Dark Messiah

By Fred Zoetemeyer

Dark Messiah
“The universe isn’t empty. Life is everywhere and it wants the same things we want. For the Sanctuary to expand, someone has to get their hands dirty.” Karlo Dajek

Dark Messiah is a highly original and entertaining tale of survival that will take you to a universe so different from anything you could imagine, yet so believable that you will never want to leave.

Book one - Mirafan
“To produce true believers long-term, a civilisation must deliver good lives on the ground for everyone, not just the pampered elite.” Korad

Marc Lester’s father left Earth when he was five years old. Because Marc could pass for human, he enjoyed a normal childhood with his mother before joining the army. After four years in uniform, an improvised explosive device took both his legs. His miraculous recovery made him a person of interest. The time for Marc to escape Earth and join his father had arrived.

Many believed that Marc was destined for great things, including Meru, the Sanctuary’s living goddess. Thanks to flitters gossiping away on the zero-offset, at depots, in hangars and elsewhere, fellows at the Margaven Institute on Danzek Aric soon agreed that the true Crasna Katek had been born.

Book Two - True Believer
“The Sanctuary takes a dim view of slavery, pragmatic accomodations in the middle of absolutely nowhere notwithstanding!” Evinse niDenesc

Nearly two centuries after the events in Mirafan, the War for Infaran’s Last Arm rages on. Most of Marc Lester’s time on the hardlines in Miroku Daman’s leading edge is spent waiting for something to happen. When it does, it happens fast. Mistakes are not allowed, because a whole world depends on a few brave souls when a Narkassan assault group breaches in.

While on the hardline 2Dek off the Doisan Linnora, Marc accesses a safon that comes with an appended snippet. He does not recall attaching Ashaia’s cry for help 176years earlier, yet he soon finds himself on a destructive quest to Kalbrun, 15million light years away. Ashaia becomes aware of Marc’s endeavour, but is powerless to stop the bloodshed that she unleashed.

Book Three - Danzek Aric
“Because even now, your boy is convinced that I’m just trying to scare him.” Navard

Danzek Aric picks up the story a couple of chimes before the end of True Believer. The Rivas Effect can do anything, but can it change the past? If not, serious bumps in the road lie ahead for Meru and the Sanctuary.

In Sorbrun, Reymer and Ashaia still languish as hostages on Tellur, a fusion of corporate kleptocracy and sexist, feudal delusion. They enjoy the life that Fate has given them as best they can, aware that Sorbrun will eventually become part of the Sanctuary. When that happens, only the Andurai Empire will stand between the Sanctuary and the Tocmec Reach. Meru will die young, unless she has something of value to offer the Tocmec. At this moment she does not, although the potential has been there for aeons.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fred Zoetemeyer
• Release date: Dec 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005476878

Book preview

Book One

Earth

Marc Lester

Tace

Surfers Paradise

Gosford

Soren Maruf

Miroku Dasai

Miroku Ruhan

Miroku Daman

Risanne Ceitan

Ashaia

Book Two

Zeerberken

Oorbant

Taya Tor

Nergahl

Infrarad

Randanam

Yskeran

Paisarno

Kalbrun

Sorbrun

Evinse niDenesc

Cairene Rei

Pennesielle

Dantecor

Book Three

Fallon

Makpodo

Laneth

The Void

Montelban

Rusei

Sareena

Kemerov

Reymer

Girac

Tarquin

Meru

Book One - Mirafan

Earth

Where have you been all my life, she thought as he waltzed in, briefcase in hand. Faraway thunder rumbled, a bit early for the promised southerly. Welcome! I’m Jane.

I’m Kurt, he said. Sorry, I don’t have a booking.

That’s fine. You missed the lunch rush and we don’t get busy again until after six. She tilted her head. Just for one?

Hope that’s all right?

Jane, an attractive, green-eyed brunette, smiled fetchingly. Of course! Pick a table.

Last umbrella on the right, Kurt said after briefly checking the restaurant’s deck.

Nice choice. She grabbed a menu and led the way to the sliding doors. They quietly swished open, letting in a blast of warm air.

Kurt followed her high heels and black stockings to a table for two with a red rose in a thin, heavy-based vase. Fake, he noted with relief as he sat down. He’d seen real flowers cut and left to die in tepid water on Earth. This one was sitting in small river pebbles. The umbrella reached across from behind, producing a perfect patch of shade.

What would you like to drink? Jane asked as she draped a napkin over his lap.

Let’s start with a beer, your suggestion.

Today that gets you a Crownie.

Deal.

Finally in the right place, Fate thought as he watched Kurt Haynes finish his first beer of the day. The Minano Prime put his empty bottle near the table’s left edge, in the hope of seeing it replaced with a fresh one.

Kurt took in the view; Brisbane Water glittered under the Australian summer sun on Friday January 16, 1987. Gosford, where he had disembarked a south-bound train, was visible across the water, to his left.

At Gosford train station, Kurt had hailed a taxi and asked about the best seafood restaurant in town. The cabbie had told him Jane’s on the Jetty, for those prepared to part with big bucks.

Kurt was in the mood for a long lunch on a sunny afternoon, which, oblivious to Fate’s machinations, he expected to enjoy on his own. He’d tipped the cabbie and walked through Jane’s door fifteen minutes later.

You look like you could do with another beer. Jane put a new Crown Lager next to the empty one.

Kurt inclined his head. Appreciate it. Great day for a few coldies.

Couldn’t agree more, but I seem to be working.

Boss wouldn’t mind if a customer shouted you a beer on a hot day?

Jane surveyed her restaurant; for late lunch, there was a party of four big-spending women, a young and beautiful couple with a platter for two, and the guy at her best table. Stephanie could easily handle the other six covers; she felt free to concentrate on Kurt, who’d be quite a catch if she could reel him in. "I am the boss. If I set the example everyone will soon be drinking on the job. I’d be out of business in a month!"

Kurt closed the menu and tapped the name embossed in the faux leather. "You’re that Jane!"

She offered her hand. Jane Lester. Best seafood on the Central Coast.

Her handshake was firm, he noticed. Kurt Haynes. What kind of beer tickles your fancy?

Jane picked up the empty. Seeing I recommended a Crownie, I better not say Heineken. How did you find Australia’s Finest?

Fine accompaniment to a summer afternoon. Kurt took the bottle from her hand and studied the label. Hadn’t tried this one. Been drinking Four-X and Tooheys in Australia. From the tap, mostly. He returned the empty bottle to Jane and picked up the fresh one.

Jane headed back inside, confused. Kurt had a true-blue Aussie accent, but he’d never seen a Crownie. That made no sense, because he was a beer drinker.

Stephanie Vermeer pushed a beer across the bar, the right kind. On the prowl, are we? Hats off to you if you land this one.

