Ralphie access the camouflage system and turn it off. They all reappeared in the light of the corridor. "Okay, I'm going to open the airlock." Terra placed her hand on a panel next to the door. There was a pause and the door slid sideways, allowing them to enter the small airlock that had room for maybe five people. Once they were all inside, Terra accessed another control panel and the door to the outside closed behind them. There was a hissing sound, and then a green light appeared on the panel.

"Okay, you guys. We're here. Now my caretakers aren't expecting us, so please if you see someone just follow my lead. I'm sure they'll recognize me in short order."

"Fine by me," Sam said.

Terra tapped another of the controls, and the inner door opened. Terra also had her spacesuit open the helmet portion and retract it to her collar so her hair moved about freely again. Sam didn't mind the suit; it was comfortable, but he had his helmet retract as well and Jeff did too after a minute. It would let them talk without needing the radios.

It wasn't but a minute until two men stepped out in front of them, both holding hand weapons.

"Is that you, Terra?" one of them asked.

Terra smiled happily. "Jordan, it's good to see you again, and you too, Carl."

The men didn't lower the weapons. "We're waiting," Jordan reminded.

"Right, the password is 'Quote the Raven "Never More,'" Terra responded, and the two men immediately looked relieved and lowered the weapons.

"What are you doing here, Terra? You're not supposed to be back for decades," Carl said, stepping forward and giving her a hug which she returned.

Terra hugged Jordan also. They both came up in Sam's displays, and they were both much older looking than Terra. Their cumulative years came up quite a bit older than she was as well. They must have seen her grow up from a young child, a long time to work for one family.

"But just as well you did. I assume you're back because of the vote?" Jordan added, releasing her.

"Yes, that among other things, but the vote is my top priority right now," Terra agreed, smiling at the two of them.

"So how is it that you got in without the surveillance cameras picking you up? And who are these men?" Carl asked with almost a scolding that she hadn't properly introduced them.

"This is Jeff, and this is Greg, Jeff, Greg this is Carl and Jordan, the most trusted members of my staff and like family to me."

"Pleasure to meet you." Jeff greeted them.

"It's always good to meet a friend of Terra's," Jordan replied, taking Jeff's hand.

There were brief greetings all around, and then Terra broke up the reunion with a sudden announcement. "The vote's been moved up; my companion just informed me when he reconnected to the net. It's in thirty minutes. If we don't leave now, we won't make it." She starting to push away from them and head down the hallway.

"Terra, you can't just walk out there. You'll be seen. Wait. We have a few minutes don't we?" Jeff, followed after her.

She stopped.

"It'll take at least twenty minutes to get there. Maybe twenty five at most." Jordan said, backing Jeff up.

"But...." Terra started.

"Look, we don't want to be there early. We want to be there right on time, so nothing can stop us," Sam added.

"That's right," Jeff agreed. "And we need the appropriate camouflage. The one we used outside won't work well indoors with too many straight lines, patterned walls and floors and other people. That's why we didn't use it on the zip tube. We need to personify someone who wouldn't be suspect if they were seen leaving the dome."

"You're right," Terra acquiesced. "Can we add a person to the camouflage system?"

"Yes, we just need to have a three-D scan of a person to make it work, Jordan and Carl will work, but we need one more.

"I'll get Fiona," Carl offered. "She's across the dome but she can meet us at the entrance. I'm sending her companion a message to meet us there now."

"Well, let's go. We need to get over there," Jordan prompted, taking the lead. Sam didn't get to see much of the inside of the dome though he did have a brief glimpse of a very large atrium with running water and more that must have been at the center. He really wanted to go back and see it, but there wasn't time. They walked quickly through hallways and took several flights of stairs before they arrived at the entrance. A large woman was waiting for them. She grabbed Terra the moment she was within range.

"Oh, Terra, we've missed you. And you look so young," she exclaimed, giving Terra a squeeze. They were about the same height but not at all the same mass. Still it would have to do.

"Fi, no time to explain. Please just stand there for a moment while we scan you," Terra instructed, stepping back. Terra made a quick circle around her, having her companion build a three dimensional model which she then had routed to the camouflage. After a second Terra herself disappeared, and a copy of Fiona was standing before them.

"Well, get going," the doppelganger said in Fiona's voice.

Jeff repeated the procedure with Carl who was closest to his build and Sam had Ralphie start the scan of Jordan to build his three-dimensional model. Adding the voice patterns from the brief conversation the companions had recorded earlier, they then transmitted the models to the camouflage and activated them. Now there were two of each person.

"Oh, my, this is strange," the real Fiona said, stepping back, her hand coming up to her mouth.

"I'll explain it all later, Fi. But we have to go now. Please don't leave the dome and don't go into the atrium. We need it to seem that you have really left the dome for this to work," Terra warned.

"Of course, Terra. Now go," Carl said.

Terra, in Fiona's form started towards the large double door which opened for her. "Come on, guys," she called.

Jeff and Sam followed her out. They passed into a large airlock. Terra hit a few controls on one of the walls, and the airlock cycled, opening the exterior door when it was finished. The airlock was really there only for emergencies and for when the dome was originally constructed, but it kept people out.

Once the door opened, it revealed a long corridor that was perhaps ten meters wide and five meters tall. It was composed of hard packed Martian dirt and had probably been bored out centuries ago.

"Come on," Terra said, leading them to a small ground vehicle that was parked on the side of the corridor. They all climbed in, Terra taking the controls, and then they were off to drive the half kilometer to the closest perimeter dome of Olympia through the enclosed tube.

### Chapter 28

Dawson was watching the whole thing safely on the Powel. He had a live feed through the Powel to the Marines below. He had been assured that they didn't risk anything by using the link because it was a quantum encrypted transmission that no one would ever break and no one would probably ever detect.

Using this link and his implants Dawson could see from the perspective of each Marine, switching between them at will. It was exhilarating. He had followed the trio back to the Gates Family dome from the safe distance of a hundred meters; they had never even known that the Marines were present. Dawson had switched back and forth between Sam's implant and the Marines to see the pursuit from both perspectives. The Marines' camouflage was much more advanced than the pirate technology that Jeff Hughes had acquired from his Newbie sources.

Unfortunately, he had forgotten that they had the camouflage technology, and Lt. Madison had contacted him briefly asking what he knew about it. When he told her what he did know, she accepted it with a little grunt and then had her marines do something that made the three visible, some other wavelength or infrared, he wasn't sure. He'd have to ask about it later.

Dawson was still amazed at the trio's ingenuity, though. He never would have thought to use a cargo container with some small rocket motors and airbags to make a landing on Mars although it was something that had been done a few times before with unmanned space probes before the first Manned Mars mission in 2015. He'd watched them put on the final touches, and then via his connection with Sam had monitored their landing, starting when they detached at the end of the deceleration burn and hurtled towards Mars.

He had had several hours to observe their plans and then had the SS navigation system calculate their probable landing zone based on what intelligence he had collected. The Captain had asked him once where he was getting his information but he just said that he had an inside source that he couldn't reveal. Still it had made him sweat just a little thinking about what her reaction to the truth would be.

The second team of six marines, led by Lt. Madison, had then jumped out of the airlock in their exosuits, several moving into position to protect the container from any possible enemy fire or capture attempt and the rest making an orbital insertion to land at the projected landing site to wait for the container to make the ground.

The exosuits the Marines used were nothing less than amazing. There was a large attachment that they each donned that consisted of a very small antimatter rocket, two hundred kilograms of fuel, and five grams of antimatter each. They used these packs for their landing on the planet, ditching them when they reached the surface. Eventually the launch would have to be sent to pick the Marines up, but it gave them a lot of flexibility and the ability to make a very covert landing from space. The packs wouldn't have been sufficient to land on Earth though as the atmosphere and gravity were much thicker and deeper there.

Once the three had made it to the dome, Dawson had switched entirely to Sam's perspective to make sure he didn't miss anything. He ordered the Marines to work their way around the dome and towards the nearest entrance to Olympia from the tunnel that connected the Gates family dome and the city. The moving up of the vote was something he knew would motivate Terra to move as quickly as possible. The quick adoption of the forms of the three caretakers of her dome was unexpected. He was glad he had his inside source; otherwise, he would have lost these three back on Earth.

"Lt. Madison, Dawson here. They will be leaving the dome very shortly, and they are using their camouflage system to imitate three of the caretakers that work at the Gates family dome. I'm sending images now. Make sure no harm comes to them and nothing hinders them on their way," Dawson ordered over his comlink.

"Affirmative, we're in position. The airlock door is opening. I see them," she replied. He split his view in to two screens, one from Sam's point of view and one from that of Lt. Madison. It was a little hard to take in, but he managed. Terra drove the small ground vehicle into the dome and then stopped, leaving it parked. The three got out of the vehicle and headed towards the nearest transit station.

Olympia was a large city divided into fifty large domes, each capable of fully supporting over a half of a million people. It was the largest center of human civilization off Earth. The centermost dome was called Base One, and it had begun with the first habitation module from the initial landing of man on Mars. As the Mars exploration program progressed, each mission left a habitation module scattered about the surface, but after the tenth mission they had begun landing all the habitation modules at the same location as the first giving a lot more living space to astronauts who had chosen to reside on Mars permanently or at least for an extended number of years. Then over time children were born, and the people started the construction of the first dome which enclosed all of the Habs and temporary structures that had been built over the exploration period.

As space travel had gotten cheaper, more people sold a number of years of their labor to finance their move, and the immigration to Mars began. As the first dome was completed and filled with air, larger structures were built until finally with half a million inhabitants they decided to build a second, and a third, and more and more. Each new dome went next to the original until they formed a concentric circle around Base One. Then a second circle had begun.

Each of the domes was connected by a subway type transportation system that was constructed in much earlier days thsn gog tubes and zip tubes. The domes were spaced apart slightly, so they were all connected by series of subway tunnels.

"We've got opposition, four men all armed with projectile guns, no energy weapons. They also have knives," Lt. Madison informed him.

Two of the other marines approached the four men without any need for orders; they were all connected together via their implants and could operate as one organism. It was amazing to see how coordinated they were. Only Lt. Madison used words to talk with him. The marines had a huge technological advantage. Their exosuit's camouflage was much better than even the stuff Jeff Hughes had acquired, and it made them virtually invisible. They could also move more silently than a stalking cat with no sign of their presence but a slight wisp of wind.

The two, whose position she could see through Madison's displays, quickly used some type of dart that caused the men to become confused. They eventually all lost interest in their prey and sat down on a bench. Dawson wondered what the drug was. The Marines, having eliminated the threat of the four men pursuing the trio, quickly made their way back to meet up with the others who had been guarding the trio as they waited for the train to arrive.

"Man, when is this train going to get here?" The larger woman, actually Terra, spoke impatiently.

"Don't worry. I'm sure the water dealer will wait," the desguised Jeff said.

"Right," Terra replied, apparently remembering that they were using their cover for a reason.

The train arrived, and they all climbed aboard. It was especially crowded. Two of the Marines followed and the other four leapt quietly to the roof to secure themselves. They couldn't take up too much room inside, or people would bump into them. Two would be enough to protect them.

### Chapter 29

The train started to move out, and Sam was feeling a little jumpy. He felt like someone was watching them, following them. And he was amazed that they hadn't been caught yet by someone on Ariel Stoneman's payroll. They weren't being that stealthy, three people leaving the Gates dome and getting on a train for Base One...how suspicious was that, no matter what they looked like. It only left him to conclude that Ariel Stoneman was completely incompetent, but that didn't mesh with what Terra had told him. Maybe their camouflage suits were really that good. Maybe.

As the train went along, they exited the dome into a long lit but enclosed tunnel. They were at least ten meters under the surface because it took a lot of soil to hold down a tunnel that was pressurized to human requirements. This ensured that even if the trains broke down, or if the power were out people could walk between the domes without needing to go outside, a precaution the first settlers had taken when technology had not been nearly so advanced. The tunnels were shaped like long arches composed of thousands of bricks.

When he had studied his history of the first colonists to Mars, he had always been amazed that they employed such simple building materials as brick, but the method worked and bricks were easy to build with, provided you covered them with a lot of dirt to hold in the pressure...bricks could only support a load in compression; tension would blow them apart. Mars was still fairly primitive technologically at least here in the first domes that were constructed. They were constructed before large amounts of metals could be mined or extracted from large surface deposits, and long before nanotechnology reared its head in force. There were no lift columns or transit tubes that employed utility fog. Most transport across the planet took place in rocket powered hoppers, not zip tubes.

After a few minutes they passed into another dome and made a stop. Several people got on and a few got off, but Terra motioned for them to stay seated. Sam was still in awe of her. She was one of the most wealthy people in the solar system, far behind Damon Harding but still a force to be reckoned with. And here he was caught up in a web of Martian political intrigue with her all because his other version had done something and she had helped him. Amazing.

Sam still wasn't sure what to make of Jeff, though. He still seemed like his old crèche mate, but there were years between them now at an age when thirty years could really make a large difference. If such a separation had occurred when they were two hundred, it would have been a different story. The past would have had such a large leverage that three decades would be trivial. But three decades was longer than he had in cumulative years. It was a gulf. They still had some camaraderie, but Sam could tell that Jeff had changed. He'd grown up and taken on responsibility, something neither had been ready for at Sam's age.

Jeff also seemed older than his years. He wasn't just a idealistic fiftyish Newbie. Jeff was quiet and seemed to be carrying the weight of the solar system on his shoulders. It didn't surprise Sam that he did; Jeff had always taken responsibility for things he had no control over.

Sam could remember times when they were younger when one of their crèche would lead them all to do something that got them in trouble. Steal a snack, sneak out of the crèche bunk room at night to catch the vids. It was always something, but Jeff took it more seariously when they got caught and he was always the one that said that they shouldn't go, that they'd get caught. He punished himself too much for things he didn't even do. Sam could see that this was his other version's fault, which kind of made it his fault. He was still Sam Storm. He was still the seed that had grown to the man who had betrayed a friendship with Jeff.

Sam was still torn over this. It wasn't his fault except that it was. He knew he could get Jeff to do stuff, or at least the Jeff that was once his age. He knew the buttons to push, he always had. And his other self had done just that, pushed those buttons. That made Sam feel guilty...but he wasn't Sam Storm any more. He was Greg Hillman. He wanted to find his other self and smack him one, not for attacking the restoration system, not for the non-voluntary dissolutions...murders...that had been committed. But for betraying Jeff, his brother, and for putting the burden of his actions on his brother, because he knew himself well enough to know that that was a line that should never be crossed. There were always alternatives.

Jeff just wasn't that type of guy. When they swore, only such a short time ago for Sam, he wanted it to make them closer than they were because they were already starting to grow apart and take their own paths and interests. Sam was afraid to lose the closeness that they shared growing up, more so than any of the others in their crèche.

Sam realized his attention had been drifting when the train stopped and Jeff had to tap him on the shoulder to get his attention.

"Jordan, come on, we'll be late for our appointment," Jeff reminded, staying in character.

"Right, sorry, Carl. I must have been daydreaming," Sam replied, getting up and following Terra and Jeff out of the train.

"This way," Terra directed.

Sam could tell that she was having a harder and harder time maintaining the ruse that their camouflage provided. She was anxious and driven, not nearly so calm and disciplined as she had been earlier...perhaps it was just post restoration childishness. Terra led them up the stairs until they came out at the surface level of the dome. They took another set of stairs up one more level to where the transparent dome began and there was finally some natural light. They took some turns through a few corridors and came out into the large open space that comprised most of the dome's center. The remainder was built kind of like a stadium, with a large deep open space in the center which then gradually rose up to meet the side of the dome and then followed the curve of the dome back downward. A full third of the area in the dome was dedicated to the UMG seat of government, the remainder was use for living and office space. There was a large walkway on their level that followed around the entire inner circle of the dome.

Terra began to rapidly move towards the UMG government section. It was clear that they were no longer actively pretending to be who they personified but were instead just hoping that their disguises would keep them from harm. The meeting would be starting very shortly, and Terra was probably even more anxious to be there now. As they moved along at a very rapid walk, bouncing slightly in the one third g, Sam thought he heard something behind them, a shuffle or something. When he turned to look, however, he saw nothing.

It took them five minutes to go around half of the dome's circumference, and they stopped in front of a section that was clearly distinguished from its neighboring sections as it was composed of some very white rock. The UMG flag flew above it, waving in the slight breeze that must have been provided by a massive air circulation system that he couldn't see.

"Come on, time for sightseeing later," Terra said, leading them to a building that stood next to the capital section.

"Aren't we going in there?" Sam asked, and regretted it the moment it came out of his mouth.

"Not now," Terra said.

Sam shut up and let her lead. He didn't want to get them caught.

The building they entered was some kind of large library. They entered on the atrium level that looked up to four or five higher stories, and he could see the shelves containing books or records of some sort. It was amazing to behold considering that each of those books would have had to have been shipped to Mars at very high expense over the course of the last few centuries. Some of them were no doubt locally authored, but it was still amazing.

"They aren't all books," Terra said, seeing his awe-filled eyes. She then led them to some stairs and began to bound up them. "That would cost a fortune. Most are just covers for electronic records that date back to the beginning. Some of it is backup for the local datasphere. But all Martians keep their real books here so that everyone can enjoy them. Electronic versions can be accessed through any terminal or implants anywhere on the surface. This is more of a shrine to an older time actually. It is the only large library with printed material anywhere on Mars."

Sam didn't even reply, just hustled to keep up with the seemingly large woman who took stairs five at a time. Jeff was also struggling to keep up the pace.

The stairs ended when they reached the very top level, and Sam and Jeff both gave a small sigh, but Terra continued single minded around the perimeter of the opening of the atrium to a section of book shelves that lined the walls. She placed her hand on a particular spot on the shelf and pushed some kind of button that was very well concealed. The book shelf slid backwards and then turned to reveal a small dark corridor.

"The secrets of Mars?" Jeff asked.

"Just a contingency entrance I happen to know about," Terra confided, walking inside. The bookshelf slid shut behind them as they all entered.

"It's a little cliché, don't you think," Jeff observed, amused.

"Of course it is. That's why it's perfect," Terra returned. "Okay, now we need to switch the personas of our camouflage to anyone else. My custodians are fairly well known, so it won't do us any good to be wearing their faces. Just pick someone and do it quickly," she urged, and then concentrated while she accessed her own camouflage. Her image flickered to that of some man whom Sam didn't recognize.

_Ralphie, pick another persona at random that kind of fits my physical parameters and change to it,_ Sam commanded. Ralphie could do it a lot faster than him accessing the camouflage directly through his implants.

_Done,_ Ralphie informed him once his camouflage changed. He couldn't see the results, though.

"Ready then. We're going to head straight for the meeting room. They're supposed to start in two minutes, so we should be there in plenty of time. I can't wait to see the look on Ariel Stoneman's face," Terra said mischievously as she fiddled with another control on the wall to the left of the entrance.

Another door backed in and slid sideways along the tracks in the floor and they could see a small room. It was ornately furnished with wooden furniture and a desk that looked like it must have almost cost its weight in gold to ship. Wood was almost unheard of here on Mars; it took too long to grow and had to be imported at great expense from Earth. Synthetic wood, however was manufactured locally and was comparably dirt cheap but it didn't look quite like real wood.

There was a large screen against one of the walls and several upholstered chairs in front of the desk. Behind the desk was a window that looked out from the dome upon the landscape of further city domes and red soil. They all stepped into the room and the door, which was another book case that looked like it was built into the wall, closed behind them, leaving no trace that it could move or had moved. Across from them hung the portrait of a man, whom Sam didn't recognize.

"This is the UMG President's office. The secret passage is keyed to my family's DNA, but as far as I know, I and now you two are the only living people who know about it. After this it probably won't be much of a secret anymore, but it's necessary. That's Ariel's father, John Stoneman. He was an ass, but he had money and used it to come here. Let's go." Terra motioned them onward. She headed for the door that was behind the two chairs. The office seemed small, but Sam decided that for a Martian space was at a premium, or at least had been at a premium when this dome was constructed. Terra opened the door slowly, peeked out, then closed the door again.

"It's clear, so follow me. The meeting room for the Board is just down the hall," she said, opening the door again and moving out. Jeff gave Sam a look that spoke volumes about his misgivings as to this approach. Sam gave him a little nod to say he agreed but followed her anyway. The hallway was empty, as she had said. Terra, or rather her persona image, moved off down the hallway. There were images along the walls that showed pictures of the first habitation modules sitting on the lonely surface and the first astronauts to venture this far saluting various nation's flags.

Sam took only a moment to glance at each of the pictures as they passed. He decided that Martians had a very proud history. After all, it was the first place people settled in the solar system and had paved the way for other colonies in the asteroid belts, which had in turn provided the material to build the orbital colonies around Earth. He looked around the empty hallway. It wasn't too ornate; it was practical. There were many doors on their way that each bore a plaque that mentioned some important UMG government official. That these hallways were empty either meant that it was a weekend or holiday or that everyone was at the meeting room...or something else. It didn't feel quite right. Stoneman must be totally incompetent to not be on the lookout for strangers in this place, especially three of them.

Terra turned to a large double door that presented itself when they came around one corner. She opened it just a crack to look inside, then opened it more and slipped through. Inside Sam could hear someone speaking.

"And that is why this measure must be passed. Too long have the great families wielded their control over the people, and I say that our citizens deserve a larger voice that can not be drowned out by the will of one single individual. We have in the last decade seen that great power wielded by one can cut down important matters as if they were trivial. No explanation was offered...no counter proposal...they were simply stuck down as if a matter of course. So I call for the vote of the shareholders of the UMG to ratify this amendment to our bylaws."

As Sam entered the room, he realized that it was actually quite large, like a stadium in fact but smaller. It could probably hold several hundred people without a problem. In the center of the circle of stadium like seats was a floor perhaps ten meters long and wide in which a woman stood. They were at the rim of the stadium looking down, and the seats were full of people. No one noticed them step in as they were all fixed on the speaker who could be none other than Ariel Stoneman. She was tall, taller than Terra, and had red hair that was back in a very long ponytail which went to her waist. She was dressed in a black suit with a white blouse, and she looked every bit as involved in her own speech as the others were.

Sam's heart froze for a second as Stoneman glanced up at them and then passed them by without recognition.

"All in favor of adding this amendment to our by-laws, vote now either in person or via your data links," Ariel instructed the crowd. "Voting will commence in one minute and proceed for five minutes."

"She moved up the vote again," Terra whispered to Jeff as they walked down the steps. "I should have known she'd push to have it before the scheduled time. That's almost illegal in its own right."

There were cheers from the stands as people stood clapping, waiting for the one minute count down when the Mars datasphere would allow the direct democratic vote of all the people. It was then that the weight of how many people were really watching this oratory bared its full weight on Sam. Of course the stadium was mostly empty. Everyone was watching and waiting for this vote to pass. It was expected but they all had to vote...unlike the US, voter turnout here was always above ninety-nine percent of the shareholders. Unfortunately anyone with a larger than five percent voting block had to be in the meeting personally. It was a bylaw that had been added only a year ago and was why Terra had to be here in person to make a difference and why Ariel Stoneman was looking a little smug, thinking herself secure.

A large screen on the wall ticked down and then the crowd sat down and cast their votes either via their implant's connection to the datasphere or via terminals that were attached to the arm of each seat. There was no instantaneous tally displayed or available until the five minutes were up, so it couldn't affect how people would vote knowing how the majority of shares were voted. Terra stopped at the bottom of the steps. Jeff and Sam stopped halfway down. This wasn't their fight.

"I cast my votes against," Terra said loudly, causing the crowd to look up briefly and then gawk. She seemed like someone who didn't belong, dressed in Earth style clothing and looking like a man. Ariel turned to look at the stranger.

"You are out of order. Only board members may speak on the floor without petition," Ariel said coldly. "Leave now or I will have you removed."

There was silence now from the room as everybody watched the confrontation with this stranger who couldn't possibly have been identified in anyone's displays.

"Of course you're correct...President Stoneman. I would have to be a board member to be on the floor," Terra said in her male voice.

"I'm glad you agree." Ariel motioned for the armed men in Martian Secret Service uniforms who were positioned around the perimeter of the floor. One of them, the closest, began to approach her.

"Stand down," Terra warned, staring at the officer. "I have all the authority I need to be here. I am a board member."

"I don't recognize you and I know from the reaction of our colleagues that they don't know you either...how dare you interrupt this proceeding." Ariel was looking flustered now, not nearly so confident in herself. She was beginning to realize that the stranger before her was not as he seemed. The Martian Secret Service man continued to approach Terra.

Terra must have been waiting for the proper second to reveal herself because her image shimmered for a moment before the man disappeared and in his place emerged a woman with short brown hair in a jet black spacesuit. The recognition was instantaneous, both in the eyes of Ariel Stoneman and with the crowd.

"Don't you recognize me, Ariel?" Terra challenged.

"She's an imposter. Take her away at once. We all saw her as a man just a moment ago. How can we believe that she is who she says when she couldn't even have made it to Mars in such a short time from her restoration, I ask you?" Ariel appealed to the crowd and the remote viewers. "Is this The Terra Gates or simply someone loyal to her trying to keep her in power over us all."

The crowd agreed. Most of the people present had no love for Terra Gates, especially after what had happened in the previous years with her other version.

"I am Terra Gates," Terra stated loudly and the crowd, although still skeptical, shifted restlessly. "I vote with all my shares against this amendment. If you doubt who I am don't doubt what the voting system shows when the tally reflects the power of my shares causing failure of this measure. That will prove beyond a doubt who I am...because every Martian knows that the voting system can't be tampered with."

Ariel was silent and gave Terra a murderous look. She knew that this really was Terra. The Martian Secret Service man had stopped his approach. The room was silent; they knew that what she said about the voting system was true. If her shares were voted against, it meant that Terra Gates must be in that room in person. There was still a minute left to go.

Ariel just stared at her, clearly infuriated but unwilling to throw a public tantrum. Terra stared back defiantly. The seconds ticked away, and finally the voting clock ended. Upon the screen where the count had taken place was a count of votes for and against the amendment to the bylaws. The measure failed by a large margin, too large for it to be caused by anything by her family's shares.

"Display voting of Terra Gates' shares," Terra ordered the screen. It showed that her very large percentage had been cast against the measure. "As I said, I am Terra Gates," she reiterated with a grin. The crowd erupt into boos. There was no applause. She was out of favor. These last few years of misinformation and her public record at the end had made her unpopular, especially with the people in this room. Terra took the center and Ariel backed away to let her have it, grudgingly.

"My fellow Martians. It is true, I am Terra Gates. But know this before you judge me fully. I was restored only two weeks ago on Earth. I have been the victim of the virus attack on the restoration center. All backups before and after my 262.3 version were destroyed. I am eight years out of date. If you will recall, this precedes the time in which my other version, who had clearly lost sight of what I hold dear, voted against your measures and wielded my shares unjustly. I have always believed that my shares should only be brought into play when something needed to be set right. I don't understand what my other version was doing going against this policy as it has been instilled in me since childhood."

"You don't need me watching over you like a parent, but sometimes something slips through or is portrayed in such a way that people are in favor when they don't have all the facts or can't see some of the implications...it is in these circumstances that I use my shares as a veto against unjust amendments or actions. I am not the Terra Gates who betrayed that trust. I precede her and am as appalled at her actions as you are. As to what could have caused this change, I can't imagine but it must have been horrible indeed to cause such a change or there must have been some hidden purpose that meant the Gates family shares had to be used until the time was right for such measures again. I don't know. I have only just returned to Mars, but I intend to find out...on that matter I swear. If I show that I am as unstable as my other version in the future, I invite you...no, I demand you bring this amendment again to a vote...but it need not be passed because for a few years someone apparently did what she had sworn not to do. Judge me by my actions before my backup and now after my restoration."  
"I agree that this is a convenient turn of events for me, my sudden restoration. I don't know if there was purpose behind it or if it was a random act, but here I am. I am Terra Gates, and I am for Mars," Terra finished her appeal to the viewers and the assembled body.

There was no applause. Sam looked around at the faces in the gallery. They weren't scowling, they didn't look unhappy, but they did look unsettled. It was quite a story, Sam admitted to himself. Terra took a look back at Ariel who was still glaring. Then she walked off the floor back up the steps to where Jeff and Sam were waiting, but they still looked like other people. "Well?" she asked them.

"Nice speech, Terra," Jeff said. "But it doesn't seem to have been well received here."

"On the contrary, if they were really upset, they'd be screaming and yelling at me now and making motions on some point of order," Terra responded. The people were talking, but mostly just in small conversations. "This is a better reception then I'd expected." She smiled and ushered them back out the double door at the top of the steps. They left willingly.

"You can switch off your camouflage now if you want," Terra told them.

"Do you think that's a good idea. We'll surely end up on the news, and we don't want to tip the FBI's hand if they don't already know Jeff and I are here." Sam had little confidence that they had arrived here completely unnoticed by the powers that be.

"How much time do you have left?" Terra asked.

"About an hour and ten minutes," Sam replied after checking the power gauge in his display.

"Couldn't they be discussing something important in there?" Jeff asked sticking his finger at the door, through which no one else had exited.

"No, anything major would have had to be on the agenda two months in advance so that any board member or majority share holder could make it to vote. I checked, and nothing interesting is coming up for at least four months beyond the mundane day to day stuff which I can influence from anywhere," Terra said. She looked relieved now that the great burden of making it to the vote was off her shoulders.

"We'd better go then. I'm sure they won't stay in there for long," Sam cautioned.

"All right, let's go then...back the way we came," Terra agreed, leading them back to the Presidents office. When they arrived, she peeked in to make sure it was empty, then ushered them in and walked to the bookshelf, activating the mechanism that opened the door. They went back into the library. Terra put her camouflage back on adopting a third persona, then followed them. No doubt there'd be many citizens out in front of the capital waiting for her, along with news crews to whom she didn't feel like talking just now. There were more important things to do.

### Chapter 30

Dawson had watched the entire scene through Lt. Madison's eyes because, unlike every one else present at the event, she could see all the other marines. It had been a tense moment when the Martian Secret Service agent was moving towards Terra. What no one else could see were the six marines who were on the floor with them and the other two who were keeping vigil from the doorway. They all had their weapons armed and if the Mars Secret Service agent hadn't stopped when he did, they might have intervened. Dawson was glad they hadn't had to. It would have revealed their presence and probably caused an international scandal. It would also have let them all know what the Fleet was capable of, and that could have resulted in tremendous fallout from Fleet security for exposing classified secrets.

The speech Terra had given, while not as impressive as those Dawson had seen Earth politicians give, was pretty good. Then again, she didn't have to worry about getting elected or anything. She had the power, almost like a monarchy but not quite. The look on Ariel Stoneman's face had been worth all the effort to keep the three of them safe.

The Marines had stopped three attempts to waylay the three of them. The first just outside the tunnel to the Gates Family dome, a second when they got off the train, and a third had been thwarted by the advance team that had been scouting the capital long before the three had ever left the Gates Family dome. Fortunately the Marines were as good as their reputation. They stopped all three groups and managed not to leave any bodies. All the men, whom Dawson had identified using the Powel's identification system, had come from the asteroid colonies; hence, they would be unknown on Mars. Dawson doubted that Ariel could have gotten any true Martian to attack Terra Gates. She and her family were too much a piece of Martian history for that. They might vote her out of power if they could, but she'd done a lot of good things for Mars in the past.

"We've just followed the three out of the library building. Should we follow and continue to protect or let them go now that the vote is over?" Lt. Madison asked him over their secure connection.

"Follow them back to the Gates Family Dome and once you see them safely inside, I'll have Captain Whetherstone send the launch to pick you all up under the pretense of needing some supplies," Dawson replied.

"Affirmative," Lt. Madison said. She wasn't ever very wordy, but even less so when she was on assignment.

"Captain?" Dawson began, initiating a link to the captain from his quarters.

"Yes, Agent Dawson?" the Captain's reply came back. There was no visual, just a voice.

"The operation has been a success. I would like you to send the launch down on the pretense of needing something to retrieve the marines after they have escorted Terra Gates and the others back to her dome."

"Yes, it's all over the Martian news channels. Terra Gates' mysterious reappearance. They're going on and on. I'll have Lt. Commander Bowman break out the launch and go to pick up some fresh food stuffs, so long as we're here," the Captain agreed.

"Thank you, Captain," Dawson replied and then broke the connection. He'd better get a report for Harding ready. He was sure that after the media broadcasts made it to Earth, Harding would be squirming for news. Dawson composed a data packet with a brief report of their activities along with a view of the entire scene at the board meeting room as seen through Sam's eyes. Let him see it for himself and draw his own conclusions. Perhaps it would keep him from sending endless questions as he had after the last report. When the report was ready, he encrypted and sent it to the communications queue that would transmit it back to Earth via tight laser transmission. Fleet would then route it to Harding.

When he was done with his report, he re-linked to Sam's implant to keep abreast of what was happening down on the surface. Dawson hoped that now that the vote was out of the way they would be able to move on to find Storm 6.7, and maybe he'd find out why Storm owed Terra something, and what.

### Chapter 31

Sam marveled that within three hours of landing on the surface they'd stopped a political coup and were now back in the comfort of Terra's dome dressed in real clothes instead of spacesuits and camouflage and enjoying dinner with her staff.

"So you hitched a ride on a Fed-Ex express in a cargo container?" Carl asked, taking a bite of some freshly baked bread.

Terra finished the bite she'd been chewing and then answered. "We didn't know how to get by Ariel. So we took the fastest ship possible. It cost a pretty penny, but it was worth it," Terra explained, taking another spoon full of the vegetarian soup Fiona had prepared.

Almost all Martians were vegetarians; even now that they could get synth-meat most of them didn't partake. When Mars was first settled, there was no synth-meat as the technology that made it possible didn't yet exist. There were very few animals on Mars, mostly just goats to help recycle some of the non-edible parts of plants that were being grown in the dome agricultural areas. Half of the domes of Olympia were agricultural domes. They were at a lower pressure than the habitation domes because the plants needed less pressure to survive. Because animals took tens or hundreds of times their own weight in grain to raise them to an age that they could be slaughtered and used for meat, Martian colonists wisely decided they'd rather eat the grain. Most protein came from either soy products or genetically modified plants. Terra was not a strict vegetarian, of course, with her weakness for a certain Chicken Caesar Salad prepared on Earth.

"And then when the Express went into final deceleration, you detached in your modified cargo container and landed in it?" Fiona asked, with some awe and some displeasure at Terra taking those kind of risks.

Terra caught the disapproving tone but ignoring it. "It seemed the only way at the time. I believe the container is in the gorge five kilometers away where I used to wander in my youth."

"And the camouflage that made you look like us, where did you get that? Are they selling that kind of thing on Earth now?" Jordan asked. It had taken them by surprise at first when Terra turned into Fiona.

"Well, I can't take credit for that...and it's not a common thing on Earth at all. Jeff here has some connections at one of the Newbie fog companies and he got it through a friend," Terra clarified. She had managed to avoid talking about the fact that the FBI was after them.

"Really?" Jordan responded, looking at Jeff again as if reevaluating him "Well, you never know what new things the Newbies will think of, do you? We could use some of their types here, or at least some of their technology. I think it would make life here much easier sometimes."

"Well, if it's any consolation, Jordan, a lot of Newbies wish they could sell their technology to you here, but unfortunately the US isn't keen about letting a lot of that cutting edge stuff go. They tend to classify that kind of thing and give it to the Fleet and their own military," Jeff explained with a smile.

"So there could be invisible fleet operatives wandering around Mars at this minute, and we'd never be the wiser?" Jordan asked.

"I suppose it's possible," Jeff conceded. "Not a very pleasant thought, is it?"

"No, not at all," Jordan replied, turning his attention to his soup trying not to think about it. Martians valued their independence, and there was a growing resentment of the Fleet presence in orbit and on the surface.

