Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

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Also by Mitch Benn

Dedication

Preface

Forethought

Prologue

Part One

1.1

1.2

1.3

1.4

1.5

1.6

1.7

1.8

1.9

1.10

1.11

1.12

1.13

1.14

1.15

1.16

1.17

1.18

1.19

Part Two

2.1

2.2

2.3

2.4

2.5

2.6

2.7

2.8

2.9

2.10

2.11

2.12

2.13

2.14

Part Three

3.1

3.2

3.3

3.4

3.5

3.6

3.7

3.8

3.9

3.10

3.11

3.12

3.13

3.14

3.15

3.16

3.17

3.18

3.19

3.20

3.21

3.22

3.23

3.24

3.25

3.26

3.27

3.28

3.29

3.30

3.31

3.32

3.33

3.34

3.35

3.36

3.37

3.38

3.39

3.40

3.41

3.42

3.43

3.44

3.45

3.46

3.47

3.48

3.49

3.50

3.51

3.52

3.53

3.54

3.55

3.56

3.57

3.58

3.59

3.60

3.61

3.62

3.63

Propilogue

Author’s Note

Acknowledgements

About Mitch Benn

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TERRA’S
WAR

Mitch Benn

Raging Vega Press

© Mitch Benn 2021

Mitch Benn has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved.

Published in 2021 by Raging Vega Press.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination.

ISBN (paperback): 978-1-8382887-2-3

ISBN (ebook): 978-1-8382887-3-0

Cover design by MiblArt.

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Also by Mitch Benn

Terra

Terra’s World

In memory of Mike Benn 1936-2016

The adventure continues

Preface

Welcome and thank you for reading Terra’s War. I’ve put this preface in each of the Terra books, but just in case you’re brand new to the trilogy, or it’s been a while, here are a couple of notes before we begin ...

Firstly, on notation:

‘Dialogue presented as it is spoken (for example a human talking to another human in English) looks like this.’

- Dialogue translated from the languages of the planet Fnrr (and other planets) looks like this, italicised and with a dash beforehand.

And finally, first person thoughts look like this, italicised but without a dash beforehand.

Secondly, on pronunciation:

I’m often asked about the ‘right’ way to pronounce the alien names and places. There’s no single definitive pronunciation for any of them, so feel free to say them however you want.

Often, people will put an imaginary ‘I’ or ‘U’ in between consonants; so for example, the character Lbbp becomes ‘Li-bup’ and the planet Fnrr becomes ‘Fi-nurr’. I hope you have fun with it!

And if you want to know how I pronounce some of the main characters and places, you can head over to mitchbenn.com/terratrilogy.

FORETHOUGHT

THERE ARE ALMOST AS many different names for it as there are civilisations in the universe.

Many of the planets in the Convocation know it simply as ‘the Expansion’, or whatever the nearest equivalent is in their own language. Some of the more idiosyncratic cultures know it by another name; the Chef Lords of the Hindegrontian Gastrocracy refer to it as ‘the First Burp’; the sports-oriented societies of Frast and Trincula Prime call it ‘the Great Kick-Off’.

And the newest – and, thus far, provisional – entrants into the society of worlds, the noisy, brutish Ymns of the until recently embargoed planet Rrth, have coined perhaps the silliest name of all. A name which reflects the violence and war which have dominated their culture since its inception. The Ymns call it ‘the Big Bang’.

Whatever the name, there is more or less universal consensus that, at some point about 13.7 billion years ago, the universe went from being very very small to considerably bigger extremely rapidly, and has been expanding outwards ever since.

Despite the fact that the expansion of the universe shows no signs of slowing – indeed, it appears to be accelerating – many scientists postulate that at some point in the very distant future, the energy of that initial explosion will run out and the expansion will cease. At that moment, the most powerful force in the universe will not, to the disappointment of the poets of countless worlds, be love. It will be GRAVITY.

Every object in the cosmos will begin to attract (and be attracted to) every other object. The gaps between galaxies will shrink. Interstellar distances will shorten. The universe will begin to rush in upon itself. Some scientists believe that the universe will end as it began, compacted into a hyper-dense dot of matter and energy. A singularity.

One can only imagine the terror and despair any beings still alive would experience in those final times.

Some scientists have suggested that this contraction – ‘the Big Crunch’, as those silly Ymn astrophysicists call it – could happen with such force that the universe would pass right THROUGH the singularity and explode once more. A new ‘Big Bang’, a new expansion, giving birth to a new universe. Every particle re-ordered, every atom rebuilt from scratch, leaving no trace whatsoever of the previous universe.

It’s an interesting idea, but there is, of course, no way of knowing if this will actually happen.

Nor, for that matter, is there any way of knowing whether it’s happened already.

PROLOGUE

AMONG THE PRIVILEGES ENJOYED by members of the Morbis Guild, the most feared and respected society of thieves, assassins and mercenaries in the galaxy, was a range of training courses. Classes in various useful techniques offered at extremely competitive rates to those members who wished to expand their set of skills, both lethal and otherwise. Among the non-lethal ones was a spaceship engineering course. Mokorimo had never taken it; it had felt like a waste of time to him, and a little undignified. Spaceship repairs and maintenance were the kind of things you paid lesser beings to carry out. He would now regret that decision for the rest of his life, but as he felt his ship’s last ultra-light thruster sputter and die, he reflected that at least this probably wouldn’t involve regretting it for very long.

Mokorimo reached out a gloved paw and flicked his ship’s visualiser to the reverse view. What WAS that thing?

It had been, for the main part, a straightforward assignment. Mokorimo had always preferred the thieving jobs to the killing jobs; he had no qualms about dispensing death when the situation required it, but unlike some of his Morbis brethren he didn’t take any great pleasure in murder. He’d accepted the commission from Jethakka Taran Gast, the Guild leader, with excitement.

Robberies fell into two principal categories; the ‘sneak in past the security systems and sneak off with the item before anyone knows you were there’ variety, and the ‘in through the front door all weapons blazing hand it over and nobody gets hurt’ variety. Fun though the latter kind of robbery could be, in the case of the First Icon of the House of Pamu Lopo, Mokorimo had opted for the discreet approach.

The icon, a holographic portrait of Pamu Gomo Lopo, the founder of the ruling noble house of the feudal planet Haba Ha-Baba, was, needless to say, priceless. As such, it was, needless to say, kept in full public view in the main atrium of the Pamu Lopo family palace on the island of Gaa. The icon was, after all, the source and symbol of the Pamu Lopos' unchallenged and unquestioned power over the various peoples of Haba Ha-Baba and, as such, it had to be somewhere that people could see it.

Mokorimo had joined a party of loyal Hababian pilgrims, his leonine features disguised by an optical camouflage field. The row of shuffling, supplicant tortoise-like creatures had filed through the halls of the Pamu Lopo palace and past the icon in its opaloid display case, bowing and genuflecting. No-one had counted them in, and no-one counted them back out again, so no-one noticed that one fewer pilgrim exited the palace than had entered.

Mokorimo waited for a good hour or so after closing time before making his move.

Opaloid is a hard substance, but it yielded to his atom blade like warm snurg butter. He had dampened the alarm system using a localised inertia field. The hologram was suspended in a perilously thin sheet of calatite crystal; to touch it with his naked paw would have risked scratching or cracking it. Mokorimo chose instead to extract it carefully with a pair of precisely calibrated no-touch kinetic tongs. Using these, he lifted the icon from the opened case and inserted it delicately into a gravity-cushioned transportation box. The inertia field would remain in operation until the early morning; by the time the dimwitted Hababian stewards realised anything was amiss, he would be many systems away, collecting his fee from the obscenely wealthy Ganoramangan prince who had commissioned the theft.

Or that had been the plan, in any case.

When his ship’s proximity alert had woken him from his contented slumber, Mokorimo’s first thought had been that the Hababians had somehow managed to identify him as the thief and tracked him through space. This seemed unlikely; he was sure he’d checked the icon for tracking devices, and besides, the Hababians didn’t possess any craft fast enough to catch up with him. When his own ship’s systems began to fail one by one, as if compelled, or somehow persuaded to do so by some external force, he concluded with a shiver that whoever was after him, it was not the Hababians.

Now, as he gazed at the visualiser in alarm and bewilderment, he decided it didn’t matter who was coming for him. If he was going down today, he was going down like a brother agent of the Morbis Guild. He was going down fighting.

The ship – if in fact it was a ship – that had immobilised his own, now drew it back toward its prow with tendrils of invisible energy. Mokorimo had never seen anything like it; it was undeniably beautiful, with flowing, sweeping lines and a hull that seemed to be made from a single sheet of gleaming metal, but the sight of it filled him with dread.

With a barely perceptible jolt, the ships’ hulls connected. Mokorimo knew that any boarders would enter via the rear airlock; he tried to close and secure the hatches between the airlock and the flight deck but all his instruments were still frozen. He felt a small but noticeable drop in the ship’s internal air pressure; they were through the airlock already. He still had time to secure the last hatch manually.

Mokorimo slammed the hatch shut and began to grapple with the locking mechanism. From beyond the hatch he heard the clatter of boots on metal deck plates. He grabbed his blast tube and took cover behind his pilot chair.

There was a moment’s quiet, then the soft creaking of the hatch’s locking mechanism releasing itself. Mokorimo swept his mane out of his eyes and took aim.

The hatch swung open. Two spacesuited intruders emerged. Mokorimo couldn’t tell what species they were or what, if any, force or organisation they came from, and he didn’t care. He gave no verbal challenge or warning; he just opened fire.

His first blast caught the first boarder square in the chest. The figure rocked backward, then continued to walk slowly towards him. Mokorimo could see that the blast had damaged the suit – and, presumably, the individual within – but still both intruders approached, calmly, deliberately.

He fired again. The second blast hit the second intruder with the same accuracy and the same apparent lack of effect as the first. Mokorimo fired and fired again; the intruders marched heedlessly forward. One snatched the blast tube from his hands; the other seized him around the shoulders with a surprisingly gentle but, Mokorimo could tell, utterly immovable grip.

– Peace, pilgrim. We mean you no harm.

The voice came from behind the hatch. It was soft, soothing, and familiar. Who was that?

When the owner of the voice passed through the hatch, Mokorimo saw that it was the last person in the galaxy that he’d expected to see.

– You? he growled in astonishment.

The newcomer just smiled serenely, golden eyes twinkling.

– There’s nothing to fear, said the soft voice. There will never be anything to fear, ever again.

The smiling face drew nearer. Mokorimo struggled.

The voice whispered in his ear. Four simple words.

Mokorimo stopped struggling.

He smiled.

Of course, thought Mokorimo. It was all so obvious.

The three intruders walked calmly back through the hatch, and Mokorimo went smilingly with them.

The ships detached. The sleek silver vessel turned, powered up its engines and was gone.

Mokorimo’s ship, still containing the priceless icon of Pamu Gomo Lopo, drifted away into deep space.

PART ONE

1.1

‘Ready?’ asked Terra.

‘Hang on,’ said Billy.

Billy buttoned up his denim jacket, stuffed his earphones into his ears, fumbled in the pocket of his jeans for his phone, started up the music app and selected track one of Appetite for Destruction.

As the chattering de-tuned guitar intro of ‘Welcome to the Jungle’ resonated through his head, Billy Dolphin reflected that there were few experiences on this world or any other which weren’t immeasurably enhanced by the addition of a little Guns N’ Roses.

‘Now!’ he shouted. He gave a little jump, tapped the heels of his trainers together and descended almost all the way back to the ground, remaining suspended a few centimetres above the purple grass on a twinkling cushion of energy. Terra did the same, gave him an excited smile and pushed back with one foot as they set off down the hillside.

Billy took an early lead; he was under few illusions that it’d last for long. He might have invented gravity skis, but Terra, being by far the more athletic of the two, had a more natural gift for downhill racing. She shot past him, looking over her shoulder and poking her tongue out.

Of course, it had been Pktk who had constructed the first pair of gravity skis – fitting a pair of shoes with low-power gravity bubble generators, just powerful enough to suspend someone a couple of inches above the ground – but the idea had definitely been Billy’s. He’d been mulling over the possibilities of such an invention one day while back on Earth a few months earlier – the Fnrrns’ mastery of grav-tech had revolutionised their domestic transportation system and ultimately given them the capacity to travel between distant stars, but Billy couldn’t help but feel that they could be having a lot more fun with it. He’d sketched out the concept on a bit of paper one evening and tucked it away in his travelling bag, then shared it with an excited Pktk immediately upon his return to Fnrr. Pktk had marveled at the simplicity of the idea and asked Billy how he’d thought of it. Billy had replied modestly that he really didn’t know; it had just come to him one evening. The fact that Back to the Future Part II had been on TV that afternoon had been entirely coincidental.

Billy’s love of 80s sci-fi movies rivalled his love of classic rock music. He’d inherited both from his dad and didn’t care a bit that his ‘friends’ back on Earth found it all laughably old-fashioned. Besides, his friends back on Earth were indeed back on Earth, in the rain, while he was gravity-skiing down a purple hillside on a distant planet, so Billy felt entitled to award himself the last laugh on that score.

The ground gently levelled beneath them as they reached the bottom of the first slope, but after a short flat plain over which Billy managed to stop wobbling and ski smoothly, the terrain plummeted away again, at which point Billy’s wobble returned with a vengeance. Terra leaned into the descent; she didn’t look back to make sure Billy was still behind her. She could hear him making worried groaning noises as he hurtled along, and if – or, more likely, when – he fell over, she was fairly sure she’d hear that as well.

At the very bottom of the hill, which was now rushing toward them, there was a small but knotty patch of trees with a smooth-surfaced silvery lake at its centre. The slope itself ended in a small clearing, almost like a little beach; a patch of purple grass with the water’s edge at its far side. Terra looked back over her shoulder; she exchanged a quick glance with Billy and they prepared to execute the trickiest but most vital manoeuvre in their new sport: stopping.

