

# Star Clash

# A Space Anthology

## by

## Vera Loy

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader.

All rights reserved by the author, Vera Loy, any unauthorized distribution or selling of this ebook constitutes as an infringement of copyright.

Copyright © 2015 Vera Loy

Smashwords Edition

These stories are a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Acknowledgements

Cover by EJ Kellan Premade Covers

www.premadecoversbyejkellan.weebly.com

A big thank you to EJ for the wonderful cover.

Thank you also to Aarathi Prakasen, for your help with editing.

Any mistakes are, of course, my own.

Dedicated to Angus Ecrivain

and all my friends at ForbiddenPlanet,

without whom many of these stories would never have been written.

Author's Note

Star Clash is a collection of my science fiction short stories.

You will find a variety of sub-genres amongst these tales, ranging from Galactic Empire, to Spunky Heroine, to Zombie Apocalypse. Most of them were written as entries for various Smackdowns. A Smackdown is an elimination-round competition, where the participants are provided with a series of prompts—anything from pictures, to quotations to song lyrics— a sub-genre, and a word limit.

Smackdowns are a lot of fun, as well as suggesting plots and characters which are outside a writer's usual comfort zone. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them.

Star Clash, the first story, was a winning entry and the prompt was the first six paragraphs, written by Angus Ecrivain.

### Contents

Star Clash

Emerald Warrior

Io Colony

Black Death

Kaia

Crime Fighter

Guns and Guys

### Star Clash

PROLOGUE

Irra, Vishna Star System

"We were arrogant, perhaps foolish but most definitely naive. Confidence in our defences was high and rightly so. As a highly evolved, technologically advanced race of beings, we have often—galactically speaking—been the target of foreign powers wishing to take our technology for themselves. We had always repelled such invaders though, without fail. Perhaps that is where the arrogance came from.

Perfectly happy in our tertiary star system, its thirteen life sustaining worlds more than sufficient to house our modest population of almost eighty billion, we thought we were untouchable.

Then they came. Humans. They looked like us, walked like us and the technology they possessed allowed them to talk like us. That is where the similarities ended. Never have such a brutal, bastard race existed and it is the sincerest hope of myself and every single surviving member of my species that never will such a race exist again.

Will we survive? I can no longer say for certain. Our cities are in ruins, our lands pillaged. Men women and children taken captive and put to work doing whatever their human masters demanded of them.

We will fight. We will do so for those of us that came before and for those of us that come after. We will fight not only for our species but for every other species. Humans are a stain on the very beauty of the Universe.

We will end them, or we will die trying."

Jax Naga (Council leader)

~~~

Mars, Sol Star System

"We are now in the sixth year of this damnable war.

By all rational criteria we have won, but the Gliesers won't admit it, they keep on fighting. Sometimes I think they will keep fighting until the last man, woman and child is dead.

They attack our ships, flaunt our laws and ambush those personnel sent to maintain peace, at every opportunity. Their acts of terrorism have forced us to destroy their cities and imprison those who resist us, planet by planet until they surrender. It is a huge cost to us in terms of resources, both human and material, but we have lost too much to give up now.

Much of Earth lies in ruins, whole cities washed away by the tsunamis, caused by the shift in the Moon's orbit. Perhaps we were arrogant, believing our defences around our home planet impenetrable—we were certainly mistaken. When the Gliesers attacked, they didn't attack the Earth with weapons as we expected, they targeted the Moon, moving the huge satellite into a new orbit with their technology. Just enough to cause chaos on Earth.

Many of us wanted to annihilate their race, obliterate them from the face of the universe. You will hear people say they look like us, talk like us, but... they do not act like us.

They are monsters."

John Nelson (Commander)

~~~

PRESENT DAY

Troni, Vishna System

"Did you realise that _every_ Earth colony has Vishnan slaves to do their dirty work?"

Premier Tev Nesa looked down at the small, white headed figure in front of him whose hand was clutching his arm, seeking his attention. He frowned, "And what in Vishna's name makes you think that is something I want to hear?" he asked, almost angrily. He tried to walk on past her, he had far more important things to do than listen to the obvious.

"But if you look at it another way," she continued, not letting go, "we now have our people inserted into every one of their bases."

Tev Nesa came to a sudden halt, his attention caught. "Come into my office," he directed. "Tell me more."

Vishna was a tertiary star system, which meant it had three suns. The two orange dwarfs, Bi Xiu and Ca Xiu, were in close orbit and supported most of the thirteen planets between them. The third, Xui, a red dwarf, was a distant third in the partnership, orbiting on the outskirts of the system, with only a single planet in tow.

Usually the least desired place of residence in the system, after all not many people wanted to live underground the whole time, Troni had come into its own after the humans attacked. It was distant and small enough not to attract their immediate attention and now the humans had their hands full dealing with the twelve central planets. They thought they would deal with Troni later. _Their mistake_ , Nesa smiled, grimly.

For Troni was the centre of the Vishnan resistance, the scientific part that is. The military front was still on Irra and the other central planets, fighting for every inch of ground.

The military was doing the best it could, but their weapons were no match for those of the humans. For centuries, the Vishnans had prided themselves on their technology, technology which they had used for engineering and public infrastructure projects, communications, not for developing individual, transportable weapons like the humans. Now it was time for their scientists to come up with a solution, or at least, something to give their fighters the edge. To date though, there had been lots of theorising but little concrete result.

And now, here was one of their oldest, most respected scientists in front of him. Was it possible she had something practical to suggest, or only more theory?

"What do you have for me, Ula Tesz?"

Mars, Sol System

Captain 'Hawkeye' Hallow shot the skyplane through the mountains, swooping and twisting like his namesake, following the slipstream. He'd disconnected himself from the autopilot which would have given him the exact co-ordinates. As far as he was concerned, his own eyes were good enough to get the job done. The day his eyes started to fail him would be soon enough to rely on instruments.

The rocket launcher was primed and ready to fire as soon as he spotted his prey. _There!_ Something moved on the ground.

He aimed and fired in one smooth movement. Then smiled tightly as a pink and crimson cloud sprayed into the air. Looked like a bullseye as far as he could tell. He supposed he had better go down and check. Never mind that his equipment would give him the answers he sought, this was one thing he always liked to do in person. One survivor was one too many in his opinion.

Damn Gliesers didn't know when they were well off. You'd think they'd have given up by now, been resigned to the consequences. Been grateful that they weren't dead like their friends. After all, as prisoners of war, they got three square meals a day, shelter, even school for the sprogs until they turned twelve and were big enough to earn their keep. But no, there was always one or two who had to make a run for it.

Always running for the mountains, as if they could find refuge there.

Never got them anywhere, of course. He made sure of that.

Troni, Vishna System

Ula Tesz seated herself on the stool and looked gravely at the Premier. "I have a development to report to you, sir, but unfortunately, in its current form, it's a strategy of last resort."

Nesa pinched his lips, and nodded for her to continue.

"I've been working on adapting our identification nanobots to simulate a virus. I've reached the point where I can trigger the production of an artificial 'virus' in the nanobots inside our people, which will attack the human immune system."

"Excellent!" Nesa enthused, but Ula Tesz wasn't smiling. "But?" he added, warily.

"The downside, is that the triggering of this particular 'virus' causes the mutated nanobots to attack our own genetic code. In layman's terms, unless I can find a solution, the virus will kill humans, but it will kill us as well."

Nesa frowned, his brows a single line across his forehead. "A suicide bomb, in effect." He thought for a minute and came to a decision, straightening his broad shoulders. "Keep working on a solution. Your project has the utmost priority, I'll authorise all the resources you need. I hope to Vishna we won't have to use it, but... if things get worse..."

Black eyes met silver for a long moment, neither voicing the unspeakable. That if things got worse... they might have to.

Mars, Sol System

Steven Coleman stared at his supervisor in dismay, his brown eyes blinking behind the wire rimmed glasses he insisted on wearing. He hated space flight, even the short trip from Earth to Mars had him throwing up or, even worse, feeling as if he was going to, for the entire journey.

"Sorry, you want me to go _where_ , sir?"

"Harmony. Near Sirius, I'm sure you have heard of it, Steven."

"Yes, sir. But isn't that where people go to—"

"Yes, it's the one called the 'pleasure planet'," Leon Gonzales interrupted, his voice testy. "But that's only part of it—admittedly the most famous part—but scarcely the most important. It's also the home of the Ancians, the race everyone seems to think is the oldest in the galaxy. That's whom you will be visiting, not the pleasure houses."

"Yes, sir." For the first time he felt a flash of interest battle with the dread he felt at the idea of travelling through space. "But what—"

"If you'll stop interrupting for a minute, I'll tell you!" Gonzales glared. "We've heard that the Gliesers, sorry, the Vishnans I _should_ say," he corrected himself with a sneer, "are going to appeal to the Ancians for help. I really don't know what they hope to achieve but they are sending a diplomatic envoy to present their case and we are going to do the same."

"But why me, sir? What can _I_ do?"

It was a good question, Gonzales thought to himself, looking at the slender scholar, who had been declared medically unsuitable to fight during the last conscription roundup.

"We need an expert," he answered bracingly. "An expert in Earth history and you're it. You'll be assisting Commander Harry Parker in an advisory role. He will be the one doing the negotiating. You will simply be there to help him, to answer any questions the Ancians might have about our culture, our history. Now if that's all, Ensign Browning will escort you to your quarters and help you pack. He knows what is suitable to take on the ship and what isn't. Oh, before I forget, your ship, the Voyager 21, leaves tomorrow morning at 10:00. Be on it."

Coleman followed the Ensign in a bewildered daze. One minute he had been sitting happily in the library, poring over an ancient text, the next he was about to be flung across the galaxy to Sirius.

He cast his mind back, recalling what he knew about Earth's relationship with Gliese 667, or Vishna, as its inhabitants called it. He supposed it had all started centuries ago, when the primitive astronomer, Gliese, had discovered and labelled the tertiary star system. Mildly interesting from a scientific point of view. But what had really caught the public's imagination then, and subsequently, was the fact that it was the nearest system to Sol with habitable planets.

It was almost inevitable, that when Earth eventually achieved space flight several centuries later, Gliese 667 would be their first destination.

The initial journey to the star system had taken years, twenty years if he recalled correctly. He had read about the first meeting, the excitement of the early voyagers when they realised they had found the first other intelligent race. The thrill, when they discovered the aliens were an advanced society, that they had a Faster Than Light drive, far superior to that used by Earth for travelling between the stars.

When had it all gone wrong, he wondered?

When the aliens refused to trade with humans, refused to sell or trade them the FTL drive? Or when an enterprising bunch of traders had stolen a ship and appropriated the drive for themselves? Who had fired the first shot in anger? More dispassionate than most of his species, accustomed to wading through the victors' reports of history with a critical eye, it hadn't taken him long to realise that it all depended on whom you talked to.

As for the Ancians, now there was a race he was eager to meet. He had never encountered one in the flesh, so to speak, but from what he had read, they were a race more in tune with his own ideals of study and scholarship. Slow of movement and speech, he had heard space men joking that most of the time it was hard to tell an Ancian from a statue.

The Ancians lived on Harmony, but appeared content to let other races run the part of the planet devoted to pleasures and recreation of all descriptions. Harmony had everything from theatres to bars and drug dens; from peaceful retreats to extreme sports for the athletically inclined. In addition, or perhaps as a result, Harmony was accepted by all races as being neutral, a place where differences were put aside, at least for a few hours. Anyone tempted into forgetting that, found themselves returned to their ship unconscious, and their permit to disembark revoked.

Steven soon packed his bag under the close supervision of Ensign Browning. It didn't take long as he could only take three kilos with him, and after Browning had left, he decided to spend his remaining time researching the Ancians.

There were numerous texts on the subject, many dating from the early years of first contact. Images showed creatures bearing a passing resemblance to an old Earth animal called a walrus, but with six fingers on each appendage and without the long tusks. Accounts described them as passive, spending much of their time observing other races and preserving historical and cultural records, rather like curators in a museum.

As far as Steven could ascertain, only one person had actually been to their city in the far North. She described long, curved white buildings, filled with artifacts and hologram displays, confirming the description of them as curators. They appeared to live a relatively simple life with nothing remarkable in the way of technology, other perhaps than the sheer lack of it, for such an old race.

There was a short article from a Commander Liu Zhang, concluding that the Ancians appeared to be no threat to Sol and its aspirations. As far as anyone knew, the Ancians never interfered with either the pleasure cities or the other races who visited them. Seemingly, they were content merely to monitor and observe.

It was evident to Steven that the government had been taken by surprise, when they learned that the Vishnans were appealing to the Ancians for help. Was it possible the ancient race wielded more power than previously assumed? Was their authority real rather than symbolic? Or was this simply a Vishnan diversion?

Harmony, Sirius System

Kal Truz was strolling through the Venturi bazaar when he saw the human. He froze behind a rack of brightly coloured silken cloaks, staring at it in fascination. It was the first live human he had seen. Its skin was browner than a normal person, dull and lifeless without the glossy sheen one would expect from a young male. The fur on its head was mud coloured and coarse, like a Canid's hair, and it wore odd wire circles on its face.

It bared its teeth as it spoke to the stall owner. Was that meant to be a greeting or a threat? Kal watched as the Venturi returned a courteous reply, unruffled by the stranger. A greeting, then.

He was distracted for a second as two children dashed past, chasing each other down the lane. Watched in horror as one of them cannoned into the human, knocking him nearly off his feet. The human reached out to grab the child and Kal found himself rushing forward without a second thought, ready to defend her. Except that, even as he skidded to a stop in front of them, he saw that the human had set the girl gently on her feet and let her go. "Whoa," he was saying in a cheerful voice. "Careful there!"

He looked up at Kal, who was panting after his mad dash, and smiled. "Yours?" he asked. The smile faltered as he took a closer look at Kal, gradually realising that he wasn't human. There was a sheen to his skin that humans didn't have, and he had never seen eyes quite that colour of gold before. Kal saw the exact moment when the stranger realised he was facing a Vishnan, one of the enemy.

There was a flash of fear in his eyes, but he held his ground gamely. "Harmony is neutral territory, is it not?"

"It is."

"I'll be on my way then." He glanced down at the little girl, still standing there between them, staring up at him, wide-eyed.

"Do you really eat babies for breakfast?" she asked, awed.

The human gave a startled laugh. "I'm afraid not," he replied, with a smile. "Usually I just have a piece of fruit."

"Oh," she replied, half disappointed.

"I think you should go and find your parents," suggested Kal, firmly. "They must be wondering where you are."

For a split second the two men exchanged a look of amused indulgence. Kids! Then they realised what they were doing. Kal gave a cool nod and turned away. Steven looked after him for a brief moment then continued on his slow perusal of the market, his heart beating a bit faster at the unexpected encounter. His first Vishnan.

It was funny, but after that first impression, he hadn't seemed all that different.

