The Lost Atholl: The Janus Set, Book Three

By Alan Stapf

The final book of the trilogy ‘The Janus Set’.

Now, as outlaws of the Federation, Aramay and her siblings perceive how Her Royal Highness Jathonica is bringing about her total dominion of the Federation. Already Jathonica has millions of bio-androids infiltrating the upper echelons of the Federation. Logistics is her next target although her plans appear to have been momentarily thwarted.

Bryton, aware of his perilous predicament decides to confront Jathonica head-on. His only reliance is with the natives, a presumed ally although he knows very little about them.

This is where Aramay learns the true potential of the natives; where she and the natives learn of the lost Atholl and ultimately, the single reason of their efforts. A task they never sought but one which brought Aramay and the natives together, perfecting their skills … perhaps for others.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Mar 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781728399065

Alan Stapf

Alan Stapf was born in Lancaster, England, and has worked in archaeology, geophysics, and environmental protection while on various contracts in the United Kingdom, France, and Siberia.

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2020 Alan Stapf. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 03/04/2020

ISBN: 978-1-7283-9907-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-9908-9 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-9906-5 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in

this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views

expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the

views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Introduction

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Families of Atholl - Lorne and Atholl - Fastenada

Appendix

Glossary

Aramay

INTRODUCTION

Aramay had her dream ... almost. She had real friends who had engineered circumstances which brought her blood family together, family she had never known about. Above all, she’d fallen in love with a new life and especially one person.

Yet, they were outlaws from the Federation. Aramay now knew how Asular Een had contrived to rid the galaxy of every last Atholl-Fastenada and all opposition to herself and Her Royal Highness Jathonica. But why?

Although appearing nonsensical the natives were set on going up against the might of the Federation. The natives, so calm; what possible assets did they possess which gave them absolute confidence? However, she felt safe in their hands.

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CHAPTER ONE

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Most Wanted

‘Space Cargo Vessel Charisma reporting the loss of park beacon TN-615,’ came the soft fluid female voice.

Customs security station answered the call casually, their reply weighted with sleep.

‘What’s the status of the beacon and can you give details Charisma?’The female voice gave up the details.

‘The beacon was hit due to navigational anomalies. The Feldspar Mining Consortium accepts full responsibility. Last co-ordinates and trajectory of the beacon are now being uploaded. Also note, a large piece of cargo hopper is still attached to the beacon.’

‘Thank you, Charisma. Have a safe trip, Customs Security out.’ The sleepy man in Customs turned around to his work mate. ‘Jerks, couldn’t pilot their way out of a paper bag. More like no one on bridge.’

‘Yeah,’ was his work mate’s absent-minded comment. ‘I’ll get a tug onto it straight away then we can get some kip.’ A few seconds later, ‘Awwh, nuts. The beacon’s headed into the military ordnance zone. Better inform them, they can tow it back.’

The dislodged beacon and accompanying hopper sped through space and into a designated military ordnance zone. The object was verified as the beacon with a small piece of wreckage from an ore hopper. The trajectory would take the debris close to the cargo area but was not in conflict with any space vehicle or cargo pod. A tug would be despatched in due course, meaning hours or even weeks.

As the wreckage silently coasted by the military cargo units, and temporarily obscured from military scanners, a small shuttle slipped unnoticed from the hopper wreckage and nestled alongside the cargo unit.

The unit left two hours later with the military convoy ZZAS-501.

Two days later, the original crew of the Federation unit ZZAS-501 were found alive, well and a little inebriated, locked in the galley of a shuttle. Their tug unit, along with the cargo and refinery unit were missing. It was another two days before military security ascertained full details of the cargo. The 1.4-million-ton unit was transporting a 978-million-ton cargo of mixed heavy metals, including gold.

It was a runners’ dream cargo and someone had lifted it right in front of the LEA’s eyes. This ‘someone’ was the Federation’s most wanted runner, Flotndog.

An Out

On Taur P, night slunk in almost unnoticed replacing the gloomy dusk with a sombre, cloud shrouded darkness. Aymon sat with his younger brother Toman in the privacy of their own chambers within the Keep of Castedraell, their family home. A solitary electric lighting unit illuminated the cosy warm room with a subtle, yellow orange light.

