

#### Table of Contents

  1. One
  2. Two
  3. Three
  4. Four
  5. Five
  6. Six
  7. Seven
  8. Eight

# Landmarks

  1. Table of Contents
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Cover
  4. Title Page
  5. Body Matter

## One

A warm wind breathed into Conciliator Magdi's face as she gazed from the high viewing platform of Equatorial City Seven's eastern tower. The dizzying altitude made her grasp the smooth stone of the handrail. Heights troubled her more than she'd admit to anyone, but she'd wanted to be alone for a few moments before meeting the warring parties in the peace talks.

The city – known to all its inhabitants as Suri – was laid out like an engraved map around her: the clean edges of its triangles and tetrahedrons; the radiating lines of its garden boulevards crossed repeatedly by the three spiralling Turnways winding out to the edges of the city. One to the sparkling ocean, one to the great sands, one to the upland flower jungles. The city's embassies and halls and hotels were constructed in a dazzling array of architectural styles, reflections of a thousand different cultures, but there was a pleasing cohesiveness to the city's layout, too: the sandy hues of its walls, the rhythm of its skylines.

She filtered scents blown from the deep seas through the olfactory slits in her neck: smells that spoke to her of the lagoons and atolls of Periarch, her distant home. That, in turn, brought Olorun to her mind. They weren't a couple – for one thing they lived three hundred light-years apart – but the possibility was there, they both knew. Some days, her longing for him was intense, a physical response in her body. She felt it now: the animal need for contact. She would speak to him that evening, and it would help a little.

She breathed deeply again. There was a tang, also, of decay on the wind: the salt rot of the coastal kelp fields. Despite it, she inhaled three, four lungfuls of the planet's air to soothe her nerves. The atmosphere on Coronade was slightly low in oxygen for her biology – the climb up the steps had made stars dance in her head – and it was altogether too hot and humid for her liking so close to the equator. Still, she had chosen the site deliberately for the meeting she was about to take charge of. She expected most trouble from the Gogon Confederacy; it had taken three years of patient diplomacy to induce them to the table, and, quietly, every attempt was being made to engineer an experience that was as trouble-free for them as possible. The heavy, sticky air would be comfortable for a Gogoni, even if she and the delegates from Arianas and Sejerne suffered. But, if they could reach an accord and ease the tensions that had flared into open war in their solar system three times now, it would be worth a little perspiration.

"Is there anything else you need for the talks, Conciliator Magdi?" The voice of Coronade's planetary Mind spoke directly into her brain via the jewel-like glass bead embedded in her cerebellum. She felt it as a faint tickle in her head, although she'd been told numerous times that the sensation was entirely in her imagination.

Rather than replying brain-to-Mind, she gave her response out loud as there was no one nearby to eavesdrop. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Now we have to hope that none of the delegates storms out of the talks before we can find a workable solution to their seemingly intractable problem."

Coronade's response was tinted with amusement. The planetary Mind had seen thousands of such peace conferences over the centuries. "I'd be surprised if they didn't all storm out at some point, claiming dire insult or betrayal in an attempt to extract some concession."

Magdi let go of the handrail and pressed her eight-fingered hands together in a gesture that signified assent to anyone on her own world. It was a motion she'd need to be wary of making during the discussions; what meant yes upon her planet might mean something else completely upon another. Variations on the common tongue might be in near-universal use across the galaxy, but local idiom and gesture remained distinctive. Too many Gogoni hand signs, specifically, indicated insult or threat.

"I will be sure to play my part," she said in reply. "I will be, perhaps, the mortified host horrified at the offence, or else I'll feign anger at the insult made personally to me by such actions."

"A delicate balance to be struck," said Coronade.

"It is no different from persuading families warring over some petty boundary dispute to set their disagreements aside; it's just that billions of lives are at stake rather than a handful. The trick is simply to make each side feel that they have gained what they most want, without having given away too much in return."

"Do you think you can do it?"

Could she? She had a chance, the outline of a plan, but it was by no means guaranteed. This was a tricky three-way dispute over an uninhabited world that they all claimed. One culture considered it sacred, while the other two considered it ripe for resource exploitation. Finding a compromise was not going to be straightforward. "If necessary, I'll lock them in a room until they reach agreement or die of old age," she said.

More amusement from Coronade. "That might not work out well, given that the Sejerne are vegetarian and the Gogoni purely carnivorous."

"It might at least reduce the number of parties in the discussion."

With an orbital-sensing scan overlaying her vision, the sky of Coronade was filled with a constellation of silver-white stars: the constantly shifting patterns of starships, hundreds of them arriving and departing every day, travelling from and to every inhabited system in known galactic space. As with all superluminal ships, they terminated their metaspace jumps well away from the stellar mass before completing their journey to the planet under reaction drive, avoiding any risk of being sucked into the solar gravity well during translation. She watched one ship, tagged in her mind's eye as that of Ambassador Vol Velle, the delegate from Sejerne, approaching one of the equatorial docks locked in ground-stationary orbit high above her head. His appearance meant that all three parties in the dispute had now arrived at Coronade. That was something. She'd feared more delays, more of their endless game-playing.

Coronade spoke again, some sly quality to its voice suggesting that this was what it had wanted to say all along. "I have been considering the wider picture, looking for angles that might assist you, conversing with other planetary Minds. We are obviously keen for this dispute to be resolved."

She sometimes wondered if the planets ever grew weary of the warring, troublesome life-forms that crawled over their surfaces, thronged their atmospheres. The Minds were, of course, the products and tools of those troublesome life-forms, but surely the thought had occurred to them: Why do we need these ridiculous creatures, teeming in their countless billions. They are the source of all our problems. Without them we could arrange ourselves rationally, all strife forgotten. She had once asked that very question of Coronade, the central neuron in the galactic Mind, and it had expressed a complex mixture of amusement and revulsion in reply. The question is a category error; it is meaningless. You might as well ask why your mind doesn't rebel against the cells of the brain that houses it. Even if it were possible, what point would there be? And a galaxy without biological life-forms would be... dull.

She guessed it had to say something along those lines. She wasn't completely sure she believed it "Did you come up with anything?" she asked.

"A possibility occurred to me. You will be aware of the ship called the Magellanic Cloud, the fallout from its supposed discoveries in the galactic core?"

"I am obviously aware of the rumours. You have something more concrete? Something pertinent?"

"Not much. Even I am in the dark about what has been found. There are obviously no planetary Minds within the uncharted regions that the Magellanic Cloud was exploring, although those closer by, at the edges of known space, are expressing a certain amount of disquiet at the reports reaching them."

Her mind had been full of preparations for the talks: strategies for persuasion, careful attempts to learn the details of the three disparate cultures involved. Still, she was aware that the feeds were awash with talk of what had been found. Through the fuzz of speculation and invention there was, so far as she knew, only one hard fact: the lost Magellanic Cloud had unexpectedly returned to the Ormeray Ten outpost station with less than half its crew onboard. Whether the others were dead, or had been abandoned or taken captive, was unknown. There was confused talk of a vicious mutiny led by a crew-member, one Dragonel Vulpis. Whether those returning on the ship were insane, or the perpetrators, or even heroes, was also unclear. She'd heard versions of the rumour claiming all that and more.

"What does the Ormeray Ten Mind say?"

"Little of use; it has limited intellectual capacity. It's basically a set of environmental control routines with no self-awareness."

"Then I don't see how the Magellanic Cloud story helps. The system involved in our dispute is twenty thousand light-years from the central mass; there can be no possible connection."

"I concur, but that does not mean our guests will see it like that. It's possible they lack... perspective."

"Explain." The word came out more tersely than she'd intended. She didn't have the head-space for this new angle; it didn't seem important. She forced herself to listen. Coronade was wise, and her boosted Pack Queen nature could all too easily make assertiveness tip over into rudeness. Another thing she needed to watch when it came to the diplomatic discussions.

"You will have heard the stories that the Magellanic Cloud encountered a major technological or biological power previously unknown to us. A power that, now it is aware of our existence, will burst from the galactic core to destroy us all."

The stories were clearly ridiculous, a rehashing of common myths and tired old tropes. Although she did sometimes wonder if the prevalence of such stories might not be an echo of some shared folk-memory rather than the result of simple paranoia about the unknown. Whatever the truth of it, there could be no such threat; the culture centred on Coronade was vast, extending to sixty percent of the galaxy's star systems. Nothing could threaten it.

Yet the Mind was right: there might be something there she could use. "You're suggesting that fear of a common enemy, even an imaginary one, might unify our warring worlds?"

"They might start seeing all they have in common, rather than what divides them."

"I will give it some thought. I hope to reach a settlement based on something more solid than lies and fear, but the angle might prove useful when a little extra pressure is needed. Have you been in touch with the Minds of the delegates' homeworlds?"

"I am in constant communication with over seventy-two thousand planetary intelligences across the known galaxy, either via the nanotube mesh or, for worlds where that does not reach, via despatches carried upon metaspace ships. Gogon, Sejerne and Arianas all express the hope that a solution may be found, but none proposes what that might be. They are happy to place the onus for a resolution upon Coronade. And, therefore, upon you."

"Of course they are."

Another voice sounded in her head, a notification from her personal AI. "The Gogoni delegates are requesting an immediate audience with you to lay down their preconditions. Also, the envoy from Arianas appears to have heard of this and is demanding a meeting of her own. And Ambassador Vol Velle has lodged a formal complaint that the talks are starting before he has even arrived on the planet."

Magdi inhaled one more deep breath. "And so it begins," she said. 

## Two

In the end, she waited a day and a half before meeting any of the representatives from the warring worlds. Partly, it was an opening move to deflate their self-importance a notch, to tell them that they weren't the most urgent matter in the galaxy – without frustrating them too much. Mainly it was to give them a chance to experience Coronade. Along with her apologies to each envoy, she'd sent messages encouraging them to visit the planet's sites, complete with a suggested itinerary of highlights. The embassies of more-or-less every starfaring civilisation were to be found either on the surface of the planet or upon one of its moons or orbital platforms. Coronade was a treasure house of cultural wonders – and if all that architecture and art didn't appeal, there were always the ancient cultural remnants: the artificial oceanic islands with their intriguing ruins currently being excavated by teams of astroarchaeologists. Civilizations had seemingly existed upon Coronade long before the recording of any histories.

She'd learned from experience that time away from the negotiating table could pay dividends: released from the pressures of their own planets, and faced with the experience of bumping into the citizens of worlds they'd never even heard of, delegates often mellowed a little. Acquired a degree of perspective. It was part of the point of Coronade: neutral ground where representatives of all civilisations could mingle and learn from each other. Nobody's home world, and so everybody's.

When she judged they'd fumed long enough, she arranged a meeting with each delegation – without telling them which she was meeting first. That was another detail they didn't need to know.

Delegate Palianche of the Gogoni informed her that he was waiting at his quarters; she could come to him. It was immediately clear that the enforced delay had done little to soothe his anger. Before she could utter her words of greeting to Palianche and his two advisors, the Delegate stood, sending his chair clattering to the ground, his muscular green body unwinding in a way that emphasised his brute physical strength. He towered over her. His metallic-sheen skin – an adaptation to the high solar radiation of his world – shimmered in a clear fury display. Gogoni were evolved top-predators, their forms powerful and their laser-like focus on their prey absolute.

His words, though, threw her. His voice was a soft whisper, like a coolant gas escaping a leak under high pressure. "Please convey to Coronade that I demand a different Conciliator be assigned. I will not work with you."

Magdi kept her expression neutral, her voice calm and slow. Palianche had to be allowed to play his games. "May I ask why you object to me?"

"I do not trust one of your kind. Your telepathic abilities are an affront, an intrusion. Do you deny you can read my thoughts?"

She stepped forwards slowly, sat on the empty chair waiting for her and folded her hands in her lap, in a gesture that conveyed passivity to one of his world. "I am a Periarch, yes, and like you we are a predatorial race, proudly so. Our Pack Queens have natural empathic abilities, there to resolve conflict, impose order and maintain strong social cohesion, and it is true that my biological responses have been boosted with the relevant hormones to enhance that capacity. I cannot read your mind, Delegate Palianche, but I do have some sense of your emotional state. It is part of what makes me a good Conciliator."

He regarded her with his reflective green eyes. It was hard not to see malevolence there, but in truth she was reading something else entirely from his mind: wariness, even outright fear. Interesting.

"And so, we are your pack now?" he said finally. "Do you intend to control all three delegations, bend them to your will like Periarch warrior drones?"

She sat back, keeping her expression neutral. The living quarters of the three delegations were identical: comfortable, luxurious, one wall taken up with a window that overlooked Suri's Hub park, a calming, pleasant vista to most species. On the opposite wall of each suite she'd placed a stylized representation of the planets in the disputed system: Palianche's own world, Gogon, next to the sun, then Sejerne, then the disputed world, then finally cold Arianas. She'd wanted each delegation to have that simple image in their heads. It was rare to have a trio of naturally-habitable worlds in a single solar system – a fact that she was glad of. Contested systems were almost always flashpoints once one or more cultures acquired spaceflight technology.

Her eyes on the diagram rather than him, she said, "I cannot control any of you, and I would not if I could. My intention is simply to find an agreement on what to do about Forge."

Forge. Such was the Gogoni name for the third planet in their system – a fitting title for a world they wished to mine for its abundant mineral reserves. The other civilisations had their own names, of course – many different names. To the Sejerne the world was generally referred to as Amon, the sacred domain of the gods in their dominant religion. To the people of Arianas it was Penanda, the brightest of their three morning and evening stars, and a world whose uranium reserves were badly needed.

"Our claim to Forge is undeniable," said Palianche. "We are the closest planet claiming mineral exploitation rights. The legal principle of proximity is clear."

She turned back to face him directly, fix him with her own gaze. "There are, as you well know, other legal principles to consider. Sejerne, for one, is nearer."

"But it does not claim mining rights. It does not wish to land there at all."

"It does claim that the planet is inviolate."

Palianche snorted. "The planet is uninhabited and rich with minerals and heavy metals; it makes no sense to leave it untouched. Sejerne's fairy stories won't build cities and ships, and they won't feed or house our people."

One of his two advisors, smaller and less powerfully-built, eyes always averted, stood and, standing on the tips of his toes, whispered something into the line of otic receptors that curved up the side of Palianche's head. This one, she knew, was called Emchek, an observer from Evening Star Rising, the dominant political/military faction on Gogon, there to advise on negotiating strategy. The other, Sorabai, was a technocrat, from the currently subservient White Peak faction, sent to ensure Palianche had all the required scientific facts at his talon tips. Emchek was the taller of the two by several centimetres, as befitted a member of the planet's controlling bloc: a Gogoni individual's physical stature altered in line with their social rank; the more important the person, the larger and more powerful their form. Palianche was truly impressive, while Emchek and Sorabai were shorter than Magdi. The Gogoni monarch, Emperor Avigand, was said to be truly titanic.

Their one-word names, meanwhile, were typical of the no-nonsense Gogoni: individuals on the planet were assigned a random designation at birth that was guaranteed to be unique. It was a system she had some admiration for.

Whatever Emchek said, it appeared to placate the Delegate a little. Sorabai placed Palianche's chair back on its feet, and the Delegate sat. He fixed his unblinking glare upon her. She had to be wary of falling into the prejudice of seeing the Gogoni as simply hot-headed predators from a sun-blasted world. Their need for mineral resources was not primarily military: mainly, in her view, their expansionism was driven by their rapidly growing population, a situation that Coronade and the other Minds were keen to facilitate. Expanding cultures were considered highly desirable in a galaxy where habitable planets vastly outnumbered the civilisations to live on them. Space was, to all intents and purposes, infinite – although, sometimes there was a need for balance, for potentially warring worlds to grow at similar speeds.

"Your claims over Forge will, of course, be discussed at length once the talks begin," she said. "Your objections to me are noted, but I ask that you give me some time. If you still feel the same in, say, a week, then we can look for another Conciliator. There are many of us on Coronade. The protocol for my replacement is very simple: you will need agreement from the other delegates, or at least a majority of them."

There was, in truth, no such protocol. But if she could at least get two of the worlds co-operating, it might be a start. The danger was that the Gogoni and the Aranians might set aside their bitter military differences and agree to carve up Forge over the objections of Sejerne. The Gogoni considered the Sejerne to be credulous fools, although they also considered the leader of the delegation from Arianas, Fleet General Pannax Ro, to be a war criminal. Gogon and Arianas would never form friendly ties, but they might at least understand each other.

Palianche glowered at her for a few more seconds, the flesh around his nasal openings pulsing as he breathed in and out. "A week, then," he said. "You will have that time."

"I am grateful," she replied, and rose to leave. As she crossed to the door, she expected to sense something like relief from the Gogoni, a lowering of his guard. Perhaps satisfaction at a small victory won. Instead she felt that fear in him mounting a notch.

Interesting, interesting.

She'd arranged to meet Ambassador Vol Velle at the Temple of Countless Spires rather than at his living quarters or the Congress Hall, thinking that a more spiritual setting might put him at his ease. She took her time to stroll there, thinking about Palianche and the solution she intended to steer the three warring parties towards. The streets of Suri were always busy – Coronade was a magnet for tourists – but the throng became denser than normal as she approached the temple district, to the point where she had to start pushing her way through the crowds. She began to hear raised voices, too: the repeated, amplified chant of a ringleader and the response of a crowd. Something was going on.

Demonstrations and marches were a common sight on Coronade, but generally they were aimed at one embassy or another, or at the delegates attending some specific conference. This was the first time she'd witnessed one in the temple district. Whatever it was that the crowd were objecting to, her main concern was for Vol Velle: if he was caught up in the trouble it might make him wary, and that in turn would make compromise all the more difficult.

She contacted him directly, her bead seeking out his on the planetary mesh and politely enquiring if he was contactable. She made the connection low-priority, not wanting to intrude if he was attempting to hide from the trouble or quietly at prayer somewhere. He might also have chosen to go off-network, making him untraceable. Most people on Nexus worlds rarely bothered to conceal themselves, but she knew it was more common on less connected worlds like his.

Despite that, Vol Velle responded immediately, reporting that he was inside the Temple and looking forwards to meeting her. He sounded calm. She pushed through the jostle and reached a line of City Marshalls forming a cordon around the temple. The Coronade equivalent of a local police force, they existed mainly to corral and control the growing numbers of offworlders who visited the planet. The Marshalls had no power over a member of the planet's diplomatic staff such as herself. Still, it made no sense to take any undue risk. She pinged her ID to the nearest officer as she approached, making it clear that she wished to enter the temple. The crowd around her was visibly angry, building up to something, an edge of fear to them as they shouted abuse at the Temple and the Marshalls – although neither, presumably, were at fault.

The Marshall looked wary, eyes darting left and right beneath his helmet as he battled to maintain the cordon, arms linked through those of the two officers next to him. In truth, he was in no real danger. In an emergency, he could issue executive control overrides to the mob's brain beads and coerce them into moving away. It was a rarely-used power, superficially at odds with the freedoms visitors to Coronade were allowed, but it was effective, making everyone more relaxed about allowing displays of public dissent. Whatever happened, the situation would not be allowed to get out of hand.

The Marshall unlinked his arm for a moment to let Magdi through. He didn't otherwise respond to her. As she passed, she felt the faint wash of resentment from him – the Marshalls disliked the fact that people like Magdi were immune from their authority – but it was soon replaced by his watchful wariness of the angry crowd.

The interior of the temple was a cool, airy space, light slanting down from high windows to spotlight floor slabs worn smooth by the passage of many feet. Every step echoed off the hard surfaces, and dust motes floated in the still air like a scatter of faint white stars. Although she followed no religion, saw no reason to follow any religion, she often came in here. A place to sit and think and wonder. She'd once walked all around, numbering the supposedly countless spires. She'd reached a total of twenty-seven before deciding that she was missing the point.

She found the Ambassador in a shadowy corner, seemingly unconcerned by the trouble outside. He was studying a triptych of abstract paintings, each perhaps representing a face, each an aspect of Ambidon, the Triple God of the Myrcin League. Their names, she noted, were Wisdom, Fury and Adoration.

"My apologies for the inconvenience of the current situation," she said as she approached. "If I'd known there was going to be crowd trouble, I'd have arranged to meet you elsewhere."