"Well, I'm just glad Terra is back," Fiona exclaimed. "And the poor dear has certainly been through enough in the last few weeks with being restored and having to come back to Mars so quickly to avert disaster."

"Thanks, Fi," Terra said.

They continued on in pleasant conversation, filling Terra in on the happenings of the past eight years. Fiona commented that it was very strange to have to tell her things that her other version had lived through, but she was glad to have this Terra back. The other version had become more silent and unapproachable until finally she told them she was going on hiatus and dissoluted.

When they finished dinner, Carl, Jordan, and Fiona all went on their ways, restating their welcome to Jeff and Sam and wishing them all a pleasant evening. Terra led Jeff and Sam to the main living room.

"Well, now that all that's over, we can get down to the real reason we're here. I vote we start in the morning," Terra said. She had been acting much more coolly after the vote was over, more like she had been before they left.

"I second that one," Jeff replied. He looked really tired as well.

Sam couldn't understand, they'd gotten by one obstacle today to get at their real purpose, but now that it was cleared up, they were both talking about sleeping, Sam didn't think he could sleep if he wanted to. He was too anxious about what was going to happen next.

"You aren't even curious enough to look tonight for whatever your other version left for you?" Sam asked.

"Whatever she left behind will still be there in the morning," Terra assured him. "And today has been one long roller coaster ride, literally and figuratively, so I would personally like to get a little sleep before getting into what my other version has been up to and what your other version wanted from me.

Sam had to admit that it had been a long day with one thing after another. "I guess you're right," Sam said grudgingly, clearly disappointed.

"Hey, we're not all as young as you. All this running around has exhausted me. I know you want to keep pushing, but if you want to do it tonight, you'll have to do it without me," Jeff said, getting up.

"Well, I'm not going to bed just yet," Sam replied. "I'm going to scan the net and see if references to Jeff or me pop up anywhere. Hopefully, we're still anonymous here, but you never know."

"If they know I'm here, you can bet they know you're here as well," Terra pointed out, they being Damon Harding and Agent Dawson.

"I guess you're right," Sam agreed.

"Let me show you to your rooms then," Terra offered, getting up and leading them down one hallway. "If you need anything, just access the dome system, and it'll wake someone to help you." Terra showed each of them to separate rooms that looked like mansions compared to the little rooms they'd been using on the Express for the last few days. The beds were real, not fog suspension systems, which was different as well.

"In a real bed in one third-g, this is going to be one of the best night's sleep I've had in years, I just know it," Jeff remarked.

"Good night," Terra said as they left him there. "Your room is over here, Sam. You can access the data terminal if you want. Just be careful not to get noticed while you're out on the local datasphere, and remember that we're quite a delay from Earth at the moment."

"Sure thing, Terra. Thanks for the hospitality," Sam said.

Terra smiled. "Of course, I couldn't have made it here without you guys. I owe you a lot more than I can replay right now."

"It was nothing...Goodnight, Terra."

"Goodnight, Sam. We'll hunt for clues tomorrow and get back on track." Terra left him and headed back towards the family lodgings on the other side of the main living room.

### Chapter 32

Terra wasn't about to go to sleep. She was tired, but she had something she needed to check out first, something that she didn't want everyone to know about. Sam and Jeff had already witnessed too many of her family's secrets here on Mars, and this last one was also very private. Not even any of her staff or other family members knew about the secret garden.

Terra entered her own rooms, which were more like a private apartment. She had luxuries here that almost no other Martian could own privately, including a small pool, which considering water prices, was an extravagant luxury. Fortunately, the water was completely recycled with almost a hundred percent efficiency so it needed very little upkeep. But the real luxury wasn't the pool. The real luxury was hidden through a undetectable doorway at the back of the closet of Terra's bedroom.

The room had originally belonged to her grandfather who was known to love large spaces. He had had the special hidden room constructed as something else when the dome was first made and had managed to keep the whole place secret all these years. It had taken him years of his own time to automate the garden to keep the plants alive. There were a whole host of small robots that had been adapted to watching and cultivating the garden, just like those in the agricultural domes but on a smaller scale.

Terra made her way to her bedroom and once there closed the door and had the large lock engaged. She keyed the system to let any outsider know that she was not to be disturbed. Then she made her way to the walk in closet that was off the side of the bath room with the pool. Once inside she quickly glanced at all her clothing hanging there. She was glad to have access to it again. It had been a rough couple of weeks on Earth where she had no time to shop and wouldn't have wasted the money anyway to have clothing transported back here.

When she reached the far end of the closet, Terra pushed a hidden button, that was keyed to her DNA only. It opened the far wall. The wall opened only a few feet wide, but it was wide enough and Terra slipped through. She found herself in a very small room that was perhaps four feet on a side. The wall slide shut behind her and lights came on. In the center of the floor was a ladder leading downward. Terra began to climb down. It was two stories of stairs before she reached her destination, a square opening through which the ladder continued. She climbed down through the opening into a room that was only dimly lit now, but she could smell the plants. It was her garden.

At the bottom of the stairs she stopped and waited for her eyes to adjust. The garden was illuminated by natural lighting that was collected over a large section of the dome's exterior and piped down through fiber optic cables. It provided a passive system of getting sunlight to the plants inside so that artificial light was not needed. However, for what she wanted to do, she required some additional light so she walked to a small pedestal that was only a few feet from the ladder and activated the garden computer system. The system let her change the artificial illumination setting for the room and she brought it up to daylight.

All around her the garden suddenly became the green place of her memory. Terra surveyed the subterranean dome to see what had changed while she'd been away. The garden was about thirty meters across and ten meters high. It was filled with well landscaped trees, bushes and flowers. Where she stood was covered with lush grass and she saw several of the gardening bots wandering around doing whatever task it was they were supposed to be doing. All in all the place was still in fairly good shape. It was pretty amazing and a token to her grandfather's abilities that the place was still in such good shape after a number of years of human neglect while her other version had been on hiatus.

The garden consumed a large amount of water, and that was its real cost. Her grandfather had had a well drilled in secret to the aquifer that was ten kilometers below them tapping off the same reservoir that fed the city. Normally that water was metered and sold to the people by the UMG water offices but this well was the exception and it was probably the only truly private well in Olympia.

The circular garden was divided into eight pie-sliced sections with a small circle of Kentucky blue grass in the center that was about ten meters in diameter. Each of the pie shaped sections was separated by stone and concrete walkways that radiated outward from a walkway that surrounded the grassy area. At the very perimeter of the garden the walkway again circled around the entire circumference. Each section had plants from a different region on the Earth, although all could survive in about the same climate. Terra made her way to the stone walkway and proceeded to section eight that had plants from the Pacific Northwest region of the US, for which her grandfather had had a particular fondness.

She walked into a small copse of pine trees. They were very tall and slender, making their way all the way to the top of the dome. It was a shame that the dome wasn't bigger so they could grow as tall as they willed, but they had to be maintained at their current height and no more. Otherwise they would damage the ceiling. Past the copse of trees was a small clearing, There was about the same amount of space here as in the grassy area at the garden's center, but in the center of this clearing was a large boulder, flat on top with enough space for someone to lie on. It was a dusty red which marked its true origin. Terra made her way around the rock to the far side where there were a few other smaller rocks, and she knelt down.

She lifted one of the rocks gently, its larger size no problem in the reduced gravity Mars provided, and set it to the side. Under the rock was a rectangular metal plate, on which Terra put her hand. It was not a plate, but a box that was also keyed to her DNA. Once she touched it with her hand, there was a small click and the box popped open revealing two items. The first item was a first edition copy of _The Secret Garden_ that her grandfather had given her, preserved in a nitrogen filled storage case; the second was what Terra had been hoping to find, a memory card.

Plato, can you access the card, please?

_Please place the card near your right ear,_ Plato responded. The memory card needed to be within a centimeter of her implant transceiver in order for it to read the card's memory. Terra followed the instructions and saw in her display a status bar that showed the data being transferred.

_What type of data is on the card?_ Terra asked her companion.

_It appears to be a ocular overlay video file with full audio. I have finished the download, but the file is encrypted. It requires a passcode. Please provide the passcode now,_ Plato relayed. She supplied the passcode that she had used when she was a child, which she had never used as an adult with real responsibility. It was more than two hundred years old, before the sophisticated computer systems of the present day. It was just a little saying, but it was the one she would have used.

_We're off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz,_ Terra supplied to Plato.

_The file is now being decrypted. Shall I display it for you?_ Plato asked. Her other version had clearly been thinking along the same lines.

Terra stood up to give her a clear field of view for the video. _Please do._ In an instant an image flickered and then a life size projection of herself, much older than she was now, appeared and made it seem as if her older self were really standing right in front of her. Her older self began to speak.

"Terra, if you're seeing this message, it means that my hiatus has been cut short because Sam Storm 6.7 has done whatever it was he intended to do when he got me to make your backup version. You are no doubt wondering what has been going on and why I decided to help Sam. And I'm sure you must also want an accounting of my actions in your absence," the image of her former self began.

"After your backup was made, Sam told me that he wanted the system to be different, so that Mars and the rest of the solar system wouldn't fall under the tyranny of Earth any longer...and that the other nations on Earth would be freed from the shackles of controlled restoration technology. He never really explained to me how that would work, or what he would do, but he did ask me to do something. He asked me to help him acquire a large quantity of antimatter. An amount in excess of a hundred kilograms."

"At first I thought that he wanted to use it as a weapon to destroy the restoration infrastructure, and with that much antimatter probably most of the eastern region of the US. That amount of antimatter, as I'm sure you know, would undoubtedly have global consequences on Earth. I told him this, but he replied to me that the antimatter would never be used as a weapon against anyone but as a power source for a project he was working on."

"I would still have refused, because as you know the task of getting that much antimatter undetected by the Fleet would take years of work and subterfuge to accomplish, not to mention it would mean I would have to take direct action to control Mars policy for quite some time."

"In return for this favor, Sam promised me something that would change the balance of power in the solar system forever. He never did say what this would be, but I had two suspicions. One is that he is constructing a new restoration system somewhere far from the prying eyes of Damon Harding and his government. The other is that he has access to some kind of nanotechnology, which he may have stolen from the LNRC. I don't know why he would need that much antimatter, though. It would be enough to power a hundred fleet ships for a year, so your guess is as good as mine."

"I am about to go on hiatus for the next half century. I know that the news of this must have come as a shock to you, but I must confess it was the only way to ensure that you were the only version of me that could be restored."

"The promise that Sam made me about this technology that would break the system and give Mars and the solar system back some independence was enough to pique my interest, considering what I conceived might possibly be the reward. I had Sam thoroughly investigated by our sources, and I found out that he might have indeed taken some of the unlimited assemblers from the LNRC...and I don't have to tell you what that might mean. Sam is a great nanotech engineer, and with the tools and the time I don't doubt that he'll be able to deliver on that promise."

"We both know that Sam was someone who could be trusted. He kept a number of my secrets over the years. So...with the knowledge that he could deliver some technology to Mars that could put us on an even footing with Earth in a few years, I decided to take the risk and to help him."

"I've spent the last eight years getting all the antimatter produced and put in Sam's hands. I know that this entails great risk, but I also know that even if he used it as a weapon, it would not be against Mars. You probably can't understand why I would do it...or maybe you can. You're not that different from the person I was when I decided to help him."

"It took all my influence to keep the antimatter production a secret, I got a policy introduced that required that maintenance be done on at least ten percent of UMG controlled antimatter production facilities at all times. I used this excess capacity to produce Sam's antimatter in twenty kilograms per year amounts. I don't think this will stay secret forever. There are only a few loyal people on each of the stations that know what was going on."

"I received a message from Sam only last month and I have spent the time between then and today getting ready to leave Mars behind. Sam assured me he would not use the antimatter as a weapon, but I still today don't know what it's for. He did tell me that you would be restored in two years when his plans went in to action and that I needed to tell you how to find him. Or at least how to start to find him...you see, I don't know where the antimatter really went. We figured that it would be better if I didn't just in case I came under investigation. The only one who knows is Thurman Conrad, Sam's contact on the Hyatain antimatter station. All our production was sent there and then some how smuggled off as a routine shipment."

"I don't think the Fleet ever caught on to the operation because it was hidden behind the veil of regulations imposed by the US. It provided the perfect cover, so I funneled some money to make the regulation stick. Then I protested when it was established but went along with it. They really should be paying closer attention, but it seems that at least until now I've gotten away with it. It won't stay that way forever which is why your backup was made when it was. You couldn't have conceived of the plan at that point. You could pass any truth test to any degree, so you are clear of any charges. You may suffer a little, but hopefully when we get what Sam promised, what ever it is, that will exonerate you."

"Here's a piece of advice. When you get what Sam's promised, if it's uncontrolled nanotechnology, keep it close and secret, if the Fleet finds out about it, they'll mount a war that Mars is not prepared to fight. I've also alloated some funding for a classified project to design antimatter powered warships that will rival that of the Fleet. I have operatives placed in the Fleet to acquire as much of the weapons, computer, and ships systems technology as possible. The project should have been ongoing for five years if you are indeed awakened eight years out of date. I do this in preparation for the capability to rapidly produce these ships, which we will need because there will be war."

"If, on the other hand, Sam gives us a restoration machine, or the designs for one, you will be responsible for making sure it gets distributed to every nation in the solar system. If we are the only ones with it, the Fleet will come, but if every one has it, the balance of power will shift. Damon Harding and his government will lose their monopoly. Keep it secret. Don't let anyone know where it came from, but distribute it widely."

"I don't envy you the task you have before you...but get what Sam promised because we've paid for it in activity that will surely bring the Fleet and Earth down upon us. Get it and use it to do what we've always wanted, to put Mars in her rightful place. It will only cost me eight years; it will cost you a life time. Don't give up, and I hope you understand why I've done what I have. Things need to change here, as the Newbies would undoubtedly agree. Good luck."

The image disappeared from Terra's vision, a ghost from two years in the past and six years in her future. Terra sat down next to the open box and put her hands on her head. It hadn't been easy to hear, and her head was still reeling from the implications. A hundred or more kilograms of antimatter could give Sam a weapon of mass destruction, a large one. She thought about Sam 6.7 who it seemed had only been around a few weeks. He was trustworthy, and he was a brilliant engineer, but she didn't know if he was a homicidal maniac. Young Sam didn't seem to be, but her other version was betting an awful lot of lives on that. She had no doubt Sam could deliver either of the prizes that her other version discussed. But was it worth the risk...her other version had decided for her and done what she didn't know if she would have.

But her other version was right. It would bring down the Fleet. And if Damon Harding suspected what she had done, or what Sam may have stolen from the LNRC, he would stop at nothing to keep them from succeeding. It was a very dangerous game Sam 6.7 and her other version were playing. She'd become a player without her consent, and her hand was dealt. She had to find Sam soon.

Terra had Plato erase the memory card, making sure that everything was wiped irretrievably. She then put the card back in the lock box and closed it with a click, recovering it with the rock. That done, Terra made her way back to the center of the garden and took one last look around. _This place is going to need some work when I get back. If I get back,_ she thought.

Plato, is Thurman Conrad still working on the Hyatain station?

_UMG records indicate that he is currently on the station,_ Plato responded after querying the UMG intranet.

_Send a message to Ignus on the Express and let him know we're going to need his services tomorrow. We'll be ferried up to Phobos by the afternoon._ Terra ordered. Then we're going to need to get out of here fast. The Fleet was probably already on their tail.

_Message sent,_ Plato returned.

_Access the UMG Orbit Master's system and see if there are any Fleet ships that arrived within twenty four hours of our arrival,_ Terra instructed. Plato was silent for a moment and then returned.

The Fleet Ship Powel arrived approximately twelve hours before you. No other ships fit within your window.

Where did the Powel depart from, and when?

_The Powel departed from Earth within ten minutes of your own departure,_ Plato informed her.

_It can't be coincidence that they left just after us and arrived ahead of us. They must have been thrusting hard to beat the Express._ she thought. Terra could understand how they would know where the Express was going; it had to file a flight plan. But how could they have been ready to go so quickly unless they knew where the Express was going since they left the apartment. There were only a few explanations, and she didn't like any of them. Either they were followed and the camouflage wasn't as good as they had hoped or one of the contacts that set up their covert departure or their people had compromised them. She realized that they were being spied on somehow. Maybe they hadn't disabled all the bugs with that EMP of Jeff's. She'd have to check all of them in the morning for any signs of bugs.

Terra tapped the control on the pedestal to return to natural lighting, and the garden faded away into the darkness. She walked to the ladder and began to climb upward until she returned to the small room and then reentered her bedroom. Still preoccupied, she made her way to the bathroom and had her large bath fill itself with hot water. It'd been a long time since she'd had a bath and right now she needed one. When the tub was full, she slipped in and luxuriated in the hot water and the steam that rolled off its surface.

It was then that Plato interrupted the silence for an unwelcome announcement, _Terra, I have a request for a secure voice link with Ariel Stoneman. Do you want me to accept it?_

Terra considered this for a moment. She imagined that Ariel wasn't in the best of moods right now, not that even she was in that good of a mood. But she had won and it couldn't hurt to talk with the woman briefly. Anyway, she would be leaving tomorro. _Accept the link, Plato._

"Oh Terra, glad you're awake." Ariel said sarcastically.

"What do you want, Ariel? It's been a long day?"

"I just wanted to congratulate you on winning today," Ariel offered insincerely.

"Well, everything just seemed to go my way, and I didn't encounter any real opposition," she said, which was true it had all been a matter of timing. Terra could imagine Ariel grimacing; at that, she had expected some physical resistance that had never materialized.

"You may have won today, but who knows what the future will bring? I've been investigating your previous version for a number of years now. Her strange behavior started a few months after your backup was made...isn't that interesting?"

"Oh, do go on. This should be most interesting. What are you going to try to pin on me now?" Terra really wasn't in the mood for this, not tonight, not when she had other things to think about.

"Oh, well, I certainly couldn't pin anything on you specifically. After all, you've covered your tracks by having your version restored. Your certainly innocent of whatever your other version was up to. But if you knew anything, and if you continue anything that she did, I will find out. And when I know what she was up to, I'll use it to destroy you both for good."

"You're certainly welcome to try. As far as I know my other version went through some kind of trauma that caused her to see things differently than I would. I don't know what that trauma might have been, but I'm sure she wasn't up to anything. As for my version being the one to be restored, that wasn't my fault as I'm sure you know. This version wasn't supposed to be restored, and my other version's hiatus was interrupted when that virus attacked the restoration data center."

"It is all rather convenient, don't you think? That a virus sent by your one time acquaintance, Sam Storm 6.7, destroys your other backups, forcing your version to be restored. What were you up to with Storm, I wonder?"

"I did know Sam Storm 6.7 once, but that was quite some time ago, I have no idea what happened in the last eight years that would cause him to do something like make that virus. He never seemed that kind of person to me. I hope they catch him." Terra tried to make it sound like the truth. The link wasn't hard to see at all and Ariel hadn't missed it. But she hadn't done anything or agreed to anything when her backup was made. Her hands were clean of her other versions wrongdoing, at least legally.

"I don't believe this innocent routine for a second. You know more than you're letting on and I will be watching you," Ariel snipped, her anger slipping through her cool façade.

"Temper, temper, Ariel. It was always your temper that got you in to trouble. I know you'll be watching, but as I've done nothing, I have nothing to fear. Have a pleasant evening." She'd had enough of this, and she'd goaded Ariel enough to keep her burning mad for hours. _Plato, break the link please._ Plato did, and she had silence again. She laid back to relax in her warm tub and try to decide what to do next. Ariel likely wasn't the only one who'd be watching her. The Powel was probably keeping tabs on them right now.

### Chapter 33

Sam didn't sleep well; his mind was too busy thinking about what they were going to do. He knew he was pretty much useless here. They needed him to be there to provide biometrics, but was that all he could contribute? He tried to think of things he could do to help but couldn't come up with anything that could match Terra's means. Her money could move mountains, as he had already seen a number of times.

Ralphie scanned all the news casts but didn't find anything more than a mention of two other men entering the board meeting room with Terra. There was speculation that they were also camouflaged, but as their trip from Earth had been done so covertly, no one knew who they were. The guesses were that they were body guards of some sort. It had been a relief when Ralphie delivered that piece of information. It didn't seem as if they were being followed or watched although Damon Harding and Agent Dawson probably knew that they were there by the news from Mars, if nothing else. They'd be here in three or four days for sure, but they probably already had local agents watching.

Eventually he'd managed to get to sleep, but he woke up and it was still early. Sam lay in bed for an hour before he decided it was pointless to try and get more sleep so he went to the small bathroom that was attached to his room and took a shower. When he was done, he realized that he had no clothing to wear besides the spacesuit, which was now filling a small basin on his dresser. He had recovered the tube for the camouflage from Jeff and now the suit was charging off the nearby power outlet. He checked the drawers of the dresser in the room but found nothing. In the closet, however, he did find a nice terry cloth robe that fit him pretty well. He put it on and ventured from his room back into the hallway. The door to Jeff's room wasn't open, but that didn't mean he wasn't up. Sam continued down the hallway to the living room they'd been in last night. It was empty too. Sam took a seat on one of the couches and looked around the room.

The room was large and had a vaulted ceiling. There was a fireplace and some bookshelves with some decorative items that were tastefully displayed, but no books. There were several screens on the wall showing fine pieces of art. Sam had an urge to go exploring the dome, but dressed as he was without even underwear-he doubted that was a good idea.

He sat there for half an hour trying to figure out what he should do and whether or not he should go exploring as he wanted to. His mind was almost set to go have a look around in his robe if necessary when Terra came into the living room from a hallway that crossed the one his room was down.

"Good morning." Sam tried to be cheerful. She was already dressed in a maroon pant suit. Not quite as formal as the pinstripe he'd seen her wear before.

"Good morning," Terra returned, though she seemed preoccupied.

"Did you sleep alright, Terra? You look worried."

"Not too well." Terra replied honestly. "I had a lot to think about and I just couldn't get my brain to stop. I did manage to get in a few hours, though."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I didn't sleep too well either, but Jeff doesn't seem to be having any problems. I think he's still asleep."

"Why are you wearing a robe?" Terra asked noticing his attire.

"Didn't want to put back on the spacesuit, andI don't have anything else to wear at the moment."

"Oh, I'm being a terrible host. I'll call up Carl and have him go and get something for you right away. Do you have any preferences?"

"Hold on a sec. I'll have Ralphie send you my clothing preference file. I'll reimburse you for any expense."

"That's not necessary. I'd be happy to get them for you. Besides, if you make a purchase transaction, you'll be letting Dawson and Harding know where you are."

"That's true. Thank you, Terra."

"You're welcome. Just let me send Carl." Terra looked like she was concentrating, contacting Carl through her implants.

"He'll make a trip as soon as Jeff gives us some of his preferences. You'll have something to wear before lunch. Until then you can wear the robe, or I can ask Jordan if he has something he can lend you. He's about your size," Terra offered.

"That's all right. I can make do with this, if you don't mind, that is," Sam replied.

"Not at all," Terra said as Jeff walked into the room also wearing a robe.

"Good morning. Did you guys sleep well?" Jeff asked cheerfully.

"Don't ask," Sam groaned.

"Strange, I haven't slept that well in weeks. I guess I just feel secure here," Jeff said.

"I'm glad you're up. Can you send me a preference file for some clothing? I'm sending Carl to get you guys something so you don't have to wear your spacesuit or those robes all the time."

"Sure, just let me get my companion." Jeff disappeared back down the hall and a few minutes later it was all taken care of.

"Are you hungry? I've just gotten a notice from Fiona that breakfast is ready to be served in the kitchen."

"That would be great," Jeff said enthusiastically. "Just show me the way."

Breakfast consisted of a hearty granola and fruit, and they all felt better afterwards. And as Terra had promised, within a hour after breakfast they found a great deal of clothing waiting for them in their rooms. After getting dressed, they all met up again in the living room.

Terra looked Sam and Jeff up and down. "Well that's better. You look almost civilized again. Now I have something I would like to show you guys. Follow me."

She leading them through a maze of hallways and through the main arboretum in the center of the dome where several large trees were growing, along with some fruit trees. It wasn't nearly as diverse as the garden hidden below, but it did give a large open space for one to enjoy.

They finally came to a door that Terra opened with her implants and her palm print. The door sank inward and then swung open revealing a vault of some type. She indicated that they should follow. Once they were inside Terra closed the door, and it wasn't until it was shut that she said anything.

"I needed to find us some privacy because I've uncovered some details I don't want leaving this room. I believe that one of us is still bugged. I learned that a Fleet ship, The Powel, left for Mars only minutes after the Express departed, and that they arrived almost twelve hours ahead of us. I believe that Dawson and Harding already know that we're here, but I don't know how much more they know."

"After the security field, is that possible?" Sam asked, remembering the closet in his crèche sister's apartment.

"It's possible, if the bug were planted after the pulse, which means they could see us while camouflaged or they had someone on the inside to plant it," Jeff reasoned.

"True. But just in case we are in fact bugged and it isn't an inside job, this vault should keep any electromagnetic radiation from leaving the room. My Grandfather believed in security and privacy, especially in his business dealings, and so this room is where he made most of his deals and compromises."

"Well, I'm relieved about that but what can we do if it is an inside job?" Jeff asked.

"We can hope that it's not a member of my staff or Ignus." Terra said.

"I think we can trust Ignus," Jeff responded.

"I agree, which means his ship could be bugged or someone who helped us get onto the Express spilled it, or one of us is still bugged."

"I don't really see how that's possible after the security field and the fact that we don't even have any of our original clothing. The bug would have to either be on us physically, which I'm sure the spacesuits would have dealt with, or be sub-dermal," Sam added.

"I agree. I'm just saying that we should be careful when talking about our plans. We don't want to lead them to Sam before we know what's going on," Terra said seriously.

"I understand," Sam said.

"Sure," Jeff echoed. "That's only prudent in this case."

"So what's our next move?" Sam asked, anxious to get moving or do something.

"Well, last night after we all went to bed, I checked a place that my other version could have left a message for me, and she did." Terra said, breaking it to them. "And it wasn't great news."

"Oh," Sam paused. "And you didn't want us there for this revelation?"

"It was somewhat personal, but I did get a few clues as to which direction we should go from here." Terra realized that he was a little hurt. She recognized that he wanted to be involved and to help out.

"Like what?" Jeff asked.

"Well, apparently my other version had been supplying Sam with a great deal of antimatter."

"Antimatter!" Jeff exclaimed, breaking his calm demeanor for a second. "How much of this stuff are we talking?"

"Somewhere around a hundred kilograms."

Sam whistled.

"Yeah, no kidding." Jeff looked worried again, all that pressure of his involvement weighing down on him.

"It's not your fault," Terra said to Jeff. "You haven't had anything to do with this. You can't feel responsible."

"Tell that to my gut." Jeff's stomach was churning.

"What's he going to use it for?" Sam asked. It was a lot of antimatter, and Sam couldn't think of any purposes except to heat rocket propellant or as a weapon of some kind. The second option did worry him, but he didn't think his other version would be desperate enough to use that much antimatter as a weapon. He couldn't even consider using it that way."

"Well, my other version was convinced that he wasn't going to use it as a weapon, but beyond that I really don't know. And I don't know where it was being sent," Terra added.

"So what do you know?" Jeff asked.

"I know Sam's contact on the Hyatain Antimatter Station was Thurman Conrad, and he is still working there," Terra revealed.

"So we go and find this guy and ask him where Sam is?" Sam asked.

"Yes," Terra said.

"Even with the Fleet watching our every move?" Jeff pointed upward.

"Yes, but we need to keep them from finding out about this antimatter business. You know what would happen if they did."

"Yeah, they'd scramble the whole Fleet to get us to find Sam, and they'd shoot first rather than take the chance that he was working on a weapon," Sam said stating the obvious

"Exactly, so we need to use a little cunning, not just some neat camouflage technology. I propose that two of us stay here and make it look as if we're all still on Mars while one of us sneaks out to the station to talk with Conrad."

"Who's going to go?" Sam asked.

"I was hoping that you would do it actually. I don't know if Conrad knew you by sight, and this may be the time for your biometrics and DNA to come in handy. If not, you will be camouflaged. Jeff and I are too high profile to go wandering around right now, and we need to figure out how to get off Mars once we know where Sam is. With that much antimatter I'm sure my other version would have made it quite clear that he couldn't hide out anywhere near here," Terra said.

Sam's face lit up at the suggestion. He wanted to be useful and she recognized that. It was even true about the biometrics. He had to go. They didn't. "What if I'm the one with the bug?" Sam asked, thinking about the implications.

"Well, we can scan you and if nothing shows up, then you can go," Jeff said.

"We should all be scanned," Terra said. "If there is a leak, we don't want it to be any of us against our will. I want you to take your camouflage and an extra power cell and take the first transport to the station. Be discreet and don't reveal yourself unless you're sure it's safe. Then only do so to Conrad," Terra instructed.

"Don't worry, I won't let you down. What should I do after I talk with Conrad?" Sam asked.

"I've set up an anonymous mail drop on one of the data storage servers. I'll send the address to your companion. Once you know, drop us an encrypted message. We'll check it every hour, and once we get it, we'll set our plan in motion to get you and us out of here, hopefully without that Fleet ship noticing," Terra said.

"Sounds like a plan. Did your other version say anything else that we should know about?" Jeff asked.

"One other thing. And we should keep this too ourselves. It's almost as bad as the antimatter," Terra added apprehensively. She didn't think that they should know everything just yet but they needed to know about the nanotechnology.

"What's that?" Sam asked.

"It appears that your other version may have managed to get some unlimited assemblers from the LNRC before he left there," Terra broke the news.

"So he's got antimatter and unlimited assemblers. Sam, what the hell are you thinking?" Jeff exclaimed. "Those are only the two most dangerous things man has ever invented. Why shouldn't he have access to both!"

"I don't think he'd use it as a weapon, Jeff," Sam said, trying to reassure himself that he wouldn't do such a thing.

"And Terra wouldn't do what her other version did either but her other version did all those things...how do you know that Sam wouldn't? He isn't you. He's thirty years in your future. You can't know what you'd become in that amount a time," Jeff refuted Sam's argument.

Sam just shrugged. He couldn't argue with Jeff; he knew it was true.

"Well, all the more reason for us to find him," Terra said. "Let's get that scan out of the way and get cracking on this. We need to find Sam 6.7 before he uses that antimatter for anything."

"Do you have a scanner here?" Sam asked.

"This whole room is a scanner and I've had it running since we got inside, I'm not detecting anything but our implants. I think we're clean," Terra said.

"So it's a leak somewhere," Jeff concluded.

"Let's just hope it's not Ignus or a member of my staff," Terra cautioned.

"And let's hope no one finds out about the assemblers or the antimatter," Sam added. "So how do I get to the station?" he asked earnestly.

### Chapter 34

Dawson watched the whole meeting that Terra and company had in the vault from Sam's perspective on playback. Fortunately, Damon Harding had had the foresight to add a recorder that buffered up to two hours of video and audio. What he heard greatly distressed him. The amount of antimatter Terra's other version had given to Storm was impossible. Dawson didn't know that much about the controls placed on the antimatter production stations strewn about the inner solar system, but he had thought that the controls would be tight enough to ensure that a hundred kilograms couldn't just walk away.

So Storm 6.7 had a weapon of mass destruction of some kind. Dawson wasn't falling for Sam's line not to use it as such that had convinced Terra's other version. The man was obviously off his rocker. He'd already sent a virus that killed three thousand and seriously inconvenienced millions of others, not to mention the drop in confidence of the US controlled restoration system. No, Storm was probably going to follow up his virus attack with an antimatter bombardment of the restoration center, but that much antimatter was far more than Storm should need for that purpose. Dawson couldn't figure out what he was going to use it all for unless he was going to destroy a substantial part of the continent or power a huge ship...or a fleet of ships. The possibilities were mind boggling.

He was lucky that the bug integrated with Sam's companion knew enough to stop transmission if a scan were run on it. If they had confirmed that Sam was in fact the leak, they would find a way to stop his transmission, and then he wouldn't know about any of this. But now that he had this information, he wasn't sure what he should do with it. It was true that if the Fleet or the Government got wind of it, they'd send everything they had to get Terra Gates regardless of whether she was an out of date version, and then where would he be? They'd destroy the one chance to track Storm down and stop him before he unleashed whatever he was working on.

Dawson knew he should send the news to Damon Harding; he would understand that to let too many people know about this would be disaster. And he'd make sure Dawson could carry on his mission. But what should he do about this trip Storm's younger version would be making to the Hyatain station? He couldn't send the Marines without fear that the amount of antimatter would become known to them, and that they would report it up the line. No, he had to settle for watching Sam through his bug. But meanwhile Terra Gates and Jeff Hughes would be planning some type of getaway diversion, and that he did need to know something about.

It took a few minutes of suspension in his fog bed thinking about the problem before he realized that no matter how they left Mars he would still know by watching Sam, when and where he was going...unless Sam were left behind. That was unlikely, however. They'd gone through enough together that they wouldn't leave someone behind unless they knew he was jeopardizing their plans. Well, he'd just have to make sure they didn't find out that Sam was the leak.

Dawson got up from his suspension field and walked from his quarters, jumping into the lift tube and giving orders to take him to the barracks where his Marines had recently returned from their operation on the surface. He went to open the door but found that it wouldn't admit him. He had his companion query the ship as to why the door wouldn't open, and it replied that the door had been locked from the inside.

"What the hell is going on now?" Dawson said to himself while trying to decide what to do. He resolved to contact Lieutenant Madison through his companion. She answered after letting it ring for a minute.

"Agent Dawson, I wasn't expecting to hear from you so soon after the operation. We've completed our debriefing to the computer. We thought it would take you a while to go over it before you had questions," Lt. Madison said a little flustered. It was the first time Dawson had seen her that way.

"I wanted to discuss with you a new assignment for some of your Marines." Dawson said. "I haven't reviewed your debrief yet...have I come at a bad time?"

There was a pause before Madison replied, "Actually, Agent Dawson, you have."  
"Well, I'm sorry. I need you to do your job," Dawson said sternly.

"You don't know, do you?" Lt. Madison said in an uncharacteristically unprofessional way.

"Know what?" Dawson asked, beginning to be irritated. Were they Marines or weren't they?

"After a mission where we are deployed and linked, it's standard procedure to give the platoon two hours of R and R," Madison said as if that explained it, but it just confused Dawson.

"And why is that?" he asked. It was a strange procedure. What if they were in the middle of a crisis.

"Because, Agent Dawson, the mind link makes us like one person and that stimulates our sex drive for which there must be a release for us to continue to work together," Lt. Madison explained with a little embarrassment, the first emotion he had seen her display.

"So, are you telling me that you get these two hours to have an orgy?" Dawson asked insensitively.

When Madison replied, it was curt. "Yes, Agent Dawson, but not so crudely as you put it. We have no families but each other. We have no one but each other."

Dawson was taken aback. Did everyone know about this but him? "I'm sorry, I didn't realize. I'll expect you to report to me in one hour, Lt. Madison."

"Yes, Agent Dawson," she replied curtly and was gone.

Dawson was a little embarrassed himself, now that he thought about it. Of course with a link that made eight people into essentially one being they would be able to hide nothing from each other...ever. Everyone did know about this, he realized, and because he wasn't Fleet, he hadn't been informed. Well, it was a little strange, he'd grant, but if it delivered results like he'd seen on the surface, he could put up with their policy so long as they were really finished with their mission. Dawson headed back up the lift tube to his quarters and started working on his report for Damon Harding. When he was finished, he encrypted it and had it sent directly to Harding's companion. He didn't want anyone to get even a glimpse of his findings.