Stopping on gravity skis is a two-stage process; before you smash into whatever unavoidable obstacle lies at the end of your course, you either jump or fall over in as controlled manner as possible, then quickly activate the regular pod on your belt (you’d better have remembered to bring this). The effect of this is to nullify your forward momentum instantly; the trick is to then immediately switch the gravity bubble off again before you start rising into the air. Pull this move off, as Terra now did, and you transition smoothly from racing headlong to standing still looking extremely cool in about a second. Mess it up, as Billy now did, by failing to activate your gravity bubble in time, and you cannon into the aforementioned unavoidable obstacle, which in this instance would have been a sturdy red-trunked tree, had Terra not been standing directly in front of it.

Billy let out a squeak of alarm and activated his bubble with centimetres to spare between his flailing form and the unsuspecting Terra’s back. The glittering sphere of energy enveloped them both; Terra found that she was no longer standing by the stream admiring her own landing technique, but rather being bounced from tree trunk to tree trunk like a human pinball. She was further mystified to find that her limbs were now entangled with Billy’s, and resolved to enquire as to exactly how this had come about as soon as they were back on the ground.

Terra didn’t have to wait long; Billy regained enough control of one of his arms to reach the gravity pod on his belt. He switched it off and he and Terra, now resembling a sort of many-limbed abstract sculpture, landed with a wet thud on the purple grass, the impact knocking the breath out of them both.

Their breath returned after a couple of seconds, whereupon they put it to the best use they could think of: laughing their heads off.

Terra and Billy were both sixteen years old, and dividing their time between Earth and Fnrr. An accord had been made between the Fnrrn and human authorities to allow them to alternate academic years between the Lyceum in Hrrng and Latimer Lane Comprehensive back on Earth. It was being passed off – more or less convincingly – as a ‘student exchange program’ to their human classmates and was, in truth, a somewhat haphazard arrangement. The difference in Earth and Fnrr’s orbital periods (and concomitant imbalance in school semesters) was making it tricky to keep things level in terms of time spent on each planet, but they had been muddling along more or less successfully for two years so far.

A decision would, however, soon be required from Terra and Billy, and their respective parents. This was complicated by the fact that ‘their respective parents’ consisted of quite a complex arrangement of people.

Back on Earth, there was Billy’s mum, who was by no means delighted with her son’s planet-hopping lifestyle, and Billy’s dad, who was altogether more approving of, indeed undisguisedly envious of his son’s planet-hopping lifestyle. On Terra’s side there were her human parents, Bob and Mary Bradbury, who were generally just happy to be involved in Terra’s life in whatever capacity, having missed most of the first twelve years of it.

Lastly – but by no conceivable means leastly – there was Terra’s adoptive Fnrrn father, the scientist Lbbp, who had, with good but misguided intentions, abducted Terra from Earth as a baby and raised her as his own here on Fnrr.

Lbbp, meanwhile, had his own new responsibilities to deal with, having been recently elevated to the post of Vice-Preceptor of the Hrrng Preceptorate, the vast teaching establishment around which Terra had grown up, and would perhaps attend herself, as a novice student – the first ever human novice student – in another couple of years.

This was the decision, the looming decision which could not be avoided for much longer. Would Terra complete her studies here on Fnrr, at one of the foremost educational centres in this quadrant of the galaxy? Or would she finish them among her own people, at a human university back on Earth (or Rrth, as she still found herself pronouncing it occasionally)?

And what of Billy? Would the Hrrng Preceptorate even consider admitting him? His exam results seemed to indicate that he was bright enough to attend university back on Earth, but how much would that count for on Fnrr, being as it was generations ahead of Earth in terms of scientific advancement?

The decision could not wait forever, but it could wait for now. Now there was the warm, sleepy late Fnrrn summer, deep pink skies, the rolling violet hills and crystal lakes of Mntp Province, and gravity skiing.

Their laughter rang around the clearing. Fortunately for both of them, Billy had been underneath Terra when they landed. He was a little fitter now than when he’d first visited the planet Fnrr two years previously but he was still, by some degree, the bigger and heavier of the two. Terra flailed like a stranded tortoise for a second, then succeeded in rolling off him. As she struggled to her knees, Billy sat up and their faces came close together.

Just for a second the air seemed unusually still.

Neither Terra nor Billy moved or spoke for a long, long moment.

Then Terra swept her honey-blonde fringe out of her eyes, wrinkled her nose and said, ‘Just because you’re the only other human being on this planet doesn’t mean I’m going to start fancying you. You do realise that, don’t you, Billy Dolphin?’

Billy blinked and swallowed. ‘No,’ he mumbled, ‘course not.’

Terra hopped up onto her feet and turned to walk back up the hill. ‘Of course,’ she added breezily, ‘it doesn’t mean I’m NOT going to either. Come on.’ And with that she zipped up her blue hoodie and skipped away up the purple slope.

‘Eh?’ spluttered Billy as he shambled to his feet and set off after her. ‘So hang on, does that mean ...’

There was a sudden, sharp cracking sound. Like thunder, but more staccato and high-pitched. Billy fell silent and Terra looked around in alarm.

Instinctively their eyes went to the sky. The deepening red of the evening was split by a jagged white line, like a bolt of lightning frozen in mid-strike. A crack in the sky, through which now poured light from ... somewhere else.

Terra and Billy exchanged a fleeting glance of confusion and alarm, and the cracking sound came again. Looking up to the split in the sky, they saw a tiny black dot emerge from the spilling light. It fell, wheeling, spinning, acquiring form as it grew closer.

‘What is it?’ Billy asked with fascination and dread.

‘I have no idea,’ replied Terra, ‘but it’s coming this way. Run!’

She set off at full speed up the hillside. Billy huffed after her, reflecting that there were few terrifying situations to be encountered on this world or any other that couldn’t be exacerbated by having to run uphill.

Terra stole a glance over her shoulder as she ran. The crack in the sky was gone, sealed over. The thing that had fallen through it was now hurtling crazily downwards; not simply falling but rolling, banking, swerving. She could see now that it was a large black object, shaped like a cross with an oblate sphere at the centre, a round pod from which protruded thick straight shafts (wings? engines?). It was, she decided just before it hit the surface of the lake, a spaceship, but quite unlike any she’d ever seen before.

The impact sent a wave of cold water into the air that splashed heavily down over the hillside, soaking them both. They turned to see the black cruciform ship lurching and bucking on the chopping surface of the lake.

For a moment there was no movement except the washing of water against the shore of the lake, and the falling of droplets from the trees. Terra and Billy stared at the floating shape in fascinated bewilderment. Then Terra took a few steps back down the hillside.

‘Terra, don’t!’ gasped Billy.

‘I ... I need to see if ...’ began Terra, but in truth she wasn’t sure why she needed to inspect the ship. She just knew that she had to. Her curiosity burned so intensely as to obliterate all other considerations.

Billy, realising there would be no dissuading Terra, followed a few steps behind.

The cross-shaped ship had washed to within a few metres of the shore. Terra, paying no mind to her socks or trainers (like Billy, she’d taken to wearing her Earth clothes on Fnrr outside of term time), waded in up to her knees, her gaze still fixed on the bobbing wreck. Steam hissed from its black metal surface.

Billy remained on dry-ish land, marveling at Terra’s fearlessness and wishing he could borrow a bit of it.

With a grinding hiss, one of the shafts of the cross split open. Black liquid poured out and floated on the surface of the lake. Billy wondered if the ship was venting fuel or oil, but soon there was movement visible inside the ship. Something black and slithery writhed and pulsed, as if trying to free itself.

A long, jointed arm – or possibly leg – burst from the opening. It was covered in a rubbery black fabric and ended in a clawed hand or foot. This extremity stretched forwards, as if the limb were made of rubber, and planted itself firmly on the bank, the claws sinking into the soil. Terra’s curiosity could no longer override her sense of self-preservation. She scampered onto the shore and ran to the trees. Billy was already there.

More of the creature emerged from the ship. Another long limb, similar to the first, then another, then a stocky body and helmeted head, then one more limb. It struggled through the water. Terra couldn’t help but notice that it was the same shape as its ship.

The faceplate of the helmet was dark but transparent. Terra could see liquid sloshing against its inner surface. The creature’s suit was full of the same oily fluid that had spilled from the ship. This, Terra realised, was what the creature breathed.

Terra wondered if there might be a way to communicate with the new arrival, to assure it they meant it no harm. ‘Billy,’ she said, ‘do you have your cube?’

Terra, having been raised on Fnrr, spoke the language of her adopted home nation Mlml like a native. Billy was learning the strange, clickety, almost vowel-less tongue but was still far from fluent. He carried a small translation cube in his pocket, a psychic device which came in handy when his Mlmln vocabulary failed him. He tugged it from his pocket and tossed it to Terra.

Terra was about to switch the cube on when the creature swung at her viciously with its claws. She leapt out of range and took cover behind a tree. The alien swung again with another long forelimb. She caught a glimpse of its face through the fluid – unrecognisably alien, scarcely a single feature in common with humans, or indeed any species she’d ever seen, and yet somehow she could read its expression. Anger. Fury. Pure, untempered rage.

The creature swiped at her again, its claw raking out a chunk of wood and bark from the tree. Terra grasped the cube. If she just could reason with the alien ...

Terra switched the cube on. Her brain seemed to catch fire.

Terra felt her heart race, her veins throb, her skin itch and her mind churn and convulse. Images flooded her consciousness, nothing distinct, nothing clear, but certainly nothing good. Feelings and desires overwhelmed her, the desire to destroy, to punish, to avenge, to scourge. To kill, but not just to kill ... to crush, to destroy, to humiliate ... to rend, to tear, to rip her enemies limb from limb ...

With the last vestige of consciousness still under her control, Terra commanded her thumb to find the button on the cube and switch it off. The feelings and images dissipated at once. As her vision cleared she saw Billy slumped against another tree a few metres away, his eyes blank, his jaw slack. Whatever the cube had done to her, it had done to him too.

‘Billy!’ Terra called. He did not respond. She tried to rush to his side but the creature’s clawed limb flashed across her path and she ducked backwards. She’d almost forgotten that she was under attack, such had been the shock she received from the cube. She looked out from behind the tree. The creature was still flailing around by the shore of the lake; Terra saw that it was tethered to its ship by a cluster of translucent tubes. The tubes seemed to be replenishing the fluid in the creature’s suit. It could advance no further, but looking again to where Billy still sat, she realised that he was in range of the claws and unprotected. She needed to make sure that the creature’s attention remained focused on her until ... until what?

Until help arrived, perhaps ... The G’grk were supposed to be in charge of monitoring the skies above Fnrr for hostile or unauthorised arrivals. Had they noticed anything? Terra, unlike many of her Mlmln neighbours, had no doubt that the warlike G’grk were capable of performing their recently appointed duties, but they seemed to be taking their time about it on this occasion.

Terra sprang to her feet. She emerged from behind the tree so as to be visible to the creature, but moving backwards into its field of vision rather than forwards, in the hope of remaining out of reach of those vicious claws. ‘Hey!’ she shouted. ‘Over here! Come at me!’ If what the cube had shown her was indeed representative of the creature’s state of mind, all hope of reasoning with it had to be abandoned.

The creature turned toward Terra and lunged. The claw came unexpectedly close; she had to leap backwards to avoid it. The creature made no vocal sound – its liquid-filled respiratory system wouldn’t allow it, not in this atmosphere, anyway. The only noises to be heard were the whooshing of its swinging forelimbs and the creaking of its rubbery suit as it moved. Now Terra heard a new sound – a squeaking, ripping, popping sound. As the creature struggled up the hill towards her, it was stretching the tubes which connected it to its ship to breaking point.

Terra felt a jolt of concern and panic. ‘No!’ she cried out, not caring that the creature would neither hear nor understand. ‘Don’t! You’ll ...’

The creature surged forwards. The tubes tore free of the suit, splitting it wide open. The black oily liquid gushed from the tear, coating the ground in a shiny slick. The creature did not break off its attack but charged on. Terra turned and fled. She did not look back, but she could hear the crunching and snapping of branches as the creature heaved itself through the trees.

The sounds slowed, then stopped. Terra turned to see the creature, its limbs weak, trying to drag itself across the forest floor. Its movements were sluggish. She looked to its face and saw straight through the transparent plate in the front of its helmet, now empty of fluid. The creature’s clawed hands went to the helmet, fiddling with catches and valves. With a wet little noise the helmet fell off. The creature stared at Terra with pure, undiluted loathing in its glassy eyes as it wheezed its last breath, black liquid trickling from apertures that might have been gills or nostrils. Then it was dead.

Terra stared at the alien body for what might have been a minute or half an hour, feeling an uncomfortable blend of emotions: revulsion, fear, relief, pity ...

A grinding sound came from the sky above her. Better late than never, she thought, then remembered Billy. She rushed back to him.

Billy was blinking and rubbing his temples. ‘They don’t do paracetamol on this planet, do they?’ he asked feebly.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Terra, ‘I had no idea the cube would do that.’

Billy looked up at her, his eyes red and his face pale. Terra glanced at the rubbery black bulk of the alien corpse, then back to Billy. ‘What was that, Billy? What was that we were feeling?’

Billy smiled ruefully at Terra. Of course she doesn’t know, he thought to himself. Growing up here among the enlightened Fnrrns. They didn’t even know how to lie until we accidentally taught them, he mused. But unlike Terra, Billy had grown up back on good ol’ planet Earth, with the good ol’ human race, in all its beauty and ugliness. Billy knew exactly what they had been feeling.

‘Hate,’ said Billy. ‘That’s what hate feels like.’