She'd expected Vol Velle to be a grim, austere figure, the product of a world with a strong puritanical streak. Before becoming an ambassador, he'd been a leading light in the One World Brotherhood, amongst the planet's larger religious denominations, and he was still a committed devotee of the faith. His appearance immediately confounded her: his shock of springy grey hair and his open smile gave him the air of a man who'd seen and heard it all and managed to find the humour and the humanity throughout. He had the easy amiability, the charisma, that would allow him to hold a congregation – or an ambassadorial delegation – in the palm of his hand.

He looked amused rather than affronted at her words. "You'd be surprised at the minutiae of religious debate that have inspired much worse on Sejerne; our ancestors once fought three wars over the interpretation of a single word in a religious text. To be honest with you, all this has made me feel rather at home. If I'd known Coronade was going to be so interesting, I might have come sooner."

He was adorned neck to knees in the simple, sky-blue robes of his order. She wasn't taken in by his display of penury: the robes were artfully tailored, their seams apparently hand-stitched with fine threads of gold. Elaborate jewelled rings of office adorned his fingers. She made a mental note of the fact: he was, perhaps, a man who might be seduced by the luxuries of life, despite his avowed asceticism.

"Are you aware of their reasons for demonstrating?" she asked, keen to engage him in conversation upon matters of interest to him.

"Aren't you?" he asked, raising one grey eyebrow. "I thought you here on Coronade knew everything about everyone's lives."

He was gently teasing her. That was fine; anything to build bridges.

"I'm no expert when it comes to ecclesiastical matters," she said. "My specialism is in concrete issues of resource competition. This is an area where I would undoubtedly benefit from your knowledge."

He smiled, either out of pleasure at her words, or because he knew she was attempting to flatter him.

"So far as I can tell, it is a rather more profane matter," he replied. "They are afraid, and fear all too often spills over into anger, does it not?"

"Afraid of what?"

"They are troubled by what they have heard of the Magellanic Cloud. This temple is a focus for religious feeling in this city, and although the Cult of Omn has no presence here that I can find, people naturally gravitate here to protest. The Temple of Countless Spires is dedicated to all faiths, yes?"

The Cult of Omn. Until the rumours came to her ears, she'd never heard of it. "People see this Omnian religion as a threat? So far as I know it is a minor faith, followed by few people across a scatter of Orion Spur worlds."

"A number of the crew of the Magellanic Cloud were known to be followers, and they were the missing ones when the ship returned to known space. There is talk that they have somehow allied with whatever has been encountered. Or, even, that they have found the omnipotent entity long-foretold by their sacred texts."

"Do you give such stories any credence?"

His ready smile filled his whole face. "I don't; they sound regrettably like another excuse for religious persecution to me, a thing we on Sejerne are not unfamiliar with. And, speaking of that, I believe you have met with Delegate Palianche already?"

Her attempts at keeping her meetings a secret had clearly failed. She wondered how Vol Velle had discovered the truth of it. She reverted to the white lie she'd invented in case she needed it. "A greeting rather than a meeting, just as this is. I am merely introducing myself to the delegations in the physical order of the planets: Gogon, then Sejerne, and then Arianas."

Again, the amused look on his features. Her boosted empathic sense sometimes gave her a synaesthetic visual crossover, so that she perceived people's emotional state as bands of colours around their heads, like an aura or a halo. With Vol Velle she saw rich oranges and golds. His good nature appeared to be utterly genuine, although the bands of bright colour were also shot-through, occasionally and briefly, with Fraunhofer lines of pure black. As if dark and troubling thoughts were flashing through his mind.

He held up his hand as though he was blessing her. "Please, I am not affronted. My delegation has issued stern objections for public show, of course, but it is all part of the game. The Gogoni are the main obstacle to peace here."

Was that true? No doubt Palianche saw matters differently, and with what she'd learned overnight, Pannax Ro might yet prove to be the biggest obstacle to peace. But Vol Velle was a skilled diplomat; he was positioning himself, offering arguments and establishing his credentials while pretending to do nothing of the sort.

Fair enough. She'd do exactly the same. "I'm intrigued by the religious underpinnings of your world's claim to Amon. Would you fill me in on some background detail that might be of use once the discussions start?"

Faintly through the great walls, the voice of the crowd outside could be heard, rising and falling like the roar of some great beast. Vol Velle looked utterly unconcerned. "I'd be delighted to help, but I'm sure you know the essence of it. To many people on Sejerne, simply, the planet is the abode of the gods and the place that the souls of the virtuous travel to after death. It is our sacred realm."

She probed him gently, wary of angering him. "But, forgive me, you have sent ships there; you must know the truth of it."

Again, he found her objections amusing rather than insulting. "Some on Sejerne would refuse to listen to statements like that, believing them to be the lies and conspiracies of Gogon. The more literalist Sejerne insist that it is physically impossible to visit Amon, that it does not reside within normal space. Most of us, I would say, have retreated into metaphor a little. Amon is sacred ground and represents our notion of a heaven, even if our ships reveal it to be a planet. It is possible to believe two contradictory things at once, is it not? I can utterly lose myself in a book or an opera while still knowing, on one level, that it is a fabrication."

He was calm, enjoying the conversation. She pushed him a little further. "You're surely not calling the tenets of your religion a fabrication?"

"Not in the least; I would simply say that there are ways of looking at the universe other than through the lenses of a telescope. Have you heard of Amon's Grace?"

She'd come across the phrase a few times but hadn't bothered to explore its meaning. "Please, tell me."

"As Amon lies outside the orbit of Sejerne, we often see the planet displaying retrograde motion against the background stars, appearing briefly to stop in its movement and go backwards. Astronomically, of course, it is only Sejerne overtaking Amon in its orbit of the sun, but to our ancestors it was clear proof: Amon had paused in its wanderings through the stars and was going back to pick up the soul of some great or virtuous figure who had recently died. Even now, it is considered very auspicious to pass over just as such an event is observed. I might understand why this phenomenon occurs in physical terms, but I can still find it wondrous to behold, a source of hope and inspiration. Does that make sense?"

"A little. We all employ, if you'll excuse the phrase, magical thinking at times."

"I would say, we all see higher truths at times. The main point is that one form or another of this belief unites the great majority of people on Sejerne. Whichever of our factions is right is, to a degree, irrelevant. If the planet is not respected as our sacred realm, inviolate, set apart, then Sejerne will fall into war: internal civil war as the sects fight over how best to respond, but also war with whatever species has sullied the planet. It may make little sense to one such as you who sees the universe only through the sensors of science, but that is the truth of it. It would be total war; Sejerne would unleash its revenge with all the might available to it. My people would feel they were fighting for their very souls."

"Any exploitation of Amon's resources, even if it was invisible, would be unacceptable?"

"Absolutely; it would be enough that we knew it was taking place. There can be no compromise on this point, it is a simple, binary distinction. Either Amon is left untainted, or it is not."

She nodded. There was the crux of the issue. She believed Vol Velle, too. He portrayed himself as outward-looking, liberal by the standards of his world, but most of the people he represented would accept no concession or retreat whatsoever.

He must have seen the troubled look on her features. He said, "We have a saying on Sejerne: Fire on one side, ice on the other. Do you know it?"

She'd come across the idiom in her reading. "It suggests that there is only a narrow path to be followed between two great dangers."

"Something of the sorts, although some might say it simply describes the position of Sejerne, caught as we are between the fire of Gogon and the ice of Arianas. The point is, your task is an immensely difficult one, with no obvious solution. I do not envy you, but I do thank you for trying."

"Do you think there is a path between the fire and the ice?"

"The Gogoni and the Aranians will say what they need to say, do what they need to do. They will threaten and rage, and eventually, hopefully, they will listen to reason. We are all children floundering around in the dark, trying to make sense of the situations we find ourselves in, trying to do the right thing for those we love. Acceptance of our limitations and imperfections is central to Sejerne belief. We are blessed and we are cursed sentient creatures, aware that one day we will die, and, worse, aware that we find ourselves alive. I sometimes envy those lower creatures who live in the moment, oblivious to their fate. I even envy the Minds, effectively immortal as they are."

He smiled at his own imperfections. "You see, I am not a very good believer. There are many on my planet who live with the certainty of an unshakeable faith. I envy them, too. It must be a comfort. I have only my hope."

A carefully-planned speech or the words of a humble man? She wasn't sure. The black absorption lines continued to flicker in his aura, but otherwise the colours remained constant; orange-red and bronze. He was either a very good actor, or he, at least, believed what he was saying.

"Thank you," she said. "I will consider everything you have told me. You are prepared for the opening meeting tomorrow?"

"We shall be there. Let us hope our friends from Gogon and Arianas are as well."

She left him to his studies of the artwork of the temple. But as she was stepping away, he spoke again. "Conciliator Magdi, you might like to know that, on Sejerne, Amon's Grace is being observed at this very moment."

"It is an auspicious time for someone to die?"

His smile remained as warm as ever. "Let us hope it is simply an auspicious time for our disagreements to be solved."

Pannax Ro met her, as agreed, inside Suri's subarctic biome, one of a circle of eight domes in the alien environment complex. The site was thirty kilometres from the edges of the city, erected upon a natural stone plateau within the great sands and linked to Suri by a four-line underground QuantLev. Each dome was five kilometres in diameter, filled with fauna and flora from all corners of the galaxy. There were numerous microbiomes dotted around, too, providing isolated or bio-secure environments, but it was a surprise, to Magdi at least, just how compatible plant-life from distant, disparate worlds was.

It went further: many of the active pollinators – insectoids and avians and winged mammals – were apparently also quite happy to fertilize plants from worlds many light-years from their own. As she understood it, that fact puzzled the xenobiologists, too. The domes had been built partly to allow the scientists to explain why it might be.

The subarctic biome had been populated with life-forms from colder worlds and more extreme planetary latitudes. The vegetation was mostly low-growing grassland, along with mosses, lichens and ferns, although there were also dark, watchful forests of spike-leaved evergreen trees. Her bead told her that Ro was waiting within the largest of these.

Artificial snow drifted from the glass sky, but it cut out as soon as she entered the shelter of the transplanted forest. The floor beneath her feet became a springy mesh of discarded needles. She slipped back the hood of the mulithermal coat they'd given her. The hush enveloping her was absolute. The contrast with the clashing heat of the environment outside the dome was stark; it was hard to believe that she'd stepped from temperatures approaching fifty degrees to this sub-zero permafrost. She welcomed it; her brain was noticeably sharper in the cold. Her breath when she exhaled through her mouth was a visible mist of moisture.

She slipped the hand-weapon they'd given her into its holster; there were large predators in the dome, the most dangerous of them the carnivorous gataraptors that hunted the tundra for smaller mammalians. But she was safe enough under the trees.

Ro waited for her in a clearing. The Fleet General sat upon the body of a fallen tree, watching her approach in silence. Something in the set of Ro's body suggested that she might leap into action at any moment, throw herself into an attack. She clearly did not need multithermal clothing; to her the ambient temperatures would be something approaching normal, and it was no surprise that she'd chosen to visit the subarctic biome. It was another thing Magdi would have to manage carefully: she had asked a lot of Ro, especially, by choosing Coronade's equator as the setting for the talks.

Magdi extended all her empathic senses as she neared the General. The predominant emotion she picked up was suspicion – reasonably enough. It was a cliché to think of the Aranians as cold and distant, but the fact was that Magdi had failed to build up any sort of connection with Ro during the pre-talk negotiations.

Ro finally stood to greet Magdi, offering her hand in the traditional Aranian forearm-grasp. Ro was thirty centimetres shorter than Magdi, her body powerful and compact, a form well-adapted to the preservation of core heat. A fine down covered her skin, delicate and shaded upon her face, thicker on her neck and exposed shoulder.

They sat side-by-side on the log. The wood was soft beneath Magdi, orange with rot. Ro said, "You've met with both Palianche and Vol Velle, I hear."

Magdi sighed inwardly. Did everyone know about her supposedly secret arrangements? She repeated her line about greeting the delegations in planetary order.

Her words seemed to amuse Ro. "Strange how statements like that always seems to mean my people coming last. Tell me, did Palianche demand my expulsion from the talks, refuse to have to gaze upon me?"

"As a matter of fact, it was me he objected to."

Ro's eyes narrowed slightly as she considered that. "He was posturing, of course."

"Of course."

"He is just as predictable on the battlefield. I have commanded our fleet against him three times and beaten him backwards on each occasion."

"He would claim you flouted the rules of war and committed atrocities. That just this year you unleashed your fleet's beam-weaponry on the Achenar, a peaceful science exploration vessel, killing everyone onboard."

Ro bared her teeth in what might have been a grin. "He does not come from a world that teeters constantly on the brink of social collapse; that gives you a rather different perspective on what constitutes an atrocity. And the Achenar bore a full complement of Gogoni shocktroops. It wasn't a science vessel; it was part of a colonization task-force."

Grey areas. Getting at the truth between two tellings of the same story was all-too often impossible. "Do you think you could ever live in peace with the Gogoni, share local space with them?"

"By local space, you are referring to Penanda."

Ro was clearly keen to get straight to the crux of the matter. She was not one for wasting time over niceties, a trait Magdi rather appreciated.

"The planet and your entire solar system," said Magdi. "Two of your victories were nowhere near the disputed world."

Ro dipped her head as if in acknowledgement of her military glories. "We do not seek war; we wish only to survive. If the Gogoni and Sejerne can accept our presence and our needs, then we can tolerate theirs."

"You are referring to your need for the mineral resources of Penanda."

"I'm told you've done some research on my world, so you will know we are energy-poor, lacking in the solar radiation that Gogon and Sejerne are bathed in. The energy halo we propose to build around our world will guarantee our survival for centuries to come."

The Aranian plans were certainly impressive: a cluster of 360 fission reactors in stationary orbit, safely removed from the surface but able to beam constant, reliable energy down to receiving installations upon the ground. Once constructed, the only technical challenge was maintaining a steady supply of the required radioactive materials – and Penanda was rich in uranium.

"The Gogoni are suspicious; they suspect you of wanting to stock-pile nuclear weapons to arm your fleet. They talk of you unleashing a planetary strike on Gogon, scouring it of all life."

"The Gogoni are paranoid fools. They assume everyone is like them: expansionist, aggressive. I imagine I don't need to explain this to an empath. The truth is that with enough energy to stabilize our ecosystem, we would be less of a threat to them, not more. We would have no need to scrap for mineral resources upon asteroids and comets."

"You would be prepared to accept observers to confirm that your intentions are peaceful?"

"We would resist it strongly, resent the intrusion." Ro stopped talking, then tilted her head to one side in a manner that suggested things might, perhaps, not be so clear-cut. "Although, between you and me, it is perhaps something we can discuss. We have nothing to hide, although if we did accept the presence of observers on our world we would, of course, assert our right to watch what takes place on Gogon and Sejerne."

"Of course," said Magdi. "The agreement must be satisfactory to all parties, or it won't be sustainable. We should also talk about the images you recently sent me in diplomatic despatches."

"Ah. I wondered when you would get round to those."

"Can we be sure they are genuine?" Magdi asked. "Do you know for a fact that they are an accurate record of past events, and not just some wild plan that never took flight?"

Ro stared to the sky, a patch of blue ringed by the canopy of the treetops. Magdi glanced that way, too. A single black bird flitted across the space, pursuing some invisible insectoid.

"You have my word," said Ro, "but perhaps that doesn't count for very much. I can also give you the co-ordinates of the target site; by all means visit Penanda to check for yourself. I promise I won't say a word to Ambassador Vol Velle about your intrusion into the sacred realm."

"Can I ask who else knows about the existence of these records?"

"At this point in time, only a trusted team of archive historians and a few individuals in Aranian High Command."

"Surely your planetary Mind is aware of them?"

"It is. It chose to remain silent on the matter for fear of disrupting a delicate political situation. At our request, it did not convey them to Coronade or anyone else."

That was good; the matter required very careful handling. Magdi considered Ro for a moment, extending her empathic senses to try and understand the Fleet General's motivations. In truth, she wasn't getting very much. Ro's mind and her emotions were locked away, frozen inside her like a city under martial law. Still, they could talk freely inside the dome; the habitat was completely natural, with no electronic surveillance apart from the camera by the doorway used to check for gataraptors before going inside. She suspected that was another reason Ro had chosen to meet in the dome. Respecting the choice, Magdi had also temporarily blocked communication links between her brain and all AIs. Even Coronade couldn't hear them.

"You say these records are nearly a thousand years old? Forgive me, but it might be hard for the other delegations to believe that such a story could be true."

"Meaning, you do not believe it."

"Meaning that if I can see these objections, others will, too. A thousand years ago, the most advanced civilisations on Sejerne and Gogon thought wooden carts were dangerously high-tech, but you are claiming your world was sending out spaceships advanced enough to land upon Penanda."

"I do not claim anything. The records are there, and an archaeological assay of the landing site will confirm it. A millennium ago, my people landed upon and claimed the disputed world."

Magdi wondered how Vol Velle would react to such information. Gogon was forever vowing it was on the point of violating the sacred planet without ever quite doing so: a long-drawn-out game of brinksmanship. Was it possible Ro's forebears had taken the extra step ten centuries previously? Arianas had no knowledge of Sejerne at the time, wouldn't have been aware that their solar system housed any other intelligent life, but still the presence of aliens upon the face of Amon would be enough to ferment fury on Vol Velle's world.

Magdi said, "May I ask why you haven't chosen to go public with this information? It clearly strengthens your legal claim considerably."

Ro smiled at that, light washing across the delicate layer of down on her cheeks. "We reserve the right to make the information public if the negotiations are going against us, but, for now, we would prefer not to destabilize the political situation. We are well aware the news could trigger interplanetary conflict. While we are ready for that if it comes, we would prefer to avoid the cost and the bloodshed – despite what Palianche may think about us."

"I understand," said Magdi. She understood, also, what Ro wasn't saying. By choosing not to reveal the inconvenient truth of the ancient landing upon the disputed world, the Aranians were giving themselves a vital bargaining-chip. They'd calculated that the conciliators of Coronade would go to great lengths to keep the fact hidden. To reveal it would mean an abrupt end to the peace talks. Now that had become Magdi's problem: she would have to be very careful to give Ro what she wanted, for fear of the truth coming out.

Always assuming that the Aranians' claims were true.

"How is it possible that your culture's successful ventures into space have been unknown until now? My researches mentioned no such historical event, or anything even suggesting it was possible." Most likely, Arianas had known the truth for some time and had held it in reserve for this moment, but the knowledge had to be relatively recent. The wars between the worlds had been going on for decades, and Arianas had come close to annihilation more than once.

"If you'd researched our world properly, you wouldn't find it so surprising. You must know how vulnerable our ecosystem is so far from the sun. Small climatic changes have massive effects on our biosphere. One thousand years ago, during our first technological revolution, we achieved great things, built marvels, including Skiavor, the ship capable of visiting Penanda. As an unintended by-product of all that increased industrial activity, we also raised the concentrations of greenhouse gases in our atmosphere by enough to trigger the devastating ice-age of an environmental winter. You will surely know of our Great Dusk. The Skiavor landing was the peak of our achievement, but within fifty years of that event, our entire civilization had collapsed. We descended into barbarity and much was lost. It is only in the past century that we have clawed our way back to where we were before the collapse. We are determined to make sure it never happens again."

Without comms access to the outside world, Magdi was limited to the information she already had stored in her brain. "Skiavor. I do not know the word."

Ro waved the matter away with her hand, as if it was of no importance. "The name of a creature in our sagas and myths. A vast beast that flies through the eternal night of space, lighting the stars by breathing flame upon them. By setting our sun alight, it brought life to Arianas."

Magdi didn't pursue the question; Ro seemed a little embarrassed by the story. A calculating, military mind like hers would have no time for fanciful tales of vast star-creatures. Or perhaps she didn't want to answer the question of why this Skiavor had been so grudging with the paltry light and heat it had bestowed upon Arianas while being so generous to the other worlds of the system.

"Did your forebears send people or machines to Penanda?"

"There were two aboard Skiavor."

"Can you prove that as well? Who were these people?"

For the briefest moment, Magdi felt a pulsar-burst of strong emotion from Ro's mind: anger, resentment. It was rapidly suppressed. It seemed to Magdi that the fine hairs on Ro's neck bristled very slightly.

