 
Passengers to Sentience

Book One in Peter Salisbury's Passengers Series

Copyright © Peter Salisbury

Smashwords Edition February 2013

This electronic copy may be used by the purchaser alone. It may be copied from one device to another for the sole use of the purchaser. Any other person wishing to access this material must make an individual purchase. No material contained in this document may be re-published, re-distributed or re-sold by any means whatever without the written permission of the author.

This is entirely a work of fiction, any resemblance to any person past or present, any place or location, is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents

Chapter 1: Upside

Chapter 2: Dinner

Chapter 3: Downside

Chapter 4: Job Done

Chapter 5: Holiday Prep

Chapter 6: No Backup

Chapter 7: Ax Tries Harder

Chapter 8: Matter Transfer

Chapter 9: Where is Knass?

Chapter 10: Party

Chapter 11: Clone Technology

Chapter 12: Henry's Kiss

Chapter 13: Changes

Chapter 14: The Bureau

Chapter 15: Choices

Chapter 16: Contracts

Chapter 17: Lori's World

Chapter 18: Transfer

Chapter 19: Passengers

Chapter 20: Holiday

Chapter 21: Hot News

Chapter 22: Kidnapped

Chapter 23: Training

Chapter 24: Toil

Chapter 25: Arm

Chapter 26: Geography Lessons

Chapter 27: Goster's Setback

Chapter 28: Xlok

Chapter 29: Gloop

Chapter 30: Symch and Goster

Chapter 31: Gran and Dyne

Chapter 32: Time Out

Chapter 33: Day Off

Chapter 34: Patched

Chapter 35: Transport

Chapter 36: Close Shave

Chapter 37: Secrets

Chapter 38: Junk

Chapter 39: Vill's Down

Chapter 40: Vill Is Even Less Lucky

Chapter 41: Preparations

Chapter 42: Vill's Back

Chapter 43: Freighter

Chapter 44: Lift Off

Chapter 45: Setback

Chapter 46: Maximum Force

Chapter 47: Then There Were Six

Chapter 48: Sabotage?

Chapter 49: First Steps

Chapter 50: Promotion?

Chapter 51: Down Time

Chapter 52: Searches

Chapter 53: Secrets of Old Site

Chapter 54: New Clones?

Chapter 55: Blackout

Chapter 56: Fixed

Chapter 57: Intercepted

Chapter 58: Ground Fall

Chapter 59: Prisoners?

Chapter 60: Encounters

Chapter 61: Decisions

Chapter 62: New Facts

Chapter 63: Xenotransfer

Chapter 64: Panic

Chapter 65: Second Holiday

Chapter 66: Questions

Chapter 67: Permanence?

Chapter 68: Justice

Chapter 69: Visits

Chapter 70: Ax

Chapter 71: Friends

Chapter 72: New Colours

Chapter 73: Interrogations

Chapter 74: Freedom

Chapter 75: Circus

Acknowledgements

Other books by Peter Salisbury

Passengers to Zeta Nine, sample Chapter 1
Chapter 1: Upside

Sonia sighed over the hypo. Her eyes widened as the light reflected, shimmering, from her silver brooch. Its large, synthetic opal hid a fine-needled pistolet that urged precisely metered, costly fluid through her skin. The chemical rush struck her brain in mid thought. A rainbow burst of fireworks sparkled behind Sonia's eyelids and she absently steadied her body for the afterglow, leaning into the doorpost as a sleek two-seater settled on the gravel of the driveway.

'Michelle, you always arrive first!' Sonia said, hugging her friend after she closed her shiny, red car.

'You know me, I'm the early bird.' The two entered the house together.

Michelle followed Sonia down the hall, between the golden-threaded tapestries. 'Did you manage to persuade your parents to leave you alone?'

As the sense of suffuse, warm light filled Sonia's mind. Long gone was any sense of anxiety over having lost count of the number of times she had used the Yellow. Lost was any fear of its progressive destruction of cells deep in her brain.

'Oh, sure,' Sonia said. In the lounge, they sat on the deep, leather sofa while Sonia adjusted the sound and light system. She studied the sparkles on her dress. 'They're staying away.'

'They go to that new hotel across the valley?'

'That's the one.' Careless and her every pore open to perception, Sonia's mind swept through a freshening sea of swirling, subtly-coloured music.

The door chimed and a display showed another two friends waiting to enter.

'Don't worry,' Michelle said, briefly resting her hand on Sonia's arm. 'I can see you're 'busy'. I'll let them in.'

Light years away, relaxed and comfortable, I accessed multiple threads of data traffic streaming between the dozens of worlds populated by human life. I was detached, free from direct involvement. I'd learnt to manage close interpersonal relationships, once they'd got going, it was starting them up I found hard. So, instead of working face to face and one to one with other individuals, I felt easier looking for subtle, abstract changes in data flow, discrepancies which might be characteristic of illicit transactions, mismatches and anomalies signifying criminal activity. Luckily, these were skills my bosses appreciated.

Charged with leading a team bent on tracking down the production and distribution of Yellow, I knew there was plenty of work still to do. Leaning back into the gently resilient space of my cushioned, simulated flight couch, I made use of a pair of vid specs which displayed a virtual screen. For me the two secrets of working from home were comfort and distinctive work clothes. The first was taken care of by the replica flight couch copied from the set of a twenty-first century sci-fi movie, it was made of solid, polished alloy castings, covered in well-padded, supple black leather; the second, by the soft black leather loafers, baggy black pants, flowing white cotton shirt with open collar, and a silver mail and suede waistcoat having a couple of discreet but useful pockets.

My task now was to scan the Net for unusual data flux. Images hovered three feet in front of me, projected in my fluid crystal goggles. I systematically zoomed the graphic analysers back and forth, searching for clues with the air mouse which was no more than a dot on the end of my fore-finger. I waved my finger and the display indicator moved, a spoken command and it changed to a scratch pad stylus for voice text. The AI input system meant I could control the machine with any combination of hand, eyes and voice.

The display was a 3D environment with scalable images, movies and floating data ribbons. There were so many data ribbons that scanning text presented an almost subliminal supply of information. As soon as a word, phrase, image or symbol caught my attention, the text would drop into a more easily scanable box. In a side thought, I idly marvelled at how the Department always got the most advanced systems available: intuitive AI software, organic electronics, infra-red transponders, next generation quantum processing terminals, gigahertz satellite uplink. Chief data handlers were treated well in The Department for Data Tracking and Determination, the DDTD. From the satellite I had a continuous fast connection to the Net. It was expensive but the only way to transmit data between planets in different systems in real time was by using faster than light Ultra Radio.

A red data flag fluttered momentarily at the corner of the screen and I felt a frown shadow my brow. For days I'd been picking up occasional, disjointed bursts of contraband data packets. The Department should have sourced them by now but they were more elusive than usual. Virus attacks and freelancer interference were showing rapid increases, too. I had a nasty feeling it was something I wouldn't like at all.
Chapter 2: Dinner

Dave and Patty were enjoying cocktails at the bar of a luxurious restaurant, glad of some time to themselves and the chance to take an evening meal together, unaware of the danger their daughter Sonia was facing as she drifted through a shimmering haze, dancing and laughing with her friends. Few people knew that the voluptuous, pulsing decor and furnishing in the restaurant had been inspired by a trip using Yellow, just weeks before the designer had taken a last, fatal dose.

The party was getting into full swing. It was Sonia's nineteenth birthday and she had invited only her closest friends, less than a dozen. She had concealed her habit from her parents well. It hadn't been difficult, there were barely any outward symptoms, apart from crashing for eighteen or twenty hours after a hit. She always took the drug at night when out for a spree on the tiles with her friends, so it was no surprise to her folks when she came in the next morning and slept the whole day. There was no risk in celebrating in her own home and it had the added bonus that she didn't have far to go when it was time to sleep.

Sonia liked her parents but she was bored with studying and longed to be more in control. She had convinced herself that the Yellow was only a temporary escape. Many of her friends had tried it, though they'd all heard the odd rumour about bad side-effects. Some had even warned of dying wide awake, twitching helplessly as the heart and breathing slowly stuttered to a stop. In direct contrast, the supplier had told her the drug might even help get higher grades without really trying. That was probably a lie, too, but she thought it was worth it for the buzz anyway.

My screen blanked unnervingly for a few moments while I dialled up a call to my chief backgrounder. 'Why had it begun to do that?' I wondered. 'Was it a genuine hardware glitch, or was it a wisp of cosmic dust?' Since chips had been first programmed by other chips and self-learning chips had built their own designs, humans had little idea of what went on inside the plain grey modules any more. It was a bunch of self-learning chips, rather than a human brain, which had first come up with Ultra Radio. A 'discovery chip' had been set the task of finding faster interconnects between modules and had gone way beyond its brief. The result was a highly radio-active, ten centimetre cube of laser-injected semi-metal crystal for blasting a beam of tunnelling electrons from one side of the lab to the other at twice the speed of light.

It was fortunate the experiment had taken place at night. The process had completely trashed the power supplies and most of the lab. When the staff returned the following morning, all that was left was a melted module and a hole burnt half-way through the wall. Luckily there was an external monitoring station with separate power and the scientists found that a set of very interesting data had been captured on the external backup drive before the cables blew. From then on the experiments were repeated very carefully in a concrete bunker, using heavy duty materials, until they were up to many thousands of times light speed.

I tapped the keypad again, and immediately found Ax's cheery face floating next to maps of fluttering colour-coded data streams. 'Hey, Ax. What's the spec on this Yellow?' The display blanked again, so quickly I could almost have imagined it.

'Not very nice stuff, Ben.'

'What is it, a cell-degrader?'

'Yes, breaks down dopamine and the cells that produce it. Replaces it with a synthetic blend of endorphins and stimulants, cranks up the senses but keeps you cool at the same time. Supposed to be an intelligence-booster, too. Lets you tune in to plenty of strands at the same time.'

'So, is there a time-dose limit?'

'The cell damage is irreversible, unless you clone out in time but if you can't afford the option, too many hits and you've lost it.'

'Where did it come from?' A document marked "Classified" shimmered into view at the edge of the screen. Ax pointed towards it.

'It was originally some sort of ancient military concoction, allowing the data managers on fight sims to outwit their opponents. Once its use was discovered it was immediately banned for giving unfair advantage.'

I knew very well that this was what had stopped real people getting killed in wars by the mid twenty-first century. Military strategists used computers and data millers in place of sentient or near-sentient beings to settle disputes.

'As soon as it was banned, they turned to something else to give them an edge,' Ax continued.

'And I suppose its secret had been carefully vaulted and encrypted, until a chiselling hacker had teased it out and sold it on,' I replied.

'Spot on, boss. Then eventually some deranged or sufficiently greedy mind shook the dust off the process, set up labs and exchanged micro-beads of the stuff for well-laundered credits.'

'OK. Thanks Ax. Let's hope we shut it down soon.' The screen blanked again for a fraction of a second. Alarmed, I focussed on the Department logo.

'Hey, Ax. Are you still there?'

'Yeah, just? I thought you'd gone.'

'Not quite. Have you been having display problems?'

'No, not that I've noticed. Why?'

'I keep getting a flicker, for an instant it goes blank. Sometimes I get see-through specs instead of the logo for instance. It happened four times while we've been talking.'

'What about diag.'

'Sure, diagnostics! I have them on continuously when there's this much scum in the system. Nothing's shown up this end.'

'Odd. Maybe it's something new. You know when there's something as big as this going down, there's a massive rise in virus and mischievous hacking activity.'

'Exactly, so how about if I send you a millisecond system slice?'

'Yes, that should do it. Mail it straight to my bin, then I can pull it out and check it a piece at a time.'
Chapter 3: Downside

At one end of my display, a comms flag began to flash. I glanced towards it and said 'Open'. The window expanded to show a news bulletin. The press had pried through the exception protocols again. They had now caught up with the scale of the Yellow problem and were already questioning how such a drug had become easily available. I quickly issued a prevention notice: there had to be time for the Department to complete the investigation and crack-down before the perpetrators were tipped off by a surge of press activity. Until then, the Hot Page must only contain public warnings about this murderous substance. It was supposed to be the most exotically beautiful experience since the last one. And that hadn't been supposed to kill you either. With that in mind, I quickly returned to chasing down evidence.

Sonia felt a desperate tear slide, tickling down her cheek between the last breath leaving her body and the closing darkness. Sammi, Sonia's best friend winced at the fierceness of Sonia's grip as she fought the relentless, black shutter which was closing on her life.

A cold horror made a pit of her stomach, the harder Sonia tried to reach out, the further everything receded.

'Why me? Why now?' she thought, as a sob broke from between her tightly pressed lips.

The expensive clothes, the accessories and presents she had grown bored with so quickly were fading. Briefly, an image hovered: Sonia studiedly diverting her gaze to the classroom window, her vacant stare demonstrating rebellion to her classmates. Then the room around her began to distort as the beautiful house in the glade and its opulent furnishings slipped stealthily further from her grasp. The ground car, a present from Dave and Patty which she had enjoyed for a sickeningly short time was cold and silent in the drive.

Her body sagged as she lost control over it. Wide-eyed, trembling limply, she felt her heart flutter and stop. The faces of all her friends swam slowly before her, as if in a nightmare gallery. Their expressions were contorted by pain or pity. A flash of anger at Michelle who had first pushed the Yellow to her, swearing on her life that it would do no harm. A shudder of guilt at the misery she would leave behind finally drained her. The emergency medics, their swift feet crunching on the gravel outside, had arrived too late.

As the news of Sonia's death pulsed on the local hot page, I solemnly downloaded more of the stuff caught by the cyber hounds and set software data miners to work through the evidence. Sonia's home was in the suburbs of an industrial town no more than a few hundred kilometres away.

She wouldn't be the last victim of the Yellow if we didn't act quickly enough. I knew several critical hours could pass before I was able to untangle the web of contraband credits. Even with the electronic systems, I still had to direct the flow of the investigation. I sent out a press release: the dangers of using this Yellow needed to be more specific, even using up one last capsule could be fatal to the unlucky.

Four or five hours later, I was surprised to have found threads linking politicians, bank employees, known and previously unknown criminals, and chemists all tempted by greedy profits, and a dispersed, low-life distribution network on thirty closely-linked trade planets.

Restlessly, I paced around the room waiting for the computer to catch up with itself. Finally Net images returned superimposed on my vision. With growing impatience, I hoped it would be my last job before the vacation. At last, patterns were starting to coalesce: the data sniffers had found anomalous patterns in a packet stream from Theta Seven. I examined the code. Sure enough, instructions were being routed to a relay station which the Department had suspected was a base for illegal chemical manufacture. This should be the final link between the operators and the top dogs. I unlocked the connection ciphers and gave the heavy guys their blue light.

Large men in body armour carrying door crushers thrust into apartments. Bulldozers, diggers and armoured power lifters crashed through the walls of warehouses and factories. Shots snapped and rattled, explosions spat sparks and rumbled.

On Tau Nine, an operation flared across three of the five continents. In split-second coordination, stun charges crashed through windows, thudding. Acrid smoke billowed and Enforcers surged forward. In downtown Mangle, a roof blew aside and a low orbit shuttle blasted out, killing all those left behind and toppling surrounding buildings. Along the coast, Enforcers were met with ground charges and laser fire, caught by surprise. Violet flashes following red tracer beams lanced out, crackling, through thick, black smoke.

Agents not stopped in the first advance took cover. They switched over to reflector suits and turned up their distortion fields, they'd been expected. Some withdrew and regrouped before pressing forward harder to overcome their opponents. A very highly organised network of dealers, middlemen, producers, suppliers and smugglers was being uncovered.

Those caught alive, the dead and the wounded were taken away. Not for many decades had so much human blood been spilt in conflict. Newshounds and viewers used to much softer, less tragic reports would be shocked. Protests already began to flood in across the Web – how could this have got so widely spread and so violent?

After the plunder, the clear-up would begin. Sack-loads of yellow capsules and micro-beads would be fed into humming disintegrators fuelled by the chemicals they destroyed. Illicit raw materials must be broken down, and processing equipment melted, stripped of precious metals and turned into ingots. The proceeds of their sale would help pay for the operation, as would any remaining conspicuously laundered credits. Video surveillance was meticulously uploaded, raw data analysed and reports filed.

If the job went according to plan, over the following months the contraband warehouses and factories used in Yellow production would be levelled, streets re-routed and whole areas rebuilt. Building materials would be reused to create housing and commercial centres. The semi-derelict, dim-lit districts of a once shady underworld would become parkland. Within a few months, all traces of the criminal empire making and peddling illicit drugs would be removed.
Chapter 4: Job Done

The Department closely monitored progress right through the operation. I knew if we missed one or two of the big guys in the first round, later analysis made successful evasion unlikely. Meanwhile, I was getting feeds that the casualties, unusually, were anything but minimal, so the media sources were having plenty to say already. Despite the injuries, I believed that many more drug-related deaths had been prevented.

I'd had a whole team of programmers and the most imaginative systems people I could hire working to generate new tools and new ways of using them. The latest they used against the Yellow traffickers was a technology my chief tech, Sam, called 'sticky web'. I felt fortunate that it was her job, rather than mine to know how it worked. Sam and her operatives had found a way to attach 'invisible' codes to passing data packets. In theory, the hidden tags were detectable only by us. They provided a record of wherever the packets were routed as they flashed between planets. The cyber hounds tracked the tagged bytes and saved the Department a great deal of old-fashioned leg work.

I sent my congratulations round to Ax, Sam and the rest of the crew before logging out. I was secure in the knowledge that the team and the automated systems would be sufficient back-up support for my stand-in, Knass. I'd been told he'd been shadowing me on this last investigation to get the hang of things. I was fully paid up for a long vacation and had already completed the first two weeks of preparation in advance.

During my work hours, I was so closely linked with my crew, it was easy to forget that they were scattered over several nearby systems. Only one of them was here on Gnat Byte, and he was 1400 km away. The Net brought us all together and at the same time freed us to live entirely separate lives, with room to breathe and fill our own space. There was a central office but it had virtual walls which were light years long and was mainly filled with interstellar vacuum. Twentieth century teleworking had been taken to its logical conclusion. Not one of the Department members had ever actually met in the flesh.

Standing up, I stretched out tense muscles and began to move away from the terminal area in my work-room. The flight couch hissed as it drew air back into the expanding padding and I dropped the vidspecs onto a table. Then I remembered the mail chime that had come in a few hours ago. Right on schedule, it should be a download of the prep-pack for the vacation. The first instalment would be from the Passenger Bureau, filling in the background on the particular and rather special holiday I had planned. Because of the work I did, I was more than familiar with the precise details of how I would be travelling. Even so I thought that it would be fun to see the video clips of the first freighters, blasting off to carry human genetic material across the galaxy. But before all that, I decided to take a walk round the block to freshen my mind with some clean air and rustic scenery.

I picked up the vidspecs again, tucking them into my shirt pocket and pushed open the heavy front door. Once outside I realised how late it had become. A shooting star flared towards the horizon and I felt a pang at Sonia's lost gamble. Far too young and no more chances. I wondered if her parents, finding it difficult to come to terms with what had happened, would try again with a clone of their lost daughter. Sometimes they did.

It was warmer than I had thought and I waited for a few moments, drawing in the scent of the night. The stars began to show bright as my eyes adjusted but the ground was pitch black. I put the goggles back on and flicked over to night vision. Immediately, the familiar view sprang up out of the dark. For at least a kilometre in front of the house was open grassland, to the right a low hill that was landscaped with terraces of flowers and ornamental shrubs. To the left and behind was 'the village', where I had several acquaintances amongst the local community. It was made up mainly of families of fruit-growers, technicians and academics. Most of them I knew by name, a few were quite close friends.

In the unnatural colours generated by the infra red sensors the scene glowed strangely; trees and hedges stood out in ghostly blues and pinks; the eyes of a small animal glowed orange, blinked and vanished. There was almost no sound. All was serene and peaceful. I turned to the right and climbed the hill. Lying down in the grass, I took off the goggles and looked up at the stars. The air was silent except for the light, warm breeze. I relaxed, letting the tension of the last few hours ebb from my system.
Chapter 5: Holiday Prep

It was almost dawn, I saw, blinking my eyes as my mind drifted awake. The ground felt hard and my legs were stiff. Sleepily flexing my limbs, I listened to birds tunefully declaring their territories. Then I slipped on the goggles and boosted the signal to pick up the mail. Nothing. No panics, no emergency re-calls. Perfect!

I realised with an excited quickening of pulse, I really was on vacation at last. I sat up and waited a few minutes until it was light enough to see my way back to the house without the synthetic night vision.

Back in the house, I started breakfast by setting the boiler and toaster running, then showered and returned to the kitchen. I dimmed the window to fifty percent with the remote and put the vidspecs on while I ate. Calling up the Passenger Bureau mail shot, I sat back, toast in one hand, coffee in the other, feeling pleasantly prepared to soak up the details of interstellar travel.

Taking a break at a hotel in space was what had excited the imagination many decades ago. They had never dreamt of the way we could vacation now. It was possible today to take a holiday out there somewhere on a different world in a different body, either a copy of your own, or someone else's. Interstellar distances meant it would take too long to physically go there yourself, so you simply had your mind patterns beamed over by Ultra Radio. There was no other way to go. For a few weeks I would swap with someone else's body while they took over mine. Not only would I have a holiday somewhere completely different but I would be literally in someone else's shoes.

It meant you had to choose carefully whom you swapped with and measures were taken to make sure it wasn't a disaster. You definitely did not want to return to find your body had been neglected or abused in your absence. Usually though there was a little bit of abuse (well you were on holiday after all).

For those who wished, it had the added double extra bonus that you could swap with someone of the opposite sex. In fact, since mind transfer had become commonplace, in some circles it was seen as a recommended part of therapy: a way of 'promoting understanding between the sexes'.

I eagerly loaded up the file containing the historical documentary detailing how cloning and space-travel would eventually lead to my taking a holiday in the body of a beautiful young woman, living 32 light years away.

The first 'Clone Crates', as the early twenty-first century news media had dubbed them, were sent out in 2091. A group of longevity-crazed billionaires had got together and blown their entire combined ill-gotten gains on sending out space freighters containing the necessary technologies to find a habitable planet, land and begin human cloning. The billionaires had believed life on earth had got about as exciting as it was going to get in their few remaining years and that it must be more fun somewhere else. It gave them a chance to start life afresh in a new body and model everyone on their new planet around themselves and their own ideals. It must have been the ultimate power trip. However obvious it appeared to me now, cloning was the last method to be taken seriously.

But I was jumping ahead of myself and turned to open up the documentary I'd been sent. Long before clone travel, the billionaires spent vast amounts of their money on alternatives. One was attempting to develop a deep freeze system, so that their bodies didn't age on the long journey through space. However, there hadn't been very much success with freezing people, no matter how hard they had tried from about 1970 onwards. Those who had willed that their corpses be dipped in liquid nitrogen were certainly very well frozen, although not for as long they'd hoped. A decade or two later independent scientists demonstrated quite unequivocally that the ice crystals formed in the body cells during cryostorage had completely destroyed any possibility of life. After that the freezing companies' stocks plummeted and the 'corpsicles' were given decent burials. I watched with incredulity old news stories showing how less well off people had paid for only their heads to be frozen. What had those folks been thinking of?

Another idea around in the late twentieth century was to invent some sort of suspended animation which didn't involve freezing but which prevented any deterioration in the physical condition. Similarly, room temperature nuclear fusion sounded absolutely marvellous. Unfortunately, we are still waiting.

The billionaires would still be waiting for suspended animation, too, because the ease with which the idea was formulated bore no comparison to the problems of actually inventing a practical system.

It was an impossible task even now, I was assured by the documentary's slick presenter. Even if it had been possible, no-one had been ready to put their sole existence on the line, teetering between life and the edge of death for decades, while their space ship plugged away through space. It was too risky. If they'd had any consciousness while they were under, they'd have ended up deranged, and if not, what might decades of sedation do to them?

It wouldn't have been a lot of use in extending life in the sense the billionaires were after. Supposing they had woken up in full possession of their senses but the revival system had got a bit rusty or dusty since they'd spent all their savings on it? Or, semi-conscious, they might have begun a sudden, irreversible ageing process, leaving them with about half an hour to live in ever quickening decrepitude. Lurid clips from old horror movies drifted across the screen behind the presenter: actors in special FX make-up clawed forlornly at the insides of Plexiglass animation capsules, while others tottered, grinning grotesquely, sunken-faced and half-mummified towards the camera.

The levels of risk involved had been too great, even for the desperate, ageing billionaires. No-one had ever developed such thing as a fail safe for a life-support system. If it only half worked, they'd still have been dead. What exactly would a 'guaranteed for life' insurance policy mean under these circumstances? All the smart boys knew the plans weren't worth the paper they were written on. Even if it had worked in the lab, which it didn't, there had to be something less risky.

By contrast, cloning in the late twentieth and early twenty-first century became a known and trusted technology. And it could come with a sort of guarantee. If it didn't work the first time you could have another go. Early experiments gave unreliable results but profit-driven research made steady progress until it became an exact science. In the context of space travel, cloning equipment only had to operate when it arrived at its destination, it didn't have to function at all on the intervening journey, so there was no possibility of its being worn out by the time it arrived.

I found it hard to believe anyone had ever seriously considered any of the previous alternatives. It amused me to see the grainy 'beam me up' clips from the old sci-fi movies. My presenter glibly explained how it must have sounded very glamorous at the time but the practicalities had turned out to be very different. Looking back at the old film clips, I realised that being 'beamed up' was much more convenient and exciting than having another body turned out of a vat. But glamorous or not, cloning was what actually worked.
Chapter 6: No Backup

I decided to take a break. Those first ideas for long-distance space travel were almost too fanciful to believe. As soon as I quit the documentary, the interface blinked over to a pulsing Hot Page. 'Hot Page Latest. Sonia's parents begin major investigation into cyber police and personality backup failures.'

'What now?' I grumbled to myself, switching reluctantly to audio, getting an agitated journo's voice feeding the detail across the Web.

'Cyber police bungle clean-up operation. Yellow bosses elude hounds. Yesterday's operation to shut down the drug ring's data structure draws blanks.'

I slowly sucked in a deep breath, thankful this was all now Knass's problem. The reporter's ability to speak only in headlines made me impatient. I scrolled forward quickly and another voice started on the Dave and Patty story. Apparently, the Personality Bureau had bungled Sonia's backup. She could be cloned but her personality would be the way she was two years ago, not six months ago, as it should have been. I felt a pang of guilt. If only we'd got there sooner. Had I been slow on my analysis? Pacing back and forth, I reviewed my efforts over the last few weeks. The tracking and investigation had been as thorough as humanly possible. You couldn't protect everyone, no matter how hard you tried. If individuals took personal risks, they had to suffer the consequences. 'Enough!' I told myself. 'I'm on holiday.'

I made up a calming vegetable drink which had the usual effect of making me drowsy. Settling down for a nap, I was soon dreaming of rocket-powered ships containing dozens of mummified hopefuls, speeding out between the stars. Somehow, towards the end of the dream, things started to go wrong; the mummies woke up as violent drug users, rampaging through the tight corridors of their cramped ships. Crew and passengers alike fought in grotesque slow motion and battling space vessels exploded into zero-g fireballs.

Waking with a fuzzy head, I felt the need for some proper escapism and an urge to download one of the great, feel-good space operas, a grand fantasy woven from impossible ideas wrapped up in computerised special effects. I chose one of the many on the theme 'lost in space' and settled down to a couple of hours of complete diversion. It was perfectly easy to justify. I was on holiday, wasn't I?

My neighbour, Maggie, called round right as the end credits were rolling. I didn't notice her at first against the roar of the rocket motors and the climactic music thundering from the wall panels. She laughed at me gripping the sides of my chair and was still chuckling as she massaged the tension out of my neck and shoulders. However improbable the technology, they certainly knew how to spin a good yarn back then.

Before I had time to turn off the view screen and offer Maggie some sort of excuse for being so indulgent, Ax's face broke over the final credits and the urgent bleep started up. I groaned and looked back at Maggie. 'It must be something serious. Ax wouldn't try to contact me on holiday unless something was badly wrong.'

'OK. But I told you that's what happens when you're running the investigation: never a minute's peace. I'll go and make a start on your lunch.

'Thanks Mag. This shouldn't take long.' I called after her. Immediately, I switched over to goggles and keypad, hitting the 'go' button for Ax.

'Great. I thought you might be out.' Ax looked relieved as he saw me connect.

'I don't know what's 'great' about it,' I snarled good humouredly.

'Ben, you know I really wouldn't do this.'

'But you are doing it all the same,' I grinned rather tensely. 'Carry on.'

'The Yellow Case.'

'Yes, I guessed as much. Well?'

'Some of them have got away.'

'So I've heard. But what about all that sticky web stuff you guys were using? I thought it was practically invincible.'

'It is.'

'Is it?'

'Well, if it isn't they've found some pretty hot programmers in some remote part of the wood-work.

Either that, or...'

'Or there's a leak or a mole. Right now I can't think which is worse. What tipped you off?'

'We've got these retriever bytes in the system. Not all of them came back and when we ran a spatial analysis, there were bits missing.'

'Ax, you're getting technical on me. What's wrong with Knass, anyway? He's supposed to have taken over.'

'Er, yes.'

'Never mind 'Er, yes.' I'm going to put a call through to Knass myself and ask him what he thinks he's playing at.'

'That's not possible at the moment,' Ax broke in.

'Why not, exactly?'

'Oh, well, we haven't quite got the encryption decoder working properly yet,' Ax replied quickly.

'Well un-encrypt him and get him connected. He doesn't need to go through full encryption to tell him the Yellow business has sprung a leak.'

'Well, actually the media have been pretty hot on this one, remember the Sonia pages?'

'OK, so it has to be encrypted. You're the whizz-kids, come on Ax, get this sorted without me.' I beamed him the sort of grin which let him know I wasn't angry now, but that it wasn't a good idea to push it.

'Right, Ben. Sure,' Ax said quickly picking up on my expression. 'I only wanted to fill you in.'

'Thanks Ax. I know you'll do your best.' I broke the connection and grumbled my way through to the kitchen.

It was good to have Maggie there, parodying my long face, she quickly had me laughing again, the call from Ax pushed to the back of my mind.
Chapter 7: Ax Tries Harder

The meaningful expression on Ben's face stayed with Ax for several seconds. He was tall, scrawny, with skin the colour of teak. His casual clothes, a tee-shirt and shorts, together with the apparently disorganised clutter of equipment covering every wall and surface, gave the impression of a man who was not quite in sync with his work. However, he had the kind of eyes which rarely missed anything. Ax turned and ran an intense glare around his work room; he knew the location, configuration and function of every piece of equipment he used. It was his business to know of every module available and if it didn't already exist, he could make it.

The problem with Knass made him feel very uncomfortable. Ax put a call through to Gaze, Ben's ultimate boss.

'Ben's not happy.'

'Neither are we.' She replied.

'No, but I'm doing my best to keep him out of this.'

'Good. He's no idea Knass is one hundred percent AI?'

'None at all. Which is a good thing. I can imagine what he'd say if he knew we'd lost Knass in the system somewhere.'

'Quite how did that happen, Ax?'

'We did all the designs, ran simulations. The computers programmed it up. We checked and re-checked all the subroutines ourselves.'

'You mean you don't know?'

'Yes. Everything was triple-checked and run on a quarantine system. He, I mean 'it', was indistinguishable from a real person. The psych department went over it. As far as we know there were no multiple personalities, no hidden corners.'

'And he simply vanished?'

'Yes, within hours after upload, it was as if he evaporated out of the system.'

'Your programmers must have built in some sort of signature or tracker bytes, surely.'

'Of course, all the standard protocols were put in place before anything else. We can't find any trace of him. It's impossible.'

'Well, it isn't impossible because it's actually happened. You don't know how, that's all. Your team need to get to it. This is top priority. You built a lot of operational data into Knass and, even worse, he was fed all Ben's data. Let's hope it's not found its way into the wrong hands.'

'I'll get right on it,' replied Ax, signing off.

'Ben would make a list,' Ax muttered to himself.

'Number one – Knass got uploaded to the wrong location; number two – something triggered a failsafe and he uninstalled himself; three – theft, someone actually unloaded his complete system and that; number four, could only be done either with or by someone in the department; five – if Knass has been stolen, why not take a copy so we'd never know; six – if Knass was programmed to vanish, then that would need inside help.

There were too many unknowns. He had to narrow down the search. Ax called up his chief trouble-shooter.

'Mike, I need you to check Knass's upload.'

'OK. What specifically?'

'Apart from anything at all irregular, specifically where was he uploaded to and has something tripped out and uninstalled him?'

'Already on that, boss. Knass went to precisely where he was sent and there's no evidence of an uninstall. We're still checking through everything else.'

'As far as I can see, then,' replied Ax. 'That only leaves him being stolen or he vanished himself.'

'We had absolutely the latest and tightest security on it. We even had codebots watching all the incoming data transfer. No-one could have got in and taken him.'

'Did the codebots check the data out?'

'No, we didn't think it was necessary.'

'So Knass could have unloaded himself to somewhere else a piece at a time.'

'But we didn't program him to do that.'

'No we didn't.'

'But someone else has.' Mike completed Ax's sentence.

'I'll leave you with that thought.' Ax gave Mike the benefit of one of his special glares as he broke the connection.
Chapter 8: Matter Transfer

Maggie went back next door to work on some obscure mathematical thesis and I returned to my documentary. To my surprise I learned that transporter beams and 'lily pad' instant transport had been experimented on for several decades into the twenty-first century, before the ideas were abandoned. All that 'beam me up' stuff must have been such a part of popular myth that people thought it could really be done. Great story but what about the technology?

Hundreds of millions of credits were lost on research. Although it was possible to send very small numbers of electrons and even atoms short distances using some sort of quantised pair technique, larger masses decomposed. This was not good news for humans. Several other major problems for the transport of living things existed also. Firstly, no matter how still you tried to be, you were moving and conscious. In other words, you were physically changing while you were being transported. Another setback would have been the unbearable pain of being totally deconstructed, in however short an instant, by a searing beam of disassembly radiation.

The 'slide down a worm-hole' idea made for superb television stories but any volunteer would have been literally torn, not limb from limb, but atom from atom. No one ever managed to even imagine how you might be put back together again. And what if there'd been a power cut half-way through?

As far as the lily pad or worm-hole methods were concerned, the problem of placing the receiving end had never been solved. Even supposing a person could have been deconstructed in a non-painful instant in one place and reconstituted almost instantly at a place a hundred light-years away, how could they have got the receiving lily pad in place to hop to? Well, they reasoned, they could have sent out a ship with the equipment on board, taking decades or even centuries to reach the chosen spot. But I could see straight away what their problem had been. By the time it would have arrived, the senders, or their distant ancestors, might have changed their minds and it would all have been a tremendous waste of effort. Not only that but social and scientific changes would have made the excursion obsolete, if not its very purpose forgotten. 'No, give me good, solid cloning every time,' I decided.

Parasitism. There was something else you could get with suspended animation: being taken over by aliens which later burst out of your chest or remained entwined in your brain. A readily accepted advantage of cloning was that it avoided any possibility of being host to a larval alien. Creating a new body from scratch at your destination meant that there was no danger of being infested en route. Another bonus was that by sending only human genetic material, you weren't risking contaminating a new environment with micro-organisms and viruses. Helpful digestive gut bacteria might have caused a problem but it had been easy to genetically engineer them to live only inside the human body.

The cloning concept was almost immortality in a box. The billionaires still died, eventually, the same as everyone else, but an exact replica of them lived on and had got to do space travel into the bargain. What the smart guys gambled on was that by the time any of the ships landed somewhere habitable, their brain waves would have been stored and transmitted, modulated onto radio beams, in time to take over the clone's waiting blank grey matter. They could truly have their cake and eat it, as many times over as they wanted, in theory. While living out a full and exciting life on earth, their genes were flying off to an exciting new world and when they felt the time was right, the technicians beamed their mind over too. Researchers initially reasoned that the patterns of the mind were so transitory and complex, that if a few bits got lost along the way, there were plenty of other memories to rely upon. In time the system of transferring mental patterns was perfected, being a lot easier than any other part of the process. Meanwhile, the individuals' will to survive overcame the perception of risk, so there were always plenty of volunteers to try the system out on.

Of course there had to be a catch, the presenter reminded me: the objection to having one personality coexisting in two bodies. The presenter became quite smug when he explained his way round this one. Fortunately, when scientists finally found a way of getting to every last nuance of personality, it was only able to suck the data out of your brain and put it somewhere else, leaving the original living organism completely wiped of any but autonomic function.

By the time you'd given up every thought you'd ever had to a computer, there was nothing left in the old body, so it didn't matter any more. The moral, temporal, ethical, legal and potentially financially embarrassing problems of being the same person in two places at once were therefore solved, as it were, at the flick of a switch. What happened to the remaining body after that was another matter. To begin with any usable bits were taken for spare parts. Even that didn't last long though because if a person needed a spare part, it could be grown from stem cells. In fact the scientific world had learned to produce fresh body parts before it managed to clone a whole person.

I paused the documentary and took off the goggles. This was going to take longer than I had thought. Despite all the escapism, I found myself with an underlying unease about the Yellow case. Was there something Ax wasn't telling me? He'd be getting a promotion after his contribution on this one. I put a quick call through to the consultant coordinator. Again the screen blanked out of turn. What was this? Gaze flickered on line after a moment or two. We called her Gaze because she hardly ever blinked.

'I'm worried about Ax. I think he's out of his depth here,' I said bluntly. 'And what's happening with Knass?'

'They'll handle it.'

'You're sure?'

'Yes.' As she broke the connection, Gaze's face moved slightly and I realised I was the recipient of one of her rare smiles. At that stage I had no idea of how much they were keeping from me. Not only was Knass a cyberhost, a completely non-human AI system with a simulated personality, he'd also vanished, taking vital security data with him.
Chapter 9: Where is Knass?

'Mike, what have you got for me?' Ax asked as soon as his colleague's face appeared.

'We have to re-run Knass using all the separate subroutines.'

'But what if he disappears on us again?'

'Ah, I'm glad you asked that,' Mike grinned. 'This time we load him up on the quarantine server, with codebots checking all the data transfers.'

'Sounds like an improvement,' Ax agreed. 'When will you be ready?'

'Good to go,' Mike smiled. 'He's recompiled and ready to run.'

'Well, let's do it.'

Mike tapped a screen. 'Started. Everything normal.' He leaned forward, intent on the progress indicators as Ax counted the seconds to himself. Oh, no it's not.' Mike jabbed at the screen with his finger in a sequence of precise, rapid movements. 'Gotcha'

'Got what?

'He's trying to dial out again. I've trapped the address.'

'Are the tracker bots on it yet?'

'Coming online.'

'Any luck?'

'No, it's been disconnected – no viable address signal.'

'Hardly a surprise, Mike. Whoever did this isn't going to be hanging around for us to find, are they.'

'OK, I'm going to run Knass in slo-mo and try to trap the bits of code we didn't write. It may take some time.

I'll get back to you.'

'Let me know as soon as you have something.' Ax broke the connection.

Less than two hours later, Mike called Ax. 'We've found a whole set of lines of rogue code.'

'Rogue code?'

'Yeah, stuff we didn't write. There was some clever diverter code, too. It made our verifier skip the extra sections that weren't supposed to be there.'

'But you think you've found it all?'

'We've stripped out anything which wasn't in the Department spec. I'm still not happy, though.'

'Mike, who said anything about any of us being happy?'

'I can't see how this could be anything other than an inside job.'

'That's right. I've had Security on the case since you started. Everyone is potentially a suspect.'

'Well, I know one person who didn't do it.'

'Yeah, and I know of another. But Security has needed independent help to double blind check everything and everyone. Apparently, all the tracker bytes were systematically removed from the rogue code you found.'

'So what can we do?'

'Take a few hours off until you're cleared officially.

I'd prefer you used the time for planning. Then start back on getting Knass operational.

'OK, boss.' Mike logged out.

'Is that Ax, clearance code 3Y461RT387?' asked the security chief seven hours later.

'Check. Return code GN73BLS94P.'

'Check. OK, Ax, this is what we came up with. You'll be pleased to know that all Department personnel are completely sound. There was no inside help.'

'So, how?'

'Stealth bots: a few bytes here, a few bytes there. The Yellow guys have been planning this a long time. First they assembled a spy bot in the central core. It's OK, Ax, we found it. That's how they knew we were building Knass. Then they sneaked the rogue code into his programs, in such small chunks it went clear under the radar.'

'Can we stop that happening again?'

'Difficult. The really sneaky stuff was almost indistinguishable from ordinary data errors.'

'That doesn't sound good.'

'That's the real world for you. Vigilance at all times.'

'You can say that again.' Ax let out a long sigh. 'Thanks for your help.'

'Scrutiny is our business!' The other man laughed as he broke the connection.

'Mike? This is Ax. Immediate response, please.'

'Ax. Hi. All clear now?'

'That's right. How's the planning going?'

'Good. They had me clear for the last three hours, so I've actually been working on preparing Knass for a full upload.'

'When can you have him up and running?

'Within the hour.'

'Top man!'

'There's only one thing.'

'And that is?'

'He won't be fully operational until he's eliminated any potential threat from his previous version.'

'The version the Yellow guys took?'

'That's right.'

'That's better than nothing. At least it'll keep my boss's boss off my back for a few hours.'
Chapter 10: Party

Something else tugged at the back of my brain. I put the goggles back on and called up my organiser. Was today Saturday already? Six o' clock? It couldn't be. In flashing letters I saw the entry. A party down in the village starting at seven. It was spring festival and everyone would be there. I'd promised to take a dish. There was barely enough time. I didn't dare glance at the Hot Page for the Yellow latest, in case my conscience started to work on me. If Ax was in real trouble, I knew I would hear from him.

I decided my dish for the party would have to be a monster salad. Ransacking the kitchen I found the biggest bowl I had and then dragged out the vegetables. In a flurry of washing and chopping, I whipped up a hurriedly chosen blend of savoury and sharp, crisp and succulent. There was a slim margin for a shower and change before hurrying to the door. Thirty minutes later I was amongst a merry group of revellers: field workers, farmers, croppers, techies and a bunch of professional out-workers like myself.

'Ben! You made it, 'Maggie cried, approaching from the back of her house to take my brimming bowl. 'And with a salad. How special! Did it take long?'

'Oh, not really.'

'I bet. You forgot, didn't you?' she laughed, teasing me as usual, her husband following close behind and smiling at our banter.

'Well, I was...'

'Tied up in that holiday stuff,' she interrupted, nodding in self-confirmation and still laughing.

'Yes. That was it.'

'Henry,' Maggie turned to her husband, 'when I went round for lunch with Ben today, he was watching old space movies. You know, real antique stuff,' she laughed again. 'I think he's taking his holiday too seriously.'

'That's our Ben, always serious,' he laughed, too, clipping me on the shoulder hard enough to make me wince. I knew the thoroughly mild-mannered Henry had no idea of his own strength and I managed a chuckle in response.

'Actually, it was surprisingly good fun. They made a good story back then.' I didn't dare tell them I'd watched another one later on.

'Henry, you should have seen him. He was gripping that pretend space captain's flight chair of his, like he was ready for take-off. You know, the one with all the fancy bits that don't work. The one he got from Sci-fi Warehouse, or whatever they're called.' Maggie was almost beside herself with laughter.

'Actually, I think Ben's chair is rather good. He says it's extremely comfortable which is one bit that does work. In fact, I wouldn't mind..'

'Henry!' Maggie wagged her finger at him.

'Of course, silly me. What was I thinking of - a thing like that in our house – ridiculous,' he added quickly.

'Why don't we have a drink?'

I liked my neighbours. Both were good natured and friendly. They always kept an eye out for me, knowing I lived on my own, keeping irregular hours. One or the other of them would call in every other day 'to make sure I was still remembering to eat properly'. The irony was that eating was something I never did forget to do.

I opened the wine I'd had tucked under my arm on the way out, poured a glass and refilled the others. The rich, dark liquid was warm and silky on my tongue, with a sought-after blackcurrant twist. It was one of the local brews the village was well known for. I'd supervised the encryption personally when the gene code for the vines was sold to other colonies. I drank a toast with Henry and Maggie, then moved on to mingle with the throng of villagers.

Hours later back at the house, I knew it was really time to sleep but I couldn't help taking another peek at the documentary. I took myself to bed with the goggles and tuned in to the next instalment.

That was the last I remembered. In the morning I awoke to find myself slightly hung over, with the VR goggles wedged down between the pillows, and vague memories of dreaming my way through space operas, laser fire crackling and humming between ships. 'Why did they do that?' I asked myself. Even back then every school kid knew you couldn't hear anything through a vacuum. It did make for a better sound track, though, I had to admit on my way to the kitchen. What I needed was something to clear my head.

What I got instead was another call from Ax.

'Just a progress report Ben.' Ax was apologising before he'd begun.

'Next,' I muttered drily before he had chance to continue, making my way to the beverage counter.

'We got the connection through to Knass, eventually. He had an upload/download problem. Says he still can't access all of your stuff though. But we're working on it.'

'I'm sure you are,' I replied rather absently, trying hard to wake up as slowly as possible. How's the spatial thing going?'

'Pretty good,' Ax offered, hesitantly, trying to anticipate my reaction.

'Sounds like there's still some missing, then.'

'Yeah, some but..'

'You're working on it. Speed things up, Ax, or you'll have Security crawling all over the department. By the way, what've you got on those blanks I kept getting?

They only showed up in Departmental links.'

'Er. Oh, those. I ran your millisecond system slice through the usual procedures and all we could find was holes.'

'Holes?'

'Um, yes. Kind of microsecond lapses.'

'Lapses, now, is it?' Ax was usually a great person to work with but my patience was running thin with his evasiveness.

'I'll get back to you on it, Ben.'

At that point I crudely broke the connection. Ax clearly had nothing useful to add and I was determined I wasn't going to spend the rest of my vacation waking up to that sort of thing. Why was Ax so flustered? It wasn't like him at all. I was all the more concerned that Ax was concealing the full extent of what problems he was having. But then he was probably doing his utmost to keep me from being recalled to duty. Why should I worry? I grumbled to myself, Knass was in charge, they'd got his connection back and he could take care of it now.

Gaze had said so. Shaking my head, I gave my full attention to the subtly aromatic brew of Colombian coffee making its presence known on the counter in front of me.
Chapter 11: Clone Technology

Henry came round to see where I was up to. It was his day off. The documentary had changed tack and was highlighting the history of the ships the billionaires first sent out. I switched over to the big screen and we watched it together.

'Those first ships, the Type A's, hadn't really deserved the title 'clone crate', you know,' commented Henry.

'Oh no?' I asked, somewhat amused. Henry considered himself a bit of a whiz when it came to anything technical, probably because he did have the ability to fix anything that moved and quite a few things which didn't.

He was one of those techies who have as strong an intuitive sense as anything based on experience. As long as it was machinery, that is. Anything complicated with people, he left to Maggie. Once I had a model flyer, remote control. The day it began only flying in circles, Henry took the whole thing apart, cured the fault and put it back together in less than ten minutes.

'Of course not. Being designed for billionaires, they should have been called clone cruisers because they came with the all the space travel equivalents of bidets and gold bath taps.'

'That's an interesting way of putting it,' I laughed.

'They were improbably large, built in Earth orbit. In overall shape, they resembled that old French tower thing.'

'You mean Blackpool tower?' I suggested, mischievously. 'The one with the lights?'

'No.'

'Sydney tower?'

'No.'

'CN tower?'

'No. Eiffel! You're as bad as Maggie. Sydney didn't have one until thirty years after the last type A.'

'Probably,' I laughed.

'Look, there's a clip of one now.' We both stared at the screen. I decided to turn the sound down. I was getting a bit fed up with the presenter droning on in a professionally interested voice and I guessed Henry would be more than happy to continue the commentary himself. I wasn't wrong.

'Mind you they had a lot more than fresh air inside,' said Henry, taking over. 'And a lot more strapped on outside.'

'Why's that?'

'They had no previous experience of course. They had to assume anything could happen, so they catered for every type of propulsion. Sails for when there was solar wind, hydrogen tanks to supply fusion motors and plasma jets.'

'I thought they didn't have fusion then?'

'Well, not to begin with, no. But they did after the first ships, so they used the plasma jets. With positively charged scoops to refill the tanks en route.'

'I see,' I said, smiling to myself. He was enjoying this even more than I was. I wondered what Maggie would say when she caught him frittering away his 'jobs around the house' time on reminiscing about space travel.

'Then there were solar panels, for soaking up light. Turned it into electricity for batteries. They had hundreds of cubic metres of them, you know?'

'Did they? What were they for?'

'Ion propulsion. See, those other jet things at the back,' he pointed at the screen with rising enthusiasm as the camera panned around the exterior of one of the earliest ships. 'Heat panels absorbed more solar radiation and melted vast coffers of salts having the largest possible latent heats. And they had huge gyroscopes that provided thrust against anything large enough to have a gravitational field.'

'Was there anything they didn't think of?'

'It was amazingly well coordinated. All the minor energy sources which only worked close to star systems were fully integrated, so that if any one source faded, it could be balanced by another source or by using stored energy in one form or another.'

As if right on cue, the cameras moved to the inside of one of the ships. There were the banks of machinery and electronics to manage all the different systems. The same computers were supposed to identify and manoeuvre to potentially habitable planets.

I turned up the sound again and went out to the kitchen to get us a brew. Henry was certainly in his element with all of this. My knowledge had been patchy at best and the Passenger Bureau insisted every holiday-maker learned the full story. There would even be questions later!

I passed Henry his cup and settled down in the other chair. For a while he was content to let the commentator carry on with the story. We watched how the Type A ships had all had fancy flashing lights and display screens until a year or two later, when some helpful person mentioned the fact that there would be no-one to read all the information displayed, once the thing had set off. So in the later models, a socket was provided on the side, so that a diagnostics umbilical could be plugged in to monitor the systems during construction.

Type As had every sort of detector, scanner, radar, light amplifier, image intensifier and range-finding gadget known at the time, without any regard as to how they would be linked into the central computer, or how the computer's rudimentary systems might have made sense of it. They all carried third generation parallel processing computers which were supposed to be able to learn from events which they were plugged into. However, from what they relayed back, the systems became increasingly overloaded by the mass of new data coming in.

'You'll see some changes now,' said Henry. 'The later models were not quite as lavish and were far more functional than the earlier ones. The computers were getting better too.'

'I suppose even billionaires didn't like wasting money.'

'How do you think they got it in the first place? Those guys didn't get rich by giving it away.'

'No more than today, then,' I added.

From Type F onwards, it was decided to leave the interstellar vehicle in orbit once a likely planet had been found and then use a separate module to make planet-fall, to see if habitation were possible. Some had modules which could process natural energy sources on the planet, enabling them to re-fuel and then return to the ship.

'When are they going to get to the Mars bit?' asked Henry.

'I'll give you the Mars bit!' exclaimed Maggie suddenly behind us. 'And, Henry, I see you're sitting in Ben's favourite space couch.' She'd come round to find out what Henry was up to.

'Oh. Er, Hi. We were only...' muttered Henry, his voice fading as he noticed Maggie's short, tight, summer khaki skirt and skimpy top. She didn't go to work like that, so she must have changed when she found Henry not at home and guessed he was round my place watching old movies.

'Yes, I can see that,' she replied with mock firmness and a smile to herself, pleased at how her appearance had stopped him in mid-sentence.

Although I knew well enough it was for Henry's benefit. I couldn't help noticing Maggie's long, supple legs, trim figure and firm breasts.

'And what about lunch?' she added. 'Some of us have been out earning a crust all morning!' Sometimes I couldn't quite tell if she was really angry with Henry or not. He was temporarily lost for words, so I decided to help out.

'Don't worry, Maggie. Sit down. I'll do lunch.' She took my seat, beginning to follow the documentary.

'Oh, all right. Where's it got to?'

'As I was saying when somebody interrupted,' Henry smiled at her, purposely staring at his wife's legs, 'I think they've missed out the Mars bit.'

'Well, nothing much came of it, did it?'

'Only that NASA spent more billions on sending a massive series of probes, followed by Peach Computers and Pear Server Systems setting up rival manned base stations.'

'Yes, but what were they for?' Asked Maggie. I could still hear them from the kitchen next door.

'Fun?' I called through.

'No. Of course not,' replied Henry, rising to the bait.

'They were trying to set up research, so they could use lower gravity launch, virtually undepleted mineral supplies and lower solar interference with long-range communications.'

'And did it work?' quizzed Maggie.'

'Not very well. But they did get all that spectral stuff back from the first ships.'

'And the colonies, what happened to them?'

'They weren't really colonies.'

'OK then, research domes or whatever they were.'

I came back while lunch heated in a set of pots on the stove. 'The Pear one got hit by a meteorite no bigger than a golf ball. Took the main dome out. They had considered building a protective shield but consider was as far as they got. The whole thing shattered when it got hit. I think they lost about fifty people. The lucky ones were off shift in the smaller domes and the air locks kept them from depressurising. It was all a bit of a mess. They set up the automated stations, then everyone left. They couldn't get off fast enough. But the lack of water was getting to them by then anyway.'

'How did you know all that?' gasped Henry.

'Well, while you two were, er, discussing the matter, I was paying attention to the documentary on the relay screen in the kitchen. You must have missed the shots of Mars, all that red dust and rock. They made a couple of movies about it. Shall I down-load them? We can watch them after lunch.' I knew I had a mischievous glint in my eye when I suggested the movies.

'You even touch that control panel and I'm off back next door,' said Maggie with a laugh, picking up on the joke straight away.

'Only testing,' I replied with a smile. By the time I'd finished the history lesson, it was going to have taken the best part of two days, especially after Ax's not so welcome calls and yesterday's trip to the movies. 'Lunch is nearly done.'

'About time!' said Maggie. 'I'm due back in an hour.'

'What is it?' asked Henry, following Maggie through into the kitchen.

'I bet it's pasta,' she replied, nudging Henry, as they approached the table. 'I thought so,' she said peering into the pots. She wrapped an arm around Henry and leaned up against him. 'It's always pasta.'

'It isn't always pasta! I cook plenty of other stuff, as you know perfectly well, only pasta is quicker,' I retorted, slow to realise she was pulling my leg this time. 'Are you two stopping, or not?'

'I'm game,' said Henry.

'You would be,' said Maggie, patting his stomach through his thick, knitted sweater. 'Is there ever a time when you're not?'

'It's my day off.'

'Which is an excellent excuse for you to sit around all day eating and watching Ben's Passenger programme,' she said, hugging him as they moved towards their seats at the heavy-grained wooden table. They knew well where to sit. It was more than ten years ago that they had moved to the village and we'd broken bread together countless times since then.

Halfway through the meal, I noticed the non-urgent tell-tale winking on the sign panel in the corner. I briefly donned the goggles and scanned a message from Ax, saying 'Back on track. No worries. Spatial almost tight.'

'That sounded much better,' I thought.
Chapter 12: Henry's Kiss

Maggie stood up and gave Henry a lingering kiss. I could guess what Henry was thinking. 'Can I think up a plausible excuse to give Ben and nip next door for half an hour with Maggie before she goes back to work?'

Meanwhile, I was thinking she was reminding him how well off he was at home and not to go having any ideas of the sort of holiday I had planned. Either way, Henry didn't manage to think up an excuse in time and Maggie left to get changed again for work.

Henry and I went back to the documentary, picking up the story where they explained what the still bitterly rival Peach and Pear stations had achieved. Years of examining spectral data from different parts of the galaxy and rummaging through signals sent back from the early ships, showed them that the trick of locating inhabitable planets was really very simple. You seek out stars which have a wobble caused by planets circling around them, then you need one very specific, very sensitive sensor, to home in on planets that looked blue, as all potentially habitable planets had to contain water in the atmosphere and hence a have blue sky.

Biotechnology was allowed to run full course on the later clone ships when the apparatus had become more reliable. If an experiment did go wrong, it couldn't contaminate anything else and you could give all the vats a burst of UV that would sterilise the lot, ditch the contents into the vacuum of space, then start all over again with different parameters. This way rapid advances were made in gene therapy, biochemical resources, food production and an endless list of medical improvements. The data was then beamed back to earth to help feed the still growing population and keep everyone healthy.

All through this bit Henry sat absolutely absorbed. I found it quite interesting but for him to see actual archive clips of stuff he'd only heard of before was a real thrill. He grinned to himself as the presenter explained how for what had been considered seriously new stuff, the designs were beamed out, so that the equipment at the other end could produce up-to-date technology, whilst still in flight. All that was required was a micro-machine assembly plant. This produced microscopic units which could combine to make any other machine. You could update any piece of equipment on board, have improved detection equipment, ultra-low threshold sensors and even next-generation computers. Henry was on the edge of his seat.

The box which did all the cloning didn't even have to be built until a habitable planet was found. When one was found, the assembly plant set to work producing the most cutting edge machinery possible, produced the most perfect clone and downloaded all your lovely thoughts straight into it. All you had to do then was let the automated lander take you down to the planet's surface and you were lord of all you surveyed.

Henry could see it was reaching the end of the technical bit and I noticed he was getting restless to be off. 'OK, Henry, I don't expect the next bit on all the social stuff's quite your thing.'

'No. I'd better get going,' he said, moving towards the door and murmuring something about doing a few jobs and Maggie's evening meal. 'But thanks for letting me stay. And for lunch,' he called back from the garden. I guessed he was considering how he could get Maggie back into the fetching outfit she had on at lunch time. She liked to keep him on his toes but I had a feeling he was going to be in luck this time.

After he'd gone, I settled myself down with a hot brew and a heavy chocolate seed and spice bar. It was the social changes after clone travel that interested me most.

Now there's nothing worse than having settled into something, when you get rudely interrupted, so when Ax's face cut across the screen, I felt myself move into definitely not amused mode.

'Ben.'

'Ax, shouldn't you be talking to Knass?'

'I would be but he's off line again.'

'What?'

'I know it's impossible but his signal keeps breaking up. Like his beacon's down or something.'

'But they're self-repairing. Even the fail-safe has a fail-safe.'

'True but fail safe doesn't always mean fail working.'

'Ax, we go back a long way but this is beginning to be a pain. Have Internal Security got involved yet?'

'Course. Since yesterday, even before I called you.

They're the ones running the spatial.'

'You called them in?'

'Pre-emption, Ben. You taught me that.'

'All right, what's this spatial thing, then? You mentioned it last time we spoke.'

'OK. When we, I mean when Security ran a check linking all the data nodes showing hits by the retriever bytes, we still get isolated segments.'

'I get the bit about the retriever bytes, what's this isolated segments thing?'

'We chart up where all the tagged data is coming from and display it in 3D, superimposed over the star map. If there are any areas separated from the rest of the data, it means either there are connections missing, whole segments in between missing, or even worse, both.'

'How delightful! And you've got holes.'

'Well, the heavy guys have. They've tapped into everything we've got and I guess there are people involved in this Yellow thing who've not been rounded up yet.'

'Statistically we always miss a few, what's the big deal?'

'We haven't caught enough of the really top guys.'

'You've done the spread analysis already?'

'Yeah, there should be a higher proportion of chiefs roped in by now. This one's been planned with some care. They've first-jumped us every step so far, so we've only caught the smaller fry. The trouble we've had with Knass has all been down to them. The whole Yellow thing's a lot bigger than any of us had thought. And we're not dealing with any old bunch of decadent chumps, these guys are pretty smart. And well-prepared. We've found decoy bytes and data bombs all over the place but no hard leads.'

'OK. OK. Don't get over-excited. You've dealt with this sort of thing before, remember the Harnn business?'

'Yeah, sure.'

'Right, so prioritise. Knass has to be fully operational before you stop bothering me, so that's number one. Gaze gave me her personal assurance that that the two of you would cope. Liaise with Internal and run that diagnostic stats thing you used last time. You know, the one that crunches the numbers of incidents and can extrapolate from how many you've got to how many there actually are. Then plug it back into the spatial to get a projection of the locations. That'll give you a target and then you can work up the technology to track the last strands.'

'Thanks, Ben. I thought you'd clarify everything.' Ax looked relieved as he logged off.
Chapter 13: Changes

I knew I hadn't heard the last on the Yellow from Ax but I hoped the case was going in the right direction. There were usually a few unforeseen twists and turns in every investigation, though this one looked to have more than most. The Hot Page had lost focus on the Yellow to some extent, Dave and Patty had decided to clone back to the Sonia of two years ago, and there was a side feed to a page on the theory of illegal data tracking.

The hottest news had been taken over by a super-bug some enterprising techie had synthesised. Fortunately, it was so far only a virtual one, so there was little danger of populations being laid waste by a real plague of the stuff. However, I also knew there was plenty of tidying up still to do on the Yellow case, and if Ax really couldn't get Knass fully back on line, I'd get recalled anyway. Nonetheless, still optimistic that my holiday would continue with no more than a few calls to reassure Ax, I returned to the documentary.

When the global population had realised that it really was going to be colonising distant planets before long, people began to be concerned about how it should all be run. Within no more than three generations, clonesploration was taken out of the hands of the rich; every employee on the planet was paying some degree of levy to finance the sending off of the next generation of clone ship. In due course, it was only to be expected that we found ourselves dusting the galaxy with faster, smarter ships which could beam back almost incomprehensibly new data. Every couple of months a new planet was found and linked into a sort of interstellar internet. Many people thought that human explorations would eventually make contact with other life-forms - we did - but so far the most 'intelligent' found was a plant, a very small, single-celled one which only lived in water.

One of the most important advances came with the ability to transmit genetic data along with the mind patterns. This meant that it was possible to replicate people other than the original senders of the clone ships. Hence the reason for everyone paying a levy, anyone who'd paid in could go. Once a habitable planet was found, any number of people copies could be turned out of the vats light years from home. A few people even chose their offspring gene by gene, using some of their own and as many as they liked from a common genetic data pool. As long as you had sent a gadget with a radio antenna at one end and a cell replicator at the other end, you could copy off virtually anything living. You could even take your favourite pet over too.

Things progressed quite rapidly after that, I remembered, but I knew if I didn't stop for supper, I would be too hungry to care. Making a quick sandwich, I returned to learn how inhabitable planets were found towards the end of the twenty-first century and how they were successfully colonised by clones and the progeny of clones of people who no longer even existed. Entire populations of new folk sprang up all across the galaxy. Scientific discovery progressed by leaps and bounds because there were so many researchers doing so much in so many different environments. Whole gene banks were shared electronically across space and data strings were transformed into living beings at the destination.

