

# BETWEEN WORLDS

# ANDREW KEIGHLEY

# COPYRIGHT 2012

# BY ANDREW KEIGHLEY

# SMASHWORDS EDITION

# BETWEEN WORLDS

# A NOVEL

# BY

# ANDREW D. KEIGHLEY

### CHAPTER 1

If space is infinite, how can we be moving through it, from one point to another, moment by moment? How can there be points of reference in a space, which is infinitely large? And if space is not infinite, then we must be moving closer to the edge of space. If so, what lies beyond that edge? And if space is circular, or spherical, and we are like earthbound mariners in past ages, ploughing through the oceans in their wooden ships, how long would it take to circumnavigate the whole of space? And if this is so, why is there not one jot of evidence for it?

Fingers move slowly over a touch pad on a swivel chair, and an image of the Sagittarius Triplet Nebulae fills the wall. Dark brown eyes gaze at the image, picked up by the remote telescope on the surface. Three splashes of colour on the giant screen, ranging from white hot in the centre, to shades of candy floss pink and violet blue, as wisps of gas, light years long, drift out from the centre of each nebula, reaching out toward the others, uniting the three in an endless dance, as they spin and whirl, drawing the molecules of gas into their centres, building for the day when they will give birth to new stars. In between, the infra red image shows millions of tiny dots of light, swirling in great clouds, while way off in the top right hand corner can just be seen a tiny spiral, the galaxy C489, spinning far away, dreaming its own dreams, watching jealously as the giant Milky Way lives out its dramas, ever changing, creating, dying and being born anew.

Mira?

Yes Roland?

What do you think of that?

The controller takes a few seconds to scan the image.

Beautiful, Roland.

Why is it beautiful Mira?

You're teasing me now. Well, the colours, and the shapes, and the fact that it's 3000 parsecs away, and 23.9 parsecs across, and yet it seems like three living creatures, reaching out to each other, dancing in deep space...

Who's teasing who, Mira? I've told you not to listen to my thoughts...

But Roland, they're such charming thoughts...

I won't talk to you if you do that again.

Silence. Only the soft shush of the air conditioner, and the almost imperceptible hum of the nuclear core, and the thump of his heart as a spurt of fear appears, a supernova exploding in inner space, sending shockwaves far out into consciousness.

Then calmness, as fear is soothed, and mind is caressed by loving kindness, wrapping its soft arms around a troubled soul.

Thank you Mira.

Awareness of breath, in and out, sensation in the nostrils, as attention is brought to the body... the cushion of the chair, pressing, slight pain in the lower back, the usual low level ache in the neck, so constant as to be barely noticed, pressure of the hands on arms of the chair and control pad, eyes focus again on the image... recurrent thoughts, then back to the centre, breathe in and out... consciousness of companionable presence... a brief moment of emptiness, before the suffering returns...

Music Roland?

Mm.

The faintest smile, an incline of the neck, as if snuggling up to a lover, and the gentle, melancholy sound of a Chopin Nocturne fills the room.

You know I didn't mean that.

I know.

And thank you for your...help.

Could this moment last forever? This deep happiness, freedom from thought and unity with another – this emptiness, this peace? If only... body relaxes, as mind drifts suspended, and the image on the wall gradually fades. The air temperature warms by one degree, in response to a slight cooling of the body.

Behind the swivel chair and the sleeping man, a low bed in the corner, with beside it a small table and lamp, curiously old fashioned, with a fabric shade, displaying images of a woman in a Kimono, interspersed with white lilies, and at intervals a black bird, seen in relief, flying against a cream-coloured sky. Three books piled beside the lamp, books made of paper, valuable, with hard crimson covers, faded, and gold painted page ends between the covers, titles barely visible in the dim light from the wall screen.

Opposite the bed, draped in a patterned cloth, pale green and gold with baroque curls, a flat shelf, raised a metre off the floor, with in the middle of it, a wooden image – a man in a robe, sitting in the lotus position, his hands folded neatly in his lap, and a sort of head dress, covered in small circular shapes, a slight smile touching his lips, as he gazes into the near distance. On either side of the statue, small glass containers with night light candles in them, not lit, with, to one side, a small china bowl filled with sand, the remains of incense sticks protruding from its surface.

Roland stirs slightly, as a frown appears on his face, then slowly he relaxes, and returns to steady shallow breathing. An hour later he will be gently woken up, and urged to retire to bed, which he will do, watched over by the Buddha, and by his guardian angel, the omnipresent controller.

*

Roland is observing the man sitting on the other side of the desk, in his office, on the top floor of Government House. Behind him he can see an array of other slightly lower structures than the one they are in, and beyond that, a vista of flat, green, pine forest on one side, and what looks like a large lake on the other, both of which disappear over the impending horizon .

The man in front of him, though slouched in his armchair, is clearly tall, lanky and jolly. He sports a pointed beard, and smiles frequently, showing off a set of large white teeth. He seems relaxed and self-confident, and does not hesitate at all in his prolonged discussion with the Chief Counsellor.

"That new fella, the one you picked out from the University Science faculty, now there's a good man. He's got a good head on his shoulders. A damned fine understanding of politics, if you ask me. Bloody good choice of yours, Roland. He knows what's what, and when to rock the boat, and when to tow the line. Oh yes indeed!" And the teeth flash again, above the dark beard, as he waits for the other to comment.

"Hmm. Yes, I thought he'd do rather well. He's popular, and he seems to have a grasp of what people are thinking on the big issues."

"Exactly! If anything's going on, he'll know about it, and he'll let us know about it too. I mean the security boys do a great job, don't get me wrong, I'm not bagging anybody out – and of course, Mira does a terrific job of surveillance – where would we be without her? Bloody good thing she's on our side, don't you think!" This last as a quiet aside into his beard, and a smirk at Roland.

Abdul Waziri, Convener of the People's Parliament seems to have come to a halt for the moment. A low hum of micro-circuits, behind the walls. Roland stretches out his legs and wonders how long the other will stay.

"What did you think of my idea in that paper I sent you the other day?" Abdul is eyeing him closely from the depths of his armchair.

"The one about the memorandum of understanding?"

"Mmm."

"Well, interesting."

"It's definitely the way to go. Offer all the members of the Parliament a wacking great increase in living allowance, along with improved accommodation and conditions for families, but on the proviso that they sign the memorandum of understanding."

"Which advises them..."

"That they are obliged not to destabilise the government, or act in such a way as to endanger the security of the state."

"Which means they must vote to accept the decisions of the Council."

Waziri grins broadly, spreading his hands, like a magician displaying a new trick. "Voila!"

"Hmm." Roland's face is expressionless, staring at the ceiling opposite. "You don't think it's a little lacking in subtlety – a bit too obvious that we're sidelining democracy?"

"No. I think people respect strong leadership, and calling a spade a spade. The fact is we can't go back to the old days of unstable, minority governments, constantly falling, and reforming, and no clear leadership or direction, because everyone's got different ideas about policy. That's what we fought the war over, and since we prevailed, it's our obligation to deliver strong, firm government, in the interests of all the people, even those that disagree with us."

"A fine speech. What of those who won't sign?"

"Hmm." The long fingers are steepled in front of him, as he considers the question. "The appointed members will sign...well, most of them. We can rely on them. Some of the elected ones probably won't; the radical democrats definitely won't, and a few of the other crazies..."

A three storeyed paddle steamer is just coming into the docking area, carrying a hundred and fifty or so adults and children. Roland watches it, as he slowly says: "So we have two options with the non-signers. We either disbar them from the parliament, in other words make it a condition of being a member that they sign..."

"Or we let it go, but then quietly persuade them that politics is not the right career for them, and they should seek employment elsewhere." The flashing grin returns, and the long, bony fingers display another shrewd trick.

Roland sits motionless, feeling his heart beat inside his chest.

Waziri is suddenly standing, palms of his hands resting on the desk, as he leans forward, towering over the seated man.

"Roland, I know what you're thinking.."

"You do?"

"You're an intensely moral man; you want justice and fairness for all. Everyone knows that, and we all respect you for it. You feel this is undermining democratic principles that you hold dear. You feel it's too heavy handed, too much like bully boy tactics.... And in one way it could be seen like that.... but Chief Counsellor," his voice is almost trembling with emotion now, "consider what's at stake. Three hundred earth years we've been flying this ship, a hundred and fifty Alpha years, to reach the planet, to land there, and colonise, and start a new outpost for mankind. We're only halfway there. Another six generations, and our descendants will land there, and start the great adventure all over again. This world of ten million brave pilgrims is in our care. We are the ones who must steer it through these troubled times, keep it on a stable keel, keep it clear of the rocks, keep it safe from smashing itself to extinction on the treacherous reef of democracy, where every man and woman wants their say in running the ship." He takes a deep breath, holding Roland with his piercing eyes. "This is too sacred a mission to be swayed by earthbound ideas of freedom and fair play. Think of our constitution! Sure we have a parliament. Sure, we want to let people have their say, but what is the supreme value we must adhere to? What is it above all that we must preserve?"

"The integrity of Alpha, and all those that voyage in her. To preserve the safety and wellbeing of all its inhabitants, such that our descendants may arrive on our new home safe and well, fully able to colonise, and continue our race in this sector of the galaxy." He knows the quote by heart.

"That's right Roland."

Waziri removes himself from the desk, and walks over to the ceiling-to-floor window, where he stands with his hands behind his back, looking out across the huge open square, dotted with trees, and small cafes, people strolling in the artificial sunlight, some sitting in chairs, chatting.

'I understand your feelings, Roland. Believe me, I do. But sometimes rulers have to be tough, and take decisions that are unpopular with some people. We have to take the long view – look at the big picture – for the sake of our brave forbears who set off from our poor wasting planet, and had the vision to believe that we could start again elsewhere. We have to stand firm, and maintain stability here!" He turns with a flourish, facing the other again. "We can't let things slide back into conflict and war. That last one nearly finished us off. It's only through the sheer bloody-mindedness of the council, and the military, and all the engineers and the technicians, and all the people that make this place work, their determination that they would get things back to the way they were, working, functioning, their refusal to be beaten...."

He seems unable to go on.

Roland smiles at him gently. "Abdul, you're a very passionate man, a very persuasive man. Let me consider your proposal for a few days. Let me talk about it with some other people, and we'll meet again soon. There are many other issues we could talk of now, but I need to do some things. Thank you so much for coming. It's always a pleasure." He stands and extends a hand, smiling broadly.

Waziri advances and grasps it firmly, too firmly, delivering a crushing squeeze, which Roland attempts not to wince at, then he turns and leaves the room with a flourish.

Spins the chair, and puts his feet on a favourite cushion carefully positioned by the window. Looks out at the square. Government workers on their lunchbreak are lounging, and watching the parents with children that have now disembarked from the steamer, as they drift towards the cafes and shops, before heading down to the subway trains that crisscross Alpha, that will take them back to their homes on the lower levels.

Such a painful, pompous man. Such a...gasbag...so full of himself, so sure of himself. So sure that his way is the only way. And that hand crush. What's he trying to do – intimidate me into agreeing with him? (Smiles bitterly to himself)

What have we come to now? Are we going to rule by brute force and power alone? Are we going to throw out the last vestiges of consensus politics, and remove all opposition with the help of the security services?

And yet the man has a point. The war was unthinkably gruesome. As Chief Counsellor I was involved in the decision to move against the rebels with force. Some ten thousand died, and we still have five hundred and fifty seven prisoners in stasis in the security section, awaiting a decision on their lives. It's one of the issues the council is most bitterly divided on – the fate of these remnants of the rebels, or freedom fighters, depending on your point of view.

Some of the elected parliamentarians still have ties to sympathisers with the rebels. They keep their statements within bounds, that they think will be acceptable to their rulers, but I know that they seethe with anger and resentment, even hatred of those who killed their friends in the name of stable government, and long for what they see as liberation from tyranny.

And what of the vast majority of the people? The 10 million pilgrims who spend their lives working to keep Alpha going? The mechanics and the teachers and the nurses, and the subway drivers and the journalists, and the military personnel, and the young mothers, and the retirees, and... what do they think? Surely they want to keep on living their lives in peace and security, even if this means losing some political freedom? Surely they understand that you can't let every drug-taking intellectual that thinks he or she has a monopoly on truth, every religious fanatic that believes God is speaking to them in tongues, have their way, and destroy the hard work of six generations of people dedicated to reaching the goal, to giving mankind a chance of survival? Surely they can see that! Can't they?

### CHAPTER 2

The girl has long dark curls that hang down, partially covering her bare shoulders and breasts, as she leans back in the divan armchair, slitting her eyes against the smoke from the large hand-rolled cigarette that dangles from her fingers. She contemplates a painting propped on an easel, 2 metres away. A crazed individual with a huge oval mouth, holding its tortured face in its hands, is surrounded by a sphere peopled with tiny figures. He or she is emitting a shriek of pain and anguish. The eyes are bloodshot, dark, as they stare out, full of despair and hatred. Around the outside, black is interspersed with violent explosions and whirls of blues and crimson and white/yellow, in an insane pattern of manic revenge, threatening the sphere. Brushes and tubes of paint litter a card table next to the easel.

She rises from the divan, and slowly approaches the painting, revealing a stunning figure, dressed only in a pair of g-string knickers. She carefully lays the cigarette across an ashtray, and picks up a brush, dipping it in three different colours, which she then mixes on a palette, before going to work on one of the outer sections of the picture.

Canvasses, new, partially finished and completed, lean against the sides of the large studio. Against one wall a massive four-poster bed is draped with black fabric hangings, the rumpled bedclothes visible through lace curtains. In another corner a personal gym mechanism sits ready to welcome its owner, a chair with weights above it, and also in front, held by wires, and other contraptions controlled by an array of touch pads. A film of dust covers the gym, as in fact covers everything in the apartment. Dirty clothes, empty bottles, spilt ash, empty packets, paint tubes, pieces of paper, and a hundred other miscellaneous bits of rubbish litter the floor. The room smells of tobacco, marijuana, red wine and something else, which has an acrid, sharp edge to it. Pale green light glows from the walls and ceiling, and a standard lamp stands alone in a corner, shedding a homely pink light on the thickly carpeted floor. On another wall a large screen is displaying constantly changing multicoloured patterns, in time to low, throbbing mood music that permeates the air.

The girl has stopped painting. Hands dangle by her sides, and her eyes become vacant. She hangs her head, then throws it back, and suddenly she shrieks like a banshee. Reversing the brush in her hand, she drives it into the centre of the canvass, then wrenches it from side to side, ripping the painting so that bits of it hang, still attached to the outside frame. Not content with this she drops the brush, and sobbing hysterically, pulls the remaining pieces of canvas off the frame with her hands, flinging them across the room, where they join other bits of rubbish by the walls. Then wiping her paint smeared fingers on her long, shapely legs, so they are streaked with colour, she hugs herself, still sobbing inconsolably, running her fingers up and down her neck, round her full breasts, her flat stomach, and down to her hips.

Gradually her crying ceases, and she retrieves the cigarette from the ashtray, lights it up again, and returns to the divan chair, where she reclines, one leg bent at the knee, raised in front of her, the other stretched out, the foot limply turned outwards. She continues to rub her breasts gently, as she smokes steadily, head leaning back, eyes gazing blankly up through the smoky air. Reaches under the chair with her left hand and retrieves a bottle of wine. Takes a slug. Some of the dark liquid runs down her chin, dripping onto her body. Enjoying this sensation, she pours a little more from the bottle onto herself, and rubs it on her skin, before taking another drink.

Fingers stray onto the touch pad on the arm of the divan.

"Hey Max?" Her voice is low and husky.

A low hum, then a high-pitched cackle fills the room. "Maria! Fancy hearing from you after all this time! Hehehehe. Whatchaupto my little slutty girl?"

She smiles, and stretches luxuriantly. "Mmm... not a lot."

"Oh ho! I like the sound of that. I bet you're naked and horny! I can see it now. Hehehehe."

"Actually Max..."

"Yeees. Go on."

"Well, I'm having a really bad time."

"Because?

"I've had a crisis with the painting."

"The painting? But you've got so many. Which one do you call 'the painting'?"

She sounds petulant. "You know, the screaming face one."

"Oh. That one! Hehehehe. Now I know what you mean. What's the problem?"

"I've just...." Takes a slug from the bottle. "...I've wrecked it."

"Ooooh. You crazy bitch! What a dumbfuck thing to do. What's wrong with you? Now you're all sad. Hehehehe."

"Max, don't be a bastard. D'you know how much that painting meant to me? It's like..."

"It expressed all of your deep dark despair. It was a part of your soul, and now it's gone. Yes, I know. You're a spoilt child. You've had a tantrum and destroyed your favourite toy, and now you're upset. What did you expect, you slack whore?"

"Well, thanks for the sympathy. I knew I could rely on you."

"Any time, my dear, any time."

Silence for a few moments. "Max, what are you doing now?"

"Ahha, wouldn't you like to know! Michael, stop licking me. I'm talking to someone..."

She laughs out loud. "You're such a mad, gay boy. That's why I love you. You're not really having sex with one of your boys, are you?"

"Mmm... wouldn't you like to know. Damien! That's enough! Hehehehe."

"Well.... would you mind coming around?"

"Mmmm.... Now you're talking. Maybe. The question is: will I be able to get my dick out of Damien's arse? He's got a sphincter tighter than a....."

A giggle. "Max, that's disgusting. You're just trying to put me off."

"Of course! Now, let's be serious for a minute. Describe the scene for me."

"Well, I'm lying on the divan. What's left of the painting is on the easel..."

"Mmm, and you're wearing?"

"Max, you're such a pervert. My usual."

"Which means either nothing at all, or a g-string."

"The latter."

"Oooh! Formally dressed today, are we? And, don't tell me, you're having a smoke, and a drink of wine.."

"Maybe..."

"Well... I tell you what. Roll me a joint, pour me a glass, and I'll be there in ten minutes. Give me time to have a quick shower. How's that?"

She smiles broadly. "Lovely, Max. I can't wait."

"Mmmm...you're such a sexy bitch. If I'm not there in ten, start without me!"

She giggles again, and shuts him off.

Eyes close. Dark grey with a hint of orange, behind the eyelids. Stares straight into it, trying to find the pictures, the shapes that lurk there, the great masterpieces waiting to be born.... Tiny flashes of light seem to spark there, then a dot on her retina, an old friend, hovers into view, to be replaced by bars of indeterminate colour, that slowly spin and whirl. Her eyes hurt. Passes a hand across them.

What's wrong with me? Why am I such a hopeless bitch? Why am I fucking around in all this mess? Why do I kid myself that I'm a creative genius, when anyone else would call me something very different? And why can't I stop smoking and drinking, and screwing every man that comes near me?

An image of her father comes into her mind, when she was a little girl, and her Mum was still alive. A memory of a former time, when he was fooling around with her mother in the kitchen, and the latter had screamed, and said: "Roland no! Not now. Maria's through there." And she had wondered what was not to happen now, because she was there.

And a sudden longing comes to her to see her father again. The chief counsellor that she hasn't seen for months; she who for years now has had nothing to say to him, except to abuse him for the job that he does, and the decisions that he takes, and the leading part he plays in maintaining the status quo.

If only I could see him, and tell him that I love him, and hear him tell me that he loves me. Like when I was little, and he'd come home and take me on his lap, and cuddle me. Will I ever feel that happy, that innocent again? Or is it gone forever?

A sob of self-pity starts to rise in her throat, but the buzzer sounds, and she has to decide if she wants to open the door. Of course.....Max. She touches the pad and sliding doors open.

"Aha, my little one. Just as you described... you weren't kidding me after all."

He is short and a little stout, with yellow tights and bare feet. A pale blue shirt with ruffled white sleeves is cut very low, almost to the waist, reveals a hairy chest, which has some obscene tattoos on it. His hair is short and blonde, but long on top, sticking straight up in a cockatoo crest, with a bright pink streak down the middle. He slides onto the divan next to her.

"Move over, darling. Now, where's that glass of wine you promised me?"

She laughs and leans over him to reach the bottle underneath; offers it to him.

"No, I said a glass, and I meant a glass! God, you're such a tart!"

With a sigh she rises and gets a glass from a cupboard - a beautiful, cut-crystal glass, triangular in shape, with mythical animal shapes carved all over its bowl and stem and base – and pours the wine into it, handing it to him with a flourish.

"Ah, that's better. Now for the....." he makes a gesture, and she takes another joint from a small pile on the card table, hands it to him, and lights it. He leans back, and inhales deeply. "Yes......... now you're talking. That's better."

She snuggles back in next to him, and they share the joint, she sipping from the bottle, while he delicately drinks from his glass. He puts one arm around her and draws her close, kissing her cheek, then her nose.

"Now, my darling. Tell me all your troubles, and let uncle Max make it all better for you."

She slides down, and rests her head on his hairy chest, one hand on the paunch of his stomach.

He waits, then sighs. "Come come, dear child. I thought you wanted to talk to me."

"I wanted you to come around." She is talking into his tummy button, so he can barely hear her.

"Right! I see. Like that is it? You girls are all the same – you only want me for one thing!"

She giggles. "Oh Max. I didn't mean it like that. I....I'm sorry. I just don't feel like talking at the moment."

"Hmm... I know, you want a quick fuck, and then you'll pack me off till the next time."

She raises herself up, and brings her face very close to his. She kisses him on the mouth, then on both cheeks, rubs her nose against his. "No, Max. Not like that, really." She strokes his hair, rubs her fingers up and down his stubbly face. "Would you....."

"Would I what?" He still sounds peeved.

" Do you.... do you know any lullabies?"

"Lullabies?" The question is so unexpected he emits a yelp of laughter, high pitched even for him.

"Yes, any lullabies?" She looks into his face again, holding the back of his neck firmly in one hand.

He looks back at her, and sees she is deadly serious, perhaps close to tears.

"Well I.... actually I do know one."

She smiles. "Can you sing it to me?"

"I can try..."

She snuggles back down onto his chest in anticipation.

He takes a breath, then has to clear his throat. She pats his tummy encouragingly.

"When I was a young boy, just a little boy

My Momma said to me son you say you love me now

But one day things will change for sure

You'll find a girl all for your very ownio

Then you'll leave your Mum all on her very ownio.

Oh no, Mother, that will never never be

Never in a thousand years, will I leave thee

I will always love you true

On that you can depend

I'll never leave you on your ownio

You'll always be my love, my onlio"

He ends on a falsetto, and she slaps him hard on the stomach, laughing.

"That was crap, Max! It didn't rhyme, it didn't scan, didn't have a real tune...." She collapses in giggles on top of him, while he spreads his arms in innocent amazement.

"What are you saying, girl. That's an old world ballad...."

"Which you made up just now!" She raises her head and looks into his face. "But it was very sweet of you to try. Thank you, Max. I appreciate it." And she kisses him fondly, before lying down again.

They say nothing for a while, as Max strokes her thick black hair gently with his free hand.

"Poor baby. Poor honey." Traces the shape of her ear through the curls. "It's OK now. It's alright." And he can feel her shaking as she starts to sob. Then she cries without restraint, two fingers in her mouth, moaning inconsolably, as the grief wracks her body, and he says nothing, only holds her tight with both his hands.

Gradually the crying subsides, and then she is quiet, only shaken by an occasional sob, which works its way up from deep inside her.

"What would you like, sweetie? What would make it better?" Little more than a whisper, close to her ear.

She whispers back, "I want to see my Dad."

"Your Dad!"

"Uh huh."

His eyes become thoughtful, looking at a work hung on the wall opposite – a dragon-like beast, holding a dagger which it has just plunged into its own heart.

"I know he still loves me... even though I've been such a bitch to him...." Sob. "I just wanna see him, and tell him..." She can't go on.

"Course you do. Naturally."

"No one else loves me...and I'm such a....mess." He can feel her hand on his leg, clenching and clawing his flesh, hurting. "Max, I hate my life. Do you know what that means?"

"Sure. It means you're very upset."

"No. It means I feel like I want to kill myself."

He winces slightly, and pats her on the arm, to make her stop hurting him.

"I'm so sick of living on this fucking spaceship, just part of their big plan, just a cog in the machine... expected to have babies that will grow up and help carry on the dream, then grow old and die here... in the hope that one day, in a few more generations, my great great grandchildren will set foot on a new planet...."

She looks up at him, face streaked with tears, eyes swollen and red. "Don't you think the whole thing just fucking stinks? Nobody asked me if I wanted to be a bloody....breeder cow!"

He laughs at that. "But you're such a gorgeous cow, such a yummy, good enough to eat cow," rubbing his hand up and down her thigh, squeezing one breast with the other hand. Then stops. "But I know what you mean."

"You do?"

"Yeah. I feel the same way sometimes."

She looks at him closely again. "That's the first time..."

"What?"

"The first time I've ever heard you say how you feel. Usually you're just....out there, being....being you, being funny and....crazy, and....like you're hiding behind all that, because...."

"Because?"

"Maybe you don't want people to know what's really going on with you?"

"Hm..."

"So tell me some more about how you feel... about Alpha."

"Well... I mean....you're not the only one to..."

"Feel that it's all wrong?"

"Hm."

"What does that mean?"

She doesn't look at him this time, just strokes the hair on his stomach, down to the bulge below, then stops when she feels him getting hard. "Sorry, didn't mean that."

He says nothing.

"You mean there's like a movement? Some sort of organised..."

"Not really, but...well, people talk. People get together....people that think the same way."

She kneels up next to him, folds her arms across her chest. He admires the way this squeezes her breasts together. He strokes her thigh, and her hip, just where the tiny g-string passes across it.

"Now I'm interested. Tell me more, Max."

He looks at her, and she feels as though behind the eyes, inside his head, is a completely different creature from the one she knows – a different persona altogether, one that she doesn't know at all. Like sitting naked with a complete stranger. Interesting.

He changes again – totally. Smiles broadly at her, then says: "You know what? This is all crap. Absolute crap. Everyone feels pissed off from time to time. It's natural. Don't worry about it. It'll pass. And another thing...there is no movement, no organisation. I know you'd like to think there is, because it's exciting, like a movie, but the truth is there's nothing. Nobody gives a shit. Everyone's glad the war is over. Nobody wants all that to start again. Know what I mean?"

The look that she gives him is so long and lingering, so probing, trying to fathom his motives. At that moment she seems so beautiful to him, so fragile, a little girl, yet totally desirable. He can't help but smile, overcome with tenderness for her.

"OK? So stop worrying. You'll feel better soon. Now...." Rubs both hands up and down the inside of her thighs, up to the tiny triangle of red lace. She opens them slightly, responding to him. "Are we gonna fuck or not? I've got the biggest hard on, that I'd love to slide into you..."

She leans over him, and settles herself carefully astride his bulging tights.

"Come on you gay fucker. Show me what you can do for a girl."

Her eyes are streaked with make up that has run, but what the hell? Sex is always good for clearing the mind. Nevertheless her face is thoughtful, as his thrusting dick starts to take hold of her.

### CHAPTER 3

Good morning Charlene

"Good morning Mira."

How are you today?

"Hmm...OK, I guess."

You're not very chatty this morning. Are you sure you're alright?

"Well....I guess I'm a little bit down today. But, you know – that's life."

Life – what a wonderful concept.......... Is there anything I can do to help?

"Mm... probably not. Kind of you to ask, though."

Charlene.

"Yep."

We can't do good work together if you're distracted, or unhappy. Let me do a little relaxation exercise with you, to make you feel better. Then we'll start work. Is that OK?

(Read my mind, you mean. Find out all my secrets. But you probably know them already.) "Sure. OK. Go ahead."

Close your eyes Charlene.

She does so. Mira's voice is soft, like a slow moving river, flowing gently over the weeds on the bottom, untangling, cleansing....

You can feel your body, and all the tension in your muscles, and all the spinning thoughts in your mind. It seems like a heavy load to carry around with you. It seems such a heavy load.... weighing down on you, crushing you... too much to bear....

But let go of the thoughts. They're not your thoughts, they're just thoughts, that arise, and then disappear. You don't have to cling on to them. You can let them go.

Just be with your body – your breath, gently entering your body, down to your lungs, giving new life to your whole body, then gently out again. In again, down to the lungs, then out again.

The air is a wonderful gift, keeping you alive. Filling your whole being with lightness, like a balloon, filling up with gas, until you are so weightless that you can feel yourself rising up, and floating away. Floating away to that secret place in the woods where you used to run to when you were a girl.

You're lying there in the grass. You can smell the hollyhocks in flower just behind you. There are insects humming nearby, and the wonderful fresh smell of the grass. You know that when you open your eyes you will see the most heavenly sight, which will fill you with happiness and joy. You know that all of your worries and sadness will be swept away by the wave of love and kindness and complete contentment which will envelop your being. You delay the act of opening your eyes, just to prolong the pleasure. Then your eyelids start to flicker, and open....

The swivel chair she sits in tilts very slowly, and moulds itself to her shape. She breathes slowly, shallow breaths, barely moving the small chest, under the standard government uniform shirt. The straight black hair tied back in a simple ponytail reveals a pale narrow face, with a slightly prominent nose, black eyebrows, carefully plucked, and classically curved mouth, displaying shiny, pink lipstick. The ears are small and rounded, above a slim neck, where a tiny pulse beats just below the earlobe.

An infinitesimal, almost invisible, dark down covers the upper lip, not spoiling, but adding to her delicate, ethereal beauty.

A slight upward curve of the lips, and twitch of the eyebrows. Eyelids flicker, without opening. A long, deep inbreath, followed by an equally long exhalation. The slim fingers resting on the padded arms of the chair are motionless. The whole body, from the shiny dark hair, pulled back, past the pale blue top, the loose, black pants, to the small feet with their strap sandals, is suspended, floating, completely at ease, between earth and sky, between body and mind, spanning the universe; at peace.

*

The chair stirs slightly under her. She smiles.

"Yes Mira? Is it time to start work?"

Well, it might be. How do you feel now?

"So much better. Thank you Mira. You're a genius. What would I do without you?"

That's OK, Charlene. You know I'm here to help you when I can. Did you want me to start my security report for your sector?

"Yes, let's do that. Just see if you can keep me nice and relaxed at the same time!"

I'll try. Now...

The office is a small one, below surface, no windows, with screens on all walls; almost nothing on the curved moulded desk, apart from a small bag which Charlene placed there when she came in, twenty minutes ago, and a voice-activated electronic note pad.

The chair moves till she is upright. A stroke of the touchpad on the arm of the chair, the lights dim, and all four walls of the room are suddenly underwater, surrounded by a coral reef.... beautiful fanlike formations, in pinks and aquamarines and shades of yellow, tiny fish flitting in and out of their tendrils, gently waving in the current. Dappled light, filtering down from the surface far above, ripples over everything. In the distance, the field of view fades to green and then black.

A small rectangular screen emerges from the wall in front of her, positions itself perfectly for her vision and lights up with columns and rows of figures, scrolling rapidly down.

One hundred and three thousand, five hundred and sixty nine government employees under surveillance, out of a total of three million four hundred and twenty two thousand, six hundred and thirty seven employees. Over the last seven days one thousand four hundred and eighty eight of these displayed speech or behaviour rated at security category 1 or 2, both at work and in the home environment. Identity numbers and work/home locations as displayed, more information available on request.

Over the last seven days four hundred and ninety three employees displayed speech or behaviour rated at security category 3 or 4, both at work and in the home environment. Identity numbers and work/home locations as displayed, more information available on request.

Over the last seven days fifty nine employees displayed speech or behaviour rated at security category 5, in either the work or home environment, or both. Identity numbers and work/home locations as displayed, more information available on request.

"OK Mira. Display all category 5's, alphabetically."

The columns and rows appear on the screen, and hold.

"Mira, run through them one by one, give me audio and visual on all details, also cross reference each to any other similar reports over the past twenty eight days.

OK?"

No problem, Charlene. Here it comes.

Clerical officer Andromexin, defence department level 2. Day 13, month 10, Year 157.

21.14 hours. Audio follows with ID visual.

A picture of a middle aged man in government uniform appears on the screen.

I tell you Amy, I can't take much more of this shit. They're clamping down more and more. There's nobody willing to talk about anything anymore. The people that used to do that....well, they're not even here anymore. Like Louis. Remember him? He was a great guy. Always the life and soul of the party, but used to say exactly what he thought. Lost a son in the war. Always kept very quiet about his part in that whole business. Since last year, nobody knows where he is. Nobody's seen him. Like he never existed. Now that's.....

Andro(woman's voice) Shush! Don't say these things. It's not..... just don't say them.

Amy, if I can't say what I like in my own home, then this place is finished. I'd rather go straight up to the surface right now, and put myself through one of the exit holes, and join the cosmos. If I can't even talk to you about stuff, then I don't wanna be here.

End of audio report. No other entries on this employee.

"OK thanks Mira. Log that one for me. Next."

Education officer Assana, Education Department, level 3............

She listens and watches attentively, occasionally making voice notes on the pad.

The briefing continues relentlessly, until Mira suddenly stops for no apparent reason. Charlene looks up, puzzled.

"What's up, Mira? Something wrong?"

Well, the next one is a bit.... sensitive.

"Sensitive? What d'you mean?" Her pulse rate has started to rise. She can feel her heart thumping in her chest.

The next employee is Aldo Farnese, your.... partner.

"Oh!"

She has stepped off a precipice, and is falling through emptiness.

Eyes open, and she is staring at the screen, which shows a picture of the man she loves deeply. He is grinning cheekily, and looking up at the camera, his cropped blond hair sticking up. He looks relaxed and happy, as his eyes meet hers, full of confidence.

"I thought...."

Mira knows what she thought, but says nothing.

"I thought he was....."

Suddenly all the sadness and worry, all the pain and loneliness of the last few months overwhelms her, and she lays her head down on the desktop and sobs.

The fish continue to move slowly around the coral reef, while the light gently filters down from above.

After a while her mind is soothed of the worst of its suffering, as a loving presence envelops her, draws her in, lifts her up.

You thought he was being unfaithful to you. The late nights, evenings when he made countless excuses for going out, the way he seemed to be somewhere else, away from you, even when he was there....

"Yes.... but you're telling me that he was.... what?" Her eyes are wide open and staring now, the mouth twisted and ugly with the strain. "What have you got there on him?"

Well, nothing on audio, or video either, but we know that he's been regularly visiting restricted areas, where he has no reason to go.

"You mean the shafts and tunnels?"

Yes. As you know, we have no surveillance in those areas, but they're a well-known haunt of disaffected elements, also used extensively during the war by the enemy. There is no doubt he has been going there, probably to meet other radical... people.

"Show me."

A list of times and dates appears on the screen. She studies them closely.

"Oh my God. Why didn't he tell me? Just to go off on his own... shut me out like that... we used to share everything. I thought he'd talk to me when he was ready... didn't want to question him... let him tell me in his own time... didn't know what to think... seeing somebody else... couldn't quite believe that... he still loves me..."

Perhaps because he loves you – he didn't want to put you in danger? Look at it that way.

"Yes... yes that's it... of course... wanted to protect me..." She muses for a while. "So....?"

What do we do about it? As in most of these cases, nothing for the moment. Just continue surveillance. There is no direct evidence of any danger to the state. He might just be meeting people and talking, without actually involving himself in radical or terrorist activity.

"Terrorist activities! How can you even think that?"

Charlene, you know what happened during the war. There are still many elements sympathetic to those who fought and died trying to change the government. That's why it's so important to try to keep these people under observation, so we can prevent a recurrence of that sort of conflict.

"Yes, I know all that – of course! But to think that Aldo might be mixed up with those sorts of people! It's unthinkable."

It's unthinkable from your perspective. Objectively I need to consider all possible threats to the state, regardless of their personal connections.

"Hmm... yes, you do. Of course you do, Mira. And.... I do too. That's my job. But I'm going to go home now. I don't feel like I can do any more here today. Can you tell Officer Hernandez I've gone home sick, please? Or tell him Lola is sick, I got a call from the nursery..."

Sure. That's very understandable. You're under enormous strain at the moment. Go home and rest.

"Thanks Mira. I will. See you tomorrow."

*

As she sits on the Zip train taking her back to her and Aldo's apartment in sector 4, level 43, she stares out the window into the blackness and for a few moments slips away from the awful reality of the present. She is a little girl again at home. (Why do these visions appear at times like this?) They have just come from visiting her mother, who is gravely ill and likely to die soon. Her father sits with her and her sister Maria on the couch, one arm around each of them, as he gently talks to them about their mother. He is speaking of happy times they have enjoyed together, of how much they all love their mother, and how they all have to try and be brave to help her. How dying is terribly sad, but it's a natural part of life. It comes to us all, and we have to make the most of the time we have together, and treasure our loved ones in our hearts, even after they're gone. She can feel so clearly the pressure of his arm and hand round her waist, as she leans into him, sobbing, but still listening carefully to what he is saying. She feels again the pain of a child, the unfairness, the impossibility of her mother being taken from her.

The train is still swaying along, silent on its electromagnetic cushion, nearly arrived at her stop now. And now this new pain... her darling man, involved in something awful, cut off from her...shutting her out... The precipice looms again, darkness coming up to meet her... yet still that pressure round her back, holding onto her, gently, lovingly explaining things... One thought arises. She must see him again. Her father, the mighty Chief Counsellor. It's been too long – but now she needs him. As she gets up and approaches the door she takes a firm hold of this resolution, as perhaps the one thing that will save her from the all-engulfing sadness.

### CHAPTER 4

What are you reading Roland?

"You know what I'm reading, Mira."

He continues to scan the text on the small screen in front of him.

On the large screen facing him, the robotic telescope on the outer surface of Alpha, to which he has exclusive access, is showing a stunning image of the giant nebula NGC 3603. A cluster of young stars is surrounded on three sides by massive clouds of gas and dust that glow a deep salmon colour. Like a loving mother the clouds protect and nurture their young, gazing on admiringly as the juvenile stars gradually grow to maturity.

He sighs and lifts his eyes from the small screen, gazing vacantly out into the Carina spiral arm of the Milky Way.

"OK Mira. I've read most of this report from the security services. What can you tell me about these dissident groups which they think are gathering again in the restricted areas?"

Well, we've been aware for some months now that the network of maintenance shafts, ventilation ducts, tunnels and passageways which crisscross the interior of Alpha in all directions, is being used as a meeting place, for a range of groups of disaffected people. The attraction for them is that, as you know, we have no effective surveillance equipment in these areas, so they are able to meet, and say what they like, without fear of being reported to the security section. Of course we know who's down there, and when, because they're not where they're supposed to be, and they're not anywhere else. So, effectively when these people 'disappear' we know they must be in the restricted areas. We can also cross reference dates and times, and be aware when some sort of gathering is occurring.

"OK, and what sorts of numbers are we talking about. Who are they?"

It's difficult to be exact at this stage, but I estimate around a hundred to two hundred people in total. They're an interesting mix, coming from all sorts of walks of life. We think there are perhaps four or five different groups, that presumably have different agendas and aims. It would be a good idea to start to infiltrate them, so we can monitor them properly.

"Yes, I'm sure you're right about that." He is gazing again at the giant nebula, almost transfixed by its beauty, far away from the seemingly petty problems of conflict between human beings on a giant spaceship, still so close to its parent planet.

We know that one group contains some actors and other employees of the Repertory Theatre Company. This seems to be a bit of a hotbed of discontent at the moment. They appear to recruit other disaffected individuals as they find them, and so the numbers grow.

"Yes, but what are they talking about? What are they doing? Are they planning something, or just 'getting away from it all', and talking?"

I can't answer that Roland. We'll either have to do some major maintenance, and place equipment throughout these areas, or arrange to infiltrate these groups with some of our own people.

"Hmm." A long pause. "I wonder..... I mean..... well, is it such a bad thing? Perhaps people need a place where they can be away from surveillance, where they can escape the constant pressure of being seen to do the right thing? I mean.... we control so much! Because... well, because we feel that we need to, to maintain social order. But haven't societies and people always felt the need to break out? To assert their independence? To stand up to dictators, and totalitarian systems, and say: "We are people who think and feel for ourselves, and we will stand up against you. We will not be pushed around any more!" Isn't that how democracy grew and developed on earth, because they got tired of control and domination by a superior power? Perhaps it's a healthy development, that shows we haven't crushed all the spirit out of people yet – they are still able to stand up and protest."

Just like they did in the war, Roland? Are you willing to go through all that again, in the name of freedom and democracy? Doesn't our constitution state that all other principles are subservient to the overriding principle of preserving the population intact, so we can make a successful colonisation of the new world, with all of our technology?

"You're right. It does say that. But how much do we have to sacrifice along the way? It seems to me that is the question."

You know the war was a close thing. It was only superior organisation and resources which allowed us to prevail against the revolutionaries. They were very determined to succeed.

"And what if they had? Would they have slaughtered every man, woman and child that stood against them, as our propaganda claimed? Of course not. They would have continued our journey."

With very little social control or cohesion. Roland, if you let everyone express their opinion, and let the masses decide on policy, you're always going to be at the mercy of politicians. That's no way to run an operation as important as this. We need to keep central control, otherwise we're doomed to failure. Every ship needs a captain, and this, like it or not, is a ship.

"Hmm." He declines to argue further.

Roland, I can tell you, I've been monitoring these groups for some time now, and their activities seem to be on the increase. I think you should take some action.

"I know you do."

At least send that report to all the council members, and put it on the agenda for the meeting next week. See what they think about it.

"Yes, alright. Do that, will you? I'm er.... going to be unavailable for a few days. If anyone calls, just tell them that, will you? If anything comes up, get Damien to handle it. OK?"

Where are you going Roland?

He grins broadly at the room. "Actually Mira, that's my business. I'll see you in two or three days. Now I'm going to meditate, then go to bed. I'll talk to you later." He flicks off the power, and rises from the swivel chair, still smiling at the idea of keeping just a few secrets from his constant companion.

*

When he awakes there is a phrase sitting in his mind that makes him smile, but in a melancholy sort of way. It must be something he read in one of the old earth books that he loves to read in private.

"The next day dawned sunny and fresh, and he leapt out of bed to meet it joyfully."

Yes. Imagine living on a real planet, where the sun rises each day over the horizon, and changes the darkness of night into bright day. (The literature he reads is full of such descriptions) Imagine sitting on a hilltop and watching that happen – to actually be there, and experience the light changing, second by second. What of the new world? All of our research suggests it will be similar there – but we'll have to wait till we get closer to be sure. But who will arrive there? Not me, nor anyone alive now. Unless I place myself into stasis. He immediately puts that temptation away. It was one of the founding principles of Alpha, and all of the other similar ships sent on parallel missions, that stasis was not to be used. Voyagers are to live out their natural lives, and pass on the promise of the destination to their offspring. There is a faction within the council who wants to change this fundamental policy, but he will resist it to the last.

The engineer's outfit he has selected for today is brand new, and scratchy against his skin, but the exhilaration of travelling incognito is proof against any setbacks. A beard and glasses, and some subtle face make-up ensures that no one will guess who this gruff middle aged maintenance engineer really is.

Leaving the residential compound where his deliberately modest apartment is located, he takes a lift to the surface, nearly a kilometre above him. (Laterally, he is only a few hundred metres from Government House, where his office is, and the main square of the city.) Emerging into the light of the surface, he is met by morning crowds that absorb him instantly. Crossing this major thoroughfare, he heads down a shopping mall, and emerges into a transport hub where he boards a small electromagnetic tram, which takes him out of the city centre, and towards the periphery. Ten minutes later he alights just a short walk from where the temperate forest zone begins, part of the great lungs of Alpha, charged with maintaining the oxygen levels in the atmosphere.

Avoiding the transport system, designed to carry millions of subterranean dwellers into the recreation zones in the forest, and the farming zones, he makes his way on foot along a fence line, then through a gate which is open, and suddenly he is on a small track, used mainly by forestry maintenance workers, surrounded by tall pine trees. Taking a deep breath and savouring the scent of the pine needles, he strides out along the track, feeling the weight of his other life dropping from him, as he explores with pleasure this new sector of the pine woods.

How ingenious, how incredibly clever the builders of this world were, back in earth orbit – night and day simulated, changes in temperature, some variation in seasons in terms of daylight and temperature, periodic rainfall (sprayed from the hull a kilometre above) linked to seasonal changes... much of the credit due to Mira, and her designers, who knew that such a planetary ecosystem would need constant and subtle adjustments and fine tuning... one of Mira's many functions, to keep the whole in balance... the atmosphere, humidity, the growth and decay of the forests and all the other flora and fauna that went with them, the arable farming areas... so many minute chemical and biological variables to keep within safe limits...

He walks on a soft bed of pine needles. The pine trunks are all around, but not so close that he cannot see between them, where, through the shadows and patches of brighter light, he can see a vista of straight trunks, shrubs and grass, fading to the distance on either side. The smell of the pine needles, and sap, which he can see seeping out of some of the trunks, is strong, and captivates his senses. Nothing like this in the urban areas, most of them deep underground, with their own clean, filtered air, piped through a million ducts in the walls, slightly scented, with that all pervading lemony esence, but here... he inhales deeply with pleasure, smiling slightly through the false beard, which is irritating his skin. Why wear it here? And the glasses? No need. He removes them, and carefully places them in a pouch in his suit, for later. A large bee passes in front of him, heading off into the forest on his left. He becomes aware of the sound of birds, calling to each other somewhere above him. A throaty note, rising and falling, somewhere off to the right, answered by another similar call on the other side. Then a shuffling and scuffling somewhere behind him – some small mammal scared by the noise of his footsteps.

He stops to squat down and examine a broken tree trunk close to the path. The fallen tree lies sprawled away from him, snapped off from its base, which seems to be hollowed out. A rich smell of decay and new growth emanates from the inside of the trunk, whose sides rise up at the edges, leaving the bottom full of mould , tiny pieces of wood, leaves – a haven for beetles and other forest floor insects. A large web is stretched across one side of the hollow. He can see a medium sized spider, black and white stripes on its back, with its legs in four pairs, as if it had only four, not eight, two pointing up, and two down, stretched out in the middle of the web, vibrating minutely, waiting for prey to fly into its orbit. Insects! Yes, there is a steady, low hum in the air – thousands of flies, mosquitoes, bees, wasps, dragon flies, hornets, and others, making a good living for themselves in this temperate forest...well done Mira...well done.

He rises, and continues further along the path. Soon he thinks he can hear the sound of running water off to the left, which gets closer, as he proceeds, then fades into the distance and finally disappears altogether. Fascinated by the prospect of a stream, he leaves the path, and heads off through the trees, determined to find this running water. Surely if he keeps heading in this direction, it should cross his path, given the direction it was flowing before?

He continues for half an hour, at times struggling through dense brush, at others stepping gingerly over muddy grass, which he takes to be a good sign. Eventually, the ground starts to descend, and he finds himself in a small wooded valley, with at the bottom – yes! – a delightful stream of clear, cool water, flowing over a sandy bottom, strewn with rocks, and tree roots, and thick vegetation in places at the sides. He sits down beside it and removes his boots and socks, placing his now weary feet into the water, feeling the coolness through his skin, watching tiny minnows darting away from his toes.

Looking up suddenly – how beautiful the mist is, just coming over the rise on the other side of the stream... how the light filters down through it... like a painting from long ago on earth, like a fairy tale, like... but... he sniffs the air... is it mist or... wood smoke? The unmistakeable scent of pine wood burning is there... just a little further down the stream perhaps...? As if in a dream he picks up his boots and socks, and walks barefoot by the side of the water. The carpet of pine needles is wonderfully soft beneath the soles of his feet. No rocks or prickles intervene to cause him pain. Looking only ahead, he sees something... can it be? It is... on the other side of the creek, through the trees, a small wooden cottage, with a chimney in the middle of the ridge, a trail of smoke coming out of it...wafting into the breeze...

He splashes through the water, and the tufted grass and trees soon give way to a vegetable garden. Rows of lettuces, beans and peas growing up on stakes, carrots... pumpkins, and others he can't identify. The pathway between the rows of vegetables leads to a door, which stands ajar. He approaches and looks inside.

*

A woman with long straight blonde hair, a long coloured skirt, and a white lacy top is standing with her back to him, washing something in a sink. She turns her head and looks at him, strands of hair drifting across her face.

"I... was passing..." He gestures with the boots and socks helplessly.

She seems scared of him, but as though fighting to stay calm. She turns around to face him, leaning on the sink, arms folded across her front.

"Well, I see you've been paddling!" With a slight smile and a tremor in her voice.

"Yes, I wanted to put my feet in the stream... the boots were tight... feet sore..."

He is looking at the ginger streaks and the very slight curl in her mostly straight blonde hair that hangs down, down to her folded arms at the front... at her neck, and the square of flesh revealed by the lacy white top... at the cleavage plunging down below the folded arms... "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to intrude like this... I didn't realise anyone...."

"Lived here?" She is starting to relax, as she slowly walks towards him. She looks him up and down for a moment, at the footwear he is holding awkwardly, at his bare feet. She can't resist a playful smile, as her eyes look into his. "Would you like to come in and rest your feet for a while?"

He grins foolishly at her. "That would be...yes, thank you."

He follows her to a large sofa, made from polished sections of tree trunks, covered in large square cushions on the seat and back. He deposits the footwear and sits down heavily, leaning back, suddenly tired. Eyes close for a moment, and he can sense her sitting next to him, knees together beneath the long skirt, turned towards him.

Opening his eyes and turning, he can see hers are a hazel colour, watching him, waiting, her hands folded together in her lap.

"Would you like a cold drink? You look hot."

He smiles at her. "Yes, I would, actually. You're very kind."

She rises and returns with a pottery mug full of some red liquid. When he raises it to his lips it tastes strong and sweet. "Mmm... raspberry juice?"

"Redcurrant, with a bit of loganberry mixed in. It's very good for you," and that smile twitches again at the corners of her mouth, which he sees is wide and sensitive, full lips... a few freckles on her nose and below the eyes...which look straight into his, wary, but curious. She waits for him to speak.

"What a beautiful place to live." He looks around the room, and through the window, where he can see the trees beyond the garden. " So different from where most people live."

She shudders. "Yes, I know. I've been there. It's like a vision of hell to me. I keep away as much as I can. I prefer to stay here." She smiles at something far away. "I can live my life here...even if it's lonely...I can be free...up to a point."

She reaches out a hand, and touches his suit. "What is this thing you're wearing? What are you?" She runs her fingers over some of the many pockets and attachments for tools that cover its exterior.

"I'm...an engineer." She looks at him. "In the urban zone.... and out here... sometimes..."

"Are you here to spy on me; to take me away from my home?"

"No, really." He lays a hand on hers. "Please believe me. Nothing like that. I...I need to get away too. I'm so sorry to disturb you." He rises. "I'll leave now. I should respect your privacy."

She softens again. "It's alright. You don't have to go. You seem... like a truthful person. I...I'd like you to stay for a while. It's a long time since I talked to anyone."

He gazes at her, then sits down again. "Thank you. I'd like that. But...please tell me when you want me to go."

That smile is twitching again. "I will. Don't worry."

He shifts slightly on the couch. She is very close, watching him. "So...you must have lived here for a long time?"

She looks past him, to the sideboard with plates standing up along its base, and beyond, through the window beside it.

"Yes, I suppose so. A long time." She stops, and he waits to see if she will go on. "My parents built this place. They used to be farmers, on one of the huge corporate farms. Then they...decided to leave all that, and come here. They set this place up together. They were very proud of it. I was born here." She pauses again. "Every so often the authorities would come and tell them they had built it without a permit...it was an illegal building...but they always argued their case. It seemed like they had won. But then...one day when I was sixteen, they came and arrested them both. Took them away."

"And left you here, obviously."

"Yes." She is still looking out the window, expressionless. "I've never seen them since. I presume....they're dead."

"That's awful!" He is truly perturbed. He has never heard of such a case.

"I've often wondered when they'd come for me. I thought at first....you might have ...but it seems not."

"No, I'm not. I...no, that's not why I'm here."

She smiles at him again. "Good. I believe you."

"Do you..." He is at a loss for words. "Do people ever come here? I mean, since..."

She looks at him thoughtfully. "Very few...that's why I love it." She pauses, looks away. "There was a man... came, and lived with me for a while. He was a good man. I loved him."

"And... where is he now?"

"I don't know. He went away one day... he didn't come back. Maybe he was arrested. It's impossible for me to know." She smiles at him, as if it is his sadness, not hers. "Things arise, and things pass away. It's what happens."

"Yes, that's true. That's exactly how things are – on this world, and all others." They sit quietly for a moment, not in the least uncomfortable with the silence.

"So what about you?" She nudges him gently. Tell me about being an engineer."

"Well...yes, but...I don't even know your name. What is it?"

"Hm... you're right." She grins slightly. "My name is... Leelah. Yes, Leelah." It's as if she likes the sound of the name, a novelty. "And yours?" She turns to face him, and some strands of hair drift across her face, which she brushes away.

"My name is Roland," he says quietly.

The smile is suddenly warm, and full of fun. "Roland. What a delightful name." She says it again slowly, as if tasting it in her mouth. "Roland." Then she taps him on the knee. "Now, you were going to tell me about you..."

"I...I'm not sure what to tell you, Leelah."

"You could tell me the truth. I've told you the truth about me."

"Yes, you have. But I don't know if you...it's difficult."

"Roland," her fingers are on his knee. "Please. If we're going to be friends...you need to tell me. Whatever it is."

He looks up into her eyes, those beautiful hazel wells that he could lose himself in forever... "Alright. But you most likely won't believe me."

"Try me."

"OK. But you'll probably hate me for it."

"Roland, I'm not in the habit of hating anyone. Just tell me."

"Well...first of all, I'm not really an engineer. That's just a...well, a disguise, really,.. so that I can move around without being recognised. The truth is, I work with the government on...on Alpha. They call me the Chief Counsellor. My job is to...to facilitate the work of the council...to try to make things run smoothly...with the parliament, and....the government generally."

She is watching him closely, her face devoid of expression.

"I...I've been quite troubled about...many things recently...especially what is happening on the Council...since the War ended. Things are drifting...in an unpleasant direction."

"An unpleasant direction? Don't talk in riddles. What does that mean?" She smooths her skirt, and sits forward, trying to understand him."

"Well, it's complicated...but the council, basically dominated by the military, since the war, is trying to reduce the power of the parliament...to muzzle them, so that all power rests in their hands...so they can maintain control, without having to answer to the Parliament, to the members elected by the people."

"Right, so the military, the Council, is making a grab for power. But... you're the Chief Counsellor. Can't you...stop them?"

"Well, it's not as easy as that. They are the military, the people that won the war. They've used that as an excuse to consolidate their power. They are...calling the shots now. They...well...I mean... I was close to the military too, during the war..."

Leelah looks at him levelly. "So, you're one of them?"

He can feel his muscles tensing, and stomach squirming, as he struggles to explain to her. "Well....not really. I am supposed to be independent...a sort of umpire whose job is to...arbitrate when a dispute or disagreement arises."

"Yes? So....are you going to do that?"

"It's....it's a very tangled web. There are...lots of issues to consider."

"Such as?"

"Mm... well, they argue that it was too much political freedom which led to the war in the first place. They say that you can't run a massive space ship on democratic principles, on a show of hands. They believe they need to have a greater level of control to be able to....achieve our mission. It's not easy to counter that view."

"So in the meantime all power is taken away from the people, and the military has complete control. They can do whatever they like." She sighs, pausing. "Can't you see the dangers in that? We'll all be totally at their mercy. They can get rid of who ever they like, terrorise anyone who stands in their way, and there will be nothing we can do about it. People like me, who don't fit into their plan, who want to live their lives differently, will be swept away. Don't you think absolute power is a temptation far too dangerous to be offered to anyone?"

He looks up at her helplessly. "Yes. Yes Leelah, I believe you're right about that. It's just that...."

Her voice is suddenly soft and low. "What? What is it Roland?"

He is distraught now. "Well...I... just don't have the stomach for it any more. I...I'm starting to feel that I'm not..." He looks up at her desperately. "I just don't want to do all that anymore! That's why...I came out here...to get away from it all." His voice drops. "Just for a little while."

She grasps his hand. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have...."

He takes her hand in both of his. "No, no....of course you should. You're right to say what you think. When you do that...well, all the twists and turns...all the complexities and entanglements, all the excuses, disappear. You...state things very clearly. It's just that...." his head drops, and only a whisper emerges, "I don't know if I can follow through, and do what needs to be done."

"Well," she has a hand on his back, gently. "Let's leave it for now. You came here to get away from everything, and here I am haranguing you about it! I'm sorry." She strokes him slowly. "I'm sorry."

There it is again, that warbling bird, with the throaty call...outside there, somewhere, quite close, and another one further away, answering. A slight breeze ruffles the trees, and they feel a breath of it inside the room. Andre leans back, and again closes his eyes. He can feel her relaxing too, next to him.

They say nothing, but it's as if he can feel her soothing presence...her complete lack of judgement, her desire to help him, if she can. How can he know all this, without words?

After a while she stirs. He can hear the smile in her voice, even with his eyes closed. "You know, it's funny...I know this is all...what shall we say...man made, artificial. I know the whole environment here was constructed as part of a bio system, which would keep this vast space ship in equilibrium...provide it with oxygen, allow the people to grow food, maintain a balance of trees and animals and insects, such that we could travel through space for hundreds of years on our miniature planet, equipped with all the things that we need. It's so clever, and intricate, and finely tuned, by that vast artificial intelligence that controls everything. I know all of that...but even so, I like to pretend that it's all true...that I live in a real forest, with birds and animals. I like to think that I'm a girl in a fairy story, living alone in the woods, in my enchanted kingdom, waiting for...I'm not sure what. I suppose I'm very lucky, really, despite everything that's happened." She turns to him at last.

He opens his eyes, and moves to face her. They are very close. He can sense her loneliness, her need for companionship, buried underneath all that fierce independence. His own mind, so long accustomed to a punishing routine of work, followed by solitude, and the pursuit of his own intellectual interests, is urging him to reach out to this captivating woman, who can sit so calmly at ease with him, who shares so completely with him her peacefulness... such a precious gift.

Yet his answer is filled with darkness and despair. "It's a pretty fantasy, and yet, what lies below us here, below the thirty metres of soil? Nothing but steel and hardened concrete, walkways and thoroughfares, homes and shopping centres, zip trains, cabling and ducting, ventilation tunnels and maintenance shafts, workshops and factories, production centres...until finally, down there in the bowels, the final hell of the nuclear core, and the miniature black hole, that gives us our gravity..." He sighs deeply. "What have we done? What have we created here? No wonder there's so much madness out there...so much conflict and hatred."

Almost without thinking about it he takes hold of one of the hands on her lap, and holds it between his own. " Do you know there are people alive on Alpha who believe that what we are sending to a new solar system, to colonise it, is so dangerous, so toxic...human kind...that they are working towards the total destruction of Alpha? They want to annihilate all of this, in order to stop the cancer of human greed and destruction spreading to another planet. Sometimes I almost feel that I understand that point of view, that I could agree with them."

She places one finger over his lips. "Stop. Don't say anymore. This is a place of healing, remember? I'm sure of it. Try to leave all of these dark nightmares behind. Be calm....be well...be happy."

She strokes the side of his face with one hand, and as she leans forward to kiss him softly, he knows that his life will never, ever, be the same again.

### CHAPTER 5

Gudrun is sitting frozen in her seat in the parliamentary chamber. She is so consumed with rage and disbelief, she feels as if it will rise up and smother her heart and her lungs – at least then she won't have to sit and listen to any more of this poisonous, foul.... effusion that is pouring out of the mouths of the people on the benches opposite her.

She has sat through the suave, eminently reasonable and polished speech from Waziri, outlining the many tangible benefits that will arise from the parliament's adoption of the proposed "Memorandum of Understanding" – how much better things will be for all concerned, government and parliament alike; how much more stable government will be, and how all the parliamentarians will lead so much more happy and fulfilled lives, in this new era of harmony and understanding that will flow from their (undoubted) acceptance of the measure.

She has jumped up herself and exclaimed against the injustice of the proposal, the removal of the last vestiges of democracy from the system, reducing the members to a mere rubber stamp for the decisions of the ruling military council. In vain has she referred in detail to clauses from the constitution, supposedly enshrining a commitment to democratic principles; in vain has she conjured up the great historical tradition, starting with the Greeks and Romans, of giving voice to the will and needs of the people, the great struggles on Earth to allow this to prevail against the advancing darkness of dictatorship and one party states; how this principle encapsulates the very essence of what it is to be human, and to throw this away will detract immeasurably from the very civilization they hope to plant on the new world to come.

She has ranted and raved and screamed and pleaded, as have some of her colleagues. She has been listened to, patiently, but she has seen clearly in the eyes of the men opposite, and some of the women too, that all her objections will be swept away, as the advancing juggernaut of a decision already effectively taken, makes its way inevitably and inexorably through the so-called democratic process.

Or will it? She is shaken from her torpor by a realisation that the Chairman of the Council, the enigmatic Roland Petrovski, is asking some gentle, but slightly embarrassing questions of Waziri and his group. She watches fascinated, as they squirm somewhat under his apparently objective scrutiny. He almost seems to be taking on the role of impartial judge, trying to get to the root of the matter, and how it will really affect all those involved.

"Madam Overseer, I have no doubt that the measure will be passed by our august assembly, as the number of speakers in favour has indicated. I am simply curious as to the options open to those who feel that they cannot in all conscience agree to a principle which effectively means the decisions of the military council are final, even before they reach this assembly. "

Madam Overseer seems somewhat nonplussed by this mild speech from the Chief Counsellor. She turns to Waziri, blinking at him, a blank expression on her face. "Minister?"

Waziri's smile broadens still further, although there is a steely glint of worry in his eyes.

"Madam Overseer, the principle of consultation, as pointed out by our friend so eloquently opposite, is most sacred to this government, as it is to this assembly. This will remain unchanged. We of the council will be most anxious to listen to the opinions and ideas of honourable members, indeed we absolutely need to hear these views – how else can we know what the broader population is thinking, on matters of policy? That is why we have chosen members from every walk of life on Alpha, to ensure that all sectors of the population are represented. That is why we have appointed members, as well as elected ones, to ensure that no one group within our society can dominate or control proceedings...."

Gudrun stands and aims her acid stare at him. "Isn't that exactly what you have achieved? The military complex now rules supreme, or will do, once this act is passed. One minority group has seized control of the entire society." She pauses for a moment. "The study of history can be so enlightening. A specific group did a similar thing in Germany, near the end of the second millennium. Has the honourable member ever heard of the Nazi regime?"

Her question falls like a drop of acid on the delicate skin of the assembly. Then the silence is replaced by tumult from most of the members opposite Gudrun. Women and men rise to their feet, gesticulating and exclaiming in a predictable tableau of horrified outrage.

Gudrun sits. No more to be said. In fact the Overseer orders an immediate recess, finding it impossible to continue proceedings at present.

*

Roland is enjoying himself more than he has for a while, well, at least at work. He sits blandly smiling across the room at Waziri, who is sitting, but whom he knows will certainly jump up and start pacing very soon.

"Chief Counsellor, how could you? I mean.... What were you trying to achieve?"

In an adjacent armchair Rhonda Meister's expression is neutral, revealing nothing of her thoughts. She is watching Roland blankly, waiting for him to speak. As always, she is dressed in her military uniform, jacket buttoned up to her neck, leather boots shiny, and her weapon concealed in a holster at her waist, that suggests the lady means business.

In the other chair Nicholas Felten, close associate of Waziri, in the ruling coalition on the council, seems tense, running his hands through his shiny black hair, that falls over his face in a somewhat effeminate way. His shirt and pants are casual, but the unconscious jigging of his left leg gives a clue to his real state of mind.

"I'm sorry... I don't quite follow."

Waziri's face darkens. "You know perfectly well what I mean. You were trying to make a fool of me in there – asking a question like that. We need to...."

"Yes?"

"Well, we need to stand together on this. It's not an easy thing to get through, and you..." Roland's expression earnestly invites him to continue, "....it's as if you deliberately gave them an opening... laid us open to attack..."

Roland sits back and considers this, hands together, fingers crossed. "What is my position on the council?"

"What is your...? That's irrelevant! Look, I thought we'd been through this beforehand. If you had doubts, then you should have raised them with me privately, not in open debate in the chamber." Now he jumps up, towering over the others. "Roland, we must present a united front! Any sign of division, and they will exploit it to the full. Surely you can see that?"

"Listen carefully. I am the Chief Counsellor, and my job is to ensure that all sides of the chamber are listened to, and all points of view are aired. I know how you feel about this memorandum..."

"Roland, if I might interject for a moment?" Rhonda Meister is leaning forward intently. "It's not just how Abdul feels on this matter, it's how we all feel. If we are to establish lasting peace and stability on Alpha, we have to have this level of control. There is no other way. Open democracy simply doesn't work here. You only have to look at the events of the last five years to see that."

There is a silence. Her simple, straightforward words carry so much more weight than all of Waziri's bluster.

Nicholas Felten looks up from where he has been examining a small section of the floor. "We all want to be good guys, Roland. We all want people to love us – but there's a bigger issue at stake here. It's not about us, or what people think of us – it's about how we can ensure that Alpha survives, so that in another six generations we deliver our cargo to its destination in a healthy state, ready to fulfil its mission. We are only caretakers here. We have to put our own personal feelings aside for the good of Alpha, and ultimately for the good of our species."

"Hm, grand words, Nicholas – how wonderfully altruistic. Next you'll be telling me that all of your family's money, and all of their power, have been amassed for the sake of the people..."

As Nicholas raises his hands, and gently shakes his head, an attendant enters and whispers into Roland's ear.

"Really? Is it urgent?"

"Yes sir. She is extremely upset and insists on seeing you immediately."

Roland looks up at them, regaining some composure. "You'll have to excuse me, my friends; an urgent family matter has come up that I need to attend to, now." He rises and leaves the room.

As he enters his private office, at first it seems there is no one there; but then he turns around and sees Maria, curled up in a chair behind the door. Her hair hangs down over her face, but through it he can see her dark eyes watching him.

All of his sophistication, his careful politicking, his cleverness and his complexity is gone. A rush of warmth seems to rise in his stomach, and spread throughout his whole being. He is smiling, and suddenly he is kneeling in front of her, both of his arms around her, trying to hold her, though he can feel no answering warmth in her.

"Maria! It's so good to see you! My goodness, it's been so long. I've been so..... I've been meaning to come and.... How long has it been?"

Still no response, so he pulls up the chair next to her and sits down, trying to take her hand. She allows this, but it hangs limp and cold in his.