After he sent it, he was just beginning to read over Lt. Madison's debriefing of the mission when there was a knock at his door. It was her. Dawson released the lock on his door and beckoned her in. She was back in uniform now and looked all business except for a little redness in her face that was probably embarrassment.

"Agent Dawson, I'd like to apologize.." she began, but Dawson interrupted her.

"It's not an issue, I simply hadn't been informed. And if that is the price of your platoon's performance, then so be it. We don't need to discuss it any further," Dawson said.

She looked relieved. "Thank you. You had an assignment?" Now she was all business. Even that slight reddening was disappearing.

"Yes, I'd like you to have you send two Marines to watch Terra Gates, I want to know what she's up to. I suspect she will be trying to leave Mars shortly, and I'd like to know where she's going before she takes off."

"I'll have two men on it immediately. Should they try to penetrate the Gates Family Dome?"

"No, just watch them if they leave...I assume that their camouflage won't deter you."

"No sir, their camouflage is less advanced than our own. We can track them."

"Good. That's all, Lieutenant Madison." Dawson said, dismissed her.

She turned and left immediately.

Then he contacted the Captain. "Captain, I'm having Lt. Madison send two of her Marines back to the surface to keep an eye on Terra Gates so she doesn't slip through our fingers."

"Why didn't you just leave them down there in the first place?" the Captain asked with a little contempt in her voice.

"The situation on the ground is fluid. I'm just trying anticipate their next moves. I apologize for the inconvenience," Dawson tried to be diplomatic.

"Of course, anything we can do. Do you expect us to be departing in the near future?"

"Yes, but..." He began to say before she interrupted.

"Let me guess. They are leaving, but you don't know to where or when yet, but you'll let me know."

"Exactly."

"We'll be ready to break orbit on your notice," she responded closing the connection.

The Captain had been getting more peeved at him as time went along and he took more control over the mission. Dawson thought that wasn't quite fair of her. He wasn't attempting to command the ship, just the Marines. The snafu with the Marines reporting directly to him had sparked the whole thing off. Hopefully she'd get over it. But as long as she continued to do what he needed, he didn't care if she liked it or not.

### Chapter 35

Damon Harding wasn't smiling when he received Dawson's report of the meeting in the vault. He was concerned for the first time that he and the US might be in real danger from Storm, a danger far beyond what he had previously estimated. Dawson was apparently on top of it, and understood the sensitive nature of the information about the antimatter. Damon could trust him to be discreet about it as it would certainly end their operation to try and find Storm if other political forces assumed a seek and destroy mission.

_As if the nanotechnology weren't bad enough, they had to throw a hundred kilograms of antimatter in to the mix! What is Storm up to? Is he going to bomb the restoration center?_ Damon knew he couldn't call anyone about this and have the place evacuated it would start a panic and bring down the Fleet very quickly. No, he had to let things go on, but when they had Storm, he would launch an investigation as to how that much antimatter could have been produced and smuggled without any one knowing anything.

Still he needed to do something, and apparently he was physically in danger at his penthouse. There was no telling if Storm would target only the restoration center if he did use the antimatter as a weapon. Damon needed a safer place until this was all resolved.

_Julia, have The Golden Rule readied. I want to be on orbit by evening,_ Damon ordered.

His ship The Golden Rule was newly constructed, built from the same design as the Powel, but it didn't need the number of crew that the Powel required and it didn't have all the armament. From orbit at least he wouldn't have to worry about an antimatter bomb dropping on him from the sky. It would give him some flexibility.

_Perhaps the situation requires a little more personal involvement,_ he thought.

Damon knew he had underestimated Storm's potential, and now the stakes were higher. He needed to be a player in that unfolding game in space.

### Chapter 36

Sam was on the train heading to the spaceport. Terra had briefed him on who his contact was once he reached the station and how to get there. Sam was disguised as one of the safety inspectors for the Martian antimatter stations. He was sitting in one of the window seats and there was no one next to him. The car was mostly full but his persona looked a little menacing so people had avoided being too close, which was just fine with him.

He was excited to be given this part of the job all to himself, and he finally felt like he was contributing to the team. He had contributed a little with the design of the cargo container lander they had used yesterday. Of course, that seemed like weeks ago with everything that had been happening. So he had done something, but he felt like the short leg of a three legged stool, needing to be propped up on something to keep them level. But this trip would help with that. He was the only one who had to go. The others needed to figure out how they were going to get away once Sam found a destination.

The train made good time through the tubes and he arrived at the spaceport in under half an hour. The spaceport was located twenty kilometers from Olympia, and there were two subterranean pressurized train tunnels that connected them. When he arrived, the train pulled out of the masonry tunnel onto a platform at the base of the space port dome. The construction here reminded him of the Houston Spaceport, only smaller. It too was built with one major dome and outlying minor domes, but only a fraction the size of the Houston spaceport.

As he made his way up the stairs in to the main terminal to find the shuttle service that went to the Hyatain station. He heard a rumble and looked upward through the transparent dome to see a rocket lifting off. It was a little different here than on Earth. Sam had been reading up on Martian space flight capabilities, and it seemed that it wasn't done the same as on Earth. There were very few antimatter powered vehicles; they were mostly powered by methane and oxygen which were manufactured simply by having some hydrogen feedstock and using the Martian atmosphere, just as Robert Zubrin had proved possible so many years ago. They got the hydrogen by electrolysis of the water from the sub Martian aquifer.

The rockets here didn't have the ultra strong rotors for landing. They launched and landed purely on rocket power. Once Sam thought it over, it seemed natural that it should be this way. After all, there was only one third gravity here and still fairly little atmosphere despite the orbiting mirrors. It would be centuries still before the Martian atmosphere really gained much density. Until then, direct power launches and landings were easiest.

Sam found the Trans Mars express shuttle counter and picked up the ticket that Terra had discreetly arranged for his passage. The woman working at the counter confirmed him on the six-o-clock shuttle that would take him to Phobos, and from there he would take another shuttle, one designed for space flight only, to the Hyatain station that was trailing Mars in its orbit by a half-million kilometers.

Once he had confirmed that there was space on the shuttle, he had Ralphie bring up a guide display in his visuals. A virtual green band illuminated the floor in front of him that led him towards the spoke that went to launch pad Gamma. The terminal was bustling with people moving all over the place because this spaceport also functioned as a transport to other cities located around Mars that were reachable by sub-orbital rocket powered transports which performed the same function on Mars as zip tubes on Earth.

Eventually, Sam supposed as he followed the green path, Mars would construct zip tubes as well, but the technology used to grow the tubes had not yet been imported to Mars. The expense was still too high for the UMG government to afford. Mars mostly dealt in low-tech real goods, unlike Earth which mostly dealt in high-tech equipment and information. Mars supplied the belt colonies that were not self sufficient and the orbital colonies around the Earth. They also supplied the Moon and some of the outposts on the Jovian moons. This all occurred not because Earth couldn't do so but because it was more expensive to launch anything from Earth's surface to any of these places than it was to do so from Mars.

All of these low-tech goods were shipped by solar sails that never came closer to Mars than Phobos or Demos, the two small moons of Mars, which were too small to affect the sails adversely. What got to Sam was that Mars could be producing their own high tech goods as well but most of what was considered high tech today was nanofactured and nanofacturing technology was strictly controlled and regulated and so far had been denied permanent placement on Mars.

There were always debates because Mars did contribute to the LNRC but only as a minor partner, and as such they were given nanofactured items from Earth but not nanofacturing equipment. Eventually this would change but so far Earth had kept control of what they designated as dangerous technology. The main argument against Mars having the technology was that they wouldn't be able to stop a nanotech disaster. Which was probably true, but neither was Earth prepared really, though they liked to pretend they were.

Sam reached his shuttle ten minutes before it was due to depart and one of the attendants waved for him to hurry up as they needed to finish their check list before they took off. Sam hustled a little and went out the ramp that connected to the side of the rocket. The rocket was a Boeing design nanofactured in Earth orbit from asteroid fragments brought to the nanofacturing facility by solar sail from the belt colonies. It was a strange triangular trade that had arisen with Earth shipping high tech goods to Mars and Mars supplying low tech supplies like food and so on to the belt colonies that shipped raw materials back to Earth, and some to Mars to be turned into more high and low tech goods.

The Boeing rocket had been built as almost one unit. It was a diamondoid material that made up the bulk of the structure with two decks of passenger space and three rows of seats in concentric circles about a central lift tube shaft on each deck. The top deck was the cockpit where one person monitored the SS system. Below the two passenger decks was one cargo deck, and below that the fuel tanks that made up two thirds of the whole length of the rocket. Then there would be the super efficient rocket engine. The top passenger deck was full and the only available seat was on the lower passenger deck in the innermost circle of chairs. A simulated window that took up half the wall, through it Sam could see the Martian landscape with Olympia off in the distance and a few other rockets sitting neatly near their smaller domes at the end of the long ramps.

This was how everyone traveled from Mars. The larger passenger liners and bulk transports all went to the spaceport on Phobos where passengers would then take smaller shuttles like the one Sam was on to make the descent. The liners and transports weren't designed to make a landing. To do so would have needlessly increased their mass and expense.

"Welcome aboard Trans Mars. I'm your Captain, Jim Alton, and we'll be ready to depart in just a few minutes. Please make sure your are securely in your restraint chair and your personal items are stowed under your seat or down in the cargo deck. I'll be activating the fog restraint system for the duration of the launch phase, which will last approximately six minutes. After that we'll have a leisurely rendezvous with Phobos Interplanetary Spaceport by six-thirty local time." The Captain announced over the intercom.

Some things never changed. Sam sat down in his chair and activated the restraints.

Sam had read that during the days of air travel on Earth when large airplanes were the transport system of choice, the flight attendants used to give safety briefings about what to do in the event of a disaster. They didn't do that any more; there weren't even flight attendants on these shuttles. The zip trains had never had one accident and the failure rate for the rockets nanofactured today was almost zero. It was truly the safest way to travel. In the event that something catastrophic happened, you'd just wake up on Earth in a restoration room anyway, so what was the big deal. Inconvenient but better than the alternative.

"All right folks, we'll be lifting in T-minus twenty." the Captain broke in again.

Everyone just sat back to relax. The g-forces wouldn't go above three for very long, although that was a lot for a Martian, and the restraints would help with the discomfort as they cushioned and molded to your body to prevent any pressure points from forming. Then the Captain began his count down as was traditional, starting at T-Minus ten.

When he reached zero, there was a rumbling noise as the engine kicked on and after just a few seconds of barely moving upward they began to accelerate. The g-forces started to build and Sam felt himself pushed back into his restraint seat which gripped him comfortably. The view from the window was, as always, spectacular. He watched the ruddy Martian landscape fall away and in only a few minutes they were space borne on a path that would intersect Phobos as it came over head.

"We're finished with our main burn and I'm going to deactivate the fog restraint system. You're free to float about the cabin if you wish until we're ready to dock at Phobos in twenty three minutes," the Captain informed them.

The illuminated red band around the top edge of the cylindrical deck changed to green indicating that the fog field was now off. A few zero-g enthusiasts released their restraint chair and floated upward into the two meter empty space above the seats. Each seat back went up over the head of the occupant so even if the floaters landed on a seat or pushed off from one, they wouldn't kick anyone. It was a good system, Sam decided, but he didn't get out of his chair. Normally he would have. Zero-g was a blast, but there wasn't much room, and his persona didn't really look like the aerobatic type.

Outside the window the Martian terrain was sweeping by, and Sam saw the city moving out of view already. He just sat back and relaxed as they covered the distance to Phobos. Several children were playing tag, but their mother quickly got them to settle down as they were getting a little too rambunctious in such close quarters. After another fifteen minutes Sam could see the speck of light they approached continue to resolve itself slowly into a small potato shaped body, Phobos.

"We're going to be rendezvousing with Phobos in just a few minutes, so everyone please return to their seats and engage their restraints," the Captain instructed. The potato-shaped rock continue to grow as the distance closed, and the floating passengers quickly made their way back to their seats.

Phobos was now looming over them as they came up on it. The small moon of Mars was only twenty seven kilometers long and nineteen wide. It was theorized that both Phobos, which means fear, and Demos, which means panic, were captured asteroids. Unlike Earth's moon they had almost no surface gravity due to their small masses. If someone threw something from the surface too hard, it would easily reach escape velocity and never return. This property was what made it such a great place for interplanetary spacecraft. The spaceport was a ring that went around the entire circumference of the moon at the midpoint of its smallest diameter. From the ring every five degrees a docking spoke came out several hundred meters, and from those main structural spokes came several docking shafts that made each spoke look like a sparse antenna.

The docking shafts were of different sizes and shapes, designed to mate up with all types of spacecraft from light sails to passenger liners and bulk transports. Two of the spokes were designated for Fleet operations only. A large section of the moon underneath the spaceport ring had been excavated to store water and methane, the two primary propellants for modern spacecraft. There was also antimatter stored there to power them. The shuttle came along side one of the inner docking shafts of a spoke. It began to brake gently, matching speed and attitude, and then without much effort came to a stop aligned with the docking port. There was a momentary lateral thrust as the shuttle mated with the port and they came to a complete stop.

"Welcome to Phobos. Thank you for traveling Trans Mars. We hope you have a pleasant day and that if you are making connections, a pleasant journey. The fog restraints will be released momentarily, and then you may disembark down the lift column to the cargo deck. Don't forget to collect your belongings before exiting," the Captain said, concluding their trip.

As soon as the red band went green Sam released himself from his restraint chair, and floated up and over his chair pushing gently to get into the lift column. As soon as he entered it began to pull him downward. Once he reached the cargo deck floor, he stepped out of the lift column, grabbing on to a hand rung and pulled himself through the exit. He felt the illusion of simulated gravity disappear as he exited.

He continued to float, only grabbing at the hand supports on the walls, and he imagined himself floating gently upwards towards the main spine. Once he reached the end of the shaft, he came out into the spine which was a hollow cylindrical structure perhaps ten meters across. The top portion of the space was dedicated to outbound travelers and the bottom was dedicated to the inbound. The exit from the shaft parted into a y-junction which was clearly labeled for each direction, and Sam kicked a little to send himself through to the inbound. The two sections were separated by a thick transparent plastic sheet that also seemed to be serving as a floor for each of the sections. As he entered the inbound section, he felt a gentle force pulling him to the transparent floor.

_At least they have simulated gravity,_ Sam thought as he got his bearings and began to walk quickly down the shaft towards the main ring. His transport for Hyatain would be departing from Spoke Six and he was on Spoke Four. It was a little strange walking on a transparent floor, as others were walking in what appeared to be upside down positions in the opposite direction on their way to the waiting shuttles. The walk took only a few minutes before he made it to the junction with the ring. As he reached the end of the spine he felt the simulated gravity reorient him so his feet were now facing the surface, and it gently lowered him as if in a lift tube.

The spaceport had grown by eight spikes since the fog system had been installed. Before that there had been only six, and passengers had had to deal with the zero gravity systems using motorized tethers to pull them to their destinations. The main ring was a recently completed half toroid that wrapped around the entire moon. It was thirty meters high at its tallest point which gave plenty of room for the shops and restaurants that lined the sides as well as hotels and living accommodations for the permanent staff. Plenty of open space.

Earth had bankrolled a large portion of the spaceport to support the newly created Fleet. Mars had provided the labor and the asteroid belt mining colonies had provided the raw materials. After the first two hundred years of operations, a time still another hundred and twenty years away, Mars would become the owner in full. Until then it was operated by the Space Alliance, a sub organization of the United Nations.

Large sections of the ring were just bare structure designed to accommodate additional spokes in the future and to provide more space for later expansion of residential and business areas. On either side of the toroid were fog transit tubes that would carry one to whatever exit area they requested. Sam walked into the tube and had Ralphie instruct the transport system that he needed to get to Spoke Six. The fog of the tube began to pull him, and he moved off briskly. Sam wondered what they had used before the fog technology had been installed and had Ralphie query the local datasphere. Ralphie reported to him that there had been a zero-g train that made stops but that it had never worked as well as the designers had intended, tending to break down and block up traffic.

A few minutes later Sam arrived at his stop and the fog system gently pulled him towards the exit. He stepped out of the tube into the ring and walked quickly towards the lift section that would take him into Spoke Six. He glanced about at the shops offering food and souvenirs. On the ceiling he could see the entrance to spoke six and there was a circular area on the ground that was composed of two colors; one was marked _Inbound_ , and the other _Outbound_. Sam walked in to the outbound region and was lifted upward into the spoke. The fog reoriented him again once he was inside and he was walking on another transparent floor. It took only another minute before he reached his gate and he checked in with the gate attendant. There was no problem. The transport would be leaving in ten minutes.

It had worked out well that a shuttle could get him to the spaceport and a transport would get him to Hyatain in the same day. Many times, Terra had informed him, one had to overnight on the Station as there was only one transport to Hyatain a day. The attendant ushered him into the shaft and again he became weightless and pulled himself up the handholds to enter the transport.

The transport was a cigar shaped vessel, purely functional. Its appearance was similar to the shuttle he had taken from the surface on the outside, but inside Sam found it was completely different. It was powered by antimatter and used water as a propellant, which gave it the ability to constantly accelerate. The ship was laid out in decks that were perpendicular to the thrust vector so that the acceleration would act like artificial gravity and keep the passengers firmly fixed to the floor. This transport visited all of the fifteen antimatter stations that trailed Mars in half degree increments starting at five degrees behind Mars in its orbit. Hyatain was the first, and was five hours away.

Instructions and a graphic popped up in Sam's displays, telling him that he needed to take the central lift tube to deck two and his seat was number twelve. He followed the instructions and was lifted up past five decks to deck two where he emerged in an area very similar to the shuttle's but twice the size. Additionally, the seats were much wider and more comfortable looking as passengers would have to endure long hours onboard. The directions informed him that the restroom was located along the wall, which he noticed as he entered his deck because it stuck out in place of several of the seats. The ship would use simulated gravity in all sections except when under power, which would have a limit of one g.

"If everyone will please take their seats, we'll be departing in five minutes," a voice came over the intercom.

Sam took his seat and activated the restraints. He had Ralphie access the ship's external monitors and used his implants to have an unobstructed look outside. The view was spectacular. The sun was just setting. He caught a glimpse of a few of the larger cruise liners that were on the next spoke and beyond he could see what must have been a few of the Fleet ships that were currently docked. Sam wondered if the Powel were among them.

Sam had a three-dimensional representation of the transport come up in his displays that showed him the location of the galley and the large observation room, which was simply a deck where all surfaces except the floor had screens that showed the external view. There was a warning that agoraphobics could experience discomfort and that the service could be disabled if there were more passengers than could be safely seated on the upper decks.

He waited patiently, watching the external view from his implants until the Captain spoke up again. "Everyone is aboard. We'll be departing momentarily. Attendants, please prep for departure."

This ship, unlike the shuttle, actually had a few attendants. Sam thought it was funny that they stuck to tradition. The ship probably didn't even need to have a human pilot, as the SS system understood orbital dynamics and powered space flight better than a human ever could.

"All right, the hatch is closing and we'll be outbound in just a moment."

There was a brief lurch and the transport was free from the station, Sam felt his heart jump just a little with excitement. He was certainly on his way now.

Sam watched intently as they moved slowly away from the station and then the Captain came on the intercom with the thrust warning, "We'll be bring up the engines shortly. We shouldn't experience more than a third g on this trip, I will disable the simulated gravity once we're under power. Then you may move about the ship freely. Our flight time to Hyatain will be about five hours, Melbringer in six and a half, with a hour and a half additional to each of the other stations."

There was a rumbling as the antimatter was injected into the reaction chamber, and they were off. Sam almost didn't notice as the acceleration built up. That strange sensation that simulated gravity always seemed to give went away, and he felt almost normal again. The same lighted band around the ceiling to indicate that the simulated gravity was on, turned off after a few minutes. After a few more minutes they were well on their way and the excitement Sam had felt before began to wear off. He realized that he was actually pretty tired considering he had slept terribly last night after Terra's revelations and his previous night of insomnia.

Sam deactivated his external view and took a brief glance around him. There wasn't anyone sitting on either side of him that he could see, so he decided it would probably be all right if he took a brief nap-something he desperately needed after last night. He checked his power monitor on the camouflage; he had another twenty six hours. Terra had arranged for an additional power cell that Sam was wearing on his belt to keep the camouflage powered for as long as they could arrange. If that weren't enough, then Sam would have to find a way to recharge it on Hyatain. Assured that he wasn't going to mysteriously change from this stranger he personified back into himself, he instructed Ralphie to keep an ear out for trouble and to wake him twenty minutes before arrival.

That done, he closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep.

### Chapter 37

Dawson was torn. His information source was moving too far from the Powel and there wasn't a thing he could do about it if he wanted to keep the antimatter business under wraps. If he told the Captain, she would begin to suspect and would surely report it to her superiors. On the other hand, the Marines were having rotten luck penetrating the Gates Dome. They knew where the secret entrance was that Terra had used when she entered from the surface, but they also were told by Dawson that using that way in would surely be detected. The Marines were waiting for someone to come in or go out of the main entrance in the hope that they could just sneak in behind, but so far there had been no callers that had been allowed in and no one had left.

He already knew who Sam's contact was, but he wanted to know what Sam's other version had planned and how he had smuggled so much antimatter off the station. Unfortunately, the buffer in Sam's implanted bug would store only about five hours of video and audio that he could access after Sam returned, one of the limitations that he had to work with. So all he could look forward to seeing was five hours of Sam on the transport which wouldn't be useful in the slightest. What he really needed to know was what Terra Gates and Jeff Hughes were planning inside.

When Lt. Madison had asked him if his information source would reveal the inside information about their plans, he had told her that his source was intermittent and that he couldn't be positive he'd get what he needed. She had looked a little dubious and asked what his source was, but he had told her that that information was "need to know" only, which she seemed to accept.

On top of all that Dawson had recently received a message from Damon Harding informing him that Harding was putting to space on his recently constructed ship The Golden Rule. Dawson understood that Harding probably felt vulnerable on the surface.

Harding had also requested to be informed of the trio's next destination as he wanted to be closer to the action where he could make sure things went off without any problems. It all came down to the same conclusion. Whether he found out where they were going ahead of time or not, Damon would be at the other end waiting to take over, or at least just make him a go-fer. He would be the one taking the real risks while Harding held back and directed from afar.

Obviously he wasn't going to be able to do anything useful, and he briefly considered heading to the bridge but discounted that after only a moment. He wasn't particularly well liked by the Captain and her first officer since the Marine incident, so he had decided just to let them be. He didn't really want to wander the ship at all, but his quarters were feeling pretty small now and he was starting to get a little cabin fever. This was just making him think more and more about the full immersion stim terminal four decks below that could provide him with some new scenery and a little relief from the tedium and stress of the mission.

He'd been off stim ever since his last restoration, and although it drew him strongly, he had managed to resist it by never getting any stim equipment in his apartment. He had limited himself to what his implants could provide, which wasn't much more than sound and visual, and only when he needed to do something important, never for leisure. But the stress was getting to him and making him remember too much about why he'd liked stim so much in the first place. After all, it wasn't he who had totally degenerated and died of stim addiction; it was some other version. He only remembered the first few months which had been so much nicer than the reality he'd been living with at the time.

The only times he'd stimmed since his restoration was for some of the tactical and situational training he'd had to go through to become an agent. Those simulations were usually gruesome or unsettling, so he'd never felt an urge then like he was feeling now. Dawson knew enough about psychology to understand that his cravings were part of the addiction, but he rationalized enough to disregard most of the signs.

Before he realized what he was doing, he'd already dropped down the four decks to the rec room and was standing in front of one of the terminals, just staring at it. His strong disgust for his own addiction had given him just enough awareness to let him see what was happening here. He glanced around, embarrassed that he could be so controlled by virtual anything. He was strong enough to resist, at least that's what he told himself. There was no one in the rec room at the moment to see him, for which he was eternally grateful.

Still, would it really hurt anything if he used it for just a few hours? Surely he needed some R&R. He'd been going nonstop for weeks now on this case, and now he couldn't do anything except wait for word from the Marines or for Storm to return from Hyatain with the name of their next destination. He took a step toward the machine. _Just a few hours, then I'll go back to work. I'm strong enough to do this. It won't control me,_ he thought as he stepped up to the stim box, the same size as an old fashioned telephone booth. He opened the door and stepped inside.

The door closed behind him. The fog that would provide him with tactile sensation along with the other systems that would provide taste and smell came on line, covering him like a light blanket. He ordered his companion to interface with the terminal, which his companion did after several warnings that Dawson had himself put in place just in case of such a temptation. The world went even more black as his companion interfaced, and after a moment he found himself standing on a vast gray plain with a red stormy sky. It was void of everything except the background and a slight wind that felt cold to Dawson. He tried to get his companion to bring up something nicer, but his companion returned that this was the only program it could access.

Then off in the distance a figure appeared, still small but walking towards him. This was most definitely the strangest stim Dawson had ever encountered. Dawson started walking towards the figure and in only a minute was close enough to identify him. It was Damon Harding, or at least a representation of him. Harding's sim walked toward him and stopped only a few feet away.

The sim gave him a tisk tisk sort of look. "Agent Dawson, I think you know better than to be here,"

"What are you talking about?" Dawson asked, getting angry at what was obviously Harding's attempt to block him from any pleasant stim experience.

"You know very well what I'm talking about. I am well aware of your past history with stim, and this simulation of me has been put here to make sure you don't have a relapse of your condition."

"Just who the hell do you think you are. This is illegal. You can't control a person's access to information or the datasphere, regardless of any conditions they may have," Dawson retorted loudly. It was true. There had been nothing stopping him from using stim during all his current version's life on Earth, only his own will power.

"Agent Dawson, remember that you are on a Fleet ship and are currently on assignment. You are not under civilian law anymore and as your assignment is of such high importance, I've decided to err on the side of caution," the figure replied stoically, which just aggravated Dawson further.

"You have no right," he complained.

"Doesn't matter. In two minutes the stim terminal will kick you off, I've had all the terminals programmed to do so on the ship. If you attempt to access a stim again, the ship will notify my real counterpart automatically, and if you try a third time, it will make your condition known to the Captain. She will be ordered to not allow you access to the stim even if you have to be confined to quarters. Sorry for the inconvenience, but you'll just have to stim yourself to death after this whole thing is resolved and I don't need you any more. Good bye, Agent Dawson. Don't come back," the sim said.

The apparition then disappeared from sight which left Dawson fuming mad standing in the simulation. He cursed for the whole remainder of his time, and then the world went black again and than the door opened behind him.

### Chapter 38

_Sam, Sam! It's time for you to wake up!_ Ralphie attempted to rouse Sam when his sleep timer had elapsed. Sam began to stir back to consciousness, then remembered where he was. He opened his eyes, forgetting momentarily that he was camouflaged and took a look out of the window that was in front of his restraint chair. It was empty out there except for the small pinpoints of light. He swiveled around and saw the filtered and shaded image of the sun. It was still bright even if it were only a image.

What's our ETA to Hyatain, Ralphie?

_Approximately thirteen minutes. We have been braking for the last two and a quarter hours_.

They were almost there. Sam activated the external view again in his implants, searching the different camera angles to try and locate the station. He caught it when he looked from the aft cameras. One of the cameras on the bottom was shielded from the exhaust of the rocket engine, so he had a fairly clear view with only a little of the escaping plasma noticeable. They were still slowing to meet up with the station, which was growing larger in the viewer every moment. The station was huge, or at least part of it was huge. The antimatter station design had been around now for almost a hundred years, ever since the first Martians decided to go prospecting for the stuff.

The antimatter station didn't actually prospect. It made the antimatter in the old fashioned way, in a large particle collider. The collider was powered by a vast circular solar array one hundred and twenty kilometers in diameter. The solar array provided power measuring one thousand four hundred gigawatts per second which was directed to the production of the antimatter in the accelerators. It had been quite an engineering feat to design the current antimatter generator accelerators which boasted an efficiency of a five percent conversion of power into antimatter. This meant that the station produced around twenty five kilograms of antimatter every year, or six point seven grams per day. The station operated twenty-four hours a day year round.

Hyatain was the very first station built at great expense by the Martians using both private and international funds. Normally one would want an antimatter solar collector to be much closer to the sun where the sunlight on every square meter of collector was much higher. If the collector had been located in Earth orbit, it would have produced almost three times the antimatter, but it was constructed close to Mars because it was easier to provide the labor and the materials. After Hyatain numerous other collectors had been manufactured. In recent years nanofacturing in Earth orbit turned out materials sufficient to build antimatter stations five times the size of Hyatain which were assembled closer to the orbit of Venus and produced almost a hundred kilograms each per year.

The total antimatter production capability of the entire solar system was somewhere around two thousand kilograms of antimatter and growing constantly to support the new Fleet ships and their operations as well as the growing number of tourists and fast shipping options it provided, not to mention the ability to reach low Earth orbit with a reasonable single stage to orbit craft.

Sam marveled at the size of the array. They were coming up almost edge on, but they saw little reflection because the array was always pointing directly at the sun so as not to waste any precious sunlight. The shuttle continued to approach, and then the Captain announced that they were going to cut thrust and drift in now and that the simulated gravity would be back on momentarily. After a moment the feeling of weight from the constant acceleration of the engines cut out and they were in free fall for only a second before the indicator light turned on and they had that simulated gravity sensation settle over them. It made Sam a little queasy during the transition.

They were now passing behind the edge of the mammoth array, and the sun disappeared from the view ports. They drifted past the array which was supported by what looked like a large tinker toy structure behind the actual solar panels. Each of the cells the structure formed was a hundred meters across, and they blurred by at amazing speed. It gave Sam some idea of how fast they were still going despite the fact that they had stopped thrusting.

Sam asked Ralphie about their current speed, and he replied that they were only moving at five hundred meters per second, not very fast at all.

_It's true what all pilots say; It feels much faster when you're close to the ground, or the wall in this case,_ Sam thought.

They were quickly approaching the habitation section of the station, a small cylinder that stuck out from the very center of the back side of the array. Sam could make out a smaller bulb at the end of the cylinder that must have been the antimatter generators.

They approached quickly. Soon the habitation section, which now seemed very large, was coming up fast.

"We're going to be going into final deceleration and will then be docking. Passengers disembarking here are asked to stay in their seats until the ship comes to a complete stop with us docked. I will keep the simulated gravity on at all times," the Captain announced.

Shortly thereafter Sam felt a subtle pressure as they thrusted enough to kill their velocity. They drifted in more slowly, now towards the section that connected the habitation cylinder with the array structure.

The habitation cylinder, Sam noted, was actually rotating slowly using centrifugal forces to mimic gravity in the interior. He could tell now that the cylinder was actually quite large. They came to a stop next to the giant rotating cylinder on a smaller cylindrical section between them and the array where a number of docking shafts poked outward.

It took a minute for them to come to a rest and to dock with one of the shafts.

"Welcome to Hyatain Station. For those of you who are disembarking here, please proceed down the main lift shaft and out through the docking port. We're pleased to have had you with us. Have a pleasant day. For those of you traveling onto the other stations, please stay seated. We'll be departing just as soon as we pick up any new passengers. Thank you," the Captain announced.

Sam took it as his cue to get out of his seat. He walked into the main lift shaft and dropped downward to the deck with the docking port. There were only about fifteen others getting off with Sam, and they all waited patiently as the passengers made their way one at a time through the zero g docking shaft.

Finally Sam's turn came, and he pushed off gently and floated down the shaft. When he came out the other end, he was in a large room. People were floating to the side of the portal back to the ship, and all the arrivals were moving towards the far side of the room. As soon as everyone was off, the other group started to float towards the ship and proceed up the tube. Once they were gone, someone floated up in front of Sam and the others.

"Welcome to Hyatain," the woman in a uniform spoke up. "Every one with a permanent clearance may proceed through the exit. Every one else I will need to see in turn to get you you'r access for the time you're on board," she continued. Most of the people except Sam and one other man started for the doorway. Each of them stopped and placed their hand on a plate to be scanned, and then the door let them pass.

"Well, welcome visitors. I have both of your identities on file as a visitor. Mr. Olvag, you're already cleared to enter with the system, but please access the briefing on the station before you go wandering around. Have your companion bring up a guide to take you whereever you're going. Mr. Locke, I just need to have you go through our security station right over there," she pointed.

Luckily, Terra had already arranged everything for Sam. He was pretending to be Mr. Olvag, and he walked calmly towards the door the others had gone through. He placed his hand on the plate and after only a moment of wondering whether this camouflage technology was up to impersonating someone else's biometrics, the door opened and he stepped through with a sigh. He was in.

He had Ralphie do just what the woman had told him to and a green virtual track appeared which he began to follow. After only a few minutes he found the location of the elevators that would lower him to the outer edge of the rotating cylinder. The elevator was large enough to accommodate about twenty people, but near the entrance he had seen a giant cargo elevator that looked like it could move an army. It was probably just used to move equipment and materials down in to the habitat. There was also another smaller elevator which had departed probably minutes before Sam arrived.

Officially Sam, or Mr. Olvag who he impersonated, was a antimatter safety inspector. Terra had used her connections on Mars to arrange for him to meet with Conrad regarding an inspection that was to occur next month. It was true that there was to be an inspection next month and that Mr. Olvag would be the one performing it, but Olvag didn't have any plans to go there to discuss it since the inspections were fairly routine. Olvag was a friend of Terra's that she had made years ago as the head of the Mars Department of Industry. He agreed to do her a personal favor and just stay at home for a much needed day off. Terra had told them that they could trust Olvag to keep quiet, but that she wouldn't let him in on anything that was really happening.

The elevator began to lower, and as it did, Sam felt him self growing heavier until it stopped and he felt like he was back in the one third-g of Mars. The doors opened and Sam stepped out to see a dark cylinder with small pinpricks of light spread around the cylinder, perhaps imitating stars. The green path glowed in his vision, and he began to walk out down a concrete path through some vegetation. Sam followed the path through the dark until he saw the light silhouette of buildings ahead. He must have come down in some kind of small park in the center of town. The path seemed wide enough to permit vehicles to travel on.

The path ended shortly and he found himself between two buildings. It was hard for him to get any perspective about how big the habitat cylinder really was, but he continued to follow the green path to a third building that was twenty or thirty meters past the first two. All though the building wasn't too tall, only two stories, Sam could see that it sprawled out from his location. He went up to the entrance indicated by the green path and went inside.

That it was night time on the station was now obvious to Sam. Evidently the population had elected to maintain either a Mars or Earth day/night system to keep themselves in equilibrium. He found his way up a stairwell into a corridor that had a number of doors lining each wall, probably apartments of some kind. He walked along the corridor until he came to number 231. Sam had Ralphie interface with the computer system and send an arrival notification to Conrad, whom Sam hoped wasn't sleeping. Nothing stirred for a few minutes, and then finally the door opened to reveal a tall man who didn't look like he'd been sleeping. Rather, he was well dressed and wide awake.

"Mr. Olvag, you're right on time," Thurman Conrad said with a smile, taking Sam's hand. Sam felt a little guilty at the deception but shook his hand anyway. "Won't you come in? I was just getting ready to head over to the generators."

Sam walked into the residence and stood in the living room. "Thank you, Mr. Conrad, for seeing me on such short notice, I really do appreciate it," Sam said in the camouflage's version of his voice.

"Any time, for the inspectors," Thurman said cordially while closing the door. "Have a seat. I'll be ready to head out in just a moment."

Sam took a seat on the couch. The apartment was furnished nicely with interesting looking baubles that probably had originated around the solar system. Conrad went from the main room into what Sam could see was the kitchen and then after a moment returned.

"All right, let's get going then, if that's alright with you. Shift three starts in about twenty minutes," Conrad informed him.

Sam got back up and followed the man out the front door. Sam wanted to ask about the habitat, when it would be getting light, and a number of other questions that his view upon arrival had brought up in his mind, but he kept silent.