The response to the Federation’s demands, composed in the preceding days, had been transmitted to the LEA a few days ago. Aymon, Toman and six members of Taur P’s ruling council had put their names to a document which acknowledged their culpability in inciting the populace to break Federation planetary edicts. Namely; covertly introducing and utilising restricted technologies and illegal imports.

Now Aymon and his brother pondered morosely over their fate and destinies. Only one communiqué had been received from the Federation after the transmission of the damning statement. It merely acknowledged receipt and a short response indicating they should be ready to receive LEA investigators in the near future.

‘At least the population won’t be taken to task over their ... stupid rules,’ muttered Aymon optimistically.

‘You think not? They want slave labour,’ replied Toman, ‘and you can be damned sure we won’t be allowed to communicate any suggestion of the Federation’s involvement in their partial genocide of Verdosk.’

‘No one would believe us anyway, we’re a renegade planet in most peoples’ eyes. Or that’s the way the DCI will portray us. They’ll do what you said. Pay us a pittance for any mineral wealth and turn this planet into a backwater of the Federation, a serfdom of peasants paying homage through taxation and labour.’

‘Huh, we won’t be here to see it anyway.’ Toman was trying to hide his feelings. Even though the crime was rather minor, everyone on Taur P knew how hard the LEA could come down on small transgressions. What would happen to them? Probably interrogation then a short trial and a prison sentence. Most likely hard labour on some planetoid or asteroid. His black thoughts were apparent to Aymon.

‘Don’t get so depressed Toman, we don’t really know what will happen. The LEA may only require information on the runners. Maybe just a short custodial sentence. We’ll have to tell the truth about buying contraband on the black market, can’t risk withholding any information on that point. Word’s out the BI have Shay and Essen so we can’t make it any worse for them.’

‘I can’t even bring myself to think about it. Shay’s part of our fraternity.’ Toman gave an audible sigh, ‘Bastard Federation.’

There was nothing they could do for Shay. Silence for a couple of minutes before Toman spoke from a slightly different angle.

‘You won’t say anything about the communiqué from the rebels, will you?’ He leaned forwards cupping his chin with his hands and sprawling his elbows on the table.

‘Of course not, that would be suicide. Anyway, we don’t know it was from any reb’s. What can we tell them? Nothing. All we have is the one communiqué.’

Aymon still hadn’t told anyone of the small cartoon drawing which came with the message and, most importantly how he’d later seen the same motif quite plainly on the Strategy show after a whole array of video images had been released. Everyone had seen those images of both the first assault on Alpha and the second later battle, where the troopers’ attack had failed miserably.

When the natives first attacked Alpha and took the Exec, sib cameras had clearly shown attack-choppers with similar cartoon images to that in Aymon’s communiqué. Then later, in the fire fight at Alpha, the exact same motifs on at least three of the captured ACs.

After the natives had been vanquished in their fortress, the Federation had voiced its findings: Rebels had been responsible for the catastrophic events which had led to Federation losses and the subsequent annihilation of the natives.

The main point was, Aymon dare not tell the others of this link. If the Federation got wind of the connection then, no doubt, every one of them would be subjected to an agonising inquisition by the BI.

Toman carried on, ‘All this waiting with the LEA rubbing their hands with glee at the trepidations and misfortunes they can burden us with. We ought to go out fighting not skulking in fear of those Federation fops.’

Aymon tried to quell his brother’s anger. ‘Fighting? What the hell can we do? Even if we could it would give them what they want, they could do the population real harm if we defied them.’

‘The sick bastards, if we could just get away from this planet. If only these so-called Federation rebels existed, I’d join them in a flash.’ Toman was getting het up about their predicament again. Aymon held his peace and said nothing. Toman went quiet, still sitting hunched over the table he traced invisible, idle patterns on the wood.

‘Do you think the rebels exist?’ His eyes looked up at his brother although his head still faced the table. ‘I mean the ones who supposedly manipulated the natives of Op 141?’

Aymon didn’t move his head either but looked at his brother side-long.

‘Maybe ... I don’t think we’ll ever know for sure. It would be too risky for the rebels to make themselves known. It serves them well enough now the Federation are running around in circles searching for them. Looks like the natives were just pawns in a game between the Federation and the reb’s. Anyway ... the DCI could lay the blame at anyone’s door, fabricate any evidence they needed. We have to acquiesce to their demands, it’s too dangerous to do otherwise.’