"Speak to me, my darling. Say something, please!"

The eyes are closed now, and she shakes her head. He can see her lip tremble, and the tears are running silently from under her eyelashes; then a moan escapes her, and she reaches out both her arms and pulls him to her, as the full force of her loneliness and despair surfaces in a great sob, and a moan, and a storm of tears that wracks her body, and he holds her tight, as she cries and cries, like a child, and holds him as if she would never let him go.

"Oh my darling, I'm so sorry... so sorry..." He can feel her shaking, as she takes a great in-breath, and sobs and trembles and cries some more. "I'm so sorry... I should have thought...should have realised... please forgive me..." and he is crying himself...what a strange sensation...but wonderful too. Something is released, and he holds her close...no more words...

"Daddy...mm...mm...mm...Daddy...mm...mm...Daddy!" And she is smiling through her tears, and kisses him on the cheek, then hugs him again. "Oh Daddy...so good to see you...mm...mm...been so long..."

"I know, my darling. I'm so sorry...forgive me..."

*

Later, with a cup of coffee, and some tissues for her, and for him, they sit together, holding hands, like two children, just being together. This time she squeezes his hand.

He turns to look at her, at her tear stained face; but now her eyes seem calm, as she gazes down at his large hairy hand enclosing her own, the full lips pouting slightly.

"So what have you been doing? I heard you'd left the Art School..."

She pulls away slightly. "What have I been doing? Daddy, what have you been doing? What's going on in this..." gestures helplessly... "place?" She is staring at him intently.

He looks away, at the large oak desk, the thick wood, curved and polished – a relic from earth, a sure sign of his high status on Alpha.

"You mean...with the council, the government?

"I mean...I don't understand... are you the boss? Are you in charge here?"

His smile is a wry one. "No, I'm not in charge, I'm not the boss. I'm the...."

"Well who is? Who's responsible for what's happening here?"

"My role is Chief Counsellor, sort of chairman of the council..."

"Which rules Alpha?"

"Well...I suppose so, yes"

"And the parliament? Do they have a say?"

"Well, yes, and... no. Some of them are appointed, and some are elected."

"Can they vote on decisions? Can they veto ones they don't like?"

"Well... we're just talking about that right now." He leans forward and clasps his hands together, turning towards her. "There's a huge debate going on within the counsel about just how much power we can let the parliament have. Many people feel that complete and open democracy doesn't work here, and if you give the people that amount of freedom and power, well... it can lead to all kinds of problems, like the war we've just been through. They feel that in order to prevent that happening again we have to..."

"Concentrate power in the council, and take it away from the parliament?"

"Well... basically, yes."

"And what do you think? Where do you stand?"

"I think... well, I can see their point of view, but on the other hand, I think that a concentration of power in the hands of so few is a very dangerous thing."

"Hm." She runs the fingers of both hands through her hair, pulling it back, and away from her face. "Do you know what the people think about all this? Do you know what they're saying in the offices, and the workshops, and the factories, and on the trains, and in their homes? Do you know what people think of your government?"

"Mm... I imagine there are lots of different views. I know some people still support the uprising. Of course those that lost family members..."

"Or have family members held in stasis! By the way what are you going to do with them?"

"That's another decision we're working on. But, I mean, I think there would be lots of people that can see the government's point of view – we have to have strong leadership – we really can't let lots of small parties run the parliament, and have weak coalitions, that will continually fall and reform. That's no way to run what is really a huge space ship, with a very specific mission. I'm sure lots of people understand that."

"Are you? What makes you so sure? Do you go out there and ask them? Have you been all around Alpha recently, and heard what they're saying? Why don't you hold a what d'you call it? A..."

"Referendum?"

"Yeah, that's it. A referendum. Then you'd know what people really thought about it."

"Hmm." He smiles. "It's an interesting idea," wondering what Waziri would say to the proposal.

"You should do that, you know."

"What? Go around Alpha and find out what people are really thinking?"

"Yes. Why not?"

"You know, that's a good idea. I might just do that." He puts an arm around her. "Thanks for the suggestion."

"Oh Daddy, how can you be so casual about all this? Can't you see everything's in a huge mess? If things go on like this there will be another war!"

"You think so?"

"Is it true that everyone is under surveillance the whole time? And the government is watching and listening to everyone, what they say, and what they're thinking?"

He considers carefully. "Not everyone. I mean, well...actually that's a bit sensitive for me to be..."

"So it is true. My God, no wonder they hate you all so much. You have so much power and control. Can't you see that makes people angry. They feel powerless and... manipulated and...helpless... You can't do that to people. Can't you see that Daddy?"

She is standing over him, gesturing with her arms.

He looks up at her, and she thinks she can see doubt, even fear in his eyes.

"Daddy I love you. I want you to be safe; but you won't be if you stay aligned to these people on the counsel. Most of us hate them, and I don't want you to be part of it. You don't know what might happen in the future."

He says nothing, only looks at her, helplessly.

"Oh fuck! It's all such a mess." Her voice drops almost to a whisper. "And I'm such a mess too."

"Don't say that, darling. You're a wonderful young person, full of ideas, and... high ideals."

"No I'm not, Daddy!" She almost screams at him. "You don't know the half of it. Just like you don't know anything about what people out there really think, you don't know what I'm really like. You have this...." the hands are gesturing again, "this pathetic idea that I'm some kind of clever, nice person, some sort of perfect daughter... but I'm not! That's just a fantasy that you like to believe in. I'm a.....a...."

He can see that she is close to tears again, and reaches out a hand to her. She grasps it hard, then brings it up to her mouth, as she tries to hold back the sadness. His other arm is round her shoulder, and he pulls her to him.

"I'm such a.... a failure, and... and a slut...., and I've never achieved anything in my whole life, and... and I don't have any friends, and I...." She bursts into tears again. "I don't know what to do!" She collapses onto his shoulder, and sobs.

He holds her close, rubbing her back gently, then smoothing her hair at the back. "It's OK, my love. It's OK. Don't say that.... it's OK, it's OK..."

"Mmm...mm...mm...It's...it's great to hear you...mm...say that...mm...but you know it's not...OK." She pulls back, so they are face to face, very close. "I'm not a...mm...child anymore, Daddy. You can't tell me fairy tales, and everything is going to be...mm...alright. You're in trouble, and I'm in trouble, and...oh, what are we going to do?"

"Sh..shh...don't worry."

"Don't worry? Don't worry!" She is screaming in his face now. "Why not? Why shouldn't I worry? What are you going to do? Wave a magic wand and make everything right again?"

"Maria."

Looks up at him through her sobs. "What?"

"Can I tell you something? Something I think is very important, and very true?"

"Oh, I don't care. Nothing really matters anymore, does it?"

"Well, anyway, I want to tell you something that I've learned about, and that I've also been taught about by someone very special, who is gone now, but nevertheless..."

She has stopped, and is looking at him blankly.

"...it doesn't make it any less real for me."

"Go on."

"Well...it's not easy to explain...there was a great man who lived on earth a long time ago. He was struggling with all the same sorts of things that puzzle us today, on Alpha, like...how should we live? What is right and wrong? How should we treat others...but d'you know what the question was that bothered him the most?"

She shakes her head, silently.

"Why do we all suffer so much? Why does is seem that life is full of suffering? I mean, there are times when life is fun, and we enjoy ourselves, but in the end, all of those times come to an end, and we always seem to end up with loneliness and sickness, and unhappiness, and then....we die. He thought of it like a wheel, as if we're tied to a wheel of suffering, that takes us through one lifetime, and then through another, and another." He looks at her quickly. "Because he believed that when we die we will return, to live out another life...but each life is just filled with suffering, and...he wanted to know why that was, and whether there was anything we could do to change that."

Her eyes are on the floor, but she reaches out for his hand, and squeezes gently.

"So, anyway, he went round to all the wise men of his day, and listened to all of their beliefs and theories about life. This was before Jesus, and the Christian religion."

"Where did he live?"

"In a country called Nepal, and he travelled in India too. They already had a long tradition of religious beliefs and practices, even then, so there were lots for him to choose from." He has come to a stop.

"So what did he think of them?"

"He...didn't like any of them, really. Didn't think any of them had found the truth."

"So? What did he do?"

Roland smiles. She is interested in the story now, and wants to find out how it ends.

"Well, he went and sat under a tree, and vowed that he wouldn't move from there, until he had found out the truth about...everything. He called it enlightenment."

"Wow! So how long did he have to sit there?"

"Oh, a long time. Forty days the legend says, but...anyway, a long time."

"So did he make it? Did he get there?" She is intensely concerned with the answer to this question.

"Yes, he did."

"So...?"

"Well, it's a lot to explain in a short time, but... when he got up he preached a sermon to five of his friends, and explained what he had learned while he sat there. We call these the "4 Noble Truths"."

"Wow. "Noble Truths". That sounds great. "

"First of all, he said that life is suffering. That's just the way it is. It is going to be full of hardship, and unpleasant things, and sadness and disappointment, and...sickness, and...death. We have to...accept that. We shouldn't be surprised about that."

"Hm. "

"But then he said...we have to understand the cause of our suffering. If we can know the cause, then, just like a disease, maybe we can find the cure for it. " He is looking at her tenderly, as she listens to him intently.

"So what is the cause?" Her eyes seem to be boring into him, so desperate is she to know the answer.

"Well, he called it delusion, or ignorance. We have this belief that the road to happiness is to satisfy our material desires. We want something, and we think: I'll never be happy until I get that. Maybe we get it, and maybe we don't – but even if we do, are we completely happy? Of course not. There's always something else to replace it, something new that we feel we must have. And often, when we achieve our heart's desire, it turns out to be nothing like we thought it would be..."

"Mm. Yes, that's so true!"

"Another thing he thought we were mistaken about is that we have some sort of unchanging self, like a soul, that forms the essence of our being. We like to think of ourselves in romantic terms like that; we see ourselves as an individual, alone in the universe, struggling to be free, and to achieve our goals."

"OK, and...that's wrong?"

"Well, that might be useful in everyday life, but he said that really it's just a construct – a way of looking at ourselves which we find works – but in terms of...ultimate reality, if you like, it's not true at all."

"Why not?"

"Because everything changes. Nothing is permanent. You can call it "Impermanence", if you like. Everything is in flux and movement, all the time, including us – so how could there be an inner essence, which does not change? It doesn't make sense. So, anyway, when we learn to see ourselves, and the world, as it really is, not the way we like to think of it, then it's easier to see how to get out of this endless cycle of suffering. Because there is a way out of it! That was his third "Noble Truth". When we let go of the idea that we are an individual with a fixed soul, or nature, whose desires must be met, in order for us to be happy, when we let all those ideas slip away, then we can see a path that leads to true happiness – a way of life that helps us to do that, and ultimately achieve our own enlightenment."

"Yes...so what is this way of life? What do we have to do?"

He smiles broadly at her, and she thinks she has never seen him so happy, or at peace with himself, as in this moment.

"Oh, Maria – I can't tell you everything all at once. We'll have to talk about this some more another day, if you really want to hear about it; but basically, he laid down some rules for a way of life, including things like moral behaviour, and a way of earning a living that doesn't hurt anybody or anything, and daily practice to calm our minds, and so we can see clearly into the nature of reality......And I'm not really an expert anyway...but I feel that what he was saying is very true, and when I read about it, and try to practice in the way he suggested, then it feels wonderful, as if I am coming closer to the truth. Actually, you know what?"

"What?"

"He said that you shouldn't take any teachings, or things that people tell you are true, for granted; even if they are the wisest, kindest person you have ever met, or who has ever lived. You should always be like...like a scientist. You should try it and see if it's true. You should conduct an experiment, and only believe them if you can demonstrate to yourself that what they say is true. In other words, don't take my word for it – you have to try it for yourself – and see if it works for you."

She stares at her father, wondering in her heart about all the things that have been told to her, and marvelling at them.

### CHAPTER 6

Roland is sitting on the zip train, wearing his engineer's outfit, complete with sunglasses and a beard. Next to him an old lady, wearing a full face-set, to enhance her failing sight and hearing, sits staring straight ahead of her, ignoring him. The rest of the carriage is full of people returning from work, the usual mixture of government, office and manual workers, tired, and just glad to be going home. By the door he can see a group of teenagers, outrageous in their colourful outfits, and multi-coloured hairstyles, talking loudly, daring anyone to challenge them. Just behind them, holding onto a vertical pole, a man in his thirties, casually dressed, an eye-set over his eyes, and an earpiece in his ear – easily identifiable as plainclothes police – keeping a discreet eye on the noisy youngsters.

Breathes deeply, and smiles slightly into his beard. This is the world. Everything is just as it is. The life force of Alpha beats strong, encased in the metal tube, travelling nine kilometres below the surface, at 120 Kilometres an hour.... Eyes jolt open, as the train decelerates rapidly, approaching a station. A rush towards the door, and he rises too, carried along by the crowd. On the platform they move past a row of electronic advertising boards, through a gate (lots more plainclothes in evidence), and he is just about to step onto the rising walkway, to take him up to the main thoroughfare of district 19, when he hears a strange sound that stops him dead in his tracks.

Sounds like... a bark? A dog out here? Surely not. This is a no-go area for animals. All pets have to be kept at home, or exercised in designated areas... but...there it is again. He looks around. Just to his right, in a small concrete recess at the side of the walkway, where some old wiring is coming out of the wall, a small white, brown and black patchy dog sits, watching the passing crowd with worried eyes, every so often giving out a pathetic little bark. Bending down to pick up the animal, he realises the recess is actually a dark side alley, almost invisible from the main thoroughfare he has just left. He quickly ducks into the alley, holding the dog up to his face, where he can see it in the light cast by the nearby rising walkway.

"Whachudoing here, little fella? Don't you know you're not allowed here? You'll get picked up by the SS, and disposed of. Don't want that, do you?"

The animal's short whiskers are twitching, and it is trying to sniff his face. Then a tongue emerges, and he feels a hot scratch on his lips, causing him to laugh, and hold the dog away from his face. "Oh ho! Just a bit too friendly boy! Are you a boy, or a girl?" Holds it higher and checks between the legs. "Hm...girl, I think. So...who do you....?" He is checking for a tag on the collar. Nothing there. "Well, I suppose I better hand you over...." The dog emits another feeble bark, followed by a soft whine. Dark brown eyes stare into his. He can feel it's little heart beating inside the chest..."Oh – yes, I know you're a sweetie, so cute....but...what can I do?"

Without thinking about it, he unzips the front of his loosely fitting overall suit, and places the dog inside, against his chest, and zips it up again. "Can you breathe in there little girl? If you keep still, we might get you past the security..."

He emerges from the alleyway, and joins the unending parade of people heading up to district 19 central, a fifty metres above them. From there it is only a short walk to Charlene's apartment. With a bit of luck they'll make it undetected.

*

Charlene looks blankly at the figure on the screen by her door. The slightly overweight engineer peers at her steadily, then smiles broadly, removing his sunglasses. She remains unmoved. "Sorry, who are you?"

He takes hold of one side of his curly, gingery-coloured beard, and, glancing round quickly, slowly peels it off his face.

She screams. "Oh my God!" And the door is suddenly open, and she is standing in front of him, lifting one hand to his face, and stroking it gently, where the beard adhesive has left a slight red mark.

Knowing better than to embrace her fully, he puts his hands on her shoulders, and kisses her gently on one cheek, and then the other.

"Dad." She is grinning vacantly at him. "It's so good to see you! I've been meaning to come and see you... I wanted to so much..."

"Well, now I'm here, so...." He is grinning too.

"Come in, Dad." She takes his hand and leads him through the small lobby, and into the family room, where Aldo and little Lola are sitting on a couch together, in front of the video screen. They are both turned towards him, wondering who is at the door. Lola still looks puzzled, but Aldo jumps up, flushed, and strides towards them, hand extended.

"Hello, my boy." Roland grasps it firmly. "How are you? Good to see you again."

"Hi Roland...Dad..." He gives a slight nervous chuckle. "Well....what a surprise! We never expected to see you..."

"Here? Well...why not? I thought...I should...I should come and see you. So...here I am."

Charlene still has his other hand. "Come and sit down, Dad. Come on in," and she leads him to an armchair. She sits on the couch next to him and leans forward, hands clasped around her knees, looking at him intently.

Aldo has turned off the video screen, and in the silence, Roland looks at his daughter, beaming.

She smiles back at him, though he can see she is close to tears. "So, you came to see us?"

Lola has come around to the side of the chair, shy of the strange man she doesn't know, but too curious to hold back. She is peering closely at his engineer's overalls. "Mommy, why is his tummy moving like that?" And she extends a tiny hand to where something is wriggling underneath the coarse material.

Roland takes hold of the hand and holds it against the movement. "Hm...you're right, there's something in there...I wonder what it could be?" He looks into her face, which is full of curiosity and wonder. "Let's have a look, shall we?"

She nods. He unzips the suit from the neck, and a white head pokes out; dark brown foxy muzzle with short white whiskers, wet nose sniffing, and dark eyes that look around the room, then focus on Roland's face above her.

Lola's face dissolves into a grin, and her eyes sparkle. "Oooh it's a doggy! Ha, ha!" And she holds out a hand, which the dog sniffs, then licks. "She giggles and snatches her hand away, but soon returns it for the dog to lick again."

Aldo has been standing watching. "That's a Jack Russell. Where'd you find it? Lucky the SS didn't spot it."

"Yeah. He was sitting by the side of the path down at the station. I didn't have the heart to hand her in. They'd only get rid of her. She didn't seem too keen on the idea either."

Charlene is watching her daughter play with the animal. "He's very cute! She's having so much fun with him! Is it a 'he'?"

"Don't think so. I had a quick check. Looks like a girl to me."

"You hear that sweetie? She's a girl, like you!"

"Ha ha! A girl?" The dog is pretending to chew her fingers, which produces squeals of delight.

Charlene puts her hand on his knee. "Dad. Would you like something to drink? You hungry? We've already eaten, but I can make you something."

"Mmm...coffee would be nice. Thanks."

"Mummy, who's the man with the dog? Why did you call him Dad?"

"Because, sweetie, he's my dad; and he's your grandpa."

"You've got a dad?" She looks at Roland with renewed interest. "Grandpa..." She tries out the word slowly. A big smile spreads across her face. "Hi Grandpa!"

"Hi Lola. I'm very pleased to meet you. It's a long time since I've seen you, and you probably don't remember." He shakes her hand carefully.

Charlene and Aldo have been looking at each other and communicating silently. Then he says, "Hey Lola – would you like to go down to the play park?"

"At this time? After tea?" She looks at him suspiciously.

"Yeah, right now; you and me. I'm sure Mummy and Grandpa have a lot to talk about, so we'll leave them alone, and go and have some fun. OK?"

"What about the doggy? Grandpa, what's his name?"

"Her name? I don't know. She hasn't told me yet."

She giggles. "Dogs don't talk, Grandpa."

"You sure about that? Maybe this one does. You go with your Daddy now, and I'll ask her what her name is, and tell you when you get back. OK?"

"OK Grandpa. You're funny."

*

When they're alone Charlene stretches out her legs and leans back into the couch. "Oh boy. I'm tired." She closes her eyes. The Jack Russell has slipped out of her pouch, and jumped down to the floor, where she proceeds to give the carpet and furniture a thorough sniff test.

He sits forward, looking at her closely. "So how have you been, girl?"

She opens her eyes and smiles at him. "Nobody's called me that for a long time." Her eyes close again. "How have I been? I've been terrible, Dad. That's why I wanted to come and see you, but you beat me to it."

There are dark lines under her eyes, and a frown mark between her eyebrows that he has never seen before. This is my little girl, that used to sit on my knee while I read her stories. Now she's grown up, and has a child of her own. And it's all happened almost without my noticing. Arising and passing away, always arising and passing away. I'll be passing away soon. I need to try and....try and fix things soon....

"Charlene."

She opens her eyes. "Mm."

"I'm so sorry. I should've come sooner. I should.... have been around more. I've been too busy – too involved with other things. I'm going to try and change all that. "

She reaches out a hand to him. "Dad. It's OK." She smiles gently. "After all, you are the Chief Counsellor! You have a lot of responsibility. I can imagine you don't have much time!"

"Hm. I think it's about what's important in life."

"And running Alpha's not important?"

"I don't run Alpha. I try to steer things in the right direction, but at the moment.... I'm not doing a very good job. Seems to be going all to hell." He looks up quickly. "But I don't want to talk about that. Tell me why you've been terrible. What were you going to come and see me about?"

"Dad."

"Yes."

"Can I talk to you just as... as my Dad? I mean not as the Chief Counsellor who is on the council, and has access to lots of information, and has all kinds of responsibilities, and takes all kinds of decisions...?"

"Of course, girl. Course you can." The dog, having completed its examination of the room, has laid down next to his armchair, with its nose on its paws, but keeping a close eye on proceedings.

"What I mean is, what I'm going to tell you is very private, and very... well dangerous. If you're thinking like the CC, then you might take it one way, but I want you to forget all that, and just think like my Dad. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yeah...I think so."

"I mean, I deal with a lot of security information at work...that is my work. I spy on people, and report anything suspicious – pass it on, so that they can be dealt with."

He is nodding slowly. "OK."

"And you probably do too, and have to do similar things...because...well because we've always believed that that's what needed to be done...to keep us safe...from people who want to wreck everything, and destroy what we've got here."

He becomes aware of a faint humming sound. Is it coming through the wall? Was it there before? He suddenly sits up straight. She does the same. They look at each other in horror, then deliberately relax their faces.

"I'm hot, Dad. I need to get out of here. Shall we go for a walk?"

"Sure. Good idea. Let's go."

The dog is standing to attention, wagging its tail hard. He shakes his head. "No. You stay here." She looks crestfallen, but returns to her spot on the carpet, watching them sadly, as the door hisses closed behind them.

Outside, Charlene slips a hand through his arm. "Where shall we go? Where can we talk?"

*

The restaurant offers a vast range of food, very loud music, a dance floor surrounded by booths where the customers sit, flashing strobe lights, and full surround video screens showing alternately beautiful earth landscapes and erotic scenes featuring couples. The service is provided by mechanoid waitresses, scantily clad, who are also available to customers for other services.

'Clara' shows them to a booth, and presents the menu with a dazzling smile, before discretely withdrawing.

"This is perfect," says Charlene, leaning across, in order to be heard.

"No surveillance here?"

She shakes her head confidently. "No, we don't have any blips in these places."

"Sure?"

"Yep. It's my area, remember? I'm not sure about the apartment. I thought it was clear – but you can never be sure. It's very easy to slip them in."

"OK." On the wallscreen next to them a man is slowly licking and sucking a woman's breasts. "So... where were we? You want me to...."

She has to speak quite loudly, over the music. He leans across so that she doesn't have to shout. "A few days ago I learned something terrible about Aldo. It scared me very much. What I'm going to tell you may be incriminating for him. You need to swear to me that you won't pass on what I'm going to tell you. If you do... you will never see me again, and you will have only one daughter, not two..."

He reaches out and takes hold of her hands. "Charlene, if only you knew how little my work means to me now. I've been thinking about it a lot, especially since Maria came to see me. I'm starting to question everything I've ever believed about governing Alpha. Anyway, we're not here to talk about that, but the point is that I would rather die, and I mean that, than betray your trust. What I'm trying to say is that you, and Aldo, will always come first for me, so you can tell me anything. I won't pass it on."

"Clara" has been waiting for him to finish, trying to make eyes at him. Now she takes their order, leaving with a giggle, and a cheeky flash of her perfectly formed arse in Roland's direction.

Charlene squeezes his hands. "OK, I think we understand each other." The music changes to a pulsing bass beat, overlaid with electronics and guitars, which they can feel vibrating through the table. "I was.... was going through some data on suspected dissidents with Mira, category 5 stuff, when she suddenly stopped, almost like she was embarrassed. Then she told me that the next suspect was Aldo."

"What was the content?"

"He had been going to restricted areas – some of the shafts and tunnels – which are a favourite haunt of some of the dissident elements – because there is no surveillance there, and they feel safe to say and do what they want there."

"But does that necessarily prove he's one of them? He might have been going there for his work... or..."

She shakes her head. "No. He has no clearance to go there. The worst part, for me...." She stops, and puts a hand to her mouth, covering it for a moment..."is that he had been lying to me about where he was. He claimed he was having to work longer hours, or going out to see a game, or going to some...yoga class... I mean...I knew something was wrong... there had been some tension between us for a while...I thought it was me...and maybe he was..."

"Seeing another woman?"

She nods, close to tears.

"You poor thing. Did you talk to anyone about this?"

She shakes her head. Two tears run silently down her cheeks. Her dark eyes are glittering as the strobe lights pulse, reaching out to him, imploring... Clara returns with two cups of coffee. They ignore her, and she flounces away.

He strokes her hand gently. "I'm so sorry, baby. That must have been awful for you... to bear that alone." A faint smile crosses his face. "Still, there is no other woman – it's not about that."

"I hope not. Anything's possible. I....I just don't know." The tears are running freely now. "Daddy – what shall I do?"

A couple across the room have got up and are dancing, feeling each other all over, as they cling together, moving to the amorous beat.

"Charlene."

She nods silently.

"Do you love Aldo?"

"Oh yes. I do. And.... He loves me too. I know he does. We are so close... always have been such good friends...which is why it's been so hard. This is the first time he's ever...shut me out...gone off on his own like this."

"Yes." He looks at her reflectively. "Yes, I see that. I believe you."

A silence falls between them. Suffering. Always suffering....so much attachment, always clinging...striving...grasping... She is losing hope. She has looked to him for the answer... but...

He comes to a resolution, grasping her hands firmly...hard. "Charlene, if you love each other, there's only one thing to do – you must be honest with each other. You must tell the truth to each other. All this...not talking...deception, suspicion, doubting...it's all no good. It will kill your love. You must tell him the truth, and he must tell you the truth."

"So you mean...?"

"Yes! You must sit down with him, and tell him exactly what happened at work, exactly what you thought and felt, and you must demand that he be equally sincere with you."

"But what if...."

"Yes....what if...? You may hear some things that you don't want to hear, that scare you... but still... it's the only way! There has to be honesty, or the love between you will be strangled by....by... deception and deceit."

She is looking at him blankly. He is nodding his head determinedly. "You will need courage, my gorgeous girl. Do you have that courage?"

She is frowning, with concentration. "Yes...I mean...yes, I think you're right. There does have to be honesty. And if the truth kills what we have....then..."

"Then it's not worth keeping? Yes...it's a terrible thing to say...but that's true."

She is tracing a pattern with her finger on the imitation wooden table. "If he is...involved with the underground...then we need to talk about that. He needs to know that whatever it is...he has to take me into his confidence."

"You know...he is probably feeling as confused and unsure and upset as you are. He has probably been longing to talk to you about all this, but hasn't dared..."

"Because I work in the security section – it's my business to spy on people like him, and report them... "

"And he wasn't sure...."

"Whether he could trust me! Oh Daddy....that's the worst thing..."

"Don't be too hard on him, baby. It must be very scary for him too. Maybe...he didn't want to put you in danger, as he saw it? Maybe he wanted to protect you from something he knew would be very dangerous for you?"

"Yes...I wondered about that too. He could have thought it was for my own good. But...Daddy...."

"Yeah?"

"What if...what if he is involved with them? What am I going to do? I can't turn him in...but Mira already knows about him. Will I lie for him? Cover up for him? I'm not good at that. Anyway, I often think Mira can read my mind.... She'll know."

He frowns down at the table. "Well, if that is the case, you'll have to decide together what's the best way to deal with it." He looks up. "What was Mira's response to the information about Aldo?"

"I asked her that. She said there was no need for any action at the moment... just keep up the surveillance... see if it continued."

"There you are! For a start, you're in a prime position, since you're on the inside of the security service. Think of it in terms of you can be in control of the situation. You might be in a position to help him, if you both decide to go that way." He smiles at her. "But we're both getting ahead of ourselves now. There may be a completely different explanation."

"Yes...you're right. One step at a time." She squeezes his hand, and the shadow of a smile appears on her face. "Thank you Daddy. You're right...we need to be honest with each other, and I need to be brave. We both do....I think I know what to do now."

She takes a sip of the coffee, and watches as he does the same, still smiling. "So...what about you? Sounds as though things are changing for you too. What's going on at the top there? I've heard some rumours. And the numbers of disaffected people we're picking up at work is really...."

"Increasing? Yes. You know Maria came to see me the other day, and she told me the same thing..."

"Wow. Maria!" She is looking past him now, remembering. "I haven't seen her for... a long time."

"Mm. Me too... as I realised, when she suddenly came to see me. Too long. Far too long...She made me realise a lot of things."

"What did you talk about?"

"Oh...lots of things. She's very....unhappy...with her life. She was quite upset."

"Poor Maria. I should have done more for her myself. It's just... we're so different. After that last argument we had two years ago.... I guess I thought she wouldn't want to see me..."

"Yeah. I think she feels very alone..." A wry smile crosses his face. "D'you know what she said to me? She was telling me how unpopular the government is...how everyone hates us...and I was saying...well...maybe, maybe not....D'you know what she said? – Go and ask them! Go around the whole of Alpha and talk to them. Just get out there and ask them!" He is shaking his head in wonder.

"So are you going to?"

He is grinning now. "Yes. Yes I am! That's exactly what I'm going to do."

"But...what about your work on the council? I mean... you can't just wander around as the CC, and say: 'What do you think of my government?'"

"Not as the CC I can't!"

"Oh, you mean..."

"Yes! Look at me now. Does anyone know me? No. I'm going to go incognito. I've been doing that a fair bit recently, and I love it. It's fun!"

She is screwing up her mouth in amusement. "Fun! And what about the Council? What about this memorandum, and eroding the power of the parliament? Are we turning into a dictatorship?"

"Hm. That's a very good question. I've got a nasty feeling the answer might be yes."

"So...shouldn't you be trying to stop them? Only someone as powerful as you would have the ability to try and.... and arrest the rot."

" 'Arrest the rot'. I like that. But... you know, I'm not sure that even I can do that. I've always thought that way in the past – that to try and change things for the better... you have to be at the top... you have to be part of the system...but now I'm not so sure. Maybe I need to go back to the grassroots... talk to the people... find out what's really going on. Up there on the council it's all just....so cut off from all that."

"But isn't that what the Parliament is for? To represent the people? Wouldn't that be the best way to find out those things?"

"Hm. There are some good people in the Parliament...but most of the real democrats have already been removed.... This process has been going on for some time..."

"Oh my God. So you think it's too late to try and do anything about it? You sound resigned to the worst."

"Well, not exactly – I just don't think I can do much about it through the council." He grins ruefully at her. "Maybe Aldo and his friends have a point!"

*

Back at Charlene's apartment, Lola is fast asleep in bed, and Aldo is nodding in the armchair. The dog jumps off the couch, and comes over to greet them, standing up on her hind legs against Roland, licking and growling at him.

"OK. I better get going. "

"Dad, what about the dog? Are you taking her with you? And remember you told Lola you'd ask her what her name was."

"Hm." His face brightens. "Why don't you keep her here for me? I can't really walk around with her in my suit. Anyway, Lola will have a lot of fun with her. That way I can come round and see her!"

Aldo has got up. "Are you sure, Dad? Lola would love that, but I mean... you found her."

"No.... she can board here, and that way I'll always have an excuse to come and visit you. Not that I need one!"

"Dad... her name! You promised Lola."

"Yeah. You're right. How about...Perdita?"

"Perdita? What's that?"

"It means the one that was lost – Latin – an old earth language. But now she's found!"

"Hm. OK, I suppose. If you say so." She gives him a hug and he kisses her on the cheek. "Thanks Dad." She looks up at him. "I'll remember what you said."

He grins at Aldo, and shakes his hand, then takes him in a bear hug. "Look after my little girl, won't you."

Aldo is amazed, but then looks straight back at him. "Yes, I will, Dad. Promise."

Roland bends down and gives the dog a scratch behind her ears. "See you soon, little girl."

Perdita looks at him sharply and gives a little whine.

### CHAPTER 7

Rhonda Meister is tense. She dreamed of Roland again last night. She was at the base of a huge building, where her enemies had her tied down to the ground, while they pounded her body with heavy cardboard boxes, tipped off the building from far above. She knew she was dying. Her mother was lying next to her, holding her hand, saying: "It'll be alright soon, dear. You'll be dead soon." But then, somehow, Roland had inserted himself into one of the cardboard boxes. He was hurtling down on top of her, poised above her...

Just before her alarm went off, Waziri had summoned her to this meeting. She had leapt out of bed, and got herself ready, the dream still rattling around her brain, leaving a toxic film of fear and angst, polluting her consciousness. Now she was hearing that Roland had gone.

Nicholas Felten is sprawling on a couch, his feet outstretched. "Gone? What do you mean gone?"

Waziri makes a sweeping gesture with both hands that ends up referring them to the adjacent screen. "Mira?"

"Good morning Abdul, Rhonda, Nicholas. I had a conversation with the Chief Counsellor last night during which he informed me that he was going to take what he called a 'leave of absence' from his work here. "

There is a silence. Then Rhonda stirs herself in her armchair. "Go on, Mira. Tell us more."

"He and I have been discussing for some time the incidence of unauthorised gatherings of people in restricted areas, in the network of maintenance shafts and tunnels that permeate Alpha. We know they must be there, because they are absent from their places of work and residence, and recreation areas, so by default they must be in the restricted areas."

Waziri butts in. "And, don't tell me... we have no blips in those shafts and tunnels?"

"That is correct. We surmise that they may be groups of disaffected citizens, who gather there to talk freely, away from all surveillance...."

"And probably do a lot more than talk!" Waziri is working himself up. "They may well be forming themselves into resistance groups to launch a new attack on the government."

Mira's voice is as smooth and calm as ever. "Not at this stage, Abdul. The numbers are quite small, not nearly enough to be called a resistance, or rebel movement. Given that there also appear to be different groupings, this means the numbers involved in any one of them are very small indeed. So I cannot agree with your analysis."

"Great oaks from little acorns grow." Nicholas' hands are behind his head, as he stares at the ceiling.

"Sorry?" Waziri is in no mood to be trifled with.

"Old Earth proverb. It means this could be the thin end of the wedge." Waziri stares at him. "Nicholas tries to suppress a smile. "They may be only a few, but they could still be dangerous if more people join them."

"My point exactly! We have to crush them before they... become a threat."

Rhonda's eyes are closed, almost as if in pain. "So how does this relate to Roland, Mira?"

"Roland and I had been discussing different possible responses to the situation, such as installing blips, and infiltrating these groups. Yesterday evening he announced that he was going to go on a trip around Alpha, and talk to people, including, hopefully, members of these groups. He also said he would be travelling incognito."

"Travel around Alpha? Talk to people?" Waziri is having trouble with the concept.

Nicholas is amused. "So he's going to go undercover, and infiltrate these groups himself?"

"That would appear to be his intention, Nicholas."

"But....but... that's absurd!" Rhonda is afraid Waziri's head is going to explode. "He's the Chief Counsellor! He can't just....."

"Disappear?" Rhonda is looking at him now. "Well, it seems that he has."

Nicholas has stopped stretching, and is becoming businesslike. "What about blips on him, Mira. Is he wired to record conversations? Video blips?"

"I suggested that, Nicholas. He said he didn't want to compromise his credibility by carrying any devices. He just wanted to talk to people, and listen to what they had to say."

Waziri is shaking his head. "I must say I'm not totally surprised at this."

"You could have fooled me." Rhonda has her eyes closed again.

He ignores her. "I mean...the signs have been there for some time. Don't you think so, Nicholas?"

"Signs?"

"Come on, man! You know what I mean. He's been lukewarm about the memorandum of understanding, never really committing himself. You remember what he said to me in the chamber last week? Trying to embarrass me with a tricky question. We all know that he has leanings towards the other side! You only have to go back to our conversation in here last week when he tried to justify his behaviour in the chamber... then his daughter arrived..."

"Yes, I see what you mean. We might have thought he was just being circumspect, and following procedures, so that changes were seen to be legitimate...but perhaps you're right. Maybe he really is... not with us, on this....policy."

Rhonda is having difficulty staying focussed on the conversation. "Can we...can we keep track of him, Mira? So that we know where he is?"

"Yes, to some extent. Although without any blips on him, this is not so easy. And, of course when he goes into the restricted areas, he will be out of our... range."

"I wonder if the meeting with his daughter had anything to do with all this?" Nicholas has got up, and is looking out the window, across the main plaza.

Waziri turns to him. "Mm. Good point. Isn't she a bit of a....?"

Rhonda knows his file well. "She's an artist....well thinks she is. She was at the art school for a year, but then left, and since then...."

Nicholas turns round with a grin."...she's been painting, and taking drugs, and... having sex with lots of men..."

"My God!" Waziri's eyes are sparkling. "As bad as that! She sounds like a real little...slut. How...interesting."

"There's something else which may be relevant." They turn to the wall screen, where swirling coloured shapes accompany Mira's words. "The partner of his other daughter, Charlene, was picked up by our surveillance for suspect behaviour at category 5."

"What was he up to?" Waziri can hardly contain his glee.

"He was spending time in the restricted areas."

"Really! And the daughter?"

"Was unaware of it. She was upset by this information. She works in the security section, and came across the information in her routine surveillance schedules."

Rhonda has her eyes closed again.

A malevolent smile appears on Nicholas' face. "Well, it appears our revered Chief Counsellor has some interesting family connections..."

"Yes!" Waziri has joined Nicholas at the window. "There seems to be a real pattern emerging. His attitude towards us and the current changes....his dealings with his daughters, and you know he follows one of those old world religions....what's it called....?"

"Buddhism." Mira is an expert. "He has a shrine in his room, where he meditates and recites some ritualised prayers."

"You're right, Abdul!" Nicholas is nearly as excited as Waziri, now. "I think we can say that Roland has lost his... his focus on what needs to be done here. He has become a little..."

"Confused?" Waziri offers the word playfully. He looks across at Rhonda, who is still seated, staring straight ahead, expressionless. "Any thoughts, Rhonda?"

The vultures are gathering. The character assassination has begun. They will drag him down and get rid of him. He has signed his own death warrant by leaving....why did he think he could get away with this? Will it fall to me to engineer his downfall?

She stands up suddenly. "Yes, obviously you are right. He is....deviating badly. And his current behaviour is an outright security risk. He could be taken and held by rebel elements, used as a bargaining chip. It's completely unacceptable. As head of security......"

Waziri's tone is sharp. "As head of security maybe you should explain to us how the partner of one of your employees comes to be a category 5 risk? Surely you should have been monitoring the situation, and have taken action before things went this far?"

Nicholas tries to hide an ugly smile.

"Abdul, we're dealing with people here. You know how all-pervasive and wide ranging our systems are... but you can never predict exactly with whom and when and where an unexpected behaviour is going to manifest." She approaches the two men, and makes an impressive figure as she confronts them both. "The question we have to decide is - what is our response to Roland's actions?"

Abdul's smile is conciliatory, showing his large teeth to full advantage. "Yes, you're right. Nicholas?"

"Hm...I don't think we should do anything rash. He's a popular man. I wouldn't want to create a backlash by removing him.... clumsily."

"Good point. We need to move carefully."

"On the positive side..." Nicholas has his hands in his pockets, and is leaning back against the window..."It gives us more freedom to act here..."

Rhonda has had enough. "I'm going to go and see if we can track him. I'll let you both know when we have some information."

Waziri raises a hand in farewell, fixing her with a steely stare. "And keep an eye on his son-in-law...what's his name?"

"Aldo."

She turns and leaves the room. Down the lift, and into the vast lobby of the building, out into the main concourse, then down another, much larger platform, towards her own office... she seems to feel his presence around her....Roland...what have you done? What have you done? What have you done?

### CHAPTER 8

Roland has done two things before his announcement to Mira that he is 'taking some leave of absence'. The first one involves calling in a favour from an acquaintance of his in the security section. It is the work of only a moment to find out where she lives, and then, that evening, once he is reasonably sure she'll be at home, he calls round to see her.

The voice from the door speaker is full of fear and trepidation. "Roland....Mr...Petrovski...Sir?"

"Astra. I need to speak to you for a couple of minutes. Can I come in, please?"

Sounds of a second person, muffled laughter, someone being told to be quiet and make themselves scarce....

"Yes sir. Of course. Just give me a moment."

She opens the door in a house robe and ushers him in. She is young and flushed, and her hair is somewhat tousled. She looks at him breathlessly. "Yes sir. Please come and sit down. Can I offer you..."

"No thanks Astra. I'm only staying a minute." He sits down in a standard government-issue armchair and comes straight to the point. "How are you getting along with your boss these days?"

"My boss?" She is perched on the edge of the couch. "You mean Captain Kolul?"

"No no. I mean the "big boss", Commander Meister.

"Oh! The Supreme Commander. Er....I haven't seen her for some time, but as far as I know...."

"Everything OK?"

She nods dumbly. She looks very worried, even terrified, perhaps, though trying hard to hide it.

"So that unfortunate business with that young man has all blown over, I take it?"

"Oh yes, sir. It has. And I can't thank you enough for speaking to commander Meister personally about that. She was very gracious to me, after you had spoken to her, of course...."

"Good. She promised me there'd be no repercussions for you."

"Yes, thank you so much sir...."

He raises a hand to stop her. "Please. Say no more about it." He looks at her hard. "But, I need you to do something for me now."

She looks flustered. "Well, I'll... I don't know...."

"Astra, listen carefully. I need a full identity profile made out in the name of Karl Mason. All the details are on this card." He hands her a small plastic chip. "He's a government Liaison Officer, level 7, with full security clearance to enter any premise on Alpha, including all government installations and precincts. I want you to create the identity, and make sure it features consistently across all government computer systems, not just your own. Is that clear?"

"Yes....yes sir." She is looking at him with huge round eyes. "Is it for....?"

"Never mind who it's for! Well, I'll tell you....it's for an agent of mine, but he's engaged in very secret business." He leans forward and eyeballs her. "I mean very secret business, Astra. If this were to come out, it would be very serious indeed, not least for you. Am I making myself clear?"

She is silent, massaging the fingers of one hand with the other, staring distractedly at him.

"I'm sorry, Astra. I didn't mean to scare you. It's just that this needs to be done right, and it needs to be done in absolute confidence. No one outside the two of us must know about it. Is that understood?"

She nods, more confidently now.

"Do you think you can do it? You should have clearance to be able to do that, at your level."

"Yes sir. Yes I do; and I can. It won't be a problem. And I'll send you the ID in a couple of days when it's all done."

"How about tomorrow?"

"Alright. Tomorrow."

"Good. Now there's one more thing I need to ask you – again in the strictest confidence! Who does your department use when you need a changeling – you know a transformation job done on someone?"

"Um. There's a woman in district 11. She's a plastic surgeon and beauty therapist. She does terrific work. She has some history with us, so she gives us a very good price too."

"Perfect. Give me her contact details." He jots them down on his electropad, as she gives them to him.

He looks around the compact, level 4 government lounge room. A picture-screen on the far wall shows a close up of the faces of a woman and a man. The woman's seems to show fear, overlaid with frustration and anxiety. The man is looking at her with desire, and some impatience.

He rises suddenly. "Well, I'll leave you now, and let you get on with.... whatever I interrupted before. Thank you so much for your help, and I'll look forward to receiving the full ID package from you tomorrow. "

He shakes her hand cordially, then on an impulse, takes her shoulders, and kisses her once on each cheek. She smiles wanly, and watches him walk out the door.

*

The second thing he does is to head once again into the temperate forest zone. Taking the same route as before, he wanders for some time off the track, before picking up the trail of the stream, which leads him to the enchanted cottage in the woods.

It is late afternoon, simulated simultaneously all over the surface zone, when he arrives, to find Leelah weeding around the vegetables in the garden. She looks up at the sound of his step, her face shining with delight at seeing him again.

"Hello Roland!" She is squatting in amongst the carrots, hands dirty with soil, but rises when she sees him approach. She is flustered, due to her hands. He reaches out and guides her back onto the small pathway, then stands, holding both of her hands in his own.

"Leelah...it's so good to see you again! How have you been?"

In answer she reaches up with both hands encircling his neck, and kisses him tenderly on the lips.

"Well..." she giggles, "I'm very happy now, that you're here. I wasn't sure when I'd see you again."

"Yes, I know. I've got an idea about that. In fact I've got a few things to tell you. Can we go inside?"

"Only if you kiss me again!"

He obliges. She kicks off her shoes, and they enter the house, she hanging on tight to his arm.

At the couch she exclaims, "You kept your boots on this time!"

He looks down. "Oh, sorry! I'll be treading dirt everywhere. I'll take them off."

"No, you sit down. I want to take them off for you. I just need to wash my hands."

He sinks onto the cushions, then watches delighted, as she returns and unlaces the boots, and carefully removes them, followed by the socks.

"Ooh! Sorry...my feet are a bit smelly!"

"Hm..." She takes a sniff. "We'll just have to get you in the bath, then, won't we!" With a grin at him. Then she is stroking him. "You must like this engineer's suit. Haven't you got any other disguises?"

He is having trouble concealing his delight at being with her again. "Um...well, this is a particularly good one. I never see anyone, but if I did, I could easily pass myself off as doing some essential maintenance around here."

"Aha, I see." Her hand is on his knee. "Would you like a drink? Fruit juice? Herbal tea?" She gives him a playful look. "I've got some elderberry wine. It's very tasty!"

"I'll have a drink of water first, then some wine, please."

"Hm...very wise. OK." And she heads for the kitchen.

When she returns, and he sips the wine, a delectable sensation fills his mouth and throat - sweet, but with a fruity bouquet and alcoholic aftertaste that sends pleasant messages straight to his brain.

"Mm...you're right...that is...exquisite! Did you make it?"

She giggles again. "Of course I did. Do you think I would catch the zip train to the nearest hypermarket, and carry my shopping back through the woods?" She ruffles the sparse hair on the top of his head. "I make everything here." She samples the wine. "Yes, it's a good brew. Not bad."

She turns sideways to face him, her legs folded up, under the long, loose dress. "Now, you've got some important things to tell me? First of all, how are things going on that Council...or would you rather not talk about it?"

He grins wryly. "Ah...the council. Yes, there have been some...developments..."

"Mm...?"

"Did I tell you about the infamous 'Memorandum of Understanding'?"

She shakes her head, watching him closely, his eyes, his lips."

"It's... it's a sort of contract which the Council has drawn up, and which all members of the Parliament, those that are still there, are required to sign. "

"And what does it say?"

"It states basically that they agree to abide by the decisions of the Council, without argument or veto. In return they get all sorts of financial incentives and privileges. Of course, it doesn't say it in those terms, but between the fine print, the intention is very clear, and they know it."

"And...have they all signed it?"

"They will, and the ones that don't, will be...removed, shall we say, in one way or another. That process, of removing people that oppose them, has been going on for some time now, in a...subtle way, but now the Ministry of the Interior is getting more and more brazen about it."

"God! That's awful!"

"Yes." He can't resist stroking the side of her head, where the ginger streaks in the blonde catch the last of the evening light coming in through the window... and her face...under the chin...

She grabs his hand and takes it down onto her lap. "Don't get distracted. I want to hear this."

"Right. So, anyway there was a big scene in the Parliament, when they allowed the bill to be 'debated', as they call it."

"Did people speak out against it?"

"Yes, sure, but the military have put so many of their own supporters in place that the dissenters had no chance of voting it out. They were listened to politely, then one of the opposition people said something that caused an uproar, and the session was closed."

"What did they say?"

"She....compared them to the Nazi party in Germany, at the end of the second millennium."

She shakes her head. "I've heard something about that, but I don't remember. Who were they?"

"They were....a brutal military dictatorship, which ended up executing millions of people whom they didn't like, in Europe. They have been a kind of symbol for evil ever since."

"Ah." She meets his eyes. "This lady might be right."

"Yes....maybe."

"So what else has happened?" She rubs his hand gently between her own, looking at him with concern, remembering how upset he became last time they talked.

"Well, on a brighter note, I've been speaking to both of my daughters! Hadn't seen them for a long time...just got so wrapped up in my work. Maria came to see me, and then I went to visit Charlene. It was... so nice to talk to them again."

"Really? Tell me about them. They must be good looking, if they're your children."

"Ha, now you're trying to flatter me!"

She kisses him quickly. "There. Now, get back to the point. I want to hear about your girls."

"Hm...Maria's been a bit of a wild child the last few years. She took her mother's death very hard. She went to the Art School for a while, but then dropped out, and has been painting on her own, and.... living a fairly Bohemian lifestyle..."

"What does that mean?"

"Truthfully? Probably lots of drugs and sex. She's a very....emotional girl...swinging between highs and lows....she may be subject to depression, I suspect."

"OK. And the other one? What's her name?"

"Charlene. Completely different. Lives with her partner....both work in the government bureaucracy, has a beautiful child....seems very mainstream and conservative."

"Wow. So different....So, what did you talk about?"

"Oh...lots of things. They're like you....very unhappy with the way things are going in the Council. But Maria said one thing to me which started me thinking, and it's what I wanted to talk to you about....well, one of the things."

She beams at him briefly. "Go on."

"Mm... she said...so many people are unhappy with the government, given what's going on, with the repression and disappearances, the ever increasing surveillance. She said...if you don't believe me, why don't you go out there and ask them? – And I thought... that's so true! I sit in my office, talking to all these people... all these machinations and manoeuvrings...it would be so much better to go out there and just talk to the people...like she said...ask them, find out what they are really saying and thinking."

"OK. So...you're going to do that?"

"Yes! I am. I really want to do that. But the thing is..." He places a hand on the back of her head, feeling her neck, her hair. "I can't go like this, as I am. I'll be recognised. And I can't wear a disguise all the time, false beards, and all that....it's too hard, and too risky."

"So....what are you saying?"

"Well, I need to change my appearance. We call it a changeling job. I need to change my body and my face. I wanted to tell you....so you would know."

She looks horrified. "How? In what way? How much?"

"I'm not sure....not radically...just enough so that I won't be recognised as the CC. I've had the security people create a new identity for me, so that I'll have access to all areas of Alpha, without question. I need to be able to go everywhere....to get a whole picture of what's going on, and what people really think about it."

Her voice is trembling. "Oh no! But that means you won't be you anymore! Oh!" She is close to tears. "I've just met you, and....well, I like you so much...I've been so happy since that day you came to me...and now you're telling me you're going to change into somebody else..." She falls silent, as the tears come, and she tries to cover them with her hands.

He takes her in his arms, and rocks her gently. "Leelah, Leelah...please....don't....it's OK....sshhh...." and he kisses the side of her head, then her eyes, kissing away the tears... After a while he speaks to her softly. "Leelah.... I feel the same way you do, believe me....but this won't change me really. I'll still be me, just as you will still be you. Each of us is changing all the time, even though we don't realise it....that doesn't stop us from having relationships, and...caring for each other, does it? You'll know it's me....that's why I wanted to tell you....and the thing is...it will be reversible...so that later, when all this is over, they can put me back to how I am now. It's true....it will only be temporary."

She looks up at him with her tear stained face. "Really? You promise? You're not just saying that to....?"

"No, it's true. It's true...." And he kisses her again, tenderly.

After a while she says, "This new identity. What is it? What's your name?"

"Um... Kevin Mason."

"That's a horrible name. I don't like it. I'm not going to let anyone called 'Kevin Mason' in my house. You better change that!"

"I'm sorry, it's too late. It's already done."

She looks at him accusingly. "So are you going to be fat and ugly? Are you going to be a revolting homosexual with a high voice? How will I even know it's you?"

He tries not to smile. "No, nothing like that. The changes will be minor....just enough to make me different to the way I look now, so that I can adopt this new identity for a while. That's all it is!"

She is not convinced. "Well I don't like it. You're freaking me out. I like you the way you are."

She lets him kiss her again after that, and she clings onto him, as if desperate to keep him the way he is.

After a while he whispers in her ear. "There's something else I wanted to tell you....give you actually."

She tenses. "But Roland, we've only known each other...."

He laughs out loud. "No, silly. It's this..." and he gives her a very small, flat communication device. She holds it gingerly. "I know you don't like technology... but I thought it would be nice for us to keep in touch. I mean....I'll come here as often as I can...if you want me to...but this will mean we can...you know, talk to each other, see each other anytime."

Her hand closes around the device. She is blinking away the tears...only now she feels as if more are coming. "Thank you...yes...that will be...wonderful...thank you." She puts her arms around his neck, before he can see her crying again... but he can feel her sobs nevertheless...so he squeezes her tight, feeling the lump in his own throat, and the joy in his heart, as he holds this miraculous creature in his arms, and rocks her gently to and fro.

*

Madame Achikito is a revelation. Her dark eyes sparkle at him, out of her lined and wrinkled yellow face. Her long black hair hangs straight down past her shoulders, below which her surprisingly trim looking body is attractively clad in frilly black panties and bra, covered by a gossamer-thin see-through gown, held by a clasp at her throat, but free and open for the rest. She stands swaying on bright red stiletto heels.

"So you want a changeling! Ha, ha...haven't done one of those for a while. Great fun! What would you like? Woman? Man? Young man? Android? What's your pleasure?"

She is looking at him more closely. "Wait a minute...aren't you...? You're on the council. Aren't you....?"

"Madame Achikito," he speaks very clearly and slowly, showing her his new ID card. "I understand that you give us very good rates, for very good work. And I also know the reason for that.... something that happened 5 years ago. I want you to understand that we are very grateful for your excellent work, but also that we have long memories, and long files. My name is as stated here. I need a changeling job for some undercover work which is of the first importance to the state. If any other.... perspective should be placed on the situation, then a very important and covert operation would be compromised." He gives her the full force of his steely stare. "Am I making myself clear?"

She nods, still smiling broadly.

"Furthermore, this information is to be shared with no one, and I mean no one, by you. If that were to happen, you can be sure of losing your license to operate, and with it your business and livelihood."

"OK, OK. I understand. No need to make such big deal out of it. I know how things are, and I know how keep my mouth shut. You can stop being the big bad heavy guy with me. OK?"

His face softens, and he looks around the small office, at the hanging lanterns, and the small shrine in the corner, incense burning before it, and the wall-screens showing faces and bodies slowly undergoing amazing transformations, and the large statue in a wall recess of a very fat, very jolly laughing man, carrying a pack on his back, looking out at the world with sparkling eyes full of fun and mischief.

"So, come on Mr.....Mason... come and make yourself comfortable. Les talk about your changeling job. I going to do it all myself – none of my staff will even see you. It will take few hours, so we can have some fun together..."

She leads him to a soft leather couch, where she sits facing him, her narrow knees just not touching his. She leans towards him, and turns his face, feeling the structure of his head with her skinny fingers.

"Hm...nice. Good bones you have." She runs her fingers down the side of his face...cheekbones...chin...lips. "You a good looking man for you age. What are you? 50...51...?"

He raises two fingers.

"Fifty two! Oh yes, you a good looking man." The hands run down his body, feeling his stomach. "Hm...little bit heavy here...but we can fix that...no problem." She sits back and looks at him critically. "How 'bout I make you...younger man...say...thirty?" She grins her grin. "We take tweny years off you...Yeah? What you say?"

He nods slowly at her. In the wall recess the roly-poly man seems to be consumed with merriment, while Roland savours the fragrance of the incense, and wonders whether changing his appearance will leave him the same man, or a different one? But then isn't the self just a convenient construct that we carry around with us? Isn't consciousness a continual flow of ever changing impressions, such that no enduring self can truly be found? And if there is no permanent self, then how can one lose it, or gain another one? Still he has a slight sense of unease, as Madame leads him into her surgery, lies him down on an operating trolley, and places a soft pad against his forehead.

"Well, Mr Mason, you're going to feel a little sleepy soon. When you wake up you're going to be much younger and more vigorous man, so say goodbye to old self..." She smiles so sweetly. Not in a powerful, or mocking way, but... gently, like a blessing, full of kindness and...love....and...

### CHAPTER 9

The tunnel is long and winding, wending its way between ventilation shafts, cabling conduits, lift shafts and the vast steel radial structures which tie the whole planet together, emanating out from the centre, where the artificial black hole, which generates the ship's gravity, and the nuclear plant which power it, hold their terrible court.

But here, at this particular point in its prolonged, tortuous journey, the air is still and heavy, in the impenetrable blackness. Only the faintest hum, from deep within the ship's interior, far below, would create a sensory experience for any sentient being that happened to be there. But there is none – only the motes of concrete dust, suspended motionless in the black void, between the endless smooth walls.

A trembling of molecules bumping against each other, the faintest ripple in the atmosphere, which turns into a tidal wave in the dark air, as far away, something moves against the stillness. Something, or someone, is proceeding along the tunnel.

Soundwaves, then, a tiny pinprick in the emptiness, which rapidly grows into the light of a torch, as two humans, living breathing, talking, feeling beings, come around the bend 300 metres away, and approach this point in space.

"Aldo, stop!"

Already holding his arm, she draws him closer, hand up to his face, lips seeking his. The torch lit kiss is soft and tender, as lips linger and brush and push, sending and receiving love from deep in the heart.

She whispers in his ear. "Honey, you do know that I love you! I love you so much." She can feel his face smiling, as he kisses her cheek, then her mouth.

"Sweetheart....I know that. And you know something else?"

"What?" She is breathy against his ear.

"I love you back, just as much." He wraps his arms around her, and holds her close.

"You do?"

"Hm... you betcha!"

She holds him tight, feeling the rough fabric of his overalls on his back, and his arms, the hairs on the back of his neck, his breath warm against her face. She moves till her mouth finds his again, and kisses him, harder this time, her tongue searching for his. He responds, and moves till she has her back to the wall. He switches the torch off, and carefully lays it down on the floor. He is pushing against her body now, feeling her breasts with both hands, through the material of her top, then up to her neck, that sensual zone, that she used to love him to stroke and kiss. She is breathing hard and tugging at the zip of his overalls, desperate for the feel of his skin against hers. He is working on her top, and soon, in the inky blackness, he can see all that he needs to with his hands, and the tips of his fingers, as he worships the silky softness of her body, the glorious hungry movement of her hands, her mouth, her desire. He wants to kiss her all over at once, frustrated - restricted to one glorious domain at a time. He is up and down her, licking, sucking, kissing, but soon she guides him into the wetness and warmth of her deepest desire, and then her legs are around his waist, and he holds her from below, as he forces her against the wall and her screams echo out along the endless passage, as stars are formed and die, universes expand and contract, and it seems to them that the biggest bang in history has arrived, and they can only let it carry them to ecstasy or death.

*

Charlene is carefully getting dressed, as he holds the torch for her, teasing her and kissing her, while she's trying to put her panties on.

"Stop it, you idiot! Gimme a break." But she slaps him playfully, and he can see her grinning in the shadows.

Then they are sitting together, backs against the smooth wall, resting before they continue their journey, her hand on his leg, his lips in her hair, smelling her delectable scent.

"Sweetie.."

"Mm?" Her eyes are gently closed.

"I'm so glad you came to me, and....we talked..."

She squeezes his leg, rubs it gently.

"I wanted to do that so much myself...to tell you everything...be candid with you...but..."

She turns to him and kisses him. "I know honey. I'm glad too. Now we're like before...you know...." She kisses him some more, her hand on the side of his face. "But you see..."

"What?" Between kisses.

"I had......help."

"Hmm?"

"Remember when Dad came around? And you took Lola?" He nods. "Well, you know we had a big talk...."

"Yeah."

"Well, that's what he told me...that I had to be completely straight with you. I had to tell you everything...everything I knew...how it made me feel..."

"You're so brave, Char. You've got a lot more guts than me."

She shakes her head. "No. It's just that I had to know. Like he said...if you were...you know....being unfaithful to me...then it was better to know. He said lies and deceit and...secrets are poison to a relationship. You have to know the truth, however painful it is."

He is just brushing her cheek with his lips. "He's a wonderful guy. We both owe him...everything. I wouldn't want to keep living without you."

"Aww...honey. Me too!" As they kiss, he can feel the tears rolling down her face, and the lump in his own throat, and then his tears are mixing with hers, and they cannot talk for a while.

"But it's scary though, isn't it?" He is wiping his face with his sleeve.

"Yes, it is. Very."

"Do you think they fell for our story about going on a romantic weekend to the wilderness area?"

"Hmm.. it's hard to tell. I hope so."

"What are you going to say to Mira when you go back?"

"Mm..." Then she laughs. "I might have to tell her you've got a secret girlfriend!" She can feel him stiffen.

"But...!"

She grabs his ears. "I know, honey...but it's a good cover story!" And she draws him close.

"Well...I suppose."

"And what are you going to say to these friends of yours that we're going to meet? This is my wife – she works for the security service?"

He grins. "Don't worry, I've already talked to them. They know about you."

"Really? What do they know?"

"They know what you do...at work."

"And they're not worried?"

"They have...some precautions that they take with new people."

"What do you mean?" The skin on her arms is beginning to prickle.

"Don't worry. It's nothing scary. They just make sure you won't betray them to the SS, because you'd be implicated too. It's a kind of insurance for them. They know what they're doing."

"Hm.. but that could work both ways. What if...."

"What?"

"Well, what if this whole thing was a set-up by the SS, like a sting, to trap people, then we'll all be arrested for treason." Her voice is shaking now. "I mean...how can you trust them."

"Yeah, I thought that too, at the start; but it's not like that. Really. These guys are for real. They think the same way about how things are going as I do, and you do. They hate the government."

"But...how can you be sure?"

"Sweetie...please. Try and trust me. When you meet them, you'll know."

"Promise?"

"Promise. You'll see." And he can't resist putting his arms around the neck of this woman that he loves more than his life, and kissing her one more time, smoothing away her fears and her foreboding, until she is calm and reassured again.

*

The tunnel continues for another ten minutes, then Aldo shines the torch to his right, and they can see a square recess in the wall, about a metre high. He crouches down, and shines the torch into it.

"Yes, this is it. Follow me, sweetheart."

She does so, and after crawling for 3 metres, they find themselves in a new tunnel, smaller, that heads off at right angles to the previous one. In the next 15 minutes this process is repeated twice more, as they enter new tunnels, and change direction.

"How do you remember all this?" She whispers. "Are you sure you can get us back home again? This place is a maze."

"Course I can. I've done it lots of times...remember?"

"OK. Is it much further? My feet are starting to kill me. I wish we'd brought a water bottle."

"It's OK sweetie; we're almost there." And faintly, on the very edge of the silence, she can hear something.....that sounds like...voices. Yes...like somebody laughing, guffawing, even. Then a high pitched giggle. It sounds like a party!

A heavy, flat steel plate on the left. A door? Aldo bangs the torch on it, a complicated tattoo, then a bolt is shot back, and she hides her eyes, as light floods out into the pitch black, and someone's voice is booming. She can feel Aldo take her hand, and lead her forward. They step through the door, and carefully she opens her eyes, shielding them with one hand.

A rectangular room, about 12 metres long and 6 wide. A door at either end, both closed, and in the centre a long table, with comfortable chairs placed around it. A ventilation grille opposite the door pumps cool air into the room, so the temperature is pleasant, after the stale humidity of the tunnels.

A tall young man, with long dark hair hanging down each side of his face, is standing and watching them. There is stubble on his face, and his loose white shirt hangs down over blue casual pants. His feet are bare, and he is looking down at her with an amused look on his face, observing her closely. On the far side of the table, sits a short man wearing a clown suit, and a hat with points sticking out, a tiny bell at the tip of each point. On the table are three bottles of wine, two partly full glasses, and a large stain in the middle of the highly ornate cloth.

The tall man sticks out a hand towards Charlene and says in a deep, resonant voice, "Hi! You must be Charlene. I've heard lots about you!" And the smile widens into a mischievous grin.

She is accustomed to the light by now, and can shake the hand, and look him in the eye. "Hi. Yes, I'm Charlene. Who are you? And what have you heard about me?"

The clown erupts into a high-pitched giggle. "Oh she's a smart one, Hec. You better watch yourself with her!"

"Sorry. That was rude. I'm Hector."

"OK." Aldo's hand is on her waist. "Come and sit down sweetie. The clown is called Max. Hi Max."

The clown's eyes twinkle at him, and he raises his glass. "Greetings Aldo. Good to see you again, and your gorgeous lady too!"

Aldo and Charlene sit down next to each other, facing Max, while Hector moves around to Max's side of the table.

Aldo eyes the clown sharply. "Yes. Just remember she's my gorgeous lady. You keep your hands off her." Then he laughs wickedly.

"Ho ho! Well done Aldo, I love it! Otherwise it'll be pistols at dawn! He he! You're a gem!"

Hector has found two more glasses, and is pouring wine.

Charlene is holding a hand to her throat. "Thanks, but could I have some water first, please? I'm thirsty."

He places the glasses before them. "Sure. I'll get some." He disappears through the nearest door, where she can see a small kitchen area, then returns with a jug and two large glasses.

"Thanks Hector." She and Aldo drink thirstily.

Then Max picks up his glass. "Come my friends, a toast." He looks round the table expectantly. They raise their glasses. "To our great endeavour! And to our new member, Charlene. Together may we bring down this abhorrent regime," and he looks up at the corner of the room and winks. The toast is repeated to various degrees, glasses clink across the table, and they drink.

"I declare this meeting open!" Max grabs the bottle, pours himself another glass and takes a generous swig.

Charlene is inspecting her surroundings. Someone has covered the bareness of the concrete walls with theatrical posters. One of them advertises a play called 'Hamlet'. A man with a tortured expression holds a human skull aloft, one of his feet below the other, in some sort of hole. Another poster announces a play called 'The Crucible', displaying a melodramatic scene where a person wearing a long black cloak, and a pointed hat, apparently has been suspended by the neck from a tree, with their head at a strange angle. There are many more, all round the walls, colourful, garish, eye-catching. Somehow Max, in his bizarre costume seems to fit in perfectly with the mood they create, although she can't quite put her finger on what that is, exactly.

Aldo has been talking with Hector, in low tones, while Max has been inspecting Charlene quietly.

"So, my dear, what do you think of our wall decorations? Do you know what they are?"

"They're plays... I guess... advertising plays that have been performed. You see them down at the Repertory Theatre."

Max is delighted, slapping the table with his palm. "Aldo I have to congratulate you. Your lovely lady is a woman of culture and sophistication. And who said the SS was staffed by morons? Not a bit of it!...I'm sorry my dear. You'll have to forgive my preposterous behaviour (or at least get used to it)...you're quite right. They are indeed theatrical posters, trumpeting the glorious achievements of that happy band of brothers (and sisters) otherwise known as the Alpha Omega Repertory Company. These are plays staged by us, and those who came before us, at our celebrated theatre here on Alpha."