Olvag had been on the station a number of times and wouldn't have needed to ask about that kind of thing. Sam needed to keep in character until he could get Conrad alone out in the generation section. Terra had provided Ralphie with the security system schematics so Sam knew where he would be able to speak with Conrad unobserved. They made their way down the corridor and the stairs to the first level out into the habitat.

"Sun will be up soon," Conrad remarked. "Did you have a good flight?"

"About the usual." Sam hoped he actually sounded like Olvag.

They walked down the path a ways, past where Sam had joined up with it from the elevator. They walked for what seemed like ten minutes, always heading away from the side of the habitation cylinder that mated up with the solar collectors. When they reached the far side of the Hab module, which Sam now figured was about a kilometer across, they found another elevator. Conrad stepped into it along with several others who had been waiting when they arrived. Sam followed him in and after a few more stragglers made it in, the elevator started its ascent.

It didn't take long for the rotationally induced artificial gravity to dissipate, and they were once again in zero-g when doors opened. Conrad kicked off the wall out into the large tunnel corridor that went into the generator section. Sam kicked off as well and followed him, running into the wall of the tunnel and then righting himself to continue after Conrad who was already floating down the tunnel. When they reached the end of the tunnel, Sam felt himself pulled to the floor. That queasy sensation returned.

_Simulated gravity. At least I'll be able to walk now,_ Sam thought.

"This way, Mr. Olvag," Conrad directed, leading him off down some stairs.

The rest of the workers who had been with them headed off in different directions. Sam followed Conrad. He kept up a display of where they were located and had Ralphie let him know when they weren't under the eye of the surveillance system. The antimatter station was fairly secure, and it had a number of defensive weapons that had been installed ad hoc after the station was complete and after the first few incidents with pirates from out in the belts.

Antimatter was valuable dangerous stuff, and the Fleet along with all other governments wanted it safe. As a last resort to keep the stuff from falling into the wrong hands, the entire store of antimatter that was currently in the station's storage tank could be fired into space and annihilated. The resulting explosion would no doubt be catastrophic to the station, but theoretically they would survive.

They walked through several corridors and down more stairs as they headed outward towards the very end of the section. Sam could hear the hum of the accelerators as they ceaselessly used high speed particles to produce their product. Sam was grateful that he had the map in his displays; otherwise he would have become completely disoriented by now. Finally, they entered a section that Ralphie informed him was out of the watchful eye of the security system.

It was then that Conrad spun about with a pistol in his hand, he leveled it at Sam's chest. "All right, who are you? I know you're not Olvag!"

Sam stopped dead and put his hands in the air. "I'm a friend. How'd you know?"

"Olvag doesn't do surprise inspections, and you didn't ask me once about my father, which he always does. You didn't even blink when I told you it was almost morning, which you would have known wasn't right because shift three starts at one in the morning." Conrad kept the gun steady. "You say you're a friend. Then why don't you tell me who you are? And what's happened to Olvag?"

"Olvag is taking the day off as a personal favor to Terra Gates."

"And you?" Conrad asked seriously.

"I'm going to deactivate my camouflage, so if I look like I'm moving, I guarantee you I'm not."

"All right, but any funny business and I'll fire. The gun won't make much noise and no one will come to help you here," Conrad warned.

Sam had Ralphie deactivate the camouflage, and he watched Conrad's face grow even more suspicious.

"Who sent you because I know you're not the man you look like now?"

"No, I'm not him exactly. I am a very out-of-date version of him," Sam explained.

"I don't believe you."

"You can scan my DNA or check my prints or whatever you want to do to verify it," Sam said. "I won't resist."

"I'll do that." Conrad motioned him with the gun to continue through a doorway that was off to their right.

Sam moved slowly into the room. Inside he saw a screen and a terminal that had a biometric interface.

"Lucky for you that I have one of these systems in my office, and I know there isn't a camera," Conrad said, motioning him towards the terminal. The terminal sprang to life, the display lighting up with systems information from the generator. "I'm going to have the terminal start a biometric identity search on you, but for now I've disabled the report back mechanism so no one will know you're here, yet."

"I'm grateful for that," Sam said, placing his hand on the pad that was next to the terminal. The pad scanned his palm print and also made a sample of his DNA from any loose flake of his skin it could get. The results flashed up on the screen after only a few seconds.

"It doesn't say you're who you look like."

"Wait, you need to actually compare the DNA sequence. It will only be off by a versioning difference." Sam hoped he'd get Conrad to believe him before he pulled the trigger. After what Conrad had helped his other version do, Sam was sure he'd use the gun if he thought he was found out.

"I'm having my companion run the comparison right now, and if it's wrong, I'm going to shoot you and get rid of your body in one of our fusion chambers...I've done it before and believe me there will be nothing left of you but plasma," Conrad threatened.

He was sweating now under the stress. Sam tried to stay calm. It didn't sound like a pleasant way to go at all, and he didn't want to provoke a premature reaction.

"Well, I'll be damned. How the hell did you get restored and how did you get yourself a legitimate new identity? That's not supposed to be possible," Conrad said, lowering the weapon, relief covering his face. He sat down in one of the chairs that was in the office.

Sam sighed. "It's a long story, actually."

"I'm all ears," Conrad said, sitting back, but he hadn't put the gun away yet and Sam eyed it suspiciously. Conrad noticed his apprehension. "Let's just say that I'm keeping it out for insurance."

"Good policy," Sam admitted. "Well, it all started for me about a week ago," he started. He told the entire story to Conrad, only leaving out details that would give away secrets of Terra's and some of their suspicions about what Sam was really up to. He didn't mention the antimatter until the end, at which point Conrad's hand tightened about the gun.

"So you see, Terra, Jeff, and I have basically been summoned by my counterpart who is hiding out with a large amount of antimatter. We were told that you could help us by Terra's old version. Can you?"

"That is the most convoluted story I've ever heard, but I've been expecting someone to show up ever since I heard about the Virus attack and that your other version had taken responsibility. I met him about eight years ago when we worked out how to get the antimatter out of here undetected, and he told me then that in between six and ten years from now someone would come to me to ask where he was and that I'd know them. He wanted me to help you as much as I could. I guess this fits" Conrad made a quick motion and the gun disappeared.

"Well, at least you were expecting someone."

"Yeah, but I always figured that it'd either be the right person or someone who found out coming to arrest me, or get rid of me, so that's why I've been carrying that gun for the last three years. I can't believe you're actually here now."

"Can you tell me where to find him?" Sam asked, hoping that the man knew something that would give them a place to start looking.

"No, actually I don't know where he is either. Let me explain what I do know. When your other version came to me eight years ago along with Terra Gates and we set this whole thing up, the biggest problem was how to get the antimatter to him. What we used was a little unconventional but it's been working fine now for a while. There's a solar sail cargo lane that runs from high Earth orbit to Europa. During that trip it passes close enough for me to take one of our smaller intra station shuttles and meet up with it as it passes by once every six months. Even though it's moving pretty fast, I can get a small payload up to speed to latch onto the cargo container magnetically. Because the amount of antimatter is small, it will go undetected.

Once it reaches Europa, somehow your other version gets it and does whatever he does with it. There are about eight of the sails on that lane, so over the last eight years I've managed to get him a hundred and three kilograms of the stuff."

"I have one person who's in on it at each of the stations in this direction and a few that go out the other direction from Mars. All together we've managed to get him the entire amount. Terra has already paid us well and promised us recognition if possible. After you showed up was when we were all supposed to get the hell out of these stations and hide out some place secure."

"Well, that would make sense," Sam said, thinking about it. "I'm sure it won't be long before someone else catches on. Where will you go?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," Conrad said, "but some place Terra promised would be secure for a while."

"Where are we supposed to go then to find my other version...Europa?" Sam asked.

"That would be my guess. Those solar sails are still ferrying cargo back and forth I'd find out who was handling it during the times we were sending. Someone out there must know where he is."

Sam just sat back now to relax a little. The tension was gone, and he wasn't feeling threatened anymore.

"I should contact my people on the other stations and let them know it's time to go to ground. If I notify them in time they can be on the next transport back to Phobos," Conrad said.

"By all means," Sam responded. Thurman sat back, closing his eyes, obviously accessing his displays and his companion using his link with the computer systems to send messages to his people. Sam waited patiently; he couldn't leave to head back to Phobos until his transport made its way back, which wouldn't be for another six hours or so. It took Conrad twenty minutes before he opened his eyes again.

"Well that's done. My people are going to take the first available transport back to Phobos. We'll all meet up there and get to our hiding location. Hopefully, it won't be too long before we're able to leave it, but it's for the best," Conrad said.

"Why the rush? What's supposed to happen?" Sam asked. He wondered if Conrad was more in on what was going on than Terra or Jeff.

"I don't know exactly, but your other version told me that once you contacted me it wouldn't be much longer before something happened. I don't know what it will be, though. I just hope we can really trust him not to use it as a weapon, like he promised."

Sam wondered for the millionth time what his other version was up to. It had been bad enough with just the virus but now he had antimatter and uncontrolled nanotechnology...what was he up to? "Well, we have six hours until the transport returns. Can you arrange to be on it?"

"I already have. I told my supervisor that my father back on Mars was sick and needed me to come at once, so he cleared me for a few days."

"Won't anyone notice that a number of you are all leaving at once?" Sam asked, wondering if it might be too suspicious. He didn't want to get caught because of suspicious activity out here.

"Don't worry. By the time any one catches on, it will all be over," Conrad assured him.

Sam hoped he was right. "So while we're waiting, would it look better if you were showing me around, to make my presence here look legitimate?"

"Of course, you're right. We can't just sit around here for five hours. Have you ever been in an antimatter station before?" Thurman Conrad asked.

"Not actually," Sam confessed, "but we should make it seem as if I have."

"That impersonation technology you've got is pretty good. I never would have known if it weren't for the way you were acting. We'll need to keep you away from any others that might know you, but I'll show you around anyway. How long can you sustain your illusion?"

"Well, my power meter says I have enough to get back to Phobos easily, even if I keep it on constantly," Sam informed him. "So you don't need to worry about that."

"Good to hear. All right, so you know the theory of how the production works, don't you?"

"Yeah, you use particle accelerators to smash particles into some reaction material and from those collisions come a lot of stuff, some of which is antimatter. Then you siphon off the antimatter, slow it down, and condense the stuff into anti-hydrogen ice somehow," Sam said. It was common knowledge. He'd just never seen the process in action.

"Well, that pretty much sums it up," Thurman said, sending an image to the display that showed a cross section of the station. "The collector generates electrical power which is transmitted through the central shaft of the station back to our section where it powers the accelerators."

"So, how do you get light into the habitat section? Is it artificial?" Sam wondered aloud. There would be an awful lot of power coursing through that central shaft.

"No, that wouldn't be very efficient. We have some fiber optic collectors that shunt some of the actual sunlight down the outer shell of the core shaft. It bounces around in there and will illuminate the entire habitat. That way we can grow plants easily and it's much nicer. I'm going to miss it," Thurman said a little sadly.

"Will I be able to see the habitat in daylight then before we go?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, the sun will be coming up just as we need to start heading for the transport. We could take one of the tubes through the central shaft to cut our time, but if you want we can go back through the hab," Thurman offered.

"Great. So you were saying all that power goes to the accelerators," Sam reminded him.

"Oh yeah, well, we have about fifty accelerator rings that are stacked like donuts. Each one shunts its anti-protons and positrons into our decelerators that siphon them off and slow them down. We send them through ten stages of deceleration until finally they're at rest, and then we combine the positron and anti-proton streams to form anti-hydrogen. We do all this at five percent efficiency, which compared to the first particle accelerators designed to produce antimatter is a huge improvement; they got less than a half a percent."

"Then you have some kind of storage device for the anti-hydrogen?"

"Yeah, the anti-hydrogen is really fairly sparse, so we condense it in a electromagnetic storage chamber which keeps it all in the center of the trap. There the free atoms coalesce into an anti-hydrogen ice. When the nodule gets big enough, about a kilogram, we pull the bottle and ship it back to Phobos."

"So how did you get the extra for my other version? Wouldn't someone know it was missing?" Sam asked.

"No, actually we have to allow for inspections about one month out of the year. During that time most of the staff leave and we get a bunch of UN people here. The inspection only takes a few days, and during that extra time we put on an empty bottle and by the time everyone returns we've got about a kilogram. Of course, we do have to trick out the computers so they don't believe that there's been any accumulation during that period, but the power from the array has to go somewhere at all times, even if it's just being radiated away."

Sam wondered how much he was leaving out. It didn't sound entirely convincing that it would work undetected as it had for so many years. "Amazing that everything worked out that way."

"Well, having Terra pull strings to get the inspections to precede the solar sail transport so that we could send the antimatter on helped a lot."

"I can imagine. So what would I be here to look at?" Sam asked.

"Well, you were supposed to come out to check our control software for a bug and to check the storage chamber for signs of wear. That's why I brought you here first; we're out of the camera's eye and you could have checked over the software. I'll take you over to the chamber, and then I'll show you around the whole system." Sam got up.

"You should put back on your persona," Thurman reminded him.

Sam felt a little embarrassed at having forgotten, but he had Ralphie reactivate his camouflage system.

"Amazing," Conrad commented as he reverted back to looking like Olvag. "Follow me. We'll have to go through a check point to get to the storage chamber, but since you've come this far we might as well go a little farther."

He led Sam back down the corridors, and they ended up on a walkway that went through a large space at the center of the circular accelerators. At the center of the space was a room where several large pipes met.

"Only one of us can go through the door at a time. Go ahead," Conrad instructed, ushering Sam up to the door of the small room.

The room was a solid metal cube. The walkway went around the room and presumably met up on the other side. He stepped up to the door and put his hand on the plate. After a few seconds the light next to the palm panel turned green and the door opened. He stepped in a very small airlock type space; on the other side of the small space was another door. The first door closed behind him. As he approached the second door and plate, he put his hand on it. After a second it also opened. Sam was relieved. They'd had to get some samples of Olvag's DNA to satisfy the security, and he had enough to last him until he was back on Mars if necessary. Past the second door Sam could see where the two pipes came together. The junction was actually donut shaped and in the center plugging the hole was what looked like a glass container with a handle on it.

Conrad entered through the door and came up behind Sam who was bending down to look through the small glass port into the center.

"That's the storage bottle. When the accumulators get to a kilogram, we just pull the bottle out and the anti-hydrogen ice is suspended by magnetic fields in the center where it can take up to a thousand g's without touching the walls of the container," Conrad explained.

"I imagine you'll want to take a look at all angles to see if there is any sign of wear," he coached. "We can't be heard in here, but we are on video."

Sam tried to look like he was looking for micro cracks or the like, trying to stay in character and not look too fascinated by the pea-sized lump of blue slightly iridescent antimatter that he could see suspended at the center of the bottle.

He wandered around to the opposite side and saw that the whole thing was symmetric; he could now see the other side of the bottle. He tried to look closely all around the apparatus like he was inspecting, but after twenty minutes of carefully checking out the whole assembly, he turned back to Conrad who was just waiting patiently. When he was done, he went back out the airlock double doors with Conrad following behind him. "Seems all right to me. I'll finish my analysis based on my recordings later," Sam said.

"Of course," Thurman Conrad said, as if it were routine.

"Could you take me on a quick inspection of the rest of the units before I have to leave? I just want to make sure everything is kosher," Sam continued.

"Certainly, shall we start with accelerator one? It's that way," Conrad said, pointing down the walkway. Sam followed Conrad around the antimatter production section, gaping in awe at the size of the accelerators and the amount of power that they represented. It was an amazing facility, Sam had to admit. And it had been what really opened up the possibility of short trips about the solar system, ones that didn't take months or years, just days or weeks. Finally four hours later they were finished and Conrad led him back through to the elevator that would take them back down to the hab surface.

When the door to the elevator opened, Sam was greeted by bright sunshine all about. He stepped out into the habitat and stood gaping up at the immense space. Conrad quickly moved up behind him, taking his arm, and asked, "Are you feeling all right, Mr. Olvag? Here why don't you have a seat for a moment?" Sam realized what he was doing right away. Olvag wouldn't have had any problem with the view, as he had been in this and dozens of other similar habs for years. The only explanation would be that he wasn't feeling well.

"I'm fine. I just need to sit down for a moment. I think perhaps lunch didn't agree with me," Sam said, thinking quickly.

Once he was sitting down and the majority of the people had left the elevator, he lifted his head which he had been holding in his hands and took another look around. It was disorienting, to say the least. Even Phobos station hadn't been this disorienting probably because of the simulated gravity and the way it had been laid out. The hab stretched over him, but was cut in two by the central shaft that was far above him. The shaft was brilliantly lit. Conrad had explained, it piped sunlight into the hab via a fiber optic collection system. All around him in the open space were trees, lush green foliage with buildings spread around. There were even some smaller looking ponds. It was a nice place, he realized, that must in some way lure people out here.

Sam wondered if the asteroid and orbital colonies were this nice. He imagined they must be even nicer because they weren't constructed to support the staff of an antimatter station but to provide a permanent living space for large numbers of people and their whole society. Sam had Ralphie call up the dimensions of the hab. Ralphie informed him that the hab was three kilometers long and five hundred meters in diameter. This gave the station over two square miles of living area. The central shaft was fifty meters in diameter and only the outer shell carried the light from the outside. The rest was devoted to superconducting line that transferred power from the giant arrays to the antimatter generators and a few transport tubes for moving big equipment from the docking port to the generator section. The space was large but that wasn't what disturbed Sam. He was used to that. It was the way the land curved around him.

Sam took another couple of minutes to get his bearing and to marvel at the engineering of the place. Then he turned to Conrad. "I'm feeling better now. We'd better be on our way." Conrad looked at him, concerned for a moment, and then shrugged.

"Sure, let's go. I'd like to swing by my apartment and pick up a few things if that's all right with you."

"No problem. We've got an hour," Sam agreed, checking his displays.

He also checked the reading on his camouflage unit, but it had enough power to make it back to Mars easily. They both got up from the bench and started walking down the pathway. Now that Sam could see everything, he noticed that there were smaller residences, presumably private, for the more important people on the station. He could also see larger buildings, one of which was Conrad's, that must house more the technical and service people. There were also other larger buildings that must serve as offices. Sam saw a library and two recreation centers as they made their way back to Conrad's building which was closer to the docking port side of the hab.

When they entered his apartment, Conrad went straight to grabbing some of the stuff off his shelves and stuffing it into some small suitcases he'd had in one of his closets. He didn't bother packing any clothing. It took him anther thirty minutes to get everything together and he handed one of the suitcases to Sam. "Can you hold this for me? It will look less suspicious if I'm not seen carrying too much stuff for a short trip to Mars."

"Sure," Sam said, taking the suitcase. "I just hope we don't get Mr. Olvag in too much trouble over this."

"Oh, I'm sure he has an alibi for all this. But I don't envy the security people who are going to have to try to figure this out. No, not one bit. Let's get going, I don't want to miss that transport," Conrad added, taking one last look around.

Sam moved for the door. "Ready,"

"Yeah," Conrad said. "You know, I've been in this apartment for twelve years now. I'm actually going to miss it."

"I know what you mean," Sam said, thinking about his crèche home. It was the only place he'd lived in for anywhere near that amount of time, and just thinking about it brought back fond memories. He suppressed that reminiscence for a later time and opened the door.

They made it to the docking terminal where the transport would be arriving in minutes. There were about ten people waiting with them. Sam looked them over and wondered if any of them were with Conrad, but if they were, they never gave him any hint. The transport docked a few minutes later and they boarded. No one got off. The transport was the same ship Sam had taken earlier. The transport just flew out and stopped at every station, then turned around and came back, only stopping if there were passengers to pick up. Sam put Conrad's suitcase in the webbing provided on the first deck and then went up the lift tube back to where he'd been sitting before. Conrad followed him and sat in the next seat over. They departed after everyone was onboard and began thrusting for Phobos.

Both he and Conrad tried to sleep during the flight, but Sam only succeeded at keeping his eyes closed and relaxing. He was worried and excited at the same time. He didn't know if the Fleet or some other security would be waiting to pick him and Conrad up when they docked at Phobos station. How long would it take for someone to put everything together? Sam was also worried about how Terra, Jeff and he were going to get out of here without being followed, even presuming that whatever source of information the Fleet had been using against them had been outwitted.

Conrad apparently didn't have the same problem. As soon as they departed and were under thrust, he was out like a light. Sam marveled at his ability to sleep at a time like this. Sam knew he was in trouble, but so far he hadn't done anything serious; only his other version had. Thurman Conrad had given a hundred kilograms of antimatter to a known terrorist, however; he should be terrified of getting caught. Of course, Conrad had been doing this for the past eight years, during which time he had apparently come to term with his actions and was not any more afraid now that he'd be caught than at any other time. He was probably even relieved.

Five hours later the transport was docking, and Sam woke Conrad up. "We've arrived," he said.

Conrad stretched his arms. "Oh, we made good time, I can't wait to get to the surface. I'm dying for a Tofu dog."

"Hah," Sam exclaimed in amusement. He thought it was pretty funny that Conrad was thinking about food, and then realized that he was only staying in character for appearances. They both hopped into the lift tube and picked up Conrad's bags. They then made their way down the shaft into the spine. When they entered the spine and were just walking away from the terminal, two people walked up to them. Sam didn't recognize them at all, but they were good sized guys, and Sam was now sure that they'd been caught. Conrad didn't notice them until they caught up and each of them grabbed a shoulder.

"You need to come with us, please," one man said.

"Oh, and why exactly do we need to do that?" Conrad asked, realizing that they were in trouble.

"Just don't give us any trouble," the man said. "We have fifty other guys here with orders to shoot first if you move. Just follow us and everything will be fine. Don't bother looking for them. You'll never spot who they are."

"Yeah, Ralphie. We don't want you falling off any buildings," the other man said.

Sam looked at him closely. The name Ralphie and the reference to his accident when he was young let Sam know who they were. There weren't fifty other guys. It was just Jeff and Terra in disguise.

"I think we'd better go with them," Sam told Conrad with a wink that he hoped no surveillance system would pick up.

"All right, I have nothing to hide here," Conrad said.

They started walking. Terra and Jeff kept close to them and once they entered the main ring they moved quickly into the transport tube.

"We'll be going to Spine Two," one of the two said.

"Sure," Sam said, giving Ralphie orders to go to Spine Two.

The trip was brief, and they came out just near the entrance of Spine Two. They went upward into the spine and walked out until they came to docking shaft ten which was at the end of the spine. There were almost no people this far in. Terra and Jeff got them through the shaft, and they entered a cargo bay that was a familiar welcome sight to Sam. It was the Express. Once they were all inside, the docking hatch closed.

Quickly descending from the crew compartment above was Ignus Scott. "Welcome abroad The Lady Sky, gentlemen," Ignus said with a smile.

"Not the Express?" Sam asked.

"Not for the moment," Ignus replied.

Terra and Jeff moved away from them and deactivated their camouflage, revealing both of them wearing their space suits once again with the hoods retracted.

Sam deactivated his camouflage. "It's good to see you two, but what about contacting you the way we arranged?"

"Couldn't wait for that. Somehow we think the Fleet is still on to us," Terra said. "Thurman Conrad, It's good to see you again although it's been a while for me."

"Yeah, heard about your premature restoration and your out-of-dateness, a good turn of luck for you considering how popular your other version was. She was still a good woman, though, as I'm sure you'd like to know. I'm very glad it's you. For a minute there I thought we were caught, and I really didn't want to explain my last eight years to anyone I didn't have to," Conrad said, looking relieved now.

"Me too. We won't keep you here, Conrad. We need to get out of here soon. If you have someplace better to be, I suggest you go there, but I'm sorry I can't say how long you'll need to stay," Terra said apologetically.

Conrad waved her off. "Don't worry about it, I know where to go, and I'll hide out as long as I need to. If worse comes to worse, you're not the only one with a single eight year old backup out there."

"Oh really, I didn't know that. I presume then that there are a number of others in the same boat," Terra probed.

"Yes, but I won't tell you who or how many. Don't worry, though. They're taken care of. We all have a place to go to ground. Sam, it's been good working with you, but I should be on my way to rendezvous with my friends, and yours are obviously waiting to get out of here. Good luck," Thurman said, extending his hand. "I hope it was worth it."

Sam shook the man's hand firmly. "Believe me, Thurman, so do I."

Terra took his hand too. "Thank you, Mr. Conrad. I promise I'll do everything I can to help you and your friends."

"Of course," Thurman said. He nodded to Jeff and Ignus and then turned to leave. Ignus opened the port for him, and he flew back out into the shaft on his way to wherever it was that he and his fellow antimatter thieves were going to be hiding out.

When he was gone, Sam turned to Jeff for an explanation. "What's going on? You were supposed to wait for me on Mars."

"It turned out that we had an opportunity to get out of the dome unobserved, so we took it," Jeff explained.

"What opportunity?" Sam asked.

"Fiona got sick and had to call for an ambulance. We just used it as an opportunity to sneak out," Jeff said with a grin.

"Is she all right?"

"Of course, she's fine. Just a case of food poisoning, nothing really dangerous. Terra was beside herself until we found that out just before we came to get you from the transport."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that at least," Sam said. He hadn't really gotten to know Fiona, but she seemed like a very nice person.

"So where to?" Ignus asked.

"Europa, apparently, but beyond that I'm not sure," Sam said.

"Do you have any idea who we should talk to when we get there?" Terra asked.

Sam shrugged, "Only vaguely, but I'm sure my other version won't leave us hanging. We seem to be following his bread crumbs according to plan."

"Well, then what are we waiting for? I'll go get us space borne and then we'll get out of here," Ignus said. "Good to have you all aboard again. It's much more exciting than flying priority packages." He stepped in the lift column and was quickly out of sigh.

Jeff clapping Sam on the shoulder and walking towards the lift column. "Good to have you back, Sam." Sam and Terra followed. Soon they were on the couch waiting for Ignus to launch.

"So how do you know we won't be followed?" Sam asked.

"We don't. We'll only know if the Powel is following us if they depart shortly after us, not that there's much we can do if they are," Terra admitted. It wasn't very reassuring.

"I've got clearance to depart. We're fully fueled and ready. Darla's calculating our trajectory to Europa. Terra, I hope you know people who can help me later because my flight plan has the belts listed as our destination, and I'd prefer to keep my license."

"Don't worry. I'll clear it up later, Ignus," Terra yelled up to him.

A few seconds later they detached from the station and began to drift. Then Ignus touched off the thrusters and pushed them well away from the station before ramping up to full thrust.

"I hope you didn't get used to that wimpy Martian gravity too much. We're going to thrust at one point three this trip, which will put us there in seven days," Ignus called down.

Sam felt like he was being crushed for a while; he could tell that Jeff and Terra were uncomfortable as well. It took about ten minutes for them all to acclimatize to it, and even then they weren't anxious to get up from the couch.

"So, Sam, why don't you tell us about your adventure on the station?" Jeff asked and Sam began to recount the tale, but he left out a great many details that he only had Ralphie transmit to Terra and Jeff's companions.

### Chapter 39

"They're headed for Europa, Captain. Please set course. My source informs me that they'll be at speed to arrive there in seven days," Dawson informed Captain Whetherstone.

Dawson had rushed to the bridge as soon as the Express had departed. He should have known that the Express would be their vehicle of choice, especially considering that Terra Gates could afford to use such an expensive ship without putting the smallest dent in her fortune. "They're onboard the Fed-Ex Express again, which is just departing Phobos."

"Nav, contact the Fleet tracking station and have the compute the exact course for Fed-Ex Expres, determine their ETA at Europa and plot us some solutions to beat them there," the Captain ordered. "We'll have to retrieve the Marines that are still on the surface first and that could take some time. I'll have Lieutenant Bowman take the launch and retrieve them immediately. I assume our covert presence is less of a priority than going after that ship."

"Yes." Dawson had forgotten about the Marines on the surface as soon as his link to Sam had been restored when Sam came back in to range. "And one other thing Captain. I believe that they've figured out based on our departure time from Earth and arrival time at Mars that we're following them, so if possible I'd like for us to remain anonymous or take a route that will still get us there early but will keep us out of sight." Dawson sat down in one of the chairs.

"You don't ask for much, do you, Agent Dawson?" she responded. It was a sarcastic statement. The Captain had Lieutenant Bowman take the launch down to the surface. It took almost forty minutes for them to get back. Dawson waited on the bridge, outwardly patient but feeling that they should be underway immediately.

"Don't worry. We'll beat them there and Nav will plot us a solution that will keep them guessing. Then we can always use the ship's camouflage system if we need to, not that it will fool any one who really wants to find us," the Captain added, noticing his discomfort with the situation. "Nav, do you have the solution yet?"

"Aye, the SS system is coming through now."

The Captain was silent for a moment studying something in her displays; then apparently satisfied she looked up again. "Nav, use option three. Thrusting to commence in three minutes." Then she activated the shipwide intercom. "All hands, this is the Captain. We'll be thrusting at one point four in approximately three minutes."

Dawson sat and waited while the count down commenced. After refueling at Phobos the Powel had moved to a much higher geostationary orbit over Olympia, and Phobos was currently on the other side of the planet. When the time was up, the ship began thrusting, but Dawson could see on the navigation display that they would be coming around the planet so as to remain out of line of sight from the Express until it was absolutely necessary. Even so, the Express probably wouldn't be able to detect them as the Powel was equipped with low observable radar stealth technology generations more advanced than the first crude attempts at stealth in the late twentieth century. The Express would have to make a visual observation of the Powel, which was unlikely as the thrust of the Express would be so bright as to occlude all the stars behind the ship and hopefully the Powel as well.

Once they were underway Dawson dropped down out of the bridge to his quarters and composed a message for Damon Harding, informing him of their destination. Dawson knew that Harding would make speed to at least meet him there if possible. He wasn't looking forward to the meeting. He'd gotten to like having Harding at arms length. And now after his incident with the stim terminal, which still shamed him to think about, he wanted to see the man even less, especially if he knew.

### Chapter 40

Damon Harding was relaxing aboard The Golden Rule in his suite which took the entire fourth deck of the ship when the communication from Agent Dawson came in. He glanced over it through his implants. _Finally something is happening,_ he thought. _Julia, have the ship plot a course to Europa. Use the trajectory report that Dawson included to have the Nav system plot a course that will allow us to arrive within a few hours of the Express._

_Certainly, Damon,_ Julia responded. Damon just hoped that the Nav SS system wouldn't come back and say they needed to thrust at more than one g.

The NAV SS System reports a course which will require one point four g's to reach Europa within three hours of the Express. The Powel will arrive fourteen hours ahead of the Express on her present course.

_Well, one point four. I guess I'll get used to it,_ Damon thought. _Julia, have the ship depart immediately._ It took two minutes for The Golden Rule to begin thrusting. Damon had kept the simulated gravity at a full g while he was waiting in low Earth orbit, so the extra point four wasn't so bad.

_And at least that damned simulated gravity will be off._ Damon didn't care for the simulated gravity at all. It upset his stomach, and he hadn't been able to enjoy a decent meal since he made orbit. He was one of the few that just didn't seem to be able to handle the s-grav; he'd had people at his research institutions working on it for a while now, but they didn't ever seem to be closer to being able to help him. Damon wondered if that was intentional. How hard could it be? Full immersion stim could simulate most sensations. Why couldn't his implants null them out.

The only thing about the trip that was really pissing him off was that the farther away he got, the less control he had over events on Earth. He had a lot of lackeys that could keep things going for a while, but at some point something would come up that required his immediate attention and he'd be too far to respond adequately. The delay from message to response would be unbearable once he reached Europa and he hoped this little expedition didn't keep him away for too long.

Hopefully they'd locate Storm 6.7 on Europa and solve that problem. Whoever said, "It's good to be the King," had never tried to run a solar system before. It was exhausting work, but Damon wouldn't have it any other way. It's better to be in control than not. As the name of his ship expressed, he had the gold and he made the rules. But there wasn't any point worrying about Earth now that he was on his way to resolve this Storm business before it got out of control, and he would make sure nothing like this could ever happen again. He'd already tightened security at the LNRC so that nothing happened unobserved and no one could leave without the most thorough and invasive search of their life.

### Chapter 41

Dawson was sleeping in his fog field bed when he felt the gravity disappear; that meant they weren't thrusting any more. He checked his displays and found that they had been underway for only a handful of hours, far too soon to turn and begin deceleration. After a moment thrust resumed. Dawson accessed the ship's Nav system to have it plot their course and the distance they'd traveled. They were only approaching the asteroid belt, and even he could see that halfway didn't happen for more than a day. Something was definitely going on, and he decided that he'd better find out what, especially if the Express had changed course. He wouldn't put it past Terra Gates to pull a fast redirect especially if she still suspected that they were being bugged. Unfortunately, The Express was now too far away for him to eavesdrop through Sam's implant, so he'd need more information.

He put his legs down and walked out of the field, stopping to put his clothes on. He could have queried the Captain directly, but he wanted to go the bridge first. Just as he was getting his pants on, the Captain came over the intercom. "Attention all hands, prepare for ten-g deceleration beginning in two minutes, mark." That was all.

Ten-g's was nothing to laugh about. It was going to hurt like hell. Now Dawson had two options, go to the bridge and hope that the restraint chair and fog system could keep him from being squished or get back in his fog field bed so that the forces wouldn't be pushing his head into the deck. He decided on the second and quickly finished pulling on his pants before jumping back in his fog field.

In an emergency the fog in the ship would solidify to almost a gel consistency to help to shield the body from some aspects of large decelerations. In his bed, which was designed for that purpose, he could take ten-g's for hours, but it would be uncomfortable. The fog would also hold him immobile a thought which terrified him even with his daily backups on the machine below. Dawson was getting upset and he wanted answers, so he opened a connection with the Captain.

"Captain, what the hell is going on here?" he asked in a tone that spoke volumes of his disapproval. It took her a minute to respond, which just irked him even more.

"We've received a distress call from a transport in the belt. They're being attacked by pirates. We're the only ship in range with a chance to do anything, so we're going to decelerate and engage them," the Captain replied matter-of-factly.

"You realize that if we kill our velocity we'll never make our arrival time at Europa," Dawson snarled. "This will seriously jeopardize our mission, which I remind you has top priority."

"I'm sorry, Agent Dawson, but the distress signal has top priority right now, standing orders." As if that explained everything. "I've had NAV compute a correction based on our expected time of engagement and we believe that if we thrust at ten-g's after the engagement for four hours, we'll be able to arrive within two hours of The Express."

"That's unacceptable. We could lose them," Dawson said angrily.

"Unlikely, Agent Dawson. We have radioed ahead to one of our small patrol vessels that will keep an eye on them for us. We're going to begin deceleration in twenty seconds. I suggest you strap in. You're welcome to come to the bridge once we've matched speeds to watch if you like. I will be asking Lt. Madison to assist me. I trust that you won't object," Captain Whetherstone continued, seemingly impervious to Dawson's arguments.

Dawson mulled over her words and briefly considered having Lt. Madison implement the contingency plan to take control of the ship. But the law enforcement drive in him told him that if they could save lives and property and get to Europa at near the same time as The Express with a little discomfort...okay, a lot of discomfort...then it was probably worth it. He knew he'd regret his decision, but the Captain was only doing her job.

"I won't object, Captain. Just make sure that we make that rendezvous at Europa. And I'll be up at the end of deceleration, which will be when?"

"One point two hours, Agent Dawson, and thank you." she said in a voice that for the first time in days sounded somewhat friendly.

Then the connection was gone, and the ship began its massive deceleration. The air seemed to solidify around him and he couldn't move at all. He felt as if he had an elephant sitting on his chest, which by now no doubt was filled with fog that was helping his chest cavity to remain operative despite the forces. At least this way he might have a chance of getting the Captain back on his side, which would be worth it in the long run. He didn't want to take the ship if he didn't have to. He just wished that they'd arrive less than two hours behind The Express.