Jane smiled. It’s early days, but I might just hook him. He has the dreamiest blue eyes. Hmmm. He’s probably got a wife and three kids. We’ll see.

Phillip and I can handle front of house tonight if it pans out that way. You deserve a bit of luck after that last bastard.

I hope to take you up on that. Maybe for the whole weekend.

"We’re getting ahead of ourselves, but I could talk Lorraine into grabbing a few shifts. You pay more than the Mandarin Palace."

Thanks, Steph! You’re a good sport.

No wedding ring?

No rings at all. Just a gold Rolex.

Rolex, huh? You reckon it’s real?

Jane Lester took a mouthful of cold beer as she pondered the question. Yes, because he’s in expensive designer gear and he’s got that look of the good life about him.

I couldn’t help noticing an A-grade bulge in his designer jeans, Steph said slyly. Nice arse, too. Is he bald?

He’s got a day’s worth of stubble, head and beard. Dark. Goes well with his olive skin and blue eyes.

The pair peered through the floor-to-ceiling glass at Kurt Haynes, who put a second empty bottle aside. Steph produced another, popped the top and slid it over. Big, expensive-looking briefcase. That’s a drug dealer or a property developer.

He insisted on shouting me a drink. Maybe he wants to buy the restaurant?

When a guy buys you a drink, that means he wants to get into your pants. Steph nodded at the beer on the bar. Want me to keep them coming?

Bring the wine list in five. I’m in the mood for a decent red.

Jane delivered a fresh Crownie and claimed a chair, her back to the water.

Appreciate it! Kurt picked up his drink. Except now you’re two behind.

Jane appraised his broad shoulders; he’d looked about six-five when he came in. You’re big enough to negate a two-beer head start. She held up the distinctively-shaped brown bottle with its distinctively-placed gold label. You hadn’t seen a Crownie before, huh? Crown Lager is big in restaurants. How long have you been in Australia?

Five days on the Gold Coast, two in Byron Bay and one in Port Macquarie. This is my first day on the Central Coast. I’m off to Sydney next.

Jane drained her beer, even more mystified by his Aussie accent. Sydney’s a lot of fun. Where are you staying?

Topfloor of a tower. The Hilton, it’s called.

Penthouse suite in a hotel, you mean? You’re not from around here, are you?

Kurt produced a brittle smile. I guess not.

He was a total studmuffin, Jane thought, but she wasn’t going to fall for another liar. She might as well have it out with him. Never been to Australia before?

I haven’t. I really like the place.

So how come he sounds like a dinkum Aussie, Jane asked herself, again. Things that look too good to be true usually are, she mused. She was about to say thanks for the beer and get up, then on impulse decided to deconstruct the lie first. What exotic locations did you visit before the Gold Coast?

Let me see… Kurt wondered if Jane had picked him. The Guide insisted that he dispatch any native suspicious about his origins, but he hadn’t expected to have to do such a thing and nor did he want to. Sri Lanka, Goa, which is in India, Syria, Greece, Ibiza, Ireland, Iceland and America-North before that.

Jane hadn’t heard the place called America-North before. She admired his exquisitely-chiselled features and his upper body, attired in a white, short-sleeved shirt. Why does Kurt Haynes assume that he can walk amongst us unnoticed, she thought with a start. Her stomach dropped, but she kept a straight face. On the bright side, perhaps he was no liar after all. North America is a big place. Where did you wander?

I started on the west coast. Vancouver, Seattle, Frisco, LA, Acapulco, a few places in between. All up and down the east coast, Montreal to Miami.

Quite a trip. How long, all up?

Three years, nearly four.

Where were you before North America? Jane asked sweetly.

She was definitely on to him, Kurt thought, but how? Elsewhere. Why does it matter?

Because I have no idea where you’re from. You speak Australian like a native, even though you just told me that you’ve never been here before.

Kurt finally twigged; Australian English hadn’t raised an eyebrow outside of Australia. He should have given Australia a miss and gone to New Zealand instead. Australian English was his only Earth language. English was spoken almost anywhere on Earth; where was the sense in absorbing two language augurs? Jane was delicious, but what to tell her? He’d lied when needed on Earth, but he realised that he could not lie to Jane. Australian English has never been a problem before. I see your point.

A full confession! Where’s home?

Kurt laughed nervously. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.

Try me!

I have a valid Australian passport that says I was born in Melbourne, but my birth world is Tadziel and my home world is Mashein. Kurt sighed. Told you so.

Who says I don’t believe you? Jane asked, feeling vindicated and a little shaky.

What was he doing, the Minano Prime thought, stunned by his full confession. He hadn’t begun to tally the consequences. Kurt bit his lip and said nothing.

Jane forced herself to calmly pick up the menu. Oh, I won’t tell. Who’d believe me? Are you ready to order? Steph will be here soon with the wine list.

Kurt met her eyes and understood that she was on his side, no matter what. He drained his beer. Wine list sounds good. What do you recommend food-wise?

Hot and cold seafood platter for two. Check the couple on your left. They’ve made a dent in it but you get the idea.

Kurt discreetly inspected the couple and their food. The seafood platter it is, if you help me eat it. Nice couple.

I was watching them before. They’re really into each other.

Not as much as you and I, Kurt said, totally tossing the Guide down the maw.

Not many couples are. Here comes Steph, right on cue.

Her boss was a fast worker, Steph thought, only slightly miffed. She’d brought this one to heel in record time. Come to think of it, Jane looked smitten herself. Steph felt a stab of jealousy and reminded herself that she was happily married. Besides, Ms. Lester had a knack for picking up the wrong guy.

Jane proffered the menu and accepted the wine list. We’ll have the platter for two. Ask the chef to throw on some extra scallops. Let’s start with a Grange, the good one.

Steph picked up the empties. That red will want to breathe for a few minutes. Another beer in the meantime?

Jane nodded. I’d love one. Kurt?

I’m ready for the red. I might pinch a sip of your beer to tide me over.

Sweet as, Jane said briskly.

Steph threw her a wink and headed back inside.

Jane put her elbows on the table and leant over. What kind of people live on Tadziel and Mashein, if it’s not a rude question?

It’s not. Only us Rahn live on Tadziel and Mashein.

How did you get here?

A transport into orbit and a flitter to the surface.

A flitter landed on Earth and no one noticed?

Flitters don’t land, Kurt disclosed, despite verse21’s common-sense precepts. They drift down, drop you off and go hang at a depot or return to orbit. They’re cloaked when they visit places like Earth. No one sees them, as long as they take it slow and don’t mark the atmosphere.

Sounds too easy, Jane thought. But getting stuff into orbit costs millions!

Because they’re going about it all wrong.