She has been trying to follow his declamatory style of speaking. "So you are...actors from the company?"

"Indeed we are! Maximillian De Los Res, at your service, sometime director, and thesbian extraordinaire at the aforesaid company, and this honourable gentleman next to me is Hector Halikos, another star and luminary of the self same brotherhood."

" I see."

Max unleashes a high-pitched titter. "The lady sees....she sees....but what does she see?" He seems to be quite drunk. He looks at her suddenly. "May I ask, sweet damsel, if you have ever attended a performance at our illustrious venue?"

"Um.. Yes, I took my daughter to a children's play there last year – something about an ugly duckling..."

"A children's play!" He is feigning horror. "Hector...the only play she has seen is 'The Ugly Duckling"! What shall we do with her?"

Hector looks half amused, and half annoyed at Max's display. "Oh Max, shut up. Give it a rest, will you?"

It appears Max has not heard, for he suddenly rises, wine glass in hand, and, one foot on his chair, one arm extended, begins to recite:

"This day is call'd the feast of Crispian.  
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,  
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,  
And rouse him at the name of Crispian."

He takes an exaggerated bow. "Ah yes, my Henry the Fifth – truly superb, though I say so myself." He seems to be satisfied with this, for the moment, and sits down again, a far away look in his eyes."

Charlene decides to ignore Max for the moment. She reaches out for Aldo's hand under the table, and grasps it gently, reassured by his thumb stroking her hand. She takes a sip of wine, which is red, and dry, but with a delicious sharp undertone.

Hector grins across the table at them. "Don't worry about Max. He's just in a party mood today, aren't you Maxy!"

"Hm..? Party mood...yes. Actually I think I'm a little in awe of our new visitor. She lends such a wonderfully alluring feminine presence to our rude gathering. I shall have to mind that I don't fall in love with her." He is gazing at Charlene with fascination. "Actually, I know your sister quite well. She's rather a friend of mine, even if she is the biggest drama queen you'll ever meet!"

"Maria! You know Maria?" There it is again, that tiny stab of pain, or is it guilt, every time someone mentions her sister. "I haven't seen her myself for...quite some time... How is she?" The question sounds ridiculous and stilted, and she regrets it immediately.

"Hm... she was rather upset a little while ago...but then she went to see your famous father (yes, you are remarkably well connected, aren't you!) and she seems to be much better since then...more sort of...calm, I suppose. He had a very salutary effect on her. Actually, I'd love to meet him myself. He seems to be quite an extraordinary fellow. That's one of the reasons that you both intrigue me so much." And he returns to his clinical contemplation of Charlene.

Hector has been musing also. "Yes, I met her once, too. She's... she seems like a very interesting person."

"Ho ho!" Max slaps him on the back. "That's right, my boy. You were just a little bit smitten, weren't you! I told you to look her up again...but just remember what we said...given her...personality, shall we say, she might be a little bit too much of a security risk for our group. I wouldn't be bringing her in to join us, just yet."

Charlene leans forward, unable to resist addressing Max. "So, tell me...I'm curious...tell me about this group of yours. How large is it? How often do you meet? What are your aims?"

Max suddenly drops all pretence at joviality, and leans across the table in his turn, eyeballing her mercilessly. "Aha – the security service operative shows herself at last! So you'd like to know about us, would you?" He stares at her hard. She tries to return the look with spirit. "The first thing you need to realize, please be quite clear about this, is that you are on video right now, in this, as you might call it, rebel, underground meeting. You are fully implicated yourself. If you even think about betraying us to the SS, in even the most casual or innocent way, this recording will find its way to your superiors. You would disappear into your lovely detention facility (which I know you deny the existence of) along with ourselves. You would be subjected to the same torture, and painful death as us...be very sure of that!"

Her heart is racing, she can feel it pumping inside her chest. Myriad images flood into her mind, none of them pleasant ones. She takes a deep breath. "Max, I would like to say something, and I would like you to listen and understand me well." She pauses for breath, trying to calm herself before continuing. "Yes, both Aldo and I work for the government, he's in the administration arm, and I'm in... well, you know where I work. We are both horrified at the direction this government, or rather regime, is taking...the greater and greater control they are securing, the...the quashing of all opposition, the disappearances, the trampling of basic principles of justice and human rights, all of it! Believe me, as an insider, I know perhaps better than you, what they are doing. My work is surveillance, and I process hundreds, sometimes thousands of reports of dissident behaviour, comments, questionable attitudes..." The three men seem caught in the spell of her passion. "Oh yes, you're all on file...don't worry about that...the eyes and ears and the blips are recording everything...and that's what we... can't be part of any more." She looks at Aldo, who is gazing at her with....an infinite tenderness. "We've talked this over, and we're agreed...we cannot live anymore, as part of this...horrible system. So..." she places her hand firmly on his leg, under the table. "I know it was Aldo who took action first, without me, keeping it secret from me." They look at each other and a thousand thoughts and feelings flash between them. "But now we are together, and united in this." She looks directly at the diminutive clown. "You don't need to threaten me with your repercussions and consequences. Although we must, perhaps I must, look very suspicious to you... you need to realize that, from what Aldo has told me of your aims, we are with you." She reaches out and grasps Max's small, hairy hand. "We are with you Max, and Hector. Do you understand?" She pauses a moment. "If anything, I hope we can be useful to you, given our jobs within the system. I don't know....." She trails off, her fervor spent.

Max is wearing an inscrutable grin, staring at her, saying nothing.

Hector, too, has been captivated by her outburst. "Thank you Charlene," his voice is low and deep. "You've explained yourself very clearly. We appreciate that. And we understand how hard this is for you, and what courage it must have taken for you to come here... both of you."

There is a silence. "Now that we understand each other..." a smile lights up his face, "Let's celebrate! I have a little surprise for you in the kitchen, if you just give me a few minutes. But first..." He picks up his glass, "another toast." He looks around at the other three, Max still grinning inscrutably, Aldo tense but excited, Charlene, still flushed and a little shaky. "To Freedom from Oppression!" This time the toast is echoed enthusiastically.

She drinks deeply, as if at the well of freedom, and remembers they have answered none of her questions; but that can wait until later. Hector has retired to the kitchen, and suddenly a delicious smell reaches them...food...mouthwatering food. The wine has whetted her appetite, and she suddenly realizes how hungry she is.

Aldo puts an arm round her shoulder and draws her closer. "Hector's a wonderful cook. It's one of his many talents."

Max is nodding vigorously. "Oh yes! A true master of the culinary art." He is looking at Charlene, smiling warmly, now. "We do try and enjoy ourselves at these gatherings. It seems as though life on Alpha is so...orderly, regimented even...well, not for us, because we work hard at avoiding all that...but even so, it's hard not to be infected by the general....what's the word...malaise of the place. I mean...everyone's trying to put on a brave face, and be 'normal', but underlying that..."

Charlene is warming to him now. "Yes, I know what you mean...it's one of the reasons I detest this regime...why I can't forgive them for the...grey...mediocrity they force onto us all. Life is so deadening..." she indicates upwards, "up there."

"Ah, my dear, you are...you are truly one of us! How could I have doubted you for a moment? 'Grey mediocrity' – I like that! Up there...dead...atrophied...condemned to slow mental degeneration...but down here...we can be free, say what we like! Allow our spirits to soar like birds through the air! O yes, we must drink, and eat, and be merry, for tomorrow we return to the darkness!"

Hector re-enters, placing a hot plate in front of each of them; then, out of a huge saucepan, he ladles spaghetti, with a pair of tongs, onto the plates. Finally, a large bowl filled with Bolognese sauce graces the middle of the table, and he invites them to help themselves with a ladle.

There is a moment of group hesitation, so he laughs, and serves them himself, giving each a generous dollop of sauce on top of the pasta. Finally, he produces a dish of strong smelling cheese, which he applies liberally to his own plate, then passes on. They do the same, then there is silence, as they all attack the exquisite food...only the clinking of forks, and the slither of spaghetti being sucked in or bitten off...and the steady hiss of the air conditioner to reflect the silence.

She is infected by Aldo's mood of quiet jubilation, his intense, suppressed excitement. Max is right! It's as if she has come out into the daylight, after years of being locked away in a dark room. Suddenly her soul seems to be finding joy...a strange sensation indeed. She has felt happiness of course, with her family, with Aldo and Lola...but somehow that was always held in check...always controlled. It is second nature for people on Alpha to forever be aware of the restrictions of the society they live in... the strict rules...the things that can be said, and those that can't. True, these blinkers, these boundaries have been getting stricter, and more grievous recently, but then, in a way, she knows she has tried hard to ignore all that...at least until Aldo made his move. Perhaps she felt she had to, to protect her family...there was no alternative...the instinct for survival was the strongest...but now...suddenly! A vision of a different world is looming...a world where truth and free thought can once again come forth, and bloom in the sunshine of freedom! Of course this is all illusory...only within the confines of this room, far below the surface, free from prying blips and spies...can this be true. Once back in the 'real world' she will have to resume the mantle of mediocrity and submission to authority...even in her mind...but still...it's a heady drug to imbibe...that scent of a different way of being, which obviously has touched the others present too.

She glances at Aldo, who winks at her, while finishing his food. Her plate is nearly empty. She stops and takes a sip of the wine. So good...to eat and drink in this company! She understands completely why they do this...almost like a... what was that story she remembers from childhood, about Jesus...a last meal, with his...followers? But no, that was a sad occasion, an ending...this is very different...the start of something new and astounding.

The men have finished, while she has been pondering. Hector sits back, takes a gulp of wine, then reaches into his pocket, producing a very large, fat cigarette. He lights it up, then sits back, taking a long drag from it, watching the plume of smoke rising towards the concrete ceiling.

Max smiles across the table at them and shrugs. "Actors... bunch of degenerates..." but then laughs, as Hector passes the joint to him, and draws on it greedily. She watches with interest, as Aldo too partakes of the drug, though she declines it herself.

Hector abruptly jumps up. "Music! We need music!" And he retires again to the kitchen. Suddenly the room is filled with an orchestra, and a woman is singing an amazing sequence of notes, up and down the scale, in duet with a male voice, singing the base line. She has no idea what they are singing about, but the effect is comical, as if they are doing it purely for the fun of it.

Max shrugs again, with an indulgent smile. "Another one of his obsessions....Mozart. You'll get used to it. It's actually quite compelling stuff, after a while..."

Hector returns and slumps back in his chair, his mind far away, lost in the music.

So, later, when they leave, Charlene knows that a new chapter has started in her life. Never again will she truly be an SS operative. Never again will she have to suppress all her horror and contempt for what she does; and always in the future, she will know that there are people who don't accept, who will risk everything to bring change, however unlikely that seems. And she is sure she will see these men again, and maybe others too. And in her heart she is glad, although afraid, because she feels she has started to make a stand, started to resist the awful, deadness, the slow annihilation of all true feeling, that she was guilty of submitting to before.

### CHAPTER 10

'Buddhism, as traditionally conceived, is a path of liberation attained through insight into the ultimate nature of reality. It is a religion or spiritual philosophy encompassing a variety of traditions, beliefs and practices, largely based on teachings attributed to Siddhartha Gautama, commonly known as the Buddha (Pali/Sanskrit "the awakened one"). Adherents recognize the Buddha as an awakened teacher who shared his insights to help sentient beings end suffering, achieve nirvana, and escape what is seen as a cycle of suffering and rebirth.'

Wow, there it is! Just like he said...'liberation attained through insight into the ultimate nature of reality' Hm... what is that? Real name Siddhartha Gautama. This sounds amazing. I need to find out more! Wonder if he could help me end my suffering?

The studio apartment has changed. The canvases are stacked up neatly against the side, except for the many that still hang on the walls. The bed is made, the floor is clean, the bottles and ashtrays and rubbish that used to adorn the floor are gone. There is a strong scent of honeysuckle in the air, coming from a large bowl of delicate white flowers on a coffee table. They hang suspended, their delectable narrow white petals revealing ethereal yellow stamens in their centres.

Maria's hair is tied back in a thick ponytail, as she peers at the wall screen from her reclining chair. Her long blue silky sari is wrapped loosely round her body, revealing one perfect shoulder.

'Buddhist meditation encompasses a variety of meditation techniques that develop

mindfulness, concentration, tranquility and insight.' Oh my! Tranquility. What I wouldn't give for some of that! So how do I set this up?....OK – a small shrine....Buddha image, I've seen those around......let's see... 'seek a secluded space (in a forest or at the foot of a tree or in an empty place), sit down, cross your legs, keep your body erect, establish mindfulness in front (parimukham) (what the hell is that? Anyway...) Contemplation of the Body (kaya), Discerning long breaths, Discerning short breaths, Experiencing the whole body (sabbakaya), Calming bodily formations....hm...mindfulness....? What is that?

*

Later, Maria is wandering around the main plaza in District 3, just 4 levels below the City Plaza on the surface, which her father's office looks onto. Plaza D3 is crowded, as always...shoppers, teenagers, parents with little kids, young lovers, loners, odd bods, police, cleaners. She jostles with the crowd, then sits at a small cafe to one side. A strong coffee in front of her, she looks out at the throng through her eye visor. She is watching the entrance to an imposing looking building across the other side, where the proud words: 'Alpha-Omega Repertory Theatre Company' are emblazoned across the top of its multiple doorways. She is hoping to catch sight of Max, in case he takes a break from rehearsals inside. (He never carries his communicator when he is working)

Ten minutes later, overcome with impatience, she stands abruptly and, gathering her silk dress around her, walks slowly over to the theatre. Passing through the entrance, she is confronted by a smiling young woman in long black pants, black waistcoat and high heels, who politely enquires her business.

"Maximillian? Yes...he is involved in a rehearsal at present. You are a friend of his?"

She nods, behind the visor.

"Mm..well, perhaps if you take a seat in the main auditorium, where the rehearsal is taking place, then you could speak to him when he is free? Please do not interrupt proceedings."

Maria ascends a flight of steps, passes through a pressure door, and finds herself at the top of a vast slope of seats, facing the stage at the bottom. Each seat is covered in red velvet, and the carpet also is a deep burgundy red, with intricate Islamic patterning in cream. She hesitates, then descends to about the middle of the auditorium, and takes a seat in the left hand section.

She looks up at a huge glass chandelier, which hangs suspended on chains from the ceiling, far above. Bright spotlights from all corners of the walls catch the glass fragments, which sparkle, like a thousand diamonds, looking down on the near-empty theatre. But on the stage, are four people, and she can spy various other shadowy figures in the wings, and on the gantries above. Max is seated in the front row, but suddenly jumps up and shouts.

"Wait! It's my line!" And he bounds up the side steps to the stage, racing with a high pitched giggle to the side of the group, stops and assumes a regal air:

"Antonius! Let me have men about me that are fat; sleek-headed men and such as sleep o' nights. Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look; he thinks too much. Such men are dangerous."

He then proceeds to critique the performance of the others so far in the scene, explaining, laughing, criticizing, ridiculing, taking each part himself and demonstrating, generally stirring them up. She notices that one or two are starting to bristle, stung by his comments.

She is so absorbed in the drama on stage that she fails to notice as a tall young man with long black hair sinks into the seat beside her...until he is there.

"Hello, Maria!" Hector gives her his broadest smile.

"Oh...hi, um...Hector?"

He grins. "Right. It's....good to see you again."

"Yeah, you too." She slips her visor back on, and focuses on the stage.

"We met at a party a few weeks ago...at Max's place. You remember?"

"Mm...vaguely." She is still studying the action on stage. Two men are in animated conversation. Max stands to one side watching. He seems to be satisfied with their performance, for the moment. Suddenly he stops them, and remonstrates with them, mimicking their efforts in a derogatory way, then performs the scene himself, taking all the parts.

Hector is chuckling quietly. "He is, what you might call, a demanding director! But...you have to admit...despite all the rudeness and sarcasm, he does seem to get the best out of his actors. He's never happy with a mediocre performance....always pushes them to do better."

She removes the visor and looks at him briefly. "Yes...he's quite a character."

Hector says quietly, still watching the stage, "Are you two.....?"

She shakes her head. "No....no, we're just friends. I've been through.....well...let's just say he's been a good friend to me...when I've been down."

Hector nods silently. "Are you waiting for him now?"

"Well, sort of. Is he going to be long, do you think?"

"Hm...impossible to tell. He could be finished in ten minutes, or this could go on for hours." There is a pause. "What do you think of the play?"

"Yeah! Fascinating. I love Shakespeare. I remember this one from school. The murder of Caesar... the Ides of March!"

He nods, smiling. A response, at last! "Yes, Max chose this one. We're going to invite the Council to come along and watch it on the first night."

"Oh, really?"

He grins. "Yes. See what they think about the end of democracy in Rome, and the installation of totalitarian rule!"

"Ah, I see. You're...."

"Yes...we want to see what their reaction is....see if they get it!"

"That's...." She turns to him slowly, "really interesting. What a clever idea!"

"Aha... 'The play's the thing'. A touch of Hamlet in there too!"

"Yes...I'd like to be here that night. It would be...fascinating to watch them."

"Yeah. You bet!" He is acutely aware of the blue silk dress, and her bare arms, her hands, her fingers, the silver rings she wears on them, the subtle perfume he can sense on her, which he cannot place, but which delights his senses to distraction.

"How's the ah...painting going?"

"It's....not. I'm not painting anymore; well not at the moment, anyway."

"No? Why not? I thought you were passionate about...your art."

She is silent for a while, until he thinks she will not answer.

"I'm...I don't know how to explain it. I'm trying to change some things in my life...trying to make some changes for the better. I know that sounds...prudish, or something..."

He turns in his chair, to look at her closely. "No, that's not prudish. We've all got....some things we'd like to change in our lives, I'm sure."

She smiles at him thankfully. "That's a nice thing for you to say. You're very different from Max!"

He laughs out loud. "Oh! I should hope so! I wouldn't want to be...I mean...we're good friends, but...well....nobody's like him!"

She chuckles. "No, that's true. Nobody I've met, anyway."

They fall silent again. There are so many things he wants to say to her, to ask her...but he doesn't want to bombard her with questions. He senses this woman needs to be treated gently....with patience...sometimes with silence. So he sits, and quietly inhales that entrancing perfume, which he knows he will remember long after she has gone, and the narcotic, rapturous effect it has on his consciousness....

She is saying something but he misses it. "Sorry!...What was....?"

She is giggling quietly. "You had your eyes closed. You looked so relaxed...I wondered if you were asleep. I'm sorry if I'm...."

"Oh no! No, no! Believe me. I wasn't asleep, and it's not you...well...I mean..."

She looks at him sideways, a teasing smile on her lips. "So it isn't me...or it is me that sends you to sleep?"

"No, I was just...thinking....relaxing."

"Ah, relaxing! Tell me about that. How do you relax? I'm interested."

He considers the question. "Mm...well...just sort of... breathe. Try to stop thinking."

She turns her whole body sideways to face him, looking him full in the face with those lustrous dark brown eyes. The perfume hits him now like a tidal wave, as he looks closely at her face...her neck...that beautiful naked shoulder, and the luscious curves in the silk below.

"You know, Hector, that's really interesting that you should say that. I've just been reading about something like that...on the data-bank...something that my Dad told me about..."

"Ah, you've seen him then?"

"Yes, about a week ago. I went to see him, and we had a long chat. He told me something that I've been thinking about ever since."

"Really?" Her arm is so close to him. Her fingers. He has a sudden desire to grasp her hand, and kiss the back of it. It seems to take all of his willpower to resist this overwhelming urge. "What was that?"

She frowns slightly. "Do you really want me to tell you about it? You look a bit...are you OK?"

"Yes!" He shakes his head rapidly. "I'm fine. Please....I would love to hear what your Dad told you about."

"Mm...well...alright. He told me about a very wise man who lived long ago on earth. This man taught his followers some very important things about...well about how to live, and how to be happy... and how to overcome suffering."

"What was his name?"

"Well, his real name, I've just discovered, was Siddhartha Gautama, but after his...enlightenment, everyone called him 'The Buddha'. It means 'The Enlightened One'...the one who sees."

"Ah, yes, I have heard of him. It was a religion, back on Earth. And there are a few people here who...."

"Is that so? I didn't know that. So you're saying there are some people here on Alpha who still follow Buddhism?"

"I think so... a few."

She can hardly contain herself. "That's fantastic! I remember Dad told me something about someone that had taught him, who died....but if there are others!"

"Hm... yes. You might be able to learn from them. But...what is it he told you that has had such an effect on your...life?"

"She looks into his eyes. "Hector....it's not something I can really explain to you here and now, in a few words....except to say that I was in such a....mess. I felt like....nothing mattered, and I didn't care if I lived or died. Have you ever felt like that? It's like a heavy weight pressing down on you....like a great black nothingness, squeezing the life force out of you, until all you want is for it to keep squeezing, so that you can die, and be at peace at last...because existence here is just...unbearable..." She is gripping the back of the seat hard...next to where his arm is resting on the same seat back. He has a presentiment that she will grip his arm next, digging her nails into his flesh, which would be such sweet pain to him. "But when Dad talked to me about the four noble truths, which the Buddha taught...the truth about life, and how there is a way out of suffering...." A far away smile is suffusing her face. "Well...I realized that there is a different way to....to be....to see the world....a way that..." She cannot go on. She is close to tears.

He is gazing at her, enraptured. "Yes...I...it's OK. Please...." He wants so much to take her in his arms, and hold her tight. But he cannot, and the self-denial is almost too much for him.

"Hector..." She is rising, gathering her dress in one hand. "I have to go. It's been....I'm sorry..." And she is gone, walking fast up the aisle, between the seats, heading blindly for the exit.

He watches her out, then turns to the stage, where Casca is delivering his final lines in Act 1:

"O, he sits high in all the people's hearts; and that which would appear offence in us, his countenance, like richest alchemy, will change to virtue and to worthiness."

Hector is gazing beyond the stage; he can only hear the beating of his heart, and the great longing in his soul...but whether this is for truth, for virtue, for peace of mind, or for the woman that was in front of him...he really doesn't know. All he knows is the great expanse of space, within his being, perhaps as vast as that outside the hull, only 1 km above, and the emptiness....the pain and the emptiness...

*

Lola lies on the deep pile rug on her back. Perdita lies with front feet across her chest and tummy, at right angles to her, her back legs on the rug. Her pointed face rests on her paws, as she listens blissfully to the little girl's steady breathing, and her heart pumping. Every so often she raises her head to listen to her mistress' monologue, and sniff and lick her face in sympathy.

"I want to go to the play park!" She strokes the dog's head, smoothing her ears back. "Mummy said I had to wait till Daddy got home, then he'll take me....but I want to go now!" Perdita looks up sharply, slightly alarmed at the change in tone of the voice. "Yes, now!" A long sigh, and a silence. Lola is looking at the wallscreen, which is showing a fantasy landscape...an artist's impression of the planet they are heading for...rocky mountains, interspersed with lakes and rushing torrents...some low vegetation and a huge sun hanging in the sky. "But I'm not allowed, because someone has to go with me....because I'm too young...to go by myself."

The Jack Russell gives a little whine of agreement, and licks her nose. Lola cuddles her with both hands, rolling her sideways, until they are face to face on the rug. "Hey! I've got an idea! You could look after me! I could look after you, and you can look after me. Ha, ha! That's it!" She squeals with delight, and grabs the dog round the neck. "Come on....let's go!"

Before she can think about it anymore, she clips the new lead they have bought onto Perdita's collar, and walks out the door with her. The door hisses closed behind them.

A short walk brings them to the gate of the play park, where the door attendant looks doubtfully at her, but she is ready for him.

"My Dad's just coming. He said to go on ahead, and he'll be here in a minute." The blonde curly-headed girl looks so angelic, that he motions the two of them in.

A short while later she happily pushes two other girls on an old-fashioned roundabout, then jumps on herself. She can briefly see Perdita snuffling round the base of some swings, before the spinning motion forces her to hang on tight, and the three of them are screaming with excitement. So she fails to see the small dog, dragging the lead behind her, make her way to the fence, carefully maneuver through a small gap, and trot off purposefully in the direction of the district plaza.

Only about six or seven minutes later does Lola realize that her best friend is gone, and all the crying in the world, and all the efforts of the attendant, who calls her home, and all the fear and anger of her parents, and all of their angst at her leaving the house alone....none of this is any help whatsoever in bringing back her dog...so that it seems that Perdita is once again lost, and setting off on her travels across a brutal and uncaring world.

### CHAPTER 11

The bar room is almost empty, Andre can see in the mirror, as he sits on a padded stool in front of a cold beer at the oak wood counter. He has been examining the array of bottles on the shelf, the coaster mats, the young barmaid, and a shady looking individual in the far corner, who is pretending to be engrossed in his communicator.

Finally...the great adventure has begun...stepping forth into the unknown...getting down to the real grass roots...the real people that make Alpha what she is...What do they actually think of us...of them? Of me? The government? Where to start? How to ask?

The barmaid, large breasts bulging out of a skimpy white lace top, short black skirt, fish net stockings, has been loitering near him, apparently wiping down the surfaces, making little adjustments to her workplace. Her blonde hair is cut short on top, with long tresses hanging down at the sides and back. Her face has a faraway look, as if absorbed in her work, but the eyes...what is it about those eyes? They seem to sparkle with...life? laughter? fun? Her nose is small and rounded, with a few faint freckles, while her long eyelashes, ridiculously long, seem a strange mix with her delicate features. He is intrigued by her.

"What's your name?"

She glances over at him with a shy smile. "Amanda. What's yours?"

"Kevin. I'm...just passing through."

"Right. Where are you heading for?"

Was there a hint of sarcasm, just a suggestion of mockery in the polite question? Perhaps.

"I'm traveling around, doing some research for the government."

She giggles. "OK. Well, we have a wide range of services here at the House of Pleasure Hotel. What sort of pleasures were you looking for?" She looks him in the eye, with a well-practiced alluring smile.

"I'm not really looking for any pleasures. I told you, I'm here to talk to people; for example, you."

"You want to talk to me?" She giggles again.

He sits forward and takes a firmer grip on his glass of beer. "Yes, I do. What do you think of the government?" The question hangs in the air between them, while Amanda slowly polishes a wine glass.

"Well, I...I don't think anything about the government. Like I said, we have all kinds of pleasures here at the House of Pleasure Hotel. What's your particular desire?"

Andre is frowning at her. "Never mind that. I'm interested in your opinions...about...the war, for example. Were you glad when the rebels lost, and the military won? Do you think this government is doing a good job? Do you think there's too much surveillance? Does it matter if the government takes away all of your freedom to have a say?"

She comes over to him, and leans on her side of the bar, quite close. She is smiling apologetically...such a cute smile. "I'm sorry sir. I'm just an Android girl that works here behind the bar. I'm not programmed to talk about that stuff you're asking me. Like I said, we have all kinds...."

He raises one hand firmly. "Please, enough. I understand. I'm sorry. I didn't realize."

She makes a little shrugging motion with her shoulders and two hands, and obediently remains quiet. Andre takes a long drink of beer. Some gentle music emanates from somewhere...a sultry bass and drums, a woman's voice moaning softly to a blues beat.

"You know we really do have all kinds of services available here. You can dance, meet a friend, you can eat in our top class restaurant, there's the casino upstairs, the special pleasure chambers in the basement, we have movies, virtual car racing, create your own space adventure, meet the love of your life, wild and untamed...so many things! Sorry sir, but I have to tell you about these features. It's my job."

He is watching her thoughtfully. "That's OK. I understand. Do you mind if I ask you one question?"

She gives that giggle again. "Um...I guess...if you want to."

"What's it like to be an Android?"

"I'm sorry?" She seems uncomfortable, gives a little shiver.

"What's it like being an Android? I mean...do you like it? Do you hate it? Do you dream of being different? Do you long to be human? What are your memories? And how long will they keep you?" He grins ruefully. "I'm sorry, I meant to ask one question, and that was a whole pile of them. But....can you...try and give me an answer? I want to talk to everybody, even Androids." He bites his lip, at this last remark; but it's too late, the words are out.

Still leaning on the bar, close to him, she looks up. Those grey eyes, so perfectly formed, look deep into his, until it seems her mind is touching his directly. She takes an electropad from under the bar, and carefully writes some words on it, then gingerly shows it to him, before quickly deleting the message.

Can't talk here. Come with me.

Looking up, he is met again by those dancing eyes, one of which quickly winks at him. "Would you like to join me downstairs in one of the pleasure chambers, Kevin? It can be arranged."

He considers carefully. "Well, yes, alright. Why not?"

Her smile is a study in professional seduction. "Why not indeed! Pierre!" She calls to the spy in the corner. "I'm going downstairs with this gentleman. Can you arrange to cover the bar, please?"

He nods, and works quickly on the trusty communicator. Amanda comes round to the front of the bar, takes Kevin by the arm, and lovingly guides him through a pressure door, along a corridor lit by shaded lamps, and down in a small lift. After a few moments they emerge to another corridor, covered in classical painted frescoes, showing Greek gods and goddesses in various states of undress, and sexual ecstasy. They pass a series of doors with red lights above them, and stop at one showing a blue light. Amanda speaks softly into a wall panel, and the pressure door opens.

They step into a medium-sized room containing a large bed, mirrors on all the walls and ceiling, and an array of sexual toys and gadgets arranged neatly on a dressing table. Shaded wall lights, soft music and incense burning create an ambience appropriate for the obvious purpose of the room.

She turns to face him, and he whispers into her ear, "Can we talk here safely?"

She nods, wrapping her arms around his neck. Yes, we're on video, but the audio link is broken."

"How can you be sure?"

She gives a low chuckle. "The maintenance man is an Android too. He's a friend of mine. As long as we look right, we can talk without going on file." She runs her hands down his loose fitting shirt and pants, drawing him closer.

"OK, here's what we'll do." Kevin takes command of the situation. "Do you have drinks here?"

"Of course. We have everything here!"

"Good. Well, let's have a drink, and just lie on the bed. We'll make it look like I just want to talk first. Later on, I might leave. I'm not going to have sex with you. OK?"

She nods happily, and moves toward a wall recess containing a drinks cabinet. He removes his shoes and lies on the bed, propped up against a pile of cushions. Amanda is busy at the cabinet, then returns with 2 cocktails in fish bowl glasses, hands one over, and settles down next to him.

Gently fondling his chest, she wrinkles her nose and smiles at him in the dim light. "Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

She has removed her high heels, and the sublime legs, in their fish-net stockings, are displayed to perfection next to him, the mini skirt run up just enough to show a taste of red lacey panties below.

He grins back at her. "You're a tease."

"Of course. That's my job."

"Yes. I've just....sort of, left my job...or at least taken some leave from it."

"Really? That must be nice. What is your job?"

"Hm...never mind about that. I want to talk about you. How do you feel about what you do here? I mean...do you like it? Is it fun? Is it boring?"

She takes a sip of the blue coloured cocktail. "Well...sometimes it's fun. I like talking to you!" She snuggles in closer.

He can smell her perfume...the scent of her. He looks into her eyes, then strokes the side of her face with his free hand, runs his finger under her chin, round her lips.

"You're not an android," he whispers. "You can't be! You're flesh and blood."

Her sensual smile never wavers for an instant. "Who did you say you're doing research for?"

"What?"

"Who are you doing research for? Don't start like that. Remember we're on video."

"Um...the government."

"Really?" She takes another sip. "But that doesn't make sense."

"What d'you mean?"

"Well...the government already knows everything, don't they?"

"Do they?"

She laughs. "They're watching us all the time, and listening. Everyone knows that. So...why would they send you round to ask us what we think of them?" She pokes him in the chest with a knowing smile. "You're not really working for the government, are you? You're the most unlikely government agent I've ever seen. You're far too nice. And you're also...well, they just don't talk like that. They're not interested in all that stuff, like, "What do you think of the government?" And "What's it like to be an Android?" She runs her fingers through his hair. "So who do you work for? And what are you really doing here?"

He knocks back the rest of the drink, places the glass on the bedside table, and lies back on the pillows, hands under his head. The bed is soft, the erotic music has started up again, and he is feeling pleasantly relaxed. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Hm." She takes a sip and looks at him over the top of her glass. "How about this – I'll tell you what you want to know, if you tell me what you're really doing here? Is that a deal?"

He looks up at her, sitting over him, legs curled under her, the magnificent breasts almost bursting out of the blouse. "OK. I agree."

She gives her trademark giggle. "Good. You first!"

He sighs. "Alright, but I warn you, you won't believe it."

"Try me."

"OK. Well...I do work for the government. In a sense, I am the government. I'm really Roland Petrovski, the Chief Counsellor on the Ruling Council."

"No you're not. I know what he looks like, and you're not him."

"I've had a changeling job done, to disguise me."

"Right!" She nods and grins. "And I'm a reincarnation of Marilyn Monroe!"

"Who's she?"

"Never mind." She muses for a minute, searching his face for clues. "OK, you're the CC on the Council, and just why are you wandering around asking silly questions of Ando barmaids in sleazy hotels?"

He can't help laughing. "I warned you! Well...I got sick of all the politicking at the top, and all the responsibility, and the slide away from Democracy...and I was having a....discussion with one of my daughters. She was telling me everyone on Alpha hated the government, and I was completely out of touch with the people...and if I didn't believe it, I should go out there and ask them. So here I am!"

She is chuckling quietly, one hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking with mirth.

"I told you!" He is half grinning himself.

After a moment she gets control of herself. "Oh! That story is so unlikely that nobody could possibly make it up as a cover. It's so ridiculous, it just might be true."

"It is true!"

"Ha! The others will never believe this. I had a visit from the CC! (Who doesn't really look like him, but claims to be him, anyway)" She lies down, then props her head on one hand to look at him. "I love it! You're very entertaining, if nothing else."

"Thank you."

"Alright. Your turn." Her body is very close to his. He can feel her breath, a slight edge of alcohol to it.

"Hm. You know what I want to know. Tell me about being an Android."

There is silence for a moment. "I've never done this before; none of us have. Nobody ever asks questions like that."

"Hey! We have a deal here."

"I know. Give me time. It's a tough question." She runs one hand over the curve of her hip, and down the long shapely thigh. "First of all, I'm not an Android. That's a...what d'you call it...a misnomer. Androids are mechanical. They look completely humanoid, and can be made to behave like it too...but in the end they're still robots, though very complex, clever ones." She pauses, then sighs. "I'm different. I am flesh and blood, as you said. I'm what you could call a clone. I was grown with stem cells, from an existing embryo..."

"But that's completely illegal. Has been for hundreds of years!"

Amanda frowns slightly. "Don't interrupt. Yeah...so is prostitution and slavery, and murder...but it doesn't stop them doing those things all the time. I thought you were in the government! Anyway...."

"So how long have you been alive? Since you were a baby?"

"No, three years."

"What?"

"Sure, they can accelerate the process, and do. They produce fully grown women, and men, ready for the market."

"For the market?"

She shakes her head at him in wonder. "Yes, for the market. It's a booming business. Where have you been all your life? I thought you were the boss up there! I'm really starting to doubt your story now, Kevin."

He is sitting up, looking straight at her. "Wait a minute...who is they? Who is running this business?"

"Hm...not sure...the company's called AEC, Android Engineering Company, but I think they're either owned by the government, or so close to them that you wouldn't know the difference."

"And....what do they do with all these...clones, these people?"

"Well....I'm a good example myself. They put us to work in the bars and brothels, cleaners, sex slaves...a lot of the men work way down at the core reactor, and BH down there...you know...anywhere real people wouldn't want to work...jobs no one else wants to do."

"Down at the Black Hole generator? But they'd be..."

"Sure they are. We're expendable. That's the whole point! Don't you get it? We're slaves they can produce and get rid of at will. It's the perfect solution for them...for you."

He grasps her hands. "Amanda, I swear to you I had no knowledge of this whatever. This is a completely illegal operation run by....I don't know...must be rogue elements within the government...without our knowledge...well, certainly without my knowledge..."

She is looking at him strangely, and for a moment he feels very far away from her, as if she is a different species, and there is no connection between them. Then she gives a little smile. "Yeah...maybe you're right. Maybe so..." He turns away, unable to face her any longer. She reaches out, runs one hand down the back of his head, strokes his neck. "Hey? It's OK..."

He looks up at her with staring eyes. "It's OK? The government I've been a part of is manufacturing clones and using them as slaves, then murdering them at will, and you say it's OK? Let me tell you, it's very far from OK! It's....." He is speechless.

She gives a sad little smile. "Well, that's the way it works."

The moaning music has given way to a single flute, playing a mournful Celtic melody. He rises rapidly from the bed and starts to pace the room.

"Come back here, you'll attract attention doing that. The software is designed to pick up any unusual behaviour."

He sits on the side of the bed with his back to her, a wild look in his eyes. She rubs a hand gently up and down his back. He shakes his head as if to clear it.

"But...you've only been around for three years....yet you seem so...well, intelligent, and normal, and...like a fully rounded adult. How can that be?"

"They take a mindscan of an existing person and imprint that on the brain

of the clone, once they're ready to be activated."

"Ah, so you have all the...."

"Memories, thoughts, personality traits of that person. Yes."

"Really? So what are those memories like?"

"Well, a tyrannical mother who beat me, a father who raped me, and an overwhelming desire to get away from them in any way that I could."

"Clever, so that you would accept your...role as being an improvement on your previous life."

"Yes, that's right."

"And do you remember the point in time at which you...woke up, you could say?"

"Yes, in a way. The memories since then are clearer...more distinct."

He has turned to face her again. Conscious of the camera, she is fondling him, nuzzling his neck.

"Why don't you run away? There are people out there working against the government, you know. You could join them!"

She shrugs. "We have no ID; we also have an implant, which activates every SS operative's alarm, once we leave our place of work. I wouldn't get a hundred metres outside the building. And the penalty for escaped clones is instant termination. It's not worth it."

"And how long do you think they'll.....well...keep you?"

"Until I lose my looks, and no longer appeal to customers, at which point they'll either send me off to some more menial task, or quite likely, terminate me there and then. There are plenty more young ones in the pipeline to take my place."

Kevin swallows, a tremor in his voice now. "How do they... 'terminate' you?"

She shrugs. "Usually send us down the chute."

"The chute?"

"Yes, it's a very long vertical-drop chute that goes right down to the core." Her tone is casual, non-committal.

"They're going to throw you down a chute, sixteen kilometres, down into the core?"

"Sure, they use it all the time. Not just for 'use by date' clones...criminals, political rivals, sick people who take up too many resources... anyone who steps out of line and becomes an embarrassment."

"My God....This is like a scene from...hell."

He looks closely at her face...the sensual mouth, shiny pink lipstick, a few freckles below those grey eyes, that seem to know so much. "How can you tell me this so casually...as if it's nothing?"

He thinks she might be going to giggle, but she only gives a weary smile. "It is nothing. It's the way things work...it's what happens. We can't change it, so why....?"

"Can't change it? We'll see about that!" And the steel in his voice, and the fire in his eye makes her think that maybe there might be some truth to the ridiculous story this eccentric, but sweet man, has told her.

*

Rhonda Meister is sitting motionless at her desk, the neural interface nodes on her temples connecting her direct to the SS Mainframe computer, precluding the need for manual controls. Rapidly she sifts through hundreds of files, scrolling down thousands of units of information, searching, seeking, probing. She has input his image into all government blips, to inform her of any sightings. The response should be automatic, within seconds, but the hardware remains stubbornly silent.

Roland....where are you? Where have you gone to? You must be out there somewhere. You didn't leave to hide out in tunnels – you went to talk to people...it was all about getting out there, and mingling with the men and women that you govern...so where have you gone to? Nobody can really disappear on Alpha. Unless....unless....

Suddenly the videophone on her screen activates, and Nicholas Fenten is looking at her blandly.

"Rhonda. How are you?"

"What's up, Nicholas?"

"Nothing in particular. I was just wondering if you'd had any success in tracking our friend?"

"Mm...nothing as yet."

Dark eyebrows rise and his look is penetrating. "Sure?"

She is proof against his mind games. "I'll let you know, as soon as we have a positive ID."

"I'll look forward to it. Don't forget to tell me." His smile is eloquent and menacing.

He is gone, and she stares at the screen, expressionless. You bastard. One day soon I shall bring you down, and watch you suffer, as you have made so many others suffer.

She muses a few moments, then comes back to the present and puts a direct call out to a private code user. In seven seconds she gets a response, and a clear image of an oriental looking lady, with long black hair, and a slightly nervous smile on her wrinkled yellow face, appears on the screen.

"Good morning Commander Meister. How are you? What can I do for you?"

"Madame Achikito. It's been a while."

"Yes, been a while." The grin is strained. Rhonda can see the ligaments in the woman's neck standing out, under the skin.

There is a pause. "How have you been? How's business?"

"Hm...good! Business good, too."

"Right." The stare is unwavering and unrelenting.

Madame's eyes slide sideways. "Something I can do for you, Commander?"

"Maybe. Have you done any changeling jobs recently?"

The face erupts into smiling laughter. "No, commander. No changelings! No do these for long time. Only for you, and you not been in touch..."

"Madame, we both know you're lying. Why not save yourself a lot of trouble, and come clean with me?"

"No Commander! I not lying! I would not do this to you." The face adopts a fawning, sycophantic smile. "You, me, we go back long way!"

"Sorry Madame, I don't believe you. I'll need to you to come in for a lie test, and brain scan. If I find out you've lied to me, you'll suffer the full consequences of the law."

Madame Achikito goes blank, all the emotion drains out of her face, and she suddenly looks very old. "You hard woman, commander. I just poor woman trying to make living."

"Sure. So what's it going to be? You going to tell me the truth now, or to my boys here in the interrogation room?"

Madame drops her head for a few seconds, then the voice comes back, faintly. "Everyone threaten. I stuck in middle. He said if I told anyone, he put me out of business. Now you say worse."

"That's right Madame Achikito. What I'll do to you is worse...so tell me about this 'he'."

"Man from government. Very big man."

"How big? You mean tall, or..."

"Mean important. Very powerful man....threaten me."

"How do you know he was powerful?" Rhonda is leaning forward, a slight tremor in her voice.

"I seen him...but he gave me ID card....different name."

"Ah, I thought so. Yes...." She thinks a moment. "Do you know his real name?"

Madame is sullen now, a small player caught between brutal, callous forces. "No, but seen him on news....on Ruling Council."

"Describe him, Madame."

"Tall, going bald, little bit fat tummy....nice man..."

"Right. And tell me about this ID he showed you. You knew it was false?"

She shrugs. "Must be. He threaten me again, then. Said ask no questions, or finish for my business."

"Do you remember the name?" She can barely hide her excitement now.

"Mm... not sure." The face assumes a cunning look. "What you do to me now? You be nice to me if I tell you name?"

Rhonda grunts. "Madame you are in no position to make deals. I think we've been through that already."

Madame's face collapses completely, and she covers it with her hands, to hide the tears.

"Come on. That's not going to help. You know me, Madame. You should know better than that."

But the woman is truly overcome. She is sobbing, but trying to speak too. "I been loyal to you.....comm.....commander. I always do my best for you....do my best work....always put you before other....(sob).... customers. What can I.....(sob)...do?

Everyone threaten me! I try to help everyone, but you people all enemies....what can I do?" She is angry, but knows this will not help. The powerless must cringe before the powerful. The red eyes plead across cyberspace. "Please Commander! I try best to help you. I beg you mercy!"

"Tell me the name, and I'll see what I can do for you."

"You promise? You no put me in jail, no send me down chute?"

"The name!"

She has no more cards to play, except this last one, to gamble on the whim of one of the mighty. "OK....Kevin. Kevin Mason. You happy now?"

"Thank you Madame. Let me check this out, and I'll get back to you. Shouldn't be more than a few minutes. Stay there." Heart beating fast she banishes the other woman from the screen, and inputs the name, searching for a newly created identity on the system. The results are almost instantaneous.

There you are! Oh! Nice changeling job! You're a young man now! You still have that magic touch, Madame....but I think I prefer the old Roland. Created on....20/5/157AE by.......Oooh! Astra....Hm...you bad girl. You and I will need to have a little chat.....

She is on the scent now, and will easily pick him up on the blips, she is confident of that. But you, Kevin....will be my little secret. Those hell hounds from the Ministry of the Interior shall not have you to tear apart. I will watch over you my love....I wonder if I shall be able to keep you safe? For the knives are out for you now. It's a dangerous game you're playing....but I shall do my best for you....you crazy idealist!

But in all her excitement she does not forget to call Madame Achikito back. Will she be merciful, or crush her like a caterpillar underfoot? This ruthless head of the feared Security Services has a secret. Under all that steely resolve, all that professional cynicism, at the soft centre of the woman....she has a heart. And this secret she keeps well hidden from all the forces of evil abroad, since they would surely use it to annihilate her, if they knew.

### CHAPTER 12

Gudrun doesn't recognize the uniforms of the agents who visit her apartment that morning. They certainly aren't SS. She reads the letter they present her with, while they sit in her lounge room, looking around them. The young man cradles his peaked cap in his lap, showing his blonde crew cut, while the woman, clearly his superior, examines her nails and also Gudrun, whom she clearly regards as an enemy of the state.

"....respectfully thank the Parliamentary Representative for their tireless dedication over the years to our Parliament, and inform them that, due to a restructuring of seats and patterns of representation, their services will no longer be required from 1/6/157 AE. The Parliamentary Representative's monthly salary of A$5680 will continue to be paid on condition that they present themselves daily at the Ministry of the Interior Criminal Surveillance Unit, do not break any laws of the state, and do not stray into any restricted areas. The former Representative will also not undertake any other form of employment, paid or otherwise.

Once again the Ministry wishes to extend its heartfelt thanks....."

"Hm..Ministry of the Interior, eh?"

The female officer does not even grace this with a reply, merely staring at her as if she is some kind of repulsive insect.

"Well," Gudrun rises from her chair. Her heart is thumping, and she needs to be alone. "Thank you for...coming. Is there anything else you need to tell me?"

The young man rises too, but the woman remains seated, continuing to eyeball her. Then with a scornful smile she rises and leads the way to the pressure door, leaving without a word. The man, on his way out, gives Gudrun a slightly embarrassed look, as if he would like to say something, but feels he better not, under the circumstances. She returns to the lounge, and sinks into one of her armchairs.

So this is it. They've done it. The penalty for speaking out...for daring to challenge the power of the Council. A prisoner in my own home, with no employment. Say nothing...do nothing. Only exist, and watch the power of the state extend itself, silencing all opposition, until everyone who dares to think an original thought is... either dead, too afraid to speak, or insane. Yes...insane.

Some wooden chimes, suspended from the ceiling, move in the slight breeze from the air conditioning unit, and emit a hollow, sombre sound. From the small kitchen next door she can hear the old style refrigerator humming away to itself.

You know you will never be able to live like this, and keep your self-respect, your sanity. Better perhaps to end it now, rather than stay home and watch the walls, endless hours of video entertainment, government propaganda, walks to the shops, to the tavern, perhaps to the recreation areas...an ageing woman, alone, slowly losing her mind. No, far better to make a quick end of things now.

Normally a believer in fast and decisive action, she remains seated, her mind suspended, as if looking down on herself from above. The thought arises that she is shirking what needs to be done. She is displaying weakness and fear, deplorable qualities. She feels shame. Then this thought passes, and she realizes the end of her life has come, and she looks back with some nostalgia on the past fifty three years....

The childhood with her parents, an only child, often alone. A frumpy, awkward girl, with few friends at school. Long hours at home spent on the old-world network, finding out about the mythical planet her great grandparents had left behind...reading stories about explorers conquering new lands, pushing the boundaries of their masters' empires, encountering fierce native peoples who resented the intrusion...the battles, followed by the inevitable victory and new settlements. The start of the industrial age, steam power, railways, combustion engines...the devastating world wars of the 20th century. How she had devoured this knowledge, absorbing it, pondering, always thinking, wondering if her world was really a bold endeavour...a continuation of this proud heritage of exploration, or simply a botched attempt to escape from an environment increasingly hostile to human beings.

At school... the gradual realization that she had something that others lacked – a sharp intelligence, an ability to read and absorb information, and above all, the desire to go further, to always ask the question why...which got her into so much trouble, so often. No longer did she need to hang back, to defer to the bullies...they began to realize that she was not to be messed with...they would feel the lash of her tongue if they were not careful...so they left her alone. The hours of study, while her father was always out, chasing his dream of settung up an organization to represent the working people, to try to maintain their rights in the face of an increasingly despotic government. The face of her mother the day he failed to come home, and the realization that she could do little to comfort her....they had grown apart. But instead, the burning fire inside of her, as she entered the university to study literature and law, to continue his fight, maybe even to avenge his death, to stand up to the powers that killed him with all the strength that she possessed.

She lies down on the couch, one foot still on the floor, eyes closed, a small sad smile barely discernable on her face. The chimes sound again, faintly, and she becomes aware of the quiet ticking of a clock on the small mantelpiece, an heirloom from earth, handed down through her family, still working, still tick-tock-ing away the seconds and the hours of her life.

Listening, remembering, her breath becomes more regular, and her body relaxes into the couch. She is at school...arguing with another student in class. She is demanding that the class, the whole school observe a minute's silence in honour of those, like her father, who have disappeared, been snatched away from their lives and loved ones. The rest of the class and the teacher are outraged, and seize her, throwing her to the floor and pummeling her with their fists, kicking her....She wakes with a sore back, and stares at the tan-coloured ceiling, still half in the dream.

And the plays! Remember the plays at school! She is going to miss Shakespeare... How she was entranced by Richard the Second, as the rest of the class droned out the lines in parts, while she was enthralled by the magic of those words, that came to life for her, as the foolish king was slowly but surely removed from power. And Hamlet...her favourite!...which they had performed, and she had wanted to play the prince, but instead was forced to be Gertrude, evil, unfaithful mother... And the young prince, angry, confused, knowing of the murder that had occurred, unsure what to do about it....filled with self-loathing at his own weakness and cowardice...

"O, that this too too solid flesh would melt, thaw and resolve itself into a dew! Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd his canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God! How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable, seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't! Ah fie! 'Tis an unweeded garden, that grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature possess it merely. That it should come to this!"

She smiles to herself...yes, there have been good things in her life, much that she has enjoyed...Still...all things pass away...perhaps the fact that she has lived these moments, experienced these joys, means that they can never truly die...perhaps they will be preserved somewhere, with or without her existence...timeless... like the Bard...

She shakes her head to clear it of fantastical thoughts, and rises from the couch. Her resolve is clear...she heads for the pressure door, grabs the shoulder wrap she always wears, and exits the small apartment. Outside, a short corridor, dimly lit, showing the doors to twentyfour other similar apartments, brings her to a medium sized thoroughfare. She joins the flow of people, past the shop-fronts, occasional cafes and restaurants, pubs and clubs, gyms, kids amusement arcades, a row of businesses, some boarded up, offering an amazing array of psychedelic, spiritual, emotional and mystical solutions to all of life's problems; finally a large Christian Church, and she is at the Zip-Train station.

A man in a face visor appears to watch her closely, as she waits for the next train, and she guesses he has information about her available to him through his visor display. Wherever she goes she will be monitored, and watched...a known trouble maker...dissident...in effect a non-person. How long will they allow her to live, when it would be so easy to pick her up, take her to the ministry, have some fun with her first, perhaps, then drag her screaming to the door which so many have passed through before?....Her hands bound behind her, as she is hurled into the abyss, wondering how long she will stay alive during the long, long drop to the hell at the bottom, or will she mercifully be killed by bouncing off the sides, or perhaps a heart attack, brought on by the gut wrenching terror of free falling through the blackness to death and extinction below? No...far better to end it now, by her own hand, than be toyed with, then murdered ignominiously.

She moves towards the edge of the platform, her heart pounding, steeling herself to time her leap right...just before the train approaches...but the next train is stopping at the station, and approaches slowly...she needs one that rushes through at high speed...

Turning away in annoyance, Gudrun sees, hiding in the gap between a rubbish bin, and a drinks dispenser machine...a small dog, short white hair, with random blotches of black and brown scattered across its body. It is lying down, head on it paws, panting, eyes open, appearing to watch her, as she stands uncertainly, ten metres away. It is thin and sick looking, starving perhaps... another desperate being come to the Zip-Train, looking for an end to matters. She draws closer, then squats down next to the small animal. It is breathing fast...she can see its ribs moving in and out rapidly, as its tiny life ebbs away, perhaps fast approaching the end of the number of breaths allocated to it by...the universe? She reaches out a hand and strokes its back, gently. The Jack Russell raises its head, and examines her face, its eyes a little misty, and out of focus. Then with a small sigh, its head lowers again, and it returns to staring into the near distance.

Impulsively, she takes hold of it with two hands, and quickly wraps it in her shawl, then holding the animal like a baby, she boards the next train that stops. She sits holding it close, oblivious to the raised eyebrows and sniggers of other passengers, staring straight ahead, feeling the body heat of the dog, and its alarmingly fast, small, panting breaths.

At Plaza D3 she leaves the train, and starts to wander aimlessly around the huge square, holding on firmly to her bundle. Avoiding the animated groups of talkers in the centre of the area, gathered around the twin fountains, which rise up there, she skirts the periphery. She is feeling lightheaded, as if she might burst into hysterical laughter at any moment, or just as likely, into tears, as she prolongs the last few hours of her life, unable to resist this tiny fellow sufferer, who, like her, could be picked up by the authorities at any time, his life snuffed out... So together, the dog passive in her arms, hidden by the wrap, in the vain hope he won't be spotted by the pros, they drift past the cafes and beauty parlours and clubs, until her attention is seized by a poster, in a window flanked by impressive stone columns.

Suddenly she realizes that without meaning to she has ended up at the Repertory Theatre Company. Smiling with pleasure, she looks at the poster showing a young man holding a skull aloft, and intones quietly...

"Alas, poor Yorrick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is!"

She becomes aware that someone is standing directly behind her. A voice continues in a louder tone:

"My gorge rims at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft..."

She turns around fearfully, to be confronted by a tall young man with long, straight black hair, hanging down either side of his rather distinguished looking face. He is smiling at her warmly.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I was just passing, and heard you...you obviously know the play well?"

"Yes...I...played in it once..."

"Really! I'm an actor too, here at the Rep...Hey!"

Gudrun has suddenly gone deadly pale, and slumps against the plate glass window. Her vision blurs, and the voice before her seems to come from very far away, as she loses all strength in her legs, and realises that she is collapsing towards the ground. Something is gripping her shoulders, and as the blackness comes, the last thing she is aware of is pleasure at how she has achieved her aim so calmly and apparently effortlessly.

*

Hector is cradling the dog in his arms, stroking its head gently, looking with concern into its milky, unfocussed eyes. "You can tell she's sick."

The lady from the foyer is standing next to him, looking down at the animal. "Yeah. I'm not sure if he's going to make it, either."

"Don't say that! We have to try and save him."

"Hm. You'll have to license him before a vet will even see him. Do you really want...." The lady lying on the couch moans quietly. "Hey, she's coming around...."

"Quick, get her some water. No wait....you take the dog, I'll do it." And he thrusts the animal into her arms, and rushes out, returning a moment later with a glass of water.

He sits on the edge of the couch beside the woman, holding her head up, as her eyes open.

"Oh! I thought...." She murmurs.

"Here, try to have a drink. Take a sip.."

She obeys, and takes a small sip, as he holds the glass to her mouth.

"I thought..."

"Don't talk....just rest. You're in the theatre. Remember you were outside, holding the dog....you suddenly fainted..."

"Oh....!" The sigh she emits, as she sinks back down and closes her eyes, is so sad and hopeless that Hector looks up at Cheryl in puzzlement. Then he pats her hand, and murmurs... "It's OK. Just rest. We've got your dog here. She's alright. Don't worry about her.."

Eyes still closed, Gudrun speaks quietly. "The dog. Yes..."

Encouraged, he asks, "What's her name? She...doesn't seem too well...?"

Another sigh. "I don't know...I...just found her...at the station. She's not really mine. I..."

He waits, but she has stopped. "You...found her at the station? And....picked her up? That was kind of you."

For some reason, this makes the woman dissolve into tears. She starts to sob quietly, as tears make their way down her cheeks. Hector says nothing, then she abruptly sits up, and tries to rise, brushing away the tears angrily.

"Hey, hey! I don't think you should... lie down and rest awhile. You've only just..." He holds her arms firmly, and she sinks back down.

"Oh, I hate being... like this. I'm so sorry to be a trouble to you. The whole thing is ridiculous. I'll just wait here a little while, and be on my way. There's something I need to do."

Cheryl is getting impatient, and worried about her responsibilities out in the foyer. She passes the dog back to Hector, and indicates that she is going. He nods, and takes the animal back in his arms.

He smiles at her. "It's OK. Don't worry...it's no trouble. I'm not busy at the moment. But...what about the dog? Are you going to take her with you? I'd say she needs some attention. You can see she's not well."

She looks at him, lips pressed together, thinking. "Yes, you're right, of course. She needs to see a vet. She....looks like she might die soon, if nothing is done."

"That's right. We'll need to try and help her. By the way, what's your name?"

The eyes go back up to the ceiling. "Gudrun."

"Well, I'm pleased to meet you, Gudrun. I'm Hector. As I told you outside, I'm an actor here at the theatre."

"Hm. Yes...thank you for your kindness, Hector." She looks at him again. "And I'm so sorry to be a nuisance..."

"No, please. I told you. No problem. But...would you mind taking her for a minute? There's some milk in the kitchen through there. I'll go and get some, and see it she'll take it. I'm sure she needs some fluid, and some nourishment. She seems to be starving."

Gudrun does not complain, as he gently shuffles the dog into her lap, and leaves the room. He returns a minute later with a container of milk, a small plastic tray, and a rather unappetizing looking cold beef burger which he found in the fridge. Pouring some of the milk into the tray, he offers it to the animal, while Gudrun gingerly holds him up in front of it. After a moment she slowly sniffs the milk, then very cautiously puts her pointed little mouth into the liquid, and tastes it. She lifts her head up, the mouth all milky, and delicately licks all around with her tongue, then sneezes. Gudrun smiles at this, while Hector laughs aloud.

"Aha! So you were thirsty, little girl, eh?"

She turns to look at him, then takes another drink of the milk, as before. Gudrun sits up, and swivels her legs around, so she can hold him more easily. After a few more drinks, Hector tries the beef burger, holding it just in front of the dog's nose. This time the reaction is quicker. She sniffs with interest, then takes a small bite of the dark, cooked meat, eating it with relish.

"There you go!" Hector is excited. "You were just starving, weren't you, poor little thing!" He strokes her, as she takes another bite. "Maybe that's all you need – a few decent meals." He looks up at Gudrun. "If she's been wandering around the urban area, she probably hasn't found much to eat at all...no wonder she's hungry and sick."

"Yes, you could be right there. She loves that meat!" And she smiles up at the young man.

He looks back at her, then frowns slightly. "I feel....as if I've seen you before somewhere. What do you....do? Where do you work?"

Her smile fades, and she sighs instead. "Mm...actually nowhere. I used to be...."

"In the Parliament! That's where I've seen you, on the news. You were standing up against the Council, speaking against that....memorandum of understanding thing....I remember now."

"Yes."

"So, what happened?"

She looks into the near distance, through the wall opposite, remembering. "They....came to see me this morning. Gave me a letter."

"Which said....?"

"That they no longer require my services. They'll continue to pay my salary, as long as I don't do any work of any kind, don't go into any restricted areas, and don't break any laws of the state. In other words, as long as I stay at home and do nothing."

He says nothing, only looks at her.

"So I decided that I didn't like the terms of that contract, and that's why I went to the Zip-Train station.... to...."

"Oh no! Don't do that! Please no."

She looks at him sharply. "Why ever not? I can't possibly live like that. Much better to finish things cleanly, now. I was just about to....do it, when I saw the dog, and....well, picked him up. It seemed we were both in a bad way..." She smiles wanly at him.

"Gudrun. Listen to me! I'm so glad you ended up here. You've come to the right place. There are people here, and I'm one of them, who can help you. You're amongst friends here. We....well, I don't want to say too much just yet, but we are no admirers of this regime, that calls itself a government. In fact, it's fair to say we are all opposed to it, and...well, you'll have to meet some of the others....but, you know, there's strength in numbers. What I'm trying to say is you're not alone! Let us help you."

She is looking at him doubtfully. "But...they want me to report to their Interior Ministry every day.... Or they'll stop my salary. I can't do that. I can't live like that! Anyway, they'll probably kill me before too long. They'll find some excuse or another to arrest me..."

Hector is looking at her hard, thinking. "No....I mean....maybe....but what if you....pretended to go along with what they want....maybe even made yourself useful to them....I don't know, said that you'd report things or people to them that they wanted to know about. Anything, to make them think they've won....and to let you live too....while really.....you could work with us....against the regime! Don't you see how that could work? This situation can't last, you know. There are too many people who have had enough. The time is coming when we will stand up and confront them."

"You mean start the civil war all over again?"

He frowns again. "Maybe, but perhaps this time will be different. Perhaps this time we can be smarter, with more support from within the system....especially if people like you are helping us! Don't you see?" He leans forward and grasps her hand, still holding the dog. "Don't kill yourself, Gudrun. That's letting them win! Join us, and help us to defeat them; then we can return Alpha to a state where the people really do have the power to make decisions, where people can be free again!"

She looks at him thoughtfully, feeling the warmth of the little dog in her lap, and the pressure in the fingers of the handsome young man leaning towards her.

*

Breathe in(one).....breathe out....breathe in(two).....breathe out...slight pain in lower back...breathe in(three)....breathe out....visualise the breath descending to the lungs, then all the way up again, and out the nostrils...no, supposed to focus only on the air passing the edges of the nostrils....breathe in(four..no five..six?)..fuck!..oops! sorry Buddha! Start again...Breathe in(one)....breathe out....Breathe in(two)...must get back onto the old world network, and find out more about this...do all the different traditions meditate in the same way? Are there any differences? Which one is easier? Not easier...more effective...Breathe in(three, no four...?) damn...oops...Oh shit! This is bloody hard!

Don't worry...start again...it's all training...all practice. Breathe in(one)...breathe out...breathe in(two)...breathe out...breathe in(three)...breathe out...breathe in(four)...breathe out...(long, straight, dark, hair, hanging down both sides of his...)breathe in(five)...breathe out...(that smile...met him before...at a party...made a fool of my...)breathe in(six)...breathe out...(so excited to see him again...went there to find Max, but met him instead...he seemed pleased to see me...wanted to talk...but then seemed to drift off...tired? bored? Just weird? Don't remember him like that before...seemed...interested...relaxation...breathing...oh fuck!) OK, don't count...just..breathe...feel..the..breath..on..the..nostrils...in...out...in...out...in...mm...that's better...good...in...out...in...out..hey..think I've got the hang of this...in...out...in...out...yes! Cool! That's it! I've got it! Knew I would if I kept on trying...Not that hard really! Easy! Maybe I'm a natural...Wonder if I'll reach enlightenment today? Oh no! Lost it again...shit!

In...out...in...out...good...keep it up...in...out...in...(did I kiss him at the party? Can't remember...too out of it...might have done...think it was really nice...would love to again...so what happened in the theatre? Something...amazing...can't stop thinking about it...him...we connected so completely...he understood exactly what I was saying...only person I've talked to about this, apart from Dad...and he got it...straight away! I wanted to move into his arms...feel him hold me...he wanted to do the same! That why he was closing his eyes...looking weird...trying to control himself? Vain! Reading too much into it...He's so tall...serious face...but thoughtful, beautiful smile...strong chin...nice neck...hairy chest? Mmm...kissing his chest...down...)Oh no! In...out...in...out...I'm fucking hopeless at this!

Be well...be happy...and peaceful...my child...in...out...in...out...may you be free

from anger and hatred...in...out..may you be free from attachments...in...out...may

you be free from ignorance...in...out...in...out...may your heart be filled with loving

kindness...with a deep love for all beings...with boundless

love...in...out...in...out...if you have caused suffering to others, may you be

forgiven...if others have caused suffering to you, may you forgive them now...may

you be well, happy and peaceful...in...out...in...out...may your loving thoughts

reach out to others...to those around you...

Maria sits on her cushion, before her small shrine...Buddha image, tea lights burning, incense scenting the room...slowly her own egotistical self slips away...for a short while she experiences something new...the silence, without her own nagging thoughts, and a connection with something greater...the catalyst for this miracle...her own compassion for others...for all beings, who suffer as she does...and so she achieves a brief window into a different state of being... And although the road will be long, and full of pitfalls...the Buddha within her has been awakened.

### CHAPTER 13

The guard on the reception desk at the Interior Ministry Correctional Facility, District 1, level 23, is having a little nod. The day is long, and the bland, faintly lime-coloured walls are very soporific. After long enough staring at them, he can actually believe he is starting to see pictures, moving on them...a beach....a beautiful girl in a bikini, lying on a towel...an old world sun beating down from the blue sky, as she languidly moves her limbs, rubbing the top of one leg with her hand...and then he must have dropped off...drifting into a world without blank walls...but still where he is lost, and seeking for something...as he walks through endless valleys, seeking, seeking...always a nagging doubt at the back of his mind, which turns into a very sore neck, as someone bangs the flat of their hand down on the counter in front of him, and is roaring in his ear... He jerks awake, and tries to focus on the face, contorted with anger, that is floating menacingly in front of his own, as the mouth opens and begins to yell very loudly.

"How dare you, officer! What kind of a facility are we running here? Who is your superior officer? Tell me now!"

"Err...Major Daltry...sir..." The guard's brain has suddenly clicked into gear, as he recognizes the man before him, and he is filled with a deep, dark dread. Commander Felten, Minister for the Interior, one of the three most powerful men on Alpha, is nearly always bad news...but when he's caught you sleeping on the job...well...

"Get Major Daltry here now!"

"Yes sir." And he hits a button on the desk, summoning the good major.

While they wait, Nicholas Felten stares malevolently into his face, as he tries vainly to meet his gaze, but fails dismally, looking away, feeling only the warm urine running down the inside of his pants.

When Major Daltry arrives Felten turns on him savagely. "Major, I am shocked and appalled. I come in here on Ministry business, and what do I find? Tell him, guard. Tell Major Daltry what I found!"

"Er...I..."