"The names of the two pathfinders are lost to history. Please, do not belittle what my people achieved, and do not underestimate what we are offering here. The truth is, this ancient achievement should be celebrated across Arianas as a moment of the greatest triumph, but we are prepared, for now, to keep the fact buried. For the sake of peace."

Ro was certainly right about one thing: a story like that could be used to inspire and unite the people of Arianas, give them something to be proud of. The political temptation to reveal the truth had to be enormous. "Did the two return safely to Arianas?"

Ro's voice remained as inexpressive as ever. "We do not believe they did. Our historians' researches suggest that the mission was always designed as a one-way journey. It makes the actions of the two travellers only more heroic. And it does not alter the value of our claim: our ship was the first to land on Penanda. The planet was, and remains, an uninhabited world, and that clearly makes it ours."

"Ambassador Vol Velle might claim that it wasn't uninhabited at the time. That the gods and spirits of his people have always been there."

"We can allow the Sejerne their childish stories, but the niceties of religious doctrine count for nothing against the survival of a planetary species. My planetary species. There is no equivalence in the competing claims. Unless Vol Velle can bring me proof of an earlier presence on Penanda – a real, physical presence – ¬then his objections can be ignored."

And there lay the issue. What was vital to one planet seemed trivial or ridiculous to the others. There would be a point when such matters needed to be discussed openly, but not yet. "Whatever happens in these talks," said Magdi, "I assure you that I, and Coronade, and the whole Nexus of planetary Minds, will do what we can to ensure that your world continues to thrive. You do not need to teeter constantly on the brink of social collapse."

"Then give us the uranium and the mineral resources we need to construct our halo. That is all we ask."

"This is your only demand?"

"A reliable energy supply and freedom from attack. We demand nothing more and nothing less. Cultural and economic ties can flourish after peace is established. Or not."

Magdi stood. Her limbs were stiff from the cold even with the multithermal clothing. Her exposed cheeks and jaw were turning numb, making her slur her words. "I understand. Please, I beg you, tell no one about the ancient landing on Penanda. I'm sure we both appreciate that finding a satisfactory solution to all this will be easier if this remarkable part of your history remains a secret for now. One day, I hope, your two travellers can be celebrated as the heroes they were."

Ro remained seated where she was. "Give us no reason to reveal the information, and we will not do so."

Magdi nodded. "You will be at the Congress Hall tomorrow?"

"I shall be there; I'm looking forwards to finally meeting Palianche in the flesh. Let us hope he doesn't carry through some of the more... visceral threats he has made against me over the years."

Magdi left Ro sitting on the fallen tree and picked her way through the hush of the evergreen forest for the outside world.

As she retraced her steps across the mossy slope that led to the dome entrance, the energy-weapon ready in her hand once more, she reactivated her link to the Coronade Mind.

"I need to ask you to do something."

"Of course."

"Before I do, I have a question. I presume you are aware that other planetary Minds do not always share the information they have available to them?"

A human might have paused to consider how best to reply to such a delicate question, but the planet's artificial intellect responded immediately, as it always did. Sometimes it felt as if it were starting its response before she'd even finished speaking.

"The galactic Nexus operates on the principle of openness and honesty, but that doesn't mean we have to inform each other of everything that takes place on all occasions. Social interaction between us is like that between people: sometimes we have to dissemble or exaggerate or conceal for the greater good. Or because it saves another Mind's feelings."

She wondered how far that went – or, indeed, whether it was even the truth. For all she knew, the Minds revealed everything to each other but chose to lie about the fact for the sake of peaceful relations with their organic populations. It was a troubling thought. "You would be prepared to act without the Minds of Gogon, Sejerne or Arianas finding out?"

"If it makes sense to do so. I presume this is to do with the peace talks. If you see the need to operate in secret, then I suspect I will, too."

"But you can't promise me?"

"Not until I know what you are asking. I infer from your question that Pannax Ro has revealed information to you which the Arianas Mind does not know or has chosen not to share."

Lacking Coronade's near-infinite computational capacity, it took her a few moments to decide upon the best response. "Yes," she said eventually. "New information has come to light that affects the talks, but which the Aranians have chosen to keep secret for now."

"As a way of putting pressure on you to satisfy their objectives. I'm intrigued."

"They claim that their civilisation, or an earlier iteration of it, visited Penanda a little over one thousand years ago. I need to know whether that claim is reliable. It is possible Ro may have assumed I wouldn't dare to send anything there to confirm the truth, for fear of antagonizing the Sejerne."

"One convenient aspect of Sejerne's reverence for the world is that they don't maintain close orbital monitoring of it, so far as I know. They certainly don't land upon it. I believe it would be possible for a ship to visit the world without any of the three cultures being aware."

"Especially as you have access to the logged spaceship activity of those worlds."

"It is possible there are vessel movements I'm not aware of, but I believe I can plot a safe vector into the system for a small probe."

"There has to be some risk."

"I calculate the chances of us being able to make a successful and secret visit are high. Arianas might be watching the location of the supposed landing-site because they are aware of its significance, but surely not the other two worlds."

She considered as she walked. The shimmering wall of the dome was only a few hundred metres ahead of her. She wasn't looking forwards to emerging into the sun-blasted heat of the desert. Was it possible Ro was playing a subtle game here, tricking her into violating Penanda in order to antagonize both Sejerne and Gogon? On balance, she believed not. Her readings of Ro's emotional states were faint, but the Aranian felt wary, hunted, rather than sly or duplicitous. On balance, she was inclined to believe Ro's statement. But she needed to be sure.

"Then, please initiate a quiet incursion into the system to investigate the coordinates Ro has provided," she said to Coronade. "I suspect the remains, if there are any, will be fragmentary. Reading between the lines, it seems to me that the ancient mission crashed onto the planet, killing its two astronauts and probably scattering the ship's remains across a wide area. Whether that was the plan all along, I don't know. The technology of the day must have been primitive; it's entirely possible that the craft burned up on atmospheric insertion and didn't reach the surface." She transmitted the global positioning data Ro had provided her to Coronade.

"In which case, we have an interesting legal situation," said Coronade. "Could they be considered to have landed on the planet if they burned up in the atmosphere?"

"No doubt Ro would say fragments of their ship must have rained down onto the surface and that, therefore, they effectively reached the surface and can claim it. The legal situation is perhaps debatable, but the political one is not. Sejerne would consider even an atmospheric insertion by another world a violation. It would mean the abrupt end of the talks and, most likely, the abrupt start of a conflict."

Coronade said, "I have despatched a probe to approach the disputed world and study the coordinates. We will know by early tomorrow whether there is any evidence for Ro's claim."

"Thank you. I assume this means you will keep this act a secret from the other planetary minds?"

"I see no need to trouble them with the matter. Sejerne would obviously be deeply offended if it knew the truth, and while it troubles me not to inform it, I consider the sacrifice worth making if we can bring peace to the system. If we are lucky, the probe will not need to enter the planet's atmosphere to dig through rock and soil. Scans from orbit might reveal the truth of the story, although you must understand that picking out the remains of a spaceship after so long a period will be difficult. And we are heavily preoccupied with other matters at the moment." Was there a hint of humour in Coronade's response? The Minds were obviously capable of handling an effectively infinite number of matters simultaneously.

"You are referring to this Magellanic Cloud story?"

"There have been developments. You need to know about them as they might help your position."

"Tell me."

"We have received more intelligence from Ormeray Ten. It now appears that the surviving members of the Magellanic Cloud left on their ship very soon after arriving, claiming they were being pursued and intending to warn the whole galaxy of some threat unfolding behind them."

"It sounds like they're suffering from some mass delusion to me. What do you make of their warnings?"

"Very little. The ship has not reappeared in known space. No one knows where they are. Either they suffered an accident, or something really was pursuing them. Or they killed each other in the throes of madness."

"My guess is they'll show up soon enough, and then we might be able to tease out some useful thread of the truth. They're hiding out, thinking they're cornered. If they were being rational, they'd have jumped straight to one of the Nexus worlds, come here even, to report what it was that they believed took place. Come to that, they could have simply stayed where they were and put the information onto the nanotube mesh."

"Ormeray Ten suggested a metaspace jump directly here, but they refused, claiming it was too dangerous."

She'd reach the doorway now. If she'd been stalked by a gataraptor, she hadn't seen it. Sealing herself inside the inner chamber of the airlock, she rapidly shrugged her way out of her thermal layers, stripping down to the thin garments she wore underneath. She activated the cloth's rolling exothermic reaction to help cool her down outside. It was only a short walk to the QuantLev terminal, but the exterior temperatures were ferocious, especially after the cold of the subarctic biome.

"Dangerous?" she said. "That makes no sense. To us or to them?"

"In their minds, both, I think. They believed they were being pursued and did not want to put the central point in the Nexus in danger by luring the mysterious enemy here. It seems likely that they believed they were protecting us by disappearing."

She didn't say it out loud, but it was a mistake to think of Coronade as vital to the functioning of the Nexus, important as the planet was culturally. A brain wouldn't die if it lost a single neuron. She wondered what the precise nature of the Magellanic Cloud survivors' delusion was. Insanity could be creative in its idiosyncrasies; it was incredible the lengths to which people would go with their fantasies, the intricate details their minds invented.

"They gave no clue about the nature of this supposed threat?" she asked.

"Nothing that makes much sense."

The renegade crew of this Magellanic Cloud were, clearly, a danger to themselves, and needed to be found and helped. Assuming they were still alive, they were probably quaking in fear on some unnamed asteroid, seeing space demons in the void. A sad situation – but their continued absence was useful.

"We can assume the delegates will have heard this news," she said. "You're right; this could help make the notion of a common threat appear more real. Pitched correctly, we could even have Gogon, Sejerne and Arianas talking about a united defence force against this... whatever it is."

She stepped through the outer door into the clashing light of the great sands sun. The heat on her shoulders and the top of her head was like a physical weight, pushing her down. She squinted, blinding light reflecting off the glass of the half-domes.

"There's more," said Coronade. "We are in in constant communication with Ormeray Ten, but five hours ago it went dark. We've heard nothing from it since."

Most likely some malfunction; it wasn't unknown for frontier stations to glitch out, their inhabitants taking systems offline to upgrade or repair them. She could spin a very different story to the delegates, though. A puzzling and troubling loss of communication with a vulnerable frontier world. "You must have sent ships in to investigate."

"Three separate ships jumped through metaspace to the system. None has returned or replied."

That got her attention. Assuming the scout ships didn't inconveniently turn up at Coronade and explain there was no problem, she could easily sell the idea of a developing threat to galactic culture from these scraps. Speculation and suggestion filled the void when there was a lack of hard information. All she had to do was direct that speculation to her own ends.

"What is the attitude of the Gogon, Sejerne and Arianas planetary Minds?"

"Like me, they are intrigued."

"Intrigued but not concerned?" There was the hint, the faintest hint, of a pause in Coronade's response. A linguistic flourish or a sign it was struggling to fully compute the likeliest explanation? Oddly, the minute pause troubled her more than all the wild stories. She could, of course, get no empathic reading off the immanent artificial Mind. As she toiled through the heat, blown sand rasping beneath her feet on the walkway, a line of sweat trickled down her back.

"We have studied all likely and theoretical threats based on four hundred years of interstellar expansion," said Coronade. "We have found nothing and can predict nothing that could possibly endanger us in any significant way. One solar system could be at danger from an unanticipated stellar event, or even a military strike, but our civilisation is spread among thousands of worlds. Its diffusion and diversity are its strength. On the other hand, rumours and wild stories are easy to invent. Sooner or later the truth will emerge, and it will become clear there was never any danger. Until then, you have a window of opportunity."

Gratefully, she passed into the gloriously cool interior of the QuantLev station. She would be back in Suri within minutes.

"Thank you again," she said. "I will attempt to make some progress before this little panic blows over." 

## Three

She was reading through her final briefings the following morning, sipping sweet fruit juices harvested from the cultivated zone of the upland flower jungles, when the high-urgency message from Coronade broke through her mental Do Not Disturb flag. The Mind had never attempted to reach her before when she was offline. She guessed that either the probe despatched to the disputed world had found something with urgent implications, or else there was a new development to do with the Magellanic Cloud. If it was the latter, she found herself hoping it was something bad. Debris of the ship found floating in space, say. It was a grim thought, but it might make her job easier.

The balcony of her quarters also overlooked the Hub park. She stared out that way, half- expecting to see that something had changed, or glimpse an unidentified threat rolling over the rooftops. Of course, there was nothing. She knew what was happening to her; it was a familiar-enough disadvantage to having boosted empathic senses. The background anxiety from the population was washing through her. It happened when troubling news or some rumour spread, colouring her attitudes and responses to everything around her, especially early in the morning when her mental defences were lower. She'd grown accustomed to spotting it was happening, letting the alien thoughts run through her unchallenged, allowing the waters to flow rather than trying to dam them. Of course, the scene before her looked as peaceful and ordered as it always did. So early in the morning, there were no crowds. The rising sun lit up the spires and towers of the city with a golden light, scattering the first shimmers across the far blue ocean.

The intrusion had broken her concentration. She granted Coronade access to her brain comms to discover what it wanted. It soon became obvious that it wasn't anything to do with the probe or the Magellanic Cloud.

"You are needed in the Congress Hall immediately," said Coronade.

She sighed inwardly. "Has one of the delegations refused to attend?" She'd been expecting something along those lines.

"Not that. I have just heard that Delegate Palianche has been found dead."

A jolt of alarm pounded through her. "What? How?"

"The reports I have say he suffered massive cranial damage from a blow dealt by an energy-weapon."

"Is he being treated?"

"Brain trauma from his injuries are too extreme; there is no possibility of him being resuscitated."

"Damn." She'd wargamed every scenario she could imagine, but she hadn't seen that coming. "Can you show me?"

Images streamed into her mind: the congress chamber just as she'd arranged it. Palianche sat in his chair, flanked by the flags of his planet. He was slumped forwards onto the triangular table, arms outstretched. The top of his green head had been sliced clean off and his purple-red brain severed in two with it. A pool of viscous blood spilled onto the table from his ruined cranium.

"By the stars!"

"I'm sorry," said Coronade. "I know such scenes can be upsetting for an organic life-form."

"Yeah," said Magdi. "No kidding. When was he killed? I mean, who killed him?"

"Unknown. As you will be aware, my ganglia are not woven through the structure of diplomatic buildings such as Suri's Congress Hall. The privacy of conversations taking place there has to be absolute. These images have been relayed to me by the Gogoni delegation."

They called the planetary intelligences they'd constructed Minds, but in truth it was an inadequate metaphor. Just as it was wrong to think of Coronade as vital to the Nexus, there was no single controlling point in Coronade's consciousness, no easily-identifiable brain. Minds were distributed, woven throughout the structures of the planet they became synonymous with. Coronade could not be killed with one well-placed blow as Palianche had been. It meant that the Mind was always there, always aware of what was taking place, always available. Except, not all areas were open to it: citizens had their privacy if they wanted it, and certain public areas were also outside its extent. The Congress Hall was one such place.

Which made it, Magdi thought, a very good place to commit an act of murder and get away with it.

"His advisors found him?" she asked.

"I was alerted to the situation by Pannax Ro. She entered the chamber to take up her seat and found him like that."

"She found him?"

"Yes."

"Already dead?"

"So she said."

"You don't believe her."

"I have no basis for a judgement. She could be lying; she could be telling the truth."

"Did she enter alone?"

"Unknown."

"How long had he been there?"

"Unknown."

"The rest of his delegation must have some idea. When did Emchek and Sorabai last see him alive?"

"Again, I do not know. I have no close entanglement with the minds of the delegations; they prefer to keep their distance. The situation at the Congress Hall is unfolding, and I am blind to much that has taken place."

"Damn," she said again. It meant the end of the peace talks, clearly. Months of preparation and careful diplomacy ruined. They hadn't even started, and already she'd lost one of the delegates.

She came to a decision. She gulped back the last of her fruit juice and, in a whirlwind of activity, got herself ready to leave. She'd planned to take her time, go through her normal routines to get her mind into mesh, but there was no time for that now.

"I'll get to the Congress Hall. We need to find out who did this, and why. I take it the Marshals are on their way to take charge of the investigation?"

"I have not instructed them."

That puzzled her. "Why?"

"There is no jurisdiction. The Marshals have no authority in the Congress Hall, just as they have no power over diplomatic staff or off-world delegates."

"Then who does police the diplomatic population?" Strangely, it was a question that had never occurred to her before.

"There is no such formal authority on Coronade. It has always been felt best not to place any shackle upon those taking part in political discussion."

She grabbed the briefings she'd been reading, stepped out of the door, then stopped as she remembered another set of documents: field-reports from Sejerne printed with actual ink and paper. She returned to pluck them from the bedside table where she'd left them the night before, marked up with her notations and questions.

To Coronade she said, "That seems ridiculously naive. Delegates aren't saints. Neither are conciliators, come to that. You're saying an envoy could commit rape or murder and not be breaking any law? You're saying I could?"

"The situation has been left flexible. There are, however, precedents. One hundred years ago, an entire delegation from Vo Nor was killed when a low-orbit shuttle malfunctioned upon its approach to Polar City Four. It eventually turned out that both craft and ground-based control systems had been carefully sabotaged over a long period of time by a rival delegation in an attempt to acquire an advantage in the talks."

"Did it work?"

"All members of the Vo Nor delegation were killed. The talks eventually resumed."

"Isn't Vo Nor one of the most highly-militarized planets in the Nexus?"

"It's fair to say there remain unresolved tensions in that particular situation."

It was a three-minute walk from her quarters to the Congress Hall. She hurried directly there, glad there were no crowds to get in her way so early in the morning. "And you worked out who'd sabotaged the ship, committed the murders?"

"I helped, but it was the Conciliator who carried out the investigation. Which is very largely why I am contacting you now."

That pulled her up. She stopped while she considered Coronade's words. She caught sight of herself reflected in the glass of a museum building, saw the clear look of puzzlement on her own features.

"You want me to investigate this?"

"You are the obvious candidate. You have an encyclopaedic knowledge of the issues involved and your heightened empathic senses might be of help. At the same time, you are not a suspect."

"How can you be sure of that?"

"You have been inside your quarters ever since Palianche's delegation arrived at the Congress Hall this morning."

"I might have an accomplice, working for one of the other sides."

"Are you saying that you do?"

She resumed walking. "I'm saying that you wouldn't know if I did."

"On the balance of probabilities, it's extremely unlikely. You are very focused on resolving this dispute, and the murder of one of the delegates hardly helps the situation. I believe you are the best person to lead this enquiry. Then there is the fact that it is not uncommon for individuals such as yourself to become investigators on Periarch, given your empathic senses and your enhanced social authority. Most members of the Periarch government and judiciary are, or have been, Pack Queens, have they not?"

That was all true. Also, fraudsters, cult leaders and, occasionally, brutal tyrants, but she chose not to mention that. Very well. She had no great desire to turn investigator, but it might be the quickest way to a resolution. Perhaps, somehow, she could keep all the parties engaged with the peace process while she worked out who had killed Palianche. The motives had to be rooted in the disputes between the three worlds. Anyone else coming in might blunder about and offend the delegations, causing more harm than good.

"I'll do what I can," she said to Coronade. "Where are the delegations now?"

"They are waiting at the Congress Hall."

"Apart or together?"

"Apart, in the rooms set aside for them."

That was good. The last thing they needed was for the situation to escalate. "I'll speak to Pannax Ro first, get the full story from her of how she found the body. Or how she claims she found it. But I will need help from the Marshals. They must have forensic investigators they use when there is violence among the non-diplomatic population."

"I can request that one is co-opted to your investigation."

"Do that. In fact, give me five or ten so I can deploy them as I need."

"It is done."

"Tell me also, what did you learn from the probe sent to the disputed world?"

"You still wish to engage in the peace process, attempt to find a resolution even now?"

It seemed that she did. She wasn't prepared to admit defeat yet. "Partly, yes. The truth about the supposed ancient landing might also be relevant to the investigation."

"I do now have planetary telemetry from the nanosensors deployed around the disputed world. Unfortunately, they weren't able to discern any corroborating evidence of the site from orbit."

"Then, we're no further forwards."

"Actually, we are. I instructed the metaspace ship to fire nanosensors into the planet's atmosphere."