It was one hour and twelve minutes of sheer hell, but when the deceleration stopped and they were back at one-g and the air became clear again, he took a breath that felt so good, it was almost indescribable. It hadn't been so bad except for the last hour, Dawson had tried to keep himself busy using his implants playing games and trying to ignore the crushing weight on his whole body, but eventually he'd just wanted out by any means necessary. You can't argue with ten-g.

The Captain came over the intercom. "Prepare to engage target in five minutes. Marines, please suit up for combat. All hands, please don your space suits."

Dawson had read the procedures for combat, and the Captain was following them to a T. She had an advantage that most ships didn't, a platoon of space Marines who were no doubt at this minute linking up to form their group mind and armed with the most deadly personal combat equipment ever devised. Dawson opened the locker in his quarters that contained a space suit, and he shucked what little of his own clothing he had managed to get into before the deceleration, not wanting the suit to destroy them. They were his only pair of real pants. Without them he'd have to resort to wearing standard issue Fleet civilian clothes, for which he didn't particularly care.

Dawson lifted the small container over his head and poured out the black contents which oozed all over him, and then the transparent helmet formed over his head. He had his companion retract the hood before he walked in to the central shaft. He didn't see any activity at all. Apparently the only person without any real place to be or thing to do was himself. He then felt the engines cut off and simulated gravity was restored, giving his stomach a whirl, followed by some more subtle thrusting.

He stepped into the shaft and only seconds later was emerging from the irised entrance to the bridge now enlivened by combat visuals displayed in the large space in front of the Captain. She didn't even glance at him as he took a seat in the chair at the back of the bridge. Lt. Bowman was seated in a restraint chair next to the Captain, also staring at the visual.

The three-dimensional image was displayed using the fog already occupying the bridge, and it was showing a bubble that was about five meters across with icons that showed the cargo ship in blue, the pirate vessel in red, and the Powel in green. There was a line that radiated from each of the ships showing their velocity and direction as reported by the ship's radar system. It looked like a video game. No doubt the tactical system had a much more complex display, and Dawson almost wished he could see them right now.

"The pirate ship has been identified as a Sirius model Twenty Two Alpha," the Tactical Officer reported. "The Tactical SS is giving good odds that it's armed with particle cannons and lasers. So far they haven't activated any mirror shielding."

"Good," the Captain commented. "Any sign of antimatter usage?"

"Not yet. They're not thrusting at all so we can't tell from their signature. Our particle detectors aren't picking up anything either," the Tactical officer reported further. They were still five minutes away at their velocity.

"Have they seen us yet?" Dawson asked.

"You can bet they have. Our rocket plume at ten-g's would have been pretty bright, but we engaged our stealth system as soon as we were close enough. They haven't pinged us with their radar yet, and we've moved off our arrival vector. Hopefully, they don't know where we are," the Captain explained.

Even though she was in command, most of the combat and decisions would be left to the computer which gave the Captain time talk with him. "Until they turn on their radar, they really can't know where we are. We're passive right now after our first few sweeps right when we came out of acceleration. If they turn back on their radar, they'll just give themselves away."

"What's the plan?" Dawson asked, hoping he wasn't being too obtrusive to the operation.

"Well, any minute now the Marines will be making a landing on the cargo ship. We deployed them just after we stopped decelerating. They'll disable the pirate's weapons if everything goes right. We could fire, but we don't want the cargo ship to suffer collateral damage, and we'd like to get the crew back alive. Some bright lights appeared in the display.

"They've pinged us," Tactical said. Which, as Dawson understood, would mean their position would be given away entirely.

"So much for the plan," the Captain grimaced.

Dawson had had some time to read up on Fleet combat tactics and space combat tactics in general during the more boring portions of the journey. The pirate would now use any course positional information on the Powel to start sweeping with their lasers. Just on cue they lit up again in the display. Then the real attack began.

The camouflage on the Powel was mostly passive. It was state of the art, but it only helped, which was why they had mirror shielding which had been activated the instant they were pinged. The entire surface of the ship had a small layer of active shielding, much like that of a space suit, consisting of very small mechanisms that turned a mirrored tile a millionth of an inch on a side outward forming an almost smooth reflective surface all over the ship. The rest of the time they either tried to radiate heat or used a camouflage system that actively sent out light to make it look like the Powel wasn't even there by projecting the background on the opposite side of the ship.

Once the mirror tiles were in place, the lasers had practically no effect. The mirrors were good enough to reflect almost all of the beam's energy, which was why it was only used to lock onto the target. The actual weapons were the particle cannons that were just particle accelerators that could throw particles at close to the speed of light. If there was enough mass flow, the particle cannon could eat through the mirror shielding in seconds at which point the lasers, which were quite powerful in their own right, could start damaging the hull where the particle cannon had breached.

Most ships couldn't hold up to a sustained attack for very long because they had minimal shielding and were for the most part unarmed, so space combat tended to be short lived. However, the Powel was both well shielded and armed to the teeth. The Tactical SS system pinpointed the laser and particle cannon within a microsecond of their becoming active and fired back using a one two punch, an antimatter beam to penetrate any shielding mirror or otherwise and a very high powered laser that vaporized the pirate's weapons port. The pirate's weapons became useless immediately. It was then that the real drama began.

"Fleet Vessel, cease your attack or we will detonate this ship and take the crew and cargo ship with us," the voice said, speaking for the pirates. Pirates always counted on the fact that there were few Fleet ships in range if they hit their target fast and then ran. It was a coward's way out, but it was the one thing that they knew would buy them time.

In most cases this was effective because the Fleet Captain couldn't risk the lives of the hostages until there were no other options, but they also couldn't negotiate with terrorists. On the plus side, all the crew members of the cargo ship had probably had a backup made in the not too distant past, so if they were killed, they could be restored, making the threat of the destruction of the ship the worse of the two. Captain Whetherstone, however, had an ace up her sleeve-the Marines who were presumably already out there. The Captain had the Com officer cut communication with the pirates, so she could speak to the Marines.

"Lt. Madison, change in plans. I need you to infiltrate the ships and neutralize the pirates. Please confirm," she ordered.

"Confirmed. Contact with target in ten seconds," Lt. Madison responded. The communication was quantum encrypted and so enmeshed with noise that the pirates had no hope of intercepting it.

"Com, put the pirates on," the Captain ordered.

The Com officer indicated she could speak.

"And with whom would I be speaking?" the Captain asked.

"I'm sure you'd like to know. You can call me John Doe for now," the Pirate leader replied.

"Well then, Mr. Doe, as I see it, this situation can end in two ways. You can surrender now, or you can die." The sound of a shot came from over the channel.

"Captain, that was one of the hostages eating a bullet. I'll keep shooting unless you deactivate your shields and weapons. If you don't, or you come one inch closer, I'll blow the ship."

"That's unfortunate, Mr. Doe, because I can't do that. So what do you propose we do here. The loss of the ship and cargo would be an inconvenience. The crew knows they can be restored. I don't think you have the bargaining position you think you do. Now stand down and surrender," she responded calmly. Hostage situations weren't nearly as much a bargaining chip since restoration technology had been introduced. The cargo of that ship, however, did have a substantial value, whatever it was.

"Afraid I can't do that. I'd hate to lose my ship, but we're all backed up here too. I should warn you, I have antimatter and I will use it if necessary," he threatened.

Dawson could see the Captain grow more concerned. She knew the pirates couldn't have too much of the stuff, but a little of it went a long way, and it was pretty hard to defend against, depending on how it was delivered.

By now the Marines must be inside. Dawson flipped his displays to show him the Marine's view if it were available. What he saw was Lt. Madison's perspective, moving through the cargo vessel. She was camouflaged and invisible. In a threat with an advanced enemy the Marines wouldn't have risked their transmission, but the pirates probably couldn't intercept it with their equipment, so Lt. Madison had probably decided it was safe. She rounded a corner in the cargo hold and saw three men with hand weapons circling five others who had their hands on their heads and were in an execution position.

"You better shut the fuck up or you're going to be juice on the wall, and the next thing you'll see will be the fucking nurse on Earth," one of the pirates threatened a hostage who was still standing.

Behind them all Dawson could see two of the other Marines circling around. It only took a few seconds and afterward Dawson wasn't entirely sure what had happened, but the Marines all fired their weapons simultaneously and the three men dropped to the floor.

The Marines didn't wait around for the stunned hostages to figure out what happened but immediately regrouped and headed for the crew section of the ship. It only took four more minutes for John Doe to appear in Madison's view. The Captain had managed to keep him occupied that whole time, but Dawson could tell he was getting more restless by the second. He was on the bridge of his ship sitting in a restraint chair, with the look of someone who is fully immersed.

The pirate ship probably didn't have a very sophisticated SS system, so John Doe was interfacing to pick up the slack and he didn't even notice Lt. Madison who was approaching quickly. The Captain, who must have also been watching Lt. Madison's display, finally said, "Fine, we'll power down our weapons." Then she gave the signal to cut communications.

"Lt. Madison, please have your systems man crack the pirate ship's systems. I don't want any dead man triggers going off."

"Yes, Captain," Madison responded.

"Tactical, power down weapons. Let them think they've won."

"Lt. Madison, as soon as you have the ship, you may break Mr. Doe's interface the fast way," she ordered.

"Good, I'm glad you've come around Captain, but I warn you no tricks or I'll use my antimatter," John Doe said, apparently thinking that perhaps he'd won. "Now how about those shields. Lower them please."

Lt. Madison pointed her arm towards John Doe and a second later he screamed in agony. The Marine had used a directed EMP weapon to burn out the pirate's implants, thereby rendering him incapable of interfacing with the ship and with all the residual charge in the implant's circuits causing a great deal of pain. The EMP was short range, so it was unlikely it had damaged the ship too much. The Marines themselves were shielded from the effect.

"We have control," Madison said over the link. "The ship is secure. We only lost one hostage, and we have no casualties. All of the pirates are currently immobilized."

"Excellent job, Lieutenant. You're to be commended. I'd like for you to gather the pirates, take DNA samples and confirm their identities. Ditto for their leader."

"Affirmative," the Lieutenant replied and the connection was closed.

"So what are you going to do with the pirates?" Dawson asked, he didn't like the idea of having them along for the trip.

"We'll back them up with our system and then show them to the airlock," the Captain said without hesitation. "I'll also send to Fleet to have any restoration of them from any previous version halted until they are restored on Earth for trial."

Dawson had to admit this was one way not to have to carry the prisoners everywhere, and backups couldn't try to escape. On Earth, when Dawson apprehended someone, he had to bring them in alive or have a backup made so the prisoner didn't try to kill themselves before a backup could be put in the system. Those were the only ways to ensure that an out of date version wasn't restored who might be innocent of the crime. The pirates' restoration on Earth would probably be their last because the punishment for any serious crime was the revoking of the individual's right to be restored and a long prison sentence.

"Lt. Bowman, please take the launch and pick up the Marines and the prisoners. Put the crew members of the cargo ship back where they belong and tell them to be on their way," the Captain ordered.

"What about their ship?" Dawson asked.

The Captain turned to look at him. "We'll put a portable SS system aboard to take it back to Earth for impoundment. If the ship deviates from its course, then the SS system will self destruct and take the ship with it." It was apparently standard procedure.

"How long till we're back on track?" Dawson asked. He was glad he got to see the ship and the Marines in action, but every second they were here was costing them.

"We'll be underway as soon as the prisoners are backed up," she said. That wasn't likely to take long at a few minutes each. Dawson was satisfied.

As it turned out, there were fifteen prisoners and backing them up took an hour, as they weren't willing participants. The crew of the cargo ship, which turned out to be called the Ursa Major, couldn't express enough gratitude, and they wanted to throw a party for the crew of the Powel but the Captain refused, telling them they had urgent business and to be on their way. The prisoners were anesthetized and tossed out the airlock by the Marines. Ten minutes later the main thruster fired. It would accelerate them at ten-g's for the next four hours. Dawson had taken a sedative in the hopes that he'd sleep through the whole thing along with everyone aboard who wasn't urgently needed.

### Chapter 42

The Express finished its deceleration as it approached the small spaceport orbiting Europa at geosynchronous altitude. Terra was lying on the couch in the living quarters watching the docking on the screen. Sam was standing behind her and Jeff was still in the room he shared with Sam.

"We'll be docking shortly," Ignus called down from the bridge.

"Space travel is always so quiet," Sam remarked.

Terra had noticed that he'd become more withdrawn during the week they'd spent in transit. At first he had seemed to be pumped up, but as time went on he began to withdraw. Terra wasn't sure what had been going on in his head. He was out of place; that much she could figure out, but something else was bothering him and she wished she knew what.

"It is indeed," Terra replied.

The ship was coming up to the spaceport, which was tiny compared to the Phobos station they had departed from. It used a spine configuration, but the whole thing was just a long central shaft with smaller docking spines extending from it. It appeared that the spaceport here could manage as many ships as perhaps two of the large spines at Phobos. Terra had been out here before a few times on business, negotiating for the purchase of some smaller ice asteroids that could be redirected to Mars orbit.

Below them Terra could see Europa's blue ice surface reflecting the sun. Directly below the spaceport was Opstune, the main city on the surface. It had gotten the name because it was the location of the first manned craft several hundred years ago. It was called Outpost One, a name later abbreviated by the scientists and engineers who had inhabited the station until the real development of the city had begun.

What always amazed Terra about Europa was that this one small moon had many times more water on it than Mars, all here for the taking. It even had a liquid ocean several kilometers below the surface. The first expedition here had hoped to find life in that ocean, which scientists had suspected existed even back in the twentieth century. They did find some bacteria where the ocean was warmer near hydrothermal vets that originated from the planet's core. Kept warm by the geologic processes driven by Jupiter's massive gravitational pull, the bacteria had provided some vindication, but there was no single or multicellular life as had been expected, and definitely no larger creatures.

After a century or more of human contamination, however, some very hardy strains of life had been introduced and were getting along quite well. Perhaps in time something large would develop. Because Europa was on the port of call list for the major space liners, quite an tourist industry had developed. Visitors could take spacesuited walks over the surface and travel on transparent hulled submarines that toured some of the unique formations that occurred under the ice shell.

The ship came to a graceful stop as it docked with the spaceport. Ignus was lowered from the cockpit to just next to the couch on which Terra was lying. "Well, we're here. I hope I haven't been too much of a nuisance. I'm still not really used to traveling with anyone else," Ignus apologized.

On day three of the trip an incident had occurred in which Ignus walked out of his private quarters wearing absolutely nothing, right in front of Terra and Jeff who had been lounging on the couch. He had gotten as red as a tomato, his hands quickly covering his exposed parts, barked a quick apology, and returned to his quarters for a robe. Terra and Jeff had just laughed at the whole thing.

"Oh, Ignus, you're not still worrying about your show, are you?" Terra teased, sitting up.

Ignus got a little red again, but he had apparently recovered from the incident. "No, not really," he said, then changed the subject. "So what will you three do now?"

That question had preoccupied them for most of the trip. Sam's trip to Hyatain station had given them some direction. They needed to find whoever had received the shipments of antimatter that had been stashed on the solar sail transport.

"Well, first, I think I'll wake Jeff," Sam said, heading towards his room.

Ignus was still ignorant of most of what the three were up to; for obvious reasons he'd had to be let in on some of the details, but he didn't know about the antimatter. The knowledge of such a thing could get Ignus into serious trouble later.

"Will you be needing my services after this?" Ignus asked curiously. He'd been paid very well for his efforts. No doubt he was thinking of paying off his ship even earlier than these first two trips were already helping to do.

"I honestly don't know, Ignus. We'd like for you to hold here until we know for sure. Then you can get back to business as usual, I'm sure that you can find some way to use your ship to turn a profit on your return to the inner system."

"Yeah, but none as good as this, I'm afraid. I do feel somewhat bad about what you've paid me for this expedition. It's far more than I get even on a very good day," Ignus admitted.

"Don't worry about it, Ignus. We were paying for more than just a quick ride, and the price won't impact my bottom line that much anyway," Terra reassured him.

This trip had cost plenty but it was only petty cash to her. Her accounting system would probably have some harsh words for her about the amount of the expenditure, however. The accounting system was just a subroutine of Plato's and so it tended to be a little more animated than the other characterless computer programs one interacted with in the datasphere.

Jeff and Sam came back out of the room. "Ah, we're here," Jeff observed with a smile while looking at the screen on the wall. "I've never been this far out before. The planet looks beautiful in this light."

"Moon," Terra corrected him.

"What?" Jeff said still staring at the image. He had obviously not been listening that closely.

"Europa is a moon, Jeff." Terra clarified.

"Of course it is. My mistake. So where to next?" Jeff asked.

"The station. We'll try to find out who was receiving those shipments we're interested in," Terra said.

"I recommend that you three keep your spacesuits on underneath your clothing while you're here...especially while you're not in Opstune," Ignus suggested. "I'll wait for two days, but if I haven't heard from you by then, I'll just assume you don't need me."

"Thanks, Ignus. I don't know what we'd have done without you," Terra said walking around the couch to give Ignus a quick embrace.

"Oh, you'd have found a way here. Of that I've absolutely no doubt in my mind," Ignus said, hugging her back with a smile.

After he shook Jeff's and Sam's hands, they all changed quickly into their suits, complete with their recharged camouflage which was simulating clothing at the moment in a passive mode that didn't require much power consumption. They floated through the tunnel into the station.

Once they reached the end of the tube, they found themselves in a very long rectangular tunnel that stretched off into the distance at least a kilometer. The Express, or The Lady Sky as it was currently known, was docked at the very last docking spine.

"Let's try to find the port authority or someplace we can interface with the spaceport's computers to find out about the solar sail," Sam suggested, beginning to walk in the simulated gravity towards the other end of the spaceport where they could see some rectangular structures that looked like offices.

They passed by spine four where there was a Fleet ship they had all noticed before they disembarked The Express. They had all been relieved to find that it was not The Powel; it was a much smaller scout class ship. There wasn't any guard out front of the spine which was an additional welcome relief to all of them. As soon as The Express had been close enough to the spaceport to query its systems, they had discovered that the Powel was not here and there had been no flight plan that was going to bring them here. In fact, the news grids were broadcasting a story about the Powel rescuing a cargo ship at the belt several days before.

Terra hoped that the news meant that they had lost the Powel, which she had suspected was following them, but now she wasn't so sure that that had even been the case, perhaps she was just being paranoid. Terra was happy to see Sam perk up some once they arrived. She and Jeff were having a hard time keeping up his pace as he fast walked along the port's length towards the buildings.

_Maybe he just needed something to do. He is young after all,_ she decided.

They continued at their fast clip until they reached the buildings. Sam sat down on a bench outside one of the offices and became very quiet, focusing on the information his displays must have been showing him. Terra and Jeff sat down beside him and waited. They had decided that this part was Sam's to play, as he was the best hack of them all.

"I've interfaced with the local system, and I'm having Ralphie run a search for our vessels," Sam informed them, still staring into space.

Terra knew that when Sam said _interfaced_ , he meant _hacked,_ and she checked around them to see if they were being watched. Terra had never liked all this cloak and dagger stuff, but she had to admit it was necessary sometimes.

After a few minutes of this Sam stopped his zombie like stare and turned to them. "It appears that a number of our solar sails were unloaded by Trans Jovian Receiving. All of the deliveries on our list were received by Quig Oberman."

"Quig. That name sounds familiar," Jeff said, putting on his display glasses to consult with his companion.

"Yes, Quig is a Newbie from Denver. He left about a hundred years ago. He was one of the Newbies who were involved in the Center Riot," Jeff relayed the info his companion had provided.

"That has to be our contact," Terra commented.

The Center Riot had occurred a hundred and two years ago when a small number of Newbies had started a riot at the Restoration Center during a peaceful demonstration against restoration technology being controlled solely by the US.

"Was he convicted and stripped of restoration privileges?" Sam asked. "I can't remember."

"No, but he knew that the instigators were up to something and failed to come forward with the information," Jeff said. He knew his Newbie history better than Sam. Sam was never really interested in all the gritty details; he was a big picture man.

"Where do you think we can find this guy?" Terra asked.

"I'm checking now." Sam looked back off into space.

"He's on the surface. There aren't any scheduled deliveries for another three days. I think we can find him at his office at Trans Jovian," Sam surmised.

"Well, let's find a transport to the surface," Jeff suggested.

Once again Sam interfaced. "There's a transport leaving in thirty minutes from docking spine twenty two. I'm going to book us a flight on my own credit...sorry Terra, my name is a little less likely to draw attention at the moment," Sam offered before Terra could get a word in. She just shrugged.

"We should have used our camouflage," Jeff said as they began to walk towards the docking spine.

There were a number of people passing by them, but the place wasn't really that busy at the moment. Apparently there weren't any space liners in port at the moment. That was when things really got hopping around here with tourists expecting excursions to the surface and to the some of the other Jovian moons with human outposts, even if they were primarily tourist supported presences.

The waiting area for the transports was about half full of people waiting for the next departure. The shuttle ran every half hour except when a cruise liner was here; then transports ran every ten minutes. They all dropped into the comfy couches that were provided and waited in silence for boarding to begin. Terra noticed two men on the couch across from them, staring at her with a look of recognition in their eyes. Apparently a broadcast of her unexpected return to politics on Mars had been widely distributed or else they just recognized her.

Terra wished she had her camouflage on right now. She hoped that they didn't stare at the others too long. Sam did resemble his older self pictured in mug shots that had been aired on the news channels, and Jeff had had his moment of fame too not long ago. The three of them together would be too much for coincidence. At least Terra and Jeff had disabled the broadcast that their companions made of their identification before they entered the station. If they hadn't, they'd have popped up in any stranger's displays. Sam, at least had his alternate identity to flash around.

When the boarding announcement was finally made, the two men got up, not seeming to make any big deal of her presence. Terra decided that they must have figured that there was no way Terra Gates would be way out here already, especially with everything she would probably be busy with on Mars. Sam and Jeff had apparently escaped detection for now as well. Everyone lined up in an orderly fashion and made their way to the spine entrance.

As Sam passed through the entry portal, he announced, "Gregory Hillman plus two."

He was answered by an automated ticket agent system. "Confirmed, plus two."

They all stepped through the portal into weightlessness and pushed their way along the tube walls until they floated through the airlock to the transport. The vehicle appeared to be the same model as the one Sam had taken to Phobos. They were mass produced, so it was probably the cheapest alternative to a custom designed craft that would be more efficent. And it was probably powered by liquid oxygen and hydrogen considering it was landing on a huge ball of water ice every hour.

They made their way to the seats and got strapped into their restraint chairs. After a few minutes of preparation the transport dropped away from the spaceport. During the drop they had a spectacular view of the approach to the giant ice moon, all its eggshell-like cracks growing larger until they became huge ice canyons. Shortly after they set down gently and disembarked through a docking tube into the surface spaceport terminal.

Europa had a surface gravity that was similar to the Moon's, but a little greater. Every step they took sent them bounding a bit. Sam noticed that the ceilings were high for good reason as he neared it on a bound in which he'd used a little too much muscle. If it had been lower, he definitely would have struck his head. Jeff was having the same problem; it always took a little while to adapt to such low gravity. A third g like on Mars was nice, but a sixth was just annoying. Terra didn't even seem to notice as she made her way to the terminal exit until she realized that the other two weren't with her and she turned to wait.

They made their way into the small spaceport terminal, which didn't look like it was designed to handle much traffic at all, and headed to the transport tube that would take them to the city. The spaceport was situated a kilometer or two away for safety purposes.

The transport tube was just a ten meter diameter tube that was very much like the ones on Earth utilizing fog to move people in both directions. Jeff was happy to see it, because the trains on Mars had seemed a little old-fashioned. Jeff almost commented, but he realized that Terra would just tell him that they were part of the Martian heritage and that they served their purpose well. The tube accelerated them, and they watched the landscape zoom by through the transparent tube shell as the city grew larger in front of them.

Terra was the first to exit the tube, and she saw a man standing off away from the tube holding a small sign that had printed neatly in large lettering, "Quig Oberman's Party." As Sam and Jeff emerged, they came up behind Terra and stood as baffled as she. No one should have known that they were coming. Sam stepped forward, being the only one broadcasting his identity at the moment, and walked up to the man.

### Chapter 43

"It's good to see you again. You look younger than last time. Have you been restored recently?" the man with the sign asked, winking at Sam.

"I'm Quig," he added, seeing Sam's confusion. "And I've been expecting you. Why don't you and your friends follow me to some place we can chat."

"All right," Sam managed to get out. Ralphie confirmed for Sam that this was indeed the man they had been looking for. "But how did you know?"

"We'll get to that. Don't worry. I've been expecting you ever since the News vids of your friend there on Mars were broadcast," Quig said, winking at Terra who still was looking a little uneasy.

"Come on, don't want to stand out here all day for everyone to see. You're not that well disguised not transmitting your ID like that. Actually, you rather stick out because of it. I'd hoped you'd be a little more discreet, but it won't matter much. Let's go." Quig turned and looked back, expecting them to follow.

Sam just shrugged and started following him. Terra and Jeff fell into step behind. Quig walked like a natural in the environment, getting his bounds just right for maximum efficiency. Sam studied his movements and began to imitate him. He soon found that it was much easier moving Quig's way. He looked back and saw Terra and Jeff doing the same thing. He gave a quick snicker, thinking about how funny they would look from the side, glide-hopping like rabbits or frogs or something.

They followed Quig into the main dome of the city, which looked exactly like the domes on the Moon, probably the same design.

The city was full of tourist shops, restaurants, and entertainment facilities. They passed by them without comment, and Sam tried to look around while making sure he wasn't going to run into Quig who just bounded on. They crossed the entire city dome that way and found another small transport tube that whisked them away to a smaller dome that was only a few hundred meters away. Inside the small dome were a few buildings, and out side Sam could see a few small transports attached to their docking tubes. Then Quig stopped suddenly, and Sam had to watch out not to run into him.

"We're here. These are the offices of Trans Jovian Receiving. If you'll follow me, please." he instructed, heading for the door.

The building wasn't large and couldn't have had more than a few offices. Once through the door they realized that it really was small and messy. There was stuff strewn about all over the place.

"Sorry about the mess, but I'm the only one who uses this office. The rest of our offices are near the hoppers you can see over there," Quig said, pointing.

"I thought those were transports," Sam said.

"Same shell, but not designed for orbital flights...although I've almost gotten one to escape velocity a few times by accident. But that's not why you're here," Quig said with a smile.

Quig walked over to Terra. "Terra, it's good to finally have you here in person. I've been waiting a long time for this day." Quig took her hand. "I rather liked your show on Mars from last week, very entertaining. Ever since then I've been waiting for you all to show up here."

"Thanks, uh, Quig," Terra stammered. She was definitely unprepared for the meeting. "Is it safe to talk here?"

"Won't find any place safer on Europa, except for in one of the hoppers maybe," Quig returned.

"And you must be Jeff Hughes," Quig said, taking Jeff's hand. "It's always good to see a fellow Newbie out here. Sorry about your recent troubles. I have to tell you that I never did like your politics working at the center, but considering the circumstances, now I understand why you worked there."

"Thank," Jeff said, keeping his cool. This was exactly why he was mad at Sam, everyone assumed that he had helped with the virus regardless of what he said. It seemed to be coming in handy now, however, Jeff admitted, wondering how Quig's reaction would have gone if he knew Jeff's true feelings. "And what do you know about my troubles?" he asked, wondering exactly what information was available out here.

"Just what's been on the vids, and I've only been expecting you because they said you'd disappeared on Earth and Sam told me to expect you too."

"Great," Jeff said sarcastically.

"Oh don't be like that," Quig said, slapping Jeff on the shoulder. Then he turned to Sam. "And you're the spitting image of your other self, but quite a bit younger, I'll admit. Still, I'd recognize that face anywhere."

"I hope others can't see through me quite so easily. It could be awkward," Sam said.

"Well, your fake identity holds up quite nicely. You'll have to tell me how you got it some day if there's time. I've been expecting you too."

"You've obviously been expecting us, so you know why we're here then, right?" Terra asked, still somewhat perplexed by Quig's warm reception.

"Looking for that cargo that's been sent my way by solar sail, I assume," Quig ventured, obviously not wishing to name the stuff.

"Yeah, that and we're trying to find Sam 6.7," Sam said.

"Isn't every one these days," Quig said. It was a statement not a question.

"Has someone else been here looking for him?" Jeff asked, concerned. If they weren't the first here then, who was?

"No, no one knows about the operation yet, but I'm sure it won't be long. That's why we have to act quickly," Quig replied emphasizing the words "yet" and "act" to make his point.

"So where is he?" Jeff asked.

"I have no idea," Quig responded with a shrug. "Wish I did, but Sam's one for secrets and his people keep them well. I haven't been informed of his location. I only know what to do when you show up."

"And what's that?" Terra probed.

"Time for that later," Quig said, looking suddenly tired. "It's been a long decade working on this, as you can well imagine. I'm just ready for the next phase."

"So how did you know when we'd arrived?" Sam asked.

"Oh, that. Well, I put a passive sentry program into the space port systems. When it spotted you it sent word to me and stopped the local SS system from noticing you and calling attention to your presence. Then I just high tailed it over to wait for you to emerge from the tube to the spaceport."

"That easy," Terra said suspiciously.

"Well, I've been waiting for you. Once I saw your broadcast from Mars, I knew you'd be here shortly."

"So where's the stuff?" Sam asked.

"Don't know that either. Probably wherever Sam is," Quig replied. "All I did was get it off the sail cargo container and bring it to the surface. I left it at prearranged locations on the surface, and it disappeared. I usually talked with Sam by email and he set everything up."

"So what next?" Jeff asked.

"Well, I've got to make a quick stop back in the city. It'll take about forty-five minutes. Then I'll take you where you need to be. There's food in the refrigerator over there if you're hungry. That couch folds out into a bed if you're tired. Will you wait here while I run my errand?" Quig asked.

"How do we know we can trust you?" Jeff asked.

"You don't, but I'm in worse trouble if we're caught than you, considering my activities. You, on the other hand, haven't even done anything," Quig said. "I'll be back in an hour...please be here or you'll never find him."

"One other thing," Terra interupted him as Quig started for the door.

"Yeah?"

"Is it possible we were followed by a Fleet ship called the Powel. We need to know when it shows up, if it does."

Quig zombified while using his implants, then an instant later looked back at her. "It's not here now, and I don't see it on any schedules, but I've alerted my sentry software to monitor for its arrival. If it shows up, the program will send me an alarm and I'll let you know. Don't worry. Everything will work out fine."

"Sure," Terra said. "Thanks, Quig."

"Not a problem," Quig replied and walked out, leaving the three alone in the messy office.

"So what are we supposed to do while Quig is off running errands?" Sam asked.

"Hurry up and wait, of course," Jeff quipped with a grin. "After all, with everything going on you wouldn't want to forget to pick up your dry cleaning."

Terra laughed at the comment, and Sam just gave a soft "hurmph" and sat down on the couch which didn't feel right at all in the low gravity.

"You know, I kind of miss the simulated gravity. This just doesn't feel right," Sam commented. He could barely tell the couch was there.

### Chapter 44

The Powel stopped its heavy deceleration. Finally the unrelenting weight on Dawson's chest subsided, and he could breathe normally again. He had regained consciousness an hour ago from the drugs that had kept him sedated and unable to feel the discomfort of their deceleration. He was still wearing the spacesuit that he had donned for the pirate incident that had occurred two days ago. At least the deceleration stage had proceeded at only five g's, much less than the nightmarish ten they had to use to get back on schedule to Europa. For the last hour while the deceleration was still on going he'd managed to keep calm only by listening to Miles Davis, Kind of Blue album, in his implants. It was a favorite from his Jazz playing days.

Dawson hopped out of his fog bed into the simulated gravity of his cabin and had his companion make a query to determine if The Express, or as its transponder was reading, The Lady Sky, had arrived. It had, almost two hours ago. At that moment Dawson's companion informed him that he had an incoming communication on high priority channel. The ID of the message indicated that it was from The Golden Rule. _Harding,_ Dawson thought. This was probably going to be unpleasant. He opened the channel.

"Ah, Agent Dawson, how nice of you to finally arrive. You know I didn't get that ship for you so a Federal Express carrier could beat you all over the solar system," Damon Harding growled, his stern miniature figure imposed over the space in front of Dawson.

"Yes, I realize that, Mr. Harding," Dawson explained. "But have no fear. We've had a Fleet scout ship watching her since her arrival, and I wouldn't have missed anything because of our bug's recording capabilities."

"You disappoint me, Agent Dawson. I wonder if your heart is still in this venture," Damon said coldly. He'd arrived several hours ahead of The Express, and he'd watched the whole escapade to the planet.

"Sorry, Mr. Harding, but the Captain insisted that we stop to take on a pirate." Dawson knew it was a lame excuse. He'd been in command of the mission, and he had always had the Marine option if the Captain had proved resistant.

"Yes...well, I expect that's your law enforcement official coming out. I'll let it slip this time since we haven't lost them. You should review the recording. There are some interesting developments."

"Such as?" Dawson asked. Viewing the two hours worth of footage would take some time even if he had his companion edit out all the trivial parts.

"They have met up with someone who was handling that contraband substance."

Dawson caught his drift immediately. "Where is it now?"

"The contact, whose name is Quig Oberman, says he doesn't know," Dawson replied, folding his arms across his chest.

"Quig Oberman, that name sounds familiar," Dawson said, querying his companion. The information came back quickly, "One of those involved in the center riots, and a Newbie," he said. The man's involvement spoke volumes as to Storm 6.7's intent in all this. It wasn't just Storm. It was organized.

"That's right, Agent Dawson. Apparently he has had instructions to do something-he wouldn't say what-to help them find Storm."

"So he knows where Storm 6.7 is?"

"He said he didn't. I don't know what he knows. We could take him for questioning, but I believe that that would be a mistake. If we just sit back and continue to follow them, we'll find Storm."

"So you think he's here on Europa and not out near Saturn as the other Storm suggested?" Dawson asked.

"I have no idea. I don't think that the information coming from Gregory Hillman is particularly reliable...do you?"

"No...but we are out here at Jupiter. That says something," Dawson commented.

"True, we're getting closer, but I don't believe that Storm is on Europa. Too much tourist traffic to stage an operation of the magnitude I believe exists. Watch and follow. The three of them will lead us right to Storm...very soon, I think," Damon said, rubbing his hands together.

Dawson had never seen that particular look before. It was predatory and diabolical.

"Just don't be late next time," Harding added.

"I won't," Dawson assured him.

"Good. Then why don't you send some of your Marines to the surface along with your launch to follow them. I suspect that they won't be staying in the city for long."

"What are they doing now?"

"Waiting for Quig to return from some errand. I'd like to know what that errand is, so I've pulled a few strings, but the security forces on Europa haven't been able to locate him at the moment."

"An errand, that's odd. I'd like to know what he's up to also. I'll dispatch the Marines immediately."

"Good. See that you do. And I'll be watching, Dawson," Damon warned and then vanished.

Dawson let out a sigh of relief. Then he contacted the Captain.

"Yes, Agent Dawson?" The Captain asked almost curiously. Their relationship had definitely been improved by his letting her take care of the pirates. No matter what Damon Harding thought about their detour, it had been worth the risk to have the Captain back on his side.

"I'd like to dispatch the Marines and the launch to the surface to follow Gates and the others."

"Certainly. I'll have Lt. Commander Bowman bring them down in five minutes. I assume you'll brief the marines."

"Yes, I'm headed there now," Dawson replied, leaving his quarters to take the lift down to the Marine's barracks.

### Chapter 45

Quig bounded through the door, startling the three of them as they were relaxing in the messy office. "We've go to go," Quig blurted out, pointing his finger at the door.