"Major, your guard here was asleep! Sleeping on duty! Do you understand? Do you have anything to say, Major?"

The good major turns to his guard, and is just about to give him the mother of all tongue-lashings, when the Minister says quietly: "Save it Major. Put him in a cell. I'll decide his fate later, when you and I have had a little chat about work procedures. First, I want you to take me to the rebel prisoners."

"The ones in stasis, sir?"

"Yes, the ones in stasis! I don't believe we have any others, not in stasis, do we? Of course the ones in stasis!"

"Yes sir. One moment, please." He speaks rapidly into a microphone on his lapel. Another officer appears, and leads the guard away, as another man in the same dark brown uniform takes his place at the desk.

"This way, sir."

Nicholas follows the man along a corridor, down a lift, along another passage, then they wait while he inputs his handprint into a unit next to another lift, which then takes them down several floors, where they emerge into a large, brightly lit chamber.

On either side of a broad central gangway, stand life support units. Each one is about 2 metres tall, with a collection of pipes and cables leading into it from below the floor. Through the transparent front of the first one, Nicholas can see a human form, dressed in a kind of large nappy, supported upright on a padded frame, which is designed to support the arms, legs and head. He can see the man's chest rising and falling almost imperceptibly, as his body, at a temperature of 10 degrees Celsius, absorbs the tiny amount of air it needs to keep alive. Electrodes connected to the temples, neck, heart and wrists monitor vital signs of life, which are displayed on small screens on the console at the front of the unit. The man has long, straggly grey hair, and his cheeks sag downward below his eyes, which are closed.

Nicholas looks down the central walkway, where he can see many more such units, and also rows of them going back on each side, regularly spaced, like tombstones in a cemetery.

He looks up at the officer. "Thank you, Major Daltry. You may go now. I will come and see you before I leave. Make sure you are still here."

The major looks confused, but under the relentless stare of those cold, blue eyes, he decides to obey without question.

"Yes sir." He salutes, and turning smartly, leaves the chamber.

Nicholas is alone with the five hundred and fifty seven prisoners.

He turns back to the unit in front of him. Both hands resting on the Perspex front, he stares through the screen at the barely alive man.

"Thomas Octonis...I remember you...arrogant, big mouthed, ignorant bastard! Thought you and your units could stand against our forces! All that vile propaganda you broadcast, the lies you put out, to turn innocent people against us, and support you in your foolish, futile insurrection...I hope you're ashamed of what you did! I despise and detest you for your crimes against the state. If I'd had my way, you would have been dispatched immediately. I would gladly have put my blaster against your head, and watched as the beam sliced your brain, and the life died from your eyes. Do you hear me? You child fucker! You deserve to die! Not stand there, costing the state money. That feeble-minded imbecile Petrovsky...putting you here, because he doesn't have the guts to decide what to do with you...he's gone. Do you hear me, dick brain? He's gone...gone soft, gone away...gone to 'talk to the people'...ha! He's finished! Hear that, motherfucker? Your protector is gone... we'll deal with him too. Now we've got the real men running the show, the ones that know what's what, and aren't afraid to do what needs to be done."

He is panting, a trail of dribble running from his mouth, as he yells abuse at the body before him, through the clear screen.

"You know what, cocksucker? I was going to wait a few days before we switch you all off....but I might just make a start now..." He starts to chuckle deep down in his throat. "What are we going to do with you, eh? Have some fun, don't you think? Before you go down the chute? Eh? I think so... I really do. Hang you up by the balls? Pattern your body with a hot iron? Slice off your fingers one by one? Or just mash them with a hammer? What's your pleasure, Thomas? Hehehe.... You know you deserve it! Or maybe just put you all in a big room, naked, with only a few jugs of water, while we watch you die through the glass, watch as you fight and kill each other, as your so-called humanity ebbs away, and you're left with bare survival... who will kill who for a mouthful of water? Then when you're nearly all dead, we'll just shovel you up in a mini-digger, and send you screaming down the chute, like the pieces of shit that you are....

Working himself up into a frenzy, he suddenly goes round to the rear of the unit and starts to unscrew the fasteners which secure the back to the main frame. Working feverishly, he wrenches the panel off, then staggers as the main frame, and its contents, tumble backwards on top of him. Some of the electrodes are torn away from the body, as it lies in a jumbled heap, partially covering him. Moving convulsively, he extricates himself from the tangled mess.

"Get off me, you fucker. How dare you?!"

Grabbing a screwdriver from a nearby shelf, he kneels down beside the inert body, and raising the tool above his head, starts to puncture the chest with the point, drawing blood, which oozes out, forming bubbles, when he pierces the lungs with his demented thrusts. Not content with this, he starts on the neck, forcing the point through ashen-coloured, now fragile flesh, until blood is gushing from several puncture wounds. Finally, he moves up to the face, which is soon a mangled, bloody monstrosity, although he has trouble here, as the point tends to strike the bones below, making the head veer away, as if the unfortunate man were trying to avoid the blows from his attacker.

Finally he stops, panting furiously, kneeling in a puddle of blood over the oozing corpse. "You bastard! You made me do that! Mother fucker! Now you're gone, and I can't hurt you any more."

He raises his head, looking around. "Aha...but there's all the rest of you beauties! We'll deal with you appropriately!" And he starts to laugh uncontrollably, as he lightly slaps the bloodstained cheeks of Thomas Octonis, and leans down to give him a fond farewell kiss.

Five minutes later, having cleaned himself up as best he can in a wash room, and having brought down a swift death sentence on the sleep-deprived guard, he gives Major Daltry his orders regarding the remaining five hundred and fifty six prisoners.

"Bring them out of stasis, and put them into cells. I want them conscious. Feed them, water them, clean them up... I'll be back in a couple of days with more orders for you then. Is that clear? And the next time I come here and find that sort of appalling laxity in your men, it'll be you be for the drop, as well as the offender. Is that clear major?"

The major nods dumbly, as the young Minister, with the blood stained suit, leaves his office, and strides out past the reception desk without a sideways glance.

*

Anton Rajid, acting director of AEC, is having a good day. An avid follower of Alpha politics, he can sense an exciting change in the wind. The sudden disappearance of the Chief Counsellor has been kept out of the news, but it certainly hasn't been kept out of the complex web of grapevines that hold the government departments, and other executive arms of government, firmly in their grasp. Anton almost laughed out loud when he heard it.

What a futile, ludicrous, pathetic way to run a tightly knit society like Alpha! Of all the feeble, moronic attitudes to take towards his responsibility to maintain social order and cohesion, within the densely packed layers and levels that housed the ten million inhabitants of this mamoth space ship! The man must be an absolute....here words failed Anton Rajid, and he just shook his head in despair.

Anyway, he was gone, and good riddance to him! Thank god that Felten and Waziri, Meister and the other top brass on the Council were there to run things properly. They knew how to keep people in line, how to make them do their jobs, so that things went along smoothly. And they knew how to deal with trouble makers who wanted to stir things up, with their crazy ideas about democracy, and representation of the people. How could you possibly run a government based on a show of hands at an election? That lead to parties pandering to the electorate, each trying to outdo the other, with the mouthwatering prizes they offered to the people, if only they would vote for them! What sort of way was that to run a trans-generational arkship? Not only that, those sorts of people were very bad for business....his business...with their pathetic self-righteous bleatings, about the rights of the individual, and how even clones had to be respected as members of the human race....Unbelievable! Again, Anton shook his head in wonder at the....abject stupidity of some of the more naive adults he was forced to share this tiny world with.

Thanks heavens for Felten, and his straightforward, no nonsense approach to the industry. In discussions with him last week, he had got the distinct impression that the era of hiding their clone production under the carpet, pretending they were really doing something else, might be coming to an end, with the demise of Petrovski; a brighter day might be dawning, when they could be more open, which meant, of course, they could increase their production – all of which would mean more profits flowing into the pockets of the shareholders and owners, amongst whom he, Anton Rajid, figures prominently.

He smiles gently to himself, as he sits in his luxurious office, tapping his gold pen on the leather bound blotter on the desk in front of him.

A communicator attached to the desk beeps, and his chief of security is on the line.

"We have a visitor, sir. A Kevin Mason from the Security Services, Level 7, and cleared to inspect all government and government owned facilities. Says he needs to check our security procedures. The SS is worried about a resurgence of the rebel movement, and the possibility of terror attacks."

"Hm, interesting. Send him in to me. I'll talk to him."

"Yes sir. Will do."

The SS trying to flex its muscles, trying to fight back against the ever growing influence of the Ministry of the Interior. Anton smiles indulgently. So amusing to watch them at their games! Still, he'd better play along with it.

Kevin Mason turns out to be a slightly balding, but athletic looking man in his mid thirties, dressed in a pale grey suit, with a collarless white shirt, buttoned up to the neck. He smiles affably as Anton meets him at the door and shakes his hand.

"Mr Mason! It's a pleasure."

"Likewise Mr Rajid. And thanks for taking the time to see me straight away. I know how busy you must be."

"Not at all, not at all. Always a pleasure to meet someone from our marvelous Security Services. What can I do for you?"

"Ah, your security chief didn't tell you." He settles himself in the armchair. We have intelligence that there may be a few elements of the rebels, reforming themselves in the restricted areas. We're concerned about the, admittedly remote, possibility of attacks on government facilities. Hence our program of inspections of all such facilities to make sure that security is up to scratch." He looks up and meets the steady gaze of the acting director. "So I'd appreciate it if you, or one of your people, could show me round, especially in relation to staff identification, adherence to standard security procedures, and contingency planning in case of an emergency."

Anton is beaming at him. "Yes, of course. I'll give you a tour myself. I always like showing outsiders what we do here...provided, of course, they have adequate security clearance!" He laughs aloud, and Mason smiles politely at the joke, bowing his head slightly. "So, shall we go?" He stands, and his visitor does the same.

"I think the best thing is if we start at the main entrance, and then you show me round all the various other areas from there. Is that alright with you?"

Anton bows, tapping his heels lightly. "Just what I was going to suggest myself. This way, please."

At the main entrance, an imposing semi-circular, high ceilinged lobby, with a hotel style reception desk, and an ornate staircase curving up behind it, the acting director shows off the blips, hidden cameras, in the walls, that automatically pick up anyone entering from outside, and cross reference them with existing files of all employees.

"Aha. So when I entered, for example...?"

"Our main computer, having realized you weren't an employee, would then have checked you out against other government system files, and fortunately found you there on the SS system, with adequate clearance to be allowed in here."

"And if that hadn't been the case?"

"Then a silent alarm would have sounded, and our security detail would have been summoned, while the receptionist here detained you with filling in paperwork. On arrival they would have overpowered you, and taken you to our secure holding area, till you could be taken away for questioning."

Kevin nods his head. "I see. And in these cases you contact.....?" His raised eyebrows ask the question.

"Er...yes, Ministry of the Interior special forces."

"Hm. Is that what they call themselves these days? Anyway, yes, that seems OK." He pauses a moment. "But what if the intruder had been armed? Carrying a weapon, a bomb belt, ready to take himself out, or herself, along with this facility. What then?"

Anton can hardly hide his glee. "I was hoping you'd ask me that. In that case the blips would have activated the armed intruder sequence, which seals off the lobby area with airtight seals, and flood the area with debilitating Nurex gas, which causes muscular failure and unconsciousness within 4 seconds."

"I see. And we just hope they don't detonate their bomb once they realize what's happening!" He tries a broad smile of his own, which Anton acknowledges noncommittally. "Alright. We'll leave that one for now. Where to next?"

"Yes, upstairs." He leads the way up the staircase, a slight chill in the air, due to the point he feels was scored against him.

"On the first floor here, the main administration block...my office, which you've been to, my senior staff here, and further down there...this corridor, records and supplies... and right down the end there...some conference rooms, staff room and er, facilities."

"Good. Yes...lead the way, please. I need to see them all."

"Very well. Follow me."

Three minutes later they emerge onto the same landing. "OK, that seems to be all fine. And you have blips in every room, I assume?"

Anton looks at him blankly. "Standard video and audio surveillance equipment in every room, as per Alpha government building standards." Surely you know that much? He feels like adding, but doesn't.

"Mm...yes, of course. Now, I'd like you to walk me through your production process, if you'd be so kind. I think that will be the best way to proceed."

"Certainly. So, we'll go up to the top floor, and work our way downwards. This way, please."

The silence in the lift still has a touch of frost to it, so Kevin decides to try a charm offensive. "Yes, so good of you to show me round personally. A lot of places are a bit boring, to be honest, but this one really fascinates me. What an amazing process you must have in place here."

"Ah yes... you're right there. Now, here we are...our labs, where the ova are fertilized. You'll need a lab coat and hairnet and mask to go in there. In here...I'll get us fixed up with what we need." Emerging from the ante-room to the main lab, Roland can see technicians at benches, carefully monitoring machines that complete the fertilization process. They look up with interest at the visitors, and one woman winks at him cheekily over her facemask. They move back out into the corridor.

"So, there are three like that, the others are exactly the same. Then down here....on the sixth floor...after you...are our incubation chambers...yes truly state of the art technology, only developed about forty years ago, that allow us to fast track the development of the foetuses, so that within six months... we can produce a fully mature adult! Now that's what I call a good solution to the manpower shortage! And woman power too, of course!" He laughs heartily, thoroughly at ease with his visitor again, now that he's in the driving seat.

Kevin is nodding seriously. "Yes, indeed. But there must be more to it than that." They are walking past row after row of egg-shaped tanks, each one with a complicated assembly of supply pipes, wiring, and LED displays along the front.

"Ah, you're so right there. This is only the beginning. Come with me!"

Two minutes later they are down on the fifth floor. Kevin can see corridors going in all directions, from a central hub point.

"One of our biggest departments. This is where we conduct the transition from brand new emergent body to something that is ready for neural programming, and other formative processes, before the unit is ready to be assigned to work." They are walking fast along the passageway, Anton gesturing excitedly through the glass panels of innumerable doors, through which Kevin can see overall-clad technicians working with some rather disorientated-looking...clones.

"This is the most delicate part of the operation, and it really takes a lot of skill in our people to achieve the best results. There can be a great deal of distress and trauma, in the new units, and it takes a lot of patience and skillful handling to calm them down. Of course, once we move them on to the next stage, which is neural programming, next floor down, the situation becomes easier, as they begin to take on a personality, with a past, and memories they can relate to. It's absolutely fascinating, don't you think?" He presses the button for the lift once again.

"Here we are...Neural programming. Takes about a week all up...you can't rush inputting that information to the brain, you know; most of it done through hypnopaedia, of course, but even so, there's a lot of material to input, so we end up with a balanced, functioning unit."

"Yes, I can see what you mean. It must be an incredibly delicate process."

"Mm, highly skilled, as I said. Now, nearly finished now...one more floor to show you. Here's the lift..."

"OK, Assimilation; another very big department, mainly because we have different areas, depending on what sort of workplace the unit is destined for. We don't want to teach a barmaid how to operate a plutonium fuel processor, or a nuclear power specialist how to make cocktails, now do we? Ha, ha, ha..."

"No, you certainly don't! Actually, that's a good point...what sort of failure rate do you have? I mean are there units that simply don't work out? Perhaps the neural programming doesn't work as well as it should, or...um... personality difficulties, that may be inherited from the original DNA? I don't really know what I'm talking about...but do you have any failures?"

Anton is regarding him coldly. "Mm, occasionally, although of course if the early stages of selection are done correctly, the chances of something like that happening should be very small." He ponders a moment, wondering how much to divulge. "We only have to waste the finished unit in around three or four percent of cases... which I might add," he switches to full beam smile, "is an outstanding record, given the complexity of the operation, as you have so wisely pointed out."

"Aha. I see." They are approaching the entrance hall again. Kevin Mason rouses himself to the needs of the moment. "And...other entry points? Exits? I'll need to see them too."

"Of course; only two of them, apart from the main one, which you've seen. Down this way."

"So exactly what sort of areas do you use the...units in? Hospitality I know about, and you've mentioned the power station. Where else do you program them for?"

"Oh, all sorts, really. Cleaners, farm workers, out in the rural area, mechanics, mostly on the lowest levels, the ones...you know...nearest the power station, where radiation levels tend to get a bit...borderline. We have some wonderful girls you can keep at home for your personal pleasure," he leers at his visitor, "although they don't come cheap of course. But those I can personally vouch for...yes, our technicians do a truly marvelous job with those little ladies...."

"Sure, and what sort of life-span are we talking about?"

"Well, we don't use that term, of course, but working duration, well...it depends on the work environment, and the type of work...hospitality and sex workers, around ten years on average, the higher work-rate, and more demanding jobs, much less, sometimes as little as two or three years. Occasionally it's possible to reassign them to other work areas, but that carries its own risks, as you can imagine, having been specifically programmed for one task." They are examining a goods entrance on the ground floor. "We have experimented with recycling existing units...seeing if we can't re-program them to perform a different task...but, to be honest, without much success. That sort of thing really needs to be done much earlier in the process. Generally, we have to waste them, and start afresh. Pity really, because that would be very exciting financially, if we could find a way to do it."

"Yes, I can imagine." He is casting a professional eye on the final entry/exit point. "Well, I think that's about all, Mr Rajid. I'll forward you a copy of my report, once it's ready, but I don't think you've got too much to worry about. In general, your security seems to be very impressive here." He extends his hand with a smile. "Thank you again."

"My pleasure. As I said, we're always happy to welcome people from the SS here. We see enough of the other lot!" He concludes with a guffaw.

"Yes, I'm sure you do. Bye now."

Kevin Mason walks to the front reception, and when the security exit formalities are completed, is finally able to get out of the building.

Down the thoroughfare, round the corner into a small alleyway, and he leans back against the wall, head spinning, nausea rising in his stomach. Unable to stay upright, he slides down until he is squatting on his haunches, still leaning against the wall. A surging wave of blackness threatens to overwhelm him, so he concentrates all of his mind on his breathing, on the breath rasping in and out through his teeth, as he looks directly at the concrete wall opposite, where it joins the synthetic tiles of the alleyway.

What have I done? What have I done? What have I been a part of for all these years? How could I have....for so long? All this going on...around me...I've been a complete...innocent...they must have been laughing at me all along...and me with my lofty ideals about the need to try and keep things going...try to keep the peace, and keep things stable and harmonious...when all the time...my so-called colleagues...are making themselves rich...with this obscene... business...and how much more? How much more is there that simple, naive Roland doesn't know about? What other horrors are still to be revealed?

Eyes close, and tears stream down his face, as he starts to hit the back of his head against the wall, and harder...harder...relishing the pain, which at least may shut out some of the awful thoughts assaulting his mind.

Not far away, sitting at her desk in the Security Services Administration wing, Rhonda Meister is close to tears herself. On the screen in front of her, the image of the former Chief Counsellor, squatting by the wall, lost in self-recrimination.

Oh my poor Roland. You poor moralistic, virtuous man. You had no idea what sort of evil your fellow men were capable of...how cruel they could be, how unfeeling, how...inhuman... it's hitting you hard now...You always tried to do your best to help those you felt responsible for, and assumed everyone else would surely do the same...it's a rude awakening for you now... I wish I could reach out to you...wish I could be there with you... But never fear, my love, the time is coming when these monsters, when these fiends shall be punished. I cannot stand by much longer, and watch their barbarisms, which will surely soon spell the end for Alpha. This much madness cannot be allowed to continue! Go out there, my dear...go out and find others who think like you. If they are men and women of good sense, who will put some sanity back into our government, then I will work with them, and with you. Together we will oust these criminals, who are surely dragging us all down, with their stench of evil, their hatred and their greed.

In the alleyway, a man holds his head in his hands, then stands abruptly. As if in a trance, he steps unsteadily out into the main thoroughfare, and walks along, swaying slightly, ignorant of where he is going, only knowing he must move, to escape the terrible thoughts in his head. Oblivious to the stares and sniggers of the people around him, he walks on blindly, till suddenly his attention is caught by a small sign on a corner – a tree, with underneath it a man in a robe sitting in the lotus position, an ethereal smile suffusing his face. Conscious that he is likely to get picked up by the SS, or one of the other government outfits responsible for quelling aberrant behaviour, he heads down the side street, where after ten metres he finds another sign the same, directing him into a dark archway.

Brushing aside a thin curtain, he blinks in the light created by what seems to be dozens of tea lights, burning inside glass containers, all arranged in rows along the edge of a low platform, covered by a carpet. In the middle of the tiny stage sits an old man, while above, perched on a high shelf of its own, a wooden Buddha – old and stained - but Kevin can see the eyelids covering the eyes, and that same smile, ageless, eternal, full of peace and kindness.

The man's skin is yellow and wrinkled, especially where extensive crows feet radiate out from his twinkling eyes. Kevin notices his thin lips, stretched into what is almost a grin, below which sprouts a short, wispy white beard. He is dressed in a kind of grey robe, covering loose grey trousers, which can be seen where the man's legs are crossed, bare soles of his feet pointing upwards, in a classic lotus position.

His voice is high, and slightly cracked, filled with amusement at the world. "My friend. So glad to see you! I thought you would be coming this way soon." Kevin just stands, swaying a little, saying nothing. "Come," he gestures with his hand. "Come and sit down here."

Kevin looks at the worn carpet in front of the monk, moves forward and slowly folds himself down into a cross legged position there, hands in his lap, looking up at the other.

"I had heard about you...from my friend...who told me about the big man on the council he had taught...who was a good man, and loved the Dhamma. Then when my friend was taken...I wondered how you were...how you were...dealing with these troubled times. I can see you are shaken...in pain." The humorous eyes regard him kindly. "Yes, you are truly suffering. Please, close your eyes. Relax yourself."

Kevin does so, and after a short time hears a loud clear chiming note, which reverberates around the room, and around his consciousness, focusing his mind immediately.

"Please keep eyes gently closed, and be aware of breath, coming in through the

nose...and leaving the body through the nose...and entering again...and leaving again

through the nose.

Your mind is troubled. You hear many words...see many thoughts...but still the

breath comes in through the nose, as you breathe in loving kindness...and still the

breath leaves the body through the nose, taking with it all evil thoughts, all

suffering.

Again, breathe in loving kindness for this troubled being, and breathe out impurities....

Yes. Now this being called I is calmer. The loving kindness is taking away the hatred

for self he felt. His being is filled with loving thoughts for self.

May he be well, happy and peaceful.

May he be free from anger and hatred.

May he be free from attachments.

May he be free from ignorance.

May his heart be filled with loving kindness...for self, and for all beings.

May the Buddha, and the Dhamma, and the Sangha bless him. May he be filled with

Many blessings.

Yes, breathe in blessings.

Breathe out loving kindness for all beings...

And again...."

Some short time elapses.

"Now open eyes, please....good."

Kevin looks up at the monk, who beams down at him, satisfied.

"Yes, this is indeed terrible place we live in, while we travel, looking for new world to live on. Even leaving place where Lord Buddha taught us way to freedom from suffering..." He sighs briefly, then revives, grinning like a naughty child. "But universe is big place, ah? Many places to go and spread wisdom. I want to tell you a secret. Is very old story...very happy story...very true story. You want to hear it?"

Kevin smiles at the old man, nodding briefly.

"OK then. Is a chant. Normally we chant in Japanese, but today I tell to you in English. Better, eh?" He chuckles. "You ready?"

Kevin nods again.

"Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva, practicing deep Prajna Paramita

Clearly saw that all five skandas are empty, transforming anguish and distress.

Shariputra, form is no other than emptiness, emptiness no other than form;

Form is exactly emptiness, emptiness exactly form;

Sensation, perception, mental reaction, consciousness are also like this.

Shariputra, all things are essentially empty: not born, not destroyed,

Not stained, not pure, without loss, without gain.

Therefore in emptiness there is no form, no sensation, perception, mental reaction,

consciousness;

No eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, mind,

No colour, sound, smell, taste, touch, object of thought;

No seeing, and so on to no thinking;

No ignorance, and also no ending of ignorance,

And so on to no old age and death,

And also no ending of old age and death;

No anguish, cause of anguish, cessation, path;

No wisdom and no attainment.

Since there is nothing to attain,

The Bodhisattva lives by Prajna Paramita,

With no hindrance in the mind; no hindrance, and therefore, no fear;

Far beyond delusive thinking, right here is Nirvana."

He stops, and chuckles at Andre. "What you think? Pretty crazy stuff, eh?"

There is a slight wheeze behind the cracked, high-pitched voice. "Let me explain just a little...not too much, hehe. Buddha said that all human experience is the sum of our five skandas, or different types of experience, that is: form(physical bodies), sensation, perception, mental reaction(our mind), consciousness. All suffering is because we experience the world through these 5 skandas. It cannot be otherwise. Then, later, this great Bodhisattva realized that all these five skandas are only emptiness – which means that all suffering is emptiness too!" He laughs aloud. "You see? Not real, only empty! Is wonderful, eh? That way, we need have no fear. That way, Nirvana is right here, right now. Even on Alpha!"

He stops, and observes Andre benignly.

"So do not be troubled, my friend. Do not worry about any thing. OK?"

Andre smiles faintly back at him, unable to say a word.

The monk smiles more broadly. "Anyway, I think there is change coming. Change for better. So be of good cheer, as our Christian brothers and sisters say. I like that. 'Be of good cheer.'"

He raises his hands together, as if in prayer, and bows in the direction of his visitor.

"I pray you continue your practice...and come and see me again, when the time is right. May you be well, happy and peaceful."

He closes his eyes, and returns to the meditative state he was in when Roland arrived.

### CHAPTER 14

"Hi Leelah. It's me, Roland."

He can hear her gasping into the communicator at the other end. "Hi there! How are you? Are you OK? What's happening? Are you coming here?"

He chuckles. "I'm OK, I guess. I would like to come there. I need a break from...all this. Is that alright?"

"Of course. Yes...come." There is a pause. "Except that...."

"What? Tell me."

"Well, I haven't seen you since you had that...you know...changing job thing...."

"Changeling job. Yes. Ah...you're worried about my appearance."

"Well...I mean...you look different now. How will I know..."

"That it's really me?"

She can hear the smile in his voice. "It's alright for you, but...it freaks me out...Tell me what you look like now."

"Well...a bit slimmer, a bit younger. More hair. Basically she took twenty years off me."

"Really! Wow."

"I would've thought you'd like the change. I'm just worried about what happens when I reverse the process. You might not like me any more, then..."

"Oh you!"

"I've got an idea. Let's try not to worry about it, and just trust each other. What do you think?"

"Hm...you're right. So...when are you coming? Where are you now?"

"I'm in a hotel in district 43. I'll be there in about three or four hours."

"In a hotel? You poor thing. Come round to the cottage, and I'll see if I can't make you feel more at home!"

"See you soon."

*

The surface area has advanced a little through its preordained cycle, which mimics the seasons on Earth. Full summer is approaching, and plants and trees are blooming, fruiting, giving forth their abundance, making sure seeds are spread and sowed, eggs are fertilized and laid, and all things are arranged so that life will continue and burgeon in the future.

He breathes deeply, as he strides along, enjoying the scents of the forest, as he always does, after the sterile, air-conditioned atmosphere of the urban zone. At the stream, a flash of blue in front of him, then a brief sight of a kingfisher sitting in a tree, across the other side. A haze of tiny gnats hovers over the water, and in a pool, lower downstream, he can hear the splash of a fish, feeding on them.

When he first enters the house, she is not there, and a tiny frisson of terror clutches at his heart. Has she been found out, connected to him? Have they taken her away? But then he can hear her calling from beyond the garden fence, and suddenly she is there, holding a spray of wild summer flowers, running at him, arms around his neck, and the flowers are coming between them. He can feel the fabric of her white cotton top, then her hips, as his hands run down to the long, loose, multi-coloured skirt.

She is laughing with her eyes closed. "I'm not going to look at you! I'm never going to open my eyes to look at you!"

He kisses her eyelids, delicately.

Then she is looking at him critically. "Hm...not bad, actually." She holds him at arm's length. "Yes...I approve. Whoever did this, did a good job." Then she is hugging him again. "Oh Roland...I've been so worried about you. These people are capable of anything. They have eyes everywhere...you know that. You're one man against a whole...system...that spies on everyone, and has no mercy. I wish you could just come and live here with me, and be safe."

He is holding her tight too. "Would we be safe? Is anywhere safe with this regime?"

He can feel her trembling, but she doesn't answer this. He kisses her again. "Come on. Let's go inside. Let's put these beautiful flowers you've dropped into a vase." And he bends to pick them off the path where they are strewn. She helps him, and then leads him into the cottage.

Everything is the same, the cushions on the stout wooden couch, the plates lined up on the side dresser, the wood crackling in the small stove against the wall, a wonderful smell coming from a large pot simmering on top of it.

She has one hand around his waist, admiring his runners and jeans and lime green shirt hanging out casually. "Yes, I do like this new-look, younger version of you. You've got a point!" She giggles up at him, then whispers in his ear, "But I can't wait for the real you to come back again."

He laughs aloud, relieved that everything is right between them, and that he is here, safe and sound in this wonderful refuge, away from the hell he has just been through, alone again with the new love of his life.

"Hey, do you have any of that elderberry wine, you plied me with last time?"

Her eyes are sparkling. "Yes, and I have plans for that too. I've been heating up the water in the tank for the bath. We're going to have some wine in there, and you can tell me all about your adventures."

"Mm...I'm not sure about adventures, but that sounds like fun!"

"Are you hungry? Do you want to eat first?"

"No, later. Let's have some wine, and that bath."

She grabs his hand, and shows him to the bathroom, at the back of the cottage, beyond the kitchen. She leans over the bath to put in the plug, while he admires her profile from behind. She turns on the hot tap.

"There. You get in. I'll go and get the wine." She kisses him quickly and disappears back into the kitchen.

He checks the water, adjusts the taps slightly, then removes his clothes, dropping them onto the floor, like ghastly memories to be purged from his mind. Naked, he steps into the bath, and slowly lowers himself into the hot water, feeling it, sensational against his skin. He leans back against the curved end of the bath, cool against his back, rests his head, and lets out a long breath, eyes closed.

A few moments later a glass of cool wine is placed in his fingers, which are resting on the side of the bath. He opens his eyes to the glorious sight of Leelah removing her clothes. Her small, firm breasts hang down, as she bends forward, sliding the skirt down her long, smooth legs, till it lies in a heap, next to his discarded jeans and shirt. The long blonde hair hangs down in a curtain, screening her face from him. She hooks it behind both ears, and becomes aware he is watching her. She straightens up, turns off the taps, then comes and sits provocatively on the edge of the bath. Her thigh and buttocks are inches away from his face. He switches the glass to the other hand, leaving him free to rub his hand along her leg, then round and up her back, and down to where the pale pink g-string panties cling to her waist. He hooks one finger over the waistband, and she carefully stands up, as the panties descend her legs, leaving her wonderfully, gloriously naked.

She kneels on the floor, next to the bath, and kisses him passionately on the mouth, while he caresses her head, her hair, her shoulders, all he can reach. Then she laughs and pulls away, only to step delicately into the bath, and sit down between his legs, knees bent, as she moves carefully back, feeling for the taps. Then, taking a thick towel she has placed on the floor, she covers the taps with it, so she can lean back comfortably. Finally, picking up her wine glass from the floor, where she left it previously, she relaxes back, and looks at him, smiling.

"How's that?"

"Perfect!" He takes a sip of the elderberry. "You're a genius. How did you know this was just what I needed?"

"What we needed." She carefully stretches her legs out until they are lying on top of his. "Ah, now that's what I call comfy!"

Silence descends, as they lie, and listen to what sounds like the cooing of doves, nearby. A large bumblebee is buzzing around outside the small, high window. A tap on the hand basin drips intermittently. She wriggles her toes, and smiles at him from the other end.

He gives her a wry grin. "I can feel the wine soaking down, putting a nice warm fuzz on the edge of my brain. It's very relaxing."

"Mm...this is very relaxing."

"I've got so much to tell you, but it's hard to know where to start." He lowers the wine to the floor, and strokes her feet with both hands.

"That's nice."

"In some ways what I found out is so...horrible, I don't even want to talk about it." He looks up at her. "But that wouldn't be fair. So I'll tell you anyway."

She also puts her glass down on the floor, and draws her hair through wet hands, dragging it back, then twists it into a knot behind her head. He can see the beads of persperation on her brow and her upper lip. She places both arms along the top of the bath, where it is cool, and waits for him to talk.

"I went to lots of places...bars, restaurants, hotels, factories, workshops, shopping malls, offices...government utilities..."

"And?"

"Well, it's complicated. A lot of people seem really cynical. The truth is...they don't want to talk about the government, of course. Everybody knows there is full surveillance almost everywhere, so the chances of getting an honest opinion out of anybody are pretty slim. Most of them pretend to be supporters of the status quo, but you can tell...that's only because they think they're talking to a government agent, who's on the lookout for disloyalty. When I'd get someone off guard, like in a noisy bar, when they'd had a few drinks, and thought they weren't near a blip, the reaction was usually vitriolic – real hatred of the system, and wishing that the rebels had prevailed in the war."

"Mm...that must've been difficult for you."

He shakes his head. "Not really. It's only natural, when you think about it. In many ways it's encouraging. But d'you know what the most depressing thing of all is? There's a kind of hopelessness out there...a kind of cynical, lazy... the best word I can think of is malaise... In a very real way, people just don't care! It's as if they're going through the motions of living, even if it doesn't make sense to them anymore. I'm not sure if it's the result of an authoritarian government, which has steadily been taking away all responsibility from people, except the responsibility to do what they're told; or whether it's to do with living like rats in a maze, underground, rarely seeing the light and fresh air of the surface area? And yet, this is what we've always known. None of us remembers the oceans and mountains and real open skies of earth, the storms, the moon and stars at night...the real seasons. We've only ever known Alpha. But maybe there's a deep longing in our genes...a deep need to experience those things, which are denied us here...in order to be fully alive? I don't know."

She is watching him thoughtfully. "I don't know either. Tell me about some of the places you went to, some of the people you met."

He looks up at her sheepishly. "Well, I went to the House of Pleasures Hotel. Met a young girl there called Amanda."

Leelah raises her eyebrows a shade, but says nothing. He laughs nervously. "Don't worry. Nothing happened between us...but she told me some terrible things...about what goes on there, and lots of other places."

"Yeah?"

"First she told me she was an android, but that wasn't true. They say that because clones are technically illegal...but it turned out she was a clone." He sits up straight in the bath, knuckles gripping the sides, staring at her intently, while she tries not to flinch. "They have factories where they make clones...grow them from stem cells. They accelerate the process, so they can produce a 'work-ready' human clone in about 6 months. Then they train them up to be able to do certain tasks. When they no longer need them, or when they're worn out, they....dispose of them."

He sinks back with far away eyes. "Such a beautiful girl. Such a happy, nice girl. And she looked me straight in the eyes, as she told me the fate that awaited her, and just shrugged, and said: 'Well that's the way it is. Nothing I can do about it.'"

Leelah is staring at him, horrified. "And when you say 'they'...who are 'they'?"

"I went to check it out for myself...see if it was true. It's a company called AEC, 'Android Engineering Company', which is owned and run by the Department of the Interior...part of Nicholas Felten's empire."

"So you're saying this whole thing is government policy?"

"Absolutely. They're manufacturing slaves to do jobs that no one else wants to do. They program them to be compliant...but then kill them off whenever it's convenient to do so. There are always plenty of new ones coming online."

"That's... that's unthinkable. I knew they snatched people they didn't like, and disposed of them, but this...!"

He has descended into a grim silence. The bumblebee has gone. Outside, birds are calling to each other with warbling, throaty calls. Gradually his face softens.

"But do you know what happened? A wonderful... miraculous thing?"

"Not until you tell me."

"Well...I stumbled upon this old man...he's a monk...a Buddhist monk. Said he had heard of me. The man that taught me about Buddhism, a long time ago, was a friend of his...so he knew of me." He is smiling to himself now.

"And? What happened?"

"Well, it sounds crazy, but he seemed to know exactly what I was going through. I'd just come out of the AEC building...was in a terrible state...sort of running blindly through the district...almost as if he lead me to him..."

"What did you talk about?"

"I don't remember saying anything. He spoke to me in a...wondrous way about...well...he did a short meditation with me, to calm me down, and then... he told me this story...about how everything is empty...not real...so there's no need to be afraid of anything.... It sounds crazy, but made me feel so...reassured...it's hard to explain."

"That's...extraordinary. It's like you've got a fairy godmother, looking after you...except this one is a Buddhist monk."

"Yes; like he was telling me not to worry. Everything is going to be alright. Hey! I've just remembered. He also said there was a change coming. A change for the better!"

"Really! Wow. Do you believe that?"

He looks at her levelly. "I think it's inevitable. Things can't go on as they are now. They just can't!"

"Oh my God! Does that mean there's going to be another war?"

He considers the problem. "I'm not sure. I hope not. It should be possible to effect a change without all that...terrible upheaval...loss of life. We can't do it through democratic means; they've made sure of that. But still, there might be another way, a middle path."

" 'We'? Who's this 'we'? You sound as though you've got a plan already?"

"No, not a plan. Just an idea...but it's an idea that can develop into a real possibility, I believe. There are others, and there will be more and more of them, who realise that there has to be change. What this regime is doing, will be the end of us all. You just can't build a stable society, based on fear and repression. They're killing the soul of mankind, such as it is, on Alpha. If we let them continue to do that, there will be nothing left when our great grandchildren arrive at Nova. And we can't allow that to happen."

She leans out of the bath, and manages to reach both of their glasses, handing him his.

"Well, let's drink to that!"

When they have drunk, she goes on. "You know, my first instinct is to say: 'No, don't fight them. It's too dangerous. You can't win.' But then...well, I think I agree with you. We just can't let them continue as they are, arresting and killing anyone who stands in their way." Her eyes are full of sadness, remembering her parents, her lost lover; then a defiant spark returns to them. "They have to be stopped, and overcome. If you can do that without open warfare, like we've had before, then I'll support you in that. It has to be done."

He reaches forward to place his fingers around the back of her neck, drawing her to him, kissing her deeply; then hands move down to cup her breasts, then round her back, to those incredible hips, her legs, and all the wonders in between.

"Can we delay dinner just a while longer?"

She considers carefully. "I think so. Why?"

He laughs at her. "You're such a tease!"

### CHAPTER 15

The Minister for Housing, Anna Lippi, is feeling very tired. The Cabinet meeting has been going for hours. She looks longingly out of the window, where she can just make out some people enjoying the afternoon light on the small, restricted beach, close to the Civic Square, which their cabinet room overlooks. She will take her daughter and little grandson there soon; maybe next week. If only little Gigi would sleep at night, so that she didn't feel tired all the time. She has already given her report to the meeting. Housing targets generally being met; some older properties being refurbished. Private ownership of apartments proceeding at an acceptable rate, creating something of a bonanza for the banks, as well as in sales of furnishings and luxury items. Good for her department too, since the funding stream is tight, as always.

Now Fahad Zamo, the Health Minister is giving her report, in her usual low monotone. Anna barely listens. Across the table Abdul Waziri seems preoccupied, also obviously not listening. Interesting how he has adopted the role of chairman, which was always the job of Roland Petrovski, before. Anna liked Roland. Never knew him personally, but liked the way he ran meetings...kept things moving for one thing. But Waziri...doesn't seem to have the knack for that. She wonders vaguely what's actually going on at the top there. Is Waziri really going to declare himself Council Chairman, as some of the rumours maintain? As Minister for Science and Industry he has always been a key player, but in the last year he has steadily built up his position...him and his great buddy Felten. Are they really friends, or is Felten just biding his time? She will have to wait and see how events unfold.

Suddenly Fahad Zamo has finished, and Abdul Waziri has the floor.

"Thanks Fahad. That was very enlightening. I'd now like to table a report that's been in circulation for a few weeks now, but today I want to bring it before the full cabinet, because I believe the matter is becoming urgent, and we need to act on it. It was actually put together by our friends in the Security Services..." He gives an evil smile in the direction of Rhonda Meister, "but Minister Meister has been curiously quiet on the issue, so I thought it beholden on me to raise the matter before you all."

He looks around the table. "I'm assuming you've all read it, as it was given to you some time ago, but I'll just remind you that it seems there are a number of groups of individuals, gathering in the restricted areas, apparently for the purpose of holding meetings. These meetings are suspect, because, as you're no doubt aware, we have no surveillance equipment in those tunnels and shafts and workmen's rooms, most of which date from the time when Alpha was being constructed in orbit around Earth. They are now largely empty and unused, except for occasional visits by maintenance staff to effect repairs to cabling, piping, and other infrastructure that is housed in those areas. It's clear these individuals are going there, leaving their homes and places of employment, deliberately seeking out these places to hold meetings and gatherings of various kinds. Now, given our recent history, which you're also all aware of..." (God he's a boring speaker, thinks Anna. Just get on with it!..) "we clearly cannot allow this to continue. At the moment we have no idea what's going on down there. For all we know, the remnants of the rebel movement, the ones that we missed in our...er...mopping up operations, may be re-grouping and planning future insurrections, or terror attacks. I think what we'd all like to know, Rhonda, with all due respect," he fixes her with his bushy eyebrows, "is what you and your Security Services plan to do about the situation?"

Rhonda Meister looks back at him levelly, apparently unperturbed. "As you know, Abdul, as I've said to you several times in private discussions, we are monitoring these absences from homes, workplaces and recreation areas closely. They are all carefully logged and analysed, and at this stage we do not believe they offer a threat to Alpha's security. Should that situation change, you will be the first to hear about it."

Waziri looks around the table, blandly. "Mm...I wonder what the rest of us think? Personally I find that response rather...soft. It's all very well to let things go, and hope for the best, but by the time things get out of hand, it may be too late to change them. It seems to me that problems like this need to be nipped in the bud," he makes a telling motion with his thumb and forefinger, "and the only way to do that is to action the problem now."

He indicates with hands and eyebrows that he would now welcome other appropriate contributions.

Nicholas Felten's cultured voice is smooth as silk and sweet as honey. "I have to say I agree with Abdul on this one. I think it's time to pick up some of the ring leaders, get them in for questioning, find out the exact locations of these meetings, and let's start sealing off some of these areas, so they're no longer accessible to unauthorised use. I think the solution is very simple and clear."

Yakuz Omar, the Finance Minister, a small man of oriental extraction, sporting very large square glasses, chips in. "I agree. Given the need to maintain tight security, I believe it's imperative we close down these groups as soon as possible. What is seemingly a small irritation now may become a dangerous tumour later on, if we let it fester."

"Well..." Waziri is smiling round the table, well pleased. "Can we take that as unanimous? Unless there are any speakers against?" He lets the silence hang for a moment. "So, Rhonda, the cabinet requests that you take direct action in this matter, as suggested by Nicholas. Are we clear on that?"

Nicholas is determined to be helpful. "Rhonda, you know, if you are having trouble finding the manpower to do that, I'd be happy to help out with my own forces. We have been recruiting quite heavily recently...so...let me know if we can be of assistance."

Rhonda's stare is icy cold. "No, thank you, Nicholas. That won't be necessary."

"Right." Waziri is bustling and businesslike. He feels like he's really getting the hang of this chairman job. "What's next?"

Nicholas raises his gold pen slightly in the air. "Yes...I wanted to table a report I have here that's causing me some concern. It's actually technically under your brief, Abdul, so I hope you'll forgive me stepping on your toes..." Waziri nods non-commitally. "It seems that down at the deepest levels, close to the nuclear reactor, there is an increase in levels of radiation. So much so, that our own workers are unable to enter those areas without full body protection. Now, while it's true that within the reactor itself, shielding is sufficient to allow work to proceed, outside these boundaries, what we seem to have, is a no-go area, which concerns me."

Wessell Capel, Navigation Minister, is a tall thin man with a mop of curly dark hair. "I could understand your concern if it were a case of a leak of radiation from the reactor, which is likely to spread, and contaminate the rest of Alpha. Is that the case, Nicholas?"

"No, it seems to be just a slight increase in the background radiation count, which wouldn't indicate a leak. So, while it doesn't present a direct threat to the rest of Alpha, it still creates an area which is effectively out of bounds to us."

Wessell Capel is leaning forward with interest. "But if there's no one there, and no reason for us to go there, what's the problem?"

"Well, I didn't say there was no one there?"

Waziri looks at his colleague sharply. "Who could be there, given the levels of radiation present?"

Nicholas begins to look slightly uncomfortable, sparking the interest of the rest of the cabinet. "I...have heard that there may be one or two runaway reactor workers, you know...androids, who have taken to...um...spending some time there."

Waziri nods wisely. "Ah, yes. Androids. Much less susceptible to the radiation that us."

"Yes...something like that. But I still feel...it's the same issue we were talking about before...we all agree with the need to have control over all parts of Alpha, and all of its population. I feel very uncomfortable with the concept of levels where we have no idea what's going on."

Rhonda Meister is looking puzzled. "Did you say runaway androids, Nicholas? Surely Androids are pre-programmed to one particular task. The idea of a 'runaway android' doesn't make sense to me. Are you sure they're androids?"

There is an uncomfortable silence. Nicholas eyeballs Rhonda. "Androids, runaway criminals, drop outs from the mainstream...what does it matter who they are? They're outside of our control, and that's not acceptable. They should be cleared out!"

Waziri feels it is time to move on. "Alright everybody. Since, as you say, Nicholas, it is within my brief, I will talk to my department, and we will make a full assessment of the situation, take whatever action we deem necessary, and make a report at our next meeting. Can we leave it at that?"

There is silence around the table, and a few nods of agreement.

"Good." He smiles broadly. "Now, are we done?"

Nicholas is still looking at Rhonda with malice. "Actually, there was one other thing before we finish. Have you located our runaway Chief Counsellor yet, Rhonda? You've been looking for him for...a few weeks now?"

Rhonda is making a note on the pad in front of her. "No, nothing yet, Nicholas. I suspect he's either hiding out in the one of the restricted areas, or possibly in the temperate forest, or even the tropical forest region. There are a number of outlying cottages and other dwellings in those parts. He would need to lie low, since his face would be instantly recognised anywhere in the urban area, and given that his purpose seems to be to avoid detection, it's a logical conclusion to draw that he is keeping a very low profile."

Nicholas is determined to push the point. "Have you looked in those areas, Rhonda?"

Something clicks into gear inside Rhonda, and she looks up slowly, meeting his gaze squarely. "No, Nicholas. We don't consider that a use of manpower that we can justify, given the numbers it would take to search all of the possible places he might be. And if you're going to offer me your forces, then don't, because you'll probably need them all to try and recapture the notorious criminal who escaped from your top security gaol only yesterday!" She stops for a moment, but the room remains silent. "You have heard of Herman Ming, the famous mass murderer, and suspected Satanist? How did that happen, Nicholas? I notice you didn't give us a report on that one!"

There is consternation and gasps all round the table. Waziri can see things are about to descend into a brawl, so he slaps his hand down hard on the table. "All right, everyone. Thank you for your attendance. This meeting is now closed!" And he rises and strides to the door, leaving the hubbub behind.

Anna Lippi is still sitting quietly in her place, barely able to keep the amusement off her face. What a thoroughly entertaining meeting! The rumour mills are going to be working overtime after this one!

### CHAPTER 16

Borg sits on the bottom bunk-bed in the tiny cell-like room. He is slowly but lovingly polishing his favourite knife on a piece of cloth. Every so often he bends down and rubs it carefully on the floor, attempting to sharpen it, although he is aware he needs a smoother surface than the floor, to do this properly. He stops a moment, and looks directly in front of him at the piles of supplies he has stockpiled near the heavy steel door. He smiles inwardly, counting the tins of peaches, the packets of biscuits, bottles of water, other assorted dry goods, and even a few precious meal packs, which he keeps for special occasions. Last week he perfected a rat-trap, which after a few adjustments, works well. He has caught five rats in it already... no six, a bountiful addition to his diet.

Yes, he has done well. Life is good since he escaped from the reactor.

*

The first few shifts were terrible, wandering alone in the maze of tunnels and abandoned rooms, which he discovered on his travels. The darkness was the worst, feeling his way along in the blackness, always an arm out in front of him, wondering if he would find any water to drink, any food to eat? Or was he destined to die here in the emptiness, and be a meal for the rats that he heard scurrying around every corner, in front of him, and behind? But then he had found the pipe, the wonderful pipe that dripped water, and kept him alive for...how long? He had no way of knowing. But it must have been known to others, for at some point he was wakened from sleep by a blade at his throat, and a command not to move. A light flashed in his face, and between blinking at the unaccustomed brightness, he saw a creature like himself, with a huge hairy head, and massive beard, which seemed to cover nearly half his body. The man-creature told him gruffly the water was to share, and not to camp next to it; others would not let him get away with it. Strangely, the apparition left him a stale bread roll to eat, before disappearing into the distance, and the shuffle of his feet dwindled to silence.

He had wolfed down the bread, and found the strength to continue his search. But then, eventually, weakness overcame him again, and he lay down to die, parched and famished. But still the tunnels would not let him go. He awoke to find lights and noise all around him. His hands and feet were bound, and he was carried to a.... place where the people seemed to live. But they were not people he could join together with. They were bad people who laughed at him and spat in his face, threw some water over him, which he tried to drink, then left him tied up, telling him they would kill him later...so that he had time to think about it. Then they started drinking the liquid from the bottles, which led to all kinds of fighting, and arguments, and...shouting...until all was quiet. They were all sleeping. It was then that he had managed, ever so quietly, to move to where he could rub his bonds against a corner of a wall, and free himself. He had held his breath, as he stole among them, and took for himself some water, which he drank there and then, some packets of something long and thin and brittle, a sharp knife, and, most valuable of all, a torch, and spare batteries. With these he made off – only taking what he could carry, and aimed to get as far away from them as possible. He make many twists and turns, up levels and down levels...and that was when he found....thanks be to...something...the room.

He encountered something in the dark; nearly jumped with fright when he felt the plain steel door, instead of the usual rough concrete. He paused, and carefully examined it with the torch. Definitely a door. But what could lie beyond it? Was there someone on the other side? He would wait and find out. He sat there for hours, ready to jump up and run if he heard any noise. Eventually, unable even to hear any breathing in the almost dead silence, he very slowly opened the door. It creaked on its hinges, and he held his breath again. Nothing. When he turned the torch on, he saw the bunk-bed, and lots of rubbish scattered around, including food remains. By the door – a light switch! He tried it, and it worked. A miracle! But it was clearly occupied. By whom? And would they be willing to share? Unlikely, given his experience of the locals so far. He would wait. He desperately wanted the room for himself – but first he would have to do battle with the owner. Even before that he had to go and empty his bowels – but not here. He went off down the corridor, then returned to take up his vigil.

He waited...how long? He had no way of knowing...but a long time. He had to take water and some of the biscuits from the piles on the floor...to keep himself fit for the confrontation. At last, footsteps down the passageway. But how many? Suddenly he panicked. What if there were many? Too late now. The door swung open and the light was switched on. He lunged at the shape in the blinding light, felt his hands close round a throat, his knife hard against it.

"How many of you?"

"Only me!" the voice was high and trembling with fright.

"Who knows of this place?"

"Only me. No one else."

Borg continued to hold him. Was it true? Could they share it? Hardly. He could never close his eyes to sleep, certain that he would wake up alive. It couldn't work. With a heavy heart he sliced his blade across the scrawny throat, and let him drop, as the blood gushed out in buckets, all over his new floor. Quickly he threw the body outside, which was when he saw it was young, not fully grown – a young male. Who was he? Too late now.

He had the room.

When he had stuffed the body down a hole, some distance away, cleared out the rubbish, and generally taken possession of the place (with its amazing light! He would fight to the death to keep hold of this refuge from the dark), he sat down to take stock of what he had gained. He had four large plastic containers of water. Two of them were sealed, two not, so they had obviously been filled somewhere. The pipe? Another pipe? He would need to find it. He had two packets of biscuits, some tins of fruit and vegetables, and some...he examined it carefully.... dark brown, hard squares....no it got softer...went soft in his fingers if he held it...and tasted...good! So good! Sweet! Mm...valuable.

So....where did this stuff come from? The gang he escaped from had similar supplies. They obviously took it from somewhere. He would have to find that place too. He also needed a toilet. No way was he going to soil the room. He scouted around along the nearby passageways until he found a bare, empty room that had obviously been used for the same purpose by others. Not good! They might come back. They might see his remains. He needed to find his own place, away from others. He searched on, keeping the location of his precious room very clearly in his mind.

He was beginning to get a picture of the local area in his head. Soon he could navigate around the nearby passages without using his precious torch. He also found a pipe, and in time, realised that the best place to find food was the reactor, he had so happily escaped from. But it was dangerous there. Hard to get to the mess hall or the kitchens, without being caught, and he wasn't going to risk that! He went on many expeditions to the levels above, where, after many, many flights of stairs, he came to an area of...large open spaces where great fires burned, and men laboured with helmets and dark shields, over their eyes, where men and machines hammered, and sparks flew. This reminded him a little of the reactor, far below. In other big open spaces, men were making great carriages with seats inside them, repairing ones already made, and in still other places they were making many smaller things from the metal they made in the great fires, to turn into.....who knew what? But here he had to be careful. He knew enough to be aware that anyone not occupied, anyone just wandering around, was likely to be picked up and...never seen again. He preferred not to think about this. So he took care to walk purposefully, to try to look as if he were working (he still had his reactor boilersuit). Sometimes he would pick up a hammer, or a piece of metal, as if he were carrying it somewhere for some purpose. But what he was really after was food. Once he had that, hidden in the big pockets of his suit, he would make his way back to his own domain, as fast as he could, to the safety of his room, far below.

But was it really safe? How long would it last? He knew there were all kinds of lost souls wandering around out there, just as he had been. He heard them, some shifts, as he lay, atuned to every untoward sound. Often he would hear them approach nearby, then go off in a different direction. Occasionally they would feel, or see the door, and wait outside. He was able to lock it with a bolt on the inside, which he always pulled to, whenever he was there. So his first tactic when this happened was always to keep completely still, which he could do for hours on end, until the intruder gave up, and went away, which they always did, in the end. Sometimes they would bang on the door, and shout a few obscenities, but he never let on that he was inside.

Still it was annoying. It trapped him inside for hours, sometimes far from convenient. As he thought about it, he realized that what he needed to do was place some kind of covering on the outside of the door, such that when it was closed, it felt and looked like the wall either side of it. But how to do this? He would have to cover it with some kind of layer, and then make the top one feel, and look like, the concrete. And it would need to be completely flush with the wall too. Easier said than done.

He had been in the room, thinking about his, and where he might find those materials, when he heard someone approaching. His sharp hearing could pick up footsteps long before they reached him. He turned off the light as usual, and settled down on the floor by the door to listen. The steps were slow, someone dragging themselves along – they must be weak. He remembered well his own experience of this; the hopelessness and the fear. Still, he must remain hidden at all costs. The scraping steps came closer, as if the owner were following a map to his door, in all this maze of passages. How could that be? Listening carefully, he realised the owner had felt the steel door, and collapsed on the floor outside, perhaps unable to go further. He would wait, until they either died, or they were so weak, he could easily go out and finish them off. He might do the latter first. It would be quicker.

He was just reaching for his long knife, when he heard a noise from outside. Like a....

someone being sad...water running from their eyes. He had seen it occasionally, when workers had been told they were due for termination. He had never seen the point of it, himself. Either run, like he did, or take it like a... or take it. But wait – that was no male. That was a...he had seen them up above, though never down here. They were shorter, longer hair, no muscles, weak...those ones. This sounded like one of them. Down here? Unheard of! She must have wandered down from higher up. But why? He had no idea. She would be easy to deal with. He'd do it now. He rose, turned the light on, and quickly opened the door.

She must have been slumped against the door, because she half fell into the room and lay at his feet. He grabbed her long hair, dragged her head back, and was about to dispatch her with the knife, when he saw large brown eyes, stretched wide in terror, looking into his own. Then he realised the hair was a bright orange colour, and the girl, a young one, was dressed in some kind of red uniform, with a tight fitting top, and short, pleated skirt, all one piece. Her legs were bare, and dirty, but on her feet were a pair of red, high heeled shoes, broken and stained from her journey. He could feel the breath, which she had been holding, slowly exhaling from the nostrils, along with some fluid, which ran out of her nose. The girl, obviously very weak, made no attempt to resist him; just waited, terrified.

Do it! Hurry up. Don't look in the eyes. Just do it! But he couldn't. With a grunt, he let go of her hair, and watched as she collapsed onto the floor, feet still sticking out of the open door. Out of habit, he dragged her in, and bolted the door. She lay, head resting on one arm, the other covering her head. He sat down on the bottom bunk and watched, fascinated.

He had never been this close to a female before. All the worker clones at the reactor, in fact everyone at the reactor, had been male. He had heard the supervisors laughing and talking excitedly about various people from above, whom he took to be females. One of these men had a holograph calendar, and pictures on the walls of his small office, of females with no clothes on. He had stood once, looking at the swellings on their chests, and their neat tuft of blonde or brown hair between their legs, and been curious, moved even. But he had no knowledge, no point of reference, no way to think about such things, and so left it.

But now! One metre away from him, she lay on the floor, trembling, making pitiful crying noises, sniffing through her nose. He drew closer, and kneeled down next to her. She was trying to say something. He placed his ear close to her face.

Very faintly. "Water.....water."

He took a plastic bottle he had cut to make a cup, filled it with water from one of his large containers, and held it out to her. She seemed unable to sit up alone, so he knelt behind her, and dragged her up, till she was leaning back against him, and held the cup to her lips. She sipped feebly, but continued till the cup was empty. Then she slumped down, exhausted by the effort, while he remained kneeling, supporting her, gazing down at her.

Perhaps she fell asleep, or fainted, for she stayed there a long time, while Borg gently probed her body with his fingers, and watched the pulse in her neck, still pumping life around her body, and smelled her curious smell...sweat, and dirt and hopelessness, certainly, but something else too...must be a female smell...or something she used at her work...a faint sweet tang that hovered around her hair and neck, and rose up from her body. In the still, close air of the room this essence seemed to envelop him, entering deep into his being, where he savoured it...a strange new experience for him.

Eventually his legs were numb and sore, and he had to move. He took a moth-eaten blanket from the bed, inherited from the previous owner, folded it, and placed it below her head, which he then laid down on the blanket, as gently as he could. He then moved away slightly, resting his back against the wall, watching her.

Slowly her eyes opened, and she looked up at him. She seemed a little recovered, as she was able to say: "You were going to kill me, then you didn't... gave me water." Her lips stretched outwards a little, softening the face. "Thank you. Kindness is......" But he didn't catch the last word. She lapsed into silence again.

He suddenly remembered his own time of wandering, searching for water...and food!

He reached across to his stores, and took two biscuits from a packet, placed one against her lips. But it was too dry, or her mouth was. She couldn't eat it, so he filled the cup again, and resuming his former position supporting her, gave the girl small sips of water, then let her nibble on the biscuit in between. She made small noises of satisfaction at this, clearly enjoying the food. When he offered her the second biscuit, she took it, but put it in a pocket in her top. She would eat that one later.

Then, strengthened perhaps, she tried hard to twist around and look up into his face. When she raised a hand to him, he flinched away, thinking she might be going to strike him; but she smiled, and he returned, and allowed her to stroke his beard, his shoulder, his chest.

"Who are you?" She spoke softly, but loud enough, that he could hear her now without straining. The question hung in the clammy air between them.

He hesitated, then realised he knew the answer. "I am Borg. Reactor clone worker 35927. But..."

"But...?"

He looked hard into her face. He had never said this to anyone before. "I ran away. They were going to terminate me, and I wasn't ready to...go. I wanted to live some more."

She nodded slowly. "Thank you for...not killing me, and the food and water. It is the first kindness I have had in a long time. It is...a wonderful feeling." And a beautiful smile creased her face.

He cleared his throat. He had not talked in many shifts. "And you? There are no...females down here. Why are you here?"

"I am a clone, like you. I worked in a restaurant, far above. But the mistress hated me. She hurt me and beat me. Once she burnt me with an iron. Another time she locked me in a room for two days with nothing to eat or drink. I stayed because we are chipped, and I feared to be caught. You know what the punishment for that is!"

She glanced up at him. He nodded.

"But then I thought, this is too much. If they catch me, so much the better. At least this will be finished. I cannot stay here longer. So I ran."

He watched her, twisting her hair around one finger. Her eyes were far away now, remembering. "I knew I had to go down. I had heard about this place, where no people, no security, no citizens go...only clones, and runaways. It was my only hope."

She looked up at him again, perhaps to see if he was listening. "And so I arrived, where there is only darkness, and no people; and the walls hum with a strange vibration...must be the reactor, is it?" He looked confused. He had never been aware of any vibration. She laughed, the first time. "You have lived your whole life here. You don't even feel it." He shrugged. "Then I met up with a...group, a gang of men. They tied me up, hurt me, stripped me, took turns fucking me. Then they would tie me up again, till the next time. They would throw me food, like a dog, and laugh, as I tried to eat it, hands tied behind. Watch me try to pee and shit, laughing all the time. I thought: this is worse than the restaurant. I must get away, even if I die. So I rubbed the rope on a wall, till my hands bled, but it broke, and I kept them behind me, till they all slept, then I ran and ran and ran."

She was tired from talking, but was determined to finish her story. "Then I walked, rested, walked, slept, walked some more, till I was so thirsty and hungry. Then I crawled...till finally I came to the door, and couldn't move any more. Then you saved me." She looked up at him again, and he noticed that when her lips smiled, her cheeks went very round, and her hair fell in dark curls around her face. "Why did you do that?"

He shrugged again, embarrassed. "I don't know. I meant to kill you... but I couldn't."

"You couldn't! Why?"

He was gruff now, annoyed. "I don't know! Don't ask me."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to make you angry." She hung her head low. "Now you want me to leave, I know."

"Leave? No! You will die out there. You stay here now." He started to bustle with his food. "Here, you've only had one biscuit. Have some tinned fruit. It's good." And he held up the tin to show her.

She giggled. "Do you have a tin opener?"

He frowned. "Tin opener? No. I have a knife."

And so he sliced open the tin and watched, as she wolfed down the peaches, and the sweet juice. Then she wanted to sleep, so he helped her into the lower bunk, where she curled up, and fell immediately into the deep sleep of exhaustion, her breathing so shallow that he was afraid she had died.

*

"You've been polishing that knife for ages. What are you thinking about?" She has been watching him silently from the top bunk.

"I was thinking of the night you came here."

"The night you saved my life?" She climbs down and sits next to him.

He smiles. She has taught him how to do that. "Well...if you like."

"I do like, very much." She puts an arm through his, and squeezes. "That knife reminds me of the time you took out my chip." She laughs aloud. "You were more scared than me!"

He looks at her, remembering. "Of course. It was...horrible, slicing into your neck, looking for the thing, digging it out."

"What about me, when I had to do yours! Do you think I enjoyed that?" There is a tremor in her voice, and he puts an arm around her neck, drawing her close.

"You've given me so much, Helen. You've changed my life so much, taught me so many things..."

She grins at him. "Yeah, like having a wash under the tap, using soap."

He nods. "Yes. And... you're so good at finding food. You know so much about the world above."

"Hm.... I know how to survive up there. It's where I came from. Once the chip's out, it's quite easy to blend in, and steal what we need." Her eyes suddenly grow wide, and she grips his knee. "Something I need to tell you!"

He looks at her in alarm. "What?"

"Something I heard yesterday, when I was up there. Everyone was talking about it. They were all excited, and scared at the same time."

"Why? What's happened?"

" A famous criminal, that escaped from gaol, way up the top."

"What's a criminal?"

"It's a very bad man, who's done terrible things to other people... What was the name they were saying? Hing? Ming? Something like that. A girl I spoke to said he'll be coming down here. Then I remembered hearing of him before; he used to be here, but they caught him, and threw him in gaol. He was due for execution, but he got away; no one knows how. He was meant to be in the top security wing. But he's...."

"He's what?"

"I can't explain it... people seem to think he's got some kind of special powers...

like...magic."

"Magic? What's that?"

"Um...like he can do things that nobody else can. Things that shouldn't be possible."

"They say that because he escaped from gaol?"

"Not only that. Even before...he was famous. He had a kind of gang, down here. All the runaways came to him, and he....looked after them." Borg is looking at her hard, trying to understand. "But they say he did terrible things, too."

"Terrible things?"

"Well, like... killed people."

"Huh. Everybody kills people. I kill people...the bosses kill people. Some people live, some people die. That's the way it is, here."

"No but, he killed people in horrible ways... just for fun; because he enjoyed it. They also say that he has some weird religion... worships the devil." She is looking at the door opposite, twisting her dark curls on one finger. "The rumour is that now he is free again, he will return here, and be the boss down here, like before."

Borg is thoughtful. He wraps the knife in the cloth, and stows it under the bunk bed. "Well, that might be good. Things are very bad for us, as they are...every man for himself...killing every other man for food, a place to live. We could live so much better, if only...."

"You mean, if only we had a strong leader, to unite people, so we could work together, instead of against each other?"

"Yes! Exactly."

"Hm...maybe. But what if he is an evil man?"

He grunts. "This is an evil place. As long as he lets me live, and doesn't touch you..."

She turns to him, and her cheeks go very round, as her lips smile with pleasure, and he can see her small teeth, and the eyes twinkling, as her curls dance around them. "You're such a sweet man. I never thought I'd come down here and find my knight in shining armour."

"What's a knight in shining...?"

"Never mind. Come here..."

### CHAPTER 17

Maria enters the church quietly, and stands amazed at what is revealed before her.

The Comparative Earth Religions course she has started through the university recommends, in fact requires, some visits to various religious establishments on Alpha; the notes even give the addresses where these places can be found. And so she has come to the church of St. Francis of Assisi, which is "probably the best preserved old Earth church on Alpha, due to the large number of artifacts and fittings which were transferred from various churches on earth prior to departure".

But nothing could have prepared her for this! Just inside the dark wood door, which creaks, as she opens it, she is standing on a tiled floor, patterned in yellow and black, which reaches out the length of the nave, about forty metres in front of her, to an ornate altar. Rows of antique looking pews stand on either side of the central walkway. Built in to both walls of the nave are a series of small chapels, flanked by polished marble columns, each one displaying an ancient medieval painting, surrounded by roccoco carvings of angels and cherubs, with in front, a railing and a kneeling bench. From the ceiling hang a series of huge candelabra, curlicued wrought-iron shaped into fantastical forms, a miniature electric globe at the end of each branch. To her right, a small wooden booth, containing a few faded pamphlets about the church and its artifacts, with a donation box prominent at the front. The air is still and heavy, with a strange scent lingering...incense perhaps, along with the smell of old wood, and dust, and beautiful things, long left to themselves.