How’s that? Seems to me they’re pretty smart in how they go about it!

They eject mass, for starters. You’ll never go anywhere doing that. Mass is energy. Much easier to convert that mass to energy and use it to generate a gravitational force of the right vector and intensity.

Jane, who’d been a mechanical engineer with the Department of Main Roads before she took a severance payment and became a restaurateur, pondered only briefly. Your flitter generates a gravitational pull that acts on itself?

She got that easily enough, Kurt thought. Sure, that’s how flitters move around.

Jane thought of Spock and Kirk, of Skywalker and Solo. They all spat out something to move around as far as she could remember. Costs a lot of energy, this gravitational thing?

It does and it costs energy to stop crew and passengers from getting splattered. On transports who pull the big Gs, that’s where most of the energy goes.

All transports aren’t created equal?

They’re not. Most transports are regular sixteens, always nice guys. Interceptors come in three types, but they’re usually rude bastards. They’re rare. Most of us live our lives without seeing one in the realworld. The list was incomplete; Kurt had omitted mean sixteens and butchers, who never had a polite word for anyone except their cold-eyed commanders. Not strictly-speaking a lie, but he didn’t want to explain them on a first date. Anyway, I came here on a 16Regular called Infaran89,267.

Is Infaran89,267 in orbit now?

No. He moved on after he dropped me off. Omissions are an easy habit to get into, Kurt mused. Rangan Infaran an Marrean Rahn 89,267 had dropped off ten independently-operating researchers on Earth. That had meant trips to the ten worlds behind the razatch, to pick up vector assessment personnel.

The haughty Ala Sul, in command for the exercise, had received a six-day break from exploring a primary search allocation of 20,000 stars. Kurt thought Ala Sul uncommonly attractive, albeit proud and aloof. Unreasonably so; she was a Mard Prime from Immirvail, which was as leading-edge as Mashein.

Jane opened her mouth to ask another question and saw Steph coming their way. Good, she thought, because what she’d heard so far was a lot to take in, even if it didn’t seem that way now. Her beer arrived, as did the red, along with the cork. She held out her hand, examined it with a serious face, sniffed it and put it on the table, in case Kurt wanted to check it out. He was paying a lot of money for it, but he looked like he could afford it.

Steph admired Jane’s splendid catch of the day and attended the party of four. She came away with an order for another round of Brandy Alexanders and the dessert menu. Her eyes returned to Jane, who had to be pushing forty, but Steph was convinced that she’d never been more radiant in her life.

Jane took a mouthful of beer and pushed the bottle across; Kurt had a drink and returned it. She was bemused by the normality. Here she was, sharing a beer with a guy born on Tadziel. She wondered what she was supposed to do about it. Would Channel Seven invest a camera crew and a talking head, with the chopper on standby in case Kurt tried to get away? How about the Department of Immigration, who had an alien with a valid Aussie passport on the loose? They’d all want proof, of which she had none, other than her belief that he was telling the truth and her opinion that he was too perfect to be human.

So let’s have some proof, Jane thought. Can Rahn do stuff us humans can’t?

Kurt frowned. We’ve just met and already you want me to do tricks? Shouldn’t I be tamed first?

You’re tame enough. Jane took his hand. Impress me.

Hmmm. I haven’t seen the wine list, correct?

Jane looked at the wine list, two facing pages inside a cover similar to the menu. I don’t believe you have.

Kurt reached over, turned the folder his way, then opened and closed it in a quick, single action. He winked and pushed the folder to Jane. Ask me anything. Make sure I can’t see inside again.

Jane held the list upright and opened it. It was vaguely possible that he’d gotten his hands on a copy and memorised it. He might also be a mindreader… Even more unlikely, she decided. He would have seen the problem with his Aussie accent coming a mile off. There were ways around either tactic. Her right hand covered most of the left page. We only count lines that have a price. Line one is on the left page. With me?

I think so, Kurt said.

Line fourteen, third word.

Estate.

Twelve, fourth.

1982.

Nineteen, third.

Cabernet.

Thirty-one, first.

Penfolds.

Jane took her hand away, remembered the rapid exchange as 1412, 1931, 3431, checked each line and came away with four from four. You recorded what you saw and looked at a still, like a freeze-frame?

I’m pushing to safon. Audiovisual thing. Mostly, you never access them again.

How?

Some genetic modification from way back. We’re a race of tinkerers and the mods carry forward through the generations. I’ve got all the good stuff and I’ve paid for only one of them myself.

What kind of stuff?

Turns out our ancestors wanted what everyone wants. Kurt lowered his voice. To look good naked and to be better in bed than everyone else. Most of our mods are about those two things, but there are other upgrades. He poured Jane a red; his own glass received just an inch of shiraz. Are you carrying a waiters friend?

Jane handed it over. Always.

Kurt folded out the little knife and held his left thumb above his glass. Is anyone paying attention to us?

Jane scanned deck and restaurant. Not right now.

Watch closely. Kurt gritted his teeth and forced the blade into his thumb, opposite the nail, until he hit bone. Might as well make it convincing, he thought, and pushed the knife half an inch towards his palm. Blood mixed with expensive red. He cleaned the blade on his jeans, closed her waiters friend and proffered it.

Jane accepted it with a straight face. Doesn’t it hurt?

I stuck a blunt knife in my thumb, Kurt hissed. Of course it fucking hurts!

You’re a cutter. Not my thing.

Don’t be ridiculous. Are you watching closely?

I am now. Not bleeding much anymore… Cut looks smaller. What’s going on?

Doing another trick. That cut will be gone without a trace in ten minutes.

Jane sipped her shiraz for a spell, keeping an eye on his thumb. Has it stopped hurting?

Hurts even more now. It’s squirming and twisting. Kurt drained his glass. At least I didn’t lose any blood.

Jane refilled and nodded at the injured digit. Are you going to clean that up? It’s almost closed over. Stick it in your glass.

I’ve shown enough disrespect to your Grange. Kurt stuck his thumb in his mouth. The cut was regenerating nice and quick, but it still hurt pretty good.

Now you look like a big baby!

Kurt wiped his smarting thumb on his napkin and concentrated on his red. Not a bad drop. He checked the label. Australian, too. Nice pick.

It’s a favourite. Here comes Steph with the food. Wipe that pained look off your face.

The platter arrived, delivered with a well-practiced flourish by Stephanie Vermeer.

Kurt liked what he saw and almost forgot about his thumb. He would have thought of another trick to impress Jane, had he known that it was going to hurt so much.

The pair tucked into the hot food, competing for the lightly-fried scallops from the start.

Twenty minutes later, Kurt speared the last scallop from Jane’s plate.

I can’t believe you did that!

Kurt smirked. You had more than your share of those.