"Why, what's happened?" Sam asked, getting up too quickly and smacking his head on the ceiling, which to his relief was fairly soft.

"The Powel made orbit twenty minutes ago," Quig announced.

"Why didn't you notify us?" Terra asked angrily. If he had endangered them, she vowed to teach him a lesson he wouldn't forget. Imagine getting them all caught because he had to run errands.

"Didn't have a choice," Quig replied. Clearly, he wasn't going to explain his actions. "Let's go, a hopper is fueled and ready to leave now."

They were all up and headed towards the door. Quig led them out of the building and across the small dome to where the two hoppers were sitting. There was a door blocking the entrance to the boarding tube which Quig opened by placing his hand over a small plate. After a few seconds the door opened, and he pushed off into the tube. They all followed the few meters into the open hatch of the hopper.

Once inside Sam felt immediately heavy again. Almost tripping over his own feet, he managed to catch himself on a small cargo box that was in the cargo hold.

"Sorry, I didn't warn you. Simulated gravity in here," Quig explained, rushing to the lift column at the center. "Come on," he instructed as he was rising out of sight.

Sam followed him, Terra and Jeff right behind. They entered a small passenger compartment with a dozen restraint chairs lining the walls which were transparent to the icy landscape all around. Sam stood and stared at the city dome that was so near.

"Take a seat. I don't have time to explain right now," Quig said, head up into the cockpit. They all took seats quickly, and after a few moments the engine burned, and they lifted away from the surface.

"Why the big rush?" Sam yelled up at Quig.

"The Powel dispatched a launch ten minutes ago which just landed at the spaceport. I assume that they're sending someone to look for you and me," Quig called down. The hopper continued to move away from the city in a powered ascent that would have them at escape velocity very soon if Quig didn't ease back on the throttle.

"We'll be over the horizon in a minute," Quig said. "I'm going to have to do a breaking burn, though, so we don't fly off."

"Where are we going?" Terra yelled up.

"You'll see. We'll be there in about ten minutes," Quig responded loudly.

Sam hoped that the launch from the Powel hadn't noticed their departure and that they would escape yet again. "How do these guys keep finding us?" Sam asked, directing his words to no one in particular.

"I don't know. Either we're bugged or someone is selling us out, but I can't imagine who." Terra was looking quite disturbed. "They arrived just after us, so they knew that we'd departed when we did."

"Maybe it's just good intelligence," Jeff offered.

"It's possible," Terra said skeptically.

"Maybe we've lost them now?" Sam said, not believing it as it came out of his mouth.

"Doubtful," Terra replied with a shrug. The hopper spun about. The moving scene disoriented them and then the thruster kicked back in. They were diving towards the lim of the icy Jovian moon

### Chapter 46

"They're on the move, Lt. Commander. We're down linking the hopper's trajectory," the Captain said, speaking to the launch via com-link.

Dawson was watching the scene on the tactical displays that floated in front of the Captain. He could see the small hopper moving away from the white moon with a green vector indicating its path.

"Affirmative, Captain. We're lifting," Lt. Commander Bowman responded.

The launch had just set down when the hopper had departed so suddenly. Dawson had been watching through his visual implants the scene of Quig leading the three out to the hopper and informed the Captain.

Once the launch lifted, it appeared on the tactical display with a blue vector marking its path. Then the small hopper made a quick turn and its vector changed. Dawson could see that their new vector would take them around the planet to the far side, currently in shadow.

"We're maneuvering to follow," Bowman informed them, and the launch changed directions.

"Captain, I think we'd better move as well," Dawson recommended.

"We can follow, but we need to refuel if we're going any farther than Europa," the Captain reminded, giving the orders for the Powel to move out. The tactical also showed The Golden Rule which was close to them.

"Mr. Harding, we're moving around the planet," the Captain said over the link to Harding's ship.

"We'll be shadowing you," Harding replied.

Everything had happened so quickly that neither ship had yet had a chance to fill their water fuel tanks, and they were both down to less than a quarter of their propellant, which wouldn't do if there was to be a long pursuit. On the plus side they had plenty of antimatter. Dawson just hoped that they weren't going to leave the moon yet.

"Well, I guess they're on to us," the Captain commented. "Wouldn't you say, Agent Dawson?"

"Yes, I believe the coincidences have piled too high for us to be doing anything else but following them overtly."

"We still don't want to catch them, though?" she asked.

"No, but perhaps we'll drive them a little towards our ultimate goal," Dawson speculated, hoping he was right.

The hopper passed over the terminator into the darkness, and the ice that was so blue before became black. Quig initiated another quick burn and began to bring them down to the surface.

"We're here," he informed them. "We'll be down in a few minutes, but the bad news is that fleet lander is following us, so we don't have much time."

Sam looked out the window at the dark surface. "I don't see anything down there. What are we supposed to do?"

"I only know that I'm supposed to bring you to these coordinates. Once I drop you off, I'll take off again and try to decoy our pursuers," Quig explained.

"So you're not coming with us?" Jeff asked. "They'll arrest you for sure."

"No, they'll never take me alive. And I am coming with you," he added.

"So you're coming back then when you lose them, right?" Terra asked.

"Probably not," Quig replied, which just confused them. "You all have space suits on, right? I suggest you suit up and get ready to jump ship. I only know that you'll find what you need here, but I have no idea what you should look for. If you have any way to obscure yourself, I'd do when you get out so they can't see you. You might be able to escape detection if you cover yourself with ice."

Sam and the others activated their helmets, and the spacesuits complied, covering them. They all activated the camouflage that would make them appear to be invisible.

"Excellent," Quig commented, looking down. The hopper set down with a little jolt. "Now, Sam, take this with you and get off quickly so I can lift again."

Quig tossed down a small box to the area that Sam had been standing in before disappearing. Sam caught the small box, and he had his suit make a pouch so he could store it for later examination. They all jumped into the lift column which lowered them very quickly to the cargo hold. Once they were all in there, the hole to the crew deck closed above them and their suit displays told them that the hold was depressurizing, then the hatch opened.

"Godspeed," they heard over their suit radios as they all jumped out of the hopper onto the icy ground.

"Thanks, Quig," Sam said over his radio. Hopefully the transmission wouldn't be detected by their pursuers.

After they stumbled a bit and got a few meters away from the hopper, Quig lifted back off, but he didn't start burning hard until he was a fair distance off the ground. They watched as he sped away from them, and just as he was about to pass over the horizon, they watched the light from the rocket flame plummet towards the surface. Then they saw the flare from a large explosion as the hopper impacted with great speed.

"Do you think he got out and is going to hoof it back here?" Sam asked, stunned by the turn in events.

"I think he was providing cover so we could escape unnoticed," Terra said with a little sadness in her voice. "I hope your other version is worth the sacrifice."

"I thought he said he was going with us, though," Sam returned.

"My guess is that that little box he tossed you, Sam, is actually a backup cube. That's probably the errand he had to run before we left," Jeff offered, sure that he was right.

Sam squeezed his torso where the pouch contained the small box. It was about the right size, he admitted.

"So what do we do?" Sam said, looking around for the first time. "There's nothing here."

"We should cut the chatter and try to get under something so that the Powel doesn't know we're here," Terra directed.

They were all invisible to the eye but their suits did give off heat which would make them pretty easy to spot from orbit. Sam kicked his foot at the ground. It was rock hard, so he looked around. A few dozen meters away was a small crack in the ice. He started towards it to see if it could fit them.

"Over here," Sam called once he'd gotten a look.

The crack was narrow and deep, but it could definitely fit them if they were careful. He lowered himself in, holding onto the slippery surface until he couldn't lower himself any farther. His suit was telling him that the ledge below was still a three meter drop. He gauged himself carefully, then let go. On Earth the fall could have been debilitating, but he fell slowly and caught himself on the ledge without a problem.

Terra and Jeff followed him. Although he couldn't see them, he felt the vibration as they landed on the ledge which held firm. Even though the rift in the ice wasn't very wide, Sam couldn't see the bottom when he peered carefully over the edge.

"Now quiet. We'll hold out here for a few hours until we're sure we've escaped detection. My companion has told me that sunrise will be about ninety minutes from now. I'm sure we'll fare better looking for our whatever when that happens," Terra ordered.

They all powered down their suit radios and tried to get as close as possible to the wall of the ridge so that the launch and the Powel wouldn't be able to detect their heat.

### Chapter 47

Dawson watched as the hopper crashed into the surface, and if he hadn't had his feed from the bug he would have believed that they had all just been killed because there wasn't any trace of the three who were now hiding on the ledge of a ice rift, their heat masked by the cold ice.

"Captain, they're still alive. The hopper dropped them off before we came over the horizon," Dawson informed her from his seat at the back of the bridge.

"We're not getting anything on sensors. How do you know that?" the Captain asked, studying the tactical display.

"Sorry, I can't discuss how I know, but they are there," he reiterated, standing and pointing at the location of the crack.

"Should I order the launch to land near there?" the Captain asked. "Or should we let them think that they've gotten away with their ruse?"

"Land the launch here," Dawson said, indicating a flat piece of ice that was still ten kilometers from the trio's position. "Have the Marines dispatched to follow and watch. They're not to take any action but to observe. Then have the launch fly overhead like it's heading towards the crash site. Then have it circle back around to the drop location to wait for the Marines."

The Captain nodded and began issuing orders.

Dawson wanted to know why they were there. After reviewing the recording and listening in on the final conversation with that Quig person who had dissoluted in the crash, Dawson couldn't figure out why they were where they were. Was a ship going to come and pick them up? If so, where was it? Sensors weren't picking up anything in their vicinity. Perhaps the active sensors would tell them something, but Dawson had ordered the Captain not to use them for fear that the trio would detect the sensor sweeps and feel as if they had been cornered. He needed them to continue. Hopefully this would work.

### Chapter 48

They all saw the Fleet lander fly overhead, following the hopper's trajectory. They waited another hour until the sun was just beginning to rise and the dark ice started to show some of its blue white color. Sam jumped, grabbed the edge, and pulled himself back onto the surface on his stomach. He surveyed the surrounding area with the passive sensors his suit afforded him and determined that they were alone here. He flipped over on his back and didn't see any launch hovering. There were several bright objects in the sky but he couldn't get sufficient magnification out of his suit to tell if it was the Powel. He hoped not, but they couldn't do anything now even if it were. They had no method of transport.

"Come on up," Sam urged. "There isn't anything we can do now to prevent them from finding us." He had his camouflage change to a white blue to match the surroundings so the others could see him again. The others changed their suit colors to match.

"What now?" Sam asked.

"I guess we start looking for whatever it was we were supposed to find here." Jeff said, starting to head for their landing site.

Sam and Terra followed, and they all began to inspect the area looking for any sign left to guide them. After ten minutes Sam sat down on the ice, hoping that his other version hadn't abandoned them here after all that they'd been through. His other version was so removed from him in experience time that he couldn't know what his other version would do.

"Giving up already?" Terra asked. She was now twenty or thirty meters away searching but not finding anything.

"This is an ice plain, and there aren't even boulders or terrain features to hide anything, sign or otherwise," Sam said.

The full sun was on them now. Even though it was quite a bit less bright than it was on Earth or Mars, it was still comforting. Sam stood up again, surveying the scene. It was very flat for several kilometers, except for the rift.

Sam looked down at the ice below him. This was the exact spot they had jumped to from the hopper, and now that it was fully illuminated Sam could see something dark at least a meter under the surface buried in the ice. "Guys, over here," he radioed.

Terra and Jeff bounded back to his position where he was trying to peer into the ice.

"It's big, whatever it is," Terra commented. Indeed the black object was four or five meters in diameter, and it was circular.

"What is it, though?" Jeff asked trying to sweep some of the loose surface ice away so he could get a better view.

"I think it might be a ship or something. Maybe it's an entrance to an underground facility," Terra guessed.

Sam kicked at the surface. "No, I wouldn't locate a facility here. Too much visibility, and too many people. I'd put a secret base somewhere no one would find me."

"So how do we get it out of there?" Jeff asked. "I don't see how we can break up that much ice."

"We don't have to break it up. We can melt if we can get something hot enough," Sam said.

"Can we use our space suits somehow? They have heaters," Terra suggested.

"Good idea, but I don't think that they have enough power to go through that much ice," Sam said. Then he had an idea. "Well, what about the fog from our camouflage. Could we get it to form some kind of lens to focus the sun?"

Terra looked up at the sun. "I don't know, Sam. The sun is pretty tenuous out here. We're several orders of magnitude less power per square meter this far from the sun than at Earth. But I guess we have to try, don't we?"

"I'll try to have Ralphie make a design for a lens." Sam interfaced with Ralphie. _So what do you think, Ralphie. Can you design us a fresnel lens or something?_ Sam queried.

_I believe that I can get the proper shape parameters for your camouflage fog,_ Ralphie responded.

Sam could see in his displays that Ralphie was expending considerable computation on the problem. Sam interfaced with his camouflage and set up the system so it could adapt to a non body conforming shape. When Ralphie indicated that he had the parameters, Sam had the camouflage flow into a ball in his hands. Then he had Ralphie upload the parameters. The camouflage became translucent and formed a large flat fresnel lens.

_What's the focal length?_ Sam queried Ralphie.

_Your height plus your arm reach,_ Ralphie informed him.

"Here, help me hold it up," Sam requested. It wasn't heavy, but he didn't want to be directly underneath it like a bug under a magnifying glass. Terra and Jeff grabbed at the edges, and they all stood, acting as the pillars for this large lens. The light focused on the spot they intended, and it began to melt the ice, slowly.

Terra noted the slow rate at which the ice was melting. "This is going to take hours."

"We need a bigger lens," Sam decided and immediately had Ralphie redesign a larger lens with hand holds that would enable the lens to be held up a few more meters so it could collect more sunlight. "I'm going to need one of your camouflage systems to merge with mine."

Jeff immediately had his camouflage form a ball and he handed it to Sam who placed it on top of the lens. Then Ralphie uploaded the new parameters. The places they were holding formed handles and the lens rose up above them expanding in diameter. It was quite a bit larger than before. It was now eating through the ice at a much higher rate.

"Still slow, but it won't take forever," Terra said. "Would one more unit help?"

Sam had Ralphie do another redesign that would lift it up further and grow it larger. "Just throw it up on top so it can merge with the others and switch its command controls to me," Sam instructed.

Terra formed the ball of camouflage fog and gently tossed it onto the top of the lens with one hand while she held the handle with her other.

The ball spread out and the lens enlarged again. They all had to take several more steps backward. The palm sized bright spot on the ice began to eat through the ice much faster now that they had a larger lens. It would reduce the time to get to the object to less than an hour. They all stood there guiding the light beam to eat through the ice. They focused on clearing the tip of the object first.

"It is a ship, buried here for us. I think the hatch is on this side. I can see an rectangular shape," Jeff exclaimed. They all shuffled over so they could clear away what they hoped was a hatch.

"I just hope we don't have to clear off the whole thing," Terra said.

They worked diligently for another twenty minutes until the hatch was completely clear, and then Sam had the lens break back down into its three separate camouflage systems which they all donned again, in a deactivated state.

"It's like having a much better Swiss Army Knife," Jeff commented on the fog's utility.

Sam hopped down the hole they'd made to the doorway and passed his hand over it. "I don't see any controls but there is a circular discolored section here at the center of the door," he told them. He pushed his hand at it tenuously to see if it would open. Nothing happened, so he pushed harder. After a few seconds he was startled to feel his hand being absorbed into the circle with his spacesuit being peeled back inside. The ship gripped him. Sam tried to tug his hand free, but it wouldn't even move.

"Hey, what's going on?" Terra asked from the top of the ice hole.

"I don't know. It's got my hand, and it won't let go." Sam tugged futilely. Then after a few more seconds his hand was released. Sam flew back and smacked against the ice. His hand was momentarily exposed to the near vacuum conditions, and Sam hissed because of the cold. His space suit reformed over his hand almost instantly, however, preventing any permanent damage.

"You okay, Sam?" Jeff asked with the concern showing on his face through the transparent membrane of his suit.

"Yeah, I think so," Sam said. Then he looked up at the doorway and found that it was open. "Hey, it's open!" he shouted.

"Must have been one of those biometric locks, only opens for you, Sam," Terra surmised. "Can you see anything inside?" She was down on her stomach trying to peer into the darkness of the unlit ship.

"No, it's really dark. I'm going to try going in."

"Is that wise? I mean, it almost didn't give you your hand back, and you want to go in there?" Jeff said with a snicker.

"Not like we have much of a choice," Sam muttered.

Sam had Ralphie switch on the lights from his suit that were mounted on his wrist and pointed his arm at the opening. Nothing reflected back at him. It was still pitch black. "Well here goes," he said taking a step towards the opening.

### Chapter 49

As he crossed through the threshold of darkness, Sam entered a well lit, and as indicated by his suit readings, a warm environment. There were several restraint chairs on the floor and a hole that dropped to another section. The design seemed familiar.

"Welcome, Sam," a voice came over his radio. "I've been expecting you for a while now. Tell your companions to come in, so we can be on our way."

"Who are you?" Sam asked, looking around.

"I'm the ship's SS system. Now hurry, I'm going to activate my melt and launch sequence in just a minute. You'll have to stick your head back through the fog barrier to tell your friends to enter. I'm shielding against any internal transmissions," the SS system replied.

"I guess we haven't got a choice," Sam sighed and then pushed his head back through the fog barrier that was holding the air and warmth inside the ship while the door was open. It was a good design, and it saved having to use the space for a physical airlock. "Hey, it's all right. You can come in," Sam called.

"Oh good, for a minute there we'd thought we lost you when your transmission cut out," Terra responded, hopping down into the hole in the ice.

Sam pulled his head back into the ship and moved out of the way so the others could enter.

Terra came through first and looked around at the new surroundings. "Well, it's definitely a ship."

"Yes, I am, Ms. Gates," the SS system replied, startling Terra.

"Don't worry. It's just the ships SS system," Sam explained.

Jeff came through the barrier after her with about the same reaction. The ship greeted Jeff as well, then informed them that it would be activating the ice melt procedure in a few seconds, and asked them to all please have a seat. They each took one of the restraint chairs and sat down.

"So where are we going, Ship?" Sam asked.

"I am not allowed to reveal that," the ship replied.

"Why am I not surprised?" Terra said with a smile. They had all retracted their suit helmets as soon as they had taken their seats.

"I am activating my lasers to cut out the ice near the surface; it should only take a few moments. I will then be burning for space, so please hold on," the ship warned, informing them of its intentions.

They heard a sound outside the ship as the ice was vaporized by the lasers. It took four minutes for the ship to declare success.

"Ship, could you please make the walls transparent so we can see out," Terra asked.

"Certainly," the ship replied.

Through the windows all around them was ice, but it wasn't resting against the side of the ship any more. The lasers had done their work and cut away a half meter all around.

"Launching now," the ship warned.

The antimatter engines kicked in, and they were rising out of their ice hole. The ship accelerated, and they drew away from the surface very quickly. After heading straight up for a few moments, the ship began to turn drastically.

"What's going on?" Jeff asked the ship.

"There are two ships holding above our launch location at geosyncronous altitude. One is a Fleet ship. I am moving to evade," the ship explained.

"What if they catch us?" Terra asked, wondering what Sam 6.7 would do in such a contingency.

"I will self destruct," the ship said in a calm manner.

"What?!!" Terra exclaimed.

"Do not worry," the ship continued. "The probability of our capture is very low."

"Still not a good enough explanation," Terra said vehemently.

"It will have to be for now," the ship said.

### Chapter 50

"They're launching!" Dawson said. "Don't lose them!"

"Don't worry, Agent Dawson, we won't. Lt. Commander Bowman, you are to recall the Marines and make for orbit. We'll rendezvous with you at the following coordinates," the Captain ordered, directing the Nav officer send the coordinates. "Mr. Harding, we are moving to pursue."

"Understood. I'm following," Damon replied over the comlink with The Golden Rule.

The Powel powered up and began to sweep around the planet following the small ship that was accelerating ever faster to get behind the moon. The ship with the trio aboard looked like a normal launch class vessel except that it had an extra section behind the main one that looked like a bulb, giving the entire ship a wasp like appearance. It was strange because the launch class ship design hadn't changed much in the last hundred years. Because of their high altitude they were able to see the small ship extend four liquid metal radiators from its bulbous abdomen section.

There was a flare on the Powel's Infra-Red sensor, and then the trio's ship cut its antimatter rocket and accelerated away at fifteen g's. The meaning of this event was not lost on Dawson, even considering his limited background in space travel. A ship simply didn't do that. The entire crew on the bridge sat stupefied, staring at the visuals of the ship departing at a rapid acceleration but missing the large rocket plume that always accompanied that kind of maneuver.

"What the hell is going on, Agent Dawson?" the Captain exclaimed. "Nav, try to figure out their course. We won't be able to follow for a few minutes.

"I don't know what's going on. It looks like Storm 6.7 has some tricks up his sleeve that we never anticipated. Follow them, now," Dawson ordered.

"We need to rendezvous with the launch, which we will do in two minutes. But we have a bigger problem, Agent Dawson," the Captain reminded.

"What?" Dawson asked.

"We don't have enough fuel to follow them and return. Who knows how far they're going? We may run out half way and not be able to slow down. We have to refuel before we can follow," she stated simply.

"We don't have time," Dawson said, frustrated.

"Captain, Agent Dawson, please take hold of yourselves," Damon Harding ordered them both over the comlink.

"Captain, The Golden Rule is in the same position as your ship. I propose that you follow the ship at your best possible speed. I will refuel The Golden Rule and follow you at half your acceleration. Then we will be able to refuel you when you reach your destination so you can make a return, even if it is slow. You will try to expend as little fuel as possible, using as much antimatter as you need to maintain maximum acceleration and minimum propellant usage. Follow them."

"That's endangering my ship, Mr. Harding," the Captain protested. "I don't care who you are. We'll do the best we can, but as soon as we use half our remaining propellant, I stop acceleration."

"Have it your way, Captain, but if you fail to catch our quarry, this mission will be your last," Damon got in.

"Fine," the Captain said and signaled the com officer to cut the comlink. She turned to Dawson. "I hope you're not as extreme as your handler over there."

"Don't forget, Captain, I'm on board also and if we can't stop, that's my problem too. I don't want to be drifting in space forever either," Dawson said. "But we need to do everything we can to stop them, especially considering that they have some kind of unknown technology that science says is impossible."

They picked up the launch a minute later. Then once they all were in their extreme acceleration locations, the ship began to burn a very antimatter rich mixture that used far more than usual, but which in turn required far less propellant. The Captain had explained to Dawson after the confrontation with Damon that if they burned this hot for more than thirty hours, the reaction chamber was likely to crack from the heat, and then they'd be dead in space with no way to slow down. Dawson hoped it wouldn't go that far.

### Chapter 51

When the antimatter rockets had stopped, leaving the trio in momentary free fall, they had all been surprised. When the ship told them to stay in their seats and large liquid metal radiators had deployed from the aft of the ship, they began to wonder what was going on. Then the acceleration began, and they zipped away from the planet at a rate that should have killed them without being seriously restrained, but they all felt fine, if somewhat heavy. Sam's suit was registering three g's, a lot of weight for someone who was recently bounding on Europa, but this was still tolerable if one didn't stand up suddenly.

"Ship, what is going on?" Terra yelled. "How fast are we accelerating?" Terra had been on enough interplanetary flights to know that a body like Europa didn't recede like that in any three g burn. And what had happened to the rocket noise?

"We are accelerating at fifteen g's," the ship answered. "I am compensating for this in the passenger cabin. I will slow to ten g's in two hours. That will lessen the forces in the passenger cabin to one g. At such time you may leave your restraints," the ship replied.

"What? How is that possible?" Terra asked, confused.

"This ship is equipped with an experimental drive system developed recently at our destination. The system permits me to lessen the effect of the acceleration inside the cabin. I am not allowed to discuss how."

"That's not possible," Terra said, refusing to believe it.

"Why not, Terra? You can't think that everything under the sun in physics has been discovered, or is a hundred percent correct," Jeff said, smiling. He was enjoying the whole idea of something new.

"What are you saying?"

"You remember the Arlin Department of Theoretical Physics back in Denver. Remember I told you that they were working on new things, things that physics had overlooked or called impossible," Jeff reminded her.

"But that was theoretical, I thought you said they couldn't experiment," Terra said, remembering too well the building and its impressive security system.

"They weren't allowed to do it on Earth. Perhaps Sam got some of them off Earth and they were experimenting out here. It sounds like something he would d." They both turned to look at Sam who was staring out the window.

"Sam, what do you think?" Terra asked.

Sam had a dreamy look in his eyes when he turned back to them. His mind was reeling with the consequences. "It's something I always hoped was possible. Do you realize that this changes everything?"

"It will if it uses less energy and fuel than rocket propulsion. Not otherwise," Terra said.

"It uses less energy," Sam said confidently.

"How do you know that?" Terra asked.

"The radiators. They're not that big. If we were using the same amount of energy that's used for antimatter propellant rocketry, we'd fry in minutes with such small radiators, but we're not even warming up," Sam explained.

Terra was silent.

"Speechless, Terra? That's unusual for you," Jeff teased.

"No, just reeling at the consequences of this technology. It will change everything. Do you think that's what Sam's been doing out here? Outlawed experiments to develop this space drive?" Terra asked. If that were what Sam was going to give her, it would be worth all the aggravation, the headaches of sorting out the problems her other version had left her. It would change the whole nature of space travel, perhaps even put the stars within reach.

"Ship, how long will the trip take?" Sam asked.

"Approximately five hours and twenty-two minutes," the ship responded.

"Not too far away from Jupiter then," Sam said resolutely.

"It's long enough for us to cover a lot of distance at this rate," Jeff said.

"Well, then we'd better get some rest while we can. I don't think events will be slowing down any," Terra suggested. She was tired. It'd been a long day already. She couldn't believe that earlier that same morning they'd arrived at Europa on the Express. That reminded her that she should have sent word to Ignus to let him know it was okay to leave, but he would anyway in a few more days.

"Ship, are we being followed by the Powel?" Sam asked, trying to look through the wall viewers to see if they were indeed being followed.

"The Powel is pursuing at ten g's. They have a very bright rocket plume which indicates that they are burning antimatter rich," the ship replied. "They will not intercept us unless they accelerate faster. We will beat them to our destination by several hours, provided they can continue to follow."

"Well, that's comforting," Sam said. "I hope my other version has some neat tricks up his sleeve to deal with the Powel. At least we'll have a few hours."

"Don't worry Sam. You're a resourceful guy, and so's your other version." Jeff smirked.

### Chapter 52

Five hours and six minutes later the wasp-like ship ended its deceleration. Terra could feel the gravity drop away and then the momentary feeling of free fall before the simulated gravity cut in. They were still moving at a few hundred kilometers per second. They all got out of their chairs and went closer to the viewers to see their destination.

"It's some kind of asteroid or something," Terra ventured.

"Not an asteroid, it's a Kupier belt object," Sam said excitedly. "This is exactly the kind of place I would come. That object has to be kilometers long and several wide, plenty of room for facilities to experiment and someplace no one would ever know to look."

"Kupier belt objects?" Terra asked. The name sounded familiar.

"Yeah, they're asteroids and comets that are located out here past Jupiter. There are literally tens of thousands of them, some much larger than this one," Sam explained.

"So this is where you'd come?" Terra asked. "So why didn't you just tell us that at the beginning?"

"There was no way to know which object or where in space it would be. I only knew it would be near Jupiter or Saturn, and here we are not so far from Jupiter."

"The delay time to access the Datasphere must be enormous. Why would you want to start a research outpost this far out?" Jeff asked.

"Not everything one can do needs access to the Datasphere. The delay time would be inconvenient, but it'd also provide some security. I'm sure that if there is a link to the Datasphere, it's not just a line of sight radio link. It's probably a laser comlink that's bounced all over the system. Remember, Sam didn't send the virus through the Datasphere. He sent a cube," Sam said.

"Don't remind me," Jeff winced, remembering exactly why they were out here.

The ship was moving closer to the object quickly. Now they could see a mist that seemed to surround the whole thing and to extend outward from the object for quite a distance.

"What is that? An atmosphere or something?" Sam asked.

"Doubt it. An object that small couldn't have sufficient gravity to hold an atmosphere that thick," Terra said.

"I'm sure we'll find out," Jeff said as they continued to watch as the ship approached. Several minutes later they were coming up fast to the surface of the object. They entered the region filled with the mist.

"Maybe it's fog or something," Sam ventured.

"But why surround an entire asteroid with it?" Terra asked.

"I don't know, some kind of defense maybe, or someway to move stuff around on the surface. It could provide someone walking on the surface with simulated gravity," Jeff suggested. When they were within a few meters, the ship came to a stop, looking as if it were going to land on the surface.

"Aren't we going to land?" Jeff asked, perplexed.

A hole began to form below them and grew until it was at least five times the diameter of the small ship. The opening seemed to go on for quite a distance. Once the hole stopped expanding, the ship entered. The windows filled with the dirty gray of the stuff that made up the Kupier belt object. They traveled downward for quite a distance. Behind them opening closed off from the outside.

A few seconds later they entered a large cavern that was lit dimly by lights all around its surface. There were several other black objects that appeared to be the same type of ship as the one they were using. The ship came to a stop when it reached the floor.

"Well, we're here," Terra said.

"We have arrived at our destination. You may exit the ship at your convenience. Please note that there is no atmosphere outside, so please remember to use your space suits," the ship said.

"And where are we supposed to go now, Ship?" Jeff asked.

"I have fulfilled my programming, I have no further instructions for you," the ship replied.

"Not very friendly is he," Terra commented with a droll smile.

"Not much at all," Jeff returned.

"Shall we?" Sam asked, moving for the airlock and instructing his suit helmet close over him.

"I guess so." Jeff followed.

Sam pushed on the plate that opened the hatch through which they had entered the ship from the ice. He pushed himself through the fog barrier out into the cavern. A small platform had extended from the side of the ship on which Sam stood, gripping a hand rail waiting for the others. Once Jeff and Terra joined him, the hatch closed behind them, and the platform began to lower towards the surface.

"There's simulated gravity here," Terra commented after giving a small experimental hop.

"It makes sense. This object doesn't have much gravity of its own," Sam said.

"This cavern is huge. You could fit a hundred ships in here," Jeff remarked taking in the portion of the gigantic cavern that they could see.

The platform reached the ground, and they all stepped off. Sam led them away from the ship so they could see the entirety of the cavern around them. "Well, where should we go? It'll take hours to search this whole place for an entrance."

"Have you tried interfacing with the local system? There must be one," Jeff suggested.

"Let me give it a try," Sam said, having Ralphie try to link into any active computer system.

_I am detecting a local network,_ Ralphie replied after several seconds of trying. _I am having difficulty interfacing with it. Please stand by._

"Well?" Terra asked impatiently. She'd had Plato try to access the system as well, but he was having little luck.

"Something's here, but Ralphie can't seem to get his hands around it. Give him a few more minutes," Sam said. In his displays he could see graphically the tenuous nodes that Ralphie was trying to access.

_The system has several layers of protection that I cannot penetrate. I have been able to get a guide, however, at the outer most system shell,_ Ralphie informed him.

"I've got a guide arrow," Sam said triumphantly as a green arrow appeared in his visuals that led to one of the walls half way across the cavern.

"Good, lead the way, Sam...my companion couldn't even get in the system that far," Terra said.

Sam began to work his way towards the location the guide indicated. The cavern was mostly empty except for the four other ships they saw parked off to the far side. After several minutes of walking they found the entrance they had been looking for. It was almost large enough to have brought the ship through. The surface of the portal was black, very much like the fog barrier airlock on the ship but much larger.

"Well, here goes nothing," Sam said, stepping into the black barrier. He passed through easily, and on the other side he emerged into a long corridor that was lit by dim lights on the ceiling. Terra and Jeff followed his example and seconds later were standing at his side.

"Not another long corridor," Terra moaned.

"There's air here," Sam said, checking his suit reading, "but the temperature is minus ten."

"Like there's no one here any more," Terra said.

"There has to be something here." Sam looked around. "My guide arrow is gone now."

"Well, we're not going to find anything by sitting here gabbing. The Powel is on her way...don't forget that," Jeff reminded, leading the group at a brisk pace.

They found their first door after several hundred meters. Sam tried to open, it but it wouldn't budge for him when he pushed the plate to the side of the door that might have admitted them. Each of the others tried to get the door to open, but to no avail.

"Well that's disappointing," Sam commented. _Ralphie, can you access the system here yet._

_Negative, I am still locked out by the security protocols,_ Ralphie responded.

But the network is active here?

_Yes, very active. I just can't penetrate the security,_ Ralphie replied.

"Ralphie still can't access the system," Sam told the others.

"Then let's keep going," Jeff said, impatient to be on their way now that they'd found the door wouldn't admit them.

They wandered down the corridor which had more and more doors along the side, none of which would open for them. They found several other hallways heading off from the main corridor, but they couldn't see where they went.

"We should stay in the large corridor," Sam said.

"Why? Who says what we're looking for isn't down one of the others?" Terra asked.

"I think that lacking any kind of help we should stay in the large corridor. Who knows where those others go, but if this place has a command center or something, I would put someplace easy to find."

"Yeah, well, if you say so, Sam," Terra acquiesced.

They continued up the corridor, and they had to pass through another fog barrier. This time when they emerged the corridors were brightly lit.

"The temperature's up to sixty," Sam said. "We can probably remove our helmets now."

"Do you think we should?" Jeff asked.

"Couldn't hurt." Sam retracted his helmet and took a breath. The air was stale, and he couldn't smell anything out of the ordinary. "I think it's okay."

Terra and Jeff retracted their helmets as well, testing the air tentatively but finding it acceptable. The corridor hadn't changed size, but it did begin to bend to the right with several smaller hallways continuing straight.

"Big or small?" Terra asked when they reached the fork.

"I'm still thinking big." Sam continued to walk down the large corridor. The doors that lined the sides of the hallway still wouldn't admit them.

"How big is this place. There's room for thousands here." Jeff was awed at the sheer size of the place.

"Well, this is a big rock we're in. It could go on for kilometers," Terra replied.

"Let's hope not. We've already wasted forty-five minutes," Sam noted. As they turned around the next bend in the corridor, they found themselves at another fog barrier.

"We should put our helmets back on. No telling what's on the other side. If we don't find something soon, we should backtrack to those other hallways and try there," Sam said, his helmet covering his head and face again. He stepped into the door but he bounced off it smartly.

"This is new," Jeff commented. "Let me try." Jeff stepped forward and like Sam, couldn't walk through.

"What now? Terra asked.

"I guess we go back to the other hallways," Jeff said.

"Give me one more try." Sam began to push on the door with his hands like he could push it aside or something. Then just when he was about to give up, he felt his arms sink into the barrier. He only got out an astonished, "Oh!" before he was completely enveloped in darkness. The substance that formed the barrier held him perfectly still inside the barrier although Sam tried briefly to struggle to get free, which got him nowhere.

"Please remove your spacesuit helmet," Sam heard a voice say.

"Who are you?" Sam asked.

"Please remove your helmet for biometric identification," the voice commanded.

Sam hesitated. He didn't want that stuff inside his suit, but on the other hand he was stuck in the barrier and his attempts to contact the others weren't successful. Sam took a deep breath and then had Ralphie retract the spacesuit helmet once again. The substance that formed the barrier flowed over his face. Sam felt like he wanted to scream, but he found he could still breathe. After several minutes the voice came again.

"Identity confirmed. You may enter."

Sam was pushed through the remainder of the barrier by the barrier itself, and when he emerged, he found himself in a very large circular room that was covered with active monitors along its walls. There were a number of work stations situated throughout the room and some strange looking equipment along the far wall.

