When Twilight Falls

By Gerard Whittaker

This is the oficial introdution for When Twilight Falls. Not the tiny blurb we are all given.

When the TeckSpire Company discovered Sayerass they found a world with a truly human population stuck in an eternal middle-ages. The planet had many more surprises in store, for the inhabitants pre-dated Humanity by a good million years. With all the knowledge of Terran science there was no way it could exist. That did not stop the Company from exploiting the local slave owning society.
Reginald Fairly was new from Earth, a junior executive on the fast track to success. He was a good man, but harboured a terrible secret that kept him awake all night in his own private nightmare. He had no compulsion about buying a young slave girl called Sara to help appease his inner demons, even if he had to pull her down into his own personal nightmare.
Sara would have to choose whether to trust the strange alien with sinister secrets or betray him. But to help him the innocent child would have to learn to lie, steal and kill.
With the knowledge of the mysterious planet’s existence leaking out, various factions converged, each with their own agenda. Some wanted to take it for themselves, some to strip-mine the world and enslave the survivors, and some to blow the obscenity from existence and make way for Terran racial supremacy. But the last faction only wanted to feed.
To save the world Reg would have to choose wisely. For in a world without good there was still plenty of evil, and no one was who they seemed to be. Could he trust the saintly Sister Maria of the Temple of Mercy? But even she had surprising talents and an agenda of her own. What about the doctor, a woman who hid her past, allegiance and even her very name, but she did have amazing power. Could he afford her help, and would the price be his soul? Did he have a choice? Or Geo Trace, an ex circus strongman and amateur archaeologist, searching for the astounding secrets that lay hidden for billions of years beneath Sayerssian soil.
Perhaps the secret to saving Sayerass lay in an almost forgotten cell in the capital’s sinister Citadel. Or in a cosmic junk yard halfway across known space waiting to be born. Or perhaps it lay in Sara’s courage and love.
Only one thing was certain, the tides of cosmic war were approaching the forgotten world, nothing could stop it and very little would survive the onslaught.
For when twilight falls on the longest night of the year, and the oldest ones emerge to feed, mankind shall become but a legend.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gerard Whittaker
• Release date: Aug 13, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452380742

Gerard Whittaker

Once I was a soldier, getting blown up a few times convinced me that a change of career might be a good idea.However, given some of the jobs I've done since, being shot in the chest could be preferable to being stabbed in the back. I'm happily married with my wife helping me proof read my books. I've studied military history, used most types of swords and medieval weapons. I spent a few years learning how to write and had my fair share of rejection slips. I'm still hoping to see my work in print. However, in the meantime, I want to share my worlds with the world at large. Perhaps someone might suggest ways to improve my writing. I've enjoyed writing "When Twilight Falls" intending to develop the story slowly with an ever increasing threat level. I've written about fourteen books so far, not all were completed. I was half way through a novel about an alien invasion with modern day US Airtforce taking on flying saucers. Then I saw a little film called Independence Day and sulked for a month. There are too many Sci-Fi books written for children in my opinion. So I'm trying to write for adults, if that includes a bit of sex then so be it. Heroes are just normal people in extraordinary circumstances. When they get the job done, they are still just your average Joe with all the weaknesses of you or I. For some reasons most of my worlds are not very nice, I suppose the good worlds don't need saving. So there is plenty of scope for temptation in many forms for the 'Heroes' to fall into. When you put yourself in their place, wouldn't you give in to temptation too? All the best to one and all. I wish you the best of luck in avoiding temptation. I've just uploaded a short novel called "The Streets of Bucharest". I'm still working on the full sized book and expect it to be online shortly. I'm sorry I screwed up not loading the full version. But I did give it for free to make up for my mistake. The Full version of The Streets of Bucharest is now online. It's only 40,000 words but I hope you will enjoy it. Just finished rewriting an old book of mine "The Bonds of Time". It was an experiment in erotic drama with a lot of BDSM thrown in. For anyone interested it also gives a short description of Aeden, a couple of years after the founding. It was not a very nice place when TIME was first being formed for self defense, and long before the Cosmic Guardians were even thought of to protect the Multiverse. Finished Isralla and now working on a sequel called Enryn, using a new slant, telling of a war from the Marines' point of view. I'm writing these with as little sex and as much action as the characters will let me. So if anything goes wrong, blame them! Date 13 December 2010 Thanks for the rating, for a writer who lives and works alone any kind of a pat on the back is very welcome. Sometimes I am intending to finish "Of Dusk and Dawn" in the New Year. But I admit to getting writer's block and being side tracked by Isralla and Enryn. I hope these books will keep you all amused till I can get back to D&D. A word of warning, I've finished a new book called "The Cloud Knights". A sort of cross between Biggles and Sharp, set in a crazy world you will not recognise. So if you like the idea of bi-planes versus airships, politics and treason, and a hero determined to rise from the ranks to become a Cloud Knight, fighting for freedom in a world where everything is for sale to those with the rank to claim it. Then you might like it! Currently working on a sequel called the Sky Knights, which will be big. And if that works I might round off the trilogy with the Star Knights. I also draw my own book covers using DAZ Studio which explains how I keep uploading new covers. Gerard Whittaker

Book preview

Introduction

When the TeckSpire Company discovered Sayerass they found a world with a truly human population stuck in an eternal middle-ages. The planet had many more surprises in store, for the inhabitants pre-dated Humanity by a good million years. With all the knowledge of Terran science there was no way it could exist. That did not stop the Company from exploiting the local slave owning society.