Commander Harry Parker was kicking his heels outside the door to Ancian's municipal reception room. He had been told the Administrator would see him shortly, but that had been an hour ago. He fretted, unable to decide if he was being snubbed, or whether it was just that the Ancians had a different notion of time.

He wished now that he had sent Coleman along to make the appointment, but he had been trying to make a good impression, show that he was treating the occasion with the appropriate degree of importance.

Another half hour crawled by before the door opened, and a Venturi assistant ushered him inside to where the Ancian was reclining on a low couch. Its heavy grey body bore an even stronger resemblance to a walrus.

"You are welcome, human," announced the Ancian in ponderous tones. The words emitted from a small black translator box placed on the couch. The Commander was taken aback for a moment. Surely the Ancians had a more sophisticated method of communicating than this old fashioned device? It made him wonder again, about what sort of power they actually wielded. He had certainly seen no signs of advanced technology so far. Still, the Vishnans evidently thought it worth their while approaching the Ancians for assistance. Perhaps they knew something he didn't.

The Commander bowed briefly. "Thank you for seeing me, Administrator. I am Commander Harry Parker of the Combined Sol Forces. I understand you have a meeting arranged with Vishnan representatives?"

There was a lengthy pause, then, "Yes. That is true."

"I, too, have come to request a meeting, so that I and my associates may present our side of the conflict to you."

The Ancian appeared to study him for a long time with large brown eyes, as if it were weighing up the pros and cons of every possible response and outcome. It blinked slowly. An unfortunate image of a cow chewing its cud flashed across Parker's mind, but he kept his face politely respectful.

"Your request is granted." The Ancian announced eventually. "You and the human called Coleman may attend us in the City, in seven days time. My assistant will give you the details."

"Thank you, Administrator, but... Coleman? I have more senior advisors who are looking forward to speaking with you." Parker was trying to be diplomatic, hiding his dismay at the invitation for the most junior and least experienced member of his party. The man he had only reluctantly accepted as having any relevance to the mission at all.

"Coleman," insisted the Ancian.

"Of course, Administrator." Parker accepted with resignation.

The Ancian closed its eyes, signalling the end of the interview.

Parker bowed to the Administrator, and he and the Venturi bowed to each other. The Venturi followed him out. "I'll send the details across to you this afternoon," she advised, as she closed the door behind them both, then added, "It's an honour, you know. Few people are invited to the City."

Parker was confused. Surely they were in the city right now? The Venturi gave what passed for a smile and explained further. "The invitation is for you to attend the Ancian City, in the North."

Troni, Vishna System

The Premier waited anxiously for Ula Tesz' update. The situation on Irra was deteriorating by the day. The latest report advised that the Vishnans were on the verge of losing control of the entire planet; most of the big cities were in ruins, the only significant remaining pockets of resistance were in the mountains and the smaller towns.

Ula Tesz entered his office out of breath. "Sorry I'm late, sir. The last test on NIL8 took longer than I expected."

"I hope that means you have good news for me."

The scientist grimaced. "No, I'm afraid not. All I've managed to achieve is a greater potency in the death rate. By that I mean, with the latest modifications, an average human will live about six days after becoming infected instead of ten. A Vishnan—anything from five to fifteen days depending on their age."

"How virulent is it? If, say, we triggered NIL8 in only a handful of Vishnans, would that be enough to have a significant impact on the humans?" Not for the first time, the Premier wished he had paid more attention in his biology classes all those years ago.

Ula Tesz looked up at the ceiling for a minute. "All my projections indicate that once we activate NIL8 it will continue to spread through the population until either someone finds a 'cure' or everyone in the killzone is dead." Her tone was flat.

"The 'killzone'?"

"Any discrete area containing human or Vishnan life. A spaceship, a space station... or a planet. It won't stop until it has nowhere to go."

Silence.

Tev Nesa cleared his throat. "Uh, it _is_ being kept in complete quarantine, isn't it?"

Ula Tesz gave a grim smile. "Completely, I assure you. Anyone working with NIL8 wears a full hazard protection suit, and goes through three separate decontamination procedures when they have finished."

The scientist paused for a moment, allowing him to digest the news, waiting until she had his complete attention once again. She leant forward unconsciously on her stool, emphasising the importance of what she was saying.

"Sir, this weapon is the most deadly yet devised, by either of our races. In my opinion, the Council should either decide to use it, and be fully prepared to face all the consequences, or... destroy it. Even given our most stringent security arrangements, I still have nightmares, imagining that the NIL8 is released somehow by accident, or by sabotage."

Tev Nesa found himself nodding, very slowly, in agreement.

Harmony, Sirius System

Steven Coleman trudged silently beside the Commander through the streets of the City. He risked a quick glance sideways and saw that the Commander was still annoyed. He wasn't accustomed to walking through snow, not unless he was going skiing that is, and neither of them were dressed suitably for the cold weather. Although, come to think of it, Coleman remembered there had been a short weather report included in their directions. Evidently it had been intended as more than general information about their destination.

Weather aside, Parker was not happy with the fact that they had been made to leave their hovercars—and the staff who had accompanied them—outside the gates to the City. They had been directed politely but firmly to a flat square of ground where they could park the hovercars. It was enclosed on three sides by long white huts containing sufficient—if basic—accommodation for all the people they had brought.

Steven stopped worrying about the Commander and looked about with interest. Despite wet feet and a cold nose, he was excited. Here he was, in a city only one other human had ever been allowed into to the best of his knowledge. He wasn't going to waste a second. The buildings they were passing were long and white, curved slightly to ensure that the snow didn't pile up on the rooves. He could see nothing to distinguish one building from another, though presumably the Ancians knew which was which.

Apart from the Venturi leading the way, he saw no-one else out and about on the streets. Perhaps there was some underground method of transport?

A few minutes later the Venturi stopped in front of one of the buildings. To Steven's eye it looked just the same as every other building, but the Venturi opened the door and ushered them inside. Steven blinked. For a second there, he had thought the building was bigger on the inside than the out. What an odd thing to imagine. Of course this building was large. He remembered quite clearly thinking it was the largest he had seen so far, when they halted out the front.

He realised the others had walked on ahead, and he hastened to catch up.

The two humans followed the Venturi through an empty hall, lined with colourful murals depicting different star systems and galaxies. Steven would have liked to linger but the others were keeping up a brisk pace, heading toward an open door at the far end, through which he could see an Ancian already lying on the customary low couch.

As Coleman followed Parker into the audience room he heard the gasp of an indrawn breath from his left. He spun around and froze. Two Vishnans stood there, to the side, both wearing dark blue cloaks which covered them from their shoulders to the ground. One looked like an older male, his hair was pure white, and the other was... the young Vishnan he had run into in the Bazaar. Both of them were staring, in what could only be described as shocked dismay.

Evidently humans were not the Ancians' only guests today.

Steven made a huge effort to gather his scattered wits and managed a credible bow to the Ancian. Then he turned and bowed his head very slightly to the two Vishnans in acknowledgement.

Commander Parker was still battling for control. His face was an angry red. "Administrator," he ground out. "Can I ask, what is the meaning of this?"

The elder Vishnan stepped forward as if he, too, would ask the same question.

The Ancian's face took on an even more impenetrable expression, if that were possible.

"Of course, Commander, Councillor. Both your races have requested a meeting with us to discuss your current conflict. It seemed to me the ideal opportunity to start by showing you the exhibitions we have on display for your respective cultures. It may prove enlightening."

Coleman could almost see the struggle on the Commander's face, as offence battled with the possibility that they might gain an advantage, by seeing what the Ancians thought was important about Vishna.

In the end, curiosity won. "Of course, Administrator," Parker agreed stiffly.

"We accept, Administrator," said the white-haired Vishnan, at almost the same moment.

The two opponents studiously ignored each other.

"Let's go and have a look then, shall we?" said the Ancian, sliding off the couch. However, instead of flopping or sliding along on its belly as Parker had expected, the creature rose up onto its tail. Vertical, the Ancian towered over everyone else. The Venturi hastened forward with a small chariot-like vehicle and the Ancian slithered onto it. Its forward appendages grasped the front of the chariot which then proceeded to glide over the floor at a leisurely pace, allowing the others to follow.

To Coleman's disappointment, for he was now convinced that there must be an underground transport system, the Ancian led the way back out into the streets. The chariot moved effortlessly over the snow, leaving the humans and Vishnans to trudge behind as best they could. A couple of hundred meters later, it drew up in front of another indistinguishable white building. The door opened and the Ancian led the way inside.

There was a brief awkwardness as both Parker and the elder Vishnan tried to enter the door at the same time but soon all four were inside, Coleman politely bringing up the rear. Once again, they found themselves in a large hall, except this time, there were rooms spaced evenly along the walls, the fourth side of each completely open to the hall. The Ancian stopped at the first.

"Here is the human exhibition," it announced. All four crowded around behind it to watch the holographic display as it followed human development over the centuries, beginning with the very first cave dwellers. The display showed the development of spears and swords, then guns and rifles, up to the most modern rocket-launchers; before branching out into the weapons of mass destruction, bombs, nuclear, biological, and chemical weapons.

Coleman felt ill. Were weapons the only things worth remembering about his species? He looked across at the Vishnans. They were aliens, he couldn't be certain he was reading their expressions correctly but he was pretty certain he could see disgust on their faces. More worryingly, he thought the older Vishnan looked satisfied as well, as if his expectations had been vindicated.

"But where is the art, the music?" he blurted out. "The beautiful buildings? I'm sorry, Administrator, but surely this is only one part of our culture?"

The Administrator turned to look at him without speaking. The Vishnans both looked smug, that was the only word for it, thought Coleman, grinding his teeth.

Still silent, the Administrator moved to the next display room before speaking. "Here is the Vishnan exhibition."

Coleman had to take a couple of deep breaths before he could concentrate. He saw images of wheels, bridges, buildings. Cities covering vast tracts of land, then space ships and interstellar flight. Coleman shut his eyes for a minute, it was chillingly obvious which race the Ancians thought was more worthy. And what was worse, maybe they were right.

But when he opened his eyes again, he saw whole planets being altered, their burgeoning ecology cleared away, everything reformed and reseeded to suit the needs of the Vishnans. He stared at them in horror. How was this any better?

Harmony, Sirius System

The older Vishnan, Councillor Zwan, was watching the display with pride, but the younger turned to look at the humans, to gauge their reaction. He flinched as he recognised the horror in Steven's eyes. Both young men looked away from each other, fixing their gazes on their superiors.

"Shall we return to the Hall?" asked the Ancian, turning the chariot around and gliding toward the door. It was clear the suggestion was not open for discussion.

They returned to the Hall, and seated themselves around a circular table which had been brought in during their absence. All except the Administrator, who was still standing in the chariot, towering over everyone else.

"Have you considered a peaceful resolution of the conflict?" asked the Ancian calmly.

Instantly there was a clash of conversation as the two elders spoke at once. Phrases such as _"won", "surrender" ,"rather die",_ peppered the air.

The Administrator listened for a few minutes before interrupting. "Enough!" it announced firmly, silencing both of them. "You have both asked for our assistance and you shall have it."

Steven felt a coldness seep through his body. He glanced at the others. Was he the only one who heard the utter implacability in the Ancian's voice?

He felt exactly as if he was standing before a judge passing sentence. He was terribly afraid the sentence going to be "death."

The Ancian flicked a quick look at him, as if it could read his thoughts, then it addressed the two elders.

"Henceforth, you will be placed in isolation. Both your races will be prevented from communicating with any systems outside your own, until this problem is resolved."

"What?"

"You can't do that!"

"You have no right..."

The Administrator stood silently allowing the protests to wash over him. When they eventually ran out of steam, it continued, "The decision has been made. You, personally, are welcome to stay here on Harmony, or you are free to visit another planet, anywhere except Sol or Vishna."

"I would like to be escorted back to my hovercar, Administrator," announced Commander Parker in a stiff tone. There was no way _anyone_ was going to prevent _him_ from returning to Mars, but it wasn't worth making a fuss over, here and now. This whole thing had been a complete waste of time. The sooner he got back to Mars and wound up this war, the better.

Councillor Zwan was fuming inside. What had gone wrong? Right up until the last minute he had been certain the Ancians were going to support the Vishnan side of the conflict. Then, suddenly, it seemed that the Ancians were lumping the two of them together as both deserving of some sort of punishment!

What did the Administrator mean, 'placed in isolation'? Whatever it meant, he knew the important thing was to get back to Troni as soon as possible, Premier Nesa needed the information he had gained from watching the exhibition here.

As soon as he was seated in the hovercar, on his way back to Harmony City and the spaceport, Commander Parker signalled the Captain of the Voyager 21 to get ready for immediate departure. He gritted his teeth; if the Ancians tried to stop them they would just have to blast their way off the planet.

They reached the spaceport without incident and Parker ushered everyone on board, brushing aside Coleman's foolish request to stay on Harmony. The quicker they were on their way, the better. He hadn't heard any reports that the Ancians had weapons or even a spacefleet, but his gut was telling him to get out of there as fast as he could.

He didn't start to relax until the ship moved out of orbit and prepared for the first FTL stage on the way back to Mars. He allowed a brief sigh of relief as he strapped himself in for the jump. Just as he had thought, they were all talk and no substance. No-one had lifted a finger to stop them.

He came out of a brief doze after the jump, to the loud sounds of irritated voices from the bridge.

" _What do you mean, you can't find it?"_

"Check the damn co-ordinates again! A whole star system can't just disappear!"

"Get the engineer up here, give the whole frigging system an overhaul. There must be something wrong with it, and switch over to the backup system in the meantime."

"It's not? Look again! Both systems can't fail at the same time, it's not possible."

"What's the problem Captain?" Parker asked, a cold lump already settling in his stomach.

The Captain gave an angry laugh of disbelief. "Apparently Sol has become invisible since yesterday! The navigator can't find the damn co-ordinates, can you believe it? If we can't get this thing fixed soon, we'll have to go back to Harmony and get the whole navigation system replaced!"

"See if you can get the co-ordinates for Vishna," Parker asked, his voice urgent.

"What?"

"Just check!" insisted the Commander, already dreading the answer.

There was a short pause. "Damn it! That's missing too! The whole navigation system must be screwed. There's no choice, we have to go back, while we still have the co-ordinates for Harmony!"

Only Steven Coleman was unsurprised by the news. He had begun to suspect, from the moment he entered the City, that the Ancians had far more sophisticated capabilities than they wanted people to believe.
EPILOGUE

Harmony, Sirius System

The Administrator picked up the pen and paused for a moment over the book, opened to a nice clean page.

It gave a wry shake of the head. The Vishnans and the Humans, both believed they had been judged and punished. Although most races regarded the Ancians as curators, the Administrator considered itself more of a Guardian. When a race was very young, as were both the Humans and the Vishnans—galactically speaking—sometimes they needed some time out. Time to work through problems and come up with a viable solution beyond mutual annihilation. No matter how many centuries that took.

On the first page, the Administrator wrote carefully,

'Report : Homo Sapiens

Shows potential. Needs to learn to play well with others.'