That’s the idea of a platter! I like scallops. You like baby octopus and whitebait. We both get what we want!

Sounds reasonable, except I like scallops too. This is nice. Does your chef know that he’s cooking for the boss?

Chef’s a she. Probably knows, but a platter is a platter. I’d like to think that this is what any customer gets.

Kurt shared the rest of their shiraz. We’ll need another bottle.

Your pick. Jane pushed the wine list across. We should be drinking a white or a bubbly. I mean, sunny afternoon, seafood…

I’d like to go the Grange again.

You sure? It’s pretty pricey.

I honestly don’t care. Do you make some money out of it?

Course I do! This is a business! Gotta make money to pay the bills.

Kurt started to get up. I’ll go talk to Steph. Gotta visit the facilities anyway.

Not so fast. Show me your thumb. The other one too. Wow. Like it never happened. Rahn must be unkillable!

Kurt sat down again and shook his head. A hollow point through the brain or the heart tends to be fatal, even for Rahn.

A hollow point, as in a bullet? Don’t you guys have blasters or something?

Bullets are the universal way of blasting living things. Monkeys anywhere always come up with them. They start off throwing rocks, then spears, followed by bows and arrows, which evolve into crossbows and muzzle loaders. A gun is the same idea as throwing a rock.

You’re unkillable unless you get shot in the head or in the heart, Jane insisted.

Not a very nice topic on a first date, Kurt said with a small smile. Anything damaged or lost will grow back, but some combinations of injuries we can’t survive. Bad way to go. Heaps worse than you getting shot in the same places. You’d be out like a light.

What kinds of places?

Kurt hesitated; violence was a taboo subject to Rahn, but this wasn’t the time to explain all that to Jane. Well, way I hear it, you get shot once through each lung and twice through the liver, your body will fight like a cornered cat to stay alive and always lose. That’s the way our black coats put down criminals, supposedly. I’ve never accessed anything like that myself, needless to say.

"Accessed as in looked at a safon pushed by someone else, you mean?"

That’s it. Can I go now?

Off you go. Jane watched him get to his feet and walk inside. The bulge was definitely A-grade, as Steph had so eloquently announced. His arse was sensational, his legs long and powerful. Modified to look great naked and to be better in bed than everyone else, she thought with a tingle of anticipation.

Stephanie brought their next bottle of Grange. Big spender, huh?

Seems to be. You better ring Lorraine when you get a chance. I don’t plan to be back until sometime next week. Leave a message for me at the Sydney Hilton if something terrible comes up.

No doubt about you, Ms. Lester. Hope he works out. Steph looked over her shoulder; Kurt was on his way back. Remember what you promised yourself! If he drives a pansy Beemer or Merc, ditch him straight away and don’t look back!

I should. Thanks, Steph.

Kurt sat down and took her hand. I have a question.

Ask away.

When I told you I was Rahn, you believed me straight-up. How come? Survey says you guys think you’re the only sentient beings in the universe.

Jane let go of his hand and poured the red. "Your survey never bothered to ask me. The universe is ridiculously big. I can’t believe that there’s no life anywhere else when I can’t keep it out of my shower, no matter how much Exit Mould I spray. There are others out there, but that doesn’t make you one of them. I believed you because I saw you decide to tell the truth. Good choice. Had you lied to me, you’d be sitting here on your own. I’ve dated enough liars to last me a lifetime."

Kurt nodded pensively. Maybe we should agree to be friends with no lies between us.

That sounds like a binding agreement. A Rahn thing?

We call it a jawar, an intent wrapped in a promise.

Too platonic, Jane thought. Any other friendship options on the table?

There’s friends without benefits.

The benefits being the slippery stuff?

Yep.

I’ll take the friends with no lies deal. How do we seal it?

Kurt took his glass. We clink and have a drink.

That’s what we do. How do Rahn seal a deal?

Same way. Lots of gestures are the same on all sorts of worlds. You raise your eyebrows, that’s a questioning look. As Boonsai said, a monkey is a monkey is a monkey.

Jane clinked and drank, then looked around; their conversation was private. Say it in Rahn, the monkey thing.

Kurt did so wistfully. Te mazza tene mazza tene mazza.

Te mazza tene mazza tene mazza, Jane repeated.

Got it, just right. Where did you say you were born?

In Australia, thirty-nine years ago. Hmmm. This no-lies deal can be hard work.

In the Sanctuary she’d barely be out of mirafan, Kurt reflected. Still a girl, really. His three children on Mashein were ten times her age, give or take. You had me wondering- Wait. You could still be a sabak-born Rahn.

If I was, I’d be taller.

Not at all. You’re perfect as you are.

Is Sabak is your name for Earth?

It’s what we call worlds that aren’t protected by Sanctuary law, Kurt said casually, in no mood for serious stuff.

Fine, let’s not go there right now, Jane thought. When are you heading to Sydney? The best night to go out is Saturday.

We could grab a train midday tomorrow, check in and have a night on the town.

There’s no way Kurt drives a pansy Beemer or Merc, Jane decided. Train sounds good. Did you have anywhere in mind for going out?

I was hoping to find a native guide.

"Let’s try the Cross. We’ll have a drink and a dance, then late dinner at the Bourbon and Beefsteak. Afterwards we’ll hit a few strip joints."

Kurt raised his eyebrows.

Questioning look, huh? Are you telling me that you haven’t checked out any strip joints in four years?

No, no, I have. You don’t see women in the audience that often, is all.

I like taking guys to strip joints. Such a power trip.

You’d reap the benefits afterwards?

That’s the idea, Jane said smugly.

I like your style.

Time flowed relentlessly, each moment precious and irreplaceable. Late afternoon, Jane spotted dark clouds to the south. Looks like we’re in for a storm.

Kurt scanned the sky. We should make a move. Is your place in walking distance?

Jane finished her glass and stood up. Couple of blocks back from the water. Nice spot. Plenty of trees around. Let’s go see Steph.

Kurt’s glass was empty, as was their third flask of Grange; he followed Jane in a rosy state. Steph tapped away on the register, tallying the damage. He emptied his pocket on the bar, four packets of hundreds folded in half and a few loose ones. Will this cover it?

Stephanie Vermeer’s eyes widened at the pile of grey nurses. "That’s over four grand. We’re not that expensive."

Looks like I’m stealing your boss for the weekend. You’ll be busy. You deserve a tip.

Steph had bills to worry about, same as everyone else. Jane’s on the Jetty was in good hands for however long it took Jane to return. Thank you, Mr. Haynes.

You gave her way too much, Jane grumbled, outside in the din of kookaburras and cicadas.

Kurt took a deep breath; bushfire and rain in the air. Don’t worry about it. Plenty more where that came from.