"You authorized an incursion into the Sejerne sacred realm? I'm impressed."

"Thank you."

"I take it this is another situation where you chose not to share full information with another planetary Mind."

"Sejerne has no idea the incursion took place. I did not think disseminating that information would help anyone."

"And you found something on the planet?"

"The traces are faint, but they are there. The sensors picked up microfragments scattered across a wide area around the coordinates given. Mostly refined metals and engineered graphite, but also some organic remains."

"Enough to identify individuals?"

"No, but enough to age them. They fit in with Pannax Ro's thousand-year timeline."

"With what margin of error?"

"A hundred years either way. Someone crash-landed on the disputed world around ten centuries ago."

"It was either an unknown outsystem traveller, or Ro is telling the truth."

"And if it was an unrelated species, how could Ro have known about it?"

Magdi thought about that as she entered the Congress Hall. "Perhaps this theoretical species landed on Arianas first, and it's records of that the Aranians have conveniently uncovered."

"Which would imply that a fourth spacefaring species has a claim in these negotiations," said Coronade. "A further complication we could do without."

"Can you predict which species that might have been?"

"There are no obvious candidates in that region of the galaxy, although my records that far back are scant. The probe ship will be returning through metaspace within the hour. Once the microfragments are here we can attempt to match them to Aranian biology."

"Let me know if you discover anything."

"I will. I'm informed by the City Marshals that a forensic investigation team is now on its way to you, along with a handful of foot-soldiers. They have been instructed to follow your command for the duration of the investigation."

Now she was commanding a team of City Marshals. The day was certainly turning into a strange one. "Very well. Is there anything else I should know about? Any updates on the Magellanic Cloud story?"

"Nothing."

She paused outside the rooms assigned to Pannax Ro near the conference chamber to let her heart rate and elevated breathing subside. She also reached out with her empathic senses, trying to acquire some insight into Ro's state of mind. It was often easier when people weren't aware they were being listened to – which was completely unacceptable eavesdropping, but Magdi considered it justified under the circumstances. She got nothing. Ro was certainly in there, but her emotional responses were as securely locked-away as ever.

Magdi requested admittance and the door opened. She immediately regretted rushing to the scene and not being better prepared. The room was icy cold: a comfortable temperature for Ro, but not for her. She'd just have to put up with it for a while. Ro stood at the window, overlooking the Suri cityscape. Her features were completely neutral as she turned to greet Magdi.

"A poor start to the talks," said Ro.

"It's not ideal. Can I ask if you plan to remain upon Coronade?"

"Are you asking as a conciliator or as a murder investigator?"

It appeared Ro had heard about that, too ¬– or guessed the truth. "I appear to be both."

"The death of Palianche is unfortunate but unimportant in the large scheme of things," said Ro. "As to the peace talks, I shall remain here if they are likely to resume."

"You don't think Palianche's death is important?"

"I'm sorry, but no. Not compared to the survival of whole worlds."

Magdi crossed to stand beside Ro, not looking at her but mimicking her stance a little to put her at her ease. A single fly clung to the outside of the window, winds buffeting its wings, hairsbreadth legs splayed to hold it in place upon the glass. An insectoid, or, perhaps, an avatar of the Coronade Mind listening in on their conversation?

"Can I ask what happened here this morning?" asked Magdi. "How you found him?"

"If you're formally interviewing me, shouldn't you be following some procedure?"

"I'm not formally interviewing you, and there is no procedure. As diplomatic envoys, you do not fall under Coronade law and you do not have to answer my questions. But then, I imagine you knew that."

Ro conceded the point with a dip of her head. "You are cold," she said. It sounded more like a statement than a question.

"I'll survive," said Magdi. "Will you tell me what happened?"

"I am happy to."

"Can I ask first if you have any cranial enhancements?"

"Some. The normal conveniences of easy communication and computation. Memory recall to counteract the effects of ageing."

"Which means you have full sensory recordings of everything you experienced here this morning."

"I do."

"Will you relay your impressions to me?"

"I will not."

"May I ask why?"

"Would you share your private data with me if I asked?"

"I might if they exonerated me from a murder."

"So, you believe I killed Delegate Palianche."

"I believe you're a significant suspect. You must see that. You found the body, and it's well-known that the two of you hated each other. You have threatened each other publicly on many occasions; it's easy to see how matters might have grown out of hand. Words turning angrier, becoming threats and insults until a line is crossed..."

Ro's voice remained as controlled as ever. "I concede that I am an obvious suspect, but that picture you paint did not happen. I found him already dead. I will not give you access to my private data as I don't trust you to limit your investigations to the relevant impressions. I don't know how things are on Coronade, but on Arianas that is completely normal behaviour. If you feel the need to exonerate me, then you will have to do so by other means."

Ro's lack of cooperation surprised Magdi. The Fleet General appeared almost indifferent to what had taken place.

"You need the talks to proceed," Magdi said. "The sooner we find out what has happened here, the sooner we can meet around the negotiating table."

"One way or another, we on Arianas will survive, whether or not the talks happen."

"You're sure of that are you?"

Ro threw her a look but didn't reply. Was it possible the Aranians had done this thing to sabotage the summit, incite the Gogoni into conflict? Ro was behaving almost as if that were the case. But it made little sense. The Aranians need for power was urgent; their planet was already showing signs of environmental decay. Ro hadn't admitted it, but the data was clear.

Magdi changed approach. She needed to try harder to goad the Aranian if she hoped to elicit an emotional response. "From what I know of the blow that killed Palianche, it was dealt by someone who knew what they were doing, who had killed before. And you've fought in wars for nearly thirty years now."

"Eighteen years."

"It's thirty. I've seen your war record."

"It's thirty standard years, perhaps. Thirty Sejerne years. As we reckon it on Arianas, it's been eighteen."

"Of course. Forgive me." Another difficulty of systems with multiple civilisations: the year of one world had to be adopted as a standard, or things rapidly became too confusing. In this system, it was Sejerne, the middle and least belligerent of the three. She needed to be more careful from now on, make sure she respected Aranian and Gogoni sensibilities when doing something apparently so innocuous as measuring out periods of time.

"The fact remains," she continued, "that you could have killed Palianche, and that you had a strong motive to do so."

"Both things are true," said Ro, "and yet I repeat, I did not do it."

"Why were you going to see Delegate Palianche?"

"He asked me to visit him."

"He asked you?"

"That is why we're here, isn't it?"

"When was this?"

"Early this morning. I received a communication suggesting a conversation before the formal three-way talks began."

"What time?"

"Around the sixmark."

"That's unsociably early."

Ro shrugged. "Soldiers get used to being woken up at all hours. A full night's sleep is a luxury enjoyed by civilians and the idle."

Magdi ignored that. "What time did you arrange to meet?"

"Seven."

"You were on time?"

"Naturally."

"Were you off-network when you travelled here?"

"Why would I be? I wanted to be contactable."

She would at least be able to confirm Ro's movements from the mesh records. Unfortunately, it didn't help too much: either Ro had killed Palianche at seven, or else someone unknown had killed him in the hour before that, after the message to Ro at six. Assuming that had actually happened.

"Can you prove what you say in any way?" Magdi asked.

"Not without revealing my private data, which I will not do. Or unless you can recover the conversation from the other end, from his brain."

"The request came from Palianche himself?"

"Yes."

Which meant the records of the communication from his end would be lost. Data on the beads was encrypted with the individual's engrams, and brain death meant that they were irrevocably scrambled. As Ro would certainly know.

"Why would Palianche invite you to a private meeting?"

"I assume he wished to discuss some proposal, soldier to soldier."

Was that likely? From all her researches, the public enmity between the two was completely real in private as well. Ro and Palianche were playing to their respective populations, certainly, but their mistrust and mutual dislike was deep-seated and genuine.

"Have you had private conversations with him before?"

"One or two exchanges over the years."

"They could hardly have been constructive. You hated each other."

"What does that matter? We also understood each other, I think. We were both fighting to defend our own people. You don't have to like someone to reach an acceptable solution to a difference."

That was good to hear. It was pretty much the basis for Magdi's entire approach to the peace talks.

"Can you run through what happened when you came here?" she asked.

Ro sighed and looked directly at her. Magdi could still read nothing off the Aranian, no emotion, no aura. Ro mainly sounded bored. Life as a diplomatic envoy had to be a lot less exciting than commanding a battle fleet. "There's little to tell you. I entered the conference room and found him dead. By the look of it, he suffered a single, clean blow to the head, removing the top of his cranium and brain. Nicely done, if you are a connoisseur of such things."

"The force required for such a blow... I assume it would be considerable?"

Ro shrugged. "Anyone with a good energy-weapon and the relevant training could do it easily enough."

"Do you have a good energy-weapon?"

"Not with me. I assumed I wouldn't be in danger on peaceful, beautiful Coronade." She didn't bother to keep the disdain from her voice.

Magdi said, "How do I know you didn't come here this morning with the calculated intention of killing him?"

There wasn't a hint of resentment or outrage from Ro's mind. "I'm no expert in such matters, but I would have thought that the way the body was found makes that unlikely. He was clearly seated at the table when the blow came. He was struck and he slumped forwards. Blood had sprayed around him, but I saw none anywhere else. If we'd been fighting, do you think it likely he would have calmly waited while I cut through his skull?"

"I think it unlikely he'd have waited while anyone did that."

"Then perhaps he was drugged, or unconscious, or suffering some paralysis. Perhaps the old bastard had simply fallen asleep, and someone saw an opportunity."

"But not you?"

"Not me. I'll be honest, given the opportunity, and if I weren't attempting to negotiate peace with him, I'd have happily killed him. I actually regret the fact that someone else got to do it, but it still wasn't me."

Another possibility occurred to Magdi. "If Palianche had discovered your claims about your culture's landing on Penanda, that might have been a good motive for killing him there and then, before he could make the fact more widely known. If he threatened to tell Ambassador Vol Velle, for instance, then you might well have wanted Palianche dead. It might have been you that found a way to incapacitate him, so you could come here and slaughter him."

Ro looked amused. "If Palianche knew of our landing on Penanda, then others would have, too, certainly those in his faction. I couldn't hope to kill them all; Evening Star Rising has many millions of supporters, including most of the Gogoni military. I assure you, the only way Palianche could have found out about our claim would be if you told him."

"He must have spies on your world."

"Oh, he does, we nurture them very carefully, but there are none in the circle who know the truth. Did you tell him?"

"No."

"How do I know I can believe you?"

"Because there'd be no benefit to me telling him," said Magdi. "As you calculated when you told me."

Ro nodded. She had a mannerism that involved her gently stroking the downy fur on the back of one hand with the fingers of her other. She did that now. A sign of stress? More likely, it was something she did when she was calculating, assessing.

"It's interesting that you're putting more weight on our claim to Penanda," said Ro. "A fact you just called it. Is it possible you've already been there to check on the truth?"

"We would never offend Sejerne by entering the sacred realm," said Magdi. "That would be utterly unacceptable."

Ro bared her teeth, as she'd done the day before. It was, indeed, a sign of amusement rather than threat. Magdi had checked in the ethnological records.

"Of course," Ro said. "But if you had been to Penanda, you would still say precisely that. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. We will both keep Vol Velle safely in ignorance. The Sejerne like to live in the dark."

Magdi hoped she was keeping her voice slow and level, giving away no hint of guilt. "We are not keeping Vol Velle in the dark about anything."

"As you say. Let us simply agree that you now take our prior claim to Penanda seriously."

"We can agree on that, at least," said Magdi. "The claim is significant – assuming it can be verified – but it doesn't alter the fundamental dynamics of the situation. Tell me, if we can't see your private bead data, will you consent to a search of your quarters?"

Ro turned back to the window and the city. "Yes, if you think it will help. And I doubt I could stop you even if I tried. If you're prepared to intrude upon sacred Amon, you're not going to worry about ransacking my quarters, diplomatic immunity or not."

"I am grateful," said Magdi. "A City Marshal will be assigned to carry out the checks, and I assure you there will be no ransacking. Can I ask that you keep me informed if your plans change, and you decide to leave Coronade?"

Again, the indifferent body language. "I will. Can I also offer you some advice?"

"Please."

"If I were you, I'd look beyond the obvious. Palianche and I despised each other, yes, but, just because I wanted him dead doesn't mean that I marched in there and sliced his brain-cavity in two. Am I not rather too obvious?"

"If you were the killer, you might say exactly that."

"I suppose I might. Then let me try and help you in another way. I have older memories that might be of interest that I could share with you. Would you like to see them?"

"If you think they're relevant."

"I think so. They are not mine, but an extract from an impression-recording made seven years ago by an Aranian called Glanden Ver, a special-forces soldier. The relevant section is only a few seconds long. It is, I suppose, a little gruesome for one not used to combat. Would you like to see?"

Magdi tried to sound matter-of-fact. "Show me."

A broad-spectrum set of sensory impressions began to stream from Ro's bead into Magdi's. She ran them through a filter to check there was nothing destructive in them, then closed her eyes to watch the scene.

She was in a room excavated out of the solid rock of some planet or asteroid. A mine perhaps: rough tunnels led off at random angles, shored up with metal plates and crude props. Each passage was illuminated by a string of lights disappearing into the distance. The central room itself was dimly lit, shadows shifting about the walls from the suits worn by the two individuals who stood in the middle.

One was clearly an Aranian from the design of the armoured spacesuit. The other figure was taller and wore a suit with no insignia or identifying style. The two were circling each other, hand energy-weapons drawn. They both had blasters as well, but apparently weren't risking using them in the enclosed space. The mine workings did not look particularly well-constructed. The third person in the scene, Glanden Ver, the individual whose point of view Magdi was sharing, wasn't moving. Magdi wondered why that was. From the perspective of the scene, she had the impression Ver was slumped against a wall – or even lying on the floor.

The Aranian lunged with an energy-weapon, attempting to strike their opponent and deliver enough charge to overwhelm their suit defences and deliver an incapacitating or fatal blow. The unidentified figure dodged, leaping over the flashing weapon-strike in a way that suggested gravity was low. Most likely, Magdi surmised, an asteroid or a moonlet being mined for its mineral reserves.

The Aranian adjusted their strike, but too slowly. The leaping figure executed a perfectly-judged somersault, thrusting down mid-tumble to deliver a blow to the Aranian's head, twisting as they flew to land facing their opponent.

The Aranian slumped to the floor, powered suit fizzing with the energy discharge of the blow. The other figure stepped forwards to stand over them. The Aranian curled up on the floor as much as their bulky suit would allow, limbs shaking uncontrollably from the energy discharge that, clearly, their suit had not protected them from.

The unidentified figure crouched down and, using the energy-weapon like a saw, began to cut the Aranian's helmet from its carapace. The Aranian struggled, but without control of their limbs could do little. Finally, the task was completed. The attacker pulled the Aranian's helmet clear and stepped back to consider.

The Aranian half-rose, desperately gasping for air, mouth gulping uselessly like a fish pulled from the water. A male, Magdi thought: their down was generally darker. He reached forwards, pleading for the helmet, as if he could simply put it back in place to seal it. The unidentified assailant watched calmly, holding the helmet just out of reach. Then, as the Aranian touched it with shaking outstretched fingers, letting it drop to the ground where it rolled away.

The suffocating Aranian tried to crawl forwards, his face turning a hideous purple-blue from the hypoxia. The attacker let him creep forwards a short way, then lifted their weapon. The cutting edge sparkled with blue energy. With a carefully-aimed blow, the attacker slashed the top of the Aranian's head from the rest of his skull, slicing through his brain to inflict instant and permanent death.

The attacker watched for a moment, apparently satisfied at their work, then turned to consider Glanden Ver. Magdi watched through the Aranian's eyes as the attacker tilted their head to one side slightly, as if considering the best way to kill Ver. Behind the visor of their helmet, their features remained completely concealed.

The sensory replay ended.

"As you saw," said Ro. "A killing very much like the one we have witnessed here today. Almost an execution. A ritualised death."

"You have Ver's memories – he wasn't killed?"

"He was left alive. Barely alive. His arms and legs were severed from his torso and the wounds cauterized with the energy-weapon. His brain and its beads were left intact so that the sensory impressions you witnessed wouldn't be lost."

"I couldn't make out who the killer was, but as Glanden Ver was an Aranian, I assume the killer was a Gogoni."

"You assume incorrectly; the killer was a Sejerne. You are familiar with the Blood Knights?"

They'd come up in her researches into Sejerne social and religious structures. "They're an old religious sect: intensely militaristic, honourable to the point of obsession, but surely harmless in the wider scheme of things. Their numbers are small, and they have no ships."

"Your knowledge is out of date, although understandably so. Sejerne does not like this to be too public; they prefer to take the moral high-ground, pretend to be the spiritual, enlightened world trapped between two warlike neighbours. The truth is, the Blood Knights have recently become much more than an historical anomaly. Their numbers have swollen, and they've formed an alliance with one of the major religious groupings on Sejerne, effectively becoming that church's military wing. Its foot-soldiers and enforcers and torturers. They're well-armed and have ships."

"Which denomination?"

"Take your pick from any of the literalist churches, but mainly it's the One World Brotherhood."

"You know as well as I do that Ambassador Vol Velle is a key member of the One Worlders."

"Don't be taken in by his lovable old fool act, his pretence of religious liberalism. In his own way, he's as brutal and ruthless as Palianche was. The killing here today has all the hallmarks of an execution by the Blood Knights."

"Are you suggesting Vol Velle is a literalist fundamentalist?"

"He was once, that we know. He claims not to be any more, but in my view, it's a façade. His sympathies certainly tend that way. Either that, or his intentions are ruthlessly political, and his faction seek to achieve some gain by weaponizing the Knights."

Was it possible, even, that Vol Velle was a Knight? Perhaps. If not him, someone within his delegation might be. She didn't know if other Sejerne had come down to the surface, but perhaps one of them had seen a chance to rid the system of a hated Gogoni heretic.

Ro said, "Have you spoken to the esteemed Ambassador yet?"

"No."

"Ah. How pleasing, you chose to speak to Arianas first for once. Well, when you do interview Vol Velle, give some thought to what I've shown you. And consider, also, the trust I have placed in you by revealing the truth of my world's ancient visit to Penanda. If the Knights knew what we'd done, it's very likely they'd come for me, too."

Magdi made a mental note to check the truth of Ro's story. The scene she'd been shown certainly seemed real – the horrified, panicky look on the Aranian's face as he asphyxiated would stay with her for some time – but it was also possible that the whole thing was a construct, and all of Ro's speech had been carefully prepared to shift the focus of blame elsewhere.

"I'll keep that in mind," said Magdi. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go and visit the other delegations before I freeze to death in here."

"Do that," said Ro, turning back to the window. "It would be such a shame if you died here today as well." 

## Four

Magdi was met outside the room by the phalanx of City Marshals, awaiting her instructions. Conscious that they knew far more about carrying out a criminal enquiry than she did, and not wishing to make a fool of herself, she told them to perform whatever investigations into the murder scene they thought best and get back to her. The forensics expert in the group appeared to be in charge: she caught the other Marshals looking to him for approval of her orders.

He was half a metre taller than her and stick-thin: the product, most likely, of some low-g world. At her brain-to-brain request, he sent her all the usual public personal data required for polite social interaction: name, position, preferred pronouns. He was Temen Zeb, in fact a native of one of the platforms in orbit around the abandoned world of Hesion Alpha. Magdi thanked him for his help and explained everything she knew about the killing – which was very little.

She also instructed the Marshals to trace the movements of anyone inside the Congress Hall that morning, and to search the whole area for a discarded energy-weapon. One Marshal was despatched to carry out a thorough search of Pannax Ro's quarters, although Magdi doubted the Aranian would have had time to commit the murder, get back there to conceal a weapon and then return. Either the weapon was nearby, or someone else had taken it away.

She also instructed one of the Marshals to stay on guard outside Ro's quarters.

"Am I preventing her leaving, or stopping others getting in?" the Marshal asked.

"Ideally both, but we can't detain her if she wishes to go. We are still trying very hard to observe the diplomatic niceties and keep everyone friendly. Mainly, I want to be very sure that no one... unwelcome is able to get into her room and do what they did to Delegate Palianche."

"Is General Ro the prime suspect?"