And on the next page,

'Report : Vishna Vani

Shows promise. Needs to learn how to share.'

### Emerald Warrior

Molly pushed her limp ginger hair back behind one ear and sipped her glass of white wine. She screwed up her face. Had the barman made a mistake and given her vinegar instead? Hesitantly, she tried to get his attention but he ignored her to serve down the other end of the bar.

She took another sip with resignation and shifted position on the bar stool ever so slightly to get a better view of the television set above the bar. Princess Leia was fanning a blaster across the screen. Molly sighed. Why couldn't she be like that? Someone who had adventures, someone who could fight, who could whip the ass of anyone who dared to challenge her with one hand tied behind her back.

Nervously, she edged away from the boisterous group of men crowding in next to her, but still managed to get a splash of beer on her jacket. Overflow from a glass being waved enthusiastically in the air by one of them to make a point. She bet that never happened to Leia. She dabbed uselessly at the damp stain.

Molly looked wistfully up at the screen again, then down at her green tartan skirt. There was a small tin whistle poking out of her pocket with a green "Encouragement Award" ribbon tied to the end of it. It would have been much better if it was a blue ribbon for first prize or even a red for second, but an "Encouragement Award" was better than nothing, wasn't it? She sighed again.

If only she'd taken up something exciting—like karate or rifle shooting—instead of Irish dancing! If she were ever faced with a band of marauding aliens she supposed she could always drive them insane with endless repeats of River Dance.

On the plus side, she supposed, at least dancing had made her fit; she could run fast enough if she had to. Even though she was only five feet tall she could outrun most of her friends. That reminded her. Where was Megan? She spun on the stool to gaze hopefully around. Megan had promised faithfully to meet her at the pub so they could walk home together after her class, but she hadn't turned up. Probably had a better offer, she thought dispiritedly. God, her life was boring! If only something would happen!

Daily Tell 22 September 2012

Hundreds of people across the UK reported seeing a large meteor shooting across the night sky.

It was seen breaking up into pieces last night, with sightings reported across northern England, Scotland and Northern Ireland.

Many people described seeing a bright fireball moving across the sky with a large tail.

Concerned callers from Antrim to Arbroath likened the lights to flares, fireworks and even a plane crash. A small pub in Antrim was totally destroyed by falling debris. Twenty people are confirmed dead and one person is missing, presumed dead.

Molly tossed her fiery red hair out of her eyes and glared suspiciously at the small group of broncos already saddled and waiting for her to choose one. For a moment, her vision had blurred and she could have sworn there were five of them, all oddly deformed, with only four legs, but then she blinked and once again there were three with the normal complement of six legs each. The nearest one reared up on its back legs, pawing the air with its four front feet, brown eyes full of fire. Its coat was a warm brown, tinged with a red that matched the colour of the desert sand that stretched as far as the eye could see.

She leapt onto its back and gathered the reins in one hand. She saw the man who had been guarding them leap up from the shade of a boulder where he had rather foolishly been taking a nap, but he was too late. In one smooth motion she drew her silver sonic rifle out of the sling across her back and fired a low level pulse toward the rump of each of the other two mounts, sending them racing in different directions, causing the man to swear viciously. He shook his fist at her.

To think, he had once thought she was cute, what an idiot! His hand came up unconsciously to rub his jaw.

Molly laughed. Little Joe would have a long walk home, and a lot of explaining to do to his two brothers. She wasn't worried about the broncos, they would find their own way back to their stables before too long. With a light touch of her emerald green boots to her mount's sides, she was off, galloping across the short tufts of spiky grass and blue-green bushes, heading straight for the citadel in the distance.

To the casual observer it looked just like any other large rocky outcrop, but Molly was one of the few who knew the hidden way into the stronghold inside. She glanced up at the sky, but could see nothing that would be a threat to her, yet. Just a kestrawk, circling high amongst the thermals. She dug her heels in again, going even faster. They had to reach shelter before the sun started to set.

The sky might be a clear blue now, but storms would come with the evening. And so would the raiders.

After about an hour, she came across a rough path which wound across the plain and they made better time. The sky was already darkening, thick grey clouds swirling across the sky, the wind whipping the leaves from the trees. Molly slowed the bronco to a walk as they neared the outcrop and the broken cart which served as a marker. She stopped next to an old metal gatepost half buried in the grass, settling her steed with a light touch of her hand on its soft neck and squeezed the pendant around her throat between two fingers. A second later, the top of the bollard rose up about five centimetres, flashing a tiny green light in recognition of Molly's signal. Green was her colour—her trademark.

She entered the required code and the ground to her left fell away in a neat circle, grass and all, exposing a long, sloping tunnel. She dismounted and led the reluctant bronco inside, it was too unsafe now to send it home tonight. As soon as they were in, the ground—or platform to be precise—returned to its original position, completely concealing the entrance. She smiled up at the hidden camcorder, knowing she would have been under surveillance as soon as she activated the bollard.

She led the bronco forward down the gentle slope. A soft glow diffused the tunnel, lighting the way for a good half a kilometre before they emerged into the stronghold proper. There were other entrances of course, mostly involving ladders and narrow twisting staircases, but this was the only one large enough to accommodate her mount.

Eventually they emerged into a huge open cavern, the edges occupied by numerous buildings carved into the rock.

Diego came toward her, a frown on his handsome face. "Pissing off the Cartwrights again, Molly?" he asked, looking at the bronco with its distinctive saddle.

She grinned, unrepentant. "I needed a ride home," she answered. "I had to leave the flyer in Gulch City. The hoverdrive was playing up all the way in, so I took it to Cara. Unfortunately, it needs major repairs and she was already tied up with another job. She said she couldn't get to it for a couple of days. I didn't want to hang around that long so I started walking and lucky for me, I found Little Joe with three broncos, so I borrowed one. Didn't want to risk being caught outside after dark," she added, dismounting and leading the bronco over to the stables. "Don't worry, Diego, I'll send it back to them tomorrow."

Molly unsaddled and groomed the bronco, settling it down for the night with a bucket of grain and making sure there was clean water in its trough.

"Dad wants to see you when you finish," Diego announced. He had followed her in and now stood watching, with arms folded across his manly chest. He stroked his jaw absentmindedly. Molly nodded in acknowledgement and then ignored him, as she always did. She knew he fancied her but she wasn't ready to be involved with any man yet, not until she found out a bit more about herself. Like who she was and where the hell she had come from.

Her thoughts went back, once again, to the day it all started, which didn't take long as it was only a month ago. Her whole life had begun a month ago, thirty two days to be precise.

Molly opened her eyes to find herself sitting cross-legged in the desert. Her green tartan skirt was rucked up around her hips, emerald green boots were on her feet matching her emerald green cloak and a silver sonic rifle was clutched between her two hands. The only thing she knew was that her name was Molly.

She stood up and looked around, the rifle cocked.

Instantly, she saw a stranger standing a few metres behind her, staring in astonishment. He was middle-aged, tall, with silver hair, dressed in black jeans and a black shirt.

"Hands up!" she demanded.

His face broke into a smile despite himself. This little girl had guts, whoever she was. "Where did you come from?" he asked, coming toward her.

"Stand still and put your hands up! This is your last warning!" she repeated, irritated.

Alejandro Vega continued to walk closer, still smiling, unable to believe she would use that odd weapon on him. A second later he was on his knees in the sand, both hands clutching his ears, almost weeping.

He stayed there, shaking his head to relieve the pain as Molly ceased firing. However, she kept the rifle pointing at him, a nasty little blade springing out of the end of it from a concealed compartment.

"Who are you?" she demanded. "Where is this place?"

He drew himself up proudly. "I am Alejandro Vega, leader of the Vega clan. This is my land."

"Yes, but what country is it?" Molly wasn't quite sure why she asked that, but she knew nothing looked remotely familiar. For some reason she had been expecting to see a river, and green hills.

He gave her an odd look. "You are in Calafia, on the planet Canis Minor in the Sirian system," he explained carefully. "Where did you think you were?"

"I can't remember," she said, lowering the rifle. "I can't remember anything!" For a moment she felt like bursting into tears but fought hard against the feeling. She knew she couldn't show any weakness.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" asked Vega, relieved that the rifle was no longer pointing at him, but not quite sure yet whether he believed her story.

"My name is Molly. I'm a fighter," she said, suddenly confident. She blinked. How had she known that when she couldn't remember anything else?

This time Vega didn't make the mistake of smiling incredulously. She certainly knew how to use that weapon—maybe she _was_ a fighter. He made a rapid decision.

"My clan is fifty fold, one of the biggest on the plains. I always need fighters. Will you come and join us?" he asked. "Let's say a week, as a trial. You'll get room and board in return for your services, and we'll see how you work out."

Molly looked at him for a long moment. Her instincts told her he was genuine, and it wasn't as if she really had a choice.

"Agreed." And so she went to the citadel for the first time.

Molly proved to be an asset. Not only was she a crack shot with her sonic rifle but she could kick a man's jaw shut—twice—before he could finish his first word. She had the fastest feet of anyone Vega had seen. It hadn't taken the men in the clan more than a couple of lessons to learn to treat her with wary respect, despite her size.

On the other hand, she had no idea how to operate a flyer and had no knowledge at all about Calafia, or even Canis Minor. She had frozen in astonishment the first time she went to Gulch City and saw a Canid, and her first Venturi had her whipping out her rifle instinctively, causing all five of its spikes to stand straight up in fear. It had taken Vega some time to smooth that over!

He set Diego to teaching her how to operate a flyer and he gave her lessons in local geography, history, and interspecies relations, himself. Canis Minor was frequently referred to as a frontier planet, attracting people—and others—who liked to make their own way without too many rules and restrictions. There was enough water and arable land to make a living, even if the planet didn't have the valuable minerals or a sufficiently strategic location to warrant full settlement.

There were two cities, but they were both a long way off to the east. Out here in the desert, Gulch City was the nearest town, comprising about one thousand souls, although a large portion of the local population lived in clan or family settlements dotted over the plains. They ran small farms, enough to be self sufficient, but their chief occupation was prospecting. Prospecting, not only for gems and unusual stones, but also for new plants and life forms that might be valuable. Mostly, they sold directly to the traders in Gulch City, but once a year, Vega or Diego would take their best finds all the way to New Venturo in the far east of Calafia to sell at the huge trade fair.

Unfortunately, like some sort of universal rule, where there were prospectors there were raiders, those who either couldn't be bothered or were unable to find their own riches. The Vega citadel was well defended and hadn't been attacked directly for years, however, anyone caught outside its protection ran the risk of being targeted like anyone else.

Molly went to find Alejandro Vega as soon as she finished in the stables, wondering what he wanted.

"Ah, there you are, Molly," the older man smiled. "I think it's time. Your flying has improved in leaps and bounds and I think you're ready for your first raid. I'm sending you out tonight with Jorge and Alberto. Diego will be in charge, so follow him."

Molly's face lit up. She had been waiting so long for this opportunity. The raiders went out at night to hit homesteads under cover of darkness. Vega's fighters went out too, to defend the innocent.

Molly climbed eagerly into her single flyer, keeping her excitement under control as she ran through the quick check list. The last thing she wanted was a technical problem out in the desert at night. She knew the other three would be doing the same thing. She checked her communications system, "Molly, here. I'm good to go," and received identical replies from the other three.

Diego gave the signal and the roof above them opened to reveal a small patch of dark sky. He led the way, angling his flyer up through the gap with centimetres to spare, followed in rapid succession by Jorge, Alberto, and Molly.

Diego was listening to the general com unit chatter, trying to pinpoint where tonight's attack might occur. A group of dogmen—or Canids to give them their proper title—had been on the rampage for the last couple of weeks, targeting human homesteads and the occasional Venturi nest, and he was really hoping to get a crack at them tonight. Canids were usually a well-behaved and law abiding race, but every so often one would go bad and then there'd be trouble.

" _We're under attack!"_

The words he had been hoping for leapt out of the general chatter and burned his ears. At last. He smiled triumphantly as he sought their location. "Got you!" he murmured.

"Raiders at location 14.576," he announced to the rest of his team. "That's the Cartwrights!" He shook his head in angry disbelief. How dare they attack so close? Were the dogmen being deliberately provocative?

As one unit, the four flyers wheeled toward the Cartwright's homestead. Hopefully, they would be in time, before the raiders did too much damage.

Storm clouds raged in the sky above them, occasionally allowing a blinding flash of moonlight to break through for an instant from the larger of the two moons, before they were swallowed up again in darkness.

Diego spotted the raiders on his scanner before he saw them with his eyes. Three flyers, two in the air keeping watch and the other on the ground, presumably hunting for valuables. The homestead came into visual range at the same moment the airborne flyers turned to attack the newcomers. Diego slid his flyer sideways away from the blast, firing his own weapon as he went. Jorge and Alberto converged on the nearest raider in a practised move, raking shots across its bows from two sides at once.

It shuddered once then plummeted to the ground, but not before it had shot off the wing of Jorge's flyer. Jorge went down immediately and landed awkwardly about half a kilometre from the homestead. Pausing only to check that Jorge was not badly injured, Alberto turned back to help Diego battle the second flyer. Meanwhile, Molly brought up a image of the third raider on her screen, the one on the ground.

She could see a body sprawled about twenty metres from the flyer. Was it one of the Cartwrights or a raider? She couldn't tell from that distance.

She brought her flyer down swiftly and leapt out, her rifle already in both hands. A dogman in khaki leathers and a ridiculously large hat was watching her from near the grounded flyer, a sneer of disbelief spreading over his pug face as he saw who was confronting him. It looked like he had been keeping guard over the flyer, a still-burning cigar lay where he had just tossed it.

Shit! That meant the body on the ground was probably one of the Cartwrights'. Molly fired her rifle a split second before the raider brought up his gun. The sonic pulse tore through the dogman—his long, sensitive ears subjected to the full range of the high pitched sound.

He had one moment of unbearable agony before his head exploded in a messy soup.

Molly spared him a brief glance to confirm he was no longer a threat and looked around for other raiders. If the dogman had been out here on guard, that surely meant others were inside, looting the house. She ratcheted down the setting on her rifle to the lowest frequency and fanned it back and forth across the wooden homestead, walking forwards as she did so.

Two dogmen staggered out, their hands over their ears, tears streaming from their eyes and fell face forward in the dirt. Molly gave the house one more sweep for luck and... every window in the house exploded.

Oops!

She grimaced in silent apology to any humans still inside, who would probably now have burst eardrums, presuming the dogmen hadn't already killed them. At that moment, two women and three men staggered out, hands over their bleeding ears and collapsed onto the ground next to the unconscious dogmen.

At least they were all still alive.

That reminded her. She went back to the body on the ground and prodded it gently with her foot.

Little Joe groaned once and sat up. He looked dazedly around and saw his family groaning weakly from prone positions in front of their house, and Molly standing over him, her rifle pointing off to the side, ready to be brought into play again if needed.

"Molly? Is that you?" He shook his head then winced with pain. "Blazing demons, Molly. Are you here to rescue us or finish the job the dogmen started?"