Reginald Fairly was new from Earth, a junior executive on the fast track to success. He was a good man, but harboured a terrible secret that kept him awake all night in his own private nightmare. He had no compulsion about buying a young slave girl called Sara to help appease his inner demons, even if he had to pull her down into his own personal nightmare. Sara would have to choose whether to trust the strange alien with sinister secrets or betray him. But to help him the innocent child would have to learn to lie, steal and kill.

With the knowledge of the mysterious planet’s existence leaking out, various factions converged, each with their own agenda. Some wanted to take it for themselves, some to strip-mine the world and enslave the survivors, and some to blow the obscenity from existence and make way for Terran racial supremacy. But the last faction only wanted to feed.

To save the world Reg would have to choose wisely. For in a world without good there was still plenty of evil, and no one was who they seemed to be. Could he trust the saintly Sister Maria of the Temple of Mercy? But even she had surprising talents and an agenda of her own. What about the doctor, a woman who hid her past, allegiance and even her very name, but she did have amazing power. Could he afford her help, and would the price be his soul? Did he have a choice? Or Geo Trace, an ex circus strongman and amateur archaeologist, searching for the astounding secrets that lay hidden for billions of years beneath Sayerssian soil.

Perhaps the secret to saving Sayerass lay in an almost forgotten cell in the capital’s sinister Citadel. Or in a cosmic junk yard halfway across known space waiting to be born. Or perhaps it lay in Sara’s courage and love.

Only one thing was certain, the tides of cosmic war were approaching the forgotten world, nothing could stop it and very little would survive the onslaught.

For when twilight falls on the longest night of the year, and the oldest ones emerge to feed, mankind shall become but a legend.

When Twilight Falls

By Gerard Whittaker

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 Gerard Whittaker

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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

Dedicated to

Giovanni Battista Belzoni

1778-1823

Strongman, showman and egyptologist.

The real Geo Trace

And also to Darius, Susan and their son James.

The finest, and most patent, friends a man could have.

Without who’s help this book would never have been finished.

When Twilight Falls

By

Gerard Whittaker

Prologue

Geo awoke with a splitting headache as the emergency alarms echoed through the cargo bay. His eyes cracked open slowly as his dazed mind started to function. He lay in a glassteel transport pod that was lit by a dozen flashing emergency lights. Slowly he became awake and aware that things were wrong.

Cryo pod, he mumbled trough cracked lips. I swore never again! Then again, I always do, till I run out of enough funds for a third class berth. As usual he could not remember booking his passage, the memories might return in a few days, or not at all. Loosing a few bits of his life every time he travelled from star to star was becoming to seem normal. He wondered if it affected everyone the same way, if so he had forgotten about it. An explosion wracked the ship, he slid about the pod in even greater confusion than usual. By now a Medic should be opening the cryo pod and administering the post sleep medication that would bring him back to feeling half alive instead of three quarters dead. But the cargo bay lights were still out, and what was worse the faint hum of the Hyper Drive could clearly be felt through the cryo pod's glassteel cover. Most starship captains had the view that the impoverished passengers, or living cargo, should not be awake while their ship was in transit. They were put out by the ship's medics while the ship was still planetside and only revived on landing. This discouraged the chances of the ship being pirated whilst in FTL, or, even worst, the first class passengers accidentally meeting the space-fareing bums.

We're still in FTL, he gasped in surprise. Then a further explosion echoed through the ship. What in all... He rolled over and grabbed the emergency release handle, pulling hard. Nothing happened, the catch was sealed shut.

Two more explosions hit the ship's hull, even the flashing emergency lights flickered for a few seconds before returning to normal.

His large hands gripped the emergency release catch and twisted with unnatural force, the handle snapped and the cover flipped open. He rolled free, brushing off the wires and tubes that clung to his naked body. Standing up he cracked muscles unused in weeks or months of enforced sleep. His body was tall, far beyond the average, and muscular in the extreme. He reached under the cryo pod to find the expected case, and dressed quickly in military pants and calf length boots, a lace up shirt, and padded jacket. He looked at the outfit in confusion, not remembering it, but then again there was a lot he didn't remember. A large knife on a belt of survival gear did bring back fond memories. The rucksack slipped onto his back without time to examine the contents.

About twenty more cryo pods were racked in the cargo bay, all still working, the occupants oblivious to the emergency that threatened the ship. He glanced at them but realised that it would take far too long to awaken the sleepers. The bay was full of mysterious crates and boxes, all secured with straps and netting, about a thousand tons of unimaginable wealth he guessed. A glowing panel on the bulkhead gave a diagram of the ship. This was just an external cargo module, hanging beneath the main ship.

More explosions shook the ship, and the Hyper Drive started to flicker. A voice bellowed through the comm system , Can’t reach our destination, taken too much damage. We’re slipping back into real space on my mark. So hold on tight, this is going to be rough!

The ship tremored as the FTL drive slipped back into reality. All was quite for a while until the attack resumed. The voice continued in hope and desperation, We’ve reached an habitable planet so all hands evacuate the ship, good luck to you all. Geo checked the glowing plan and ran towards the nearest life pod. Faint cries came from behind, he turned to see a couple of women dressed in ship suits racing after him. Come on, he cried Get to the pod!

They ran even faster as he reached the escape pod hatch. He opened the hatch just as an explosion wracked the corridor, the blast knocked him inside the pod as the outer hull started to crack and fall away into space. Soon the whine of rushing air disappearing into the void overcame all other concerns. He turned to see emergency bulkhead doors slamming shut to seal off the breach a few meters further up the corridor. The women slammed into the transparent hatch, sealed off from escape. Geo had only a second of regret, wondering if he knew either of them in his past life. Air was rushing from the damaged corridor, the pod’s hatch slammed shut automatically behind him and the pod blasted into space. He had a split second to wonder if the women would survive, or given the alternative, if they would want to. Whoever was attacking the ship would want to benefit from the endeavour, and that meant any survivors would have to prove they could earn the right to live. He dismissed them and turned to his own survival.