After a few moments Aymon moved his head, looking at Toman in a more direct manner. ‘Well Toman? You want to tell me something?’

Toman had never been able to hide secrets from his brother. He couldn’t help but skirt around a delicate subject until his brother asked him directly. Toman shrugged his shoulders then leaned forwards towards his brother.

‘A few of us have a ship ready to leave Taur P; hyperspace capabilities. We can get away from this system, maybe even take the blame and repercussions with us.’

Aymon looked at him for a long time as Toman waited for Aymon’s response. At last Aymon gave a little smiling hum and spoke.

‘I thought you’d try something like that,’ and continued to smile at his young brother. ‘I can’t stop you.’ This was like an affirmative answer to Toman. ‘You know the risks, the Federation have at least one ship in orbit monitoring our planet and a host of surveillance satellites.’ He mused over Toman’s eager smirking face. ‘Well ... can the ship make the jump to hyperspace quickly?’

‘About four minutes acceleration before the hyper-netting becomes viable.’

‘Tchah!’ was the response, ‘The Federation would pick you up within two minutes, or blast you to smithereens in less.’ Aymon stood and walked around the table with hands on hips, head down in thought for a moment. ‘If you knew where the guard ship was, it’s orbit and so forth you’d have a chance but you don’t know.’ He looked over at Toman, ‘It would be a hell of a gamble.’

‘We’ve analysed the most likely orbits and had a fix a few hours ago on the guard ship. All we need is confirmation it hasn’t changed orbit and we’d be out of here before they could get their pants up,’ he smiled.

‘And?’

‘And we can get confirmation of its position if they were to reply to a communiqué.’

‘They wouldn’t respond to any request or message.’

‘I know.’

‘And what if there’s more than one ship? Probably a few remote weaponised satellites as well.’ Toman shrugged his shoulders again meaning that would be the end but he had another addition, ‘We have a decoy ship.’

‘They’d see through that one.’

‘But they wouldn’t have time to get both ships?’

Aymon stated the obvious. ‘You know they may just pick your ship to blast and not bother with the decoy.’ There was some silence as they stared at each other and Aymon spoke again. ‘The only reason I’m letting you go is because when Tiree and Channon hear about our isolation, they’ll try and run the blockade to save us. That would be foolhardy on their part and they’d know it. It smells like a trap.’ Once again, the measured look while Toman kept his silence. ‘And just who exactly are those willing to take that chance of flight with you?’

Toman smiled, ‘All who put their names to the document and their immediate families save yourself and Jed. I’m hoping that you two will join us. It’ll be best if you did.’

‘You know I can’t do that. Someone will have to stay here. Jed, me and a few others have already made our choices. Anyway, if you get away, they’ll presume we hit the trail as well. There are areas where we can hide out indefinitely. We don’t want to leave, and ... you never know, things may not be as bad as we think once they believe all the ‘fugitives’ have left.’ He paused for thought then in a milder tone. ‘In a way you’d be taking the heat away from Taur P. You’re the ones in real danger.’

Toman gently nodded his affirmation but before Toman said anything Aymon moved the conversation on.

‘And where will you go? It’s over twenty years since we’ve been privy to the status of all Federation planets.’

‘Stay within the Orion Seahope sector.’

‘Why?’

‘There are millions of systems within our sector. It’s just somewhere to make the jump. Get us away from the Federation. They’ll expect us to make a long jump, maybe to the other side of the galaxy, but we could hide just as well within the Local Arm. We’ll make our real decisions once we’re clear.’

Aymon looked down at the table and then up again at Toman. He was slow in his delivery.

‘I have some co-ordinates.’ he said and sat down again. Toman’s eyes widened and Aymon put up a hand to quell his brother’s hopes. ‘They may be useless now, even bait for a Federation trap but there’s always the possibility they’ll get you to some safe haven. I just don’t know ... it’s your choice.’

Toman smiled back, ‘Is it information about the rebels?’

Aymon’s face became harder, ‘No,’ was his emphatic reply. ‘This isn’t anything to do with rebels. These are old co-ordinates. A dozen safe points; sanctuaries the Alliance used during the Tauran Wars. It could be that all the points of refuge are known to the Federation since the Wars ended. If they are, then there’s always the chance they could be under surveillance even after all this time, especially now the Federation’s hyped up with talk of rebels. Anyway, there’s one location in particular which Tiree told me about, one of the old Alliance drops we could use if we were ever in mortal danger.’