For a split second, a pale image of herself standing in the compound looking anxiously back, appeared before her eyes. Impatiently, she shook her head and scanned the area again, checking for danger. Finding nothing to concern her, Molly allowed her face to relax into a grin.

This was what she was born for. She leant down and helped Joe to his feet.

### Io Colony

"I can't believe we are finally here," said Mila, almost breathless with excitement. She waited impatiently for her turn at the viewer.

"There's still a fair way to go yet," answered Matthew Arkins in dampening tones. "We're only just coming into orbit now." He frowned at the back of Mila's head, disliking the new look—the close shave which had left her practically bald. He had loved running his fingers through her thick chestnut locks. He reminded himself it wasn't her fault; they had all had their heads shaved for the trip, men and women alike.

"At least we're here. When we look out the viewer we'll see Io." Mila moved up quickly to take her first glimpse of the moon which would be their new home. Sure, she had seen pictures, of course, but somehow that wasn't the same. A view of Io from space had been one of the selling points for the migration contract as far as she was concerned.

"So many colours," she breathed, staring. "Lemon, gold, green and I can see red patches. Oh Matthew, it's beautiful! I wish the children could see it!" Mila felt a sharp pang of regret. The adults had been woken from their cryo-sleep so they could catch a glimpse of their new home, but the children had not. A spaceship was no place to have kids running around, as far as the Captain was concerned. Tomorrow would be soon enough to wake them, after the ship, _Voyager 2000_ , had docked at the space station.

Mila gave up her place at the viewer with some reluctance, but obediently followed the line of Colonists in front of her back down to the sleeping quarters. Although they wouldn't go back into cryo-sleep, they would have to stay in the cradles until the ship docked. There simply wasn't room for 400 people to roam around the ship. If the opportunity for a view of Io hadn't been written into their contracts, Mila suspected the Captain would not have woken the adults until they docked, either.

She lay down in her cradle, still exhilarated. She ran through the schedule for the hundredth time in her head. Only twelve hours to go until they reached Prometheus Station and the children were woken. She would be able to hug Dora and Adan for the first time in nearly a year. Although she knew cryo-sleep froze the aging process, she couldn't help wondering if they had grown.

Following the schedule, they would wait in the ship until their numbers were called. Then they would be allowed out into the space station for a few minutes, just enough time to collect their precious one kilo of personal luggage, before being transported down to the surface by shuttle, twenty at a time.

She checked the time again.

"Are you ready?" Hari Jourdain asked his husband, who had just entered the space station docking bay.

Same sex couples had soon found they were in demand as employees in space—apart from anything else, the last thing a space ship or station needed were unplanned pregnancies. Even in the 26th century, contraception was not 100% effective without sterilisation—especially if you forgot to use it.

"There are four hundred people about to come through that door any minute for processing. Can you look after the registrations or would you rather help with the shuttle loading?"

"I think I need the exercise." Iain smiled hopefully, knowing neither of them were particularly comfortable dealing with strangers.

"All right. You get the loading and I'll check them off," Hari agreed, returning the smile. Iain would find loading four hundred passengers and their luggage into the shuttles would be harder work than he expected. It was going to be a long day for both of them.

Although _Voyager 2000_ was bringing the first official Colonists to Io, Hari and Iain were part of the team of technicians who had already been on Io for three months. They had been helping construct the dome that would protect the colony from the fierce radiation and poisonous atmosphere, and also building the basic housing and facilities that the colony would need to survive. Once the Colonists landed, they would take responsibility for these things themselves. They would use the latest 3-D replicators to create the rest of what they needed; their own furniture and fittings, any new buildings or equipment.

Hari knew a few of the technicians planned to stay on Io as maintenance staff, but for most it was a temporary placement. Once their job was completed they would move on to the next project. Perhaps, if this colony was successful, they would even return to Io at some future date to set up another dome and infrastructure.

"Disembarkation will commence in two minutes." Ju-lee's voice came from Hari's console unit.

Prometheus, the space station, had a standard crew of two—currently women—whose role most of the time was to keep communications open between Io and the rest of the Jovian system. The radioactive atmosphere on Io was hell on radio signals. In the rare event that a ship actually docked at the station, the Station Manager, Ai-lin, would call for assistance from the technicians on Io. At her request, Hari and Iain had come up the previous day with one of the shuttles to assist with this historic occasion, the arrival of the first Colonists.

Hari looked up from his hand-held console unit, straightened his uniform and fixed a welcoming smile on his face. He spent a fruitless moment wishing the Station Manager was here to do the honours instead, but Ai-lin was fully occupied with supervising the Voyager's docking process.

"Disembarkation has commenced," announced Ju-lee, her partner, now preparing to co-ordinate the arrival and departure of the shuttles.

The doors opened and a small Asian woman in a grey suit stepped out into the docking bay.

Hari recognised her as Director Shendo, one of the top people in Sun Company, the company which presently owned the mining rights to Io. Technically, she wasn't one of the Colonists. She had come on the voyage as the company representative, officially to welcome the Colonists on arrival and to preside at the formal opening ceremony. Her real purpose, however, was to examine the records and facilities, check that everything was progressing as planned. For all intents and purposes, she was his new boss.

"Director Shendo?" Hari bowed. "Welcome to Prometheus Station. I have an office prepared for you as directed."

"Well I thought I would say hello first and _then_ go to the office, but we can do it in any order you like." Shendo smiled thinly.

Flustered, Hari bowed again. "Of course, Director, whatever you prefer." _Great going_ , _Hari_ , he thought to himself. _Sound like an idiot with your first sentence._

The next few hours were organised chaos. A steady stream of passengers disembarked from the _Voyager_ , chatting and exclaiming as they collected their luggage and waited for their turn in the shuttle.

"Welcome to Io, Ser and Serra." Director Shendu stood at one side, welcoming every person with a formal greeting and an old-fashioned handshake, while Hari scanned their DNA and marked them off his schedule.

All four shuttles were busy, loading passengers and flying them down to the new colony, a journey of about thirty minutes each way. It would take more than an Earth day before everyone was transported and the _Voyager 2000_ could start loading its cargo of minerals ready for the next stage of the voyage to Europa. Once at Europa, the ship would load up with ice, then continue its circuit of the other moons, before heading back to Io to collect Director Shendo for the return journey to Mars.

Mila and Matthew were amongst the first families to disembark, Mila clutching each child by the hand, unwilling to let them go even for a moment. Dora and Adan stared wide-eyed at their surroundings, picking up on their mother's emotional state but uncertain whether to be fearful or excited. They stayed close to their parents as they were directed onto the shuttle—not that they were given any opportunity to explore.

Once on the shuttle, Iain made sure everyone was strapped firmly into their seats. There were no windows to look out of, just a screen at the front where they could stare at images projected from the outside. Everyone's eyes were glued to the front. They saw shots of Io from space, glimpses of black sky and close-ups of the dome. Mila wasn't the only person to gasp when a view of Jupiter filled the screen.

"But Mummy, where are the trees?" asked little Dora audibly after a long moment, tugging on Mila's hand. At only five years old she hadn't fully absorbed the facts about their new home. It hadn't helped that Adan had deliberately misled her before they left, showing her pictures of animals playing in a forest from a children's story holo-vid.

All the adults laughed indulgently. If one thing was certain, there were no trees on Io—no life of any kind in fact, except for their own. None of them had ever seen a real tree. There had never been trees on Mars, where most of the Colonists came from. Truthfully, there were hardly any on Earth either—outside a museum—since most of the surface was occupied by apartment blocks. The food crops planted on every apartment roof were continuously harvested before they got knee high, scarcely the same thing as the tall trees you could see in the history holo-vids. From all accounts, some had been four maybe even five metres tall. Mila found it hard to imagine.

An hour later, they reached the colony and everyone was squeezing through the airlock into the dome.

Mila gaped as she followed the Technician along the corridor. It was like they were walking in a huge tube. For some reason she had expected to come out into a large open area, and be able to look up at the dome, maybe even catch a glimpse of the stars through a skylight.

"This way, Serra," directed her guide, opening another airlock. On the other side was a hexagonal room with six doors. "The red doors open into passageways," explained the guide. "The blue ones are for accommodation units. This one will be yours," she added, opening a blue door into another airlock. The guide must have seen their confusion because she explained, "The airlocks are there for your protection. As you know, the atmosphere, what there is of it, is 90% sulphur dioxide—deadly to humans, and although the proportion is much lower here inside the dome, it is still toxic. If any part of the structure is breached, the frequent airlocks mean that part can be easily contained."

Mila and Matthew nodded, rather blankly. They came out of the airlock into a room which was larger than their whole two-room apartment on Mars. "This is your main living area," continued the guide. "Through there are two bedrooms, a sanitation room, and your replicator processing centre. You have a three kilo matter allocation to get you started."

She waved her hand over a panel fixed next to the entrance and brought up a 3-D image. "Here's your guide to the settlement. I suggest you study it closely. There will be a community briefing session in an hour's time in the meeting room to answer any questions you might have." She smiled. "And of course, you can find full information about the settlement on the holo-vids, here." She gestured at the panel.

"I'll let you settle in." The guide paused before leaving. "Oh, just one thing. Don't let the children go anywhere without you, at least until you are all more familiar with the setup here. It could be fatal."

The next day, Hari was outside their door, waiting to take Matthew for his orientation ride in a tractor. Matthew had operated heavy machinery on Mars—that skill had been one of the reasons their family had been approved for colonisation—and he was not expecting to have much trouble adapting to the new environment.

Unlike Europa, which provided water for half the Solar system, Io was destined to be a mining world. Huge, heavy tractors had been shipped in, ready to roam the surface and defy the low gravity, collecting the valuable silicate minerals produced by Io's 423 active volcanoes. Every one of the new Colonists would be involved in the mining process in some form or another.

Hari had briefed himself carefully on Matthew's background before meeting him this morning. He thought his trainee might be in for a bit of a shock.

"Today I'll just be showing you around. Letting you get a feel for the tractor and the landscape. You'll find it quite different from your experience on Mars," he warned gently.

The two men climbed into protective suits first, then left the building via one of the ubiquitous airlocks and slid very slowly down a chute to the machines which were waiting below.

Hari opened the hatch and both men climbed inside, sealing the hatch behind them. The cabin of the tractor was surrounded by a 360 degree viewing pane, giving Matthew his first live view since he had looked out the viewer on the _Voyager 2000_. The first thing he saw was another tractor next to theirs. It was huge and yellow, stained by the constant exposure to sulphur.

"We have ten of these, so far," commented Hari, as he started up the tractor's hover engine and coasted slowly across to the huge exit portal, ready to enter yet another airlock and then leave the protection of the dome.

Matthew looked back to catch a glimpse of the colony before they entered the airlock.

It looked different than he had pictured it from the holo-vid. From down here, he could see that the colony was a network of buildings set on stilts, connected by tubular passageways. Each building stood about three metres above the surface, supported by pillars which appeared to be set deep into the ground. "Made from silicon coated carbonised-tungsten," Hari told him. "They have the highest melting point you can get these days."

"The surface is that hot?" asked Matthew, surprised. He thought the ground here was supposed to be covered in sulphur frost, which would be several hundred degrees below zero.

Hari smiled. "Sometimes it can be." He knew Matthew would have read about the tidal movement and the heat it generated, but some things—you just needed to experience for yourself.

"We get seismic quakes bigger than anywhere else in the Solar system. The subcrust on Io is 1200 degrees centigrade and sometimes it breaks through, so our foundations are purpose-built to accommodate that."

Matthew swallowed as his mind tried to grapple with the image that conjured up.

Hari guided the tractor out of the airlock and for the first time, Matthew felt as if he was actually on another world. The sky above was black and the striped disc of Jupiter hung like a huge face in front of them. Io was between the sun and Jupiter at present so technically, Matthew supposed, it was night time on this side of the moon. There was enough light reflected from Jupiter, however, to show him the white sulphur dioxide frost covering the ground in front of them. Occasionally, the light from the top of the tractor would reveal patches of yellow or green crystals.

Once he thought Matthew was prepared, Hari passed over the controls of the tractor. The landscape appeared as still as a winter's night on Mars, but Matthew could feel deceptively strong winds buffeting the tractor as he tried to keep it steady. Nothing moved outside. There was no dust to blow around, no plants to sway.

They had been driving for about an hour before the volcano came into view. Matthew saw the red glow even though they must have still been twenty kilometres away from it. Unlike pictures he had seen of Earth volcanoes, this one was not a cone but a fissure, spouting lava like a geyser.

The ground changed shape beneath them as the tractor climbed over a rough outcrop, perhaps a couple of metres high.

"The edge of an old lava flow," commented Hari. "This is where we find the more prolific mineral deposits." He pointed out another control panel to Matthew and activated its small screen. Immediately, a bright array of colours flashed across it. "This shows you which minerals are beneath us." He pressed a button. "And this one tells the tractor to syphon up what's there. Simple really. Except you have to judge how much of each mineral you need for the job at hand. At the moment, here on Io, we just ship out the raw materials, but eventually we hope to build a processing centre here so we can export metal in its pure form."

Matthew was nodding, listening to what Hari was saying, when a giant tremor shook the surface. Startled, he looked up and saw molten lava fountaining out of the volcano, lighting up the surrounding area. Even higher than the lava was a white plume, shooting kilometres high into the atmosphere. "Sulphur dioxide—when it freezes, it turns white," explained Hari.

"Shouldn't we go back?" asked Matthew, nervously watching the lava, now spewing over the ground in violent orange. It seemed to be racing toward them in a vast torrent. Not a gradual swell, as he had imagined, but a rushing wave of molten rock.

"I better take it from here," said Hari, taking the controls. He turned the tractor around and looked over his shoulder, "Any minute now..."

Hari was grinning. Matthew stared at him in horror, wondering if he dared snatch back the controls. The wave of molten lava bore down on them, at least a couple of metres high. Just as Matthew feared it would engulf them, Hari swept the tractor up even higher and kept it hovering, racing over the surface, just in front of the edge. He laughed. "Lava surfing! There's nothing like it!"

Up on the space station, Ai-lin was in the middle of a meeting with Director Shendo. Or rather, Ai-lin was listening as Director Shendo talked.

"I knew we were right to press our bid for Io. Opportunity plus good instinct equals profit," Shendo was saying. "Sun Company is pleased with what you have harvested from Io so far. But I'm sure we can do better, can't we? The demand for magnesium is particularly high at present." She looked at the survey map. "I notice you have only managed to survey about 5% of the surface." She sounded disapproving. She leant forward and pointed at a spot on the edge of the surveyed area which had been left blank. "What's that section there?"

Ai-lin winced. "A particularly large volcano, Director. The tractors can tolerate a fair amount of heat, it's true, but there are still some areas beyond their scope. Io is a dangerous place, as I am sure you are well aware," she added tactfully. "As for the mapping—I think we can be pleased with our progress, given the limited time the tractors can be away from the settlement. For safety reasons, the tractors operate in shifts of six hours maximum at a time. That works out at about fours hours travelling time, there and back, and two hours for harvesting the minerals."