The escape pod was built for two, he crouched inside the globular craft, ratcheting the control seat as low as it would go, swinging his knees under the basic control station.

He glanced back to see the purple and yellow livery of the ship, and gasped in horror, TeckSpire! Why in all that's holy would I travel with them?

As the pod swung around Geo saw the attacker, an obsolete frigate about fifty years out of date. The flaking yellow and black camouflage of a bankrupt trading house adorned the hull, but no attempt had been made to re-paint her. That said pirate as clearly as a skull and cross bones pennant flying from the communications mast would have done. In reality he knew that most pirates worked undercover for the Galactic Companies who were carving up space. To the poor victims it hardly mattered who kidnapped them, they would still suffer the same fate.

Two fighters blasted from the pirate frigate’s small craft bay, noticed the escape pod, and set an intercept course. Geo took one look at them and pushed the pod’s drive to maximum burn. He set course for the planet that now took up a third of his view port. He had time to activate the sensors but could pick up nothing, nothing at all! That meant that either the planet was uninhabited or he was being jammed. He switched the sensors to infrared, but could barely pick up any heat signatures, if there were any cities down there they were either too small or primitive to show up on the sensors.

Slowly in ones and twos more escape pods fled the doomed freighter, only to run into yet more fighters that herded them back towards the frigate. Geo’s pod was the only one to escape the entanglement.

One of the fighters came swooping past, trying to scan the pod. Geo could recognise the basic modular parts, but the way they were assembled was none standard. It was as if the ship was thrown together from old parts. However she flew just fine. He dropped the pod below the fighter, and swerved to escape the second one. Soon they would tire of playing with him, it was only a matter of economics, was he worth the cost of capturing? Killing him would be much cheaper.

Unknown to Geo a bullet shaped ship swung around the world in low orbit and dove at the pirate vessel at full speed. A ring of lasers were wrapped around just behind the tiny bridge, each firing in turn in a never ending spiral of power. The pirate frigate scanned the scout ship with disdain, until receiving a dozen blasts across her flaking hull. The Captain ordered his men to hurry ransacking the merchant, while his gunners tried to target the small but agile scout ship. A couple of work pods set about breaking lose the cargo module and towing it back to the frigate. Anyone still onboard could say goodbye to liberty.

Geo was too busy dodging laser blasts of his own to notice the distant battle. One fighter scored a glancing blow on the pod’s re-entry armour and fried the AntiG drive, the tiny ship swung around in a corkscrew, totally out of control. It whizzed past the second fighter and dived towards the planet. Geo fought to control the crippled pod as it dived through the upper atmosphere, starting to leave a contrail of glowing ablative armour. The fighters flew past in curiosity, and decided that their work was done. The pod was crippled on re-entry and whoever was in it as good as dead. They swooped back towards the pirate frigate as it prepared to flee the system.

Tumbling at a thousand miles an hour the pod streaked ever lower, burning as bright as a star as it streaked across the sky. Geo fought for all he was worth to straighten up, barely missing the pinnacle of a high mountain range as the pod tumbled into the valley beyond. Down below the low cloud cover he blasted through a snowstorm as the pod at last straightened up. It was too little too late. The pod’s momentum was too great to stop, the emergency parachutes would be ripped to shreds in a split second. In desperation Geo saw a valley deeply filled with snow and gripped the controls even more tightly.

He guided the pod down below the tree line, until barely skimming the snow field. He was still going much too fast, streaking across the snow at only a few feet. Well, here goes, he gasped and punched the parachute release. The chute exploded from the pod and grabbed a gulp of air and snow, as safety foam was sprayed inside the pod, hardening in seconds to encase him from head to toe. From then on Geo was a passenger as the pod was gripped by an invisible and very angry god who proceeded to shake the very life from the pod and Geo. The pod’s interior was filled with foam that held Geo in an unbreakable grip as it hardened during the mad flight through a frozen forest on an alien world. The parachute survived a surprising five seconds, bringing the pod’s velocity down to merely hundreds of miles an hour, until it as torn to shreds of synthetic silk. The chute vanished far behind in rags as the pod did a great impression of a cannonball skipping across the snow, losing a few miles an hour each time it hit the snow and bounced back into the air.

The pod tore into the tree line, smashing through tree after tree, leaving a trail of destruction behind as the speed decreased. After ricocheting from tree to tree it slowly came to a stop, as a blizzard swept in from behind, covering even the trail of devastation that stretched for more that a mile.

The hatch swung open and Geo stumbled from the battered pod, as chunks of foam fell from his body. He glanced up at the ever increasing snow fall, and realised that the pod was useless as a shelter. Numb, weary, and bruised from head to toe he shouldered his survival pack and set off into the frozen forest of a nameless planet . Serves me right, he mumbled , that’s what you get travelling with TeckSpire!

To Agent in Charge Mission 5035012.

From Time HQ, Universe 001 Prime.

Department of Cosmic Guardians

Extract from mission briefing:

# twenty, of three hundred.

Recent history

In the early years of the twenty first century a complacent Earth was being drained by internal strife and impending climate change. Unfortunately everyone was too interested in their own little problems to see the big picture, that any species confined to a single habitat is doomed to extinction.