The pair got underway hand in hand. Before Jane’s brick-and-tile house was in sight, Kurt knew that he was in over his head. That put him at odds with verse21, which decreed that impartiality was impossible in such circumstances. He suspected that verse21 would catch up with him one day, but that made no difference today.

Jane opened the front door and stepped inside, her mind on their first kiss. It had happened, almost of its own accord, on the way over. It had felt unreasonably nice; kissing Rahn wasn’t like kissing anyone else. Phew! House is like an oven. I’ll open the windows. Go straight through to the verandah out back. Leave the glass door open. You’ll see a fridge on your left. Grab two beers.

Kurt ambled to the kitchen and found the fridge. The verandah offered two padded chairs with a table in between. He put his case down, claimed a chair and checked out Jane’s backyard; grass, gumtrees, a veggie patch and a paling fence, bushland behind. He faced west, into the bushfire haze; the orange sun sat above the treetops. An ashtray and a waiters friend graced the table. He opened the beers, sat back and thought about their first kiss.

Jane joined him quicker than expected, in white shorts and a red singlet. That’s better! She sat down and picked up a beer. Kick off your shoes.

Kurt did so and wriggled his toes. What a good idea.

No socks, huh?

Rahn don’t do socks or underwear. I’ve tried socks in cold places. Freaky things.

Jane glanced at his jeans. Seems my day just got better again.

I can work with that thought. Kurt put his briefcase on his lap and opened it. Hold these.

Jane accepted a small stack of neatly-folded clothes. More sat in his case, as did several bricks of US and Aussie banknotes. You’re loaded!

We did say night on the town. Kurt rummaged for a moment. Here it is. He put a four-inch metal cube with rounded edges on the table and held out his hand.

Jane absentmindedly gave him the garments as she stared at six blue ideograms scrolling around the top of the box. That’s Rahn? Looks Japanese to me.

Hmmm. It’s not supposed to be down here. Undeniably-alien artefact or something.

Jane’s eyes were on the box; light-grey metal shimmered with subtle oilslick hues. Looks like an alien artefact all right. Sounds like you’re off the reservation, Mr. Haynes.

You could say that.

Not enough for a guy in black to come and shoot you four times, I hope? That would ruin my day for sure.

I’d cop a solid nagging if I lost a null-box down here. Meru would find an expensive way of fixing the problem and charge me. She’s good at that.

Is Meru the wife or the boss?

The boss. Meru isn’t anyone’s wife. Kurt didn’t want to go down the Meru path and neither did Jane, apparently. There were many unasked questions. Like why was he on Earth, for instance. She looked at him expectantly; he nodded at the box. Open it.

How?

Touch any two sides and the top. Scroll can’t hurt you.

Jane picked up the box with thumb and middle finger. The top flicked away at a touch, revealing the thick walls promised by the weight of the thing. She peered inside and saw a dozen dusky-pink buds. I suspect this is weed, Mashein style?

Weed? No, that’s like mellow. This is rapture. From Nergahl, not Mashein.

Jane fished out a fat bud and put the box down; it closed itself with a snap. What’s the effect? How do you take it?

Like ecstasy. More consistent. Rushes nice and quick but it tapers off faster. The petals dissolve. You can’t get them wet once they’re picked. Gotta have dry days to harvest buds. Drop one in each drink and give it a minute.

Jane spiked both drinks and returned the bud to its home. The box was beginning to look less alien, possibly because it was so easy to use. Where did you try ecstasy?

I got introduced in Ibiza. Great spot. I stayed for half a year. E is all the rage amongst the clubbers there.

Do you ply all the girls you pick up with rapture?

No way! No one’s seen that box. I can’t go flashing alien artefacts about everywhere. I’d get nagged at for hours.

I’ve seen it. I suppose I should be flattered?

Definitely, Kurt said solemnly.

The box keeps things fresh?

It keeps things in stasis, as soon as the lid closes.

Meaning?

Nothing moves inside a null-box. Those buds can’t age or change temperature. They’re always exactly the way they were when the lid closed.

Even if you shake the box?

Yep.

Jane swirled her bottle. I reckon it’s been a minute.

Kurt took a big drink. Seems fine to me.

She finished her beer in one go and had another look at the alien box. The rapture came on as she stood up; the best night of her life began.

Jane hadn’t asked many questions on their six-day weekend in Sydney. Nor had she in the seven months of bliss that followed. Things changed in August 1987, when she knew for sure that she was pregnant with Kurt’s child. Her pregnancy came as a surprise; she’d taken the pill for decades without mishaps.

Kurt was surprised too; he’d paid for a patch that should have left him sterile for his ten years on Earth. The idea of terminating a pregnancy was alien to Rahn; children were precious in a civilisation that existed only on population-controlled worlds.

Neither did abortion occur to Jane. Her questions became more calculated and she started to write things down, always in private. Before long, her rare and casually-framed queries were part of a subtle web. Kurt never twigged to a deeper purpose behind the banter.

Jane gave birth to a son on March 22nd, 1988. She named the boy Marc Lester without input from his dad. Kurt Haynes becoming a father wasn’t ideal, because his time on Earth was meant to end in April 1993.

Marc would grow up with his mother. Kurt had decreed that it was the only viable option because he had a danlu back home who’d take a dim view of a love child turning up. Jane had fallen pregnant to a married man who wasn’t about to leave his wife. Unless Teicaté Rei, Kurt’s danlu and ally in Jaqein Mard politics, dropped dead or ditched Kurt, the best Marc could hope for was Rahn without place status.

Kurt loved his fourth child, but he was uncomfortable around the boy, thanks to verse21 and to his position on Mashein. Children pick up on things; Marc was always closer to his mum than he was to Kurt. Surprisingly so, because for the first five years of Marc’s life, Dad usually looked after him while Mum was at work.

Kurt had moved in with Jane after their stay in Sydney. He’d worked much harder than he had before settling down in Gosford. For his final six years on Earth, Kurt’s safon were frequent, factual and professional. He was more productive than his nine colleagues, which made his contribution a meaningful, yet mostly-dissenting part of Earth’s cultural vector assessment.

Jane had found out why Kurt Haynes was on Earth. In her own good time, she’d come to terms with it. Kurt had promised to return in fifteen years. She had to keep Marc under the radar until then. She also had to prepare him for his verse91 assessment, which would be conducted by the mysteriously-ubiquitous Meru.

As had Kurt, Jane had worked hard. While he studied Earth’s culture, she toiled in the restaurant that kept everyone fed and housed. Even though she owed the bank for her house and restaurant, Jane had refused to accept Kurt’s money. His bricks of currency could have killed both mortgages in one go or in dribs and drabs, but she’d resisted the temptation.