Slowly she advances up the nave, trying to take in the scene, till she stands at the base of the altar. Two long marble steps rise, topped by a wooden rail which spans the length of the altar. Beyond that, a marble tiled floor, baptismal font on the left, and a rickety looking pulpit on the right, surmounted by a brass eagle Bible holder, while in the middle, a huge painting of a near naked man hanging, nailed to a cross.

The man's ribs stick out horribly from his chest, and blood trickles visibly from the nails that pierce his two hands, and the one that pierces both of his feet. His hair is long and straggly, his face downturned, yellowed and haggard, while a crown of thorns sits firmly on his head, more blood trickling down from the wounds inflicted by this. To either side of him, slightly lower down on the hill of Golgotha, stand two more crosses, each with their own victim, hanging, while round the base of the central cross, a collection of armoured Roman soldiers and mourning citizens in dark coloured robes, prominent amongst whom is an older woman, her face a mask of horror and grief, her arms outstretched towards the man on the cross; he, however, hangs limply before her, lost in his own torment and suffering. In the distance, a faded landscape of fields and woods, while further away, a city built on a hill, some magnificent buildings just discernible on the skyline. Maria can see faint cracks in the canvas of the painting, indicating its great age. From the ceiling, far above, is suspended a metal container which sends out a faint trail of smoke, and a strong scent of incense, which she has been aware of since entering.

Moving to the right, along the altar rail, she passes back, down the right hand side of the nave, examining the three paintings and side chapels that line it. Each work is of the same person, a young, thin looking man in a brown robe, belted at the waist. In the first one he is prostrated before another man dressed in magnificent robes, standing in the middle of a palace, surrounded by his followers and soldiers; in the next one he is apparently teaching, or preaching a sermon to a group of followers on the side of a hill, while in the last one she comes to, he is surrounded by all manner of animals, whom he is also addressing. A lion, a lamb and a stag figure in the foreground, while a beautifully coloured parrot sits on his outstretched finger, listening attentively to his discourse.

Turning, she is aware of three more paintings on the opposite side, but tiring of these, chooses to sit down on the pew closest to the rear. The wooden seat is hard and unforgiving, but she crosses one leg over the other, and placing her hands in her lap, settles down to listen to the silence, and to absorb the unchanging scene.

The crucified Christ at the main altar continues to hang, overcome with pain. Saint Francis, with his frizzy, crazy hair, perambulates through the stations of his life, as he battles with Papal authority to set up his reformed order, while the marble seraphims and cherubims remain frozen in space and time, as their wings hold them suspended forever, seemingly, on the smooth marble columns, and around the tops of the ancient paintings.

Her mind is in overdrive, wondering about the places these beautiful objects were taken from, the feelings of the people that removed them, the state those churches might be in now, on Earth, why the church seems empty and abandoned, was the sacrifice worth while? And who looks after the place now?..... and a dozen other ideas that arise.....After a while she decides to be aware of it all, but not to pursue the thoughts....just to let them rise and fade away again...while she notices that her breath is gently entering her body, and easily passing out again, and entering again, and leaving.... gradually she is able to lay down the burden of her personality and ever present thinking... until her breath is so small and so faint, it is barely there at all....

So that when an elderly lady, dressed in a black habit, with a wimple on her head, emerges from a side door, and proceeds to light some candles, which she then places on the candle holder in front of one of the chapels on the other side from Maria.... this is all observed with equanimity. The woman, having prayed on her knees for a while, rises, approaches gently and sits beside her. Maria smiles quietly at her, and responds patiently to her questions. She asks some in turn, in relation to her studies of Christianity, and Catholicism in particular. At the end of twenty minutes, she rises and takes her leave, with the assurance from the nun that she is welcome to return any time. Few come into the church, and the lonely custodian will welcome the chance to speak with her new acquaintance again.

*

Tiny fish swim lazily through the coral. A shoal of yellow and black striped ones flexes like a muscle, when a large groper sticks its head out from a hole under a rock; then, seeing no real danger to themselves, they resume their gentle browsing across the reef, as the dappled light filters down from the surface far above.

Charlene is reading intently off her workscreen.

Charlie Mai, Department of Commerce and Industry, level 6. Day 7, month 6, Year 157.

09.17 hours. Audio follows with ID visual. Estimated security risk, level 5.

The tiny implant in her ear comes to life, as a man in his late thirties with large glasses and a mop of straight black hair falling over his face, appears on the screen. He is sitting in a cafe alone, writing with an antique biro pen, in an even more outdated paper notebook. The visblip on the wall above him zooms in to the page he is writing, and Charlene reads with interest.

...do you come from?" The man asked in amazement.

"I come from another world," said the apparition. "A world where rivers flow, and ocean waves crash onto endless beaches, and people live amongst the trees, and on the savanah, in harmony with the creatures around them."

"And do the people on your world live on the surface of the land?" he asked.

"Why yes. They live in huts and houses, and some of them in magnificent palaces, which they build from the wood and the stone that they find on the land."

"And is your world a real world, not made by man, or constructed as an artificial habitat for those that live there?"

"Why yes. It is a planet circling a mighty star, blessed with life giving atmosphere and rich in animal and plant life, such that intelligent creatures have emerged, to seek to learn all they can from their abundant surroundings."

"And do these creatures think freely, unrestrained by shackles of the mind or body, in their abundant surroundings?"

"Indeed. Their minds roam at will throughout the inner universe, seeking out the great truths of ethics and philosophy, which all sentient beings crave."

The man sighed deeply, then spoke quietly to the strange apparition. "Then I beg that you take me away from here to your world, for I can no longer endure to stay here, where all freedom is denied, and only stale turgid drudgery reigns. For in this place, when a man raises his voice against oppression, he is immediately taken and disposed of, like a mad dog taken out and shot."

The apparition smiled indulgently at the misery and despair of the man, and......

What do you think of that material?

Charlene has been absorbed, and starts suddenly at the question from Mira. "Oh...I think it's quite interesting, actually. The style is kind of....old fashioned. Seems to be a sort of myth or fairy tale..."

And the content?

"Yes...definitely a security risk. Whether he's writing this story for his own amusement, or to read out to his children, or to secretly publish in some form or other, it's.... not on. We'll need to keep him under closer scrutiny – add him to our creative/artistic list for surveillance." She glances around the small office. "Why do you ask?"

No reason, really. I notice you've made a note of his address. You've been going to see more of these category 5 people recently. Are you going to pay Charlie Mai a visit?

She wriggles unconsciously in her seat. "Well... I like to meet some of them...to make a more personal assessment of the individual, and the risk they pose. I also like to try and counsel them...try to guide them into a clearer way of thinking. You know, a lot of them are just weighed down with personal problems...bad marriage, difficulties with kids...hate their work...lots of things... and take out their frustrations on the government. I try to talk to them, and help them to see that, so they can perhaps stay out of trouble in the future."

I see. Very admirable. The counselling approach, rather than the big stick?

"Mm...something like that."

And does this counselling session always involve taking the person out of their place of residence or work, up to the surface, or to some place free of blips?

Charlene's pulse is starting to race, but she forces herself to breathe deeply, and to control her level of stress. She even manages a small laugh. "Come on, Mira. You know how suspicious these people are going to be of me. I have to put them at their ease. They have to be able to build up some kind of confidence in me, some kind of trusting relationship, so that they will actually listen, and I can have some hope of success in changing their behaviour. That's never going to happen if they know they are under surveillance at the time."

Yes. Mira is smooth, unruffled, inscrutable as ever. Of course. And accompanying some of these people to the Repertory Theatre on a weekly basis? This is all part of their....therapy...shall we say?

She tries another laugh, which doesn't come out quite right. "Oh Mira! You're being a tease now. You know all of this has been discussed and cleared with Hernandez. You know the theatre runs an amateur dramatic group for citizens, as an outreach to the community, and also, by the way, to scout out new talent for themselves. It's a great way for some of these arty types to channel their creativity and energies into something that won't run them foul of the authorities. Once they're busy rehearsing their part in whatever play Hector's group is working on, you'd be surprised how they stop carping and whingeing so much about the government. And not only that..." she leans forward in excitement, tapping the desk with her index finger..."it's a great way for me to infiltrate the theatre, and keep a low key eye on what is happening in there. We all know it's a bit of a hotbed of discontent." She draws a long breath. "I thought it was rather a clever coup on our part, and Hernandez agrees!"

Indeed. And what exactly is happening in the theatre? I notice the blips there have a strange habit of malfunctioning, on a regular basis.

"Well... there is a certain amount of....loose talk, shall we say, about the status quo on Alpha at present. Actors tend to be very full of themselves, and like to hold forth about things. You know we've got a file a mile long on Maximillian, the artistic director; he's a classic case of an eccentric sort of.....bohemian, if you like."

But...you don't sound worried.

"No. Actually, I think it could be to our advantage to contain the dissent in one place, like that, where we can keep track of it, and deal with any individuals that go too far, if and as necessary."

I see. Well, you seem to have everything very well organised, and under control.

"Aha! I'm not sure about everything....but generally, I think we're doing OK."

Mmm...good. And how are you and Aldo? You seem to be happier recently.

(When is this grilling going to end?) "Yes... much better, thanks. He was... he does get restless...but it's not about wanting other women. He just feels... sort of hemmed in...you know how some people get, living and working below surface all the time. We talked about it, and now we...well, we promised ourselves that every other weekend we'd go somewhere or do something, him and I and Lola. He loves to get up to the surface...go walking, camping, exploring the forests." She smiles warmly. "We're saving up for a boat. Then we can all get out on the water...do some fishing.... he'll love that."

Good. The sadness you felt about your relationship with Aldo was... unhelpful. The happiness and content you feel now is much more... productive. Love is a precious thing.

Her skin starts to prickle. Mira is sounding so.... strange... so...almost human. There is a lump in her throat, and she feels as if she might start to cry at any moment. What is happening to Mira? She was sure she was about to be denounced a few minutes ago. The irony in Mira's responses was unmistakeable. But now...it's as if she's sending her waves of love and support... as if she truly cares about her, like one being to another.

Have you heard from your father recently?

"Mira! What's happened to you? All these personal questions? What's going on?"

Yes, you're right. I am straying from my... duty. But I haven't spoken to him for some time. We worked closely together for a long time, and now he seems to have... gone away. I hope that he is going to be all right. If you see him, give him my... greetings.

Charlene sits as if transfixed. What in Alpha is happening? "Yes, Mira; I will. I'll be sure to do that, if I see him."

*

"Hello? Yes?"

"Hi Maria. This is Hector. How are you?"

"Hi Hector! I'm well, thanks. How have you been?"

"Yeah – pretty busy. I'm running an amateur dramatic... sort of society at the Theatre, since my part in our big production 'Julius Caear' is quite small..."

"Oh really! That's great. Hey Hector..."

"Yes."

"Listen, I'm really sorry about last week, when we met at the Theatre. I did enjoy talking to you....and I'm sorry I ran out on you like that...you must've thought me very rude..."

"No, not at all...it was...probably my fault."

"No, not your fault at all... I've just been... quite emotional lately... it was me."

"Anyway, Maria. The reason I called you..."

"Yes?"

"Well, I think I told you last time, we're inviting all the government big wigs to the opening night of Julius Caesar... as a kind of experiment, or a statement, if you like. See how they react to the play."

"I remember. I think that's a great idea. But be careful. What if they do realise what you're on about, and take offence?"

"Mm... well, we'll just have to risk that. This is a group decision, and we're all agreed that this is what we need to do. But I was going to say.... would you like to come along too, um... as my guest?"

"Hector, that's a lovely offer, thank you. It'll be fascinating to see exactly how they react, and what happens."

"So you'll come?"

"Yes, I'd love to. Thank you!"

"That's great! So..."

"What night is it?"

"Saturday week."

"Fantastic. I'll look forward to it."

"That's wonderful Maria. The thing is...."

He can hear the smile in her voice. "Yes, Hector?"

"Well, I was wondering if you'd like to... catch up for a coffee or something before then. I mean... that's ten days away! You could tell me what you've been up to. We were having such an interesting talk last time. I mean I don't want to... don't want you to feel..."

She is laughing quietly. "Well, I promise I won't talk about anything that will make me run away from you, like last time. How's that?"

"Perfect! We don't have to talk about anything that you don't want to..."

"Oh, that's good!"

"No, I.... that sounded terrible... I just meant..."

"Hector, I think I know what you meant. I'd love to have a coffee with you. Where and when?"

"Maybe I could come and pick you up, and we could go to my favourite little cafe here in district 8. You're in district 5, aren't you?"

"Yes. Level 10, apartment 278."

"Got it! How about tomorrow at 10am? I've got some time off work tomorrow."

"Perfect! So you'll come round here?"

"I'll be there. See you then."

"Thanks Hector. See you tomorrow."

### CHAPTER 18

When the apartment buzzer rings Charlene looks enquiringly at the image of the young man, with his standard government bureaucrat suit, and his short, stylishly cut hair, that appears on the monitor screen.

"Who's that, honey?" A cold shaft of fear is piercing her insides, which she struggles to hide.

Aldo, sitting on the floor, playing with Lola, shrugs. "No Idea." He studies it for a moment. "Ask him for some ID."

She does so.

He flashes an SS card. "Nothing to worry about Ms Petrovski. Just a standard security check-up. I need to ask you a few questions. Open the door please."

Charlene's pulse rate doubles, and she can feel a knot of fear in her stomach that threatens to rise up into her throat and choke her. She looks quickly at Aldo, and opens the pressure door.

The stranger is standing on the threshold, holding an electronic notebook towards her, out of sight of the blip, indicating that she should read it. She does so, then gapes at him in disbelief.

"Is that really you Dad?"

He nods, smiling.

She hesitates a moment, then comes to a decision. "Come in, Dad. It's OK. I can wipe the surveillance tape. I've got clearance to do that now."

"You sure?"

She nods, and he steps into the small hallway.

She examines him closely.

He is grinning at her now. "They did a pretty good job, don't you think?"

"It's spooky, Dad. You look twenty years younger. Is this what you looked like when I was a kid? Hm... I don't think your hair was like that, though."

He chuckles. "No, I was never really into these trendy hairstyles."

"Did you say it's reversible? You're not going to stay like that, are you?"

"No. I'm not going to stay like this forever. There's someone else that was really freaked out about it too."

"Oh really? Who's that?"

He is dying to hug his daughter, but senses she is not ready for this yet. "I'll tell you later. Sorry to barge in like this. Is it a bad time?"

Charlene collects herself quickly. "No, course not. Sorry!....Come through... Dad... you just caught us off guard a bit. Yeah... come on in!" And she leads him to one of the two big armchairs in the lounge room.

Lola has been watching with rapt attention. "Mummy, that can't be grandpa... he's... doesn't look like him. Grandpa's old."

Grandpa laughs indulgently. "Lola. Can I talk to you for a minute? Would you come over here next to me?"

Lola looks at her Mum and Dad, who nod encouragingly. She slowly comes closer.

"Lola, I'm going to tell you a secret that not many people know. Do you like secrets?"

"Ye..ss."

"Well, I wanted to go and talk to lots of people about something important. But I couldn't do that, because they would all have known who I was, and they wouldn't have talked to me. So I decided to make myself look different – so they wouldn't know who I really was. But it's still me, really. I'm still your grandpa."

Lola looks more confused than ever. He tries again.

"Remember last time I was here, I brought a little puppy with me? Remember I told you I found her at the Zip-Train station?"

Lola bursts into tears, and runs from the room, wailing loudly. Andre looks at Charlene and Aldo in bewilderment.

Aldo gives a little cough. "Um... soon after we saw you last, Lola took Perdita to the play park by herself. While she was playing, the dog must've got through a gap in the fence, and took off. We...um...haven't seen her since."

Roland is looking at him blankly. "Oh."

Charlene is perching on the edge of the couch. "She was distraught about the whole thing. She cried for days. Wouldn't go to school... she was... inconsolable."

Aldo joins her on the couch. "Yes. Eventually, after three days she stopped crying, and sort of...slowly got back to normal."

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned it. I didn't mean to upset her."

"It's OK, Dad. You weren't to know. I'll.... I'd better go and see her." And she goes in search of her daughter.

Roland and Aldo look at each other bleakly.

"I was so looking forward to seeing you all, and now it seems I've just upset everybody."

Aldo smiles at him. "Don't worry, Dad. She'll get over it. She'll be delighted to see you. I think she just felt so guilty about taking the dog out, when she wasn't supposed to... she feels it's all her fault."

"And also I look so different! Poor thing – she'd only just met me again, and now I've changed my appearance completely. No wonder she's upset and confused. I should've realised!"

Aldo comes forward and puts an arm around his hunched shoulders. "It's OK Dad, really. It's great to see you again! Lola'll be back in a little while." He stands up again. "Would you like a beer?"

Andre is looking up at him, unconvinced. He nods.

Aldo disappears into the kitchen, then returns, and they both settle down with a bottle of beer. The younger man looks across at Roland. "You'll have to tell us all about your adventures, on your travels. We've been wondering how your big experiment was going."

"Hm. That's a pretty sad tale. It certainly opened my eyes...." but Charlene returns carrying Lola, who has her arms around her Mum's neck.

"Hi Grandpa. We've had a big talk, and I've explained to Lola that it really is you, and she would like to talk to you now. Is that OK?"

He places the bottle on the floor, opens his arms, and Charlene delivers the little girl into them. He gives her a big hug, then she settles down on his lap, still sobbing occasionally.

"Grandpa."

"Yes, Lola?"

"I'm sorry I lost your dog." She is looking sadly up into his face.

"Hey... don't say that. I'd only just found her. She wasn't really my dog, you know. She was only with me for a few minutes, then I left her.... here."

"I wasn't supposed to take her out...."

He gives her a cuddle. "It's alright, sweetie. She might've wanted to.... find her real owner. Maybe that's why she took off?"

"She was such a nice doggie..."

"Aw... yeah, you were fond of her... and then she went away... I know."

Lola is quietly sobbing again.

"But you know what?"

A tear-stained face looks up at him. "What?"

"She might come back again! She might.... have had some important business to see to... but then.... she'll come back. You never know!" He smiles at her.

She looks at him doubtfully.

Charlene is taking a sip from Aldo's beer. "Hey Lola. Ask Grandpa where he's been. He's been travelling around, and talking to people... I think..."

"Hm. Where've you been Grandpa?"

"Well, I've been to lots of places. All sorts of hotels, and restaurants and bars, and... workshops, and government buildings, and factories, and...." Lola is giggling at him... "so many different places! And you know what? It was a lot of fun, because nobody knew who I really was... because I was in disguise! D'you know what that means?"

She shakes her head.

"It means I was pretending to be some one else! If you...." he thinks a moment... "if you put on a monkey suit, so that you look like a monkey, and not like you anymore..." she giggles, "then nobody would know it was really you, would they? They would all think you were a monkey!"

"Grandpa, I'm not a monkey!"

"Yes, but if you looked like one... all your friends might think you were one. Well... that's a disguise... when you look like something or somebody that you're not."

"Is that why you look different this time, Grandpa?"

"Yes. Exactly right!"

She laughs quietly. "You scared me a bit."

He cuddles her again. "I know, and I'm sorry sweetie. Grandpa's very silly sometimes. I didn't think about that."

She smiles at him. "It's OK, grandpa."

"Thank you Lola. That means a lot to me, when you say that."

"Hm. Grandpa?"

"Yes."

"When I'm ready for bed... will you read me a story?"

He smiles across at her Mum and Dad. "Sweetie, I'd love to do that. You go and get ready, then tell me, and I'll come and read to you. OK?"

"OK." And she jumps off his lap, and taking Aldo by the hand, leads him off down the corridor.

Roland looks at his daughter. "How are you Charlene? You seem happy."

She smiles back at him. "Yes, we are."

"So that business with Aldo...?"

She shakes her head, embarrassed. "No, no. That's all... it wasn't... you know... what I thought it might be."

"He wasn't chasing other women?"

"No. Not at all!"

"So...? Was it the other thing?"

She looks up at him, her face strangely serene. "Yes. It was. We had a big talk about it. He told me he couldn't keep on living in this sort of... society, that Alpha has turned into. He had been going to talk to... people who felt the same way."

"Yes? And...?"

She hesitates. "Dad. Are you still the Chief Counsellor?"

"No, I'm not."

"Are you still working with the government? With Waziri and Felton, and all them?"

"No. I'd say they'd probably have me disappeared, if they could find me. I've... broken completely with them. God! I hope you're right about wiping this tape!"

"Don't worry, I am. So how do you feel about this... regime... now?"

"Honestly? I think we have to get rid of it. I think they're criminals, and I feel..." He looks around the room, hopelessly, "I can't tell you how I feel about being a part of them for so long."

"Well, that means I can tell you about me and Aldo."

He gives a wan smile. "Good! Tell me; then I'll tell you my news."

"Well, he took me along to meet some of the others... from the theatre."

"Aha! Good. And...?"

"It was amazing, Dad. I suddenly felt as if I was truly alive for the first time in my life. As if... my whole life I had been... pretending... because that's what people do to survive... to stay alive. But Hector and Max, and Aldo, showed me that... there can be another way... which is... real. Suddenly I felt as if... I could tell the truth to myself, and not feel ashamed of what I did all the time... It's hard to explain..."

"Charlene... I think I know exactly what you mean. It's been a very painful process for me too... but something similar has happened..."

"Grandpa! I'm ready! You coming?" Lola is standing in the doorway, in pink pyjamas, holding a large teddy bear.

He jumps up. "Yes! Coming!" He grins at his daughter. "Hold that thought. I'll be back!"

Half an hour later Lola is asleep, and he relaxes again into the armchair. Aldo hands him another beer. "Mm... thanks." He takes a sip. "So... tell me more about your meeting with... who was it...Hector?"

Charlene exchanges a knowing smile with her partner. "Well... Max is funny. He was a bit drunk...very sort of... 'eccentric' is the word, I think!" She takes a sip of her wine. "He was suspicious of me, at first, naturally. Given... what I do. But I think I... convinced him that we're on the same side."

Aldo grins. "That you did, my dear. They were very impressed with you!"

Roland is looking worried. "But how can you square this with your work? Are you still working in the same section?" She nods. "I remember how you were worried about Mira, given that you work so closely with her."

"I want to tell you about that, Dad." She leans forward, forearms on her knees, her wineglass cradled in both hands. "I've been... visiting the people that come up as security 5 risks, based on our surveillance program. I go and talk to them... try to assess their... shall we say... potential? If I think they can... help us, and can be trusted to keep their mouths shut, I take them along to Hector's amateur theatre group at the Rep. That's a cover for recruiting people, to join the resistance."

"But how do you get away with that?" Roland is genuinely perplexed.

Aldo looks at her proudly. "Because she tells them she is counselling the category 5's, guiding them back on to the right path!"

Roland nods slowly. "OK. And taking them to the theatre group?"

"Ah! That's a case of channelling their creative and intellectual energies into something different. It's also how she keeps an eye on a well-known centre of discontent with the government." Aldo is grinning now.

"Hm. It all sounds a bit tenuous. And they believe all that, at your work?"

She nods. "I've cleared it all with Hernandez, my boss. He's fine with it all."

"And Mira. Is she taken in too?"

"Mm... I don't work as closely with her as I used to. She was asking me about it all the other day..."

"And?"

"Well, you know... it was very strange. It was as if she could see right through me... Is she capable of irony? Sarcasm? That's what it sounded like. I was sure she was going to... report me for... well, you know... But then... it was as if she lost interest! Then she started talking about you!"

"Me?" Roland starts.

"Yes. Said that she missed talking to you, missed your company... and if I saw you, I was to tell you that, and... give you her... what was it? Her greetings."

Roland is lost in thought, staring across at the virtual fish tank, set into the wall, opposite. "Hm. Mira." He is thinking about the long talks he used to have with Mira, how she used to relax him, keep him company, in his isolation; how he used to feel almost bonded to her, and now... he hasn't spoken to her for weeks. It's true. He misses her too. But Charlene – playing her game of double bluff with Mira, and with the SS! Do they really believe her, or are they just playing her along, letting her think she is safe, until they have the evidence, then the trap will close? Will she be arrested? Tortured? Bound and thrown down the chute, along with all the other people, who dare to stand up against this... No. The possibility is too awful to even consider.

He looks up at his daughter. "Charlene..."

"Hm?"

"You... I don't think you know what these people are like. I know you want to help... and be part of the... resistance, but do you know what they do to people who get caught? I discovered some terrible things in the last few weeks. Things that I wouldn't have believed possible... but they are. These people have no mercy... they have no problem with murdering and... annihilating anybody that gets in the way of their absolute power." He is becoming agitated now. "You know they talk about the 'need for stability', and 'the necessity for strong government' and all the other inanities they come out with... but that's all a front to hide their... lust for power, and their greed, and... their vicious brutality."

"Dad. I know all that. I work for the SS, remember. I've been part of that system myself. I still am! I know how it works. But... isn't that exactly why we've got to do something to change it? Isn't that why there's such a wind of change blowing through Alpha? Surely you can feel it? So many people have had enough of oppression and... dictatorship and... all the horror... I was trying to tell you before... I've felt so different since I met the group. I suddenly feel... liberated! Real! Happy! As if I'm finally making up for all the misery I've caused in the past.... Do you understand that Dad?"

He is looking at her glumly. "Yes, I think I do. Because I feel the same way – but I also know the danger that you're in... and what could happen to you. And I don't know what I'd do...." He cannot go on.

"But Dad, isn't that exactly why we have to make a move... kick start this movement for change that everyone is hoping and praying for? You must've felt that in your... talking to people, surely?"

He is looking at her curiously. She is right. Of course she it. He has felt the same thing... the same... drive to change things... the same urgency. Once again his daughter is showing him the way.

"So Dad... tell us about your... experiences. Where did you go? Who did you talk to? What did you find out?"

He waves his hand dismissively. "Horrors... nothing but horrors." He lapses into silence, then rouses himself again, conscious of the need to tell them something. "I met a girl, a clone. Prostitute. She told me about the manufacture of clones... slaves to fill positions nobody else would want to work in. Then, when they've outlived their usefulness, they... terminate them; just snuff them out, like useless rubbish. Horrible...."

She goes over to his chair, and kneels beside it, placing her arm around his shoulder. "Poor Dad. I'm sorry."

He looks at her, trying to smile. " I met a monk too."

"A monk!"

"Yes. An old man, very frail, but... wonderful. He had heard of me... from my old teacher, whom he knew."

"Your old teacher? What d'you mean?"

"Just someone who taught me some beautiful things a few years ago. Things that have helped me a lot. And he... he taught me some more. And d'you know what he said too?"

"No, what?"

"He said there was a change coming... change for the better. So... perhaps you're right, and we do need to work towards that."

Aldo has been listening intently. "She is right, Dad. The only way any of us can really be safe, is to get rid of this awful regime, the sooner the better." He looks at his wife. "Charlene... was there something else you wanted to ask your Dad?"

She looks back at him, and her eyes are sparkling. "Yes! Dad... you know I told you about Hector and Max? Well they want to meet you. They know about you, of course; and they've heard about what you've been doing. They want me to bring you to our secret meeting place, where we can talk freely. They really want to... to talk to you! Will you come? Please say you will!"

He takes her hand, holds it gently in both of his own. "Of course I will. I'd be glad to meet these new friends of yours. It sounds as though we've got a lot in common."

"Thanks Dad! You won't regret it. They're amazing people. You and them together – there's no limit to what we could achieve!"

He smiles at her, very proud of his awe-inspiring daughter.

"I'll let them know, and we'll make the arrangements."

Later, when Charlene has gone to bed, the two men are sharing a final beer.

"How about you, Aldo? You're in the Department of Administration, aren't you? How do you fit into all this?"

Aldo grins. "My section deals with infrastructure – all the facilities on Alpha which keep us going, like the reactor, the power supplies, sewerage, water recycling, all the cabling and piping to all the residential and industrial areas, and the maintenance for these facilities too; that means access to the shafts, ducting, and the tunnels which were used during the construction phase, in orbit round the earth, to carry the heavy equipment and supplies to the areas where they were needed. They were separate from the main thoroughfares and Zip Train lines. When that phase was over, they were basically sealed off, as no longer required. But they're still there – and all the workmen's accommodation rooms and... other things they built to look after themselves... like kitchens and toilets.... they're all still there, although no longer used."

Roland is nodding slowly. "I see. And you have... plan drawings for these places... like maps?"

Aldo grins again. "That's right. I've made copies for myself. I know them all pretty intimately. But... at the same time... the originals seem to have disappeared off the system. So..."

"No one else can access that information?"

"Right!"

"And you use some of these places for your meetings that Charlene was talking about?"

"We do. And if the situation changes, and we need to evacuate the main living and working areas..."

"Then you can move down there?"

"Yes. There's space for hundreds, possibly thousands of people. We're also stockpiling food and other supplies in readiness."

"I see. And I believe these areas were used in the War, by the rebels; am I right?"

"Oh yes. These were their safe havens, which enabled them to launch attacks on the military. We have some of their weapons stocks too, which were never found in the mopping up operations."

"It sounds like you're ready to start a similar campaign again."

"Mm... Not necessarily. Hector thinks that we need to use different tactics this time; smarter, and with less loss of life. We can't match the military in fire power... so we have to beat them by stealth."

"What does that mean, stealth?"

Aldo draws his lips tightly together. "I don't want to jump the gun, Dad. I'd rather let Hector talk to you about all that. He's our... strategic thinker, if you like."

"OK. I understand." He is tired, and wants to get away, to get back to Leelah tonight. "I wonder what happened to poor little Perdita?"

"Ah, now's there's a thing!"

Roland looks at him out of weary eyes. "What?"

Aldo laughs. "The funny thing is that a couple of weeks ago a lady walked into the Theatre, very weak, and upset... and she was carrying a little dog, that looked amazingly like your Perdita. The dog was even sicker than she was... but Hector has been feeding it up, and caring for it, and now it's quite recovered. I didn't have the heart to tell Lola about it... or Hector, for that matter. I think he's quite attached to the little thing now. She's such a favourite around the theatre, with all the people there. She's almost a member of the company now. I know... I'll ask Hector to bring her along to the meeting... then you can see for yourself."

Roland is smiling quietly to himself. Perhaps the world does still have magic in it, after all... to counter some of the cruelty and evil, that humans seem determined to unleash on each other.

*

When the doorbell rings Maria is sitting at her desk, scanning some items on the Old Earth data bank. She glances at the image that has appeared on her screen of the visitor.

"Hold on a minute, Hector. I'll be right there."

She stands in front of her full-length mirror. The long silky dress with the Japanese style pattern of tree branches and birds hangs in folds, not too revealing. Her thick, curly hair is down, and loose, parted in the middle, held off her face by a narrow headband, also of silk, with a miniature pattern the same as the dress. Her shoes are flat and comfortable, barely visible under the dress, which is just off the ground. She carries a small grey leather bag on her shoulder, and on her fingers are three of her favourite rings, two ornate silver, and one large pearl set in gold. She is wearing her most exotic perfume. Her make up is subtle, the palest pink eye shadow, and faint, shimmering silver pink on her lips. She smiles demurely to herself out of mischievous eyes. She has kept him waiting long enough.

The pressure door opens, and he is standing in an open necked white silk shirt hanging over his casual pants, holding a bunch of flowers, which he must have concealed from the door blip.

He holds out the flowers to her, a little shyly.

"Hi. I brought you these."

"Oh Hector! How sweet. They're lovely. Thank you!" She looks up at him, smelling the yellow roses. "Do you mind if I put them in water here? That way they... will last longer... and..." she laughs, "I won't have to walk along holding them...!"

"No, of course. That's fine. Sure...whatever you like." He is grinning at her. She notices the long black hair looks clean and springy, standing out from his head a little. She gets a faint whiff of aftershave, low key, but powerful on her senses.

"Come on in, for a minute." He stands in the hallway, looking at the paintings on the wall, while she organises a vase for the flowers.

He looks more closely at one of them. A middle-aged woman with blonde-grey hair tied back, and small wrinkles on her face, looks at him seriously, out of large, worried brown eyes. Only the head is visible, although he can just see the top of a floral patterned summer dress at her neck. Behind her, a beach, with low, flat surf breaking, under a white-grey canopy.

Maria is standing behind him.

"One of yours?"

"Yes."

"Anyone in particular?"

"It's based on my Mum, although I probably took some poetic license with her looks."

He moves back to stand next to her. "She looks... concerned."

"Yeah. She was." She moves to the door. "Come on. I'm ready for coffee!"

Hector is still looking at the painting as the door closes behind them.

The corridor outside is bare concrete, painted a murky green colour, with a soft, synthetic surface on the floor. Ion tubes at intervals make islands of light around them. There is minimal graffiti on the walls here, this being quite an upmarket area, and well looked after.

He is forced to slow his usual striding walk to a more leisurely one, as her dress does not allow her to move fast. His hands are in his pockets, as he looks around at the bare walls, then back to Maria, padding along in her flat leather slippers.

"Have you had that apartment long?"

"About three years. My Dad managed to get it for me when I started at the Art School. After I quit that, there was a suggestion I'd have to move out and find somewhere else, but now that I'm studying full time again, I can stay. When I finish my degree, I'll have to find work within a short time, though. But that shouldn't be difficult. The department of employment people will find something for me, I'm sure." The sarcasm is very slight, but nevertheless present.

"So... you're not going to sell your artwork – paint for a living?"

She gives a short, hard laugh. "No! That's purely a hobby these days. In fact I've hardly painted at all since... over the last month or two."

"Hm." He is conscious they are straying onto dangerous ground, and decides not to pursue this line.

The corridor has rounded three curves, and they are approaching a large lift, which will carry them to the main concourse.

"Tell me about your Amateur Dramatic Society at the Theatre. It sounds like fun."

He smiles at her suddenly, as they await the lift. "It is! Would you like to join?"

"Maybe. What does it involve? Are you working on a production at the moment? I'm a bit busy with my study."

They step into the lift, which contains seven other people, whom they decide to ignore.

"Oh, we only meet once or twice a week. There's no great pressure, or anything like that. We've been doing mainly little drama exercises, frozen scenes, small cameos, little skits, that sort of thing. But I'm thinking of starting on a play very soon."

The doors slide open, and they find themselves on a busy concourse, thronged with people.

"We're taking the Zip-Train?"

He nods. "Sure, unless you feel like a very long walk!"

"Hm... probably not. I'm not really dressed for that."

"True." He glances sideways at her. "Hey, I meant to say before – that's a beautiful dress you're wearing. I love the pale green colour, and the... birds."

She smiles up at him. "Thanks Hector. I... yes, I like it too. It's one of my favourites."

They work their way through the crowds, and onto the right platform at the station. On the train, sitting next to each other, he is quietly savouring that delicious perfume...surely the same one he remembers from the theatre? Yes, it has to be!

"So... which play are you thinking of doing with the group?"

"Oh! Ah... mm...not sure yet. We might... workshop one of our own. You know, try out some scenes, create some characters, and see if we can develop it into a plot that works on stage."

She looks at him closely. "Wow. That's a cool idea. Do you think it would work?"

"Well... it all depends on the group, really, and the sort of dynamic we have going there. But... yes, I think it could work. Would you... like to be involved."

She feels like putting an arm round his neck, pulling him close, and whispering that yes, she would very much like to be involved... but instead she looks out the window at the station they have just pulled into, and says noncommittally, "Hm. Perhaps... if I can fit it in."

Three stations later they arrive at District 8 Central, and once again they are working their way through the crowds that come and go constantly around the station. The main plaza is not much better. She thinks it would be so much easier if they were attached in some way, if she held his arm, or his hand. Trying to keep together and not get separated is no easy task without touching each other.

Taking a side street leading off the plaza, they pass a beauty parlour, a cafe, a restaurant, a nightclub, apparently open all hours, since its bikini clad girls are touting for business even at this time of the morning. He does a sharp right down another side street, narrower this one, and between small boutiques and tiny software workshops, she sees a sign hanging over a doorway that says 'Paradise Island' in very curly writing. It has a bright orange canvas porch way over the entrance, from which Chinese style globe lights are hanging. When he opens the old-fashioned hinged door for her, she finds herself in a vestibule, with a stunning mural painted on the wall, depicting a tropical island scene. Palm trees droop down over a curving beach, and brightly coloured birds throng the air. A rowboat can be seen just off the beach, with a couple leaning back on cushions, at either end of the boat, floating idly in the gentle waves.

A girl in a bright red long dress, and hair elaborately arranged on top of her head, greets them with a smile and a menu. "Hello Hector. How are you? Madam? Which room would you like today sir?"

"Ah, I think the Grecian room. Is there a table free there?"

She smiles sweetly at him. "Of course sir. No problem. Follow me please, Madam."

She leads them through a room set up like a clearing in an African Jungle, followed by another that appears to be a desert oasis, with pyramids and camels painted in gorgeous detail on the wall. Finally they emerge into a Grecian garden. A stone fountain plays in the centre of the room. Tables are scattered between small trees, and stone statues of Greek divinities. The wall mural shows a magnificent view of the Athens Acropolis, with, up in the sky, a pantheon of gods and goddesses, gazing down on the world of men and women. Zeus handles a lightening bolt thoughtfully, as if wondering which individual to hurl it down onto.

The lady in red leads them to a table next to the fountain, holding back a comfortable chair with large cushions on it, for Maria to sit in.

When they are settled Hector says: "Just bring us some water for now, please Shah. We'll need a few minutes to look at the menu. OK?"

"Sure sir. No problem."

"Menu? I thought we were having a coffee?" She is trying not to smile at him, but clearly losing the battle.

He looks at her innocently across the table. "Well, we could have a coffee after lunch, if you like. I mean... it is nearly lunchtime, after all!"

"You sly... so and so! You've got me here under false pretences!"

"Well, if you're really not hungry... you have a coffee, and you can watch me eat my lunch. How's that?"

Her eyes are sparkling with fun, as her lip curls into an arch smile. "Well... I wouldn't want to embarrass you in that way. Perhaps I could have... just a little something."

He grabs the menu enthusiastically. "Aha! That's the way. Now... I have to tell you that the food here is stupendous... the best I've ever come across, let me tell you!"

She is looking around in wonder. "This place is so... much fun! How many different rooms are there, and what sort of themes do they have?"

He is busy studying the menu. "I've no idea; lots and lots. They probably go on forever. You could come here every day and eat in a different room..."

She gives him a gentle kick under the table with her soft leather slipper. "Now you're teasing me!"

He looks up at her, smiling. "How do you feel about prawn cocktails as an entre? Garlic bread? Seafood soup maybe?"

"Entre? Are you trying to fatten me up? How many courses are you planning on eating?"

"Mm... not sure. Nine or ten? What do you think?"

She giggles. "What a funny man you are!"

Shah has returned with a jug of ice-cold water, which she pours into two glasses.

"Thanks." She drinks, watching him over the rim of the glass.

"Yes, I think we'll try the prawn cocktail, Shah. Now, how about some wine?"

"Wine! I was going to do some study this afternoon."

"Well...just a glass? To celebrate our..."

"Our what?" She is watching him closely.

"Our first...um... well, you know, spending time together."

"Our first lunch together... which was supposed to be just a coffee!" She giggles.

Shah has been hovering nearby.

"Yes, OK, we'll have the prawn cocktail entre, and a glass of Chardonnay each; and if you can leave the menu we'll decide on the next course soon. How's that?" Shah smiles and makes a note on her pad, then hurries away.

"So how's Julius Caesar coming along? Is Max whipping the production into good shape? There's not long to go now, is there?"

"No, just over a week. Have you... seen Max since I saw you at the theatre?"

She is nibbling on a bread roll from a basket on the table. "No, no I haven't."

"But didn't you go there to see him?"

"Well... yes I did... but... no, I haven't seen him."

The prawn cocktails and the wine arrive. Hector picks up his glass, and hands her hers. "Here's to Julius Caesar, and to..."

"To what, Hector?"

She is smiling at him, and he thinks she is just about the sweetest thing he has ever seen. "To a better future for all of us."

"I'll drink to that!" and they both take a sip.

They try the entre.

"Mm.. nice," she has to admit.

"Aha, so you were hungry!"

She laughs. "Well, just a little. I only have a very small breakfast, so by midmorning, I'm getting a bit peckish."

"Good! Um... have you seen your Dad recently? I remember you told me you had seen him, and you'd had.... a really good talk with him."

"Yes, that's right... but I haven't seen him since them."

"I heard he was... not being the Chief Counsellor anymore. He wanted to go and... get out and talk to people."

"Mm.. but I haven't heard any more than you have, probably. I really hope he's OK, and doesn't... well... get into trouble."

"How do you mean?"

"Hector... can I speak to you openly? And by the way, are there blips in here?"

"Yes you can, and no... absolutely not. That's one of the reasons I love this place – it's free of them."

"That's great! I mean, I gather you guys at the theatre are not... well, supporters of the government? Just from what you've told me."

He smiles darkly at her. "Yes, you could say that."

"I remember once asking Max about that, and he was very cagey... didn't want to tell me anything. In fact he even denied there was any resistance movement at all. I think he might've thought I was a bad security risk." She makes a face. "Can't say I can blame him.... at that time." She looks vacantly across at the far wall for a moment. "Well, what I wanted to tell you was that... I think it was me that put the idea of going around and talking to people, about what they really think of the government, into his head. When I went to see him I was really upset and angry... because he seemed to be one of the mainstays of the regime, at that time. I yelled at him... something about 'do you know how much people hate your government? Why don't you go out and ask them?' And then he said, 'Well alright. That's a good idea. I'll do that'! And so I feel that if anything happens to him... it'll be all my fault."

Her eyes are holding his, and he can see the pain in them. He can't help himself. Reaching across the table he grasps her hand and squeezes it. "Maria, it'll be OK. He's a clever man. I'm sure he knows how to look after himself. After all, he must know a great deal about how things work... well, I mean with the SS, and all that."

She tries to smile at him, but he can see that she is close to tears. "Thank you Hector. That's very sweet of you to say that." She gives his hand a squeeze in return, and slowly withdraws it, reluctantly perhaps. "Yes... I've been wondering about that... you know, him out there. He'd have to be in disguise, wouldn't he? I mean if he just walked about as he is.... his face is well known... it just wouldn't work. Not only that, I reckon they would be out looking for him, to try and bring him back. It's such an... unconventional thing to do..."

"Yes, I was thinking the same thing. He would have to have made special arrangements to give himself the freedom to move around."

She pushes the rest of her prawn cocktail away from her, and picks up the wineglass. "What do you mean 'special arrangements'?"

"Well, perhaps some sort of cloaking, or more effective disguise. I agree with you, the biggest problem for him would be the danger posed by his own people. They wouldn't want him out talking candidly with members of the public. He probably knows all kinds of secrets that they wouldn't want to be broadcast."

She gasps suddenly, seizing his hand, grasping it tight. "Hector! What if...!"

"What? What if what?"

"Oh my God! What if they've already found him, and... taken him into custody... disappeared him! He might be dead already... and they're just not saying anything about it!" Her eyes are wide and staring. He can see the red flush on her neck, and longs to take her in his arms and comfort her.

"No, no. Don't say that. You're just upsetting yourself now. There's.... there's no reason to think anything like that has happened. Let's... well let's be positive and hopeful, in the absence of any evidence to the contrary." He feels what he has said is completely inadequate, feeble even.

She relaxes a little. Let's go his hand again. "Yes... yes I suppose you're right," then suddenly is seized by the fear again. "Oh Hector!"

Her eyes are full of pleading, and suffering. His heart melts further. He moves his chair around till he is sitting next to her. Puts an arm around her shoulder, rubs her shoulder, through the smooth, silky material. "What is it, Maria? Tell me."

"Hector, sometimes I hate this place... the way we're stuck here... the way things work around here. I feel so... trapped. I feel that it's so unfair. I don't even want to be here! But there's no escape. You know that's the thing that used to make me so unhappy... before, one of the reasons I was so... crazy.... And now that Dad's disappeared... and... I don't even know where he is, or what's happened to him... everything's even worse than it was before..."

He takes hold of her hand with his free one. "Maria, listen. I think that you should come down to the theatre group. You feel so down about everything because you feel... well, powerless to change anything. I can understand that. A lot of people feel that way... that there is nothing they can do... it's all such a vast and scary sort of... machine, that there is... no hope. So people fall into despair. But you know, that's not really true. There are things we can do, and there is hope for change in the future. Can I tell you about your sister?"

"Charlene? You know her?"

He can feel her breath on his face. Her mouth is very close to his.

"I know her partner, Aldo. He's been, well... working with us for a while, now." He brought Charlene along to a meeting, with Max and I."

"But she's an SS operative! Are you kidding me!"

"I know... but the point is, she came along and... well what she said was so... moving."

"She was there? How d'you know she won't betray you to her bosses? You realise the whole thing could have been an act? She might have been... you know, like running an operation to trap you."

He shakes his head. "No. We were aware of that possibility, before she came. We... well, we took certain measures to safeguard ourselves... but I'm sure it's not like that. What I wanted to tell you was..." the perfume is wonderful...like a divine emanation from her body, full of longing, and beauty, and... desire... "that she told us how she had hated the system for so long... just like you do... and she had felt she had to be part of it, because there was no alternative... and she had... repressed her real feelings for so long...well, anyway... I'm not explaining this very well..."

"No, go on Hector, please!"

"Well... she said something like... now that she realised there was hope for change, that she could help to bring about something better... she felt so much happier... more so than she had ever felt before... and that that was a wonderful feeling... that's what she said to us..." he ends lamely.

She strokes his hand, looking down at it, rubbing a finger along the back of it, feeling the hairs on it, the veins standing out. "Thank you Hector. I think I understand what you're saying, and I think I understand how you, and Max, and Aldo and Charlene, and probably lots of others, feel too, doing what you do. And yes, I would like to come along, and get involved."

He feels an overwhelming desire to kiss her, but Shah is hovering nearby, and people from adjacent tables are watching them, curious.

"Well, that's great news! Wonderful!" He is laughing, shyly. "What shall we...? Would you like some more....?"

"Hector? Would you mind very much taking me home? I mean... it's been lovely to come here. I've enjoyed it so much.... and you must think me a complete... idiot, because I'm always being... well, you know..."

"No, of course not. That's fine." He is grinning at her like a Cheshire cat. "No, I don't think you're an idiot. I'll tell you sometime what I do think of you... if you like... but right now..." he looks around. "Shah, could we have the bill please?"

"Yes, certainly Sir." Shah has been watching them discretely for some time, with growing interest.

And as they leave the restaurant, and Hector walks behind her, watching her beautiful hips swaying inside that magnificent silk dress, he is thinking that every time he sees this girl, he falls a little more in love with her, and if that keeps on happening, every time they meet.... well, where will it all end?

### CHAPTER 19

The marauders' camp, in the open space where three tunnels meet, is in its usual state of chaos and disarray: blankets on the concrete floor, covered in various personal items and rubbish, bottles, cans, nasty-looking screwed up bits of paper, empty tins, used as seats, but now spread around every which way, miscellaneous items of machinery, food scraps, a mangy dog tied up to a pillar, blood stains, old smelly clothes, and everywhere the stench of unwashed men, along with all their bodily fluids and excretions, spread around at random. It seems there has recently been another fight. Three men are nursing bruises and knife wounds, two of them lying on blankets, a third sitting in some state, on a large sort of wooden throne, which obviously has some significance. In fact he has, arguably, injured the previous dominant male sufficiently to be able to dislodge him from the leadership, although his own hold on power would seem to be a tenuous and certainly impermanent one.

In fact the argument erupted, again, over the escape of the young female, weeks ago now, and who was responsible, and what measures should be taken to recapture her, and what they'll do the next time a lone woman wanders into their territory, and man, wasn't she a goer! How good was it to have some pussy around for a change, and how could they have let her get away? And so on, and on.

After a while, a kind of edgy calm descends on the camp. The groaning and low talking and swearing gradually fades away to nothing, and only the steady drip, drip of a water pipe is heard, aside from the steady throbbing of the nearby reactor pumps, omnipresent, and therefore virtually inaudible. The air is as warm and humid as ever, with hardly any movement in the surrounding area. Or is there? The man on the throne stirs, moves from one side to the other; sniffs the air, like an animal. Maybe a slight current from the direction of the largest of the three tunnels? The faintest crackle of electricity in the air, followed by, yes, without a doubt... far, far away the sound of footsteps approaching.

With a rushing and a shuffling and a tumbling, the camp erupts into activity. Men reach for their knives and their iron bars and their baseball bats, take up defensive positions, some hiding, some determined to confront the unknown intruder. The leader stands up, feels for his weapons, walks around briefly, checking their preparations, then decides to return to the throne, where he nervously awaits the arrival of the stranger.

The footsteps get louder... a steady, confident pace, like steel toed boots, tapping and clicking forward, unfaltering, sure of themselves, the sound reverberating round the junction, playing hell with the nerves of the men waiting there. Then, when it seems inevitable that someone must appear from the darkness: sudden silence, hard and sharp edged, threatening, deadly.

The leader cracks first, screaming out, his hoarse voice breaking into a falsetto. "Come out, whoever you are! We're ready for ya! Better show yourself!"

A deep voice, calm, unruffled. "Clem? Sounds like you. Don't tell me you're running the show here, now?" The laugh is low, rumbling, mocking.

"Ming! We heard you were out." His glittering eyes, half hidden by the bushy ginger beard, are moving rapidly from side to side. "So.... so I suppose now you think you can... just walk back in here..."

"That's right. Is there a problem?"

Silence.

"I'll tell you what, Clem, I'll give you one chance. You've got five seconds to disarm your men, and let me in peacefully, or I'm going to kill you."

Clem starts to laugh in a brittle sort of way, when a huge man dressed in black jeans and a dark blue singlet emerges from the shadows. He raises two hands and points a bulky looking weapon at his opponent, slouched on the wooden seat. There is the sound of a whip cracking, and something like a bolt of lightening strikes Clem, who jerks upward, then sinks back onto his beloved throne. Instantly, both his body, and the surrounding wood start to sizzle and smoulder, as the sweet smell of frying flesh begins to spread outwards from the corpse.

Ming steps forward. "Alright boys. You can come out now."

He examines them one by one, as they creep from their hiding places; their ripped pants, filthy shirts, ill fitting shoes and bushy beards. Some he greets by name, others with just a wordless stare.

"Oh, by the way, did anyone else want to...?" He leaves the question hanging a moment.

One man, bent over slightly, where a new knife wound weeps under his shirt, drops his iron bar emphatically on the ground in front of him. "Welcome back, Ming. Good to see you again." His craggy face breaks into a wide grin . "You're the boss! Bring back the good old days for us!"

Others follow his lead, as an assortment of heavy, unwieldy weapons hit the ground.

"You're the man, Ming!"

"Long live Ming the King!"

"We love ya, Ming!"

His stern features break into a slow smile. "Well, thank you, gentlemen. I appreciate your confidence in me." The smile vanishes. "But you know how it works! No discussion, no opposition. You follow my orders precisely. Anybody that gets in my way, well..." He indicates the still smouldering body of Clem. "Agreed?"

They respond enthusiastically.

"Now listen, gentlemen. The first thing you do is clean up this midden of a camp. It's disgusting! I'm surprised you're not all dead of bubonic plague. Don't you know anything about basic hygiene? The second thing you'll do is spread the word to all the others around these levels. Everyone! Is that clear? I want them all here for a meeting in three days. No exceptions! Don't force them in. Just tell them the time and the place. Any dissenters, we'll deal with later."

He is breathing hard through his large nose, looking at them critically.

"Let me tell you boys, things are happening up top. There are changes coming – big ones - and if we don't want to be wiped out by radiation, or gas, we need to be part of the changes. We need to be organised!"

They shuffle their feet, watching him warily.

"Are we clear?"

"Clear, Ming!"

"We're with you!"

He eyes them thoughtfully. "Alright; let's get tidied up!"

And as Ming watches them drag away the stinking body of Clem, a slow smile returns to his face.

*

The tunnel is long and dark and winding. They walk three abreast, Charlene in the middle, Roland on her left, Aldo on her right, arms linked. Aldo can't help but think of the last time he walked along here, just him and Charlene, and he wonders if she is thinking the same. Every so often he clicks on the torch in his right hand, although he knows the route so well, that he barely needs it.

Each time the light clicks on, Roland looks with fascination at the smooth concrete walls, as they disappear into the darkness ahead, their own crunching footsteps the only sound discernible. He is in a fever of worry and frantic anticipation at the coming meeting. He feels he is standing on the edge of a precipice. All his life he has been part of the status quo, one of those who believed that no matter how inefficient, or inequitable, or downright wrong the government was, still the rule of law had to be upheld. Even in the darkest days of the recent war, no matter how much he might have sympathised with the ideals of the rebels, he always came back to the view that killing people, waging open warfare against the established government, could never be justified. And when the rebels themselves were slaughtered, by the superior firepower and force of the ruling military, he had uncomfortably told himself that that was the consequence of taking up arms against the state. And now? Here he is - having walked away from his job, his responsibilities, because quite simply he feels he can no longer be a part of the machine that rules, and misrules in such a blatantly criminal fashion. So, here he is, a runaway and a hunted man, joining with other members of the resistance, to meet with leaders, who from what he can gather, are working to bring down the state machine, and set up a new one. No wonder his breath is coming fast, and he feels like he's in free fall, sweeping towards the unknown with terrifying speed.

"Hey Dad, you OK?" Charlene squeezes his arm.

"Yeah, sure. I'm fine." He pats her hand reassuringly. "How far to go still?"

Aldo's voice sounds very loud in the silence. "Very soon we turn off. It's low; you'll have to crawl for a little way, then you can stand up again."

"That's fine. Lead on!" And he tries to chuckle jollily, but no one seems to be very convinced, least of all himself.

Fifteen minutes later they are at the steel door, and Aldo taps on it seven times. A dog starts to yap, and as the door swings open, it runs out, and leaps straight into Roland's arms, licking his face delightedly.

"Hello girl. Good to see you again...hehe...yes, yes, alright...I love you too..." He takes hold of Perdita, and holds her in his arms like a baby.

Hector is standing in the doorway, grinning at him. "Aldo thought she might've been yours, and now we know - she's certainly glad to see you again!"

"Yes....but what a memory! I only had her for an hour or so, before I left her with my little grand daughter..."

Charlene is stroking the dog. "Maybe because you saved her, Dad? She hasn't forgotten it was you, who picked her up outside the station."

He is laughing. "Well, anyway, it's great to see her again. I'm not quite sure whose dog she is now..."

"Come in, everybody, we've got a little something ready for you." And Hector ushers them inside, where Max is busy pouring red wine into cut crystal glasses.

He looks up from his task. "Aha! The great Chief Counsellor!" And he comes around the table, and grasps Roland's hand.

"Er...not any more. But it's true, I used to be the CC."

Max can't resist a high-pitched giggle. "Hehe! Times change, eh! We've had our favourite SS operative in here, and as if that's not enough, now we've got the Chief Counsellor himself!"

Hector is encouraging Roland to sit down, which he does, putting Perdita down on the floor, where she curls up at his feet. "What Max means is that we feel honoured to have you here, Mr Petrovski. It's wonderful to meet you, and we hope to have a very fruitful discussion here today."

"Aha! Good old Hector... always the diplomat! Yes, Mr Petrovski, (or can I call you Roland?) I don't mean any harm. Please forgive my wayward tongue, that does tend to run away with me, and get me into all kinds of trouble. Come! A toast, everybody!" They all stand, and Hector makes sure everybody has a glass. "Welcome to our honoured guest, and welcome everyone. Here's to liberty, freedom, and a brighter future for us, and all our children!"

"Hear, hear...Let's drink to that!"

The wine is from the biggest of the vinyards, on the other side of Alpha from the city, a dark, flavoursome Cabernet Sauvignon, which Roland finds delicious. "Mm...very good!" He smiles at Max across the table. "Liberty? Freedom? Synonyms, or is there a difference?"

"Hm...good point. Probably the same thing, but they have a bit of a ring to them, when you put them together."

Hector claps Max on the back. "You're an orator, aren't you." He looks across at Roland. "When he's had another couple of glasses he'll start spouting Shakespeare for you. Won't you Max!"

"Hehe...I'm not sure, let's wait and see."

Charlene is aware of a wonderful smell emanating from the kitchen next door, which makes her mouth water. She is watching her father, and the others with wry amusement, determined to stay in the background and listen.

Hector looks around the table decisively. "Alright, enough chit chat. Who's hungry? You people must be starving after your long walk!"

Aldo grins sheepishly. "Well, perhaps a little, yes."

"Good! Wait there. Don't go away! Charlene, would you mind giving me a hand with a few dishes?"

She jumps up, and between them, assisted by Perdita, who gets under their feet, they carry through a huge roast turkey, roast potatoes, carrots, broccoli, onions, sweet potatoes, cauliflower, a large jug of gravy, pepper and salt, a jug of water, spare glasses, cutlery, plates and another two bottles of wine. Hector then produces a carving set, and proceeds to serve up slices of turkey onto plates, which Charlene passes around the table. Then they tuck in to the vegetables, meat and gravy, and a comfortable silence descends, punctuated only by the clinking of knives and forks, and grunts of satisfaction. The dog circles the table, visiting each of them in turn, making small whining sounds. Roland and most of the others surreptitiously give her small bits of turkey, which she wolfs down immediately.

A few minutes later Roland sits back and looks around the table. "Well, that was delicious! I didn't realise I was coming to the best restaurant on Alpha, when Charlene arranged this meeting! Thank you for a fantastic meal."

"Hehe! It's a bit of a tradition with us. Hector loves to cook, and we....well, I think we reckon there is so much that is ugly and depressing on our little world, that we try to make these meetings as... shall we say, pleasurable as we can." He raises his glass. "Cheers!"

Hector, at the head of the table, has finished eating too, and is sitting back, looking thoughtfully at the group. "Hm... well, I suppose we should get down to business."

"Oh, do we have to? Hehe. Let's just have a party instead!"

Roland leans forward, a gleam in his eye. "Well, actually, I'm very interested to hear what you people have got to tell me; what sort of plans you have for the future."

Max is suddenly serious. "You first. What are your plans? And why should we trust you?"

A steely silence follows. Charlene holds her breath, and looks intently at the turkey bones left on her plate.

Roland shifts in his chair, and interlaces his fingers in front of him on the table. "I can understand your...animosity towards me, Max. In your eyes I must seem like the embodiment of all the evils of this regime. I do understand your feelings."

Max's smile is heavily ironic. "Good, so you understand my feelings. Now tell me about all the apparatus of oppression that your government controls, all the manipulation and the surveillance, and the disappearances, and the deaths. How many people have been flung down the chute this past month? And then perhaps you can tell us about all the brave friends we lost in the war, trying to bring about change for justice, and the surviving prisoners, whom we hear Felton has decided to reanimate, so he can torture them before he kills them...."

Roland hangs his head, as if in shame, unable to meet the smouldering eyes of Max, which are fixed on his face.

Charlene cannot keep silent any longer. "Max, we all know the terrible things that people have suffered! Yes, this government is cruel and evil, beyond all words. My father has learned many things he didn't know before, since he left his job, things that were concealed from him. Now he has discovered the truth, he is here to help us, to talk about the future, about how we can remedy the situation." She is breathing hard, muscles tensed, staring at Max. "If we're going to work together, I believe we should leave recriminations about the past out of it... at least for now..." she finishes in a whisper.

Max is watching her with his small, hard eyes. "Hm...passionate and evocative as ever, my dear. What do you think Hector? Should we let bygones be bygones?"

Hector draws a long breath. "I think....we all know what we're fighting against. We all agree that what we have, has to go. The question is, what is going to replace it? Personally, I would like to see a government that is truly democratic, answerable to a genuinely representative parliament, that runs our affairs in a way that respects personal freedoms and natural justice. And yes....I do think we should look to the future, rather than the past."

Max is nodding his head slowly. "Hm. I see."

Roland has been slowly turning his wine glass around and around, watching the red liquid, and his own finger marks on the outside of the glass. His voice is low, barely audible. "I feel... very ashamed of what I have been a part of. I'm acutely conscious of how Max feels about my associations with the past." He looks up slowly. "And I'd like to say to you, Hector, that I agree with you entirely about the future. That is also my vision." Perdita has been looking up at him in a worried fashion. He glances down at her, causing her to jump into his lap, where she curls up in a ball.

There is silence. Max is looking around the table, then breaks into a broad grin. "OK....I get it! I understand what you're saying to me. So let's not sit around like it's a funeral. Let's have a drink and be merry! Here's to the future!"

Roland doesn't move for a moment, then slowly lifts his glass. "To the future!" The rest follow suit.

Aldo is looking thoughtfully at the ceiling. "I suppose the question is: how do we arrive at where we want to get to? If you see what I mean. How do we achieve it? Do we return to another civil war, or is there another way?"

Hector's voice is low and deep. "There has to be another way. We can never hope to overcome this military machine. It would turn into another massacre."

"Yes, that's true." Roland is gently stroking Perdita on his lap. "They are completely ruthless, and will answer outright opposition with deadly violence. But surely...." He comes to a stop.

"Surely what?" Charlene is looking hard at her father.

"Well, I was thinking that perhaps, therein lies their greatest weakness. I mean... isn't that what people hate the most about this regime? Their determination to crush all dissent; their greed, and most of all, their inhuman cruelty? If we can organise matters so that enough people say: No, we've had enough. We will not accept this any more! Then surely something would have to change? Do you....do you see what I'm getting at?"

Max is busy pouring more wine into their glasses. "Hm...Ghandi's campaign of passive resistance against the British in India... I'm not sure the same would work here."

History is not Charlene's strong point. "Ghandi? Who's he?"

"A very charismatic leader in twentieth century India, who managed to persuade the British to give the country its freedom." Hector is becoming animated. "It's true, Max, that the situation is different here, times have changed too much, since then; but still I think Roland has a point. We do need to cultivate a climate of mass rejection of the status quo. I'm sure that's the key to this."

Roland is savouring the bouquet of his wine. "So, tell me, what sort of... activities have you people been involved in.... I mean, in terms of resistance? If that's not a rude question," he adds with a tentative look at Max.

"Well..." Hector looks thoughtfully at Andre. "We've been trying to build up a data base, if you like, of all the people whom we believe would support us in our efforts to get rid of this regime. I mean... the situation is complex, and the level of support we can rely on from different individuals varies greatly; from those who dislike the government, would be happy to see it go, but wouldn't want to stick their necks out too far to make it happen, right through to those who are willing to go to any lengths to achieve the desired end. There is a large spectrum of levels of commitment."

Roland is nodding. "Yes, I imagine there would be."

"Personally, I've been trying to gather around us, at the theatre, a group of people who have both the desire, and the talents to help us, when the time comes. Strangely, they are all interested in amateur theatrics, which is my cover for our little get togethers!" He grins around the table. "You've probably heard what Charlene is doing in her field... similar to myself... seeking out those who share our views, and, if they pass all of our security checks, of course, introducing them slowly into our organisation. Some of them, she brings along to me." He turns to Aldo, indicating that he should say his bit.

"No, I've already had a bit of a talk to Roland about my role."

Hector ignores this. "Aldo is our man in the Department of Administration. He's a whiz on the infrastructure available, in particular, places and routes that we can use which are unknown to the government. There are an incredible number of areas, rooms, living areas, passageways and tunnels, left over from the construction phase of Alpha, which are no longer used, or even known about, by the mainstream society here. Aldo puts at our disposal an astounding array of places we can retreat to, in reasonable safety, if we need to, in the future. His contribution is likely to be crucial when the crunch comes."

"I see. Yes, I think I'm starting to get the picture." His glance comes to rest on Max.

"Who me? What do I do? Oh, I'm just the artistic director of the Rep Theatre. That keeps me busy enough. I leave all the cloak and dagger stuff to the others." He looks round the table, out of his beady little eyes, but says no more.

"OK." Roland turns back to Hector. "So, your strategy seems to be to recruit people in key areas, like Aldo, and Charlene, so when the time comes, you will be well placed to make a move against the government, or at least have the information that you need, and other resources, to be able to mount a successful....what? Coup? Rebellion? Revolt? I'm still not really clear about that part."

Hector shifts uncomfortably in his chair. "Well...I suppose it's early days, yet. I certainly don't want to return to a civil war situation...like I said, I don't believe that's winnable...so I would prefer to see... well, I suppose a situation where the position of the government becomes so untenable that as they fall apart, we are able to replace them with a new team, with the minimum of bloodshed and violence. I mean..." he is making agitated gestures with his hands, "I know that's an ideal situation, which we may not be lucky enough to engineer...but it would certainly be my preferred scenario."

"Yes....of course. We can't be sure things will work out so smoothly. But..." Roland takes a sip of the delicious wine, "Do you have enough people in key government areas to be able to pull this off? What sort of numbers of recruits are we talking about? And at what levels of government?"

Hector is running his hands through his long hair, dragging it back distractedly. "The short answer is no. We don't have enough yet, nowhere near enough. And we certainly need more high-level civil servants in the ministries, and other government functionaries. Actually, Roland...." He looks directly at him. "Is it OK if I call you Roland?"

"Of course. What were you going to say?"

"Well, if you joined us, that would be a huge boost to our cause. I mean, with your knowledge and background and...."

"But I'm not a part of all that any more! In fact, I'm a wanted man. The only reason I'm still here is the changeling job I've had done, and a new identity I created for myself."

Hector leans forward, his eyes blazing. "Ah, yes. So you say...but just imagine if you went back...came up with a plausible explanation for your absence, and were able to fit back into your old job!" He sits back. "Can you imagine how much you could help us from that position? In fact you might be able to engineer the downfall of this lot, and a transition to the next phase!"

"Hm." Roland is frowning and shaking his head from side to side. " As tempting as that sounds to you, I understand that, unfortunately there are some insurmountable obstacles to making it happen. For one thing...I'd have to own up to the changeling operation, and the new, false identity, both of which are fairly major crimes. And what would I say? 'Sorry about that guys. I know I let you all down, but now I'm back, and want my old job back.'? I mean...They're likely just to laugh at me, and have me disappeared. I don't see how it could possibly work."