Ai-lin couldn't help noticing the frown which crossed Director Shendo's face. Evidently she was not convinced. Not for the first time, Ai-lin thought how difficult it was to explain the conditions on Io to someone who hadn't experienced it themselves. She took a risk.

Keeping her tone as polite as she could manage, she asked, "Perhaps, Director, when you visit the colony, you would like the opportunity to accompany one of the drivers? It would give you a clearer picture of what we face on Io."

Shendo gave her a sharp glance, checking for any signs of impertinence. "That's an interesting suggestion, Station Manager. I'll consider it."

Back in the settlement, Mila was having fun with the children, helping them choose the fittings for their rooms. Given the huge dimensions of the second bedroom—almost three whole square metres—she and Matthew had decided to turn it into two smaller rooms, one for each child. A luxury they would have never been able to manage on Mars.

She looked down at the green rocket-shaped bed which was being produced by the replicator and smiled. The replicator was top-of-the-range; so little materials were needed to produce such a solid object. As an added bonus, the meals it produced were actually quite flavoursome.

On Io, instead of credits, they would be given their wages in the form of discarded matter from the mining process, to feed into the replicator. She realised the green bed was now complete.

"Dora? Have you decided what colour you would like your bed yet?"

"Red, Mummy. Can I have red? And I want a rocket too!"

Mila continued to daydream as she adjusted the replicator. Tomorrow, she would start work, teaching the colony's twelve children. Actually, she would be more of a caretaker and moderator, seeing as the children would be learning from their console units. She was looking forward to the new concept of gathering the children in a single room to learn together, instead of sitting alone in their rooms at home. Given the tiny size of the settlement, and its vulnerability to outside forces, the children would need closely supervised activities to keep them safely occupied. Perhaps some games? She was pretty sure she could find the rules on her console unit.

"Mum?" Adan interrupted her thought process. "We're moving!"

"No, we're staying here. This is our new home." Mila reassured him.

"No, not _that_!" he protested impatiently. "We're _moving_! The house is _moving_! I think it's going up."

Mila blinked. Now that Adan had pointed it out, she could feel it too. Automatically she reached for the emergency communicator, but before she could ask a question, an announcement came through it.

"Please stay calm. The slight movement you are currently experiencing is nothing to be alarmed about." The voice suddenly ceased sounding like a machine and became chatty. "So, this is what high tide on Io feels like. As you all know, we orbit Jupiter every 42.5 Earth hours. That, in combination with the gravitational pull from our sister moons, Europa and Ganymede, results in two tides every Ionian day. The ground moves as much as 100 metres per tide, more than five times as much as the highest water tides on Earth."

"Wow. This is so hot," said Adan.

Mila grimaced. The motion was making her feel a little queasy. The last thing she had ever expected was to get seasick on a waterless planet!

"In fact, this was one of the main reasons Io wasn't colonised until now," the voice continued. "There's no need to worry though, our foundations have been purpose-built to take the tides into account. Despite appearances, you'll find the foundations are not fixed so much as floating. For those of you who remember your Earth history, I like to call us the _Venice of the Sky_." The voice chuckled. "Enjoy the ride."

"So how was your day?" Iain asked Hari over dinner. "How's the new guy shaping up?"

Hari smiled as he remembered the look of horror on Matthew's face as the lava approached. "I think he's going to be okay, actually. He handled his first lava surf quite well—for a virgin surfer." Both men smiled.

"How about you?"

"Fine, I took my lot through the sorting room. Sorted nearly a tonne of material." Iain pulled a face. "Tomorrow's going to be a black hole of a day, though. That Director, Shendo, is coming down and Ai-lin has asked me to look after her."

"Rather you than me," grunted Hari, taking another bite of food.

"Why do you say that? What's she like?"

"I'll give you a clue. When I asked her what she thought our biggest challenge was on Io, she said, 'Not enough ambition.' Look at all that we have achieved here! In three months! She hasn't got a clue. I ask you, what could be more wrong than that?"

" 'More wrong'?" teased Iain. "Wrong is an absolute state and not subject to gradation."

"Of course it is; it's a little wrong to say a tomato is a vegetable, it's very wrong to say it's a suspension bridge—or a volcano, in our case. I'd like to take _her_ lava surfing!"

Iain looked at Hari hopefully. "I don't suppose...?"

"Not on your life!" said Hari, firmly.

"Not even if I offered you exotic sexual favours?" asked Iain, with an exaggerated leer.

"Hmm," said Hari, his eyes brightening. "Exotic sexual favours eh? Maybe you could give me a sample tonight... and I'll let you know."

The next day found Hari in the tractor with Director Shendo seated next to him. She looked stiff and uncomfortable in her safety suit, as if she had been persuaded to accompany him against her better judgement.

"So, I thought today I'd take you to have a look at our nearest volcano," said Hari, cheerfully.

"Oh?"

"Yes. On the way, we'll cross both an older lava bed and a more recent one. If we turn on the MS, that's the mass spectrometer, you can get a better idea of exactly what's beneath us. Silicate minerals are found pretty much over the entire surface of Io," explained Hari, trying to be informative without being patronising, "but you'll find that the highest deposits of magnesium are usually closest to the active volcanoes."

He turned the MS on for her. Instantly, the screen lit up with colours showing the presence of sulphur, antlerite and barite. Director Shendo took out her console unit, noting down the chemical data and busied herself with it for the next hour. Hari pointed out as many outside features as he could, but it seemed she was more interested in the console unit than what she could see through the viewing pane. He tried not to let it bother him. Once they came in sight of the volcano, she was bound to show more interest.

Before they reached their destination, however, Director Shendo pointed at a spot on the map. "Can we change course? I'd like to see that volcano, there. The Station Manager told me it is one of the largest—she seemed to think it was too difficult to survey in detail. When people tell me something 'can't be done,' I always make it a policy to check for myself."

Hari looked at the spot she was pointing at and bit his lip. It was a particularly large and active volcano, which he normally avoided, but he could tell Director Shendo wasn't really going to grasp the dimensions of the difficulties until she saw it for herself.

"Hmm. I guess we could go and take a look—as long as we don't get too close."

"These tractors are the best money can buy," the Director reminded him, tartly. "I have been assured they can stand up to 3000 degrees Celsius."

"Hmm," said Hari, again. It wasn't exactly the temperature he was worried about. He comforted himself with the thought that he was the one in control of the tractor. He would show her the volcano and then they would get the hell out of there.

They reached the site after another hour's travel, but unfortunately, Director Shendo did not appear to be impressed. Expecting to see a huge mountain, she was dismissive of what looked like a burning lake, unable to gauge the huge size of the patera from down inside the tractor. Hari took the tractor up as high as he could to give her a better view, but he was unwilling to get closer to the edge than two kilometres.

"It may not look much from here," said Hari, "but from space you can see that this patera is at least fifty kays in diameter. "

He could tell from her expression, she didn't believe him.

"You can look it up on your console," Hari directed, a little snappily. "It's too dangerous to go any nearer. No volcano is stable but this one has proved particularly unpredictable, liable to shoot out either lava or plumes of exploding gas."

Hari was turning the tractor around, ignoring the restraining hand on his arm, when, as if he had conjured it up, a huge plume of gas burst from the ground in front of them. It picked up the huge tractor like a child's toy, tossed it on its roof and then sent them rolling backwards, over and over.

Director Shendo screamed, " _We're going to die! Do something! We're going to die!_ ".

"We're not dying if I can help it. Now please be quiet and let me concentrate," answered Hari—politely—he thought.

" _We're going to die! I know it. I don't want to die_ ," whimpered the Director.

"We're not dead yet," muttered Hari. He was fighting grimly for control of the tractor, trying to get it to stay upright. The tractor might be able to withstand 3000 degrees but the 360 degree viewing pane could not. If the tractor stayed too long on its roof, he didn't know how much time they would have until the lava burned through the pane, and he didn't want to find out.

Molten lava spewed out of the vent, and in a matter of seconds they were engulfed in furious red and liquid orange, carried along on a wave of heat. Another explosion tossed them into the air and Hari just had time to think, "Iain is going to be so—," when everything went black.

Iain was in the settlement's activity room, when he got the emergency signal from Hari's tractor. He swore his heart stopped beating for a second and his vision greyed before his eyes. _No, not Hari!_

Frantically, he checked the whereabouts of the other nine tractors. Eight of them were out and about but none were anywhere near to Hari's co-ordinates. He, Iain, was the nearest driver to the site of the accident. Thank the gods there was still a tractor in the settlement. Now all he needed was a co-driver. Quickly, he checked who was available.

"Matthew? I know you're new, but I need your help. There's been an accident. Can you meet me in the tractor bay as soon as possible?"

Matthew was experienced enough not to delay by pressing for details, he knew Iain would fill him in on the way. He dropped what he was doing and hurried to the bay, where he found Iain already getting into his safety suit. "They got caught in an eruption," Iain told him. "The tractor is still emitting a distress signal, but I haven't been able to contact Hari or the Director." He swallowed, trying to put the all too-paralysing fear behind him. Right now, Hari needed him to use his brain and his experience, not his emotions.

Minutes later they were in the tractor and heading out of the dome. Iain concentrated on his driving, refusing to acknowledge the fact that, even going at maximum speed, it would be at least an hour before they could reach them.

Matthew took the opportunity to check the emergency extraction procedures and familiarise himself with the medical kit every tractor carried. Until they reached the accident and saw the damage for themselves, they would continue to believe they had a chance at rescue.

Hari opened his eyes and blinked. He was hanging upside down in his seat and he could feel the tractor was still moving, sliding along on its roof. How long had he been out?

He glanced across at Director Shendo. She was lolling in her seat, apparently unconscious. There was no time to check for injuries. His first priority was to get the tractor right side up as soon as possible, everything else was secondary.

He struggled with the controls, ignoring the violent red and orange which filled the viewing pane. He knew the hover engine wasn't built for this—there was nothing above them for it to push against—but he couldn't give up. They had evidently travelled some distance from the original explosion—if only they would roll again, he would be ready to make sure this time they stayed upright.

Suddenly, the tractor tipped down. Hari worked frantically with the controls, trying to continue the momentum. He guessed they had fallen over the edge of an old lava spill, if only the new lava coming behind would push them a little bit further... The tractor stayed at a 45 degree angle, teetered for an agonising moment... Then stopped.

Hari closed his eyes for a moment, fighting despair. When he opened them, he saw a silicon rock the size of a small hovercar, through the viewing pane. That was odd. You didn't normally find rocks in lava flows—maybe at the beginning, when the volcano erupted, shooting everything in its path skyward, but not while it was molten and flowing. Still, this was Io—things were different here.

They must have still been moving because the rock disappeared from sight. A moment later, the tractor shuddered as if it had hit something solid, then flipped over. Before he could blink, Hari was sitting upright in his seat.

Thankyou! Thankyou!

That was the good news. The bad news was that their hover engine had stopped working.

Hari took a couple of calming breaths and looked out through the viewing pane. Patches of lava had stuck to the outside but surely... he squinted through the gaps. Was it? He wriggled around in his chair for a better look. Yes! He was sure it was another tractor. Help had arrived.

Later that evening, Hari was still trying to describe what had happened. He and Iain were lying in their bed, Iain's arms tight around him as if he would never let him go.

"I still don't really understand how we got upright," Hari said, frowning.

"You must have hit a rock or something. You said you saw a rock just beforehand."

"Yes but... we were sliding forward. That rock would have been behind us by then."

"There must have been another," said Iain. "Maybe several."

"Just the right size so that we flipped over it, and didn't fall down back onto the roof?"

"So what are you saying?" asked Iain patiently.

"I don't really know..." Hari's voice trailed away as he remembered, picturing the scene again in his mind—the rock outside the viewing pane, the tractor sliding backward as the rock disappeared from sight. Backward? They couldn't have moved backwards. He must have been more stressed than he thought, imagining things.

"To be honest, Hari, I don't really care. The important thing is, you're safe." Iain interrupted his thoughts, and kissed him. "Now—do you want to keep talking or can you think of something better to do?"

Hari laughed and allowed Iain to distract him.

After all, the silicon rock he saw couldn't possibly have moved _ahead_ of them.

### Black Death

Hal Fletcher first knew there was something dreadfully wrong when he saw his mother walking toward him. It wasn't that her best dress—the blue one—was stained and dirty, although that was unusual enough to have him staring; no, it was the simple fact that she was supposed to be dead.

He had buried her himself, a week ago in the little churchyard and most of the village had attended the simple service. And yet, here she was, walking toward him across the village green, sending the few sheep which had been contentedly grazing, scampering away, as far as they could get. She was smiling at him but there was something wrong with her face.

He swallowed, unable to move, frozen in disbelief, as she came nearer and nearer. "Ma?"

She didn't answer.

Now she was close enough that he could see her features. Her eyes were white and bloodshot, her nose was missing and her smile wasn't really a smile, it was more like a gaping hole where her tongue used to be.

Hal threw up, right where he was standing.

By the time he straightened up again she was only a few feet away. Before his brain realised he had made a decision, Hal found he had drawn the crossbow from the sling behind his back.

"Sorry, Ma!" He shut his eyes and fired into her chest.

The creature, he could no longer think of it as his mother, kept coming. Hal started backing away, firing bolt after bolt at the ghastly creature in a frenzy. Nothing seemed to stop it—the obscene creature, riddled with arrows, shambled relentlessly toward him. Gasping now in panic, Hal managed to shoot an arrow right between its eyes. Instantly, it fell to the ground, unmoving.

Hal stared at it, panting. He couldn't leave the rotting corpse there for anyone to stumble over but there was no way in hell he was going to touch it.

He shook his head, forcing himself to focus, then walked unsteadily back to his little rose covered cottage which fronted the green. A few moments later he came out with a bucket of pitch and a stick with cloth wrapped around one end. He dipped the torch in the pitch, then poured the rest of it over the corpse and set it alight with the striker in his belt. Still in shock, he watched it burn, burn until a greasy black stain was all that remained.

Hal ran a slightly shaky hand through his flaxen hair. God, he needed a drink. He staggered back to his cottage and broached a new barrel of ale.

Goodwife Fletcher was only the first of the walking dead to plague Beescombe.

Hal woke in the morning to the sound of moaning. And it wasn't him, despite his pounding head. It was coming from somewhere outside his cottage. He flung on some clothes and seized his bow, then cautiously looked out of his door. After the horror of yesterday he was quite prepared for the worst.

The first thing he saw was Bert Taylor nailing a beam over his neighbour's door. Bert turned a white face toward him, his eyes staring wildly, "Have the demons got ye, Hal?" he demanded.

"What the deuce are ye talking about?"

He saw Bert relax a fraction. "Ye sound yerself, praise be." The other man swallowed convulsively. "In the night—they came in the night." He hammered a final nail into the door and turned to face Hal. "Demons got Dick and his wife," he nodded toward the cottage he had just barricaded. "Turned them black, black with rot." A faint moaning sound came from inside and Bert shuddered convulsively.