***

Three blue spheres landed by the lakeside, their gravity engines rumbling away. The G’grk might have repurposed their hardware to serve peaceful ends but they hadn’t noticeably upgraded it, Terra reflected. Her mind flashed back to the first time she’d seen one of these spheres, bursting out of the sea at the rainbow beach of Rfk, heralding the G’grk invasion of Mlml. She remembered the terror of that night, all those years ago. She was used to seeing the spheres now. Their arrival brought no fear. Some sort of progress, Terra thought.

Armoured G’grk soldiers – drones, they called themselves – began to climb down from the spheres and mill around the wreck of the alien ship. Terra approached them, eager to help.

A young G’grk drone, turning to address the officer who seemed to have placed himself in charge of the scene, spied Terra walking towards them. His eyes bulged in alarm and he fumbled for his pulse-orb.

– State your name, purpose and planet of origin! he shouted, his voice unsteady and his pulse-orb wobbling in his extended hand.

– Now that IS a long story, said Terra.

The drone didn’t acknowledge her comment. – This is your second of three warnings! he said. State your name, purpose and planet of origin or I will be forced to—

He was cut off in mid-warning by a painful-sounding slap to the back of his head from the officer.

– Have you been studying the Almanac of Aligned Worlds and Species as instructed, Drone Tz’kh?

Drone Tz’kh rubbed the back of his head. – Yes, Drone Major, he protested.

– Not very closely, it would appear, snarled the Drone Major, or you’d know that Ymns are to be addressed in the manner appropriate to member species of the Galactic Convocation, even if their membership is currently pending.

Drone Tz’kh peered at Terra and blinked.

– Besides, the Drone Major went on, THIS Ymn has lived here for most of her life. Surely you remember that time we invaded her homeland? The Drone Major turned and smiled at Terra. It’s been a long time, little Ymn. You’re not so little anymore, are you?

Terra grinned as Billy shuffled nervously towards them. – I thought it was you, she said.

Billy’s day was getting weirder. – Sorry, he said, having tentatively reactivated the translation cube, are you two old friends or something?

– Not exactly, said Terra. A few years ago I caught the Major here invading my country and he captured me. Then his leader’s right-hand man tried to have me ritually sacrificed, Lbbp saved me and then the Major saved him, so I think all things considered we’re about even, wouldn’t you agree, Major?

– I think the Ymn expression is ‘let gone by be gone’, isn’t it? mused the Drone Major.

– Close enough, said Terra.

The Drone Major watched as three of his drones placed a net around the dead alien and began to pull it back towards the wreck. – Careful with that! I don’t want any more damage done to it before we get it to St’nn-B’rkh.

– Professor Steinberg is still here? asked Terra with a smile of surprise.

– The Ymn scientist? There’s no getting rid of him, muttered the Drone Major. He says he can’t bear to leave all our wondrous Fnrr technology behind, and there’s only so much he’s allowed to take back to Rrth, so he’s staying put. He earns his keep, though. We’ll set him to work examining the wreck and the body, so we can see what we’re up against.

Oh terrific, thought Billy, so I’m not even the only other human being on the planet.

– So, young Ymn, said the Drone Major, turning to Terra, how did you manage to vanquish this great beast? Mind you, after the mess you made of poor Z’ksh all those orbits ago I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised ...

– For the last time, sighed Terra, that had nothing to do with me, he was perfectly okay when I got away from him. She referred to the unfortunate drone from whom she’d escaped on the night of the G’grk invasion, who had succeeded in getting himself mauled to death by a wild znk shortly thereafter. And neither, she went on, did this. It attacked us and tore its suit open in the process. That black liquid that’s all over the ground is what it breathed. It suffocated. It knew it would die if it attacked us ... and it did it anyway. Terra pondered this, along with the feeling of pure hatred the cube had detected in the alien’s mind, and shuddered. Billy put an arm round her shoulder.

A team of drones had attached small remotely operated grav-motors to the derelict ship; they hummed into life and it began to rise from the lake. The Drone Major watched approvingly and then turned to the young humans.

– I must transport this to T’krr. Do you want to come along? Since we failed in our attempt to bring our culture to your land – he peered meaningfully at Terra at this – perhaps you’d like to experience it for yourselves?

Don’t say yes, don’t say yes, PLEASE don’t say yes, thought Billy, his fists clenching with anxiety.

– Well, said Terra after a pause that lasted far too long for Billy’s liking, tempting though that is, we need to get back to Hrrng. You’ve got to report this incident, and so do we. This was true, in essence; Lbbp would be extremely keen to hear about the alien incursion, but more to the point, if he heard about it from someone else first – especially that Terra had been mixed up in it in some way – he’d be beside himself with panic by the time they got home.

– As you wish, said the Drone Major, striding toward one of the spheres. I won’t say goodbye, he said as he climbed aboard, I feel certain our paths will cross again one day.

The sphere’s hatch clanged shut. Its gravity engines rumbled into life, and it rose into the air in formation with the other two, the cruciform derelict suspended between them. Terra and Billy watched them disappear into the deep red sky.

‘What just happened, Terra?’ asked Billy.

‘I don’t know,’ she replied. ‘I don’t think anyone knows just yet. But I want to know as soon as someone figures it out. Let’s get back to the city.’ And with that, they activated their gravity bubbles, rose above the trees and headed for the lights and spires of Hrrng, just visible on the southern horizon.

1.2

THE PEOPLE OF FNRR had mastered the technology of interstellar travel many eras before. The method they used – massless suspension coupled with a neutrino drive – was popular throughout the known galaxy, with many cultures developing it, or something like it, independently of each other, and then exchanging tips and ideas to refine the technology as they started to come into contact.

There were alternatives: some civilisations employed radical space-bending techniques which could reduce travel time to almost nothing, but which were notoriously prone to error and miscalculation. The slightest unforeseen glitch in the process could send you thousands of light years off course, or have you re-emerge into the continuum in the middle of a star, or simply remove you from space-time altogether, never to reappear. As Pshkf, Terra’s late lamented practical science lector, had once remarked during an infra-light engineering class, nobody’s in that much of a hurry.

Nonetheless, whatever techniques were developed and employed to quicken the journeys between stars, it remained the case, on Fnrr as on Earth, that nothing travels faster than bad news.

By the time Terra and Billy arrived back at the home she shared with Lbbp (and in which Billy was currently staying), Lbbp was pacing the floors, his grey features greyer with worry.

– Where have you been? he asked, his voice quavering. It’s all over the Source that an alien crashed in Mntp and ATTACKED TWO YMNS. Two Ymns! What was I supposed to think? That it was a different pair of Ymns? That there was a group of Ymn tourists in Mntp today? You didn’t think to take your comms? I’ve been going out of my mind. And what was I going to tell Billy’s parents if—

Terra flung her arms around him and he fell silent.

Billy kept his distance, let Terra and Lbbp make their unspoken peace and chuckled inwardly at the thought of human tourists wandering around Mntp. It might not be long before such a thing became a possibility, he reflected. The increasingly close contact between the human authorities and the Convocation – the council of inhabited worlds in this galaxy – was still being kept officially secret on Earth, but if the human race’s membership (currently under consideration) were to be approved, ideas such as humans recreationally visiting other planets would become altogether less fanciful. Billy smiled at the idea. Humans visiting Fnrr on cultural exchanges, perhaps. Or historical tours. Nature treks. Holidays. Works outings.

Stag weekends.

There’s no way they’re going to approve our membership, is there, Billy thought glumly.

As Lbbp’s panic abated, the second most prominent component of his personality replaced it: his insatiable scientific curiosity.

– So what was it? Did you recognise the species, the technology?

Terra shook her head. – No. It was like nothing I’ve ever seen before, either up close or in a Life Science programme. Big, quadrupedal, the four limbs seemed to operate as arms or legs as required ... It breathed a sort of oily black liquid.

– That’s how it died, added Billy. It didn’t seem to have been injured by the crash. It went after Terra and ripped its breathing tubes out of its suit.

– And there’s something else, said Terra. She paused to gather her thoughts and Lbbp’s eyes widened in worried anticipation.

– I tried to use Billy’s translation cube, to see if we could communicate with it, tell it we meant it no harm. Terra shuddered. We saw its thoughts, we felt its feelings. It was CONSUMED with hatred for us. I’ve never felt anything so horrible, she said, as a tear rolled down her cheek.

Lbbp stared, dismayed at this concept in general and at the thought of Terra undergoing such trauma, however brief or illusory. – It makes no sense, he mused. Why would it be full of hatred for a species it had never encountered before on a world it had never visited?

– An ancient grudge, said Billy with a shrug. Maybe this species ran into either Fnrrns or humans centuries ago, and it didn’t go well. Entirely possible if it was humans. We may not know them but perhaps they know us ... perhaps they’ve been looking for revenge for generations while we’ve forgotten all about them.

There was a pause as they pondered the various possibilities.

– Well I don’t know about you, said Terra, but I’m not waiting for the official report from T’krr to come in. She picked up her comm from the shelf.

1.3

DAVE STEINBERG WAS, BY his own estimation, perhaps the most highly qualified scientist that the human race had ever produced. It was an unspoken but accepted truth among his old colleagues back on Earth, and his new colleagues here on Fnrr, that Steinberg had been justified in his decision to remain on this world as the scientific advisor to the Extra-Planetary Defence Initiative because there simply wasn’t anything on Earth to test his intellect any more.

Steinberg held professorships in both physics and astrophysics, a doctorate in mathematics and took a keen layman’s interest in chemistry. If there was a weak spot in his scientific expertise, it was biology. Steinberg knew a fair bit about biology (a ridiculous amount, by most people’s standards), but nonetheless always felt far more at home with the ‘purer’, more theoretical scientific disciplines than with the study of actual physical, squelchy living things.

Therefore, when the G’grk Drone Major and his company had arrived at the huge hangar-sized laboratory on the outskirts of T’krr in which Professor Steinberg conducted his research, depositing a derelict alien spaceship in his workshop and a deceased alien pilot on his workbench, he had opted to leave the vast, rubbery black corpse where it was for the meantime and concentrate instead on the ship.

Right now, Steinberg was wrestling with the apparent paradox that while the late alien was much bigger than him, he was finding the interior of its ship almost impossibly cramped and confining. He heaved himself around the derelict’s poky interior, considering the possibility that the alien might be soft-boned or perhaps even boneless, like some sort of enormous mollusc, able to mould itself to fit the ship’s inner spaces.

The ship had little in the way of visible controls or instruments; Steinberg reasoned that the pilot might have operated the craft by way of some biological or perhaps even psychic interface. Having established that there was still some residual power left in the ship’s systems – that it was ‘dormant’ rather than dead – he squeezed himself back out of the aperture through which the creature had emerged and began trying to set up some sort of apparatus by means of which he might be able to communicate with the craft.

A quick scan of localised psychic frequencies confirmed that there was indeed a faint telepathic background transmission emanating from the derelict. Now that Professor Steinberg had established this, it was relatively straightforward to set up a narrow-banded signal booster and route the enhanced transmission through a biocircuit processor running the latest empathic/intuitive translation software, then peruse the deciphered messages in text form on his slate while he fixed himself some coffee.

DAMN, I’m glad I stayed on this planet, thought Dave Steinberg.

The message itself, however, did rather put him off his coffee.

‘All must submit before the Benefactor ... All who defy the Benefactor must die ... May their pools run dry and their skin become parched and brittle ... May their suffering know no end, even in death ...’ muttered Steinberg with a frown, scratching his beard. Like something from medieval Europe, he pondered. How to reconcile such a bleak, Dark Ages mentality with the kind of technology required to get here from ... where exactly?

Seeing that there was little chance of a congenial conversation with the derelict, Steinberg resolved to get just the salient facts out of it, and its point of origin seemed a good place to start.

Where ... are ... you ... from ... Steinberg tapped the text onto his slate and waited for the biocircuit processor to convert it into a form the derelict would understand.

After a few seconds, his slate began to display star charts and co-ordinates. Steinberg’s brow furrowed as he studied the figures. ‘Well THAT can’t be right,’ he pondered aloud. He took off his glasses, gave them a quick polish with his shirt-tail and cross-referenced the figures with a standard navigation program.

Upon seeing the results, his jaw dropped in disbelief, and he felt compelled to polish his glasses again.

Professor Steinberg was still trying to process the enormity of his discovery when his comm started bleeping.

1.4

– He’s probably in the middle of something, said Lbbp as Terra’s comm pinged away unanswered.

– He’s always in the middle of something, replied Terra, but he always has time for me.

The pinging ceased, and was followed by Steinberg’s voice.

‘Terra!’ he said delightedly.

‘You busy, Prof?’

‘I’m always busy,’ said Steinberg with an audible weary smile, ‘but I always have time for you.’ Terra shot Lbbp a quick told-you-so wink. Professor Steinberg activated his translation cube and went on. – What is this thing you found, Terra?

Terra had been wondering if the G’grk would have told the Professor that it was she and Billy who witnessed the crash. Of course they had; it would have appealed to the generally unfathomable G’grk sense of humour. And Terra needn’t have worried that Professor Steinberg would be concerned for her safety; to him, her involvement just added another layer of delicious mystery to the affair.

– I don’t know, Prof; it just sort of fell through a crack in the sky. We happened to be underneath.

– A crack in the sky ... mused Steinberg. Yeah, that makes sense ...

– I’m glad you think so, muttered Billy.

If Steinberg heard, he didn’t respond directly. – The thing is, he continued hesitantly, this ship travelled a long way to get here. As in a LONG way.

Lbbp’s brow furrowed – How far? he enquired.

There was a pause as Steinberg collected his thoughts, then: – Have you heard of the Kyzean Spiral?

Lbbp hadn’t, nor had Terra or Billy.

– There’s no reason you should have, Steinberg said. It’s only dimly visible from either here or Earth, even using the most advanced equipment. It’s a galaxy; a distant galaxy. Millions of light years away. This ship came from a planet orbiting a star near the outer rim of the Kyzean Spiral.