Toman was grinning and clearly relieved his brother had at least a few hopeful locations.

‘So, there’s a chance we could link up with Channon?’

Aymon stood and began to slowly pace the floor. ‘I don’t know for certain but it’s the best shot you’ve got ...’ Again, a pause in conversation before Aymon asked, ‘And when?’

‘Two days’ time.’

Aymon went to the window and stared blankly at the few city lights he could see. ‘We could send a coded message through pirated hyper-comm’s, lay out a message for Tiree. They may get it but we wouldn’t know.’ Aymon was struggling with some decision, Toman kept silent. Then Aymon made up his mind and spoke. ‘I’m going to tell you something I would rather not.’

Toman rose slowly and walked over to the window and stood by his brother staring into the black night waiting silently for what Aymon was going to reveal.

‘It may or may not be significant. When we received the message from the so-called rebels, there was also what could be described as a seal or signature with it.’ He looked at Toman eye to eye. ‘It was in the form of a cartoon caricature of an animal.’

Toman looked round at his brother. He didn’t see anything exceptional about that, only that it was of worth-while import should he ever come across the mythical rebels.

‘I saw the self-same, or similar motifs recently.’

‘Where?’ said Toman paying closer attention.

‘On the flying machines the Earth natives used to smash Alpha base on Op141, and later on some captured ACs when they took on all the troopers. And ... we had the message before anyone knew of the technology wielded by the natives.’

Toman was open mouthed. In a flash, the penny dropped and spoke out excitedly. ‘Those images on the Strat’ show. So, it’s true. There are rebels and they were involved in the events which led to the natives’ demise.’

Aymon hung his head, ‘Yes ... well, at least the BI didn’t get their hands on the natives, and there’s no way the reb’s would know you were running from the Federation. Just keep your eyes open and don’t get caught. If you’re lucky, you may find Channon or a friendly runner. If it is a safe point then no doubt Tiree and Channon may have someone looking out for you.’

They both knew the chances of getting away from Taur P were perhaps marginal, perhaps seventy percent if they could verify the guard ship was still keeping to the same orbit and there were no armed satellites. Aymon looked deep into his brother’s eyes and spoke softly.

‘Take good care,’ and the two brothers hugged each other.

‘And don’t you do anything stupid. Hide up in the mountains, the Cardour Caves,’ was Toman’s reply to Aymon. If his brother were to be caught, he knew Aymon would rather kill himself before revealing anything to the BI. He smiled yet tears were welling in his eyes.

‘We’ll see each other again, under better circumstances.’

Both knew it a vain hope, yet optimism is key when the odds are stacked against you.

The Lure

A small Federation Star Frigate, FSF Malco, lay in a distant orbit of Taur P. A much smaller craft than the cruisers, such as Hero. Apart from a small contingency of troopers for boarding parties they didn’t have to accommodate any large numbers of troopers or their equipment. They were geared for observation and small ship to ship confrontations. Her lines were cleaner than most other star ships of this size so able to function adequately within many planets’ atmospheres.

Captain Delerdop of the FSF Malco spent most of her time playing athletic games in the gym. She was a competitive, energetic woman and, like all Federation personnel, had access to the best health technology. She bounced and sprang around the court hitting the puck with amazing agility as her opponent tried, miserably, to win the match. A call came over the intercom from the ship’s Pro 1 in a clear bell-like cadence, neither feminine nor masculine.

‘Captain Delerdop, a message has just been received from the Taur P Council warning of an imminent planetary escape by subversives.’

Delerdop momentarily lost concentration and the puck went out of court dropping a point from her score. She threw down her racket in petulant anger.

‘Blast the creeps,’ she shouted in frustration and went straight to the door, grabbed a towel then walked into the shower area without another word.

Again, the ship’s processor advanced the same message whilst she showered then dried herself in the blow area. Delerdop responded with an abrupt snap.

‘Let them wait.’ She thought about it for a second then in a more controlled manner, ‘No, ask where the information came from and where the subversives are to launch.’

By the time she entered the bridge area in her casual wear, Pro 1 was able to supply more information.

‘The communiqué is from Dordell Mosny of the planet’s Council, not a named subversive in the compliant admission to the Federation. The probable launch position is unknown.’