The law deemed large, unexplained piles of cash the proceeds of crime. She’d go to jail and her son would be on his own in a dangerous place. Marc could pass for human because people see what they expect to see. Genetically, he was Rahn; his DNA was worth a fortune in the right place.

Jane wanted Marc to live his life amongst his own kind. Before he was two, she’d caught on to the concept true believer. Kurt had no time for unquestioning fanatics, but Jane knew that black coats received more respect amongst Rahn than anyone else. Including politicians like the love of her life, which Kurt was, even though he’d turned up late and was planning to leave early to boot.

Until Kurt came along, Jane had reckoned Stephen Thompson the love of her life, despite their relationship having suffered regular turmoil. Usually her fault, with hindsight. Jane had concentrated on the restaurant business after Stephen left her in 1980. Single and in the right place, she’d been ready for Kurt Haynes to walk through her door from the moment Jane’s on the Jetty had opened for business in 1983, the year Infaran89,267 had dropped him off on Earth.

The night Kurt left Earth would always be the most-memorable event of Jane’s life. The method of extraction deferred to flitter preferences when working in the atmospheres of noxious sabak; a midnight pickup from the beach on this occasion. They’d left five-year-old Marc at home with Nicole, Stephanie’s daughter, who was one of the best-paid babysitters in Australia.

Nicole Vermeer was fourteen and still in school, but she paid for everything when she went anywhere with Mick, the hunk who made her the envy of all her friends. Her boyfriend was nineteen and had a real job, even though most of his wages went to keeping his Ford XB coupe on the road. Because the backseat held many fond memories, as did the passenger seat, Nicole didn’t begrudge Mick the loud, money-guzzling car that he’d always wanted.

Nicole was paid an hourly rate plus a guaranteed fat tip by Kurt Haynes, a drug dealer with connections in Europe, according to her mum. That was a hundred percent hush-hush, of course. Either way, Marc was in good hands for the duration of his parents’ absence.

Said parents took their Toyota Landcruiser to Little Beach, off the scenic drive south of Macmasters Beach. Jane felt ill all the way there. She’d known since before Marc was born that this day would come, but that didn’t make it any easier. The small beach was dark and deserted. They walked to the beach barefoot and held each other.

The flitter is coming down on his own, Kurt said quietly.

Jane looked up; nothing to see yet. How far off?

The Minano Prime was back in the seaum, aware that a world-class nagging loomed. He thought it unlikely that his next transgressions would make a difference. Hang on, I’ll ping him… He’s here now. We’ll be inside his cloak in a sec.

The beach suddenly bathed in warm, orange light. Jane felt and heard the low rumble of the flitter’s pulse and looked up again; knowing that a flitter is a 92-metre-long creature wasn’t the same as seeing his translucent body 700 metres above. Wow! He’s beautiful! Can we-

We can.

Jane’s feet left the sand. Soon, she was above and behind the flitter, still in Kurt’s arms. The scales on the beast’s back were black with a blue shine and radiated neither heat nor light, as did his belly. A clear dome atop wide stairs beckoned. A thick, five-metre-square piece of that dome popped out and hovered to one side. They floated into the flitter’s atrium at a sensible pace, then softly landed on a twenty-metre-wide slab of granite.

The dome allowed great views in any direction. Because they were sitting on top of his head, Jane thought, giddily struggling with scale. She disengaged from Kurt, walked to the front and looked down; Little Beach was far below, past a glowing, pointy snout.

Kurt caught up and kissed her neck. Grab a chair. The flitter’s force pods will move it to wherever. Just point.

Jane looked over her shoulder; the dome was whole again. She couldn’t see an outline where the opening had been. What’s holding that piece of dome in place?

It can’t go anywhere now that it’s back at the same temperature as the rest of the dome.

The flitter cools it down to take it out and to fit it back in?

Yeah, like a quick flash-freeze at just the right moment. There should be a bottle of bubbly down below. We have four doses of rapture left.

Kurt disappeared down a staircase in the atrium’s back-left corner. There was another one on the opposite side. Two mirrored suites of living quarters lurked below, Jane knew. She hopped into a chair and pointed at the middle of the atrium floor’s convex forward edge. Her chair briskly floated to the spot, without scraping the granite. She gazed at the Australian nightscape.

A long shelf popped out of the low, glossy hardwood panelling to Jane’s left.

Kurt put down two glasses and a bottle. Did you grab that box?

Jane looked away reluctantly. Where’s your case?

Kurt poured two effervescent whites. Right behind you. Take it back to Earth. There’s a wad of cash in there.

Jane stood up, opened the case and eyed the packs of currency. She found the rapture and shook her head. Me getting caught with that kind of money will get Marc killed. I don’t need it. You keep it.

Kurt shrugged his shoulders. His case would go down the maw; he had no use for it. He sat down. His chair joined Jane’s, with the shelf in between. The flitter had left the mesosphere and gently ascended into low orbit, 100kor or 327 kilometres up. What do you think?

Jane opened the box. Stunningly beautiful. Are we doubling up? Do we have time for a top-up later on?

One each. We have plenty of time.

Jane dropped two and returned the last two to the box. The dregs had been used up years earlier. Time was the one thing they didn’t have, she thought. Tears were running down his face. Her own eyes were dry. She put a hand on his shoulder and swirled her bubbly. Looks like it’s gone. Drink up.

Kurt took a tentative sip. Sorry, didn’t mean to make an ass of myself this early, he said, taking her hand. I love you, Jane.

Jane gave him a hug and a kiss, sat down and tried the alien white; stupidly-perfect, as expected. From orbit, the Earth was a magnificent, living thing. Can we go to the dayside?

Kurt spoke a few words in Rahn. Earth rolled fast below, then slowed down with a jolt on a terse command.

Jane smiled at the flitter’s protests; after six years, she had enough Rahn to know what was going on.

They’d spent an hour checking out landmarks from space when the flitter suggested a trip to the moon. Kurt tossed his Rolex to Jane. Watch him go. Flitters can’t help themselves when they get a chance for a blast.

Thus encouraged, the beast turned and instantly hit 12,000Gs. Acceleration changed to deceleration after fifty-seven seconds. According to Kurt’s Rolex, they drifted above the moon’s surface two minutes after leaving Earth’s orbit.

I’m sure I went faster than any human ever has! Jane gushed. How fast was that?

About 24.5 million kilometres an hour when we started decelerating. Let’s go a quarter light chime starward. You will have been further away from Earth than any other human.

Can we go around the moon a few times first? It’s gorgeous! What’s a quarter light chime in light seconds? How fast will we go?

Again, Kurt’s Space&Numbers mod did the math and the conversions. We’ll hit 9.2% of light speed at the halfway point, just short of a hundred million kilometres an hour. A quarter light chime is 21.6 light seconds. We’ll get there in eight minutes and deflect spinward, to match Earth wheeling on her track around the sun.