– That’s impossible, said Lbbp. There’s no way to cross intergalactic space. It either takes millions of orbits, or you’d have to accelerate to such a speed that you’d create a massive time distortion and by the time you arrived, millions of orbits would have passed for the rest of the universe anyway. Either way, it takes millions of orbits.

– Oh I know, Vice Preceptor, Steinberg said, using Lbbp’s proper title so as not to sound condescending in his reply, but nonetheless, this ship set out from the Kyzean Spiral, and it did so within the last two Fnrrn days.

The was a moment’s silence as everyone absorbed the impossibility of this.

– That’s why Terra’s crack in the sky makes sense, Steinberg went on at last. I’m thinking the only rational explanation is a wormhole.

– Wormholes ... pondered Billy. He knew of the theoretical existence of such things from his lifelong immersion in science fiction. Corridors through which matter and energy could instantaneously travel between points in space and time, however distant.

– Do you think it was a naturally occurring wormhole, or could the ship have generated it for itself? Lbbp knew that inventing a ‘wormhole drive’ had long been an ambition of interstellar engineers, but so far nobody had any idea how to go about developing one. Had the secret been cracked, all those millions of light years away?

– No way to tell, unless I can reverse-engineer this ship, and I’m not sure where to start. Anyway, before I can even think about that, I have to give my report to Zst’kh. At least I know there’s no chance of him deciding to invade the Kyzean Spiral, chuckled Steinberg.

1.5

THE GREY TOWER, ANCIENT and craggy, loomed over the ragged skyline of T’krr, the capital city of the G’grk homeland. It had served as the home and headquarters (in truth, neither G’grk language nor G’grk culture made much distinction between the two concepts) of countless generations of Grand Marshals.

Its current resident, Grand Marshal Zst’kh, the leader of the G’grk, and as such, commander-in-chief of the Extra-Planetary Defence Initiative, would expect to be briefed on the alien incursion in due course, but just at that moment he was busy.

The various nations of Fnrr were adjusting to their warlike neighbours’ new role as the defenders of the planet, and this had been helped in no small measure by the universal – if erroneous – belief that the G’grk had saved Fnrr by destroying the Black Planet two orbits previously. Only Terra and a few close friends knew the truth, and they weren’t about to disrupt the new accord by speaking out.

In a stone-floored circular chamber on one of the Grey Tower’s upper floors, Grand Marshal Zst’kh was engaged in his daily hand-to-hand combat practice. He stood, stripped to the waist, his sinewy grey muscles flexing as he swung his sword.

Around him, a circle was marked out on the floor of the chamber. It was about ten metres in diameter; above it, an electrical field, an invisible cylindrical wall of humming energy, contained the space within. The field was on a medium setting; to cross the circle would bring a painful but non-lethal shock.

Zst’kh’s sparring partner, General Ch’zst, raised his own blunted training sword to first guard position and waited for his leader to make his move. Had the practice bout been between two officers of lesser rank, they might have used sharpened swords and turned the electrical field up to maximum, but even in a society as relentlessly aggressive as that of the G’grk, to lose one’s commander-in-chief in a training accident was considered an eventuality best avoided.

Zst’kh took a sudden step forward and lunged; his blade described a perfect arc towards Ch’zst’s neck. Ch’zst dropped to his knees and leaned back as far as he could. Zst’kh’s blade slashed through the air above his face. Flipping his body forwards, but remaining on his knees, Ch’zst scythed at Zst’kh’s legs. Zst’kh read the move instantly and leapt backwards into the air, landing just at the edge of the circle. He could feel the electrical field crackling at his back as he watched Ch’zst spring to his feet and take a guard stance once more. The fight had lasted just over four seconds thus far, and was off to a good start.

Outside the chamber, Dave Steinberg stood uneasily next to its heavy double doors. He heard the clangs and grunts of exertion coming from within, and shot a knowing guess-we’d-better-leave-them-to-it look at the armoured sentry stationed by the doorway. The sentry did not return or acknowledge Steinberg’s attempt at communication, so the professor shrugged and resolved to wait in silence.

Inside the chamber, within the circle, Zst’kh flexed his left shoulder and felt a fresh bruise begin to develop; Ch’zst had caught him a decent blow on his upper arm in the last exchange. In true combat, with real swords, Zst’kh knew he would have lost that arm. Slowing down, he thought angrily. Command is making you soft and lazy. Not good enough.

Zst’kh resisted the urge to charge back at his opponent. Rash and thoughtless was not much better than slow. He lowered his sword, breathed, and looked for an opening in Ch’zst’s defences.

He saw one. Ch’zst had mistaken Zst’kh’s calm, slow breathing for tiredness and raised his blade high, aiming to swing it down onto Zst’kh’s shoulder and claim victory. Zst’kh flashed his own sword upwards. The weapon caught Ch’zst painfully in the ribs while his sword was still raised. Ch’zst winced, coughed, staggered and dropped his sword. Zst’kh kicked it away – it sparked as it crossed the circle, passing through the electrical field – and raised the point of his own sword to Ch’zst’s throat.

– Victory is yours, Grand Marshal, said Ch’zst between gasps of pain and exhaustion.

– Only because of these child’s toy swords, old friend, smiled Zst’kh. If we’d had warriors’ blades I’d be painting the floor blue and looking for a new arm. Lower the field, he said in no particular direction. The faint hum ceased as the electrical field deactivated itself.

– I can hear you breathing, St’nn-B’rkh, called Zst’kh in the direction of the double doors. Come in and give me whatever news it is that you find so urgent.

Professor Steinberg opened the door and peeked inside. – Dare I ask who won? he said.

1.6

– What I don’t understand, pondered Lbbp between mouthfuls of configuration 6, is how a species motivated entirely by hatred and violence could also be so advanced as to develop at least interstellar and possibly even interGALACTIC travel ...

– Progress isn’t always a straight line, observed Pktk. Civilisations go backwards as well as forwards. If a society achieved great scientific advances but THEN fell under the influence of some sort of primitive ideology, you’d end up with a brutal culture that still had access to all the clever stuff their ancestors had invented, even if they’d never have been able to come up with it themselves.

– Could that really happen though? Fthfth’s brow furrowed at the very idea.

Pktk turned and looked solemnly at his friend. – It very nearly happened here, remember?

Fthfth realised that Pktk was right. The rise to power of the Gfjk-Hhh, or rather the false pretender who’d proclaimed himself the reincarnation of the Gfjk-Hhh (and whose true name had been utterly forgotten) had indeed almost brought about the very scenario Pktk described in their own homeland just two orbits previously. She chewed her configuration 5, deep in thought.

– If it’s any consolation, said Billy, it happens all the time back home.

Terra ate in silence, without any relish or appetite. She was grateful to her friends for having come by, but she was afraid she wasn’t being especially good company.

The memory of that burst of pure loathing passing through her mind, and of the pathetic, needless death of the alien weighed heavily upon her. What was the point of breaking all the known laws of physics to travel halfway across the universe, just to pick a fight and then get yourself killed? The creature’s arrival should have been an occasion for excitement and amazement, heralding as it did a new era of communication with life from the furthest reaches of the universe, and the prospect of whole new levels of technological advancement. As it was, it all seemed depressingly futile.

– Excuse me, she said, then got up and left the servery to go and slump miserably on the bench seat in the main room.

Terra’s glum reverie was shattered by the pinging of her comm. She answered it and, to her surprise, Professor Steinberg’s face suddenly appeared in uncomfortably extreme close-up on the room’s visualiser screen.

‘Hi Terra,’ said Professor Steinberg’s face. There was a tremor in his voice and his usually ruddy features seemed lined and troubled. ‘Hope you don’t mind me hooking into your home system like this but there’s something you and Lbbp need to see.’

Lbbp was already shuffling into the room, curious as to why the Ymn scientist’s voice was booming out of the walls. Fthfth, Pktk and Billy followed him.

– What’s going on? demanded Fthfth, sitting down beside Terra.

– Professor Steinberg has found something, said Terra.

– Well, yes and no, Steinberg went on (again switching to cube-translated Mlmln for the benefit of Terra’s friends), there’s something I need to show you but it’s not me who found it. Just a second ...

Steinberg’s face shrank down to a corner of the visualiser screen; the main image now showed a distinguished-looking Fnrrn in a high-collared black robe. At the sight of this, Fthfth leapt to her feet.

– Postulator V-Kst V-Shft! she exclaimed. I can’t believe it! I’ve read all your articles! Tell me, in your piece on the atomic decay of neutron stars, were you using the old universal standard units or the new ...

– Shush, Fthfth, said Lbbp.

– But it’s Postulator V-Kst V-Shft! beamed Fthfth. She’s the head of Ff-Shkrr Observatory!

– Yes, I know I am, said V-Kst V-Shft. In Ff-Shkrr, on the far side of Fnrr, they spoke the same language as Mlmlns, but with a thick accent.

– I asked the Postulator if she knew anything about the Kyzean Spiral, and she’s made ... a kind of alarming discovery, interjected Professor Steinberg. I thought you should see it first because it’s all gonna go a little crazy when everyone else finds out.

An expectant, apprehensive hush descended over the room.

– Here, began V-Kst V-Shf, and her own image shrank down into another corner of the screen, which now showed an image of deep space; galaxies and nebulae.

– This, said V-Kst V-Shft, is the region of space in which we see the Kyzean Spiral. As she spoke, the Mlmln text for ‘Kyzean Spiral’ appeared on the screen next to a particular galaxy.

– Now this is the region as it appears to us from Fnrr, she continued, that is to say, this is how that region of space looked millions of orbits ago.

Billy had often marveled at how the speed of light meant that when one gazed at the night sky back on Earth, the stars that one saw were in fact visual echoes of those stars as they had been, many years, in some cases many centuries earlier. In fact, when he looked into Fnrr’s night sky at his home planet, the Earth that was (barely) visible was the Earth of decades ago – a world on which he hadn’t yet been born. Billy wondered how long it would be on that Earth before he would exist there too, after which moment, from his vantage point on Fnrr, he would be looking back at himself. He listened intently.

– As some of you may know, continued V-Kst V-Shft, the Deep Space Infra-light Imaging System enables us to see distant regions as they are now.

– Yes! enthused Fthfth. It’s ingenious! It uses infra-light probes which detect tachyon traces and use psychic frequencies to transmit the information instantly back to ... She fell silent upon getting the Not Now Fthfth face from everyone else in the room.

– We’ve used the system to create an image of that region as it currently exists. This, said V-Kst V-Shft, is how the Kyzean Spiral looks now ...

The image changed. The Fnrrn text remained in place. Everything about the image was the same as before ... except the Kyzean Spiral itself was gone.

A moment’s horrified silence.

– It’s ... disappeared ... whispered Pktk.

– How? said Lbbp, his black eyes wide and disbelieving.

– Impossible to say, replied Professor Steinberg. There’s no natural process known to science which can destroy an entire galaxy. And remember, according to that alien ship’s memory banks, it set out from the outer rim of the Kyzean Spiral about two Fnrrn days ago. Whatever destroyed that galaxy, it did it in a matter of hours.

– Some sort of weapon, said Terra calmly. A weapon which can destroy whole stars, perhaps setting off a chain reaction from one star to the next until the whole galaxy is gone.

Terra’s friends looked at her in alarm. She was an imaginative girl – she’d single handedly introduced the Fnrrns to the whole concept of storytelling – but to come up with such a bleak concept, and, moreover, to throw it into the conversation with such casual conviction, disturbed them to the core.

Terra looked up at her friends. – I saw into its mind, remember? I felt its hatred. It was absolute. It didn’t just want to kill me, it wanted to kill everyone and everything that wasn’t its own kind. And the only other thing we know about it is that it may well have had the technology to cross the distances between galaxies.

Billy nodded. – Combine that sort of tech with that sort of hatred ... I think our rubbery friend was fleeing a war. A war involving weapons like we’ve never seen. A war that just snuffed out a whole galaxy.

– I need to report this to Zst’kh, said Steinberg with a nervous sigh. I think I’m gonna be spending a lot of time dismantling that ship.

– I must declare my findings to the Observatory, said V-Kst V-Shft. She disappeared from the screen.

There was a solemn pause.

– And I’d better tell Preceptor Shm, said Lbbp.

1.7

PRECEPTOR SHM LOOKED ALL around, at the cavernous interior of the Preceptorate Hard Copy Archive.

He’d felt the need to visit the vast, silent chamber after absorbing the information that Lbbp had given him. The concept of an entire galaxy disappearing overnight was almost too much for even an intellect like his to process. He’d stared silently at the walls of his reading room for a few moments, then crept away through the Preceptorate corridors to the Archive. He knew he wouldn’t be disturbed here.

Hardly anyone ever visited the Hard Copy Archive for research purposes; the chamber was, Shm knew, an academic reliquary rather than a resource. The information inscribed on the surfaces of the scrolls and tomes stacked onto the shelves which towered above his head was all easily accessible electronically. The Archive had been a functioning library once, many eras ago, but now its purpose was to preserve the documents themselves, rather than their contents.

Shm sat down on a stone bench in the centre of the Archive. His eyes were not, he was forced to admit, as good as they’d once been. He’d had minor corrective genetic surgery on them, but that too was now starting to fail. Shm’s old friend Qss-Jff, the Arch-Rector of the Lsh-Lff Polynasium had had his own eyes replaced twice before he died, but Shm did not feel the need for anything so drastic.

Attending Qss-Jff’s funeral in Lsh-Lff the previous orbit had affected Shm rather more deeply than he’d expected. It was not that his old friend’s passing had come as a shock, or had even caused him a great sense of loss or sadness; Qss-Jff had led a long and, by and large, contented life, devoted to the furtherance and passing on of learning and understanding. No-one could ask for more, in Shm’s opinion. But as the casket containing the Arch-Rector’s body had descended into the molecular recycling vat, Shm had found himself wondering how much time he had left before him, and whether he truly wished to spend every last moment of it at his desk.