Astronomers had for years been detecting planets around other stars, but an artist's impression of a tiny flickering speck of light that could only be detected when it occulted its mother star did little to fire public imagination in space. There were too many organisations with an interest in keeping mankind at the centre of the universe, and had the racial arrogance to believe that the entire cosmos was there just to light Earth’s night sky. Even the existence of over three hundred Exo-planets could be brushed aside as of no importance.

Then NASA launched the Kepler probe and mankind began to feel awe for the first time in centuries. For the space telescope was designed to find Exo-planets by focusing on a section of the milky-way that held over a hundred thousand stars. During the three year mission it stared at the stars without blinking as world after world swung around stars by the untold thousands, and the number of known Exo-planets grew to mind blowing numbers.

The true nature of space was being revealed to the world, but they were still only specks of light on a chart. Then the Terrestrial Planet Finder mission was launched, and besides awe mankind began to feel greedy. The TPF mission was a series of four interlinked space telescopes trailing the Earth in deep space, but instead of having an objective mirror of a few meters like all previous space telescopes they were linked together so that the lens was in effect thousands of kilometres across and able to focus on known near by planets. For the first time mankind could see Exo-planets for real, and many were similar to Earth.

By the mid twenty-first century space born lasers were thrusting fleets of solar sail powered probes across space, at almost half the speed of light. The first results were returned after twenty years, showing worlds that could support human life.

The first manned mission was one way using every trick to keep the colonists alive and sane on the thirty year voyage. Unfortunately the lush virgin world they had expected had a slightly elliptical orbit that brought on mini ice ages every hundred years, and as the data was only travelling at the speed of light it was always twenty years out of date. So instead of finding the expected paradise they instead found a ball of ice.

What the colonists did not expect was to be rescued by the first of Earth's FTL ships that had been built during the flight. The outward trip had taken thirty years, the trip home took two months.

However the point had been made, mankind could reach for the stars and by the early twenty-second century fleets of company owned starships were starting to colonise near space. For two hundred years mankind reached out gingerly, grabbing whatever they keep it if need be. Governments, along with law and order were left back on Earth as companies struggled to make a profit. The UN did create the Alien Exploitation Bureau to help police the vastness of space but it was considered a joke, being always under funded and out gunned.

The drained Earth was slowly being renewed from the vastness of space, and many companies were now far richer and more powerful than the planetary government itself.

While most of the new worlds had yet to evolve intelligent life there were still hundreds of humanoid species living without the benefit of high technology. Their simple lives were soon shattered when a mercantile battle wagon made orbit and commanded them to kneel before Earth, or whichever company owned the ship. It was called Corporate Acquisition- not piracy. The locals could hardly tell the difference. But while many of the aliens were considered exotically beautiful they were alien enough to be forever sterile to the children of Earth. A fact not missed by the Humanocentric Factions on the home world, it was proof that Mankind was destined to rule the galaxy. For those who could not breed with man could never be considered truly Human.

So far no other space faring race had been encountered. Yet.

By the late twenty-fourth century mankind had reached nearly a tenth of the galaxy, but only colonised a few hundred light years around Earth. Then mankind grew tired and the expansion ground to a halt, there were hundreds of worlds still to explore near Earth. One of the final worlds discovered was called Sayerass, and despite having a truly human population and Terran animals it was almost overlooked in the vast amount of data sent back to Earth from across space. Mankind was not unique in the Universe. What should have been the greatest discovery of all time was lost in the paper work from a thousand worlds.

As the owner operator of the scout ship that had found Sayerass, TeckSpire Cooperation moved in and started to exploit the medieval world, without understanding that they stood on the greatest enigma in space.

Chapter one

Reg and Sara

Three tiny moons hung low over the horizon, dancing around each other in near geosynchronous orbits, their faint glows of orange, red and green were almost lost in the early spring dawn. The poly-chromatic light lit the highways and neatly kept farms that stretched from coast to coast across the primary continent of Sayerass. Castles clung to granite-topped hills, providing just enough security to protect the eternal status quo that kept the ruling families in power millennium after millennium. Across the planet raiding parties struck nightly at farms and villages, but there was none of the industrialised brutality common on more advanced worlds. Wars were waged by small bands of men armed with swords and spears, there had never been the need to use anything more deadly.

The bulky cart was pulled along the stone cobbled road by a six legged beast bigger than an African elephant, his hammerhead swung from side to side he ate up the miles through quaint little villages heading towards the city of Morganth. Sara sat between her parents, watching her father casually controlled the Zahtire, as her mother resolutely fought to avoid eye contact with any passing man. She was a Good woman, deserving of the respect of her peers; Shara wore the baggy dress of her kind, her hair pulled back in a severe style and hidden under a bonnet. Her face was decidedly pretty, but looked older than her thirty years after decades of worry and the constant struggle to control herself at all times. Even a minor infraction of the Woman’s Code could result in dire consequences to both her and her daughter.

Look mama, Sara pointed to a group of women as they rounded on pretty girl of about twenty. What’re they doing to her?

Shara slapped her daughter’s hand down so hard it hurt the twelve year old. Don’t look at the hussy, don’t even think about her. The women were all dressed in the drab clothing of Good women, however their looks were menacing and maniacal; their quarry had tried to look like them, but her open gaze and free spirit had put the mark on her. A dozen women tore into the girl with revulsion and spite; how much was hate and how much jealousy was hard to say. They stripped the girl and dragged her around town, as she cried for mercy, a brief stop at the blacksmith’s resulted in her being branded on the right shoulder. She was still screaming as they sold her to a passing coffle of living merchandise. By the time her parents returned from work it was too late, by law their bright and cheerful daughter was dead; all they could do was mourn her.

Why? Sara cried in horror. Why do that?