Jane recalled Kurt’s revelations over six years. We’ll be matched starward and level with the plane of the ecliptic, with a separation of 21.6 light seconds.

From a quarter light chime starward, Earth and Moon were bright jewels reflecting the Sun. They’re fragile and lonely, Jane thought. They were also rare and precious, which was why Kurt Haynes had come this way.

Scrubbed Earth air at the right pressure and temperature was held inside the flitter’s shield. The pair walked out of the atrium, down wide stairs and onto an empty deck. The flitter brought a rug and two lopsided pillows, large, leather donuts with a small hole. Kurt carried the booze and the last of the rapture.

Jane dosed their drinks with the regret of good things coming to an end. Very last ones. I’ll have to score some ecstasy.

Kurt thought about the pills in Ibiza. E isn’t as good as rapture. Dumps you in the Blue Hole the next day, especially when you overdo it. Decent rapture never does that.

The blue hole. That’s appropriate. Rahn term?

The Blue Hole is a void near the Jawar Rahn Cluster. About sixty million light years away. Don’t get caught with MDMA in the Land Down Under.

I won’t. They’d stomp on me a lot harder than they would for some weed.

That’s something I never got down there. How does someone you don’t know, and who doesn’t know you, get a say in what you put in your body? What’s the spin they use to get you to agree to that?

I didn’t agree to give anyone a say. Spin is the usual garbage. Do as you’re told, it’s all for your own good. If you think you know better, we’ll destroy your life and call it justice. Pricks in power think they own us, like a farmer owns his pigs.

Kurt pondered the practicalities of getting some rapture to her. Inadvisable, he decided. He took a drink instead. Soon, the rapture came on; they made love for the last time.

The most-memorable part of Jane’s night followed her, in itself unforgettable, final tryst with Kurt. Sessions 250Kodo starward on a flitter’s deck were a Rahn thing; their way of going parking by the lake in Jane’s mind. Their flitter had come from Infaran89,267, who was in high orbit, 654 kilometres or 200kor off Earth.

Nine of the ten crew enjoyed a breather in Syrac, on the Doisan Telanger in Miroku Ruhan. Kurt still wasn’t game to sneak Jane aboard for fear of a challenge under verse92, which might come to Teicaté’s attention. Instead, he granted Jane a circumnavigation inside the glittering beast’s cloak. It took them forty minutes, because a 16Regular is more than five kilometres long.

Tour over, Kurt returned to the forward banks, which he proudly described as the most acute sensory apparatus in the universe. Grudgingly acceding to tradition, he inverted the flitter to be right-way-up to the transport and held centred on the pulse generators at a distance of 981 metres or 3,000toren. The Minano Prime knew that his reputation amongst transports was poor and kept his eyes on the flitter’s display.

Jane instead gazed into the roiling, glowing forward banks. She felt the weight of destiny; meeting Kurt Haynes had simply led to this moment. She knew the 16Regular’s mind; he knew hers.

Infaran89,267 predicted a bright and impossible, shared future. He told her that she was touched by Fate and that they’d meet on the meadow first.

The beast was unfazed by the glorious death in his near future; he was a trimmed-down interceptor without prospects of being reverted. He looked forward to what came after the meadow to such an extent that Jane unrepentantly felt the same way. More so because his certitude about their path came from being touched by Fate too. To Infaran89,267, their apparent chance-meeting confirmed that his notions were correct.

Jane did not mention the promised illustrious future to Kurt when he asked if she’d seen a ghost. He nodded absentmindedly at her gushing and evasive answers, then turned the flitter on his beam and headed for the surface.

All too soon, Jane was back on the beach, her white Landcruiser the only car in sight. The second dose of rapture had worn off and the sun was up. She put the exchange with the glittering beast aside. To get to the meadow, one had to die, but Marc needed her alive until Kurt returned to Earth. She walked to her car, flicked the sand off her feet and drove home.

Fate was delighted with Jane’s focus. She’d felt his attention, as she faced the beast, on the beach and during her drive home. Pleasingly, those sensations had hardened her resolve, because Jane’s purpose, at this early stage of the game, was to turn Marc into a true believer. A difficult path for the boy, Fate mused, with several possibilities of untimely death along the way. Naturally, he would strive to keep the probability of such possibilities low.

To have viable fallback paths available was second-nature to Fate. Infaran89,267 had received a nudge to keep him on such a path. The beast had felt the weight of destiny and had divined a possible future that was optimal from his trimmed-down perspective.

Becoming Reconciler822, in Fate’s estimation, wasn’t as inevitable as Infaran89,267 believed it to be. That path was relevant in some of the possible futures where Marc fathered twins. All those skeins of possibility were far removed from the ideal strand that took Marc to Danzek Aric. On Fate’s preferred path, Jane and Infaran89,267 would not meet again.

Fate knew that souls could occasionally tell which future would become real. Precognition was achieved via means not discernible to Fate, which was the way things should be. If the future were certain, it would be as boring as the unchangeable past; a hideous prospect. As had Jane, Fate put Infaran89,267 aside.

Seventeen years after leaving Earth, Kurt Haynes still thought about Jane every day. He’d returned to Earth’s orbit in June 2007. Verse21 had stopped him from applying for a slot on the cultural vector confirmation group, because he’d been part of the assessment team.

The ten confirmation guys had left for the surface within days of arrival. They were on a one-way hook, just as Kurt had been for his ten years on Earth, cut off from his life in the Sanctuary. Verse21 mandated one-way hooks to help vector personnel give the world being assessed their undivided attention.

The Razatch Sareena, in addition to the usual geological and ecological studies, had decided to do Lunar makeover research. Kurt had worked on two makeovers. In both of those razatch, he’d also assisted the restoration and ecology teams. That, along with his political clout, had scored him a slot on Infaran29,701’s roster. All that arm-twisting had taken him as far as Earth’s orbit.

Kurt’s faux-pas on Earth had not been forgotten. As a result, he wouldn’t set foot on the ground until late July 2010, more than three years after his return. He’d tried to join Korad on his surface expeditions, but Meru had firmly set him straight every time.

As did Meru, Teicaté, Kurt’s danlu, had misgivings about Kurt’s obsession with Earth. She hadn’t forgiven him for taking the name he’d used for his ten years on Earth as his sarmin.[1] Kurt refused to see the problem. Many Rahn had profound experiences on sabak; he’d heard of plenty who’d kept their sabak names without being nagged about the nature of their adventures.