He had read, he knew, probably more of the scrolls and texts surrounding him in the Hard Copy Archive than any other living Fnrrn, and he’d still only read a tiny fraction of them. It would be hard to tear himself away from academia, from perpetual study and research, when there was still so much, so MUCH, left to learn.

His mind was made up. I’m becoming like these scrolls, he thought to himself. I’m being preserved for purely sentimental reasons, long after I’ve served any real purpose. Better for the Preceptorate to be steered by younger hands.

Upon hearing of the destruction of the Kyzean Spiral, he’d transmitted the news to the Chancellor, who had, in turn, passed the information to Ambassador Stss-Slnm, Fnrr’s representative at the Galactic Convocation, the council of aligned worlds. Whatever had befallen that distant galaxy, it was obviously of concern to all the peoples of this one. Shm was now awaiting news of the Convocation’s reaction.

From within his purple robe, his slate made a pinging sound. Shm had his answer. He produced his slate and read.

Well, that makes sense, he thought, and it would make for one last interesting assignment before he announced his retirement. Besides, while he knew that young Lbbp was ready to succeed him, he could tell that Lbbp himself was less than convinced. A few days minding the place while I’m away, thought Shm, might help boost Lbbp’s confidence.

He reached inside his robe and felt the small metal rod that hung on a chain around his neck. He had been wearing it ever since the Preceptorship had been conferred upon him by his predecessor, Preceptor Mxzn. Shm had often wondered how he would feel when the time came to pass it on.

He would soon find out.

1.8

– Quung?

Lbbp’s big black eyes bulged bigger and blacker than ever, and his grey skin turned several shades greyer.

– That’s what Preceptor Shm says, replied Terra with a shrug.

– But you can’t go to Quung! Lyceum starts again tomorrow! You’ll fall behind!

– Oh come on, said Fthfth. If it’s Terra’s education you’re worried about, surely paying an official visit to the Convocation is at least as educational as anything she’d learn from a couple of days in this place. I wish I were going, she added, throwing Terra a mock grumpy expression.

They stood in Lbbp’s new office; the office of the Vice Preceptor. He’d agreed to show them around his workplace on the day before classes began. He’d been intrigued when Terra had been summoned by Preceptor Shm to visit him in his reading room at the far end of the corridor, and had been struck dumb with alarm when she’d returned and told him of the Preceptor’s request.

– And at least it’s Quung, added Pktk. A couple of orbits ago the Convocation’s president world was Vicerius Beta, which has a toxic atmosphere and three times Fnrr’s gravity. She’ll be able to walk and breathe on Quung.

Lbbp flopped down into his new office chair. The chamber felt uncomfortably grand. He felt dwarfed by its illustrious opulence; even the thick upholstery of the chair itself (he was used to the plain hard-backed seat of his old reading room) made him feel like a fraud, squatting in someone else’s rightful place.

Terra carried on with her explanation. – Preceptor Shm reported the alien incident to the Chancellor, she passed it on to the Convocation, and now they want us to describe the crash in person to an emergency session.

– Wait, what… what do you mean, ‘us’? asked Billy, suddenly snapping to attention.

– Oh yes, said Terra breezily, you’re coming too. Didn’t I say? Sorry.

Billy’s mouth flapped open and closed silently.

Fthfth clapped her hands excitedly. – Well, this is all working out perfectly, she smiled. Terra and Billy are getting to go on a trip to a new planet, Pktk and I can start a new session at the Lyceum without having to nursemaid the two Ymns through every new class – she pulled a knowing face at Terra, who poked her tongue out and laughed – and meanwhile, if I’m not mistaken, Vice Preceptor – she grinned at Lbbp – with Preceptor Shm off-planet, that’ll be you in charge of the whole Preceptorate until he gets back, won’t it?

If Lbbp hadn’t looked worried enough before, he did now.

– Right, said Fthfth, if we’ve only got one day left before we HAVE to be in the Lyceum, I for one don’t want to spend all of it in the Lyceum. Let’s play dks-wks, in the quad, right now. Last one out there has to go in the middle.

Fthfth trotted out into the open yard of the Lyceum building, followed by Terra and Pktk. Billy looked at Lbbp blankly, then shrugged and went after his friends. From the corridor, Lbbp heard Fthfth call – See you tomorrow, Acting Preceptor Lbbp!

Lbbp rubbed his eyes. Acting Preceptor.

ACTING Preceptor.

Says it all, doesn’t it, thought Lbbp.

1.9

‘No, it’s pronounced Quung. As in, er ... Quung. What? No, I’ve no idea how you spell it. I don’t even know if it’s in a language which uses letters. Some of them don’t.’

– Who’s he talking to? asked Fthfth.

– His parents, obviously, said Terra.

Billy stood a few metres away from them, using Terra’s infra-light comm.

‘Well, some of them use pictures, you know, like Japanese, and there’s one language which just uses colours, but human eyes aren’t sensitive enough to read it, so ... No, no I don’t suppose that is important just now ...’

– They’re not happy, are they? pondered Pktk.

– Are they ever happy? asked Fthfth.

– Now now, admonished Lbbp. They’re from a culture which hasn’t even officially been admitted into the Convocation yet, and they’re not only dealing with their son living on another planet, but now he’s having to tell them he’s off on a diplomatic mission to yet ANOTHER planet.

– Did he tell them WHY he’s off on a diplomatic mission? asked Pktk.

– That he barely survived being attacked by a genocidal alien from a distant galaxy that’s mysteriously evaporated? said Terra. No, he didn’t think they needed to know that bit.

‘I’ll try to call when I get there, if this comm thing works on Quung, which it might not ... Look, I’m only going to be there for a day or so, then I’m coming back to Fnrr. Yes, in a couple of days. I think. It’s just ... weird things can happen to time when you travel between ... No, it won’t be years later, like in that movie, they’ve got ways round that, but it might be a bit longer ...’

They were standing outside the small cylindrical hut which contained the booking office of the Preceptorate’s Vehicle Pool. Since receiving the summons to the Convocation, Preceptor Shm had been busy making travel arrangements. There were no voyages to Quung scheduled for a while, so they would have to make their own way there. Shm had requisitioned a ship from the Preceptorate’s small fleet of research vessels, and was in the process of completing the necessary forms.

Lbbp would, of course, have gladly lent the Preceptor the use of his own little lemon-shaped ship, the one he’d used to visit Rrth all those orbits previously, when he’d taken it upon himself to ‘rescue’ a Ymn infant, irrevocably altering the course of history on both that planet and his own. Unfortunately, that ship had been destroyed, along with whatever that f’zft who’d been pretending to be the Gfjk-Hhh was called, when he became the final (and perhaps most deserving) victim of the Black Planet.

Shm emerged from the hut, looking flustered but relieved that whatever bureaucratic hurdles he’d had to jump over were now safely behind him. – Come along, he said, and set off purposefully towards the spaceship yard.

Terra, Fthfth and Pktk looked towards Lbbp, who gestured to them to follow the Preceptor. Terra called to Billy, who stammered a final apology into the comm, then shut it off and handed it back to Terra.

‘How are they taking it?’ she asked.

‘Oh the usual,’ said Billy. ‘Mum’s having kittens and Dad said to remember to take lots of photos.’

Terra smiled and they hurried away to catch up with their friends.

Soon, they passed between two squat buildings and arrived at the yard itself, a fenced-off enclosure a few hundred metres across. They passed through a tall sliding metal gate; Shm acknowledged the greeting of an orange-uniformed guard who’d evidently been expecting their arrival, and began to seek out the ship he’d been allocated.

– Bay 232, he muttered. Where’s bay 232 going to be?

– Between 231 and 233, I expect, whispered Fthfth to Pktk, who stifled a giggle.

A glance at the markings painted onto the ground established that they were standing next to the vacant bay 4, and that, as such, bay 232 was quite a distance away. Preceptor Shm sighed and set off in the direction of the higher numbers, at a surprisingly brisk pace for a Fnrrn his age.

As they passed through the yard, Billy looked around at the bizarre collection of vessels between which they made their way. Some of them had the smooth, clean lines he’d come to associate with Fnrr’s technology; others were bulkier or spikier in appearance. Obviously the Preceptorate had acquired these ships from many different worlds at different times. Billy wondered if perhaps certain planets had a reputation for making better spaceships than others, like the Germans and Italians with cars back on Earth.

Billy had been spending about half his time away from his own planet for nearly two years now, but he still got a thrill from being around spaceships. They’d been the stuff of his dreams for the first fourteen years of his sixteen-year life, and Billy knew he would have to live among space vessels for a little while longer before they lost their magic.

– Can we have that one? he asked of no-one in particular as they passed a sleek, finned, glossy black ship with prominent, bulging engines which, in his mind, he’d already designated a ‘Space Porsche’.

Billy’s suggestion went unanswered – it was possible that no-one had even heard it, so intent were the other members of the group upon keeping up with Preceptor Shm’s determined stride. Seeing that he was being left behind, Billy broke into an urgent trot in order to catch up.

Preceptor Shm turned the next corner, vanishing behind a large, boxy craft, evidently designed to carry freight rather than passengers. – Ah, here we are, Billy heard him say. Yes, that ought to do.

Billy caught up with the group. ‘Which one’s ours then?’ he asked Terra in a loud whisper. Terra pointed towards the Preceptor, who was now happily inspecting the vessel which sat in bay 232.

Billy had, he now realised, been expecting their designated vessel to resemble the little lemon-shaped craft in which he’d seen Lbbp arrive on the day he brought Terra back to Earth some four years earlier. The ship around which Shm was now bustling was not shaped like a lemon, but it still reminded Billy of something. It was more or less ovoid, its hull composed of intersecting hexagonal plates. At one end – Billy didn’t know if it was the bow or stern – there sprouted a more or less conical cluster of what might have been antennae, or perhaps electro-magnetic thrust generators of some kind ... The ship was, Billy was forced to admit, pineapple-shaped.

‘What do you think?’ asked Terra as Preceptor Shm disappeared into the ship through a hatch on the underside.

‘It’s ...’ Billy began. ‘It’s ... are they all shaped like some sort of—’

– Right, said Shm, emerging from the ship, the navigation computer is set for Quung, so there’s nothing else to do except say our farewells.

Terra, Billy, Fthfth and Pktk looked at Lbbp in alarm. They hadn’t realised that the Preceptor had intended to set off immediately, but knew that if he had made his decision, then they were indeed going to have to say goodbye right that second.

Terra threw her arms around Lbbp. – Look after the place and look after yourself, she said.

– I’ll try, said Lbbp, putting on the bravest of faces.

Terra turned to Fthfth. – I’m still jealous, said Fthfth with a smile.

– We’ll bring back T-shirts, suggested Billy. Does the Convocation do T-shirts?

– I doubt it, said Pktk. There are nearly two thousand different species represented in the Convocation and by no means all of them have torsos or arms. Selling T-shirts might seem a bit racist.

– Fair enough, acknowledged Billy.

Shm now addressed Lbbp, his face serious and his voice measured. – Vice Preceptor, he said, do you accept the duties and responsibilities of the office of Preceptor until such time as the current incumbent may resume those duties and responsibilities?

Terra wondered why Shm was referring to himself in the third person, then realised that this was official wording; Shm was, by speaking those words, appointing Lbbp as his temporary replacement.

– I accept the duties and responsibilities, said Lbbp.

– Good, said Shm. I expect to find the Preceptorate exactly as I leave it.

– That’s a shame, said Lbbp, I was planning on selling the place and turning it into a shopping centre and gshkth stadium.

Irony and sarcasm were relatively recent discoveries on Fnrr, and Shm wasn’t sure he approved of them in the slightest. He emitted a sound which was equal parts grunt and laugh, and beckoned to the two young humans to join him aboard the ship.

A few moments later, the pineapple-shaped ship rose silently into the air and disappeared. Lbbp remained still, staring at the sky for quite a while.

– She’ll be okay, said Fthfth softly. She’s always okay.

– I know, said Lbbp with a sad smile.

1.10

– Occluded Ones hear me ... Occluded Ones guide me ... Occluded ...

Sk’shk paused.

He’d been told by the Occluded Ones – on that one blessed occasion when they’d answered his prayer – to wait for a message. They hadn’t said from whom, or by what means anyone could convey such a message to him, entombed as he was in this asteroid prison. But wait they had said, and wait he had done. He had no idea how long he had waited. Time had no meaning in this place, and it didn’t matter anyway. He had resumed his prayers, as much in gratitude as in hope now, and waited.

Sk’shk had no idea how many, if indeed any, of his fellow G’grk knew where he was being held. He’d had no idea of his destination himself until the hood was yanked from his head in the very cell in which he now knelt. The alien crew of the prison ship that brought him here had told him that his sentence was life, without hope of release. They hadn’t told him who had passed the sentence, but Sk’shk already knew.

K’zsht. His former lord and leader, ‘Grand Marshal’ K’zsht, although he had surely lost the right to be referred to by that title.

They’d been victorious – their armies had marched across the face of Fnrr, straight over the weaklings of Dskt and into the heart of Mlml. But then, the old dotard K’zsht had allowed his mind to be clouded by the foul alien magic of that disgusting Rrth child, the revolting mewling little pink creature that the Mlmln heretics had been harbouring. Her squawking had weakened him to the point at which he’d lost his stomach for battle. Sk’shk had decided to exercise his birthright as a G’grk to correct the situation by killing the Grand Marshal with his own lance, which the doddering idiot had just dropped, effectively relinquishing his position. K’zsht had then – blasphemy of blasphemies – deliberately broken the lance, the emblem of his rank and the most sacred artefact of their people, just in order to save the worthless life of the Mlmln wretch who’d interceded.