I’ve told you a thousand times, be a Good girl, don’t look at men, don’t run in the street, don’t sing aloud, don’t play where you can be seen, and don’t even smile- not ever!

Then what’s the point? Sara cried. What’s the point of living?

Her father turned to look at Sara, his face tanned by years of pulling merchandise in open wagons. He looked sad and distraught, as his love and pride for his daughter fought with the only way to keep her free; a faint buzzing caught his attention. He saw a ship’s contrail growing larger, it turned towards them flying overhead, heading towards the distant city; the ship wasn’t large, he guessed a scout of the Company that seemed to own the world. He pointed towards it, and said, Sara, do you know what they do with pretty girls who won’t behave? Some are forced to please bad men in dance halls and places I dare not name, some are sold as livestock to lonely farmers and forced to till the fields and produce babies that can be sold, and some are sold to the alien scum who exploit our world. That is the worst thing that can happen, they are no longer of this place, but will never be of any other; they are forever outcasts to all. None are ever freed, all are constantly abused, and none owned by an alien ever have children. Is that what you want Sara, to be at the mercy of some soulless monster and die childless?

Sara fell into her mother’s arms, sobbing hysterically. Her father felt shame, but he might have saved her from the branding; for another year at least.

They parked that night and Shara continued Sara’s education, teaching her all a good trader should know, including the spacer’s English. It wasn’t common to teach children to talk with aliens, but her father had a feeling that they were not going away, no matter how much he wished they would.

Captain Reginald Fairly, Reg said aloud, just to get the feel of it. Sounds good, eh, Fiona? He was a tall man with muscles well developed in the gym and not by hard work. His face was handsome by normal standards, his blond hair was styled in a company crew-cut. The flight suite he wore was tailored to perfection, with the purple and yellow emblem of TeckSpire on the left shoulder. His co-pilot lounged in her station, her Mediterranean looks and wavy red hair would have drawn admiring looks any where in known space. Her flight suite was old and comfortable, the arms having long since been relegated to the recycle bin. On her left shoulder the letters BM were deeply branded into her tanned flesh, along with TeckSpire’s serial number. Reg knew that when she wore the short company skirt her mate’s name, Ronald , was visible on her right thigh. To be owned by a man who loved her wasn’t too bad, Reg thought, some might even consider it romantic, but to be owned by TeckSpire as well! He shuddered at the thought.

Fiona sat at the co-pilot seat, casually controlling the CSS Brun as they left their latest recovery mission and headed back towards the TeckSpire Company’s landing field . Don’t let this promotion go to your head, she warned him . The Company is just about the meanest in Old space, why should they pay to call you Captain when you’ll happily do the job for half that? Look Reg, you’re broke, they know it and will take advantage of it; just like they do everything else on this ball of mud, she said bitterly.

He knew she was speaking from very personal experience. So no Captain’s star, he sighed. Fiona was a local, and been owned by the Company a lot longer than his two years on station; she knew far more about the Company’s way of operating than he did.

Don’t expect to be invited to the Yacht Club’s ball this year, she warned him. She piloted the stubby looking Brun in towards the spacer’s compound, reverse landing as far from the Company’s Glass tower as possible. The landing field wasn’t large, there was only one other starship there, and two large shuttles for the FTL ship in orbit.

Reg closed the ship down and signed it over to the maintenance crew, before departing; it was now past dusk and Fiona had long since left to join her lover in their apartment. He sighed, feeling the loneliness settle once more around his heart, as it did every time he could see Morganth’s dark Citadel towering over the city. There was still the mission report to fill out, the Citadel would still be there when he’d finished. It had been there for at least half a million years, there was no reason to think it would vanish and solve all his problems overnight.

He walked into the Glass tower, showing his ID to the pair of Sweepers who guarded the Company. They were tall, tough men in dark suites with regulation stunners in barely concealed shoulder holsters. Reg always wondered why company security were called Sweepers. He’d always supposed that it was their habit of sweeping problems under the carpet, however no-one ever had the nerve to ask. Executives and security did not mix, the best he could expect when meeting the Sweeper’s commander, Major Slovette, was a slight nod of recognition.

As Reg walked through the familiar corridors he ignored the few non-human staff in menial positions. Whether they had blue skin or purple, green hair or orange, it didn’t matter; they had been imported to train the local staff, and then become irrelevant. The alien workers were the pride of their races, the best and the brightest, who had worked hard to earn the privilege of serving TeckSpire off world. It wasn’t their fault that most locals were far brighter and soaked up knowledge at a truly impressive rate. When the students left their teachers in the shade, who needs the teachers? The Company reasoned that they weren’t worth the cost of sending home, and so they were found menial jobs that any idiot could do.

Reg ignored them and walked to his office and his borrowed purple spotted secretary, who seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time filling her impressive incisors. He began to dictate his report: As usual the pirates predicted the merchant’s flight-path and struck while she was in Hyperspace. We managed to recover the ship but not the cargo. I’m certain that we have a mole in the company. Every month another ship is attacked, and it’s only the BrunLea that’s keeping them off Sayerass. I urgently request that the Sweepers look into this situation before we lose the planet... But even as he continued to dictate his eyes glanced through the window and across Morganth towards the Dark Citadel that seemed to reach for the skies with half a dozen bleak towers that stood even higher than the Glass tower. His heart was torn in two by the site of the menacing Citadel and the knowledge of what it held.

Sometimes the greatest disaster to a person’s life can come from the most insignificant reason. The Zatire pulled Sara’s cart into the city, leaving the cobbles behind and meeting the newly tarmac road for the first time. Most vehicular traffic was still pulled by beasts, with only the occasional spacer’s skimmer weaving through the animated traffic jam. With growing interest the Zatire sniffed the tarmac, breathing in the heady fumes.