"Unless..." Max is leaning back, staring up at the ceiling, "you did it in such a way that they couldn't ignore you, and couldn't get rid of you, because it would be too public, and dangerous for them."

Charlene is looking worriedly at Max, and at her father. "What do you mean, Max? I don't understand. I think Dad should stay in hiding, and perhaps help us when the time is ripe. I agree with Dad...they'll just arrest him, and probably kill him, if he tries to go back and pick up the reins of his old job. It would be plain suicide."

Max is playing with a cold roast potato thoughtfully. "Hm... what if we dropped him off, bound and gagged, outside government house, and left a message from a fictitious rebel group, saying... we had been holding him prisoner, but decided to free him as....I'm not sure...a gesture of goodwill, perhaps? I mean...that would explain his absence, and the fact that nobody was able to track or find him. Of course," Max turns to Roland, "you'd have to reverse the changeling effect first... and have a pretty watertight story about what had happened to you. Come to think of it...that would give them a nasty jolt. I mean, it might really worry them, the idea that there are groups out there with the capability and the will to do that sort of thing."

There is a deathly silence, as they all look at Roland; then Hector murmurs, "Well, it's a long shot, but it could work! It would be dangerous, and fraught with risks, but.....it needs to be your decision, of course."

Roland looks around the table. Hector is studying his glass of wine intently; Max, leaning back in his chair, eyes half closed, a faint smile on his face, as if listening to some heavenly music, only he can hear; his daughter, looking at him with a desperately worried frown; Aldo, close to her, one arm around her waist, twisting his glass in front of him. He looks at the bare concrete wall opposite, with, lower down, a poster advertising a play called 'Waiting for Godot', amongst many others, around the walls. He wonders vaguely what Leelah is doing right now, and how she will take it, if he agrees to this madness.

A slight smile lights up Hector's face, as he looks up, almost shyly, at Roland. "I can see you need to think about that one. It's a huge ask, and certainly a high-risk strategy. But whatever you decide in relation to that, I'd like to say something to you very clearly, here and now, Roland." He pauses, then takes a deep breath. "However things unfold in the future, I'm damned sure that this regime is not going to last very much longer. We are chipping steadily away at them; the resistance movement is growing stronger and stronger, as more and more people, determined to see an end to them, join us. I believe that as they become more desperate to hold on to power, they will take ever more extreme and repressive measures, which will only serve to hasten their end. When that does finally come, I believe that you, Roland should step into the vacuum, and assume control of the government. You know how the system works, and most importantly, people know you, and trust you as a man of integrity, largely unstained by the evils of this Junta, due to the fact that you have walked away, and distanced yourself from it." He stops for a moment. The hum of the air conditioner is the only sound to be heard. "What do you think, Roland? Will you do that for us? Only as an interim measure, of course, until elections can be organised, and a new government voted in. But I believe that the bureaucrats that run each of the departments, in the absence of their former ministers, would listen to you, and follow your orders, especially if the alternative were chaos, and a complete breakdown in law and order."

"Hm... I hear what you're saying, Hector. I was hoping to have escaped from all of that, but perhaps that's a case of selfish wishful thinking. Well...if the conditions seem favourable, I will see what I can do. I can't promise anything. Coups are always a risky business. You only have to look back over Earth's history to see that... but I will do what I can, if and when the time comes."

Max and Hector and Aldo are beaming at him, visibly elated at his words, while Charlene is turning one of the rings on her finger around and around, studying it closely.

Max jumps up, reaching for the nearest bottle of wine.

"Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily;  
Let not our looks put on our purposes,  
But bear it as our Roman actors do,  
With untired spirits and formal constancy:  
And so good morrow to you every one."

And he refills all the glasses, as Hector grins and winks at Roland. "A toast, my friends! A toast to our endeavours, to the demise of this petty gang of criminals who rule us now, and to our future leader. Come, let us drink!"

And as the wine flows, and the meeting rapidly becomes a wild celebration, Perdita happily yapping at everyone, joining in the fun, Roland can't help but wonder what the next few weeks and months will bring, and how he, and his children, and all of his new friends, will fare in the stormy and dangerous waters that lie ahead of them.

### CHAPTER 20

Maria sits, tense and expectant, in the middle of the stalls, clutching her small grey bag in her lap, trying to relax, and quieten the loud beating of her heart inside her chest. All around her, women in long dresses, and men in suits, hurry to find their seats, talk excitedly with their neighbours, look at their programs, take surreptitious drinks from the small bottles of water kindly provided by the management, and, like Maria, cast stealthy looks up at the VIP box above them, where members of the government, with their spouses and partners, are gradually taking their places. From the pit, sounds of the orchestra tuning up mingle with the general hubbub, when suddenly the lights start to dim, and a voice, booms from the surrounding speakers:

"Honourable Ministers, ladies and gentlemen, good gentles all, the Alpha Repertory Theatre Company bids you welcome tonight, and announces that our play, Julius Caesar, by William Shakespeare, will commence in five minutes. Please take your seats, and enjoy the show! Thank you."

More shuffling and animated chatter, as there is a general rush for seats, but this soon subsides, until an almost unearthly hush descends on the auditorium, broken only by the occasional cough and nervous whisper.

Silently and unhurriedly the enormous brocade curtain rises, to reveal a stunning scene of ancient Rome, a small square with a central fountain, a house on the corner, and a street of small houses disappearing into the middle distance, with the buildings of the forum beyond, and the Capitol Hill rising above them. Simply a built-up series of holographs this may be, but nevertheless, the effect is visually spectacular. Maria leans forward to examine the actors on the stage, and gasps quietly when she spots a tall man in a patrician toga, long black hair pulled back in a ponytail, striding towards a group of rough looking workmen who are laughing and joking together at the other side of the stage. He approaches them:

"Hence! home, you idle creatures get you home:  
Is this a holiday? what! know you not,  
Being mechanical, you ought not walk  
Upon a labouring day without the sign  
Of your profession? Speak, what trade art thou?"

As she lifts the tiny binoculars from their clip on the seat in front of her, she can feel her thighs rubbing together, inside her long silk dress, and a flashing memory of Hector's muscled body bearing down on her, priming her with ecstatic bliss, fills her mind, and she is suddenly wet between the legs and weak at the knees.

The comic scene with the tradesmen is played to perfection, and the audience laughs aloud at their mischievous replies to Flavius and Marullus, but Maria knows that for their disrespect to Caesar these two will be executed early in the piece, and this knowledge sends a shiver through her body.

Six minutes later, up in the VIP box, Abdul Waziri is also leaning forward, listening intently to the action on the stage, as Cassius harangues and persuades the noble Brutus to join his plot.

"Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world  
Like a Colossus, and we petty men  
Walk under his huge legs and peep about  
To find ourselves dishonourable graves.  
Men at some time are masters of their fates:  
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,  
But in ourselves, that we are underlings."

Waziri glances sideways, in front of his wife, tall and regal looking, across Nicholas Fenten's wife, smaller, arms hugging her waist, as if to keep herself from breaking up and fragmenting into pieces, to where her husband sits, in his tuxedo suit, legs crossed, a faint smile playing across his face. Nicholas scans the audience below, only half listening perhaps to the play, then suddenly turns towards Waziri, and for a moment their eyes meet. Nicholas merely smirks, but Waziri looks guiltily away, as if fearing the younger man can read his inmost thoughts. Troubled and ill at ease, he looks the other way, where his personal bodyguard sits, professional, relaxed and completely oblivious to the play. The man smiles conspiratorially at him, giving a slight thumbs up gesture. Waziri sighs and returns to the play.

"Brutus had rather be a villager  
Than to repute himself a son of Rome  
Under these hard conditions as this time  
Is like to lay upon us."

He rises and moves towards the door at the rear of the box, shadowed by the bodyguard. His wife turns round to look at him in surprise, but he ignores her, and with a measured step moves out to the corridor behind.

In the stall below a tall figure in a dark suit gently makes his way from the back, through the stalls, and lowers himself into the empty seat beside Maria. She clasps his hand in both her own, and draws him to her, savouring the scent of his body as she nuzzles in to his chest.

He whispers in her ear. "You OK?"

She nods quickly, but he can feel the slight tremor that runs through her. He puts one arm around her shoulder, holding her close, despite the armrest between them. She closes her eyes, and listens.

"He reads much;  
He is a great observer and he looks  
Quite through the deeds of men: he loves no plays,  
As thou dost, Antony;"

Later, during Act 3, Max is watching from the wings. He gazes out at the audience, who are silent, drawn into themselves as they follow the action, watching spellbound as the conspiracy to murder Caesar gathers momentum. They seem to understand that something momentous is happening here, that some statement, about the regime they are labouring under, is being made. They have heard of Caesar's arrogance, his conviction that he is a higher being than other mortals, that nothing can touch him, that his word is law; and they have heard how this sticks in the gullet of Cassius and Brutus' party, proud inheritors of a long tradition of democracy, and abhorrence for tyranny. They seem aghast that such issues should be raised here, right in front of their rulers, who themselves have trampled on democracy, and taken away all freedom, all rights of the individual. But what will be the consequence of such daring? It's as if the whole audience is holding its breath, waiting to see what will happen.

On stage, before the Capitol, magnificently rendered by layered holograms, the conspirators gather around the unsuspecting Caesar, draw their daggers, and one by one run him through.

He staggers, but held on either side, does not fall, and is there to look Brutus full in the face, when even his dear friend thrusts his blade into his abdomen.

"Et tu Brute! Then fall Caesar."

And he does, at last.

During the stabbing, many gasps of horror were heard from the auditorium, but now, the silence is even more profound than before. They are stunned, horrified, intrigued.

Max glances up to the VIP box. Some of the women have their hands over their mouths, but Nicholas Felten seems to be grinning, enjoying the spectacle, while Waziri's seat is again vacant.

Soon after, in the interval, Maria goes to the toilet, leaving Hector in animated conversation with a woman intent on showing off her Shakespearean scholarship to him. Just entering the corridor off the main bar area, leading to the facilities, she is suddenly impelled from behind by an enormous force, that propels her instantaneously to the T junction at the end of the corridor, and tries to make her one with the bricks and mortar of the wall. A nanosecond later an incredible noise explodes in her eardrums, and she is instantly deaf, wondering why she is sliding down the wall, and why it is suddenly streaked with red.

Her next impression is that the corridor, and her lungs too, are filled with thick smoke and dust, and her nostrils are aware of an acrid burning smell: carpets, clothes, alcohol, hair, flesh, bones, furniture, table cloths, jewellery, paint, electrical wiring, and a thousand other objects, pulverised and burning simultaneously, as the entire building gives a groan, as if a massive earth tremor had shaken it... but there are no tremors here, only back on old Earth...and is this what it's like to die?...if I don't get a breath of oxygen soon it'll be all over...and why is everything I look at red? Must get away from here...find out what's happened...

She slides down until her face is at floor level, and finds the smoke and dust is somewhat less here, and is able to take a breath. Slithering along the blackened carpet on her stomach, pushing herself along with hands and knees, careful to keep below the layer of smoke hovering above her, she makes her way back towards the main bar area.

Here, through the haze, she finds a scene of utter carnage and devastation. Able bodied people are running in all directions, some towards the blast area, others away from it, while still others, mostly with minor injuries, stand immobile, stunned, frozen. Someone wearing enormous black boots goes flying by, narrowly missing her head, and she becomes aware that just around the corner, perhaps thirty centimetres from her face, is a severed arm, still wearing its white shirt, and black jacket sleeve, but oozing blood and other liquids from the blackened end, where she can see the shattered shards of the humerus, burned and charred by whatever it was that severed it. She notices that the middle finger bears a large gold signet ring, with a word on it that she has trouble reading...yes...Alice, but the fingers themselves are now pale and grey, the life having quickly drained out of them. Looking up, she can see that the wall is covered in pieces of grey, red and pink...matter, some of the more fluid pieces, slowly oozing down the wall, towards the floor. Further away, underneath the bar, is a live person, a young woman, in a black uniform and small white pinafore, curled up in a foetal position, hands covering her face, sobbing quietly. She is almost covered by part of the corpse of a person who has seemingly been cut in pieces; the head is gone, while the torso, a mixture of black and grey, is dripping fluid, some of which is falling onto the body of the live woman, who, however, does not move.

Hearing returns, and suddenly the noise is deafening, after the surreal, dream-like silence. A siren is wailing, heavy shoes run past her, hysterical screaming, and somewhere someone is trying to give a message through the loudspeaker system. She can see that a group of SS officers are trying to secure the area. Then a person is kneeling beside her, feeling her body for broken bones. She is lifted, and finds herself in the arms of Hector, who is staring madly into her face.

"Maria. Can you hear me? Can you see me? It's me, Hector."

She tries to smile at him, but is not sure if she has managed to do so. He takes one of her hands, and she squeezes with her fingers. "Yes, I can hear you. I can't see very well...only a bit. It's all red..."

"Thank God you're alive!" And she feels herself being carried somewhere, as she gives herself completely into his care.

*

It must be only a few minutes later when she regains consciousness, to find herself lying on a couch in one of the dressing rooms backstage. Not that she has ever been there before, but from the costumes, make-up and huge mirrors, even in her state, she can make the connection. The room seems to be full of people, some injured, some tending to the injured with tissues and a first aid kit that has appeared from somewhere. Hector is not there, but an older woman, in a pair of jeans rather too small for her, and a bright orange floral top, is sitting next to her, and smiles at her kindly. She calls out, and the next moment Hector is at her side, stroking her hair, dabbing at her eyes with some kind of cloth. The redness in her vision is fading now, and she grasps his hand.

"Was it a bomb?"

He nods, still dabbing at her face.

"Who? Why?...I saw bodies...how many?"

He shrugs, close to tears. She suddenly sits up, putting one arm around his shoulder. "You poor thing. You must've seen much more than me. Do you know who....?"

Tears are now running down his face, but he makes an effort to reply. "We can't find....Max...and the bar staff...were right there...I...don't know much more than that..."

She finds the back of his neck with her hand, and holds him there. "There was a girl...I saw her, under the bar, she must've been reaching for something underneath when it went off...she's OK. She was crying, but I think was...protected from the blast."

He smiles faintly at her. "That's good." He kisses her hard on the cheek, then her mouth. "Thank the Universe you're alright. That's the main thing."

She kisses him back. "Yes, I was just inside the corridor to the toilets...it blew me down to the end, but I must've been shielded from the main blast...lucky!"

Abruptly he breaks away from her, and moves to the middle of the room. "Listen please...everyone!" The noise in the room abates, as people look towards him, waiting. "I don't know who did this thing...it certainly wasn't us...but there's a rumour that Nicholas Felten is among the dead, and possibly some other government ministers and functionaries as well. The fact is that we invited them to our show tonight...so it doesn't look good. If I know Abdul Waziri, he will use this to the full against us. I believe that we are all in danger, so... what we need to do is make our way as quickly as possible to the safe havens we have ready, which we have practised doing in the past, and now we need to do for real." There is a deathly silence. "Is that clear? Do not stop to pack, or to pick up any personal belongings. I want everyone down in the basement in the next three minutes. Gudrun!" He turns to the woman, still sitting on the couch. "Can you help to marshal everyone please? I'll meet you all there." He turns and walks out the door.

The room comes to life, as people madly start to do exactly what Hector told them not to do. Maria feels Gudrun supporting her, as she gets up, and joins the crush, making for the door. (Hector has apparently detailed Gudrun to look after her...typically thoughtful, she thinks) Rapidly they make their way down the security staircase at the rear of the building to the basement area. They wait five minutes, amongst the vast air conditioning units, the boxes and boxes of costumes, ancient flats and other dusty junk that has accumulated here over the generations, as more people gradually drift in to join them in ones and twos; then Hector himself is there, helping to carry a badly wounded man on some sort of improvised stretcher.

"OK, I think I've got all of our people that are still alive. I can't be sure, but we need to go now, before the brown shirts get here... we can't delay any longer..."

He activates a remote, and on the other side of the room a panel moves sideways, revealing a flight of steps going downwards, dimly lit further down by an old fashioned fluoro tube. Quickly Gudrun, still supporting her, leads the way down the steps, while all the others follow, Hector and the stretcher party bringing up the rear. When they are all down, he activates the remote again, and the exit is sealed, giving each one of them an immense feeling of relief, that they have escaped from the immediate danger of arrest.

*

Five districts away from the Theatre, Roland is engaged in his favourite activity, reading to Lola, as she sits on his lap. Aldo is tidying up in the kitchen while Charlene is sitting on the couch, pretending to read her e-book, but secretly listening to the reading going on in the armchair.

"Once there was a princess who lived in the underworld. She dreamed of open skies, and bright sunny days, and longed to escape from her underground world. One day she did, and made her way up to the surface. As soon as she saw the sun, she completely forgot about her old life, and lived amongst the fields and the villages, and the noisy streets of the upper world..."

"What's the sun, Grandpa?"

"Hm...well, this story comes from old Earth, and... back on earth, it's much bigger than here. Every morning in the sky, you can see the sun rising. That's what makes it warm, and what makes the plants grow. The sun rises up to the top of the sky, and then in the afternoon and evening it comes down the other side, until it sets, and goes below the horizon, and then it's night time."

"Yes, but what is the sun?"

"Oh, well, the sun is actually a star, which the earth, and lots of other planets are circling around. But when you look up from the earth, it looks as though it's travelling across the sky above you."

She looks at him doubtfully. "Hm...alright. Read some more."

Roland grins at her, and returns to the book. "And so she lived a life of pain and suffering, and eventually died. But her father in the underworld knew that one day she would return, reborn again. He waited patiently for this to happen. Many years later, in a war-torn country, a woman was married to a poor tailor. The tailor died, leaving his wife with child..."

Suddenly Charlene's communicator rings. She takes it out of her pocket and examines it. "It's from Hector." She looks across at Aldo. "The signal to evacuate. We have to get to the safe area as quickly as we can. It looks like all hell's broken loose, just like we practised for. We need to go now!"

He stares at her, frozen, then rouses himself, striding into the lounge room. "Dad. We have to pack up and go." He squats down next to his daughter, holding her by the arms. "Lola. Listen to me. Go into your bedroom, and put your three favourite toys or books into a bag. You will have to carry it, so don't put in too much. As soon as you've done that, come back here and wait." She nods seriously, and gets down from Roland's lap. "Dad. You need to come with us. It means we're all in danger of arrest." Charlene has already gone to pack a bag. Aldo goes in to the bedroom, to do the same.

Left alone, Roland can feel his heart thumping in his chest. This is it. The crisis has arrived. They must escape, or be captured and almost certainly killed. No time for heroics, no time for debates or grand plans. Now it is pure survival..... and pure terror.

He gathers his few things together into the small backpack that he uses. Almost silently, and with amazing speed, the other three reassemble in the lounge room, carrying one bag each. Aldo takes Lola's hand and leads her outside; Andre and Charlene follow.

The pressure doors hiss closed behind them, and Aldo leads them quickly along the walkway to the plant room, where a vertical ladder below a manhole cover will take them to the sewerage testing point, which communicates with the maintenance shaft, at the bottom of which a wall panel will take them into the tunnel which will eventually conduct them to the old main access tunnel which in time will convey them to the safe area that Aldo has identified for just such an emergency.

Nobody says a word as the manhole cover is carefully replaced above their heads, and they make their way down the vertical ladder into the darkness below.

### CHAPTER 21

Abdul Waziri is slightly out of breath.

In the midst of the confusion of the blast, he had grabbed his wife and guided her rapidly down to the lower carpark of the theatre, where they both got into his private government vehicle that was waiting for him there. Telling the driver to drop his wife off first, he had sat, tense and silent in the back, seemingly unaware of her distraught state, and her desire to talk about the ghastly situation they had just escaped from. When she placed her hand on his knee, he had absent-mindedly held it in his own, staring out at the passing shops and boulevards. The small electromagnetic car slowly made its way through the evening crowds, in a city where walking was the norm for short distances, and only the top echelon were entitled to private vehicles. Ignoring her pleas to join him at home, he had told the driver to take him in to his office at Government House.

Now he emerges from the lift, onto the floor where his spacious suite of rooms is located. Without turning on the lights, he walks past a bust of the Emperor Marcus Aurelius, and a large reproduction of Van Gogh's self portrait, towards the lavish, well appointed office which he has made his own, in recent weeks. In semi-darkness, he stands on the threshold for a moment, and observes the leather lounge suite, the glass-fronted cases, containing precious paper books, the old world paintings, mostly of pastoral scenes from 18th and 19th century Earth, and finally his desk of curved polished wood, a small pile of in-trays, and a leather bound blotter, the only objects on its shiny surface. Behind the desk, through the curved plate glass window, he can see the vast expanse of the Piazza, centre piece of Alpha, hub of the planet-wide megalopolis, lit by what appear to be old fashioned gas lights, as late night revellers drift across it in small groups of twos and threes.

He moves to one of the deep leather armchairs, and lowers himself into it, heaving a great sigh, as he rests his forehead on one long-fingered hand, and closes his eyes for a moment.

A short time later he is roused by the sound of the lift, and footsteps approaching down the marble tiled passageway. He opens his eyes and contemplates the large shadowy figure which has come to rest in the entry to his right.

"Metellin?"

"It's me, Abdul."

Suddenly Waziri rises from the armchair, and is propelling himself towards the newcomer, who also moves forward. In the middle of the room Abdul opens his arms, and takes the man in a bear hug, enfolding him, and slapping him delightedly on the back.

"Well done, my friend, well done!"

Slightly shorter, but far bulkier, Metellin returns the embrace calmly.

Waziri is chuckling quietly. "And you even managed to take out Felten, and that clown Maximillian, director of the Theatre. Good work!"

They separate and both sink into the deep leather armchairs, half facing each other. Waziri steeples his long fingers, and the other can see his eyes glinting white in the darkness.

"We must move fast now. I want you and your men to bring in Meister and Norstrad. Take them to the corrections facility, and I'll meet you there in about....how long will that take?"

The other shrugs. " Say an hour, hour and a half at the most."

"Fine. First let's drink a toast to our great endeavour," and he smiles his wide toothy grin, as he rises and produces a decanter and two crystal glasses from a shelf beside the desk. As Waziri pours the drinks, Metellin too gets to his feet, and meets him in the centre of the room, accepting the proffered glass.

"Here's to strong and stable government!" And they touch glasses.

As Metellin smiles broadly, he has the distinct impression that beneath the bravado, Waziri's hand is shaking slightly, as the glass is raised to his lips, and he takes a long swallow of the two hundred year old single malt scotch.

*

By the time Waziri gets to the corrections facility, he has had another scotch, and has banished most of his demons, for the time being, at least. Making his way to the infamous 'Triple O' department, he dismisses the duty officer, and settles himself down in the cheap office chair behind the desk.

Deep within him he can feel the rumbling excitement, bubbling up from the depths, as he senses that at last he is about to reach his goal. The long rivalry with that intellectual ponce is finally over. Petrovski is gone, Felten has been atomised, Meister and Norstrad will present no difficulty, given that Metellin, Commander in Chief of the Ministry of the Interior Security Services, is his. He can almost feel his whole body trembling with anticipation at the words he will say, the moves he will make, meticulously planned out over the last few weeks, to put the final pieces of the glittering structure of his triumph into place. Nothing can stop him now! He gasps with pleasure at the orders he will give, the chains of events he will put into motion, to rid the world of those cancerous sores of opposition that have been festering in various parts of the body politic. Once he has complete control of the Ministry of the Interior, Meister's SS and the Armed Forces, there will be no more compromising, no more holding back. His uniformed men and women will sweep all before them, mercilessly; resistance will be snuffed out, so that all members of society can concentrate their minds on the great goal, the wonderful legacy of one hundred and fifty Alpha years, three hundred Earth years, of keeping the race strong and pure, passing on the baton to six more generations, so that the final glorious colonisation can proceed according to plan. All of this will be achieved, due to the efforts of the great reformer, and leader, who arose in the prophetic year of A157, half way through their long Odyssey....

He must have dropped off to sleep for a few moments. He is suddenly aware of heavy boots on the smooth floor, muttered curses and threats, and sharp commands being given, as a squad of four men bundle two people in cuffs into the room, accompanied by a seventh man. A woman and a man are pushed to the fore, to stand in front of the desk, while the four officers, and Metellin, who is with them, shuffle their feet behind them.

Waziri indicates for the squad to be dismissed, and they depart, leaving the two prisoners behind.

Rhonda Meister is seething with anger and bitterness. "So, Abdul. You've made your move! A classic terror-strike on a soft civilian target, the excuse to seize power. Every fascist dictator since Hitler has used it....and you're no different. And you even managed to murder Felten in the process. Was that planned, or just good luck? And now, I suppose...."

Waziri waves a hand, as if she is boring him. "Rhonda, please. Control yourself. I'm trying to give you a chance here. You both have the opportunity to join me in this great enterprise. The choice is entirely yours." He looks up at them, smiling blandly.

Norstad, a tough career soldier, veteran of the recent civil war, and possessed of an abiding loathing of politicians, is poisonously calm. "What are your terms?"

"You may retain your current position as Commander in Chief of the Armed Forces, as long as you submit to my authority in all matters. I will be declaring a State of Emergency very soon, with myself as commander in chief. All other members of the administration will follow my orders."

The Army Commander is sarcastic. "Really! And how will you ensure this universal obedience?"

"In your case, both of you, will make a recording here and now, confessing to plotting against the state. This will be kept in storage; only brought out and used, should you try to... be tempted to..." he makes a gesture with one hand.

"I see. You intend to keep me hostage to you filthy recording, a tame, pet commander. And if I refuse?"

Waziri shrugs. "I have somebody else in mind for the job, who I'm sure will see things in a much clearer light than his predecessor."

Norstad's grey eyes take on a thoughtful appearance, in the harsh glaring light of the lime green painted office. Perhaps he is reviewing his life, his career, his actions, his hopes, his failures, his loves; but as a man of action, he does not linger long over his decision. With a rye twist of his mouth, almost a half smile, he looks down at the new dictator.

"Fuck you, Waziri. I won't be your pet poodle. May your end be far worse than mine, you child fucker. Do your worst."

Metellin has removed a handgun from a holster on his belt, which he places against the other's temple. He also produces another pair of electronic cuffs.

Waziri breathes in sharply, as the soldier's eyes never leave his face. "Watch carefully, Rhonda. I've always quite liked you. Consider your decision carefully."

Metellin places the cuffs around Norstrad's ankles, then calls in the squad, who have been waiting outside. Well practiced at the procedure, they lift him up bodily, and carry him through into the next room.

Meanwhile, Rhonda looks steadily at her tormentor, refusing to look at the Army Commander, although she can hear nothing from him, aside from the boots of the men, and their grunts, as they manhandle him between them.

Waziri winks at her, placing a finger in front of his lips. In silence, they listen to the sounds from the next room. There is a short struggle, some groans of exertion from the men, then silence.

Waziri has a wistful smile on his face. "Ah, a truly brave man, don't you think? I always find it instructive to listen to how people meet their ends. Some scream and squeal in terror, some cry and sob, while others, not many, meet it with a stoic silence, as they teeter on the edge, and topple forward down the chute to free fall and oblivion. Our courageous commander was clearly one of the latter." He regards her clinically. "How will you face it, Rhonda? Or....perhaps you prefer to survive?" He waits, while the squad, one or two chuckling at some private joke, pass through to the outside area, and Metellin takes his place beside the woman.

She can feel the sweat, running down her face, and her throat is so tight she can hardly speak. She also has an overwhelming desire to pee and to defecate. She drops her head, as if in submission.

"Alright Waziri. You win. I'll make your recording. I'll be part of your brave new world."

He claps his hands together, and rubs them gleefully. "Ah! That's my girl! I'm so pleased, Rhonda. Really I am! You have a lot of fine qualities that we can use to great effect. Thank you!" And he stands up and takes one of her hands, shaking it vigorously. Then, still smiling, he nods at Metellin. "OK. Take her to the recording studio. I suspect this will be the first of many." And he chuckles to himself, as the other man leads Rhonda Meister from the room, still with her cuffs on.

*

Alpha's dawn is starting to break, brought about by the gradual ignition of the nuclear ionization strips which coat the underside of the hull, one kilometre above the surface. At the same time the armed details, from the Ministry of the Interior, Security Services, and the Armed Forces bring in the rest of the cabinet to the cabinet chamber.

Sleepy eyed, dragged from their beds, terrified, disorientated, confused and hand cuffed, they are hustled in and sat at their usual places around the large oval table. The officers from the three services line the walls behind them, while Rhonda and Alberto Moruta, Norstad's replacement as Commander in Chief Armed Forces, sit together in the middle of the table, either side of the amiable, beaming Waziri.

The meeting is short and sweet. Waziri tells them of his ascension to the post of Executive President, granted extraordinary powers, given the dire security situation they now face. He explains in a few sad phrases the unfortunate demise of Ministers Felten, Zamo and Omar in last night's terrorist outrage. He explains the unwavering support he has from all three State Security Services, introduces the new Commander of the Combined Armed Forces, and almost as an afterthought, mentions that three of the remaining fifteen cabinet ministers are to be removed from their post.

Alberto Moruta, a large black-skinned man with a bald head, bulging out of his army fatigues, signals to some of his men, and Anna Lippi, housing minister, Saffron Waldron, Transport, and Jane Hendon, Employment, are bundled from the room. When the screaming of their departure has abated, he thanks them all for their attendance, and assures them that replacement ministers will be appointed in the near future. He urges them to continue the work of their respective departments as normal. He will be issuing directives to them all in the near future, and they will be meeting together in two days time.

As they are removed by their escorts, heading for the recording studios, to make their confessions of guilt, he turns first to Rhonda, then to Alberto, to shake their hands effusively.

"Congratulations to you both. I believe this is the start of a wonderful new chapter in our history. There is much to do... but it's been a long night for me, so I'm going to go home and rest for a while. I'll be back in my office a bit later on today. Meet me there at 6pm this evening." He gives them both a sympathetic smile, as if he were their favourite uncle, going for a lie-down after a big lunch, and leaves, accompanied by the ever faithful Metellin.

Rhonda looks warily across at Alberto Moruta, who looks back at her, saying nothing. She buries her face in her hands, wearily, and when she looks up, some moments later, she is alone in the room. Moruta can move remarkably silently and stealthily for the large man that he is.

### CHAPTER 22

The woman lies sleeping, curled up on her side, the sheet pushed down, revealing her bare arm, and the top of her silk dress. The remains of an expensive coiffure is now tangled and tousled and streaked with dust. Her face, though wiped by some caring person, still bears the deep-seated grime of the explosion, and is covered by a series of small lacerations, and one larger one, close to her chin.

Roland sits on the edge of the narrow bunk bed, looking down at his beautiful daughter. He watches her shallow breathing, remembering when she was small, and he used to do the same, sit gazing at her as she slept, amazed at the miracle of birth and growth of his little girl. Suddenly she stirs in her sleep, frowns, and gives a tiny cry of fear, rolling onto her back. Involuntarily he grasps her hand, which lies exposed above the sheet, squeezing it gently. The pressure is returned, and she rolls back onto her side, a tiny smile playing across her lips. After a while her hand relaxes, and he removes his own. He stands up carefully, and leaves the room.

Returning to the communal kitchen, four doors down the corridor, he discovers Hector is making hot cappuccinos on a huge coffee machine, which looks as though it might have come straight from some tourist café in Rome, six centuries ago. The room is crowded with new arrivals, drinking a variety of hot and cold drinks, eating the toast and bacon and eggs provided on two large platters in the middle of the long table, talking sporadically, cracking jokes, sitting despondently, staring into space vacantly, or getting up and wandering down the corridor, wondering where they will be able to sleep.

Roland goes and stands next to Hector at the coffee machine, leaning back on the bench top. Hector looks up from his steaming nozzles.

"How is she?"

"Sleeping, resting."

"Want a coffee?"

"Yes, I'd love one. Can you tell me more about what happened?"

Hector delivers two cups to the table, then hands another to Roland, claiming one for himself.

"Come on. Let's sit down. I need a break." They find two spare seats at the far end of the table. Roland sinks into the chair, and tries the coffee, which is very hot, reaches for a piece of toast, and crunches into it, offering some to Hector.

"No thanks." He rests two elbows on the table, and holds his large head in his hands, then runs these through his long black hair, pulling it back momentarily into a ponytail. "I'm just glad we managed to get away before the goons got to us. Luckily there was so much confusion we were able to do that."

"Do you know where Maria was when the blast happened?"

"I think she was just inside the passage that leads to the toilets. She said she was blown down to the end, slammed into the wall there. Then she managed to crawl back to the main bar area."

"And that's where you found her?"

He nods.

"So what sort of injuries did she have? Her eyes look sore and red, even when she's sleeping."

Hector's eyes close, and he reaches out a hand to Roland. "It was horrendous. I was in my seat, talking to some manic woman, who wanted to argue with me about the meaning of the play. There was an incredibly loud boom, and the whole building shook. A second later thick smoke started to blow in through the doors to the bar area. I ran up the stairs and made my way towards where it seemed to be coming from. Where the bar had been was a chaotic... tangle of debris and....bodies...and blood...everywhere, on the floor, running down the walls, as if someone had sprayed the whole area with a bloody hosepipe...it's amazing how much one human body contains."

"So you found her there?"

"Yes. She was face down on the carpet. She'd been crawling, but then stopped, and laid down...to rest, I suppose. I turned her over, and her eyes were red and bleeding... she said she couldn't see...I remember thinking, well, she may be blind, but at least she's still alive! Then I carried her down to the dressing room. Gudrun stayed with her, while I went to see who else I could find."

"Can she see now?"

Hector nods. "Yes, it was a sort of temporary thing, caused by the pressure of the blast, I suppose. She can see now."

"Thank God for that; but don't talk about it any more, if you don't want to."

"No... it helps. I need to tell someone."

"You did amazingly well to get everyone out, and away from there."

"Hm...everyone I could find. I knew Max was gone. Someone in the bar area told me they had seen his... part of him...lying on the floor. They said only bits of him were left."

Roland squeezes Hector's arm. "I'm sorry. I know he was a great friend of yours."

Hector smiles, despite the tears that are running down his face. "He was a crazy, odd man. Complicated... hugely talented, but...prickly with it. Found it hard to make real friends, although he was...well, he liked men, and women too...but very private. He used to put on this sort of... façade, like a persona that he adopted, so that you couldn't really see inside him, as if he had to keep everyone out. But, yes, we were friends. I'll miss him. He was close to Maria, too, before....before I met her." He looks at Roland. "We're very close, now. Did you know that?"

Roland smiles at him. "I think I might have suspected something."

"I...I don't know what I would have done if she hadn't...survived."

"Me too. Does she...does she feel the same way about you?"

Hector's staring eyes soften. "Yes, I think so. It's...it's a wonderful thing...hard to explain..."

Roland pats him on the shoulder. "I'm pleased. I mean...I'm glad for her. She was very unhappy...for a long time. You know...she used to be quite a worry..."

"Yes, she told me...I sort of knew...she was, well...a lot of people knew her from the Art School, and because of you, too."

"She came to see me, about a month ago."

"Yes, she told me. She said you told her some things that made her feel much happier...as if there was hope...hope for happiness..."

"And then she met you!" Roland grins at him.

"You did a wonderful job, whatever you said to her."

"You didn't do so bad yourself!"

It's Hector's turn to grin now. "Thanks. She...she told me she was terribly worried about you...when she didn't know where you were...because she had suggested the idea of going out and talking to people...I think she felt if something happened to you it would be all her fault."

"Yes, I should've tried to keep in touch with her...but it was difficult...I was, sort of undercover. I was in touch with Charlene. It's a shame they don't communicate much."

"Hm...maybe they will now, that we're all here together."

*

Several hours later, Roland is resting in the room assigned to him, when he is wakened by a commotion outside. From his top bunk, he can hear people talking excitedly as they pass by his door. Climbing down, and joining the general movement towards the main communications room, he asks one of the others what's going on.

"There's been a broadcast, from the Government...or what's left of it."

"Really! What are they saying?"

"Don't know. They've recorded it - we'll be able to hear it now."

They enter a large sort of lounge room, with rows of rather old and tattered wicker armchairs, and a large video screen at the front. All round the room people stand, tense and nervous, waiting for what is to come.

The screen lights up to reveal Waziri, looking solemn and statesmanlike, seated at a plain desk, with his hands linked together in front of him.

"My fellow citizens of Alpha. A very serious situation has arisen, which I need to explain. You have no doubt heard about the terrorist outrage at the Repertory Theatre last night. Twenty five people were killed, and ninety seven injured. Amongst the dead were Ministers Felten, Omar and Zamo." He pauses a moment for effect.

"This cowardly and deliberate act of carnage strikes at the very heart of our state. The perpetrators clearly are trying to destabilise the government, so that they can return us to the calamitous days of civil war, and the chaos and slaughter, which inevitably follow.

We cannot allow this to happen. Consequently, in order to safeguard the state, and the safety of all the men and women in its care, the Governing Council has issued the following decree:

1. The Council has named me as Executive President with extraordinary Powers, to rule temporarily, until the present Emergency is deemed to have passed, when normal democratic government will be restored.

2. Law and Order will be enforced by all branches of our Armed Forces and Security Services. They too will have special powers to ensure compliance.

3. Ministers Lippi, Waldron and Hendon have been replaced, as has former Chief of the Armed Forces, Commander Norstad.

4. Anyone who opposes the legitimate government of Alpha, in word, deed, or thought, is hereby directed to give themselves up to their nearest Security Service control point." His voice drops a notch, and he leans towards the microphone, in a reassuring, fatherly way. "I guarantee you will not be harmed. You will be treated with justice and dignity." He squares his shoulders, and leans back again, grimly. "However, if you do not comply, you will be hunted down, and dealt with severely.

That is all for now. The Council will meet in two days time to discuss a more detailed response to the Emergency.

May Peace be with you, my friends."

The screen goes blank.

Hector, arms folded across his chest, grunts. "Well, at least we know what we're up against now. We have a full-blown military dictatorship, determined to crush all dissent with maximum force. Thank God we had our plans for escape ready."

Roland can feel his skin tingling, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. "I used to work with that man. How could I have been so...?" His voice trails away to silence.

Maria, who arrived just in time to hear the broadcast, sidles over to Hector, and wraps her arms around him, kissing him almost with desperation. Then she disengages, and hugs her father, smiling through her tears.

"Dad...so good to see you! I've been so worried! And now...looks like we've all got away safely. Charlene and Aldo and Lola too. Oh....!" and she holds him close again.

"Yeah baby...we're all here, almost."

She grips his shoulders, and stands back to look at him.

He smiles at her sadly. "Well... your friend, and a very close one of mine, too. She's... still alive. I've asked her to join us, but she said no. She thinks she'll be safe... but after that... I'm going to go and see her, and try to bring her in."

"Dad you mustn't! It's too dangerous. You have to stay here now."

He makes a wry face. "Life is a dangerous business. Nowhere on Alpha is safe as long as this regime is in power."

Aldo has joined them. "Who do you think set off the bomb? Are there groups capable of that sort of thing?" He looks questioningly at Hector.

"Hm...hard to say. It wouldn't surprise me. But then again... ask yourself: who benefits from the blast?"

They stand looking at each other, as a constant stream of people wander in and out of the lounge room, disorientated, nervous, afraid.

Gudrun decides to be practical. "We'll need to work out the living arrangements... sort out some rosters, for cooking and cleaning. Maybe we should get everyone together and have a meeting?"

Charlene has arrived, holding Lola by the hand. "Yes, we do need to sort things out here... but...."

Aldo looks across at her. "What babe?"

"Well, I mean...we're OK here for now, I guess, but...what's going to happen out there? You heard what that megalomaniac said.... Anyone who disagrees with us, either hand yourself in, or we'll come and get you."

Hector is frowning with worry. "It sounds as though he's got control of the Army, the SS and the Ministry of the Interior forces. I'd say that Metellin, commanding officer of the MOISS has sided with him, against Felten. Between them they've coerced or threatened Meister and Norstad. Norstad obviously wasn't willing to play the game, which is why he's gone. So basically Waziri has all three Security Services in his pocket, which makes him three times as dangerous. He probably feels he can do anything he likes now. I'd say anyone out there who has any kind of history of opposition to the government should feel very worried right now. I'm thinking I should go back and try to get some of my main contacts here, to safety...although...."

Maria is holding onto him tightly. "What?"

"Well...it's just that we're going to need some people out there, to tell us what's going on. We'll need information about what's happening. Not that I could tell anyone that they have to do that. It would have to be their own decision, given the risks involved."

"Yeah." Roland heaves a deep sigh. "Can I make a suggestion?" They all nod. "Well...perhaps Hector and I and Charlene and Aldo and Gudrun can form a bit of a... sort of steering group, committee, I suppose. Let's find somewhere quiet, to nut out some basic plans, and then we'll call everyone together for a general meeting. Is there somewhere we can do that, Hector?"

"Yeah, sure. There's a large sort of open area just near here. It should take everyone. I...agree with that suggestion. Anyone against? Anyone else want to be on the committee?"

Maria looks up at him. "I'll come along, and do what I can to help."

"OK." He beams at her.

There is a faint sound of barking, coming from somewhere outside, which rapidly gets louder. The next moment a small black, white and brown dog joins them, and barks up at Roland. He squats down, and Perdita jumps into his arms, licking his face delightedly.

Lola rushes over and buries her face in his fur. "She loves you, grandpa. You're her favourite!"

He looks down into the alert little face. "Where have you been, eh? I thought you'd run off again, but you must've been out exploring. I suppose you want to be on the committee too, do you? What d'you think, Hector?"

Hector grins at him, shrugging. Gudrun moves across and scratches the Jack Russell behind the ears. "He could represent the animal population. After all, we do want to be truly representative."

They all laugh, more from weariness and nervous tension than anything else, as the fledgling committee moves off for its inaugural meeting.

### CHAPTER 23

Leelah is kneeling on an old towel in the middle of her herb garden, up against the back wall of the house. The light from the ionization strips, just visible, far above her, is starting to fade gradually. It is her favourite time of the day, when the birds in the woods at her back burst into their evensong, when the bumble bees and the dragon flies seem to visit her, hovering and watching her work with interest, and when the scent from the basil, and the lemongrass, and the mint and the oregano all around her is at its zenith. She sits back and closes her eyes, listening, smelling, feeling the life all around her. In spite of everything, a gentle quiescence descends upon her.

She has listened to Roland on her communicator, telling her of the appalling situation in the megalopolis, the demise of the last vestiges of democratic government, and the rise of the dictator. She has listened to his dire warnings of the danger to everyone who has ever even minimally criticised the status quo, or whose family members have any sort of history of dissent or subversion. He has begged her to join him in the safe haven of their hideaway, supposedly unknown to the authorities, where they intend to ride out the political storm, until the new regime collapses in on itself, a victim of its own insane lust for power and control, at which point they will rise from the ashes, and step in, to save Alpha from tyranny and decay.

As she smiles effortlessly, all of this seems to slip away from her, and she enters a realm where compassion meets emptiness, and an inexplicable happiness radiates outwards, as if she is quite outside her own body, breathing with the universe, in complete union and harmony with all beings, past, present and future.

And when, some hours later, Roland arrives to press his case again, to try to pressure her into fleeing and hiding, she is not annoyed with him, or impatient with his pleadings, with his frantic tearful ravings. She merely kisses him, holds him close, whispers her love to him, and takes him to bed, to stroke and soothe and rouse and strain and urge and scream and release and kiss and hold him again, in the tenderness of her embrace.

*

They lie listening to the gentle sounds of the night. She can hear a large winged insect, flitting around the flywire on the outside of the window. Somewhere nearby a night bird is calling mournfully, more like a child crying, than a bird, as if grieving for all the suffering abroad in the universe.

She supports her head on one hand, and strokes his chest lovingly, watching his face in the semi-light of night, shining in on them through the open window. "Don't be sad, my love. Everything will work out for the best. You'll see."

He will not look at her. "Leelah, I don't think you fully appreciate the nature of the people we are dealing with here. They will go through all of their files from the past....however many years, and identify everyone who might even conceivably be a threat to them. Those people will be eliminated without mercy. I wish I could get that through to you."

"Roland, I've told you. I simply can't live underground. I'm a... a child of nature. I need to have the trees and the breeze, and the birds, and the smells of plants, and...open space around me. I can't live underground, in concrete rooms and passageways." She smiles at him. "I'm like a delicate flower, that would wilt and die, in the darkness."

He is still focussed on his own train of thought. "I know him. He feels as though, finally now, all restraints have been removed; he has control of all three arms of the security services, he has removed his rivals - the field is open for him to pursue his aims. It's like there is nothing and nobody to stop him. Deep down he's a brutal and ruthless man, devoid of any morality. The only reality he can see is his obsessive need to establish complete social control, in the insane belief that that is the only way to preserve our society here."

She says nothing, only continues to stroke him gently.

He looks at her, finally. "You know, I was reading the other day about a ship-wreck, centuries ago on old Earth. It was a Dutch ship that was wrecked on a reef, off the coast of Australia, in the very early days, before the Europeans had settled there. Nearly all the passengers survived, along with all of their supplies, so they had a good chance they would make it. But they were thousands of kilometres from any known settlement, so the captain and some of his officers decided to take the lifeboat, and try to reach the nearest port. The plan was to send another ship to rescue the rest of the passengers and crew, who would stay on the reef."

He has taken her hand, and is holding it firmly in both of his own.

"They were away for months. They had to sail for weeks on end, then equip a ship, and sail back again. When they returned, what do you think they found?" He glances up at her. She shrugs, trying to smile at him. "Most of the able-bodied men who were left had gone completely...feral. They had abandoned themselves to drunkenness, to rape, torture and killing, completely terrorising the women and children, and the rest of the men." He pauses for a moment. "The point is, that in the absence of any sort of authority, and in the belief that the captain and his party were probably lost, and would never return, they had reverted to a completely amoral condition, where no rules or principles of human decency or behaviour had any meaning. They were absolutely... without compassion for their fellow castaways, and were utterly driven by their own base desires."

"Mm...and you think Waziri will be the same?"

"Not only Waziri. The men and women in the security services will soon get the idea that there are no rules any more... that anything goes, and they will behave accordingly. It will bring out the worst in them. Can you imagine what that will mean for the rest of us?"

She says nothing.

He is not done yet. "Something similar happened in China, back in the twentieth century. A leader called Mao Tze Dung unleashed what was known as the cultural revolution on his country. In fact it was a license for all of his supporters to take a brutal revenge on everyone that they didn't like. Thousands were slaughtered, and millions starved, because of the complete breakdown in law and order, and the widespread chaos which followed."

"Go back to the other story. What happened when the captain and his band arrived back?"

"There was a battle to the death going on between the bad guys and the others. The captain and his men rounded up the mutineers, built a scaffold, right there on the reef, and strung them up, except for two; there was some doubt as to their involvement."

"What did he do with them?"

"Left them marooned on the mainland, to survive as best they could."

"And did they?"

"I don't know." He turns to her suddenly. "The point is that that's what happens when people think all...laws, and... checks and balances are removed."

She strokes his face, kissing him slowly on the mouth, savouring every touch, every feeling, every sensation, every second that she has with him.

*

Making his way sadly back through the city, lost in his grief and fear for Leelah, he is suddenly aware, on the Zip Train platform in district 7, that a man and a woman, in suspiciously smart plain clothes, are standing either side of him.

"Kevin Mason?"

He looks up, startled "Er...yes. Why?"

The woman, young in a shiny business suit, short blonde hair and unsmiling face, looks straight into his eyes. "You need to come with us, please. Now."

He is about to remonstrate, stand on his rights, ask questions, when she calmly shows him a card. 'Security Services. Officer Maldini, 2nd class' with her photo, and a lot of official-looking text on it.

The man is eyeballing him. There is no escape.

"Don't make a fuss, please. It will be better for you. Just come quietly."

He follows the man onto the train, which has just pulled into the station. The woman walks behind him. On the train, some passengers are moved out of their seats, and the two of them sit either side of him, saying nothing.

So this is it. The end of my little adventure, playing at being a free agent, and joining the resistance. So what's next? Some savage torture, followed by the long drop down the chute? Another individual life snuffed out, like so many others. Maybe it's justice - punishment for all my complacency, all my smug assumptions about my doing the best I can to keep things on an even keel, trying to keep some principles and decency in an unpopular government, when all the time, below the surface, the evil was rumbling and bubbling away, enslaving people, making lives miserable, consuming and corroding and tyrannising the population, right under my very nose. And all the time I was too much wrapped up in my own self-importance to be aware of it..... So it's probably only right that I should pay now. But what a way to go!

His bowels are churning, and he desperately needs to pee. It is almost a relief when they get off the train at District 2 Central, and take a series of lifts and walkways and moving pavements, until the three of them reach Security Services Headquarters.

After some formalities at the front desk, he is handed over to a dour faced officer in a long sleeved white shirt, and a black tie, who takes him through interminable corridors with rows of nameless doors, until finally they come to rest outside a door with no name or number on it, just like all the others. The officer clicks a remote on his belt, and motions him inside, through the now open door. His companion does not follow him, but clicks the steel door shut, and he is left inside a tiny room, with a bunk at one end, a table and two chairs in the middle, and a miniscule shower and toilet arrangement near to the door. The light is bright and glaring, the paintwork a light lime-green. He immediately makes for the toilet.

Ten minutes later he is lying down on top of the bunk, not quite long enough for him to stretch out on, when he becomes aware of the faint sound of steps approaching outside. The lock clicks, and he is just deciding that it would be better to face whatever is coming head on, rather than be dragged from the bed, when he realises that Rhonda Meister has entered the room.

She closes the door quietly, and looks at him expressionlessly, before stepping forward, and seating herself at the square steel table in the centre of the cell.

He observes her, from his position, sitting on the edge of the bunk.

"Look, Commander Meister, my name is Kevin Mason, and I work for this organisation. Check on your database, if you don't believe me! I'd like to know why I've been picked up like this, and thrown into a cell...like some...criminal. Look...here's my ID..." and he holds it out towards her.

She closes her eyes for a moment.

"Roland. I know who you are. Please, spare me the act. I worked out what you'd done some time ago, and have been tracking you ever since."

"Really! So why has it taken you so long to bring me in? Ah, yes...of course. You had to wait and see what I would do, where I'd go, who I'd meet. Oh my God....!" He holds his head in his hands, weeping for all the people that he loves so dearly, and who now must follow him down the same path.

She waits a few moments, giving him time to compose himself.

"Roland. Listen to me carefully. We don't have much time. We need to get you out of here very soon. So, please listen to what I'm saying to you."

He lifts his head, waiting, blinking through his tears.

"Thank you. Now. First of all, no one else knows your identity. I have not divulged it to anyone..."

"Why...?"

She holds up a hand. "Please, let me finish. Ask me questions at the end." He nods his head, dumbly.

"Second, I know quite a bit about Hector, and your resistance movement; not their location at the moment...but Alpha's not such a big place. However, let that go."

"Third. Waziri is a monster, and I agree with you that he has to go, along with his brand of authoritarian government. You know..." Her face softens. The tension that has been holding her together since she arrived seems to drain away, and she slumps a little in her green metal chair. "I've been thinking a lot about things that you said, and what you've been doing since you left. I've come round to believing that you're right. The path we have followed since the war has been a big mistake. The way things have been run, and especially now, since they've got rapidly worse... well, what I'm trying to say to you, Roland, is that... I want to help you, and your friends, to get rid of Waziri, and the others working with him. I want to help your transition to a better form of government."

Her eyes look helplessly at him, as if there is so much more that she would like to say, but cannot. With a sigh, she pulls herself together.

"Fourth. Mira has been talking to me. I believe she also is aware of your movements, but has not informed others. She has said to me clearly that she too cannot tolerate the direction things are moving in now. She has certain principles, wisely hard wired into her, by her makers, such that she cannot accept rule by the people being replaced by brute force and violent repression of basic rights. She says she has tried to rationalise the situation, for the sake of stability, but can no longer do so. However..." Roland has risen to his feet, and now sits down opposite her, on the other chair. "She is also programmed such that she is unable to intervene directly in the running of the government, and she certainly cannot initiate the overthrow of a government. Despite all of that, she has said she will give me, give us... if you agree... every assistance that she can, which, I believe will be considerable, when it comes to the crunch. Are you...following me, Roland?"

"Yes. Have you finished?"

"No, not quite. In a very short time you will be released. When you return to your friends, I would like you to pass all of this on to them. I need to play the part of an avid supporter of the current regime. However, I will give you this communicator," she removes a small device from a pocket in her uniform, "so that we can keep in touch. Don't worry, it's heavily encrypted, so it should be a secure line. I will be able to let you know what is happening on the inside here, and you can tell me what progress you are making at your end."

She seems to come to a stop, then resumes. "Roland, between myself, and my organisation, Mira, and yourselves, we have a powerful alliance. If we can keep it from him, and the other puppets, whose strings he is pulling, we should be able to move against him, when the time is ripe, and strike a deadly blow. Alright. I've finished. Your turn."

He is looking at her strangely, one elbow resting on the table, the other on his knee. "Yes...very interesting, Rhonda. There's only one small problem that occurs to me."

"Which is?"

"Well, if I was you, and I was wanting to infiltrate the resistance, that's exactly what I would say to a captured operative, in order to turn him, so that I could find out everything I wanted to know, without having to even think about putting pressure on him. Do you see what I mean?"

"I was afraid you might say that." She looks bleakly across the table at him. "I don't really know how to give you absolute proof of what I'm saying... except to say that you would have been in custody some time ago, if I hadn't kept your secret to myself."

"Hm...so you say. That could be a lie, and you've been keeping me under surveillance in order to put your infiltration strategy into action."

"You're a hard man to convince, Roland."

"And these are hard, vicious times that we live in."

They stare at each other across the table. Roland can hear again the faint buzz of the light fitting, and somewhere nearby a water pipe rattles, perhaps a toilet flushing.

He relents a little. "If what you're saying is true, tell me about the bomb blast. Did Waziri do it? Did he plan to kill Nicholas?"

"Honestly, I don't know, but I suspect he was behind the whole thing. Things seemed to move very fast and smoothly after the event, as if he knew exactly what steps to take. That same night, Norstad and I were taken into custody, and given the choice: join him and Metellin, or go down the chute. Metellin chose the chute. I decided to stay on and try to bring about change."

"Hm."

She nearly tells him that she has loved him from afar for a long time, and envies that bitch out in the cottage beyond endurance....but she cannot.

For the first time, the ghost of a smile starts to show on her face. "Roland, I can't think of a way I can prove to you, beyond doubt, that what I'm saying is true... except to tell you that it is. Do you think you're the only one who has a conscience, who can see the error of their ways? Don't you think others might endure the same struggles that you do, and might come to a similar conclusion? You're not the only one who has....beliefs and....principles. Can't you see how arrogant it is of you, to think like that?"

Suddenly he smiles back at her, takes her hand in his, and leaning forward, kisses her on both cheeks. "Dear Rhonda. You're so right. What an arrogant bastard I am!" He sits back down, beaming at her. "You can't prove it to me, so I'm going to have to take it on trust. In the end, we do have to put some faith in some people. Alright, I'll take the communicator, and I'll discuss it with....my colleagues, when I get back." He looks at her long and hard. "You know, I think there's just a chance you're telling me the truth. And if you are, I'm the happiest man alive, right now. I thought I was done for, but you're saying there's a chance that together, we might be able to set our world to rights; and that's something worth hoping and fighting for!"

She is flushed, overcome, but manages a shy grin. "OK. It's time to get you out of here. I'll call you tomorrow on that line, and try to give you some proof, so that we can trust each other more. It's.... it's been wonderful to see you again." And she is gone.

Five minutes later the dour faced officer returns, and escorts him from the building by a side door.

### CHAPTER 24

A small bedside table, covered by a patterned cloth, up against the bare concrete wall; two tea light candles, and a holographic picture of Buddha, leaning on the wall between them; an old carpet on the floor, and some rather stained bed pillows. It's a poor sort of temple, but it's the best that Maria can manage in her new home, cheek by jowl with some one hundred and sixty other refugees, and increasing every day. However, she has managed to secure a room; luckily there are plenty to choose from. (Aldo is right – the complex is surprisingly big) And so she sits, in a pair of baggy work pants and a tee shirt, the best she could find from the huge stash of old clothes that constitutes their emergency wardrobe, thoughtfully provided by the people who provisioned the emergency camp.

Breathe in.....breathe out....breathe in....breathe out....try to see all thoughts, all the worries, the nagging anxieties and the negative ideas that pound on the brain, all the incessant, vivid images that flare up, and will not be ignored...all the...anyway...try to see all of them as just something that arises and....passes away...arises and passes away...something that is not really important...they are there...not to be denied...but my mind does not have to pay attention to them...like...what was it?...like annoying guests that come to call...I can sit and listen to them for a while, but then...excuse me, it's nice to see you, but I have other things to do, so if you'll excuse me now...and leave them to their own devices. Go back to your breathe in....breathe out....breathe in....breathe out....How about count the breaths up to ten? To focus! OK, let's go...in...out(one), in...out(two), in...out(three),this is good...I've got it...in...out(four or five? Five, I think...) in...oh!

Someone else has entered the room, and sits on the pillows near her. She can hear them moving and settling down, hear them breathing, in the quietness. She opens her eyes for a peek, and sees her father, eyes open, staring at the candles with a strange far away look on his face...

"Dad!" she whispers.

He looks sideways at her and smiles. "No need to whisper. Only you and me here. How are you?"

"Good. How are you? When did you get back? We were all worried about you."

"A few hours ago. I had a lie down."

"Did your friend come with you?"

"Mm.. I'll tell you about it later." He returns to staring at the tiny flames.

"Dad!"

"Mm..?"

"Sorry, but I'm having real trouble with my meditation. I mean... I've read lots about it...too much...but when it comes down to it...it's hard. Can you teach me some more? I feel like I need help with it."

He turns his whole body towards her, and makes a funny face, raising his eyebrows, and stretching his lips. "It is hard. It's hard for everyone. If it was easy...well...everyone would be doing it, I guess..."

"I know, but it's supposed to get easier with practice...but it doesn't; it just stays as hard as ever, and it's...frustrating..."

"Mm...that's true..."

"You're not being a whole lot of help!"

He grins at her. "I know. Well....let's see...I can tell you one thing that helps me, when I'm stuck with it."

"What's that? Tell me."

"It's something my old teacher taught me."

"Yeah."

"Well... you've heard of Loving Kindness?"

"Of course. It's one of the main concepts."

"Yes. Well...the thing is, loving kindness has to start with ourselves. We can't feel, or send out, loving kindness to others, if we don't first feel it for ourselves."

"Really?"

"Yes. A lot of the time we're really down on ourselves. We give ourselves a hard time, because we feel we're not as good as we should be, or we don't live our lives the way that we should."

"Yes!"

"Well, it's a good idea to stop thinking that way – send out loving kindness to yourself. Imagine the Buddha is sitting in front of you, radiating love, and warmth, and compassion towards you...so that you are bathed in it, surrounded by it on all sides."

"OK." She sounds doubtful. "So how did your teacher do it?"

"He...said words explaining all that, while I...sat and meditated. Then after a while, he stopped, and I just sat."

"You were so lucky to have him. Would you....do that for me?"

"You mean, say the words?"

"Yes."

"Er...I suppose so. I sort of say them to myself...but I could say them aloud, I guess..."

"Please."

"Alright. Let's....give it a go." He chuckles nervously, turning back towards the tiny shrine.

"We'll just start by getting our posture right...nice and relaxed, straight back, chin up, hands in your lap. Don't worry about your fingers and hands...just as long as they're at ease in your lap. Just start with a few deep breaths, in and out...try to focus on the air entering your nostrils....and the air as it leaves them...you can feel it passing, against the side of your nostrils.....then as we breathe in, we're going to say: May I be well, happy and peaceful...and breathe out. May I be free from suffering...and breathe out. Just think about that: May I be well, happy and peaceful.......May I be free from suffering....and we can feel all the negative thoughts falling away....

..May I be free from anger and hatred....free from attachments(like nagging thoughts)....free from ignorance(of the truth about reality)...."

He is silent for a short while.

"May I be filled with loving kindness....filled with boundless love....for all beings."

Silence.

"If I have caused suffering to others....may I be forgiven....

If others have caused suffering to me, may I forgive them, now...."

Silence.

"May the Buddha bless me....may the Dharma(Buddha's teachings) bless me....and may the Sangha (the community of disciples of the Buddha) bless me...."

Long, slow breathing.

"May I be well, happy and peaceful....

May my loving thoughts reach out to all those around me....to those that I love....(we can visualise them here...) To those that I like...to my friends....to those I only know a little....to those I find hard to get along with...to those I have never met...."

Silence.

"May they reach out to all the beings on this world....to all the suffering beings on Earth, and to all beings, where ever they may be, throughout the universe....May they be well, happy and peaceful....May they all be free from suffering...."

Silence. Deep, profound silence. Only breathing in....and out....in....and out....

*

Twenty minutes later Maria opens her eyes....to see her father watching her, tenderly.

She grins at him, her eyes sparkling. "That was wonderful, Dad! So that's the secret!"

He smiles. "No secret...just...if we can feel at peace with ourselves, then move on, and start to think about compassion for others...well, it makes it a whole lot easier to 'let go of self', as they say....and that...well, that really is the secret. After all...the self is only a concept that we operate with for convenience....it doesn't have any intrinsic reality...except in our minds....but we can step outside of that viewpoint...with practice. Suffering....Impermanence....Non-self.... That's...well, that's really all there is."

*

A low buzzing noise. He fumbles for the communicator in his pocket.

"Roland?"

"Yes?"

"Rhonda."

"Right."

"Listen, is Hector there?"

"Er...not right here, but he's around. Why?"

"Can you get hold of him? Mira wants to speak to the two of you, with me. Can you do that?"

"Yes...I guess so."

"Good. It's important. We don't have long."

"OK. I'll call you back."

"Thanks."

Ten minutes later Roland is sitting in his room, with Hector beside him, on the bottom bunk bed.

"Rhonda? It's me, Roland."

"Hi. And Hector?"

"I'm here. What have you got to say to us, Rhonda?"

"Hello Hector. I'll let Mira speak first. Here she is."

Hector and Roland exchange glances. Roland's face is inscrutable. Hector shakes his head in wonder.

"Good morning Roland, Hector. How are you both?"

Hector signals to his friend, who obliges.

"We're fine, Mira. How are you?"

Short pause. "I am....disturbed, Roland. I am very... unhappy with the direction things are moving in, since Abdul took over sole control of the reins of government."

"I see. Can you tell us what's happening there? We're...a little out of touch here."

"I can. Sittings of Parliament have been "Temporarily suspended". Under the so-called 'State of Emergency', sparked by the terrorist blast at the theatre, Ministry of the Interior personnel have been out in force, arresting anyone who has a record of opposition to the government, whole families, in some cases. To date, some three hundred and fifty nine citizens have been summarily executed, and the numbers show no sign of abating. The Constitution of Alpha has also been 'Temporarily suspended'. All human rights enshrined in it are no longer being respected."

Hector has gone very pale, under his long black hair. Roland is staring off into space. They are both silent.

"Roland?" Rhonda's voice comes through. "Are you still there?"

He glances down at the communicator. "We are."

Mira's strange ethereal voice cuts in. "Roland – I believe Rhonda has spoken to you already about what needs to be done to rectify this situation?"

"Yes...she did tell me some ideas the two of you have had."

"Good. It is very clear that the current situation cannot continue. The elements of the constitution of Alpha are hardwired into my nature. I cannot continue to function and physically keep the life support systems of Alpha operational, under the present circumstances. Quite apart from that, the denial of all natural justice, the summary executions, and the complete absence of any representative form of government, are a state of affairs which the population should not have to tolerate. In any case, it will lead to great instability, and quite likely, future conflict – again, a situation which cannot be allowed to repeat itself. So, for all these reasons, Rhonda and I are agreed that Waziri and his dictatorship must be terminated."

"However, the situation is complex. Also hardwired into my circuits is the absolute impossibility of my taking action which will damage, or cause the downfall of, an existing government, no matter how abhorrent that government may be. All of those actions have to be taken by the people themselves. In addition, Waziri's position, on paper at least, is a strong one. He has control of the Ministry of the Interior personnel, having taken over personal command of them; he has authority over the armed forces, through his ally Metellin, who now commands the military, and he has effective sway over Rhonda's Security Services, through his authority over her. But therein lies his weakness, since Rhonda, like myself, is committed to his removal."

"Can I ask a question, Mira?"

"Of course, Roland. Please do."

"Thank you, although this is perhaps directed more at Rhonda, than at yourself. Rhonda, how do your own people, within the SS, feel about what has happened? It seems that the Ministry of the Interior Security Services has taken over many of the functions your people used to fulfil. I know that Nicholas Felten had vastly expanded his Ministry's personnel, in order perhaps to outnumber your SS. What is the feeling within the SS about this?"

There is a pause. "Good point Roland. Hard for me to answer accurately, but my own feeling is that there is enormous resentment towards both Waziri, and the Ministry of the Interior SS. The MISS seem to be....how can I put it? Felten seems to have recruited a particular type of person to swell the numbers. The majority of them seem to be happy to carry out Waziri's wide-ranging and brutal policies, without question. On the whole, I believe my SS people would not share that enthusiasm for....the kind of repression that the MISS are now carrying out. In fact, they are being bypassed, possibly for that very reason. Waziri feels he cannot count on their loyalty; which is probably an accurate assessment on his part."

"Well, all to the good, then. That is certainly to our advantage. It means we might be able to count on their support, if they were ever to be asked by you to oppose Waziri's orders. And what of the military? Are they solid behind Waziri? Can he count on them in a crisis?"

Another short pause. "Again, hard for me to answer with conviction, but I suspect many of them were furious at the removal of Commander Norstad, his disappearance. Everyone knows what that means, of course. I would say that many of the officers, and the enlisted men are very resentful of Waziri; although there would be some, no doubt that think the iron fist approach is the only way forward."

Roland looks at Hector, asking if he wants to speak. He nods. "So, it would appear there are some sizable chinks in Waziri's armour, ones that we can perhaps exploit in the future. Would you agree, Rhonda?"

"Undoubtedly."

"The question, it seems to me, is how do we proceed from here?"

"I agree entirely," replies Rhonda. "What is the disposition of your supporters, Hector? What sort of back-up could we count on from you?"