Sk’shk’s mind had replayed the events of that day countless times as he prayed, and waited, and prayed, and waited.

But now, suddenly, thrillingly, he felt something. A strong, clear vibration, through the floor and walls of his cell.

Sk’shk glanced through the window in his cell door. The squat robots whose task it was to keep him alive seemed not to have noticed any disturbance. They trundled about their duties as always. Perhaps they didn’t even have the necessary sensors to pick up the vibration.

There it was again.

What was it? Sk’shk didn’t know for certain what the prison’s power source was; he assumed it was some sort of fusion reactor. Was it failing? Would that cause such a vibration?

It came again, stronger. And then again. Rhythmic. Unmistakably a pattern. Two strong throbs, a pause, another throb.

The answer came to Sk’shk.

Battle drums.

On the battlefield, before the G’grk reluctantly embraced electronic communication devices, messages had been relayed by the use of drums. This pattern, this BOOM BOOM ... BOOM had meant ‘stand by to receive orders’. It would repeat a few times, long enough to get the recipient’s attention, and then the message itself would begin.

Sk’shk racked his memory for the drumming code, as the message itself began.

BOOM ... BOOM BOOM BOOM ... BOOMBOOM

– Do not ...

BOOMBOOM BOOM BOOM ... BOOM BOOM BOOM ...

– ... hold ...

BOOM BOOM ... BOOMBOOM BOOM ... BOOM BOOMBOOM ...

– your breath ...

Understanding came to Sk’shk in a rush of fear and excitement. He stood, braced himself against the interior wall of his cell, and with a supreme effort of will expelled every last drop of air from his lungs.

There was a deafening roar, an equally deafening silence, and a great blast of freezing darkness ...

***

– The scan! Quickly!

The G’grk helmsman glowered at the flickering readout. This ship had not been built by G’grk hands, but neither its specific origin nor how the Walkers of the True Path had obtained it were of any interest to him. He had been assigned his task, and performing it was all that mattered, although he, like most of his G’grk brothers, still felt uneasy around technology.

– Anything? Captain H’skgh’s voice was tinged with panic. The helmsman’s eyes peered at the readout once more: it showed a cluster of black fragments, spiraling, spiraling, and amid them ... one tiny RED fragment.

– Got it, captain! Organic debris!

– Tractor beams! Now! barked the captain.

***

Sk’shk’s head pounded; his eyes bulged, his skin was beginning to freeze and his empty lungs blazed with pain. Had he tried to hold his breath, his chest would have burst like an over-inflated balloon. He still didn’t know if he was being rescued or murdered, and at that moment, spiraling through blackness, there was nothing he could do about it anyway.

Light. Blazing light. Hard surface beneath him. A whistling, hissing sound. Air. Cold, biting air. Sk’shk opened his eyes. White walls. Metal floor. Control panels.

He was in an airlock. A ship. He didn’t recognise the technology. So now either he was being rescued or captured. Either possibility suited him. One meant safety, the other meant he was about to have to fight. Equally enticing prospects, after his confinement.

Sk’shk struggled up to a kneeling position. He was aware of a hatch sliding open and the sound of footsteps. Forcing his eyes to focus, he found himself surrounded by armoured G’grk officers.

He tensed. Had Zst’kh, that young grub of a Grand Marshal, changed his mind? Had the upstart overruled his grandfather’s clemency? Was this Sk’shk’s execution party?

Sk’shk, still on his knees, flexed his aching muscles as discreetly as possible. His strength was returning. He looked around the airlock, studied the arrangement of bodies around him. They wore armour while he, humiliatingly, was still clad in his prison overall. The closest officer, Sk’shk noticed, was wearing a sword on his belt. Even from this kneeling position, he might be able to get the first blow in ... a good punch to the lower torso ... That could disorientate the officer long enough for him to take the sword, and then ...

– We salute Sk’shk! Hail to you, true Grand Marshal of the G’grk!

What?

– Hail to you, Grand Marshal Sk’shk! The cry was taken up by all present.

A pause. They were waiting for him to speak. He wondered if his throat, still recovering from his exposure to the vacuum, would respond. He struggled to his feet, took a deep breath which stung his lungs in a reassuring way, then croaked:

– Who is in command of this vessel?

One of the officers standing behind Sk’shk stepped forward.

– I am, Grand Marshal, said Captain H’skgh.

Sk’shk turned to face him, smiled, then delivered a ferocious upward punch to H’skgh’s jaw. H’skgh collapsed unconscious, blue blood trickling from his mouth. Sk’shk turned his gaze upon the rest of the welcoming party.

– I’ll ask again. Who is in command of this vessel?

There was a pause. Finally, one of the standing officers spoke.

– Y-you are, Grand Marshal ...?

Sk’shk stared witheringly at him. – That’s better. Four orbits I’ve been away ... Let’s see how much else you’ve forgotten. Meanwhile, is there any d’kff on this blasted spaceship?

The drone officers hissed in exultation. Sk’shk smiled.

1.11

LBBP GAZED UP AT the quartz dome ceiling of the Preceptorate council chamber. He stood next to the seat on the central dais which the Preceptor would, as a matter of tradition, occupy during each new academic orbit’s opening address. In a few short spectrums, this orbit’s address would be given, but by Lbbp himself, not by Preceptor Shm.

Lbbp had intended to sneak into the chamber early and see how it felt to be in that chair, so he wouldn’t spend the whole ceremony squirming in it trying to get comfortable, but now he was here, he found he couldn’t bring himself to sit down.

He had so many doubts, so many questions. And then Lbbp remembered where he was: the place where questions were – sometimes – answered.

– What do you think? said Lbbp in no direction in particular. Should I sit down in that chair or remain standing?

There came no reply.

– Come on, said Lbbp. So much of what’s happened has come about because of what you decided that day. Surely it’s not too much to ask for a few clues as to what to do next?

It was in that chamber, orbits ago, that a young Lbbp had stood cradling a baby Terra, having rescued her – or so he’d thought – from certain doom on her savage homeworld, Rrth. It was just a few metres in front of where he now stood, where he’d received the Academic Council’s brutal verdict: that he be stripped of his position as Postulator and the alien child be placed in indefinite stasis. And it was just a few moments later that the Extrapolator – the Preceptorate’s supercomputer and repository of all information in the galaxy – had taken the almost unprecedented step of interceding on Lbbp’s and Terra’s behalf, recommending that Lbbp be allowed to raise the child as his own.

Given that the Extrapolator’s vast knowledge of the past and present enabled it to predict the future with a fair degree of accuracy, the Council had acceded to its suggestion. Terra had become Lbbp’s adopted daughter and the course of history on both her homeworlds had been altered forever.

Nobody, Lbbp included, had ever extracted a satisfactory explanation from the Extrapolator as to why it had felt the need to save the child – what it had foreseen that made her survival, and indeed her continued presence on Fnrr, so important. Lbbp himself had long since stopped asking; he was just grateful that the events of the day had unfolded as they had.

Nonetheless, as he stood once again in the domed chamber, his mind raced with questions.

– Why does it feel different this time? he asked quietly. I’ve said goodbye to her so many times, and every time I’ve worried for her safety while she’s away, but this time ... this time it doesn’t feel like worry. It’s like the certain KNOWLEDGE that something terrible is waiting for her out there. It’s unbearable.

Lbbp looked up and addressed the quartz ceiling.

– Why do I feel this way? Why this time? Is there some knowledge of danger I’ve actually seen, or read, or heard, that I’ve managed to bury in my memory and it’s trying to break out? The possibility that Lbbp was actually experiencing precognitive vision, or developing some sort of psychic ability in middle age, had occurred to him, but seemed too absurd to bother mentioning.

Lbbp sighed and hung his head. – I don’t know why I worry when she’s not here anyway, he said sadly. She’s no safer when she’s with me. It’s not as if I could ever protect her from anything. I’ve never been brave.

To his surprise, his slate, which he had placed on the chair, pinged gently. Picking it up, he saw four words ...

THIS IS NOT TRUE

… and then a Fnrrn date; a date just over four orbits ago.

Lbbp remembered that date. All of Fnrr remembered that date. The day the G’grk came. The day the G’grk, using the freshly conquered nation of Dskt as a base, had invaded Mlml with overwhelming force.

And, Lbbp now remembered with a twinge of pain in his shoulder, the day that little Terra, on the point of being sacrificed by the G’grk to their invisible overlords ‘the Occluded Ones’, had averted the conquest by softening the heart of the G’grk’s fearsome commander-in-chief Grand Marshal K’zsht with, of all things, a song. And the day that Lbbp had saved K’zsht from the wrath of his deputy Sk’shk by throwing himself into the path of the sacred lance which Sk’shk had hurled at his leader.

Yes, thought Lbbp. That was pretty brave, I suppose.

He sat in the chair. It was surprisingly comfortable.

1.12

AS LBBP SAT IN the Preceptor’s chair in the council chamber on Fnrr, many light years away Terra sat in a rather less imposing chair in a similarly configured, but altogether more imposing building.

Terra’s eyes bulged and her mind boggled as she attempted to absorb the sheer scale of the chamber in which she now sat.

The Convocation’s Great Hall, like the presidency, was moveable. When, every ten galactic standard years, the task of chairing the Convocation shifted to another member world, the Hall – a vast domed structure more than one Earth kilometre in diameter – would be lifted into space by a fleet of tugships, then flown at infra-light speeds to its new home. It would generally be installed on an undeveloped patch of land somewhere on the new president world, although a few tenures previously, when the presidency had passed to the almost entirely urbanised planet of Capsilon, it had been necessary to tether the Hall offshore on an enormous and rather hastily constructed floating pontoon. This period was not fondly remembered by those delegates of sufficient long-standing to have been around at the time, although Capsilon’s principal manufacturer of motion sickness tablets did go on to become one of the richest corporations in the galaxy as a result. Installing the Great Hall on Quung had been an altogether more straightforward operation: it stood on a windswept plain a few kilometres away from the city limits of Quegg, the central conurbation of the planet’s capital nation, Quaahz.

From Terra’s position, she couldn’t make out the far side of the structure at all. All she could see was an ocean of delegates, seated in concentric circular rows arranged around a central podium, stretching to the horizon. The delegates came in every shape and size imaginable, from huge grey-skinned giants, towering over their neighbours and visible from hundreds of metres away, to small orange fish-like creatures who attended the session in tanks which had to be wheeled in by more land-evolved attendants. Terra wondered how things worked when the presidency passed to their world. Did they still turn up in the tanks? Or did they flood the chamber and make the air-breathers wear diving suits?

At that moment, the Convocation was being addressed by a delegate from the planet Ogogrogor, a tall blue-skinned individual with a tube inserted into one nostril, connected to a small machine strapped to his chest. Evidently the air on Quung was almost, but not quite, breathable by Ogogrogons. Terra couldn’t actually see the delegate himself; he stood somewhere far away across the chamber floor, but as he spoke, his image was projected onto the huge domed ceiling. As the delegate from Ogogrogor spoke in his own language – which, Terra was unsurprised to note, seemed to consist largely of ‘ogg’ noises – subtitles in myriad alphabets and pictograms scrolled across the ceiling. Terra was intrigued to notice that one of the languages that the speech was translated into was English – was that for her benefit, she wondered, or was there an Earth delegation present?

With a final, emphatic ‘Grorgogg!’ the delegate concluded his address, and was greeted with the various sounds and gestures which equated to applause on the inhabited worlds of the galaxy. Whistles and squeaks came from some quarters, foot stamping from others, hooting, clapping, high pitched ululations and low rumbles echoed around the cavernous interior of the dome. The delegate seemed pleased with his reception, although how he could be certain that his audience was cheering rather than booing, Terra couldn’t imagine.

The journey from Fnrr to Quung had been uneventful. The pineapple-shaped ship was rather roomier than Lbbp’s much missed lemon-shaped craft; but, Billy had reflected sadly, it was nothing like as luxurious as the Kotari trader vessel he and Terra had stolen a couple of years previously, during his first trip ‘off world’. He’d often thought he’d have liked to take some time exploring the galaxy with Terra in that ship, but she’d been determined to return to Fnrr to confront whatever was blocking communication with her adopted homeworld. It was just as well, otherwise Fnrr might have been consumed by the dreaded Black Planet a short while thereafter.

Upon their arrival on Quung, the ship had been whisked away to some sort of orbital parking lot by uniformed Convocation staff members (they seemed to be selected from the local population of Quung; squat, amiable orange-skinned beings with a brisk but friendly demeanour) while the three of them had been shown through to the entrance to the Great Hall. They were then escorted to the Fnrrn delegation’s designated space where Ambassador Stss-Slnm had greeted them with stiff formality. Whether that was just correct diplomatic behaviour on Stss-Slnm’s part, or whether the ambassador was feeling put out at having his thunder stolen by a party of interlopers, Terra didn’t know.

Terra couldn’t help but notice that at no stage did anyone ask them for any sort of accreditation or proof of identity. Perhaps there was some sort of intuitive security system in operation, she thought. Maybe the building itself had a list of approved visitors and was watching silently for intruders. Either that, or the Convocation was weirdly relaxed about that sort of thing.

As the Ogogrogon delegate retook his seat, a peculiar hush descended over the hall. Terra looked around for the source of the sudden lack of excitement but could perceive no obvious change in the environment.

Then the captions on the ceiling began to scroll again, and this time they read: ‘DELEGATES WILL PLEASE RISE FOR HER SERENITY THE 9,857,623rd KWAD SHAR CHEN’. With a great shuffling and scraping of chairs, every delegate under the dome who possessed the necessary limbs rose from their seats.

– What’s going on? Terra whispered to Preceptor Shm.

– The Kwad Shar Chen is here, whispered Shm.

– Who’s that? whispered Terra.

– You’ve never heard of the Kwad Shar Chen? muttered Shm.

– Evidently not, replied Terra.