Not far in front a bug the size of a thumbnail flew on four iridescent wings, its green shell glittering metallically in the bright sunlight; eight legs dangled towards the sweet smell it had been tracking all morning, a rotting apple laying in the gutter. It landed on the apple, sucking in the near fermenting juices. A mouse, having staked claim to the apple, in a way familiar to mice everywhere in the galaxy, decided that a little fresh meat would go down well; it leapt on the bug and bit off the interloper’s head.

Across the street a cat saw the mouse having a bug dinner, was reminded that he too was hungry, and leapt for the mouse. What the cat did not see was the Zatire sniffing the road, the stationary beast was almost as big as a house, and too large to be considered a threat. However, nose and cat met with mutual surprise, the cat instinctively sank all claws in the Zatire’s hypersensitive nose. With a bellow of shock and pain the beast reared back onto his hind legs, dangerously rocking Sara’s cart. Shara grabbed the child and threw her free, just as the Zatire fell backwards onto the cart, crushing it and killing all within.

The mouse watched the disaster with complacency and went back to eating the bug; totally oblivious to the fact that it had just changed Human destiny. No-one ever found out what happened to the cat.

The horrified child was taken to her grandmother’s house, expecting sympathy, what she got was recrimination, verbal abuse and threats of violence. You’re to blame, mark my words Sara of the sluts. I saw it in yer mother, and I sees it in you. She wan’t no good that one, not for my darling boy, oh no. But she turned him againe me, oh yes she did. Now she slut’s gone and killed him, she has. But I’ll have mine back, oh yes I will, I’ll have me some fun to warm me old age.

Gramps, I don’t know, it wasn’t me, not my fault, not me…

Come with me, little bitch. Come meet the Good wives Committee. Sara was dragged to face a kangaroo trial that consisted of six old harridans and no defence. But none knew Sara to testify against her, however, they did know the grandmother, to their loss and shame. Sara could not prove her innocence and they could not prove her guilt, so she was dragged to the magistrate.

Lord, her father borrowed money from me to start a new business, and now he’s dead. I demand she be sold to pay the debt.

Your own granddaughter? the Magistrate gasped in shock. You would sell your own kin!

My only kin died today. She slut here is none of mine, she cackled.

Has she other kin?

Naw, the grandmother lied. I have the right to do with her as I please.

The law bound the Magistrate, the grandmother did have the right to sell Sara, but even if he could prevent it the twelve year old had nowhere to go and no one to look after her. On Sayerass there were no orphanages and few foster homes, but plenty of workhouses that were no better than slave factories. He crossed himself with the six pointed star of truth and said a silent prayer asking forgiveness from the Mother of All; there was nothing else he could do. Sara, you are hereby sentenced to be held in the chamber of commerce jail, where in the morning you will be sold to the highest bidder; may the Eldest One have mercy on you.

Sara lapsed into shock, to lose both her parents and her freedom in one afternoon was too much for one so young. She was stripped and dragged from the courthouse towards her fate.

In the morning Reg entered the office to see two women dressed in black skirts and white blouses chatting in one corner . Hey, Janice, is Jay here yet? I thought he wanted to see me.

He’ll be right out Reg.

He saw the new girl for the first time; she had the same dusky skin, classical beauty and long dark hair as Janice, but looked about fifteen. Jay Fiztbourn entered from his private office, looking as plump and comical as ever. Even Janice could never keep him looking neat for more than five minutes, and she had spent twenty years trying.

New talent? Reg asked, nodding to the new girl.

Oh, good heavens no. I’ve had Jacy for a number of years. But she’s only just passed her exams to help Janice out.

A number of years! Reg felt sick at the thought of it. He knew most senior execs slept with their personal assistants, they were all local girls bought for the post. But he didn’t think Jay had a dark side that would include children. Ah, right. Any luck with the new DNA tests?

Thanks to your extensive sampling I can categorically state that there is no trace of Human DNA in the local population. I’m sorry Reg, but I’ve just shot down your favourite theory.

That’s what they’re there for, he replied bravely. So how do you explain it, parallel evolution, convergent evolution, magic!

For two seemingly identical species to have evolved thousands of light-years apart, with no known prior contact, is totally insane, Jay affirmed . It is quite imposable, given all we know about evolution.

I think it’s time to write a new book, Reg joked. The Origin of Species on Two Different Worlds at the Same Time.

Oh, but it’s not the same time, Jay said seriously. Didn’t you know? The company archaeologist, Marco de Lance, has just dug up an old cemetery; they found human bones far pre-dating mankind! There was a civilisation on Sayeress more than a million years before Atlantis sank beneath the waves.

The overwhelming stink of fear wafted around the small cell, of urine, faeces and fresh blood, leaching yet more dread from the naked prisoners. Men, women and children, stripped and shackled to a single chain, crouched in the darkness nervously awaiting the coming dawn, and the auction block. Everything was clean and tidy: the old stone walls were scrubbed clean; the irregular paving slabs washed down daily; the cage bars had been repainted recently; the guards looked more like hospital attendants than slavers. But the result was the same, the prisoners would be sold to whoever would pay the most. There were no background checks or permits required, just cold hard cash would decide the fate of those unlucky enough to be incarcerated.

Ma, Pa, a lonely voice whispered in an unceasing lament, guide my steps in this time of trial, let me not falter or embarrass our name. I ask not mercy, but a little compassion, that is all… The sobs finally overcame the prayer, as the child’s terror overwhelmed her pride and courage. She sank slowly, listlessly, to lay crouched on the cold damp stone slabs, whimpering for her dead parents.