"How do ye know it's demons?" asked Hal, unconvinced.

"They should be dead, anyone like that should be dead, but they're still walking, as if they're possessed by something else. Nothing we can do stops them. I know ye're not a believer, but what else could it be?"

Despite himself, Hal felt a superstitious shiver. All rational people knew that there were no such things as demons, few people believed in the old religions since humanity had gone out into space. Avalon might be a medieval planet but that was by choice, not ignorance.

"What does Squire Templeton say? Has anyone sent for him yet?"

"Not yet, there hasn't been time." Bert rubbed an unsteady hand across his eyes. "Dick and May aren't the only ones. Old Sam, who we buried three days ago, he was walking down High Street, going back to the smithy it looked like, but as soon as he saw young Jim, standing there with his mouth open, staring, he grabbed him..." Bert broke off as if the horror was too great to continue.

"He grabbed him?" prompted Hal.

"Grabbed him and tore half his face off. Jim's dead, Hal. George and I got him laid out in the church, ready for burial."

"What happened to Sam?"

"He's still in the forge, I pushed the workbench over on him, pinned him to the ground. Then I cut his head off with an axe," confessed Bert. "It was all I could think of."

"Did that stop him?" asked Hal, realising that if he hadn't witnessed his own mother walking last night, he would have been totally incredulous by now.

Bert stared at him. "Of course it did. What do ye mean?"

"Let's go and have a look, make sure," Hal insisted, remembering uneasily that the monster that had been his mother had not 'died' until he shot it between the eyes. He was probably worrying for nothing. Surely decapitation would have the same effect?

When they got to the forge, there was Sam's body, still on the ground, pinned underneath the workbench and Hal breathed a sigh of relief.

"So where's his head?" he asked, looking around.

"It must be here somewhere!" declared Bert, not wanting to believe his own eyes. But they couldn't find it.

"I think it's time we roused the village, let people know what's happening," decided Hal. "And someone should go for the Squire."

Bert nodded. "I'll ring the church bell."

Moments later, the bell tolled out across the village, summoning everyone to a meeting in the church.

The first to arrive was George Miller, white faced and agitated. "There ye are, Bert, I've been looking all over for ye! It's Meg Forrester, her that died nigh on a month ago. She got into her cottage with Tom and the young'uns before I realised what was happening. We've got to go and board them up."

"Ye can't do that!" protested Hal. "There are children in there!"

"It's too late now! We've got no choice," George insisted, his face red.

"Come on, let's see." Hal strode off to the Forrester's cottage, George following closely, still justifying himself as they went. Bert stayed at the church to tell the rest of the anxious villagers what was happening.

They could hear the moaning before they reached the cottage. It was enough to send shivers down each man's spine. The wooden door was slightly ajar and now they could hear shuffling sounds coming from inside. Hal swallowed.

"Tom?" No answer.

Hal brought his bow round and loaded it, ready. "Sally? John? Are ye in there?" he called in a loud voice.

Silence.

"It's Hal! I'm here to get ye away from the monster."

Silence. Hal's shoulders drooped dispiritedly. "Board it over, then."

"I'm up here." A small voice came from inside.

Both men peered upwards and saw a white face at the window in the loft, looking down at them.

Hal grinned in relief. "Sally! Good girl! Do ye think ye can get out through the window?"

"I don't know. I'll try."

Sally pushed her head and shoulders through the opening, wriggling until she could get her body to follow.

"When ye get out, slide down the roof on yer bottom and George will catch ye."

Hal wanted to look out for Sally but knew he had to keep his eyes on the door. He was the only one with a weapon.

George was twitching next to him, shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other. Hal was worried he was going to bolt any minute.

"George!" Hal spoke firmly, taking command. "Ye concentrate on Sally. I'll look after the rest, trust me."

Sally pulled her last foot free from the window and slid down the thatched roof, grabbing at the straw with her hands on her way down. She was almost at the edge when the cottage door swung open and what remained of Meg Forrester shambled out.

It was too much for George. He screamed and ran as if the hounds of hell were after him.

Gagging at the sudden stench that had wafted toward him, Hal drew his bow. He'd only have one shot at this. He drew back the arrow and let it fly, right between the creature's eyes. It fell to the ground and he turned to catch Sally as she dropped from the roof.

"Good girl!" he said. "Well done! John?"

Sally shook her head and buried her face against his shoulder. Sally clung to him all the way back to the church.

Everyone seemed to be talking at once Nobody knew what to do but they all had something to say.

Hal listened for a minute and then broke in over the top.

"Listen to me! The only thing that stops these monsters is an arrow through the brain or fire. I suggest ye burn the bodies, burn the houses if ye have to, but whatever ye do, don't touch them!" Hal didn't know exactly what would happen if someone did, but he just felt in his gut it would be really bad.

"I'm going to fetch the Squire and his armsmen to help us. Can someone look after Sally for me?"

No-one came forward for a minute. More than one person was eying the girl uneasily, as if they expected her to suddenly turn on them, like her mother had. Hal glared at them in disbelief. "She's just a little girl!"

"I want to go with ye," whispered Sally.

"I'll look after her," offered Meg Cook, a trifle reluctantly it seemed.

Sally clung tighter to Hal. "I don't want to stay here with the monsters! I want to go with ye," she said again.

Hal didn't want to take the child with him, but it seemed cruel to pry her loose. "It's two miles to the manor. Can ye walk that far?"

Sally nodded.

"All right then," Hal gave in. "Ye can come with me to the Squire's manor, then we'll see." He turned to the villages. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Remember what I said about the burning." A few people nodded, but he could hear them still talking as he left, Sally walking briskly by his side.

An hour later found them both at the manor house on the hill. Squire Templeton stared at Hal in disbelief. His eyes popped and his moustache bristled. Until that moment he'd always considered Hal one of the more reliable villagers, but he sounded like he'd had one too many this time. He made him repeat his story several times but it wasn't until Sally whispered that her Ma had killed her Da that he started to take them seriously.

"Most of the men are out hunting a boar that got loose, I'm not expecting them back until nightfall. We'll go down to the village first thing in the morning," he decided. "You and the girl can stay here for the night, there's plenty of room."

Hal wasn't happy about the delay but it was out of his control. At least the villagers knew what to do now, a night shouldn't make that much difference.

Next morning the Squire led a party of men through the forest, armed with bows and swords, still not quite convinced by Fletcher's story. Obviously something terrible had happened in Beescombe, but walking dead people sounded too much like a bard's tale.

The low moaning coming from the village as the party drew near, was the first indication that something had gone wrong with Hal's strategy of containment. Hal hurried forward, his bow at the ready. Burning the bodies should have stopped the creatures in their tracks. What had happened? Had Dick and May broken out of their barricaded cottage?

The Squire and his men followed more cautiously, something about that noise had the hair standing up on the back of their necks.

They stopped at the edge of the village, staring in sick horror. Instead of a group of villagers happily going about their daily tasks, they saw blackening corpses. The worst was that despite rotting features, Hal could recognise most of them. There was Jim, Meg. He saw Dick and May on the green, evidently barricading the door had not kept them in the cottage. Where was Bert? He knew what they were facing—he'd have escaped, surely? His stomach clenched in fear as he searched the mutilated faces. Feeling sick, he spotted Bert at the back. It appeared all too likely that Hal and Sally were the only survivors. Thank heavens he had taken her with him!

Then one of the creatures turned toward them, making disgusting snorting sounds as it tried to sniff the air with only half a nose. In a matter of seconds, it seemed every creature began to move in their direction, some walking as quick as a man, others in a twisted, shambling gait.

"Heavens above!" exclaimed the Squire in a faint voice.

"Aim for the eyes!" said Hal grimly, loading his bow. "Then we burn the whole place down."

Hal Fletcher peered over the edge of the battlements, into the black moat below. It was evening, that time of night when the sun had sunk below the horizon but night had yet to fall. He fingered the crossbow in the sling behind his back without thinking. He hoped he wouldn't need it but he had a feeling the attack was going to come tonight.

It had been three years since he and Sally had left Beescombe behind. Beescombe had been the first place he knew of that had suffered from the plague but it certainly hadn't been the last. He gave a wry grimace as he remember poor old Bert blaming 'demons' for the walking dead. Now of course everyone knew it was a plague, a virus carried by rats.

Mind you, he had been spot on in his method of terminating the infected creatures. Destroy the brain—burn the remains. It was that simple but he was constantly amazed at how many people tried something else, and then were utterly surprised when the supposedly dead creature rose up to attack them. He made it his job, his vocation even, to travel from town to town, village to village, training guards and armsmen, spreading the word. Gradually, he had built up a reputation as the best plague fighter in the kingdom.

But it had been a very long and hard three years. Some people said a quarter of the population had succumbed, others claimed it was more like half. At least King George had—finally—made the decision to ask for help.

Avalon was an interdicted planet. That meant no outsiders were allowed access and conversely no-one on Avalon could ever leave. That was the way their ancestors had wanted it. Sick of constantly changing technology, they had chosen to build a culture where people got back to basics; made their own clothes, grew their own food and lived a simpler and hopefully happier life. But three years of plague had changed things. The Council of Lords and Ladies had reluctantly decided that Avalon needed outside help, help from that technology their ancestors had forsworn.

To date though, as far as Hal could see, the help hadn't amounted to much. Presumably, scientists were working busily in some laboratory somewhere off-world developing a vaccine, but the only actual help he had seen were a few volunteer soldiers, men who liked to fight, who thought it would be a thrill to pit themselves against zombies. Hal had not been impressed with any of the ones he'd met so far. Unsurprisingly, they were all used to top of the line, high tech weapons and none of them had any experience with medieval swords and bows.

One of these volunteer soldiers was on the battlements with him now, in fact. Earlier that afternoon there had been a couple of the creatures on the far edge of the moat, watching them. Hal had lined up his crossbow ready to take them down. It had almost been comical to witness the look of dismay on Mitch Conaway's face when he had handed him another bow.

"Watch me, and then give it your best shot," he had told him.

Mitch had looked from the bow hanging awkwardly in his large hands to the monster on the other side of the moat and exclaimed, "You're crazy! Look at that big bastard there! We need a rocket launcher!"

Hal had smiled grimly, he had scarcely understood a word the stranger had said but he got the gist of it. "Welcome to Avalon,' he replied.

They, and Sir Godfrey's men-at arms, had been at the castle for the last couple of days, patrolling every hour in shifts. Today was the first time they had seen any of the creatures. Hal cast a quick glance along the battlements, checking that every man was at his post, weapon handy. These men were well trained for once—unlike some he had been put in charge of—but no training in the world was going to prepare them for what was about to happen. He looked down again, his blue-green eyes narrowing to make the most of the remaining light.

There! The first sign. _Ripple in still water, when there is no pebble tossed, nor wind to blow._ He murmured the words to himself like a mantra. Vee-shaped ripples, fanning across the still water. One, two, then three.

"Here they come," he announced quietly. "In the water. Get those cauldrons ready now. On my signal!"

The men-at-arms scrambled to get the heavy cauldrons up onto the battlements, panting and trembling with nervous excitement. Their shoulders strained under the leather jerkins. For an instant, one of the heavy cauldrons wobbled on the edge, sloshing its contents but the men managed to wrestle it back under control at the last minute.

" _Now!_ "

Six cauldrons tipped over the battlement, pouring melted cooking fat saved from the kitchens into the moat below. Hal picked up a fresh torch, already soaked in pitch, and lit it with the striker he always carried in his belt. The flames flared up instantly. He dropped it over the edge, lighting a second as he watched the progress of the first.

Down it fell, twisting and turning. Casting light and shadows onto the stone walls of the castle.

In a matter of seconds, the surface of the moat was a mass of flames, showing a horrifying glimpse of literally hundreds of heads, swimming toward them. The creatures were swimming slowly, strangely uncoordinated, occasionally bumping into each other. Hundreds of red eyes caught the light, before they burned.

Hal took a few minutes to walk all the way around the stone battlements, to see for himself that the flames were covering the entire moat. It looked good but he couldn't trust to luck that the flames had caught them all. He ended up back at the point he had started from and called the dozen armsmen over.

"Will and Harry? Ye stay up here to keep watch. I want the rest of ye down in the keep. If any of them have got through, we'll smash in their heads and toss them on the pyre. Believe me, we don't want even one loose in the castle."

The men nodded in agreement, some looking a bit queasy as the smell of burning flesh filled the air. They followed him down the rough staircase, carrying their bows.

"Unless ye are a better than fair shot, I suggest ye use one of these." Hal pointed to various implements he had gathered earlier—a couple of spades, an axe and a few mallets.

He gave Mitch the largest wooden mallet.

"This should suit ye!"

He turned to Sir Godfrey's men. "Remember lads, don't let them near enough to bite ye. One bite and ye're dead men," Hal cautioned, not for the first time. None of these men had seen what could happen with their own eyes and he suspected they wouldn't really understand until they did.

He made sure there was a fire burning in the middle of the keep, ready for anything they needed to toss into it. It was true enough that smashing the brain worked in most cases, but Hal had learnt the hard way that fire was safest, the most final. He got the men into a rough circle, facing outwards with their backs to the fire. Once again, Hal sent up a short prayer of gratitude to Sir Godfrey's forefathers, the ones who had built the castle in a sturdy, compact square. In three years of fighting, it was one of the easiest he had been responsible for defending.

There were a few jokes, a few lewd comments, but the men were watchful, their eyes searching for anything that moved.

The first creature shambled toward them, out of the shadows. Hal didn't know how it had got in, but at this point it didn't matter. There would be time enough later to search the castle and plug the entrance.

The creature bared its teeth, its lower jaw rotting visibly. Hal could hear the gasps of horror from a couple of the men, men who he could tell hadn't fully believed him until that moment. Mitch strode forward, swinging the mallet.

"Gotcha, ya little bastard!" he yelled as he brought the mallet down hard, smearing brains all over the flagstones.

"Get it on the fire!" Hal ordered one of the men holding a spade. Dick scooped up the remains, his face twisted in disgust and flung it on the burning wood.

Another creature came at them, this time from behind. Then another, and another. Mitch swung around easily and smashed down with the mallet. The other men were working hard as well.

"This is fun!" said Mitch, grinning. He lifted his big boot and brought it down hard on one of the creatures. "Whack-a-rat!"

"Mitch! Don't be a fool!" cried Hal. "This isn't a game, for goodness sake!"

"Shit! The little bugger got me on the ankle!" Mitch smashed down with the mallet, but it was too late, the damage was done.

"Are ye all right?" asked the nearest armsman, remembering what Hal had said about a bite being fatal. But surely a big man like Mitch would be all right?

Before Mitch could answer, Hal drew his bow.

"I'm sorry, Mitch. I did warn ye," he said sadly.

The bolt caught Mitch between the eyes.

Every man there turned to stare in horrified disbelief. "Ye killed him!" shouted Dick.