Once the clonesploration operation was really in full swing, planets became populated over a number of generations. It was important to have sufficient variety in the genetic stock and so genetic patterns were transmitted to all these points of habitation. In the shortest possible time fully variant human copies could be produced by being built up from basic units, rather than simply replicating identical clones.

New populations were optimised according to the whims of the pioneers, going for genetic combinations providing high intelligence, psychological stability, strong immune systems, physical strength and balance, and whatever was considered to be physical beauty at the time.

Other groups tried to produce populations with a high percentage of individuals with some sort of sixth sense, others with scientific, philosophical or artistic bents. As a result expertise or prowess was developed as a merchantable base for the populations.

After the populations made up of transmitted clones had reached a critical mass, they began to inter-breed freely, although parents could still exercise a considerable degree of choice over which genes their offspring obtained naturally or artificially.

Gradually, trading between far flung places developed. You couldn't send things but you could send information about things and how they were made, so there was a great deal of data trade, particularly highly technical information in the form of encrypted binary. As a result of advances in one area or another, average human life expectancy across the galaxy gradually increased to more than 150 years.

I looked at the time remaining indicator on the documentary. Forty minutes to go. If I hadn't spent an extra four or five hours watching old movies, I'd have finished sometime late this afternoon. But then it wouldn't have been as much fun. I wanted to get through the last bit because it was the part which directly related to my own work, running checks on data streams to see whether traders were dealing in legal information, that there were no contraband credits around and that human rights were being upheld across the several hundred planets linked into the Net.

Between the years twenty-two hundred and twenty-three hundred, as planetary outpost populations had developed in numbers, they began to organise in a variety of ways. Each new society on each new planet was supposed to report into the Net what developments were taking place. However, the past had thrown up a few notable exceptions. A small number of the societies developed in a most unfortunate way. In the mad rush to populate as far and as wide as possible, not much human energy went into monitoring just how the quality of life was actually progressing on the multitude of newly discovered worlds. Eventually, as the rush for Eldorado slowed and communications were improved, research units were set up, initially to seek out and propagate examples of good practice. Inevitably, even though great care was taken to disguise worlds where new societies had kicked over the traces of morality, clues leaked through as to what was really going on.

It was a part of every data-miner's training to research the case of Sigma 12, an intellectual-sounding name for what turned out to be a most unhappy and decadent world. Many years ago, when the organisation I worked for was in its infancy, computer programs were trained to spot anomalies in the data output of whole planets. The programs would scan the TV channels and Net transmissions, identifying word-clusters and theme streams, which could characterise the society originating the information.

One such analysis of Sigma 12's output found almost no new scientific data, but a great number of word clusters, centring on comfort, leisure, exotic food and entertainments. The pattern revealed was one of relentless exploitation by an over-class, supported by a slave-like sub-class engineered to meekly obey the whims of its oppressors. The Data Police Department in which I was currently employed was set up as a result, to ensure that this injustice and other crimes were detected as soon as possible.

The decadence of Sigma 12 reminded me again of the Yellow case. As of right now, no word from Ax. I toyed with the idea of calling him, but instead decided no news was good news. A quick glance showed the hot page had nothing new and I left it running. I was beginning to feel safe in assuming that Ax had got Knass back online. The two of them would be pulling out all the stops to match up the numbers of rogues in cells with the statistical predictions. It was at that point that the Hot Page began to flash purple and red, as links to live shots of dawn raids on the premises of several highly-placed individuals were taking place. The Page would be full of scandal and gossip for weeks ahead. I didn't really want to know right now who it was this time.

Clone travel had freed humans from a precarious and wasteful struggle on a single planet, allowing our genes to thrive on many dozens of other worlds. The growing social inequality which reached breaking point in the early twenty-first century led straight to the data revolution which took control back from the politicians and their rich commercial allies. For twenty or thirty years the population of Earth achieved new levels of understanding, compassion and creativity. Unfortunately, as clone travel accelerated, some of the idealism was lost with it, as civilisation in some places took a step backwards. The only good thing about that was that it kept me in a job.
Chapter 14: The Bureau

It was with great anticipation that I had signed away several years' savings to begin the holiday swap procedure in the hope of becoming a Passenger. You may be forgiven for thinking the whole process took a couple of days. A quick bit of two-way radio and that would be it. Actually it took several months to set up and even then the transfer itself took more than twenty-four hours.

There was a whole list of prerequisites. You had to be young, free and single for at least six months before you started. In addition, you now had to have had at least one long-term relationship at some time but no dependents. Quite a lot of people couldn't fit the latest criteria. This was why I had started the earliest preparations long before my vacation had begun. It was essential that all details be documented and checked before you were allowed to even have your most personal data centralised, let alone scan the directory of other hopefuls. In the late twenty-first century, people had swapped with others who had partners, which made it pretty odd for the spouse, not to mention friends, relatives or especially children. Amongst wholly unscrupulous individuals swaps had been made without friends and families even being forewarned! After the media had a field day and there were some of the biggest court cases in history, laws were passed, society adapted and the whole business settled down.

The Passenger Act established the Bureau to bring things under control with the introduction of a greater number of safeguards. When I stopped to think about it, if it wasn't for the Passenger Bureau and the Data Police, the whole thing would have been outlawed years ago. Every individual applying for transfer was rigorously checked for identity which had to be cross-referenced and verified at every stage.

The transfer process itself was covered by the strictest protocols, as it would be extremely unfortunate if a person's mind was 'lost' once it had been removed from the living body. It had happened in the early days when the system had been privatised and was less carefully policed than it was now. As a result, several bloodless murders took place when members of criminal gangs tried to eliminate each other. Consequently a number of fairly undesirable individuals disappeared. They weren't exactly the kind of people who were mourned by most but it wasn't the sort of thing you wanted any risk of happening in a legitimate exchange. So the Bureau saw to it that it didn't.

Part of the cost of the process was the huge amount of permanent memory needed for storage and backups. At least one copy of the mind data file was always kept on at least one other world, after the allotted period it was absolutely vital that everyone ended up back where they started from.

All psychological profiling was done via the computer link. I couldn't believe it when the next package downloaded itself. There was screen after screen of questions. Skipping through to the end of the document, I could see there were thousands of them. 'There must be days' worth here,' I caught myself muttering to no-one at all. I sat down heavily at the kitchen table, reaching for the hot brew I'd made before the stuff came through. I tapped the keypad, glancing at individual questions through the goggles. It was all psychometric. The questions were crazy, irrelevant, or obvious. I couldn't imagine what the Bureau was going to do with my answers, assuming I could think of any. Did they really still use this stuff? I thought psychometrics had gone out of fashion a decade or two after they'd been first used back in the late twentieth. Like many business practices at the time, it had been a passing fad. I was so surprised to find it that I put in a call to the Passenger Bureau.

'Is that Ms James?'

'Yes, can you give me your reference number?'

'TR27 45921A RN797-7.'

'Thank you, Ben. What can I do for you?'

I still found it unnerved me when someone suddenly called me by name after accessing my reference code. I paused a few moments.

'Ben? Can I help?'

'Yes, sorry. Ms James. I'm interested in the tests that arrived today.'

'Oh, the psychometrics.'

'That's it. If you'll forgive me, they look, well,'

'Old fashioned?'

'Exactly.'

'The techniques have been known since the second half of the twentieth century but I can assure you that these are quite different. There's a physiological dimension. Apart from your answers, we get feedback from the biosensors. They should be in the initial package you received.'

'Oh, this is what they're for!' Remembering a little plastic envelope containing two tiny grey sleeves about two centimetres long, I rummaged around in the box of accessories and finding it, held it up to the camera, so that Agent James could see them.

'Those are the ones. Slip them over the ear pieces of your goggles.'

'That's all?'

'Yep. They relay your biorhythms and modulate them directly onto the data stream back to the Bureau, with your answers to the questions. It about quadruples the amount of data we get. And makes it all a lot simpler for you.' She sounded very pleased with her explanation.

'Even so, there still appear to be day's worth of questions.'

'True, but we have to be able to make you suitable matches,' she smiled.

'OK. I'll start today.'

'Good. Please read the instructions carefully, first.' With a last superior smile, she closed the connection.

I turned back to the first screen. 'Read each question right to the end, then give your immediate response.'

What was wrong with a carefully considered response, I wondered? Page two began with 'Which of the following make you feel happy? Which of the following make you feel angry? Which of the following make you feel sad? Do you have a favourite joke? Tell it now.' I tipped a couple of teaspoons of spirits into the remains of my hot brew. This was going to require a bit of Dutch courage, and perhaps even another space opera or two.

By lunch time I'd got as far as 'Your shuttle craft has seriously malfunctioned, its communication system and the main drive failed together but you were able to put down one hundred and twenty kilometres from a manned relay station on a planet with a hostile environment. There are poisonous snakes, large reptiles, biting insects, leeches and low air pressure. Your party of five has only four protective suits. Explain how you would decide who to leave behind.' It was definitely time for a break.

For three days the questions continued. In the end I only watched one movie. I could easily have paused more frequently but I wanted to get the questions over with as quickly as possible to move on to the next part of the process. As soon as I was done, I uploaded the lot to the Passenger Bureau for analysis.

The profiling was most conveniently completed from home but the physical testing required a visit to the Passenger facility nearly four hundred and eighty kilometres distant. I had booked the transport and would spend most of the next week there if all went well. Passenger Villas was a collection of impressive looking domes, towers and gardens. Amongst them was to be found the Bureau, which controlled all applications for transfer, and the high security Passenger Hotel.

Everything was of the topmost quality, with both human operatives and electronic assessment procedures. There was a multiplicity of different environments, to test and characterise every aspect of my physical state. My journey there was by hyper shuttle, a ground-based, single-tracked system, which once I was on the main line, took only two-and-a-half hours. Most of the trip was a blur of varying countryside, thick forest, rugged terrain, under the planet's largest river and across one of its smaller lakes.

Finally installed at Passenger Villas, a holding facility for those applying for transfer contracts, I was to be scanned from head to foot, inside, outside and head to foot, for a whole list of reasons: I must not have any imminently fatal diseases, I must be relatively stable, I must not have too many irritating habits (as vestiges of these could be left in the cortex), nor could I be prone to violent behaviour, have any record of drug use or an addiction of any kind.

All of the possible negative characteristics had been eliminated from human stock by genetic engineering over the last century but the Bureau wasn't taking any risks. Over six days I was motor-neuron profiled, NMR-imaged, scraped, pumped, prodded, peered at by human experts, and any even remotely suspect bits of me surgically sampled and subjected to scanning electron microscopy.

After six-and-a-half days, Agent James informed me that I had been given the go-ahead to continue. I had checked out sane and fit enough for transfer. Next came the choosing. I was presented with the results of my psychometric tests and a profile of the sort of person I had been determined as being the most compatible to swap with. If I had wanted to swap with someone much like myself I could have got a machine to do most of the selection work for me. But if I wanted to 'be' someone different, or swap with another sex, it was more complicated.
Chapter 15: Choices

I was sent home to take what was for me the most important step. Deciding who to exchange with. I had to record a file of myself too, which must be sent off before I was allowed access to anyone else's. It was difficult trying to decide what to say and I had to make several attempts before I was even halfway happy with it.

I got Henry and Maggie round to begin with, to view some of my versions but after watching the first and second tries I made, they were banned for laughing too much. The recording had to be no more than ten minutes in length but in that time you had to try and make yourself as interesting as possible. It was a bit like being at the sort of job interview where they ask you why you think they should give you the job, then sit back and watch you squirm around trying to think of something. What do you say?

I tried talking about where I lived and what I did but I decided it didn't make much sense because I had to leave out all the classified bits. I tried telling stories or jokes but without an audience I couldn't judge the timing, so that was no good. However it did give me an idea. I thought I'd try recording a conversation with Henry and Maggie, as if they were just getting to know me. I had to make them swear not to laugh, which took about six takes to achieve but in the end I had something which I felt happier with and it felt reasonably natural.

'Ax!' His cheery face appeared on the goggles image.

'You're looking somewhat less frazzled than when we last spoke.'

'Ben. Hi. Yes. We got through to Knass eventually and he was pure inspiration when it came to putting clues to faces. You'd better watch out, he's a sharp one.'

'Thanks Ax, let's hope they don't retire me while I'm on holiday.'

'Not much chance of that with your experience. Anyway, I hear Knass is posted up for some new front job way over on Gamma 4. Why don't you have a word with him.'

'Come on, Ax, you know the etiquette, never call the locum! But you're happy with the outcome?'

Ax's brow wrinkled momentarily. 'We always miss a few, don't we?'

'We do. And usually any we miss are frightened off. I shall be looking forward to seeing your report and the stats on the catch match.'

'You can have it when you get back.'

'Thanks, and keep your eyes peeled for the next scam.'

'Will do. Take it easy, Ben.'

'You can depend on it!'

After my conversation with Ax, I transmitted the recording I'd made with Maggie and Henry back to the Bureau, whereupon I received six files from individuals the Bureau judged most suitable. A couple of hours later, knowing the files were due in, Maggie 'just happened' to call round to try to sneak a view for herself. I sent her away as gently as possible. This was something I wanted to focus on alone. Gradually making my selection, I eventually narrowed it down to two.

'Hi, Ben. How's it going?' A familiar voice broke through my concentration. I couldn't believe it. Maggie was back again. She must be a mind reader to be able to tell when I was down to making the final choice.

Glancing over my shoulder at the photographs, she said in a very serious voice 'I should go for Steph, Ben.'

'No, it's got to be Lori.'

'I knew you'd say that!' she laughed suddenly.

'So, why did you say Steph.'

'Only testing,' she laughed again.

'I might have known.'

'You should do by now. Anyway, Lori looks really great, just your sort.'

'Yeah, I think so.'

'So, what are her stats?'

'She's grade five employed.'

'Oh, same as you Ben. There's a surprise.'

'The Bureau says we have to be compatible to a high degree.'

'The Bureau! That's all Henry and I have got from you for months. What I want are all the intimate details.'

"Maggie!'

'Well, one or two?'

'Look, you've seen her picture. She's one point six metres tall and forty-eight kilos. That's all you're getting.'

'And you are? Let me guess. One point eight tall and at least a hundred kilos?'

'Only ninety-five kilos, thank you,' I laughed.

'Come on, give me some more. Is she younger or older?'

'This stuff is supposed to be confidential!'

'All right, I'll only tell Henry, I promise.' Maggie laughed so outrageously I had to join her. 'How old is she, Ben?'

'Same as me, forty-seven, and she's got a good athletic figure.'

'Exactly like you then?' laughed Maggie, poking a finger at my middle.

'Precisely.'

'After how many weeks at the gym?' teased Maggie.

'Enough!' I laughed, chasing her out of the house, knowing she would be keen to report back to Henry.

I studied Lori's picture. She had dark, wavy hair and flashing brown eyes. Lounging back in an easy chair, I thought back over my choice. How could the Bureau do this to me? The ready smile, the soft voice and infectious laugh I'd seen on Lori's recording. She was absolutely gorgeous! Was I really going to swap with her? I certainly was!

With no more delay, I sent my decision off to the Passenger Bureau and waited to see if Lori agreed. I had to go and dig the garden for an hour to try to take my mind off it. Seconds after I'd changed from my outdoor clothes and showered, the mail chime went again. My goggles were covered in steam and I could hardly read the result. Lori had picked me as first choice too! I invited Henry and Maggie round to celebrate. This time pasta was only the starter.
Chapter 16: Contracts

The next day the contract came through. Lori and I had jointly applied to swap for the legal maximum of four weeks. Statistically, it was found, that a longer time caused problems. Some found it started to get boring, others found it difficult to adjust when they swapped back, some didn't want to go back at all and yet others couldn't wait.

Also it was very expensive. There was a high premium for the transfer itself and the insurance cover. You were forbidden by law from doing the other person's work (even if you could) and you were forbidden to meet any of their friends.

Once inside the Passenger Hotel you had to stay there for the duration of your exchange. If it hadn't been so luxurious, the Passenger Hotel would have been instantly recognisable as a prison. Certainly there was no way out, unless you were granted early suspension of your contracted transfer. If the other person wanted to continue, you were 'stored' until the allotted time was up and then transferred back.

Over all, I was 32.152 normal light years distant from Lori (by Ultra Radio it was only a fraction of a second), however the cultures were similar and we both knew something of each other's work. Until now we had only seen each other's recordings and profiles. At last I was able to contact Lori directly.

Our initial conversation was brief, to confirm the arrangement in person, or as much of 'in person' as was possible by vidcom. The next day we began to explore each other's day to day existence. We booked a vidcom link for two o' clock in the afternoon.

At five minutes to two I logged on to the system and typed in the connection codes. These sent a cybersnout off into the Net, trailing my connection behind it until it found Lori's electronic address. The Net was busier than I had anticipated and it wasn't until fifteen minutes later that I was greeted by Lori's smiling face.

We were both bubbling with enthusiasm to get to know each other directly. A ten minute recording didn't really tell you much. This was exhilarating but daunting at the same time. 'So, Lori, how's things?' I began, a little nervously.

'Great,' she laughed. 'Nice talking to the real you at last.'

'And you.' I felt shy all of a sudden, lost for words.

'Um, your planet is called?'

'Solid Ground,' she replied, smiling as I winced with embarrassment at my feeble attempts at conversation. I never had been much good at this sort of thing, especially when the girl was billions of miles away and you couldn't even offer her a drink or actually sit down next to her. But then this wasn't a date, was it? How strange. In many ways it felt like one. 'The star system is about 35 light years from Earth.' Earth was still used as a reference point for distance calculations.

'That's it. I've put the star chart floating behind you. Gnat Bite is a bit further out. Here.' I keyed in the coordinates, so that it would be highlighted on the chart and posted it as a macro for her to see.

'Gnat Bite. That's a funny name.'

'Yes, doesn't sound as stable as Solid Ground. It's relatively small and made up of fragments.'

'I read about that. It sounds a pretty strange place.'

'It looks ordinary enough at ground level, it's only if you start poking around with geological instruments you find out what it's made of.'

'Isn't it five or six separate chunks of extremely dense rock kind of stuck together?'

'Yes. I'm not sure which theory to believe. One says the original planet was broken up by a direct asteroid hit in the early life of the solar system. They say it already had a solid core by the time of the impact. It was sufficient to crack up the greater mass of the planet without enough force to blow away all the useful stuff, like atmospheric oxygenating materials, water and gases.'

'Sounds a bit far-fetched to me,' commented Lori. 'As far as we know Solid Ground is exactly what it says. But then what happened after this impact?'

'They've identified six major fragments now. Supposedly the large bits and what was left of the rest floated around rather randomly until it finally coalesced into a grumbling, grinding misshape, sloshing around in a balloon of water, gas and grit. It was all a bit of a mess for a long time, until, over hundreds of millions of years the fragments, balanced between gravity and centripetal force, orientated themselves to form roughly the surface of a sphere again. Once it had stabilised, the smaller parts gradually set like concrete around the larger bits and that was it.

'But how could an impact crack the whole planet up without losing the water and atmosphere?'

'As far as I know, no-one's answered that particular question yet. Another idea is that the planet is made up of huge asteroids which coalesced under mutual gravitational forces. But that one doesn't explain where the atmosphere and water came from,' I laughed. 'Like you say, it all sounds pretty unlikely but it's where I'm sitting right now.'

'Isn't it more likely that an almost destroyed planet roughly reassembled, then got pounded with comets which re-stocked the water and atmosphere?' suggested Lori.

'That's a new theory. I like it.'

Next Lori asked me to take her on a tour of my home. I began in the lounge-work room, showing her briefly the location of the computer system, my favourite flight couch, the bare, polished boards of the floor, the plain washed walls and the large windows. I was pleased to find she admired the rugs on the wall opposite the fireplace and the rough, hand thrown pots I had made some years ago.

Next I took her through into the hallway of the bungalow, using the camera in the virtual display goggles to give her a glimpse of the kitchen with its large wooden table and a view of the small, walled herb and vegetable garden through the French doors. I explained that I liked the natural effect of the light wooden panelling extending round the lower part of the walls. All the walls in the place were either wood-panelled or roughly plastered and painted.

"You like to cook?' Lori enquired.

'Certainly. There are several restaurants in the village. They're all very good, especially the one based on the original oriental style using lots of spices. But I often cook for myself because I work irregular hours, so if I cook my own food, I can eat what I like when I'm ready.'

'And are you any good at cooking?' Lori laughed.

'I don't get many complaints. How about you?'

'Yes. I cook too. My family and friends appreciate it.'

I smiled at her. 'That's good.'

'I eat out quite a bit though. I work mainly in the village, rather than from home, so it's often more convenient.'

Back in the hallway I 'led' her towards the front of the house, pausing at the pictures and woven wall hangings I had put up. 'We have quite a substantial traditional crafts industry here. Almost everything is hand made. High tech stuff is only used where needed, rather than for decoration.'

'I see. We have both styles here. I think we have a greater population, so there's more diversity. But I like your things. Where do you sleep?'

'Usually in here,' I replied, taking her into the bedroom.

'You're very tidy,' she giggled approvingly.

'I try,' I laughed, trying not to shake my head too much, knowing the image would bounce all over the place.

'I bet you had a massive spring clean since yesterday,' she taunted gently.

'No, a quick dust round,' I returned with a smile as I rotated my head across the room for her to see the big wooden bed with its large, intricately carved headboard, and the heavy wooden storage cupboards and chests of drawers.

Like all the rooms in the house, it was large and had lots of clear space. 'I can't bear to be hemmed in,' I explained. 'I can't imagine living on one of those heavily populated worlds, where everyone has tiny rooms in regular houses, all planned out and crammed together with everything looking the same.'

'Me neither. I think we have a nice balance here. There are big cities for those who want everything yesterday and in the latest fashion. A great number of our young people live there, until they slow down a bit,' she laughed tantalisingly. 'Then we have the villages, same as yours. And what did you mean by 'usually' sleeping in the bedroom?'

'Oh. We're in the mild season at the moment.

Sometimes I sleep out of doors. The last time was when I completed the Yellow assignment before beginning the holiday. It was late. I went for a stroll, lay down to relax for a while, gazing at the stars and the next thing I knew it was morning.'

'It sounds very pleasant there.'

'I think so.'

'Come on then. Show me outside.'

I drew open the heavy front door, its security bolts glistening brightly in the frame as they caught the sunlight. It was very clear today, so Lori would be able to see across the open plain in front of the house, giving way after a kilometre or so to regular rows of fruit trees cultivated by some of the village folk.

'What a view! My town is quite large and I'd have to walk through a couple of kilometres of streets before we can find open countryside. Go back inside and I'll show you around my place.'

Turning back to the house, I scanned once over the rambling shapes of the wooden structure, describing how it had been extended over the years from a once tiny pioneer's cottage which now formed the hallway. Then I returned to the lounge, sat down in the big couch and switched over to the wall display, so that Lori could pick me up on the its built-in camera and so that I could watch her tour without needing the display specs.
Chapter 17: Lori's World

'OK, I can see you're sitting comfortably now, Ben, so I'll begin.' She switched to her own pair of display specs and the image immediately jumped to the opposite wall, where I could see myself on the wall display. Lori clicked that off too and sprayed the camera around the room.

'Woa. Slow down. I feel sea-sick already.'

'Sorry Ben. I guess I'm a bit nervous, now that it's my turn.'

'Don't worry, start on the left there and talk me through it slowly.'

'Right then. That big, decorative, metallic flower thing in the corner is the computer link.' She zoomed in on what at first sight looked like a complex metal sculpture, representing a floral display, the colours being produced by intricate partial alloying of different metals, burnishing, sintering and tempering.

'Very. Er, interesting,' I offered.

'All right. I know it's hideous but I wanted one truly outrageously high tech object in the house, to remind me of what's possible.'

'Does it glow in the dark, too?' I enquired mischievously.

'Actually parts of it do. I had a friend who wanted me to get the one with an integral laser light show but I drew the line at that.'

'I'm very pleased to hear it,' I replied and we both laughed heartily.

'Besides, I have something much better than any laser show. We have a huge number of chunks of space debris in this system. Fortunately it's all really small and harmless but it does mean that virtually every night is firework night.'

'That sounds exciting.'

'It is. You get used to it after a while, then suddenly you notice it again. It must have been a disintegrated moon or something with loads of minerals because the colours are often amazing and about once a month it gets very bright.'

'Not a world for astronomers.'

'Not at all. The stars are almost all hidden in the wash of colour.'

'I'd love to see it.'

'Sure. No problem. I'll call you after sunset tomorrow.'

'Thank you. I'll look forward to it.'

While Lori had been talking, she'd zoomed the camera back, so that I could see the whole room now. She had woven fabric on the floor, an unpatterned oatmeal colour which fitted well with her fashionably low level, structural wooden furniture. It was a large enough room, with a highly polished, carved and panelled sideboard, a low table and two very comfortable looking, deep leather arm chairs in raven black with peacock highlights either side of a huge, carved fire-place. At the window there were painted wooden shutters which were open to the light streaming through. 'Very modern, very tasteful,' I observed.

'I wasn't sure you'd like it,' replied Lori, 'it's not to everyone's taste. My father can't abide it. The only things he likes are the shutters. It's the one part I haven't changed.'

The scene wobbled as Lori stood up and took me into the kitchen which was reached through a door on the left. It was a rich combination of high tech and craftsmanship, blended subtly to be inconspicuously functional. The floor was tiled in deep, fiery reds and oranges. It looked spectacular, with a large dining area at one end and the range at the other. The flooring was picked up again by randomly spaced arrangements of tiles on the walls, which were otherwise roughly plastered. Heavy wooden beams were exposed in the ceiling which at the work end carried a large array of cooking implements and utensils.

'I love it. You must spend some time in there!' I exclaimed.

'I like the way it gives that impression,' Lori laughed again. 'Actually not as much as I'd like but I do enjoy having friends round. Once they're sitting round the table with the smell of food and wine wafting around, we always end up staying in here.'

'Stunning,' I said 'What a great kitchen. Come on. I can't wait to see the rest of it now.'

Lori walked back through the lounge and out the other side, passing a side door leading into a small walled garden similar to mine, then past a luxurious bathroom, with rich, swirling pink and turquoise tiling beneath painted aquatic murals. This was followed by a tiny office containing the computer control system for the house, the satellite link and a holographic projector.

At the end of the hall was the front door and to the right, the bedroom. This last room was as big as the lounge but it was furnished differently again, picking up the colour theme of the bathroom on the floor and walls, but with the addition of deep bronze, black and gold hangings. Once more there were hand-painted shutters at the windows, a pair of which looked out onto the garden.

Finally, Lori took me out through the front door into a wide, fan-shaped plot with trees and grass and a straight, level path leading to a gate in a far wall. Along the sides were more low trees and shrubs. After I'd been shown the flowering fruit trees and admired the neat lawn and the shady trees, we decided to call it a day and arranged that Lori would contact me tomorrow, so we could pick up where we left off.

The next night, Lori showed me the night sky of Solid Ground, a non-stop riot of colour. I was delighted to see the multiple, criss-crossing trails of skimming meteors. The flaring shooting stars broke in repeated showers through shimmering nets of natural, high altitude lights made by the interaction between the planet's powerful magnetic field and the solar ion flux. In the few 'quiet' periods it was still possible to see one or two of the brightest stars through the flickering curtains of coloured light.

Later we talked of our jobs. I somehow managed to explain, without giving away any secrets, that much of my work was assisted by software gofers and sniffers but that someone had to interpret the findings of the various cyber hounds and ensure that the data traffic was legal. The sticky web technology was classified, so I kept that to myself.

Our jobs diverged where Lori had to make prosecutions and I had to sort out the glitches the automated systems couldn't cope with. Some of these turned out to be false alarms but a few were inevitably bits of data going where they shouldn't. The case of the Yellow was of a less frequent type, usually our work involved only commercial transgressions in data trade. It was rare that there were any really big cases these days. The potential was always there but the Department was unrelentingly vigilant and we liked to give the impression of always being one jump ahead.

I found it all quite odd, because it felt as though we were building the foundations of a relationship, even though we weren't actually going to meet in the sense of being able to walk up to each other and shake hands. We were going to meet each other's body. And that was to be quite separately, something which in itself was to provide a unique experience.

When we weren't talking on the vidcom, the next few days were taken up practising managing each other's body using virtual reality. This was particularly important, as Lori's body was obviously a different shape and size to mine, not to mention being very definitely female.

It would be most uncomfortable to keep missing the top shelf of the cupboard, or banging one's new head on every low-hanging object, straining someone else's muscles by lifting something too heavy, or taking greater or fewer steps to cross the kitchen than you imagined, depending upon whether you were taller or shorter than the person you were swapping with. The virtual reality system was programmed with the other person's characteristics, so you could practise moving around.

Another set of virtual visits to the Bureau, this time for counselling. Sometimes, I found counselling could be most welcome, when you sought it yourself, but this was inflicted by the Bureau, and I found it rather annoying. What was it for? Was I still being tested? Did my answers really matter? Much of it I found either trivial or frustrating. And I could never be sure when I was talking to a real person or a machine-generated real-looking person. Parts of it I found to be going nowhere in particular.

'What else do you expect to find different or strange?'

'Er, speaking with someone else's voice.'

'What do you think that will be like?'

'Well, Lori's voice will be higher and have a different range.'

'Yes, good. How will you cope with that?'

'I'll have to use her voice in ways which feel the most comfortable and natural, and not try to make it speak at my usual pitch, because it won't.'

'Anything else?'

'Will I actually think in the same way as I do now?'

'What do you mean by that?'

'The way Lori's brain is connected will be different, so how will my thinking processes work?'

'It is connected differently but when your mind patterns are filtered into her brain, many of the neurons will be re-routed. How do you think that will affect you?'

'I asked you that.'

'Yes, but it's better if you find your own answers. And before you ask, I am trained to answer questions with questions.'

'OK, so Lori and I both speak the same language, have many interests in common and similar experiences of life, so I expect it will affect me most at an unconscious level.'

'Yes.'

'Will I find that some memories are recalled differently to the way they are now?'

'In what way?'

'I expect that some will be stronger than I am used to and others weaker. And if she is, for example, more visual than I am, then that aspect might be reinforced.'

'Quite right. It's something you need to think about a bit, or rather expect to try to avoid thinking too much about once you have transferred. Preparation. Expecting the unexpected. Those are important factors.'

'That wasn't a question.'

'No, sound advice for a change.'

'Thanks. I'll work on it. Is there anything else I need to know, or haven't been told? Are there any hidden catches?'

'None that I can tell you about before our next meeting.'

As with any relationship, anything could happen. Maybe after getting to know the other person, you either realised how different they were in certain annoyingly significant ways which the computers hadn't picked up. In that case you began to feel gradually cooler towards them. Alternatively, as happened in my case, you found the more time you spent with the person, albeit via vidphone and virtual reality, the more you warmed to them. I began to look forward with tremendous enthusiasm to each successive conversation with Lori. In hindsight, I suppose it was almost love at first sight. The two of us had been carefully selected by the Bureau to be compatible in such a wide variety of ways.

Lori and I talked and talked and talked. Much more than was necessary for the transfer. I found her so easy to be with. She had a very similar sense of time and space, and we met at a point when the ebbs and flows of our lives coincided. A similarity of interests and acuities existed between us, even though we were from different genetic stock. And of course the more I got to know her, the even more gorgeous I found her. She was both lively and sociable, yet capable of great calm and equanimity. I discovered she had a lightning fast visual sense and could almost count the hairs on a mouse at forty paces. I soon realised that Lori was the sort of person I could feel relaxed and be myself with, while simultaneously really enjoying her presence. Sometimes it was hard not to be able to touch her. After only a few weeks, I decided that if the transfer went well and my feelings for her had grown, I would tell her and see if she felt the same.
Chapter 18: Transfer

I made the journey back to the Passenger Bureau, for a final round of prodding and probing, electrical connections and monitoring, questioning and counselling. After a total of nearly six weeks, the Bureau had decided we were both certificated ready for transfer. It was a bit like buying a house, with the Bureau as estate agents or solicitors exchanging contracts for us. Indeed there was a legal requirement which the Bureau fulfilled, permitting us to become Passengers for four weeks.

Our exchange time was finally booked almost terrifyingly suddenly: in twelve hours, at 10.00 the next morning. Over the few hours remaining, I rapidly arranged last minute details, putting the house computer systems into sleep mode, and making my last farewells with Henry and Maggie, who promised to keep an eye on the place while I was gone.

The minutes finally all ticked away and it was the time for transfer. All Passengers' bodies were injected with a temporary dye and this was the first part of the process. The dye worked using time-release micro-capsules injected into the bloodstream and were designed to seek out surface skin cells. Over the time it took for all the electronic stuff to suck out your thoughts and personality, the micro-capsules had diffused into every part of your epidermis.

A body carrying a male Passenger was given a faint blue dye and a body carrying a female Passenger was given a pale pink colour. The colours were not bright but were synthetic enough to be instantly recognisable. It sounded complicated at first but in fact it was quite simple: each body where a man had changed places with another man would be tinted blue, where a woman had changed places with another woman, each would have a pink tint; the body of a woman which contained a male personality would be tinted blue and the body of a man containing a female personality would be tinted pink.

Before the transfer took place I was scrubbed down completely, my digestive tract was completely emptied and I was allowed nothing but water to drink. Sustenance was provided by a pack clipped to my arm. The pack supplied all the nutrients and metabolites needed during the process. Most of the time the nutrient pack fed me a light euphoric too, as it monitored me for signs of unease through all the final preparations. I felt I had an inkling of what some of the twentieth century astronauts must have felt like in the hours before take-off.

By the time I had been prepared for the electrical transfer, I was completely naked and strapped down to a padded couch in a small padded cell full of instrumentation. Finally, a soft helmet was placed over my head and adjustments made until all the pick-ups were in place. All that remained for me to do was to slowly meditate my way into a light trance. As soon as the floating sensation began my personality would be drawn out through the headset, stored, verified and then sent at super-light speed to the facility holding Lori's body, while the same was happening to her. Slowly I felt I was sinking, the lights faded gradually and there began a timeless period of utter blackness.
Chapter 19: Passengers

I slid in and out of consciousness. Fuzzy shapes and sounds drifted close by but for some time I couldn't focus on either. As my senses cleared, I found myself in what appeared to be still the same cubicle. Had something gone wrong? I couldn't move a muscle, I felt as though I was filled with cotton wool.

In time I became vaguely aware that a tell-tale had begun bleeping. At first the sound was distorted but at each count it became clearer. The equipment must have been changing the mixture of drugs blending into my bloodstream.

Suddenly I was wide awake and being overtaken by the first physical rush. A shock wave swept over me. I remembered I had been warned I would be very disorientated. This must be it. I began to twitch and shake from head to foot (it was a good thing I was strapped down) as Lori's brain and body responded to my thought patterns.

Computers controlled and dampened the excess of the mismatches between new electrical currents and old synaptic connections. Over four or five hours my mind pattern had filtered into Lori's grey matter. It was bizarre but apparently it was better to be conscious than otherwise. Slowly the twitching subsided, only to be replaced by new sensations.

'My' muscles tightened all over Lori's body. I wiggled her fingers and toes, trying to test for myself if everything had connected properly. A delicious warm glow spread all over this new body as my mind became aware of each new muscle and fibre.

Male and female transfer technicians were busily attending a computer facility. When they were satisfied everything had gone according to plan, they checked and discussed the computer system read-out with me. Then they removed the headset, undid the straps, tipped the couch so that I could sit upright and left me alone to get used to being a Passenger.

Lori's body had the regulation light blue tinge to show she was hosting a male personality but otherwise it was of course, exactly as I had only been able to imagine so many times before. I couldn't resist touching her gorgeous, lithe, tight little body. I ran my hands through the hair and over the face. I was naked in someone else's body.

How incredibly alien it felt and 'my' heart began a strangely fluttery pounding. Ripples of pleasure flowed through this 'new' body as I touched it. What made it all the more thrilling was to know that Lori's mind was experiencing the same thing in my own body 32.152 light years away across space.

After a respectful interval the attendants returned with professional smiles. They re-checked all the sensor readings then helped me into some clothes. I was beginning to feel hungry as they removed the now exhausted nutrient pack and I was led out to an adjoining room where I could eat and relax before being 'released' into the hotel.

I was taken from the transfer cubical and finally shown to my own apartment in the hotel part of the complex. Once alone, the first thing I did was check over the rooms. There was a lounge and a kitchen, bathroom and a bedroom. On one wall in each room there was a communications panel linked to a computer terminal in the lounge. I found the LCD goggles and used them to scan the list of amenities. I saw there were shops for clothing and accessories, restaurants, bars, gardens and sports courts.

Later the same night Lori and I talked on a version of the vidcom called a vidflect. It had two modes and could be switched from the usual video display into a plain mirror. At first we faced each other, but then we both switched the panel over to mirror mode while keeping the audio channel open.

It was too strange talking to Lori and seeing myself. At least while looking at the reflection of her body, I could imagine more easily I was talking to her. Even so, it was still utterly bizarre to speak 'my' own words but hear (and feel) the words being formed by another voice, especially when it was the voice of someone you had come to know quite well. 'Thank you Lori, for letting me live in your wonderful body for the next few weeks.'

'No. Thank you. I couldn't possibly imagine what it would be like.'

'Nor could I. It's going to take some getting used to.'

'Well don't get too used to it, I'll want it back before long,' she joked.

'Likewise. Are they treating you well?'

'Of course, the Bureau's reputation is untarnished, as expected. What was your transfer like?'

'Dizzying!'

'Yes, me too.'

For both of us the transfer had worked perfectly and we agreed not to speak again for a whole week, while we got adjusted to each other's bodies. I felt it would be a long time to be out of contact but it would be less confusing that way.

_Over the next few days I spent much of the time on my own,_ getting used to dressing, washing and looking after Lori's body. I was conscious of the need to be careful with it, moving around slowly at first to grow accustomed to the different reactions and spatial effects.

One of the most difficult things was that she wasn't quite as tall as me, nor were her limbs quite as long, so I had to be constantly on the lookout not to under-reach for things. I would try to touch something, like picking up a piece of fruit from a bowl, only to find it wasn't quite where I thought it was.

The apartment was designed so that there were no steps, which would have been a hazard too far. It took several days before I could reach for a door or a cupboard without missing the catch by several centimetres, despite the VR training I'd had.

All passengers were regularly monitored by the technicians, at least partly to make sure you didn't fall into a variety of psychological traps, like starting to imagine you actually were the person you had swapped with, or simply getting very confused. Overall it was the most incredible 'rush'.

Lori's body felt so female, the hormones and other bodily mechanisms were all different and affected my perceptions. As a male personality I found Lori's body incredibly attractive and I had to keep pausing and hugging or pinching myself to make certain it was all really happening. It was indescribably intimate and I felt a deepening sense of delight and pleasure.

One of the most peculiar things was habits, as I began to grow gradually slightly more accustomed to Lori's body, I realised that habits were the one thing it was almost impossible to exchange. For example, Lori obviously always put her left shoe on first and squeezed the toothpaste from the middle. How did I know this? It was because I did the opposite, usually. I was now finding the oddest sensation of intending to put my right shoe on first but finding I was already half into the left one.

Another thing that caught me out was buttoning my jacket the other way. Jackets, shirts and blouses by convention or tradition buttoned on opposite sides, depending whether they were intended for male or female wear. I found I'd buttoned my jacket or blouse the 'wrong' way and only realised that somehow my hands had known what to do. Some habits could be so deeply entrenched that the physical structure of the brain was responsible for the action as much as the psychological.

Within a few days the feeling of oddness when I did something in an unexpected way wore off and I became more relaxed as I realised that the habits were perfectly harmless and actually quite useful. If I'd had to learn how to button up the other way round, I'd probably have made a complete hash of it.
Chapter 20: Holiday

Over the next day or two, my confidence and coordination grew to the point where I wanted to try meeting some of the other Passengers. So far I had eaten alone, ordering in at first, then trying the restaurant nearest my apartment, staring nervously out at the other diners from a booth. Apart from a few new transferees, like myself, the others were having a great time.

You could post your details on the local Net and find someone with similar interests to meet up with. Or you could go to one of the many theme bars and start chatting. I headed for the Jungle Bar. It turned out to be less of a bar and more of a party. The ambient conditions were hot and steamy, in keeping with the theme of the place and the walls were lined with exotic vegetation which spread across the ceiling and hung down in colourful swathes touching the floor, to create smaller areas where the clientele formed groups of intoxicated revellers.

I chose a multicoloured cocktail and joined a welcoming looking group. It wasn't long before I felt at home and was making new friends. The evening passed very quickly and I found I kept forgetting I was in Lori's body, only to be reminded every so often by unusual sensations and the reactions of the others.

I found I was attracted mentally to some of the women but my body wanted to respond to the men. It was most peculiar, producing a baffling mixture of confusion and excitement. The bar was filled with assorted groups, each containing a scattering of men like myself in female bodies (MF) and women in men's bodies (FM), as well as men in men's bodies (MM) and women in women's bodies (FF). What with the drink and the heat and the noise as well, I was beginning to be overwhelmed by it all and decided that I had experienced enough newness for a first night out. As I was leaving, a pink-tinged, tall, blonde FF, called Xerri took me by the arm. 'You're not leaving already, are you?' she asked.

'I'm feeling a bit dizzy. This is my first night out in mixed company.'

'I felt the same when I first arrived. But Ben, you'll soon adjust. Would you like to come to my apartment? It's nearby and I'll make you a cooling cordial.' Xerri was extremely attractive with lively blue eyes and a soft, warm voice. She was also, I had learned earlier, very interesting to talk to. How could I refuse?

'OK, Xerri, lead on.' We made our way out through the hanging creepers and steam generators and walked off arm-in-arm, steadying each other as we turned into the main boulevard. Everywhere was filled with the lights and sounds of a busy resort at night. Several times we had to alter our course to avoid more boisterous individuals and groups on their way between different establishments. The boulevard was a sparkling cocktail of neon, synthetic moonlight and garlands of flowering vegetation.

Within less than five minutes we had reached Xerri's apartment. Once inside, I saw that it was similar to mine, the same four rooms, but with different colours and arrangements. I sat on the sofa and was soon joined by Xerri. After taking a particularly long draft of the cordial she provided, I sat leaning back against the cushions to find she had moved very close. We looked silently into each others' eyes until a deep embrace was the most appropriate course of action.

I met Xerri most days over the next week. It was almost time for her to transfer back and I knew I would miss her. Xerri had introduced me to two other passengers whom I found interesting and we all spent quite a bit of time together until Xerri left for good. The other two were very warm and tender but I found I definitely preferred to be with Lija, the pink-tinged FF.

Even in a female body my mind found it hard to adjust to being with the male body of Qorman. 'His' tint was pink, so although the body was completely male, it was host to a female mind. In other words, the opposite of me in Lori's body. I couldn't believe at first how different it was and how much there was to learn. With my two friends I talked for hours on end as we explored how our new bodies felt and responded to each other.

Despite all the partying and the excitement of meeting new Passengers, my thoughts would often turn to Lori. I had got to know so much about her before the transfer. And all of it I liked. She was the sort of woman I was naturally drawn to and here I was, in her body. Sometimes I felt as though I was invading her privacy. Not very many secrets remained after you had exchanged with someone. You experienced their body's every bump, bruise, twinge and hangover; but also every pleasure their body could afford.

By the end of the second week I knew it was Lori I wanted to be with, not all these other people, and I needed to know if she felt the same. There was a counselling service in the hotel and I soon contacted a woman there to discuss my conflicting emotions. Not surprisingly the sales brochures hadn't mentioned the possible extent of these feelings. She assured me that my particular reaction was not unknown and led me towards finding the best course of action, which, I concluded was to talk to Lori about it. The counselling also made me think of Lori even more.

I started to become almost reclusive again, mainly because of the increasing feelings for Lori. We had enjoyed each other so much through the 3-D link before the transfer and I wanted to be with her in my own body face to face. The only way to do this was to transfer back and make arrangements to form a clone here on Solid Ground and have my mind transferred to the new body, while my old body back on Gnat Bite was terminated. This was assuming she felt the same. I called her tentatively on the vidflect. 'Hi. Lori. How are you?'

'Very well, made a couple of friends. How about you?'

'The same. I've been thinking about you a lot.'

'I should hope so, you're physically me right now,' she giggled. It was so strange hearing her characteristic laugh using my voice. Then she spoke in a more serious tone. 'I've been thinking about you too.'

'Really?'

'Yes, you've become very special to me over the weeks since we met through the Bureau, and even more so now.' She blushed. 'Couldn't you tell?'

'Well, I knew I liked you and you seemed to like spending time with me on the vidphone.'

'I wouldn't let just anyone take over my body, Ben.'

'I know. Me neither. If I'd met you at home, I'd want to see more and more of you.'

'That's very good to hear, because if I'd met you here, I'd be wanting to spend a lot of my time with you.'

'I can't wait to transfer back, Lori, although physically this could be the closest we ever get.'

'Not if one of us makes a Permanent Voyage.'

A permanent voyage was what the original clone travellers had done, being cloned at a distant location and having their personality beamed over. It would mean that one of us would be 'sent' to the other's world, so that we could be together in both mind and body.

'Would you do that?'

'Would you?'

'Lori, I'd make the transfer tomorrow.'

'Well, we don't have to decide who makes the Voyage right now, do we, as long as one of us does.'

'Agreed. Completely.'

'I wish you could hold me.'

'I can,' I said laughing gently and hugging myself in Lori's body.

'You know what I mean,' Lori chuckled back.

'I do, believe me, I do.'

'I'm tingling all over at the mere thought.'

'Lori.'

'Yes?'

'I'm in love with you.'

The connection went silent for a few moments.

'Lori?'

'Yes?'

'Are you still there?'

'Sorry,' she sighed, 'I'm just wishing we were together right now.'

'We will be.'

'I love you too,' she whispered before breaking the connection.

It was with feelings of great relief, delight and elation that I fell eventually into a warm slumber, dreaming, dreaming of Lori in her own body.

The next morning I awoke feeling completely renewed and vital, my mind leaping from one idea to the next. There was so much to think about. If I made the transfer, I would have to apply for a permit to be transferred permanently to her world and it would probably be months before I could realise all my assets.

Working from a new location wasn't a problem because I could access the Net from anywhere. But I still had to dispose of all my physical belongings, everything would have to go. The only part of me which could make the journey was my consciousness. Fortunately, I had taken out an early insurance policy against the possibility of this sort of thing happening. Most of the cost of the permanent transfer would be borne by the insurance company. The same would be true for Lori if she made the Voyage. Meanwhile we could keep in touch via the vidflect.
Chapter 21: Hot News

The Passenger vacation was almost at an end for Lori and myself. After one last, particularly heavy evening in Jungle Bar, I staggered back into my room alone to be greeted by the message chime clanging. I flopped on the bed and put on my goggles. Answering the chime I saw myself trying to explain something. For a second I thought I was looking in the mirror. Then I realised it was Lori. Too confusing. I switched over to audio only.

'Ben!' She exclaimed with brisk efficiency, having confidently mastered my voice by now.

'Yes?'

'I've been trying to get you for hours.'

'Sorry, I was in the bar, saying goodbye to a couple of people. What's the panic?'

'You know your last case, the Yellow?'

'Yes, the one you're prosecuting on.'

'That's right.'

'But it's old news. It'll be routine by now, won't it?'

'Not any more! At three-o' clock last night there was a break-out, right here.'

'Break-out? But no-one tries to escape from a Passenger hotel.'

'Six passengers hopped the fence.'

'Were they caught?'

'Three of them were.'

'And the others?'

'Still out there somewhere.'

'But what about the body colour.'

'They had the de-colourant.'

'So what does this have to do with the case?' I was beginning to feel hung-over already.

'It's six of the suspects.'

'What is?'

'How drunk are you?'

'Very.'

'So it sounds. I hope you'll be giving me back a reasonably healthy liver. Do you want me to call back later?'

'No, I'll get some coffee. You've got me going now. What's happening?' I continued to listen, while I reached for the instant brew.

'The six who tried to escape were suspects from the Yellow case.'

'I was afraid one or two would get away before we could track them all. But six, practically right on my own doorstep!'

'Yes, they must have swapped out as Passengers to get away. And then thought they could sneak out of here and disappear.'

'Yes, probably they've got a private clinic lined up to set them up with different bodies, documentation, the lot.'

'Now you're thinking again.'

'OK. OK. Is the local Immigration Department onto it.'

'Of course they are, but not much likelihood of finding the three who got away.'

'No. What's happened with the three that didn't get away?'

'Been carted off, they'll be kept in custody until their court appearance. I expect I'll be seeing them again in a couple of weeks. Under rather different circumstances!'

'Do they know who you are?'

'Not as far as I know.'

'That's good. Bit of excitement, huh? I can imagine tomorrow's headlines "Body swap Yellow drug fiends caught".'

'They're out already and it's "Yellow body swap drug merchants caught".'

'I see, play on body colours, yellow instead of pink or blue.'

At that point, I ceased to remember the rest of the conversation, or even if there was any.

It wasn't until later that day I rejoined the conversation with Lori. By that time I'd showered and purged the alcohol from my system. In one of those 'I'll never touch another drop' moods I felt amazed that alcohol was still legal. Perhaps it was because all bonded stock had to contain mood modifiers which countered any violent tendencies. So it was pure joy all the way to the hangover, brain damage and liver failure. What a pity there weren't additives for each of those, too!

'What's the update, Lori?'

'There isn't any. The three who have been caught are being transmitted back today. Into standard clones, if the authorities can't find their original bodies alive.'

'The local Force has found where they transferred in from, has it?'

'Yes. Your department was involved in the trace. Sam and her sticky web stuff had them tracked already. So they were nearly as good as caught before they tried to escape.'

'Yes, although 'nearly' is not the same as 'caught' to me. Hence the other three.'

'We know who they are but they could lie low here for months, until they can get a signal out to a new hiding place and clone again.'

'Or stay here, presumably they've got funds stashed in the system somewhere we didn't find them.'

'If not, they'll turn up vagrant within a few weeks.'

'Let's hope.'

One day more and it was time for the transfer back. Much as I had enjoyed myself in Lori's body, I wanted to start the process towards being together in the right bodies. As soon as I was home I could begin application for clone generation and permanent voyage.

The final hour of the holiday arrived and I made my way to reception where I was met by the transfer attendants and taken to a transfer cubicle. The procedure was exactly as before and I quickly sank once again into total suspension of consciousness.
Chapter 22: Kidnapped

I snapped out of the blackness, uneasily aware that something was hideously wrong. There was no gradual, cushioned awakening like the last time. I wasn't in the white, padded, environment-controlled processing room I'd paid for. There were no efficient attendants and I certainly wasn't looking down at my own, familiar body.

This body was completely new, still rather slimy straight from a cloning vat. It wasn't even washed down properly. The umbilical was clamped but still bloody. This body felt flaccid but leaden, a sensation increased by the surroundings. The room was dingy, with grey wash, rough aggregate walls, against which were consoles of clumsily placed, fully automated equipment.

Finding myself apparently completely alone, I struggled briefly and uselessly against the restraints. The effort was instantly exhausting and I could feel beads of sweat running in streams down my face. With a sudden chill, I realised it was dangerous to struggle so hard. My mind patterns were still forming and the last thing I wanted to do was tear a bunch of connections loose and give myself a botched transfer, wherever it was I'd ended up.

Although I felt fully awake, much of me was still only trickling back. In reviewing my situation, I noted that despite having a recognition of self, there were very few memories and so far I had no sensation at all from the waist down. Hours passed before the transfer was completed (the only advantage of a fully automated system was that it evened out the bumps but it took longer). As the final tell-tale blinked and beeped, a rough looking individual strode into the cubicle.

'Looks like you're about done,' he said. 'We need smart minds like yours to keep the machines running.'

I didn't know who he thought I was or how smart he thought I was but right then I was as terrified as it is possible to be while numbed by a parting blast of sedation from the transfer equipment. My mind pattern had been stolen and I was trapped who knows where, a pawn in someone else's game. Where was I and why had someone dumped me here?

I wasn't given the opportunity to question my lot any further. The large, brutish individual spoke again. 'My name is Vill. You do what I say.' Then more emphatically 'Lie still!' His words were immaculately timed to close in on the anger which was beginning to emerge from the surprise and shock sloshing around in my newly acquired neurons.

Vill was wearing a weary-looking pair of overalls which were well past due for a change and he had on large, heavy boots. His hair was dark brown, cut very short. He had quick, remarkably green eyes and looked about as trustworthy as a snake. From the way he moved, I could tell he was particularly agile for his muscular build and size. He finished the checks on the equipment to make sure I had all the marbles I was supposed to have, set up a new program, then pressed the 'go' button on the computer touch screen and I fell once more into immediate blackness.

When I came to again I was in the same place and for an instant frightened and angry. I caught sight of Vill and felt a sudden jolt of distrust. I was about to shout something at him, when Vill touched a button on a remote and with a thump inside my head, everything was suddenly fine. Apart from a stiffness in my neck, there was only the most vague, fading memory of something being not quite right. Over the next few seconds I realised I felt quite dreamy. I had a sense of well-being. Yes, this was OK.

Vill's gruff voice returned 'You work, you eat, you sleep. You don't work, you don't eat.'

It shouldn't have, but it sounded like a really good deal. I work, I eat. Yes, I can do that, I realised with a strange kind of bemused certainty. I was unstrapped and hauled to my feet.

'Follow me.' Vill stared at me hard, waiting to see if I'd do what I was told.

Still woozy and frighteningly weak, I was half led, half dragged down a labyrinth of corridors and eventually to another windowless cell, this time containing a toilet, a shower, a cupboard and a bunk. It was apparently all mine, cell 457. I was given shapeless, ill-washed overalls. After I dressed, my minder took me out past a dingy, metallic canteen into daylight. The transfer facility and living quarters looked as though they were on the edge of a gigantic scrap-yard.

'The edge of the mine starts here. We make fuel,' Vill grunted. He obviously felt it was explanation enough for the time being. He allowed me to gaze for a few moments on an open-cast mine so vast that the outer rim extended at least as far as the horizon. There was a fierce, bright sun and a looming moon on opposite sides of an almost cloudless sky.

We were on an undulating plain. On the ground there was dust and machinery as far as the eye could see. A cavernous freighter was parked on a launch-pad half-way round the rim of the mine and its open mouth was continuously fed by conveyors of solid fuel. I later discovered it was a variant of D49, a common multipurpose material used for anything from heat pumps to local interplanetary transfer ships.

'Tomorrow you work and have training. Tonight is for instruction. Now is the end of the shift. You understand?'

'Er... Yes.' I had a vague feeling this was some sort of test.

'Canteen 16.00. Then we eat.'

Vill slid an electronic device over my wrist.

'This is to contact you and show the time.' Vill spoke into the device on his own wrist and I heard his voice bleating out of the one he'd put on my wrist. 'We give you a name later.'

'Oh, fine,' I replied lamely.

Vill laughed unpleasantly, obviously at my expense. I felt strange, the sedation was beginning to fade and I was able to focus my eyes more sharply. Vill's face appeared to move in slow motion as he formed the words. He was in pretty good shape, compared to me. Built like a street fighter.

His face was set with command, rather than concern, his strong, deeply tanned features showing signs of weathering from the sun and his quick eyes were constantly searching. He led me back inside and pointed me towards a corridor coded G7.

'Find your room, wash up. Remember, eat at 16.00. Here the hours have 100 minutes, 20 hours in a day. If you get lost, I make adjustments.' He laughed again to himself and went back outside, leaving me dazed and trying to think which way we had come.

Slowly I retraced our steps. It was difficult as there were no landmarks, other than number codes on each corridor and I hadn't noticed which ones we'd used on the way outside. The corridors all looked the same, apart from the mysterious codes. They had shabby composition walls, floors and ceilings of the same scuffed and dusty material. I took the first vaguely familiar turning and began looking at the numbers on the doors. I felt pleased when I soon came upon the canteen, from which a homogenised, institutionalised smell of food was beginning to waft. I tried the door. Locked.

My comwatch display read 15:50 and I counted the flashes the cursor made as the display changed from 15:51 to 15:52. The passage of time felt familiar. I tested myself by estimating the next three minutes as I tried a few turnings off the main corridor. I got the time right and it was 15.70 when I found my room.

I activated the door opener, threw off my overall and tried the water in the shower. It ran to a good temperature and I stepped in, luxuriating in the rush of water. There was a soap dispenser and I was soon enjoying getting the heavy patina of vat grease off my skin. I turned off the water, but before the idea of a towel could form in my mind, a blower started up, drying me off as I stood there shaking away the last drips from the shower.

Checking the comwatch again, I could see it was time to head for the canteen. I put the unsavoury overalls back on, trying to hold them away from my body as much as possible when I walked.

By the time I got to the canteen it was 15.98 and Vill was at the door watching for me. He laughed out loud at my peculiar gait, as I walked along trying to keep the overalls away from my skin. 'There's a locker at the end of every dorm cell corridor,' he said. 'You'll find fresh overalls there.'

Over the last meal of the day, I met the others. There were only eight of us in all: four men and four women, including myself and a woman who looked as dazed as I felt. She was also wearing a fresh clone body. Vill introduced everyone.

'The regulars here can see we've got two new team mates, starting today. I'll remind you, they know absolutely nothing, so you need to look out for them. And I don't want any of your tricks.' He looked sharply at a rough and ready looking pair. 'Symch, Goster, I don't want the new crew damaged, OK?' He growled. 'So, names. This one is Symch, he knows most about heat exchangers and mechanical systems. He's someone we keep a close eye on,' Vill stated menacingly.

To me Symch looked slimy and cunning. He tugged on the cap pulled over his thick ginger hair and sneered at the rest of us. His body was small and rat-like. He made small, fidgety movements like a rat, too.

'Goster, the bald one with the ugly facial scar is our systems technologist.' This time Vill sneered. Goster was an unhappy looking individual, who from the sound of it, wasn't in too much favour with Vill, either.

Vill then announced to the company that he'd decided my name should be Lump. The others, apart from the newly cloned woman, all laughed as if it was the best joke they'd heard in years. I shuffled with a vague sense of unease and Vill introduced the women. 'Gran, here, has worked the mine as long as I have. She's an electromechanical technician.' She looked older than the rest, had dark, reddish-brown skin, a stringy body and a mop of black hair streaked with grey.

'Similie, the new woman is highly skilled, as is Lump, but neither of them in anything we can use here, so they'll have to learn.'

Similie's body looked to be in as bad a shape as mine, fresh from the Vat, lardy and lacking in muscle. We were both as featureless as dough, our bodies waiting to be shaped by the way we would move and develop them. I was so lost in thought that I jumped when Vill's powerful voice resumed.

'Then there's Xlok, the electronics and hydraulics specialist.' Xlok was tall and lean with a gaunt expression. She nodded without smiling.

'Lastly, Dyne, she organises the bio-medical facilities, the genetics lab and puts you back together if you lose any body parts in the machinery out there. She and Xlok also keep the hydroponics running.' Dyne was average height and weight with short dark hair and brown eyes. I thought I almost saw a hint of tenderness in her face when she turned a very direct gaze my way.

'Dyne's the one that put you two together.' He nodded towards Similie and myself. 'O.K,' Vill resumed, Dyne, Xlok, Symch and Goster are on night shift, Gran can clear up. Similie and Lump come with me.'

As I struggled my new body to its feet, an ear-piercing alarm began to sound. Everyone except Vill slumped back into their seats, Goster rolled his eyes at Symch, as if to say 'Now what?' Vill went to a computer screen mounted in a console at the centre of the room. He cancelled the alarm and rapidly found the source of the problem. 'It's in R27. Gran, you're on call, go find out what the problem is and the night shift can pick it up from there.'

'Right.'

Vill led Similie and me out of the canteen, while Gran dragged a heat suit out of a locker and the rest of them slowly dispersed. We took a corridor which led us away from the direction of the dorm cells.
Chapter 23: Training

'The rules here are simple,' explained Vill, as he took us through a maze of corridors. 'The mine has to be kept running, continuously and at all costs. If you don't do as you're told, you don't get fed. And you might even end up looking like Goster,' Vill added with yet another threatening sneer, while Similie and I exchanged dismayed glances. 'The canteen is fully automated and serves who I permit. There is no pay, no money, no free will. Work, eat and sleep. There may be other recreation time if you fill the quotas first. You have no access to anywhere important, all the doors are code locked.

'This planet's got nothing but fuel ore and dust. Oh, and storms. It's blazing hot by day and freezing at night. The mine's a dangerous place and there are only the eight of us, so we help each other out.'

'Eight alone, here, at the mine?' queried Similie.

'No, on the whole planet.'

'You mean there's no population?' I asked with a strangely dull sense of surprise.

'That's what I said,' replied Vill beginning to look impatient.

'OK,' I said quickly. 'So what do we have to do?' I didn't want to annoy Vill. He was clearly dangerous and didn't like too many questions.

'Fix stuff,' grunted Vill.

This time I was paying attention to what turns and corridors we were taking. I was pleased with myself how easy I found it to do that sort of thing. Vill had a distinctly threatening manner but somehow I didn't feel anxious about it. He was in charge and it looked like at least a couple of his existing crew worked better with some intimidation. It made sense, somehow. Overall, I felt pleased that everything was so straightforward: simple rules, room and food provided. Why worry, this was going to be just fine.

Vill led us into a room containing two huge view screens at opposite ends, each faced by two control couches placed back-to-back.

'Get in the chairs,' Vill ordered, drily. We got in the chairs. As we sat down, the seating adjusted to fit and the equipment flickered into life. 'This is the training facility. Tonight view the mine. Learn the grid pattern. Name equipment. Swallow this, it'll help you remember.' Vill gave us each a green capsule 'But don't bite it.' We gulped them down with nothing but saliva. 'Use the headsets and the control column.'

I couldn't see what Similie was up to as we were facing away from each other, so I grasped the control column and waggled it around. The view of the mine which had appeared on the screen lurched around in tune with the control column, teaching the first lesson immediately: don't do anything sudden. I found I could zoom in and out by gently and steadily pulling or pushing on the stick.