Billy became uncomfortably aware that his companions’ whispered conversation was starting to attract irritated glances from their neighbours, who were trying to maintain a respectful silence.

Shm rummaged under his robes, retrieved a small slate, tapped on it, said – Here, and passed it to Terra, who began to read:

The Kwad Shar Chen is the leader and figurehead of Marach Na, the oldest and most venerated spiritual order in the galaxy. She*, like her predecessors, is a clone of the first holder of the title, and is the 9,857,623rd in the succession.

Marach Na was founded in the Second Era of the Galactic Standard Calendar on the planet Altesk; its headquarters were relocated to Altesk’s third moon in the Fifth Era GSC, with the construction of the Moonshrine which currently occupies the whole of the moon’s surface.

Followers of Marach Na embrace a doctrine of forbearance and humility, and many political and social leaders throughout the history of the galaxy have been adherents of the philosophy, although in recent eras its influence is thought to have diminished.

(*While all the Kwad Shar Chens have in fact been biologically sexless, traditionally they prefer to go by the pronoun ‘She’.)

A doctrine of humility being preached from a church the size of a moon, thought Terra. If you say so ...

As she handed the slate to Billy, so that he might bring himself up to speed, a general gasp of awe passed around the dome. She looked up.

Hovering above the delegates, and proceeding gracefully towards the central podium, there came a tall slender figure clad in flowing white robes. The figure was followed by a detachment of attendants, clad in blue robes and hoods which covered their features. Apart from being broadly humanoid it was impossible to tell what species they belonged to. The white-robed figure’s face was visible; it was smooth, bone-white and finely featured with what looked like glittering golden eyes.

Terra watched as the ensemble drifted in a V formation above the crowd, who gazed up in reverent awe. She spotted a telltale shimmer in the air surrounding the hovering figures. They’re using gravity bubbles, thought Terra. They can’t fly. They could just as easily have walked in. This is pantomime.

Just then Billy whispered in her ear.

‘It’s Pope Mary Poppins the Third ...’

Terra stifled a snort of laughter and elbowed Billy in the ribs. ‘Shut UP!’ she hissed.

The Kwad Shar Chen and her entourage arrived at the central podium; she descended gracefully to the front of the platform and her blue-robed attendants arranged themselves in a semicircle behind her.

There was a moment’s expectant silence.

– Peoples of the galaxy, began the Kwad Shar Chen. From time to time there comes a moment of revelation. Of discovery. A moment when our reality becomes just a little bit larger.

The Kwad Shar Chen’s voice, Terra realised almost in spite of herself, was beautiful. It was at once gentle and reassuring, and also strong and resolute. Moreover, Terra noticed, there were no translating captions appearing on the ceiling of the dome and yet it was clear that everybody present understood her every word. Terra wondered if the Kwad Shar Chen might be employing some extra-powerful variant on the translation cube, but as the voice went on, she realised that this wasn’t the case. Somehow, the Kwad Shar Chen possessed the ability to make herself understood by anyone. Terra listened intently.

– Now is one of those times. The visitor from another galaxy may have arrived with hate in its heart, but we must remember that if it came in order to sow destruction, it failed in this. Witnessed as it was by two innocent children – at this point she looked directly towards Terra and Billy – representatives of our newest friends, the humans of Earth – everyone was now looking smilingly at Terra and Billy, to their immense discomfort – it succeeded merely in provoking that most worthy of instincts ... curiosity. Its desire for war has stimulated our desire for understanding. We know now that not only is there much to learn from other galaxies, but that perhaps the means exist for us to acquire that knowledge. We should take hope, not fear, from this occurrence.

Terra knew this was an almost absurdly optimistic spin on the events of the past few days, but at the same time she found herself weirdly calmed and reassured by the Kwad Shar Chen’s words. She continued to listen.

– I should like now to invite our two young friends, Terra and Billy, to address us all and describe what they saw.

Billy and Terra looked at each other in horror. Nobody had said anything about addressing the whole forum. Terra looked to Shm for some reassurance that this was a mistake, but he looked as nonplussed as they felt.

Terra felt the weight of several million expectant eyes on her. She looked at Billy and shrugged. ‘I’ll do the talking,’ she said.

‘Too right you will,’ said Billy, his face pale with dread.

Terra turned to Preceptor Shm. – I think I’d be happier if you came with us, she said.

Shm agreed, and whispered an apology to Ambassador Stss-Slnm. The two young humans and the Preceptor rose from their chairs and began to walk to the podium, as the delegates varyingly cheered, whooped, chattered and whistled them on.

It took nearly two minutes to reach the podium, by which time Terra and Billy’s self-consciousness and embarrassment had just about given up trying to get them to sit back down again. If anything, Billy found himself rather enjoying the applause, if that was what it was. Terra, on the other hand, was gritting her teeth and furiously suppressing the memory of the last time she found herself the centre of attention in a high-domed meeting chamber.

At last they arrived at, and stepped up onto, the podium. Shm took a deferential position toward the rear of the podium, having to jostle for position with a couple of the Kwad Shar Chen’s blue-robed retinue. Terra found herself standing directly in front of the smiling Kwad Shar Chen herself. Up close, her features were strikingly, glacially beautiful in an androgynous way, and her golden eyes sparkled. Terra found her a reassuring and yet somehow unsettling presence.

The Kwad Shar Chen gestured toward the vast crowd. – They’re all yours, she said cheerfully.

Terra turned, swallowed, and racked her brain for something to say.

She thought of something.

– Hello, she said.

The atmosphere in the dome relaxed almost tangibly. Terra went on.

– So, the other day Billy and I were taking some time off in the countryside of the planet Fnrr, she said, trying not to be distracted by the sight of her words being translated into innumerable alien languages on the ceiling above her. An alien ship fell through some sort of breach or fissure – we think it might have been a wormhole – and crashed into a lake. As we watched, it—

‘Uppu azin matta!’

Terra fell silent. She could see heads turning throughout the crowd, looking for the source of the disturbance. The shout came again.

‘Uppu azin matta! Uppu azin matta!’

One of the delegates, a broad shouldered, grey-robed figure with yellowish skin and long, braided hair (which, on closer inspection, moved like prehensile tendrils) was standing up about twenty metres in front of the podium. Terra could see that he was one of a party of four; his companions, evidently as surprised by his interruption as everyone else, were remonstrating with him, trying to persuade him to sit down. He disregarded their entreaties and cried out again.

‘Uppu azin matta!’

Uniformed security guards began to enter the dome through apertures around the chamber’s edge. Terra realised it would take them a few minutes to get to the disruptive delegate, who now reached inside his grey robe. With another shout of ‘Uppu azin matta!’ he produced, and now brandished, a metallic sphere about the size of a tennis ball.

The sight of this object drew gasps and cries of alarm. The delegates surrounding the yellow-skinned protester began to struggle to get away from him, falling over each other as he yelled ‘Uppu azin matta!’ once more. Terra looked to Shm; he was staring in horror at the unfolding scene.

– That’s a fusion grenade, said Shm, it could vaporise this whole dome. He threw his arms around Terra in an instinctively protective if ultimately futile gesture.

Terra looked back to the yellow-skinned delegate. As all around him fled in panic, he began to fiddle with an illuminated button on the small sphere. There was no chance to get away, she realised with terror.

The Kwad Shar Chen’s retinue formed a tight circle around her and they rose quickly as one into the air. As chaos descended on the chamber floor, they flew swiftly away towards the exits.

Only one of the surrounding delegates had not run away. Rather, he now approached the bomb-clutching delegate from behind, being careful to stay out of his line of vision. As the bomber tinkered with the device’s controls, this sole remaining delegate seized him around the torso, pinning the arm that was not holding the bomb to his side, and pulling the arm that was holding the bomb upwards, keeping the device out of reach of his other hand. As the bomber struggled, his assailant ran his own hand straight up the extended arm and snatched the sphere from his fingers. The thwarted bomber shrugged off the other’s grip and turned to face him, whereupon his co-combatant deftly tossed the sphere from his right to his left hand before punching the bomber squarely on what might or might not have been his nose.

Nose or not, the punch had the desired effect. The yellow-skinned delegate dropped like a stone and lay unconscious on the chamber floor, a trickle of dark orange blood coming from what may or may not have been a nostril.

A voice Terra would have known anywhere called out: ‘Does anyone here know how to disarm this thing?’

Only one delegate had not run away, as only one delegate in the chamber had received extensive training in hand-to-hand combat, including a two-week course on how best to tackle suicide bombers given by a particularly intimidating visiting Marine Corps instructor.

James Hardison handed the fusion grenade over to a Quungi security guard, exhaled heavily and straightened his blue uniform.

Terra ran to him. ‘Colonel Hardison!’

He smiled. ‘I was looking forward to your speech,’ he said.

‘Why are you here?’ asked Terra, hugely grateful that he was.

‘Military attaché to the Earth delegation,’ said Hardison proudly, gesturing toward a party of grey-suited humans who were hiding under their chairs. ‘Earth’s membership of the Convocation is still provisional but we’re allowed to sit in on the meetings. This sounded like one we shouldn’t miss. All things considered, I’m glad we didn’t.’

– I think we all are, said Preceptor Shm, approaching the podium. I think your actions here today will do Earth’s application no harm at all.

Billy was staring blankly at Hardison. The rapidity of the last few minutes' events had rather stunned him into immobility. Terra shook him.

‘You remember Colonel Hardison, don’t you Billy?’

‘Actually,’ said Hardison, ‘it’s Brigadier General Hardison now, but call me James.’

Billy seemed to snap out of it a little. ‘BRIGADIER General?’ he asked.

‘Yes…’ replied Hardison.

‘So if we wanted to, we could call you Brigadier?’

‘I ... guess ...’ said Hardison.

‘That is SO cool,’ smiled Billy.

Some semblance of order was beginning to re-assert itself. The Quungi guards were now present in great numbers, checking people for injuries and helping them to the exits. Evidently, the session had been abandoned.

One party of guards was in the process of arresting the failed bomber, who, Shm informed Terra, was one of the delegates from the planet Tabok. The bomber himself had regained consciousness, and seemed to be protesting his innocence. His fellow Taboki delegates looked on, mystified and mortified. Terra snuck up to one of them.

– Is he okay? she asked in as conversational a tone as possible.

– He says he remembers nothing. Where he got the grenade, threatening to detonate it, nothing. It’s a tragic day. Minister Sy-Suran has never shown any violent or dissociative tendencies before ... We don’t understand it. His hair-tendrils drooped despairingly.

Terra felt immense sympathy but needed to ask one more question. – What was that he kept shouting? And why didn’t the dome translate it?

The Taboki looked grimly up at her. – Those words are from a long-dead language. They haven’t been spoken on Tabok for eras. What you heard was the battle-prayer of the Gara-Gara, a warrior race which ruled our world many, many eras ago. Our planet’s history is steeped in blood. We emerged from the dark times and embraced enlightenment. We’ve done so much to put our past behind us, and now this ... Can we ever be forgiven? One of our own, making an attempt on the life of the Kwad Shar Chen ... He shook his head sadly, his tendrils dangling limply.

And on the life of everyone else here, thought Terra, but never mind. The guards marched the protesting bomber away, his Taboki comrades shuffling miserably along behind them.

1.13

THE KWAD SHAR CHEN herself, meanwhile, was already many kilometres away. Her retinue had surrounded her in tight protective formation and flown her straight from the dome to where her ship, the Exemplar, was waiting.

The Exemplar, a gleaming, smooth-surfaced sliver vessel, was hovering silently above a remote, hilly region of Quaahz. The other delegates’ ships sat awaiting their return in orbit around the planet, Quungi shuttles ferrying them to and from the surface. The Exemplar, while a large and powerful vessel (more powerful than anyone suspected), had no difficulty manoeuvring in an atmosphere and as such, the Kwad Shar Chen preferred to take personal responsibility for her travel arrangements. Besides, she had often reflected, it was useful to maintain a hint of mystery as to how she traversed the galaxy. Far more effective to apparently arrive out of nowhere than to be seen shuffling on and off shuttles with the other delegates.

The Kwad Shar Chen and her retinue approached the Exemplar and flew smoothly in through an aperture which opened silently on its underside. Once inside, she deactivated her gravity bubble and turned to her blue-robed retainers, who stood expectantly.

– Go.

The retainers turned and filed wordlessly away down the white-walled corridor. The Kwad Shar Chen did not watch them go; she turned in the opposite direction and proceeded to her private cabin.

The doorway to the Kwad Shar Chen’s cabin opened like an iris. She stepped through, lowered her white hood, rubbed a smooth bone-white hand across her bone-white head, and breathed out heavily.

Her cabin consisted of a small white-walled space. There were no portholes or other visible sources of illumination, rather the walls and ceiling themselves glowed with a soft light. In terms of furniture there was a simple couch-like bed and a small table, on which lay a bound scroll. The first, handwritten copy of the Saf-Marach, the foundational text of Marach Na. It had been written countless aeons ago by the very first Kwad Shar Chen, her clone grand-to-the-power-of-several-thousand-mother. The hands which had inscribed it were identical in every way to the hands which now picked it up, clutched it, twisted it, and, as the Kwad Shar Chen let out a cry of rage, threw it across the room.

The scroll bounced unharmed off the far wall and came to rest upon the floor. The Kwad Shar Chen glowered at it, her golden eyes narrowing.

She had not asked for this honour. She had been created, as had her 9,857,621 predecessors, from a scrap of DNA left behind by the original Kwad Shar Chen, who had visited Altesk in the pre-Marachian epoch. Nobody knew where the first Kwad Shar Chen had come from, and she herself never revealed the answer, except to say that she had come bearing a message of hope and peace. That message, detailed in the Saf-Marach, had now become the most revered spiritual philosophy in the galaxy (perhaps even beyond, given the mystery of the first Kwad Shar Chen’s background). Preparing for her own death, the first Kwad Shar Chen had gifted the Alteski with the technology to reproduce her in fully-grown clone form, and thus began the (so far) endless succession of Kwad Shar Chens, each residing in the Moonshrine and, as and when required, venturing out into the galaxy to spread and revivify the message of Marach Na.