Kurt’s decision to seek further involvement with the razatch hadn’t helped. Teicaté did not agree that doing good work for the Sanctuary was expected of a Narsain Prime and safeguarded his position at the decennial confirmation votes. Superficially it was true; no one was ever voted out whilst doing the hard kor on the ground. Still, his position as Minano Prime was secure without it, simply because he was doing a great job. Predictably, Teicaté suspected an ulterior motive behind his desire to return to Earth.

Kurt’s home world, Mashein, was one of the ten Sanctuary worlds behind the Razatch Sareena. The other nine Doisan had also supplied a crew member to Infaran29,701’s roster. With five males and five females, the crew was gender-balanced in accord with verse21’s dicta. In addition, each of those ten worlds had contributed a researcher to the cultural vector confirmation team working on Earth’s surface.

Kurt Haynes had claimed the most prestigious of the ten habitats, habitat one, thanks to his status on Mashein. There were three Irdan Primes amongst his colleagues. The other six were just Mard Primes. Kurt was Minano Narsain Prime and Serendin Irdan Prime, which made him the democratically-elected leader of ten million Rahn.

Despite his exalted position, Kurt wasn’t in charge of the razatch crew in orbit off Earth. Suderin Fazal, the Tadziel-based razatch chair, had offered the job to Korad, the Caraz Irdan Prime, instead. Caraz was on Tadziel, Kurt had protested, to no avail.

Kurt didn’t blame Korad. Suderin Fazal was responsible for the snub, egged on by Meru thanks to his misstep on Earth, which had resulted in a sabak-born Rahn. That issue had to be addressed sometime soon, but he hadn’t been game to bring it up with Meru.

The third-most influential Rahn on board was a female, One Narox Ronen a Sontarre an Nergahl, sarmin Tace. Tace was the Ronen Irdan Prime. Both Nergahl and Mashein had been settled by razatch from Tadziel and nine other worlds.

Tace and Kurt had been born on Tadziel and had many connections there; they’d been aware of each other for centuries. Tace was the ecology lead for Earth’s concordance roadmap. Kurt had regularly volunteered for ecology tasks; a shipboard affair between Tace and Kurt was in its third year.

Everyone accepted that discreet jinnai rangan were unavoidable on long-term jaunts. The ten Rahn aboard Infaran29,701 had formed four jinnai involving nine of them. The ecologist Mio Tais was a free agent and the most-beguiling amongst the females.

The most-attractive males on board were Cenn and Korad, the first jinnai rangan to form three years earlier. Cenn was responsible for procurement; Korad was the restoration lead. Mio Tais frequently spent quality time with them. She was also friendly with two of the three remaining jinnai. One comprised Kurt and Tace; Turjan Mak and Lanile, both ecologists, made up the other.

The only jinnai that did not indulge Mio Tais was the last of the four to form. With two males and one female it was the most common jinnai seen on transports anywhere in the Sanctuary. The two males, Radmil and Gant, worked on the restoration roadmap. Mishel was the geologist. As decreed by Mishel, their jinnai played only with Cenn and Korad, leaving her outnumbered but always in control.

Tace and Kurt were in habitat one’s lagoon; the date on Earth was Wednesday July 28, 2010. They accepted a three-way ping from Korad, who was in command and therefore on the promenade, which was above the habitats. Come and have a drink! Cenn’s joined me. Kurt, bring Jaqein booze. Tace, bring your gorgeous self.

Tace kept herself afloat with lazy kicks and raised her eyebrows at Kurt, who nodded. We’re in the lagoon, on the island’s dome-side. Give us a chime.

See you soon. Korad terminated the ping.

They felt the transport turn as they swam to the beach.

Feet on white sand two chimes later, Tace admired the view. It’s back to the nightside. I approve.

Australia was not only on the nightside, but directly ahead of them, Kurt saw. He gazed at the east coast. The cities Melbourne, Sydney and Brisbane were bright spots. Was Jane Lester still in those dimmer lights just north of Sydney, he wondered. He’d hitch a ride, next time Korad ran out of stock. A stroll around his old haunts could do no harm, Meru would have to see the sense in that.

On the promenade, Kurt put a bottle on each of three tables, all packed with food, booze, drugs, napkins and glassware.

Tace walked to Cenn and tossed a box. We can’t sort some of the Niche1s with what’s left in the gene pool down there, she said quietly. I want you to start looking for DNA that won’t cost us the moon. Keep it between us for now.

Cenn stood up, poured two reds and dropped a dose of Tace’s rapture in each. He picked up both; she took a glass.

The two sauntered to the promenade’s edge and admired Earth, 200kor ahead, for a chime or two.

Suderin told me, Cenn said. An orange-black merak, six sub-species. Four of them are smaller. I guess you’d rate them Niche2s, but the two big ones are your perfect median Niche1s. I’ve looked into it already. Suderin wants a close match, but there’s nothing close enough in Miroku Daman.

Tace rolled her eyes. Exactly what I didn’t want to hear. We’ll talk about it later.

The two returned to the lounges and sat down.

Cenn addressed Kurt. You keep up with the product from the confirmation crew. Got anything good for us? We could do with a laugh.

Kurt wondered what the pair had been talking about. Whatever it was, Cenn was done with the topic for now. He rotated the right layer; there were eighteen new safon. Gimme a chime. Checking the latest batch now. He accessed the first abstract, saw a familiar name and skimmed through. "Here’s a good one. It’s over a year old. I have no idea what these confirmation guys think when they see the words relevant, fresh and current in the Guide. Anyway, there’s this corporation. Makes a poison that kills everything except the plants they’ve modified to be immune to it-"

I’ve heard about this, Korad butted in. They messed them up so you can’t grow new plants from the seed they produce. Every crop, you have to buy more seed from that corporation. Problem is, the weeds are becoming resistant and they’re coming back bigger and better all the time. Then everyone has these superweeds to deal with, which means buying more poison. They’re raking it in!

Kurt nodded impatiently. It gets better. They never bothered to make their abominations immiscible with natural plants and their customers don’t protect their neighbours. Plants that farmers had matched to their environment for decades became infected and worthless. That’s what happened to the farmer in this tale.

Tace scowled. If someone infected my plants with a genetic disaster I’d challenge and ruin them.

"Oh, our farmer challenged, but this corporation controls government policy, including the legal system. That farmer lost his crops, his farm and his money. Seems the law says if a corporation even partially contaminates your crop with something you don’t want, they own your crop. If you’ve sold it, they own the proceeds. If you challenge, they own you!"

Cenn laughed. That’s hilarious! Tell me you’re making this up.

No, it’s all here. Kurt pinged. I flicked a copy.

Cenn grabbed his drink and accessed with a placid smile.

Wouldn’t be so hilarious if you were that farmer, Tace said dourly.

Korad smirked. "But Tace! What did he expect! This corporation writes the laws that apply to it! Let’s not forget that this is exactly what our confirmation guys are looking for. A Dark