A flashing marker caught my attention and when I pushed the control stick towards it, the screen zoomed to show a dot zig-zagging above the mining equipment. Zooming closer still, I found I could actually see Gran, wrapped up against the cold with the wind ruffling her suit, travelling diagonally towards section R27 in a hover car. As I followed her progress, I could tell from the superimposed grid pattern on the image, that she was already only two sectors away from R27.

I found I could zoom even further in to see the instrument panel on her craft, where she was monitoring the faulty mining equipment. A red light began to flash on her panel and I saw her hit an override button before immediately dropping out of sight. As I pulled back on my stick, I could see that Gran had set down behind a large ore hopper, her voice breaking in through a loudspeaker in the room, saying, 'It's going to blow, Vill.'

Along the bottom of my screen I was getting a data feed synchronised to where Gran was monitoring the bearings in a power plant. It was one on a digger which was now only 150 metres ahead of her. The readings had turned red, doubled in size and begun pulsing. Almost before she touched down, the digger let out a loud 'crack'. We heard the sound over Gran's comlink, and glowing bits of machinery showered in all directions like fireworks.

I watched as Gran fought with the remote control stick in her own cockpit, in an attempt to override the digger, so as to limit the damage. At first the 1000-ton digger tried to continue to function, despite having bits of its own power plant embedded in its structure. The huge machine ground and screamed its way a few metres further along the bank of ore before Gran could stop it.

When she was sure it had shut down sufficiently, Gran cautiously edged her hover car closer. Next I watched her connect a diagnostics relay to send back information about how much of the unit was damaged. The computer would generate a list of replacement parts needed, so that the night shift could set off with the correct equipment.

'It's going to be a tough one,' Gran muttered, looking down into the twisted, smoking remains of the rear left generator, before turning back to base.

'Good lesson,' growled Vill next to my ear. Not realising how absorbed I had become and having forgotten that Vill might still be watching us, I nearly jumped out of my skin. 'Now, learn those grid patterns. Then get some sleep. Breakfast 04.00, day shift starts 04.40.'

The green capsule had me so tuned in, I could do no more than grunt in reply. However, Vill's interruption caused me to notice that the capsule had made the events of the last half hour so vivid that I found I could easily recall the instrumentation in Gran's hover car and the controls she'd used to fly it.

Vill caught my arm in a vice-like grip and with it pulled the stick back to the overall view of the mine. 'Stay on task if you don't want to get re-processed,' he hissed.

Trembling, I used the menu on my view screen to emphasise the sector map and was once more lost in details. Within another half hour I had learned all the seven hundred or so sectors and sub-sectors, and the names and locations of 120 major pieces of equipment associated with the mining operation. Having completed Vill's instructions and passed a built-in assessment of what I thought I'd learned, I glanced round to see that Vill had left us to it, so I made a survey of the training system.

The menu contained a flight simulator and I had a bit of fun attempting a hover car landing, until the capsule began to wear off and I was overwhelmed with fatigue. I managed to crawl out of the control couch and find my way unsteadily back to my cell. On my way out of the training room, I had noticed that Similie had discovered how to recline the couch and was spark out with her screen dimmed but still running.

I never could remember how I found my way back to my cell. I flopped out on the bed and before I could collect a single thought, was lost in the deepest of sleep. What felt like only five minutes later, I was being screamed awake by a klaxon right in the room. As I sat up and looked at my watch the klaxon stopped. 03.75. I dropped back on the bed and the klaxon automatically restarted.

'All right, all right. I get the message!' I shouted into the dying echoes of the klaxon as I sat back up again and pushed myself towards the shower. The night before I'd forgotten to get new overalls from the locker in the corridor and so had to dodge out to get some. It was just my luck to encounter Gran on the way back to my cell.

'Lump! she exclaimed, 'Well named,' laughing after me as I tried to make my flaccid body hurry back to my cell.
Chapter 24: Toil

My first day's work was to go out with the day shift to finish the power plant job the night shift hadn't been able to complete. Travelling at seventy or so metres above ground level gave a good view of the mine. It did indeed stretch for many kilometres in every direction. I could see from workings at different stages how a naturally sandy surface layer was first bulldozed aside to expose a crumbly shale layer rich in fuel ore. Adjacent to these areas, gigantic mega-diggers like the one we had to repair, were gouging out deepening platforms to the base of the seam.

Dust and sand swirled relentlessly, sometimes in mini-twisters funnelling between mountains of machinery and spoil heaps. Smoke from power stacks was coughed out to join the general turmoil, while the searing sun burned and blazed through it all. Even in the closed cabin of the craft, it was possible to hear the roar of thousands of engines and the grinding of ore and machinery.

Similie, Gran and I flew in a four-seater piloted by Vill, closer now towards the digger with the wrecked power converter. A dozen metres below we saw Dyne, Xlok, Symch and Goster flying back. They all looked tired and glum, having failed to complete the task.

Vill called up the database on the view screen and we saw why. Goster's group had entered the details of what they had managed to do so far. The main problem was that the fail-safe's fail-safe had failed and the power plant had completely over-heated and managed to melt itself onto the substructure of the digger before Gran had shut it down by remote.

Not only did the power unit have to be removed but a section of the digger had to be cut out and replaced too. The night shift had cleared the wrecked unit and cut out the damaged struts around it. Our job was to fit new supports and bolt down a new unit. At least that's what I thought. It turned out there was no new unit and we would have to scavenge as much as we could. There was an automated parts manufactury at the base. It was fed with scrap metal but it would only produce small units which had to be made up into the larger machines, like power converters, by hand. That was Xlok's territory.

As we touched down, Vill handed out headsets, ear muffs and a spray can. 'You'll need the headsets to talk to each other and you'll need the ear muffs over the top to stop yourself going deaf. Cover as much of yourself as you can with the overalls and any uncovered parts with the spray, it'll stop your skin getting fried.'

We did as instructed, although of course Gran and Vill already knew the drill and were finished minutes ahead of Similie and myself. When the door ground open, a cloud of dust swirled past, repelled by blowers round the door, which stopped it clogging the personnel carrier.

Vill sent me out on a hovercycle with a parts list which I programmed into a locator. Anything salvageable showed up as a flashing beacon super-imposed over the grid system on the site plan. A couple of hours later I returned with a heavy net full of bits slung under the hovercycle. The trip had involved descending towards any identified part in the junk yards scattered around the site. They were usually located where there had been some previous, even more major incident, taking out a whole digger or processor.

After finding an already partially scavenged and partly wrecked piece of equipment, I'd had to try to narrow the search by finding the section of it the components database identified as still containing something worth taking. To locate the bits required I then had to match what I could see to drawings in the graphics database and on-line instructions for dismantling. My untrained eye struggled with what at first looked to be no more than twisted, mangled metal.

I returned to find the others had put together as much as possible with what they had and were ready for the salvaged parts. Everyone fell to, unloading the reclaimed stuff, which then had to be sorted, cleaned and tested. When Vill had taken a full inventory of everything, he put in an order to the automated fabrication plant to make up the remainder.

Neither Similie, nor I had a clue where anything went or what the functions of the various bits were, so we had to follow instructions all the time and most of our work was menial passing, holding and steadying things, while Gran and Vill did the fitting and connecting.

When we paused over a midday meal, Similie and I discovered some more about the planet. 'Are we far from the sea?' I asked Gran who was sitting nearest.

'There is no sea. No water, apart from what's in the atmosphere.'

'If by chance it rains, it evaporates straight away,' added Vill.

'So, is there no other life at all?' asked Similie.

'Nothing to speak of. But what we do have to look out for is sand storms and twisters. The heat makes them common and always sudden. You should have seen a few minor twisters on the way here. We have an early warning system and if you hear the storm alarm, you need to get under cover immediately. If one happens, you'll soon learn! Enough talk. Finish up and we go back.'

The rest of the team had been working under a canopy to keep at least some of the dust out of the mechanisms and it was swelteringly hot inside, even though the external surface of the canopy had a highly reflective coating. Almost immediately after the last crumbs of lunch were shaken down, we were back, toiling under the baking canopy, until most of the job was done. After a very short drink break back in the four-seater, we completed the job, re-working the ends of the power cables and connecting them up to the repaired unit.

Before bringing the digger back to life, we moved the carrier to a safe distance. Vill then restarted the digger remotely, monitoring the powering-up continuously to make certain there were going to be no problems. Finally all the power units were back on line, checked and running within permitted limits. Tested and verified, the digger re-started operations, grinding up from a low roar, to a shrieking scream as the flailing cutters bit into the fresh ore. I couldn't help thinking it looked remarkably animal-like, as it appeared to gorge itself on the seam, snorting out unusable rock and dust as it undertook primary processing somewhere in its gut, and dumping out at the back heavy cubes of more concentrated ore, which were collected by a fleet of ore carriers and dropped onto the nearest section of the conveyor system.

On the way back to base, Vill flew us over the intervening part of the conveyor system, which, he said, ended in a processing factory adjacent to the landing field for the space freighters.

In the next training session, Similie and I made a new discovery while examining the functions of various parts of the mine in detail. When Vill called the place a mine, he had neglected to tell us it was also a refinery. Because the fuel was being sent off world, it was more efficient to send the pure material, rather than bulk ore containing all the sand, grit and other impurities. However, running a refinery without water was not easy and it didn't run quite on conventional technology. The refinery had to use huge carbon dioxide refrigeration systems to cool the fractionating towers.

Back at the base, all the water we used was recycled and the small amount of make-up water needed was condensed out of the atmosphere. That was essentially equivalent to the amount of water the eight of us sweated out when we were not in the base and so was lost to the system. Even the carbon dioxide had to be obtained by fractional distillation of liquid air.

Several evenings and green capsules later, I found myself surprisingly familiar with the workings of a large number of systems. Already I knew all the parts in the diggers. I could describe in detail the catalyst beds, filters and pressure swing apparatus used in the refinery. According to the flight sim I had reached competition level on a one-man hover cycle.

I was beginning to feel quite pleased with myself when it suddenly occurred to me that I had no idea why Vill had thought it so amusing to call me Lump. Finally I caught my reflection on the side of a polished metal column and I could see why - there was a raised lumpy ridge down the centre of my skull. I almost found it funny myself.

Over all I felt mysteriously serene. I was picking up the training quickly, going by the self-assessment program built into the facility we used every evening. Nothing was particularly threatening or difficult. Even though Vill retained his menacing presence, he was firmly and competently in control, and that felt very reassuring. I had become accustomed to my new body, as it was becoming accustomed to me, and every day was starting to feel much like another, apart from the fact that you could never tell which piece of equipment was going to stage a spectacular blow-out next. I had learned enough by now to hope I would never be standing next to a sizable ore stack when a stray spark set the whole lot off like a Roman candle.
Chapter 25: Arm

My body was so new there was almost no muscle, just flab. I soon realised, though, that it wouldn't be long before that changed. Freshly cloned bodies were incredibly supple and malleable, so after the panic of the digger power plant blow-out, Dyne made sure we were put on light duty until the bones hardened properly. Then we could start on the toning and strengthening. I couldn't figure out how or why but somehow I knew that this was entirely usual for vat fresh bodies.

Occasionally I would realise that I had knowledge or understanding of things but no idea where it had come from. Not that it really bothered me, nothing much did. The physical toughening up process was accelerated by special drugs. These had the unfortunate side-effect of making us feel nauseous, so Dyne supplemented the regime Similie and I were on with more drugs which luckily didn't appear to have any side-effects.

Light duty meant monitoring the view consoles for imminent machine failures and learning the computer network, while being strapped up to electronic muscle stimulating electrodes.

Although Similie had arrived at about the same time as me, as far as I could tell, she appeared in character to be about the same as the others, though quieter. Sometimes we were on the same team, sometimes not. Neither of us had much to say to each other, which didn't seem surprising. I didn't have much to say to any of them really, apart from what was directly to do with the mine and its machinery. The rest of the crew all knew each other well, by the way they were often laughing and joking with each other but it all went over my head.

Jokes were something that didn't work for me: there was always something I couldn't understand. Some connection, some contradiction amused the others but I could never quite see the point. How could I know what a joke was but not find it funny? I mentioned it to Similie once but she didn't know what I was talking about, so I didn't risk asking anyone else. I knew they'd only laugh and I wouldn't understand why. It was a fairly trivial point anyway, I thought.

One morning after light duty had hardened us up sufficiently to be out in the mine collecting smaller rocks a couple of hours a day, I bent to strain over a particularly attractive, rich, glittery piece of D49 ore, when one of the machines threw a cog and a chunk of shrapnel ripped out of a supposedly protective cage, flew twenty-five metres through the air and slammed into the side of the truck about twenty centimetres from my head. I could see now why they needed replacements for the humans round here from time to time. Except for Similie, the others laughed when I told them and Vill sent Symch or Xlok out to fix the machine.

The following week I couldn't get one of the trucks started and thinking I knew what I was doing, reached into the engine compartment. I'd 'done engines' on the training couch the night before, so I was feeling pretty confident. Then the thing kicked over and caught my sleeve, dragging my arm into an uncovered gear box. My scream must have carried clear across the mine. I heard the motor choke to a standstill but didn't remember anything much after that, until I woke up in the infirmary.

All the others were peering in through the windows, while Dyne put the final stitches into where a green-skinned lower forearm and powerful, clawed hand had been grafted on to replace the mangled parts.

I was fuzzy from the anaesthetic and shock, so it wasn't important at first. The next morning it ached and felt distinctly odd. It took me some time to be able to learn how to coordinate it properly, which made mealtimes a huge source of amusement for the others.

For four or five weeks after that, Similie and myself slogged day after day picking up rocks and junk. Vill ordered us a lean diet and the flab soon fell away with all the real exercise, so that it got gradually easier and easier, though we spent most of the time absolutely famished. The mine was automated of course but chunks of rock constantly fell off conveyor belts and generally leaked out of the system. Similie and I were detailed to pick up the bits.

We each had a truck but the stray rocks had to be picked up by hand. What we were going to need the muscles for was that the stray rocks weighed anywhere from half a kilo to fifty kilos, depending which machine they'd dropped out of. Then there were crates of tools and equipment to be moved around and broken machinery to be taken to repair shops. My odd arm was more powerfully built than the rest of me and I had to be careful not to strain something else when chucking things around. A couple of times I twisted my spine doing that, before I learned not to. Each time, Dyne had to give me a dose of ultrasonics and manipulate the vertebrae. She was surprisingly good at it.

After that, I mostly forgot all about the arm that everyone else found so amusing. Occasionally it caught me out, like the time I slapped Symch on the shoulder as a way of thanking him for hauling me out of a tight access chamber. The unintentioned force of my blow sent him sprawling. Goster laughed so hard he had to sit down but I noticed that from then on the pair of them took care to keep their distance.

As the weeks passed and my coordination improved, the arm and hand were gradually absorbed by the rest of my body, the animal tissue being replaced by my own. Eventually all that remained were the claw-like nails at the ends of the fingers. I had no idea I'd been the subject of a genetic engineering experiment Vill had suggested to Dyne.
Chapter 26: Geography Lessons

The muscle-building work went on alongside the maintenance training. Unfortunately, the physical work was almost always rock-collecting, interspersed randomly with remission for technical jobs. Not that the maintenance was any less demanding but it was more interesting. Even in daylight, it was impossible to tell which of the bits of machinery were original.

Everything was patched, joined or in some other way retrofitted. For instance, if a cooler blew because it overheated, it was automatically bypassed, then manually cleaned up, all the re-usable parts assembled and reconditioned parts added. Then the unit would be refilled and put back online. A design fault in the gigantic compressors caused them to throw out turbine blades at least once a week on average. The blades tore out at the speed of sound, ravaging anything in their path. And it all had to be fixed.

In the ore processing plant the catalyst beds and filters ran in parallel pairs or triplets, so that one could be kept on-line, while the others were recharged, reactivated or repaired. Even so, an automatic system couldn't replace worn out or jammed valves and corroded pipe-work. None of the processes were 100 per cent efficient of course, so every-so-often build-ups of sludge had to be removed and pitted coatings replaced by hand.

Metals bent, stretched and crept under the pressures they contained and the temperatures they were operated at. This led to further reduction of process efficiency, overheating and blow-outs. The only preventative maintenance involved the backbone computer network, the canteen, the drinking water condensers and the solar collector controls which would halt the system or leave us hungry or thirsty if they failed.

Every two days a freighter blasted off and another touched down. Each one that left took off with forty million tons of payload destined for the only inhabited planet in the system. As Vill had said, why plunder your own planet, when there's another one, less habitable and full of minerals nearby? He had told us that the main planet had a pleasant environment, unlike the ore planet which was hot, dry and generally hazardous. We were nearer the sun but a strange combination of planetary magnetic field and upper atmosphere stopped us from being completely fried, although at midday, it always felt as though it was uncomfortably close.

Despite the planet being now almost entirely desert, it had apparently been heavily covered with vegetation millions of years in its past. All that remained was a ring of thick, green moss, separating the sand desert from the tiny frozen poles. All the mountains had been weathered down by the incessant sand-blasting from the winds and the planet was now all but dead.

In the absence of sandstorms, the sunsets over the mine were superb. Every evening we were treated to ten to fifteen minutes of glowing, glorious, luminous atmospherics. It was about the only really pleasant, natural thing about the entire situation. As long as the sandstorms were far enough away that they didn't obscure the view, they added tremendously to the overall effect. The atmospheric dust bled reds, oranges and old, burnt golds into the inky blues and purply pinks of the gradually darkening sky.

Lightening displays, which were frequently a feature of sand storms, grew brighter as the sun's light faded. Often, they could be seen at varying distances flashing, crackling and rumbling deeply into the night. Watching storms and sunsets was the only thing the crews did together as a group, other than work and eat. Usually the complement of both shifts would stroll out of the main sand lock onto the forecourt to see the sun go down. It appeared to be the only form of entertainment available on this otherwise god-forsaken planet. Then the night shift would take their transports out into the 'battle zone' of the whirring, grinding and screaming, shovelling, spitting and spewing machinery that produced the continuous background roar of the mine.

There were dust-repelling fields around the mine but Vill didn't want to waste power on keeping them up all the time. They were only switched on for a few hours when a really big storm blew up about once a month. For some reason our training didn't include any details of how the fields worked but whenever a storm threatened, a strange green glow would fill the area of the mine, the odd floodlight which penetrated the field, showing up the roiling clouds of a sandstorm beyond it.

Vill was the only one allowed near the anti-dust fields, especially the low power ones mounted on sensitive equipment on the diggers. It was only at night one could detect the soft, fluttering light of these small 'grass lights' as I called them. The little grass lights weren't strong enough to repel grit, that could be brushed away easily anyway, but they did stop the really damaging fine stuff which could penetrate almost anywhere. The units that produced the 'grass light' were tiny magnetic modules with a little glassy 'eye' that emitted the rays of whatever it was. It wasn't until months had passed that I could figure out why Vill was so secretive about them, or why I showed no curiosity over something I had never even heard of before.

The mining equipment fell into five categories. There were the gigantic diggers which, without blasting, were powerful enough to cleave the mixture of ore-bearing shales and sand layers which were the meat of the opencast mine. Attending the diggers were the ore transports, smaller, although still huge, carriers like massive dumper trucks. From a distance, they looked as if they scurried about behind the titanic diggers. There were yellow ones to carry away the ore and drop it onto the nearby conveyors, and red ones to carry off the sandy dross and prevent it from piling up on the trackways. At first I assumed the colour coding was for our benefit, which partly it was but it was mainly so that the automated systems could distinguish between them.

Then there were the ore processing plants, with their huge distillation towers and associated heat exchangers; the blue-painted loaders; and the freighters. All the transports and loaders were actually exactly the same. The colour-coding allowed the central computer, and any one of us to immediately identify any vehicle, so that its cargo and locations could be checked more easily.

All the equipment was powered by generators using by-product CD-90 derived from the ore. The CD-90 was of too low a grade to be taken off planet but it had sufficient energy density for the generators which were highly efficient and burnt completely clean. What I had originally thought was smoke pouring from the stacks was actually the dusty impurities that couldn't be used. The electrical generator output current was fed into tanks of buffer gel. The buffers were in turn controlled by banks of electronics, which ensured that the feeds to all the motors were matched to the loads.

The diggers took the most power and needed four generators, with all the associated buffer and control stuff. The systems were kept as simple and straightforward as possible but of course there's simple and there's simple. There was plenty of complicated in the simple on this operation.

Several factors inevitably intervened to make maintenance more difficult. First there was the age of the equipment, then there were the coloured protective covers to stop the sand getting in, and on top of that there was the layer of sandy accretions which were kept mostly at bay by the vibration of the machinery itself. But of course a hard, concrete-like residue would always find its way into any nook or cranny, especially those around access ports and hatches. Inevitably it had to be scraped or chipped away before we could get access to the equipment beneath. On top of that, there was the constant risk of being hit by flying chunks of rock or bits of shattered machinery. All this was assuming you didn't get blown away by a sandstorm. What a great place!
Chapter 27: Goster's Setback

I think it was the suddenness of Goster's death which shocked the rest of us, even Vill, who apart from me was the only other person present. One of the main diggers was giving trouble; the energy buffer in the power unit was playing up and causing the output to fluctuate erratically. Vill, Goster and I had gone over to fix it and had started by down-loading the dozen or so megawatts of stored energy from the on-board buffer into a portable unit we'd brought with us. After the main block of power had been drained, we'd be able to get some more sensitive instruments on it. It had been seven hours straight since we started the shift and it was one of those days when everything you touch either falls off in your hand, or stubbornly stays stuck, so we were all getting a bit edgy.

Even before we'd got into the engine room on the digger, I'd begun having misgivings. A sixth sense was nudging at the back of my mind and I knew from experience not to ignore it. First of all we found the door to the engine room on the digger practically welded shut by the cemented mixture of sand, minerals and adsorbed water vapour. I chipped away with a sonicating chisel to crack off the accretions, while Vill and Goster tried in vain to break into the generator controls through an umbilical.

By the time I had laboriously cleared the door and prised it open, screeching on its hinges, the other two had grumpily given up on the link cable. That was yet another thing to fix, once we'd got the generator evened out. I was rather hoping it would be a job for the next shift. Trying to trace cable faults round this old hulk was the last thing I wanted to get tied up in when our meal break was more than three-quarters of an hour overdue.

Goster was over-tired and over-confident, the worst combination for dangerous consequences. Vill had warned him to follow procedures exactly, but Goster had reached the point of frustration with the recalcitrant power plant, where he thought he knew better.

My own subconscious was still picking up serious warnings and I was determined to play it completely by the book until the job was finished. Goster, however, seemed to have no such sense and for him it had become a question of brute will over junk: this piece of broken down garbage was going to do what he wanted, or else.

Unfortunately, it was rather bigger and thousands of times more powerful than he was. We had siphoned off around ninety percent of the stored energy when Vill and I went to get the fine tuning kit from the transport, leaving Goster to watch, fuming with impatience, as the last few hundred kilowatts drained out. As we dropped into the control chamber through the access hatch, we saw to our horror, Goster, hunched down on all fours heading straight into the base of the gel column.

Before touching a thing, Goster should have waited and checked how much energy was still lurking in the translucent gel of the core but of course he'd torn into the access plate regardless. Ignoring all precautions, he had wedged his shoulders into the outlet duct and connected himself directly across the power drain. The flash and explosion of what in an instant was Goster's last mistake smashed Vill and me hard against the metal wall on the other side of the compartment.

We must have both been unconscious for a number of minutes because the cooling fans had already cleared the smoke. When I came groggily to, my ears still zinging, despite the ear-muffs, I saw that Vill was carefully checking himself over for broken bits. I followed his lead and in a moment had flexed and tested what I considered my most essential parts, discovering, luckily, they were undamaged and still in the right places. Meanwhile I looked over to where a small patch of dust between a couple of scorch marks was all that was left of Goster.

And that was it. Goster had gone. Not just injured or knocked about, but completely blasted to dust.

I told Vill I couldn't concentrate on continuing the repair but he insisted we got the digger back up to full speed before we could take a break. He made a call to Dyne who was supposed to be on rest shift. I expected her to appear to make up the team, but after ten minutes or so Gran arrived instead. Meanwhile, I sat and stared at where Goster had met his end. Vill silently took power readings and put the last of the charge from the core on full drain.

The heavy sense of foreboding I'd felt so strongly leading up to the accident had evaporated while I'd been unconscious. It was a relief to feel it pass, as it suggested the worst was over. I was glad to be with the two most experienced members of the community because until Gran arrived I was too shocked to think straight. Having no intention of ending up the same way as Goster, I focussed my mind until I could continue without making any mistakes. Vill and Gran ran everything exactly to spec, obviously being of a similar mind.

With Gran's assistance, Vill made certain the last of the power from the core had been fully transferred to the spare module, then silently vacuumed up Goster's remains. We checked the gel's composition, finding only a few stray molecules of contamination. So, in fact, there hadn't been anything wrong with the gel columns themselves. The real problem turned out to be in the control system, ironically the least likely part of the system to fail, but then isn't that always the way? And Goster had blasted himself for nothing.

Almost more shocking than Goster's death was his 'reappearance' four days later. Vill explained to me that they had vat grown spare limbs and a single whole body for each of us held in stasis tanks. 'New Goster', as I couldn't help but think of him, began another life, flabby and groggy, as Similie and I had when we first arrived. He'd obviously liked his scar because the jagged mark across his cheek was as fresh as the rest of him.

New Goster's mental backup was years old and of course he couldn't recognise either me or Similie, as we had arrived in the last four months. He had no recollection of disappearing in a flash of smoke and was most disgruntled that we all knew more about him than he did. Of course, he also had to be brought up to date on all the technical modifications and Vill decided he should have some attitude training, though what good he thought it would do against Goster's habitual waywardness, I had no idea. The call Vill had made to Dyne when Old Goster destroyed himself must have been to clean up Goster's new body from the cloning vat and get it ready for programming. Hence the relatively short time before New Goster appeared.

At first I couldn't work out why, if there were spare parts in stasis, I had been given a reptilian arm to replace the one I lost in the machine. Then it occurred to me that probably they didn't bother with producing spares for Similie and me, until they found out how we fitted in. Presumably, we were considered one hundred percent expendable until we checked out OK in the first few weeks.
Chapter 28: Xlok

After we'd shown ourselves to be willing to learn and follow orders, Vill decided Similie and I needed more on-the-job training. He assigned us to work with particular individuals to hone our skills. First we spent a couple of days with Xlok in the electronics lab when the mine was running relatively smoothly. However, that probably meant we were in for some sort of fairly major blowout, most probably in the middle of the night, any time thereafter.

Xlok took us into what had been until then a forbidden area for us. She was careful even now not to show us the door code, a pettiness I was sure was at Vill's command. How were we supposed to work in a place we didn't have any access to?

Once inside the door, I found myself staring in almost complete amazement. Similie seemed to be similarly afflicted, until Xlok suggested sarcastically that if we were to make any progress, we were going to have to do more than stand and gape. What took me so much by surprise was the incredible complexity of the room. It was packed with equipment. From floor to ceiling and from wall to wall, apart from a small control area near the door, there was a mass of piping, ducting and machinery.

'You will need to learn the location of each subsystem,' Xlok explained. 'That will be given to you by Vill in the training suite this evening. Meanwhile I will show you how the overall system works.'

'OK.'

'Fine.'

'Over here is the main control centre.' Xlok pointed to a computer console, surrounded by a semicircular bench allowing up to three people to access the system at a time.

'Do we need to operate this?' I asked.

'You need to know how it works, the greater detail is down to me.'

'But if we're not to know the door code, what use will our knowledge be?'

'Some of the systems can be accessed through other terminals around the site. Once you have more of an overview of what we do, you'll be better able to know what you're doing when you order parts, for instance.'

'I see but is it really all that relevant?'

'You're asking a lot of questions, Lump. Perhaps you need some adjustments,' Xlok countered ominously. 'I am here because special training is needed, and I have years of experience.'

'OK. I get your drift. It sounds very complex,' I added, trying to mollify her a bit. 'Do you use software to help you anticipate what is required?'

'Of course but it is not as accurate as a sentient being. There are occasions when we must innovate beyond the capacity of machine intelligence,' Xlok replied, puffing herself up with her own sense of importance.

'And do you have self-learning chips?' I had no idea where my knowledge of such things came from but the questions came straight into my mind. I hoped Xlok wouldn't take it the wrong way.

'A sound question but we have limited resources. We need to recycle as much as possible and there is very tight integration between the biological and inorganic in our electronic devices. We actually grow most of the laser operated circuits and optical modules.'

'That takes time,' interrupted Similie.

'And hence the need for Xlok's skill in anticipating demand as accurately as possible,' I added quickly, trying to sound helpful and complimentary at the same time. I was rather keen to avoid any 'adjustments' as Xlok had suggested earlier. Adjustments in the tone Xlok had used sounded very unpleasant and, I guessed, involved attitudinal change through physical discomfort. Vill especially, closely followed by Symch and Goster, looked as though they were well versed in conditioning the behaviour of others by the application of force.

'The electronics section is the top end of the pyramid,' continued Xlok patiently. 'This is only the first of several operations centres. Beyond this there is the plastics section and then the metals section. Fortunately we can recycle almost everything in metals, many of the electronics modules can be modified or at least partially regrown if only a minimal amount of a module is damaged. The raw materials for the electronics are taken from the bio waste we produce ourselves, the rest is returned to hydroponics, after the metal values which cannot be used by the plants are removed.'

'How do you recover special metals and rare elements you need for superconductors?' I asked, speaking the words but not really knowing what I was saying. The training, augmented by the green capsules Vill made us take every evening, must have been working.

'We have special digesters and multiple membrane systems. Some chemicals will pass through particular membranes, others will not, the effluent from one stage is passed to the next where something different is extracted. There is always something left, so when there is a slack period, the water is run through the system again. Here I will show you.'

Xlok led us between banks of quietly whirring machinery feeding through tangles of colour-coded tubes, vats growing circuits almost like a cloning vat grew human body parts. It was very orderly, clean and quiet, compared to the whirlwind of the mine.

Backing onto the hydroponics section, which I remembered was next to the factory, was the recovery and reclamation equipment. It was fed by large coloured pipes coming through the wall from the hydroponics unit, which in turn was a huge, domed hothouse. The reclamation machinery gurgled and bubbled, making noises the origins of which we could only guess at. To our disappointment, the unit was completely sealed in yellow painted metal, apart from a viewing window set along the lower edge, from under which there was a slow trickle of brown sludge ebbing out into a drain. Every few minutes we could hear a centrifuge start and whine steadily up to speed, then slowly wind down again before cutting out. Xlok took us to the far end of the device and indicated the control console for it. A warning telltale was flashing.

'This is showing a problem, something you should know about how to fix. You saw the brown sludge just now, by the window?'

'Yes. I couldn't see through the window, it looked all furred up.'

'That's part of the problem. Now that you two are here to help, perhaps I shall be able to repair it. The leak has been there for some days now. It is wasting valuable nutrients which could be used in the greenhouse.'

I got that sinking sensation which I had begun to associate with getting the short straw when it was time for someone to be given the worst job going. Similie caught my eye and gave me a look which meant she was having the same thoughts. Right on cue, Xlok described her plan.

'You will watch me balancing the system to take the damaged section out of circulation, then you will be able to remove the pipework in that section, do whatever is necessary to clean it of any blockages, fit new seals and inspect for leaks.'

I knew it. We'd be spending the next few hours up to our knees in gloop from the sewage extractor, which is what Xlok had been so careful in her use of jargon, to avoid calling it.

'This should be called the Sewage Extractor, shouldn't it?' I asked briskly, 'Not the 'Reclamation and Recycling Unit.'

'Why?' Xlok glanced at me sharply, making me take a step back. What was it that made me keep asking the wrong questions, I asked myself.

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean it wasn't a marvellous piece of engineering.'

Xlok looked genuinely shocked at the thought of one of her pet systems being criticised. 'You are wrong to be so disparaging. Yes it does deal with sewage. But it is necessary to our existence. Without it the plants which provide our food would die and we would lose valuable raw materials for manufacture.'

'And we need to recycle and recover as much water as possible because it's such a rare and valuable commodity here,' put in Similie.

'Exactly so,' smiled Xlok, pleased with Similie's insight.

'Yes, but it still means we have to slosh around in foul muck, while you give instructions from a safe distance,' muttered Similie,' thinking she was out of earshot.

'Tell me, how else would you learn?' retorted Xlok, defensively. She was puzzled by Similie's contradictory remarks. 'What is more, the job must be done and you will do whatever I ask. Is that understood?' An alarming harshness was developing in Xlok's voice and I felt it was best to agree. We were still going to be up to our knees in muck whatever we said and if we weren't careful, we'd end up getting adjusted. Whatever that was exactly, I didn't know but I was sure we wouldn't like it.

'Where do we start?' I asked quickly, trying to smile as if it was the best job I'd ever been offered.

'I'm sure we're both keen to see what there is to learn,' added Similie, doing her own bit of creeping.

'That's more like it. You start by putting on the protective suits. Then I will show you how the flow paths can be diverted while losing only a minimum of efficiency.'

By the time Similie and I had zipped into the bright orange rubber suits, Xlok had accessed the system.

'OK, study the diagram on the screen. Pressures and flow rates at each end of each pipe are shown. All the values should be summable or subtractable to give the corresponding values in each of the units, for example branches, filters and membranes. If the values do not match up, then there must be a fault.'

'Ah, like here,' said Similie, pointing to a branch in one of the pipes.

'And there.' I found a discrepancy in the output from a condenser.

'Very good. Vill was right, you have useful minds. But this is only the schematic diagram. When I point and click on the places you identified on the schematic, they will be identified when we switch over to the working diagram, so we will know where to search for the fault.' Xlok highlighted the sections using a joystick control and then changed the screen to another showing a pictorial view of what was inside the unit. 'Look here and here, the sections you indicated are now flashing red. The faults are in pipes B34 and NN172. Time to remove the covers.'

Xlok motioned us over to the expanse of yellow plating and indicated which panels should be removed. On closer inspection, we could see that they each had a small, black number, together with a mysterious symbol.

'Try panels 15 and 46,' said Xlok 'And of course you'll need to take off the viewing panel.'

'Of course.' That was the one which was covered in unpleasant-looking fur and from under which the slow trickle of sludge was issuing. I didn't want to give Xlok a chance to complain about any reluctance on my part, so I got stuck straight into the fixing screws with a power driver, trying not to think about the mess we were almost certain to find inside. Similie followed suit and Xlok looked to be surprised at the speed with which we got the access plates off to enable us to peer into the murky depths beyond. There was not much to see. Everything was covered in the vile fur and there was a distinctly unpleasant smell.

'This looks worse than I thought. You're going to have to give it a clean first,' laughed Xlok. 'Take the rest of the covers off and stack them in numerical order at the side, there.' This was probably going to be the least revolting part of the job, or so I thought before I saw the inner surfaces of the plates and realised that of course they were covered in smelly fur, too. I rolled my eyes at Similie.

She'd already had the sense to close the face mask, so I could only guess at the look on her face.
Chapter 29: Gloop

Xlok produced two pressure spray cleaners out of a locker and sat back at the console to watch.

'Make sure you clean the inner surfaces of each access plate, Similie. Lump, you start on the inside. The muck will flow down into the drain. This is good because there is a holding tank underneath. Fortunately we have got to this problem before the tank is full, otherwise it would be even more unpleasant.'

I muttered something I knew would be no more than a muffled sound under the face mask and set to work on the close-packed workings of the machine. Luckily, the slimy fur came off easily and dropped down inside, where I chased it off with the spray jet. Before long I could see the colours of the pipes and other components, and eventually even the numbers. By the time I'd cleared about half the interior, Similie had finished the outer plates and began flushing away the rest of the internal stuff. It was almost fun from inside a protective suit, waving a spray wand around getting everything clean and sparkling.

'All right, that's enough. No need to get obsessive about it,' smiled Xlok. We shut off the sprays and put the packs down.

'What's next?' asked Similie.

'Have you identified your pipes yet?'

'Mine's over here,' she replied.

'And my bit's right underneath,' I sighed.

'Well, let's get on, then. What do we do next?'

'Divert the flows and isolate those parts of the plant?'

'Good idea, Lump, we don't want half the factory unit covered in high pressure slime, do we?'

Back at the console, Xlok used a few deft points and clicks with the joystick to divert the passage of sludge from the faulty areas and void the pipes we had to remove. Back at the Reclamation Unit, all Similie had to do was lean over and unclip a section of 5 centimetre diameter blue pipe. I had to use one of the sprayers again before the floor was fit to crawl across to gain access to the base of the condenser.

Small remnants of sludge fell in gobbets onto my suit and face mask as I inched my way between supporting stanchions. I pushed myself under the main sludge pump, which was still ticking over, past one of the membrane stacks and found myself with a gloopy looking condenser looming above me.

'You have to unscrew the bottom section and detach the green down pipe. The problem's in the seal between the two,' called Xlok from the control console.

I carefully withdrew all the bolts from the base and loosened the pipe but it didn't want to come free. 'It isn't moving,' I called back.

'Well, give it a yank.' For several minutes I tried gripping the parts from different angles to gain sufficient grip. No matter how hard I tried, my gloves slipped on the slime and it wouldn't budge.

'It's still stuck.'

'The gasket must be holding it then,' suggested Xlok, 'You'll have to slide something in to break the seal.'

Poking the pointed end of a small screw-driver into the black, slimy groove between the upper and lower sections of the condenser, I waggled it to and fro. I was about to give up, when there was a hissing noise as a vacuum was released. Listening to the hiss of the air entering the condenser was, I was about to discover, rather like hearing the fuse on an explosive. The nasty bit is when it stops. A fraction of a second after the pressure equalised, the bottom section of the condenser fell heavily onto my chest, followed by several gallons of thick, gobby black slime.

'Blah, eugh, errgh, flugh!' was all I managed to shout.

I discovered Xlok had already positioned herself with the spray jet and she hosed me and the offending parts down, laughing loudly. I thought I even heard Similie tittering in the background.

'Don't worry,' Xlok called down, 'It's perfectly harmless, that's the digested stuff. You were lucky it was only half full.' That was the last straw, Similie had to retire to what she thought was a safe distance, she was so convulsed with laughter. 'Similie! Stop messing about and hand the new parts down to Lump.'

It was my turn to be amused, watching the grimace on Similie's face through her mask as she tried her best, unsuccessfully, to keep her suit out of the puddles of slime I was still wallowing in. Xlok shouted instructions for replacing the gasket at the base of the condenser and also the originally faulty 'o'-ring at the far end of the green pipe. I didn't think the situation was funny for very long. The weight of the hexagonal condenser foot was increasingly painful on my chest and the rubber ring would not go where it was supposed to on the pipe. At least it wouldn't go on until I'd given it a very thorough and comprehensive cursing, as best I could with several kilos of pressure container bearing down on me.

'Xlok, I can't hold the condenser base back in position while I do up the bolts, it's too heavy and there's no room under here for anyone to help me.'

'No problem. You get the thing in position and I'll give it a bit of vacuum to hold it up, while you put the bolts through. And Similie, start putting the access plates back, while Lump's finishing off. Starting at the top, please, we don't want Lump sealed in there, do we?'

I was about to crawl out, aching in every limb from where I'd been struggling with heavy equipment and slime for the last forty-five minutes, when Xlok ordered me to stay put.

'You've done the job, Lump, so you have to make sure there aren't any leaks before you can come out.' She fiddled with the controls on the console.

As my unit went back on line, it hissed and gurgled alarmingly. Instantly I began trembling with anxiety that something big was going to blow, showering me with shrapnel which would slice through my suit and rupture pipes, followed doubtless by gallons of high pressure poisonous sludge. I could barely focus on the joints I was supposed to be checking as each long second ticked by.

Finally, after a couple of terrifying minutes trying to convince myself that I wasn't inside a bomb ready to go off, I felt a tug at my left boot. Almost inaudible over the noise of the machinery, I could faintly hear Xlok shouting. 'If you're not covered in slime, you must have fixed it. Everything's at full pressure. Come on out.'

I was so relieved I was grinning from ear to ear when I finally managed to extricate my aching body.

'All right,' smiled Xlok. 'A job well done. You two need to go and hose those suits down. I'll put the viewing plate back on. Then make sure you have a good shower too, otherwise the rest of us will have to put up with the smell.'

I was so relieved to have escaped without injury, I found myself actually thanking Xlok for letting me out. By comparison, the rest of the tasks Xlok had in store for us weren't too bad. After lunch we helped her make minor adjustments to feeder lines to the tanks growing the electronics modules and had a brief tour of the metals section.

Most of the next day, Xlok taught us how to repair electronic modules. There was a corner of the workshop piled high with stuff which was only partially faulty. For each type of unit, Xlok first went through the procedures for fault-finding. Soon we were able to determine which parts of the modules could be re-grown and which would have to go to digester tanks and on into the Reclamation Unit we'd serviced the day before. Xlok then showed us how to correct all the remaining repairable modules.

Oddly, the time it took to train us with sufficient thoroughness to please Xlok, turned out to be exactly the same as the time it took to completely clear the junk pile!

This is precisely the sort of coincidence students throughout the known universe are all too familiar with.
Chapter 30: Symch and Goster

Ten minutes before evening meal time all the klaxons went off. One of the heat exchangers in the ore processing plant had blown, taking out large chunks of hydraulic control mechanisms with it. Grinning, Vill announced that it was an ideal opportunity for me, Goster, Similie and Symch to effect the first leg of the repair, in other words the dismantling, salvage and of course, the clean-up operation.

I had hoped we would be allowed to eat before we left but Vill insisted we eat en-route, as it would take over forty minutes to get to the processing plant. While we packed tools, spare coveralls and spare parts for capping pipework and other makeshift repairs, the food preparation unit was switched over to produce our dinner as portable fare. Meanwhile Vill wrestled with the computer in an attempt at damage limitation on the ore processor.

That was one night we missed the sunset. The sky darkened as the carrier took us in the opposite direction, over the clanking wasteland of the mine. Our craft dodged skittering automated ore trucks blindly following their predetermined paths. It kept us safe, apart from the occasional lurch around something immovable. In our temporary refuge we munched on crumbly protein balls, soft noodles and crackers. I found I liked the food to go better than the trays of stuff we got at a sit-down meal.

There was something exciting about the anticipation, the snatched food along the way and the imagined scenes of havoc to come. At least, these thoughts diverted me from considering the hazards of semi-discharged power gels, metal shards underfoot and jagged-edged wreckage waiting to tear at the careless or distracted worker.

We knew we'd reached our destination, initially because the computer had guided us there but mainly by the scene that confronted us. The thirty-metre high heat exchanger was a wreck. A surge of over-pressure must have fractured the intercooler, letting a huge belch of superheated steam tear through the outer skin of the unit.

The result was the huge, ripped hole we found ourselves staring into. Even most of the outer insulation had been blasted away with the force of the expansion and we could see the inner pipework hanging down like intestinal loops. Several gallons of precious water had been lost for good as the steam let go. That alone would have the atmospheric condensers working overtime back at base.

As far as I was concerned there were two good points to this operation, firstly there was no hideous gloop to clear up because everything had evaporated, secondly the unit had blown on the outer side, so that nothing else had been damaged at the same time, apart from the built-in hydraulic control system.

Symch tutted and harrumphed while Goster took measurements, Similie and myself having been sent off to put up the portable arc lights powered from the carrier. The roar of the bypass converter which was still operational behind the main unit hampered communications and Similie and I agreed by a nod of the head to start off in different directions. We then set about picking up as many loose pieces as we could find, so that they could be recycled.

There was enough to fill several heavy reclamation baskets which we trudged back to the carrier. The contents of each basket were slung into the undercarriage storage bins to be dealt with later. It was important to clear as much debris as possible to reduce the chance of injury or damage to equipment.

'It's taken the whole side out, Vill,' shouted Symch into his communicator, trying to overcome the noise from the by-pass. 'It'll need more piping than we brought with us and the outer shell will need a new section welded in, plus the insulation. Lump and Similie are picking up as much as they can find. Goster and I are going in now to cut out the old steam section. No? OK, got it.'

Symch gestured to us to finish up with collecting the debris. We chucked the last shards from our baskets into the storage bins and joined Symch back over by the base of the high column. 'Right, the pair of you listen to this carefully. I was all set to go in there now with Goster and cut out the damaged pipework, while you watched and learnt.'

'Sounds good to me', I ventured.

'Except that's not going to happen.' He exchanged a sly smile with Goster. 'Vill says that you two are going in there to do the work under our instruction, OK?'

'Are you sure he said we had to do it?' I groaned.

Symch did not look at all impressed. 'You want to give Vill a call and ask him yourself?' he asked menacingly.

'Not really,' I mumbled.

'Thought not. Right, anything which is out of shape, and that could mean all of it, has got to come out. OK?'

'Yes. But can't we switch off the by-pass system that's making all that racket?'

'And what happens if we do that?'

'Oh, er, the main processor might blow?'

'So, not such a good idea, then, Lump,' he sneered.

'Well, we could shut that down as well.'

'Full of bright ideas today, aren't we? Perhaps Sim's got the answers.'

'Oh, um. Vill didn't say anything about shutting anything down. If we stop processing, everything will pile up and more stuff will go wrong. And, er, given the noise the by-pass converter is making, we should get a move on before that blows as well.'

'Got it in three. Pity you couldn't have worked it out, Lump. And given the last point, you'd better get started.'

'So, what do we do first?' I asked lamely.

'The first thing is go and get the elevators over here, then bring the cutting gear out of the carrier.' It was clear he had no intention of actually doing anything other than giving orders. And if he wasn't going to, I was pretty certain Goster wasn't either.

The elevators were a kind of hydraulic ladder, which telescoped under power from the carrier. They would lift us over the first ten metres or so of intact column, then we would have to use grappling hooks and ropes to climb around inside, cutting out damaged pipe sections with the laser cutters operated by power packs mounted on our shoulders.

On the way up to where the jagged split in the outer shell became wide enough for us to enter, I suggested to Symch that it might be prudent to cut away the shredded edges, to make access safer and easier and to give us more room to drop out the damaged pipe sections.

'Oh, a good idea at last! Well, why haven't you started yet?'

I hastily cut a straight edge down one side, while Similie did the same down the other. Goster offered his assistance, much to my surprise, using a magnetic grapple to hold the pieces of metal out of the way, while we made the final cuts to free them from the main body of the column.

'We're going inside now,' I spoke into my communicator.

'Get on with it, then,' Symch's reply crackled from the tiny speaker.

We needed additional arc-lights to see where to start cutting. Symch and Goster stood by while I went and got them. The split had occurred about half-way up the inner coil. Symch said that there was no time for metallurgical analysis of any of the sections, we simply had to cut out the sagging, torn or disconnected parts and let them fall to the base of the column.

Goster sidled over and suggested we attach ropes to the internal support struts right at the top of the interior of the tower. I tied the ropes, while Similie raised and lowered me via the lifter. Next, the two of us climbed off the lifter and fastened harnesses onto the ropes. Starting at the lowest part that was damaged, we began chopping away at the distorted pipework.

At first it was quite fun, waving a searing laser around, watching it burn through metal pipe as though it was axle grease. After a near miss, where Similie almost cut my rope which would have had me plunging down onto the jagged scrap in the bottom of the column, we realised it was much more dangerous than we'd thought. I suggested we take a short section of rope and tie ourselves together. This actually enabled us to work quicker because we could easily agree which parts to cut out next and there was no risk of slicing each other up from opposite sides of the job.

When we were all done, we took a five minute tea break, then bagged up all the cut sections and used a portable winch via the top of the elevator to heave them out. Goster then came up and used a remote screen to map the cut out parts. However, he didn't relay the information directly back to the main computer.

'Good job,' said Symch, smirking to himself. 'Now make sure all the rubbish is out of the bottom of the column.'

'We checked that already,' I replied sulkily.

'So, is that it, then?' Similie asked.

'Not entirely,' Symch sneered back. 'You can retract the elevator and put it round the side, where it shouldn't get wrecked if something else blows.'

'Is something else going to blow, then?' I asked rather misguidedly.'

'Listen at them,' guffawed Symch. 'You know what it's like here. Anything could go off without warning. And speaking of warnings, that bypass is still at maximum over-pressure by the sound of it, so get a move on. Lump you can stow all the rest of it: the cutters, power packs, harnesses, and don't forget the ropes.'

'Yeah, and we want a few words with you afterwards, back in the transport,' Goster growled.

Similie and I got all the equipment we'd used put away as quickly as we could, suddenly not wanting to be any closer than necessary to something we'd been reminded was not unlike a ticking time bomb. As soon as we'd finished, we dragged our hot, weary bodies back into the safety of the carrier.

'Now, you two, we want you to listen very carefully. The story is as follows: because you were being trained on site in using every safety procedure, the job which you did in the last four hours, in fact took eight.'

'But that's until the end of the shift, not counting travel time, Symch,' argued Similie.

'You catch on fast.'

'So what are we going to do until then?'

'Well, Goster and I are going to have a game of cards, then have a bit of a nap, smear some muck on our faces and try to look very tired when we return to base.'

'What are we supposed to do? Shouldn't we all be working on the next stage? You know, the rebuild.'

'Of course we know, Lump, but we thought you understood,' said Goster impatiently. 'It's our job, so we make the rules, OK?'

'That's right,' agreed Symch, looking quite pleased with himself. 'To spell it out, it works like this: we've gained a lot of time because you two worked like a pair of maniacs, swinging around on ropes up there with the laser cutters. You must have worked safely because neither of you was hurt.'

'Incredibly!' added Goster. He slapped Symch on the shoulder and rolled back on the bench, laughing.

'You actually sent us in there with no warnings, expecting us to get hurt!' I gasped, feeling anger starting to boil up inside.

Goster stopped laughing and a large wrench suddenly appeared in his big, meaty fist. 'I'd sit back down if I were you, Lump.'

I slumped into my seat, too shocked to say anything else, the realisation at last sinking in that the way we'd done the job, it was a miracle we were still alive.

'The fact that you weren't injured is enough to prove to Vill that we must have trained you properly.'

'But what if we were being taken back to the infirmary, or worse?' piped up Similie, looking shaken.

'Don't worry,' Goster sneered back aggressively, 'We'd have found a different explanation. One which clearly showed it was your own fault. An explanation you'd be in no condition to disagree with, get it?'

I glanced at Similie, she was looking very pale and I had no more argument in me.

'Now, let's all try to calm down,' Symch continued. 'You were very fast, there were no accidents, and we're both very impressed, aren't we, Goster?'

'We are and now there's time left over, we decide what to do with it.'

'You were supposed to be making sure we worked safely. What will Vill have to say about it?'

'You're dimmer than I thought Lump,' snapped Symch. 'Vill doesn't get to hear about it. If you want to stay up the rest of the shift reading the safety manual, that's your affair but all Vill is going to know is that the four of us worked flat out all night.'

'Following the safety procedures exactly,' interrupted Goster.

'Yeah,' added Symch, 'and we filed the computer data,' he waved the portable screen at us, 'as soon as we'd finished, which will be five minutes before the end of the shift.'

'Right, so if anyone asks us what we did all night, we say we did exactly as we were told and that you taught us all you know,' said Similie, trying to hide a rebellious smirk.

'And you can wait outside, if you're not careful, now clear off up the other end of the cabin and stop trying to be clever, it doesn't work with us.' I noticed Goster's right hand was sliding along the handle of his wrench again.

Exhausted from the flat-out work we'd done and worn down by Symch and Goster, Similie and I crept to the back of the cabin and settled down for a well-deserved rest on piles of ropes and webbing.

I woke suddenly to the loud clang of the outer door being flung open. With a thick head, I felt as if no time at all had passed. Vill appeared, stamping in through the main hatch. He roughly shook Symch and Goster awake. Suspicious that a progress report hadn't been filed, he'd arrived an hour early to check up. Taking a quick look around, he saw immediately which out of the four of us had weary faces streaked with dirt and sweat and were wearing filthy, work-stained overalls.

'Yeah, just as I thought,' he snarled, planting his large right boot on Goster's chest, knocking the breath out of him. Symch tried to get up, some excuse already forming on his lips. Vill fetched him a lightening fast, hard backhander across the face. He went down, yelping like a dog onto a pile of tools, the words caught in his throat, too surprised to move.

In less than a minute Vill had got the full story. Then he sent me and Similie back for breakfast. We were the lucky ones, not only having been amazingly fortunate to escape serious injury or death, but Symch and Goster got to do double shift with Vill breathing down their necks.
Chapter 31: Gran and Dyne

Next time out, Vill sent us with Gran and Dyne to sort out an intermittent fault in the control system at the freighter port. The main computer had been reporting release catches not functioning properly and flights had been delayed, usually only by a few minutes but enough to cause concern.

Gran explained the theory on the way to the launch area. 'The release catches are devices used to hold the freighters down while they are being loaded.'

'But won't they stop the freighter taking off?'

'Good point, Lump, but that's the problem, the catches aren't releasing fully to allow lift-off. They are meant to steady the craft in the first few minutes of count down, while the gyros spin up to take-off speed.'

'OK,' Similie and I nodded in unison.'

'If the catches, and there were four on each freighter, don't release simultaneously, the launch is aborted, the gyros wind all the way back down and the catches are actuated under test conditions, one at a time. This cycle repeats until all the catches work, usually on the second or third attempt.'

'Hence the delayed lift-offs.' I added.

'That's right. And now that we've arrived, you can see for yourselves.'

'Where do we begin, then,' asked Similie.

'On the reserve pad. There's a third one. We'll check that first. If it's operational, we can divert every other flight there, which will give us some room to manoeuvre.'

'And what are we looking for?'

'You'll see when we get there. In the meantime, we can set up a test pattern for it using the schematic.'

We set a test pattern to randomly operate each catch on the spare launch pad, transmitted the data and watched the results coming back on Gran's portable screen.

Doing a remote scan allowed us to remain in the comfort of the carrier for a few more minutes. The catches on the spare pad each performed better, but they were still missing around once in ten or twenty, so the problem had to be at least partly a general one. We still had the same results coming through by the time we'd walked across as far as the first freighter, so the fault wasn't going to clear by itself. The reserve launch pad was in line with the other two but at the far end, about a kilometre distant. Each pad comprised a well-scorched, open concrete area, surrounded by dust repeller fields.

'It will be necessary for you two to actuate and check each catch manually,' Gran commanded Similie and myself. Grand and Dyne returned to the transport to observe the results of our research. I took a two-seater hover truck over to the launch pad proper and connected an umbilical. That was when I realised that what had been casually referred to as 'catches' were in fact huge metal claws mounted on levered arms operated by pneumatic rams. Of course, something which could hold down a freighter while its drive got up to speed had to be something a bit bigger than a door latch!

Over a series of dozens of tests, each catch operated faultlessly. The same outcome was found on each of the other two sets of catches attached to the freighters in dock.

'OK, you can return to the carrier,' came Dyne's voice over the wristcoms. The problem was presumably in the relay station adjacent to where the carrier had parked up, not in the catches themselves. It took most of the rest of the shift to check all the control systems.

As usual, a cover plate had to be removed before we could gain ingress to the small bunker which contained the equipment and power relays for the catches. And of course Gran and Dyne found less arduous tasks while Similie and I had the job of chipping away at the cemented seal all round the edge of the door. Fortunately we had brought the sonic chiselling equipment with us and it didn't take as long as it could have but it was still a dusty and grimy job.

Once inside the relay station bunker, we connected up remote operating transducers for Gran to analyse the equipment. After exhaustive testing, the fault was eventually traced to nothing more than corrosion on a set of contacts to the power switches.

During a short rest break Gran briefed us on how to replace the corroded contacts and check all the others. Again more slog with power wrenches, hammers and other assorted heavy duty tools, before we could release the corroded contacts. While we'd been releasing the old ones, Xlok sent an unmanned hovercycle over with sparkling new replacements, fresh from the factory. We were tired by then but fortunately the replacement operation was nowhere near as arduous as the removal of the old ones.

After a full systems re-test, the door to the relay bunker was finally sealed. Gran and Dyne took us back to New Site for a well-earned breakfast and rest period. It was probably the least eventful of our training sessions with other members of the crew and for that at least, Similie and I were grateful.

By now I'd survived for quite a number of weeks. It was difficult to tell how long because one day seemed much like another, as I had no access to a calendar of any sort, apart from the fact that a different day brought a different problem with the machinery. I began to feel rather pleased with myself. There wasn't anything I didn't know how to fix. I could locate any spare for any machine using the computer and I was feeling fitter and stronger than ever. For a week or two I felt almost invincible.

Gradually, however, I began to question my surroundings. At first it made me feel pretty clever, until I realised I didn't have any answers. Odd things started to unsettle me, like why couldn't I remember anything about myself? Who was I? What was I really doing here? Where did the freighters go to with their vast holds full of processed ore?

I started waking into nightmares, dreaming that a huge beast was following me around the mine, trying to capture me. In the dream I always managed to stay one jump ahead, but inevitably it would find my trail again and I would have to find a new hiding place. To my alarm, I found that anxiety was sapping my new-found strength and confidence, only to replace them with fatigue. The dream became more intense until I resolved to speak to Dyne about it. She was supposed to be the medical person and since working with her on the freighter terminal, I had the impression she'd begun taking a greater interest in me.

A day or two later we were out in the mine together, replacing the bearings on a truck. It was a straightforward job and provided the opportunity to pour out my troubles. Dyne made a note on an electronic notepad but tried to laugh it off as unimportant.

'Don't worry about it. I'm sure it'll go away,' was all I could get out of her. But once I'd started, the words kept tumbling out.

'And I want to know what's going on here. Where does all this fuel go to? Why are there only eight of us? Why can't I remember anything before getting here?'

'My, aren't you inquisitive today?' she countered. 'You'd better see Vill about that.'

I couldn't stop myself. 'It's not good enough. No-one tells me anything. I don't even know when I get a day off and how much holiday I have in this job.' The more I spoke, the more I realised that there was nothing which didn't bother me in some way or other.

Dyne laughed out loud, though briefly, at the mention of a holiday. 'You'll have to see Vill about all that too. He's on rest cycle at the moment. See him at meal break tonight.'

My own questions worked like a catalyst, my thoughts were spiralling out of control. I turned and walked away, feeling deeply troubled. Dyne spoke quietly into her communicator. I had no idea where I was going, I simply wanted to get away. Within no more than a dozen steps, I felt a black spark in my head. Suddenly I went numb. I tripped and stumbled, falling face down in the sand. As I fell, seeing the ground tilt in slow motion, I noticed without surprise or sensation that my shoulder grazed a jagged piece of metal. My head twisted awkwardly to one side when I hit the ground. I couldn't move. Dyne's face loomed near. I tried to say something but there were no words and I couldn't focus properly, everything looked as though it was under water. I thought I could hear Dyne shouting something like 'Too much. Vill, it's too much. Turn it down. Don't punish him. He'll be useless for days.'

I was only vaguely aware of being bundled into an air car and arriving at the New Site. At one point I blacked out, waking some time later to Vill slapping me about the face and muttering something about no more questions and about having 'tweaked' something. Dyne was there trying to explain, saying 'Lump, you were ill, we had to adjust something. You'll feel much calmer now. Everything will be all right.' And to Vill 'Leave him. I'll get him back on his feet.'

I felt vague and a bit fuzzy, like you do when you've been under anaesthetic, my shoulder ached dully but Dyne was correct, I did feel more calm. I couldn't exactly remember what had happened or why I was in the infirmary. But it didn't feel important. All I could recall was that I'd had a fall but now I was alright.
Chapter 32: Time Out

I felt fuzzy for hours after the incident, my memory was still very vague and I couldn't focus on what I was doing. By the second day, I began to feel pretty miserable. Whatever they'd done to me, it hadn't worked properly. I barely noticed the way Dyne was studying me over the evening meal. She came to my room after I'd turned in, finding me sitting dejectedly on the bed.

'Lump?'

'Oh, Dyne. Yes?'

'You don't feel too good still, do you?'

'Terrible,' I grumbled.

'Getting worse, or better.'

'Worse, I think. I can hardly think at all.' I shook my head in a vain attempt to clear it. 'Yes worse, definitely.'

'I thought so. That's about the most you've said to anyone since your fall.' She sat down on the bunk beside me and gently rubbed the base of my neck. 'See what happens when you get too cocky. You took quite a beating out there.'

'I don't understand. I don't remember. What's the matter with me?'

'Stand up. I'll take you to the medical room and make some adjustments.'

I wobbled uncertainly to my feet.

'Damn that Vill, he always goes too far,' she muttered.

'What do you mean?' I mumbled. I'd been threatened with adjustments before. 'I don't want to be adjusted.'

'Don't worry. I can't explain. It doesn't matter. You'll feel better soon.'

Dyne took off my comwatch and left it on the bench near my bunk, then helped me along the corridor to the medical lab. As we limped along I was vaguely aware of Dyne's body pressed against my side and her arm gripping my waist, her thigh rubbing against mine as she fought to keep me going.

She flopped me down onto a deep couch and placed a sensor cap over my head, then plugged it into a scanner. A few moments later, she placed something else on the back of my neck and I slipped into a dream-like trance. I could only see her as if in a blur, moving about, busying herself with the readouts and studying the traces on the various displays on the consoles.

Gradually my head began to clear. I felt relaxed and could focus properly again. I felt much more like I had been used to at the beginning, detached and untroubled, not the least bit inquisitive the way I'd been recently. What had all that been about?

Dyne moved round into my field of vision and peered closely into my eyes, then back at a hand-held monitor. 'Hmm. You're back to normal now. There's no permanent damage, no thanks to Vill. I think I'll store that level for reference.'

One of the consoles bleeped behind me and she lifted the cap full of connectors from my head. I was about to get up when she said 'No. Don't move yet. There was still something fixed to my neck I noticed. Dyne reached behind me and changed what felt like a weighty attachment for a smaller one having a foot or so of wire aerial which she left dangling over my shoulder and down my chest. She fastened the device by a collar which met over my Adam's apple.

Next Dyne dropped the sensor cap back over my head and entered an access code into a keypad on the hand-held she still carried. I watched her making further adjustments. She was very close, kneeling between my legs on the edge of the couch, her face only a foot or so from mine. I couldn't recall being so near any of the personnel here, except occasionally when it needed two or more of us to move a piece of jammed equipment.

Further adjustments were being made, though I couldn't see what they were. Over the space of a few minutes, I began to feel somehow different. It was very strange, it almost felt as though my brain was shifting inside my skull. Then I noticed something tickle my nose.