Hal met their accusing gaze, his heart beating only a little faster. It had been a very long three years.

"Look at his leg!" he told them. "Tell me if that looks normal to ye."

Mitch's leg was starting to rot, the flesh blackening upwards from the bite. The men swallowed, still grappling with the sight before their eyes. To their horror, Mitch moaned and sat up, the arrow sticking out of his head, his eyes white and rolling in their sockets.

_Damn_ , though Hal, it hadn't been as clean a shot as he'd hoped. He notched another bolt in his bow and fired again, this one going right through the brain. Mitch fell back onto the paving stones.

"Now we burn him," said Hal. "Along with the rats."

Kaia (Europa)

(Author's Note \- The prompt for this story was Europa, one of the larger moons of Jupiter. Europa's surface is mainly water ice. The red lines criss-crossing the surface are deposits of magnesium sulphide. Many Earth scientists believe there may be an ocean of water or slushy ice beneath the surface, and if so, Europa may be the other place most likely to support life in our solar system.)

Vik swam through the dense patch of water, sampling the rich cocktail of phyllosilicates as he sped through. He could feel the heavy slipperiness of it on his skin, as well as the spicy taste of it in his mouth. _Delicious_.

If he hadn't been chasing his pod brother, he would have lingered to eat his fill. As it was, he filed the location away in his memory. It was halfway through Slow Tide, perhaps he would have time to come back later and find this patch again.

Pol was only just ahead of him, a shining blue in his sonar-ray vision. Vik forgot about the food and darted after Pol, he would catch him this time, he was certain.

He swerved to the left as his sonar detected a rocky outcrop in his path, then back to the right to avoid a car being driven by an idiot with more status than brains. Vik swore silently. Why couldn't the idiot swim like he was meant to? Why did he think he'd been born with fins? Sure cars could move faster, but they also guzzled the magnesium and churned it out the other end as waste. Not to mention encouraging the driver to become fat and lazy.

Another click further and they reached the outskirts of the city. Vik glanced up at the huge circular buildings floating above them, checking for other traffic, before following close on Pol's tail. He skimmed past the thick metal cable which anchored the central sphere of the city to the top of the mountain. The tether allowed the city to move fractionally with the tides, without being swept halfway around the planet every day.

Vik knew there were creatures who spent most of their lives on the plains at the bottom of the sea, but he couldn't imagine living so far down—the pressure would have to be intense. Not to mention hot. Life on the sea bed required significant adaptations to the environment. On the whole, the bottom dwellers he had seen tended to be quite small, with thick skins and numerous appendages. Not to be rude, but honestly, some of them looked pretty creepy.

Personally, he liked living up near the ice. Most of his people did.

Vik looked up, just in time to see Pol flicking his tail in triumph. While he had been distracted, Pol had reached the goal of the Pod Brother's Twelfth House. Vik could just imagine the smirk on his face. Soon, he promised himself, soon he would be fully grown and then he would win their races.

Inside the Pod House, Pol extruded an appendage so he could grab himself a bottle of Phizz and guzzled it with evident enjoyment.

"Want one?" he asked. "Or did you fill up on the raw stuff?" He gave a condescending smile.

"I like it raw," Vik said defensively. "Besides, it's much more healthy than that processed muck you drink!"

"Careful! You're starting to sound like old Maz, always wanting to go back to the 'good old days' before we had modern technology."

Vik knew Pol considered him weird, even primitive, for preferring wild food, but as far as he was concerned it had so much more flavour. Not to mention it was free. Bottled Phizz cost money and there was no way he was going to pay for something that he could find for himself with a bit of effort.

"Well it was good enough for our ancestors for the last million years! It should be good enough for us."

"There! I told you, you sound just like Maz!"

Before they could get into an argument, two females poked their heads inside the entrance. "Hullo, anyone there? Oh, hi Pol, hi Vik. Fast Tide's going to be a big one this time. We're going to ride it—want to come too?"

"When are you going?" asked Pol.

Automatically, Cal consulted the neural locator in her brain that allowed her, and indeed everyone on Kaia, to know exactly what the Tides were doing. There were two Tides in every cycle, Slow and Fast, each building up to a peak and then declining, as Kaia circled Mana, the huge giant gas world next to them. Scientists, like Maz, said that the tides were what kept the sea from freezing solid like the ice roof above them.

"About two hours before it peaks. That should give us enough time to reach empty water, away from any obstructions."

"That sounds fun! We'll meet you outside your House." Pol answered for both of them.

"Great!" said Cal. "Catch you then!" She shot off with a flick of her tail, followed swiftly by her pod sister, Jai.

"I wouldn't say 'no' to that!" smirked Pol, once he was sure she was out of earshot.

"In your dreams!" said Vik.

The next Tide found Pol and Vik outside the Pod Sisters' Ninth House. Cal and Jai were ready and led the way, all four darting between the buildings in single file until they were clear of the city. Then they moved smoothly into formation, taking turns to lead and allow the others to save their strength in the slipstream. Soon, they were travelling at high speed, forty clicks or more, revelling in their youth and power.

_Who needs a car?_ thought Vik, enjoying himself. _Why would anybody want to be stuffed inside a container, when they could be doing this with their own bodies?_

The Tide was nearing its peak and all four felt the push as they raced with it, diving and twisting at speeds now approaching a hundred clicks. Vik could hear high pitched whistles of excitement coming from all four of them. _What could be better than this?_

All too soon it was over and time to swim home against the tide.

The return journey took much longer, but it had been worth it, thought Vik. As they approached the city, he could taste the change in the water.

"You have to admit, the water tastes different here," he said to Pol. "Not as clean and fresh as out there."

"It's not so bad," answered Pol.

"My Mother says we should consider putting a limit on the number of cars and even houses," put in Cal, unexpectedly. "She says the construction process alone generates more waste than we can manage, not to mention what's produced every time a car is used."

"I've heard the magnesium sulphate levels are rising everywhere," added Jai.

"Perhaps," said Pol, struggling to be polite. "If it is, we'll just have to deal with it—you can't fight progress, you know."

They said goodbye to the females at their House and continued on to their own.

"I didn't want to be rude about Cal's Mother, but that's all crap!" said Pol. "Lies spread by a few scaremongers who are frightened of progress."

"Maz says the same thing and I wouldn't call him a 'scaremonger.' A lot of what he says makes sense, Pol. After all, we _don't_ know what the long term effects will be of all the waste being produced."

"But the planet is huge! There are millions of cubic clicks of water—you can't tell me a little bit of magnesium sulphate is going to make a difference to that."

"That's where you are wrong. You don't work in Waste Management like I do, you haven't seen the quantities we deal with. We're funnelling as much of it up to the top of the Roof as we can, but no-one can be sure whether it will stay there for ever. Sonar-ray scans show there are now huge patches of magnesium sulphate covering the Roof—it's even filling the tidal fractures. Maybe one day it will leak back down. Maybe it's already started."

"You worry too much, Vik. There are clicks of ice between us and the top of the Roof—and if it does start leaking back down, we'll deal with it. We have cities now all over the planet, research centres, laboratories, there's even talk of exploring the rest of this star system!" Vik could hear the wonder in Pol's voice.

Vik didn't understand it. "What on Kaia for? All the other worlds are dry rocks—or made of gas like Mana."

"Not all of them. I've heard the third one from the star has water. Water actually on the surface, with no ice or Roof. Can you imagine?"

"That's just silly!" scoffed Vik. "How would the water stay on without a Roof to cover it?"

"We don't know yet, not for certain. There's one theory which says there is a layer of gas over the top, holding it down. Another, that there is some sort of magnetic field. It's fascinating."

"For some!"

"In any case, it's good to know there is another source of water in the system, just in case the worst does happen and we need more."

"What if there are people already living there?" teased Vik.

"Now who's being silly? Everyone knows it's way too hot, nothing could live under those conditions. Though some scientists think it's possible there might be something microscopic. We'll have to wait and see. Wouldn't that be wonderful, if there was?"

### Crime Fighter

The Martian sand looked even redder than usual in the slanting light. The setting sun outlined the black shapes of the two men in front of me, throwing long shadows behind them onto the sand. One man was leaning against the side of a warehouse, smoking an illegal cigarette, while the other paced up and down between that warehouse and the next, keeping watch. Both of them were looking outward, toward the sun, waiting for the next shipment to be delivered. Both of them were looking the wrong way.

I crept closer. I was almost certain both men were carrying photon guns, which were supposed to be illegal. I smiled. My right hand hovered over my service weapon, but my thoughts went to the photon gun hidden on my left hip. It was easy enough to get your hands on one if you were prepared to spend enough credits. I still hadn't decided which I would use for today's job.

I froze as the man with the cigarette ground it out beneath his heel and took a quick glance back over his shoulder, but there was no need, he didn't look upward to the roof. I was constantly surprised by how seldom people looked up for threats, you'd think they would have learned by now.

I lowered myself down onto my stomach and wriggled carefully along the roof until I had a clear shot. Got the first man in my sights. Waited.

A third man came into view and approached cautiously. A minute later he and the smoker had their heads together. I saw a small package exchange hands. I had a split second to decide whether to stick with the weapon I had chosen or change my mind.

But really, I had already decided before I came out today. It was time for me to stop being one of the good guys. I grinned in nervous excitement and fired the photon gun, configured to its maximum setting. Watched with a mixture of horror and fascination as the beam cut both men literally in half. Almost before the remaining dealer could react, I swung the gun a fraction to the right and fired again. Crimson blood stained the rusty red of the Martian sand. There was no need to go down and check for survivors.

I scanned the area quickly for witnesses, but saw no-one. Still, I knew it wouldn't be long before the cops arrived—time to clear out.

I scrabbled backwards over the roof, dropping lightly to my feet on the other side of the warehouse—the side away from the crime scene. I felt high on adrenaline as I raced between the silent buildings, running until I was well clear of the quiet industrial centre and into a more populated part of the city. Once I reached the streets, I slowed to a walk, blending in with the hundreds of ordinary people going about their business in the Martian capital, under the dome.

My heart was still pumping furiously and there was a queasy feeling in my stomach. Today I had crossed a line. The line between good guys and bad, heroes and villains. Although the men I'd shot were committing a crime, I was supposed to arrest them, not murder them in cold blood. But I had wanted to see what it felt like, not just to kill—I'd done that before as part of my job—but to experience what it felt like to do the wrong thing. Not by accident, but on purpose, deliberately.

To cross over to the other side.

So what did it feel like, you ask?

Sure I was nervous, guilty even, but—to be honest—it felt... powerful.

The next morning, I arrived at work early, eager to hear what had been discovered so far about the murders.

"Hey, Lawrence, have you heard what happened last night?" Zach, one of my teammates hailed me as soon as I got in the door. He was a small man, with a sharp face, always trying to be a step ahead of everyone else and not always too fussy how he got there. Not one of my favourites.

"No, what?" I replied, heading purposefully to my desk.

"Three deaders—right in front of Phobos' warehouse." Zach licked his lips, his eyes bright with a rather unwholesome pleasure. "Sliced right in half, like pieces of meat. Must have been a photon gun. You should have seen the blood—"

"What was really weird though," Jonsen interrupted, "was that the Crystal was still on one of the bodies. If it was a rival gang, why leave the product?" Jonsen was the oldest of us. Not only had he been here the longest, but he was the most level headed. He always took time to study a situation first, before rushing in to save the day. He didn't always get as much action but he had scored more 'kills' than anyone else. He was the man I would have chosen to be my partner—if any of us had one.

Mik, the youngest man present, frowned. "Yeah, that doesn't make sense. Why kill them all and not take the Crystal? It wasn't as if any of them were in a position to protest—they were all killed instantly, within seconds of each other."

_How could I have been so stupid?_ I looked down at my desk, suddenly fearful of meeting anyone's eyes. _Why hadn't I thought of that?_ I could have easily dropped down and taken the package. But I hadn't been thinking about the package. I had being thinking about murder, not theft or drugs.

The others continued to talk about the crime off and on throughout the day. I could only hope none of them noticed how little I contributed to the discussion.

It was another week before I became restless again. Gradually, I realised the day to day crime fighting work which I had enjoyed for so long, had become boring and it no longer satisfied me. I don't know whether it was just me or not, but the criminals we were hunting these days seemed too easy, like they weren't really trying. Mik and I rounded up four perpetrators between us on the same day, three thieves caught in the act and a man who had assaulted his wife but then come in and confessed an hour later. All pretty tame stuff.

There was one case which might have been more interesting, a (failed) assassination attempt on the mayor, but Zach beat me to that one. He'd come in early and picked the assignment right off my desk. I could have complained, but what was the point? He'd already brought in the would-be assassin, bruised and handcuffed. I tuned out Zach's smug boasting and searched for my next assignment, flicking through the list scrolling down my desk, with one fingertip. Nothing really grabbed my attention and my mind wandered. No-one had discovered my role in the slayings and I found the excitement from the kill had worn off. I needed something new.

When the thought first entered my mind, I was horrified. Truly. I pushed it away as fast as I could, refusing to dwell on it for more than a second. The idea was too shocking to contemplate.

But it came back, slipping into my thoughts like a worm into an apple. Eating away at my resolve despite my best efforts to deny it. I couldn't do something like that, said my conscience, fighting a rearguard action. I wouldn't just be crossing a line, I would be putting myself on the other side of the fence. But then I'd find myself contemplating ways that I _could_ do it.

The next week, I followed Zach. At first for the whole day, checking his movements, getting a feel for his routine, but once I found he had a pattern—breakfast at Joe's (coffee and eggs)—an evening drink or two at the Red Sun—I cut back my surveillance, just checking that he maintained these two fixtures in his solitary life.

There was no hurry—anticipation was half the fun.

Carefully, I prepared the groundwork. Once I knew his routine, I started looking for a suitable location. For a start, it had to be believable—somewhere he would expect to go to catch a perpetrator. Somewhere isolated and not likely to be over-looked by a neighbour or worker passing by.

Eventually, I decided on the Phobos warehouse—the very same place I had conducted my first murder. I hesitated for a while—wondering if I was choosing it just because it was familiar, but it met all the criteria. It was isolated, with a good vantage point, and best of all, I could lure Zach there with a tip that he could find the perpetrator who had murdered those three men. _Which was perfectly true!_ I chuckled to myself—it just wouldn't be who he was expecting.

I purchased a message-bot from an outlet on the other side of the city where I never went normally. I wasn't foolish enough to make the mistake of buying one through the cyber network. Everyone one who worked in law-enforcement knew there was always a way to track cyber activity. Sometimes the primitive ways were the best ways.

I waited across the street from the Red Sun as the message-bot delivered the tipoff to Zach. I knew exactly what it would say.

" _If you want to eyedee the perp who slices - Phobos' warehouse 22 hundred tonight. There's another deal on."_ Then it would self destruct into microscopic pieces.