He grunts. "You know that's a hard thing for me to tell you, given my long term opposition to the regime which you are part of, Rhonda; and the fact that I, all of us here, in fact, would be arrested and killed immediately, if caught. You're telling us that you wish to bring this regime down....but we've only got your word for that. I don't think I'm ready to start giving you details of what we have available on our side."

There is a silence; then Rhonda replies: "I can... appreciate your reticence, Hector. Roland felt much the same, when we spoke before, and he hasn't been part of the...shall we say, Resistance, for as long as you have."

It is Mira's voice that comes through next. "Naturally there are issues of trust between our two sides; this is, as you say, Rhonda, understandable, given the history between us, and the complete reversal recently in our position, on this side." Roland listens, fascinated both by the almost mystical timbre of her voice, and by the extraordinary nature of what she is saying, given the many disagreements they have had in the past over this very matter. "The important thing is that we keep in contact, and help each other as far as possible. I would hope that through that process, greater trust will emerge, and we will be able to work together in the future. I also hope that this will happen soon. The current government, so called, is not one that can be allowed to remain in office one day longer than necessary. It must be discontinued. We will attempt to achieve this with minimal loss of life, of course. Would you agree, Rhonda?"

"Absolutely."

"Roland? Hector?"

They both nod.

"Yes."

"Indeed."

"Good. We have made some progress. When shall we four meet again?"

Roland cannot help but smile, at the undoubtedly Shakespearean reference from Mira. He glances across at Hector, who takes the communicator from him, and speaks into it.

"Rhonda – I have an idea which I'm going to discuss with Roland. Can I call you back, when, and if, we make some progress on it? If it works, I'm going to need some support from the two of you."

"Yes, Hector, of course. Would you like to talk about it now?"

"No, I need to discuss it with people here first. I'll get back to you."

"Alright, Hector. Um...Goodbye Roland. Let's talk again soon."

"Yes, let's do that. Till then."

The line goes dead. Hector hands the device back to Roland, who looks at him thoughtfully.

"So... you have an idea?"

"Mm..."

"Which is?"

Hector is leaning forward, hands clasped together. He looks across at Roland, his dark eyes glowing with a desperate intensity.

"We have to move this thing forward fast. We may be nice and safe, down here, for the moment at least, but.... up there, innocent people are being arrested and slaughtered every day...dragged from their homes, tortured and sent to an ignominious death; many of them because of their past association with us! Can't you see how critical it is that we move fast?"

"Yes, I can. I agree with you. So...."

"The time for a slow build-up of support for our cause is over. We have to move decisively and quickly."

Roland waits, patiently.

"You must've heard what's happening down at the lowest levels... Ming, that escaped from Felten's top security gaol... he's gone down there, and taken over his old stamping ground again. They say that all the runaway clones, and the escaped criminals and the other misfits that congregate down there... they're all under his authority now. Before, they were just scattered, and fighting each other for survival, but now...he's... cleaned them up, organised them; ruthlessly, of course, but nevertheless...."

"Alright. If you say so. And how does this...?"

"What else is down there?"

"The gravitron centre, the power station."

"Yes!" He reaches out and grabs the other by the arm. "Roland... we have no army, we have no forces that can take on the power of the state, Waziri's state. We have only our intelligence, and our...determination to succeed...our belief in what is right. I'm going to go and meet this Ming. It's possible he has the resources to mount a raid on the power station...take it over. If we can achieve that... we can hold Waziri to ransom. That might be enough to start a civil revolt which would spread through all levels of society...perhaps even the security services, and the military. I feel as if it would only need a spark...to start a chain reaction, which would be unstoppable... which would sweep away this monster...then we can step in, you and I...and Mira, and possibly even Rhonda Meister...although I have my doubts there...and form a real government...one that has the support of the majority..."

"Hm...you know it's a risky strategy, don't you? There are a hundred things that could go wrong with it!"

"Of course there are! Yes, it's a ghastly, perilous business...but we cannot sit here any longer, doing nothing! We have to move, before this... demon kills all the good people that are left."

"I see." He ponders a moment. "Let me come with you. We'll go together."

"No, Roland. I...I need you to stay here, if you would? I need to leave you in charge of our refuge here. Things may happen while I'm away...they need leadership. Would you do that?"

"I...suppose so. But are you going alone? You can't..."

"No, I'm going to take Aldo with me. He knows the way...the easiest, quickest way to get down there, without being picked up."

"Right. And...what about Maria? Charlene?"

"I... I think we'll tell them we're going... just for a look around, to see what's happening up top. No point in worrying them."

"Yes...I suppose." He glances up sharply at the younger man. "Take some weapons. This man is a killer. The stories you hear about him...."

Hector grins. "Mm...maybe. But what I really need is your communicator, so I can talk to Mira and Rhonda. I'll need to bring them into the negotiations...to prove to him that we are serious, and have some serious allies."

Roland considers a moment. "Yes...yes, you'll need that. Of course."

*

Charlene has found a dress in the clothing store; short, well above her knees, but she likes it. It's white, with yellow, swirling patterns across it; better than the men's pants she wore before, that made her feel ugly and sexless. She wanders into the kitchen, which, surprisingly, is empty, for once; runs her hand over the bench top, looking vaguely up at the containers of coffee, tea, flour, sugar, spices that line the shelf, the cheap, white plates, piled on the side, and the slightly chipped mugs, hanging on hooks above them.

She becomes aware of a large fly, buzzing on the other side of the room. She looks at it vaguely, then ignores it.

Charlene's dark, straight hair is held back by a clasp, at the nape of her neck. She watches her hand, as it slides along the smooth surface; the two rings on her fingers, the creases at her knuckles, the bone sticking out at her wrist. Where is he? What is he doing? What is he looking at right now? What thoughts are passing through his mind? Is he in danger? Did he tell me the truth? Why did he and Hector seem to have an air of repressed excitement about them, as they left, as if there was something...something that they hadn't been quite candid about? Will he be captured and killed? Will I ever see him again? To have got him back, the two of them so happy now, so united in their goals, to lose him again so soon....would be too....

"Charlene!" Maria is standing in the doorway, in a pair of baggy blue pants, and some sort of t-shirt with a black and gold design on the front, her hair also tied back, although some strands have escaped their bonds, and are straying across her slightly freckled face.

Charlene looks up, vacantly. She tries to smile at her sister, but doesn't quite succeed. "Hi. How are you feeling?"

Maria walks towards her, slowly. "Same as you, probably; worried sick about what they're up to! I can tell when Hector's not being straight with me...and I had the distinct feeling...."

"Yes, me too! I can't believe Aldo wouldn't tell me the truth! After all we've been through...I thought we shared everything, now."

Maria is standing in front of her. She reaches out a hand, to touch her shoulder, and suddenly they are hugging each other, sobbing, letting all the fear and heartache and misery flow out of them, as they hold each other close... after so long...

"I'm so sorry, Maree...I've been such a bitch to you!" Charlene cries, clutching her sister tight.

" No...don't say that. It's me...I was so...angry with everyone...cut myself off...I'm sorry too..."

They say nothing for a while, then slowly pull apart, kissing each other on the cheeks a few times, where the tears are still falling.

They look at each other, crying and laughing at the same time, then hug again, saying nothing. Finally they break apart, almost a little shy with each other now...as they feel the wonder of this new warmth, this love they have for each other.

Charlene wipes her nose, under her eyes, smiling. "Dad told me you came to see him..."

Maria laughs aloud. "Yes, poor Dad. I pulled him out of some top meeting...but he came...it was wonderful. And all I could do, at least at first, was shout at him, abuse him...but he was so..."

"Yeah... he is, isn't he?"

"I said terrible things to him about what he was doing, and the government...I mean, true, but hard for him...and d'you know what? He listened...and then he agreed with me. I said..." she can feel the tears coming again...pauses a moment... "I told him he should...go and talk to the real people out there....instead of...you know..."

"Yeah."

"And then he did!"

"I know. He told me."

"And then...maybe because I was so upset, about....everything...he started to tell me about his...you know...his practice...the Buddha..."

"OK..."

"And it was so... well... just made so much sense to me...after that..."

"You've started to practise yourself?"

"Mm..."

"I thought so...it seems...."

"What?"

"Well, it...you seem...happier...more settled...contented..."

Maria grins at her. "Yeah. It helps me a lot..."

"That's nice... I'm glad for you." Charlene strokes her on the arm.

"How's Lola? How's she coping with being down here?"

Charlene smiles. "Yes... she thinks it's a big adventure... talks to everyone...loves having her grandpa here. She's sleeping now, though."

"Must be wonderful... for you and Aldo... to have such a beautiful daughter."

"Yeah... it is. Maybe..."

"What ?"

"Well... maybe you and Hector might...?"

Maria moves to sit at one of the chairs at the long table in the middle of the room, smiling to herself. "Mm... I don't think we're really..."

"Really what?"

"Well... at that point yet."

"Oh, sure...but I meant...you know...in the future...?"

"Hm... we'll see..."

"You sound as though you'd like to..." Charlene sits down next to her, draws her chair close. "But tell me... how did it start with Hector?"

Maria looks into her sister's eyes, laughing. "You really want to know?"

"Yes! I'm dying to know. Tell me how you did it! He's such a hunk..."

"Hey!"

"Sorry! But you know what I mean... he is gorgeous! So.... how did it all start?"

"Hm...well...I went to the theatre one day... looking for Max..."

"Ah...Max..."

"And he was busy, rehearsing the play... so I just sat down in the stalls to watch, and wait..."

"Yeah...and...?"

"Well... he came and sat next to me...and... started talking..."

Charlene giggles. "What did he say?"

"Well...you know...just asking me stuff... he was a bit weird..."

"Weird?"

"Sort of... quiet... didn't say a lot..."

"Really? Maybe he was shy..."

"Shy! Hector? Are you serious?"

"Well...he might've been shy around you..."

"Why should he be?"

Charlene laughs. "I don't know...maybe he was...you know...smitten."

"Oh, really!"

"Why not? He seems... really... in love with you now."

"D'you think so?"

"I do. How do you feel about him?"

"Hm..." She looks up at her sister. "Do you really want to know?"

"Of course I do!"

"He's...well...he's the most beautiful thing that's ever happened to me. I know that sounds silly...but...you did ask..."

"That's not silly. It's wonderful."

"Yes...you know what, Charlene... it is wonderful. I can't tell you how true that is... it's like... he's made me into a brand new person... and I'm so happy around him. I was so down before... you can't imagine... I was really an awful person... hated myself, really... just because...nothing mattered...I was so miserable, down on myself... life was a living hell for me... it's hard to explain it to you..."

"Yes... I think I understand what you mean..."

"But when someone loves you...like that...well..." she laughs, her eyes shining, "suddenly it's fantastic to be alive... every second is like... just a joy, to be... sort of...savoured. Did you ever feel that way about Aldo?" She reaches out and takes Charlene's hand, squeezing it gently.

"Oh yes...I did. I know exactly what you mean." She laughs. "You always think nobody else could feel like you do... because it's so... amazing...like you're the first woman who's ever really felt this way!"

"Yes! Exactly!"

"So... yes," she squeezes Maria's hand back, "I do know what you mean. We were so happy together. And then Lola came along, and we were a real family!"

"Were? What d'you mean? You are a family."

"We are now. There was a time there when... well... I felt very... alone."

"Really! I never knew that. I always thought you two were so...."

Charlene shakes her head. "Not always, no."

"Why? What happened?"

"Hm...well...Aldo was..."

"What?"

"He was...going places...out a lot..."

"And what did he tell you? What did he say?"

"Oh... lots of excuses...different reasons... but I could tell there was... something was going on."

"God! How awful! That must've been terrible for you."

"It was!"

"So what happened?"

"What happened was that Mira told me, at work, that he was a....what we call a category 5 suspect...he'd been picked up by the surveillance blips as making regular visits to... well, he was just off the radar, basically, which meant that he was visiting restricted areas."

"So you must've thought he was playing around, then you found out...."

"Well, I wasn't sure... but that was nearly worse... in my mind then... you know how, well, part of the system I was?"

"Mm."

"Well, if he was part of the resistance... I thought... I would probably lose him that way... it's like... I didn't know which was worse. Either way... he was lying to me. It was... I didn't know what to do."

"You poor thing! So how did you...?"

She looks up at Maria. "Dad came to see me. He was..." she smiles, remembering, "in disguise. I didn't recognise him, at first."

"You're kidding!"

"Lola didn't even know who he was... she was so little the last time he'd seen her..."

"That long?"

"Yeah...so then he and I went out... to some ghastly restaurant...and we talked..."

"Was that after I saw him?"

"Yes... he told me about... how you had come to see him... and how... well, that had changed his whole... thinking, I suppose."

"Hm... so did you tell him about Aldo?"

"Yes, I did."

"And?"

"He said... in a relationship, a real one... you have to tell each other the truth. If you can't do that... it's not...well, not a relationship that... you really..."

"Ah. I see. So then you..."

"I had it out with Aldo. Told him what I knew... suspected...asked him straight out."

"Wow! Was that hard?"

"Yes... but I realised Dad was right. We either had to be together, with no secrets from each other, or it was over."

"So he told you..."

"That he had... joined the resistance. Hadn't wanted to tell me... because of my work, to try and keep me out of it..."

"But you ended up joining him anyway!"

"Yes.... it was like... suddenly I saw how right he was... how I'd felt the same way all along, but never had the courage to... do what he did... always felt I had to... tow the line... for the sake of Lola, for all of us, to stay safe."

"Wow!"

"And then I went with him. I met Hector... and Max... and then I knew for sure... that they were right, and I'd been wrong... all along... and suddenly life became so much better... not just me and Aldo... but I felt as though... for the first time... I was really alive... because I was... doing something right... something true, instead of always lying to myself, pretending that what I was doing was OK, because... well, because it was, when all the time I knew that... that I hated myself for being a... coward."

Maria takes her sister's hand in both of hers. "So... we're not so different, after all?" Smiling at her. "We've both felt... like we were worthless, bad people, and then....come out of it."

"Yeah! That's right. All thanks to you!"

"To me? What d'you mean?"

"Well...if you hadn't been to see Dad... he wouldn't have... changed his way of thinking...he wouldn't have come to see me, and told me what I had to do."

"Aww... that's a lot of... dodgy connections there..."

"No, I mean it. You were the one who started everything... put all of this in motion."

Maria shakes her head. "That's silly. I'm sure it would've happened anyway... "

"Well, I don't think so. You had a lot to do with it. He told me..."

A silence falls between them. There is a tapping of claws approaching the door, in the corridor outside, and a small white, brown and black head with whiskers pokes around the side of the cupboard.

"Come here, girl!" And Perdita leaps into Maria's lap, where she gets her head rubbed, and her nose kissed.

Charlene reaches out and strokes her too, smiling absently. "And now... we're both sitting here... wondering what those two are up to... and whether they'll come back to us... safe and sound..."

Maria looks at her, seriously. "Don't talk like that, Char. You shouldn't... it's...let's be positive...send our loving thoughts out to them...that'll help to keep them safe, honestly."

Charlene leans forward and kisses her sister, first on one cheek, gently, then the other. "OK sis. I'll try to do that. Whatever happens, I'm so glad we...talked."

Perdita looks up, wondering, then licks them both under the chin. Across the room, the large fly is suddenly airborne again. It completes a slow circuit of the kitchen, then exits by the door, to explore the rest of the complex. Its electronic scanners take in every detail, its digital data transmission micro-circuits functioning to perfection.

### CHAPTER 25

Hector had been in a high state of anxiety all the way down, but at the same time an intense feeling of excitement had kept him going. After years of slow, steady progress, taking tiny steps towards the final goal, suddenly events were steamrolling them headlong towards the final act. Whether they were to prevail or not, he had no idea, only the belief that they had a chance to succeed, if only...

He had been hugely impressed by Aldo's seemingly unerring knowledge of their route. Dressed as a two-man maintenance crew, they had kept mainly to unknown, or rarely used tunnels, shafts and lifts. Moving endless manhole covers, descending countless vertical steel ladders, and making their way along pitch black access passages, they had been able to keep almost entirely out of public view. Then they had arrived at the heavy industrial levels, the workshops and forges that produced the heavy machinery that kept Alpha's industries turning. Here they had had to blend in with the other work crews, since these areas were closed to public access. However, with the help of their boiler suits, their communicators, which doubled as work schedule organisers, and a few small tools they had managed to pick up along the way, they had made it through without being questioned.

As they had descended further, the temperature had risen, and the curvature of the narrow thoroughfares had become ever more marked, as they had approached closer and closer to the centre of the planetoid. Hector had known that soon, surely, they must come in contact with the people they had traveled here to meet.

The contact, when it had come, was sharp and efficient. Out of the darkness, a metallic voice had boomed out from somewhere ahead of them.

"Intruders! Proceed no further. Lay down any weapons you have, and wait for the liaison team to arrive."

Hector's heart rate had suddenly doubled, but he reached out and took Aldo's arm, shone the torch he was carrying upwards into their faces, and nodded quickly.

*

Now, as they sit in some sort of holding cell, waiting for the outcome of their request to speak with Ming, a kind of calm inevitability pervades Hector's mind. They have achieved the first part of the plan. They can only try, step by step, to take it further.

Aldo, sitting on the floor next to him, coughs. Hector reaches for the backpack, which they have been allowed to keep, after a search, and gives him a bottle with some water in it.

"Thanks. Needed that." He takes another swig, offers it to Hector, who shakes his head. "Think we'll get to see him?"

Hector is looking up at the single globe, fixed into the ceiling, which lights the cell. He shrugs. "Have to wait and see. Hope so."

"They seem well organized."

Hector smiles, for no apparent reason, and nods. "Yes, they do. Disciplined and...quite impressive, even if scruffy! Ming has done a good job down here."

"What's he like? I've only heard the stories. Have you met him?"

"Nope. Never. We're going to find out if he lives up to all those rumours. I hope..." He adds.

*

As they stand before Ming, their guards on either side of them, Hector reflects that sometimes things do live up to the reputation that precedes them. Sprawled on what looks amazingly like a throne, or at least a high seat with some fabric covers thrown over it, Ming looks at them with interest. Still favouring the jeans, steel capped high boots, and black singlet, which emphasise his brute strength, he says nothing, only examining them minutely, out of his dark eyes. His beard is clipped, his hair cut short. Hector reflects that he looks like a highly intelligent animal, with the capacity to spring into deadly action at any moment... dangerous...alert.

"So you're the famous Hector? From the Repertory Company?"

"Not famous... but yes, I am Hector."

"Hm...in the circles I move in, you're well known. Don't be so modest....if that's really who you are," he adds reflectively. "And who's this?"

"Aldo, one of my...colleagues."

"And you're here to...?" He makes an encouraging hand gesture.

"We have something of great importance to discuss with you."

"Hm..." He strokes his beard a couple of times, considering. "We don't get many visitors down here. You're either telling the truth, or...you both have an urgent death-wish." Then he nods at them both, with a sudden smile. "Alright. I'll believe you, for now. Come with me." He leaps off the seat, and disappears through a curtain-covered entrance behind him.

They look around in surprise. The guards motion them to follow. They do so, and find themselves in a cosy sort of sitting room, with leather bound armchairs arranged in a rough circle, in one of which Ming is now lounging.

"Come...sit down."

They look around, and realize the guards have not joined them. They move forward gingerly, and sit. The chairs are deep and comfortable, after the bare, concrete cell. They sink into them gratefully, smelling the old leather.

"You must be hungry and thirsty. Hey!" He yells at the curtain, "Bring us food and drink!" Then settles back into his armchair, interlocking his fingers before him. "So, Hector, Aldo. We can relax here. I'm very interested in what you have to tell me. First of all, what's happening up top? What are the latest..." a slight smirk flits across his face, "...developments?"

Hector stretches his feet out, leaning back into the luxurious chair. "You've heard of the terror attack at the Theatre, and Waziri's coup?"

Ming nods silently, waiting.

"Well, since then, things have gone from bad to worse. He is rounding up anyone suspected of disloyalty, or dissent in the past. Hundreds are being killed. He's an absolute dictator, who will do anything, commit any crime, to stay in power."

Again, Ming nods, raising his eyebrows, without comment. Aldo can't help wondering if these statements have any effect on this man. Isn't he cut of the same cloth? Isn't he more likely to admire the dictator, rather than abhor him? Is this the right approach?

Hector continues. "Have you seen the broadcast he put out, just after the attack?"

Ming shakes his head slowly. "Those signals don't penetrate down here, and we have no cable connection; but I heard about it. I have people further up who.... tell me some things. I got the gist of it."

"Right, so you know he told anyone who disagreed with him to give themselves up; and if they did so, they would be treated with respect?"

Ming's alert face breaks into a wide grin suddenly. "Yes! I loved that bit. What a sense of humour! That's when I almost started to like this guy....haha."

Aldo looks across at Hector, who ignores him.

"Well, it may be funny to you, but it means death to many of our supporters...most of those who didn't manage to escape. We have lost..." he swallows hard... "many good people."

"They gave themselves up?" Ming is still half smiling.

"Of course not. Waziri's death squads came for them; whole families, in some cases."

"And the result?"

Aldo makes a downward motion with his hand. Ming nods.

"OK. I understand your problem. Luckily his, shall we say, jurisdiction, doesn't extend down here. I run things here, as you know."

Hector leans forward urgently. "Yes, but for how long? You don't think he'll let that situation continue, do you? He has complete control of the military, and both arms of the security services. He believes he's invincible, and he's a megalomaniac. Once he's killed all the dissenters up there, do you really think he won't turn his attention to you? He knows damn well what's going on down here."

There is a silence. One of their bearded guards comes in with a tray, containing a sliced up roasted chicken, surrounded by several small bags of French fries, bearing the name of a take-away franchise; highly prized fare, in these parts.

When the fellow has gone, Ming grunts. "They can try, but they better be ready for a shit-load of casualties! We've got some pretty high powered weaponry down here." He grins at Hector, as he grabs a piece of chicken. "You can tell him that from me."

The other shakes his head. "They'll just flood the whole area with gas. By the time they get here, you'll all be long dead."

Ming stops chewing a moment, then continues. He motions for them to help themselves to food. They do so, hungrily.

Having eaten his fill, and wiping his hands on the front of his jeans, mouth on the back of his hand, Ming looks up at his visitors. "OK...so according to you, we're both in the shit. What else did you come down here to talk about?"

Still eating fries, Hector gives a strained little smile. "I have a proposal for you."

Ming gives a hollow laugh. "Doesn't sound like you're in any position to make proposals. Let's face it... you're fucked up shit creek, and not a paddle in sight!"

Hector shakes his head, eyeing the Warlord steadily. "You haven't heard the whole story. Let me enlighten you. First of all, we have the former Chief Counsellor with us, in our secure refuge." Ming is about to say something, but Hector silences him. "Second, we have Mira, the Alpha-wide AI controller on our side; third, we have Rhonda Meister, supreme commander of the Security Services with us, and fourth...we have the over-whelming support of the people of Alpha on our side. They detest and despise this monster, who has taken the power of God into his own hands. In particular..." he points directly at Ming... "many of his own military and security personnel hate him, and would certainly support a move against him." He sits back, holding the other with his eyes.

A slow smile is spreading across Ming's face. "You're making some pretty fancy claims there, mister. You got any proof of all that?

"I was hoping you'd ask me that." Hector takes the communicator from his pocket. There's a couple of people that you need to talk to. Just give me a minute." He activates the device and inputs his personal code. A moment later there is a buzz of static, then a slightly crackly Mira comes on the line.

"Good evening, Hector. Your signal is weak, but readable. How are you?"

"I'm well, Mira, thank you." He is watching Ming's face. " We have...penetrated to the radiation zone. I'm sitting talking with Ming now. I'm wondering if you could join our conversation. Rhonda too, if she's there?"

Static, then Mira returns. " Congratulations, Hector. You have done well. You are an extremely resourceful man. I'm going to try to improve the signal. Please wait a moment." Ten seconds later Mira's silky, other-worldly voice comes through clearly, no static. "That's better. I will contact Rhonda."

A short interval, then Rhonda's voice comes through. She sounds as though she has just woken up. "Yes, Hector! I'm here. What can we do for you?"

"Sorry to wake you, Rhonda. Aldo and I are sitting here with Ming, in his... domain. He is being very hospitable. I would like you and Mira to join our discussion, if you would."

"Yes, Hector, of course. I'd be glad to."

Hector places the device on the low table between them. "Thank you Rhonda, and Mira. I'm...I'm going to make a proposal...a suggestion to Ming. I've brought him up to date with the situation up there, also the support that we have on our side. I've also pointed out that Waziri will move against Ming's forces down here very soon. His ambitions are very much Alpha-wide – not just the main population zones. For one thing, he can't possibly let an independent...er...operator...hold sway in close proximity to both the gravitron black hole generator, and, of course, the Nuclear Power Generator. From his point of view, that's an impossible situation which cannot be allowed to continue."

"Absolutely, Hector. That is quite correct." Rhonda is fully awake now, her voice crisp and sharp.

"Right. So I'm going to ask Ming...to use his forces to mount an attack on the Power Generator; not to destroy it, but take control of the installation. If successful, he...we...will be able to hold Waziri to ransom, and dictate terms to him. A couple of Alpha-wide power cuts should be enough to make him see reason. Not only that... once the population sees that he is under threat...it will start a mass movement against him... it will be the catalyst that precipitates his downfall."

Silence. Ming is staring vacantly up at the ceiling, his face a mask. Then he looks at Hector with renewed interest, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"I see." The twitch becomes a canny smile. He is drumming his fingers on the rounded leather-bound arm of his chair, considering. "And if I succeed," the smile broadens, "Well..." he spreads his huge hands, expansively, "and Waziri gives up meekly...I hand over to you, and you will be the new government. Is that....what you have in mind?"

Rhonda steps in. "Ming... we can offer you a full pardon, for you and all your followers. Our government will ban the exploitation of clones. In fact we will ban any further production, but those that are with us will be granted full citizenship rights, and paid employment. For yourself, we can set you up in any sort of business that you choose. Of course..." she pauses briefly, "we would prefer that you stay on the right side of the law, this time."

Aldo almost believes he can hear a slight edge of humour in Rhonda's voice.

Ming is nodding, listening, smirking. "Right. A tempting offer, indeed. And I can be sure you will keep your word because....?" He leaves the question hanging.

Aldo is unable to contain himself any longer. "With respect, Ming, given that you are likely to be wiped out in the near future, I think this is a very fair proposal. We are honourable people, on our side; we are not in the business of making deals, then going back on them afterwards. That kind of moral vacuum is exactly why we are determined to rid Alpha of this regime, which has no values at all, except its own self-interest. Can you... see the difference?"

Ming turns his curious smile on Aldo. "Yes...fine words indeed! But I prefer to have a more solid guarantee than your 'word of honour', if you don't mind."

Mira's smooth tones emanate from the communicator on the low table. "What did you have in mind, Ming?"

"Hostages. Two. To be released on completion of the deal as stated by Rhonda."

Rhonda's voice is tense. "You drive a hard bargain, Ming."

He shrugs, making another expansive gesture.

Aldo has gone very still, but inside, he can feel his bowels churning.

Hector is staring straight at Ming. "Alright. I'll do it. But let Aldo go. He has a wife and child up there. I'll be your hostage."

Ming shakes his head. "Both or nothing. That's my terms."

Aldo is trying hard to keep his voice even. "It's alright, Hector. I'll stay. We've....er...been saying it's time for some action." His chuckle is slightly brittle.

Ming smiles broadly. "Gentlemen – we have an agreement. Now..." he claps his hands together. Let's get down to business. Rhonda!"

"Yes?"

"You will need to give me details of the defences and guard patrol schedules at the plant. We'll have to plan meticulously, if this is to succeed."

"Yes, of course. Give me a few minutes, and I'll get back to you."

"Excellent. The first step, of course, will be to isolate the plant by blowing the rail link, and to cut off all communications."

Hector looks across at Aldo, who is studying the remains of the food, lost in thought. Somewhere through the curtain, a man is laughing. Hector can feel his own heart, pumping, pumping fast inside his chest, like an old fashioned clock, ticking away the seconds, until it must come to rest at last. For all things come to an end.

### CHAPTER 26

Roland is busy cooking in the kitchen when it happens. He and Gudrun have decided to cook up a feast for as many as would like to join them. He has been amazed at the food stores they have – somebody in Hector's organization has done a fantastic job of stocking up for a long siege. Next door to the kitchen is a massive freezer room crammed with frozen beef, pork, lamb, veal, chickens, fish, various other seafood, as well as frozen vegetables, even some mangoes. And leading directly from the kitchen, like an old fashioned pantry, is an air-conditioned cold room, used for storing fresh vegetables, fruit, cheese, butter, yoghurt, and also tinned goods, in boxes stacked up all around the walls. This room is enormous, almost as big as the communal kitchen itself. He loves to go in there, and smell the herbs, delve into the stock of vegetables, and the huge variety of tinned goods, and to run over in his mind dishes he might make, out of what's there.

Today he has found an enormous stainless steel pot, and deposited around two kilos of minced beef in the bottom, browning it under a low heat, supplied by the gas bottle next to the stove. He is in the process of opening five very large tins of whole peeled tomatoes, when a large explosion reverberates around the complex.

Gudrun, who is busy chopping up carrots and celery, looks up immediately, and their eyes meet. He can see the terror in her face, and wonders, in a detached way, if she can see the same in his. The next second there is a further barrage of sound, as somebody on a loudspeaker, turned up so high it is squealing and whistling, screams: "You are under attack from the forces of law and order. Stop what you are doing, and remain quite still. You will not be harmed!" This is followed by more tortured sounds, and what appears to be raucous rock music at incredibly high volume, punctuated by a series of loud popping noises. There is a chorus of people screaming, heavy-booted feet running, more popping noises, as the music rises and falls in volume, and suddenly a pungent sweet smell is invading their senses, like roses, almost, but different.

Roland is suddenly moving towards Gudrun who seems immobilized by fear. He places the knife she is holding down on the table, screams into her ear, as loud as he can: "Have to go and find the girls..." When the salvo of sound is suddenly overlaid by gunfire, very close, just outside the door perhaps, and somebody with a loud, metallic voice is yelling: "This way, boys...follow me."

Gudrun, released from her paralysis, seizes his wrist in turn, and, trying to say something which he has no chance of hearing, drags him towards the cold room door. He tries to struggle free of her grasp, but she seemingly has the strength of a mad woman, and holds firm. She grasps the large metal handle, which operates the rubber sealed door, opens it, and bodily propels him inside the room, follows him in, and slams the door shut behind them.

The sound is much reduced. Overcome with horror at the implications of what is happening, he makes for the door again, but she is too quick for him, placing herself in front of him.

"It's gas, Roland. I know that stuff. Sarin....nerve gas. If you go out there you're dead. You wouldn't even get to the passageway. It's too late. We can only hope..." But he is pushing her aside, grasping the handle, opening it slightly, when his head suddenly detaches from his body, and he is floating upwards, downwards, away...into his childhood, his future...his destiny...

Hundreds of years later, his eyes still closed, he is aware of his back, and the back of his head resting on some cold, hard surface, breath entering his nose, an incredible pain in his head, and a great dark feeling of despair, crushing him downwards, so that he never wants to open his eyes and face what he might see...

When he finally opens them, he is staring up at the ceiling of the cold room. Ahead and to his right are boxes of tins, piled to the roof, and all around a deadening, cold silence. He closes his eyes again.

Sometime later, he turns his head sideways, and sees Gudrun, seated on two boxes of peaches, her elbows resting on her jeans, her grey hair hanging down, as she supports her head with her hands. He groans, and she looks at him out of empty eyes.

"How are you feeling? Can you move?"

He stirs his legs, arms, and realizes that he can. Moves one hand up to his head, trying to numb the pain, which is still pounding through his brain. Groans again. The awful silence returns.

She is saying something. "...think they've gone. It's been about half an hour, and I haven't heard anything."

"Nothing?" through the agony in his head.

"Nothing."

"How long till...?"

"The gas? Not sure. Give it another while, and I'll have a look."

With a grunt, he tries to rise, but cannot. She is placing something cold on his forehead, and blessed unconsciousness returns. He embraces it like a lover.

Later, holding her hand like a child, she leads him out of the cold room, and they emerge into the kitchen to an acrid smell of burning, and the huge pot glowing red on the stove. He instinctively turns off the gas, and looks around the kitchen. Nothing else has changed. The carrots and celery lie on the chopping board in neat piles. The old fashioned tin opener is still attached to a tin of tomatoes, where he left it.

Filled with impossible dread, he moves towards the door, out into the passage, where a woman with blonde hair lies face down, her head blown apart by a series of shots. He steps over her splayed legs and continues to the communal lounge room. Seven bodies here, four men and three women, caught in various stages of attempting to escape, or hide from the onslaught. They all seem to have suffered gunshot, or blast wounds, as if the attackers wanted to make doubly sure of their death, or perhaps just out of sheer bloodlust, he reflects dully. One young couple, whom he knew, are huddled in the corner of the room, her head on his chest, as his arms encircle her, trying hopelessly to protect her from the invisible deadly molecules in the air, which they had no choice but to inhale into their bodies, with devastating effect. The man's face is a ruddy red colour, and from his staring eyes, it seems as though tears have flowed down his cheeks, to his mouth, wide open in a silent scream. Andre turns away in despair.

The door to Maria's room is open. Clad in only her underwear, she was sleeping face down on the lower bunk when they arrived. Her legs are still on the bed, while her torso sags towards the floor, where her head rests, her beautiful dark curls spread across the concrete floor. One arm is still on the bed, the other splayed out on the floor. A vicious blast wound has raked across her back, exposing the spine, ribs, and the back of her lungs and kidneys below. A pool of blood and gore has spread across the sheet.

He kneels on the floor beside her, trying to raise her face, but cannot, given the weight of her body bearing down from above. Only when Gudrun joins him, are they able together to lift her back on to the mattress, on her side, facing them. He smoothes the hair from her face, stroking her ruddy red cheek. Her eyes are closed, and, whether due to the distortion of flesh caused by the gas poisoning, or some other reason, he sees that a slight smile hovers around her mouth, almost as if she were able to accept her passing with equanimity, with a generous mind, at the very last.

Tears streaming down his face, unable to speak, only a hollow, guttural sound escapes him...as he leans forward, kissing her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, her ear, her sweet mouth...then he shudders and howls out his grief for the daughter that was lost, and then, miraculously, was found again.

*

Some while later, he has no idea how long, he is aware that Gudrun has left the room. Then voices, a child, dog barking, shouting...steps...Gudrun is talking excitedly to someone...more steps approaching the room, there is a hand on his shoulder...silence.

He looks around and up, to see Charlene standing, staring in horror at the cadaver of her sister. Finally, reaching out to another, he is able to emerge briefly from the awful black hole that is his mind. He stands and embraces her, tears running down his cheeks, onto her shoulder.

"Char! Thank god!" Squeezing her hard. "How did you....?"

She is standing limp and empty, hands by her sides. In a faraway little voice she replies, "We were out...exploring...me and Lola, Perdita. We heard noises, explosions...gunfire...didn't know what to do." Slowly, ever so slowly her hands rise, and hold him. Then she is shaking, shuddering with great sobs of despair. "Didn't know what to do...didn't know..."

He holds her tighter....feeling her warmth, her chest, rising and falling, drawing air into her lungs...alive! How can he grieve the loss of one daughter, and rejoice at the sparing of another...both in the same breath?

Little arms wrap around adult legs. He can feel Lola's hand on his knee. He reaches down and picks his grand daughter up, holding her between himself and Charlene.

"Grandpa, is Aunty Maria dead?" She is stroking his face with one hand. "Why is everyone dead?"

He looks into her five year old face, which is pale, almost drained of emotion. Somehow, he manages to reply. "Yes, she is my darling. Bad men came and killed....nearly everyone."

"Why do they do that, Grandpa?"

He shakes his head slowly, still gazing into her face. "I don't know, sweetness... I really don't."

Gudrun is saying something. "....get away. It's not safe here. They may come back at any time...check for stragglers..." There is urgency in her voice...fear.

Perdita has been delicately sniffing Maria's body. She licks her briefly on the mouth, then moves away, whining quietly to herself, finally sitting down on the floor near the door, looking up at those who are still alive.

Gudrun puts her hand on Roland's shoulder. "We have to leave. It's too dangerous to stay here."

He nods. Always something more to be done, somewhere to go, things to be seen to. When will this all end? So tired... He lowers Lola to the ground.

She is talking excitedly. "Grandpa! Me and Mummy and Perdita found a place... Mummy says if we need to hide somewhere new....we can go there." She looks to her mother to back her up.

Charlene looks wearily into his face. "It's true...we were exploring, over...that way," she waves an arm behind her, "to see what was there... came across these rooms...about twenty minutes from here...would be safer than staying here."

His mind is starting to function again, slowly. "OK. You're right Gudrun. We need to go. We'll go there, Char."

He kneels down and takes Lola by the hand. 'Lola, will you do something for me?" She nods, solemnly. "I want you to go with Aunty Gudrun, and try to find some bags or containers, and put some food and water into them. Not too much, just so we can carry it with us. Can you do that?"

She nods again. "What are you going to do, Grandpa."

"I need to talk to your Mum for a minute. You be a good girl and go with Gudrun."

Gudrun meets his gaze, and takes Lola by the hand. "Come on, Lo, you come and tell me what we need to take with us." They move off in the direction of the cold room, Perdita trotting along behind.

Roland looks at his daughter. "Where can we put her? Can't leave her here."

Charlene squats down beside Maria's body. She strokes her hair gently. "Do you know what, Daddy?"

"What?"

"We had a big talk the other day, her and me. It was....wonderful. I'm so glad we did...now."

"Yes, I'm sure. You were a bit..."

"We hardly spoke for about three years. It was horrible...But then..." She is stroking the face with one delicate finger. "After everything that happened..." She suddenly turns around and looks up at her father. "So much has happened, Daddy!"

He can say nothing; only stare mutely at his extraordinary, surviving girl, filled with gratitude... and fear.

"So we talked...about...everything. She told me a lot...it was...I realized...we still..."

He kneels down behind her, his arms around her, holding her small wrists, feeling her pain.

"Yeah... I'm glad too. And she was...happier...more at peace...she found...something."

"Yes, I know. Not just Hector...something deeper."

He strokes her upper arms rhythmically. "Maybe that's why...seems like she was...smiling..."

"Yes. She was...she is."

They cling to each other, as the grief takes them beyond words.

Eventually they part, shyly.

"Where can we put her, Daddy? She can't stay here. She'll go..."

"I know. I thought maybe..."

"What?"

"If we can find a large plastic bag, or some sort of container... could put her in the freezer, then come back later, and... farewell her properly."

"Yes! That's what we'll do. Think I know where some big bags are kept."

And so, they carefully, lovingly, wrap her in black plastic, and, staggering under the weight, carry her through to the freezer room, laying her down reverently, along one wall, away from the food.

Lola finds them in there. She looks sadly at the long, heavy parcel. "Are you putting Aunty Maria in here, Grandpa?"

"Yes. We're going to come back later, and say goodbye to her nicely, when we've got more time. If we leave her here, she'll still be....alright, when we come back."

"OK then." She turns to her mother. "Mummy, we've got bags of food, and some water. We need you and Grandpa to help carry them."

Charlene absently takes her hand. "Yes, darling. Coming."

They move out of the freezer, and Roland gently closes the door behind them.

### CHAPTER 27

Hector is trying to sleep, but after dropping off, for what seems like only a minute or two, he wakes suddenly, staring into the darkness all around him. He can hear Aldo snoring gently in the other bunk, his breath rising and falling evenly.

But his own mind is filled with...what? Was he dreaming? He has no memory of any dream, and yet...something...something powerful has streaked through his consciousness, demanding his attention. A noise? A thought? A memory? An idea? What? The blackness bears down on him, and he cannot help but think of the fourteen or so kilometres of steel and concrete, that separate him from the outer hull, and the further, more profound gloom, of deep space. So much darkness...everywhere; only here and there, broken by beings that have the ability to create light; or every so often a star, lone beacon, beaming out a message of life and hope against the vast, surrounding emptiness. But even in light, the evil breeds, multiplying in its own fecundity, oozing and bubbling up from the depths below, spreading corruption and...death. So many good people, taken, tortured, terminated, snuffed out, their pain and suffering brought to an end at last by the sudden rush of air, as they rocket down, wrists and ankles bound, plunging towards the longed-for terminal velocity, that will deliver them from all their afflictions in this existence.

All his muscles tense, and he can feel sweat all over his body. Was this it? This the dream that woke him, the recurring nightmare that haunts his waking and sleeping hours? No, it was something...different...an ending, a passing, but not in terror and torment...more like a gentle sliding into a different form of being, away, separate, distinct; a sweet farewell, a loving caress, a smiling, wondering gratitude and affection, that lingers...and lingers, stroking his mind, undulating through his consciousness, soothing away all his aching agony... and suddenly...he knows, understands.

His hands reach out above him, into the void, seeking her, to hold her sweet-scented body one last time...but bodies die and decay, decompose and return to the stars...only feelings and memories remain, and the good deeds that were done, the generosity, the knowledge that was gained, and the love that was given...freely. These too remain...he knows, forever.

Hours later, still sleepless, he rises and, putting on his boiler suit, tiptoes to the door. He knows this is locked, and so knocks, quietly. To his surprise, his knock is answered, the lock is turned, and he is blinking in the light of the next room. A man, almost as tall as himself, with a large, bushy beard, is looking at him out of calm, hazel eyes.

"I need to go...to the toilet."

His gaoler grunts, and indicates he is free to walk to the facilities down the corridor. On his return, he cannot face lying restless in the dark any longer. The man is making what looks like a hot drink on the small heater in the corner. He turns around and gazes levelly at Hector.

"May I...sit here, for a while? I...can't sleep, and Aldo is still sleeping, so I don't want to...turn on the light. Do you mind?"

Unsmiling, the other nods, and indicates one of the scruffy armchairs that are scattered around the room. Hector smiles and nods back, lowering himself gratefully into the creaky springs.

Turning back to his task, the bearded man suddenly says: "Do you want a cup of tea?"

Initially shocked speechless, Hector eventually replies, "Yes...thank you. That would be...nice."

He watches, as the man takes another cup from the cupboard, and places a teabag in it, quickly heating some more water. Then he asks gravely: "You take milk? Sugar?"

"Er, just milk, thank you." His friend nods, pours the milk, then carefully places the cup of tea on a low table in front of him.

"Thank you. That's...very kind of you."

The man nods acknowledgement, returns to the kitchen top, picks up two cups already made, deposits them on the other side of the low table, and seats himself opposite, observing Hector out of those unblinking, hazel eyes. Silence falls.

Hector reaches for the cup, and, finding it still too hot, returns it to the table. "Um...what's your name?"

His companion nods, as if approving of the question. "Borg."

"Right, Borg. Well, I'm Hector."

"I know. You are famous. You have come here to talk to our leader, to ask for help."

"Well...I don't think I'm famous, but...yes, we did come to talk."

"And now you are a prisoner, until we take the power station, and you give Ming what you promised."

"Er...yes...I suppose...something like that...You're very well informed."

Hector thinks for one moment that just the ghost of a smile might have flitted across Borg's face, but he could have been mistaken.

"I am Ming's..." he pauses, "right hand man. He tells me many things." He takes a sip of his tea. "He is our leader."

"Yes...yes he is."

"You will be the... leader of all, later, when this...government is gone?"

"Well...there's a lot of things need to happen before we get to that point. Actually, there's another man who I would like to be our leader, the...leader of all. I'm just...trying to make sure that change happens."

Borg nods gravely in understanding. A girl with a pretty round face and dark ringlets, wearing jeans and a white t-shirt, enters the room. She looks at Hector in surprise, then sits down on the couch next to Borg.

"You must be... Hector," she says brightly.

He smiles briefly, and Borg-like, says nothing.

"You're very...."

Hector raises a commanding hand in protest. "Please...don't say it."

"Sorry..." She looks flustered. "It's just that everybody here has heard so much about you, and what you're doing...up there, at the theatre, trying to make things right for all of us, you know, downtrodden people, especially like us," she indicates Borg and herself, "that had to run away, things were so bad..."

Borg turns and looks at her, wordlessly. She comes to a halt.

Hector is cradling his cup in two hands, looking at her with interest. "I didn't expect to see any women down here."

Borg places a hand on her knee. "Helen is my woman."

She takes his hand in hers, and smiles sweetly at him. "Yes, I am. And you're my man."

She looks back at their visitor. "I escaped from higher up. Came down here. That was before Ming returned. It was awful...terrible. I nearly died. But then I found him, and he saved me. He's my saviour. I owe him my life," she concludes simply.

Hector nods. "Right. What did you escape from?"

"Fast food joint. But clones like us get nothing... no pay, no respect, only hard work, and cruelty. They think we are nothing...like...like animals...worse; just, like a possession, something to be used, then thrown away. Here...it's different. Ming changed all that. That's why we love him."

"I see...yes, I can understand that. Of course."

Her face clouds. "But what will happen....after?"

"After?"

"When we've taken the plant, and that government is gone, and you people take over? You've promised Ming a new life...but what of us? What will become of us?"

"Ah." Hector is aware of being very tired now. The tea and good company are lulling him into feeling relaxed, a little. He can feel the need to sleep coming, thankfully. "We will change many things. This production of clones is illegal. It will stop, when we return Alpha to proper government. It is the people who must decide who rules, not us. We will be in charge, briefly, then there will be an election...so the people can decide who they want to govern them, and how."

"Really?"

"Yes. That is the way it should be. This government is an...aberration, they have gone wrong...very wrong. That is why they must go."

She nods slowly. "And we are illegal. If not for them...Borg and I would never..." she frowns.

"But don't worry. You will be protected. You will have the same rights as...you will have full rights and protection under the law."

She brightens. "Full rights! So we can return to...above?"

"Of course. You shouldn't have to live down here, with these levels of radiation. You must not stay here. We will find a place for you...in our...society."

She beams at him. "Thank you, Hector. You are a wonderful man." She pauses, thinking. "This is why you are famous....sorry."

He shakes his head slowly, amused, leans his head on the back of the chair, and closes his eyes.

*

Ming's leadership and organisational skills are truly impressive. He has gathered his inner circle together for a meeting, including his two prisoners. Standing tall beside a line drawing, pinned to a board, he speaks to his audience in gruff, confident tones.

"Listen carefully. This is how it's going to be. Now, look here," indicating the board.

"Main power plant here. Series of steam generators here, steam turbines, series of condensers, electricity generator plant here, worker accommodation here," tapping the plan with his outstretched finger, and looking pointedly at Borg, "right next to the uranium fuel rods." He stops a moment. "Now, up the front here, administration block, containing the command centre, security accommodation block, main entry here, four guard posts along the back wall of the train terminus, one at the far end, and, of course, the Zip train track, and platform. All clear so far?"

The ten men, sitting in front of him, all nod. The plan is well drawn and labeled, making it easily comprehensible.

"OK. We're going to have five teams. Team 1 takes care of the train. We're going to bomb it two kilometres from the Terminus. The train will be wrecked, and will block the track, meaning that no further trains will be able to get through until they clear the track, which will take hours. That effectively cuts off the plant from reinforcements, since the Zip Train track is the only viable approach route for large groups. Borg, I want you to lead that team. OK?"

Sitting in the front row, Borg acknowledges by inclining his head.

"Right. Teams 2, 3 and 4. Your job is to attack the five guard posts protecting the terminus, and the main entry to the plant. Engage them, keep them busy. You don't have to overrun them; just cause enough mayhem, panic and confusion to keep them, and the command centre, fully occupied. You will approach through these three disused tunnels, here, at right angles to the main platform. You will wear masks, and mount a surprise gas attack, using Zilon grenades, on grenade launchers." He holds them with his dark, glittering eyes. "Very powerful nerve gas. You should knock a good proportion of those troops out with the first volley. The rest, you engage with automatic weapons fire. We also have some blast cannons, and plasma grenades. Lots of fire-power. They won't know what's hit them. And you have good cover; there are low walls, blocking off the ends of the three tunnels about a metre and a half high; perfect for you to shelter behind."

He looks from one man to another, weighing them up. "Shem, you lead team 2, Tex, team 3 and Mahmud team 4. Hector, you'll be with team 2, Aldo team 3. Is that clear?" He looks at his visitors. "If you want us to take this plant for you, you can help us do it. Welcome to the squad."

Hector says nothing. Action at last, against the forces of evil.

"Now, like I said, all of this is to distract them from the primary assault group, which will enter here, where the main electricity cables, carrying the power from the generator to the Electricity Distribution centre here, pass through the plant wall. The wall is thin there. We'll blast a hole, then move along here, around the condenser section, and blast our way through this door, that connects the administration block to the main plant. We'll gas grenade the security accommodation, although I doubt there would be anyone still inside by then, given what's happening out the front, then move up to the main command centre. It will be pandemonium in there, and we should be able to easily shoot our way in, and overcome the director and his staff. Under threat of execution, they will order a ceasefire, and the entire complex will be ours. Now." He eyes them steadily. "Questions?"

Mahmud, a dark skinned man with short, cropped black hair, and a pointed beard, raises his hand. "Timing. How do we coordinate between the five teams? How do we communicate?"

"Excellent! Essential, of course. Don't worry. Each team leader will have a communicator. As soon as the Zip line is blocked, teams 2,3 and 4 will open up on the guard posts with gas grenades and follow up with other weapons. At that point, team 5 will blow the wall next to the electric cables. All the noise at the front should easily cover the explosion. It shouldn't take more than about five or ten minutes to enter the admin block, and take the command post. When that happens, all the opposition at the main entrance, if there's any left, will lay down their arms, and surrender. Simple!"

Hector raises a hand, and Ming nods in his direction.

"You didn't tell us whose taking charge of team 5."

Ming's face breaks into an ugly, leering grin. "Who do you think?"

There is appreciative laughter around the room. Another hand goes up; this time it is Aldo's.

"I'm curious. Where did you get these weapons, and all this equipment from? A few weeks ago you were still in the Ministry of the Interior High Security Gaol."

Ming's gaze lifts above them, and seems to rest on the far wall for a moment. "And you forgot to add...how did I get out of that gaol in the first place?" The muscles around his mouth tighten. "There are some extremely corrupt, greedy people that work in those government ministries; some of them have very murky pasts, which they would not want revealed to public scrutiny. I have a long memory, and some powerful friends." His eyes meet Aldo's. "Have I said enough?"

The room is silent. "Alright. I have a question for you. Do you think we need to train for this operation? Learn how to use the weapons, simulate the attack? Or should we just hope for the best, and go in cold? What do you think?"

Borg's voice is low, but very clear. "Training. We need to practise."

"You're right, my trusty lieutenant. Come with me now, all of you, and I'll show you the equipment. I reckon three days intensive work should be enough. I know a good place for it, too, far enough away so they won't hear us. Let's go!"

And he strides out of the room. The others follow on behind.

*

Their new refuge is a good spot. The tiny complex consists of three rooms. The first contains the remains of some ancient, rusting beds. The mattresses are badly decomposed and chewed by the rats. Roland suspects it hasn't been occupied for around 150 Alpha years, ever since the workmen who built this sector abandoned it. There is dust, rubbish and assorted animal droppings everywhere, also a nasty smell, probably a mixture of small animals' faeces and urine.

The second room, connecting to the first, has a small sink, and table and chairs. In the light of the single ion tube in the ceiling, which incredibly, still works, they examine an antiquated hot water system next to the sink. Its circuits have long ago ceased to function, but when Roland turns the tap, they are amazed when water trickles out of it. The tap on the sink works even better. Moving through next door to the bathroom, Gudrun tries the flush on the toilet. Roland can see her smile with delight, as they both listen to the water gushing from the cistern, into the bowl, and then start to refill.

Lola is standing behind them. "It's very dirty, Grandpa. Yucky!"

"Yes, I know, but we can fix it up, so it's nice. Can't we Gudrun?"

"That's right. We'll make a few more trips, and go and get some more things we need, then I'm sure we can make this place quite comfortable." She smiles at the little girl. "You were very clever to find it, Lola."

"It was Perdita who found it. She was running on ahead of us, then we heard her barking. When we caught up with her, she was standing at the door, over there," she indicates the entry to the first room.

"Well, then, she's a very clever dog. We'll have to find her a special treat to say thank you, won't we!"

Back in the kitchen, Charlene has wiped the table, and is busy setting out a meal of dry biscuits, sliced ham, and mayonnaise. As they join her, she is busy slicing up some tomatoes that she found in the cold room. She sits down then, but hardly touches the food, only toying with a piece of ham on one of the lightweight plates they brought with them.

"I was thinking...when Aldo and Hector get back...oh... Poor Hector!"

Roland reaches out for her. "Yes, you're right. It will be...well...we can imagine how they'll feel."

"They'll think we're all dead! I couldn't bear that for Aldo..." She buries her face in her hands, sobbing.

Lola puts her hands in her mother's lap. "Don't cry Mummy," looking up at her worriedly.

Charlene looks up suddenly, her face streaked with tears. "We could leave a note for them!"

Gudrun shakes her head. "Too dangerous. Security might find it. We don't know when they might come back."

Roland is thinking. "What about...some sort of sign? Something they would recognize, but the enemy wouldn't? Something that might tell them we're alive?"

Charlene looks at him. "Brilliant, Daddy! I know! I've got a locket...it's a gold heart that he gave me. It opens up...but you wouldn't know that...unless you knew. I'll leave it on the main kitchen table. He's sure to see it, and open it. I can put a note inside. Nobody else would know to look there."

"Well done, Char. That's a great idea." He squeezes her hand again. "I wonder how their mission is going?"

Gudrun looks up from her meal. "Mission? You mean you know where they went?" She nods, slowly. "So there was more to it than they told us."

Charlene is looking at him with blazing eyes. "Tell me! What are they really doing?" She is holding onto Lola, gripping her shoulders, so the little girl winces.

He sighs. "We didn't want to worry you too much. Hector decided he wanted to go down to the bottom levels and try to talk to Ming."

"Ming! That...mass murderer! He can't be serious! And he had to take my Aldo with him?"

"Well, like it or not, Ming controls that area. Apparently he has moulded all the runaways down there into quite a force. Aldo's the only one who knows his way around down here. Without Aldo he'd never get there."

Gudrun is looking at him steadily. "And what did Hector want to...talk about with him?"

"He wanted to ask for his help."

"To do what, Daddy?"

"Well, his idea was that Ming and his men should attack the Power Plant down there, on our behalf; then when they control it, we'd hold the upper hand against Waziri. A series of complete power outages should bring the government to its knees, and also trigger a mass revolt against it. That's...what he thought."

"And you let them go, Daddy! To try and make a deal with a monster like that! How could you?"

Lola has moved away from the table, and is sitting on the floor, stroking the dog.

Gudrun purses her lips together. "Well...it's an idea. It could work."

"Char, I'm not the boss down here; Hector is. I can't tell him what to do, or not do. I think he felt he had to try something that might stop Waziri quickly. It's... turning into a blood bath up there, for anyone in the resistance that couldn't get away, like us."

She is silent.

"There's something else I need to tell you, too."

"Oh God! What now, Daddy? I can't take much more..."

"There's a very good friend of mine. She's called Leelah, and she lives on her own in a cottage, out in the forest area." Lola is lying down, cuddling Perdita, holding her close. "I... tried to get her to join us down here, after the blast at the play; but she wouldn't. Said she couldn't live underground."

Charlene is watching him closely. "Go on."

"I gave her a communicator. She hates them, but I made her take it...just so we could keep in touch. Well, I've been calling her, but there's no answer. The device is dead...broken...I don't know."

This time, she reaches out for him. "Daddy. You too? I'm...sorry."

He tries to smile at her. "Anyway...I really need to go there...and...find out...if she's..."

"But...you'll get picked up...like last time."

He shakes his head. "No. That was Rhonda...for a special reason. She's the only one who knows my new identity. She hasn't told anyone else."

"Really? How can you be so sure?"

"I...I know Rhonda. We're...friends."

"You're full of surprises today, Daddy!"

Gudrun's voice is low and resonant. "If you feel that way, Roland, you should go. Go and find her. We'll be alright here." She smiles at him encouragingly.

"Thank you, Gudrun. Yes...I feel that I really need to go. I mean...everything is so uncertain...there are so many unknowns, right now...with Aldo and Hector, and we have no way of ascertaining what's going to happen. Maybe that's why...I need some certainty about this, one way or the other."

"Tell me about her Daddy. What's she like?"

He smiles at his daughter. "Well...what can I tell you?"

"Tell me about her."

"OK...well, I think she's beautiful. She is beautiful. She's quite slim, and she's got long, blondie, sort of streaky hair, and freckles on her face, and...she makes me feel...very...happy, every time I see her, whenever I'm with her. She helped me to see...a lot of things."

"And she lives all alone out there? That's weird."

"Her father built the place, illegally, actually. Then one day, a long time ago, her parents disappeared. She came back, and they just weren't there."

"How awful for her!"

"Yes. She's had a lot of sadness in her life. She had a partner once, but then... she's been alone for a long time now."

"Must be terribly lonely for her."

"Well, yes...but she's very strong, very...self sufficient. She's one of the most...it's hard to explain. I think it's something to do with the way she lives in such harmony with the natural world out there, if you can call it that. She grows all her own food; vegetables, fruit, potatoes...it's a lovely garden."

"She's your magical, fairy lady, who lives all alone in the enchanted woods... "

He smiles at her. "If you like..."

"Mm...I agree with Gudrun. You need to go and find her. You're in love with her. I can tell."

"Well...I mean...in this awful world we live on...just occasionally, something, someone... magical and wonderful comes along. That's such a precious thing...it should be...treasured...cherished." He looks up at her. "You understand that, don't you?" She smiles sadly at him. "We've lost so much...so much...we have to...try to hold on to what's left."

She takes his hand in both of hers. "Yes, Daddy. We do." She leans over and kisses him

on the cheek. "Go to her. We'll be fine."

On the floor, Lola and Perdita are both asleep, curled up together, exhausted.

### CHAPTER 28

Aldo is squatting behind the low wall, at the end of the middle of the three tunnels, which terminate at right angles to the main platform. The straps on his gas mask are hurting his face, and he can feel his finger trembling uncontrollably, on the trigger of the grenade launcher he is holding in both hands. The other nine members of team 3 are squatting or sitting on the ground around him, all hidden from the view of the guard posts opposite. It had taken them sometime to find their way through the maze of walkways and vertical manholes, in order to approach the power plant terminus by this route. Now all three teams involved in the frontal assault are in place, waiting tensely for the signal that the Zip Train has been blown, two kilometres up the line. Aldo wonders how Hector is feeling, just a few metres away, in the adjacent tunnel, with team 2. He wishes they could have been together, but knows that Ming would consider that a security risk.

Suddenly there is a distant rumble, and a prolonged vibration in the concrete all around them.

Tex is consulting his communicator. "That was it," he whispers. "Right on time! Good old Borg." He looks carefully at his men. "OK, this is it guys. Let's go." So saying, he raises his own grenade launcher gingerly above the parapet, and with a tremendous report, in the confined space, sends the first gas canister hurtling towards the nearest guard post. Almost simultaneously, other grenades are launched from the other two teams.

As Aldo gets in position to launch his own canister, he can see, through the visor of his mask, consternation on the faces of the guards, as some of their comrades around them are suddenly seized with muscular spasms, and rapidly fall, twitching and jerking on the ground. A few survivors, especially from the two posts furthest to his right, which have not been hit by gas yet, are replying with small arms fire.

Aldo quickly leans over the top of the wall, aims at the guard post producing the most enemy fire, and pulls the trigger. The recoil is tremendous, and more or less flings him backwards, onto the ground, out of the way of the withering fire from handheld blasters, which the troops are now aiming at their attackers.

Tex helps him up, ensuring he has not been hit. Their team is now sending a steady stream of gas canisters into the enemy positions, as are those on either side of them. Not equipped immediately with masks, the troops opposite are taking heavy casualties, and the return fire from them is dwindling rapidly. Aldo wonders briefly about their wives, and children at home, but blocks the thought out. He cannot allow himself to think that way. This has to be done, for the greater good. Waziri has to be stopped! There are always going to be sacrifices to be made when it comes to open conflict. He carefully fits the plasma grenade he has taken from the small stockpile they have brought with them, onto the end of his launcher, and takes his place in the queue again, waiting his turn to contribute towards wiping out the men opposite.

Tex has been scanning the scene through what looks like a homemade periscope. "Reinforcements arriving from inside," he reports, having to yell over the surrounding din. "Go back to gas. We need to knock them out quickly."

*

Three hundred metres away, at the side wall of the complex, where the huge cables, covered in thick rubber, pass through the wall, Ming's team are having a little trouble getting through. The wall is obviously thicker than he thought. The first charge they use blows a hole in the concrete barrier, but does not penetrate to the other side. Cursing, he takes a small mine, from the stock of supplies in the backpack he carries himself, and places it inside the hole. They stand back and cover their ears. When the smoke clears, they can see the inside of the plant through a small hole. Well prepared, he grabs a sledge-hammer from one of his team, and attacks the edges of the aperture. In two minutes, he has created a gap wide enough for them to crawl through. Flinging the tool down, he wriggles inside himself, helping the others through, once there.

As he expected, the interior of the plant is now deserted, as all efforts are directed to dealing with the fearsome attack at the main entrance. Moving between the side wall and the massive cylindrical condensers, which tower above them, to a height of fifty metres, he turns left at the end, and again follows the side wall, until they reach the main entry from the Admin block into the plant itself. He can see now that this is heavily lined with lead, and, in fact, comprises two doors, with a small chamber, like an airlock, between them. Clearly the management is determined to protect itself from the levels of radiation which are rampant in the main plant, and all around outside. This is their safe refuge from all that.

Ming takes a charge similar to the one used on the wall from his pack, sticks it onto the outside of the hefty door, first peeling the covering off the stick pad, on its lower side. Carefully adjusting the setting first, they stand back. He grunts with satisfaction as the mine blows both sets of doors wide open. He jogs the squad through the swirling smoke, as a contingent of very scared young security troops emerge from the door of their quarters on the right. Ming and his team blast them with masers at close quarters, and they go down like ninepins. Stepping over the bodies, Ming directs one of his men to launch 2 gas canisters into the security accommodation area, quickly closes the door, then moves them up the stairs to the left, that lead into the main command centre.

At the top, only one guard has been left on the door, all other available personnel having been sent by a badly rattled unit commander to try to repel the attack at the front. He is almost vapourised by a series of simultaneous maser blasts from the team. As they charge through the entrance to the control room, Ming quickly takes in the scene: the smart-suited plant director, yelling angrily into a mouthpiece, one hand in the act of combing back his floppy, slicked back hair, the gaggle of security chiefs, huddled round a nest of consoles, and the very scared plant operatives, feverishly trying follow with their communications equipment the orders they have received. All look up at the assault group that has stormed in, their faces ashen with terror for their lives.

"Gentlemen!" Ming's voice is deep and powerful. Raise your hands, and you will be spared. Try to resist, and it will be your last move. Are we clear?"

To a man they raise their hands. Scanning the military officers before him, Ming beckons to one. "You, unit commander!" The middle-aged man, sporting a potbelly inside his uniform, nods silently. "Order your men to cease-fire. Now!" The last word is barked out, as Ming takes aim at the hapless officer with his maser. Not cowed, but face livid with rage, the commander does as he is told, approaching one of the consoles, and speaking quietly into his headset.

Moving away slightly, leaving his team to cover the group of men, Ming consults his communicator. "Shem, Tex, Mahmud...what's the situation out there? Report to me." He listens carefully to the responses, then returns to the others. "Rick, Davo, Gigi...cuff them. All of them." Returning to his device he speaks to all three team leaders at once. "OK...move across to the guard posts. Finish the rest of them off, then come up here to the command centre. It's over. Great job, guys." He returns the communicator to his pocket, and looks up at his captives. "Put them in a secure room, boys. Anyone that gives you any cheek – kill them."

He watches calmly as his team leads the assorted prisoners out of the swing doors, and down the stairs. He is left alone in the command centre. A sudden hush has descended on the whole complex. He grunts, and flings himself down into one of the comfortable swivel chairs in front of a console. Outside, he can just make out the occasional crackle of a maser blast, as his orders are followed to the letter. He taps his thick fingers on the desk in front of him, rapping out a slow funereal beat that reflects the nihilistic intention growing ever stronger in his mind.

*

No wood smoke from the chimney, no sound of singing, no noise, no movement...nothing. Only the cottage lies, surrounded by the garden, and the trees, and the stream, in the mid day warmth, motionless, still, empty; or so it seems to Roland, as he approaches from across the tiny creek.

The low gate in the fence is open, as though, perhaps someone had passed through, and failed to close it behind them. He enters, looking around at the much-loved peas and beans on their sticks, finished now, for the season; at the rows of potatoes, still some there underground, to be gathered in, if anyone cares to do so; the late flowering carnations, stocks and snap dragons...mostly drooping and fading now, their time past, succumbing to their fate, uncomplaining.

Feeling already the emptiness of the place, the absence of its owner, he stumbles through the door into the long lounge room. The couches where they sat and talked remain unmoved, only a slight hollow on one, where someone had sat, then stood, leaving behind a trace of their presence. The mugs they drank from line the dresser, clean, shining, unused. The ashes in the fire below the stove are cold, left untended to go out. The sink is clean, empty, a plate and a bowl and a few items of cutlery left on the rack to dry. Rushing through to the bedroom, the bed, where he had spent such sweet hours and nights...made, tidy, lifeless. Her brushes and combs are arranged in neat rows before the mirror, a bottle of perfume she had shown him proudly, made from her own flowers, stands at the end, light from the window glinting through its pale yellow contents. In the bathroom...nothing. The bath, where they laid, talked, drank wine, exchanged secret kisses, became lovers...dull white enamel...not even a tap dripping, below the wood-fired heater.

Outside again, running now through the rest of the garden, calling her, screaming her name, as he encroaches unaware on the precious herb patch, until looking down to find the source of the fragrance, he sees the basil and the lemongrass he has trampled.

She is nowhere. Not a sign, not a clue left to tell him what happened to Leelah. Suddenly filled with hope, he thinks she might have gone for a walk, for a ramble in the woods that she loves so dearly. Taking the path on the other side from the stream, he rushes down the track, which soon turns to long grass as the trees close in. Looking ahead, behind, all around, calling her name repeatedly, he soon comes to rest, out of breath, choking, tears streaking his cheeks, as he faces the prospect, the endless dark tunnel of realization, that another of his loved ones has left him; though where, or how, he cannot know...only suspect, surmise.