I sneezed, making Dyne jump back but she simply smiled to herself and quickly returned to where she had been, kneeling against the couch in front of me. As her face moved closer, I knew I could smell something but I couldn't quite grasp what it was. It called up images of flowers and fresh, clean, heady country air, bubbling streams. I sighed, puzzled, but knowing it was something I hadn't sensed for a long time. A tell-tale beeped behind me. Dyne smiled and looked straight at me. She moved her face gently against mine and the smell was stronger. It was perfume!

My whole body stiffened. 'You're wearing perfume,' I gasped into the soft cloud of her hair against my face.

Dyne rubbed her cheek against mine and moved away enough for our eyes to meet. I realised my heart was quickening and then she kissed me on the lips. A whole set of tell-tales went off behind me and Dyne broke away, giggling.

'Well that certainly got a response, didn't it?'

'What's happening. What are you doing?'

'Shh,' she whispered 'I can't explain it to you but I have to store this level too.' When she pressed another button, the machine behind me bleeped again. 'Now you're asking too many questions, so I'll have to see to that.' More adjustments. I felt as though my brain twitched and crawled in my head again, causing me to inadvertently shake it to try to stop the sensation. By then it had passed and I felt calm but elated at the same time.

Suddenly everything felt immensely plausible, although I knew somewhere that nothing about this made any more sense than it had five minutes ago.

'And store that,' Dyne said to herself, and the monitor bleeped for the last time. Leaning close again, she carefully unfastened the collar and its antenna from my neck. I could still smell her perfume. It was intoxicating and I inhaled deeply when she came close. 'Now, let's take a good look at you,' she said quietly, then her voice changed 'Stand up. That's it. Take off your overalls.' I had become conditioned to follow a direct order. The others used a distinct intonation when something was imperative, so I obeyed.

Dyne surveyed me carefully, her eyes running appreciatively up and down my body. 'Excellent, Lump. You've shaped up very well, exactly as I planned.' She walked right round behind me. When she returned, her tunic was undone to the crotch and she kissed me again, then gently rested her hand over my face. Besides her perfume, there was a deep, musky odour, which immediately made my eyes widen and my nostrils flare. I sucked in a deep breath and suddenly found I had reached for her and was holding her tight against me, my heart pounding. A shiver passed through me under her steady gaze, so close, and I felt a part of my body which had never moved before begin to stir. Dyne felt it too and a smile spread across her face until it lit up her eyes. She eased herself out of my embrace, stepped back a metre or so and climbed out of her coveralls. I stared at her naked body. She was slender and well toned, with long, supple thighs and a soft, flat belly between delicate hips. Tantalising me, she turned slowly round, keeping her eyes fixed on mine.

Dyne looked like an athlete, the neat sweep of her behind running into the curve of her back and, facing me again, I marvelled at the exquisite tilt of her small breasts tipped with tight nipples, her long, smooth thighs, and the fascinating triangle of tight curls between them.

'Sit here,' she commanded, pulling out a tubular, metallic chair. I sat with my back to her until she came round to face me. She still carried the remote monitor. I saw her press one of the buttons, there was a beep and everything changed. My body slumped, the excited tension vanishing immediately. I was vaguely aware of her perfume as nothing more than a complex odour and it had no effect. I saw her body but it made no impression. Again she pressed a button. My mouth opened to question her actions. Another button pressed and the question died on my lips as the flood of physical sensation returned. There was something long and stiff jutting up from the base of my belly. Its unaccustomed hardness made me dizzy.

Dyne smiled warmly. 'Well, that appears to be set about right.' She put the remote down on the steel table and climbed across my thighs. Immediately we were kissing. The rush it gave me was too much. The smell of her skin, the lithe, agile femaleness of her body, her warmth and softness mixed with calm power and strength overwhelmed me. My heart was racing but I couldn't breathe. Dyne saw that she was overloading all my senses. She slowed down and began to take her time, quietly holding me close for a while, then beginning again by kissing me gently.

Soft, timeless minutes passed me in waves and I started to respond to her fully. Over the next hour, she satisfied herself with me, taking obvious pleasure in winding me to greater and greater heights of exertion.

Finally, in a shuddering rush of energy a burst of pleasure rippled through me. Dyne gripped me hard, her arms wound around my neck as I twitched and surged inside her. She held and kissed me, keeping me very close until I finally softened.

Dyne moved away from me and perched on another stool, smiling contentedly to herself as she admired my sweat-streaked body, until our breathing had slowed to normal. She reached for the remote and I braced myself against that feeling of something crawling over my brain.

After she'd hit what I had begun to think of as the 'normal' button, she said 'I don't expect what we just did makes much sense now.'

'Um. No.' I felt mildly confused suddenly, yet detached. I could remember what had happened here but it was almost as if it was to someone else.

'Good,' Dyne said firmly 'and it's a secret. You know what that means?'

'Yes. I tell no-one.'

'Correct. Now go and shower over there.' She pointed to a cubicle at the side of the room.

Peering over the top of the stall door, I saw Dyne tidying the equipment. Although she was still naked, it was as if I was looking at a well-tuned machine, pleasant but not that interesting.

When I'd finished and was dried and dressed, Dyne called me over to her. 'I hate to do this but I need to make sure you understand.' With that she touched the remote. She had to catch me as I sagged to my knees. A dark cloud of depression sloughed into my brain. I felt nauseous. Then Dyne flicked the remote again, back to the 'normal' setting and almost immediately I recovered: clear, unfussed, only faint puzzlement at how Dyne was able to make these changes, and temporarily physically unsettled by a passing remnant of the depressed state she had momentarily induced. 'That must have felt awful. But that's how important it is you tell no-one. Remember?'

A wave of nausea swept over me for a moment and was gone. 'Absolutely no-one,' I confirmed hurriedly.

'Fine,' she smiled 'now leave me to my shower and if you keep your promise, I'll bring you here again.'

Back in my own cell, I slept like a log. In the lab, Dyne hummed quietly to herself, still smiling.

'So, Lump turned out well. There are definite perks to being the only geneticist on base,' she spoke softly into the stream of warm, falling water, 'and I won't be depending on that hideous Vill, either.' Dyne had noticed him beginning to have an eye for Similie. It wouldn't be many days before he would make moves on her. Poor girl, she would have no idea what she was in for. Dyne knew better than any of the others that Vill had no warmth, almost no compassion. He had neither the imagination nor the skill to enjoy the pleasure she knew she planned to have with Lump. She was convinced Vill would rapidly come to prefer the compliant automaton that Similie would be for him.

Another perk of the job, Dyne considered. She had both needed and detested her sexual relationship with Vill, so it was an opportunity too good to miss when Similie and Lump were snatched and needed new bodies. Dyne admired her own cunning, assembling the genes for Lump so that he was, physiologically at least, one hundred percent compatible with her, while having zero compatibility with Similie. At the same time, she'd assembled Similie's genes to make her irresistible to Vill. Even there she'd introduced a little something to take the edge off Vill's desire for Similie.

I kept my side of Dyne's bargain and she kept hers, frequently. She came for me every few days, when there was no-one else about. On each occasion, she would come to my cell an hour or so after the evening meal and command me to meet her at the medical room at a certain time. I'd always arrive to find her already there. In between I never thought much about it. At least not to begin with.

I would arrive at the medical centre, Dyne would take me in and lock the door, then she'd press a few buttons on her controller and I'd become a different person. My perceptions were totally different to those I was most accustomed to. I would snap into being completely focussed on her, everything about her became magnetically attractive, so different to my day to day response to her. Other than when she took me into the medical room, I had no more interest in her than I had in any of the others, which was simply cool detachment.

Whenever she gave me that certain look as she pressed the button on her controller, my mind would do a quick somersault as dozens of neurons switched round and immediately I would smell her perfume, notice the flush on her cheeks and feel the rush of desire to have her warm, excited body pressed against mine.

This was exactly how it was to start with. After a few weeks, I began to feel inquisitive about what was going on and how come Dyne could point a box of electronics at me, press a button and everything changed. Like a fool I asked her about it directly. My questions led her to adjusting the unit again. But the next time I began to feel like asking a question, I remembered what had happened.

From then on I kept quiet and decided to keep my eyes and ears open, rather than risking letting on that I was becoming little-by-little more aware of the differences between myself and the other mine workers. Unfortunately, Dyne grew suspicious and ran checks of her own and I was straight back to square one. Almost but not quite, though. When she tuned me in to satisfy her desires, I found I could remember for that hour or so all that had happened to me on previous occasions.

I didn't know this at the time but the problem they had with controlling us was that human brains were so well adapted to learning. As soon as Dyne jammed one neural pathway, another sooner or later would link up. In my occasional more lucid moments, between adjustments, I saw that in fact Dyne wanted more than sex. She wanted trust and confidences, understanding and perhaps even friendship. The terms came into my mind to enable me to describe my experience of her when we were in the lab together. They meant something to me then but the rest of the time, they were only words I had no use for.

Over a few weeks, she even began to show tenderness towards me, she let herself go more and would cling to me when I enveloped her in my new body's big, powerful arms. Except when I was switched off, I almost developed a sense of affection for her.

Dyne explained to me when she was off guard that she had been at the mine for nearly ten years. It was almost a living hell but it had been through choice, she said mysteriously. Later she followed up her remark, saying she'd had plenty to run away from. Merely trying to be helpful, I suggested that perhaps it was time to leave, try to go back, only to find myself harshly snapped back to 'normal' and watching bemusedly as a couple of small tears rolled down her cheek.

On another occasion she explained that she had been married, at first happily, then as time passed her husband had become more and more dictatorial, planning, ordering and later commanding her every move. This was on the planet where the fuel was being sent to from the mine. Back then she had a job as a geneticist working next to Vill's department at the main office of the company which ran the mine. Somehow he had heard of her difficulties and he suggested going to the mine as being a way to escape for a couple of years.

Once here, though, Vill took over some of the unpleasant attributes of her husband. He made it absolutely clear to each of his little band that he was the one in charge. It had all gone on much, much longer than she had ever anticipated. This made her all the more pleased with the way her latest plans had worked out because, now that he had Similie to play with, Vill left Dyne alone. He'd even changed the shifts round so she was never on when he was, their only contact being when they had to discuss vital matters of the survival of the installation, or make adjustments.
Chapter 33: Day Off

After what must have been months, Vill allowed two of us a day off. The weather was unusually still, with a screaming, scorching sun and very little wind. Remarkably, even the mine was running smoothly and Similie and I were allocated eight hours recreation. Vill gave us provisions for lunch and told us to go off into the old part of the mine which had no machine activity.

'You're not likely to get yourselves into any trouble over there. And don't forget to renew the sun screen every two hours. If a storm warning goes off, you'll hear it through the wristcoms and we'll send a hover car out to get you,' he added.

We struck out on foot along the perimeter in the direction Vill had indicated, leaving the Site buildings behind. Our heading took us around the edge of the mined-out section. This area was full of scrap, irreparably damaged machinery and heaps of parts worn out and weathered beyond recognition. Most of it was at least half covered in great drifts of dust and sand. About 5 kilometres out we started to see a collection of buildings almost completely covered over by dunes.

Similie suggested they might be the original site buildings she'd heard some of the others refer to. Xlok had told her they had been abandoned a couple of years ago when the main excavation area had moved so far that they were no longer practical and the New Site buildings were put up.

Mildly curious about the Old Site we continued aimlessly towards it. As we tramped along, making frequent detours round larger piles of junk, clambering over sand ridges and slithering down the other side, we frequently lost sight of both Old and New Sites.

After an hour and a half, keeping the sun to our right, we ended up mounting a final ridge and seeing the Old Site spread out before us. It was quite compact-looking, a mass of sand-drifted and junk-piled angles and curves. There was not a foot print in sight before us and only our twin trails behind.

We spotted a doorway and decided to go in if we could to find somewhere to shelter from the sun and indulge in the snacks we had brought with us. This was the first time we had been given rations without working. The main door was placed in a well-designed portal which diverted away the blowing sand but it still took the efforts of both of us to prise it open. Even so, the hinges were full of fine grit, which caused the doors to screech and whinny as we forced our way in.

We explored what must have been the original buildings. They were of unit construction like the ones we had left behind but with a musty, crumbly interior and sun-bleached on the outside. In many ways, not surprisingly, the corridors were similarly coded and the rooms similarly marked. It occurred vaguely to me, almost mischievously, to go and try all the doors of the rooms which were code-locked in the New Site, simply to see what was behind them.

Our first stop was the canteen, partly because it was near the entrance and partly because we thought there might be somewhere to sit down to eat our rations after the long trek. To our dismay, the tables and seating had been taken out, presumably for re-use and we were on the point of agreeing to slough down on the floor in one of the corridors when we stumbled upon the old communications centre, now a mess of cables with most of the equipment ripped out. As we turned into the room, the lights surprisingly came up automatically and the door creaked closed behind us.

Something incredible happened as the door clicked shut. We both gasped with shock, as the accustomed numbness instantly vanished.

'Who the hell am I?' Similie yelped.

'I don't know who you are but I know who I am.' It felt as though another person had sprung up inside my head. Instinctively, I covered my ears.

'Is this real? What am I doing here?' Similie shuddered, shrinking back against the wall.

'Well who are you, then?' I gasped.

'I'm Lori from Solid Ground. A computer fraud prosecutor. I was on holiday, Passengering. The last thing I can remember, I was on my way back.' Her words tumbled out. 'I've been sent to the wrong address,' she shrieked, glancing around wildly.

'On purpose, probably,' I said, trying to sound calm.

'Who would do that? Who are you?'

'Can't you guess?' I replied, ignoring the first question.

'No, answer me. This is terrifying!'

'I'm Ben. We body-swapped with each other.'

'No, you're not! You look nothing like him.'

'And you look nothing like Lori, either, but you say you are.'

The woman I knew as Similie examined her hands and snatched up a piece of broken glass from the floor to catch a glimpse of herself. Flinging it aside, she ran trembling fingers over her face.

'You're right, this isn't me! What have they done to us?'

During this last exchange, we had been slowly moving towards each other, staring intently into the eyes of a stranger, trying to discern the person we knew so well behind them. Now we ran the last few feet into each other's arms, embracing hard and long, until surprise and astonishment re-surfaced.

'Ben, how can I know it really is you?'

'The Lori I swapped with has a tiny mole no-one knows about. It's just behind her left ear.'

'So, you are my Ben!' We kissed but it was awkward. There was nothing familiar about it and I knew her body didn't even smell right. Physically, we were nothing like our real selves. We moved to arms length.

'These bodies! They're hideous. Well mine is anyway,' she added quickly. 'I can't bear you to see me like this.'

'Well at least I can remember what you really look like.'

'I can remember you too, my dear. But what's happening to us? Why have we only just realised? It feels like I've been on this dump for months, mending junk.'

'It's like I've been drugged or asleep. Hypnotised?'

'Sleepwalking.'

'But how did we get here?'

'Someone's done us a lousy swap, maybe stolen our jobs too.'

'But Ben, what about the Bureau? They make sure that can't happen.'

I had no answer to that. We had by this time sunk down onto a large, dusty metal crate, where we sat huddled together in silence for a while contemplating our fate.

'But why is it different in here? What woke us up?' Lori asked at last.

'This is the communications room. If it's a Faraday cage, the room will be electrically screened to prevent electromagnetic waves getting in or out.' I remembered how Dyne could control me at the press of a button on her remote. 'It must be stopping some sort of control signal which was blocking our minds.'

'But the minute we leave...'

'Yes, we'll lose it all again and the blocking signal will take over and we could be none the wiser and might never find our way back here.' I felt a sudden cold chill of danger, followed by a hot flush of anger. Swirling around that was finding Lori right here, while in the midst of being seduced by Dyne and her machine. The unaccustomed churning of emotions made me feel sick.

'How can we stop it?'

'It depends how they've been controlling us,' I said, trying hard to navigate a path of reason between conflicting emotions. 'We've probably got an implanted chip somewhere.'

'How do we find out?'

'There should be a scar somewhere. It'll be small and near a nerve centre, probably at the base of the neck. Turn around,' I told her.

I pulled down the collar at the back of Lori's tunic, exposing the white, untanned flesh, and inspected the surface of her skin carefully. After a few moments I saw the tiny incision. 'It's here,' I said, gently rubbing the faint mark and finding a small lump underneath it.

'What do we do now? Can we get them out?'

'Not without surgery and we've no way of telling what nerves they might be connected to. The chip could be wired right into our spinal columns. But we might be able to shield them.'

'This is impossible!' Lori wept with frustration.

'Don't get upset. There may be some metal foil in here.'

'What good will that do?'

'We might be able to shield the chip, so the signal can't get through.'

'Let me check your neck first.' Lori studied the back of my neck.

'Yes. I see a scar. And there's a small lump under the skin, like a capsule.'

'Let's have a look for anything useful left in here.'

We rummaged around amongst the discarded apparatus. The communications equipment itself was in the form of slabs of grey and brown plastic with gold connector pads on the sides. They were similar to the integrated bio-inorganic materials Xlok had introduced us to.

'We might find something in the power trunking.' I stepped towards the conduit boxes on the wall. The outer covers had been ripped down but the cables leaving the wall were protruding from the crumbling concrete as frayed ends of twisted metal, plastic and fibre optics. I reached out to unravel a cable.

'Stop!' shrieked Lori, 'Remember what happened to Goster.'
Chapter 34: Patched

I opened the pouch on my tool belt and clicked on a power sensor. Running it round the power outlets, cables and remaining pieces of equipment, I found no sign of power anywhere.

'Thanks, you were absolutely right. We need to be careful.' I didn't want to be fried, ten minutes after finding you. I gingerly approached a length of cable and cut back some of the covering, to find the inner shielding was made of exactly what I was looking for. I cut a piece free. It was about 10 centimetres square, webbed flexible plastic with a shiny metallic surface.

'I'll hold this over the back of my neck and go outside. Tie some of this ribbon cable round my wrist and pull me back in if it doesn't work. Stay around the back of the door and don't try to follow me.'

'OK.'

With Lori standing shielded behind the door, I squeezed out, holding the metallic patch over the control crystal in my neck. My consciousness dimmed slightly but I held my own thoughts. I turned straight back inside.

'It's good. We'll need a couple of layers but it'll do fine. Let's fix you up.'

We tore off more strips of the sheathing and went outside, singly at first to try it out.

'The field may be stronger nearer the New Site but I think it'll hold.'

'Great. All we have to do is walk around all day with our hands behind our heads. That won't be very noticeable, will it? And what happens when we fall asleep?'

'We'll have to find something to hold them down.'

'Good thinking. But what?'

'If we can find the medical room there might be something.'

'As it's the same floor plan as the New Site, it'll be down the corridor on the right.'

'OK, let's try but be careful with your patch.'

With our hands behind our heads and our elbows stuck out, we scouted around and using our undulled senses quickly found the medical room. It was well stripped out. There was no usable equipment left and no drugs but after going through every bench and locker in the room, we found a roll of adhesive patches for covering minor wounds. Flesh-coloured. That would be useful! I taped the metallic film down onto Lori's neck and she did the same for me.

'We'd better take some more of this stuff with us for spares,' said Lori.

'Good idea.'

The immediate emergency over, I was starting to think clearly again. I could feel a flood of thought trying to break through but there were more pressing questions. And our meal break was well overdue.

'We've left our lunch back in the comms room. We should go back and get something to eat, Lori.'

'Yes, I'm beginning to feel pretty lightheaded.'

A stunned silence fell over us as we began to tear into our food. Finally, I heard myself saying 'Where do you think we are?'

'Nowhere familiar for sure. It's far too hostile an environment for normal colonisation,' replied Lori.

'Yes but it's not colonised, is it.'

'The freighters must go somewhere.'

'A rather more habitable and populated planet nearby in the same system. Dyne told me. It can't be far, otherwise it wouldn't be worth the effort of transporting the fuel.'

'Unless there was nothing else.'

Again there was silence as we finished the lean rations and took a drink of chilled carbonated water from flasks.

'We've got to get away somehow. Get off the planet and out of the system.'

'Do we have to go back to the New Site?'

'If we don't they'll come looking for us and we have don't have a means of escape. Not yet anyway. There's nothing but junk over here.'

'We could try and jump a freighter.'

'Yes, if it has an airlock and life-support. They are unmanned, so we might be able to control one and change course to head out of the system. We'll have to be careful, we don't want to end up worse off than we are now.'

'If that's possible.'

'Well, we don't know who's controlling this outfit, do we?'

'No and if they're anything like most of the bunch here, they aren't likely to be too friendly, either.'

Suddenly we burst out laughing. Within moments we were both sobbing and then laughing and sobbing again. Eventually the cycles of laughter and crying subsided.

'Phew!'

'Shock?'

'Delayed shock.'

'Hold me.' Lori said simply. We clung to each other, shivering, feeling very small and lost. But alive.

Again we fell into silence.

Slowly my unfocussed eyes began to sharpen their gaze. The realisation slowly dawned on me that I was staring at the markings on one of the broken com modules. It was utterly alien.

'That writing.'

'Yes, it's not Interplan Standard, is it?'

'No.'

'Computer-readable?'

'Not by any system I know.'

'Do you remember your arm?'

'What arm? No.'

'Look at the nails on your left arm.'

I looked. They were like claws. With a shudder it all came back. After a few days at the New Site I'd become too cocky and got my left arm mangled in a gearbox. I'd been tended by Dyne with an automated surgeon and had had a reptilian arm grafted on. Over several weeks it had grown back to the same as the rest of the body I was in. Now all that was left was the tell-tale clawnails on the ends of my fingers. I began to remember that Vill and the others had thought it a huge joke at the time. With hindsight, I realised that they could have perfectly well grafted on a newly cloned human arm but it simply amused them to use some other tissue. Or maybe it had been another of Dyne's experiments.

Alien contact? While I was musing on all this, Lori had moved on.

'Anyone who took our places will have control over the data traffic in sectors 10b and 27r,' she exclaimed.

'You mean yours and mine,' I nodded, wondering what would have happened back home in my absence. Would Ax and the others even have been aware if someone or something had taken my place?

'Opposite sides of the quadrant.'

'Exactly.'

'Or anything.'

'What?'

'I mean 'any creature'. Taking over.'

'You think aliens may be infiltrating the Net? Using our real bodies?'

'But why aliens?'

'Because...' I couldn't think how to explain. 'You know, the arm.'

'Invasion. And it could have already begun.' Lori's words caused a chill to run down my spine.

'We don't even know if we were the first.'

'I wonder if anyone else here is from a key post back home.'

'They could be anyone.'

'Or anything.'

'The others look human but at least some of them clearly aren't on our side. I don't exactly see Vill as a potential ally. If we've been transferred into these basic bodies, they could have too. If they've been transferred, they don't even have to be human, do they?'

'How should I know? Humans have never even met an alien life-form, never mind tried to do a Transfer on one.'

'Imagine if one of us had come here, into this room with one of the others.'

'Like Symch or Goster? I'd rather not!'
Chapter 35: Transport

Lori and I sat motionless and silent for several minutes, trying to come to terms with the events of the day. In the end Lori broke the silence.

'We've absolutely got to get away from here.'

'You're right but we don't even know where we are.'

'We can study the stars tonight and see if anything makes sense.'

'We could be anywhere!'

'Yes. Anywhere in the galaxy. And probably not too far from home, otherwise the time-scale for planning the swap would be too long. At night there should at least be a Milky Way and we ought to be able to recognise patterns of stars outside the galaxy.'

'Next rest day we'll see if we can sneak onto a freighter and check it out. And I'm itching to break into all the other rooms here right now. The ones that are code-locked back at New Site, those we can't get access to over there, to see if there are any clues here.'

'OK but we've only got about half an hour before we need to start getting back. We don't want to be late and arouse the suspicions of the others.'

'I hadn't thought. Have any of the others been kidnapped? I wonder who's in control.'

'Vill always takes the lead.'

'And he probably hasn't got an implant either.'

'We'd better start back now and think it all through, before we go rushing around. If we break into the other rooms and anyone else comes over here, they'll be suspicious.'

'All right. But I'd like a quick trip to the repair shop. There's bound to be something lying around which might come in handy.'

We found a couple of tools we hadn't been issued with, lost where they'd been dropped under benches and fallen down the backs of drawers. I hid them inside the heat suit and we made our way back outside, spraying ourselves with the sun-screen before leaving the building.

It felt like nowhere near as far back as the journey out. Before we knew it, the all-too-familiar outlines of what was effectively our prison, were in sight. As soon as we neared New Site, we realised that it was going to be difficult. We had our full faculties back, unlike a few hours ago when we were numbed by the implants. Vill would spot the changes in our behaviour immediately. How many of the others were like Vill and had any of them been kidnapped, like us?

On the way back, we passed what must have been a fairly major explosion. We'd not spotted it on the way out but now the angle of the sun had changed. I could see part of the rim of a crater and the curved shadow falling from it. It was nearly a hundred metres across. Perhaps the explosion had altered the course of the mining operation and caused the Old Site to be abandoned. I surveyed the crater carefully, looking for anything useful which might have been missed.

At a quick glance, there only looked to be a few bits of half submerged, twisted junk. Pulling out my locator from the tool belt, I clicked it on and began to sweep the area of the sand-filled, shallow depression. Nothing showed up, other than a few metal fragments, so I scanned more widely.

Twenty metres beyond the far edge of the crumbling rim, I found the outline of a hovercycle. It was easy to miss simply by sight because all that was visible was the top of the engine housing. Lori helped and we dragged the cover open. I tried the controls and found there was a trickle of power left, enough and to spare to lift it free of the layers of sand. Having got it fully righted, I was about to climb in and test it further, when I noticed a half length of metal stanchion had penetrated the tiny, one-man cockpit. Through the grime on the door screen, I could see a jagged edge of the projectile had sliced right into the metal seat.

With Lori steadying the cycle, I braced myself against the side and heaved on the end of the stanchion protruding from the door. There was plenty of purchase to be found on the remains of the flange which had originally held the piping onto a floor or ceiling. Taking care not to catch my hands on the torn bolt-holes, I heaved and twisted, trying to pull it back out the way it had entered. As I strained at it, I realised it had probably been ejected from the original explosion.

Lori was peering at the interior, steadying the craft while I pulled. The shaft of metal came free and I lurched back. Dropping the nasty-looking missile near my feet, I heard Lori shriek and saw her jump back from the unit.

'What's up?'

'In there.'

I leaned over the edge of the vehicle, looking down past the seat, where the shrapnel had come from. The twisted remains of a human lower leg and foot were wedged between the gash in the seat and the braking control. Through the tattered remains of clothing could be seen the shrivelled and desiccated flesh.

'Ugh. Someone lost half a leg here,' added Lori.

'I can see that for myself, thanks.'

'Whose was it do you think?'

'No idea. We all wear the same boots and clothes for work.'

'Are they big boots or small boots?' asked Lori, sharply.

'Big. Maybe Vill's.' I winced involuntarily. 'Can't have been a lot of fun.'

'Well, it serves them right. I hope it hurt like hell,' spat Lori.

'Actually, so do I.' I laughed.

Lori backed away a few paces and went very quiet.

I looked around, trying to imagine the scene of devastation. The look of shock and pain on the driver of the hovercycle. I let out a long sigh. 'No wonder they weren't in any great hurry to recover the cycle. Losing a leg like that might have been fatal. It depends how close anyone else was. They must have been pretty busy when this section blew.' I gingerly reached down with some pliers and pulled the dry, lifeless limb free. I tossed it into the hollow left by the hovercycle and kicked sand over it.

'Right, I think all trace of human remains have been removed. Would madam like to try her carriage now?'

Lori stood silently, her body very stiff, facing away from me.

'Are you alright?' I moved towards her and put my hands on her shoulders. She span round and I saw that her face was contorted as if in pain, tears were streaming down her face and she was shaking uncontrollably.

'What's happening?'

'He's horrible,' she gasped. 'He's vile. He hurts me and uses me.'

'Who? What are you talking about?' I held her close but she was still stiff and shaking. A realisation struck me.

'Vill?'

'He's an animal. Repulsive.' Lori sobbed. 'He likes hurting me.' She pulled open her suit and lifted her vest. Her torso was blotchy and bruised. I closed her suit again against the sun.

'He'll pay for this,' I hissed.

'You bet he will,' seethed Lori, turning away from me again. 'Ben, I can't go back there. Not while he can get his hands on me.'

'We have to go back. Otherwise it'll be worse. They'll come for us and we'll never escape.'

'No. It's impossible.'

'We must, until we know enough to get away.'

'If I do something may happen.' Lori spat fiercely.

'OK but for now let's try the hovercycle, it can help us.'

'Alright, if you're sure there's nothing left of him.' Lori shuddered but was gaining control.

'We don't know that it was him. Now come on, get in. I want you to pull the locator module before I test the power levels. We don't want anyone else knowing about this. It'll have already shown up on the main computer but hopefully if it doesn't show again, it'll be deleted as a faulty reading.'

Lori climbed in and reached under the dash panel to disconnect the small, grey plastic module that contained the tell-tale. I tossed the item in one of the panniers, noticing that there might be some good stuff under the layers of dust which had seeped in, as it was packed almost to the lid.

Lori tried the main power switch. Again the dials lit but more dimly than before. Using energy for lifting it free had nearly finished the power pack. I checked the readings.

'Right, there's almost nothing left. You don't weigh as much as me, see if you can manoeuvre it into the shadow over there.' I pointed to where a jagged half cone of sheet metal was jutting straight up out of the sand a couple of metres away. Carefully, Lori turned the cycle and nudged it into a hollow the wind had left in the lee of what I saw now was part of the over-sheet from the front of a digger.

As soon as the machine was settled into the depression, Lori climbed out.

'Down in here, Ben?'

'Yep. If it's even half-way reliable that could come in very handy. And it'll carry two of us if it's stripped right down to the essentials.' She closed the door. 'Do you want to take the old power cell out?'

'Excellent idea. I'll carry it to within easy reach of the New Site, so one of us can retrieve it later and charge it up.'

I should have expected it; the cover giving access to the power pack wouldn't budge. It took both of us in turns half an hour to free the catches. Finally, with the smooth, blue metallic bottle stashed carefully where its connectors couldn't do any harm in my backpack, we set off towards the New Site.
Chapter 36: Close Shave

At a safe distance, we concealed the cycle's power pack and spent an hour following the movements of those we could see, trying to identify differences in behaviour which would indicate their mental state. We saw Vill striding around, showing evidence of quick, purposeful movements, then Xlok and Dyne welding the side of a hopper. Goster and Gran flitted in and out of an almost invisible, resealable hatchway in the external wall of the food-processing area. One by one, we were able to see all of our fellow workers. Each of them appeared able to work independently and without direction. To our horror, they all looked fully alert and aware.

'We must be the only ones kidnapped,' I thought out loud.

'They can work on their own, look,' commented Lori.

'We have to ask what the next job is all the time.'

'You're right,' I sighed.

'How are we going to simulate behaviour we weren't even aware of when we were doing it?' gasped Lori.

'Let's think it through. We must have been as if heavily tranquillised.'

'Our faces must have shown almost no emotion.'

'And we would have responded to everything the same, whether it was eating or collecting turbine fragments.'

'I don't think I can do it. I'm so angry just the sight of Vill is going to tip me over. And I'm starting to be afraid of what they can do to us.'

'Don't be afraid. Keep some of that anger. But control it so we can get out of here. Someone has put us here for a purpose and robbed us of every aspect of our previous lives. Until we discovered those implants they had even stolen our personalities.'

'But how does that help?'

'If we want to escape, we have to survive. If we want to do more than simply survive, we are going to have to be very careful. The next few hours will be make or break.'

That said, in a sudden surge of emotion, I suggested taking off my patch, so that Lori could see what I was like without it. Before she could reply, I reached back and pulled back the patch.

Everything suddenly felt perfectly normal and familiar, except that I felt I couldn't respond to Similie in the way she wanted me to. She was asking me what appeared to be completely foolish questions, which by turn made me want to laugh or simply left me puzzled. I couldn't understand why she was calling me Ben and saying things like 'What's my real name? What's your own name? How did you get here? What are your plans to escape?' I definitely was not replying in a way that particularly pleased her.

I really couldn't see what she was driving at, until she gently reached behind my head and did something with her hand. Bang. I was back to full consciousness again. It took a few seconds getting used to it and I surfaced into Lori's insistent questioning.

'Are you all right? How do you feel? Did my questions sound odd to you?'

'Yes, very,' I finally replied to the last one. 'In fact you were completely confusing me with stuff which made no sense at all.'

'I'm going to take my patch off now, so you can see what happens. It's essential you experience the difference yourself. Otherwise we won't last even the first ten minutes after we go back inside.'

She took off her patch and relaxed immediately, the tension and tone in her body I had become used to over the last few hours fell away. I asked similar questions to those she had asked me and observed her confusion and inability to respond.

I could see that we were going to have to be very careful indeed, trying to remain as relaxed and unruffled by any eventuality, while still retaining the ability to 'fix stuff', as Vill had so cryptically called it on my first day. After a few minutes I carefully reached towards her and replaced her patch, at which she jolted and gave a muted cry, as though she'd been slapped.

Quickly I held her close and said 'I think we can do it if we try to be as relaxed and accepting as possible about whatever comes up. We'll have to be very careful about how we communicate and when and where we meet.'

'It's too difficult. I feel edgy enough as it is. If we're going to have to pretend to be a sort of normal we're not anymore, I don't believe we can do it. And if Vill comes near me.' Her face set hard and her voice trailed away.

'So what can we do?'

'Perhaps there's some way we can moderate but not completely prevent the numbing field from reaching the chips in our necks,' suggested Lori.

'Brilliant! We've got plenty of spare patch material now. Let's try scratching away some of the metallic coating and see if it lets some of the signal through but not all of it.'

I fished a piece of insulator out from where I had hidden it inside my tunic and took a blade from the tool belt. I scraped a bit of the metallic coating away and passed it to Lori. 'Slide this over my full patch and then pull the untreated one out from under it.' Lori positioned herself behind me and exchanged the patches carefully, so that I wouldn't feel the shock of the original one being removed completely. With the new one in the same position as the other one, I felt as though I was heavily sedated.

'I can still sense things as if I was wearing the full patch but not as strongly.'

Lori swapped the patches back and I tried the adapted one on her. We agreed that for now at least it would be best to keep both handy. We could wear the less resistant one most of the time, when others were around and change it for the full patch when we were alone together or by ourselves. I scraped away at another piece of tape and handed it to Lori. We experimented, with one of us always being fully conscious to begin with, at trying to exchange the patches ourselves.

With a bit of care we soon developed the right technique, though at one point I dropped both my patches and had to be 'rescued' by Lori. We couldn't be too careful! If we both lost our patches, we'd be back to square one and none the wiser, perhaps until we caught a piece of stray shrapnel in the head from a machine or until we simply became too old or slow to be of any further use. We might not get another chance, ever, or maybe not for years.

A few minutes before the end of our rest period, we moved from our hiding place in a heap of junk and walked right into New Site, parting without a flicker of emotion or indication of the many things that had so recently passed between us. We had to prepare ourselves for what, with growing trepidation, was feeling more and more like the test of our lives: taking the evening meal right under the noses of the rest of the gang.

We arrived at the canteen separately, which made it easy for us to take whatever seats were left next to one of the others. I had to keep reminding myself not to look particularly in Lori's direction and very definitely not to catch her eye. More comforting was to be able to focus on the fact that there was no reason so far for any of the others to suspect that anything at all had changed.

However, it was so hard to know, for instance, how fast to react to things. Were we thinking quicker now that we were released from the blanking signal, or were we the same? The last thing we wanted was for one or both of us to be dragged off to the infirmary to be checked over because we were overplaying the role and had started to appear either too sluggish or too quick.

In Lori's opinion (I must remember to call her Similie), she thought that in terms of reaction time, I was not significantly different. To me she appeared to be the same, too, though we had no way of knowing whether our estimation of our previous selves was accurate or not. How close it was, we'd be finding out in the next few minutes. I'd seen the ugly sides of Vill, Goster and Symch on many occasions, so I was as full of anxiety as the partial patch allowed.

I had a heart-stopping moment when Vill began interrogating me about our day out. 'How did you get on at the Old Site then, Lump?'

'We didn't see much.' I replied and took another spoonful of soup. 'There isn't much to see.' I realised he must have tracked us by the wrist communicators. I could feel myself beginning to sweat under the overalls and hoped valiantly that they were too thick and too voluminous for it to show.

'You must have seen something,' Vill said, looking alarmingly ominous.

'Not anything that wasn't broken.'

'We got a hovercycle signal on the computer.'

'Didn't see one.' I lied, sullenly.

'We got a signal. A blip.'

'Could have been anything. There was bust stuff all over the place. Bits of junk poking out of the sand. You didn't tell us to look for something.'

'No, I didn't,' muttered Vill. 'So you saw nothing?'

'Well, plenty of dust and enough totally wrecked scrap metal to keep the mine running indefinitely.'

'Yeah, probably,' he grumbled. 'Did you get inside, or was it completely silted up?'

'The door wasn't too bad. We went in to have our picnic out of the sun but there wasn't even anything to sit down on.'

'Picnic? What's that mean? Where did you get that word from?' Vill peered at me, alert in an instant.

'I, er, don't know.' I put my spoon down so Vill wouldn't see my hand shaking and tried my best to let my face fall into an expression of sullen confusion.

'He means we ate our rations. It's a word I remembered,' Similie said glumly, coming to my rescue.

'Oh, it's your word, is it?' asked Vill, turning on Similie suspiciously.

'Yes it means, er, I'm not sure.' She stumbled over her words, somehow keeping her puzzled expression.

'I know what it means but it's not a word we use around here very much.'

'I have no idea where it came from.' I tried to sound genuinely bewildered.

'It's all right, Vill, I'll make some adjustments tomorrow,' Dyne interrupted. 'There's no harm done.

Everything's under control.'

'It had better be,' snarled Vill, turning back to finish his food.

The end of the meal couldn't come soon enough for me. I'd rapidly lost my appetite. When Vill started on about the picnic I thought I was going to turn to jelly.

Back in my cell, I tried to compose myself. Lori was right, this was going to be virtually impossible using the patches.

It occurred to me that if I could find the right sort of electronic bits and pieces, I could make a jammer which would interrupt the signal, so it never reached the chips in our necks. It might even be possible to rig up a low-power relay for the wristcoms. That would enable us to leave the communicator in one place, while we were somewhere else, so that the others would find it harder to track us if we wanted to go somewhere we weren't supposed to be.
Chapter 37: Secrets

Nervously, I paced quietly back and forth in my cell, counting the minutes. I waited until after the night shift had gone out on patrol and the others had dispersed to their own quarters. I took off my comwatch, leaving it in my room, so that my movements couldn't be traced, then made my way quietly to Lori's room. I found her cautiously peering round the door, about to set off to find me.

We held each other tightly, furtively, like desperate lovers.

'I thought Vill was onto us at dinner.'

'You called it dinner!' Lori laughed nervously 'That stuff I'd call barely edible.'

'All right but it gave me a real turn, I can tell you.' I shuddered at the thought.

'You're not kidding. It's a good thing Dyne helped us out. What was she on about? Adjustments?'

'Let's go inside. I'll explain later.'

'What here? You could be traced.'

'No, I've left my wristcom in my cell.'

'Oh, I see. So it'll show up on the computer as if you're still there.'

'I think we've got a lot more to talk about,' I began as soon as the door was shut behind us.

'Yes. There's plenty I have to fill you in on.'

'OK. But let me explain about Dyne.'

'Dyne. I thought so.'

'Look, Lori. I didn't have any choice in the matter. She had me completely under her control. Don't forget, I, Ben, have been suppressed just like you. It wasn't happening to the real me.'

'What wasn't happening to the real you?'

'Dyne takes me to the medical lab. She makes adjustments to the way the chip functions somehow with a remote control unit. And she, well, makes use of me.

'You mean sexually?'

'I'm afraid so. But I was always only partially conscious. I had no idea who I really was.'

'Huh! Not like Vill then.'

'I've had no idea what's been going on or who I really was until this afternoon in the comms centre.'

'It's the same for me, except now I'm conscious I remember. It's horrible,' Lori wailed. I held her and tried to console her as she sobbed into my chest. Eventually, she became more calm. 'He didn't make any 'adjustments' as you call it. All he did was order me to do whatever he wanted, because he knew he could. He's a total shit.'

'I'm going to give him such a pasting the next chance I get. He's got no idea what he's got coming to him.'

'Ben. You don't know how much I wish you could. I can't imagine anything more satisfying than doing the same with him. And Dyne now I think about it. They're all in it together. I bet I can think of scores that need settling with the whole lot of them!'

'Yes, remember when Symch and Goster nearly got us killed cutting the innards out of that heat exchanger.'

'Oh, believe me, Ben, there's more! But we've got to be careful. It'll give the game away the instant we behave any differently.'

'You're right. Besides, we're supposed to be more civilised than that.'

'Hah! Something about this body generates the basest of responses at times.'

'I understand. I'm not used to feeling like this myself. What brutes have they generated these clones from?'

'That's not important, Ben. We've got to find a way round this.'

'I don't see how we can. You've got straight to the point. If either of us is any different when Vill or Dyne are taking their pleasure with us, or even the rest of the time, they'll spot it immediately. I was certain Vill was going to rumble us this evening with that picnic business. He must have known he was taking a risk letting us go off together. Maybe he even did it on purpose to see what would happen.'

'I wouldn't put it past him.'

'On the other hand, I think Dyne is completely off guard with me now. She's almost tender at times.'

'Oh, yes?' asked Lori angrily, 'You've developed a bit of a soft spot for her have you?'

'Not really, Maybe she has for me. It wasn't possible to feel anything for her, she was still controlling me, remember. But she's not like Vill. She can't stand him either. Haven't you noticed, they never work together and only talk when they have to?'

'Nobody likes Vill. What about that fight they told us Goster had with him, before we came? The one where he got the scar.'

'Ah, now Dyne told me he got the scar afterwards.'

'What?'

'Yes. I'm remembering now. Dyne tells me things. Apparently Vill had to be re-cloned because Goster got so incensed with him one day, he smashed his head from behind with a shovel.'

'Oh, bluh!'

'Dyne cloned him out again using his back-up. Vill had not a clue for ages, he might never have known, apart from the fact that Goster had to go and tell him. Goster couldn't resist letting Vill know he'd got the better of him.'

'That doesn't sound a safe thing to do.'

'Dead right. That's when Vill sliced him across the face.'

'But why does Goster keep his scar, even though he's been cloned at least once since?'

'I was told it's to remind Vill that Goster could do for him again.'

'What a delightful bunch! This is turning into even more of a nightmare than I already thought it was.'

'From other things she's let slip, I believe Dyne engineered these bodies, so that I could take over Vill's role with her and she made you so he'd prefer you to her.'

'And she was cold-hearted enough to go through with making me into something she knew he would want to abuse.' Lori began to sob again. 'They're all as bad as each other.'

I wasn't convinced of that. Vill in my eyes was the main culprit. He was the one with ultimate control over all of us. Gradually my mind began to turn over the practicalities. Until we could escape, we had to find a way to more accurately moderate the effects of the chip. Simply relying on swapping between full and half patches was not going to be sufficient. Besides which, with the added dimension of the intimate relations we had been having with Dyne and Vill, it wouldn't be long before a simple patch would be discovered.

'Lori, I'm going to have to leave you and go to the Old Site straight away and try to lash up some sort of jamming devices to take the place of the patches. If even one of us is caught, they'll immediately suspect the other and we may never get another chance.'

'What about the partial patches we spent all that time testing?'

'Unfortunately they're not something we can change instantly, especially when in full view of the others. That remote of Dyne's has given me an idea. If I can put together a couple of miniature jamming units, we could conceal them in our clothing and change at will the degree to which the chips control us. Our will, that is, not theirs.'

'No! Ben, don't go. I'm frightened. What if Vill comes here, tonight?'

'Dyne's out on patrol, so he's at the base. He might. When did he last come to you?'

'Yesterday,' she shuddered.

'So he shouldn't be back again, already?'

'No, it's usually a couple of days. But I don't want you to go.'

I could see no other way. I was sick at the thought. Lori's head was resting against my shoulder and I had been absently stroking her hair. Slowly I moved my fingers down to the patch of shielding covering her neck. I stroked it a few times, finding the edge, then suddenly pulled it away cleanly. Lori's body slumped fully against me. I moved her away from me gently, looking into her now vacant eyes. 'Sit down. Get some rest.' I spoke softly but firmly. She sat, then stretched herself out across the bed. In a few moments her eyes were closed. She must be exhausted. It had been a very long day. I was worn out.

Seeing Lori sleeping made me want to curl up round her and pull off my patch. I sighed heavily and drew myself up. It was one of those times when you could almost feel the hot breath of the beast on the back of your neck.

Carefully leaving the room, I made my way to the charging bay and exchanged the almost exhausted hovercycle power pack for a fresh one. Fortunately there were no identifying marks, so the exchange would be undetectable. I left the New Site by a side door I'd never used before, but now remembered having seen the others use several times. Why hadn't it occurred to us to use it before?

Fifteen minutes later, I was back at the place we'd concealed the hovercycle. As soon as the fresh power pack was in place, I climbed in and punched in the coordinates for the Old Site. It should be safe enough, so I allowed myself to snooze half-way there, letting the cycle's automatic navigator do the work. In the dark it would have been hard to find the way manually anyway.

After the brief rest, I reviewed our progress. We had come so far in one day, that yesterday already felt as though it had been weeks ago. The patches over our implants worked perfectly well. Lori had reverted completely the instant I'd pulled off her patch. I ground my teeth at the thought that Vill might be at that very moment making his way to her cubicle.

Hurriedly, I pushed the thoughts away, with the realisation that it would do me no good to dwell on such things. It had happened before and it would almost certainly happen again. Not only to Lori, but to both of us, before we could get away from this place altogether. I hadn't wanted to mention it, but although Dyne was as much to blame as the others for kidnapping and imprisoning Lori and myself, she had never treated me cruelly in any other way.

The immediate priority had to be the miniaturised jammers. I couldn't keep up a pretence with the others, I knew now, even half conscious using a patch, or live with the worry that they might become detached when we least expected it. If that happened I would be instantly at the mercy of the mind numbing transmission again and unable to regain consciousness without assistance from Lori. And if we were both found out at once, which was the most likely scenario, that would be it. Forcing my tired mind to work on the positive, I outlined to myself the components I would need to find. Going over the list in my head, I felt sure I had already seen some of what was necessary. It was indeed fortunate, though in many ways typical, that the others had been so careless when moving to the New Site.

I went first to the Old Site repair shop. It turned out to be a particularly fruitful place to search. I had never seen a repair shop yet that didn't have a junk box. This was the place where every half-working gadget was tossed, usually with the intention of returning to it later. It was exactly like the one Xlok had made us work through. I smiled to myself, thinking she and Vill had no idea how fortunate for us that part of our training was going to be.

There would be working components in one faulty module which could be used in another. Sometimes intermittently faulty equipment was chucked in there with the rest. I could eliminate potentially dangerous components by testing them at over twice the design limits. Any intermittently faulty ones would almost certainly fail altogether under those conditions, so I could safely eliminate them.

The junk box was usually in a corner, handily within ready aim from most other parts of the room. So it was with this one. I found it immediately, covered in no more than a dusty piece of sacking. Perhaps Xlok or one of the others had intended to move it but had either decided not to bother or forgotten.

The box was too large to lift, so I tipped it over on its side, emptying the contents across the floor, to discover that amongst the dust, it contained a large number of gadgets not to be found in the one at New Site and many which were, but labelled in the alien hieroglyphics. From other parts of the room I also gathered tools and any small portable appliances that worked, building up enough of a tool kit of our own to make a fairly comprehensive portable mini-workshop.

There were basic implements like screw-drivers and wrenches, together with items of test gear like circuit analysers which I used to test other items of equipment with. The thing I was keenest to find was micro-fine maintenance equipment. This was essential to being able to surgically remove and re-join working organic components and usable clusters of optical gates from bioelectronics modules. After wasting my time looking for suitable kit in the repair shop, I found what I needed after breaking open the first aid kit in the old medical lab.

Time was moving on and I had to construct two devices, test them, get back to the New Site, having first concealed the tool kit, the hovercycle and the power pack in separate locations, then give Lori her jammer. I hoped that would leave enough time to snatch a few hours sleep, so I wouldn't be like too much of a dead dog the next day. The mere thought of it nearly brought me to my knees but now that I had the tools and the spare parts, I forced myself on.

An hour-and-a-half later, I had finished two prototypes. They could be concealed easily, and if they were found, they would look like stray bits of junk which occasionally fell into one's clothing during a routine repair. Each completed unit looked like a small collection of wires or fibres randomly twisted together with what, to the untrained eye, would look like beads strung along them.

One of the beads was a tiny power converter, which would supply the rest of the unit, using body heat or light whenever available and storing it for future use. Another bead was the transmitter, another the intensity regulator and the last bead was a modulator, which I made adjustable, so that if Vill changed the mode of transmission, I could make adjustments to counter it. The intensity regulator was a refinement on my initial idea but I had added it when I remembered the horrible jolt when the patches went on and off.

Exhausted, I made a rapid survey of what remained. No heavy duty power was available at the Old Site and, even if there had been, I hadn't found anything yet you could run off it. At least nothing really useful, like a micro-machine generator. Those sorts of gadgets had all been transferred when the miners changed location.

Everything we needed for our escape would have to be made up from scavenged parts. The only alternative was to hope there would be other small items which had been missed when the place was abandoned, like the first aid kit. It was far too risky, with sharp-eyed Vill around, to try and 'liberate' parts from anything in the working part of the mine. With that thought, I decided it was time to return to the New Site.

On the way back I formed my next plan. It was to keep the tools with the hovercycle, where I could use the power pack to run the small power tools and other gadgets. Then I thought better of it. If one of the others discovered the cycle looking for spares one day, we would lose the lot. And it would look very suspicious. No, the best thing would be to find a separate hiding place for the portable workshop and yet another for the power pack.

Early dawn was beginning to show as I re-entered the New Site, having hidden the hovercycle, the tools and the power pack. I listened intently at Lori's door, then opened it silently. Glancing in, she was exactly as I'd left her. So, Vill hadn't paid her a visit after all.

At least my conscience was partly clear. I decided not to wake her, but to give her the new jamming device tomorrow night. In the meantime, I would soak test both the devices on myself, while still keeping the patch in place. I intended to periodically test the units by switching one on at a time and very carefully peeling back part of the patch to make sure they were still working. I was highly optimistic. They had held stable at a hefty overvoltage from the hovercycle battery when I'd tested them back at the Old Site.
Chapter 38: Junk

The next day I had to fight my tiredness and irritability, after about two or three hours sleep. I'd been so worn out, I had forgotten to look at the time before I fell asleep, so I had no idea exactly how much sleep I'd managed to get in. Either way it wasn't enough. However, with my new perception, thanks to the jammer, I could see Dyne was looking concerned. I ignored her and carried on as usual, though I was quietly alarmed when she suggested I should accompany her to the medical room after the evening meal. By a huge stroke of luck, the klaxon on the canteen console went off.

For tense moments the room hung quiet, while Gran went to attend to it. She reported that Vill and Xlok needed extensive knitting back together after a laser accident. Dyne left quickly to get the medical centre fully online. If only Vill and Xlok had worn the chain mail, like they knew they should have, I mused smugly to myself. Then the beams would simply have bounced harmlessly away, instead of slicing their arms up.

Ha! 'I hope it hurts like hell.' I thought, immediately embarrassed by my fury. They both looked to be in pain when Gran brought them past the canteen a few minutes later, despite probably having administered each other with a chunky dose of analgesics. They were as white as sheets and it would keep Dyne occupied half of the night by the look of them. Hopefully she would be too tired to come looking for me afterwards.

Knowing that Vill would now be out of action for at least a week, I decided to leave Lori in her controlled state a little longer. It would give her subconscious some time to get over the shock of all this and me time to recover from yesterday's and last night's exertions and I could continue with making more headway with the electronic and mechanical parts of our get-away attempt. Although Lori's sharp and analytical perceptions would be a vital part of our escape, I was impatient to carry on myself while I felt the impetus. As soon as I began to flag, it would be Lori's turn.

I slept like a log that night. Feeling much better, I did a full day's work. Dyne had been up nearly all night repairing Vill and Xlok's injuries and none of them were anywhere to be seen, nursing their wounds and recovering from the night's ordeal. That left the rest of us short staffed but it turned out to be a slack day and I was happy to get out again in secret on the hovercycle the following night.

The next project was to fabricate another pair of jamming devices with timers built in. We could conceal one each in our rooms, in addition to the ones hidden in our clothing. Best of all would be to glue them onto the underside of the bed frames below the pillows. I lashed a couple together in the Old Site electronics lab. They were simple, short range units so it wasn't hard to make them look like insignificant strings of beads on wires. I made sure that each had a different appearance, so that if they were discovered, they wouldn't give anything away. Even if one of the others detected the weak jamming signal they gave off, it would be quite a leap for them to link it with the signal that regulated the chips in our necks. I hurried back to my cell.

The timer was set to transmit the jamming signal for half an hour every four hours, so that if the original devices failed it would not be long before we would be automatically shielded again and able to effect a repair. I was so confident it would work, I even tried turning the output of my portable jammer right down later that night. The signal was so low that, having left my overalls containing the device on one side of the room, I could sense the effects fade away to nothing by the time I had reached my bed on the other side of the room. Needless to say, I instantly fell into a much-needed dreamless slumber. Four hours later, I lurched back into wakefulness as the timer cut in. 'Fool!' I grumbled to myself. I would have to change the configuration, so that the jamming signal came up gradually.

As I lay there reflecting, waiting for the signal to go off after half an hour, I realised I was still wide awake when I shouldn't be. I took a signal meter to the jammer in my pocket. That was still working but as I moved away from it, back to the bunk its signal diminished to the point where it could have no effect. Next I tested the unit in the bed. It had turned itself off, as I had designed it to do. So what was keeping me from being laid out by the numbing signal. I changed the setting on the meter and found that there was barely any signal to jam! Vill must have reduced the power of the numbing beam to our rooms for at least part of the night. This was most odd.

I should have been sleepy but I had to work out what was going on? Why would they reduce the signal and risk us waking up to full consciousness? Then it struck me. They had no choice. To leave us for months on end without the ability to dream would have robbed us of our sanity. The transmitter power would be turned down during our sleep time and then back up again a couple of hours before we awoke and we had never been any the wiser.

I decided it was time to 'revive' Lori. The following night I went to her room and moved my jammer into her vicinity, then gently shook her awake. She was fully conscious and equally full of questions almost immediately. At first she thought it was the same night we'd found the Old Site but then she realised it wasn't.

'What day is it? What's been happening?' She felt for her patch, her eyes widening when she realised it wasn't there. 'Am I dreaming? Ben, what's going on? Where's my patch?'

'I took it off to give you a couple of days respite. In the meantime, I've been back to the Old Site and done one or two jobs.'

'What if Vill had come looking for me?'

'He couldn't. He got carved up in an accident, remember?'

'Oh. OK.'

'He's still in bandages up to his armpits.'

'I like the sound of that but where've we got to, then?'

'It's the third evening after we found the Old Site. I've put together some electronics to jam the signal to the chips in our necks. There's one to keep on you all the time. Look, here you've got the intensity adjuster, the power converter, then the modulator and transmitter.' I showed her how it worked.

'But...'

I turned my head, so that Lori could see the back of my neck. 'There's nothing else keeping us fully conscious, apart from these two units.'

'But they look like scruffy bits of something that's dropped out of some wreckage. Bits of twisted wires, junk. Are you trying to say that these bits of crap are actually working?'

'Yeah, good, huh?' I laughed, grinning from ear to ear and pulling her to her feet, holding her close.

'Who's a clever boy then?' she laughed softly. 'Making fully working jammers out of crap, that still looks like crap. No-one will ever know.'

'Hopefully not,' I grinned. 'And there's more.' I fished out the other, timed, unit I had made for her to stick under the bed, so that if the other unit failed, it would be a back-up.

'You have been busy.'

'And I've collected enough manual and low power tools to fit out a small portable work-shop.'

'You're doing so well yourself, I'm surprised you bothered to wake me.'

'Don't be silly, we need both our minds working at full speed if we're to get out of this situation at all. I'd like you to take a trip over to the Old Site and see if you can spot anything else. There's bound to be loads of stuff I've missed. You're good at that sort of thing.'

'You want me to go tonight?'

'Any objections?'

'No, I wouldn't mind something to do while I try and organise my thoughts.'

'Excellent. It's time I had an uninterrupted night's sleep.'

I explained where I'd put the charged power pack and showed Lori the side door. Once she'd disappeared into the night, I returned to my room. I was feeling rather pleased with the way things were going so far and was smiling to myself, when the door opened. I thought it would be Lori coming back to check something with me but it was Dyne. I felt the smile fade from my face as she backed into the room, checking the corridor behind her.

My mind in a flat spin, I realised the only thing to do was to switch the portable jammer off at once. I managed to tweak the bead in my hip pocket as Dyne raised her remote, aiming it straight at my head. I began to slump as the field from my jammer died away, at the same time as I revived under the influence of Dyne's 'adjuster'.

Two or three hours later, I awoke suddenly on my bed when the timed jammer cut in. It wasn't until then that I remembered what had happened in the hour or so after Dyne had come to pay me a visit. I hoped that Lori hadn't returned for some reason while I'd been in the medical room. Dyne had certainly recovered quickly from her feat of patching up Vill and Xlok the other night.
Chapter 39: Vill's Down

Two days after I'd greeted Lori with her jamming devices, the klaxon went off in the middle of the night. I sat up so fast my head span. Seconds later I found myself hauling my legs out of the bunk and into my overalls. My feet found my boots by themselves and the next thing I knew I was stamping down the corridor desperate to turn the klaxon off. Finding out what the emergency was came a long way second. Then I thought 'What if the place is on fire?' I glanced at the direction lights at the corridor junction. The sign was flashing left which was towards the centre of the building, not right to the exit. I ran on through the insistent grinding racket.

At the same moment, Gran, myself, Dyne and Xlok ran into the control room. Goster and Symch were last, still fastening their clothes. It was 03.24 by the clock. Dyne quickly counted around the group huddled over the comms console, each of us separately ticking one another off the list. Gran broke the tense silence as she checked the duty rota. 'Vill and Similie are out there somewhere.'

Xlok grabbed a mike. 'Vill, Sim? Call in.'

A hiss broke over the speakers. There was a muffled groan and what sounded like a wristcom caught in a vice.

Xlok shouted into the mike 'Vill, answer me.'

There was an agonising pause, my stomach knotted. I dreaded that something had happened to Lori. Then her voice broke through.

'It's Vill,' she croaked, gasping over the sound of heavy machinery thundering in the background. 'He's in pieces.' There was a crash and a thud. Lori's wristcom crackled and dropped out.

'Dyne, Lump. Get out there fast. Both their tell-tales are active. They're in the on-site maintenance area in red ten. I'll fire up the medical room. The rest of you get back to sleep. We could be on double shift tomorrow.' Xlok's words echoed behind us as Dyne and I ran down the corridor to the front entrance.

Dyne yanked the door open on the nearest four-seater. 'I'll drive. You drop the rear seats. We might need the space,' she commanded ominously.

I climbed into the back as Dyne maxed the accelerator and locked the locator onto Vill and Similie's tell-tales. The four-seater lurched and bucked as the safeties in the navigation software fought with the manual speed override. I rolled over twice, struggling against the lurching vehicle, getting the rear seats stowed and then climbed into the front passenger seat. I was sweating, anxious about Lori. As soon as I was strapped in, I grabbed the mike. 'Sim, speak to me.' I shouted urgently.

Dyne's head swung straight at me, a very penetrating look on her face. I immediately realised I was letting my panic show. I was suddenly so frightened Dyne would pick up on my emotion, I could feel the blood drain out of my face. Turning away from her and taking a deep breath, I called again, changing tack. 'Vill. Call in. Vill.' There was nothing but static.

Xlok's voice cut in. 'That's good, Lump. Keep calling. And keep calm.' I shuddered at the thought that I'd got caught out. Even Xlok had heard the alarm in my voice. I could feel Dyne's eyes on me. At least I had to be thankful I hadn't used Lori's real name.

'OK.' I replied to Xlok and forced my body to slump a little in the seat. Keeping my voice level. I called again. 'Vill, Similie. Call in.' Hopefully Xlok would not remember the way I sounded and if I was very careful, Dyne would think I was simply picking up on the general buzz of activity.

I stared at the navigation display, my face as sullen as I could make it. Dyne responded, still watching me closely.

'Tell them ETA in fifteen. Call again every two minutes. Try again now.' She added, watching me closely.

'Vill, Similie. Our ETA is fifteen, that's one-five.'

There was no reply.

The time display crawled round as I waited. 'Vill, Sim. We need a report. Respond now.' Dyne concentrated on pushing the four-seater as hard as she could. The auto cut in and we swerved, almost broad-siding a fast-moving ore carrier. Something scraped down the full length of the vehicle and nearly threw us into a silo.

'Come on. We need a status report. ETA is.' I glanced at Dyne. 'Ten,' she grunted at me.

'Give us status, please, Sim, Vill. ETA is now in ten.'

There was a hiss and muffled noises from the speaker.

'Vill's had it,' groaned Similie. 'I've knocked my head on something.'

Despite calling every two minutes until we arrived, there was no further reply from either of them.

Dyne ran the four-seater into a waste stack, nearly knocking us out with the force of it. In a single movement, she had the door open and was out. I followed as quickly as I could. We found Similie first, lying against a two-seater. She was bleeding from a gash on the side of her head and her overalls were soaked in blood. Dyne stuck a needle in her and checked her over for broken bones. 'Look for Vill,' Dyne commanded. I turned and studied the immediate area. At first I could see nothing but blood. The injection revived Similie in seconds.

'Where are you hurt?' asked Dyne.

'Only my head,' moaned Similie.

'Where's Vill?' I asked.

'Gone. He went in the laser cutter.' Similie managed to raise her arm, pointing behind me.

I turned and looked at the scrap metal cutter. It was a large box with a heavy duty laser inside. We used it to cut up wrecked machinery for recycling. It was for big stuff. You could set it on automatic and it would slice up anything you pushed in there quite safely. There was a biodetector cut out, so if a person went near it the thing would stop at once. 'In there?' I stuck my head in the box and reeled back at the smell. It was blood, guts and burnt meat. 'That's Vill?'