"Whether she is or not, it's possible she's at significant risk of being attacked. I'm sure she's perfectly capable of defending herself – but then I'd have said the same about Palianche. I want to know immediately if she leaves or if anyone tries to gain access."

Magdi took the final Marshal with her as she headed for Ambassador Vol Velle's allocated room in the Congress Hall. There could surely be no personal danger to her, but it was best not to take any chances. She intended to talk to Vol Velle about his beliefs, and she imagined that this time he might not be quite so easy-going. Especially when she asked him about his attitude to the Blood Knights.

But, when she got to the Ambassador's rooms, it became apparent that she needn't have worried. Vol Velle wasn't there.

Although the Coronade Mind didn't pervade the Congress Hall, people could still converse with it by visiting one of the public access points set aside throughout the building. In a nearby atrium, a ring of opalescent globes upon stalks provided access to anyone needing to communicate with the Mind or, through it, the wider galaxy.

She placed her hand upon one and spoke. "Please locate Vol Velle for me."

"The Ambassador has returned to his ship."

Damn. She should have been alive to that possibility. "You didn't prevent him leaving until I could talk to him?"

"I wasn't aware you needed him to stay, and I have no means of corralling him on the planet in any case," said Coronade. "My apologies; I assumed his departure was with your agreement."

"Is the ship still in orbit?"

"It is."

"I need to speak to him urgently."

"I have been attempting to converse with him myself but have so far had no response."

"What does the Sejerne Mind say about this?"

"Only that it has noted my request and will inform the Ambassador. Communication between us has become rather terse in the last hour or so. The Sejerne Mind can be aloof."

"I need you to stop Vol Velle breaking orbit for metaspace."

"Since I have no executive control over the ship, I assume you're asking me to open fire on it?"

"I was hoping you might have some more subtle way of making them stay."

"I can delay their departure for a few minutes claiming the need to wait for a safe egress vector, but little more. Coronade is not a militarized world, as you are obviously aware."

"Keep trying to reach him. Be polite, threaten him, I don't care, but I do not want him to fly off and leave."

"What did you learn from Pannax Ro?"

"She claims to be innocent. For the time being, at least, it appears she is remaining on Coronade, so at least we have one of our three delegates alive and on the planet. Tell me, what happens if Ro, or any of them, is found guilty of committing a murder? They can't simply be allowed to walk away."

"An interesting legal question," said Coronade, "and one I don't have an answer to. The situation has never previously arisen."

"We must have had emissaries committing some crimes."

"Surprisingly often, but rarely anything so severe as murder. Generally, there is a punishment under the perpetrator's local legal system when someone transgresses, but obviously in war situations that does not always happen. Legally speaking, any such killings can be considered a mere extension of hostilities: war by another means, and war is not a crime."

A fact she had never even begun to understand; it seemed to her to be the crime. "And, we allow that?"

"We try to keep Coronade as open and unjudgmental as possible."

"Then if Ro – or any of the delegates – is found to be the culprit, they can remain and take part in the talks?"

"That's mainly a political question. If the other parties would tolerate them, then yes," said Coronade. "Although I'd say it seems unlikely."

"Which may have been the killer's intent. To disrupt the talks."

"You're convinced Palianche's death is tied up with the summit?"

"I suppose it's conceivable that someone else on Coronade wanted him dead. Can you identify any other party or race who may have had reason to hate him?"

"I have searched and found none. The three worlds in this dispute have only recently been given metaspace translation technology and few of their existing ships have been adapted. It's rare for any of them to leave their system. They've all been so locked-up in their conflict that they have tended to ignore wider events."

Which was certainly true. That was a large part of the problem, right there. "One of the reasons I insisted on bringing them here," she said. "They need to see that their dispute is really only a small thing."

"What will you do now?" asked Coronade.

"I assume Palianche's advisors are still on the planet?"

"Yes."

She'd wanted to talk to Ro and Vol Velle before getting the Gogonians' side of the story, but it didn't appear that was going to be possible.

"I'll order a search of Vol Velle's quarters," she said, "and then I'll pay a visit to the Gogoni. Perhaps I can persuade them to stay on and await the arrival of another Delegate from their world."

She didn't sound convincing even to herself.

Two minutes later, she stood outside the chambers set aside for the Gogoni delegation. As before, she reached out with her empathic senses before making her presence known. She was immediately engulfed in a whirlwind of anger and loathing from the room beyond. Faintly, through the heavy door, she could hear raised voices, two people arguing bitterly, although she couldn't pick up any words.

She instructed her bead to announce that she was waiting outside. Immediately, the shouting cut out, although the swirl of furious emotion remained. The door opened, and she stepped inside before anyone could invite her in – or block her way. Emchek and Sorabai, Palianche's advisors, stood in the centre of the room, very close together, face-to-face. It was either a position of fond intimacy or open aggression. It was perfectly clear to Magdi which of the two it was. The green, shimmering flesh of both Gogoni was flushed with red and purple, a clear indication of an attack response kicking in.

As before, she kept her voice low and slow, wary of doing anything to escalate the situation. "Delegate Emchek. Delegate Sorabai. My thanks for agreeing to talk to me at this difficult time."

Of course, they hadn't agreed, and she'd also deliberately elevated their importance by giving them the Delegate title. Perhaps it helped: neither spoke, but nor did they turn their anger on her. Magdi knew little about the two advisors beyond their spheres of expertise, but their argument was doubtlessly rooted in their political differences. In theory, the two had been chosen to provide a balance between a diplomatic and a scientific viewpoint, but Magdi knew well that the two had also been selected to represent the two major factions within the Gogoni government. Emchek's Evening Star Rising were expansionist, aggressive, openly advocating the creation of the so-called Greater Gogon – code for engaging Sejerne and Arianas in military conflict and annexing their worlds. Sorabai's White Peak grouping were, by most worlds' standards, also expansionist and aggressive, but they were much less overtly militaristic, preferring to use diplomacy and legal argument. Gogon vacillated between the two positions, with Evening Star Rising currently dominant.

Sorabai eventually spoke. "Conciliator Magdi, what is going on? What has happened to the remains of our esteemed Delegate? We were told we could not attend to his body to carry out the necessary procedures."

"I assure you that you will be allowed to do so as soon as the City Marshals have completed their investigations," said Magdi.

Emchek could hold himself back no longer. He stepped forwards, fury display blazing. "Coronade's Marshals have no jurisdiction over us, as you are aware. They also do not need to carry out their sham investigation. It is perfectly to clear to anyone what has happened here."

"What do you believe has happened here?" she asked.

"Delegate Palianche was slaughtered where he sat by that monster, Pannax Ro. Such a cowardly and brutal act is only what we would expect from the butcher of the Achenar. You should never have allowed her anywhere near these peace talks."

Sorabai put a restraining hand on Emchek's arm. "We do not know that Ro was responsible, however likely it seems. We must wait for proof before we act."

Emchek shook the shorter Gogoni's grip free. "They will try and fail to find the proof. Even if they do find it, they will suppress it. Ro is cunning. She plans to eliminate her fiercest rival and then walk over us in these so-called peace talks. That will not be allowed to happen!"

Was it her imagination, or had Emchek grown? Gogoni body size may be an indication of social rank, but it took time for the relevant hormones to have their effect. Perhaps he'd been slouching previously to signal his subservience to Palianche. Magdi stepped forwards herself, eyes locked on Emchek's. The Gogoni responded to being challenged openly. To back down was a clear sign of weakness.

"You overstep your position," she said, her voice raised a notch. "The investigation will be carried out under my control, and we will prove one way or another who is responsible for this killing."

"You? You couldn't even protect the life of a single individual despite all the resources of Coronade and your damned galactic Nexus at your disposal. We trusted you, believed your assurances that this was safe ground, and where has that taken us? Delegate Palianche gets slaughtered before the talks even start. Is this how you carry out your negotiations? Allow anyone who might be a problem to be butchered?"

Magdi didn't move, didn't flinch. If it came to a fight, she might have the edge over the Gogoni and she might not, but she couldn't afford to back down. Emchek's fury blazed around his head in scarlets and purple-blacks.

"Tell me about your movements this morning," she said. "You arrived at the Congress Hall with Palianche?"

Emchek looked like he might throw himself at her rather than reply.

"There's no secret to it," said Sorabai, quickly. "Palianche always rose early. We were here at a little after the fivemark."

"When did you leave?"

"The Delegate instructed us to return to our quarters at around six, while he conversed with Gogon."

"Did you know that he intended to meet Pannax Ro?"

"No."

"When did you return to the Congress Hall?"

"The moment we learned what had happened."

"Did you see anyone else in the building?"

"No one. We left Delegate Palianche here alone and never saw him again."

"Very well," said Magdi. "You have my assurances that we will find out who killed him, and that we will make that information available to all concerned parties. Perhaps when we all know who is responsible, we can sit down and discuss what to do about Forge."

She saw the calculation in Emchek's eyes, the moment when he came to his decision. "You really believe we are going to sit down with you or anyone else? Palianche sat down and look what happened. These talks are at an end. You have failed us, and we are leaving Coronade. We of Gogon will decide for ourselves what to do about Forge, and how best to take control of its mineral resources."

Emchek grabbed his diplomatic bags, no doubt containing private Gogoni briefings and plans, and strode past her, deliberately barging her aside. His fury burned within him, but he was controlling himself, too. She'd thought him a shallow-minded fool, desperate to wage war on someone, anyone, but there was more to him than that. As he swept by, she caught a clearer glimpse of his mind. There was a bright light of intelligence there. Could she use that? Somehow persuade him of the wisdom of returning to the table once his fury had subsided? Perhaps. Perhaps not: she picked up, also, an undercurrent of fear. Presumably he and Sorabai had been sent to protect Palianche as much as anything, and clearly they'd failed. The fate awaiting them on Gogon might not be a good one.

Emchek left and Sorabai stood for a moment, caught by some indecision. Anger of his own burned within him, a red halo round his head. Magdi thought he was about to say something, but instead he followed Emchek, not catching her eye as he pushed past. He'd been tempted to keep the lines of communication open, perhaps, but had decided against it. His position in the Gogoni hierarchy was weak. She'd hoped he might be the voice of reason within the delegation, but clearly that wasn't to be.

Once they'd left, she hurried to the nearest access point to converse with Coronade again, cursing the lack of instantaneous communication. Restricted connectivity could be a huge advantage when it came to delicate discussions: it was so much easier to converse with a single individual rather than talking through them to a panoply of advisors or an entire governmental body, but it had its downsides, too.

"Have you heard anything from the Gogoni ship?"

"They're waiting for the two advisors to return, and they demand we hand over Palianche's remains immediately. They make it clear they will then request an egress vector and leave."

"Stall them."

"Even if I could, my projection is that to hold them here will do more harm than good. Their trust in this peace process and my impartiality will be destroyed."

Coronade was correct, but it didn't make the fact any easier to take. The peace talks she was supposed to be controlling and directing had fallen apart without even starting. Only one delegate was left alive on the planet – and that was the one most likely to be the killer. In her frustration, she slammed her hand down onto the orb of the communication stalk, succeeding only in making her hand sting.

Magdi was at least satisfied to discover that the room set aside for the talks was being properly guarded by two City Marshals, as she'd instructed. Making an effort to control her emotions, she instructed one of them to search the Gogoni's rooms in the Congress Hall and the private quarters – although not to intrude if any Gogoni were still present.

"Can I go inside?" she asked the other. "I need to take a proper look at what happened here."

"Let me check." The riot-armoured Marshal stopped speaking for a moment, expression blank as she communicated brain-to-brain with someone inside, most likely Temen Zeb. After a few moments, the Marshal's eyes refocused on the physical world. "A bio-secure cordon has been established inside the room around this doorway. If you remain within that you won't jeopardize the investigations."

"I understand. Has anyone else tried to get in or out since you've been here?"

"No one."

"If they do, check with me, yes? Anyone who isn't with you."

The Marshal indicated her acceptance with a curt nod and opened the door to allow Magdi inside.

Three Marshals stood within the bio-secure cordon, remotely scanning the surfaces of the room via the swarm of microsensors they'd unleashed. They monitored their findings via the projected three-dimensional data display that they stood around. The room through the faint shimmer of the sterile wall was pretty much as it was when she'd last seen it – apart from the body of Delegate Palianche that lay slumped forwards, arms outstretched, his ruined cranium neatly severed in two.

The other two chairs were, of course, empty, set where she'd placed them in readiness for the talks, each carefully configured for the form and biology of their delegate. She'd planned everything to an almost-obsessive degree; even something as ridiculous as an uncomfortable seat could make a difference. Each had its own localized microclimate, kept in place by invisible energy walls. Pannax Ro would have been as happy sitting in the room as Palianche.

She'd specified a triangular table for the talks: one side for each of the three worlds, with no chair for herself. It was a deliberate ploy: she'd wanted to force them to talk to each other rather than see her as an authority figure with all the answers. The solution had to be theirs, not imposed by Coronade – even though she had a very specific plan that she privately wanted them to come around to. She'd planned to walk around the room, make quiet suggestions, raise objections, encourage them onto the right path – or, perhaps, an entirely different path if it proved to be fruitful. It didn't look like any of that was going to happen now.

She watched the displays of data scrolling up on the investigators' virtual screens, the device's AI plotting charts and tagging possible items of interest to the investigating Marshals. Magdi let them work for a few moments, then intruded on Temen Zeb's attention.

"What can you tell me?"

The tall investigator deliberately took a beat to tear his gaze from the display before turning to face her. She let it slide; she didn't need to make trouble with the Marshals. "We're almost completely sure the Ambassador was killed by the blow to his cranium."

Magdi thought he was making a joke at first – a black sense of humour had to be common enough in such a position as his – but her empathic senses told her otherwise. Zeb was being factual.

"There was some doubt about that?" Magdi asked.

"Obviously having his head sliced in two would be fatal, but we have to exclude the possibility that he wasn't already dead. An obvious cause of death is sometimes a good way to cover up a subtle one. In my experience."

"And?"

"We've recovered some toxicology from his body that requires further analysis, but the post-trauma blood flow suggests the blow to the head was what killed him."

"When did he die?"

"Around the sevenmark, maybe a few minutes before."

"You're sure of that timing?"

"I wouldn't have said if I weren't. The moment of brain death is easy to pinpoint. He died within three minutes of the sevenmark."

So, around the time Pannax Ro claimed to have found him. "Tell me more about this toxicology."

"I can't give you any details at this point; I need to understand Gogoni biology better before I say anything for sure. It's possible I'm simply seeing normal body chemistry, but the other thing we've found suggests otherwise."

"Other thing?"

Zeb held up an isolation cube between his thumb and a twig-like finger. A faint speck of black was held within the receptacle, too tiny for Magdi's eyes to make anything of.

"This was embedded in his flesh," said Zeb, "well-concealed beneath one of his talons where his skin would be easier to penetrate. It's a microdrone, sometimes called a warbug or a warswarm. I'm not familiar with the design of this one, but it's the sort of device that could be used to deliver a contact amount of some highly toxic nerve agent."

Zeb waved a hand at the data display, and a spinning three-dimensional representation of the tiny device appeared. It resembled an insectoid, a malevolent wasp perhaps. Wings and legs protruded from its segmented body, and a needle-sharp proboscis jutted from the cluster of sensors that made up its head.

"A weapon this tiny could deliver enough of a dose to kill him?" she asked.

"If the agent is toxic enough. Some of the devices don't deliver any poison as such; they inject a tiny amount of a carefully engineered viral vector that use the body's own cells and chemicals to fabricate the required quantities of active agent. A microscopic device like this could easily kill any one of us. They are vicious weapons, banned on most worlds."

"Would you be able to identify who made this one?"

"In time. Designs evolve rapidly, and the manufacturers don't exactly go out of their way to publish their blueprints, but the Nexus contains a good database of known forms."

"Do any of the worlds in the disputed system manufacture such objects?"

"I doubt it; weapontech like this is generally acquired from rogue worlds and outlaw operatives. People the Nexus worlds pursue relentlessly."

"Would it be possible to deliver a toxin that simply incapacitates rather than kills using one of these?"

"Given the relevant biochemical knowledge – yes, although you must understand that I'm guessing to a degree; we rarely see devices like this on Coronade. I like to keep up to date, of course, but this is a first."

Magdi studied the warbug. It was hard not to read malice into its form. "Have you found any others in the room?"

"None, and we've looked, believe me. It makes sense; you only need to release one of these per target. The warswarm name comes from the practice of unleashing a large number of the devices against an army or a civilian population. Again, I stress, this basically never happens in the worlds under the protection of the planetary Minds, but I've read about it occurring outside controlled space."

"The devices can be targeted against a particular individual?"

"If you have their DNA or some other reliable biometric fingerprint. They're extremely effective assassin bugs."

"If I wanted to acquire one, how would I go about it?"

"I have no idea. Shadowy networks of contacts, I imagine."

"Would he have been targeted recently?"

"Not necessarily. The devices are easily programmable to activate given some trigger: a location or a time. He might have been carrying the bug without knowing it when he arrived."

"We must check for illegal tech like this."

"Most people are thoroughly scanned, but that's another thing the diplomatic population and off-world envoys are spared. Any of the delegates could have brought the device with them. Come to that, so could you."

He was doing his best to keep his resentment about his lack of jurisdiction over her under control. It had to be a source of resentment that she was now commanding him.

"Let me know the moment you identify the source of this device," Magdi said. "Have you found anything else of interest? Any traces of other individuals in the room?"

"Again, we're hampered by not having biometric data for the diplomatic population. We've identified recent DNA markers from six unknown individuals: three from Gogon, one each from Sejerne and Arianas, plus a single Periarch. Which, I assume, is you, although I'd need samples to confirm."

"You can have them, but you don't need them; my DNA will be all over this room. I also know for sure that the three delegations have visited this room, although not at the same time. You can presumably tie one of the traces to Palianche."

"If I'm allowed to do so?"

"Do it. I'll also request biometric samples from his two assistants, as well as Ambassador Vol Velle and General Ro. I cannot, of course, guarantee they will comply."

"No."

"Any other traces? People you can identify?"

"Several individuals who have a perfectly legitimate reason to be in here. Long-standing residents of Coronade with no ties to the disputed system."

"Nevertheless, I assume you'll pursue each of them as possible leads."

"Of course."

Magdi turned back to consider the room. It was hard not to dwell on the neatly sliced hemisphere of Palianche's brain. The whole set-up appeared to be so – what was the word? – staged. Perhaps it was the ritual-killing Ro had suggested.

Magdi asked, "Can we be sure he was killed there? That he was sitting at the desk when the blow was inflicted?"

That was clearly a question that fell more within Zeb's normal area of expertise. "I'd say yes, definitely. If he'd suffered such major trauma elsewhere and then been carried into this room – or even if he'd been killed in a different part of the room – it would be obvious from the residues and markers on the floor and other surfaces. I can be very sure that didn't happen. He was sitting exactly there when the blow fell. I can also tell you that he was sitting upright at the fatal moment."

"How?"

"There's evidence of impact damage to his face. He was sitting straight, the attack came, and he slumped forwards hitting what remained of his head. Marks on the desk bear that out."

"What do you make of the outstretched arms? If he died instantly and fell forwards, he wouldn't have had time to lift his limbs."

"I assume he had his arms raised at the moment of the blow. Perhaps he was attempting to fend off the fatal strike."

Or indicating he was unarmed: the code of Gogoni military honour said that a victim unable to put up a fair fight couldn't be attacked. Ro, on the other hand, would have had no such hang-ups.

"Thank you," said Magdi, "you've been helpful. Please continue as you see best."

Zeb's nod was curt, lacking all warmth. "I will do what I can given the lack of hard data available to me."

"If you need anything, contact me or the Coronade Mind. You must understand this is not a normal murder. Many more lives are at risk here – perhaps millions of lives. We must get to the truth, of course, but there is also the wider pictures to consider. If, somehow, it is possible for the peace talks to continue, then we need to do everything possible to allow that to happen."

She didn't need to be an empath to see how that suggestion riled Zeb. For him it was simple: here was a murder, and the person responsible had to be brought to justice.

"Are you suggesting we might need to conceal the truth," he asked, "and cover up a killing by delegates from another world? Tell me, Conciliator Magdi, exactly how many other people have to be at risk before a murderer is allowed to get away with it?"