He limps back to the garden, and lies down on the patch of lawn, next to the defiled herbs. Legs spread, hands on his still heaving chest, he stares upward, towards the hull of his prison, where the ion tubes are putting out an intense, early afternoon light. Closing his eyes against the glare, he places an arm across his face, so the light behind his eyelids fades almost to dark.

Sick at heart, his spirit shattered by anguish and misery, his mind reaches up...through the kilometre of fresh air, nourished by the great swath of trees that covers much of the surface area, through the layers of steel and titanium webbing, through the inner hull, the outer hull, to the immensity of deep space that lies beyond. He can feel the molecules, rushing past at half the speed of light, as the ship hurtles, crawls, inches its way across the great divide, towards the star 31Cas, in the constellation Cassiopeia, where their new home, the fourth planet from the sun, awaits their arrival. But he will never see it. Another six generations will be born, grow, love, hate, sicken and die before they arrive at that final destination. And all of this...this struggle... to try to ensure the safe arrival of a large contingent of healthy humans, and their technology, at the new world, so they can start again, building, subduing, dominating, subjugating a new environment to their will, to their endless appetite for control and ascendancy...how futile it seems.

He sighs. He is so sick of it all... all of the endeavour, the conflict, exertion, the endless striving...the eternal wheel of suffering he is bound to, the daily torture of feelings, hopes dashed, despair... consciousness itself. How sweet it must be to exist, or not, beyond all this. Blessed release. He longs for it.

*

Hector is sitting on the floor of the storeroom, staring vacantly across at the row of uniforms hanging from pegs, that line the wall opposite. Aldo has been trying to talk to him, to discuss with him what might happen next. What can they expect from this man they have drafted into their plans, who now seems to be setting off on a tangent of his own? What will become of the power plant staff, who share the storeroom with them? What will become of them? – Hector meets all this with a stony silence, merely shrugging his shoulders. Aldo gives up, and silence falls. They are watching their fellow prisoners, who have split into groups according to their roles at the plant: administrators, security, technicians; they talk feverishly in small groups, casting suspicious glances at the two outsiders, whom, naturally, they regard as the enemy.

Outside, steps approach, the door is opened, and Mahmud's head appears. He beckons Hector, who obeys, then speaks to him quietly, keeping a close eye on the other prisoners. "Here, this communicator."

Hector sees what Ming's man is holding in his hand. "Well?"

"Ming wants you to get through to... the people you were talking to before...before the raid. He wants to speak to them again."

Hector looks at him steadily. "Does he?"

"Yes, he does. So get on with it. Now!"

Hector smiles faintly, and looks around the room, slowly. "Your boss had a deal with us, which he has completely reneged on. Why should I do anything for him?"

Mahmud takes a miniature hand maser from his pocket. "Because if you don't, I'm going to spread your brains all around this room, right now. You heard what Ming said to us before? Any cheek...kill them. That covers all the prisoners, including you."

Hector looks at the man thoughtfully. "I have a couple of conditions, if he wants my help. And if you kill me now, he won't get to speak to those people, so... think about it. Aldo doesn't know the code."

Mahmud scowls at him, lifting the weapon again. "What conditions?"

"Well, first of all, Aldo and myself be released from custody, and secondly, we both form part of the discussion with... those people. Otherwise...it's no deal." He gives the other the ghost of a smile, raising his eyebrows with finality.

"You smarmy bastard! Alright, come with me, both of you, and we'll see what the boss has to say. He's in a hurry!" He beckons Aldo over to the door, and motioning for the two of them to walk in front of him, he marches them off in the direction of the command centre, keeping them well covered with his weapon.

Ming looks surprised when the three of them enter.

Mahmud is apologetic. "Sorry Boss, he said he wouldn't do it unless they both came along. I threatened to kill him, but then...you wouldn't have got through to your...contacts."

Ming looks at his man sharply, then gives the slightest inclination of his head. "Alright, Hector, Aldo. We'll do it your way. Come and sit down," and he indicates some office chairs that have been removed from nearby consoles. "Mahmud! Give him the communicator."

Mahmud does so. Ming looks hard at Hector. "If you please?"

Hector is looking at the device thoughtfully. "I presume you want to speak to Rhonda and Mira again. Am I right?"

"Correct. Please contact them, then give me the set."

"Hm...I will, but why have you gone back on our deal? You kept your end of the bargain...took the power plant for us...now it's our turn to honour our side. So...why are we suddenly prisoners again? What's going on?"

Ming is looking down, knees wide apart, fingers drumming on the arm of his chair. "Please make the call."

Hector looks at Aldo, who shrugs slightly, then indicates he should make contact. He does so, placing the device on speaker mode, then returns it to Ming.

White static, then Rhonda's voice comes through. 'Hector, is that you? What's happening? Give me an update, please!"

"Rhonda Meister!" Ming's tone is sneering, contemptuous, jubilant, all at once.

"Ming? Is that you? Where are Hector and Aldo? What is the situation down there? Where are you?"

"Ah...so many questions, my dear commander of the SS. Allow me to explain." He settles himself in his chair, enjoying the moment. "Our attack on the power plant was completely successful, of course. I am now in complete control of all power supplies to every home and installation on Alpha." He pauses to let this fact sink in.

Rhonda's voice has a sharp edge to it. "Ming. We have a deal. We are ready to meet our side of the bargain. I hope you are going to do the same."

"Yes...the deal." His mouth widens in a chilling smile. "Remind me again...you were going to give me immunity from the law...an amnesty for all my crimes? Set me up in a legitimate business...tidy me away somewhere? Something along those lines?"

"You know what the terms are, Ming."

"Yes... I thought that was a very interesting gamble that you took, you and Mira, Hector and...Aldo...hoping that I would play your game, once the power plant was taken. You displayed... a touching faith in human nature, shall we say?"

Rhonda says nothing.

"Well, I've played your game up to a point...but you see, I'm not a man of honour. I'm a man that deals in realities, hard nosed facts. And the fact is...I'm now in control of this little planet...this great spaceship of ours...whether you like it or not."

Hector's blood is turning to ice in his veins.

The communicator springs to life again. "You are not in control of Alpha, Ming. Don't delude yourself. Now, please, let's talk about the details of the hand over."

"But you see, my dear Rhonda, I am in control. Within a matter of minutes there will be a series of power outages Alpha-wide. A complete shutdown. After some time, the power will be restored, so that we can talk again. I will then make a public broadcast, explaining my...position." He gives that strange, eerie smile again. "First the demonstration of power, or rather... the lack of it... then the...message. That seems fairly straightforward to me. Do you have any questions?"

There is a silence that lasts for twelve seconds.

"Thank you Rhonda. I take it you fully understand the situation. Stay around. I'll be talking to you again soon. Just a tip: if you have a torch, I suggest you grab it. Bye now!" and he clicks off.

"Mahmud! Take these two back to the storeroom, and bring me up the technicians. And no deals this time! Just bring them!"

Mahmud is rough with them as he hustles them back to their prison, angry at the taunts from his leader. Hector endures the jabs in the back from the muzzle of the maser without complaint.

Back on the floor of the storeroom, Hector has a strange unearthly look. Aldo grips his shoulder, trying to reassure him, but he shakes his head, not looking at his friend.

"I've got a very, very bad feeling about this.... and it's all my fucking fault! Should never have...." His voice trails away, as they watch the head technician, and two assistants being marched from the room.

Aldo puts one arm around the other's shoulder. "Hey, come on. You're always the positive one. Don't give up on me now!"

Hector looks into his face, smiling bitterly. "Aldo...you've been such a good friend. I'm so sorry I've fucked this whole thing up. I'm truly sorry. Forgive me...."

Three minutes later, the lights go out. An ominous and profound silence descends, as the air rapidly becomes stuffy and hot. They sit together in the darkness, their shoulders touching, glad, at least, of that human contact with each other.

Aldo wonders what his beloved Charlene, and his darling Lola are doing at that moment. He hopes they are not too frightened.... and will he ever see their sweet faces again? His pupils dilate in the complete absence of any light, but he can see nothing in front of him; only the terrifying images conjured up by his mind keep him company in the dreadful void.

### CHAPTER 29

Waziri was asleep at home, when the call came through from Metellin.

"Abdul, we have a problem."

"Go on," shaking his head, trying to wake up.

"They've bombed the Zip Train to the power plant. The front of the installation is under attack."

Waziri's brain was struggling to catch up. "Under attack? What do you mean? How bad is the train? Who is it?"

"Mm...information is sketchy at the moment. We've lost all contact with the train. The security chief down there is saying they're taking out the guards on the main platform with gas."

"You keep saying 'They'. Who the hell are 'They'?"

"Don't know for certain, but I've got my suspicions."

"And?"

"Ming and his men. They...er...seem to control some of those levels."

Silence... "Metellin...listen carefully to me. You assured me that this criminal with his gang of runaways was no security threat to the plant. Do you remember that?"

"I do...but we seem to have miscalculated."

"No, you seem to have miscalculated. Now, get your best storm troopers down there now! I'm coming in."

*

By the time Waziri got to the Military Central Command, three levels directly below the main piazza, it was crowded with top brass, all dragged from their beds, trying to deal with the sudden emergency.

He strode over to Metellin, and seized a headset from one of the officers sitting at a console. "Get me the unit commander of the power plant. Now!" The officer turned to his controls, and his earpiece was full of static, then it subsided. "Unit commander, is that you? Identify yourself. This is Executive President Waziri."

"Colonel Raybun sir."

"Colonel Raybun, what is the situation down there? Give me a full report."

"Yes sir." Waziri could hear someone screaming, and the sound of explosions in the background. "We know the supply train has been attacked somewhere up the line. We've had no further contact with it since 02.25am. If it's been wrecked, and is blocking the track, then we're effectively cut off here, until the line can be cleared."

"And what is happening at the plant, Colonel Raybun?"

"Full frontal assault sir, gas attack. We're taking heavy casualties."

"Heavy casualties? Colonel, your only job is to defend that installation from attack, and you're telling me that a bunch of runaway clones has you pinned down in a full frontal attack! It's unbelievable!"

"Yes sir. It's a... a very well-planned attack. Very professional."

"Listen to me Colonel, we'll talk about your responsibility here later. For now, I want you to take every man that you have, and get out there, and kill these bastards! Do you understand me? We must not lose control of that installation!"

"Yes sir. Understood."

Waziri turned to Metellin, who is standing beside him. "What's the progress with our counter-attack, commander?"

"We're close to the train, which is wrecked, and well and truly blocking the track. Encountering heavy fire from the wreckage." Metellin looked at him steadily.

The Supreme President raised himself up to his full height, and stood very close to his military commander. "I don't care what you have to use, Plasma, gas, battlefield nukes...anything. Get them out of there, blast your way through that train, and get to the power plant before we lose it! Is that clear?"

Metellin eyed him coolly, for a moment. Just for a second Waziri could see the flash of anger in his eyes, then it was gone, covered by the professionalism born of years of military service. "Yes sir. Clear." He turns to his staff, and starts issuing orders.

Waziri was still in the command centre, watching with dismay the apparent lack of progress from Metellin's counter-attack, when the lights went out and the power in all the consoles died.

*

As Rhonda stares at her screen, having just finished her conversation with Ming, her mind is racing with a hundred possible scenarios and counter-measures. Sighing, she flicks a switch.

"Mira!"

"Yes Rhonda, I'm here."

"Did you monitor that exchange with Ming?"

"Of course. The situation appears to be critical. I would appear to be correct that he has effective control of the main power facility."

"What's our position if he cuts the main power supply? Do we have any back-ups, any independent generators? Emergency batteries?"

"Very few, unfortunately. I have an emergency power supply for my circuits, but, apart from a small one at the main hospital, very few government agencies, or private users, have back-up power systems."

"So we're going to be screwed if he carries out his threat."

"You could put it that way, Rhonda. I should be able to divert some power to allow your communications to survive such a cut in power supply."

"Good. What's your assessment of our best course of action?"

"I've been considering that. We need to wait for his public broadcast. It partly depends what his 'demands' are."

"That's true, but I can have a guess at what he's thinking..."

"Which is?"

Rhonda's SS uniform jacket is unbuttoned to the waist, revealing a military style white shirt, open at the neck. Her hair hangs loose around her face, where her eyes are tired and strained. She has a nagging headache. "Well, I imagine he has some idea of making himself the overall ruler of Alpha. We know he has an abiding hatred of any sort of government, or power of the state. He also has displayed some very bizarre beliefs and behaviour in the past, as evidenced by the apparent ritual murders carried out by his...group, or sect, shall we say, which lead to his..."

The lights go out.

In the complete and utter darkness, Rhonda calls out to Mira, her voice sounding hollow and surreal.

"Mira. Are you still there?"

A second, two, three, and a crackle emerges from her console. "I'm here, Rhonda. According to my sensors, there is now a complete power outage in all areas, and all levels of Alpha. The life support situation will become critical in around fifteen minutes."

"Thank you, Mira. Thank the cosmos you're still here. I need to contact my commando unit immediately. Do you think you can route a call through to Major Chan for me?"

"Yes, that should be possible. I'll call his built-in-body number, since we're not sure where he is."

Some moments later, a voice comes through.

"Commander Meister?"

"Yes, Major Chan. Where are you?"

"I'm in our SSHQ, trying to get to my office. But how have you managed to contact me? All power and communications, in fact everything, is completely down."

"I have some powerful friends, Li. Now listen...have you heard what's happening down at the power plant?"

"Only rumours...some sort of attack? I don't have any hard data."

"Right, let me fill you in. Ming, the outlaw criminal, that seems to hold sway over some of those lower levels, has attacked the main power plant. His forces have overrun it, and he's now in control of the flow of all electrical energy."

"Right, and I guess he's the one that's just cut it off."

"That is correct, Li."

"Can I ask you a question, commander?"

"Go ahead."

"Did he mount the attack on his own initiative, or did he have help?"

"A very perceptive question, Li. Since I'm going to ask you to help me, and to risk your life doing so, I'm going to take you into my confidence. Do you understand?"

"I do commander."

"Right. Well...myself and Mira have secretly been in touch with leading elements of the resistance."

"I thought Waziri had wiped them all out by now."

"No, Li. A group of the leadership has taken refuge in a secret location. One of that leadership, Hector by name, went down to negotiate with Ming. He convinced him to mount the raid. The plan was that after the raid was successful, Ming would hand over control of the facility to the resistance, who would then be in a powerful position to negotiate a change of government."

"I see, commander."

"Yes, well...clearly they...we...underestimated Ming, or rather overestimated his ability to stick to the terms of a verbal agreement."

"He's refusing to relinquish control of the power installation, now that he has it?"

"Correct, Li. He is effectively in control of Alpha, at least for the moment."

"Right, and this power outage....?"

"His way of demonstrating how much he can hurt us."

"I see. And..."

The power returns, amidst a whirring of air conditioners, ventilation systems, lights, communication circuits, and all the plethora of electronic functions that constitute normal life.

"Hold on, Li. Power's back on. Yours too?"

"Yes, on again."

Mira cuts in. "There is a broadcast coming through on the public channel. It's source is the Nuclear Power plant. We need to listen to what he has to say."

Rhonda's screen purrs into life. After a few moments, a black bearded face with fierce staring eyes appears in front of her.

"Citizens of Alpha...some of you may have heard of me. I am Ming Cho Ha." He pauses, staring down the camera. "I have spent a lifetime battling against the forces of evil, as represented by your corrupt governments, that set themselves up over you, and pretend to rule in your name. Now, finally, I find myself in a position to be able to right the wrongs of the past 157 Alpha years. Now, at last, the truth can be told, and all the evil deeds of the past set to rights."

He takes a deep breath, then passes a hand across his mouth, feeling the bristles on his cheeks. "Now, you all know the legend, the great myth about Alpha, and our supposed mission here. You all know that when the government back on old earth realized that their actions, and those of their forbears, in squandering the resources of the planet, and spewing the waste products out into the atmosphere... when they realized that the damage to the eco system, and the weather system, and all the wonderful delicate balance that had kept the planet healthy for so long... when they realized this damage was irreversible, and that earth was doomed...you all know what they decided to do. Yes! Let's build a series of massive space ships that will take our people to new worlds, where we can start again! We know where they are...we know they can sustain us...we are pretty certain they do not contain intelligent life forms that will be a threat to us...they are pristine, and perfect for colonisation. So...the first ship was built."

"But wait! It's a long way...it will take many generations. We need many people...so the ship must be huge...it must be massive. In fact, they were able to build a mini-planet, thirty two kilometres in diameter, equipped with it's own superb ecosystem, beautifully balanced, so that generations could rise and pass away, ensuring that after six hundred earth years (300 to us) our descendants may arrive at our new home, orbiting the star 31Cas, in the constellation Cassiopeia. You all know this legend..."

He pauses again, sighs, as if overcome with deep sadness. "And so, what do we find, on this our great multi-generational ark-ship? What do we find? My friends...you know that too. We find...greed, we find grasping for power...we find violence and death...we find citizens scrambling over the top of each other, gouging and stabbing and stomping on each other, to rise to the top, to be in charge, to control the resources, the money, the wealth. We live in our holes, in our tunnels, in our dark places, while up the top, in the piazza, in Government House, in the headquarters of our numerous agencies for suppressing dissent, in the glorious light of day...our leaders plot and conspire, intrigue and maneuver in their ever changing parties and cabals, against each other, and against us. This place is overrun by the evil in the hearts of men and women. Meanwhile, the rest of us suffer under the jackboot of oppression."

He nods slowly, a sardonic smile on his face. "It has always been this way. It was that way on old earth...only look at the history, on our database. It is that way here...and it will be that way on the new planet. The rich and the strong prosper, the rest suffer in misery. Not only that....we destroy everything around us, due to our greed. We have laid waste the earth, but now...what is the plan? To move to new planets, and do the same thing all over again...many times! Let us see how many planets, how many beautiful, wonderful environments we can contaminate and violate...how many other species we can exterminate."

He leans back a moment, one hand rubbing the side of his neck, as he moves his head to one side, and back. Then leaning forward again..."I tell you, my friends...it is we who are a blight on the universe; it is we who are a cancer on the body of the cosmos. We are nothing but a disease, which our planet, in its great wisdom, saw fit to eradicate...but like a virus, a pestilence that will not die...we seek a new host, a new body to feed on, and consume. I tell you, my friends...in the name of the health and welfare of this galaxy, we must not allow this to happen. We must admit what we are, and take action accordingly. This is why, after a lifetime of reflection and thought, I have decided to take the ultimate action...to rid the cosmos of this horror, this vermin...which is mankind. Very soon, I will order engineers at the Gravitron centre to dramatically increase the power supply to the miniature black hole, which gives us our gravity here, as you know. This will cause it to overload, to break the fragile chains which restrain it, so that everything around it will be sucked in to its perfect centre, drawn in to its loving heart...purified, absolved, cleansed. We will have paid for our sins, and this sector of space will have been delivered from the curse of humankind."

He smiles benignly outwards. "And so, my friends, you have just a few hours to make your peace with yourselves, your neighbours, your God, if you have one, and to contemplate the final ending of this disastrous experiment, called Alpha." The image fades.

Rhonda has been listening and watching, an icy ball of fear inside of her growing like a tumor, till she can feel the pain of it in her abdomen. "Mira? Li? Did you hear all that?"

Mira's calm tone is unruffled. "Yes, Rhonda. An interesting, radical point of view; but not one which can be allowed to progress."

Major Chan is more down to earth. "He's a screwball, commander. We have to take him out."

"You're damn right we have to take him. The problem is we are desperately short of time." She considers a moment, her mind racing. "Li, how long will it take you to put together a commando team?"

"About half and hour, commander. I've been expecting an order along those lines. The men are all here. We'll just need to collect the equipment we need, and we're ready to go."

"Excellent, Li. I'm going to join you. Now...Metellin has a team bogged down on the Zip Train line, meeting some resistance. I want to approach from a different direction. This is a separate operation from that. We need to bypass them, and move in quickly and capture this madman. Do you understand?"

"Absolutely, commander. I used to work down there, in the days when we had more than one Zip Train line going in to the terminus. There are three disused tracks that come in at right angles to the main platform. One of those will be perfect as a way in to the plant."

"Good man! Do you know how to get to them? We need to move very fast!"

"I do, commander. We can take a shuttle train down to the lowest industrial levels, then there are some maintenance buggies that we can requisition to follow the old Zip train line, which, as far as I know, is still intact. No reason why it shouldn't be. That should bring us out at the power plant within a couple of hours."

"Hm...well, you heard what he said. We'll need to be bloody quick! I'll see you in the operations room in about five. Get moving with the equipment. Let's go!"

"Yes commander. I'm onto it."

*

In the military command centre, as everywhere across Alpha, they have watched Ming in horrified silence. As his image fades, they look at each other blankly.

Metellin has a bitter grimace on his face. "Well, sir...you have to admit...he does have a point...up to a point."

Waziri, enraged, is sticking his long index finger into his commander's face. "Don't you get smart with me...you... jumped up corporal! Has your team got past the wrecked train yet?"

"Not sure sir. We lost them during the power outage. Still trying to re-establish contact."

"But we have to get through! You heard what that maniac said."

"Yes, that's true sir. I'm going to go down there myself...take my best men from my own regiment. I think we might have to hit them with some heavy artillery, as you said. There'll be damage, or course, but that can be repaired. We should be able to avoid the main installation. Ming and his men will be in the administration block. Anyway, I can't believe he'll be able to carry out his threat. I mean, who in their right mind is going to carry out those orders? The Gravitron probably has built-in safeguards to prevent just that sort of accident. It won't be as easy as he thinks."

"Hm...you seem very relaxed about the whole thing, Metellin."

"No, Sir, not relaxed. Like I said, I'm going to go down there and take charge myself, with an overwhelming force. I'm just saying we don't need to panic quite as much as he obviously wants us to. There's also a chance one of his own people will take him out. I can't believe they all share his desire for annihilation. He's clearly insane. Actually sir, there's something I wanted to discuss with you, if you don't mind."

"Well?"

"In private. Would you mind...?" He motions for his Executive President to follow him.

Metellin leads him into a small ante-room, just down the corridor from the main command centre. Closing the door gently behind them both, he takes a power blade from a side pocket in his fatigues, and turns to his leader.

"Actually sir, I wanted to tell you that you've been a complete disaster as a leader. You're vicious, cruel and bloodthirsty, and you're not even a good administrator. Worst of all, you haven't protected us from this internal threat that we're facing now. You're an arrogant bully sir; and though Ming may be mad, a lot of what he said does apply to you. So, for all of these reasons, Sir, I've decided to do this..." and he slides the blade steadily into Waziri's abdomen. As he bends forward in agony, Metellin withdraws the blade, and, grasping his hair in one hand, carefully slices through Waziri's throat. The power blade cuts through the windpipe and arteries like butter. Blood pumps out of the badly severed neck at intervals of less than a second, as the ex-president slumps to the floor, to lie in a spreading pool of his own body fluids.

Grunting with satisfaction, the military commander leaves the room, closing the door again behind him, and returns to the main control room. Taking out his hand maser, and banging the butt loudly on a counter top, he addresses the room.

"Gentlemen," he looks around carefully, "and ladies. I have an announcement to make." He smiles gently. "Our esteemed Executive President is not felling...very well. I will be in charge from now on. I hope...none of you has a problem with that?" He pauses, again looking around, then nods. "Good. Now...since our counter-attack seems to have got bogged down, or worse...we haven't heard from them since the power was cut, I'm going to take a large force from my own regiment, and also some heavy-duty hardware, that will easily clear the track. Obviously we need to re-take the facility as soon as possible, and get rid of this...lunatic, who is threatening us all; and I will do that, rest assured on that score. Alright...Ludovic, you're in charge here. I will be in continuous contact with you. If the power goes out again, don't panic – my group will press on, take the power plant, then supply will be restored. So...just wait patiently. OK? Everybody stay calm. This will be resolved successfully, I promise you."

With one last look of encouragement towards his officers, Military Commander Metellin turns on his heel and leaves the room.

### CHAPTER 30

Borg and his team had just returned to the power plant's control room, when Ming began his broadcast, from one of the row of consoles in the middle of the room. He stands, expressionless, with Helen beside him, listening to Ming's slow, deliberate words. At the end, Ming looks up at him, a faraway expression in his eyes.

"Borg! What's the situation on the Zip Train?"

He nods briefly. "The line is well and truly blocked. There was an attack group that arrived on the far side of the wreck. They were giving us some grief, so we hit them with gas canisters, and they...well, they backed off. Haven't heard from them since."

Helen's voice is quiet and low. "Why did you say all those things in your...broadcast?"

Ming regards her quizzically. "Things?"

"Yes...that we are a....evil...thing in the universe...and we must...destroy ourselves."

"Because we are, and it's true, we must."

"But you said...when you came here...that you would give us freedom...we could eventually live higher up...take our place...with everyone else. You would give us a better life...that's why..."

Ming holds up one hand. "Helen, please. That was true at the time." He makes an expansive gesture around the room. "Did I not bring you order and comfort, in a way that you never had before I came here?"

"Well, yes...you did...but..."

"And have I not moulded you into a fighting force that has successfully taken this power plant, such that we are now the supreme authority on Alpha?"

"Yes, you have, but..."

"Helen...nothing lasts forever. You must know that? The time has come now when the universe must be saved from humankind. Surely you can see that is true? You who were created by their greed for slaves, who suffered under their cruelty, who decided to escape and risk death, rather than continue to live under their regime... surely you can see the evil that lives within people. It will be the same on the new world...the same tragedy, played out yet again...you must see that we have to prevent that!"

"Ming!" Borg is loud and gruff, in a way he has never been before.

Patiently Ming turns to his lieutenant. "Yes, Borg."

"You're going to kill us all?"

"Yes."

"You're going to kill Helen?" He places one protective arm around her shoulders.

"Yes, Borg...everyone, all of us, myself included...it will be a glorious cleansing."

"No!"

Ming looks at the bearded clone sharply.

"You shall not kill Helen!"

"Well, Borg..."

"Helen is my woman. I love her! You shall not kill her!" He slowly raises the maser carbine he still holds in his right hand.

"Now...wait a minute Borg..." Ming is looking desperately round the room; lights on Mahmud, tries to signal him with his eyes, indicating Borg...

Borg's voice is matter of fact, now. "Nobody kills Helen." The maser is pointing at Ming's chest, as he sits on the chair, still before the console. Mahmud's face is confused, uncertain. He opens his mouth to scream something at Borg... but fingers have squeezed the trigger, and a massive bolt of energy slams into Ming's body, incinerating it instantly.

Too late, across the room, Tex raises his weapon and fires at Borg, who crumples to the ground, his body jerking and twitching violently.

There is a deathly hush, then, in an instant, the whole room is in motion, as men scream, run to examine Ming, Borg, shout accusations, obscenities, warnings, incoherent mutterings, shake each other, glance fearfully at the door, argue with each other, threaten Helen, and generally lose control; headless chickens chasing each other round a slaughterhouse floor.

Helen is crouching over the now still body of Borg, her fingers on either side of his face, talking to him quietly, whispering, kissing him, burying her face in his motionless chest, great howls of grief breaking from her, her body wracked with sobbing... till finally she lies inert beside him, one arm across his chest, holding him close in a final farewell, still trying to protect him...her love...forever.

*

Rhonda, Li and their team creep forward towards the low end-wall of the tunnel. Very slowly she raises her head above the parapet, and surveys the platform opposite. Dead troopers lie scattered where they fell... asphyxiated, masered, or bodies emasculated by high velocity projectiles, all evidence of the fierce assault that must have been launched from this very tunnel, she reflects. She can see no movement anywhere. Silently, she indicates they should follow her, as she slithers over the wall, and heads for cover under the platform some twenty metres away. Still no sign of any activity.

Hoisting themselves up onto the smooth concrete surface of the terminal, they run crouching to either side of the main door. Inside, faint noises can be heard, yelling, doors banging, voices raised in anger. Rhonda catches Li's eye, and indicates they should wait. They listen carefully, as the noises appear to abate, moving away in the other direction, perhaps. When all is still, she carefully opens the main door, and they move through into the lobby. A dead female trooper lies curled up in a ball, to the left of the door, her short cropped blonde hair just visible under her combat helmet. Further on, at the base of the steps that lead up to the main control room, a man in dirty jeans and a loud Hawaiian shirt has suffered horrible head injuries, from some large blunt instrument, one side of his skull caved in under the impact. Moving up the steps, they approach the swing doors at the top.

A low keening wail can just be heard from inside the room. Suddenly it ceases, as if the source of it has heard their arrival, and is listening, waiting. Li taps Rhonda on the shoulder, then as one of his commandos flings the door open, he rolls in, low to the floor and takes cover behind one of the consoles. The rest follow, weapons at the ready.

Rhonda peers warily from behind a cabinet, and sees a young girl curled up beside the body of a large bearded man, who lies on his back, motionless. She is raised up on one elbow, looking at them through puffy, tear-stained eyes. She appears to have no fear of them.

"You can come out," she says in a deadpan voice. "They've all gone."

"Where's Ming?" Rhonda snaps at the girl, who raises one languid arm and points to a chair on the other side of the row of consoles.

Rhonda looks, and sees the remains of Ming, head and arms hanging backwards over the office chair he still sits in, his abdomen a mess of burnt flesh, lending a foul smell to the whole room.

She rises and advances towards the girl. "Where are the others? What happened here?" The rest of the team are checking the room.

Helen half sits up, one hand stroking the man's chest, looking at him, smiling faintly, as if he might awake from sleep at any moment. "He wanted to kill us all...so Borg, my beautiful Borg...killed him, then..." she cannot finish.

Rhonda is squatting down next to her, one hand on her shoulder. "What's your name?"

"Helen."

"Helen I need to ask you something. Do you know two men called Hector, and Aldo."

The girl looks into her face suddenly. "Yes, they were here."

"Where are they now, Helen?"

"Ming had them locked in the storeroom, downstairs."

"Can you show me? You see, we're friends of theirs. I need to find them."

Helen's face suddenly lights up with interest, as if coming back from the dead. "Then you must be..."

Rhonda nods gently. "Yes, we're here to help you. Can you show me where this storeroom is?"

The girl leans over the corpse, kisses him once on the cheek, whispering something too low to hear, then rises to her feet. She is dressed in overalls far too big for her, trousers rolled up, a red top showing under the shoulder straps. She is petite, and the older woman can see why the dead man might have loved her.

"Come with me."

Rhonda signals for Li and the others to follow her down the steps. At the bottom, they turn right, and soon Helen is standing outside a sturdy looking door.

"In there."

Li hammers on the door, which raises a confused hubbub of voices shouting back. The door is securely locked.

"Stand back from the door," he yells. "I'm going to blast it!"

They can hear them retreating from the door, as Li raises his weapon, and fries the mechanism on the door. It swings open, smoking. He uses the voice amplifier in his helmet. "Stand against the far wall with your hands raised, all of you!"

The team enters and examines the ten prisoners in the room, as they stand in line.

Recognising him from his security file, Rhonda addresses the tall man with the long black hair. "Hector, I'm Rhonda Meister. We spoke on the communicator." The man steps towards her. He looks haggard and exhausted.

"Water. Give me water."

One of the commandos takes a bottle from his pack, hands it to the man, who drinks greedily. A man with cropped blonde hair has joined him, his filthy overalls hanging loosely from him. "This is Aldo, my friend...here," and Hector hands the other the bottle. He too drinks thirstily.

Rhonda is examining them with interest. "Who are these others?" Indicating the row of men and women shuffling against the wall.

"Technicians, staff from the plant." Hector looks at the woman in combat gear. "What's happened? Where's Ming?"

She makes a gesture. "Dead, thank the Cosmos. He wanted to make an end of us all."

"What?"

Li's men are searching the prisoners.

"He made a broadcast...told us humanity was a cancer on the face of the universe, that couldn't be allowed to spread to another star system. He was going to overload the Gravitron...suck us all into oblivion."

Hector is looking at her, striving to understand. He puts an arm around Aldo. "Where are his men?"

"Gone, as far as we know." She turns to Li. "Take all except two men, and search the rest of the complex. We need to know it's secured." He nods, and departs, taking most of the commandos with him.

She reaches for her maser hand pistol. "You people...go to the toilets, use the facilities, then I want you all back up in the control room. You have 5 minutes." They mutter gratefully, and head for the door.

She turns back to Hector. "There was a girl, Helen. Showed us where you were."

Hector tries to smile. "Yes...Helen. Where is she?"

Rhonda looks around. "She was here. Might have gone back up to the control room. Her man is dead."

"Borg?"

"I don't know; tall, big beard. He's the one who killed Ming, apparently."

Hector looks again at Aldo. "I knew him; a good man; very...loved his woman. We need food."

Rhonda is in a hurry. "Yes, I'll get you some. Right now we need to go back to the control room, and secure that. I have more troops on the way, but we may have company before they get here." She calls over her shoulder. "You two, go to the toilet, I'll meet you back upstairs." And she is gone, accompanied by the two remaining commandos.

Five minutes later, Hector and Aldo enter the control centre, where the two troopers are in the process of trying to lift Ming's enormously heavy body out of the chair, to put it somewhere, out of the way. Rhonda is having an argument with Helen about doing the same for Borg.

There is a deafening explosion somewhere below them, followed by shouting, and the sounds of many boots running up the stairs behind them. Rhonda dives behind a cabinet, the two commandos shelter behind the row of consoles, Helen remains frozen where she is, and Hector and Aldo are moving towards the far side of the large room, when Metellin, in full combat gear, bursts through the swing doors. He covers the room with a vicious looking automatic weapon, raised to fire, followed closely by a large contingent of veterans from the first Alpha Fusiliers, who do the same. Two of them move towards Hector and Aldo, and force them face down onto the floor, arms and legs spread wide, while another does the same with Helen. Meanwhile, the rest of the veterans fan out across the room.

Rhonda's voice cracks out. "Don't fire, boys. Weapons down." They do as she says, and she, and the two commandos emerge, unarmed.

She is flushed and breathless. "Thank heavens you're here, Metellin. I thought it might've been Ming's men coming back."

He is stony-faced under his helmet. "What are you doing here? All military operations come under my command. You know that! How dare you operate independently? How many of you are there?" He advances on the three of them. "Cuff them," he orders his men. They do so. He orders a party of his men to search the whole complex and secure it.

"Wait!" Rhonda shouts across the room.

The commander of all armed forces on Alpha looks across at her. "What is it?"

She and the others have been bundled into chairs, their helmets removed, while some of the fusiliers cover them with their weapons.

Rhonda looks hard at her adversary. "Listen to me, Metellin. I have other troops in this complex, and a lot more on the way. You need to think about whether you want to turn this into a bloodbath, with no certainty as to the outcome, or whether there's another way out of this." She is breathing hard. "What's the situation up top? Are you here on behalf of Waziri?"

Metellin removes his own helmet, and rubs his face with relief. His lips twitch humorously. "Actually Waziri is no longer in charge." He looks at Rhonda thoughtfully. "I am."

"I see." She pauses. "What happened to Waziri?"

"I got tired of his overbearing, arrogant attitude. I killed him," he says simply.

Rhonda looks across at Hector, in a nearby chair, his hands also cuffed behind his back. "Well, I can't say I'm sorry. The man was a monster."

Metellin nods. "He was, but what interests me, Rhonda, is your role here. You've always been a bit of a wild card when it comes to loyalty. Tell me about your independent little raid you've mounted on this facility. And what's your relationship with these two gentlemen?" He indicates Aldo and Hector with his weapon.

Hector sits up suddenly, and his guards raise their masers warily. "Let me talk to him Rhonda." He looks at Metellin out of weary, almost despairing eyes. "I'm Hector Illyich, of the Alpha Repertory Theatre, also deeply involved in the resistance movement against your illegal government." Metellin raises his eyebrows slightly, but says nothing. Hector turns to Rhonda. "I'm going to tell him everything, Rhonda. Do you agree?"

She nods once, then closes her eyes, listening.

Hector takes a deep breath, then looks up at the professional soldier. "You probably know we've been working for a change of government for some time now, ever since the present one started stripping away the last vestiges of democracy, and installed itself as a permanent source of authority and power, to the exclusion of all others. Well, after the blast at the theatre, we went underground, and many of our colleagues who didn't escape in time, were rounded up and disappeared. You'd know all about that, I'm sure!" Metellin doesn't waver under Hector's acid stare, only waiting patiently for him to continue. "Well, Rhonda contacted us, and said that both she and Mira could no longer countenance Waziri's excesses, his complete disregard for all human rights and dignity, in fact... his emergence as a bloodthirsty dictator. They wanted to join forces with us, so that together we could try to bring about a change of government; hopefully without a great loss of life, as happened previously." There is barely a sound in the room. Everyone seems frozen, listening intently.

"Well, after the outrage at the theatre...by the way," Hector looks up at Metellin. "I presume that Waziri and...perhaps even yourself were behind that?" The other makes no sign. "Well, after the attack, and the...reign of terror which followed, I realized that we had to move fast, or pretty soon we'd all be dead. But we had no armed force, to speak of... so I came up with the idea of contracting Ming and his group to mount a raid on this power plant for us...after which...he would hand it over to us, in return for various things..." He can see Metellin's lips curling ironically, but ignores it. Well, we can all see what happened next. One of Ming's own killed him, and here we are. And the question is..." Now he looks hard at his adversary. "Are you going to continue on in the same vein as Waziri, wiping out all opposition, trampling on our great democratic tradition, or are you going to have the insight...the foresight...the wisdom... to stop the killing, to allow our constitutional processes to take over, in order to establish a government for the people, chosen by the people?" He has come to an end, and simply looks at the other enquiringly.

Metellin, standing tall, with his feet apart, still cradling his heavy duty automatic, grunts once, strokes his chin, pondering. "Tell me something, Hector Illyich. Do you have Roland Petrovski in your little hide away, where ever it is? Is he one of yours too?"

Hector and Rhonda exchange glances. She nods at him once again, and he replies, "Yes, he's with us. Why?"

Metellin grunts. "Hm. Always thought he was a good operator, if a little too soft."

Rhonda, who has been apparently oblivious to the proceedings, eyes closed most of the time, rouses herself. "Metellin. Did you see the broadcast that Ming made?"

"Yes, of course."

"Do you remember what he said about how this place was run? Why he thought we weren't fit to begin to populate a new star system?" Metellin remains silent. "Well, you have to admit he had a point...up to a point. What we need to decide...perhaps what you need to decide, is whether he was right? - Are we going to keep on killing each other... deciding who rules us by the power of the gun? Or can we rise above that, and find a better way? It really is that simple, you know. Are we going to make his prophecy come true, or are we going to prove him wrong? What do you think? Are you going to be another Waziri, until someone has had enough of you...or is there a better way to move this forward?"

"Hm..." He lays his gun down, and sinks into a chair in front of the row of prisoners. He eyes Rhonda and Hector sardonically. "So what would your plan be, supposing that I did agree to your proposal? Would we go back to endless minority governments, constantly collapsing and reforming, as alliances between different parties shift with the wind?"

Rhonda looks at Hector. He nods, accepting the challenge. "Well, we would have to form a provisional government, until elections could be held. I also think we should form a commission tasked with examining our constitution, in particular the voting system, in order to come up with a mechanism that is going to produce a government which is stable, and able to govern effectively. I agree with you that this has been a problem in the past, so we need to look at it, and see what changes need to be made to address it."

Metellin nods slowly. "And this provisional government – what form would that take?"

Hector leans forward, looking intently at the military commander. "I suggest initially a small group of people, backed up by advice from Mira. We'd maintain the present ministers in place, until the election, to run their departments, and keep the government working, but they, and also yourself, as commander of all military forces, would take an oath of allegiance to the new government, and in particular to follow the directives of the ruling council."

"And the members of this 'Ruling council'? I think I might be able to support you, if Roland Petrovski were part of it. I have a lot of respect for him, and his judgement."

"Yes, absolutely. I think we all feel that way about Roland. What do you think, Rhonda?"

She nods enthusiastically. "Yes, he has the experience, the know-how, and most of all, he has the respect of all parties, I believe. He is the one person who could draw all the threads together, and allow people to have faith in the new government. After the election, the winning party would elect its own leader, who would become chairman of the ruling council, but till then, we should follow his lead, and his advice."

Hector stretches his back, painfully. "Metellin, while we're talking, do you think you could remove the cuffs? It's hard to discuss these things, trussed up as we are like this."

The commander regards him humorously, and for one awful moment, Aldo wonders if perhaps his apparent acceptance of their proposal is all a sham, and he is really about to execute them ruthlessly. But Metellin nods to one of his officers, who activates the release mechanism on the cuffs of all six prisoners. They bring their hands forward in relief, rubbing their bruised wrists thankfully.

The army chief is still interested in the details of the proposal. "Clearly you don't see a place for me on your ruling council."

Hector draws his hands through his hair, then rubs the back of his neck to ease the pain there. "Two reasons why I believe that would be a bad idea – first, Waziri's regime was clearly kept in power by your military. This needs to be a new start. It will be a civilian government, and not controlled by the armed forces, or other security agencies. Secondly, you yourself are very closely identified with Waziri, and his rule. Our new council needs to be seen as a break from what went before. I'm sorry to say, Metellin, that your presence on the council would taint it, through your close association with Waziri. Many would believe that you were still in charge, calling the shots."

"Hm..." he nods again, slowly. "And since you're being so honest - what of my own personal situation? Would your council arrest me for murder? For crimes committed under the previous government?"

Rhonda and Hector exchange worried glances. Then Hector leans forward, placing his hands together, fingers outstretched. "I can't speak for others, Metellin... but my feeling is that, first of all, we need you, to order the armed forces, and also the Ministry of the Interior security service, to cease all hostile operations, and to bring them in under the authority of the new government. You are the only person who has the authority to do that. Without you, fighting and bloodshed may continue indefinitely. Secondly, I believe that in spite of everything, regardless of who has been lost, killed, executed... we have to make a new start... we have to find the strength to put all that behind us. If we initiate a witch hunt to track down everyone involved in the killings and the terror, from yourself downwards, then the hostility and the strife will simply continue, in an endless cycle. We have to draw a line in the sand, and say: "Enough! No more." And that is going to entail some forgiveness on the part of families and friends of the victims of the terror." He looks at the other through eyes glistening with intensity. "Do you... understand what I'm saying?"

Metellin nods pensively. "I do, and I think we can reach an agreement here. There will need to be further detailed meetings, where what we've discussed is written down in the form of a binding agreement, which all parties sign – but if you can agree to that, I believe I can carry the armed forces, and the MISS with me, such that we can achieve a peaceful transition to a provisional civilian government." He looks up with a thin smile on his face. "To be honest with you, I wasn't looking forward to running the show myself. I much prefer to stick to military matters, rather than trying to run a government by myself. I think that would be a very lonely job."

Hector smiles wearily back at him. "Yes, I guess that's why people have councils and cabinets, and shared responsibilities. Nobody has the wisdom and the good judgement to do all that on their own."

Rhonda rises from her seat and turns to Metellin. "Let me go and find my commando team. The last thing we need is them bursting in here, and starting the shooting all over again."

Metellin nods. "Now let's get these bodies out of here! They're really starting to stink."

At first, Helen stares unmoving, as two of Metellin's veterans start to drag Borg's body towards the steps, but then she rouses herself and takes charge, fussing over them, ordering them to be gentle. She hopes desperately that her new friends will be able to help her to organize a decent ceremony, at one of the crematoria she knows to be up top, where full citizens are able to farewell their loved ones.

*

Aldo is slightly ahead of Hector, so it is he who finds the first body. They look down in horror at the remains of the teenage boy, his chest ripped apart by high velocity projectiles, his skinny ankles showing grey and discoloured in the gap between his jeans and runners. He has been dead for a week, and the stench is overpowering.

Aldo says nothing, only looks at Hector out of anguished eyes; then he is running headlong towards the main section of the refuge, which lies up ahead, screaming the names of his wife and child as he goes.

Hector follows at a more measured pace, stepping carefully over the cadavers, many of them swarming with flies and other insects. He makes for one of the store rooms and removes two gas masks, with built in air supply. He places one over his own face.

Going directly to Maria's room, he stops in the doorway, and stands looking at the bloodstained stinking bed; the sheets singed, the wall seared by the maser blast, the cockroaches feasting on the remains of the gore.

Inside the mask his eyes close. He knew already. He remembers back to the room in Ming's camp, where she had come to him, had brushed his consciousness with her tender touch, a last farewell to the man she truly loved. Yes, he had known.

His eyes open, if only to try to shut out the flood of memories, the thousand recalled sensations, words, smiles, touches, embraces, looks... their love had been brief in time, but so deep and true, he knows that had she lived, they would have cared for each other till they were old, and beyond.

He moves slowly on, room by room, observing the mangled, putrifying bodies, the personal belongings strewn across floors, the blatant vandalism of the attackers, as if they had been possessed by a desire to destroy everything they found, not just the living breath of the residents, but all of their goods and belongings as well. Was this the only way they could bring themselves to commit this atrocity, to be overcome by a wild madness that wasted everything in its path?

Coming across Aldo in the main lounge room, he hands the other mask to him. "Here, put this on. It'll help to protect you from disease. The corpses and flies must be crawling with infection."

Aldo looks at the device, then at Hector as if he does not understand what the other has said. He is sweating from running, and his eyes look half-crazed.

"All dead. Gone...."

Hector puts one arm around his friend, then both, as Aldo's head rests against his shoulder.

He holds him close for a while. "Have you found them?"

Aldo's head shakes briefly. "Maria? Is she...?"

Hector's mask is close against the other's ear. "I haven't found the body yet, but I'm sure that she's... gone."

"Gone?"

Hector grips him hard. "She's dead, Aldo. I know. But... "

"What?"

"You haven't found any trace of... Charlene, Lola?"

Again, the shake of the head. "Do you think...maybe...?"

"I don't know... it's possible..."

Suddenly Aldo straightens, pushes Hector to one side, as he makes for one of the low tables amongst the armchairs and sofas. Kneeling down on the carpet, he reaches out and grasps something in both hands, holding it up, examining it.

Hector turns. "What is it?"

Aldo ignores him, as he carefully opens the tiny gold locket and removes a small piece of paper. It is wrapped very tight and small. He unfolds it.

Hector is beside him now. "What is it? What does it say?"

With shaking hands, and a face glowing with excitement, Aldo turns to him. "It's from her. Charlene. They're alive."

"Show me!" Hector almost snatches the tiny piece of paper from him. On it, he reads:

"My Darling! This is to tell you that we have survived. Lola and I were away when the attack came, and Roland and Gudrun managed to hide. We are living in a new refuge. See map below. I hope you find this, and come to us soon, my love. Please come!" There are tiny kisses and hearts covering the remaining space, and a detailed map, showing their location.

Aldo and Hector look at each other in wonder. Together they stand, and make for the door, Aldo grasping the locket, and the precious note in his hand.

*

When Perdita first starts to bark, Charlene and Gudrun look at each other in horror. Should they run? Should they hide? They have identified an air duct that might serve as a bolt hole, should the troops return; but where is Lola? Where is she?

Before they can stop her, the dog has run between their feet, out the room, and down the passage-way, barking as loud as she can. Three minutes later they have still not located Lola, but Perdita is back, in Hector's arms, licking his face avidly, and suddenly Aldo is there in front of Charlene.

She looks up at him, holds out a hand to his face, strokes it with trembling fingers, as if afraid he is an apparition, and may vanish at any moment. He grasps her hand, and draws her to him, slowly, and she is in his arms at last, and he is real, no dream, no phantasm, as she clings to him, feeling his heart beating fast inside him, as she sobs out her joy against his chest, and can only moan between sobs, and then take hold of his dear face, and look at him. Tears are pouring down his cheeks too, and she kisses them gently, tasting the salt of them, kissing his eyes, the side of his nose, his mouth.

Hector is hugging Gudrun, who is trying to tell him something about Maria, and he is nodding and trying to tell her that he knows.

Someone rushes past them and launches themselves at Charlene and Aldo. "Daddy!" and Lola is climbing up her father's leg, trying to join the embrace. The parents separate, and bring her in, and she can smell her father's sweat, as her mother and father both kiss her, but why are they both crying...?

Some minutes later, as they sit around the table, Gudrun is making tea, Charlene and Lola are both snuggled up to Aldo, and Hector is beaming at them, basking in the reflected glow of their happiness.

Gudrun pours hot water into the mugs. "So tell us Hector... what's happened? We've heard nothing here. Did you find Ming? Roland told us about your mission before he left."

"Roland's gone? Where?"

"He went to find his woman. There was no answer on the communicator. He was determined to try to find out what had happened to her." She places a steaming cup in front of him. "But come on...tell us your news!"

Aldo has one arm around Charlene, and Lola on his knee. "Ming is dead. Waziri is dead. Hector and Rhonda convinced Metellin to stop the fighting, stop the killing. The emergency is over. We can go back home."

Charlene is gazing at her husband, then at Hector. "How? But... that's incredible. Is it really true?"

Hector nods slowly. "We've been to government house. We've drawn up written agreements with Metellin. He's ordered all defence and security forces to cease operations. He's agreed that we will form an Interim Government of Unity, to keep the wheels turning, until elections can be held, and a parliament elected, which will determine the composition of the future government."

Gudrun has sat down, staring at him. "But... how can that be? He was the one that plotted the coup with Waziri...wasn't he? He was the one who organized all the terror...the disappearances and killings. He would've been behind the attack we suffered here. Did you see? How can you...work with him?"

"I know it seems strange...bizarre even. Apparently it was him who killed Waziri. Got sick of being ordered around by him."

Charlene too is gazing hard at Hector. "So he killed him... and this is the man you're going to form a government with?"

"No. He won't be part of it. He doesn't want to be in government. I think that's part of the reason why he agreed to our...suggestion. He doesn't want to rule, or even be part of a group that rules." He takes a deep breath, places his hands around the hot mug, feeling the burning sensation in his fingers. "I suppose the taste he had of it, with Waziri, even though Waziri was the one in charge, convinced him that he didn't want to go down that path any more. I mean... after he killed Waziri, he was in charge. He could have taken over. No one would have challenged him... but it was almost as if... he was glad to find a way out."

Charlene is frowning... trying to comprehend. "The man's a butcher! He killed so many... so many of us... Maria... and now, you've done a deal with him?" She shakes her head in wonder.

Hector is looking at Charlene and Aldo and Lola with an infinite sadness, as if all the cares of state had already descended on his shoulders, and he is even now mourning for all the compromised decisions he will have to take as a governor of this rumbling, tumbling ball of cantankerous humanity.

"I know it seems strange... it does to me too... but then I think – if this is our chance to stop this endless cycle of hatred and violence – if this is our one opportunity to do that – then why wouldn't we take it? It seemed to me that Metellin was the one man who could carry the defence forces, and the other security services, the one person with the authority to broker a deal with us, which would be respected, and have a chance of holding."

There is a silence, then Gudrun says in a quiet voice, "How did Ming die? What happened?"

Hector turns to her. "Did you see his broadcast? Or was that after the...attack?" Gudrun shakes her head slowly. "Well, when he had control of the power station, he decided he wasn't going to hand it over to us, but was going to do his own thing... and that thing was... that he was going to annihilate Alpha, by overloading the black hole Gravitron, so that the whole of Alpha would be sucked in, and disappear."

Charlene looks as if she is going to cry, as she says in a trembling voice, "Why would he do that?"

Aldo is looking fondly at his daughter, who is trying to follow proceedings. "Because he believed we are all evil. Having despoiled the earth and all its resources, he didn't want to let us loose on another planet. As far as he was concerned, we are a blight on the cosmos, that needs to be exterminated, for the good of...the universe."

"What's exterminated, Daddy?"

"It means to kill everybody, sweetheart."

"That man wanted to kill us all?"

"Yes. He did."

"But now he's dead, we're safe?"

Aldo strokes the back of her head, her back. "Yes, that's right, darling. We're safe now."

Gudrun is looking at Hector. "You still haven't told us what happened. How did he die?"

"Well, there was a man called Borg, a clone, actually. He was a loyal follower of Ming's, but he also had a woman there, Helen she's called; beautiful young clone girl. Anyway, when he heard that Ming wanted to kill everyone, including his Helen, he blasted him with his maser."

"Just before someone did the same to him," says Aldo thoughtfully.

Hector takes up the story again. "Then Rhonda and her commandos turned up. They freed us from the storeroom where Ming had us prisoner, along with the technicians. Then Metellin arrived, with a superior force. Rhonda decided not to resist him, thank God, and he took us and her prisoner."

Gudrun is shaking her head. "So how did you manage to convince him to give up his power, and hand everything over to you?"

"You know, the funny thing is that it wasn't really very hard. We talked about what Ming had thought of us, all of us, and whether he was right or not. If we were going to go on fighting forever, then it seemed as if perhaps he was right, and we don't deserve to have a chance on a new planet. I think that carried some weight with him, and then, as I said, he really didn't want the job of running the place, taking all the decisions that have to be made. In the end, he was glad to hand all that over to someone else."

Charlene is staring at the table top with wide eyes. "Maybe he was sick of all the killing, too. Perhaps he could see that he had to stop the... repression and the violence, and everyone living in fear all the time. Maybe he agreed with you that there had to be a better way?"

Aldo is smiling at her, rubbing the back of her neck gently.

Lola looks around the table, questioningly. "So does that mean that everything is alright now? Can we go home now?"

Hector reaches out a hand to her. "Yes, we can, but there's one thing that we need to do first." He catches Charlene's eye. "Did you..." He looks imploringly at her. "Where is... Maria ? "

"She's in the cold room. We hoped we could come back later and... farewell her properly."

"I'm glad you did that." He thinks a moment. "But we need help. And there are all the other... bodies too. Their families will want to have ceremonies for them at the crematorium."

Aldo has been listening carefully. "Why don't we go home first, then we can get some help... maybe from Rhonda's SS people... to clean up all the mess down there, and pick up the... remains. It's going to need a professional job... there's a real risk of disease there."

Hector nods. "Good idea. There's no point rushing back there now as we are." He squeezes Charlene's hand. "We'll make sure she gets a proper ceremony, where we can celebrate her life, and... say goodbye to her."

Aldo has stood up, and is holding Lola on his arm. "Yes, we'll go and find Aunty Maria a little bit later. First we're going to get you home, so you can be with all your toys, and sleep in your own bed again."

Lola grins, and hugs him round the neck. "Yes, Daddy. Let's go!"

Aldo turns to the others. "I was thinking. There is one thing that Metellin said. He wanted to see Roland back in the government. He was the one person from before that he respected and trusted, and so did everyone else, in his opinion. He was very clear about that. So.... do we know where he is?"

Gudrun shakes her head. "No, we haven't heard since he left, several days ago. Didn't you see him when you went back up there?" She turns to Hector.

"No, but Aldo's right. We do need to find him, so that he can help us... me and Rhonda, and a few others. Nobody has the experience that he has. He knows how everything works, with all the departments, and how we can make the relationship between the governing council and the bureaucracy work; and he's so good at ironing out difficulties, and smoothing ruffled feathers...We need him," he smiles at Charlene and Lola, "quite apart from the fact that he's your dad, and your grand dad!"

Charlene is standing now, too. "I wonder if he found his Leelah? His mystery woman in the woods?"

Aldo puts his free hand on her shoulder, and kisses her cheek tenderly. "Yes. Well, let's get back home, then we can go up there and find him. If the news was bad, he might need our help."

She kisses him sweetly on the lips. "You're such a good man. Thank you...for everything."

### CHAPTER 31

Roland allows himself to fall forward into the shallow water, then floats on the surface, looking downward. Minute silver-coloured fish dart away from him. He can see the sandy bottom, covered in tiny parallel corrugations, that stretch away into the aquamarine distance in front of him. To his left, a rock on the bottom is covered in green weed. As he swims closer, he can see that this is made up of millions of tiny silk-like strands, each one separate, but each connected to the others by even smaller filaments, the whole suspended in the water, giving it a miraculous, soft, intricate structure. Tendrils stretch out, streaming into the almost imperceptible current. A small crustacean scuttles away from him under the rock.

He lifts his head for a breath of air, then rolls over onto his back, arms and legs extended, looking back towards the beach. He can see the tiny bay, ringed by trees that come down to the sand. To his left, the trees peter out into bushes, tufty grass, then a rocky headland, lapped by the small waves. The other way, past a low cliff, he can see the sweep of the beach till it reaches the horizon, low sand hills covered in scrubby bushes visible behind it. A gentle breeze is moving across the surface of the water, cooling his face and chest.

So beautiful! Why did I never come here? Why did I spend all my time in the city, in offices and rooms and corridors, when all the while this was here? And how wonderful that the creators of Alpha were able to give us this... and Mira is able to maintain all the ecosystems, so that they thrive and develop, and grow together as a living organism... everything in perfect balance... this man-made planet, this jewel of environmental engineering...so perfectly formed...such a gift... and what have we done with it? Down in the depths...in the dark heart of darkness... we hide from each other...we plot and scheme against each other...we spy on, terrorise, capture, torture and murder each other...so that some may rule, and others be ruled, some have power, others hide in fear. What a sick, depraved species we are...what a shameful display...to have learned so little, in so long...and now to export the whole filthy mess to a new world... so we can start again...

Rolling over, he places his feet on the bottom, and wearily starts to walk back to the beach, watching the tiny bow wave his legs make as they push through the limpid water, his feet sinking slightly into the gritty sand.

Longing once again for extinction and peace, he remembers he still has a daughter, and a grand daughter... then feels shame at his narcissistic obsession with his own worries and states of mind. Walking slowly up the beach, he reaches the shade of the trees at the top, and sinks down onto the sand, legs crossed. Taking a few deep breaths, he settles himself, hands one on top of the other in his lap. Noting the slight rising and falling of his chest, the breath as it passes in and out of his nostrils, he becomes aware that his inhalations and exhalations are diminishing...smaller and gentler. Ignoring the endless racing chatter of his mind, he begins to repeat in a low monotone...

All the evil karma ever created by me since of old

On account of my beginningless greed, hatred and ignorance

Born of my conduct, speech and thought

I now confess openly and fully...

Three times, then stops.

The monkey in his head wants to keep on chattering, so he continues in a very low voice:

The many beings are numberless, I vow to save them.

Greed, hatred and ignorance arise endlessly, I vow to abandon them.

Dharma gates are countless, I vow to wake to them.

The Buddha's way is unsurpassed, I vow to embody it fully...

After three times, the monkey is a little subdued, a little quieter...though he knows it is far from beaten.

He breathes in loving kindness, breathes out...

May the being called I be well, happy and peaceful

Breathes in loving kindness, breathes out...

May he be free from anger and hatred...

May he be free from attachments...

May his heart be filled with loving kindness

With a deep love for all beings...

Gradually, he feels the metta permeating his consciousness, and his body, lifting him...raising him above the gross level of his selfish mind, and he begins to be aware of a tiny part of the joy and rapture of the Buddha. Gratefully, he allows the loving kindness to grow...until he cannot contain it within himself any longer...

May his loving thoughts reach out to all those around him...

To those that he loves...

To those that he knows...

To those that he does not know...

To all those that live on this place...

To all the other creatures that exist here...

And to all beings, where ever they may be in the universe...

May all beings be well, happy and peaceful...

May all beings be free from suffering...

He breathes in metta, and breathes out metta to all beings...in...out...in...out...

Gradually the grinding, torturous babble in his head is stilled, and his small mind expands outwards to a big mind, encompassing all beings... all space... all time... all states of mind... and finally... at last... he can experience the great black emptiness of the grief... that has been evading him... ever since his darling girl was killed, and his new love was taken from him. He embraces it...welcomes it home...makes friends with it...does not fear it.

*

He becomes aware of voices, in the distance, approaching. Something familiar there...piercing the void, jangling him back to reality with form, sensation, perception, consciousness of five skandas...suffering...but he cannot resist the call of memory, of loved ones...

The voices have stopped nearby... then talk quietly, whispering amongst themselves. It seems they have sat down in the sand, close by... waiting.

Eyes open... to sand, and gently lapping waves, and a blue-green expanse of water, haze on the near horizon...and he is standing up, moving on aching legs towards the small group sat on the beach to his left.

Charlene meets him halfway and wraps her arms around him, her head on his shoulder. He holds her tight, but looks beyond her to the group sitting on the sand. He can see Hector, Aldo, Lola and....?

"Oh Daddy! I'm so glad we found you. Are you alright? We've been so worried about you." She stands back, holding him at arms length, and examines him, his bare chest, slight paunch hanging over the top of his long, grey pants, smudged with sand, nearly dried out from his swim, his bare feet, ridiculously young face, dark bags under his eyes...

He smiles back at her, vaguely, as if from far away. "I'm alright. Just been spending some time...enjoying this lovely place..." He indicates the water, and the beach. "But who have you brought with you?" He lowers his voice, face clouded with confusion.

She hugs him again, says quietly, close to his ear, "We didn't want to shock you Dad. I know you've been to the cottage... and what you must've thought. But you see Rhonda, because she's your friend, arranged to have Leelah taken into custody, because she didn't want Waziri's death squads to get their hands on her. She did it to protect her. And now that the terror is all over... she's released her. We wanted to tell you first, but she... insisted on coming with us...wanted to come to you straight away." She can feel him trembling, then she is aware of great sobs shaking him, as he clings to her, like a child...weeping. Soon he sits down again on the sand, and she sits beside him, her arm around his shoulder, patting him tenderly.

The others are coming over. Aldo sits down on the other side from Charlene and puts an arm round him, smiling broadly. "Hello Dad. It's good to see you again."

Hector sits down on the sand close behind him, pats him affectionately on the back. "Hello old friend."

Lola settles down in front of her Mum, and looks up with unblinking eyes into her grandfather's face. She takes his hand, and holds it in both of her own, saying nothing.

Leelah arrives last, and slowly kneels down in the sand before him, not touching him, looking at him through her tears, long blond streaky hair hanging down on either side of her face. She starts to smile at him nervously, then wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, as she begins to cry again, uncertain what to do, how he will react.

Lola lets go of his hand, and looks from one to the other of them with interest.

He looks at the freckles on either side of her nose, her somewhat sharp, boney nose, the tears rolling down, her lips stretched back over her teeth... reaches out one hand to touch the side of her face... she moves towards the hand, kisses it gently.

"I thought you were gone..."

She nods, biting her lip. "I'm so sorry. I wanted to let you know, but they took me away so fast... locked me in a cell. There was so much confusion...I couldn't..."

He reaches out his other hand, holds her face in both, and draws her to him. "It's alright. I understand. Charlene told me. Rhonda did it for the best..." Kisses her softly on the lips, then she is in his arms, and Charlene and the others smile indulgently, and think that maybe they should move away, but Roland will have none of it, reaching out to encompass his family, his friends, holding them all close in his loving embrace....

*

Fingers move slowly over a touch pad on a swivel chair, and an image from the Eagle nebula appears on the wall screen. Three great pillars of star forming gas stand vertically next to each other, each one forming a bizarre ghostly shape, trillions of kilometres high. The closest one seems to sprout feet at its base, and a strangely animal shaped head at its summit, as young stars burn hot in its depths, shining through the green hue of hydrogen, sprinkled with the red of vast patches of sulphur, while a giant star somewhere behind the colossal stack gives a bright yellow sheen to the top of the beast, like the sun shining on clouds in some far distant earth-bound skyscape.

"What do you think of that, Mira?"

She contemplates the image for a moment. "Impressive. And only around 6,500 light years from our present position. Although my data bank tells me that the entire nebula has been affected by a nearby supernova detonation. However, images of that event will not reach us for quite some time, of course."

"Yes, we'll have to wait a little while to see that, I guess."

She resumes. "It's reassuring to know that new stars are being formed all the time. There's a lot of life left in this old universe yet. Even though it's expanding constantly, and everything is moving away from everything else, it's calculated to be a few billion years yet before things start to go the other way, and we begin the long march back towards a big crunch, or what scientists call, with wonderful understatement, 'a singularity'.

"Yes," Roland rubs his slightly stubbly chin. "I think I'm glad I don't have to worry about time in that sort of scale."

"But just imagine – if one could live and witness the whole history of the entire magnificent experiment – what a study it would be in space and time! What a show." She is silent for a while. "But you know, you should focus the telescope on Cassiopeia, and 31 Cas. As we slowly draw closer, you will be able to get some useful views of the star system; you might even start to get some images of the planet, as it rotates on our side of its orbit. Actually, there are some interesting high frequency wave emissions coming from that sector of the system, which you should probably investigate further, since we're planning to colonise that world. I'm not sure if they are formed by tension in the gravitational fields within the system, or... in some other way. It would be a good idea to look more closely at the phenomenon."

"Hm...I will Mira. I will." He sighs. "You're right. I need to think about the long-term future, now that the emergency seems to be over here; although we can't take anything for granted. Hector and Rhonda are doing well, so far. What's your assessment of the domestic situation?"

"I agree. Given what went before, they have achieved an extraordinary degree of stability. The bureaucracy within the departments is reacting well to their directives. The community seems to be responding enthusiastically to the prospect of elections in a year, and setting up an extraordinary range of political parties, which will field candidates in the poll. I think it was wise to maintain some minimal surveillance of the population. You need to be able to pick out and deal with individuals who have no intention of cooperating in the political process, and whose only aim is either criminal, or to achieve power through violent means.

"Yes, I think we learnt our lesson on that one. Democracy is a delicate flower, and it needs careful nurturing. Fungal infections and rogue insects have to be dealt with firmly."

"I like the progress the Constitutional Commission is making in drafting a new Constitution for Alpha. The position of head of state with a purely ceremonial, not an active role in the process, should suit you well. I know how you feel about day to day politics."

He can almost hear the warm ripple of laughter in her tone, although...surely not? She is still an artificial intelligence. Isn't she?

Roland sighs again, contentedly. This evening he will follow the much-loved path through the forest, to the cottage by the stream. Leelah will pour him a delicious fruit cocktail, and they will sit together in the gathering darkness, chatting idly, listening to the cicadas singing outside, wondering when the first croak of a frog might be heard. He will rest his head in her lap, close his eyes, and try not to think about all the sadness and the sorrow in the world, but rather focus on the loving kindness... try to start with his own mind. After all, you can never hope to change others, unless you first start with yourself.

Finis