'Was,' sighed Dyne, looking past my shoulder. 'Lump get round the back and disconnect the power from that cutter, so there's no chance it can start up again. There must be a fault on the biodetector.' Dyne bent down and picked something out of what was left of Vill. 'I've found Vill's comlink. It's almost intact. Similie, can you remember what happened?'

'I couldn't see properly. I tripped coming out of the cutter and called out to Vill. He was coming towards me when it went off. There was fire, smoke and screaming, then I blacked out. I woke up and there was blood all over the place. Then I blacked out again.'

At that point she started throwing up. Dyne waited until she'd finished while I went over to the four-seater. I reversed it around and brought it up close to the cutter.

When I got out, I could see Dyne had cleaned up Lori's face. 'Dyne, I don't feel so good,' murmured Lori.

'Concussion and blood loss,' Dyne replied briskly. 'Lump, go in the two-seater these two came in. Set the auto to follow us back to base. Then help me get Similie in the fourseater.'

'I don't understand, do I attach a cable?'

'No, set the autonav to drone mode.'

I did as I was told, taking care not to show any more excitement. Our patient was unconscious again by the time we moved her into the transport.

'Right, Lump, you drive while I stay with Similie in the back. I've got a drip in her, so take it steady, we don't want to be thrown around, OK? Plus we'll have that two-seater in tow.'

'Yes, Dyne.'

'While you're at it, boost the height up to twenty metres. It'll be slower but safer.'

Safer sounded good to me as I pulled back the stick and then levelled off, looking down at the scurry and clamour below us. I set a direct course back to base.

'Alright. Now call Xlok. Ask her to send Goster out to clear up Vill's remains. He'll enjoy that,' she added with a wry smile.

The trip was uneventful, apart from a few moans from Lori. Dyne took her into the medical room and patched her up. The next day she was up and around but still a bit groggy. I didn't have a chance to talk to her as the rest of us were taking on hers and Vill's work.
Chapter 40: Vill Is Even Less Lucky

When Lori had recovered sufficiently, Gran and Xlok gave her a thorough debriefing. They had to find out how the accident had happened. Dyne and Xlok had checked the cutter and there was no apparent reason why the biodetector had not dropped the power to the cutter the moment Vill entered it.

The verdict was given next full group meal time. Occasionally, equipment malfunctioned and no explanation could be found. In the case of someone being killed the whole unit or its control system was scrapped. Xlok said the cutter would be dismantled and all the parts broken down into elements for recycling. None of the parts were to be used intact as spares. A new cutter would be built from fresh parts as soon as we needed one for the next big salvage job, meanwhile there was no need to have a potentially lethal piece of equipment operating on the site. In addition, there would be a new protocol, that large equipment would be disconnected, except when actually in use.

'But that'll mean extra work,' Symch complained.

'More work powering up equipment when we need it,' said Xlok firmly. 'But a lot less work repairing power cables other machinery has run over. A lot less work tracing power drain in unused equipment. And an awful lot less work rescuing and putting back together people who've been injured or killed.'

Finally, Gran announced that Vill was ready for duty again. He had a new clone body, fresh out of the vat and his backup was loaded and he'd be back in charge by that evening.

Sure enough, Vill was back with us by the next mealtime. He was flabby and sluggish because although he was fully grown, he still had to work his new clone body into shape and there was no other way than old fashioned hard work. Still, it gave him an opportunity to treat us all with the utmost suspicion and keep us all on double time until production was back up to quota.

Once Vill was back on site again, I got the chance at last to speak to Lori, picking her up on the way back from coming off shift. 'So, was it really an accident?'

'Ben, what are you talking about?'

'Did that biodetector fail by itself, or did you help it along?'

'You think I did it, don't you?'

'Well, I was wondering, that's all. You have more reason to dislike Vill than anyone.'

'Hate, more like. But no, it wasn't me. It went wrong all on its own. Remember, it could have been me that got sliced into a hundred pieces. Plus do you think I'd smash myself over the head, to cover it up. I still get headaches, you know.'

'Sorry, I didn't realise. We've had no time to talk until now.'

'Never mind. It has given me an idea, though.' Lori cuddled my arm as we bumped over the rough track.

'What do you mean?'

'Well, Dyne's only seeded Vill a spare body a day or two ago, hasn't she. It'll take quite a while to grow and if something happened to this new Vill, it could be weeks, not days, before he's back again.'

'Yes, but then everyone else really would be suspicious and we want as little attention on us as possible until we get off this place.'

'That would be the case if either one of us was anywhere near him at the time,' Lori added, thoughtfully. 'Thankfully, we've finished for the day. I'm exhausted. Shower, food and bed for me.' At that moment, the New Site buildings loomed into view. I parked the vehicle, while Lori trudged wearily through the front door.

A few days later the emergency Klaxon went off again. Vill had gone off on his own to survey the ore seam, which he did routinely every couple of days. The rest of us were all in the canteen, eating, so we knew straight away something had happened to him. Dyne silenced the alarm and zoomed the locator screen to where Vill should be. His tell-tale wasn't even showing on the screen this time and Dyne had to quiz the computer for Vill's last recorded location. Green twenty-two. Xlok frowned and Gran gave her a grave look. They went off briskly to the control room while the rest of us hurriedly downed the last of our grub before anyone could find a job for us.

'He's done it this time,' Goster laughed.

'Sure has,' scoffed Symch. 'Alarm goes off and no tell-tale. Bad news for him.'

'Why's that?' I asked, playing dumb. Lori kept quiet.

'Lump, stupid, his previous body was fresh out of the vat, see?'

'Yes, so? He was walking around again in a day.'

'But Lump, it takes at least four weeks to grow a new clone,' said Dyne. 'And I seeded another one when he took over the one in the vat. It'll be weeks before that one's ready. We each have one spare fully grown at a time because there aren't enough tanks for more.'

'Besides, usually, we don't need more than one. Unlucky, huh?' Goster grinned unpleasantly.

Everyone turned to look at him. 'Nothing to do with me,' Goster said emphatically. I haven't done him any harm,' he added, rubbing his scar. 'Except that it couldn't have happened to a nicer feller, if you know what I mean.'

'You're right there,' added Symch with a sly smile.

Gran and Xlok returned to give out the orders. The first change was that we'd all be doing an extra two hours on each shift to make up for Vill.

Xlok and Gran took turns to run operations and it was obvious right away that, although they had high expectations, things weren't as tight or as threatening as under Vill. To begin with Symch and Goster went around together. They swapped shifts with Lori and myself, so they were on shift at the same time and then swaggered about, acting like they were on half days. Production slowed and Gran had to do something. She waited until they were asleep, then locked a ten kilo weight round the left ankle of each of them and changed their shifts, so they weren't on at the same time.

Goster flew into a rage at first but then later made a plan. He and Symch grabbed Gran in the middle of the night and made her unlock the weights. They kicked her around until she changed the computer settings and put them back on shift together.

Both of them were too arrogant to realise that they had no chance of getting away with it. Gran, Xlok and Dyne devised their own plan. Lori was brought in to help.

The next time Goster was asleep, they set the klaxon off in his room. As soon as he stuck his head out, Dyne cut the klaxon and the rest of them jumped on him. Lori said he fought like a madman but three of them held him down, while Dyne stuck a needle in him. Then they dragged him into the medical room.

The next day, Goster didn't look the same. He had a vacant look about him and his head was shaved. Clearly visible was a small scar on the back of his neck. Dyne had 'chipped' him, like they had with Lori and I. Next, the women pounced on Symch and told him if he didn't behave, he'd get the same. He grumbled like hell but he didn't dare do anything about it. Of course, Goster wasn't as much use the way he was but Gran said they'd leave him like that until Vill was back, as a warning to Symch.

After things had settled into a routine again, everyone began to think it very odd that Vill of all people had died twice in a row. He was always so fanatically careful. Xlok and Gran spent every spare hour for two days looking for Vill but of course they never found a trace of him. They had to write it off as another accident because there was no evidence it wasn't and we'd all been in the canteen at the exact time he went missing. Each of the others despised him for their own reasons, so they didn't spend any longer wondering. But I did.

I managed to get Lori to confess to what had happened. She repeated that the first time she'd hadn't done anything, it was simply Vill's bad luck. The second time, though, she'd planned carefully, to make sure she wasn't even on duty when he copped it.

'I sneaked over to the Old Site one night and lashed some bits together, like you showed me for our jammer units.' Lori explained.

'What was it you made?'

'You know those homing beacons Vill puts down, so the diggers know which bit of fresh ore to start on next.'

'Yes, he does a survey, finds the richest part of the seam, he puts a beacon in the ground, retires to a safe distance, then switches it on with a remote.'

'That's it, then the digger chases over there and starts scooping ore as fast as its generators will let it.'

'Well, I sewed one I made into his overalls the second night after he came back. I had the perfect opportunity when he tried to get his filthy hands on me but his new body wasn't up to it. He was so tired that I easily fought him off and he fell asleep. Then I waited until the next day when he'd be out on a survey.

'So as soon as he got in range of the sensor on one of the diggers, it went straight for him. He should be on his way to an extraction plant by now.'

'Yeah, after being crushed and mangled through the digger. No wonder his tell-tale signal vanished. That's what I'd call devious.'

'I'd call it clever, actually.' Lori smiled briefly to herself.
Chapter 41: Preparations

Over the next three weeks, we had only single opportunities to explore the Old Site. There was a new pecking order. Goster, Lori and I were at the very bottom of it and so were given most of Vill's manual work. Symch was sent out on anything dangerous, while Gran, Xlok and Dyne took on mine management and surveying.

Lori and I had to make all our forays at night. Lori came back from an early solo visit with quite a trophy. It was a kind of electronic notebook or message pad. At first she thought it would be as easy to use as the ones we were familiar with from home. It was palm-sized, with a deep purple screen which glowed orange as soon as it was picked up. The screen was receptive to writing like a paper pad and could be operated as a note-taker using the stylus dangling from a thread at the side. That's what she had assumed when she'd first recognised it, picking it up delicately, hoping it wouldn't fall apart in her hands, then blowing the dust off its screen which glowed faintly at her touch through layers of grime.

Unfortunately, she found that after a page of notes were entered, the auto-translate function tried to turn her handwriting into the weird symbols used for marking all the old stuff we'd discovered. By tapping the buttons at the edge of the screen Lori managed to turn the translator off and used the pad to save our own text. After that it was incredibly easy to use, having electronic pages which could be scrolled in sequence and accessed as a database, like a card index. In experimenting further with it, she found that it could be used as a digital camera, which could store a catalogue of images.

We then took the unit whenever we went out, snapping as many images of symbols as we could, labelling them in the database with what we guessed, deduced or recognised was the function. Quickly we increased the number and range of 'recognisable' objects and symbols.

It occurred to me that the message pad was such a useful gadget, it would be a great pity if it was found, to I set about disguising it inside a piece of test gear. To make sure it didn't get confused with the real thing, I made the test part malfunction, so that if anyone else picked it up they would consider it repairable and not throw it away.

My next construction project was to make up the relays for the wristcoms. I didn't want to risk any of the others questioning what were likely to be frequent visits to the Old Site, neither did I want to risk leaving our readily locatable communicators in our rooms when we weren't there. Vill would have been sharp enough to be suspicious of anything out of the ordinary and there was still the risk that even with the relays, we might be spotted by one of the remote cameras. Luckily, with Vill out of the way, Goster tamed and Symch under threat, Gran and Xlok didn't think there was anything to worry about. This meant they didn't go around actively looking for trouble, like Vill would have done.

Fortunately there was a maintenance policy that if a piece of electronics couldn't be fixed in ten minutes, it had to be discarded and a new one fitted. This had resulted in there being a lot of part-functioning modules and part modules in the junk box in the dusty old repair shop. Most of the stuff could be fixed if you spent more time on it but clearly Vill had costed it out way back when the mine opened. He must have decided that the down time versus replacement balanced out within only a few minutes when it was a case of keeping the systems going. With our ability to spend rather more time, it was only a matter of days before Lori and I had a range of usefully functioning widgets.

We each used the relays for the wristcoms as soon as I had them working. They made it much safer for us to spend a couple of hours together during rest periods each day, as long as our shifts coincided. But we had to be vigilant moving around the base, so that we didn't get caught by one of the rest.

My other hauls from the Old Site included the parts for a code-buster. When I'd lashed it together in the repair shop, it allowed us to clip the unit to any coded security device and have it interrupt the electronics to crack the code. It had the potential to get us into any part of the New Site if necessary and, hopefully into one of the freighters.

Fortunately, hiding the small items of reclaimed equipment wasn't a problem. Our rooms were never searched. I suppose Xlok assumed we were still completely under control and that there wasn't anything much we could be getting up to. Having the jamming devices meant that we could adapt to situations at will by adjusting the strength of the jamming signal. You might have been forgiven for thinking it was a bit risky relying on mended junk to keep us conscious but it was a lot more convenient, less easy to be seen by any of the others and, as long as the power converters held up, more reliable than a patch which could come unstuck without warning.

My jammer did fail late one evening when I had been supposed to be meeting up with Lori. She came looking for me and found me sitting in my room with a vacant expression. As soon as she came close to me, her jamming signal blocked the numbing beam to my implant and I came to again. Fortunately it was only a power wire which had come detached and the unit was soon running again. The likelihood of both failing at once was fairly remote and it was heartening to know that if one of them did go down, the other person only had to approach within a few feet for their operating unit to take over. Even if both did fail at the same time, there were still the ones with the timers in our bunks.

In one of my daytime explorations of the Old Site I came across a life-support unit in one of the code-locked rooms. I recognised the cryogenics and fractionation mechanisms for separating the different gases, then recombining them in the desired proportions. The unit was a micro-miniaturised work of art. I'd never seen anything quite like it before. It also contained a mass of parallel processing analytical chips for testing and feedback to monitor the gas recombination.

I was quite excited when I first found it, hoping that it could help us generate the atmosphere we would need in the freighter. I checked it over and attached it to the portable power source from the hovercycle but found to my horror that it emitted the most disgusting, choking mixture of gases. Nothing I could do to adjust the output had any effect. In the end I had to abandon the idea of recalibrating it. I had to completely disassemble the unit and put it back together with some additional parts in a new configuration before I could get it to generate anything I thought was breathable.

Since Lori and I had regained consciousness, the two of us had watched somewhat anxiously the timing of each freighter take-off. Every two days one left and another arrived within a few hours. I was tremendously relieved to note that instead of blasting off at maximum machine endurable acceleration, the ships appeared to lift gently into the air until they finally drifted from sight. Presumably, they had chosen to use the least fuel option and that as long as there was a continuous stream of freighters, it didn't matter at what speed they travelled, rather like canal barges carrying coal. We didn't often have the opportunity to get near the freighters and I realised we would have to make 'out of hours' sorties at night to investigate more closely.
Chapter 42: Vill's Back

The next three weeks felt as if they flew by. All too soon it was the day that Dyne popped the new Vill out of his vat and ran his stored brain patterns back in. When he'd had time to get his senses back, he spent hours sitting with Xlok filling him in on how things were going.

Boy, was he mad. He was mad for days. It was as if he'd come straight out of the vat in a raging fury. Despite what Xlok and Gran told him, he was convinced one of us had put him out of action deliberately. As far as he was concerned lack of evidence was no proof of lack of intent: by force of habit, he took every precaution to make certain he didn't get caught in mining accidents. The fact that it had happened twice over in quick succession was enough to convince him of foul play.

As far as I could make out, Similie and myself were way down at the bottom of the list of suspects. There was no trace of his body, nor evidence of how he had disappeared. It was assumed that he'd been devoured by a digger when marking out the new excavation boundaries.

What exasperated him even more was the fact that every single one of us was back at base while he'd been out there. He had absolutely no way of finding out what happened, so it made him even more angry. Vill's main suspects were Goster and Symch. Realising he would never get either of them to admit anything, he decided to leave Goster under the chip and continue to have Symch in fear of the same. At least until he was up to full strength again.

Meanwhile, Vill snarled and snapped at everyone but of course his new body wasn't up to it yet. Gran had got Dyne to put electrical contacts on to stimulate his muscles while he was in the vat but it had made little difference.

After a week, Vill had Dyne take Goster's chip out, so he could get more work out of him. It was a bit too soon. Goster and Symch were wary at first but they quickly worked out that actually Vill needed them fully functional if he was to keep production up. They got more confident.

If Vill didn't like it when Goster sniggered or Symch argued they could easily push him away. Gran and Xlok tried to back Vill up, though they didn't have his physical force. Also, Goster and Symch weren't stupid enough to try it on when Vill had someone to support him. As a result, he was determined to get back in shape as quickly as possible. He was able to give himself double protein rations, a bonus no-one else got if they'd been re-cloned. He worked and worked at it, taking extra shifts clearing rubble to build his strength.

Soon, Goster and Symch began to regard him with more respect. Meanwhile, their having tried it on with him when he wasn't strong enough to control them, only made him more convinced that they were to blame for his accident. Nothing diminished Vill's suspicion of the pair and he was careful to make sure he had Dyne, Gran or Xlok with him when potentially deadly machinery was involved.
Chapter 43: Freighter

Ore freighters were divided into two very unequal sections, connected by a short neck. The larger section was the cavernous payload bay at the rear. While on the ground, it was continuously fed with rectangular containers of processed fuel. This was performed by a series of noisy conveyors and automated hydraulic loaders. The containers were apparently made of some form of plastic and interlocked with each other and the sides of the freighter to produce a stable load. At the front, the more pointed end of the ship, there was what appeared to be a cockpit area. I assumed it was because it had a door and a number of view ports.

If you got up close to a freighter, you could see it had a scarred and well-travelled surface with heat shield plates like scales on a giant fish. Not very promisingly, some of the freighters had plates missing. However, on closer inspection, we found there was another set of plates underneath. I was surprised to find that all the freighters were covered in a thick layer of dust which should have been blasted away each time the vehicle made rapid transit in and out of the atmosphere. Although this was a puzzle, I ignored it to focus on the more pressing business of gaining entry to what I hoped was the life pod at the front.

One night, after scraping away some of the surface debris, Lori and I found a coded entry pad. I connected the code buster and left it running while we surveyed the rest of the craft. It was roughly cylindrical, several hundred metres long, about one hundred and fifty wide and about the same high. As it was a combination craft, ie. one which needed to be able to withstand both space and atmospheric environments, it was relatively smooth externally. Space only vessels were covered in all manner of external appendages which worked much better outside the hull and were permissible because they would never have to contact an atmosphere which would burn them off. Space only drive systems were totally different as well because they didn't have to generate the fierce thrust required to take off and land against gravity.

From a distance, the scaly surface was uniformly brown and featureless. Close up it wasn't much more interesting. The freighter was resting on its flat side, which was as though a slice had been taken length ways out of the cylinder. This had a two-fold purpose, the obvious one of preventing it from rolling over when it was on the ground, and the less obvious one of providing a base for the antigravity gyros. From the outside there was no way to tell what condition the inside was in, or indeed what was inside.

Back at the pointed end, we could hear the telltale on the code buster bleating at us, so we headed towards it, to find the hatch had swung open. Lori stored the code in the electronic message pad she now carried everywhere and stashed the code buster in her jacket where we wouldn't lose it. We climbed into the life pod, finding it relatively clean but smelling musty, as though it hadn't been used for a long time.

There were three curiously shaped flight seats and bizarre instrumentation flashing and glowing with a profusion of lights in a great swathe facing the seats. Around the walls were panels labelled in the strange symbols, presumably according to function. A door in the rear of the cell we decided to survey later, as the external shape of the front pod indicated that it must be very small and was probably a cupboard or, hopefully, a hygiene closet.

The instant we tried to sit in two of the horizontal couch seats we realised we were in contact with an 'intelligent posture management system', or IPOMS. The couches lurched into a sideways angle and at first began to reconfigure to support a distinctly odd body shape with humps and hollows in all the wrong places, before finally enveloping all but our arms.

There were buttons on the side rest of the seat and we experimented with what turned out to be posture override controls, until the seats righted themselves and folded to provide back support. Lori and I exchanged significant glances, noted the settings for the seats and recovered our breath from the fight with the IPOMS while scanning the scene of the mine afforded by the view ports, to see if there was any sign of nearby activity. The others were clearly still engaged on their routine tasks in the base and repair docks. For some time we sat and stared at the glowing panels and screens, until we saw patterns begin to emerge.

Although the symbols and units themselves were meaningless, we were able to find some useful data. While we were there the payload had increased as the storage bays were loading and we could see one of the counters steadily incrementing. At least displays appeared to operate in a way we could recognise and we counted the number of symbols cycling past, finding that the number system was base ten.

Lori used the message pad to note the symbols and made a chart matching ours with theirs. We identified an artificial horizon readout and tilt monitor which changed as the ship shifted and settled with the increasing weight of the payload.

We had decided that the most important thing to find was the life-support. It would probably need rebuilding like the other one I'd found. Lori used her message pad to call up the symbol from the damaged system we'd found in Old Site and got the controls on the main instrument grid. 'Shall I go for it?'

'Give it a quick blast,' I replied. Lori touched the button labelled with the same symbol we had found was the start button on other devices and a quiet whooshing sound began behind its air-vent. She switched it off at once and I leant over to take a tentative sniff. The gas still wafting from the vent smelt hospitable at least. It certainly wasn't the choking stuff which had come from the one I'd tried in the Old Site. Lori switched it back on again and we closed the outer hatch. All seemed to be well.

We would have to take the risk that it wouldn't malfunction and fill the cabin with carbon monoxide or worse. I suggested that it might be as well to take the one I had rebuilt from the Old Site, as backup. Again we stored the readout, so that we could compare it later on with what was being indicated now. That would show whether the system was stable or not. Most of the rest of the stuff we would have to discover during and after takeoff.

It was time to explore the internal door. It pulled open with a click and turned out, as hoped for, to be a hygiene closet but with what looked like two sets of appliances, as though it had been built for different species.

The preliminary inspection completed, we re-checked the read-outs, stored the results, scanned the immediate area to make sure no-one else was around and quickly left the freighter, resetting the outer hatch code as we left.

Another job we had to do was hacking into the New Site computer system, to allow us access to the dry rations store, and to be able to take a few litres of water from the atmospheric condensation units, so that we had an initial supply and could prime the food and water re-processors in the freighter cabin. Luckily, the system used a graphic user interface, which meant that you only needed to point to symbols on the screen to access those parts of the program. Keeping the hand-held translator we had set up running, I was able to find which bits of the program dealt with the condensation units. When I had adjusted the system to over-produce for a couple of hours, I took the code-buster and unlocked the sealed rooms, to collect our supplies. At Lori's suggestion, I had programmed the system to delete my changes and re-set after the allotted time, so that no-one would be able to tell we had been tampering with it.

As far as piloting a freighter was concerned, we would have considerable problems, not least of which was that every control and read-out was labelled in the alien hieroglyphs. We solved most of the difficulties a few days later, by hacking into the training system. The pilots' training program was encrypted but we put the codebuster to further use, to decode the program. Then we ran the flight simulator until both of us could take off, land, manoeuvre and re-program the freighter navigation computer. Because we had to train using the alien symbols, I realised this could take several weeks. This was time we couldn't afford to spend, especially as we had the risk of having to stand guard for each other while we took turns on the training couches.

The flight simulator was the only practise we were going to get of course. There wasn't exactly anyone around who was going to take us out on a few trial flights in a real freighter, so we agreed to both get in as much training as we could. I hacked the code on the medical room door one time when I knew Dyne was halfway to the other side of the mine with almost all of the others, dealing with a little 'emergency' I had created with a laser torch in the ore processing plant.

In a few moments I found the store of green capsules Vill had given us for speed learning. As a result, we were amazed to find we both completed pilot training in two sessions of under four hours each. The speed learning saved us a lot of anxiety. Neither of us could think how we'd deal with the attentions of Vill and Dyne between them if we'd had to suffer them for a period of weeks.

Over the same few days, we checked out as many different freighters as we could, either together or separately, keeping a careful log of what we found. Out of twelve freighters we checked, only one had no usable controls or facilities. Fortunately, it was instantly recognisable as having an odd-shaped front cabin with no windows and was clearly meant for automated use only, as there were no flight couches inside and an ammonia-breathing air conditioning system. Even at night, the autofreighter would be clearly distinguishable by the shape of its nose.

One evening, Lori and I took an inventory of our equipment and saw that we were very nearly ready. In fact, as we had been relieving the dry rations store of some of its contents, we thought we had better be leaving soon, before any of our modifications to the New Site computer system could be discovered. Even though I had done my best to cover my tracks, there were always internal checks and time per byte analyses every computer made periodically for security reasons.

'OK' said Lori, 'what have we got?

'There's the spare atmosphere conditioning unit, stashed at the base of one of the cooling towers, in a tool locker, which we've re-coded to keep the others out.'

'That's near the freighter pad?'

'Right. Then we've got the dry rations and water behind the false panels in the base of our room lockers here.'

'The tool kit, code buster and translator?'

'Yes, got those here.'

'What about the micro-surgery repair kit, spare modules and your test gear?'

'Stashed under the back of my bunk.'

'Is that safe?'

'OK, there's a chance the maid might find them when she's doing the dusting.'

'Oh, shut up! Lori laughed.

'That's better. Got to keep our spirits up.'

'But is that really absolutely everything? I can't believe it's taken so long.'

'Well, don't forget we had to train on the flight simulator and the fact that it all had to done be in secret. That's what takes up time.'

'So, when do you think we should go?'

'Tonight. There's a freighter leaving at 10.30.'

'Tonight? But are we really ready?'

'It's a risk whatever we do. Just staying here another day we risk being caught, or mangled or vaporised in one of those manic pieces of digging equipment out in the mine.'

'Since you put it that way, yes I'm ready,' smiled Lori.
Chapter 44: Lift Off

I accessed one of the computer terminals through the training couch, which had turned out to be the most convenient point and also was the most easily explained away had we ever been discovered. A check of all the personnel locators showed that all four of the night crew were out on a repair more than a kilometre away from the freighter pad and that the other two from our shift were in their quarters.

When I returned to my cell I found Dyne, sitting on the bunk. 'Where've you been, Lump?' She studied my face closely as she rose towards me.

'Out.'

'That's not good enough, Lump.' She began to look alarmed and lifted the remote towards me, as if to threaten me with the prospect of hitting the 'down' button which she believed would have me on my knees.'

'It'll do you no good, Dyne!' I smiled and moved towards her. She backed off, frantically pressing the buttons, but was stopped by the bunk.

'Damn it. The batteries.'

'No the batteries are probably fine. It won't work, that's all,' I said. Closing in on her, I gently but firmly drew her arms together behind, while she stared open mouthed in disbelief and I shook the control from her grasp. I didn't want to hurt her but I was beginning to wonder how she could be stopped from raising the alarm.

Fortunately, Lori had been close behind me and came into the room.

'Hmm. This looks cosy!' she exclaimed. Dyne gasped and her eyes widened.

'You too?'

'Me too.'

'But how?'

'We haven't time for explanations. Dyne, I really mean you no harm but it's time for us to go for good. You know perfectly well we don't belong here. You've known right from the beginning, haven't you?'

She bowed her head. 'Yes. I'm sorry. I never really wanted to be tied into all this. Vill was always so ambitious and everything got out of hand.'

'Maybe so, but you went along with it all the same. How would you feel if you'd been kidnapped and then controlled like a robot for months?'

'Pretty bad, Similie.'

'Pretty bad doesn't even scratch the surface, Dyne. And my name's not Similie, either,' Lori scowled, her jealousy over the way Dyne had used me, together with her hatred of Vill, rushing to the surface.

'Her real name is Lori and mine is Ben. Also, you know very well what she's had to suffer with Vill, so I would do my best not to upset her if I were you,' I suggested.

'Lori. I see. But I did try to help you, to make it more difficult for Vill.'

'Oh, really?'

'Lori. We don't have time. Help me restrain her,' I urged. Lori closed down her anger, dissipating its energy on quickly tearing thin strips of cloth from the bedding. Calm again, she wound one of the strips around Dyne's head, covering her mouth and tying the material behind. Dyne looked terrified, shaking her head with a pleading expression and tears welling up in her eyes. But she made no attempt to struggle as we bound her hands and ankles. I took Dyne's comlink, ran down to the medical centre and kicked it under the biggest cupboard.

'It'll take the others a while to find her, with her comlink in the medical centre and her tied up in here,' I explained to Lori. 'We should be in the clear if we leave immediately.'

'OK, let's take our gear, check the locators again and go for it.'

I grabbed my kit from its hiding place and we left Dyne looking full of remorse, curled up on the bed, and shut the door behind us. We had lost valuable minutes dealing with Dyne but once she'd interrupted us it was unavoidable. At least we knew she was in no position to raise the alarm. I could feel my heart thumping in my chest as we raced along the corridors and it felt like only moments before we were back at the training couches checking the locators.

'All clear.' I could hardly breathe with the excitement of finally implementing our get-away. With a last burst of inspiration I used the training terminal to change the settings on the remote camera on the freighter pad as a final precaution. I switched it from continuous scan to its lowest setting of taking a single frame only once in ten minutes. If anyone accessed it, the computer would toggle it back to continuous and they would be none the wiser. We made our way silently out into the night.

Using the hovercycle, I steered as circumspect a course as I could in the time we had before take-off, until we approached within twenty metres of the loaded freighter. The other freighter was half a kilometre away. It had recently landed and was still cooling, although already its rear doors were open and the loading gear could be heard wheezing and rumbling towards it.

My heart was pounding again as the code buster bleeped and the hatch of our freighter clicked open. I noticed the door had a scratch I had put on each machine we had checked earlier. So this one had been out and back at least once carrying ore to its other destination. 'We've been on this one before,' I whispered to Lori. 'We need to hurry, I don't think we have much time.'

I set the autopilot on the hovercycle to take it out of the mine and steer a course into the desert. Before letting it go, I set the on-board locator so that it would begin to transmit when the power dropped below a level which would drive the motors. The power pack was sufficient to take the unloaded craft fast and far away from the mine. It would form an excellent decoy when it began to transmit its location. Vill would send out a search party and it would waste him many valuable hours.

A few minutes after we'd closed the door of the freighter behind us, the system began going through its automated pre-flight checks for fuel, weight, balance and hull integrity. It was essential we were shut in before it started. An open door to the life pod would set off all manner of alarms.

We could hear and feel the distant rumblings, clankings and whirrings, as the power and flight systems were checked over by the computer, until all was silent again. Meanwhile, we had stashed our provisions and fought the flight couches into holding us in an acceptable position.

I looked over at Lori. Her forehead was beaded with perspiration and she looked pale. 'You don't look too brave yourself,' she commented, reading my thoughts. I was about to think of some smart reply but was interrupted by the bleeps of the three-second count-down.

The gyros cut in suddenly and whined up higher and higher until their frequency of rotation was lost to our ears. Next the ship settled in its mountings as the gyros took the weight. We heard through the body of the ship when the so-called catches released and then we began to lift.

The gentle acceleration I had observed from the ground took us high over the mine. From here we could see the full extent of it. The fresh workings with the diggers ploughing through the ore got smaller and slower as we gained height. Once we had cleared the thin cloud cover, the ship levelled off and began to float across the surface of the planet.

'Now what? quizzed Lori.

'How should I know?' I retorted 'Are there any rogue read-outs?'

'Not as far as I can tell.'

Before we could question the unexpected flight plan any further, the ship began to descend. We stared through the view ports and at the screens as we dipped below the clouds to see the outline of a quite different launch pad, this one surrounded by steaming bore-holes, ancillary processing equipment and storage towers. As far as we could see, the facility was completely unmanned and automatic.

Something caught my eye at the edge of the landing field. It was a strange assemblage of parts. I pointed it out to Lori, then felt a sudden chill along my spine, when the shapes fell into some sort of order and I began to be able to distinguish from the surroundings the outline of a very strange looking spacecraft.
Chapter 45: Setback

'It's a ship!' I almost choked. Lori stared round at me in alarm.

'Ben, don't fold on me now. It might be empty. It could be a spare, anything.'

'Yes, anything like full of new mine workers waiting for us.'

'Nonsense. Apart from Dyne, no-one has any chance of noticing we've left.'

Within a very tense few minutes our ship was back on the ground and umbilicals were being wound up against the hull by automated taxi carriers. Some of the tell-tales we hadn't been able to interpret began to flicker on the screen. Another empty taxi carrier approached the freighter and after a few moments of bumping and squeaking, made off with a couple of fuel crates from a side pod we hadn't seen before. Meanwhile, there was no sign of life from the ship sitting in its launch cradle on the opposite side of the field.

Lori tried a few buttons on the flight console and miraculously got a view of the inside of the flight deck on the other ship. It was dimly lit and empty.

'Well done, my love!' I shouted with relief.

'All right, we can relax now.'

'I wouldn't say relax, exactly. In fact, I think I have a plan.'

'Oh, now what?'

'Well, we don't want anyone using that ship to chase after us, do we?'

'No but...'

'No, so perhaps one of those taxi carriers could accidentally bump into it,' I said, pointing at the carrier taking the ore away from the freighter. See if you can access its control system. For the next five minutes, Lori tried in vain to find a computer link which would give her access to the taxi carrier.

'A link to any of them?'

'Not a hope,' she declared in frustration.

'It'll have to be done manually then, stall this crate until I get back.' Before she could stop me, I was out of the airlock and running across the concrete to the terminal. I jumped aboard the first large, parked vehicle I came to, slammed my foot to the floor on the power pedal and forced the stick into the forward position.

The lumbering truck lurched into action and I directed it in a semi-circle away from the freighter. As soon as I had it on a direct heading for the alien ship, I scrabbled around to find something to jam the controls.

A discarded drink canister came to hand and I rammed it between the pedal and the bulkhead. I knew I now had to get out before it picked up too much speed and so I went straight for the exit hatch. I pulled the lever. It turned but the door didn't budge. Did nothing work properly on this planet?

In the rear view mirror I saw Lori jump down from the freighter hatchway, waving frantically at me. I couldn't tell if she was trying to tell me she'd managed to halt the refuelling, or if it was about to blast off without us. It was no time to be stuck in a heavy duty truck gathering speed on a collision course with an alien space ship.

I swivelled round in my seat and kicked out hard with both feet at the door. I dented the panelling and it gave an inch. Summoning all my strength, I kicked it again and nearly shot out feet first as it swung wide open. Regaining my balance, I jumped to the edge of the doorway and prepared to bale out.

The ground seemed to be speeding by far too fast below but I had no choice. I heaved myself out, first sprawling onto the hard concrete, then rolling over and over. At least I was clear of the truck, which was gaining speed ever more rapidly, its motor roaring at full tilt and smoke pouring from the stack of its primitive engine.

I'd had the breath knocked out of me by the fall and my head was spinning but I knew I had to get moving right now. Not having time to check for damage, I pulled myself up and began the sprint back to the freighter. I was sure to be covered in cuts and scrapes from the blastpad and my right leg was stiff but if I'd broken anything I probably wouldn't be running, would I? Lori was standing hands on hips with a set expression, having not left the vicinity of the freighter, so I had to assume she'd managed to stop it from taking off.

'You're mad!' she shrieked at me when I was within earshot.

'Probably.'

'This isn't a side of you I hope to see too often,' she retorted.

'Me neither. But it's not a situation I hope to find myself in too often!' I then noticed that Lori's gaze had shifted to look over my left shoulder.

'And I hope that thing over there isn't going to turn out to be so unstable that when your truck hits it, it takes out the entire landing field, the freighter and us with it. Don't forget, we'll be trapped in the cabin of this thing with millions of tons of fuel behind us. If your larking about leads to an explosive situation, there won't be much left of us, will there?'

I looked round to see the truck still with five or six hundred metres to go before it reached the ship's landing gear. From this angle it looked to be closing fast. She had a point.

'Well let's get back on board then.' We both turned back to the freighter and scrambled through the air lock, clanging it shut behind us. 'Lori, did you halt the take-off?'

'No but I found the count-down. I calculated it had about 15 minutes to go, so I left it. I thought even you could get yourself out of trouble in that time.'

'And so I did.'

'Only just. You maniac!'

'All right. All right, no need to get shrill. How much time have we got left?'

Lori glanced at her screen. 'About ninety seconds.'

'OK. Strap yourself in. I want to check one last thing.' I pressed my ear to the hull and could hear a distant hissing and sloshing.

'Now what are you up to?'

'I think we're being re-fuelled with some high energy booster for a rapid lift-off out of the gravity well.'

'So?'

'We could be in for a rough ride.'

'How rough?'

'Maximum machine endurable acceleration, probably,' I replied.

'I hope these couches are well padded.'

'They'll have to be more than that, if we're going to survive a high velocity take-off.'

'Yes but they must work, otherwise there'd be no point having them. Who or whatever they were built for wouldn't survive any more than we would.'

'A good point. And the couches do sense when we're in them, so the computer system should take into account the presence of living tissue that needs protecting.'

'We'd better get back into the couches then, before this thing takes off again.'

'Another good point.' With that we climbed onto the couches and tilted them into flight position, then waited anxiously for whatever came next.

As we adjusted the flight seats, I remembered something I'd noticed when we first inspected the freighters. 'Do you remember the dust on the freighters when we gave them the once-over?'

'No.'

'Yes, you said how could they be covered in dust if they'd come from space.'

'Of course. They must have come through here instead. But why come via a refuelling station on the way down?'

'Isn't the booster fuel likely to be fairly hairy stuff?'

'I suppose so.'

'Well, they probably have to void the tanks to keep it well away from the mine. That sort of stuff could set fire to the ore seam, then there'd be real trouble.'

'That makes sense, Ben.'

'This place is a good distance from the mine workings and it looks like they're using geothermal power to convert the crates of fuel from the side pod we saw them take off into higher octane stuff.'

'How do you know they're using geothermal power?'

'There's no noise, no windmills, no smoke stacks, only low-level buildings next to the spoil heaps.'

'Couldn't they be using some of the fuel they produce?'

'Yes, if they wanted to waste the product.'
Chapter 46: Maximum Force

As soon as we had the couches adjusted, the umbilicals retracted from the outside of the freighter and the taxi carriers retreated into the bunkers from which they must have come, curling up the piping as they went. Once again the gyros whined up to operating speed. Slowly at first the ground slipped away and, as if we'd planned it, the freighter repositioned itself in a wide, banking turn allowing a perfect view of the blast pad.

The freighter's side window showed us the truck ploughing into the side of the other ship's landing cradle. For the first few seconds it looked as though the impact had no effect at all. I stared hard, seeing only the truck bouncing back on its tires and flipping over.

A sudden belch of flame and smoke blew out of its engine compartment. The fire was immediately quelled by an automated burst of extinguisher gas which began to spread out sedately as a low, white cloud.

I looked back to the silver ship in time to see the first waver of the uppermost tip of it against the background. Then we saw the whole ship tilt, its size making it appear as if in slow motion.

Finally, it dropped right down off the cradle. I held my breath but it didn't explode when it struck the launch pad. It rocked back a metre or so, then in a rather disappointing manner, simply crumpled down one side.

'There you are. No problem. I'd like to see them fly that.'

'Very good,' Lori gasped, having held her breath since the truck hit. 'Now what were you saying about this takeoff?'

'I said it might be a bit...' but I never managed to finish the sentence. The primary boosters cut in. We were immediately pinned to the couches, barely able to breathe. The acceleration became more and more fierce and we sank further and further into the absorbent materials. What we had experienced earlier as a gentle wafting up from the surface of the planet was now a rapid acceleration which would soon flatten us into jelly.

I'd lost count how many times I had been very seriously worried in the last twelve hours and I could have done without this terrifying take-off. Had our luck finally run out? I was getting very uncomfortable. I could feel my flesh pulling as the massive acceleration relentlessly tugged at it.

When I thought my last breath was being squeezed from my lungs, a strange, blue-green field grew out of the perimeters of the couches. As it surrounded each of us, the sensation of acceleration became gradually less, until I felt as if I was about to float off the surface of the couch into the coloured mist.

It must be some sort of safety field to shield pilots from the force which would have crushed the life out of us within a few more seconds. As soon as the blue-green field had fully surrounded us, I felt a kick through the floor as the main booster motors took over. I tried to turn my head towards Lori but was held back by the renewed acceleration. Even under the protective field I soon blacked out.

We must have both gone under for a few minutes but I found I still couldn't move a single muscle, not for half an hour or so until the acceleration reduced. The sound of the boosters remained a furious roar which drowned every other sound. I turned to Lori to see her signing in my direction. 'R U O K?' I signed that I was and flopped back against the couch.

In time the fuzzy blue-green field ebbed away from the couches and with it went the noise and the acceleration. We were able to re-position the flight seats, stand and wander about a bit, flexing limbs, checking the equipment and trying to adjust to having actually pulled away from the planet without being apprehended.

Checking and re-checking each other's readings, we carefully monitored the next change-over as the fusion boosters took the freighter up to scoop speed, so that the density of usable space matter increased to the point where it alone could feed the motors. The blue glow produced by the fusion ring plumed behind like a gas flame, which of course is exactly what it was. It was curious to find this otherwise strangely designed craft, with its bizarre seating and strange controls, still had the facility to peer at the fusion flame.

On ships I was more familiar with, there had always, always been some way of viewing the fusion motor's output, whether it was by remote camera or direct view port, or even by tethered drone on the expensive cruisers. It was an understandable fundamental of space travel: the reassurance of seeing the afterburner in action. It was strangely hypnotic to see the steady flame, occasionally flecked with the atoms of exotic molecules.

This view of one of the most powerful feats of engineering on a blazing background of stars was curiously soothing. Many a solitary traveller had found it to be as good a way as any to while away the weeks between planets. No human had ever watched the fusion motor burn between stars; no live human being had ever been daft enough to embark on such a trip. Even at our present speed, you would arrive as no more than a pile of dust and bones.

Lori joined me to watch as she, too, drifted into a reverie. 'The flame of freedom,' was all she said.
Chapter 47: Then There Were Six

At the New Site it was pandemonium. Vill charged around, checking computer systems and cursing in almost continuous sentences. He divided up the Site buildings, sector by sector and sent Gran, Goster and Xlok out searching every room in the place. Then he set the klaxons off in Dyne and Symch's rooms and got them looking too, or he thought he did, until Dyne didn't appear.

What had tipped Vill off that two of his crew were missing was one of the computer alarm systems. If a locator went off line for more than two hours, the computer system reported it.

In fact there were three alarms because Dyne's communicator was out of place too, under the cupboard in the medical room. In his haste Vill didn't notice that one. And when he got no response calling Lump and Similie on the PA system, he started getting really hot under the collar.

'I've found Dyne, Goster called over Vill's wristcom. 'I was searching in her corridor and heard the klaxon going continuously. She wasn't there, then I looked in Lump's room round the corner and found her. She's, er, rather tied up,' he sniggered.

Stamping down the corridor, Vill slammed open the door of Lump's room, to find Dyne trussed up as she'd been left. Goster hadn't even tried to remove her gag. Vill tore it from her mouth, his boot crunching on her remote.

'Who did this? Lump? Similie, both of them?'

'Both,' gasped Dyne.

'Where are they?'

'How should I know? They tied me so I couldn't move and left. The last thing I saw was them disappearing out the door. They looked organised, as if they knew exactly what they were doing, like the implants weren't working at all.'

'I'm going to get to the bottom of this,' snarled Vill grotesquely. 'What were you doing in here?'

'Lump called me on his wristcom,' she lied, squirming against her restraints, 'said it was urgent. So I came along to see what was up and they grabbed me as soon as I came through the door.'

'That doesn't make any sense. What did they want with you?'

'I don't know. Nothing, unless they thought I could try to stop them or raise the alarm. All they did was tie me up and smash their locators.'

'Right, Goster, untie her.'

'Dyne get the control beacon checked, it might be malfunctioning.'

'If it is, it would have given them quite a shock when it went off. They may be still disorientated,' suggested Dyne.

'What? You said they looked organised a moment ago.'

'Well, they did. Maybe it's not been working for a while and we didn't know.'

'So, go and find out,' Vill commanded.

Dyne struggled to her feet, shaking off the bindings that Goster had loosened. 'I'm right on it.'

Vill turned to Goster. 'We can't use the computer to locate them because they've smashed the wristcoms but we might be able to trace them through the implants. Contact Xlok and see if she's got any sort of directional aerial sensitive enough to pick them up. I'm going to look for unusual traffic anywhere on the computer system.'

'I bet you wish you knew what they're up to,' Goster called snidely down the corridor at Vill, once he was far enough away to avoid recrimination.

Vill ground his teeth and spat. Too true he wished he knew what Lump and Similie had planned. Had the effect of the implants worn off somehow? Had the control beacon malfunctioned? There were supposed to be computer backups and tell-tales to prevent that and if all else failed there should be an alarm sounding. But there wasn't.

It was all too quiet. Much too quiet and too slick for Vill's liking. He'd always suspected Goster and Symch for his accidents but what if it had actually been Lump and Similie?

His mind was in a turmoil of rage and anxiety. Were they intent on sabotage? They knew enough to blow the mine half-way out of the solar system, if that was their aim. Or were they trying to escape? There was nowhere for them to go. They couldn't get off the planet, yet there was nothing else on the planet except sand and dust.

Could they have gone over to the Old Site? He was damned if he wanted to go scratching around over there. And this new situation wasn't going to be good for discipline with the rest of them. At the moment that felt like the least of his worries. They could be hiding away anywhere. Then he had an idea. He called the others on the wristcoms.

'Are any of you near the water re-processors or the food store?'

'I'm near the food store,' Dyne called in.

'I'm checking the water system now,' replied Gran.

'Any sign of them?'

'No.'

'Not a thing.'

'Is there any evidence of tampering, or break-ins, like they've taken food or water?'

'What, you mean for hiding up somewhere?' asked Dyne.

'Right. Anything?'

'Everything checks out totally normally,' said Gran.

'Same here,' from Dyne.

'Well, check again,' growled Vill.

'They could be still around here somewhere,' offered Dyne.

By the end of an hour, all of them had drawn a blank.

Vill called his team back to the canteen and they sat round one of the tables in a puzzled and bad-tempered group.

'Xlok, did you find any trace of them with that aerial of yours?'

'Nope.'

'Goster, Gran, Dyne, Symch, anything at all?'

'Total blank.' replied Gran for all of them.

'Any clues of any sort whatever?'

'None,' said Dyne.

'Right, Dyne, you were the last to see them, so you've got a few questions to answer.' Everyone turned to face her. She looked pale and tired. 'I don't believe a word of your story about Lump getting you to go and check him out.'

'I didn't say that. He called me and said there was something the matter and that it was urgent. He didn't say anything else and he wouldn't reply when I called him, so I had no choice but to go and see what was going on.'

'Yeah, then what?'

'Look, Vill, I know no more than you do. They pounced on me, tied me up and vanished.'

'Well, what did they have on them? Had they anything unusual, tools, carry-alls?'

'Ah, yes. They did have a big bag each and they both had on a full tool belt. I couldn't tell anything else. They had outdoor clothes on.'

'Hah!' exclaimed Symch. 'That scrap of information alone could have saved us tearing through every room on site.'

'Not necessarily. They could have still been around.'

'All right, you two!' snapped Vill, let's start again. They left Dyne, what, three hours ago now?'

'That's when I last saw them.'

'OK and they had tools and outdoor clothes on.'

'Plus a bag each,' added Dyne.

'But there's no sign of them taking food or water, right Gran?'

'None I can see.'

'You said you were going to check for unusual traffic, Vill,' sneered Goster, who was safely out of reach across the table. 'Find anything?'

'Not yet. But the instant they move any of the carriers or hover vehicles, the computer will let us know immediately.'

'Vill, it doesn't look good. I'm thinking about all the training they've had. If they've got tools and something else in bags, they could be out for sabotage,' suggested Xlok.

'If that's the case, they'd better hope they die in the attempt,' ground Vill from between clenched teeth.

The others could see no point in continuing the discussion, no-one else made any comments and they slowly dispersed, leaving Vill to fume in silence on his own.
Chapter 48: Sabotage?

Vill was still pacing and picking away at the problem hours later when the alarm sounded. He rounded on the nearest terminal, punching buttons, his fingers stabbing at the controls with nervous haste. A hovercycle was giving a low power signal out in the desert, twenty or thirty kilometres away. Then another alarm sounded and another, two diggers had crashed. Was it coincidence, or was it sabotage?

'Goster, Gran. Go and check out the diggers in sector 54R, there's been a crash. Dyne, there's a hovercycle out in the desert, west, bring a portable control beacon. We're going to check it out,' he bawled over the PA. 'Symch and Xlok, you're on standby.' He strode out of the canteen, pulling on a set of outdoor coveralls, it was near dawn and it would still be cold for a couple of hours.

Vill and Dyne took a four-seater carrier and set out, homing in on the low power signal from the lost hovercycle. 'I don't understand this,' said Vill as they flew at full throttle out of the mine, over the sand. 'I checked the ident in the signal. That hovercycle was the one Xlok lost her leg in that time when there was a coolant blow-out near Old Site. It's been out of action for at least two years.'

'I remember patching her up. She needed a rebuild, right up to mid thigh.'

'That's the one.' He switched into the radio. 'Gran, what's happening with the diggers, any signs of tampering?'

'Not that we can tell, they were meant to be working in parallel. One of them hit a piece of bedrock and a safety cut-off stopped it. The other appears simply to have stopped in sympathy. Some kind of safety system again. There's no indication of anything suspicious. Someone might have interfered with the program but we haven't had time to check it yet.'

'OK. Carry on with the repairs, get the other two guys out if necessary. Right now, we're still two pairs of hands down and we've got to keep the operation running. The next load's due out tomorrow night at six.'

'We're on it.'

As Vill and Dyne neared the source of the signal from the hovercycle, they could see nothing but open sand, the dunes cropped and chopped by a recent twister. 'It should be over there, twenty degrees north,' Dyne pointed, staring into the locator screen. 'Range, about half a kilometre.'

A minute or two later, the waning beacon was bleeping languidly directly below. Nothing but sand. 'Damn it. The thing's two or three metres down.' Vill got straight back on the radio. 'Symch bring one of the small diggers out here. There's one outside the repair shop. It had a refit yesterday, so it should be fully charged. You'll see our location on its view screen.'

'Why'd you want me way out there with a digger?'

'We found the hovercycle. It's under a couple of metres of sand. Now stop grumbling and get that digger over here.'

While they were waiting for Symch, Vill used the carrier to bull-doze as much of the sand out of the way as he could. By the time Symch turned up with the digger, he'd made a wide, shallow depression, taking the sand down half a metre or more. 'OK, Symch, it's right under the centre, start taking the sand out.'

Symch dug steadily for nearly an hour. Then suddenly there was a vibration back through the digging arm, where it had clunked the hovercycle. While Symch had been digging, Vill and Dyne had been criss-crossing the area for a kilometre in every direction, using the metal detector wound up to maximum sensitivity, to search for any sign of Lump or Similie. They'd have been insane to go any further, Vill reasoned, and the detector would even pick up a button down to six metres, if it was there. But there was nothing. Returning to the hovercycle, they found Symch digging with a shovel. He'd uncovered some of the hovercycle. At least enough to recover it with a hoist.

Vill a lowered the cable and Symch attached the hook, then stood well clear while Vill raised the carrier and dragged the hovercycle out of its hole.

Vill swore again when he inspected the machine. No sign of Lump or Similie, not even a hair, not that he expected to find much. No-one could have survived the storm that passed by in the night. The most likely explanation, he reasoned, was that Lump and Similie had taken off with some half-baked plan of escape. Where to, he had no idea. They got caught in the twister and their remains were scattered over an area too large to search. They were dead. The only thing to do was clone them out and start again.

Wearily, he hauled the hovercycle up under the carrier using the hoist and they all flew back to New Site. 'Dyne, it looks like they've had it. You've got replacements in the clone tanks at the base, haven't you?'

'I have but..' Gran's voice cut her short, calling to say they'd fixed the diggers and were returning to base. Later they all sat round in the canteen over a ration of alcohol. None of them wanted to contemplate Vill's version of events. Getting caught in a twister trying to escape was no pleasant way to go.

'Xlok, I need you to look into managing production while we're two down. The rest of you take a break,' ordered Vill.

'Before the next disaster,' muttered Goster under his breath.
Chapter 49: First Steps

The next stage of our escape from this strange planetary system was not without concern. The plan was riddled with uncertainties. We had to at some point head off into the space beyond and we had to hope the life-support would hold up until we could find familiar territory. Then we had to make contact with the UR Net.

I hoped we wouldn't be trapped together in this tiny living space for too long. Even so we had a good chance of getting away and for the first time in ages we could abandon the constant pretence we had to maintain in the mine, living a double life so that the others would not suspect. It was a miracle we had both avoided accidents. Being badly hurt would have seriously set back our plans and increased the ever-present threat of discovery.

I shuddered at remembering Goster's accident with the power cell and hugged Lori close. As if reading my mind she said 'We don't have to pretend anymore. And it's us alone, until we can get back to somewhere with a contact node so we can start sorting the rest of the mess out. I certainly don't want to be stuck in this body for any longer than necessary.'

'I want my own back, too. It might be an idea though if we set up an auto-transmission lab and loaded some DNA samples. And I'll start work on a micro transfer system, in case we don't make it.'

'Practical to the last detail, as usual,' she smiled. 'You're right, it'll give us something to do and it'll tidy up some of that electronics junk of yours in the corner.'

'It's that junk kept us conscious enough to escape, don't forget,' I laughed, knowing she was pulling my leg to get me to lighten up a bit. 'And while we're at it, we can switch off our personal jammers, the numbing beam couldn't touch us as soon as we closed the cockpit door, back on the planet.'

At last we felt we could begin to relax and as if of a single mind, we adjusted the couches to a horizontal position before falling into a restless, though lengthy slumber.

The first few days we spent together very happily, with the ship simply following its heading towards the third planet, where according to our plan, it would make its sudden, swooping detour into the accelerated sling shot which would take us fully away from the system before we could be caught. I had checked the standard flight program and found that it was very late braking in the vicinity of the third planet. The computer's normal setting was such that the ship would over-shoot at a narrow angle and that the planet would then exercise gravity braking. A dozen or so spiral orbits and it would be ready to land.

My program, however, had made some subtle changes to the original. We would be pulling slightly closer and faster, hopefully undetectably, so that we would use the gravity for accelerating us away, rather than drawing us down to the planet's surface.

After an initial few days of constant vigilance, which left the pair of us exhausted, we slept and slept. I didn't feel any great urgency to getting our earlier plans for DNA samples and transfer devices up and running. No ships had come chasing after us. The radio was silent. All we could do was sit out the flight to the third planet.

At first we had almost perpetual grins. The relief of leaving the mine was tremendous. Not to be under the constant threat of discovery; not to have the klaxon blasting us awake every morning; not to be the butt of any more jokes or given the worst job anyone could think of; not to have Symch or Goster trying to get us killed; not to have Dyne using me, or Vill abusing Lori for their own gratification.

Although we were essentially trapped now for an indefinite period in a tiny cockpit with stale air from two recycled atmosphere processors, a pile of potentially useful electronics junk, a couple of view ports and a hygiene closet, we still felt freer than we could have imagined. We had each other, even though the bodies were so different from our own that we could have passed one another in the street without the slightest chance of recognition.

Lazily, we kept only a careless tally of the following days we lived in a gentle cycle of eating, sleeping and making plans for the future. Then as days trailed out into weeks, we slept less and the elation began to wear thin. I found my thoughts turning to more serious topics.

'Lori, I'd never really thought about this much before but it's a good thing none of the others had chips implanted like ours.'

'Why?'

'Well, our jammers might have affected them, too.'

'So?'

'So, whoever they really were would have resurfaced.'

'Briefly, yes.'

'Oh, of course, then we'd have realised and moved away from them, so their chip would take over again and they'd be none the wiser.'

'Clever boy. Why do you think I always made sure neither of us sat next to Goster after the girls had him chipped?'

'Oh, I thought it was because you couldn't stand him.'

'Well, there was that, too,' Lori laughed. 'We already established that they all appeared to behave autonomously the first day we had those patches you made, remember. We watched them for ages before we dared go back.'

'Yes, true, but we didn't know for certain. We've been in close proximity to all of them. If they'd been under the control of the numbing beacon, our jammers would have affected them and they'd have had as big a shock as we did the first time we were shielded from the beacon. I thought you would have realised that straight away.'

'I did, which was why I kept you away from Goster.'

'But before Gran and Xlok had Goster chipped how could you be so sure none of the others were already chipped?'

'I made sure I approached each of them in turn, one at a time, with a great deal of caution,' Lori pronounced proudly.

'You did? Why didn't you tell me?'

'Because I was sure you would have done the same,' Lori laughed, seeing the colour draining from my face as I realised that it had never occurred to me to try out the others and how close I might have been to disaster.

'Don't worry,' she said, hugging me 'I'll look after you.' There was a wicked twinkle in her eyes which flushed away all my anxiety.

'That's better,' she giggled. 'So the others were all in it together through choice. And it was essential we happened to be alone together that time at the Old Site.'

There was a long pause while we held each other close, both reflecting on the events of the recent past. 'I wonder what Vill said when he found we were missing!' I said suddenly.

'Ha! I bet he was mad,' Lori added. 'Our locators would tell him nothing, even when he found them smashed on the floor next to Dyne. Imagine, the klaxons going off in our rooms with no-one there to turn them off! He'd go stamping round there to see what was going on. First, he'd find my room empty and when he got to your room he'd find Dyne tied up with no idea where we'd gone.'

'Then the computer would pick up the signal from the failing power pack on the hovercycle I sent out into the desert. So he'd go tearing off after that.'

'But wouldn't he think it odd if there were no foot prints round it?'

'Not by the time they actually got to it, Lori. The wind would have obliterated any foot prints. If the hovercycle had run into a storm it could even have been under several tons of sand when he located it. If you remember, it was all covered over when we found it originally.'

'Yes, that was a pretty crafty move of yours. He'd be left having to suppose we'd had some crazy idea of escape, headed off into nowhere, the power pack eventually failed and we'd simply walked off into the desert to be lost without trace.'

'Exactly.'

'He could be cloning us off again right now, though. Don't forget, he'll still have the back-ups of us both,' suggested Lori, looking pensive for a change.

'True. He might and that would be unfortunate if we ever get out of this.'

'I don't know. He wasn't stupid. I think the whole thing would have puzzled him quite a lot. We were so careful not to leave any evidence of what we'd been up to.'

'Yes, I made sure that not even the use we'd made of the flight sim ended up in the computer's permanent log. The times we went into the storage rooms for food supplies, I made sure I deleted from the log, too, so even with a thorough systems check he'd have nothing to find.'

'Do you think he'll delay doing anything until he's figured it out?'

'I hope so.'
Chapter 50: Promotion?

'I don't care at all that they've gone. It's like getting promoted,' Goster cackled.

'What do you mean?' Symch asked, as the pair of them lounged idly around on crates outside the main door.

'I mean it feels like we're more important.'

'But when those two arrived you said it was like getting promoted. We're bottom of the heap again, now.'

'Yeah, but it's like getting promoted again because Vill's got to be careful. He's got to rely on us again, more's the pity on him!' They both laughed unpleasantly.

'I hadn't thought of that. Mind you, we haven't got anyone we can play tricks on any more.'

'We had some fun with 'em, didn't we! Remember that time you swapped their wristcoms over and Lump had to do double shift?'

'Then you put Similie's on a hover-cycle and kept moving it by remote, so she couldn't find it. Vill couldn't contact her and thought she was the one messing about.' They both laughed hard at that one.

'I still can't believe how they managed to cut the insides out of that heat exchanger tower that time when Vill sent us out to show them how it was done.'

'Right. They nearly showed us how it was done.'

'Yeah, except we weren't watching!'

'How do you reckon they did it? They had those chips in their necks, so they hardly had any sense.'

'I know and they were swinging around on ropes with laser cutters. It's a wonder they didn't cut their own harnesses off.'

'Or each other.'

'Yeah. I wouldn't have gone in there with you on ropes.'

'What? You're the dangerous one.'

'Me? You're the one who jumped in the power core that time and had to be completely rebuilt.'

'Yeah, well. That was different.'

'How was that different?'

'Dunno. Can't remember, I had to be rebuilt, didn't I?' Goster grinned.

'You really make me laugh sometimes.'

'What about that thing with Lump's arm?'

'Yeah, that was funny, especially when he whacked you with it.'

'Oh, thanks for reminding me! In fact, apart from a few laughs, those two were a pain from the beginning.'

'Right, we're better off without them.'

'You think Vill'll get Dyne to set them up again?'

'Dunno. Probably. He had a bit of a thing going with that Similie, didn't he?'

'Yeah, in his own, twisted way. It almost made you feel sorry for her.'

'Almost. Whoever she was.' He paused for a moment, searching his mind for any sort of emotional response.

'Do we care?'

'Nah.'

'They took the heat off us a bit, though.'

'We didn't get in as much trouble with them around, did we?'

'Nah, we didn't.'

For several minutes there was only the sound of the wind, while Symch and Goster tried to make up their minds whether or not they were better off without having Lump and Similie around.

'Symch, Goster?' Vill's voice suddenly bellowed out of the PA above the main door, making them jump half off the crates. 'Where are you?'

'Out front,' replied Symch, sulkily.

'And what are you doing?'

'Nothing much.'

'What a surprise!'

'Come off it, Vill. You told everyone to take a break.'

'Yes but not a two hour one! Get yourselves down to the canteen. I'm having a meeting.'

'When?'

'Now, you bone-brains!'

'See what I mean,' grumbled Goster, elbowing Symch in the side as they lumbered through the main door.

'Don't start on me,' snapped Symch, shoving back.

'Think positive. You said we're better off without them, remember.'

'All right. Maybe there'll be more grub.'

'That's more like it.'

'Yeah. There should at least be a brew on if Vill's having a meeting.'

Vill, Xlok, Gran and Dyne were hunched around a table in the canteen. There was a sombre, depressed air about them. Goster and Symch strolled in and took seats at the same table. They lolled back in their chairs, all but putting their feet up.

'Any chance of a brew, Vill?' leered Symch.

'The machine's unlocked, get it yourself,' Vill replied in a resigned voice. 'Anyway, what are you two looking so pleased about?'

'Well, Vill, it's all back to normal now, isn't it? With those two gone, I mean.' Goster replied, nodding thanks at Symch in acknowledgement of the steaming mug he was handed.