"Wow, that was worse than the security field at Arlin," Terra gasped as she was spewed forth from the wall to stand next to Sam. "Are you all right, Sam?" she asked, giving him a once over with her eyes.

"Yeah, you?" Sam replied, facing her. Jeff also came through the wall with a gasp and stumbling onto the floor.

"Not much fun," Sam said, stepping to help Jeff back to his feet.

"Most definitely not." Jeff got up.

"Well, this must be the place we've been looking for," Terra commented, surveying the room.

"Yes, I'd say," Jeff said.

They all started for the large open space at the center of the circular room. Jeff stopped to look at the screen of one of the work stations that showed a graphic of the maze they'd just found their way through.

"Hey look at this," Jeff said, pointing it out to the others. They all took a quick look at the layout.

"Man, this place is big." Sam noted that they hadn't even seen half of the facility.

"And this corridor goes off the screen here. There must be more that we can't see on this diagram," Terra pointed out.

Once they'd finished their observations of the screen, they turned to continue to the center of the room. They found there now was a figure standing at the center with a smile on his face, wearing what looked like a space suit very similar to their own. He had a familiar face...very familiar.

### Chapter 53

"Sam!" Jeff said, squinting at the figure. "Is that you?"

"It is indeed, crèche brother," the figure said. "Welcome, I've been waiting for you for some time now."

Jeff stepped toward his crèche brother with his arms wide to greet him with a hug, but then he remembered why he was here and stopped, the smile disappearing from his face.

"I take it you're not that pleased to see me." Sam 6.7 smirked. "I guess I can't say I blame you."

Terra and Sam 23.1 walked up to stand next to Jeff in a show of solidarity. As she approached, Terra noticed that he didn't look quite right. There was something about him, but she couldn't quite place it.

"Terra, it's good to see you again," Sam 6.7 said warmly, but he did not reach to embrace her or to touch her in any way. "And Sam, my younger self, welcome. I hoped that you'd make it."

Sam 23.1 stood silently examining his other self. It was disconcerting.

Terra broke the silence. "Sam, it's good to see you again. You look almost just like I remember seeing you a few weeks ago, before my restoration. I still remember your odd request at the café."

"Hey enough with all the pleasantries!" Sam 23.1 said, deciding that he'd had enough of this. "You brought us across the solar system, destroyed our lives for what? We want some answers." There was anger in his voice.

Sam 6.7's face grew solemn. "I know what I've done. I hope that one day you will all forgive me for everything. At least Terra's other version was a willing participant in my plan even though she didn't know everything about it. And Jeff, I know that I've destroyed your career. I knew when I sent that backup cube to you what you would do. I've used you badly to accomplish my goals, and I hope that once you understand my reasons and I explain the plan to you, you'll agree that it was a necessary sacrifice."

"Sacrifice, Sam? You knew that I wouldn't participate in your plan, and I still won't. I don't know if I can ever forgive you, not for sending the cube but for all those things you said to make me believe that you'd changed. You pulled just the right heart strings. So I've come here with these others....I've broken the law by restoring Sam 23.1 all because I wanted to find you!" Jeff exclaimed with tears appearing in his eyes. The sting of the betrayal was fresh again now that his crèche brother stood before him.

"I know I deserve that. What I've done is to wound you deeply," Sam 6.7 said with the regret plain in his voice. "I had no other way of getting the virus into the system. If I could have done it some other way, I would have."

"You made me a party to murder!" Jeff said vehemently. "Going against the system was one thing, but destroying all the backups of those non-corporeal people who knew how to build restoration equipment...how could you do that?"

"I didn't, Jeff. I have the source code for the virus here...you can check it yourself. It is designed to wipe out only the backups of people who are still alive, who can have another backup made. It is directed specifically not to destroy any non-corporeal versions stored there. I don't know why those people were killed, but I wouldn't cross that line." Sam opened his arms wide to express his on confusion at the results of the virus.

"But your virus did kill," Sam 23.1 spoke up. "I am who you were. I wouldn't do that....why did you?"

"Sam, you know me. I didn't do that. Think about it...all of you. What would I gain?" Sam 6.7 asked.

"No more restoration equipment. You could destroy the center, and then there would be an end to restoration," Terra said calmly.

Sam 6.7 laughed at her comment. "When I tell you what I've been doing here, you'll see just how funny that statement is. No, you can check the code. It didn't kill those people. Ask yourself, as I've asked myself during the past month. Who would gain by those people's deaths? Who is still alive that knows how to build the restoration machines?"

"You're not saying that Damon Harding killed those people?" Jeff said, appalled. He didn't care for the man, but he didn't think that he'd kill those people.

Terra crossed her arms and nodded. "I think he would. He would then be the only one who knows how to build the device. In seven hundred years when those people were restored, his monopoly would end because some of them would go their own ways. He would be diminished, so with a quick stroke he gets rid of all of them when your virus provides him with the perfect opportunity."

"We have to do something about him," Sam 23.1 said.

"You will. You will but not just yet," Sam 6.7 said.

Jeff stepped forward and embraced Sam 6.7 who hugged him back. "I 'm so glad you didn't do it, Sam. I could forgive everything else but not murder...not murder."

"Of course, I wouldn't murder anyone. But my plan needed the virus to do its work, and it doesn't change the fact that I betrayed your trust," Sam 6.7 said.

"I know, but you're so much less monstrous if you didn't kill those people," Jeff said. Then, as if noticing something odd, he stepped back with a shocked look on his face. "You're cold. You can't be my crèche brother! Who are you?"

Terra realized why she had thought that Sam looked odd. He was kind of pixilated just like in a fog display. This wasn't Sam 6.7. It was a fog projection of Sam.

Sam 6.7's projection held up its hands. "Wait, wait, I can see you are all freaking out here. It's true. I'm not the physical Sam 6.7, but I am him."

"What do you mean? Where are you really? Somewhere else in this facility?" Terra asked, thinking about the virtual telepresence technology.

"Not quite," Sam 6.7 said. "I am no longer corporeal in a human sense."

"What does that mean?" Sam 23.1 asked.

"Do you all remember when they did that experiment to build a human brain in nanotronics, one that emulated the exact functioning of a real human?" Sam 6.7 asked.

"Yeah, but the brain went insane. It experienced time so much more quickly that it died from a psychotic break in less than a minute. You aren't saying that you're a nanotronic recreation of Sam's brain are you?" Jeff exclaimed.

"Yes, for my plan to work, I needed to do this. I am a nanotronic recreation of Sam Storm 6.7's brain made from a backup more than six years ago. I have not gone insane because I built safeguards into the technology. I made sure that I could control how fast I perceived time to flow. I can speed up or slow down my thought processes so minutes can seem like days or weeks and days or weeks can seem like seconds. So I'm in no danger of going insane. I'm perfectly sane to tell you the truth."

"But why, Sam?" Jeff looked over the fog projection.

"I needed to be able to think faster, design faster, and do faster in order to get everything to come together for my plan, and I need it for the journey I'm soon to make," Sam 6.7 explained.

"So what is this plan, Sam? You keep talking about it, but in case you didn't know, we're being followed by a Fleet ship that's been tailing us since we were on Earth. It's here to get you," Terra warned, reminding all of them that they were under time constraints. The Powel would be arriving within the hour.

"Yes, I know. I spoke with the SS system that piloted the ship that brought you here. Don't worry, we're not completely defenseless. I've been preparing ever since you left Europa," Sam 6.7 said with a gesture suggesting that they the shouldn't worry about it.

"So what's the plan?" Sam 23.1 was getting impatient for answers.

"Ah, yes, the plan," Sam 6.7 said. "About fifteen years ago I was working at the LNRC designing things for the Fleet and others, and I saw a way that I could steal some of the unlimited assemblers. I won't tell you how exactly, but suffice it to say, I knew how to do it...and that got me thinking. What would I do with them once I had them? I knew I could get away with it undetected because the monitoring systems there could be fooled."

"All my life I've known that the restoration system has caused a stagnation to occur in human society. Just think about it. The twentieth century saw one of the greatest technological booms in all of human history, and not just that, but we accumulated knowledge at an unprecedented rate and went from gliders to lunar flights. That continued into the beginning of the twenty-first century, when we finally got nanotech to work. But then came along Second Chance Inc. led by Damon Harding...and everything changed."

"Everyone stopped pushing the envelope because suddenly there was no reason to rush. It didn't happen all at once because we did manage to get out into the solar system. But why didn't we ever send an interstellar probe to our closest neighbors? Finally we would be able to live to see the arrival, even if it would still be centuries. We developed antimatter technology and built the space collectors, but we still didn't send explorers."

Terra interrupted. "You can't blame all that on restoration, Sam. That's not the only reason."

"No, it's not. There's also the communication lags that occur the farther you get from Earth. People became so accustomed to having so much information available at a whim that to be without was to be sensory deprived. The speed of light causes that lag; the farther you go, the farther you are from the oasis of Earth's datasphere." Sam 6.7 continued.

"Then you have the Damon Harding factor. If restoration technology had been open to all without restriction and without being under the control of one government, things would be very different. There would have been a disapora from Earth to the farthest reaches of the solar system and beyond, but when the only way to eat the fruit that grants eternal life is on Earth, no one wants to get very far from the tree that bears it. You know what I mean, Terra, or at least your other version did. You who live off the Earth, farther than the Moon, know how much of a shackle that has been. That's why your other version decided to help me, because I knew that with the nanotech I'd stolen I could reproduce the restoration technology."

"You mean you've done that? You've built a restoration machine?" Terra exclaimed, it was what she'd hoped, but she hadn't really believed that he would be able to do it, especially not once she'd flown in the space drive ship from Europa.

"Yes, that's once reason for my transformation to this form. It allowed me to work with SS systems at unprecedented rates to design restoration technology. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Once I had the assemblers from the LNRC safely stored, I decided that the only way to ensure that the species continued was to first develop a restoration technology that would be available to all and, secondly, to get people on the move away from this solar system and its datasphere. I knew that we had to begin exploring again. You see, exploration and the quest for knowledge are the core of the human spirit. It drives us. Limited lifetimes pushed us to discover and to make a contribution before we died, but with restoration that was all changed. We needed to find a new way to continue with that effort but still have very long lives."

"And don't think for a minute that you're immortal, any of you. No human should. Restoration technology will prolong our lives, but eventually we'll tire so much of life that we'll dissolute or we'll die in an accident or catastrophe that will wipe out our backups as well. Right now the human race will slowly die in this solar system. The sun won't last for ever, and even though that's billions of years, it's not very long in the grand scheme of things. So I decided that I'd take the only humans who were dedicated to continuing to explore and to learn, the Newbies, to a new place to begin again."

"So I quit my position at the LNRC and went to Mars to meet and befriend Terra because I knew that I'd need her help in obtaining both funds and the antimatter, which I would need to get to other stars. After a year of working on Mars I returned to Earth, visiting Denver and finding the Newbies to help me with my plan. I knew that at Arlin they were breaking new ground and that with the proper equipment available they'd be able to work out their theories quickly."

"I also knew that they had laid the foundation for the space drive. It appeared in a paper that was published about fifteen years ago, but no one took note of it because it contradicted the physics of the twentieth century which most Primers take as the gospel. It wasn't hard to convince them to come with me, once I'd hinted at what we'd be able to do together and my ultimate goals. So one by one they slipped off Earth and joined me as we went to find this body to start our work," he explained, indicating the object that surrounded them.

"Once Terra agreed to help me in return for the restoration technology, we had everything we needed. The antimatter began to slowly trickle in, and the first project we performed was to build my nanotronic brain. For a while the original Sam 6.7 worked on beside us. When we finally got our first prototype backup and restore machine to work however, he backed himself up and went non-corporeal. Ever since then I've been running the show."

"My Newbies and I built the new restoration machines, and we built the space drive. We built our spaceship to take us to the stars," Sam 6.7 explained with sweeping gestures.

"How many are coming with you? And why do you need to be nanotronic?" Sam 23.1 asked.

"Ah, yes. Over time we've collected the backups of about a hundred thousand Newbies, including all our crèche mates, except Jeff here. He had to be kept in the dark so he would be able to help with the virus. Most of them came as backup cubes, which is how we're transporting everyone to our new home. Everyone is a backup cube now, except me. I will be the Captain at watch during the journey. The SS systems are good, but not good enough to deal with every contingency that could occur. I'll have SS help, but I'll be running the show. And since I can make days seem like minutes the trip won't feel too long to me. And then there's the acceleration. We may have to endure accelerations of up to a hundred g's and that's not something a human body can cope with."

Sam 6.7 spun around with his arms out, indicating the base. "Until three months ago this place was a bustle of activity. Then everyone backed themselves up and once loaded on the ship, disoluted. The virus was designed to go into the restoration system and remove the old backups of everyone who was going on the journey, so they couldn't be revived when they are declared legally dead. They didn't want to leave pieces of themselves behind. That is why we designed the virus. That's why I betrayed you, Jeff." He put his hand on Jeff's shoulder.

"And because I knew it would bring you all here, so I could offer you all the chance to come with us," Sam 6.7 said excitedly.

"Come with you?" Jeff said. "You mean after opposing this and being a willing part of the system you despised, you'd want to bring me with you?"

"I came to see that the restoration technology was not to blame for all our woes. Rather, it was the oppression of everyone in the solar system by a system that denied free access to that technology. I don't disagree with what you ended up doing, only with the way that the system was implemented to keep Damon Harding and the US in control. I want you to come with us, Jeff. Help us build a new world where people aren't afraid of new things where we can continue in the tradition of our forefathers."

"I don't know," Jeff said deep in thought. "I have to think about it."

"Don't take too long. The Powel is approaching, and we don't have a lot of time. I want all of you to have a backup made by my new machine, just in case something happens. It won't take very long. That console over there with the cylinder attached is it. I promise that I won't take you with us unless you decide to go, but the Powel is here and I need to keep you safe."

"But.." Sam 23.1 began.

"I can't argue now. They're raising their shields. I have to defend us as long as I can. Please use the machines. I'll be back when I can." Sam 6.7 pointed towards the restoration machine. Then his image froze as if he'd been put on pause.

Jeff stepped up to the statue of fog that had been his crèche brother. He waved his hands in front of the statue's eyes and perceived no reaction whatsoever.

"It's like he's just not here anymore, but he left his projection." Terra touched the inert figure.

"Well, what do you think? Should we use them?" Sam 23.1 asked the others who were still looking at the projection.

"I don't like the idea of giving Sam a backup of me," Terra said. "He betrayed you once Jeff. How do we know he won't do it again? It does sound appealing to make that kind of journey, but I have responsibilities here that I can't shirk."

"I don't think he'll take you against your will," Jeff assured her. "What do you think, Sam?"

Sam considered quietly for a momen. "I wouldn't. I think it'll be okay. Besides Sam 6.7 isn't going to be taken by the Fleet ship willingly so they'll have to come in here, and if they do, who knows what will happen to us...at least this way we know we'll get to see the outcome of all this."

"Good point. I guess if I'm dead I can't fulfill my responsibilities either." Terra nodded.

They walked away from Sam 6.7's statue that stood in the middle of the room and approached the restoration machine. It was composed of a single work station at the foot of a bed that was covered with a half cylinder. Underneath the table that made up the bed snaked several large hoses and next to them dangled two cylindrical modules.

After several moments of inspection Sam interfaced with the machine via Ralphie and had opened the cylinder to make a backup scan. Sam and Jeff insisted that Terra go first because she was the only one of them that had to live. After several minutes of argument Terra reluctantly agreed and laid down in the bed. At the head of the bed was the scanner, which began to hum as soon as the half cylinder cover was closed over Terra.

Sam and Jeff were monitoring Terra's backup which the console indicated would only take eight minutes. It was longer than a standard backup, but it wasn't the unit they were used to either. They didn't even know if it worked the same way. As the counter reached three minutes, they felt a thud and the room shook briefly. They both looked back to the large monitors in the room which showed the Powel and the Kupier belt object on a tactical display.

### Chapter 54

The Powel finished its deceleration burn and came sliding towards the Kupier belt object. They had managed to track the unusual ship via its infra red signature. It was difficult as they were used to tracking rocket plumes, but they managed. As soon as the ship stopped its acceleration, Dawson jumped out of his fog bed and ran for the door having the fog column take him to the bridge. When he entered, he found that the Captain had already had the ship activate its mirror shielding. The Captain was staring at the tactical display.

"Well, what do you make of the mist barrier around the object, Tactical?" She asked the Tactical Officer.

"The SS system is sure that it's some type of fog barrier surrounding the object. Maybe to provide simulated gravity on the surface or as some type of shielding system, it doesn't know," Tactical replied.

"Keep your distance, Nav. I don't want to find out what that stuff will do when it gets a hold of you," she ordered. "Scan, use the active sensors and try to determine what's below the surface, and launch two of our mini-probes to circle around the far side of the object so we can get the whole thing in view."

Dawson sat down in the chair and watched as two very small probes were launched. He saw the probes appear on the three-dimensional tactical display in yellow with a thin yellow line that showed their intended trajectory, which was well away from the fog layer.

"Scan, what are you getting?" the Captain asked, keeping her eye on one of the screens that showed imagery from the probes.

"Nothing on the surface that we can detect," the Scan officer replied, her eyes closed as she used her implants to assimilate and analyze the data with the help of some of the SS systems. "We are getting some return from the ground penetrating radar. There are definitely caverns or subterranean spaces, but it's a little garbled from the fog field surrounding the object."

"Do you see any kind of entry point, Scan?" Dawson asked. The Captain swiveled her head to glare at him a little for interrupting, but she held her tongue.

"Yes, I see something that could be a tunnel to the surface," Scan said, bringing up a shaded red section on the surface of the object in the three-D tactical display.

"Captain, I'd like to take Lt. Commander Bowman and the launch with the Marines to try and penetrate the surface and get into that subterranean compound," Dawson said.

"And how, Agent Dawson, do you propose to penetrate that fog?"

"That's your call, Captain, but I have to get down there before they can make an escape."

"Very well. Tactical, take a shot at the fog with the lasers and see how it reacts," the Captain ordered. A ray of laser fire struck at the fog, but the fog became opaque and the laser was harmlessly scattered so that it couldn't be concentrated at any point.

"Ineffective," Tactical informed. "That Fog must have mirrored sides to reflect it like that."

"Try the particle beams. See if we can cut through any with them," she ordered.

The particle beam did succeed in removing a little of the fog but was mostly ineffective. "It'll take hours to penetrate like this," Tactical said after several minutes.

"I hate to waste antimatter on something like this," the Captain said.

The fog field, like an octopus, began to extend a giant tentacle of fog towards the ship. "Nav, back off now. I don't want that stuff getting a hold."

The Powel began to move away from the tentacle, which stopped growing.

"That was interesting," the Captain said. "I'm sure it's designed to grab us and either crush us or hold us, so we can't let that happen."

"What about an EMP weapon, Captain?" Dawson asked. "The fog is an electrical machine. Perhaps an EMP will disable it."

The Captain glared at Dawson again, but he could see that it wasn't anger at him but simply disgust that she hadn't thought of it first. "Fire an EMP torpedo at this section," the Captain said, pointing at the section of fog that had extended toward them.

The Tactical Officer launched the EMP device at the fog and when it got close enough, it detonated.

"Move us a little closer now, Nav. Let's see if it's still going to come after us," she ordered.

The Powel moved in slowly. The fog that was near them didn't respond, but the fog that surrounded the disabled fog section made a reach for them from either side of the dead spot. The Powel backed quickly out of range.

"I think it worked," Dawson said hopefully. The ship shuddered.

"They're firing lasers and particle cannons. It isn't penetrating," the Tactical Officer said. "The shots are coming from the surface here and here." Small icons appeared on the surface of the object in the tactical display.

"Return fire," the Captain commanded.

"We can't get through that stuff without antimatter, Captain," Tactical informed her.

"Then fire the antimatter particle beam and disable those sites."

After several shots the two sites were quiet. The assault had ended.

"That seemed too easy," the Captain said.

"Well, we still have to get through that barrier," Dawson answered.

"Fire more EMP charges with a normal explosive charge following to clear a path through that stuff. Don't stop until you reach that entry point." A volley of charges in a straight line flew at the fog, detonating first the EMP and then a second explosive charge to make a deeper hole. After a minute of bombardment they'd penetrated all the way to the surface.

"Get ready to go, Agent Dawson. The Marines should already be waiting on the launch. Good luck," the Captain said.

Dawson got up and headed for the exit to the bridge, but the ship shuddered again. This time it wasn't gentle.

"We have a hull breach, Captain. They're using antimatter particle beams." Red indicators appeared on the Powel's three dimensional rendering in the tactical display.

"They're sweeping, I don't think they're trying to break through for a laser. They're going for the engines and the antimatter storage pod." There was real worry in the tactical officers voice.

"Get out of here, Dawson. We'll take care of this," the Captain barked. She turned all her attention back to the tactical display. "Fire the antimatter cannons at the source locations."

Dawson didn't want to be on board if the antimatter pod got hit. He had the lift column take him as quickly as possible to the launch. He entered the hatch to find all the Marines suited up and waiting in the cargo section.

"Lt. Commander Bowman, take us out immediately," Dawson yelled up the column.

"Understood," a voice came down.

There was a sudden lurch, and then the launch began to move outward from the ship.

"Stay behind the Powel until she has those antimatter particle cannons disabled.

"Afirmative," Lt. Commander Bowman called down.

Dawson took the lift column up into the cockpit which was manned solely by Lt. Commander Bowman and the SS system that controlled the launch.

"I'm going to hold a kilometer off," Bowman said. A small version of the tactical display that had been on the bridge of the Powel floated above them.

"We've got the sites," the voice of the Tactical officer came over the com-link with the Powel.

"Damage Report." The Captain's voice said.

"We've lost our reaction chamber. They sliced clean into it. We can still maneuver with thrusters but there's no way we're going very far. We still have our antimatter pod contained, but the Engineering Deck's been depressurized. All other weapons systems are still on line but we're losing power as the engines go," the Report came from Engineering.

"They're firing again," someone on the bridge of the Powel said.

"They've hit the containment system, Captain," one of the engineers said, reporting from the Engineering section, probably in his space suit. And Lt. Aster's gone; the beam sliced him in two as it swept through."

"Fire on the position of that antimatter weapon, Tactical," the Captain bellowed.

There was a bright flash on the surface of the object, and the assault of the antimatter weapon ceased.

"We got'em!" Tactical yelled.

"The fog has closed back in over the damaged sections," someone reported.

"Do we still have more EMP charges?" the Captain asked.

"Yes," was the response.

"Fire another EMP and explosive charge volley. Open that hole back up," she ordered.

"Bowman, I think we've disabled their weapons, but I can't be sure. I don't' know how long we can continue to provide support. You need to go now," the Captain said over the com link.

"Understood, Captain," Bowman said, activating the launch's engines and taking them towards the hole in the fog field the charges had made before it could close up.

As they approached the object, they heard the Captain again, but she wasn't addressing them.

"Launch the buoy, and try to get that containment device back under control." Then the com link was gone.

Apparently the Powel was no longer in contact with them. The launch continued swiftly through the hole of fog towards the surface.

"Any idea how we can get through that barrier over the tunnel entrance?" Bowman asked.

"Send the Marines," Dawson said, opening a com channel to Lt. Madison. "Lt. Madison, I want you EVA, and I need you to open the door for us."

"Understood," was Madison's short reply.

The Marines exited the launch and attached themselves to its surface. One of the Marines fired something. Several seconds later a bright flash and an eruption came from the surface, revealing a deep hole. Dawson hoped it would lead them to the facility where Storm 6.7 was hiding. He was so close now, he could feel it.

### Chapter 55

After Terra finished her backup, they had decided that Jeff would be next. He was only two minutes into his backup procedure when Sam 6.7's projection reanimated. Sam and Terra didn't notice at first because they were both watching the backup machine's display intently.

Sam 6.7 walked over to them. "How's it going?" he asked.

They both jumped, startled by his sudden appearance.

"Don't do that!" Terra said. "You're going to kill poor Sam with fright, and then we'll never get his backup."

"Oh, I think he's made of more robust stuff than that, aren't you, Sammy?" Sam 6.7 teased.

"World probably wouldn't care if I didn't get backed up," Sam 23.1 said flatly.

"I just thought I'd let you know that we're going to have company fairly soon, I don't know how long I can keep them out of this room. But I'll try my best," Sam 6.7 promised.

"Well, your machine needs to be faster," Terra said.

"It makes better scans than the old machines, much better technology. It takes a little longer, but it's worth it. Now I forgot to ask earlier, but does one of you have the backup cube of Quig Oberman? In all the excitement it slipped my mind," the projection asked with a concerned look on his face.

"Yeah, I got it." Sam 23.1 reached for his suit pouch and fished around until he found the small box. He held it out to Sam 6.7, but the projection waved him off.

"Don't give it to me. Just drop it in that square hole there on top of the console. I'll copy the information to the ark with the rest of them."

Sam 23.1 looked at the projection skeptically and then turned and dropped the cube into the hole on the backup machine.

Sam 6.7 had a look of intense concentration for the next minute, and then he looked back at them. "Good, that'll do. Oh, they've made it into the landing cavern. I've got to go." The projection's image flickered and then disappeared, only to reappear in statue mode back in the center of the room.

"Strange guy," Terra said. "He didn't used to be like that."

Sam 23.1 snickered. "You're telling me. I am that guy, kind of."

"Let's just hope he can stall them until your backup is made."

"Yeah." Sam wondered if he were needed here at all. It seemed his other version had accomplished, or was about to accomplish, all his life's goals. What would he do? How could he measure up to that?

### Chapter 56

The hole that the explosion opened on the surface was gaping, and satisfying. Finally he was going to get some action. Dawson was perched on the edge of his restraint chair as the launch slowly began to thrust towards the opening. They could see the shaft extend for at least a hundred meters in to blackness. The launch's radar wasn't giving them a clear reading either because much of the signal wasn't returning. It couldn't be much deeper than it appeared, but there was no way to know except to go in. The Marines were still attached to the skin of the launch, so Bowman was maneuvering slowly to ensure they didn't scrape one up against the walls of the shaft.

Once they were aligned correctly, the launch accelerated a little and Bowman activated the forward lights so he would be able to see any obstacles.

"Hold tight, Lt. Madison. We're going in."

"Affirmative," came her short reply.

The launch continued until the light disappeared off the walls of the tube and they entered the huge cavern.

"Slowing," Bowman said as the launch slowed and hovered in the center of the space just below the entrance tube.

"Marines, make sure we're alone here, and try to figure out where we go now," Dawson directed.

Dawson could see Lt. Madison's perspective through a window he had open in his displays. She was dropping, or thrusting rapidly to the surface that was above the bow of the launch. After several seconds Madison came over the com link.

"There's simulated gravity here," she said as the Marines dropped quickly to the surface with a slight thud.

In the Madison perspective window he could see her trying to move any direction, but she had become stuck in the fog that was obviously going to hold them firm from moving...another self defense mechanism. "We're stuck here. Use your EMP guns," she ordered her troops. "And watch your fire," she added to make sure none of them accidentally fried their comrades. A second later she was moving.

"The EMP weapons are effective against the fog. We're working our way towards that wall," she said, pointing. "Do us a favor and fire an EMP charge in that direction, please."

Bowman fiddled with some controls and a charge flew towards the wall Madison had indicated. "It's detonated," he reported.

"Good, we're having an easier time now. That must have been the direction the commands were coming from. You can set down now."

Bowman punched at a few more controls, and the launch flipped over and thrusted gently towards the surface. "There are a few other ships here, but none of them look active," he commented as they set down.

"They're not important right now." Dawson was paying attention to the Marine's progress. "Let's get after them. I don't want to miss anything."

They both took the lift column down to the cargo hold and, after activating their space suit helmets, opened the airlock.

Bowman began to drift outward from the hatch. "The simulated G is gone. We need the maneuvering packs. Grab them, Dawson. They're right next to the door."

Dawson looked around near the door and saw the backpack like objects attached to the wall. He grabbed one and tossed it to Bowman who quickly strapped it on.

Seconds later Bowman was maneuvering back to the hatch. "Thanks."

Dawson slipped on the pack and had his companion interface with it through the space suit so he could control it. Displays popped up showing his amount of propellant and power. He took a small thrust forward out the hatch. "Let's go."

Bowman didn't comment but turned and began to thrust after the Marines. In his displays Dawson could still see from Madison's perspective. The Marines had made it to the wall and were examining a very black opening.

"What is it?" Dawson asked the Marine.

"Some kind of fog barrier, probably an airlock, but we're not taking chances after what happened. I'm having an EMP charge set on it to knock it out," Madison replied.

Bowman and Dawson continued to thrust towards them. There was a brief burst of light as the charge detonated and there was a woosh from the now open airlock as some of the atmosphere came rapidly exiting into the cavern.

The Marines fired several shots from their guns to clear any fog in front of them and then proceeded through the opening. Dawson and Bowman made sure to stay well behind them as they had no shielding against any kind of EMP, which would cause their space suits to stop functioning.

Firing occasionally, the Marines made their way down to the next black barrier, which they dispatched just as easily. This time there was a rushing that lasted a full minute as large amounts of air evacuated from the pressurized section beyond. Dawson and Bowman had to grab onto one of the handles on the wall to keep from being swept back out into the cavern. Once again the Marines proceeded.

They continued to follow the largest of the corridors because the sensors indicated it had recently been used by someone. It took them five more minutes to reach the big door. The Marines were studying the door intently when Dawson and Bowman came up behind them.

"Well?" Dawson asked.

"We're not sure. It's definitely some kind of fog system, but our sensors say that it's much more robust than the last, much more solid. I'm in favor of blasting it." Madison, motioned for them to step back around the corner.

"We don't want to depressurize this section," Dawson said. "I'm sure this is our destination, and I'd rather not kill Storm before we have him captured.

"Right," Madison agreed. Then she turned to Corporal Halewell, the systems specialist. "Can you break into the system and hack the door?"

"Sure," Halewell replied confidently. "In my sleep."

### Chapter 57

Sam had just gotten out of the backup machine and was being helped back to his feet when the projection of his other version became animated again.

Sam 6.7's projection pointed at the door. "We have visitors. They're trying to hack the system right now."

"Can you keep them out?" Terra asked.

"Oh, I can keep them from hacking the system. They're no match for me and my SS systems, but they'll just blow up the door otherwise. Besides, I doubt we'll be walking out of this room anyway, so why not just let them in."

"I don't really want to die," Jeff said. "You know why."

"There really isn't much choice. I won't let them have you," Sam 6.7 pointed out.

"Then let them come. We won't remember any of this anyway," Sam 23.1 said.

***

The door became transparent and a person sized opening appeared. Miraculously, no air spewed forth as it happened.

"Good work," Madison said, clapping Halewell on the back.

"It wasn't me. I hadn't even accessed the door's system yet," Halewell responded, sounded puzzled.

"Come on in," a voice came over the general com frequency. "Not much point in resistance now."

Dawson took a step forward, but Madison blocked his path. "It's a trap, Agent Dawson."

"I know, but we have to go in."

"Fire an EMP charge in there," she ordered.

"Belay that order," Dawson said. "We're going in. We don't want to damage the equipment in there. It looks like a central command room, and I'd like to get be able to get at it."

"Marines, move out. Disable anything that moves," she ordered.

The Marines poured through the doorway. Dawson followed behind them. The Marines were cloaked, but they glowed red as the fog in the room made sure that they couldn't hide. Dawson saw the large screens and the consoles but then across the room he saw them, four of them. He recognized them all.

"Sam 6.7, you're under arrest. Come peacefully with us," Dawson said over the general com frequency.

The Marines were already moving towards the three Newbies and the Martian with their weapons drawn. The Marines deactivated their camouflage and pointed their weapons menacingly. Dawson began to walk up towards them.

"I'm afraid we haven't been introduced," Dawson said with the glow of triumph in his voice. "I'm Special Agent Jim Dawson, with the FBI. You are all under arrest."

Sam 6.7 stepped forward in response to Dawson's statement but the suited figures with guns gestured for him to stop. "Well, Agent Dawson, you've come a long way for me. Now why am I under arrest?"

"You made the virus that killed three thousand. Are you going to deny it?" Dawson asked.

"Yes, I haven't killed any one. My virus simply removed the old backups of my colleagues and myself so your government couldn't restore them for any reason. The deaths are not on my hands," Sam 6.7 spoke.

"He's right, Dawson," Terra confirmed. "The code for the virus is here. It's not designed to delete any noncorporeal versions. Damon Harding did that one."

"What are you talking about?" Dawson turned to Terra. "He's just trying to pull the wool over your eyes. You can't be serious. Besides there are other charges. Like the possession of somewhere near a hundred kilograms of antimatter that you're planning to use as a weapon of mass destruction and theft of unlimited assemblers from the LNRC."

"Well, those two are certainly true, Sam 6.7 admitted. "Except for the part about the weapon of mass destruction. That's not what the stuff is for."

"And what is it for then?" Dawson noticed that Sam 6.7 looked a little strange but couldn't put his finger on just what the problem was. Something fishy was definitely going.

"To power an interstellar starship," Sam 6.7 said, with a great degree of earnestness.

Dawson just stared at him dumbfounded. "You have to think I'm an idiot to spin stories like that," Dawson said.

"No it's true. A number of others and I are leaving this solar system. We're tired of this one and of you Primers."

"Look, NEWBIE!!! You're not going anywhere, and as far as I'm concerned they can level Denver and every one in it," Dawson said vehemently. "You're not going anywhere and neither are your friends. I know you've got some new tricks up your sleeve. We saw that ship, but they're not going to help you now."

"Oh, you want tricks," Sam 6.7 said and disappeared.

The Marines grabbed Terra, Jeff, and Sam, and the others looked around quickly until they saw Sam 6.7 standing in the middle of the room. Dawson swiveled around to stare at him.

"Get him," Dawson ordered the Marines.

They moved quickly using the augmented speed provided by their suits to get to where Sam 6.7 was now located. When they arrived, he disappeared again to appear even farther away. Dawson could hear Terra and Jeff laughing, but Sam 23.1 was strangely quiet. The Marines chased after him again, but the figure vanished once more to appear right by Dawson. One of the Marine that had stayed to guard the others reached out to grab him but his hand passed through the figure.

"Haven't you figured it out by now, Agent Dawson? I'm not really here at the moment. This is just a fog projection."

"You're nearby somewhere. You couldn't control this puppet if you weren't," Dawson said, the rage showing in his face for having been tricked. "Give me your pistol," Dawson ordered one of the other Marines who had just returned. He was handed a pistol, which he then pointed at Jeff.

"If you're not in this room in five minutes, Mr. Hughes here gets a mouthful, and I know personally that he has no version left in the restoration facility," Dawson threatened. "If that doesn't convince you, the other two will follow."

"Not very sporting of you Agent Dawson," the projection taunted. "That's quite a threat against someone who allegedly has a hundred kilos of antimatter at his disposal. If you fire on them, the whole place will be nothing but space dust."

"And kill your own friends...and yourself...I don't think so," Dawson said. Without another word he squeezed the trigger, and Jeff staggered backwards falling to the ground. Terra and Sam 23.1 struggled towards their friend, expecting the worst, but discovered to their relief that he had only been hit in the shoulder.

"I'm okay," Jeff gasped to reassure them, fighting the pain.

"Couldn't do it could you?" Sam 23.1 looked up at Dawson. I never thought of you as a killer, not like Damon Harding."

The comment from Sam reminded Dawson that he would still have to answer to Damon Harding. Sam was right. Dawson knew he couldn't kill anyone, not in cold blood, not when he knew there was no backup. But he could use them to force Sam 6.7's hand if he were to accomplish his high priority mission.