The hatch was pulled back from the ceiling, letting dawn’s light filter into the cell, to faintly illuminate the terrified human merchandise. A narrow ramp slid down to touch the ground, and the chain of misery was winched upwards, dragged onto the sales area. Above ground a head high wooden walkway wrapped around the inside of a small courtyard, one wall held the barred gates and the sales office; the walls were gaily painted in pornographic murals depicting the uses to which the merchandise could be put to use. Higher up a narrow catwalk let guards patrol the wall with crossbows held casually, chatting about the merchandise, laying bets on which would bring the highest price. Grubby hawkers called attention to their wares, from fried meats to candied sweets; selling to the hundred or so prospective buyers who poked and prodded the slaves.

None noticed the slight blond girl who crouched fearfully, murmuring a lament to gods she did not believe in, and to parents she could not bring herself to believe were dead. But dead they were, killed in a senseless accident; Sara had seen the bodies, just before she had been sold to pay her father’s debts. The Magistrate was of the opinion that after the trauma of losing both parents the shock of being sold would hardly be noticed, this was his idea of being kind to a devastated child. She tried not to look at the murals that gave her an all too clear vision of what her life would soon be like, but try as she would her gaze kept slipping back views of abuse that left her physically sick. She wasn't even sure that some of them were humanly possible. The pornographic mural that wrapped around the walls was meant both to stir up more custom from the jaded clientele, and as a primer in being human chattel to the unfortunates who shivered in their chains.

The gates opened at sun-up and would close at sundown, it was the common pattern of life in a culture without electricity. But from the first it was slow going, hardly the rush of happy wealthy punters the auctioneer had expected. Too many small wars and raiding parties had resulted in a glut of merchandise. Fit young men were still wanted for the fields and the mines, some even volunteered to join the army that had captured them. Many young women went to the brothels and dance halls, most sobbing hysterically. But the lucky few were bought as Bond Maidens by families who would expect them to serve and service both owners. Children with nimble fingers could be sold to the factories, producing high quality goods for no pay. Both boys and girls from seven up were even sold to the coal mines, working like bats in the perpetual dark.

But Sara looked young for her twelve years, too thin and frail for the harsh regime of industrialised brutality that claimed too many lives every year. The sun was bright, burning her tender skin as she sweated through the terrifying morning. A cup of water had been breakfast; her next meal would be only after she was sold. About mid-afternoon the cruel Citadel’s shadow brought some slight relief to the remaining stock. Only about half had been sold, and the rest worried what would happen to those not sold by sun-down. Would they be fed, sold at a knock down price or slain? It was all down to economics, their lives hung on the balance between red and black of a ledger.

Across the city a ship roared to life, slowly gaining altitude as it reached for the heavens, and slid towards the stars. Sara had always wondered where they came from and where they went to, but in her misery she didn’t even glance up as the bulky cargo ship left behind a contrail that slowly faded on the light westerly breeze. She glanced down toward the small crowd of customers, and saw a few dirty children teasing three flea-bitten dogs with a bloody bone. She wondered from what creature it was from, and after a while if it could have been human. It took half an hour to realise that to die and be fed to the dogs was better than to live and have some of the terrible things she had seen on the mural done to her.

Across the city the dark Citadel rose from a moat of slums, a haphazard assortment of towers that reached greedily skyward like a hand’s worth of arthritic claws. The stone, darkened by millennia of neglect and warfare, loomed above even the spacer’s Glass tower.

Two men observed the Citadel from the luxury of the Glass tower’s twentieth floor, comparing the ancient and the modern with distaste.

I still say we should vape the damn thing, Ronald said with distaste. We could be running this dump inside a week.

Not the plan, Reg chuckled sadly . Take it slow and understand what you’re destroying. That’s the way we do it.

Take first, understand later. Before it’s too late.

We have to understand who, what, why and by whom, created this little puzzle, before we start to stir things up. It’s hardly been a couple of generations since first contact; we’re still finding new species at home after five thousand years of recorded history.

I’d hoped the new, enlightened, aristocracy would have been more forthcoming by now. What’s the point of educating them on Earth if they’re just as dumb as when they left?

Oh, it’s working. In all the wrong ways. You can’t breed out generations of aristocratic inbreeding overnight, but you can give them ideas.

Lord, what now?

Oh, like centrally heated palaces, instead of draughty castles.

About time.

Armoured cars instead of cavalry.

That’s a bit more serious.

How about absolute monarchy?

Like I said, we should just take over.

Luckily the Company does not agree. The AEB would love to yank our charter and move in.

The Alien Exploitation Bureau would screw things up inside a week.

Lord knows they’ve had enough practice, Reg admitted sadly. Too many committees and not enough brains.

Ronald sighed, and said for the hundredth time, This dump looks like thirteenth century Europe, at first glance, but in some ways it’s even more alien than Mars.

A young woman entered silently and handed a note to Ronald, before fading into the background.

What’s up with Fiona, lovers' quarrel?

After five years, what do you expect? She wants a kid.

Ronald, old boy, she’d make a great mother. Pity the Company fraternisation policy doesn’t extend to breeding with the locals. Buy em, but don’t marry em!

Come on Reg, time to go to work. Fiona, bring the skimmer around front, will you?

Destination sir?

Oh, knock it off, you can nag me to death tonight in bed.

That you can rely on, she laughed. But I still need to alert the Sweepers.

Reg has to visit the slave sector. Dr. Findstine needs a couple of new test subjects. I guess he wore out the last ones, Ronald finished sadly.

Ho lord! Reg gasped. They expect me to choose for that creep...

You asked for the promotion to field agent, it’s time to get your hands dirty.