‘Huh, odd, don’t you think Number One?’

‘Yes Captain, could be a dupe.’

‘Exactly,’ then turned to look at the planet below. ‘Pro 1, did the message give any indication when this event was to take place?’

‘That information was not known to the informant.’

‘Pahh, informant? I doubt it.’ She turned to face the bridge officer. ‘Number One, radio silence from now on and turn us on to a more polar orbit; keep a close check on all areas, especially the far side of the planet. Pro 1, put out another two patrol drones.’

Number One gave a reminder of a DCI request. ‘Captain, we have been asked to remain on station as normal.’

She gave a petulant snap, ‘This is normal, doing our job.’

‘Yes Captain.’

She breathed a little easier, didn’t mean to snap at her Number One. ‘Okay, better inform the DCI boffins and their boss, Carmel, Cartmel or whatever his name is.’

Delerdop stayed on the bridge and had the ship’s health advisor come up to begin heat treatment on her leg muscles. She was a little miffed at having to pull blockade duty with only her vessel and no other help. Why couldn’t they have given her a couple of fast intercept ships as well? After all, it appeared to be a mission of special significance to the DCI. They’d installed new instruments and added some sort of communications specialists to her crew.

She’d barely begun her treatment when Pro 1 belled out its neutral tones.

‘A ship has been detected breaking into the planet’s stratosphere. It’s accelerating out to space within the second north quadrant and may have hyperspace capability.’

‘How long before it acquires enough jump speed,’ asked Delerdop casually. It was obvious to her, if the subversives were trying to escape, they must have a ship with that capacity.

‘At constant acceleration, nine minutes.’

‘Let’s have a look. Get us across there and keep tight surveillance on the rest of the planet. Target the craft with lasers but don’t fire yet.’ Barely three minutes after her last order Pro 1 chimed.

‘Another ship has been detected making for space directly opposite our side of the planet. If they have hyperspace capabilities then an estimated time to jump is four minutes at present acceleration.’

‘Right,’ said Delerdop in an over prolonged drawl and more enthusiastic voice. ‘How long before we can intercept and disable the two.’

‘Three minutes for the first and six minutes for the second.’

‘Go for the furthest one, the first one’s a dupe. If it isn’t, we can disable it and get back to it later.’ A moments’ thought, ‘Okay, have a drone sent out to the first and knock out its engines. Acknowledge Number One. We go to the furthest ship first.’

‘Aye Captain,’ confirmed Number One.

‘Acknowledged,’ chimed Pro 1.

‘Is that boffin Major Cartmel on station?’

‘Already on station Captain and ready to engage the RTL. It’s important you don’t use your lasers. This is a direct order from DCI,’ were Major Cartmel’s eager words.

‘If they make the jump you bare all responsibility,’ Delerdop informed him.

‘Of course.’

FSF Malco broke off its interception with Toman’s craft and went for the furthest and faster accelerating ship. Delerdop had instructions from DCI to have any ship running the blockade be subject to the new Remote Transducing Logger. As far as she knew it was an experimental device which DCI were keen to use. Rumour was the RTL was capable of giving a read out of a ship’s jump co-ordinates and in some cases, able to reprogram a ship’s hyperspace co-ordinates. However, it was only rumour as everything was on a need to know basis.

‘The drone’s on its way to intercept the first ship Captain and ready to deploy two missiles.’

‘And blow it to pieces?’ finished Delerdop with mild sarcasm. She thought about her Number One’s suggestion for a few seconds. ‘OK, Pro 1, make ready one low grade missile to intercept the first vessel and launch when ready.’

‘I strongly advise against that Captain,’ came Major Cartmel’s voice.

Delerdop gave an audible sigh over comm’s then added.

‘You heard that Number One, belay the firing.’

‘Acknowledged, belay missile launch.’

A second later Pro 1 added, ‘Due to the ship’s apparent fragility the missile could possibly have destroyed the vessel altogether.’

‘OK, OK,’ replied Delerdop a little peeved, she wasn’t privy to all DCI’s objectives. Again, she pondered a few seconds. ‘Major Cartmel, it may be advisable to RTL both those ship’s co-ordinates or whatever it is your supposed to do.’

‘All done Captain.’

The Malco proceeded to intercept the second ship and left Toman’s ship.