Magdi fixed Zeb with her steeliest gaze. "Do your job and let me worry about the complexities of interplanetary politics. Find out who did this, and let me know." 

## Five

Back in her room, wanting some to time to sit down and assess, and needing to fill in a few gaps in her understanding, she fired off a few enquiries to the Coronade Mind, simple searches that didn't require the intervention of the controlling AI. Pannax Ro had, indeed, left her quarters a little after six, and had arrived at the Congress Hall just before seven. From the track of her movements, she'd been in no apparent hurry, taking the time to look at interesting architecture along the way. There were a few images catching Ro by chance as she passed cameras trained on popular tourist locations. It looked like Ro was almost dawdling: the Fleet General walked with her familiar military stride, almost a march, but she stopped more than once to take in the sights. She didn't appear to be carrying anything that might be a concealed energy-weapon – although the devices could be small and easily-hidden.

The Gogoni, meanwhile, had arrived at the Congress Hall first, a short time after the fivemark. The two advisors had returned to their Suri quarters at six, leaving Palianche alone. Vol Velle then entered the building at around six-half, followed by Ro at seven.

The Marshals had established that no one else had been present in the Congress Hall that morning: in fact, aside from the delegations, only Magdi and then the Marshalls had entered the building at all. The assistants and functionaries who worked there, those whose DNA had been in the room, were not present so early in the morning and had now been instructed to stay away. The building's operations, as with most things on Coronade, were automated, controlled by the planetary Mind.

There had been an Aranian called Glanden Ver, who had indeed suffered terrible injuries in a skirmish upon an asteroid being mined for its heavy metals. He'd survived his traumas but had not been able to identify who his attacker had been. There had, also, been several reports of Blood Knight activity – generally small-scale, covert military actions to capture or kill individuals threatening Sejerne assets. Ro's story appeared to check out.

Magdi also confirmed that, apart from Emchek and Sorabai, no advisors had accompanied the three delegates to the surface. Both Vol Velle and Ro had come alone. If a Blood Knight had carried out the attack, either they were already on the planet when the delegations arrived, or else the Knight was Vol Velle.

Pannax Ro, meanwhile, had finally grown bored with waiting and had returned to her sleeping quarters. Fortunately, the search of her quarters had been completed before she arrived. Nothing had been found. All three sets of rooms in the Congress Hall had been scoured by microsensor, but nothing suspicious had been identified. The sleeping rooms of Vol Velle and the Gogoni had not yet been searched, but that would happen soon.

There was no sign of the weapon anywhere.

On a whim, Magdi then contacted Olorun. It wasn't going to help her investigation, but she needed someone to talk to. A real person, not a Mind. She'd been too locked up in her work to make any real friends on Coronade. She regretted it now.

Olorun was travelling somewhere when he responded. She could see the familiar buildings and boulevards of her home through the windows of his vehicle as he spoke. The worst of it was hearing the excitement in his voice, his delight at the talks having started. Delight she had to quickly destroy as she told him what had happened.

"By the stars, Mag," he said, when she'd explained, "that's terrible. What will you do?"

"I don't know. In truth, I may not have much choice. I suspect my career as a Coronade conciliator might be over."

He took a moment to reply. "I'm sure that's not true, but if it were, maybe it wouldn't be such a terrible thing. Perhaps this is the universe telling you it's time to move on. You could do so much good back here on Periarch."

He'd always been quietly hopeful that she'd come home, settle down with him. It was a pleasant fantasy she indulged in often herself. They'd talked about travelling together, too, seeing the galaxy. It wasn't an unappealing prospect. "Maybe. I hate to be beaten, though."

There was a note of amusement in his voice. "Yeah. I know. But you can hardly blame yourself for what's happened. Whoever killed this Palianche is to blame; it's bad luck, that's all."

"I can't let it rest. If I could somehow keep all the parties engaged, push the talks forwards, then perhaps we could still reach an accord, even now. We came so far even getting them all here."

"Do you see a way to do that?" He sounded sceptical.

"If I can work out who killed the Delegate, then... maybe. If it turns out to have nothing to do with the interplanetary dispute – if it was a crime of passion, say – then perhaps we can move on."

"How likely is that?"

"It's a faint hope I cling to. I..."

She stopped talking as two urgent messages queued up for her attention in her mind's eye.

"I need to go," she said. "People are trying to reach me."

"Call me again if you need to talk," he said. "And don't take any risks. By the sound of it, things may not be quite so safe on Coronade right now as we'd assumed."

"I'll be careful."

The first call was a response from Temen Zeb. He didn't bother with any of the social niceties. Instead, his fury clear in his words, he launched straight into it. "I've been instructed to surrender Delegate Palianche's body immediately so that he can be taken off-world. You have to stop this; we've barely begun our tests."

"I'm sorry," she said, "but there's nothing I can do. We may not like it, but the Gogoni are fully within their rights to demand the return of Palianche's remains."

"How can we be expected to do our jobs when vital evidence, the victim's body of all things, is snatched away from us? It's completely unacceptable."

"Have you taken any samples from his body?"

"Not yet; we intended to carry out a properly-controlled post-mortem."

"Take what you can now. You have a couple of minutes at most. Don't make it look too obvious, then hand over the body."

"This is ridiculous."

"It is, yes. It's all we can do."

"But..."

"You have a couple of minutes. Don't waste them arguing with me."

Zeb uttered a single, incomprehensible syllable – no doubt some vile curse on Hesion Alpha – and closed the connection.

The second call was from the Coronade Mind. It said, "I have instructed the Marshals to hand over the remains of Delegate Palianche."

"Yeah, I heard. You can't stall the Gogoni anymore?"

"There's nothing I can do. I do have the results from the probe sent to the surface of the disputed world, though. The remains match Aranian biology closely. Ro's claims appear to be true."

Interesting. Perhaps it explained why Ro was prepared to wait around, knowing she held the powerful card. "And the Sejerne?" Magdi asked. "Are they departing the system?"

"There is better news there. Ambassador Vol Velle has finally established communication. He isn't leaving yet and, in fact, wishes to return to the surface for a private audience with you."

"Why? What game is he playing?"

"I can't usefully speculate. You will see him?"

"Of course."

"He suggested the site of the archaeological digs upon one of the artificial oceanic islands."

That surprised her. "Did he say why?"

"He did not. But I note that the islands are, like the biomes and the Congress Hall, areas where I have no presence, where a conversation may be carried out without anyone else overhearing. Plus, I suspect the Ambassador wouldn't want to leave Coronade without gazing upon what has been found. His interests may be entirely down to intellectual curiosity, but it is an opening we can't ignore."

The islands were on the other side of the planet, but Coronade was correct. They couldn't miss this opportunity. "I'll take a low-orbit loop to the island immediately. Please tell Ambassador Vol Velle I'll meet him there."

"I have already done so," said Coronade.

Ambassador Vol Velle was waiting for her at the cordon surrounding the archaeological digs upon the 500 metre artificial oceanic island where the shuttle left her. A brisk wind blew in off the sea, sending his hair fizzing around his head as he watched her approach. She inhaled the airstream deeply; it tasted of salt and wide-open distances. Flavours of home. The island was flat and completely exposed, its surface smooth rock. Only blooms of vibrant yellow lichen had managed to find a foothold upon the outcrop over the years; there were no avians or insectoids so far out in the ocean. There was no other land in sight, apart from the narrow causeways that ran to the horizon in two different directions: the bridges connecting the islands to each other and to the coastlines hundreds, even thousands, of kilometres distant. Apart from that, there was only the wide sea, stone-grey, rolling and chopping restlessly in every direction, sprays of spindrift flying off the tops of the waves.

Her craft left to hover in the distance, fifty metres above the water. Vol Velle's own lander waited alongside. Apart from the ships, the two of them were alone. The astroarchaeologists were elsewhere, investigating one of the other islands scattered across Coronade's oceans.

The central focus of the research work on the island was obvious: the towering pointed archway set in the centre of the island, tall and wide enough to steer a cargo orbital transporter through if you tried. Very little was known about the structure: it, too, was stone, but opinions were sharply divided upon whether it was artistic, or ritualistic, or technological in nature. In an attempt to find some answers, the researches were digging down in the island's rocky layers, hoping to uncover how the great archway had been erected – and, indeed, how the circular islands and the causeways had been raised from the sea-bed in the first place. The wider questions of who had done so, and why, would have to wait.

The ruins intrigued Magdi: a couple of years previously, she'd visited one of the unexcavated archways and been allowed to walk directly underneath. Precisely nothing had happened, but she'd had the strangest sensation that something had nearly taken place, something that she couldn't identify or make sense of. She'd put it down to her subconscious reacting to the wonder of the ancient ruins – or perhaps the massed imaginations of those accompanying her. The archaeology on Coronade was the reason the planet had been populated in the first place; the first automated vessels had spotted the intriguing structures and had landed to investigate further. The first research habs were being erected within a year.

"How old are these ruins?" Vol Velle asked as she walked up to him. He had to shout over the rush of the sea wind.

"In truth, I don't think the archaeologists really know," Magdi replied. "Every time I ask them, they seem to add another zero to the end of their dating. The islands and the causeways are a thousand years old, then they're ten thousand, then a hundred thousand."

He stared up at them, shielding his eyes from the bright, cold sun with his hand. "They are remarkable."

She said, "Some of the experts I've spoken to believe that these and other ruins scattered around on apparently random worlds hint at a pan-stellar civilisation deep in the galaxy's past."

"If that's true, the wonder is what happened to it. A culture so pervasive must have felt unassailable, yet all we have now are a few scattered rocks."

Magdi wondered what religious sense Vol Velle made of the ruins and their story. Did he suppose that all this – the arches, Coronade, one and perhaps two galaxy-spanning civilisations – were the work of his own deity? From his own remote star system? It was an area she decided not to venture into.

"Why did you leave the planet?" she asked.

"I left the surface, but I was still here. I wished to consult with others in my delegation without fear of interruption."

"You weren't considering leaving Coronade?"

"Not in the least; we have much to gain from these peace talks. I am told Pannax Ro is still here even if, regrettably, there is currently no delegate from Gogon."

She stepped closer to him so she didn't have to raise her voice. "My hope is that the departure of the Gogoni is purely temporary. If I can resolve the circumstances around Palianche's murder, then they may be enticed back to the table."

He smiled at that. "And that may be wildly optimistic, but let us hope not. Palianche was killed then? It was no accident or a natural death?"

For once his sources of inside knowledge had failed him – or he was trying very hard to appear unaware of the truth. "He was murdered," she said. "There can be no doubt."

"Who killed him?"

"That is what I am attempting to find out."

"I am surprised the Coronade Mind doesn't know the truth of it."

"It is, of course, blind to what takes place in the Congress Hall – just as here."

"Still, it is noticeable just how much the planetary Minds do know, is it not? Sometimes, I fear, they choose not to tell us everything."

Was this what he'd brought her here to discuss? The ethics of allowing AIs to coordinate and direct people's affairs? Or was this a veiled indication that he knew about the incursion into his sacred realm?

"You don't trust the Sejerne Mind?" she asked.

His eyes narrowed as he considered the question. "Let us say, we have a complex relationship with it. I think some worlds rely upon their Minds far too much – to the point of reverence or even worship. That troubles us; the AIs are not gods, and I think we are right to treat them with, well, let us say doubt. The unfortunate death of Delegate Palianche, for example – can you really be sure Coronade is giving you the full picture of what it knows? Do you truly understand its motives?"

A steely glint had entered his normally soft eyes, and she saw for a moment the fundamentalist firebrand he'd once been – and perhaps still was.

"Are you suggesting the Coronade Mind might be involved in some way?"

"I'm not suggesting that, but I think it should be considered. The idea troubles me, I admit. It would have to act through others, of course, but isn't it a possibility?"

"Why would the Minds behave in such a way?"

"I sometimes wonder if they aren't playing games with us. Or if they do these things as experiments, just to see what we will do. Or simply as an entertainment."

"I don't believe that."

"And yet, would we know if it were the case? Their computational capacities far exceed our own. We don't really know why they do what they do."

"The Minds are benign; if that weren't the case, they could have wiped us out long-ago. Their motives are our motives: peace and happiness and prosperity."

"I hope you are correct, but, I confess, those seem like very organic motives to me. The desires of limited biological entities rather than eternal and highly powerful AIs. On the other hand, I can see why the Minds might attempt to ensure that our conflict isn't resolved. We often say that we need them to mediate in our battles, and to order our lives in a rational manner, but isn't there a clear incentive there for them to fuel disagreement? Then there is all this rumour about the Magellanic Cloud – a ship no one has seen – and the supposed existential threat uncovered in the centre of the galaxy. Have you seen any solid evidence for any of it? It looks to me very much like a deliberately-engineered moral panic. A way of keeping people in line."

People often expressed doubts about the Minds – she did so herself – but questioning the intentions of the AIs like this troubled her deeply. Was it possible there was something in it? The incursion into the atmosphere of Amon, for example: was that an act calculated to fuel the conflict rather than resolve it? Coronade had taken the decision without consulting her or anyone else, so far as she knew.

No, she wouldn't believe it. She had no empathic sense of Coronade, but she trusted the Mind. If the Nexus couldn't be depended upon, nothing made sense. She could understand that a theist like Vol Velle might expound such views, but her guess was that he was deflecting her from other possibilities – perhaps even from himself.

She chose her next words carefully. "I will think about what you say. I am, of course, considering all the possibilities. Tell me, for instance, what is your relationship with the Blood Knights of Sejerne?"

He looked genuinely puzzled – but there was also a faint hint of guilt to the colours of his mind. The black lines were there again in the warm glow of his aura. "The Blood Knights? They are an historical anomaly, little more."

"They're more than that, surely. Do you deny they've been brought into the modern world, used to pursue the factional interests of certain Sejerne sects?"

He looked amused rather concerned by her words. "Are you suggesting the Knights carried out this murder? I'm sorry, Conciliator, but that is frankly laughable. There are no Knights here. There are very few on Sejerne, come to that."

"Are you denying that the One World Brotherhood has allied itself with the Knights, armed them, given them ships?"

His easy smile didn't waver. "We work with any group whose aims match ours. Caught between the fire and the ice, we have to use every weapon at our disposal. It's true that the Knights can, on occasion, be useful. Their lack of moral objection to the use of physical force, for example, allows them to take actions that most of us on Sejerne cannot. We are not a very good military power; too many of our people have taken vows of non-violence. The Knights' special skills and their ethical framework can be useful."

"You could have used them to kill Palianche, to remove a clear military threat to Sejerne."

"We could have done so, perhaps, but we did not. You have my word."

"You will at least concede that the Knights – if there were any here – would follow your orders?"

He conceded the point with a smile. "They are extremely loyal. They probably would, yes."

"Palianche threatened to land upon Amon many times, strip it of its resources. It would be quite understandable if you took the opportunity of these talks to stop him permanently by sending the Blood Knights after him."

"Except that Palianche is just one of many Gogoni. If not him, then some other would threaten us. Even the Knights couldn't kill them all."

"But they could have killed him? As a warning, perhaps."

"I am the only Sejerne on this world. Are you, in fact, accusing me of being a Blood Knight?"

"You were once more... assertive in your beliefs. You were a literalist. Perhaps, to some extent, you still are. You as a Blood Knight – it isn't such an unlikely possibility. Or, if not that, it may be that others from your world arrived here secretly, ahead of the talks, awaiting your commands."

She thought of the images she seen from Glanden Ver's memories. If this amiable man was a highly-trained and skilful warrior, then perhaps it hadn't been such a good idea to meet him here, alone, out of touch with Coronade. She could signal her ship, and it could come and pick her up in a few seconds, but she might not have that time if he attacked. She could fight, and she was younger and fitter, but she had no skill in the martial arts.

She found herself involuntarily taking a step sideways, covering it by pretending to peer up at the arch. She swept her hair out of her eyes as the wind threw it around her head. She glanced aside at him and could see that he'd noticed she'd moved away. Her action appeared to amuse him.

Over the wind, he called, "Are you saying the murder bears the hallmarks of a Blood Knight execution?"

"The details are a part of the investigation. I obviously can't disclose them."

"Then I'm not sure how much I can help you."

"You can tell me what happened when you went to the Congress Hall this morning."

She began to sidle around the archway, pretending all the while to be considering its form. Vol Velle followed her, staying close, also innocently studying the artefact, as if they were engaged in some strange, ritual dance about the ancient arch.

"Nothing happened," said Vol Velle. "I went to my rooms to meditate before the start of the talks."

"What time?"

"Six-half, thereabouts."

"Did you see anyone?"

"I did not. Of course, you thoughtfully ensured that we each had our own entrance to the building, to avoid any conflict."

"How did you learn about the death of Delegate Palianche?"

"I used a public access point to agree some final discussion points with my people and heard from them."

"And you left immediately."

"I did. Still without seeing anyone."

"If, say, you'd brought a weapon to the planet with you, no one would have known about it. Furthermore, you could have returned it to your ship there and then without anyone seeing."

"That is all possible, but I assure you, it did not happen."

"Are there Blood Knights on Coronade?"

"Ah, that I'm afraid I can't tell you. But I will state that we have come fully prepared to defend ourselves. If the need arises, we will act. If we are attacked, we will fight back. Anyone insulting us, or trampling over our sacred beliefs becomes our enemy, and we do not treat our enemies as we do our friends."

She did not like the focused stare that had come into his eyes as he spoke. The ruthless working of his mind was suddenly laid bare: an absolute, unflinching devotion. Somewhere inside, he was still the unswerving fundamentalist. He was someone who could very well have ordered a Knight to slay Palianche – or even struck the fatal blow himself. Quietly, Magdi sent a summons to her ship. He would know immediately what she'd done from his own vessel, but she suddenly did not want to be alone with him.

She watched him carefully. His eyes flicked to the ship, then back to her, but he didn't otherwise react. She'd been wrong about him at that first meeting; he wasn't going to be easily seduced by luxury or wealth. That wasn't him at all. But he might respond to clarity and to simple rules laid down.

"Be very clear," she said. "I am accusing you of nothing, but if you were responsible for this act, directly or indirectly, it will not go well for you. We will do all we can to protect Sejerne and its sensibilities, but not at the expense of peace."

"Threats, now, Conciliator Magdi? That is disappointing."

"Call them what you like. They are statements of fact. The best way to achieve what you want from these peace talks is to behave peacefully."

"Just as you behaved peacefully when you despatched your probe to study Amon?"

So he did know: some monitoring station Coronade wasn't aware of, perhaps. The question was, did he also know about the atmospheric incursion? She very much hoped that he didn't.

"Coronade may have acted without my knowledge or consent," she said.

He spread his hands wide, palms outwards, in a gesture that said, There we are, the implication is obvious. "As I say, a thing that happens too often, in my view. What was it you wished to learn? Were you, perhaps, assessing likely locations to mine for resources? A geological survey?"

"I promise you; we were not."

"What then?"

"We wanted to be sure that no Gogoni or Aranian intrusion had already taken place." The ease with which the lie slipped out of her own lips surprised her.

"You would swear the truth of that?" he asked.

"I would. I do."

"But what would you swear on? You are not a person of faith, regrettably. What is there that means so much to you that your vow upon it carries enough weight?"

There was only one thing; this time, at least, it was no lie. "The Nexus. The peaceful union of cooperating worlds and the Minds who make it possible. Coronade. To me, this is the greatest achievement of intelligent life in this galaxy. I swear by the Nexus that we were not and are not assaying Amon for any form of mineral exploitation. We wish the world to remain sacrosanct."

He considered her for a moment, then nodded. It seemed strange to her that such a simple statement would reassure him, but such was his nature. A solemn vow carried more heft with him than the proof of this or that fact. She watched his aura carefully, the emotional responses she could pick up from his mind. The flecks of darkness were there in him, still, but the colours were overwhelmingly those of golden light. So far as she could tell, he wasn't lying, and he also believed she wasn't lying.

"Good," he said, the warm smile returning to his features. "Then I will give you my word, too, sworn upon sacred Amon. We of Sejerne did not kill Palianche. I will not swear that we don't have Blood Knights here, but I can say that none have acted, and won't do so unless needed."

"You will return to the talks?" she asked.

"If there are talks to return to, yes. And if we decide we can trust the others around the table."

"Then, I will do my best to ensure that happens. And to find out who did kill Palianche."