Fiona said seriously, It’s not like the good Doctor kills them.

No, Ronald agreed , they just wish he had.

He’s a brilliant xeno-virologist, she reminded them. Pity his hobbies take up so much of his time.

Fiona, Reg sighed , I don’t think the word hobby is suitable for what Findstine does. He should stick to researching alien viruses, and keep out of people’s minds.

With Fiona driving the skimmer took ten minutes to reach the slave quarter, dodging an assortment of animal powered vehicles, and pulled to a stop outside the barred gates. She activated the security shield as they entered the market, shivering as terrifying memories resurfaced for the first time in years.

Reg saw her turn white, as she fought to control trembling hands. He gasped, Ronald!

The junior executive spun at Reg's call, holding the shaking woman, Fiona, it’s over. You’re free, my love.

I spent weeks up there, hoping and dreading that someone would buy me, she sobbed. You came by nearly everyday Ronald,

Just to look at you. You weren’t cheap, even for a young executive. But I pulled a few strings and managed to scrape together enough cash, hoping you would still be there.

I wasn’t going anywhere, she sighed . It hurt like hell, but the branding was the only time in those terrible months that I felt free.

On any other world I would have used a ring. Damn this crazy planet.

Millennia of customs can’t be changed easily, even by you, she sighed.

Reg left them holding each other as though they would die if parted, and climbed the steps to the sales floor. About fifty people stood with wrists chained behind their backs, connected to floor rings by even stronger chains; all were still naked. Each had a small slate tied around their necks, giving skills, languages, and abilities. The latter was of little use to Doctor Findstine, his only criteria was that they be as healthy and attractive as possible. He spent an hour dithering, window shopping, looking deep into fear-crazed eyes, trying to read their scarred souls. One face kept drawing him back, for an unknown reason he returned to a little blonde child, and shuddered at the thought of her at Doctor Findstine’s not so tender mercies. The horrifying thought drove him away feeling sick, yet her lost face drew him back. You can’t be serious, Fiona gasped.

Buy her yourself and she could get you your next promotion, Ronald said dryly. Some of the senior executives might think you a kindred spirit.

You mean pervert, Reg snapped back.

That is what he meant, Fiona sighed.

The obvious subjects were a boy and girl of about seventeen, they looked related, possibly twins, but they spoke no Basic. That didn’t matter, all they needed to know would be taught to them. Both had slightly dusky skins and long raven hair, they were a matched set that had raised their combined reserved price high enough to put off any previous buyers. They would only be split up if not sold near twilight.

They will suit the good Doctor, Fiona whispered. Healthy, young, lovely and malleable. He will love them.

That’s what I’m afraid of, Reg counted . Have I the right to buy them, knowing what he’ll do to them?

Have you the right to have them split up and sold to a brothel, or the mines? Ronald counted.

The road to Hell, Reg murmured, am I on it yet?

The moment you joined the Company, I’m afraid. All you can do is travel it in style.

They entered the comfortable sales office, and endured the seemingly interminable coffee ceremony, asking about the health of various cousins, both distant and imaginary, before getting round to business. After that the sale was easy, one look at the Company credit card and Reg’s suitability to buy two human souls was confirmed. The branding was done mercifully swiftly, before they had time to know what was happening the TSC symbol plus their serial numbers was scored onto their upper arms.

Reg asked curiously , Why doesn’t the good doctor buy his own experimental subjects?

He’s brilliant, but can’t make up his mind, Ronald laughed.

Fiona continued , Last time we let him out alone he almost bought out the market.

And was that a bad thing?

It was for the shareholders, Ronald laughed.

As they left the sales office a woman in long white flowing robes drifted past them and climbed to the sales platform, her long dark hair was confined by a white skullcap. She walked the line of slaves handing out cups of soup, saying a few words of comfort to each.

I’ve not seen that before, Reg murmured.

A Sister of Mercy, Fiona explained . If you spent more time around here, and less in the Glass tower, you’d be on first name terms.

I’d also be insane, Reg explained.

We all are, Ronald moaned. It’s the only way to stay ahead in the Company.

The Sister spent a few minutes talking to Sara, as the child drank her soup with trembling hands. A man in merchant green brutally examined the child, brushing away the Sister’s attempted protection, and headed for the sales office.

Fiona gasped in revulsion, That bastard is still alive!

You know him? Ronald asked.

We called him the Vulture, because he always picked on the weak. Once a week or more he would pick a child, and we never saw them again.

You think…

After all these years, you’d think one would find her way back.

Reg turned towards the sales office, reaching for his own card, before Fiona had stopped talking. But the Vulture was already bartering for the child as he entered the office. He tried to intervene only to be brushed aside by custom, and the Vultures well-stocked purse.

In frustration Reg left the office, as Sara was pulled down the stairs towards the sales office and the Vulture. If your heart is pure, fear not for the child.

Reg turned to see the Sister of Mercy approach him. You may call me Sister Maria, I already know of you.

Thank you sister, but know this is my fault, I could have raised enough cash an hour ago.

But then you knew not how badly you wanted her. Tell me, man of the stars, why do you want her? Are your intentions honourable?

On this world? he scoffed.

She childed him with a serene glance, and he realised she was someone to respect.

My intentions are private, but I promise you this, no harm would have come to her in my care.

Sister Maria smiled with mischief. There is a funny local custom called forgery. Much of the currency is home made, good enough to fool the unwary, but not those who watch for such.

So, good sister. Is there a point to this?

Much of the counterfeit coins are disposed of the easy way, before the militia find it. You have no idea how much finds its way into our poor box, for instance.

"I doubt you’re in the