'You don't get it, do you?' Gran snapped at them.

'What do you mean?' asked Symch, his face falling, not used to Gran using such a gruff tone.

'She means, know-it-all, know nothing dimwits, that we can't be certain they didn't mess up the systems before they vanished.' Suddenly furious, Vill looked as though he'd like to knock one of them off his chair, or better still, both of them.

'Take it easy, Vill.' Xlok tried to calm the situation.

'Yeah, take it easy. They went off half-baked on that cycle, the storm hit 'em and they're dead,' Symch added cockily.

'OK, Symch. You found the bodies, did you?'

'Er, no.'

'You've spent the last five hours helping Xlok and Gran pick over the computer log to see if they did anything else, like set the main power core to blow, have you?'

'No.'

'So shut it, until we get some more facts.' Vill's tone had a finality about it.

'Alright, but they were chipped weren't they?' Goster spoke, despite the warning.

'They weren't the same as us though, were they? Maybe they didn't respond as we expected to the chips I put in them,' Dyne suggested.

'If they'd been properly chipped they'd still be here like Goster when you had him done,' grunted Vill.

'We don't know that for sure,' Dyne added lamely, her voice tense.

'That's the problem, we don't know anything about this for sure.' Vill was clearly getting more exasperated. He sat down and took a deep breath, while still managing to glare at each of the others.

'The more I think about all this, the more suspicious it looks. Xlok, Gran, what have you got from the systems check?'

'Well, there's no immediate sign of sabotage,' replied Gran.

'Not that we've found,' added Xlok.

'That doesn't sound very convincing,' Vill snarled across the table.

'All the readings are within the usual limits. If they'd set something to blow, surely it would have gone up by now?'

'I'm supposed to find that reassuring, am I? Did either of you find anything from the cameras?'

'You mean the automated ones we use for safety surveillance?'

'Do we have any others?' Vill asked sarcastically.

'No. Right. Sorry,' Gran said. 'I'll check.'

'We need to split up and be completely thorough,' Vill said emphatically. Everyone nodded. 'Symch, Goster, strip down the hovercycle and Dyne, you scan every piece of it for any trace of Lump and Similie. If they were in it, on it or near it when the storm hit, there still might be some trace of them. Check everything.

'Xlok, check the computer files again,' Vill continued. 'Gran, I'll help you go over the camera recordings for every part of the mine we've got a record of. Between the two of us, we must see something. I want us all down here again in a couple of hours.'

No one moved, until Vill jumped to his feet. 'Right, go. Come on, move it,' he growled menacingly.

**

Two hours later they all met back in the canteen. 'So, what have we got? Symch, Goster. The hovercycle?'

'No trace of any DNA. We took it apart and Dyne scanned it.'

'The whole thing had been sand-blasted clean by the twister.' Dyne said. 'I couldn't find any organic material on a single component.'

'One odd thing, though, was that the cover had been wrenched off the fuel pack compartment,' Symch offered.

'So?'

'Well, it looked like recent damage but I can't see how a storm or even a twister could have done that, it's normally clamped shut.'

'You mean maybe someone did it on purpose?'

'To make it more of a mystery, yeah. Something else to keep us running round in circles, perhaps.'

'Perhaps. So really, as far as actual, concrete facts go, it's nothing, nothing, nothing,' grumbled Vill. 'Gran will tell you about the cameras we looked at.'

'There isn't anything we can be certain about. The direction they went on the hovercycle probably meant they left the building by a side entrance. That's away from where the cameras are pointing at the mine.'

'Anything else?'

'I found a single frame where it looked as if there was a figure near the front of one of the freighters but it was partly obscured by an ore carrier. I couldn't be sure. I've got the computer enhancing the image but it takes time.'

'What have you got so far?'

Gran borrowed Xlok's tablet, touched a few buttons and held up the screen for all to see.

'Is that it? asked Dyne, pointing to a vaguely person shaped shadow.

'That's it at the moment.'

'Which freighter was it?'

'Let me see. I should be able to read the ident.' Xlok took her tablet back. 'Not the last one to leave. The one before that.'

'Great, we can't check that for stowaways. By this time it'll be in high orbit!' groaned Vill.

'Speaking of orbits, what about the cameras over at the Orbital Transit Site, the OTS. You know, where the freighters land from space and blast off again,' Symch suggested.

'Don't be stupid,' laughed Goster. That's half-way round the planet. How'd they get there, walk?'

'No, he's got a point.' Vill leapt from his seat, giving the rest of them a fright. He strode back and forth. 'If that hovercycle was a decoy, and I'm feeling more certain that it was, they could have taken another vehicle over to the OTS. I don't believe even those two purposely rode a hovercycle out into the desert to get themselves killed in a storm. For a start, they'd have known the power cell would run out before it got them anywhere.'

'So, how did they get away, then? Did anyone check all the vehicles? asked Goster.

'Yep, I did. None are missing,' Xlok confirmed.

'They could have jumped a freighter,' added Gran.

'But how'd they do that?' queried Goster. 'If they managed to get in the hold without getting crushed in the loading gear, they'd decompress as soon as it left atmosphere, 'cos it's not airtight. And the cabin at the front is code-locked, same as all the rooms here.'

'If they were able to think up rigging a hovercycle to decoy us out into the desert, they could have found a way into a freighter cabin,' Vill hissed. 'Xlok what have you got on the computer?'

'Practically nothing, still. However, over the last few weeks, there may have been some discontinuities in the computer log times. It's very difficult to tell. It's only microseconds out over a whole day. If there has been tampering, it's been very carefully covered up.'

'If they've interfered with the computer and then concealed what they did, they could have changed anything,' Vill sighed, sounding exhausted. 'Poisonous heavy metal compounds could have been diverted into the drinking water or the food. They could have programmed the mine machinery to take us out one or two at a time. Absolutely anything!'

Xlok's fingers were still fluttering over her portable screen, restlessly trying to find something she hadn't already checked. Suddenly she stopped. 'Um. Vill, I think you'd better see this.' Xlok spoke in a subdued voice, as she passed Vill her wireless tablet.

'I knew it!' Vill snarled between his teeth.

'What is it? What?' Gran cried.

White faced, Vill put the tablet down on the table almost too carefully, then jabbed his finger at the screen, making a large, 3D image spring out. It showed the landing field at the OTS. The ship they had all arrived on, their only safe and sure way off the planet, lay crumpled across the blast pad. The room went very, very quiet.
Chapter 51: Down Time

Suddenly, there was uproar. Gran, Xlok, Symch and Goster were shouting at each other across the table. Vill sank heavily onto his chair, his head in his hands. His body was shaking and twitching.

Dyne got up, pressed a medical dose pistol onto Vill's neck and immediately squeezed the trigger. He slumped fully onto the table, unconscious. The hubbub stopped as rapidly as it had started.

Xlok swung round, grabbing Dyne's wrist. 'What have you done?'

'It's a sedative, that's all. He was losing it. Couldn't you see? He's worn out. We all are. This has been going on for hours. All of you help me get him back to his bunk.

I'll take a stim that'll give me about enough juice to test the food and water for contaminants. I'll let you know the results, then we all get four hours sleep. Minimum. Doctor's orders!'

'But, what about the mine?' began Gran.

'No buts. Get Vill to his bunk. I'll check we're in no immediate danger. We need rest. The mine will have to look after itself for a while.'

Ten minutes later, Vill was flat out on his bunk, motionless except for the regular rise and fall of his chest; Symch and Goster were showering; and Dyne was testing food and water samples. Xlok and Gran were peering over her shoulder, unable to bear the suspense.

Twenty minutes later, Dyne's voice sounded over the PA system. 'We're clear. There's no contamination. Now get some sleep. I've set the alarm for four hours, so don't panic when it goes off. We'll meet back in the canteen, where I'll re-test everything before we eat.'

Four hours later, they were back in the canteen, all except Vill. Dyne used a portable analyser on all the foodstuffs and showed the others the results. 'I can hardly believe it but it's still all clear,' she said, quietly. 'Let's eat.'

A tray in her hand, Xlok stopped halfway between the food dispenser and the table. 'Dyne, where's Vill?'

'I gave him another shot. Sedative and this time with nutrients.'

'You did what?'

'Listen, you know as well as I do what he's like. Once he's rested, he'll go off like a rocket, rampaging about, taking it out on the rest of us.'

'So what do you suggest?' asked Gran.

'Has there been any movement at the OTS, Xlok?'

Xlok's fingers were busy on her tablet for a few moments. 'Only one freighter coming in. It's not time yet for the next one to be taking off.'

'I think we should go over there and see for ourselves.'

'See what?' asked Goster without enthusiasm.

'I don't know. See if Lump and Similie are there, I suppose. See what's happened to the space cruiser.'

'I think you did the right thing with Vill, for now,' Gran said. 'Let's all sit quietly, eat and think carefully about what to do next.'

'This is a new way of doing things,' mumbled Goster.

Symch winked surreptitiously and nodded. The others didn't notice.

'I think we should stay put,' Symch grunted as he picked at the last few crumbs on his platter.

'Same here,' agreed Goster. 'It's a wonder the mine hasn't destroyed itself by now.'

'That would be because when I was checking the computer, I put in extra safeguards to make sure it didn't. Output will be down fifteen percent but it'll be a lot safer,' said Xlok in a superior voice. 'I'm easy, by the way. I don't mind if we decide to stay but if the vote is to go to the OTS, I'll go. What about you, Dyne?'

'I'm sticking with my original idea. I think we should go and check it out. Gran?'

'That's one option. I think it needs more discussion. I've been looking at the cameras over there. Since we found the cruiser wrecked, there's been no change and no sightings of either Lump or Similie.'

'OK,' agreed Xlok, 'so let's list the possiblilties:

'Number one, they went out and were killed in the storm and the wrecked cruiser is a coincidence. That's not very likely, as we've checked the hovercycle over and there's no trace of them, as well as the suspicious missing battery cover;

'Number two, they used the hovercycle as a decoy;

'Number three, they got in the back end of a freighter and ended up dead in the interplanetary vacuum between ten and twenty hours ago. We have no way to check this and we won't find out until the automated bio detector alarm goes off when the cargo hold is opened. That won't be until it's made planet-fall and docked at the conversion plant in several weeks' time;

'Number four, they managed to get into a freighter cabin, flew it round to the OTS, then steered the freighter into the cruiser and knocked it down. Not so likely because they'd almost certainly have damaged the freighter badly enough so as to crash immediately, or pretty soon after. There's no sign of either;

'Number five, they managed to get into the cruiser and tried to take off in it but found it didn't work like any of the machinery around the mine and crashed it.'

'Yeah, I like that one. That's the best. I'd have done that, then no-one could catch me.' Goster got quite excited until he saw the flaw in his explanation. 'But of course I wouldn't have crashed it.'

'Look, we're trying to make a plan here, Goster,' Xlok glared. 'By looking for an explanation that fits what we know, which isn't much I admit. Then we can decide what to do next. So we're not interested in which explanation you think is the most exciting! Not to mention the fact that you certainly would have crashed the cruiser as a result of having no more idea how to fly it than Lump or Similie.'

'All right, all right. I get it. So what's number six, then?'

'Um. Number six is either they're still here somewhere, hiding around the mine or at the Old Site, or they're keeping out of view of the cameras at the OTS. There're quite a few large buildings over there where they could stay under cover.'

'So, it's a game of hide and seek,' sighed Dyne.

'It looks like we're going to have to check everywhere, I suppose,' added Xlok, 'so we can eliminate some of these possibilities.'

'How about if we split up?' asked Goster, smiling slyly. 'Symch and I could go check out the Old Site buildings. Then you three divide up the mine and the OTS between you.'

'I'll check these buildings then and keep my eye on the computer for anything going amiss. I'm going to take a heat-seeker and check every single room and cupboard, if no-one else minds.'

'OK, Xlok, I agree. Dyne and I'll go over to the OTS, then between us we'll have covered everywhere,' added Gran.

'What about weapons?' suggested Symch.

'Weapons? We don't need weapons. Where'd you get that idea from?' Dyne asked.

'Dunno. These bodies, brains, they're kind of primitive, compared to what we grew up with, aren't they?'

'Yes, well resist it. We don't need weapons because we're going to be in contact every ten minutes.'

'Ten minutes?' grumbled Goster.

'Yes. Set your timers now. If we check in every ten minutes, or sooner if we find something, we'll know none of us has run into trouble.'

'Good idea, my timer's set,' Gran confirmed.

'What're we going to do about Vill? He'll be awake in half an hour,' Dyne suggested. 'I'm for keeping him dosed up until we know more.'

'Yeah, we're doing just great without him,' Goster agreed.

'I'm with you on that one,' Symch jumped in.

'For once,' Gran began, 'I think you're right. We've made a plan. Let's see what comes up. Then we can get Vill involved again after that. What do you say, Xlok?'

'OK, I'll go along with it for now. I can keep an eye on him as well, as I'll be based here. He's going to be mad enough we've kept him out of it this long anyway, so it shouldn't make much difference if he's sedated for longer. If we solve this, he might even be pleased he didn't have to do it himself.'

'Pleased? That'll be the day!' laughed Goster as he and Symch got to their feet. 'What a plan!' he exclaimed in an unaccustomed of burst of enthusiasm. 'Let's do it. Come on Symch, get your outside gear on and let's get going.'

'Take a heat seeker with you but don't forget to reset the temperature range. You'll need to be scanning for body temperature, not over-heated metal work,' Xlok called after them. 'And check absolutely everywhere.'

'Yeah, yeah, we know what we're doing, don't we Symch? Ha, Ha, imagine Vill being pleased about anything!' Goster laughed all the way down the corridor.

'I don't trust that pair to do a decent job any more than Vill does,' Gran muttered to the other women.

'Neither do I,' added Xlok 'but if Lump or Similie are over there, Symch and Goster are the sort of perfect chumps who'd blunder into them whether they were trying to or not.'
Chapter 52: Searches

Dyne and Gran had plenty of time to talk on the journey from the mine to the OTS. The shuttle vehicle would take over four hours across the planet surface.

'Dyne, now we're all alone together here, I want to ask you a question.'

'Go ahead.'

'I think you know more than you've told so far about this escape, or whatever it is.'

'Gran, aren't you even a bit afraid of Vill?'

'Not really. He knows I'm too valuable to him to try anything with me. Plus he knows I'll knock him down if he does.'

'How does he know that?'

'Because once I did it.'

'What happened?'

'He got a bit too full of himself, we disagreed over something so the big bully he is, he hit me.'

'No, I don't believe it. I've never seen him even look like he might.'

'Not any more. Because I fixed him.' Gran gave Dyne a tight smile.

'Tell me. How?'

'Well, five minutes after he jabbed me, I was waiting for him around the next corner. Bang. I whacked him with a length of pipe.'

'Then what?'

'While he was sprawled out on the floor, I waved my pipe in his face and told him if he ever tried it on with me again, he'd find me waiting for him.'

'Impressive!'

'Thanks. After that, he kept clear of Xlok, too. What about you, though, Dyne? Didn't you have something going on between you before Similie arrived?'

'Up to a point. Vill did help me to begin with. Brought me here to get away from my psychotic husband. But of course it was all to his advantage. He needed a biotechnician medic here and in his mind I was going to be it.'

'He does like to use people if he can, doesn't he?'

'Yes and he's rough with it. However, I found a different way to deal with him.'

'Now I'm intrigued. What did you do?'

'I used a lubricant with a special ingredient. I put a depressant mood changer in it,' Dyne laughed.

'You cheeky girl! So, he absorbed it straight through the skin of his..?' Gran shrieked.

'Exactly. And he hadn't a clue why he kept going off the idea.'

'But didn't it affect you, as well?'

'No because I engineered it to bind to his neural receptors, not mine.' Dyne giggled.

'Hmm.' Gran became thoughtful.

'What is it?'

'I was thinking it was a pity you couldn't have done something for Similie. There was a lot I liked about her.'

'Yes, me too. Which is why I engineered her body to produce a similar compound in her sweat glands. It should have been enough to take the edge off his appetite and wear him down a bit. I don't think it was as effective as my method but it must have helped.'

'You are one tricksy biologist, Dyne!'

'I know,' Dyne smiled briefly. 'I'm wasted here,' she added, suddenly serious again.

'We all are, dear. We all are.' Gran patted Dyne's arm.

'How much further is it?'

Dyne tapped the readout. 'A couple of hundred kilometres.'

'So there's time for you to answer my earlier question, then.'

'Which one?'

'The one about how I've a feeling you're not telling us something about this escape business.'

'OK. It's really nothing much.'

'Well?'

'There was no way I was going to admit this to Vill but I noticed it immediately when I interrupted Lump and Similie packing up to leave.'

'What was it?'

'When they tied me up, neither of their chips was working. I happened to have a chip controller with me, so I tried to zap them with it. I tell you, it was a real shock when it had no effect at all. They were fully conscious, although I can't even guess how they did it.'

'So that's why you made the suggestions about going over to the OTS. Once you found it was very unlikely they'd been on the hovercycle, you realised they probably had a proper escape plan.'

'And as soon as I saw that awful image of our cruiser, ruined, I wanted to see if they'd got away completely.'

'And see if you could get away, as well?'

'You're a pretty shrewd one, aren't you, Gran.'

'Then don't you see that the same thought crossed my mind?'

'Do you really think there's any hope of getting off this dust ball?

'We'll have to wait 'til this machine makes it across another couple of hundred kilometres. That's more than time enough for my third question, Dyne. Did Vill say anything about rebuilding Lump or Similie?'

'He asked me if I had clones of either of them ready to go in the vats.'

'Same as you have one for each of the rest of us.'

'That's it. Of course I do. I can only think the reason he asked was by way of sounding me out about whether or not I thought we should go ahead right away.'

'But he didn't take it any further than that?'

'No, we've been caught up in trying to find out what happened. Until I hit him with the sedative.'

'What is your opinion, then?'

'It was on the tip of my tongue to ask you that.'

'Well I got to it first.'

'OK, then. This is how I see it: I'd try and hold off as long as possible. I think they probably have got away, somehow. Quite where or how we don't know yet. Assuming they have, I think we should let them go. They deserve it. Rebuilding them will horribly complicate everything.'

'I agree,' said Gran 'It gives me the creeps to imagine there might be another one of me living a different life somewhere else.'

'That's right. This mining scheme is falling apart. I've been here too long and I want to be out of it. Maybe Lump and Similie have shown us there is an alternative. I'd rather poison the vats than let him start them off again.'

'That sounds rather extreme.'

'Listen, Gran, all this has made me see everything in sharp focus. I don't want to go on with this anymore.'

'So it was a pretty clever move of yours to sedate Vill, wasn't it?'

'Physically, he was ready to collapse anyway, so I was definitely doing him a favour the first time.'

'And the next time?'

'After that, yes, there was a large degree of self interest in keeping him out of the way.'

'Very nicely put, Dyne.'
Chapter 53: Secrets of Old Site

'Good thing we remembered provisions,' Symch chortled, spitting crumbs.

'I remembered, you mean,' replied Goster, as their wristcoms beeped. 'Time to call in again.'

'It's tough going but there's nothing to report, for the sixth time.'

'Thanks, keep going and be thorough.'

'We will. Out.' Goster and Symch rolled around in the entrance to the old buildings, laughing.

After filling their faces, they began moving away from the entrance towards the main corridor.

'I'd pretty much forgotten all about this place.'

'Yeah, most of the time you do forget a lot, Symch.'

'Don't start. I mean we even copied the layout. You'd think Vill might have wanted a bit of a change when he designed New Site.'

'Why change what works? Hey what's this?' Goster pointed to where the corridor led off, a few metres from the silted up entrance.

'Better call it in.' Symch pressed the call button on his wristcom as the two of them moved cautiously deeper into the complex. 'Hey, Xlok, we found something.'

'OK Symch, what is it?'

'Now we've got past the entrance, there's loads of foot prints and like stuff's been dragged through the dust.'

'You've only now made it past the entrance?'

'Oh, yeah. We, er, we're inside now but we had some trouble getting in. There's a lot of sand around here you know.'

'There's a lot of sand everywhere on this planet, Symch. I know perfectly well you've been taking it easy since you arrived. Goster, am I going to get any more sense out of you?'

'Like Symch says, there're tracks right along the main corridor. We're a good fifty metres in now. Wait. Yes, there's been a lot of activity in the old comms room and even more in the repair shop.'

'What do you mean by 'activity', precisely?'

'Dust cleared off consoles and stuff laid out neatly on the work benches. Looks like they've been fabricating.'

'Right, what sort of stuff and what sort of fabrication?'

'Er, your sort of thing, mainly. Circuits, modules, electronic and computer stuff. Looks like they've made good use of the spares crate we left here.'

'It's definitely not how we left it when we moved out,' added Symch, trying to make himself sound useful.

'Thanks for that vital tip, Symch. So, at last we're getting somewhere. As none of us has been over there, we have to assume it's Lump and Similie.'

'Yeah, someone's been right through looking for tools. There's a neat pile of completely useless ones as if they'd been discarded when they took half-way decent stuff. And apart from really smashed up equipment, it looks like they've scavenged parts and been repairing test units.'

'What was that noise, Goster?' Symch felt panicky, alarmed by a thud that sounded through the corridors.

'Dunno, let's get back to the main entrance.'

'What's going on, you two?' Xlok's voice crackled from their writstcoms.

'There was this big bang. We ran back to the main door,' replied Goster, looking around wildly. 'Symch, go down that side tunnel.'

'What? I'm not going down there on my own. Anyway, there're no tracks down there.'

'OK, Xlok,' said Goster. 'I think it must have been the wind. The door doesn't lock properly any more. Since we cleared the sand away there's nothing to stop it banging shut.'

'Symch get out there and look around.' Goster was still talking into his wristcom.

'No way, it's...'

'Both of you go and look,' Xlok commanded.

'OK. OK, we're looking.' Symch and Goster edged out of the main entrance, back to back, glancing quickly from side to side. By the time they reached the transporter, it was clear they were alone.

'No, there's no-one else been here since we arrived. Our tracks are plainly visible and there aren't any others out here. The vehicle hasn't been touched.'

'Right. Now calm down, go back inside and check properly that there's no-one hiding out over there.'

'Do we have to?' Symch whined.

'Listen, you lazy good-for-nothings. I'm on my own here but I've made a thorough search of every room by myself. Surely you two big boys aren't scared of looking round that old place together, are you?'

'Course not,' Goster replied gruffly, thumping Symch on the shoulder. 'We'll get right on it. Symch is going to wedge the door right now.'

'As you should have in the first place. I want a report at least every ten minutes.'

'You'll get it.'

Having called Xlok five more times with negative results, Symch and Goster were back at the transport, their feet up on the benches, taking another break.

'OK, Xlok, we'll be setting off soon. I don't know how long it'll take, though, the weather might blow in on the way back.' Symch grinned at Goster.

'According to your locators, you've been sitting in the truck for the last twelve minutes and I can see exactly what the weather's doing on my computer screen. It's fine all the way, so you will have no problems at all, understand?'

Goster rolled his eyes and started up the engine.

Xlok put out a general call, even before Symch and Goster got back.

'OK everyone, I've got an update. Lump and Similie are not at Old Site. However, Symch and Goster found they have spent time over there gathering tools, doing repairs to damaged test gear and probably fabricating things but we don't know what. If I'd been in their position and fully conscious, the first thing I'd have made would have been a de-coding device for all the locked doors over here.

'Back at base, here I've made a very thorough search and Vill and myself are the only two living things present at this time. On the computer side, I've finished comparing the current computer files with the backup files. Lots of changes. Whoever thought they'd covered their tracks didn't realise I kept a separate set of backups.

'Fortunately for all of us, they don't appear to have changed anything that can harm us. So no sabotage, apart from setting the cameras to only take one frame every ten minutes. But they have hacked into my systems and made the food and water units overproduce. That means they've got supplies of both to keep them going for several weeks by my calculation.

'Another interesting thing: Gran's single frame from the camera on the freighter pad is now fully enhanced and it is definitely Lump. I've checked the time stamp on the file and it's minutes before one of the freighters took off. They definitely had a decoder to have got access to my computer system and the food and water units, so it would be a very quick job to open a freighter cabin.

'All added together, including our wrecked cruiser over at the OTS, my guess is they're on a freighter way out in space by now. Given the full range of electronics they've had access to, they're probably comfortably set up in the front cabin with a nice stack of fresh supplies, rather than dead in the hold.

'Gran and Dyne, I expect you'll be able to report on what you find at the OTS shortly.'

'We will,' Gran replied.

'What an excellent summary!' Vill's voice boomed over the PA and comms system, taking all of them by surprise. 'You have been busy while I've been 'asleep'.' His voice was full of sarcasm. 'I expect I've got Dyne to thank for that, have I?'

'Actually, Vill, you were in very poor shape and it was a group decision to give you another shot. We calmly made a plan and we've logically gone through all the possibilities.'

'So I see. I'm sure we'll talk more about this later,' he added menacingly.

'OK, so here's the new plan: as soon as Symch and Goster get back from the old site, I want them helping Xlok manage the mine. Keep production as high as possible. Unfortunately it can't be as good as previously, with being two operators down. I'm catching the next freighter out to the OTS.'

'A freighter?' Goster's voice sounded over the system.

'Why not? The front cabin's fail safe won't let a freighter fly without functioning life support, so I'll be in no danger. By taking a freighter I'll be able to join Gran and Dyne in less than an hour.

'What then?' asked Symch.

'If I find either Lump or Similie over there, they'll regret it, I can assure you. This whole business has wasted my time and effort, production is down and as you know, Symch, I don't like being messed around.'

'Oh, OK. And if you don't catch up with them?'

'Then, it'll be back to the usual programme, until I come up with the next plan,' he growled angrily, before snapping off the comm and striding out towards the freighter platform.

Chapter 54: New Clones?

'I don't like the idea of Vill cloning us off again,' I said to Lori a few days after our earlier conversation.

'I thought something was worrying you, Ben. Why're you dwelling on that?'

'Well probably we did such a good job of disappearing and leaving a false trail, that Vill would assume something had gone wrong with either the implants or the beacon, we'd tried to get away but ended up dying in the desert. If he had a bad time with accidents at the mine and needed more personnel, he might write us off as an unfortunate mistake. Dyne would then run off a couple of replacements from the vats, so there'd be two more of us down there. If we ever get rescued, what will happen to them? They'll be us too.'

'I see what you mean. Normally we'd go to great lengths to ensure that didn't happen but Vill's hardly going to follow those sort of rules, otherwise we'd never have been at the mine in the first place.'

'There wasn't much alternative, though, to the way we left, was there? If we'd written a note saying "stowed away on a freighter, see you in hell." he'd have tried something, I'm sure of it. For all we know, these freighters may have an auto-destruct he could activate.'

'Ben, I think you've been watching too much science fiction! I've checked for an auto-destruct system and there isn't one. And maybe he won't copy us off. Perhaps he will write the project off as a failure.'

'That sounds too easy. As you say, if he gets shorthanded...'

'Well if we'd thought of it before we left, we could have poisoned the clone vats but we didn't. So, there's nothing we can do about it now. If you go on like this you'll have us both down with a serious attack of cabin fever. The last thing we want is to end up ga-ga before we've even made it out of this star system,' she laughed trying to shake me back to my senses.

'You've got it in one. We could be stuck in here for months. We need to develop a routine and stick to it. If we don't discipline our thoughts, like you say we'll be gaga before bedtime.' I purposely put the matter out of my mind as we set about making up a daily round of tasks and rotas to structure our time.

The only other possibility was that he might have contacted associates we could only assume he must have on the third planet. If we did land there, we would be caught for sure and the fate which awaited us in that eventuality, neither of us wished to contemplate. All our hopes were on the re-programming of the ship's computer and the trajectory which would take us out of harm's way.

To avoid falling into the trap of going round in circles over thoughts like this, we determined to set an alarm to wake us. Easily done: program the computer to gently whistle us awake no more than eight hours after we tripped the sleep time. Next we set about a program of research.

Lori took the task of making what she could of the constellations around us, trying to find a comparison with any we were familiar with. I spent time pouring over the electronics modules, testing which did what and how well, with the aim of putting together a micro transfer device which would record our mind patterns until we were found.

I was careful to focus on the job, while avoiding considering the reason for it; if we succeeded in escaping this star system but couldn't find our way home, we'd set the computer to put out a distress message, go into search mode for friendly signals, then lie back on the couches and let the micro transfer equipment store our mind patterns, until the ship finally made it into known space. It wasn't the solution of choice, but if we couldn't find our way home, that would be the only alternative.

Our routine worked well, we supported each other in maintaining self-discipline and keeping to our regimen. Lori found stars she thought fitted a pattern but it was difficult to be sure yet. To try to help her, I went over the constellations I could remember, drawing them out on the computer screen from memory, while Lori tried them against what she could see.

I was three quarters to having a working micro transfer system, when one of the atmosphere generators failed. Its built-in alarm began to sound and I disabled it immediately, studying the dials on its output gas analyser. They were all over the place. I turned to the spare unit. We should have plenty of time. The air in the cabin would last us two to three hours, not that we'd need it. That was the whole point of having a spare unit. I snapped over the power switch on the spare and found to my dismay that it was completely dead. Flicking it back and forth several times had no effect either.

Lori was not going to be pleased. Technical stuff was supposed to be my job. Why hadn't part of my daily routine been to check the most vital pieces of equipment? With a sinking feeling, I recognised how far I had slipped into Vill's 'Don't fix 'til it's bust.' mentality.

Using the first law of repairs, I slapped it a few times on the side with my hand and tried the switch again. Still dead. Second law of repairs, give it a good talking to. I swore at it vehemently, several times, still no joy. And the next thing I knew, Lori was behind me wanting to know what was going on.

'Don't tell me that one's not working as well?' said Lori, peering over my shoulder. Sheepishly, I had to admit that it wasn't.

'Well don't sit there cursing at it and playing with the switch, get one of them going. How much air have we got in here?'

'Not a great amount.'

'By how much?'

'About two to three hours.'

'What?' she shrieked in my ear. It didn't really help.

'Look, Lori, you've got some idea of how these things work. Plug the first one into the computer and run a diagnostic check. See if it's thrown only a small cog and we can get away with recalibrating it.'

'Why didn't you check these before? We're staring death in the face and you don't appear to be the least bit concerned.'

'Oh, I'm sure we'll get one of them working.'

'Well I'm very pleased to hear it,' she replied, quite clearly unconvinced.

'Lori, we have to stay calm to conserve the oxygen.' I was glad of an excuse to end the nagging.
Chapter 55: Blackout

For the next forty minutes we worked in silence, an increasingly tense, strained and rather angry silence. I was a fool not to have tested each unit daily and kept them maintained. All the time I had left it in the back of my mind that we had two and if one failed the other would work. How wrong I turned out to be.

'Got it,' sighed Lori at last, speaking in a low, controlled tone.

'What's the score?'

'In sporting terms, about twenty-six nil.'

'As good as that?'

'The problem is that one of the control modules has fallen way out of spec. The rest of the unit compensated for as long as it could but eventually it drifted so far out...'

'It couldn't cope any longer,' I interrupted. 'OK, I've got a spare control module, how long will it take to recalibrate the unit?'

'The computer says around three hours on fast mode.'

'Oh.'

'Yes, Oh! How long's yours going to take?'

'I've no idea. It's still completely dead. Each time I try the overload trip, it kicks straight back out, so I'm having to test it cold, which is, er, rather slow.'

'So we're dead then, we've got about an hour's oxygen left until we black out and that's not even time to download into the micro transfer unit. I assume you have got that working?'

'Um.'

'You crazy clot. You've been playing around with that for weeks. All the basic systems we need don't work and we're going to end up two corpses on a tin can full of fuel going nowhere.' Lori was angry, frightened and getting short of breath.

I went over to try to console her but she pushed me back. 'Get away from me, you moron. It's all your fault.'

'Not entirely. You could have thought of checking the atmospheric processors, too.'

'The technical stuff was supposed to be your responsibility.'

'All right. All right. I'm sorry. We need to think carefully.' An idea was scratching away at the back of my mind. 'What did you say just now?'

'That you're a complete idiot, that you're a bumbling, bone-brained buffoon and it's your fault we're going to die. I think that's pretty much it!' she added shakily.

'No, about the ship.' I retorted impatiently, waving her into silence. 'That's it! You said it was a tin can full of fuel.'

'Yes, so?'

'A part of the fuel's oxygen though, isn't it.'

'Which bit?'

'I'm thinking about the oxygen tanks for the positioning jets.'

'Where the hell are those mounted?'

'Well, get on that computer and call up the plans, so we can find out.'

She was already there and a few seconds later, streamers of schematics for different ships' systems were flowing across the screen in quick succession. Lori was getting good at this.

'Excellent. Try entering the symbol for oxygen.'

'And you happen to know which one that is?'

'Yes, er no. Isn't it the one, um.'

'I'm waiting!'

'A blue circle with a white spot in the middle.'

'No such thing.'

'A white circle with a blue spot then.'

'Yep.' The screen changed rapidly and all the oxygen systems showed up highlighted against the rest. 'I never thought of the hold, that's going to have breathable air in it, too.'

'If it doesn't leak. There's no particular reason for whoever maintains these things to make sure the hold's completely air-tight, is there?'

'No. Well, never mind that, we can't get in there anyway. Look at the front end. There must be attitude jets at the front here, we need to find where the piping is from the main supply tank.' Again the stream of diagrams floated rapidly over the screen, then slowed and stopped at a cross-section of the cabin. There was a single forward-facing jet and the piping ran directly under the floor. I looked down. The floor was covered with access plates and grilles.

'We have to know which plate to take up. I need the one immediately above the control valve to the forward rocket motor.' While Lori was coordinating the images, I grabbed a piece of flexible hose from amongst the innards of the non-functioning spare unit, and a handful of tools.

'Coming up. OK. It's number sixteen, centre, zero point seven-five metres from the bulkhead.'

'Got it.'

How many retaining screws did it have? Six. How many came undone easily? Five. The last one would not move, not even half a turn. Was I surprised? No. Time was ticking away, we were both finding it hard to catch our breath and the last screw wouldn't budge. Typical!

'Come on, Ben, what are you messing about at?' asked Lori from her couch.

'I can't get the last screw off.'

'Well, rip the plate up.'

'I haven't the strength on my own,' I gasped. Lori crawled down from the flight couch and crept over to where I was bent over the access grille. The lack of oxygen was weakening us already. Together we heaved at it, trying to lift it clear of the recess, then rotate it around the screw in the corner which wouldn't turn. The metal was harder than we thought. I had a large screw-driver under the far edge, trying to get leverage, but it didn't lift far enough when we tried to turn it. We were both gasping for breath now and my heart was rattling away furiously in my chest. Lori looked no better off.

'I'll pull on it again. You get that screw-driver further round,' she suggested. When Lori lifted, the gap increased enough to move the screw-driver in tighter. I pressed down on it and the metal plate buckled slightly. Taking another screw-driver, I pushed it into the widening gap. Every muscle ached and I was fighting for breath.

Suddenly the plate shifted a millimetre. Lori gave all her weight to the opposite edge. Then with a crack and a groan, it swung round without warning. I fell back heavily against the underside of the flight couch. A sudden rush of sparks, then blackness.
Chapter 56: Fixed

'Come on. Ben? Wake up time.'

Everything was out of focus. What was happening? I saw ceiling lights and a face looming over me. It all seemed a long way away.

'Ben, can you hear me?'

I coughed and inhaled deeply. 'Where am I?'

'It's OK. I've got us some oxygen. You caught the back of your head on the base of the flight couch. With the lack of air, you've been out for about fifteen minutes.'

'Are you sure we're not dead? Am I bleeding?' I felt my head tenderly, to find it bandaged over a painfully swollen place near the back of my skull.

'Dead indeed! Pull yourself together, Ben. It was all your fault anyway.'

'Oh, don't start that again,' I whined, my head throbbing.

'And no, you're not bleeding any more. Not now that I've laser sutured you.'

'That must have taken most of my hair off!'

'Pretty much. It wasn't exactly style of the month, though, was it? But who cares, you're alive, aren't you?'

'Yes,' I said beginning to feel very confused. 'What? Er, how?'

'You mean how come we're not both lying here, toes up and lifeless?'

'Yeah, now you come to mention it.' The air had a slightly metallic taste, mixed with the smell of burnt hair but my head was starting to clear slowly. I could at least focus now. 'So how did you manage it?'

'You want to know how your sorceress of a lover managed to conjure us back from the dead?'

'I would be pretty interested if my wizard wench would get on with the story.' I almost managed a laugh.

'Less of the 'wench', buster. After you cracked your head when the access plate swung open, I managed to get the coupling off the control valve and shoved your flexible pipe over the end and crawled back to the computer console to bleed oxygen out through the valve.'

'How did you do that?'

'I put it in a permanent test cycle.'

'And that did the trick?'

'Nearly. It certainly perked me up a bit. But it was filthy stuff.'

'Industrial quality. I hadn't thought of that.'

'Right, so I got your flexible hose and shoved it onto the output stage of the faulty unit that's being recalibrated.'

'And it worked?'

'The output's within spec.'

'Brilliant. Well done.' I raised a smile.

'It was your piece of hose that gave me the clue. I thought to myself. 'He must have intended to do something with this.' Then I realised you were going to plug it into the half of the atmospheric processor that was working. So I did.'

'Actually, I hadn't got as far as thinking that all the way through. I thought we'd use the oxygen as it was.'

'So much for the precision engineer.'

'Well, sometimes you have to make it up as you go along.'

'Oh, give it a rest. You've had a bump on the head, remember.'

'No. I thought you knew by now that so-called inanimate objects can have a life of their own.'

'Pull the other one.'

'All right. So why was it that it was the last screw that wouldn't come off that access plate, rather than the first one, or all of them?'

'Don't ask me.'

'Because that's the way it always happens, ask anyone who does technical stuff.'

'I'll take your word for it. But we're not out of the woods yet.'

'What do you mean?'

'The computer can't calibrate the half faulty unit while it's processing oxygen from the fuel tank. The fuel tank won't last forever. Cabin pressure's going up steadily. Will that do for now?'

'Yes, that'll do fine for now. Have we got any painkillers?' I touched my bandaged scalp, gingerly.'

'Yep, here you go.'

'Thanks. I'll start on the spare air converter in a minute. How long have we got?'

'If we used the entire contents of the oxygen tanks, we'd have a few weeks, not counting the effects of cabin pressure, etcetera, etcetera, and the fact that we'd have no manoeuvring capability left to put us into slingshot.'

When the thumping in my head subsided, I checked and re-checked the spare unit, trying to find why I couldn't get it to start. It had to be something really obvious. Eventually, in a state of growing exasperation, I took the cover off the outside of the power converter, which also enclosed the power switch and the safety trip.

Immediately I saw the problem. There was a fried insect, its body lying directly across the power connections. The charred remains were capable of conducting enough current to pop the trip every time but not enough to show up as a dead short.

'Found it.'

'What was wrong?' asked Lori, peering closely. I poked at the insect with the point of a voltage probe. It crumbled to dust.

'Insect.'

'So, where did that come from?'

How come she always had the best questions? I didn't have an answer to that either.

'Lori?' I called, after I'd put all the covers back on.

'Do you want to do the honours?'

'Switch it on?'

'The sooner the better.' She clicked the main power switch over and to our relief the unit purred softly to life, giving out fresh, clean air. I checked the readings on the gas analyser. 'Perfect. Now we can disconnect the oxygen line and let the computer get on with recalibrating the other unit.'

Lori made adjustments to the computer, shutting off the valve to the forward thruster and disconnecting the hose from the first atmospheric processor, then setting the computer to recalibration. In case there was another emergency, we left the access panel to the forward thruster oxygen valve in place but not screwed down.

Rather than risk not waking up because one of the units had failed again, we took it in shifts. I took a nap first, being the one with the sore head. All went well. The second unit with the insect problem carried on working perfectly and the first unit recalibrated right on spec. From then on, I checked each one daily, to make sure we didn't have a recurrence of our earlier problem and instead of tinkering around with the micro transfer system, I worked solidly at it and had it up and running in a couple of days. My head took a little longer to mend.

We knew all along that the food and water would last only so long and we rationed it because the prospect of what to eat and drink when it ran out was not the most palatable. Every space-faring vessel had a processor for turning effluent into nourishment and drinking water. This freighter was no exception. The processor was an integral part of the hygiene closet of course.

Long before cloning had been possible, humans had known that human effluent could be reprocessed into edible matter. For a number of reasons, most people left it as a last resort. Thus it was with us. Unsurprisingly the resulting 'foodstuffs' was not particularly attractive. All you got was the equivalent of eighteenth century ship's biscuits. The product consisted of crumbly, almost odourless and tasteless crackers containing essential vitamins. The only bonus I could think of was the total lack of weevils.

Humans of course are hot-blooded, so quite a bit of their energy intake is used for maintaining body temperature. This heat was taken from the cabin and used to warm micro-vats of bacteria which, when processed and extracted, contributed to increasing the nutrient value of the biscuits. Once we started on them, we knew we'd have to continue indefinitely.

One day Lori spotted our next destination. The third planet became a fixed spec which grew steadily in size, until it glowed like a bright penny below us. As the moment finally came for our course change, we braced ourselves against the flight couches while the computer fired re-orientation thrusters to take us out of close approach and into sling-shot mode. After several hours of nervous observation, we were able to tell that the program was bringing the ship around to our new heading. Through the view ports we could see no untoward activity from the planet below.

'Hopefully, anyone who's spotted the course change will assume it's a navigation malfunction and if we disappear at the rate we've started, we'll be too far away before they notice and they'll write it off as a total loss. It can't be worth chasing a rogue freighter half way out of the system. And there's no way this one is going to be slowing down or be over-ridden by external control, now that we're in charge of the computer.'

'I'm keeping my fingers crossed but I'm not holding my breath,' replied Lori. I laughed out loud, the tension suddenly breaking.

Taking shifts to keep a watch on the controls we were relieved to find no-one tried to intercept us or change course by over-riding the computer in some way we hadn't anticipated. Two eight hour shifts later, we were past the planet and worn out with concentration. I suggested we take what we thought was a well-earned rest together. No more than two hours to recover. We got our heads down, hoping to see the planet diminishing in the rear view port by the time we awoke.

Suddenly we were shaken awake after what felt like only a few minutes, although a glance at the computer screen showed we had been asleep for an hour and forty minutes.

'What was that noise?'

'I don't know.' I rubbed my eyes and tried to get my brain into gear.

'Have we been hit? Micrometeorite? Space debris?'

'You're very good at asking questions,' Lori snapped. Quick thinking as ever, she was already surveying the tell-tales for any sign of malfunction or depressurisation. 'Everything looks normal. There are no leaks that I can see.'
Chapter 57: Intercepted

'I knew I should have stayed awake,' I said, grumpily, still trying to find a cause for what had felt like an impact on the freighter. I was hoping it wasn't something else which could turn out to be my fault.

'You were no more capable of doing that than I was,' Lori replied soothingly.

'Has there been a course change?'

'I don't think so. It's too early to tell.'

'How far have we got?'

'Ben, we've been moving out of standard landing trajectory for several hours now, gaining speed. We'll be able to push further with the fusion engine again soon. That should be in another twenty minutes.'

'Of course, just give me the word.'

More tense minutes passed tantalisingly slowly, memory of the ship's unexpected excursion fading. It was beginning to look like a retro had fired a short burst out of turn. Perhaps there'd been one I'd missed in the course reprogramming.

Alarmingly, the ship started shaking violently. This time it didn't stop, gradually getting worse.

'What's happening? Did you expect this?'

Trying desperately not to show her panic, Lori replied 'I don't know what's going on. I can see no reason for it.'

We switched over to the aft monitor, to make a visual check for a retro or the fusion motor cutting in unexpectedly. It was then that we saw the other ship. It must have sneaked up on the blind side, concealed until it was right up close.

I gasped with amazement, temporarily frozen to the spot. Making myself move by sheer force of will, I stumbled to the rear window, closely followed by Lori. To have been apprehended already was a disaster. The second ship was like nothing we could have imagined. We saw a sharply outlined oval of silver fog, with metallic patterns flowing across its surface. Without us realising it, a line had been attached to our ship and the shuddering and shaking we were experiencing was the effect of the second ship reducing our speed and changing its course.

'They must have stuck that line on us the first time the ship moved.'

'Can we break free?'

'It depends how strong the line is. I've never heard of anything like this before.'

'We can't simply do nothing, we're getting reeled in like a giant fish.'

'All right, well try the chemical thrusters, but gently.'

'I'll start them at minimum.'

Lori's hand flickered over the control screen and a few seconds later we felt a brief kick from the thrusters, accompanied by a hideous wrenching and tearing sound which echoed through the ship. I watched the other ship closely, the surface patterns flashed and fluttered wildly, then flickered back to an even flow.

Before I had fully formed the idea that maybe the thrusters were not such a good idea, a bubbling babble burst from the loud-speaker. Lori stared at me in horror.

Neither of us had ever heard a language like it. The sounds were totally baffling, they were unmistakably a form of communication and sounded as if spoken but they were utterly incomprehensible. How could the population of a planet so close to one where Interplan Standard was spoken be using a language so far removed from anything I'd ever heard before? I switched over to transmit, shouting about being kidnapped and escaping. None of it probably made any sense, especially as we had no reason to think that the recipients of the message would understand us anymore than we understood them. We were astonished when I switched back to receive and we were greeted with evenly spoken galactic standard in a deep, male voice, albeit spoken with a strangely guttural accent.

'Freighter XN7TZ, Freighter XN7TZ. Do you have crew on board? Reply please.'

I was too alarmed to think of a reply and Lori wasn't exactly rushing to answer.

'Freighter XN7TZ. Reply please. There is no need to be afraid. You are not being attacked. Reply please.' There was a purposely calming tone, not that it was having the least effect on me.

Lori came to her senses suddenly, jabbing her finger at the transmit button. 'What do you want? How did you know we were here? Who are you?' she blurted at the console. I stared at her wide-eyed. Now she was the one asking all the questions, but of course I didn't say anything.

'We are on an intercept course. Please do not attempt to use your thrusters or main engines. I repeat, do not use any of your engines. It will damage your vessel. It may even cause the plating to fracture and vent atmosphere.'

'Are you intending to board?' I asked.

'We will not board you, freighter XN7TZ. We are on an intercept course. Do not use the main engines. You must disable the thruster controls.'

'We can disable the thruster controls but we need to know what you want with us? Are you trying to help us?'

'Yes. Your vessel appears to have strayed from its normal landing pattern. Please disable the thruster controls and avoid using the main engines.'

We were getting nowhere fast.

'Lori, we don't have any choice, we've clearly lost any element of surprise now. Can you disable the thruster controls? We don't want the computer trying to switch them back on.'

'We're not going to give in, are we?'

'What without a fight you mean?'

'Well.'

'We don't have anything to fight with, do we?'

'No.'

'And if these folk are friendly, we could be better off than setting out into space with virtually no idea where we're going.'

'Yes, but are they friendly?'

'How should I know? What choice do we have?'

'We could try to trick them into letting go with the anchor line.' Lori tried to smile, as though it really might be a good idea.

'I don't think we'd get very far even if we did. They didn't have any difficulty intercepting us.'

'True, I suppose,' Lori sighed.

'They've warned us not to try the engines with the line on us and I'm not going to risk trying to pull away. Remember the hideous rending sound? They have warned us it could tear the ship open.'

'It felt like it was coming apart last time.'

'We're probably lucky it didn't happen already.'

'Not a pleasant thought. So it's 'check', then.'

'Let's hope it's not check-mate,' I mused but kept it to myself.

I pressed the talk button. 'We're disabling all thrusters. Main engines are under manual control only and are powered right down.'

'Thank you freighter XN7TZ. We are on an intercept course.'

'Yes, we heard you several times now. Who are you and what do you want?'

'Frieghter XN7TZ was on an uncharacteristic course. You are aboard a Xark company freighter. Such freighters are usually unmanned.'

'All this is true but who are you and what do you want with us. Are we to be captured or arrested?'

'We do not represent the company. We are not police.'

'Are you military?'

'We are not military.'

I turned to Lori in frustration. 'Well that's three things they aren't and we still don't know who or what they are, apart from being on a blasted intercept course!' She shrugged in reply. What else could we do? I had another idea. 'Do we need to return to the flight couches.'

'This is unnecessary at this time.'

'At this time what are we to expect to happen next, may I ask?' I was beginning to feel rather cross, shall we say. The plans Lori and I had worked on so intensively for the last few weeks were being unravelled right in front of us. Now the strain was showing. We had spent so long under the intolerable fear of being discovered and then, when escape was within our grasp, it was being snatched away. There was no reply from the other ship.

'Maybe you had it earlier, Ben. Perhaps they are friendly. They say they aren't with the company and they're not police or military. Maybe it'll all be OK. We could be home sooner than we think,' Lori said, reading my expression.

'You could be right. What it is to be an optimist,' I laughed, too close to hysteria for my own liking. I turned back to the transmitter to focus my mind again.

'Intercept ship, are you going to board us? Will you reply please?'

There was silence.

'Intercept ship, are you going to board us, reply please?'

Again there was silence. I was about to repeat my question, when the shuddering of our ship ceased. The other ship drew closer and our speed reduced.

As it neared, we could see that the second ship was quite small, our freighter dwarfing what looked a slight and insubstantial craft. How did they manage to get a line on us and slow us down so dramatically, let alone appear to reel us in? Did we have anything to be afraid of? Right up close, the small vessel almost completely filled the view port with its swirling silver surface.

Eventually there was a metallic clanking as the two ships made contact. This surprised us both, given that the ship looked as though its surface was like swirling gas, rather than solid. Ripples of silver shimmered across the view port. I was convinced that the other ship was attempting to dock and that we were about to be boarded, despite what we had been told.

'I wish we had space-suits.'
Chapter 58: Ground Fall

The radio boomed a voice into the room. 'You will not be boarded. You will be landed on the planet you have seen below. This is not the planet from which you have brought the freighter.'

'We do know this.' I thought to myself.

'The intercept ship will make a safe seal with the surface of freighter XN7ZT. I repeat you will not be boarded but the intercept ship will make a seal. I shall then access and override your control system. You will be taken to the surface of the planet.' The voice was robotic and monotonous. For all I knew it could even be automated.

'Lori there's nothing we can do, we might as well go along with it.'

'Sure.' She sounded fatigued and resigned. 'Do we get in the flight couches yet?'

I clicked on the radio. 'Do we need the flight couches yet?'

'You may take flight positions if you wish. Override will take approximately ten minutes,' came back the reply.

'We will assume flight positions now.'

'Lori, we might as well try to relax and get our minds in gear for our first contact with who or whatever's in this other ship.'

'I think so too. At least we haven't been shot out of the sky, or been boarded by pirates.'

'Oh, no. Pirates! I never even thought of pirates. Maybe that's why they won't give us any information,' I cried, my eyes widening.

'Why did I even mention it?' Lori sounded resigned. 'They don't sound like pirates, do they? They're far too officious.'

'But..'

'You're getting overwrought. Lie down and relax before you go getting me agitated as well.'

'Sure thing, boss,' I said with a lot more conviction than I felt.

We moved back to the flight couches and strapped ourselves down, having no idea what sort of ride we were in for. As it happened we worried needlessly. The voice told us a few minutes later that the two ships would be rotated as one, to test the flight systems before making the descent.

A small chink of the planet below showed through part of the view port which was not obscured by silver fog. It swung in a steady, faultless arc as the systems interlock was tested. Then we began descending towards the surface. There was patchy cloud cover, through which we could see water and continents.

As we drew closer, there was no sensation of movement, other than the increasing proximity of the planetary surface. It felt as if we simply fell towards the ground. A vast continent widened below. The speckled green of the landmass expanded rapidly, small dots growing into distinguishable features, until a vast city became visible.

Closer still, the buildings could be distinguished. I had never seen such shapes and materials before. Some were brightly coloured, others metallic and some covered in the same silver fog as the ship next to us. Our path took us in a sweep over the city towards a landing field. Whatever form of propulsion it was using, the ship leading us in was not of the same crude design as the freighter.

When finally we landed, I suddenly found myself thirsty beyond belief. I climbed off the flight couch to find a slightly heavier gravity than we'd been used to but I still managed a run to the hygiene unit to get us a drink. We both drank greedily.

I hadn't realised, until a voice boomed again through the radio, making us both jump, that we had fallen into silence. The voice had begun some sort of greeting and we almost immediately shrank back at the sight of a rather nondescript individual in a suit, right inside the cabin. I gasped in surprise and glanced at Lori. Where had he come from? They must have tricked us and come in through the airlock as soon as our backs were turned.

'You said you weren't going to board us,' I snapped back at him.

The reply sounded very puzzled. 'You do not know holographic technology? This is only a projection. You have not been boarded.'

Lori and I both stared at the individual. We had seen holographic projections before, but not this good. He was absolutely lifelike. His eyes blinked and I could see his chest rise and fall with his breathing.

The person before us was dressed like a TV gameshow host, bright tie and a suit too sharp to be true. His face carried an absurdly fixed smile. We both laughed, the image was so incongruous. Where was the look of organisational efficiency? He gave the appearance of an entertainments officer, not a ship's captain.

'How did you do that?' I enquired feebly.

'You are not boarded. It is not real. We could not have entered your vehicle,' repeated the projection before us.

I went closer. The individual's eyes didn't follow me as I moved. Reaching out tentatively, my finger disappeared into what looked like a dense and corporeal arm. But it wasn't. It was nothing but light.

Both feeling rather embarrassed at our mistake, Lori and I quickly tried to regain a little of our composure. It was easy to see how we had taken the projection for real. The image was so dense we could barely make out the shape of the bulkhead through it.

I hadn't been listening to what the voice was trying to say to us, despite the fact that it was booming all around us, so I asked for a repeat. As it spoke, I now noticed that the image looked as though the words were being dubbed onto its mouth, rather disturbingly as if the image were not of a real person talking.

I glanced at Lori, raising an eyebrow. She'd noticed too.

'Remember that babbling we first heard? Maybe it's something to do with translation,' she offered.

The voice continued. 'You are quite safe but under no circumstances try to exit the cockpit. You cannot breathe our atmosphere.'

This was a shock. I had assumed we were on a world entirely habitable by humans, exactly like the mining world had been, only not a desert. And we had been greeted by a human, even if he did look peculiar and have terrible lip sync.

'A special room is being prepared. You will be transferred to it as soon as possible. Please be patient. Do not open the cabin door, the outside atmosphere is toxic to you.'

'Who are you? How can you live on a planet where the air is unbreathable?' I was getting tired of the evasions.

'You have been kidnapped by members of our society who managed a large mining operation for the Xark company. On the third planet.'

'This we know,' I returned sarcastically, my tone a foil for my fear and frustration.

'Please be patient. The unusual trajectory of your ship alerted our defence system and the silver ship was dispatched to apprehend what we at first thought was a malfunctioning ore freighter.'

'I think we know this too.'

'We were as astonished to hear your voices over the radio as presumably you were to hear ours.'

'That was your native language?' I squeaked at the image of our host, the tension making my voice rise in pitch.

'Yes it was. But that is not important at the moment. During the descent, intelligence operatives accessed the Xark company computers, to find out exactly what was going on. It appears your personality transfer data was stolen from your UR Net by some of the managers of the ore company. By now procedures are being effected for the detention of all the cartel's offending personnel here. I must now go and apprehend the remainder on the mining planet.'

Gradually all this new information began to sink in. The reassurances from the image in the cabin continued and as I tried to accustom myself to the situation, I began to wonder if the image of the person we could see was real or an imaginary one provided for our benefit.

'A safe transportation vehicle is being prepared for you.'

'Good,' replied Lori. 'We were hoping we weren't going to be kept here indefinitely.' I smiled at her tone.

'My ship will be disconnected from the freighter. The surface transport will be attached to the airlock to take you to a more comfortable facility where you will meet your rescuers. If necessary, you will receive medical help and then rest and recuperate as you desire.'

This sounded a bit more like it. At those welcome words I realised what an ordeal we had been through.

'What is your name?' I asked.

'My name is no longer of importance. You will soon meet someone else. As I mentioned earlier, I now have other duties.'

'Oh. Well thank you for landing us.'

'It was my pleasure to deliver you safely.'

'So, not pirates, then,' Lori muttered mainly to herself. 'Can we re-order the list, please,' she directed at the holo-host.

'As you require.'

I still couldn't quite get my head round the image of the game-show host with the voice of an extremely overformal space captain dubbed over the top. What was wrong with the image of the captain himself? Not much of this made sense.

'Speaking for both of us, can we do rest, recuperation and then meet your colleague.'

'He is not my colleague. Do you have any medical requirements?'

'No, but I could do with some food and drink.'

'Me too,' I added quickly.

'Preparations are underway to make you welcome.'

Perhaps this meant there'd be a bit of red carpet treatment and we'd have something decent to eat for a change after months of Vill's nourishing but unvaried rations, and recycled ships biscuits. I found myself slipping so deeply through a reverie based firmly in culinary fantasy, it wasn't until I heard the surface transport docking, that I realised the silver ship had silently disengaged and moved away.
Chapter 59: Prisoners?

When the projected person in the cabin wasn't engaged in conversation, he simply stared into the distance with his vacuous smile.

Lori and I took the opportunity to walk all the way round 'him'. It was a full 3D image but with no sign of a projector of any sort. The closer I looked, the more bizarre it appeared. The small involuntary movements he made repeated in a definite pattern. The breathing was utterly regular. It didn't even change when he spoke and the pattern of eye-movements went round and round. Blink, breathe, flutter, blink, breathe, breathe, blink, flutter, blink. Over and over, like it was on a loop, even when the voice started and the out of sync lips moved.

'The airlock will be opened in five seconds,' the individual spoke without warning.

'We'd better take what we can carry,' I suggested to Lori and we scooped up our packs as the inner door slid open. I half expected the projected image to follow us but it vanished from behind us and re-appeared on the other side of the airlock, inside the surface transport vehicle.

As we stepped through into the ground vehicle, I sniffed tentatively, only to be relieved at the breathable constituency of the atmosphere. I checked it carefully with my portable analyser.

'The air's OK.' I nodded to Lori who had paused, holding her breath apprehensively at the threshold.

The vehicle had an open space inside, about 5 metres long, with soft-looking couches and wide windows. There was a small atmosphere generator whirring away on a table at the far end. The projection spoke briefly.

'I will leave you now. You will be met by another at the end of a short journey. It is possible he will use this image.'

Lori and I looked at each other and chuckled. Certain aspects of our 'welcome' were becoming absurd. With no warning the image vanished and we focussed our attention on the view from the windows.

After weeks inside the confined freighter cabin with its restricted line of sight, at last we could see some of the place where we had landed. It was a smooth, open field with buildings or a city in the distance. The light was bright but not unbearable, and yellowish.

One end of the vehicle was foreshortened as if there was a cabin sealed off behind it. A different voice boomed in the vehicle and told us to use the seats. After we'd strapped in, the voice added, 'Your driver is at the closed end of the vehicle. Your journey will begin immediately.'

'At last something which looks halfway normal,' I muttered to Lori. She smiled and I knew she was trying to make me feel better about the situation. The vehicle detached itself from the freighter and turned on its axis towards the distant city shapes.

Our taxi sprang away at considerable speed, so that the freighter shrank away rapidly. In a few minutes, the buildings of the city we had seen from the air grew noticeably in size. Behind us the silver ship began to rise and quickly became a shrinking dot which finally disappeared altogether.

From the vehicle windows we saw scenes of remarkable beauty and variety. There were types of vegetation completely unknown to us and, as we approached them, the buildings we saw were a complex mixture of styles and ages of development. There were huge, graceful bridges and arching buildings in smooth, metallic and cement-and-glass like arrangements. These were organically combined with masses of small knots of what we assumed to be dwellings in stony, pockmarked material that gave the impression of great age.

Rising in columns from parts of the city which we skirted, we saw tall shapes and pyramids which looked to be constructed from the same glassy-metallic materials we could see at relatively close range. The city was surrounded by fields of cultivated vegetation and, at a greater distance, by forest of curious vegetation. The individual plants were the size of trees we were familiar with back home but they were of quite different forms, some looking like giant mosses and others like corals with fruiting extremities.

Having circled at least half the city, so that the landing field had completely vanished behind and to the side of us, the taxi began to move in a straight line towards a complex of newer-style buildings. As we approached we could see the details of windows, pathways around the outside, and colourful arrangements of vegetation set out in a mixture of geometric and more natural organic patterns. After several more minutes of approach, the vehicle slowed and homed in on a large entrance-way which turned out to be a large garage or hanger. The vehicle became almost stationary as it edged towards an airlock, where it halted and carefully docked.

The airlock opened and the projected image appeared again, beckoning us forward. It was the same image but it had a different voice. At least the intonation was different, other features of it, like the accent, pronunciation and tone were almost identical.

'Please follow me.' The projection lead us to take the semi-transparent tunnel we could see beyond the airlock. 'Follow the tunnel until you come to your personal facilities. Take great care not to puncture the material.'

'Looks like a giant sausage skin!' Lori laughed nervously.

'Might as well, do as he says,' I replied as we stood poised at the mouth of the tunnel, trying to see past or through its twists and turns.

'Do you wish to remain together? I can provide you with separate accommodation, if you wish.'

'Together,' Lori replied at once, with emphasis.

'Yes. Together,' I agreed and took Lori's arm as we stepped tentatively into the tube, treading carefully so as not to damage the seal, and wondering at the half-recognisable equipment surrounding it. The tube wound through several rooms which looked like laboratories, although they were totally deserted. It was then I remembered that so far we had not seen any living creature on this planet. After a few more metres, we exited the tunnel through another airlock into a suite of different sized rooms.

The projection appeared next to us only long enough to say 'You have several rooms here. They are equipped for different purposes, sitting, eating, sleeping. I hope you will find them appropriate.'

We quickly inspected our quarters, finding as we had requested, food-stuffs and drinks, sleeping and bathroom facilities. The room we had entered from the tunnel turned out to be the largest and it contained easy chairs and a low table. It also linked the other rooms and along its outer wall was a large window and next to it a second airlock. The window looked not towards the outside of the building but into a plain, empty room with a single door in one wall.

None of the other rooms had windows and each was artificially lit by glowing panels in the ceilings. We returned to the bathroom, quickly hosed ourselves down and slipped into the new overalls provided, then fell on the food and drink like a pair of starved rats. The game-show host reappeared on the far side of the big window.