After two minutes Pro 1 gave an urgent update.

‘The first vessel has increased acceleration by a factor of three. The second vessel is now within two minutes of our tractor range.’

‘Oh, shit,’ Delerdop could see her unblemished capture record become blotted. Anyway, she thought, the DCI and Cartmel had countermanded her orders. She could have had both ships. It wasn’t her fault one craft would slip past her. At least they’d transmitted the RTL, presumably either over-riding the ship’s own jump co-ordinates or reading them off. If the new device worked then the LEA could pick the vessel up, if those were DCI’s intentions.

Delerdop resigned herself to the loss of the first ship and concentrated on intercepting the second.

Toman’s ship blinked out of standard space and into hyperspace. The second ship self-destructed by spiralling into a burn-up orbit. Delerdop was annoyed, she was a winner, hated to lose, even if orders dictated events. It would look like she’d been fooled.

Major Cartmel was ecstatic, the RTL had successfully transmitted the escaping ship’s jump codes back to his console. He duly opened secure comm’s to DCI.

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CHAPTER TWO

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Clean Out

Harbul and Brostie brought their own shuttle into the executive space port of Logistics. Sixteen members of his rescued staff were also aboard having been transferred to his ship in mid-space two hours earlier. The last parting words were from Rylan.

‘We’re here to help, but it’s up to you to clean up your division and hold off any attempted takeover of Logistics. It’s essential you check out your personnel records over the last two months. The only, one hundred percent, positive evaluation of androids is by using empaths. If you can’t get hold of enough empaths then DNA analysis. It’s slow but sure. There’s also a possibility of specific gamma signatures but only a small percentage of the earlier bio’s have this trait.’ Rylan gave Harbul a notebook containing three names. ‘And these are the personnel presumed to have been switched. You still have a great deal of control and influence: Use it.’ Rylan had then emphasised his next sentence by gesticulating emphatically. ‘Remember, do not relinquish control of Logistics to anyone, absolutely no-one ... not until you’ve contacted the IA, The Intelligence Agency. Good luck.’

Along with the notebook were analysis procedures, instructions on the genotype modifications and the specific organic DNA signatures. The notes indicated the spinal fluid, was in fact a form of organic Wi-Fi and would have some type of communicating link close by.

After disembarking Harbul went straight to security where he checked out a bemused Captain Troms and a number of his security personnel with a sophisticated gamma evaluation unit and then DNA samples. Still, he trusted to the list Rylan had given him; three people who may be bio-android replacements.

Harbul proceeded with a meeting of the cleared personnel and medical staff. He said nothing of the natives or his own speculation, other than there had been an attempt on their lives. After conveying his fear that at least three personnel may have already been replaced by replicates, he gave technical details for spot checks emphasising how dangerous the androids were. Harbul indicated two probable candidates within Logistics City were Darrel, the new Director of Communications and Commander Lyons, overall head of Logistic’s security.

Captain Troms, like the rest of Harbul’s team, was both an agreeable and efficient member of Logistics. Troms appeared to accept the situation with no doubts. Although young for a security officer he met Harbul’s criteria and, just as importantly, was accepted by the DCI and LEA units who kept general watch over Logistics security.

His smooth skin and boyish features were neither hard or strong, nor was he rippling with muscles like the LEA troopers or many security personnel. Most people would have presumed him to be a junior personal assistant had it not been for his meticulously smart chalk blue and grey uniform. The only feature which made an impression of singularity was the small turned up quiff to the fore of his short dark mousy hair. Troms, for all his slight quirks, meshed seamlessly into Harbul’s efficient machine; Logistics.

‘Right Troms, the most reliable method of detecting these bio-androids is by using empaths. Do we have any empaths close to hand?’

Troms furrowed his brow. ‘I believe we do have a few within Logistics but ... I’ll run a check now Sir.’

He went to the nearest interface and had a search done. He came back two minutes later.

‘Sir, there are only two within the Hoston system, a Wesley Ronette, grade A and a Bessy Hroon, grade B. I’m not sure as to what the grades stand for sir.’

‘Only two on the whole planet? You have to be kidding.’ Harbul’s eyes opened wide in surprise.

‘It’s all I can find Sir. Maybe there are more and just not registered, although I’m reliably informed, they’re a rare breed ... people.’

‘You’ll have to