"No, I couldn't do that to Mr. Hughes-that would be murder," Dawson pointed the gun at Terra, "but I can inflict a great amount of pain. As long as they're alive, I can still back them up on the Powel." Dawson pulled the trigger again, this time hitting Terra in the leg. "Surrender now and I promise I'll back them up. Jeff and Terra may still be alive now, but they're losing a lot of blood. I doubt they'll survive for long."

"Now you're breaking your own laws, Agent Dawson," Sam 6.7 said sadly.

"Bending perhaps, but no one will care when they know what you've done and what you're capable of doing. Come here now and leave with me peaceably or their deaths will be by your hands."

"I'm sorry. I can't do that. But you've already given me time for what I needed to do," Sam 6.7 said.

"What?" Dawson asked.

"I simply needed time to get my ship far enough away to keep it from being damaged in the explosion. I hope you've had a recent backup as my friends have had. If you follow standard Fleet protocols, you have nothing to worry about," Sam said with a smile. "Your captain has already launched the buoy which should now be safely out of the way. Sorry to have deceived you, Agent Dawson. I don't think we'll be meeting again."

The projection flickered and was gone. Dawson howled angrily and then fired a shot at the space the projection had occupied moments ago.

"Get back here, Storm!!! I'll kill them all. You don't think I know when you're bluffing," he threatened, but Sam 6.7 knew now that he wouldn't, and he wouldn't let them die either despite his earlier threat.

Sam 23.1 moved to grab Terra who was now lying on the floor in great pain holding her leg with her hands.

"He's not bluffing," Sam 23.1 said.

"How do you know that?"

"I wouldn't be," Sam 23.1 replied. Then the room exploded making the whole conversation moot.

### Chapter 58

Captain Janet Whetherstone was relieved, to say the least, when the engineers and damage control teams down on the Engineering deck reported that they had the antimatter contained for the moment. For the last half hour, since they'd been disabled by the attack from the object, she had considered giving the order to abandon ship. All but the most essential crew had been briefly dispatched to sit in the lifeboats just in case things took a turn for the worse. Fortunately, the buoy had already made it far enough away that they weren't in danger of losing their backups, just the ship.

The Powel had sustained massive damage; that was clear. The attacks from the surface wouldn't have caused nearly as much damage if the enemy hadn't had such a large supply of antimatter to throw at them. There wasn't much one could do to defend against it. She hadn't heard any reports from Lt. Commander Bowman or from Agent Dawson in some time, not since they had entered the object.

The COM officer motioned for her attention as she was staring at the tactical display that was still up on the bridge. Hopefully the object had given up all it had and they were safe because they couldn't maneuver on more than just limited thrusters until they were rescued or managed to repair the engines, which she doubted was possible.

"What is it, Orus?" she asked the young officer. The girl was holding up well under the pressure of the recent events, and she was doing well in her rotation to COM from NAV. The Captain made a mental note to put her in for a commendation.

"We have The Golden Rule on. They're still four hours away, so there's still some delay," Orus informed her.

"Put it on," the Captain ordered.

"Captain, this is The Golden Rule. Report, please?" Damon Harding's voice came over the channel. It repeated over and over due to the time delay, waiting for a response.

"Mr. Harding, we've sustained heavy damage assaulting the Kupier object but have managed to disable its defenses. About ten minutes ago Agent Dawson, along with his contingent of Marines, entered the object, I haven't heard any thing from them since," she reported.

Harding's response took two minutes. "What is the extent of the Powel's damage?"

"We've lost our antimatter reaction chamber. We almost lost containment of our antimatter supply. That's been stabilized now, but we're operating on reserve power and minimal thrusters. We require immediate evacuation until the Powel can be repaired."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Captain. I'll be there in about three hours and fifty minutes. Can you hold out that long? If you receive anything from Agent Dawson, you're to relay it to me immediately," Harding replied. She couldn't tell if he was sincere.

"We can certainly hold out that long. We've launched our buoy on the following vector, just in case. We still have had no report from the surface team," she said, having the buoy's vector transmitted with her message.

"Understood, it's coming my way. I'll just let it go, and we can pick it up on our way back," Damon replied.

While she was listening, she noticed the images from the probes on the far side of the object turn to white static. "What's going on with the probes?" she asked.

"It appears that they've been destroyed," the Tactical Officer reported.

"By what?"

"Surface laser or something. Our sensors aren't functioning well enough for us to get a positive confirmation of that," Tactical responded.

"Nav, make sure we stay on this side of the object, I don't want move in to range of any active weapons."

"Mr. Harding, we've just lost our probes that are on the far side of the object, apparently due to some type of attack. This region may not be safe. You should hold distant. We can't assure your safety." She waited as the minutes ticked off.

"Affirmative, is there any kind of activity you can detect on the far side?" Harding asked.

"Our sensors are damaged. We can't see much at the moment," the Captain responded.

"Captain, Engineering reports that we have containment at a hundred percent in the backup unit. We're out of that danger now. We can have our auxiliary antimatter reactor started in a half hour," Lt. Commander Smith reported. He was filling in for Bowman while he was away. The Powel carried a small antimatter generator that with some rigging could provide them with power and some maneuvering, along with limited weapons and defenses. It had been somewhat damaged in the attack as well but not nearly as severely as the main reactor.

"Excellent. Mr. Harding, it appears we will have our auxiliary generator running in a half hour. However, we are still running low on fuel. We will probably be able to limp away and at least get out of range."

Two minutes later the response came back. "Negative, Captain. You're to remain where you are until the surface team reports or returns. I'm still coming, and I'll refuel you."

She hadn't expected anything different. She wouldn't leave without the surface team anyway, unless they had no choice. Not that they were going anywhere at the moment, but in about twenty five minutes they'd at least be able to power up again and get some of the systems running that were down, including a number of the SS systems. The SS systems were great as long as you had sufficient power, but without that precious commodity they were just lumps of carbon.

Ten more minutes passed, and then Orus pointed towards the screen with a look of horror on her face. "My god!" she got out.

The Captain looked from the tactical to the main viewer in which the object had been plainly visible, its dirty brown standing out against the black background. But now the surface was erupting in hot white light, huge fragments moving towards them. There was no time.

"It's exploding! Get us out of here, Nav!" the Captain ordered futilely.

They were too close. The Powel was doomed. The Captain wondered how much antimatter that explosion represented briefly and managed to wonder what her restored version would think when she woke up back on Earth, having lost her ship. She wouldn't remember anything past breakfast this morning, before they'd arrived.

The wave of flaming debris swept over the Powel, cracking the ship like an egg. Then seconds later a secondary antimatter explosion was unleashed as the backup containment unit on the Powel succumbed to the awesome force. Briefly it appeared as if there were a new sun, then the darkness of space returned.

***

Harding was on the bridge of The Golden Rule when the Captains final words came over the speaker. "It's exploding! Get us out of here, Nav!" the Captain shouted and then there was static. Damon had Julia, his companion, break the connection.

"Get the sensors on line. I want to know what happened," Damon ordered the SS systems of The Golden Rule. The viewers and the central three-D display began to show information to him. The bright light of an explosion arrived with the final words. Then a second later a second explosion, not quite as bright as the first. The sensors combed through the heavy particle flux that came at them a few minutes later. The SS system drew a simple conclusion: antimatter reaction on a large scale.

Damon already knew what it was. He knew that the Powel had about a half kilogram on board, and judging by the intensity of the first explosion, at least two or three times that much had detonated before. The surface team was certainly lost, and that infuriated Damon. But on the other hand, his problems were now over. The troublesome three and the perpetrator of the virus attack-the only one that could reveal his involvement in the murders-were gone.

It hadn't ended as he would have liked, but it certainly solved some problems he hadn't wanted to deal with. He continued to scan as the brightness slowly faded. Harding ordered The Golden Rule to slow and set course to pick up the buoy. It would undoubtedly contain a lot of useful information. It was too bad Agent Dawson hadn't been able to uplink his activities on the surface, the bug implanted in Sam 6.7 didn't have the power to reach him at his distance. Damon desperately wanted to know what had transpired there.

After The Golden Rule had changed directions and was approaching the buoy, the SS system informed him that it was seeing an infra-red signature very much like the one seen on the strange ship at Europa. Dawson brought it up on the screen. It was the same signature, all right, but much larger. Dawson had the SS system compute the object's speed and heading.

"The craft is accelerating a one hundred g's," the SS system reported. "It is approximately half the mass of this vessel."

Damon crashed his fist on the armrest of his chair. "Damn them! The explosion was just a cover for their escape." But that wasn't the worst of it. That ship could be carrying all the things he feared. The three of them, Storm 6.7, a large amount of antimatter and uncontrolled nanotechnology and any technology derived there from. The problem Damon had been so glad was solved only minutes ago was now rearing its ugly head, and it had a bite. He couldn't catch that ship. He couldn't even come close...but it had to be stopped before it could deliver any of those feared things. Or worse, prove he'd been involved in the deaths back on Earth.

_Julia, have the ship pick up the Powel's buoy and set course for Earth, at maximum acceleration. I'll ride it out in my acceleration bed. Send word to the Fleet when we're in range. They're to mobilize, I'll explain their mission when we arrive._ Damon ordered.

Of course, Damon. The SS system informs me that the acceleration and direction of the vessel will take it out of this solar system.

That was a glimmer of hope. Perhaps they would just leave. Perhaps the problem would solve itself. If they never returned...and by the time they did, he could probably have had his labs figure out the trick of that propulsion system. Maybe there would be time.

Julia, belay that order to have the fleet mobilized. We will still head back at full acceleration, and have the SS system monitor that vessel. If it makes any course change to return to this system, send the mobilization orders.

Of course. We will intercept the buoy in two hours and fifteen minutes.

Damon sat back in his chair, relieved. Perhaps this wouldn't be the disaster he'd expected. He would come out on top. He always did, and as long as he was the only one who could build the machines, he always would be.

### Chapter 59

Terra felt a strange sensation as she began to return to consciousness. She wondered if the stupid backup was done yet in this new machine that Sam 6.7 had invented. It was really quite annoying. The new backup system didn't let you see anything that was going on around you. It wasn't open air like the other machines that she had always used for a backup. She kept her eyes closed so she wouldn't have to look at the half cylinder door that covered her as she lay on the bed being scanned.

There wasn't even any audio to comfort her and let her know how much time was left. _Plato, how much time has elapsed?_ she queried, but Plato was silent, which immediately concerned her. She should have access to her companion at all times even during a backup procedure. She tried again.

_Yes, Terra, I am here,_ Plato responded this time. _I am functioning within normal parameters. I will now calibrate your displays. Please stand by._

_What? Why are you doing that? We're only being backed up?_ she asked.

What was this machine doing? Somehow it had caused her companion to be reset. She was going to have to have a word with Sam 6.7 when this was all over. She hoped that while she was wasting this time the Powel crew and Agent Dawson hadn't penetrated Sam's hideout. If this machine took too long, the others wouldn't get a chance to have their backups and then they could be lost. Jeff had no other version on Earth to be restored, the Virus and Damon Harding had apparently taken care of that one. And Sam 23.1, he'd never had a backup either after being restored. He would disappear from this universe. The unique identity branch that he represented of Sam Storm would be lost forever.

The lines and colors began to form in her displays. Somehow they seemed more vivid than before, different but she couldn't pin down the difference exactly. Maybe it had something to do with this new scanning system that made the backup. _Experimental technology. We were fools to trust Sam 6.7 and his new backup machine._ Terra had held high hopes that this technology would free her planet and the solar system from Harding and his puppet government. Maybe the space drive would make up for that and turn the tables. Terra didn't like the thought of a military action to force the technology of restoration to be given freely, but that might be the only option.

Terra thought hard about the problem for a few minutes while her displays reinitialized. She would need antimatter. Maybe if they could wait another five years they could collect another secret fifty kilograms. That would be enough to make a difference, but she couldn't think how they could get it. Mars didn't have that large a supply. Maybe they could take it from the refueling depot for the Fleet on Phobos Station. It would require thought.

_Displays recalibrated. I am now operating within normal parameters,_ Plato informed her.

A click came from the half cylinder cover, and Terra opened her eyes. She watched the cover open over her to reveal a scene that was much different from the one she had left minutes ago, which confused her. _What the hell's going on here? Is this some kind of fog illusion?_ She asked herself as she sat up and began to have a look around. Then she realized that she was naked.

Nudity didn't bother her that much, but she'd gone into the machine wearing clothing, and now she had none. What kind of machine was this? She looked around at her new surroundings, trying to figure out if there were something to wear, not that the temperature was uncomfortable.

The room was sizeable. It had two other restoration machines with the lids closed on one side. On the other there was some couches and a table with chairs and a screen that showed the stars outside. She was in a circular room about ten meters across. She didn't see any doors or anything near by. She glanced upward and saw the ceiling which had no openings. She didn't see any openings on the floor either. Whatever was going on, she wasn't meant to leave the room at the moment.

She looked back at the machine from which she had just stepped. The realization was dawning on her that she might not be the same her that she was when she'd entered the backup machine. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed that she'd just been restored. She didn't notice a difference in her appearance because she'd only been restored a few short weeks ago. Next to the chamber from which she'd emerged was a small door that was flashing on the side of the machine. She reached for the handle and pulled. Inside she found clothing. It was a green one piece jump suit that had a large slit going down the chest. It even had built in feet coverings. She slipped into the thing hoping that it would fit, and to her surprise it fit like a glove.

The suit had probably been manufactured for her specific measurements for when she emerged from the machine. Examining the slit to see how it fastened, she didn't find any zippers or buttons or even snaps. She pushed the two edges together, and as she did they melted together seamlessly. Continuing until she reached the collar, she soon found the seam was gone altogether. She smiled and wondered how she would tell it to open back up later.

She was sure she'd been restored now. This place was too different and the circumstances were just too bizarre, the clothing, the machines, and the room. _How long?_ she wondered. _How did the situation sort itself out?_ She didn't know, but she wanted answers. The whole process of the restoration had been much more pleasant than any she'd known before, however. There was no neural calibration, no trying to move every muscle. She'd emerged and had no difficulty with any of that. She felt great, not even disoriented or mentally fuzzy at all as she usually did. Apparently, Sam had done a better job than she'd given him credit for in designing this machine. It did work, and that meant that everything would change.

Just then the middle restoration machine's chamber opened, and Jeff sat up. He sat up slowly with his eyes still closed. Terra used this opportunity to check him out, considering he was in the buff. He looked so young now and fit. No trace of the extra weight or slightly balding head that she'd become so used to. He was a young man again. She wondered if he would mind this transformation, given his Newbie code to grow old and die naturally rather than be restored or pure vanity.

She walked over to him, and he opened his eyes, looking about in the new surroundings. "Terra, what happened to the control room? What's going on?" He apparently hadn't figured it out yet.

"We're not in Kansas any more, Toto. You've been restored, and I have no idea where we are."

"What? Is this what restoration is supposed to feel like?" he asked, looking about and then noticing that he wasn't wearing anything. He covered himself with a little flush of red in his cheeks.

"Here," Terra said, opening the door to the little flashing compartment door that was next to his restoration bed. She handed him the jumpsuit, identical to hers except that it was obviously bigger and made for a man. He took it gratefully, and Terra turned away while he got out of the machine and put on the jump suit.

"How does this thing close?" he asked.

Terra turned to look at him and she laughed a little at the sight of him in the jump suit with the large v shape slit going from his neck down to his waist. She grabbed the two sides and pushed them together. They sealed just like hers had.

"Normally restoration isn't nearly as pleasant as this." Terra answered the question he'd asked a few moments ago.

"I hadn't thought it was. Apparently Sam's done a better job than Damon Harding and Second Chance." Jeff smiled with obvious Newbie pride. Then he turned to her. "I can hear my companion!" he exclaimed. "I've got implants now. This is great. The displays are so much more vivid than the glasses." He was moving his hands in front of his eyes, which were filled with awe. "If I'd know it'd be this good, I would've dissoluted long ago. No wonder Sam was always so much better than the rest of us after he got his implants when we were just kids."

The third chamber picked that moment to click and open. Sam 23.1 sat up immediately with his eyes open, looking about, trying to figure out what was going on.

"It's all right, Sam. We've been restored. There is some clothing in that little compartment next to your chamber." Terra pointed. Sam apparently was fine with his nudity as he gave her a brief "Thanks" and hopped off the bed opening the door.

"So where are we?" Sam asked, pulling on the suit and making the V fasten as if it were something he wore every day.

"Have you worn one of those before?" Jeff asked him as he watched Sam put the suit on.

"No, but I've wanted clothing that did this since I was a kid. I always thought it'd be so diff, so it's no surprise that Sam 6.7's actually made it happen, just like everything else I wanted to do."

"We don't know where we are, obviously on a ship somewhere. But I have no idea where the ship is," Terra commented. They all wandered away from the machines and noticed that the table was now fully set with service for four. There were even candles burning.

"I guess we're supposed to have dinner." Jeff shrugged and walked to the table. "Now that I think about it, I am hungry."

Terra's belly gave out a growl that they could all hear, and she smirked. "Me, too. I guess Sam hasn't done away with that part of the restoration process. I always thought it was nice to have a good meal afterwards, kind of get reacquainted with your own body."

"Well said," a new voice commented. It was Sam 6.7, who had appeared behind them and was walking towards the table.

"Well, Sam, where are we?" Sam 23.1 asked his projected other-self. At least he presumed it was a projection.

"All in good time. Have a seat, and eat something. You must be hungry and we're as safe as can be at the moment." Sam 6.7 took one of the seats.

Each plate was already loaded with food. It looked like turkey, stuffing and mashed potatoes. Sam 6.7 started in on the potatoes with fervor. The other sat down and picked up their forks to sample the cuisine.

"Is this real?" Terra asked, lifting some turkey and staring at it to see if it was pixelated. "It wasn't here when I woke up."

"Yes, it's the real thing...well synth-meat anyway. You didn't notice it because it hadn't been delivered yet. And no, Sam, my food isn't real but I can taste it just the same even if it is a simulation. Even though my brain is nanotronic, it emulates a human brain, and so I have the need to do everything you do still just to keep happy. I find that it's more of a comfort even if it is just simulated food and taste."

Terra took a bite. It was good. She took a second. "Well, it tastes great to me," she said.

Jeff and Sam 23.1 set in on their servings as well. They all munched and gulped and drank the juice cocktail that had been set before them. They were all so famished that there was absolutely no conversation until every one had eaten their fill.

Once everyone had finished, Sam 6.7 spoke up.

"You have been restored, and you probably don't remember anything more than getting in to the machine to have your backup made so I'll fill you in on what happened. Just after Sam 23.1 had emerged from his backup, the control center was breached by Agent Dawson and a number of armed commandoes in full battle armor. They immediately took you hostage," he began. A screen appeared above the table with the scene that he had just described. As Sam 6.7 described the events, they were played back on the screen. Then the video stopped.

"Now things get unpleasant because Agent Dawson, having discovered that I was not really there threatened to kill you all to get me to deliver my physical self. I told him that wasn't possible. Apparently he couldn't carry through on the threat so he shot Jeff in the shoulder. Then he shot you, Terra, in the leg when I still wouldn't give up. That's what you missed. But that's not all that went on. I really wanted to save you intact, but I knew that when the Powel showed up that wasn't going to happen. As each of you completed your backup, I uploaded it to this ship, which is a smaller craft mated with my interstellar ark. I used that whole time as a diversion to launch the ark from the far side of the base, where the Powel couldn't see. I began to accelerate at a hundred g's which I don't have to tell you would have killed you all instantly had you been other than bits in a backup buffer.

"Once the ark was far enough away to be out of danger, I detonated three kilograms of antimatter that'd I'd kept around for just such an occasion. There are a number of secrets that could be discovered from the base and I preferred to control who gets that information and when. Unfortunately, the Powel had already taken heavy damage from my surface defenses, which were not by the way designed to hold off a ship of that power for very long anyway. But I got in a lucky shot and hit their antimatter reactor and also managed to hit their antimatter containment system."

"The containment system didn't collapse, so it didn't just detonate. They must have been repairing because they didn't use their life boats although they did launch some kind of pod before the battle began. I assume the pod has backups of the crew and all the logs aboard. The explosion of the base destroyed whatever jury-rigged containment system they'd setup, however, and their antimatter went as well. It was a fairly spectacular explosion, and it took your physical selves with it, along with Agent Dawson and his commandos."

"We accelerated away at a hundred g's for about five hours and then I slowed to one g so I could initiate your restorations, about ten hours ago," Sam 6.7 finished.

"Your system only takes ten hours? How's that possible?" Terra asked.

"It doesn't first grow a clone. It builds your body the same way it restructures your neural pathways to make sure you are exactly who you were at the backup," Sam 6.7 explained.

"So you store the entire body's pattern, not just the brain?" Jeff asked.

"No, not exactly. I use your DNA, and my program extrapolates it and then begins to build you much like your own body builds itself, only the process is super accelerated and in parallel. It takes nine hours for it to finish that stage and then it does the neural patterning and implant integration. You'll all be happy to know that your implants are much improved over your previous versions. They are now equivalent to what we are giving the young Newbies back in Denver, a much deeper interface. You'll notice the difference pretty quickly, and it will make you much faster at all those companion enhanced tasks."

"So we're not being pursued at all," Terra said, still amazed at this new restoration technology.

"No, not at the moment. Remember we expel no propellant so we can move much more quickly with our reduced mass. The space drive ensures that. Even if we were being followed, we'd never be caught with our capability. Not that I can go that fast with you all in the flesh, but we could certainly beat them. Both the ark, and this ship are equipped with weaponry so we could defend ourselves if necessary."

"Oh, I found out why Agent Dawson was able to follow you so easily," Sam 6.7 said with a frown. "Apparently Sam's companion had been bugged. It was sending coded information. I don't know what the extent of the information was, but I'm sure it was some kind of visual stream, probably what you were seeing and hearing, Sam."

"So that's how they did it. And that's why we couldn't detect it," Terra said, turning to look at Sam 23.1 who was frowning as well.

"It must have been done when you were restored. The modifications to your companion were certainly made during that time. Probably Damon Harding hard at work to take away even more liberties, wanting to become big brother," Sam 6.7 commented.

"But the violation of people's right to privacy. He'd be toppled in a week if it ever got out," Jeff said, horror stricken.

The violation was so personal in this age of information overload. People couldn't do much of anything without being watched and observed by SS systems in public, but to do that in private was unspeakable.

"No doubt, but if you'll remember, the proof was completely destroyed along with Sam's old self. I've made sure you don't suffer that same violation now. Your companion is completely secure now, or at least as secure as it can be," Sam 6.7 promised.

"Good. I can't believe it. I just wanted to help, but I was harming the whole time. That means they know about who was involved in the antimatter thing." The full violation of what had been done was just dawning on him.

"Don't worry. I'm sure no one but Damon Harding and Agent Dawson know about this. No one else would keep it private, certainly not Fleet," Sam 6.7 reassured him.

"And Sam, I'm sure Thurman Conrad made it to safe hiding along with the others that helped. They're should be safe for now. Don't worry, the damage could have been worse after all we've lived through, the whole thing. Damon Harding and his lackeys didn't win." Terra consoled her traveling companion.

Sam 23.1 smiled. "I guess. We did make it, didn't we?"

"And we never could have gotten here without you, bugged or not," Jeff said.

"No, you couldn't have," Sam 6.7 confirmed. "You needed him."

"So what now?" Terra eyed the restoration machines, knowing that they would change everything.

"Now," Sam 6.7 said, "we have some decisions to make and I have some debts to pay. The ark is leaving this solar system directly, and unless you care to come with me some of you will have to leave. I'm giving you this smaller ship. It is a space drive equipped with no rocket propulsion of any sort. The ship you were on before was one of our early prototypes that needed the rocket as a backup, but this ship has no need of that at all."

"Well, it certainly is amazing," Terra admitted. "But I'm more interested in that little number over there." She pointed to one of the restoration machines.

"Ah, Terra, you always do cut to the chase, don't you? Yes, the restoration technology will be yours to bring back to Mars. But you have to promise me something...that you will distribute the technology as widely as possible about the solar system. I've made it very simple to do so, so it won't take a whole lot of effort on your part. Let me explain how it will work." Sam 6.7 stood up and led them over to the nearest restoration machine.

"First, let me tell you that this technology uses uncontrolled assemblers, so it is somewhat dangerous in that respect, but I assure you that it's for good reason. Do you see these pods hanging down underneath the restoration bed. These are for all intents and purposes restoration machine seed pods." He reached for and pulled the pod off of the machine with a pop. "See how the pod has this display. It actually has a fairly sophisticated SS system that you can interface with. It will tell you how to set it up so it can grow...yes, I said grow...into a full machine. You will need to hook up tubes with certain bulk supplies, carbon, silicon, et cetera. It will process these raw materials, and the machine will grow itself into its full form, complete with two more pods. Once you pull a pod off, it will re-grow another in about ten hours, provided it has the proper bulk material feeds."

"To restore someone it also needs the bulk materials to build your body, so it needs the same stuff that your body is made of. The SS system will monitor its supplies and figure out how best to utilize them. Should you want to dissolute or go noncorporeal, the machine can also take your old body apart into its constituent materials, which can be utilized later to restore someone else. Since it uses a fog matrix inside the bed, it can restore you in any gravity, or lack there of. It will work on spacecraft, planets, deep space or anywhere else you can think of," Sam 6.7 explained.

Terra's jaw was dropping. It was a radical departure from the machines that she was used to, and the method of propagation of the technology was ingenious. "That's incredible. So all I have to do is pull a pod off, make sure it has the right power and bulk material feeds, and it will grow into a machine with more pods. Fully functional."

"That's right. Now the bad news. I had to use unlimited assemblers so that the machine could grow the way it needed to. It could be done without, but it would have taken a number of more years of development. That means that if someone pulls this thing apart, they'll have unlimited assemblers to play with. Nanotechnology has also been controlled by Damon Harding, to the detriment of most of the human species on and off Earth," Sam blasted, slamming his fist on the console of the machine.

"I agree that safety precautions have to be taken, but I also think that the rules, as stringent as they are now, are hurting more than helping. So now everyone will have a level playing field. Granted these assemblers can't live outside the machine, but they could be used to build some that could. It will happen...expect it. I don't advertise their presence in the machine; the SS system won't mention them. But they are there, and the SS system can access them. Given proper instructions, the assembler will build things other than human bodies, so be warned," Sam told them seriously.

Terra just nodded, considering the possibilities. Sam 23.1 was smiling.

"Sam, what's so amusing?" Terra asked him.

"Nothing, it's just that he's accomplished everything that I aspired to do. And I'm glad, don't get me wrong, but now I wonder what I should do. I guess I'm not really Sam Storm any more. I'm Gregory Hillman, and I better get used to it."

"I'm sorry, Sam. I can't say I know what it feels like to be you. But I have something special for you too, if you decide to stay. I would love it if you and Jeff, and even Terra would come with me on this journey. You'll see things and face challenges never dreamed of here. You don't have to come exclusively. You can just give me a backup and continue on here with the knowledge that part of you is out there," Sam 6.7 offered warmly. "If none of you decide to come, I'll understand, but I will miss you."

"I'll go," Jeff said succinctly. "After all that's happened, and all that's going to happen because of your technologies, I don't think I want to be here. They'll probably arrest me if I stay, or I'll end up fighting a war I never wanted to see, that I worked hard to prevent by maintaining the status quo. But it's coming, and I don't want to be here when it happens." he explained.

"I'm staying...exclusively," Terra decided. "My commitments and responsibilities are here. I can't back out on them. And I know if I send a version of myself with you, she will always wonder what she could have done here. I can't do that to her. I have to go back."

Sam 6.7 nodded with a little sadness in his eyes. "I understand. I didn't think you'd come with me, but I had to try." Sam 6.7 turned to his younger version. "Sam, you can come with me if you like. I know the idea appeals to you."

"And what place would there be for me where you're going? I'd always be overshadowed by you and your accomplishments. And I'd always be forced to live up to expectations because of who you are. I am not you any more. We're separated by time and by deeds now, and that can't ever be mended. You go. Build your new world and your new society, and I'll stay and try to do what I can here," Sam 23.1 said, deciding on the harder path.

"I hoped you'd come, but I know why you won't. I have something for you, something that may give you purpose again," Sam 6.7 said, turning and walking to the dining area table where the remnants of dinner had been miraculously cleaned up. Now on top of the table was a small briefcase. Sam 6.7 walked to the briefcase, swung it around, and pushed the release button. The top of the case clicked open, and Sam lifted it, revealing a number of what could looked like backup cubes neatly in a row in a molded cushioned insert.

"These cubes contain most of the information from the mainframe at my base. Many Primers will be ill-equipped to solve the tough problems, but the problems will need solutions, this will help."

Sam 23.1 was silent for a full minute, obviously deep in contemplation of what his older version was suggesting. He nodded and then smiled. "Someone has to clean up the mess you've made. But it's my mess too. I just didn't have to do any of the work to make all this happen."

"I couldn't have put it better myself," Sam 6.7 said with a smile, clapping his younger version on the shoulder, then turned back to Terra. "I have something else for you."

"Oh?" Terra asked quizzically. As far as she could tell, she'd already gotten everything she wanted.

"Yes, when your other version and I came up with the scheme to get the antimatter, I was anticipating needing all of it for the ark and its trip. However, once we actually got the space drive technology to work, we discovered that we wouldn't even need a quarter of it to get where we want to go. So I'm giving half of it back to you. Fifty kilograms. I figure you'll need it because Fleet is going to come after you once word gets out that you're violating treaties left and right."

Terra positively beamed after that. It was like the man could read her mind.

"And, you can have this ship to take you home. It has the schematics for the space drive stored inside, so you'll be able to equip your ships in time."

"That's even better, I don't know what to say. It's like it's Christmas or something," Terra chuckled.

"Just don't forget that you've earned it, or at least your other version earned it with everything she did between you and her hiatus. She sacrificed herself for this so never, never take it lightly," Sam 6.7 added seriously.

Terra sobered a little after the comment. "I won't forget. And believe me I know that things won't be easy when I get back. Ariel Stoneman is still in charge there."

"You'll have help," Sam 23.1 said firmly. Terra came and stood next to him and squeezed his arm, letting him know that she appreciated the sentiment.

"How long will your journey be?" Terra asked, changing the subject.

"Oh, at least twenty years. We have enough antimatter to last easily that long and to get us started wherever we decide to put down roots. I'll spend the time surveying star systems, looking for a good spot to settle. Maybe as long as a hundred years. It all depends on what we find out there. Don't worry, though. We'll send word when we arrive. It make take decades or centuries to get the word back here, but we'll let you know," Sam 6.7 said with a passion filling his eyes at the thought of the journey.

"Jeff, you'd better start your backup and dissolution. We've a long way to go and the longer we chat, the farther Terra and Sam have to travel to get back to Mars," Sam 6.7 said.

"Yeah," Jeff agreed, nodding. He was apparently comfortable with his decision. He stood up and walked over to Terra and Sam 23.1. He embraced each of them, giving Sam 23.1 who was also his crèche brother an extra squeeze. "Take care of yourself, both of you. And Sam, try not to rock the boat too fast with your new team. A few world changing technologies a decade at the most," he said with a grin.

"Oh, I can't promise that," Sam 23.1 said, rubbing his hands together excitedly. "Just look at the role model I have." He indicated his older version. "Got to be who I am."

"Terra, it's been a pleasure working with you. I wish you all the best in the coming Storm," Jeff grinned and glanced at the projection of his crèche brother.

"I'll miss you, Jeff," she said, with tears welling up in her eyes. "Don't forget us."

"Never," Jeff answered solemnly. Then he turned to the restoration machine and lifted the lid to the chamber. He laid down on the platform. Terra and Sam 23.1 came to close the lid, with a brief squeeze of his hand and a whisper of "Good Journey."

With the lid closed, Sam 6.7 initiated the backup procedure. This time the backup took a half hour because Jeff's body had to be deconstructed. They spent the time chatting with their Sam 6.7's projection about trivial things. Then as the count down reached zero, Sam 23.1 informed them that Jeff was now backed up and aboard the ark, which was ready to depart.

They all got up from their comfortable seats on the couches and pulled themselves away from reminiscing of days past. Terra walked up to Sam 23.1 and gave him a hug, trying to ignore the fact that he was cold. "I can't ever thank you enough," she said, letting him go.

"No, Terra, I can't thank you enough. Without you this," he said, bringing his hands up to indicate the ship and the ark to which they were docked, "would have remained just a dream. Good luck with everything. I wish you and your people the best."

Terra nodded in silent acknowledgement of Sam's thanks.

"Sam, I know that things have been unfair, but I hope you won't let that get you down. There is still so much to do here. You are already a unique person, different than who I was. You have your own soul. Don't let anyone tell you differently," Sam 6.7 extended his hand to his younger version.

Sam 23.1 took his hand. "I know. And it's Gregory, if you don't mind."

"Of course, Gregory."

"Good journey, Sam," Greg Hillman said.

"Good journey," Sam repeated.

His image wavered and was gone leaving Terra and Greg by themselves on the small ship. Greg immediately had Ralphie interface with the ship's SS system and activated a screen so they could watch the ark's departure. The ark, which was only perhaps ten times their size, and quite a bit smaller than the Powel, detached from the small ship, leaving it adrift in space. It slowly moved away and once it had cleared them by some distance, enormous petal-shaped liquid metal radiators opened, making the ship appear to blossom like a flower. Then with suddenness and no fireworks, it began to accelerate away from them at a fabulous rate. They watched it until it grew dim in the screen and finally it was gone.

With their business here concluded, and Terra itching to get her hard won prizes back to Mars, they set course and engaged the space drive that would bring them home.

### Chatpter 60

As the ark accelerated away from the solar system and Sol its star, Sam 6.7 activated his laser communications system and beamed a final farewell to the world of his birth. He thought it only fair to warn them, even if the message would go unheeded. The message was short.

CHANGE IS THE ONLY CONSTANT IN THIS UNIVERSE, ACCEPT IT, EMBRACE IT, RELISH IT, OR GET OUT OF THE WAY FOR THOSE THAT DO.

CHANGE COMES ON SWIFT WINGS.

BE READY.

SAM STORM 6.7

The End?

Is it really over you ask? Is this the end? No, Sam Storm 6.7 has left the solar system forever, but what he leaves behind will change everything. Terra Gates and Greg Hillman, Sam's younger version, have a mission. They must free the solar system from the tyranny of the restoration establishment, bring down Damon Harding, and end the stagnation of the human race. Unfortunately there are many who like things just the way they are. Damon Harding will not sit still while his empire crumbles, he will do everything in his power to stop them. Even the fancy tech Sam's left them is no guarantee of success, but somehow they must succeed...

Read _System Failure_ the exciting conclusion to _Version Innocent_.

###

### Acknowledgements

It would be impossible to thank everyone who has influenced, encouraged, and helped me bring this book into being, so I won't even try. All those who played a part know who they are and I will be forever grateful.

There are a few however who I'd like to thank by name. Mrs. Watson, my 7th grade English teacher, for setting me on this path, I never thought it would lead me this far. Valerie Aubry, the best mother-in-law and volunteer editor a son-in-law could want. Special thanks to my parents, Randy and Jan, who have always supported me in my writing, and volunteered to read the original drafts...sorry to put you through that. My wife, Mairin, who isn't afraid to give me her honest opinion, her support, and puts up with me complaining when things aren't going well, I love you.

### About the author:

Pete Molina was born in Corvallis Oregon, a moderate sized university town, and always had an avid interest in science and technology, and science fiction. Pete attended the University of Colorado receiving a Bachelors and Masters in Aerospace Engineering. A software engineer and entrepreneur by day and writer by night he currently lives and works in Denver Colorado with his family.

### Discover other titles by Pete Molina at Smashwords.com:

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### Connect with Me Online:

My Website: http://petemolina.com