I wasn't an expert in street slang but it was enough to get the message across. Nor had I bothered to add anything like "come alone," as I was certain Zach would want to claim the credit for the op all by himself. In any case, an instruction like that would have sounded a warning alert loud enough to make even Zach take notice.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Zach left the Red Sun, scanned the area briefly with narrowed eyes, and then headed in the direction of the warehouses. As silent as smoke, I drifted behind, just long enough to be certain of his direction. Then I slipped ahead, eager to take up my vantage point on the roof before he got there. This time I had the photon gun on my right hip, already configured to the maximum setting.

Once I entered the warehouse area, I left even the last few people behind. No-one had a legitimate reason for being there at this time of night.

Eventually, I reached Phobos' warehouse and checked briefly to confirm that I was the first to arrive. Effortlessly, I climbed up onto the roof, buoyed by a rush of excitement as much as the low gravity.

I took out my gun and waited, braced on my stomach and facing the opposite way to the time I had caught the drug dealers unaware. I knew Zach would approach from the east side.

Sure enough, soon Zach appeared, cautiously making his way down the side of the passageway between the two warehouses. It was an hour before the appointed time and I guessed he would be searching for a suitable vantage point for himself. I smiled as I wondered whether he would think of the roof.

I sighted along the photon gun, aiming for his body, not his head. I wanted the crime to look just like the others. Maybe I could build a reputation for myself, make headlines in the newsvid with a fancy alias. I rather liked the name I had given in my message to Zach—"The Slicer."

Then Zach disappeared from sight behind the warehouse. Hastily, I pulled in my imagination and concentrated on the task at hand.

The next second his head appeared, only a few metres from where I was lying. He had chosen the roof for his vantage point—just as I had. _Wait... wait..._ I gripped the gun, my fingers suddenly sweating with nervous excitement. Zach appeared above the skyline, holding his service weapon in his right hand, a compact stunner that could fell a man at twenty paces. Usually that was enough in the close quarters under the dome. Land was at a premium and there were few spaces wider than a couple of metres. Even the streets were narrow.

I saw Zach's eyes widen in surprise as he recognised me. Surprise turned to quick anger as he leapt to the conclusion that I had beaten him to the op. _"What the hell are_ you _doing here, Lawrence?"_

He had no idea. I watched his eyes widen even further as he saw the photon gun in my hand, saw his Adam's apple bob convulsively. I smiled as I fired, cutting him in half from left to right, before he could cry out. Both halves disappeared instantly from sight. I scrabbled forward to look over the edge of the roof and—saw Mik staring up at me in shock, Zach's bleeding torso on the ground in front of him.

Shit! Zach had brought backup, he hadn't been as arrogant as I'd thought.

I liked Mik, I really did—but I had no choice. I didn't even realise I had made a decision until I saw the red line searing across his body, from left to right. Shit! Shit! I was shaking. How had it all gone so wrong?

I slithered back to the other side of the warehouse roof and dropped to the ground. I felt like I wanted to throw up but I'd have to wait until I got home for that. I had to get out of here. Now.

I swallowed down the nausea and raced away as fast as I could. When I got home I retched until my stomach ached. Killing Zach hadn't bothered me, he deserved it for being such an arsehole, but Mik... I'd liked Mik. I hadn't intended to kill a friend.

I showered for the whole two minutes allowed, but the fine spray did nothing to wash away the guilt. I was still shaking when I climbed into bed. _Pull yourself together_ , I kept repeating. In my current state, I didn't think I'd be able to face Jonsen tomorrow. I needed to act normally and go in to work but if I couldn't hold it together I'd have to take a sick day. I couldn't sleep, going over the events again and again in my head. It wasn't until a couple of hours had passed, that I began to worry if I had left any evidence behind in my panicked flight.

They came for me the next day.

At first I tried to bluff my way out, loudly protesting confusion at the early morning call. Jonsen's face was an expressionless mask as the two men with him read me my rights and cuffed my hands, but his eyes were as cold as the frozen ground outside the dome. Then Jonsen grimly held up Mik's tri-recorder in one hand and I fell silent.

I lay on the hard bed in my cell, looking sightlessly at the ceiling. The arrest had been more distressing than I'd expected. Jonsen looked through me as if I wasn't there and it seemed the others took a grim satisfaction in locking me in the smallest, darkest cell.

I sighed. I had a few credits left in my account but it wouldn't be a great loss if I had to sacrifice them. Despite the last couple of days, I had enjoyed my adventures on Mars—experienced action and thrills this time that I had never dared before. But perhaps now was the time to go home. I certainly didn't want to stay here any longer than I had to. The trial could only be a painful, even humiliating experience, and I had absolutely no desire to spend any time in prison.

It was time to pull the plug. Literally. I reached behind my neck and fingered the portal embedded there. Pinching with my fingernails, I forced out a needle which had been buried under my skin next to the portal. I winced briefly at the moment's pain, then pushed the end of the needle into a tiny socket in the portal.

A menu of options scrolled across my vision. At least, it should have been a menu of options but all it said was _"On"_ and _"Off"_ in large white letters. Damn! How annoying—what a time for the device to malfunction. I'd have to get it serviced when I got home.

I chose the _"Off"_ option and closed my eyes.

" _Simulation Terminated. Real life starts now."_ The familiar words appeared behind my eyelids. I waited patiently for the portal to finish its processing and wondered idly whether I would have any problems adjusting this time. I lay there in a half doze, letting my mind drift.

" _Crime Fighter"_ had been the best simulation I'd tried yet. It had been hideously expensive but everything had seemed so real, from the setting, to the actions of the other players—the visuals as vivid as reality. Even the modified gravity. And the emotions. By the end of the game I had been fully engaged, experiencing everything just as if it had been real life. Trepidation. Guilt. Grief. Excitement. The orgasmic rush of power.

I suspected it was going to be harder this time to acclimatise to ordinary life. Working nine to five in admin. I started to calculate how long it would take me to earn enough to pay for another game.

I must have drifted off because I woke with a start. I looked around, blinking, trying to reorient.

I sat up and stared in disbelief at the walls of the small cell, the hard bed. I hadn't gone anywhere. Desperately, I fumbled for the needle and pressed it into the socket in my neck portal, again and again.

" _Simulation Terminated. Real life starts now."_

But it hadn't. I was still inside _Crime Fighter._

### Guns and Guys

(Author's Note - Strong language warning.)

"Prompt. 'Guns are for show. Knives are for pros'." _Vera read the first line of her new story and frowned. She read the challenge criteria again._ "Hint: Story must be written from a male perspective with lots of testosterone. Think 'Die Hard' / 'Terminator'."

This challenge was going to be hard. What was Nik thinking? She was a romance writer for goodness sake. Her one and only novel on wattpad was an historical romance, with elegant gowns and dancing; although come to think of it, there was a sword fight in the book. Hmm. Maybe she could have a shot at this after all.

Action, the story had to have plenty of action. Was a knife fight in a dark deserted alley too obvious? A jaded cop, battling a drug lord's minions? Probably. What if the drug lord was holding the cop's family hostage? Nah, that sounded too familiar, she was pretty sure it had been done before. And what about guns? The story had to have guns in it, somewhere. Not that she knew anything about guns apart from what she saw on TV. Thank heavens for Wikipedia.

She doodled a large rocket launcher on her note pad. Hmm. Maybe. Although that was a bit of a cliche these days, apart from Terminator, there was Resident Evil, Lara Croft... Hold on, Lara Croft?? What was she thinking? This was meant to be from a male perspective. Damn!

" _Damn"? She winced and drummed her fingers on the desk. And that was another thing, the story would need real swearing, lots of swearing. Fuck! There, she was getting in the mood. Fuck! Fuck! and crappy nappies. Oops! Better try that again. She wrote the next line._

"'Guns are for show. Knives are for pros.'" Logan murmured his CO's favourite saying as he fingered the knife in his hand. Then he swore. Fuck that! The fucking bastards had a motherfucking rocket launcher! Shit!' _That was more like it. She smiled, at least she had the opening paragraph._

Now the next thing was location. Where and when was the action going to take place? New York city streets at night? A chase through the snow-covered alps of Europe? The silent lonely corridors of a space ship? Or...?

Hmm. Maybe that would work. She thought a bit longer, and poured herself a glass of Barossa red to help with the concentration.

It only had to be 500 words, how long could it take? She wrote busily into the night, ignoring her partner's pleas to come and have dinner, and then to come to bed. It was midnight when she finally turned off the computer. There, it was done. She could only hope it would be good enough.

Knives are for Pros

" _Guns are for show. Knives are for pros_." Logan murmured his C.O.'s favourite saying as he fingered the knife in his hand. Then he swore. Fuck that! The fucking bastards had a motherfucking rocket launcher! Shit!

He slithered backwards in a hurry, out of sight behind the red dusty rampart, catching a small avalanche of sand in his boots. Logan lay on his back for a moment, looking up at the pale bluish sky, trying to think. Jones had fucked up on the intel. The Venusians weren't supposed to have rocket launchers. In fact, no-one was supposed to have any high-powered weapons at all, let alone rocket launchers, on Mars. It would be all too easy for something to go horribly wrong. He shivered at the thought. One badly aimed missile and the whole delicate dome above them would be breached, the precious oxygen sucked out into space, the fragile ecology set back decades, if not more.

Mars was a fledgling colony, only two thousand people living beneath the dome, most of them scientists and farmers. Their job, to carefully clone and cultivate the plants that would take hold and thrive, eventually providing an atmosphere for more than the small area under the dome. Despite initial success, the process was expected to take years. There was no way they were ready yet for unrestricted colonisation, but the Venusians hadn't waited.

Venus colony was failing, the intense heat finally too much even for the advanced technology that Earth had developed specifically for its nearest neighbour. And instead of going back to overcrowded Earth, a bunch of Venusians had decided to take over Mars. Whether the Martians wanted them there or not.

They had come armed and swept through the small colony like a pack of wolves amongst sheep. They had caught the Martians totally unprepared for an invasion and had met little resistance. Few of the colonists had any military background and in any case it was hard to pit hands and pocket knives against automatic weapons despite what anyone said.

Camelli's men had been the exception. Each of them came from an Earth service background before making the move to Mars and in such a small colony they had soon gravitated toward each other. As the Constable, Camelli was the only one with an official position but they often hung out together in their spare time, running mock engagements for the sheer fun of it.

As soon as he realised what was happening, Camelli had slipped out of town and contacted his unofficial team, arranging to meet them in one of the hydroponic farms.

"It'll be a piece of cake," Logan remembered Camelli saying only a few hours ago when the five of them had set out on this mission. "They're not expecting trouble, they think they've won. Disable the guards and we can walk in and just take control of the plant. Once we command the electro-converter, we'll be the ones calling the shots."

Now they were out here in the Martian desert, trying to take back the planet, preferably before the Venusians destroyed it with their fucking extreme weapons.

_EEeeee!_ The high pitched scream of a rocket launcher tore through his head. He could see the puff of red dust billowing up into the air to his right. Fuck! That was where Jones was supposed to be. Had they got him? He poked his head up just a fraction above the rampart, got his bearings then ducked down just in time as a rifle shot parted the hair on his head. Logan licked his lips. Rifles _and_ a rocket launcher! What chance did they have?

Any sensible man would surrender at this point. Logan grinned. He didn't think he'd ever been a sensible man. If someone was stupid enough to get in his face, he'd get right back in theirs. He couldn't help it. He started off in the direction of the last place he had seen Jones, crouching as low as possible to keep below the rampart.

Jones had the only decent weapon amongst them, a Colt he had managed to slip in through customs and quarantine as an antique. Logan had to get to him, maybe the rocket had missed, and if it hadn't, maybe his weapon was still usable.

He heard another rifle shot and ducked reflexively, but this one wasn't aimed at him. Then a second shot. He cursed. Camelli, Ford and Jorge were still out there somewhere. He gritted his teeth. He hoped the motherfuckers had missed, but he couldn't do anything about it. All he could do was put his head down and get to Jones as fast as possible.

Camelli was sweating as he tied a strip of his shirt over the bleeding wound in his arm. It hurt like the devil, but by God he'd been lucky. A fraction nearer, and instead of a graze, he would be missing an arm, or worse. He could see the unmoving form of Tom Jorge lying crumpled on the sand about sixty meters away, and swore that somebody was going to pay for that. He sat for a moment, his back braced against the side of the electroplant as he got his breath back. He had to keep moving, if one of the Venusians came outside he would be a sitting target.

He made it to the rear of the electroplant. He scanned the wall in front of him, seeking an entrance, hoping to get inside where he could use his knife. He thought he could still throw a knife, despite his arm.

He knew there were at least three of the enemy inside, two with the rocket launcher and one with the rifle. But there could be more. He stood up and put his hand ever so lightly on the small door, all he needed now was a distraction at the front of the building, something to keep the Venusians busy. He heard the rifle crack again, and pushed open the door.

Logan finally reached the spot where he had last seen Jones. He couldn't help himself, he doubled over and threw up. Bits of Jones were scattered over the sand, the scarlet red of blood bright against the rusty red of Mars. He wiped his mouth and pulled himself together, time enough for that later. Right now he needed to concentrate on finding the Colt. Finally something went right, he could see the hint of silver gleaming up at him, half buried in the sand.

Logan held the weapon snugly in his hand as he squinted at the plant, estimating the distance. Just over a hundred metres, he guessed. If only one of the team were left to provide a distraction, he thought he could get a bead on the men holding the rocket launcher.

As if on cue, he heard a yell from inside the building. As fast as a snake, he stood up straight and fired a burst from the colt into the opening where he could see the mouth of the rocket launcher. Then he ran, zigzagging across the sand, heading toward the electroplant.

Camelli got one of them with his knife before they shot him.

Logan had never run so fast in his life. He couldn't see whether he had hit anyone inside the plant but the rocket launcher was silent so maybe he had. With a final lunge he threw himself right through the window, knocking the launcher to one side and came to his feet still holding the Colt. Scanning the room, he saw one of the Venusians on the floor with his face blown off and another staring at him in shocked disbelief, gripping his bleeding shoulder. Without hesitating he fired again, then stepped over the body to check out the rest of the plant.

He had no idea how many rounds were in the Colt so he took out his knife, just in case.

### Also by Vera Loy

### Regency Masquerade A regency romance (ebook and paperback)

### Beach Apples Short stories with an Australian theme (ebook and paperback)

### Star Clash A Space Anthology (ebook and paperback)

### About the Author

After thirty years of working with the unemployed, coping with threats, tears and broken lives (and these were only from fellow staff), Vera Loy decided it was time to make her escape. And what better place to go than the world of regency romance? She started writing her first novel, _Regency Masquerade_ , years ago, but put it aside due to work and family commitments.

A couple of years ago, she dusted off the foolscap pages stored under her bed, finished the story and turned it into a book. Since then she has had a lot of fun writing short stories for various competitions. _Star Clash_ is her second anthology.

Vera Loy lives in Adelaide, Australia, with her family and two cats. In her spare time she enjoys fishing and visiting the many local wineries.

You can visit her at - www.veraloywriter.com