'When you have taken your sustenance and your rest, you can see a representative of our society.'

This was puzzlingly formal but we agreed quickly as the smell of the food was immensely distracting. We hadn't eaten for hours. We fell on the collection of comestibles provided. Everything was in the form of nibbles, small balls of crumbly material like couscous, sausage-like shapes and waxy cubes not unlike cheese in appearance.

'Do you think it's all edible?' asked Lori, suddenly pausing with her mouth full.

'I suppose so. It certainly smells and tastes good enough.'

'Yes. They've gone to an awful lot of trouble if they intend to poison us now.'

'Nah, get it down you,' I chuckled between mouthfuls. It tasted better than mine food, that was for sure.

After satisfying our hunger and thirst, Lori suggested we rest for a while. We stepped into the room containing a large flat couch and lay down together. The lights dimmed automatically. I felt fatigued beyond imagination and, although my mind was filled with questions, I soon found I couldn't stay awake. I drew Lori towards me and finally began to relax. She sighed and snuggled in close.

Apart from our breathing there was not a sound to disturb us, until that is, I found myself being shaken awake by Lori who was laughing and asking me how I could be snoring loud enough to waken the dead at a time like this.

I looked at my comwatch. The numbers were changing and it looked to be still working normally. Assuming it was, we had slept for nine hours straight. That was nine hours by Mine-World time, I realised. I had no idea how time was measured here, yet.

We made our way sluggishly back to the main room and had something to drink, then began to wonder how we should contact our hosts. Right on cue, the image of our host reappeared.
Chapter 60: Encounters

'Are you suitably fed and rested?' our host enquired. Once again he was on the far side of the large window in the main room. Lori couldn't look at the image without giggling and she turned away, so that only I could see her expression. At least that meant she was feeling better. I hoped her shoulders shuddering with mirth weren't giving too much away.

'Forgive my friend,' I spoke at the image. 'There are things about your appearance which are... unusual. And she has been under a lot of strain.'

'You don't look quite right,' Lori squealed, convulsed with titters.

'Thank you for that contribution, Lori,' I smiled, trying to look helpful.

'I believe this image is intended to be amusing but only in rather different circumstances,' the projection commented on itself.

'Oh?'

'Yes. It was taken from one of your own video channels. It is not one of us. But we had no idea you would find yourselves quite so funny.'

This sobered us up a bit. 'This isn't you, then?'

'It is not.'

'When are we going to meet the real you? And why are you using a projection of someone else?' Lori asked.

'For the moment you must make do with this. The rest is up to you.' The voice had taken on a distinctly serious note.

'Will you please explain what you mean?' I asked, pointedly.

'Are you sitting down?'

'No. But we can do.'

'Perhaps you had better sit.' We moved to a comfortable looking seating arrangement and sat down with a certain amount of trepidation. We could still see our host through the glass.

'All right. Let us agree some facts, first. You were in the company of several individuals all having the same form as yourselves?'

'Yes.'

'You know that you can not breathe the atmosphere of this planet.'

'So you say.'

'That is the purpose of the airlocks.'

'Are you trying to tell us you are a different species?' asked Lori, getting straight to the point my mind had been groping slowly towards ever since we landed.

'Have you modified yourselves to breathe a different atmosphere?' I asked before he could reply. There had been genetic modifications, to make adjustments to slightly warmer or colder planets, but I knew of no planets with different atmospheres.

'We are not even of your general genetic stock,' came the measured reply. I could see now why we had been recommended to sit down.

'You mean you're aliens?' I gasped lamely.

'As you are in the minority and on our homeworld, it is easier for me to consider you to be the aliens.'

I could feel the colour draining out of my face. Where in the galaxy had we ended up? Lori was peering at me, looking quite concerned.

'Ben, you must have realised before,' Lori whispered at me, squeezing my arm.

'No. It never occurred to me. But it all makes sense now, except for Vill and the others.' Out loud I asked the projection 'How did the people on the other planet get there?'

'That is still under investigation by our government. We hope to have an answer to that one soon. In the meantime, there are other concerns.'

'Yes. What you really look like,' Lori laughed rather hollowly.

'The population of this planet is 'a little different' in form to what you are used to. However, I hope you will not find us unpleasant to look at.'

'That's good. We'll try our best, we promise you,' I said, trying on my helpful face for the second time.

'Fine, the projected image will be morphed into the image of myself at first. Later, if all goes well perhaps we will meet in person.'

'You sound very shy,' I commented.

'I prefer the term cautious.'

'Whichever it is, feel free to go ahead.'

'Yes, please go ahead,' added Lori, her curiosity clearly getting the better of her.

Over a period of about a minute, our game-show host slowly changed in shape, becoming slimmer and slightly taller. The clothing faded and the arms and legs changed shape to some extent but remained the same in number and proportion. The back of the head enlarged and the front narrowed. As the new image formed, it became difficult to make out any features, as the surface of the image was covered in flowing colours. We could not tell if it was the skin or a form of chromatic clothing, or if either were the case, what the purpose of the colours was.

When we could see no further changes taking place, apart from the surface colouration, Lori said 'Is that it?' then laughed nervously, looking towards me and murmuring 'I'm sorry, it just slipped out.'

'That is indeed it, as you say. I am as you would see me if we were face-to-face. I hope you are not shocked.'

Slender fingers fluttered at the ends of the arms and the colours swirled rapidly.

'Not at all. Your appearance is fascinating. May we see you in person now?'

'If you are sure?'

'Perfectly.'

Slowly the image faded, leaving the room it had occupied empty for a moment. Immediately, the door on the other side of the window opened. The individual we had seen as an image stepped through and walked towards us. Lori and I moved close to our side of the window, so that we were facing the creature through only a centimetre thickness of glass.

'We communicate partly through the patterns on our skin. You do not have this?' it asked.

'No,' we replied. 'We only have words, facial expression and gestures,' offered Lori. 'As you can see.'

The creature before us subtly changed colour, its skin slowly rippling with blues, oranges and golds. The effect reminded me of a species of sea-creature I had once seen originating from Earth. It was really very beautiful and we were quite transported by the swirls and patterns. They gave the impression of greeting us somehow in the way that the colours flowed towards the centre of the creature.

The patterns formed restful shapes and apparent surface textures which did seem to be communicating but which had the effect of hiding most of the surface form of the being. Its face also was partially covered by the colours, although they were less pronounced.

'Now that we have met in person, we must exchange names,' it said.

'My name is Ben.'

'And mine is Lori.'

'Those names are pleasant, but have a strange sound to me. Mine is Xloork.'

'Your name is strange to us, too, but pleasant,' I replied. 'What is your role?'

'I am an ambassador for my race. We are the Sentience.'

'We call ourselves humans but we have been abducted and are not in our own bodies.'

'This is a very serious situation,' said Xloork, 'though I know little about you as individuals, it is something we are investigating.'

The creature's accent was quite charming and we soon realised that it was skilled in diplomacy and the art of meeting and negotiating, so that to some extent we were being manipulated by its manner. However, it appeared to be genuinely welcoming and apologetic for our kidnapping. The being also insisted on retribution for our captors.

'So, Xloork, where are we exactly?'

The colours rippled 'You are at a research station outside the capital of our world, Amantia, it is on the third planet of our system. Moving out from our star, there is a hot, inner planet; next Nur, the second planet, somewhat more distant and having an atmosphere suitable for humans.'

'There was life there in the past, wasn't there?' I interrupted.

'Once perhaps, very primitive, mainly vegetation. This is what contributed to the formation of the fuel source which is mined there.'

'What happened to the planet? Why is it now all desert?' asked Lori.

'We believe there was a catastrophic asteroid strike which heated the planet and caused almost all the water to be lost to space. We suspect there was not much water to begin with. Our research indicates there were many shallow lakes, possibly seas. It was in and around these that the vegetation grew. It must have been very dense and profuse over millions of years before the impact. This is what has made the supply of fuel almost endless, although we use it as conservatively as possible.'

'It has to be transported a great distance.'

'This is so but the cost is also low.'

'And your world is the next out from the sun?'

'It's been known as Centre for as long as anyone can remember. Of course we know now it is not the true centre of space, or even of our star system, but once it was thought to be so and the name has remained. It is the centre of our existence at least.'

'Have you colonised anywhere else?'

'We have not needed to do so.'

'But one day your star may no longer support life here.'

Xloork laughed 'In several billion years. By that time we will be ready to move on.'

'Are there any other planets?'

'There are only two, both gas giants, one is very far away. They have some moons. The atmosphere on Centre contains ammonia. It would not be to your liking, shall we say.'

'Xloork,' I said, wanting to change the subject.

'Speaking of liking, we are not at all content. We have been kidnapped. We are not members of your race. It is essential that we return to our homes.'

'This is very difficult.'

'Look, Xloork,' exclaimed Lori. 'We are not here through choice, members of your company, your society, have imprisoned us, enslaved us, they have physically abused us.'

'They may even have assumed our identities on our home worlds,' I added.

'Xloork, we want to go home.'

'I did not realise, Lori, that you had been treated quite so extremely.' Xloork angled his head, as if listening to something else. 'I have just been informed that the individuals who captured you on Nur will arrive here in a few hours.'

'And what good will that do?'

'We will find out where they took you from. Until we know that we cannot begin to return you. In the meantime, we hope that justice can be done. But there are more problems.'

'Which are?'

'You must understand that in these bodies we cannot breathe the air on Nur and the starlight damages our flesh because it is so much more intense than here. Vill, the one who was the leader on Nur, is of a very strong and dangerous mind. He became enraged, violent, making him extremely difficult to capture. He killed two of us by damaging their suits. Most of the others gave up with little effort.

'Some time after you escaped, Gran, Dyne and Vill tried to find you at the orbital transit site. That was the landing field where you toppled the space cruiser. After it became clear that you two weren't there, they went back to the mine. Vill told Dyne to clone you out again so he could increase production. Gran says Dyne persistently refused even when Vill resorted to physical harm.'

Also Vill attacked Dyne again when he discovered that we were approaching. She was close to death when we found her.'

'Did she die?'

'Fortunately, not. She is recovering, though slowly.'

'I am sorry they have caused you so many problems but perhaps now you see the danger we faced every day at that mine.'

'I do but this violence is not a characteristic of our race.'

'It was in our past,' I admitted 'but by now it has been largely removed.'

'I remain to be convinced.'

'We will do our best. What are you going to do with them when they arrive?'

'They will be brought here.'

'Right here?' shrieked Lori.

'It is the only place where we have the facilities. Do not worry. They will be in another building. It will be secure.'

'Surely there is somewhere else?'

'No, Lori, the atmospheric processing system required is very large.'

'I am very unhappy with knowing they will be nearby. They implanted us with electronic devices to enable them to control us. And they cannot be removed without surgery.'

'They will have no such opportunity here to influence you, I can assure you.'

'I don't want to ever see any of them again. You have no idea what we were made to do.'

'This I appreciate and you will be required to make statements and give evidence. Tomorrow we will begin collecting your information. Meanwhile, there is an alternative to staying in here.'

'What sort of alternative? You mean we can leave this planet and go home?'

'I have told you this is difficult,' replied Xloork. 'However, the technology that was used to transfer you from one body to another and to create the bodies you are using now, is well known to us.'

'How did you learn of these things? Did you invent them separately?'

Rapid, agitated-looking swirls passed over Xloork's body as he prepared himself to reply. 'No, one of your ships landed on Nur. It was intact but did not function correctly. We retrieved it. It was a subject of great study and debate.'

'I bet it was.'

'Indeed. We had no knowledge of other races, until we were able to use the communications equipment.'

'You never looked outside your own system?' I was incredulous.

'We have great curiosity and have learned much about space around us but we are content with ourselves and our world. We have no desire to meet other races.'

'You have been content to make use of our technology, not to mention our bodies,' Lori retorted.

Again the agitated ripples flashed across Xloork's skin.

'This is so but it was used illegally by the Xark corporation. It is our biggest commercial operation and some of their managers have become arrogant, thinking they were beyond the normal constraints of our society. It is something that must be redressed.'

I realised that we had moved way off the subject of the alternative that Xloork mentioned and interrupted his explanation. 'This is all very well. I would certainly hope that a civilised community such as yours would wish to make amends, but what is the alternative you suggested?'

'Ah, yes. That is a more straightforward matter. You can be transferred to Sentience bodies, if you wish. You would then be able to breathe our normal atmosphere freely. Your captors will be left in the bodies they were found in. They know that it will be impossible for them to escape from here.'

'So, if we transfer into a body like yours, we will have freedom of movement?' asked Lori.

'You will be guests of the Sentience, until all the matters are resolved.'

'That's not quite what Lori meant, is it Xloork?'

'It is the best we can do for you at the moment. I will leave you to discuss it together. You will certainly be free to leave here and you will be treated with our utmost hospitality. Our race is dishonoured by the treatment you have endured.'

At last an admission of some sort. 'Thank you Xloork. We will discuss your proposal. How do we recall you?'

Xloork passed a communications device through the airlock and instructed us on its use: press the blue button and ask for Xloork. Pretty simple really.

'OK, Xloork, we will speak to you again soon.'

'I hope so. Meanwhile, your food and drink supplies will be replenished. You can have as much time as you wish. Remember, you are now guests, not captives.'

'I'm not wholly convinced,' muttered Lori under her breath.

'I did not hear you,' said Xloork.

'It does not matter,' I replied. 'Thank you for your help.'

'When I return I shall bring an associate,' added Xloork finally before he left by the same door he had entered.

I turned to Lori. 'I'm worn out by this and I'm thirsty.

Let's take a break.'

'Sounds perfect.'
Chapter 61: Decisions

We stared down at our food in silence while we ate, ideas and questions whirling around as we each tried to make sense of what Xloork had told us. Over a final thoughtful mouthful, Lori spoke at last.

'This isn't entirely unexpected but it is all a bit mind-boggling.'

'You're not kidding, I thought we'd be whizzing off out of this star system, well on our way to who knows where by now.'

'Yes, but I keep coming back to how risky that was. We were desperate to get away but we had no real idea where we were going.'

'I know and if we hadn't made some sort of contact and been able to beam our mind patterns by UR, we could have been stuck in that bean can of a freighter cockpit indefinitely.'

'So we're better off, as long as we can persuade these Sentience people to point us in the right direction.'

'At least they have what sounds like a good working knowledge of how to beam us back.'

'I can't understand why Xloork is so reticent and so unwilling to send us back to where we belong right now, though.'

'Me neither.'

'Perhaps we'll learn more from Xloork's associate, whoever he or she is.'

'Right now I'm going to get some shut-eye.'

'Good idea.'

Hours later we awoke from troubled and confusing dreams. By the time we had washed, revived and fed ourselves again, it was over ten hours since our encounter with Xloork.

I called him on the communicator. An hour later he appeared, again in person. However, this time it looked like he'd brought his twin. It was difficult for us to distinguish between the two individuals because the colours concealed so much of their surface features. All we could tell was that their patterns moved differently.

The one who spoke first was a centimetre or two taller and turned out to be Xloork.

'This is a colleague of mine, Skurla. She is female. We thought that Lori would appreciate her presence. She is a political academic.'

I thought this was rather an odd choice of person to help us. What we really needed was to meet someone with a bit of influence but I resolved to see what answers Skurla could provide.

'Do you feel ready to make a statement on your ordeal on Nur, yet?' asked Skurla.

'Yes,' I replied, turning to Lori.

'I am more than happy to do so,' she agreed.

'Your statements will be transcribed from your spoken words. There is no need for any of us to make notes or write anything. All you need to do is to explain clearly what happened.

'That should speed things up at bit,' said Lori. 'Then, hopefully, I can forget as much of it as possible.'

Over the next four and a half hours, we took it in turns to describe what we could remember of our appearance on Nur, our captors and our treatment. Our description of events clearly gave them much to think about and we parted for another session of r'n'r.

While Skurla and Xloork were gone, I returned to the question of transferring to Sentience bodies.

'Lori, if we transfer, we may find it easier to make some headway with getting back to where we should be.'

'I know, Ben, but we keep losing each other. As soon as I feel close to you and we're together, we get parted again.'

'And it still isn't to our own homes and bodies.'

'I suppose at least we are closer than if we'd already transferred back to our home worlds at the end of Passengering.'

'This is true. It would have taken months to arrange the permanent transfer. I love being with you, even if it's in the wrong body.'

'That makes a lot of difference to me, I'm afraid,' remarked Lori, wryly. 'I know I am with what is really you and that is of fundamental importance but sometimes I have to close my eyes to appreciate it. To me it's intensely frustrating knowing it's you but not you. I do not find you one tiny bit attractive in that body. Even worse, this body feels awful. It doesn't work like my real one and most of the time I feel very uncomfortable in it. And I don't like you seeing me in it because what you see isn't me.'

'I feel very much the same. We have Dyne to thank for that.'

'Well, it sounds like she's had some pay-back, already.'

'True, but what are we going to do about this transfer? I think it's a good idea.'

'I'm willing. In fact I think I should go first.'

'It'll be a xenotransfer, though. Do you think they know what they're doing?'

'Well, it clearly worked for Vill and his gang.'

I paced back and forth, unable and unwilling to rest until the next move fell into place. The lack of freedom was beginning to get to us and we would soon feel, held in this three-room micro-environment, that we had exchanged one prison for another. Even though there had been less room in the freighter cabin, this somehow felt more hemmed in.

'Lori, I don't think it is going to do us any good staying here as we are. It doesn't look as though it is going to be easy to persuade Xloork to help us return to where we ought to be. This place is starting to drive me stir-crazy already. When we were on Nur, at least we had an entire mining site to move around in.'

'I agree. Being cooped up here is getting me very edgy, too. It is worse than being in the freighter. There we had a purpose and had convinced ourselves we were getting somewhere. Ben, I really want to go first. I think we should do it as soon as possible. If I go first, I can tell you if it's better or worse than being in these bodies.'

Lori dialled in the number Xloork had given us on the communicator and asked for Skurla.

'Hello, Skurla?' I'm calling to say that we want to begin the transfer to Sentience bodies immediately.'

'Immediately?'

'Yes, at once.'

'It will take some hours to make preparations. We can start the transfer tomorrow. First thing.'

'Only me to begin with,' added Lori quickly, 'to make sure everything goes well.'

'I believe you are uncertain. Do you doubt our competence?'

'No, we aren't questioning the expertise.' Then Lori slipped in a key word she guessed would penetrate Skurla's mind set. 'We're being cautious.'

'Yes. Cautious. I see. Then that would be the most appropriate decision.'

'Thank you. I was sure you would understand.' Lori winked at me, celebrating her success at out-negotiating the negotiators.

'Fine. Seven o'clock. Yes, we'll be ready.' She clicked off the communicator.

'All arranged, Ben.' She was smiling again for the first time since we had been brought here, which pleased me. This was action, we were moving again.

'Well done,' I said. 'I liked the way you handled that.'

'Thanks. It's good to know I haven't lost all my marbles yet.'

'Is there anything else we need to do before you go?'

'Get some sleep.'
Chapter 62: New Facts

Xloork and Skurla met us not long after sunrise the next morning.

'One last point,' I said, looking at them directly. 'This is a temporary arrangement, so that we can learn more and exchange information about our different races. It is also so that we don't feel like we're being imprisoned here.'

Xloork was indignant. 'We have never desired to hold you against your will. This is merely for your protection. There is absolutely nowhere else you can go.'

'Yes, I accept what you are saying, but we must keep moving.'

'Of course. The interrogation of the others is under way. Their statements are already being correlated with yours.'

'That's quick. Is there any news of how they intercepted our transfer signals and if anyone was substituted for us?'

'We have not yet completed that part of the interrogation. I will inform you when more is known.'

'I have brought a gas tight suit for Lori to wear to the transfer unit,' Skurla said, abruptly changing the subject.'

She held up a swirly, silvery suit, pushing it into the airlock on her side and very effectively diverting our attention away from further discussion of our 'imprisonment'.

Lori climbed into the suit, then stepped into the airlock. 'Wish me luck.'

'As much as you need,' I offered. Lori smiled through the visor and I waved as Xloork led her out through the door, out of sight.

Skurla turned to me when they'd gone and asked if I had thought of any further questions. I decided to postpone the one about why we had not been permitted to meet someone more senior than themselves. So far it had felt very odd not to have been treated more like exciting new arrivals and less like an embarrassment.

'Skurla, why is it so problematic for the Sentience to send us back where we belong?'

'You keep on returning to this question.'

'Are you surprised? In our position how would you feel in the only three-room apartment containing breathable air on an entire planet whose atmosphere is poisonous?'

'You are not completely alone. There is another, larger facility, holding the others.'

'Thanks for reminding me. How would you feel being in the three room apartment I've described, knowing that there was only one other and that it held a gang of people who had kidnapped and abused you?' I retorted, hotly.

'I take your point.'

'Good, now what's the answer to my question?' Skurla's colours fluttered wildly for a few seconds, then steadied. 'You are from the hidden part of the galaxy. We have known of your race for many decades and immediately realised your species is incompatible with ours, starting simply from the different pulmonary systems.'

'Wait a moment. What's this 'hidden' bit?'

'Sorry, you have no idea where we are. This star system is hidden from your kind by dust clouds from an old supernova.'

'So how did you find out about us?'

'There have been signals arriving from many directions. That is how we knew you had spread widely amongst many star systems.'

'That must be threatening in itself, with your entire race existing on a single planet, as ours once did.'

'Very well put. You are beginning to understand our point of view.'

'How did you know we used an incompatible atmosphere?'

'One of your early clone ships penetrated the interstellar dust clouds in error. It must have been faulty because it landed on Nur. By the time one of our ships had reached it, the cloning process had produced several individuals, all of whom had died before they learned to extract water from the atmosphere. Until then Sentience miners had always used suits. The suits restricted our mobility and we had a heavy reliance on automated equipment. The sand and dust made that unreliable. It was most inconvenient for us.'

'I see, so who found the clone ship, your government?'

'Yes, although the miners had been there first.'

'But not in time to save the colonists?'

'No. As I say, the ship was faulty. It is now clear that the members of the Xark company stole some of the technology before the official team took over.'

'But Xloork said half an hour ago that he knew nothing of this.'

'Some things I am informed of before him.'

'That's interesting,' I smiled.

'To him, too,' replied Skurla, allowing her colours to dance freely for an instant.

'Let me guess. The Xark company used the technology to transfer Sentience to cloned human bodies, so that they could more efficiently operate the mine, only they 'forgot' to mention it outside the company.'

'Not even outside a very small group within the company.'

'OK. But how did they come to intercept our signals when Lori and I were being transferred from our holiday?'

'Now that even I have not discovered yet! The final parts of the interrogation are very difficult, some of the information is held only by Vill.'

'That difficulty I can easily understand, having had direct personal experience of him. I can also tell you why the faulty clone ship hadn't raised any alarm from the human planet which sent it out. It is because clone ships which failed to respond were assumed to have found unfavourable conditions or dangerous environments which caused them to crash or in some other way malfunction. In either case it wasn't deemed worth following up with another ship which might end up suffering the same fate when there were so many other planets to try.'

'I can see the logic in that. But if I may return to the main discussion?'

'Of course.'

'As a result of our discoveries from the faulty ship we were able to fill in gaps in our own technology. Until we found the clone ship, we could not understand how you had travelled such great distances.'

'Yes, it would have been physically and psychologically impossible to remain in a space ship for longer than a human life time, having to be suspended in some way we have not discovered even now, or having to reproduce on the way.'

'Then in some areas we have been able to leap-frog from your state-of-the-art systems by including understanding of our own,' continued Skurla. 'An example of this is our interplanetary craft, the type which steered your freighter back on course and landed it here.'

'Perhaps this method of increasing knowledge could be a two-way process. Humans might be able to make intuitive leaps from Sentience ideas.'

'It may be possible in time.' Skurla was interrupted by her communicator and listened to a brief message. 'I am sorry, this is very interesting but I must leave you now. I may have more news when I return.'

'Thank you. I'll look forward to it,' I said, somewhat puzzled by the abruptness of Skurla's departure.

As soon as Skurla was gone, I began to pick over the new scraps of information she'd given me. I found I was developing a clearer understanding of why our escape and subsequent discovery was causing problems for the Sentience.
Chapter 63: Xenotransfer

Lori would be gone a couple of days for the transfer and I determined I should structure my time usefully. It was a fine opportunity to work on the Sentience language. I put a call through to Xloork.

'Xloork, as you know so much about us humans and can speak our language so well, do you have a translation dictionary I could use?'

'Yes, er, we do but it's not written down, as such.'

'Where is it, then?'

'Um, it's on our Web.'

'Oh, you have a Web, do you?' now here was another revelation.

'We do. But I don't see how you will access it, without knowing our language first.'

'We translated quite a bit of the systems and technical data used over at the mine, that's how we managed to reprogram the computers at the mine site on Nur and on the freighter.'

'Hm. You can have access to a terminal after you've transferred.'

'No. That won't do. I'm not going to sit around here with nothing to do while Lori's transfer goes through, unless you can allocate me a teacher.'

'That would not be possible while you are in human form.'

'So it'll have to be the terminal then, won't it?'

'I am not sure if you would find our systems easy to use.'

'Oh, come off it, Xloork I didn't have any problems on Nur, you're into our technology, that's quite obvious. There's no need to be embarrassed. I'd have done the same in your shoes.' From the response these comments produced in Xloork's colouration, I knew I'd hit the mark.

'As you can see I do not wear shoes,' he returned, trying to deflect me once again. He could be the most exasperating individual.

'The question of shoes is irrelevant, Xloork, as well you know!'

'We have added a little ingenuity of our own,' interrupted Xloork boastfully.

'Right, so you'll have remote access and a screen I can watch through the window or even some sort of headmounted viewer,' I snapped back, quick as a flash.

'We do have the remote and head-mounted equipment you speak of. It may be a bit more advanced than yours.'

'And you'd been trying so hard to convince me you weren't a competitive species,' I taunted.

'Of course not. I was reminding you that our scientists had not simply appropriated your technology. And in any case, you know equally well that the really interesting data on your UR Net is so well encrypted as to prevent any un-registered access.'

'OK, so will you please get someone to bring me the equipment and help me make a start?'

'I will attend to that as soon as Lori has begun the transfer.' My glare prompted him to add quickly 'Which will be any time now,' as he scuttled towards the door.

An hour later a technician brought a pair of goggles attached to an adjustable head strap and a computer joystick.

'They both work on remote,' he said. 'The main unit can remain here.' He set down a box on his side of the glass. 'I have set the hot page to the dictionary, so you can return to it at any time by activating the icon.'

'That sounds fairly familiar.'

'It has a single button operation, like your mouse. That is a most amusing term. Here such a device would have been called a zin, after a similar creature.'

'I see. Thank you.' At last I'd met someone with a bit of humour about them.

For the next two hours I was totally immersed in the dictionary and the Sentience Web. I wasn't at all surprised to find it was remarkably similar to the global planetary computer networks we humans used. There was, as Xloork had claimed, evidence of only one Sentience planet. No wonder they were afraid of human invasion, their existence must feel very fragile, compared with the way we had spread ourselves over hundreds of planets.

Lori and I had already suspected that the characters of the Sentience language did not directly correspond with letter groups forming words, as did Interplan Standard, which was based on the English language of the early twenty-first century. Each Sentience symbol was either a short word, or a syllable in longer words.

I entered a search for the Sentience equivalent symbols for 'learning' and 'language' and came up with a range of sites, from which I found a children's beginners' tutor. Turning to a really early part, I accessed an illustrated encyclopaedia.

It was marvellous, first to see the holographic pictures of a multitude of different items from their culture and their world, their history and their technology; and secondly to see how diverse and interesting it all was. Sure enough, there was the zin, small and furry with a wiry tail. The section on culture described a natural cohesiveness to their society which, by comparison, had taken humans thousands of years to achieve.

Like a child with a new dictionary, it was so easy to get side-tracked. I simply let myself wander from one random item to the next, until I was able to focus in on the language I felt was most important to negotiating our transfer back home. Whenever I met a new word character, which to begin with was nearly every one, I translated it into the message pad we had originally found in the Old Site. I didn't want to find computer access withdrawn at some later point and I could easily store what I had learned, so as to have a backup system. The disguised message pad was ideal.

While I was following this line of approach, I thought of another one: it would be pretty useful if I could find text reader software. This would let me hear bits of Sentience text to which I had already found the meaning. The rest of the morning passed very quickly and I was making good progress.

After lunch I searched down a text reader. It enabled me to very effectively listen to the way the Sentience pronounced the symbols I found everywhere on their Net. For me, it was easier to listen to another language, rather than simply reading it. It gave me more of a sense of flow and emphasis. At first I was surprised to find that the text reader didn't simply turn the text into audio. Whenever I used it, a Sentience figure would appear in my visual field. Every single piece of text was accompanied by the image of a speaker.

Despite finding this a frustrating interference at first, I soon realised that it was to allow other nuances conveyed through the colour changes to be accessed. All the additional information displayed via the chromatic skin could be obtained visually.

Unfortunately for me this was total data overload, so I had to largely ignore the chromatic displays and concentrate on the facts. For the first few hours, I found it quite unnerving to have a projection of an anonymous, life-size Sentience gesticulating in front of me. I did not switch the visual display off when I was listening to text but allowed the colours to form a kind of background to what was being said.

Late into the second day, I discovered a clue to the metallic fog the Sentience used for their ships and other containment applications. With their intuitive understanding of light and modulation, they had identified materials which could exhibit a fourth state of matter when stimulated to particular quantum levels. These were superconductive materials which functioned over a huge range of temperatures and were able to create a virtually impenetrable barrier. When fed with electrical current, the materials swelled until a deep exterior layer was formed, almost like a foam which was covered by a variegated skin.

When this was used to completely surround an object, it repelled anything which tried to enter from the outside. The faster something hit the foam and the deeper it penetrated, the greater the force acting against it. By the same token, anything enclosed by the semi-metal barrier was kept from escaping. It was in this way that the Sentience had been able to construct their marvellous space ships.

A sub-structure of a less exotic metal gave the craft its overall shape, to provide anchor points for propulsion units, and was used to define cabins and walkways. A layer of insulation on the inside of the superconductor protected the occupants from the electrical currents swirling around in the resilient foamy shell surrounding them.

If the electrical supply failed for any reason, and there were plenty of back-ups so that it was very unlikely, the special materials still formed a hard, protective shell. The shell was nowhere near as efficient as the stimulated material but it would hold good until repairs could be made.

It was the passage of the electrical currents which caused the metallic foam to have its swirly, metallic, foggy appearance. Content with this interesting discovery, I finally retired, feeling I had begun to make good use of the Sentience Net link.

The next day I continued my voyage of discovery through the Net until lunch time but after a while I began to feel apprehensive about Lori's transfer, nothing definite, just a feeling. The transfer process usually took forty-eight to fifty hours.

After sixty hours, I was worried. I used Xloork's communicator, trying several times to raise him but there was only an answering service, which did no more than annoy me. Eventually, after 70 hours, Xloork appeared in the lab next door, covered head-to-foot in what even I could recognise as nervously apologetic colours.

'There have been no problems with Lori, Ben, but our nervous systems are not the same as yours, particularly the neural connections to the chromatic system. The transfer is therefore taking longer than we all expected. We are very sorry.'
Chapter 64: Panic

My spine started to tingle and I could feel an adrenaline rush creeping into my veins. My grip tightened on the communicator.

'Are you sure Lori's OK? You haven't lost her have you?' I must have looked pretty fierce.

'Certainly not. She is perfectly well,' replied Xloork. His colouring was unreadable, it was a fluttering mixture of apology and uncertainty, from what I could make out.

'Why didn't you respond to my calls?'

'Again I can only apologise, I was given leave, as I would not be required during the transfer process, which is handled by other, more technical staff.'

'Of course but I'm not impressed by being left here with no means of contact with anyone. Where was Skurla?'

'Skurla was required elsewhere to discuss progress with the interrogations, and there was no-one else available.'

'Humph!'

'I agree it has not been a satisfactory arrangement, Ben,' Xloork's colours shifted subtly, betraying a switch to conciliatory negotiating mode. I recognised the technique: disarm your opponent by agreeing with him. 'I came as quickly as possible to tell you that Lori is conscious again and in her new body. We are making all the usual checks.'

'So another couple of hours, then, Xloork.'

'At the most.'

'Can I see her?'

'I will ask.' Xloork spoke into a communicator for a few moments and waited for a reply 'It is possible now. Lori is happy to see you. She doesn't yet know how long it has been.'

A living hologram of the transfer room was projected into the room next to me, with a Sentience body at the centre, coupled to all the usual sensors. Lori could clearly see me too, her Sentience head turning in my direction. 'I'm fine, Ben.' The colours on her skin appeared pale, erratic and uncoordinated but to see and hear her was reassuring.

'I was getting worried.'

'Has it taken longer than usual?'

'You've been away almost three days.'

'That long? It felt like no time at all,' she said distantly. 'No wonder I still feel a bit wobbly. We'll speak again soon.' The image flicked off and I turned back to Xloork.

'You see, she is well,' he said. 'She will be ready before much longer. Do not worry further.'

'I'll try not to,' I replied, giving him a meaningful look.

At some point I must have drifted off and was woken by a tapping on the window from the outside. As my eyes snapped open Lori's voice, sounding very odd, came bouncing over the intercom into the room. 'I'm much better now. The transfer is complete. Still a bit shaky but it feels so good not to be cooped up in there. Start the transfer today so we can be together.' I could tell it was Lori, her voice was different but the inflection was the same and her colours were warm and welcoming.

'What about your human body? Are they keeping it safely in stasis so we can change back?'

'Yes, I've seen it and run checks on it myself. Everything's normal.'

'What's it like in your new body?'

'I can't even begin to describe it, other than it's like nothing you could imagine. They are all completely naked, apart from the colours. It's very,' she paused momentarily at a loss for words, while her colouring fluxed wildly, 'different and interesting.'

'OK then, if you're sure.'

'Definitely.' She looked at me unwaveringly.

'I'll be right out.' I stepped into a suit Lori had brought for me and checked the seals before making my way through the airlock. On my way out I collected up our few belongings, handing them over to Lori when I reached the other side. As I passed her the message pad, I tapped it lightly and looked at her directly, saying simply 'My notes.' but purposely giving no other indication of its importance. I didn't want the Sentience accessing all our secrets. To help her on her way with their Net, I gave her the portable computer link.

I followed the technicians to where the transfer apparatus had been set up. Lori accompanied us. She had been transferred into a composite generic Sentience female clone and I was to be transferred into a corresponding male one. I was becoming quite familiar with the procedure by now and anticipated the careful attachment of sensors by the technicians, then sudden, timeless blackness followed by waking in yet another body that was not my own.

**

Drifting slowly back to consciousness, I became vaguely aware that Lori was nearby, calling me from amongst the technicians busying themselves with the final adjustments. Somehow I had the odd sensation that I had a second face or limb, until I realised it was the connection to the chromatic cells in the skin of the Sentience body I was now inhabiting. As my awareness of it increased, I could see my new skin's initially dull, muted colours growing in variety and brilliance.

By the time I was unstrapped from the machinery, I was full of wonder by how fascinating the new body was. Emotions were expressed automatically by colour but I had not yet learned to interpret them all, let alone control them, as they were so complex. Lori was right, all the Sentience were naked, and it felt as if I was all the more so, when every emotion was displayed for all to see over the surface of my new skin.

Skurla met us and took us to temporary accommodation, showing us adjacent, but quite separate apartments. 'I hope you will be comfortable here,' she said. 'I will be gone for a short time, until we prepare more appropriate quarters for each of you.'

She led us into one of the apartments, which we saw at once was intended for single occupancy. It was in 'studio' layout, with only one multifunctional room and a separate bathroom.

'Why have you placed us separately, though?' I asked.

'This is only what we thought appropriate. You were insistent about your feelings of being closed in at the research station, so we assumed you would prefer to be apart. Do you practise communal living between unrelated adults in your culture?'

'We are not entirely unrelated,' commented Lori, chuckling and we slipped an arm around each other's waists. The instant our bodies touched, the colours flickered and swirled, until they harmonised completely along the points of contact.

Skurla took an involuntary step back. 'I am very sorry, we thought that you were no more than random individuals snatched from your data transfer system. I had no idea you had such great affection for one another.' She was as surprised as we were by the vividness of the harmonised colours, although of course its significance was immediately obvious to her.

'By chance we were taken together. Probably because our transfers were almost simultaneous, returning from a holiday. But we had already formed a relationship.'

Skurla looked away from us, embarrassed by the chromatic effects of our contact, so we moved apart a few inches, allowing the colour coordination to diminish.

'I will arrange joint accommodation for you at once. Please, you can wait in here.'

As soon as the door was shut, we sat down on the edge of a large sofa together, experimenting with the colour changes which occurred whenever we touched. Skurla returned from the corridor outside to find us at opposite ends of the sofa giggling. She left again abruptly and we decided it would be a good thing to try to regain our composure. We didn't want to get off to a bad start by misbehaving in our new bodies.

Skurla waited outside in the corridor for a discreet interval. We smiled at the second animated conversation she was having through her communicator. Her voice was muffled and we couldn't make out distinct words but it sounded as though we had caused a bit of a problem.

Meanwhile, I went over to Lori and we embraced gently. The chromatic effect was stunning and very affecting, the colours changed, becoming predominantly red and gold and matching perfectly at each point of contact. Even more exciting was the way we could actually feel the colours changing too.

I could already sense a much greater compatibility between these two bodies, compared to the indifference of the human ones Dyne had engineered for us. There was a distinct attraction and I knew from Lori's smile that she had found the same thing. Hearing Skurla's voice slowing down as she concluded her conversation gave us sufficient warning. We moved apart, so as not to disturb her further.
Chapter 65: Second Holiday

'There is some more accommodation in this part of the city. The rooms are intended for double occupancy.'

'That sounds good,' smiled Lori. 'Is it far?'

'No, but there is a problem.'

'Isn't there always?' I smiled enigmatically, making Skurla look even more troubled.

'Imagine the situation were reversed, Ben. From what I know of your culture, there would be the matter of security.'

'Ah, you mean surveillance.'

'Xloork is insisting that there should be some...' she paused uncertainly 'monitoring.' I hadn't seen her so apparently at odds with a situation before, she had always been particularly calm.

'What?' exclaimed Lori. 'You want us watched?' The chromatic cells all over her body were darkening, until she was covered in heavy blacks and deep reds.

Skurla looked very alarmed. 'I am totally opposed to this. Xloork wishes me to delay you while the equipment is placed.' She glanced at Lori to see if her angry colours were subsiding at all. Not yet they weren't.

'Xloork can go and sit behind bars in a zoo, because that's what he's wanting us to do. And we're not having it. We may be something of a novelty to you but we absolutely demand our privacy.'

'I am in total agreement with you. I will take you to a different location, one unknown to Xloork. I understand now. I can see there is a very powerful bond between you.

Because of this it will take longer than I anticipated for you to adjust to your new bodies and our additional sense. You must have somewhere where you can be assured you will not be disturbed.'

'I should hope so,' commented Lori, the extremes of her colouration diminishing.

'One moment please.' Skurla went back out of the door and was gone this time for only a few moments. She returned smiling. 'I have arranged for our security personnel to meet us at the main entrance, however we will leave by a different route. That will delay Xloork from discovering my plan. I will take it upon myself to secure your safety and your privacy.'

'Security personnel?'

'Yes, of course. Would you let outsiders of an alien race walk around unprotected and unattended on any of your human worlds?'

I thought of the tight security at the Passenger hotel. 'You are right of course, Skurla. I apologise for our abruptness. But we would not use the intrusive surveillance Xloork had in mind.'

'Yes, speaking of which, isn't someone monitoring us right now? Won't they know exactly what we've planned?' asked Lori.

Skurla smiled, fingering a string of beads around her neck. 'I don't permit any of my conversations to be monitored.'

'May we have some of those, please?'

'I will arrange it for you, Lori. However, once you are relocated, I must recall the security personnel.' Seeing the alarm showing on Lori's skin, Skurla added 'You have no reason for anxiety. They will be for your protection as much as anything and they will remain outside. No-one will intrude upon you. I shall instruct them to prevent even Xloork from entering your accommodation, should he try, he will be withheld.'

'That's,' Lori beamed 'very welcome. Thank you.' Her colour change back to softer pastels was rapid and dramatic.

'Right, let's go.'

Skurla took us out of the apartment building used by scientists and which adjoined the research facility. She opened the door to a small ground car, then drove us ten or fifteen kilometres round the perimeter of the city. We pulled off the highway, took a left turn after a few hundred metres, then paused by a gateway set in a sturdy-looking wall. The gates opened automatically, the car entered and I looked back to see the gates close behind us. We followed a drive which was at first wooded on both sides.

After a hundred or so metres, the large foliage plants thinned out to reveal a pair of attractive buildings. One was very modern and built with a particular sense of style. It had many features: shutters that could cover the windows, ornate stonework, and two round towers with pinnacles. A variety of carefully chosen materials had been used in its construction. The other was smaller, of a less innovative design: more plain and solid-looking.

'This is where I live,' Skurla pointed to the larger house 'and the one next to it I had built for my parents. They were to move in next week but I can delay them and you can use it for as long as necessary.'

'Oh Skurla!' exclaimed Lori. 'This must be of enormous inconvenience for you and your parents. We couldn't possibly take their house.'

'I am concerned for your privacy. I can see how important it is to you and it is the only way. You can contact me immediately whenever you require. Much of the time I will be right next door to you and you will have your guards, who will remain at a distance from your house.'

'We are immensely grateful to you.' Our colouration was so obvious to Skurla that she could tell at once how deeply we were touched by her offer.

Skurla made a call to the security personnel and told us she had asked them to bring a pair of personal anti-surveillance devices with them, so that we could maintain our privacy, even if Xloork tried to have us watched remotely. She took great pride, then, in showing us around the house she had prepared for her parents.

It was beautifully designed, having seven rooms altogether on a single floor. There was a reception room with comfortable chairs and a central table; a dining kitchen; an office equipped with computers and terminals of various types; a main bedroom; two guest rooms and two bathrooms. Every room was decorated in a rich cream colour, although the floor coverings varied considerably from geometrically patterned tiles in soft colours for the hall and kitchen, to deep, plain carpets in the bedrooms.

All the furnishings were of strictly functional design but very comfortable. The overall effect was light and airy. Shutters for the windows were drawn back into concealed recesses. Skurla patiently showed us how to operate them and many of the other facilities around the house until long after the security personnel had arrived and positioned themselves discreetly at the edge of the property. Skurla also arranged for her own catering suppliers to deliver our meals.

Lori and I spent some days alone together, apart from diplomatic calls from Skurla. Xloork clearly thought better of contacting us, presumably on Skurla's advice. It wasn't long before we could judge quite accurately each other's emotional state, by the rapidity of flux and the overall balance of colour on our skins. The house was a wonderful change from any of the accommodation we had put up with since our abduction, both on Nur and at our first arrival on Centre.

In finding out more about our new selves, it turned out that the online illustrated encyclopaedia was the most helpful, containing diagrams and illustrated sections of the Sentience physiology. It was with tremendous surprise that we found that many organs had direct parallels with human ones.

There was a cardio-vascular system, including a three-chambered heart; a pulmonary system, differing of course in its ability to process the atmosphere on Centre; a digestive system not dissimilar to our own; a skeleto-muscular system; and a nervous system, together with the addition of the extra neural nodes and connections to the chromatic system, or chroma as we found it was also known.

Even the reproductive organs bore a similarity to the ones we were familiar with, the male having an extensible organ and the female one for receiving it. Fertilised eggs grew inside the mother for ten months, followed by birth of a fully-formed infant. All these likenesses greatly puzzled us at first, then we considered the lack of variety in the animal kingdom with which we were familiar. Most used eggs which developed either internally or externally. Evolution had spent millions of years finding the most effective methods, so perhaps it wasn't really so surprising that the Sentience had evolved along similar lines.

The feel of our new internal organs took some getting used to and we spent hours in almost complete self absorption, comparing notes with each other at intervals, until we got used to how all the bits and pieces worked.

Lori and I felt very much closer to each other than we had in the human bodies Vill and Dyne had given us. At last we began to feel a real delight in being together and we woke every morning, each thrilled to find the other. The bond between us strengthened and we attempted making love several times. Skurla had confided that our Sentience bodies were sterile, though fully functional, so that there was no risk of fertilisation. The first couple of times it was more instinct than success but we soon got the hang of it.

We'd spent so much time in bodies that didn't respond to each other, that to be in these new bodies which were able to do so, was very exciting. We had become resigned to not knowing when we would see each other in our real bodies, so it hardly mattered that we were now in completely alien ones. What did matter was that we had a real sense of each other's presence and the effects of the skin colouration made it all the more dramatic. Being in an almost familiar environment helped us relax and we couldn't resist both seeing and feeling the effect of touching each other, nor could we resist allowing that to lead to increasingly intimate relations.
Chapter 66: Questions

The initial curiosity about our new bodies, especially the chroma, continued unabated. It was exactly like having another organ of communication.

Skurla told us that the Sentience had a central cortex, much like the human one, but also had a dispersed network of neural nodes and subnodes, which controlled the chromatic effects.

I was relieved to discover too, that this additional specialised brain power helped the process in reverse as well. This meant that as soon as we took over the Sentience bodies, understanding chromatic changes in others immediately became intuitive. At the same time we saw that we would be unable to hide any emotion from the Sentience, as it showed prominently and uncontrollably on our skins. This would doubtless be to the Sentience' advantage when negotiating with us, something we hadn't thought of earlier.

However, it was also obvious that there were certain colour displays that were for private use only. It took considerable effort on our part to learn what all Sentience children did at an early age.

So many other questions engaged us: how long would it take for us to be capable of effecting colour changes at will? What was the Sentience equivalent of breakfast cereal and what did it taste like? What other creatures inhabit their planet? What was their own technology like? What form did their computers take? Even the immediacy of our desperate desire to return home was dulled by the novelty of our new bodies and questions about the Sentience and their world.

During the seventy or eighty hours of my transfer, Lori had made considerable use of the Sentience Net and had acquired a remote interface unit of her own. She had used her new communicative abilities well, adding greatly to her knowledge by using her chromatic sense to penetrate the mysteries of the pattern changes displayed by the text reader.

Between us we found that, like us, the Sentience shared their world with many, many millions of creatures, their shapes and sizes as diverse as those of Earth. There was also a number of dangerous predators, annoying flying insects and viruses and bacteria. Some were domesticated, some not.

We soon saw, however, that the Sentience had been more careful with their world; their industry had always been cleaner and less polluting than ours, their use of resources less wasteful. We hoped for the opportunity to travel and experience some of their world first hand, rather than through the computer, no matter how well it was able to generate three-dimensional images.

After we felt we'd given him time to consider his treatment of us, we agreed to meet Xloork again, though briefly. He apologised profusely for his behaviour over the surveillance and gave us new, more highly functioning communicators, so that if necessary Lori and I could be in different places but would always be able to contact each other. We left him in no doubt as to our possession of the anti-surveillance devices Skurla had provided.

Essentially we found we were enjoying an extended vacation as guests of the Sentience, much as we had hoped for from the beginning, but without any intrusion from whatever media they had and with little awareness even of our security personnel. As the first week merged into the second, we arranged to leave Skurla's bungalow, so that her parents could take up residence and we were given an apartment in the city. The apartment was again large and luxurious, located in the extensive university complex.

Views from the apartment windows were spectacular, ranging right across the university campus into the central recreational area on one side and into a large area of parkland on another. We could also see buildings in the nearby part of the city. They comprised a very old quarter, built from the radiant native stone which glowed each day in the setting sun, to increasingly new additions spreading out from the centre.

The old quarter was clearly distinguished by its surrounding wall, which had been the extent of the site of the first city, centuries earlier. This was the seat of the most esoteric and academic studies; the more practical and newer sciences requiring fabrication and test-bed facilities were housed in the newer parts which radiated out from the old quarter. During the day time, the university was a constant bustle of activity. Students and teachers moved at different paces between buildings, meeting, chatting and setting off to attend lectures and seminars. From a distance, they looked almost like variegated butterflies.

Inside, the apartment was decorated very plainly, so as to contrast, we learned, with the wealth of colour that the Sentience provided themselves. Furniture, too, was very sparse and plainly functional. They made little use of visual art, other than complex sculptures which captured some of their more difficult to understand philosophical principles. Their interpretation was immensely intellectual and what at first sight looked like a prettily coloured and intricately carved statue usually turned out to be a highly detailed philosophical treatise, once you had learned to find its key. Other forms of art, particularly theatre were enjoyed by all. Huge crowds gathered every night in the capital to watch live actors spinning complex webs of enlightenment for their audiences.

The whole emphasis of Sentience society was on being in communication with others, feeling a deep sense of cohesion and commonality of purpose, which was that life should be as pleasant and equitable as possible, given the inevitable trials of day to day existence.

We learned that there was very little difference between the remuneration received by a learned professor and a gardener or caretaker. Every social function was valued, differences only arising from an individual's length of tenure, capacity for work, or earnest dedication to their job. Hence, those who had the most valuable experience to offer or who worked with greater industry were rewarded a little more than those who had not much experience or who achieved less. Innovation and discovery were other valued accomplishments.

Once Lori and I had gained a respectable degree of control over our chromas and learned how to communicate politely without causing embarrassment or amusement, Skurla helped us explore the city. To reach this stage required a great struggle at first but we found that a daily period of meditation, particularly one before going out, gave us sufficient equanimity to cope with most day to day encounters.

Sometimes Skurla accompanied us on tours of the capital, other times we went out with two of the security personnel. The ones we found most amenable were twins, More and Moré. They shared with us their senses of humour, which were subtle and dry. Amongst all the security personnel we met so far, these two were probably also the most knowledgeable and informative about the city and its inhabitants.

It took many days to see all the great sights, including historic buildings with fine statuary and carvings, administrative buildings, municipal facilities and recreational areas. We found that the Sentience had naturally been less competitive than humans. Through their history they had treated all forms of recreation as games, no matter how strenuous some of them were.

Contact activities were used by all but the frailest. Some games were highly acrobatic and complex. Their most preferred recreation was swimming, to which their strong, flexible bodies were ideally suited. Our study of their ancient prehistory provided us with the insight that they had evolved much later from the sea than had humankind.
Chapter 67: Permanence?

Our security personnel were the most surprising we could have imagined. They were chosen for their sensitivity and agility, rather than brute strength or cunning. However, they were of exceptional ability in using their chroma to modify the behaviour of others.

In an unguarded moment one day in a crowded market-place, Lori or I inadvertantly caused offence to a passer-by. Before we were aware that we had done so, one of our security team had removed the individual from our vicinity, while the other had carefully concealed us in the shadow of a nearby building. The offended party was made calm by the force of the security person's tightly focussed chromatic display, given a disarming explanation of our conduct and, as we were no longer visible to him, he simply moved away about his business.

Although we became more competent we were still closely guarded, however so subtly it was almost imperceptible. The only way we eventually became aware of it was through the limitations on the Sentience individuals we were permitted to meet and confer with. Our only real contact was with the security personnel, Skurla and occasionally Xloork.

After we had become accustomed to our new surroundings, Lori and I both found ourselves getting more and more curious about the progress of the interrogations of Vill and his comrades.

I addressed Xloork directly in one of our face-to-face meetings, still believing him to be Skurla's superior, 'Can you tell me how the interrogations are progressing? There are many questions only Vill and his team will know the answers to.'

'I have little news. Skurla is more knowledgeable than I on these matters.'

Repeating the question to Skurla later brought some interesting news.

'Vill finally admitted stealing the Ultra Radio unit from the human clone ship. He even kept it a secret from others of the Xark Corporation. We had no idea of its existence. This is how he was able to steal your transmissions.'

'I see. I suppose he thought his mining operation would be more efficient with an extra pair of hands.'

'This is so but he also had to control you. It was Dyne's knowledge which made this possible through the implanted chips.'

'Have you taken the chips from the bodies you are holding for us, in case we need to return?'

'Do you plan to return to those human bodies?'

'I hope not but we are curious.'

'The answer to your question of the removal of the chips is no, the bodies Dyne gave you are entirely intact, as you left them, in holding tanks. They receive the necessary sustenance to maintain their functions, although that will only be possible for up to ten years.'

'I hope this situation will be resolved long before that,' Lori interrupted, her skin flashing notes of alarm even more emphatically than her voice.

'That is my hope too,' added Skurla in a magnificently orchestrated display of calming patterns. She was fitted to her role perfectly, being an individual who could affect greatly the emotional state of another by the powerful, yet subtle control of her chroma.

Taking a different tack, I asked a more practical question. 'Skurla, if the transmissions from human space are variable and unreliable because of the dust clouds, how did Vill manage to intercept our transfer data?'

'Ah, this is an interesting question.' One thing the Sentience did have in rather more than good measure was a dismaying predilection for prevarication.

'And the answer is?' Lori asked impatiently, embarrassed by the ease with which Skurla was able to read and at once mitigate the colours of her agitation.

'He found a relay beacon which was dormant, apart from an identification signal. Apparently it was disguised as a weak pulsar but it had drifted far from its original course, taking up a stationary orbit around an uninhabited planet. He was curious that its beam produced a particular and unusual response in the UR equipment.'

'I bet it did. It would be searching for the access code.'

'He had very fast computers and plenty of time. He simply set his computer the task of cracking the code. Motivated by only simple curiosity, he did not care if it took several years, which of course it did.'

'I should think he was even more curious when he gained access to our Net.'

'It was easier to get information from him after we had reached this point. He was so proud of his achievement that he bragged openly about what he had done. It is most uncharacteristic but useful in this case.'

'So were any Sentience exchanged for us?'

'Vill could see no gain in this, so presumably your transfer organisation is still mystified by the tampering with your signals. I understand you can tell if coded transmissions have been intercepted.'

'Absolutely. Tracking this sort of activity was part of my job. The transfer would not have been completed for either of us. It would be as if our data had vanished without trace because it was absorbed by a beacon which had long since been forgotten.'

'I see.'

'Are the interrogations completed, now?' asked Lori.

'Pretty much,' replied Skurla.

'So we have only the matter of negotiating our return to deal with, now that most of the technical details are known. You do have the UR transmitter intact?'

'Oh, certainly, although if you wish you may remain here as our guests indefinitely. It would make the remaining difficulties of your return irrelevant.' Lori and I looked at each other, not moving for several seconds, only our chromas displaying the whirlwind of thought Skurla's words had generated.

'That prospect has many attractions. These bodies are very beautiful and exciting, although they are not our own. Your world is a continuing source of wonder to us and the prospect of remaining as your guests is immensely attractive.'

'Perhaps an exchange of information would be agreeable,' countered Skurla carefully.

'So there would be work for us to do?'

'I think you would find it interesting.'

'I am sure that is true. We must give this much cautious thought,' assured Lori.

'I understand,' replied Skurla tactfully.

Left alone once more, Lori and I discussed the offer Skurla had made us. 'We could have a good life here,' I began, taking a controversial position.

'Don't you want to go back?' I so miss my family and I can only imagine what they're going through not knowing what's happened to me. I would have thought you would have realised that without me having to mention it.'

'I understand. I'm sorry my family are very dispersed and not close at all, like yours. The sooner we are permitted to send a message back at least to let them know that we're safe, the better. I want to go back for us, too. Skurla has become a very good friend but most of all I want to be with you, back in my own body.' I embraced Lori warmly until she looked relieved. The holiday was over. We were moving on again.

Changing the subject, I said. 'As things are likely to become more formal, I think it is about time we met the Sentience president.'
Chapter 68: Justice

When we confronted Skurla with the proposition of meeting the Sentience President, she smiled and at once assumed the most serene and captivating chroma.

'Who is it that has been so close to you since your transfer? Who is the person who has made it her particular responsibility to ensure your comfort and growing understanding of our race?'

'You of course,' Lori replied.

'And who would you think would be the most appropriate person to deal directly with guests from another world, another civilisation, another race?'

'The President?'

'Of course.'

'You mean it is you?'

'It is I.'

'But Xloork said you were a political academic.'

'And so I am. How else might you select for such an important post?'

'A post? It's a job?'

'That is how we arrange things. It is always for only three years and then another person is selected. I am very surprised you did not come across this knowledge in your studies,' she teased, smiling again, still with great amusement but with warmth in equal measure.

'We thought you were our friend.'

'And I hope I will remain so,' Skurla replied gently but seriously, holding out her hands to us. 'Would you prefer it to be otherwise?'

'Certainly not!' I said, touched by the poignancy of her words, taking her hand and holding her along with Lori with a sense of great amity between the three of us.

'Xloork, where does he fit in?' I asked at last.

'He is my vice-president and first advisor, although as you know I do not always follow his advice.' We all laughed heartily at that.

'Skurla, before you leave us today, what is to become of the others?'

'The Xark miners? It is already decided.'

'They are to be punished in some way?'

'All except Vill have been returned to Nur. The two males will be supervised at the mine for the rest of their lives. They have become too unpredictable to return to Sentience society. However, we hope that the females may be rehabilitated. The head of Xark has been replaced and will spend some years at the mine, as he was an accomplice.'

Curious for more details, I asked 'What of Dyne? She told me once that she had gone there to escape an unhappy relationship, before becoming involved in our abduction and the process of controlling us.'

'We traced her history. Her husband became psychotically tyrannical. It is very unusual but it happens sometimes. He was killed in an accident after she left. We suspect he may have arranged to take his own life. Dyne shall remain on Nur but for no more than a year. Then she will be returned to Centre. She has many valuable skills and much knowledge of human physiology.'

'Too true!' added Lori, wryly, glancing at me.

'Also she is very remorseful. She wished me to tell you this when we spoke of it.'

'And what about Vill?

'He is still too dangerous. Vill will be held indefinitely in custody.'

'Essentially all of them, except Vill are getting off practically free, then?' Lori was incredulous. 'After everything they did to us!'

'Absolutely not, they had not seen their stay on Nur as permanent, they intended it as a means of advancement in the company. Now that has all changed. They have been dismissed from their positions at Xark. They must work the mine as penance.

'They were members of a small group, wanting for various reasons to separate themselves from the rest of our society. In the very different conditions on Nur, their personalities had changed even further. It is partly what made us so wary of you to begin with, thinking that it may have been something to do with the influence of being in a human body which changed them.'

'Oh really, Skurla?'

'Yes I am not ashamed to admit it. We were proceeding with natural caution. But now, from your example, we know that it is not the case.'

'I'm glad we were able to convince you,' I said. 'But we did notice changes to our own personalities in the bodies we were put into on Nur. Their genetic make-up must have been chosen from fragments we have long since selected out.'

'So, perhaps there was an element of physical influence. I will make a note that it will be the subject of research. But as you say, your race has learned to avoid these characteristics. I believe you. The key step was your response to the bodies we gave you. It was immediately obvious to us that the nature of your characters was not like those of your captors.'

After Skurla had left us, Lori was very quiet for some time. Eventually she spoke. 'I'm not happy that justice has been done.'

'Ah. That depends on your definition of justice. I know I would not relish what is happening to the others.'

'Perhaps not relish. But it's an easy option. Vill is the only one who's going to stay locked up forever.'

'And he's the one that did us the most harm. The others thought they were only going to Nur for a period of their own choice. Symch and Goster will be there permanently. That's like a lifetime of hard labour. Remember how we felt, stranded there. I don't expect the regime will be any easier now than it was a few months ago.'

'And what about your friend Dyne?'

I could see I would have to respond carefully. 'She was never a friend of mine. Dyne confided in me when she thought I would have no recollection afterwards, she was unhappy with her life and had tried to escape before getting caught up in Vill's plans. Don't forget Vill's first words to us. 'You work, eat and sleep. If you don't work, you don't eat.' I can't imagine it was any different for the others. Most of them hoped to gain from the situation, Dyne was merely trying to escape. And she did not abuse me in the way that Vill did you. I should have thought you would have been more concerned that he suffered reparation.'

'You have a point there. No-one would have stood much of a chance against him. Even Goster never really got the better of Vill.'
Chapter 69: Visits

We pursued the matter of our return on two fronts. Lori took on the political area, working with Skurla, saying she was more diplomatic than I, and I spent time with the technicians and radio-astronomers, trying to find a way to use the stray UR beacon reliably. The last thing we wanted was to have our data lost in space. And even before that I would need to contact my associates in the Net to explain at least something of what had happened and make arrangements for our return, preferably both to Lori's world.

Skurla had to begin something of a world tour in about a week's time. She suggested that Lori should go with her, sample the variety of Sentience culture and gain an overview of life on the planet Centre first hand. It would also give them both an opportunity to work on the parameters essential to our transfer back to human space and what that entailed in keeping the Sentience way of life undisturbed.

As the time for their departure neared, I could see that Skurla and Lori were working up to enjoying a period of serious female bonding. When not indulging herself in preparations, Lori extended her research to the geography of the planet. She studied aerial and satellite photographs, maps and statistics.

Most of the land mass on Centre was grouped in a broad band around the equator, which ensured the relatively regular weather patterns. Seasons were minimal, variations in temperature occurring as one moved over sea towards the poles which were both frozen wastelands, totally uninhabited by Sentience. Some of their animal kingdom had adapted to live there, but apart from the odd research station, they were left entirely to their own devices.

The band of land around the 'waist' of the planet was broken into segments, providing four large land masses, with strings of islands in between. A range of extinct volcanic mountains ran almost exactly along the equator. It was on the largest land mass that Amantia was situated, on the northern coast, where it enjoyed frequent nightly showers of rain, bright days, and a fertile plain resulting from the lazy, meandering flow of a large river. Some mineral deposits from which metals were extracted remained in the mountains to the south of the city. The mountainous area was very deep, extending across two to three thousand miles, before descending to the wide, gently sloping southern coastal plain. A few of the mountain peaks were snow-covered but the Sentience, who vastly preferred the temperate zone along the coastlines, rarely visited them, other than out of necessity.

Lori and Skurla's trip began with a flight taking them right out of the atmosphere, so that they could make best time to the next continent. They would experience a series of hops between the string of major land masses, returning full circle by the end of their tour to where they had started. The flight gave Lori a fascinating opportunity to see the formation of the two continents on this side of the planet; the large, lozenge-shaped Shissmay, containing the city of Amantia; and the wrinkled curve of Kaross. Along the eastern seaboard of Kaross was their first destination, Mai-Ming, its largest city.