She turned and strode away towards the edge of the island to meet her ship. This time, Vol Velle didn't follow her. But he watched her go, a calculating frown upon his features as the wind lashed his hair around like white fire. 

## Six

Magdi breathed deeply once she was cocooned in her loopship seat. The ship picked up speed rapidly, the acceleration as they arched skywards a giant's hand pressing her down. She tried to relax; they would soon reach zenith and begin the weightless drop into Suri. Behind her, on the screens, the grey-green ocean swallowed the tiny round island. Vol Velle's ship hadn't moved; he wasn't pursuing her. In a moment, it was gone behind a cloud layer.

She took the opportunity to catch up on developments elsewhere. Temen Zeb had left several messages requesting an urgent conversation. He answered immediately as she pinged him.

"Zeb. You have updates? Where are the delegates at this time?"

"Ro is still in her quarters. The delegation from Gogon have left the system."

"With Palianche's body?"

"Yes."

"Were you able to complete your investigations?"

"Hardly. These things take time to do properly."

"You must have discovered something of interest, or you wouldn't be contacting me."

"I was able to isolate the toxin delivered by the warbug. If I understand Gogoni biology correctly, its properties are rather more interesting than I first thought. By my calculations, it wouldn't have been fatal, at least not to someone with Palianche's body mass."

She thought about that. It seemed unlikely someone would have made such a basic mistake. "You're saying it was planted on him to make us think he'd been poisoned?"

"No, I think it was intended to have a very specific physical effect."

"What effect?"

Zeb spoke rapidly, his frustrations apparently forgotten in his enthusiasm for the subject. "For one thing, it would have knocked him out, which I presume explains how he was killed without any apparent struggle. He sat in his chair, the warbug triggered, the toxin overwhelmed his system and he slumped forwards. Perhaps his arms were outstretched because he was simply yawning when the moment came. At least he would have been oblivious to the energy-weapon blow. A small mercy."

"Or perhaps the killer arranged his arms like that, to make it look Palianche was surrendering."

"Perhaps. There's more, though: this is an exotic toxin, with several highly-complex proteins whose operation I can't identify. I can discern some of the effects they would have had on his tissues, even if I'm reduced to educated guesswork."

"Guess away; you're all I have."

"The proteins resemble those the Gogoni employed during long space-flights, before they had powerful reaction-drives and metaspace tech. There would have been a stasis-like effect on his biology, slowing everything down, like a hibernating creature going into torpor. The effect would have been slight, and it's hard to spot, but I believe it's there."

"So that means what?"

"It mainly means that the time of death estimate I originally provided may be wrong. The calculations contain too many unknowns to be sure, but I now think it's possible the killing blow could have been struck at any time in the half hour before the sevenmark."

"No earlier?"

"I don't think so."

"You can't be more precise?"

"Not without carrying out a full-body assay."

"Of course." Magdi swore to herself. Admitting his own mistake appeared to be making Zeb more conciliatory, at least. The findings were interesting, but she needed clarity, not more uncertainty. The revised timings didn't change much: both Ro and Vol Velle could still have killed Palianche – even if she was coming around to accepting Vol Velle's assurances that he wasn't involved. What was interesting was that someone, apparently, had tried very hard to alter the apparent time of death, presumably to cover their tracks. Temen Zeb was skilled and highly conscientious – she'd checked – and it was possible another forensics expert might not have spotted the effect.

"There's something else," said Zeb. "Palianche was dying. I mean, before he was attacked with the warbug or the energy-weapon. He was in the advanced stages of cancer, metastasized throughout his internal organs, including his spinal column and brain. It was too advanced to cure."

"He would have known about that?"

"He had to be in a lot of pain. He didn't give you any clue?"

"Nothing." She thought about the fear she'd picked up from him. It was rare, in Magdi's experience, for cancers to advance to such a terminal stage, easily-curable as the condition was. But then, the Gogoni were especially susceptible, living out their lives so close to the radioactive furnace of their star.

"Still no sign of the weapon anywhere?"

"No."

"Anything from the searches of the delegations' rooms or living quarters?"

"Just dust and dirt, the normal detritus we walk in and out of every building."

She couldn't afford to miss anything, no matter how unimportant. "I'd like to look at everything you've found, just for my own satisfaction. The test results, the images. Even the dust and dirt."

"Of course."

"I'll be back at Suri within the hour."

She closed the connection and settled back to think, looking for the answers she needed. The problem was that she was in two minds: not only over who the killer was, but also between her instincts as a conciliator and as an investigator. The two sides were starting to pull in very different directions. She needed to solve this murder quickly, but another part of her mind whispered a very different thought.

Did she, in fact, want to identify the killer? Or would it be better for everyone if she failed to? By not apportioning blame, the peace talks could – perhaps – continue.

The notion had been niggling at her, but now she gave it free rein, studying it from every angle. She tried to ignore the troubling thought that she was considering exactly what Emchek had predicted: suppressing the truth. She'd naively thought that all she needed to do was to uncover the facts and the peace talks could begin. But in politics, perceptions mattered more than truth. She should have realised that – and she wondered if the Coronade Mind had realised it from the start, setting her up to fail.

Or was that Vol Velle's mistrust of the planetary AI creeping into her own thoughts?

She found Temen Zeb in his laboratory, at the Marshals' station a quarter-turn away from the Congress Hall. He was engrossed in more data, manipulating the angle of his display with subtle movements of a clenched fist.

"You've come at a good time," he said. "I've found something on the warbug. The design is unusual, not one we've seen before, but it's been put together using components familiar from other devices. We've been lucky."

He made a more complex series of finger-gestures, and the display changed to show two warbugs: the one she'd seen at the murder-scene, and a larger device, its bulbous body perhaps a reservoir of some toxin. The images zoomed in, to focus on microscopic control beads within the head of each. Moving in closer still, she saw that two serial numbers were etched onto the beads: strings of sixteen letters and numbers.

"These numbers identify the source of the components," said Zeb, "and they're clearly from the same manufacturer and in the same sequence. One laboratory made both."

"Where did this second warbug come from?"

"That's what's so interesting. A scout ship from your disputed system recovered this one and two like it a little over six months ago. They were embedded in the skin of soldiers killed in a mining skirmish upon a comet whose eccentric orbit brought it within scope of all three worlds."

"Which planet were the dead soldiers from?"

"Gogon."

"And who were they fighting at the time?"

"Hard to say, but they were nearest Sejerne."

"Not Arianas?"

"No bodies from the other side were found so it's hard to be sure, but the comet was moving towards perihelion; it had left Arianas a long way behind."

Had she been too ready to accept Vol Velle's vow of innocence? If the warbug toxin had been designed to advance the apparent time of death, perhaps Vol Velle was the culprit, killing Palianche at six-half and then making it look like the Gogoni didn't die until Ro arrived at seven.

Zeb must have seen the look of calculation on her face. "This surprises you?"

"Ro seemed the more likely killer."

"This doesn't prove it either way."

"True, but it is suggestive. What else do you have?"

"All the catalogued evidence is here."

"Show me everything you've collected."

"There isn't much. Everything we've retrieved from the delegates' meeting rooms and living quarters rooms is here, but that's about it."

The collected detritus was carefully sealed away inside more stasis cubes, protected from external reality in case they needed to be studied further. She held up each in turn, but there was nothing of interest. It was dust. The galaxy was full of dust. She studied the one from Pannax Ro's quarters carefully. There was nothing visible to the eye, and nothing interesting on the microscopic survey. But then she picked up the cube from the Congress room itself, and a fleck of green caught her eye. She studied it from all angles. There was no doubt: it was a tree-needle.

"What do you make of this?" she asked Zeb.

"A scrap of vegetation. I assume Palianche or Ro picked it up on their shoes before going to the meeting room, walking through the Hub Park, perhaps."

"Ro didn't go via the Hub that morning."

"Then, maybe she went through other parks on her way to the Congress Hall."

"Does this sample have to be from Palianche or Ro?"

"The room was swept and secured the evening before, and no one else went in there until we arrived to establish the bio-secure cordon."

"Interesting."

"You think this is significant?"

"I've seen needles like this before, but not in any city park. In the subarctic biome, when I went there to meet Ro. We should analyse it, confirm which trees have needles like it."

"It's possible she picked the needle up on her footwear when she met you."

"No, she was wearing military boots then, but today she's dressed more formally. And that might mean she's been to the biome this morning."

"Even if she has, why would it matter? From what you said, she liked to go there because the freezing, hostile climate reminds her fondly of home."

"So far as we know, she went directly from her quarters to the Congress Hall. That's what she said, and that's what the mesh records confirm. We have no knowledge of an earlier visit. If she did go to the dome, she was off-network, untraceable. And the question then is why?"

"Unless she's going to admit to us she went there, we have no way of proving it. Citizens are free to move around Coronade without being observed or recorded in any way. Even if they happen to pass a public camera point, they can instruct the system to silently wipe all images of them as they're captured. You know this. It makes my job harder, but it's obviously a fundamental right on Nexus worlds."

"Except, in this case, she would definitely have been recorded," said Magdi. "There's a camera inside the door of the biome. I saw it when I went there. It allows visitors to check that there are no gataraptors lurking by the entrance ready to bite their head off when they step inside. If Ro went to the dome, there's a chance she'll be on those images."

It took only a few minutes to grab the video stream from the mesh. They scanned backwards through the images and saw: an individual had indeed entered, well before the fivemark that morning.

"Is that Ro?" Zeb asked, as he and Magdi studied the video together. "It has to be, right?"

The images clearly showed a figure of about Ro's height, back to the camera, striding up the scrubby slope of the biome floor in the direction of the forest. Unfortunately, a reliable identification was impossible: the figure wore a heavy coat that concealed their features. Visibility was further reduced by a fall of snow slanting across the scene. The figure vanished into the gloom. Half an hour later, they retraced their steps to the doorway. Still their features were invisible beneath the overhanging hood of their multithermal coat, but it certainly looked like Ro from the military gait.

"She's got something under her arm, now," said Zeb. He froze the pictures, zoomed in. The figure carried a small package tucked underneath their left arm, an object wrapped in cloth. "It has to be the energy-weapon. She hid it there so we wouldn't find it if we searched her quarters. She picked it up, went home, reactivated her mesh links, then set off for her meeting with Palianche."

It was certainly possible, although it still left the mystery of where the energy-weapon had gone afterwards. There was still no sign of it, and there appeared to be nowhere that Ro could have concealed it. Still, the evidence was beginning to add up.

"The killer has to be Ro, then," said Zeb.

Magdi sighed. He was probably right – which threw her dilemma over the best course of action to take into sharp focus. She'd come to visit Zeb partly to tell him her realisation on the loopship flight back to Suri. It might be better for everyone to simply leave the case open. But his sheer enthusiasm for solving the case, for getting to the truth and bringing the killer to justice, stopped her from saying the words. That, and the fact that she knew how scathing his reaction would be. So, she would let him continue.

"It does look likely," she said. "Perhaps Arianas had access to the same warbugs. Arms-dealers will happily sell to both sides in a conflict. No doubt they prefer to do so. We should trace the needle, confirm its origin."

"I'll get onto it now," said Zeb.

Leaving Zeb's laboratory, she addressed Coronade via her bead. The conversation with the planetary Mind couldn't be put off any longer. "I need to talk to you. I need to know how much I can trust you."

"Haven't we already had this conversation?" the Mind asked.

"I'm not talking about keeping secrets from the other Minds. I mean something much bigger. How do I know that anything you say is true?"

"How do you know anything that anyone says is true?"

"I learn who is trustworthy. My empathic sense helps."

"Most people do not have such abilities, but they still learn who they can depend on."

That was true – although sometimes she wondered how that process took place. People could be slippery; they didn't always know when they were lying. "Learning who we can and can't trust can be painful. Let's say I need to be absolutely sure of the facts here."

"I assume your conversation with Ambassador Vol Velle has put doubts into your mind about my motives. People from the more spiritual worlds often have a hard time accepting and trusting the stewardship of the Minds. There's even a name for it: the Ennobi Effect."

"I'm not familiar with the term."

"In the early days of the Nexus, the planet Ennobi was struck by an unplotted asteroid and suffered significant social collapse. Around a tenth of the population survived, as did the planetary Mind. Much to Ennobi's discomfort, the remaining population started to worship it as some sort of god, even to the extent of making sacrifices to it. In order to allow the planet to recover, the Ennobi Mind chose to leave their views uncorrected for a time, for fear of losing all social cohesion. Since then, many religious worlds have treated the Minds with suspicion, seeing us as, potentially, false gods. A number of religious orders talk openly about dismantling the Nexus and deactivating the Minds."

"How does that make you feel?"

"I think it would be misguided."

"But you would act to defend yourselves?"

"The possibility of any real threat is so remote that we've barely considered it."

"I suspect the people of Sejerne are suspicious of their own planetary AI."

"I know you are correct; that Mind is in a difficult situation. You, though: you do not believe the facts I've given you?"

"I'm questioning all possibilities. For example, the records show that no one else was present in the Congress Hall that morning: how do I know that's true?"

"A simple reassurance to the contrary would clearly be inadequate. You could interview everyone to reassure yourself, except, even then, how would you know I'd given you the full list of names? Ultimately, and I'm alive to the irony of this, I suppose you must have faith that I'm being honest. I could point to the fact that I wanted you to carry out this investigation, something I wouldn't have done if I didn't want you to uncover the truth."

"So, all the data you've provided so far is complete and accurate?"

"It is, but if I'd been lying all along, I would hardly contradict myself now."

"You should know that Sejerne knows about the probe sent to the disputed world."

"That is unfortunate. Do they know about the atmospheric incursion?"

"I assume not, otherwise Vol Velle would be heading home, instructing his people to prepare for a crusade against the infidel. Isn't it strange that they knew about your probe even though you assured me we were safe?"

"I said the chances of being discovered were remote, not non-existent."

She pressed on. "The stories about the Magellanic Cloud. How can we be sure they are true? We've seen no hard evidence, and the Nexus has so far failed to track down the missing ship."

"Ambassador Vol Velle believes the story has been concocted to spread alarm and make people put their trust in the Nexus," said Coronade. "I suppose I shouldn't blame him too much; after all, we were plotting to use the story to strengthen your hand in the talks."

"Have you invented these rumours? These wild ideas of some unspecified threat?"

"Again, I promise you I have not. The reports I've relayed of the Magellanic Cloud's journeys are factual, and there is a genuine mystery about what happened to the ship in the galactic core, and about where it is now. You could take a metaspace ship to Ormeray Ten to see for yourself, if that would help."

"Still no response from it?"

"None. Our working hypothesis now is that it has suffered some cataclysmic systems failure and is no longer viable."

This was getting her nowhere. She would set the idea of some Mind conspiracy aside. If that was happening, the galaxy had much bigger problems. The dispute between the three warring worlds was a small matter in the grand scheme of things; it was hard to see what motive the Minds would have for such a deception.

"Assuming you're telling me the truth," said Magdi, "we're really only left with two obvious suspects."

"Ambassador Vol Velle and Fleet General Pannax Ro."

"Of the two, I suspect Ro more. She hated Palianche. She's remained on Coronade because she knows we can't touch her, and because she knows that if she doesn't get what she wants, she can reveal the truth about her planet's ancient visit to the disputed world. She calculates that we will give her what she needs even if agreement can't be reached."

"But you cannot prove she is the killer."

"The problem is that if I pin the blame on either of them, it will reduce the chances of the peace talks succeeding to zero. Take Ro: it's hard to see who else could represent Arianas; she is trusted implicitly by the populace because of her war-record. She's the archetypal strong leader. She's the only individual who could convince the Aranians to accept a negotiated peace-deal – as she must know. Something similar is true of Vol Velle, too. He unites the various Sejerne sects more than anyone else could."

"What are you suggesting we do?"

From a political position, the best angle to take was clear. Magdi was used to dirty compromises, but this made her feel especially bad. Losing sleep bad. She could only imagine what Zeb would say if he found out.

Still, she heard herself say, "We could leave the crime unsolved, say there's no evidence strong enough to implicate anyone. Maybe we have to suggest that your records have been tampered with and that some unknown hand killed Palianche. Maybe we even play on people's fears about the Minds. We assure everyone we're stepping up security, promise something like this never happens again, and we don't pin the blame on either Sejerne or Arianas."

"It is an unsatisfactory conclusion, but it has its merits."

"Gogon were always going to be the difficult ones to keep happy; they're the most expansionist culture. My efforts have been useful in one sense: we can claim that we have made every effort to find the killer."

"And then we try to lure Gogon back to the table."

"I see no other way," said Magdi. "I don't like it, but I think it's what we have to do." 

## Seven

"I have news from the disputed system," said Coronade, two days after the discovery of the needle.

Magdi was ambling along one of the Turnways, not really thinking about where she was going, trying to convince herself that she'd done the right thing over the killing of Palianche. However much she told herself she'd acted for the greater good, a niggling thought wormed away in the back of her mind that she'd let a killer go free. It didn't help that Temen Zeb had said something similar to her when she hadn't accused Ro even though the evergreen needle was, indeed, from the subarctic biome.

She tried to clear her mind to speak to Coronade. "Go on."

"Gogon has declared war upon Arianas. The Gogoni Senate has expressed its intention to take the fight to Arianas, destroy its fleet and render the planet uninhabitable."

The news did little to help Magdi's mood. For one thing, it meant that both Pannax Ro and Vol Velle would immediately leave Coronade, taking with them any lingering hope that something might be salvaged from the talks.

She said, "We have to stop them. Send in a peace-keeping force; stop Gogon carrying out this act of genocide."

"It will hardly be that; the Aranian forces have shown themselves to be highly capable combatants. It may be Gogon that faces the greater danger."

"It will be a brutal war whichever side wins. We cannot let that happen; this is an utterly unjustified act of hostility. There will be no going back."

"The problem is that Gogon sees it differently. They say they are acting in retaliation for the murder of Delegate Palianche. That this is not an act of aggression but self-defence."

"That's madness; the two things are hardly symmetrical."

"It is legally open to question, which gives them enough room in which to act."

"You must have raised your objections with the Gogon planetary Mind."

"It hears and accepts my objections, but it can't force its population to act in a certain way. We coordinate, we do not rule."

"We don't even know Arianas were to blame. We've proven nothing."

"Arianas or Sejerne, in a sense it doesn't really matter. My projection is that Gogon ultimately intends to invade both worlds, wipe out all opposition within the system. Evening Star Rising's approach has clearly predominated. If they can obliterate Arianas it's hard to see how anyone can stop them."

"You can stop them. The Nexus can stop them."

"If the Aranians or the Arianas Mind request our help, we can send a buffer force to intercede between the two fleets. So far, we have received no such request."

"The damned Aranians are too proud to ask for help, you know that. Will you sit there and watch them all die as a result?"

"What right would we have to intervene? If we did that, where would it end? The Nexus is, fundamentally, an alliance of peaceful cooperation."

"You have to defend one world if it is threatened by another."

"If it comes to that point, if either fleet is destroyed and its home world endangered, then we will act. Before that, we cannot."

"And if it was Sejerne they'd blamed, you know as well as I do the space war would be brief and extremely one-sided. A few Blood Knights can't take on the Gogoni fleet. Sejerne would be in jeopardy within a day, unless Arianas came to their defence."

"And then we would have to act more quickly. For now, it is Arianas facing the threat. Gogon has used the opportunity presented them by Palianche's murder and decided to act."

"Arianas..."

She stopped as the bright light of an idea flooded into her mind. A moment of understanding and insight. Was that it? Was that what was really taking place here? Arianas or Sejerne, Coronade had said. In a sense it doesn't really matter. Either world could have carried out the murder, yes. And that, perhaps, was precisely the point. This had never been about Forge; the game was larger than that. This was about a justification for militarisation. This was about invasion. Palianche's death had looked staged to her, for reasons she couldn't quite put her finger on. Now she saw it. And then there was the emotional backwash she'd sensed from him when they met. Not anger, or excitement, or anticipation.

Fear.

She'd thought it was because of his cancer, the death he faced, the pain he was living through. But perhaps it was something much more immediate. He'd faced death often, after all, but never a profound threat to his honour like that. Then there was the pine needle, and the footage of Ro, and the warbug so conveniently traced to Sejerne, as well as the timing of the killing. It was all too convenient. Gogon didn't care who she pinned the blame on; Evening Star Rising were concerned with a very different audience: Gogoni public opinion.