Lori called me not long after landing at Mai-Ming and relayed the delights which were in store for her. First there was to be a large reception, followed by dinner and theatre, then several days of sight-seeing with More and Moré while Skurla completed her assignments, before moving on to the next stop.

Each time they made the hop to another continent, Lori called me to let me know how things were going. Different regions had originally developed different cultures and beliefs, until electronic communications homogenised the Sentience peoples. Even then, the old traditions were preserved, documented and recorded. The great variety of Sentence cuisine resulted from regional differences and the naturally available raw materials. Almost all had been vegetarian and the few exceptions now had adapted so as not to consume animal products.

The Sentience saw that environmentally it was far more energy-effective to use plant material directly, rather than extending the food chain through feeding animals which were in turn consumed as food. This was particularly true where warm-blooded animals had been used because of the additional feed used by the animals for maintaining body heat during their life-time. Overall, far less farming was necessary in a vegetarian community than in one which consumed meat.

Unlike would have been found in human space, there were no variations in costume because there wasn't any clothing. On the other hand, Lori found that jewellery was worn, particularly for festivals and social events. This was inevitably of designs traditional to a particular region and was always hand-made by the wearer, as a display of their personal skill and expertise.

What made the greatest impression on Lori was the size and nature of the gigantic public meetings with Skurla. Lori was always safely at the periphery with More and Moré. The gatherings were bigger than Lori had ever seen, even in old newsreels. The Sentience could have stayed at home and watched Skurla on their view screens but they preferred the theatre of being there in person.

What came as the biggest surprise was the way in which the chroma of tens of thousands of individuals could be coordinated. Colours flowed and rippled throughout the entire crowd in the most astonishing fashion. It was almost like the chanting at a human games match, where tens of thousands of voices over a huge area produced a simultaneous sound. The meetings were in fact in the form of public debate, between Skurla and representatives of the community she was visiting. I watched some of them myself on the view screen in our apartment. All the meetings were relayed to all the other continents and cities but seeing them on the screen was nowhere near as spectacular as Lori reported seeing them in person, day after day.

Eventually Lori returned and we exchanged information on the progress we had each separately made on the quest for our transfer back to human space. I had certainly not been idle in her absence.
Chapter 70: Ax

In my studies with the technical staff at the research institute at the edge of the city of Amantia, I found it harder and harder to see how Vill could have latched onto the data for mine and Lori's transfer back from the holiday. The chance was far too remote; he would have been much more likely to pull down a mixture of fragments. Without the encryption keys, he'd have ended up with a haphazard muddle of bits of bio-medical data, philosophical discussions, chunks of bulletin boards, advertisements and who knows what else. All he would have had from his computer hacking away for two and a half years would have been the access code to the Web itself, not any of the myriad codes to individual data strings. No, it wasn't possible, at least not by any way I could see Vill had at his disposal. Someone was going to have to talk to him.

I put in a call to Xloork. Of course he wasn't available as usual, so I explained the situation to his answering service and waited for him to get back to me.

'Ben, I don't fully understand your problem.'

'The problem is, Xloork, that Vill must know more than he's told us so far, because he couldn't have apprehended our transfer data, not by access to the UR Web alone. All the data is too well encrypted, as you know from even the ordinary UR transmissions you've picked up. Someone must have given him the codes.'

'He is unable to tell us any more.'

'Why is that?'

'He attempted to break out of the human atmosphere section, but the technician whose suit he tried to steal was too quick for him. Unfortunately for Vill, he found himself on the wrong side of the airlock. Despite many attempts we could not revive him. We have the backup he made of himself some months ago at the mine and while that version of him might know the answer to your question, we have no great desire to resurrect him.'

'I see. Then this gives us both a problem.'

'Why?'

'Because the only way Lori and I are going to be able to get back is by talking to my associates.'

'You're right, that does give me a problem. Why do you have to contact them, can't you transmit yourselves back without that?'

'Not until I know the reception is secure at the other end. As I say, Vill couldn't have accessed our data without help. I don't want to end up somewhere even worse than on Nur.'

'I'll have to get back to you on this one, Ben.'

'You do that Xloork.'

I knew that if Xloork came back with a 'Yes', contacting my associates would have to be totally untraceable, so while I waited for Xloork's answer, I set to work on devising a system with the Sentience technicians. What we came up with was 'slippery cells', a method of making the data packets reject the sticky web technology Ax and his team had developed. The packets would be able to slip through unnoticed, because Ax's tags wouldn't get a hold on them. To make sure, we would set the data packets to each seek random paths through the Web, ensuring that they deleted any trails of address data as they went.

When Xloork reluctantly gave me the go ahead, he was surprised that the technology to meet his specifications was already developed. Five minutes after I'd heard from Xloork, I put a voice call through to Ax, my old associate at the Department.

'Ben, is that really you? How come we've got voice only? Where have you been? We didn't even know if you were still alive. Your bodies and backups have been held in stasis for months. All we knew was your data had been stolen en route, with the help of the chief of those Yellow smugglers. We couldn't even tell where it had gone, only that the check-sums showed it had actually been received somewhere.'

'All right. OK, Ax. Slow down. Lori's with me too, by the way. It's a very long story. We can come back but only after we have made suitable arrangements.'

'Apparently the outfit which stole your data had put out a message advertising personal disappearances. The Yellow gang put out a sniffer bot seeking anything like that and of course the ad and the sniffer found each other on the Net. The Yellow gang believed it was the best way to interrupt the investigation and prosecution by getting you and Lori out of the way.'

'But that's absurd, all the data was stored at my terminal.'

'Not after they'd sent it an auto-destruct signal, it wasn't.'

'That shouldn't have been possible.'

'They found a way.'

'You mean there's a big melted mess on my desk where the terminal used to be and I've got to try and remember the work I did months ago?'

'Well, not exactly. It's taken all this time to reconstruct the case from stuff that remained floating around. It turned out it was such a big operation, there was still plenty of other evidence left to prosecute from.'

'Thank goodness for that!'

'Of course, if you'd uploaded the evidence, like you should have done, then we wouldn't have had to go to all that trouble.'

'What do you mean? I sent the whole lot to Knass.'

'Ah, well that explains it. He turned out to be a plant. I say 'he', Knass was an automated terminal.'

'You mean you let me think he was actually a person and all the time he was a hundred percent AI? Thanks Ax.'

'It wasn't my idea. Your boss Gaze thought it was best to keep the intel restricted to as few people as possible for security reasons. He was meant to be the most advanced system anywhere.'

'I see. But you keep talking about him in the past tense.'

'Er, yes. The first version kind of vanished.'

'Vanished?'

'That's right. The Yellow gang managed to sneak some extra code into his system and he uploaded himself to a secret location where he was downloaded onto hard memory and then stripped of all our secure data.'

'A bit like a cyber kidnap.'

'Yes. So, we had to rebuild him, then get him to re-secure all the Departmental data and finally get back to the job he was supposed to do in the first place.'

'Hence all that stuff you were telling me about him going off-line and so on before I went on holiday.'

'That was Gaze's idea. She wanted to keep you out of it.'

'Well, what a mess. I expect security has been improved in our absence, since this débâcle?'

'Frequently, we're updating it again now.'

'I should hope so.'

'You don't sound exactly as though you've simply had an extension to your vacation, Ben.'

'Not quite, unless you call working for nearly six months in an open-cast mine, with your brain half switched off, an extension.'

'You're kidding!'

'Not in the least. Mind you, plenty else has happened too, but I'm not able to disclose what at the moment.'

'Oh, go on, you can tell Uncle Ax,' he laughed.

'Nope, not even you. Once I get the channels sorted and the deal finalised, I'll let you know.'

'So, what happened to you, how did the outfit at your end manage to effect a total disappearance job? Even Blis, the Mister Big of the Yellow operation didn't know how it was actually done.'

'Now, that I can tell you.'

'Blis tried to make out your end didn't even want paying.'

'They didn't. All they wanted was a couple of extra pairs of hands for slave labour. Look, I'll have to get back to you later.'

'OK. How do I contact you?'

'You don't. It's part of the situation here, I contact you.'

'But where are you? I'm getting random packets from all over the place.'

'I knew you'd check, so I scattered the beam and used slippery cells.'

'You used what?' exclaimed Ax.

'Tell you later. Until next time.'

'But...'

I cut the connection before he had time to finish. He had all the information he needed: that we were still alive and kicking. Ax had told me the answer to my question about how Vill had got hold of our complete data transmission. Blis's organisation had penetrated the normally highly secure Passenger Hotels and stolen the codes. Doubtless, they'd used the first version of Knass for that. It looked as though the slippery cells system would work to get us back. All I would need then was Ax's confirmation that the transfer facilities were secure once more. Perhaps it would also be a good time to negotiate a transfer to Lori's world.

'Ax, how's things over there?' I put in a second call to him a few days after the first.

'Oh, good, good. Blis didn't look too happy when he was told you'd contacted us, until he was reminded that if you'd turned up dead somewhere, he'd have been tried for murder.'

'Oh, nice thought, thanks Ax.'

'Sorry.'

'I've kept meaning to ask, what happened to the three who got away from the Passenger Hotel?'

'Ran out of funds after their contacts were arrested for trafficking. They gave themselves up in the end, in return for a square meal.'

'I see, well done.'

'No sweat. I've got my latest tracers out on you by the way,' Ax boasted.

'Any luck?'

'Not a peep. I don't know how you're doing it but whatever it is it's got us foxed.'

'You'd say that anyway, even if you'd got our coordinates down to the last digit!'

'Yeah, all right. But I haven't.'

'Good, because if you trace our location, it would jeopardise the whole thing. We might not be able to return at all.'

'What sort of people are you with over there?'

'Very good people actually. So good in fact,' I turned and grinned to the Sentience technicians around me, 'that they're not particularly keen on contact with the rest of you out there.'

'Good grief. The original lost colony!'

'Never mind that, now take the tracers off. I know how ingenious you lot are and I don't want to risk not getting back, OK?'

'Right they're off.'

'Thanks. Now how's security coming along?'

'Very well, especially with those slippery cells you're using. The address randomiser was an excellent idea.' 'Good. I want to be transferred to Lori's world with her.'

'But what about your old place?'

'I was pretty fond of it but I've been through so many changes over the last few months, it feels like time to move on.'

'And am I getting an impression there may have been something of a holiday romance over there?' Ax chuckled.

'A bit more than that, I think,' I replied, smiling to myself.

'Serious stuff, eh? I'd better dust my best suit off for the holographic celebrations, then.'

'Could be! But I should wait until we're safely back first.'

'No problem, Ben.'

'Another thing, Ax.'

'Yeah?'

'Could you put the latest stuff on micro-machines and parallel processors on your home page, so I can access it?

That would really speed things up in terms of transmission times.'

'OK. No problem.'

'Thanks. Talk again soon.'

'Bye.'

The information I'd asked Ax for would help me reprogram the beacon and update all its systems, so that we could improve the signal and have better transmission times.
Chapter 71: Friends

While I'd been succeeding with contacting Ax, Lori had finalised negotiations with Skurla after their return from the tour. The package they came up with was as follows:

First: the location of Centre and its star system is kept secret.

Second: a diplomatic bureau is set up immediately in human space, through which all contact with the Sentience is routed.

Third: Centre and the Sentience would be given access to the UR Web.

Fifth: visits to Centre should be by agreement from the Sentience and involve small numbers of individuals. Initially only Lori and I would be allowed to return.

Sixth: trade should begin but on terms specified by the Sentience.

Seventh: The Sentience would freely exchange all their knowledge of the superconducting matter converters used in their ships, for state of the art UR beacon technology.

The package, backed by our assurances that there would be nothing for humankind to gain from invasion but that there would be much to gain from close cooperation and exchanges of technology finally convinced Skurla that our transfer back was a good idea.

All this was quite apart from the fact that mounting a physical invasion would be almost impossible. It would require the setting up of a base where humans could be cloned off, grown, conditioned and ships built, assuming there were any volunteers, which there wouldn't be. Even then the clones wouldn't be able to breathe the Sentience atmosphere, unless they were genetically changed to be able cope with the different balance of gases, assuming that would even be possible. What would be the point? No, it wasn't viable practically, never mind the moral objections.

The secret of the Sentience's location would be maintained using slippery cells technology and the uncharted beacon. In terms of physical space, neither Lori nor I knew the location because the constellations looked so different. However, the most important factor turned out to be our deepening friendship with Skurla herself.

News media barely existed in Sentience culture in the way that it did in human space. Their heightened ability to share and pass on information was reinforced by frequent use of the Sentience Net, which was continuously updated with fresh knowledge. The general populace had no great morbid interest in the misfortunes of others. There were no major scandals, except for our kidnapping and enslavement. From the time of our arrival on Centre, Lori and I had assumed that everyone on the whole planet would know about us. Only later did we pause to think of how human governments might respond to the discovery of alien creatures living on what had been thought to be an uninhabitable planet in the same system.

I was surprised that Skurla would keep this information secret from a race such as hers, though. All I had learned of them was that they were well adapted to new ideas. At great length she explained to us both that although the existence of humankind was general knowledge, the Sentience as a race had always considered the distances to our nearest planets, the fact that their atmosphere was unbreathable to us and their being hidden by the dust clouds were all very good reasons to expect that there would never be any contact between us. Recalling the disturbance our presence had caused Skurla and Xloork, I saw that multiplied throughout their society and understood the need for caution.

Once we had returned, Skurla said that it would be possible to explain in stages to the other members of their race what had happened, it then being safely in the past, and to prepare them for an exchange of information.

Before our transfer back to Lori's home, I had to ensure that the beacon was absolutely reliable. After exhaustively checking it with the help of the Sentience technical staff at the governmental research station, we ascertained that it was stable. Unfortunately, it did not have all the state of the art equipment for transmission of the finest details of personality. Something of us had been lost forever in what we had become through Vill's pirated transfer system. On the other hand, we had gained more through our experience of the Sentience leaders and peoples on Centre.

It took several weeks remotely manipulating the micromachine generator on the beacon to rebuild and improve the computer systems and communications bandwidth to the point I felt was satisfactory. The information supplied by Ax gave us the best chance for a one hundred percent transfer. All the Sentience technicians were immensely helpful and I was more than happy to fill in the gaps in their knowledge of our systems. Increasing their expertise could only further ensure the safety of our return and the continuing good will between our species.

'Ax, how are those old bodies of ours holding up?'

'Not too badly. It might be as well to start again, though.'

'I thought so. I'll need a new one anyway at Lori's home world and she would prefer a new one, so that the two of us can start again afresh.'

'That makes good sense, though of course, they'll need a bit of running in, as usual.'

'Yes but we can work on that together, if we're both starting anew.'

'I bet!'

'Don't get cheeky, Ax, it doesn't suit you.'

'Oh, I always thought it did,' he chortled.

'Where would we be without you?' I laughed good-humouredly.

'Where indeed? It's still got to be a secret for some reason you can't tell me?'

'That's right. Are you ready at your end?'

'Perfectly. You'll arrive at the Passenger Hotel, of course and be held until you've checked out fully. Then you'll be free to do what you like. Your old jobs are still open, if you want them.'

'Excellent. How is the media handling all this?'

'The usual hype and furore, and you may be something of celebrities when you return. It could take some getting used to.'

'I'm not sure I like the sound of that,' I replied sternly.

'Oh, it shouldn't be too bad, we have learned something over the past few hundred years, you're forgetting.'

'Yes, maybe. They play things down a lot on this planet and our presence isn't general knowledge yet. What news media there is has been kept out of it.'

'Kept out of it? Don't they have any freedom of information over there?'

'It's not that, it's what they'd call reasonable caution. They're big on caution over here and our presence here would be quite shocking to the general population.'

'Practically nothing of what little you've told me makes any sense at all,' Ax sighed resignedly. 'Central Coordination is monitoring these calls and they can't make any more of it than I can, from what I hear.'

'Oh, Great! Central Coordination, how could I have forgotten about them?'

'What's got us all really fooled is that not only can't we trace you, there isn't a single known colony that would fit anything you've let slip.'

'Good, we need to keep it that way, otherwise we'll be stuck here for good and I know Lori is especially keen to be re-united with her family.

'Yes, given all that, I'm amazed you haven't found a way to get back here before.'

'It's not as straightforward as that and in many ways we'll be sorry to leave.'

'I assume you're not talking about the people who kidnapped you.'

'No, they've been dealt with long ago. The ring-leader died trying to escape.'

'Unlucky for him.'

'We've already got a package negotiated to get us out of here. We're going to have to put together another one for the media at your end. The whole thing is going to be a bit of shock.'

'You don't say? I'll be looking forward to that one!'

'Not so much Lori and myself. We'll make a statement for the media after working it through with the people over here before the transfer and then with Central Coordination.'

'Sounds very heavy. I can't wait to hear what you've been up to.'

'You'll get it all when we get back, you are covered by Official Secrets.'

'You have to keep tantalising me, don't you?'

'Not intentionally. Speak to you in a couple of days.'

We signed off and I arranged a meeting between Lori, Skurla and myself.

'We've got the return package now but we need to determine what we can tell our central government, Central Coordination,' I explained to Skurla. 'I'm sure you don't want us to tell them everything, but we can't simply appear and walk off into obscurity without a word of explanation.'

'We've agreed already on the essential matters,' Skurla said. 'I would not want you to lie about anything on our behalf. You have assured me we have nothing to fear, so you must tell them all you know in the way you consider safest for the stability of your community at large.'

'That's not going to be an easy one,' Lori added 'Human beings have got pretty accustomed to being the only termites on the mound.'

'Well that is something you must decide for yourselves. As far as I am concerned, I am entirely satisfied with your plans for maintaining our security.'

I could see by her chroma that she trusted us completely.

'I think it would be best if when we return, we make a full but guarded explanation to Central Coordination. They can decide how the information is distributed. Meanwhile Lori and I hope to set up a bureau entirely controlled by us, to funnel all communication to you.'

'After all this excitement, I'm not that keen to go back to my old job,' said Lori. I'm sure we could get something like that going. If we couldn't get government funding for it, we would certainly be able to get sufficient commercial funding.'

'So, it is all arranged, then,' said Skurla 'I shall be very sorry to see you go.'

Lori took Skurla's hand. 'We too will be sad to leave but we need to spend some time in our own bodies again to re-orientate ourselves. It is a long time that we have been away from our own culture and I miss my family very much. My parents and brothers always lived nearby.'

'My family long since dispersed, although we have kept in touch via the Net. It will be much easier for me to be reconstructed on Lori's world, rather than the other way around.'

'I can see you have thought much about all this. I am very pleased you will be together in your native forms soon.'

'We will miss these wonderful chroma, though, Skurla,' said Lori.

'Yes,' I agreed, 'they have been essential to our understanding of your race and have helped us in our own relationship.'

'I imagine there are going to be times when we will be lost for words when we return,' added Lori.
Chapter 72: New Colours

It was Lori's last remark which gave me the idea of having some additional genetic data sent over to be incorporated into our new bodies. After obtaining Skurla's permission, I worked closely with the Sentience technicians to isolate the data necessary to provide Lori and myself with chromophores for the skins of our new bodies and a hybrid of neural connections which could be used to activate them. The whole thing would be experimental, there wasn't time to actually test it on human clones on Centre.

'Hi, Ax. we've got some new stuff for you.'

'Oh yeah?'

'New genetic material.'

'Sounds interesting, what sort?'

'They call it a chroma over here. It won't be possible to incorporate the full system because it requires localised neural networks all around the body, but what we're sending will hopefully be able to link up with existing pathways and we can learn to make use of the chromophores which can be incorporated into the skins of our new bodies.'

'Wow. Nervous body paint.'

'You've got it, well something like that. It can be used as an extra means of communication, although with us it will be limited to intimate situations, as you won't see much of it fully dressed.'

'Even more interesting.'

'Well, we'll have to see how it works out. It'll be an experiment.'

'OK. Send me the stuff and I'll get it over to the transfer bureau. They're working up the DNA sequences to prepare your bodies already.'

'I've gone through it carefully and it shouldn't give them any trouble.' I uploaded the data to Ax's home page and left him to it. A week later, Ax reported that Lori's body was now out of the vats and ready to go.

So, it was time for Lori's transfer. She had convinced me to once again let her go first, because she hoped that it would mean that she could be with her family sooner, though I warned her that things might get a bit complicated when we explained that we had spent the last three months on the planet of an alien race. I accompanied her to the transfer unit and watched the technicians connect her up.

There were additional connections to the usual human ones, to send back some of the information from her extra Sentience nodes. Once more the transfer took longer than usual and I spent the time making final preparations for a future interchange of information with the Sentience.

As soon as Lori was safely transferred, I spoke to her across the thousands of light years of space through the UR link. The transfer had gone better than expected and she told me she was already able to activate all of the special skin cells, to give herself a semblance of a chroma. Next it was my turn. Skurla and Xloork took me to the transfer unit personally and we made our farewells.

I knew I would do whatever I could to make it back one day to see them again.

I awoke in a confused state, feeling considerably bereft of the additional Sentience neural nodes I had become accustomed to but saw immediately how well the DNA matching and patching had worked. The technicians surrounding me were full of awe at the way patterns of colour flowed over my skin. An advantage over the full kit was that I quickly found that I could turn it off at will and go back to being a 'normal' fleshy olive tone.

When Lori and I embraced, it was almost inevitable that the chroma would intensify but it was nowhere near as dramatic as we had experienced on Centre. That was only as we had anticipated but after the luminous displays we had known before it was very disappointing.

I was surprised how much I had relied on the chroma, once I had learned to use it properly. It was another reason to consider returning to Centre in person, should it ever be possible. By way of compensation, I was able to be with Lori in her real body, the one I had grown to know and love so many months before. The only downside was that both of us looked very much as though we were fresh from a vat and would have to work hard to get back into good condition.

Lori had refused to talk of our absence when questioned by Central Coordination. She insisted on waiting until I had joined her. Following a brief meeting with one of their top operatives, all hell broke loose and we were immediately separated for intensive debriefing in a very remote, top security location. It was made particularly clear that we were to have no contact with the outside world now that we'd revealed that we had both been held captive and rescued by an alien civilisation.

Up to this point, no secret had been made of our return and we were due to make a statement to the media the next day. This was cancelled by order at the highest level but, once Central Coordination had gathered their wits, they realised we would have to make an appearance or risk a storm of protest, not least from a news media which hadn't had a story like this since the near miss comet on Tropic Five, seventeen years ago.

After being given the full transfer workout treatment by the Passenger Bureau, we prepared ourselves to appear without chroma before the cameras of several dozen worlds. It was old news by now that we had been kidnapped by the Yellow traffickers to keep us from leading the prosecution but actual pictures of the two people who had been thought lost permanently were too good to miss. They could spin a brief press conference out into hours of programming and the advertising revenue alone would keep them going for years.

All we were to tell them, it had been agreed with Central Coordination, was that we had managed to escape our captors, been helped by the government on a distant planet and had been brought back after contacting members of the data police. As an additional distraction for the press, it was stated that we had formed a relationship in our absence and would be living together in the future, once all the necessary arrangements had been made.

This is exactly what we did, having rehearsed a very brief statement. We were presented behind glass to a small assemblage of carefully screened journalists. It still caused uproar from the journalists when we completed the statement and refused questions. A well-known figure in interplanetary law gave a second statement explaining that for legal reasons to do with our kidnapping, it was impossible to give any more details until the case had been explored further.
Chapter 73: Interrogations

The statement to the media contained the following:

'We are in perfect health, having been recently transferred to the Passenger Bureau. We are now in new clones of our original bodies. There is absolutely no fault or blame on the part of the Passenger Bureau and we have no desire to seek any legal redress. Any claims in the press that the Bureau was in any way responsible or negligent are entirely groundless. The Bureau has introduced new security protocols and it is no longer possible for an individual's data to be stolen during transfer. Therefore it is perfectly safe to make transfers, as our present return indicates.

'We were held captive in a dangerous mining facility on a remote planet, the location of which we are unable to disclose.

'After many difficulties, we made our escape aboard a mining vessel. We were lucky to make planet-fall on another planet in the same system. The government there then returned us by transfer through the UR net.

'While the investigation continues, you will be informed at appropriate intervals about its progress.

'We send our love and best wishes to our families and friends, whose tireless efforts have contributed to our rescue and return.

'It is true that we have formed a strong bond with each other and hope to spend a long and happy time together.'

This was of course the sanitised, media, version, so to Central Coordination we had to explain the full sequence of events dating from our abduction, the transfer to bodies designed by Dyne, the work at the mine and our eventual escape to the Sentience home planet.

In great detail we described the reasons the Sentience had given for keeping their location secret, their desire for carefully controlled trade and quite a few details of their society. It was necessary for us to demonstrate the chromatic enhancement we had incorporated into our new bodies.

The operatives recorded all our conversations and what had initially been planned as a few days investigation looked as if it was going to continue indefinitely. It turned out to be weeks before the information was fully digested and decisions taken as to what future action there should be.

'These people, they're totally isolated on a single world?'

'Yes, apart from about half a dozen of them using human clone bodies on a mining planet.'

'The people that rescued you, are they humans from a lost colony ship?'

'No.'

'They're not human?'

'No, entirely alien, as we explained before, they evolved totally separately, as did all the life on their planet. There are enormous differences as a result and additionally because of the different atmosphere but there are surprising parallels too. Why do you keep asking the same questions?'

'We have to make sure we've covered every angle and to make sure your statements are consistent.'

'They would be, because we're telling you what actually happened.'

'That will be for us to determine. Now, they live on two planets?'

'No. There's only the mining operation on the second planet in their system. That world is largely uninhabitable, even for humans. We can breathe the atmosphere but there is almost no water now. Even for us life there would be impossible without technology.'

'Was there life there in the past?'

'Yes. They say there was low level plant and animal life there once but it was destroyed by a meteor or comet impact which boiled off the water. It's entirely desert. The only water there exists as vapour in the atmosphere. If it ever rains, the water evaporates straight away.'

'And the other planets?'

'The third planet is where the Sentience live. Their global population is relatively small by human standards, only a couple of billion.' I described the geography and land mass distribution of the planet Centre.

'You said earlier that the atmosphere is different.'

'Yes, ammoniacal and too much carbon dioxide for us. But it maintains the temperature at what would otherwise be too great a distance from their star.'

'So their physiology is totally different.'

'Yes,' I sighed, going over the same ground we had the day before and the day before that. 'They evolved from the sea late. They were quite highly developed as sea creatures. I don't know what caused them to move onto land.'

'This chroma thing, how does it work?'

The two operatives facing me at that moment had never seen the chromatic enhancement my new body now had. Mischievously, I gave them a quick burst of colour, flashing over my face and arms. They almost jumped out of their chairs.

'How did you do that?'

'You should see the real thing. This is only a pale imitation because the Sentience have specialised nervous systems with additional nodes that humans don't have.

'Don't do that again, please.'

'Oh, I thought you might like it,' I said, grinning and bringing my skin back to its natural colour.

'We're not here to have fun.' The largest and least friendly looking of the two individuals facing me said rather pointedly. 'Are these people dangerous?'

'Dangerous?' I laughed out loud, causing the operatives to both get to their feet, making them look more ominous than ever. 'Sorry, it really isn't that funny. What made me laugh is that the reason we had so much trouble getting back was because they thought humans were dangerous. The Sentience exist solely on a single planet. Compared with humankind, their existence is incredibly fragile. They are, in fact, very happy not to have spread their kind across many star systems as we have. But it does leave them vulnerable.'

'Why did they consider us dangerous?'

'Until the clone ship arrived, their only knowledge of us was from very old broadcasts which had eventually percolated their way through to their part of the galaxy. The signals were full of centuries old tales of conquest and competition, violence and exploitation.'

'Humanity's ignoble past, as you might put it?'

'Compared with theirs, I would say that exactly.'

'So you consider that they pose no threat.'

'None whatsoever.'

'Where did they get our genetic information from?' I was getting used to their abrupt change of subject by now.

'From the lost clone ship you asked me about yesterday. It was one of the early ones, which steered itself way off its original course, got lost and then found the mining planet as a reasonable match, though not close enough to sustain survivors. There wasn't enough water.'

'And the miners found the ship and the remains of the colonists?'

'That's right, closely followed by a Sentience survey ship sent to find out what the unexpected intruder was. The official survey ship didn't arrive, though, until after the leader of the mining operation had taken and concealed the communications technology and the backup cloning machinery.'

'So they have all of our state of the art stuff?'

'Not exactly. We had to gain their confidence and help in rebuilding the beacon to get us back here.'

'The beacon?'

'Another lost clone ship. There must be hundreds of lost ones floating around the galaxy by now. This one had ended up orbiting a star with no viable planets for some reason. Maybe it had run out of fuel or had a drive failure. All it was doing was sending out a homing signal. It was too far from human space to be any use, so I assume that was why it hadn't been kept up as an active component on the Net. When all the addresses were revised last time, it never got reallocated.'

'But it was still connected, in some way?'

'It was able to function all right, albeit in a rudimentary fashion. Having no known address made it possible for Blis to lose our transfer signals there, without even him knowing where they'd gone.'

'That we have confirmed.'

'Then Vill, the mining chief, downloaded our data into clones made up using the equipment from the other ship.'

'You gave them some of our latest stuff?' Another unexpected change of tack.

'We wouldn't be here if we hadn't,' I replied, feeling somewhat ruffled. 'But we had access to their Net and I have some information about their superconducting system.'

'You'll have to give what you have to the scientific section.'

'Of course. I expected that.'

'Do the Sentience know of any other species with a similar order of intelligence?'

'They have assured us they do not. It wouldn't be possible for them to maintain their apparent equanimity, if there was another race on a nearby system.'

'And how can you be so certain they haven't colonised other systems? You said that they have more advanced space vehicles than we have.'

'Because of their philosophy and their way of life. They value what they have on that one planet more highly than humans have. Even though we have changed a great deal from when we existed on a single planet ourselves, if we make a mess of one place, we always rely on there being somewhere else to go.'

'That is your opinion.'

'But it's true. It has been so relatively easy for us to found colonies; we do it as a matter of course when a habitable planet is discovered. Their philosophy is the complete reverse. They take great pride in being precisely and singly what they are.'

'You will meet agents with more specialised knowledge of philosophy than we have.'

'I don't doubt it.'

On that rather discouraging note that particular interview ended. Much of the time Lori and I were interviewed separately. We were pleased to find that as time passed, the more specialised the knowledge of the operatives, the more sensitive they were to our information and the more interesting they were to discuss our experiences with.

Some operatives were exceptionally adept at their task, in addition to being experts in their own field. I found that they were able to draw inferences and reach conclusions and levels of understanding about the Sentience, I had not been able to do myself. Towards the end of the process, I actually expressed the hope that one of the science agents would be able to work with Lori and myself on future communications with Skurla and her race. Lori agreed and we filed a formal request for Eneeni to be transferred to whatever organisation we were able to set up later.
Chapter 74: Freedom

The time-scale of the debriefing gave us the opportunity to work our new bodies up to a decent condition, put straight all our affairs and begin our life together. Without Vill's rocks to pick up and machinery to move around, we had to spend many an hour at the gym.

I would have loved to supplement the gym work with walks around the town in which Lori lived, exploring the highways she had described to me, and countryside surrounding them. That was not possible. Contact with the outside world was withheld for the first three weeks.

After the debriefing had reached a point where the Bureau and Central Coordination could see that the Sentience were really no threat to humankind, we were taken from the top security facility to the Passenger Bureau. We were allowed direct communications access to our families and friends. Although they were desperate for news, we still had to be very guarded and give away no information about the true nature of the Sentience. I was also allowed to contact my old associates.

'Ax. I'm sorry it's been so long.'

'You've been back nearly three weeks. How come this is the first I've heard from you. Every time I tried to get through I got some official pre-recorded message, saying that you were temporarily unavailable. In the end I got fed up with calling. I hope it wasn't anything personal.'

'No. Of course not. We've been held in very tight security and I still can't give you all the details. It's classified even way beyond Gaze's level.'

'Not very important then,' Ax laughed.

'Sorry. I'm sure they'll cut you in before long.' I knew there wasn't much Ax didn't have access to and it must be a source of real frustration to him.

'It's great to see you again, Ben. At least now I know you're back with us. When will you be taking up your old post?'

'I'm not sure about that. I might not be coming back at all, though if I don't we'll have a pretty close role, I imagine. There's going to be a lot of security on this thing for quite some time. Sooner or later everyone's going to want to have access to the people we were rescued by but the location has to be kept secret.'

'It still all sounds rather heavy to me, Ben.'

'I know. It isn't really but it's convincing everyone else that's taken the time up to now.'

'I see. Well, no, actually I don't understand anything about all this. But you think I'll be in on it when it's all resolved?'

'I hope so. We've always worked well together.'

'Ben, I shall look forward to that but right now all this mystery is getting to me.'

'That's the Ax I remember, you always did have to know the answer to everything.'

'Still do. Call me when you can give me the full story.'

'OK. Bye.'

As soon as we were free to leave the Bureau, I moved into Lori's home, the one I had seen in our vidcom conversation so long ago. To me everything looked different to the way I had seen it the best part of a year ago. All the colours were more vibrant, the rooms more spacious and the furnishings more interesting and inviting. At night the sky was truly spectacular. What I had seen on my screen at my old home was nothing by comparison. In reality it was electrifying. Night after night I sat outside with Lori, marvelling at the flaring meteors and rippling curtains of light.

The house was exactly as Lori remembered leaving it because her parents, Jen and Jet, had maintained it in her absence. They were so relieved to have her back, having spent many anxious months up to my first communication with Ax, desperate to know what could have become of their daughter. I was no stranger to them either I found, as Lori had talked much of me before our transfer.

It was very different to my family situation but very pleasant to meet such kind and understanding people. The first night out of the Passenger Bureau we stayed with Lori's parents. At about 2 am Jen couldn't resist looking in on us while we were sleeping, reassuring herself that we really were back. Her gasp of surprise woke both of us.

'I'm sorry. I came to check you were all right. And then I saw all those colours on your skin.' Jen sat down on a chair near the bed, looking disturbed and dejected.

'Are you ill? Is this what you haven't been able to tell us about?'

At first I couldn't think what she meant but as soon as I looked at Lori I realised that while we were asleep our chromas, while not under conscious control, must have been displaying in response to our dreams.

'No we're perfectly well. It's nothing to worry about,' I replied, trying to sound calm and at the same time, toning down the chroma. Lori did the same.

'But Lori, dear, I'm worried about you. Those colours. It is really you, isn't it?'

'Mum,' she said, looking at her directly. 'Of course it's me. I know I've probably said it a hundred times but I am so thrilled to be back.'

'Alright but those colours on your skin, I didn't imagine it, did I? Is it a trick of the light? Are you sure you're not ill. I didn't see any colours before.'

'Listen, mum, you didn't imagine it but when we're awake we can control the colours. In fact it's a present from the people who rescued us. It's a sort of decorative mutation we've been given. And it doesn't do any harm but it's a big secret. We'll be in real trouble if anyone else finds out.'

'I won't tell anyone. I promise, dear.' Jen squeezed Lori's hand. 'Not even your father. As long as you're really OK.'

'We are mum, we are.'

'That's the main thing. I couldn't get used to you not being here. Now I can't get used to you being back. I couldn't bear it if you disappeared again.' She wiped a tear from her eye.

Lori got up and hugged her mother. 'We're here to stay now, so don't worry. Come on now, back to bed with you.'

After she'd gone I turned to Lori. 'That was close.'

'Yes but I know her, she won't tell a soul.'

'I wish we could tell them everything.'

'Not as much as I do. It feels dishonest not being able to explain everything to my own parents.'

'Hopefully, we'll be allowed to before long.'

Jen, Jet and Ax weren't the only ones full of questions. When I was eventually allowed to talk to my old neighbours, Henry and Maggie, they immediately asked when I would be back. At first I called them at their place but got a machine telling me they were next door. As my old house was the only one right next to theirs, I put a call through to my old number. A very surprised Maggie answered the link. They'd gone round to give it a dust over, anticipating my return and were visibly upset to learn that I wouldn't be leaving Solid Ground.

'But Ben, what about all your stuff? You spent years setting up house here.'

'I did. Most of it you two can have. And I'm really going to miss the pair of you. And the village. I was very happy there.'

'You could transfer back for a few months, surely, while you sort everything out, couldn't you.' I saw her quickly dry a tear. Henry sat next to her, looking downcast but remaining silent. It was very embarrassing. They had been such good friends but I felt my life had changed completely.

'I knew that Passengering business would be trouble,' said Maggie, trying to make light of it. We thought there must have been some hideous computer glitch and you were gone forever.'

'No. It would never have been that bad. Even if the Bureau had screwed up, which it didn't, they would still have had the backups.'

'Yes, except that then you'd have had a holiday you didn't remember,' said Henry.

'How do you mean?'

'Well, if they took a backup before you went on holiday and they had to put you back together from that, you wouldn't remember the holiday, would you?'

'Oh, I see. No, they take another backup at the end of the holiday too.'

'Really? No wonder it's so expensive.'

'Never mind that, Henry, I want Ben to fill us in on this Lori. She must be something to keep him from visiting his old mates. We only saw a picture of her before.'

'She's great. It's still classified but although we were kind of together, we weren't in our own bodies and for months neither of us even knew the other was there.'

'This is some weird trip, Ben. You're having us on?'

'No. Not at all. It's so frustrating. I wish I could explain it all to you but I really can't, though I don't think it'll be long now.'

'Oh, all right but what else? When are you getting married?' Maggie saw my face freeze for an instant and chuckled at the realisation she could still catch me on the hop.

'It's early days yet. I'm calling from Lori's house now. She'll speak to you next time. Believe it or not we've only been together in our own bodies for a couple of weeks.'

'Don't try and fob us off with all that. I can't wait to speak to this woman who stole you away from us.'

'She didn't steal me and she's absolutely gorgeous and a lovely person too.'

'Well, at least you got that the right way round,' laughed Henry.

'Cheeky devil!' cried Maggie, turning on him with an elbow in the ribs.

'Yow!' he exclaimed, moving away laughing, and saying 'What do you think I married you for, your brains?'

'You'd better have,' retorted Maggie, laughing as the cushion she hurled, one of my cushions as it happened, caught him on the head. This was more the way I remembered them, I thought to myself.

'Look, you two. I'll catch you later and don't wreck the place.'

'We'll try not to,' called Maggie as she chased Henry out of the house.

Lori and I revelled in each other's company. It was indeed like discovering a lover one had thought lost forever. After a couple of weeks of working out hard at the gym, I began to regain my sense of physical self. Lori grew happier with herself and became increasingly affectionate.

Our first couplings in our new bodies were long and joyously intense. I felt I had never enjoyed anyone so completely. I knew at once with Lori that no matter how well Dyne had tuned my clone for hers, not even in the Sentience bodies with their revealing chroma, none of it was anywhere near the sensational chemistry between me and Lori in our own human forms. Being with Lori brought back in a rush all the memories of our holiday in each other's bodies. There were things we knew about each other from that experience which we could repeatedly surprise and delight each other with. We both agreed that it was the best thing we had ever done.

Our happiness was punctuated only by increasingly less frequent and less arduous debriefing sessions. After leaving the Passenger Bureau headquarters, we had been given a week's respite from all the attention of the transfer and the interrogation. Following the first day and night we spent with Lori's parents, the next four days of that first week we didn't even leave the house, being so involved in each other. It was such a change to be ourselves again, and with the additional delight of the mild chroma, which we were able to relax into using together.

The scandal of the Yellow traffickers turned out to be much bigger and more far-reaching than we had ever imagined. The president of an outlying world had been one of the key contacts for Blis and his other associates. It would be the subject of study and revelation for several years, I felt sure and I spent much time with Ax discussing security.

After months with Skurla and the other Sentience, it was most disconcerting to Lori and myself that such a huge operation could have been built up before it was discovered and steps were taken against it. I was embarrassed at the mere thought of how the Sentience would react to a criminal operation of this magnitude.

How could I convince Skurla that humans still weren't a threat to her delicate civilisation when there were types like Blis around? But then, by comparison, the Sentience world was only one. There were so many worlds in human space that it was much more difficult to keep tabs on what was going where it shouldn't. It felt like a pretty thin excuse.
Chapter 75: Circus

After months of deliberation by Central Coordination, we were called to Solid Ground's headquarters, a forty-hour journey from Lori's home. Meetings of the utmost importance were sometimes still held in person, rather than by computer link, and this was no exception, although the Council members themselves were spread over as many as ten or a dozen worlds many light years apart. Thus it was a closed holo-conference in the personal presence of a special visiting Council member and the highest of the agents and operatives that had debriefed us.

The meeting was carefully contrived by Central Coordination with all the usual features that made this sort of thing particularly nerve-wracking: a long build-up, delays, security alerts, further delays and finally at the meeting itself, a circle of solemn-looking individuals surrounding an anxious pair, us.

The cloned-in council member introduced himself as Baker. We were clearly meant to be immensely impressed that he was present in person, having transferred a week ago and spent time getting himself into shape. The rest of the Council appeared in holo-form and needed no introduction; their faces were known across half the galaxy. Baker continued with a question.

'Ben, Lori. You know why you are here today?'

'Yes, to decide what is to be done about future communications with the Sentience.'

'I believe we will look at that matter later.'

The other Coordination members nodded, agreeing with him. I swallowed, not enjoying very much the way this character smiled, something about it felt insincere. However, he was an extremely experienced politician and so it was difficult to be sure from his face what he really thought about anything.

'First, there is the subject of security.'

'We have kept our side of the bargain,' offered Lori.

'And what bargain would that be?'

'That we haven't divulged the nature of the Sentience, their being non-human.'

'Of course not. You would be here under very different circumstances, otherwise.' He looked as though he was trying to animate a face which had been trained over decades of negotiation to reveal nothing. 'The threat the Sentience may pose to humans is what I am referring to.'

'There is no threat. We've been over and over this,' I replied.

'The information you gave us was scant but it has been verified, as has your experience of your contact with the Sentience.'

'You mean we've been analysed.' This meant that every single thing Lori and I had said or done since my first contact with Ax from Sentience space had been picked over by psychologists and specialists of every variety. Each scrap of communication, each nuance of body language had been scrutinised. Even in our most intimate moments alone, we had no more privacy than laboratory animals.

'In a matter of this importance would you expect anything else?'

'No, but you've had us under total surveillance!'

Lori's angry outburst brought an immediate response from the operatives, they took a step forward, causing her to stop in mid-sentence. 'I mean. I didn't think that was even legal.'

Baker's voice continued after a pause while the operatives and agents resumed their earlier positions. 'At times like these, all rights can be suspended.'

'So it would seem,' I thought. I felt weak at the knees.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Lori's face was white. I felt like saying 'Why all this intimidation, why all these black-clad, aggressive-looking agents. The Sentience are only aliens, the same as we are to them, except that we're a lot more frightening than they are.' But I knew it wouldn't go down well with Baker and his team. Underneath they must have been pretty scared themselves at the revelation of another race of intelligent beings.

'It is not a pleasant decision to take,' Baker went on, 'to put individuals under such scrutiny. But your story was so unusual, the circumstances of your disappearance in the first place so bizarre, that we had to verify it and, as you could provide us with only minimal authentication, there was no other way.'

'But what about the chromatic enhancement,' I said, allowing my face, neck and arms, all the parts that were visible, to develop a range of patterns reflecting my agitation. 'Wasn't that proof enough? How could we have made this up? It's real, you can see it.'

'Again, we had to be sure. Don't forget, you were both employed at high levels in areas relating to the Yellow case. We had to be certain you weren't involved. I can only apologise for the intrusion.'

'Intrusion? Is that what you call it?' said Lori bitterly. 'After the humiliation we suffered as a result of our kidnapping, you subject us to this?'

'It was for the first two weeks after your return only, while you were still at the Central Coordination base. You were kept apart at that point, remember? So that we could compare your responses.' He paused for effect and to allow his words to sink in. 'There was never any analysis of your private life together. And there will be no further analysis. You have convinced us of all you have told us.'

'I think I need to sit down,' Lori murmured, still shaken. A chair was brought for each of us.

Baker was highly skilled at his job. He had totally disarmed us and, at the moment we drew breath to ask another question, he continued. 'The discovery of another race is something humans have had a fundamental fascination with for hundreds of years. Until now, no other civilisation has ever been discovered, despite our colonisation of so many worlds.

'Humans had become convinced they were the only intelligent creatures in existence. The repercussions of your discovery are huge.

'You have been privileged to be those who made first contact.'

Baker's intentions were now clear to me. His purpose in the way he had conducted the first part of the meeting was to demonstrate to us his definition of what he considered was our role in all of this: small-fry being given a big opportunity.

I was too stunned to interrupt and Lori sat stock still, the only sign of a response being a fluttering of colour up and down her neck.

'The important thing is to move on.' Baker gave us his trained benevolent smile. 'You have actually lived with these people, learned their language, worked with them on achieving your safe return. The contact and the rapport were established by you, so we would like you to set up the channels of communication with them.

'It has been agreed at Central Coordination that you should be ambassadors for the human race. We welcome the opportunity for exchange with your friends and we even have a volunteer who is willing not only to work with you but to make a permanent transfer to the Sentience world, should that be agreeable. Perhaps they will have an individual who is willing to transfer to work here with you.'

'That sounds like a very interesting proposition,' Lori managed to reply with evident difficulty. It was more than I could summon. All I could do was simply nod in Baker's direction.

'It is a proposition but also an obligation which we hope you will be happy to fulfil. You may maintain contact with your former associates in your previous jobs and they can be called upon to assist you in any way necessary.' I immediately thought of Ax and how he and his team could help maintain the security on communications with the Sentience. The last thing I wanted was this bunch of heavies trying to muscle in, sneaking spy packets in with the rest of the data.

'When do we start?' asked Lori, as incisive as ever.

'Is today too early? There have already been messages for you coming from an secure source.'

'You intercepted our mail, too?'

'Yes, Lori, that was inevitable. I'm sure you realise that now.'

'But not any more?'

'No, as I said earlier, there has been no other surveillance since you left the Bureau.' Baker continued patiently. 'However, the signals were not destined for your mailbox specifically. We found the data very interesting.'

'What are you talking about?' I asked.

Baker did 'benevolent face' again, as if about to give a present to a child. 'We have a surprise for you. The signals we received were machine instructions, to build an unusual device.'

'This is since our return?'

'In the last week.'

'And what is this device?'

Baker made a signal to an aide and a silver cube was brought into the room and placed on a small table between Lori and myself. In the grained surface of the cube were two palm prints. At first I couldn't imagine what it was, then I saw a tiny portion of the grain swirl, so rapidly I almost missed it, and I immediately recognised the unstimulated or quiescent form of the Sentience superconductor.

Making the most of his moment, Baker went on with his explanation. 'Apparently, it is a holographic projector, using a technology not yet known to us.' He looked at me significantly when using the word 'yet'. 'We have found it will respond to no-one else, only you can authorise the decryption.

'You want us to try it now?' I gasped.

'Why not? We believe it is only a projector.' Baker replied. 'Probably with a recorded message.'

I reached out and put my hand gingerly into the larger of the two hand-prints. Lori followed suit with the smaller one. Immediately the surface of the cube began to change. It swelled slightly and the surface began to swirl.

We withdrew our hands and nothing happened for almost two minutes. It felt like eternity, with a room full of people breathing over you, especially with Baker looking so smug.

Suddenly, with no warning whatsoever, Skurla's image sprang into intensely lifelike form right next to Baker, who jumped back in alarm. The guards and aides surrounded him but I waved them away. Stepping forward, I showed that my hand could pass freely through the projection of Skurla's body. 'This isn't real, I can assure you,' I said, stifling a chuckle. Then I noticed the way Skurla's eyes were tightly focussed on mine; and felt the effect of her chroma. 'But it's not a recording, it's a live message. We are in direct contact with Centre.' The cube must have linked into any one the personal computers carried by the agents surrounding us, and logged straight into the UR Net.

'Ben, Lori, I am so pleased you chose this time to contact me.' The cube projected Skurla's voice perfectly. 'I was in the garden.'

'Skurla, how are you?' cried Lori.

'Well, as usual. How are things with you?'

'Full of surprises!' I exclaimed. 'We have only this instant learned of this device.'

'I hope you appreciate it,' laughed Skurla. 'I have missed your company. And, how would you put it? Your 'angle' on things.' She smiled at us and her chroma moved in calm, welcoming patterns. 'Why are you in such a dark and sombre place? Who are these people with you? I did not anticipate company when you first contacted me.'

'They are members of Central Coordination, the organisation which, well, coordinates things in human space. An interplanetary government. They are impressing us with the gravity of our situation in discovering another race.'

'I see. A form of government? Having known of you humans for so long, our adjustment to your presence is now history. It is easy to forget how unsettling it was for us at the time, especially given our perception of you.'

'Your remarks are most apposite, Skurla,' added Lori, sweeping a meaningful glance over Baker and the rest of his group. 'So your population knows now that we were on your world?'

'Yes, as I explained to you before, it would be easier once you had left. And so it was. Many of our population were fearful at first but when it was explained about how lethal our atmosphere is to humans, the fear was replaced by curiosity. A student at the university gave us the idea for the communication device we are using.'

'It's marvellous, such a wonderful reminder of your world.'

'Thank you, Lori.' Skurla paused and looked impassively around the room. 'Will these other people always be present when we speak?'

'Oh, no. I don't think so,' I smiled. 'They have other things to do, most of the time.'

'Ben,' said Skurla quietly, 'Your chroma is showing considerable tension and I sense that what you find a frustrating intrusion, is your government exercising reasonable caution. As you know, caution is something I value greatly.'

'Yes, I understand,' I replied, releasing a long sigh. 'Nevertheless, it's wonderful to see you and this is a very special occasion, for all of us. I had no idea we would see you so soon.'

'It's a pleasure, a real pleasure, to see you again, Skurla,' added Lori with feeling, her chroma rising in response to seeing Skurla's rich and powerful display.

'For me, too, Lori. I am pleased to see that the chroma you tried to integrate with your human bodies has been effective. Will you contact me at the same time tomorrow? I am sure we have much to discuss.'

'Certainly, until tomorrow.' Skurla's image vanished instantaneously, the same way it had arrived, leaving a stunned silence in the room. It was Baker's turn to look rather pale.

'Well, Coordinator Baker, are you convinced now in any way that you may not have been before?' I enquired quietly enough for him to know I was thoroughly enjoying his lack of composure. 'You have just met with the President of all the Sentience. As you could see, she is an exceptionally perceptive and intelligent individual.'

'The projection was so real, until you touched it, I thought she had actually beamed into the room, that you had tricked us in some way and that they had invented teleportation.'

'You know that is not possible, Coordinator Baker,' Lori smiled, enjoying her turn at a bit of retaliation.

Baker stood silently and implacably, looking studiedly calm for long enough to remind us of his status and that, although he might possibly sympathise with our tone, he nevertheless would not tolerate it. I sat back down, as did Lori, leaving the floor once more to Baker.

They are most interesting creatures,' he began, 'I am sure there is much to be gained from a healthy and secure dialogue with them.' He studied us both deliberately. 'You agree to work with the Bureau and operatives of Central Coordination, on building a peaceful exchange with these people?'

'Of course,' I replied.

'Without question,' added Lori.

'In that case, I will leave you to iron out the details, starting with senior officer Eneeni. I believe, Ben, you and Lori both expressed a desire to work with her during your debriefing. She is the one who has volunteered to transfer to Centre, the Sentience planet.'

From the back of the room Eneeni stepped through the ring of agents and greeted Lori and myself. 'Your associate, Ax, has also been cleared to join you if you wish.'

Baker had made as if to turn to leave. 'Thank you Coordinator Baker,' I said quickly. 'We will do our best.'

Turning back he shook us each by the hand, giving us his best multimedia smile, as if to say 'So make sure you don't forget who's running this show.'

'We will give you all the assistance you need, Ben, to ensure that you succeed. The human race will depend on your sincerity, I'm certain,' he said enigmatically. 'In a month's time, there will be a big media event, where you will divulge the rest of your story. It would not be right to keep this a secret for any longer. You must prepare yourselves. Coordination agents will advise you and leak carefully controlled amounts of information in advance to ensure a satisfactory outcome.

'But you personally,' he tapped me on the chest and swivelled his gaze to include Lori, 'will be the ones to reveal that humans are no longer the only intelligent species in the galaxy.'

'And that won't be the last of it,' I thought to myself.

\- The End –

**Acknowledgements**

This book is dedicated to Alice, Charlotte and Matthew

This book would not be here today, without the support of my wife.

Very many thanks to Karen Nadin for making time to read and comment on earlier versions of this book.

**More books by Peter Salisbury:**

**Passengers to Sentience** (110,000 words - the first Passengers novel) Cyber detective Ben Thomas finds Lori, the girl of his dreams but is then kidnapped to a desert mining planet. Cruelly treated and under the control of a personality suppressant chip, Ben is not able to even think of escape.

**Passengers to Zeta Nine** (102,000 words - the second Passengers novel) Pioneers Raife and Nancy travel to an idyllic new planet. Intent on founding a new colony, their plans are interrupted by hidden dangers and unexpected discoveries.

**Passengers: Revelations** (115,000 words - the third Passengers novel) Ben and Lori prepare the human race for the discovery of aliens and investigate another criminal plot. Raife and Nancy continue their battle for survival in a potentially hostile environment. Symch gets a full-body upgrade and plans to break out from the mining planet which has become his prison.

**Flight 1401: A Science Fiction Anthology** (Five contemporary and near future science fiction stories) A young man is faced with deadly danger in a post-apocalyptic wasteland; a child finds a cache of century-old 'buried treasure'; a dying father reveals a secret world to his son; on a plane trip from NY to London, a youth's computer tablet is more capable than he anticipated; and the pressure to find new sources of fossil fuels leads to an ominous discovery.

British Zombie Breakout: Part One

\- The remote fishing village of Kilkorne with its picturesque castle and harbour was the last place to expect a zombie attack, despite its proximity to the experimental facility where the disease was invented. Five teenagers and five adults separately attempt to stay one step ahead of an insane horde of highly infectious, half dead creatures, the army's orders to shoot on sight, and the Ministry's instructions to burn down the village. Furthermore, the endeavour is not exactly helped by a suspected case of haunting.

British Zombie Breakout: Part Two - Escape From Kilkorne

\- What chance of survival do the fugitives have while zombies are still at large in the English countryside and when a corrupt politician and the Chief Scientist are intent on their capture, dead or alive? Who will prove to be the more ingenious, the authorities, the fugitives or the zombies?

British Zombie Breakout: Part Three - Zombies Go Global

\- The Minister's plots deepen, the only living sample of the virus is stolen, and Alex and Steve are on the run again. Where will zombies turn up next and can they be stopped from infecting the world? Will Rachel ever appear on TV or will Steve beat her to it? All this and more in the third and final epidemic.

British Zombie Breakout: Part Four - Zombies Go Global

Alex and Steve leave home together to begin their courses but in less than a week Alex goes missing when some hunk called Tarquin steps onto the scene. Just when everything was going so well, suddenly it wasn't... After completing their studies and passing yet more exams, the other Kilkorne chums, Rachel, Maisie and Fred prepare for college by going shopping, unaware that the screaming may be about to start all over again.

British Zombie Breakout: Omnibus Edition

Alex, Steve, Rachel, Maisie and Fred dodge the zombies in Parts One to Four combined into one edition.

**Phantoms of the Quantum Rift** (SF - a longer short story; 12,000 words) Switching on a network of quantum generators causes global catastrophe.

**Ghost Circuits** (An anthology of 6 non-gory horror/ghost short stories; 18,000 words)

**The First Completely Electronic Robot and Science Fiction Limerick Book** (Humour - 50 limerick rhymes having an SF theme)
Passengers to Zeta Nine: Sample Chapter 1

'So, we survived the vat,' Doctor Nancy Zing said.

'The question is, where are we?' Raife's voice drowned in the sound of the showers flushing growth medium from their bodies.

'Later! My first question is does the food processor work?'

As soon as the warm air blowers had dried her, Nancy cracked open the side of her birthing vat and pulled on a one-piece bodysuit. She headed straight for the equipment that was giving off an aroma of something potentially edible.

'What's making that almost appetising smell?' Raife asked as he cut his blower. He fastened his bodysuit and strode across the cabin to where Nancy was juggling trays and tumblers.

'Looks like warm cubes and nutrient milk.'

'Oh, I bet they're delicious!' Raife was not at all hopeful. He crumbled his cubes straight into the tumbler of thick, milky drink Nancy gave him, then downed the first half in a couple of gulps.

'Peasant!' Nancy said, taking a surreptitious sip, followed by a cautious nibble of one of her six cubes.

'As I thought.' Raife licked his fingers. 'Soup cubes. They taste exactly like stewed vegetable stock and this so-called milk is... well, what is it like? Mine's got soup in it.'

'The 'milk',' Nancy said, 'has a curiously neutral flavour.'

'We have to survive off this indefinitely?'

'At least until we make planet fall, assuming that's even possible.'

'We wouldn't have birthed if Explorer hadn't checked it already. We'd still be in storage and on our way to somewhere else.'

'That's the plan.'

'How far've we come, where are we and what've we got?'

There were no windows in the cabin of Explorer 5017. Windows were an unnecessary luxury in an automated ship. For more than a century it had sped amongst the stars, to find one that had a planet in its habitable zone.

'That's a lot of questions for someone who, until minutes ago, was a mindless, vat-grown clone,' Raife said.

'Not so mindless now.' Nancy poked him in the ribs. 'Just give me the answers.'

'Hey, OK.' Raife flexed his right hand, signing in the direction of a control sensor. It responded to his authorisation and he spoke the command that opened the main viewscreen.

He and Nancy sat on the pristine white bunk. They nibbled and sipped, skipping through the various views and scans Explorer had recorded of its approach to the planet.

'The computer is still arguing with itself over exactly how far we've come,' Raife said, 'but it is telling me it took almost a hundred and twenty years. This planet has been named Zeta Nine, apparently, and so far it's looking good.'

'Yes, I can see blue bits and green, brown and white bits in the usual places: oceans, atmosphere, cloud, land and poles. Nice, fuzzy equatorial belt with what is presumably forest. All within tolerance.'

Raife and Nancy's very own, brand new planet glowed with sunlit colour, suspended in the viewscreen. It was what they had spent years training for.

'This is going to take some getting used to,' Raife said, lying back on the bunk with his hands behind his head, his gaze still focussed on the image of Zeta Nine. 'Until ten minutes ago, the last thing I actually remember was that personality download cubicle on Home Turf.'

'It's weird being born wide awake and grown up!'

'And remembering everything.' Raife tried to collect his thoughts, his memories of before. The shock of birthing kept coming back in waves, interfering.

Explorer's computer was programmed to make humans. When sufficient equipment had been assembled, parts for two clone vats were extruded and assembled by Spiders. The vats were then prepped, primed and loaded.

Raife sighed heavily, trying to push away the thoughts of birthing. When neither of them was talking, he noticed the soft clicks and whirring of machines, the swish of a Spider's muscle bundles. He'd expected a new, plastic smell but instead the cabin smelt old, with a whiff of growth medium, like meat jelly and a dash of disinfectant. Catching him unawares, his mind began playing tricks again, jerking him back twenty minutes, to when a jolt of stimulants had pushed him into wakefulness.

'You seemed to have a bit of a hairy time, coming to in the vat,' Nancy said, sensing his discomfort.

'I was OK once the shower started.'

'Not right away though.'

'It's the dull pop as the lid goes up. You feel it as much as hear it.'

'All that stuff in your ears.'

Raife remembered hopping onto tiptoe, straining to get his chin clear of the growth medium while it glugged away down the drain, an ugly rumble he'd felt through the base of his vat.

'You're scared you won't catch your first breath,' he said out loud. The memory of it was so vivid Raife's mouth opened like a fish. He'd gasped for air, coughing the glutinous medium from his mouth and blowing it from his nose.

'And you can't see properly,' he added.

'Was that when you panicked?'

'Hard not to. You looked like your head was rotting from the top down. It was horrible. I tried to shout but my mouth was full of stuff.'

'Even so, you should have kept calm. You looked the same to me.'

'Sounds easy when you say it!'

Where Nancy's hair should have been, Raife had seen sickly green, with a sharp ridge above her brow. The cylindrical shape of the vat hadn't helped. It formed a giant lens and Nancy looked three times the width she should have. Horrified by the sight of her bulging head, his heart had begun to pound.

The thick liquid had stuck to his body, increasing his alarm. He'd used his hands to scrape away as much as possible, flicking it onto the walls and floor of the vat. All he could hear were muffled thumps and squeaks. Raife felt helpless, spluttering and spitting growth medium as he stared wide-eyed at Nancy.

'Raife, are you alright?' Nancy said bringing him out of his reverie.

'Oh, yes. It's just I don't want to be doing that again for a long time.'

'Best to think about something else, then.'

Raife tried. He stared at the image on the viewscreen but it did not distract him. He hadn't realised how difficult and frightening the birthing would be.

He'd been still groping for words when he wiped his eyes again and saw that Nancy's head was not crowned with diseased tissue. It was a close-fitting cap, with faintly glowing spots of colour. Unsupported by the liquid in the tank, he had collapsed with relief.

His whole body twitched at the memory.

'Raife!'

'I can't relax until I've gone over it.'

As soon as Nancy had peeled off the layer of green latex, the lights went out. She'd pointed at the screen behind him. He'd struggled back on his feet.

_Remove personality download cap now_ flashed in large letters. As soon as Raife had slid his cap from his head the display changed to _Clip cord_. Threaded loosely around his umbilical, Raife had found a red plastic clip, which he slid to within two centimetres of his belly. He squeezed hard, wincing as the clip simultaneously cut and sealed the cord. On the screen _Start shower_ showed as soon as he was free of the machinery and warm water sprayed from above.

Nancy watched out of the corner of her eye, while Raife sighed and sank lower into the bunk. She let him be for several minutes.

'You've been quiet for a while,' Nancy said finally.

'I was just thinking,' Raife said. 'We were given our personality download while we were still in the vats. The way I remember our training, a Spider would have prepped us one at a time, getting a download from a machine, with wires everywhere.'

'Upgrades, I guess.'

'Upgrades! When I first saw you with that green thing on your head!'

'You looked pretty weird, too, but I could read the screen from where I was.'

'I'm glad you haven't gone mouldy,' Raife said.

'So am I!' Nancy held him close.

End of Sample Chapter