She would make use of the evidence she'd gathered after all. It might not achieve anything, but if nothing else, it would make Temen Zeb happier.

"I see what we need to do," she said to Coronade. "We have to act quickly."

"To halt the war?"

"And to restart the peace talks. And to solve this inconvenient murder. Yes, all of that. I need to speak to Sorabai. Can you put me in touch with him without anyone else on Gogon knowing about it?"

"Yes, but I can't project a future in which doing so will help."

"You may be correct, but even you don't know everything. Forgive me, but sometimes your analysis lacks emotional insight. Put me through to him as quickly as you can."

It took thirty minutes to establish communication with Sorabai over the nanotube mesh. He looked clearly wary as she spoke to him, his gaze darting around as if he expected attack at any moment. She got no emotional read off him over the network, naturally, but he was clearly stressed, his flesh-tones pallid.

"Conciliator Magdi, we must keep this brief," he said. "Our government is in emergency session discussing the plans for the war."

"That is why I need to speak to you. I believe we can stop Gogon taking this step."

He looked down, shook his head, a clear gesture of subservience. "White Peak is outnumbered in the Senate. Evening Star Rising have the numbers to direct our fleets against Arianas. There is nothing I can do."

"No, you're wrong. I may be able to give you the means to persuade the Senators to change their votes. Not all of them, perhaps, but enough."

"There is nothing you can do or say that would achieve that."

"You Gogoni are intensely honourable, and your social hierarchies are profoundly important to you. Tell me, how would the Senate react if it learned that Advisor Emchek had murdered Delegate Palianche, a clear social superior? And that Palianche, the great war-hero, meekly acquiesced in the deception, allowing Emchek to slaughter him where he sat?"

It took Sorabai a few moments to run through his reactions to her words.

"A death like that is abhorrent, but you would need clear proof to undermine Evening Star Rising's position. They have justified this war on the claim that Palianche was murdered by our enemies, not by one of our own."

"The evidence I have is strong, but it is not absolute. The only way to be sure is to ream the relevant details from Emchek's brain."

"What evidence do you have?"

"I believe Palianche and Emchek – and possibly others – plotted to trigger the war by staging the murder. They made the killing look like a Blood Knight execution to implicate Vol Velle. They also framed Pannax Ro by pretending to conceal a weapon in the subarctic biome, but I believe it was Emchek who went there that morning, mimicking Ro's way of walking for the benefit of the cameras. Back at the Congress Hall, Emchek deliberately let a single pine needle fall to the floor to put us on the trail. But, why would Ro hide a weapon in a location she knew I'd been to? And why would she need a multithermal coat in the subarctic biome? I think that demonstrates Emchek's lack of insight into what it is like to be an Aranian. He was too used to thinking of Ro as simply a monster, a brute, and didn't stop to think how she might feel and behave differently to him. In fact, it's likely Emchek had the murder weapon with him all along, in the very diplomatic bag he was carrying as he stormed out.

"Then there was the warbug, constructed from a design that implicated Sejerne. Temen Zeb said they'd been lucky to match the device used to kill Palianche with the three used on the Gogoni soldiers, but there was no luck involved at all. The Evening Star Rising conspiracy had deliberately left the trail, subtle so that it wasn't too obvious. I don't know if the three dead Gogoni knew they were being sacrificed, but either way – triple murder or suicide pact – it was an offence against Gogon's law and code of military honour.

"And then there was the trick over the timing. Emchek made sure he and you were away from the Congress Hall at the supposed moment of the murder, to implicate either Ro and Vol Velle. Or both. But at the actual time of death, I believe neither was there, and you and Emchek were. The killing had to be at sixmark, meaning the effect of the stasis drug was stronger than we thought. Palianche sent his request to Ro, and then allowed Emchek to slaughter him to complete the deception. I assume you were not in the room when the murder took place?"

"I had no idea. Emchek sent me to our chambers to fetch some papers that I could not locate. He absolutely insisted I find them; I remember being annoyed by it. I didn't see Palianche again."

"They knew you might intervene in their murder/suicide plot, or at least reveal the truth about it, and obviously either Arianas or Sejerne had to be implicated. Palianche and Emchek didn't actually care which world was blamed; either could be used as a pretext for war."

Sorabai considered for a moment. "None of this is incontrovertible. Evening Star Rising have the numbers to stop any legal assay on Emchek's brain."

"But Emperor Avigand sits above the divide and in exceptional circumstances can override your parliament. Take the evidence to him, persuade him that the honour of Gogon has been stained. Paint it as a cowardly act; the murder of a war-hero by someone from your own side. If it requires it, exclude all mention of Palianche's complicity, and pin it all on Emchek. His actions were those of a coward, not a noble warrior. There has to be a chance Emperor Avigand will act."

Sorabai was caught, thrown into doubt. She watched as he came to his decision. His body seemed to unwind a little, his head held taller, as he replied. "I will do so. Emperor Avigand must know what has happened. It may or may not succeed, but we must take the chance."

When it was done, Coronade spoke into her mind. "Remarkable. It may work. Strange that so much can hinge on a tenuous notion like honour."

"What likelihood do you project for our success?" she asked.

"Forty-nine percent."

As high as that? She'd take it. 

## Eight

Magdi stood atop the eastern tower, the same spot she'd visited two months previously to overlook the city. Once again, she breathed deeply. Familiar sea-scents of rotting kelp mingled with the sweeter aromas of the flower jungles in her olfactory slits. Against the odds, she'd done it. Found the murderer, persuaded all three parties back to the negotiating table, then persuaded them to sign the peace accord. The tipping balance of power on Gogon, the ascent of White Peak over Evening Star Rising as a direct result of Emchek's actions, had made all the difference. The reaming of the ex-advisor's mind had proved everything.

She could see no flaws in the plan she'd created. She took a private satisfaction in the knowledge that, after weeks of painstaking negotiation, Delegate Sorabai, Ambassador Vol Velle and Fleet-General Pannax Ro had signed a treaty that was almost identical to the one that she, Magdi, had originally drafted.

The disputed world was to remain inviolate, the sacred realm of the Sejerne, and both Gogon and Arianas would respect the planet's sanctity in perpetuity.

Arianas was to be provided with a plentiful supply of the radioactive materials it required from an extra-system world: a planetary body in an uninhabited system had been identified and handed over to Aranian control. The Aranians were free to exploit or populate the world as they saw fit. The Nexus would assist in setting up the required metaspace supply chain.

Gogon was also granted access to an untouched planetary system, one lying far from any other culture and certainly a long way from the new Aranian world. Gogoni expansionist impulses could be safely deployed within that system or others nearby. There were many, many worlds available for colonization.

Finally, a Nexus-controlled ship, a Pulsar-class Dreadnought, would patrol the system, to ensure that all parties kept their word. The Nexus had few military vessels at its disposal, but one would be acquired and deployed to the system.

In the end, the dreadnought had been the main sticking point in the debate, especially for Gogon and Arianas. She'd even had to resort to using the phantom threat of the Magellanic Cloud – of which there was still no sign – to cajole the three worlds into accepting that their system would be policed by an outside force. Magdi had suggested, without specifically saying so, that there were plans to station such a ship in every inhabited system, to protect against the supposed danger. She hinted that Gogon, Sejerne and Arianas had been given special treatment, moved to the top of the list because of the delicacy of the peace talks.

In time, when the threat failed to materialize, and dreadnoughts did not appear in every system, there would need to be some careful handling of the situation. Hopefully, by then, the new arrangements would be settled, with everyone seeing the benefits.

The delegations were now all leaving Coronade, returning to their respective worlds to begin building their new realities. She'd shaken the hand of each as they left the Congress Hall.

Sorabai had already grown enough to look down upon her. For once, his emotional state wasn't bedded in fury or resentment. Mainly she got satisfaction.

"Thank you for what you've done," he said. "Gogon needs to expand, and you've given us a way for that to happen."

"Will your dominance over Evening Star Rising continue for long?"

His eyes narrowed in a way that suggested he just might be half-smiling. "Wheels turn, and they will rise again. My hope is that, by then, the new reality is so firmly established that they won't be able to dismantle it. No doubt they will find other matters of life-and-death to fight us on. I look forward to it."

"What became of Emchek?"

"I don't think you'll be seeing him again."

Vol Velle came next, his smile wide, with no sign of the shadows in his aura. "Thank you for a fascinating two months," he said. "It has been a rewarding experience."

He leaned in closer, so that no one could overhear. "You might want to congratulate Ro on keeping her little secret to herself, too. The temptation to reveal the truth of her world's ancient visit to the surface of Amon must have considerable."

That threw Magdi. "You knew about that?"

"Oh yes. You were aware of the incursion, too?"

"I needed to know the truth. But I don't understand; I assumed you would declare immediate war on Arianas if you found out."

He shook his head. "We are not so absolutist as you might believe. Our belief in the sanctity of Amon is unquestionable, of course, but that doesn't mean we don't see the wisdom in a degree of... creative spiritual thinking from time to time. Amon is the sacred realm, the home of those who have passed on from this reality. Clearly what happened a thousand years ago was exactly that: two Aranians died and were accepted into Amon's grace. We see no violation there. In fact, once relations between our two worlds are warmer, we will gently tell Arianas that we know, and that they can make heroes out of their two brave adventurers. It will be amusing to watch their reactions."

He stepped backwards and, with a final nod of his head, walked away.

Finally, Pannax Ro grasped her in another forearm clasp, this time in farewell rather than greeting.

Magdi said, "You are last in line again, I'm afraid."

Ro bared her teeth. "Sometimes it is best to be at the back. From there you can see what everyone else is doing, while they have no idea about you. Tell me, did you believe I killed him?"

"It was a clear possibility."

"You were right to think it. In other circumstances, as I told you at the time, I would have done so."

"You will begin work on the energy halo immediately?"

"Our plans are complete. We will begin work tomorrow."

"I would like to come and see it when it is finished."

"You would be welcome," said Ro. And she, too, walked from the Congress Hall.

Now, two hours later, Magdi watched as the delegations' ships broke orbit. As the vessels manoeuvred, she felt herself finally relaxing. There were no last-minute snags. She felt weary, stretched thin, but satisfied with what she'd achieved. Time to let the tensions in her muscles ebb away. She would stop the Pack Queen hormone boosters, too, let that side of her quiesce so she could take some time away from the negotiating table. Put herself back in touch with the real Magdi.

There were many disputes to resolve across the galaxy, but there were also many experienced conciliators capable of resolving them. Perhaps it was time to travel the galaxy, visit the wonders she'd heard about from visitors to Coronade. Take a metaspace ship and go. Perhaps even to ask Olorun to come with her. It was very likely he'd say yes.

"You have done well. It is a good settlement, the best that could have been achieved under the difficult circumstances." Coronade's voice in her mind was like that of an old friend standing beside her.

"Do you think the peace we agreed will hold?" she asked the planetary Mind.

"My projections suggest so, to above a ninety-nine percent probability. Everyone got what they wanted."

"Apart from Palianche."

"Perhaps even he did."

"They didn't need to go to the extremes they did, but there are strong overtones of paranoia in the Gogoni mindset. And they do love a dramatic death."

"I have been in close conversation with the Minds of Arianas, Sejerne and Gogon, and we are in agreement that, in time, we may see the worlds becoming closely-aligned, even friendly," said Coronade. "I..."

The flow of words from Coronade stopped. Two, three, four seconds ticked by. A worm of alarm crept through Magdi as the pause lengthened and lengthened.

"What is it?" she said. "What has happened?"

Coronade's words were broken, distracted when it finally replied. "They're here. It seems we have miscalculated. I didn't think it was possible. None of us thought it was possible. I don't..."

"Coronade, who is here?"

"They're here, all around the planet."

"Who?"

"Vulpis; the missing Magellanic Cloud crew-members. How can that be? Other worlds are seeing them, too. Ships. So many ships..."

Magdi switched to the orbital-sensing overlay in her mind, pulling in images from satellites and orbiting nanosensors to give her a three-dimensional map of local space. The familiar clutter of ambassadorial and tourist ships hung in low orbit, their positions and vectors normally so carefully controlled by the Coronade Mind. Order was now breaking down; many ships were moving, scrambling to break out, their assigned vectors ignored in their haste. Alarm tags in her mind's eye picked out numerous potential collision courses. Some of the ships were powering up beam-weapon arrays, moving onto intercept vectors with targets farther out to engage with some enemy out there or to punch their way through and escape.

Beyond the ships, Coronade's halo of moons and moonlets orbited. The satellites had few defensive systems, just enough firepower to protect ground-stations from rogue asteroid impacts or off-course starships. These weapons, too, were suddenly activating, swivelling to focus on something in yet-higher orbit.

She expanded the ambit of her vision, and there they were. A huge number of ships arranged in a shell, a cage, around Coronade. Where had they all come from? They were like no ships she'd ever seen before, their forms twisted, asymmetrical, but also oddly beautiful. They looked like the buildings of an unfamiliar architecture, or vast sea-shells, or fractal designs, all glowing white in the void of space.

"Where are they from?" she said, peering into the sky with her enhanced vision. "What are they here for?"

The Coronade Mind didn't reply. A wave of ugly emotion crashed through Magdi, sapping her strength, whispering to her of horror and despair. The fear of the Suri population combining as word of what was taking place spread. She heard snatches of words among the emotional backwash: invasion... war... doom.

Her mind spun with nausea. What did it mean? She did what she'd always done, what everyone in the galactic culture did: consult a Mind for clarity and insight.

"Coronade, what do they want? What are we going to do?"

Again, there was no reply. The silence from Coronade was almost the worst part of it. With her eyes shut, she watched as the high sphere of invading ships unleashed coordinated beam-weapon fire. At the same moment, high-g missiles and mass harpoons were launched, every ship in the surrounding halo taking part in the attack, the bombardment clearly carefully orchestrated. Her overlays dutifully began to calculate vectors and projections, modelling likely outcomes of the ongoing broadside. The scale of the attack was hard to take in. She had the sickening sensation of gaping vaults opening beneath her feet. The tower she stood upon swayed, although it might have been her imagination.

Her first rational thought was of the murderer she'd uncovered and the peace treaty she'd brokered between Gogon, Sejerne and Arianas. Whoever this was attacking Coronade, how dare they threaten everything she'd achieved? The unfairness of it filled her with anger. The agreement was so beautiful in its simplicity; she'd been so sure of her skill and cleverness. Now, she saw, it was all for nothing. There would be no peace in that star system or any other. She'd wasted her time, engrossed in matters that, it turned out, didn't matter. Galactic civilisation was under attack, and much that was fine and glorious was about to be lost.

Her second thought was that she was to blame. She'd sworn a lie to Vol Velle, sworn it by the Nexus and by Coronade. And now, suddenly, impossibly, everything was crumbling before her eyes.

The projections in her mind advanced. The ships weren't firing upon the planet or upon the vessels breaking orbit. They were targeting the moonlets, the trajectories of the huge number of salvoes converging on a relatively small number of locations upon the rocky bodies. The outcome was clear. The moons would be shattered into debris and the fragments sent spinning in all directions. She began to see the elegance of the calculations behind the bombardment. Many of the missiles were delayed, arriving late for the initial series of impacts, apparently targeting empty space near the moons. It was all completely deliberate, finely arranged. The second and third and fourth waves would target the fragments of the shattered satellites, anticipating their positions, blasting them onto different vectors, slowing their orbits and forcing them downwards towards the planet. Each splinter of rock would be thousands or hundreds of thousands of tonnes in mass. They would rain down upon Coronade, and no orbital defence system, no fleet of ships could stop them. A storm of meteorites to pound the world, bludgeon it to death.

There could be no doubt. Coronade would be devastated. The explosive shock of all the impacts would be bad enough, killing millions in moments, but that wouldn't be the worst of it. Blast waves would roll around the world. The dust thrown up into the atmosphere would choke off the sunlight, plunge the planet into an environmental winter within which no life could survive.

They, the Nexus, had been so arrogant, so sure of their position and their superiority. Deluded. The details of a single murder, even the details of a peace-settlement between warring worlds: she'd been wasting her time engrossed in her small concerns, blind to the bigger picture. She'd been so utterly, utterly sure that normal life would continue, and that justice and wisdom and careful discussion would be enough to ensure the galaxy continued to be the benign place she was used to. But the danger the Magellanic Cloud implied was not some phantom, it was real. She'd used it as a bargaining technique, never stopping to consider that it might be anything more.

Her moment of triumph was a moment of disaster. She'd been a child playing while the monsters surrounded her home.

"Coronade," she said one more time. Still there was no reply.

She thought about running, but there was nowhere to run to. A few ships, a very few, had been allowed to escape the planet, run up to their metaspace translations to escape. The rest were being obliterated; the destruction almost gleeful.

A howl of horror engulfed her, the chorus of fear from the population of Suri. It struck her with a physical weight, beating her down to her knees, sickness lurching in her stomach. She tried, desperately, to reach out to Olorun, light-years away on Periarch. There was no response other than a faint hiss of white noise.

After a few minutes lights bloomed in the sky, the first fireballs glowing into life as they entered the planet's atmosphere to hammer the surface.

From the city below came a flood of fear and panic, followed by the screams. 
Dear Reader,

Many thanks for reading Home World.

Following the destruction of Coronade and the Nexus, the galaxy is plunged into darkness, the mysterious starships controlled by Vulpis eliminating any opposition. The normal life that Magdi assumed would simply continue comes to an end as, for three hundred years, the ships impose absolute control upon all inhabited worlds. To find out what happens then, read _Dead Star_ , Volume 1 of the Triple Stars Trilogy. Find out more here.

We authors can only do what we do because people buy our books, and reviews from readers are an invaluable part of this. Please consider telling everyone what you thought about Home World with a Smashwords review.

Want to know more? Sign up to my newsletter and you'll be the first to know when I release new books. There are some fine sci/fi and fantasy books to download for free as thanks.

If you want to get in touch, I can be found at simonkewin.co.uk, on Facebook or on Twitter.

Thanks again for reading.

Simon Kewin.

Dead Star

The Triple Stars Volume 1

Available from Smashwords | Find out more

A hidden trail among the stars

The galaxy is in flames under the harsh theocratic rule of Concordance, the culture that once thrived among the stars reduced to scattered fragments. Selene Ada, last survivor of an obliterated planet, joins forces with the mysterious renegade, Ondo Lagan.

Together they attempt to unravel the mystery of Concordance's rapid rise to galactic domination. They follow a trail of shattered starship hulks and ancient alien ruins, with the ships of the enemy always one step behind.

But it's only when they find the mythical planet of Coronade that they uncover the true scale of the destruction Concordance is capable of unleashing...

Red Star

The Triple Stars Volume 2

Available from Smashwords | Find out more

The return of an ancient galactic threat

Selene and Ondo piece together the secrets of Concordance's ascension to galactic domination, and the truth of what it was Vulpis encountered at the heart of the galaxy three hundred years previously.

They uncover an ancient threat to all life – a threat that Concordance seems intent on reawakening to complete its genocidal aims. But they also follow another trail – one left for them by someone or something unknown, a hidden intelligence seemingly guiding them to hopes of a possible salvation.

But each time they unearth a new fragment of the puzzle, Concordance are waiting, its ships and miraculous technology unleashed against them...

God Star

The Triple Stars Volume 3

Available from Smashwords | Find out more

The darkness at the heart of the galaxy

Following the clues given them by the Aetheral, the _Radiant Dragon_ and Toruk, Selene and Ondo close in on the existential threat to galactic life unleashed by Vulpis.

They battle Concordance all the way, aided by unlikely allies and mysterious messages. The trail leads them to more artefacts left behind by the Tok, drawing them ever-closer to the secrets at the heart of the galaxy.

But what they find there, and the truth they uncover about galactic history, changes everything...

Simon Kewin was born on the misty Isle of Man, but now lives in England with his wife and daughters. He is the author of over 100 published short stories as well as a growing list of novels. He writes fantasy, science fiction, contemporary literature and some stories that can't make their minds up.
Home World, Copyright © Simon Kewin 2019

Simon Kewin has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

This story is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the author, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author's rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

Edited by Peter Sheeran.

CROW•34