The Kwad Shar Chen sat on her couch, her mind roiling. She had never shared her doubts with another living soul, the doubts she’d harboured ever since the day of her inception. She’d simply gone smilingly about her duties, knowing that the spiritual peace of so many people on so many worlds depended on her maintaining a seamless outward display of serene conviction. She’d swallowed her questions, bottled up her misgivings and felt them eat away at her from within, knowing all the while that no-one, not another being in the galaxy would understand what it was to be her, because there was nobody else in the galaxy like her. She was the sole member of her species, a species that didn’t even have a name. There was no other like her, nor would there be until the moment of her death, when the Incubation Crucible on Altesk would activate her clone successor (already half-grown), ready to carry on the mission with the whole of the Saf-Marach pre-installed in her memory.

The Kwad Shar Chen’s successor would not inherit any of her own memories, nor could she recall any of her predecessors’ experiences. Was she the first to have these questions? Had they all struggled with their vocation?

At least, she had thought to herself until today, she would be the last. She would have no clone-daughter on which to lay this burden, whatever those genuflecting dullards on Altesk thought. The succession would soon end. As would everything.

But now, even THAT was in doubt.

She had been meditating in the Moonshrine’s Chapel of Solace when the Others first spoke to her. Soothing voices, like her own, telling her that the Alteski priests were deceived; that Marach Na had long since served its purpose and that the mission of the Kwad Shar Chen, her mission, was over. That a tribulation would soon consume the universe, cleansing it of all dispute and conflict. That only the Moonshrine would remain, that only she and her followers – not the Alteski fools, her TRUE followers, whom she must now begin to recruit – would be preserved, to spread a NEW message, the message of the Others, throughout a newly reborn universe.

The voices, and the clarity they brought to the Kwad Shar Chen’s mind, had washed over her like a wave of pure joy and peace. But now that peace was broken.

How could they have let her be exposed to such danger? Why did the Others allow her to enter that chamber, knowing – as surely they must have done – that the Taboki would try to destroy her? Was she truly their chosen emissary? Was what they’d promised her a lie? If she alone would survive the chaos about to come, why let her walk into a trap now?

She closed her golden eyes, calmed herself and sought the answer. Her hand went to the amulet that hung around her neck on a hair-thin platinum chain. As her fingers touched the tiny shard of blue crystal, understanding came to her.

She smiled.

It was simple. The Others HAD known there would be an attempt on her life, and that it would fail. The incident would serve to heighten tensions, increase suspicions and vigilance, and bring the tribulation closer. She had never been in any real danger. All was proceeding as promised.

Moreover, she’d had her first encounter with the Earth child. The Earth child who would, in time, seal the universe’s fate.

As the Kwad Shar Chen ordered her crew to take the Exemplar back into space, she felt renewed purpose surging through her golden veins.

1.14

SK’SHK HAD EXPECTED TO feel more comfortable now that he was clad in proper G’grk armour, but he squirmed awkwardly in the command chair of the battleship. The chair was almost comically too wide for his wiry frame (made all the wirier by his confinement). He drummed his long grey fingers on the armrests.

The command chair, like the rest of the ship, had been built long ago in the orbital shipyards above the planet Narka Ponta, to form part of the space navy of the Boax, a belligerent, expansive culture which had briefly flourished in the next spiral arm but one an era or so previously, before biting off rather more than they could chew by way of declaring war on the neighbouring Hargon Empire.

The Boax were long gone, as indeed was the Hargon Empire, but so swift and complete had been their defeat at the hands (or rather the tentacles) of the Hargs that one could still, if one knew where to ask, find refurbished Boax warships in pretty decent condition for a very reasonable price.

This vessel had been just such a bargain. Once it had been customised with a new infra-light drive and an updated weapons array – which the Kotari used-spaceship merchant had thrown in for free (or so he’d said) – the Walkers of the True Path had taken ownership of what was, in effect, the first G’grk space warship ever to take to the stars.

Now Sk’shk had taken command of the ship, and was finding both the situation, and the chair – designed to accommodate the altogether more ample hindquarters of its long deceased Boax commander – difficult to get used to. Sk’shk wasn’t accustomed to sitting down at all; he’d been bred and raised for the battlefield. He’d never expected to find himself a ship’s captain.

But that had, after all, he reflected, been the purpose of the invasion of Mlml. To capture and harness their space-travel technology and take the truth and purity of the Occluded Ones out into the galaxy ... to seek out new life and new civilisations, and then butcher and enslave them in due course. That was the end towards which he and his armies had been striving when he’d been betrayed by, of all people, Grand Marshal K’zsht himself.

That it was he – HE, not K’zsht, who’d been condemned as a traitor and banished to that floating dungeon – was an injustice which could never be put right.

But now he was free. Free, and in command of a vessel and a cohort of loyal drones and officers. Now he would return to Fnrr, and make them pay. Make them ALL pay.

Sk’shk became aware of someone standing at his elbow. He glanced up and saw H’skgh, a livid blue bruise taking up much of the left side of his face, looking at him expectantly.

– Your orders, Grand Marshal?

Sk’shk shifted again in the chair. It was indeed up to him to define the mission. On the one hand, he’d thought their objective – return to Fnrr, conquer and rule – so obvious as to not require stating. On the other, he’d fought and won enough battles to know that ‘return to Fnrr, conquer and rule’, didn’t exactly count as a plan. One needed to be more specific, and one always had to pay attention to the details. He drummed his fingers on the armrest of the chair once more, then spoke.

– What is the status of Fnrr’s planetary defences? Could we penetrate them?

H’skgh thought for a moment, and then: – Since the destruction of the Black Planet (a junior officer had briefed Sk’shk on events since his imprisonment), work has begun on a network of defence satellites. Grand Marshal Zst’kh has ...

Sk’shk’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. H’skgh coughed and went on:

– The ... usurper Zst’kh has ordered the Ymn scientist St’nn-B’rkh to construct a force grid which will repel any attempt at invasion or orbital bombardment ... He fell silent upon seeing Sk’shk’s face, which was set with contained rage.

– YMN scientist ...? hissed Sk’shk, his voice trembling with fury.

– Y-yes, Grand Marshal, H’skgh went on, St’nn-B’rkh was sent by the Ymns to work alongside the G’grk in order to—

Sk’shk leapt from the chair and seized H’skgh by his breastplate.

– There is a YMN in T’krr? Giving orders to G’grk? Fouling the city of our ancestors with its deviant presence and strutting around our streets like an honoured guest?!

H’skgh’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly. The other bridge officers stared intently at their work stations.

Sk’shk released H’skgh and sank despondently into the command chair.

– So lost, he muttered. So very lost. If this ship had the firepower I’d destroy the whole of Fnrr rather than try to save it. Better our brothers were purged by fire than to live in such shame.

There was a moment’s silence, then he went on: – But we must work with what we have. This force grid, is it operational?

– Not yet, Grand Marshal.

Sk’shk stared off into space. H’skgh and his fellow officers remained silent, awaiting their commander’s orders and not daring to interrupt his thoughts.

– We will begin, said Sk’shk at last, by attacking Mlml. Their defences were hopelessly inadequate four orbits ago and if they’re relying on the G’grk to protect them they’ll be no stronger now.

– Mlml, Grand Marshal? queried H’skgh. But what is in Mlml that we ...

Sk’shk wheeled the command chair around to face him. – The Rrth child, imbecile. She is the one responsible for bringing this corruption to our land. She must be taken alive before our conquest can begin.

– Of course, Grand Marshal, but ...

– WHAT?

– We have information, Grand Marshal ... the Rrth child is not currently on Fnrr.

Sk’shk smiled ... She’s away from Mlml, he thought. Alone, unprotected.

– Where is she? he asked.

1.15

AMBASSADOR STSS-SLNM’S OFFICIAL residence in Quegg was comfortable and well-appointed, if not especially grand. Since the Convocation was relocated to a new president world every ten galactic standard years, there was no point in the member worlds constructing a new opulent embassy building at every location (although some of the more conspicuously and ostentatiously wealthy civilisations would do so anyway; many of the recent president worlds’ capital cities now boasted a fine top-end hotel which had previously served as the home of the ambassador from the extraordinarily mineral-rich planet of Bazeest).

Stss-Slnm’s home was a relatively modest cylindrical building in one of Quegg’s quieter residential districts. Terra and Billy were shown to their rooms. Billy was delighted to find an Earth-style flat bed in his; evidently someone on the ambassador’s staff had done their homework. Billy still found sleeping while suspended weightless in a gravity well, as was the convention on Fnrr, to be all but impossible. It was alright for Fnrrns, he thought; they don’t dream like humans. Even on the occasions upon which he’d managed to drift off while floating in mid-air, his sleep had been tortured by almost constant vivid nightmares in which he was falling to his doom. How Terra managed it, he had no idea; but then, she’d grown up on Fnrr. Plenty of time to get used to sleeping in freefall.

Terra sat cross-legged in the centre of her own room and contemplated the day’s events. There was, of course, no connection between the appearance of the Kyzean alien and the unprovoked – and thus far unexplained – attempt by the Taboki delegate to blow up the Great Hall. And yet, she couldn’t seem to stop her mind linking the two, as if there was some as-yet-invisible thread of cause and effect between them.

The disturbing conclusion, which she resisted coming to, but which seemed to lurk at the end of whatever logical route her mind took through the problem, was that the sole factor linking the two events ... was herself.

It was as if the rage and hatred she’d felt in the Kyzean’s mind had been so intense, so penetrating, that she’d somehow carried it with her all the way to Quung, where it had infected the brain of the Taboki minister. He, she had been told, was still protesting his bewildered innocence in a Quungi security centre.

Terra could not have known that the Kyzean’s attempt on the lives of Billy and herself, and the failed bombing of the Convocation were far from the only two such incidents to have occurred in the last few days.

She had no idea, for example, that ethnic tensions between the neighbouring Hath-Nata and Hath-Tana peoples on the planet Chaik had, after centuries of co-existence, suddenly boiled over into bloody conflict, with thousands dead and wounded at the hands of their own erstwhile friends and colleagues ...

Nor did Terra know that the whole western hemisphere of the planet Co-Jonqa had been devastated by a fusion missile attack from its longstanding rival planet Sprax. Or that the newly appointed military leaders of Sprax had sent the missile as a reprisal for the plague which was currently decimating their own population, and which had been blamed on a bacteriological attack by the Co-Jonqans ...

Terra had not heard about the doomsday cult, the Children of Klaa, who had seized power on the planet Dabra-To, and were now systematically exterminating the population in a programme of mass sacrifice ...

Had Terra known about any of these things, it’s doubtful the knowledge would have clarified matters, or cheered her up to any significant degree. But neither Terra, nor anyone else on Quung, Fnrr or Earth had any inkling of these events, as each was taking place in a separate galaxy; galaxies as far-flung as the Kyzean Spiral had been.

Preceptor Shm called Billy and Terra to come for dinner.

1.16

– So ... is this to be the first of many?

Grand Marshal Zst’kh looked down at the floor of Steinberg’s laboratory. It was festooned with parts and cabling which the human scientist had salvaged from the Kyzean derelict. The now all-but-empty hull sat on the other side of the hangar-like building. The huge rubbery corpse of the alien itself had now, to Steinberg’s relief, been taken away and placed in cold storage.

– Depends what you mean, replied Steinberg. It seems unlikely that we’ll meet any other members of this particular species ... His galaxy kind of went ‘foom’, so I don’t think there’s any more at home like him.

Zst’kh did not bother to enquire as to the precise meaning of ‘foom’. It was self-explanatory. He listened in silence as Steinberg went on.

– But as for the rest of the universe ... I don’t know, said Steinberg. It’s just ...

– What? asked Zst’kh.

– I’m not basing this on anything more than a hunch, said Steinberg, a sheepish look on his face, but I can’t escape the feeling that this is the start of something. Something big, and something bad.

Zst’kh peered at the Ymn scientist. He knew that what St’nn-B’rkh had just said would not have been an easy admission for the Ymn to make. During their conversations, St’nn-B’rkh had expounded at length on the simplicity and purity of the scientific method; of the necessity of restricting oneself to a dispassionate assessment of the available facts and evidence, and of not letting gut instinct cloud one’s judgement. Zst’kh had never been entirely convinced by the argument, but he appreciated the absolute consistency with which the Ymn applied this discipline in his work. To admit now to being swayed by feelings and intuitions was a frank confession indeed. Zst’kh was inwardly moved and impressed by the Ymn’s candour, but made no outward expression of this for fear of offending him. Instead, he went on:

– Do you accept the Rrth child’s theory? That the Kyzean Spiral was destroyed by a weapon?

Steinberg scratched his head. – It’s an outrageous notion, he said, but in many ways it’s a less outrageous and alarming notion than the possibility that there might be some sort of naturally occurring phenomenon which could destroy a whole galaxy.

Zst’kh crouched down and picked up a chunk of alien ship, turning it over and over in his hands. – I am sworn to protect this planet, St’nn-B’rkh. The thought that there should exist such a weapon, even if it were in the hands of beings on the other side of the universe, beings with no notion of Fnrr’s existence ... He looked up at Steinberg, and Steinberg was surprised to see sadness in the fearsome warlord’s black eyes. There could be no defence against such a weapon. There would be nothing I could do.

Steinberg struggled to think of anything positive to say, and to his astonishment, he actually came up with something.

– Well, he said, here’s hoping they only had one of them.

Zst’kh smiled and got to his feet. He was about to excuse himself and go, when Steinberg surprised him by saying:

– I’m not the only one, am I?

Zst’kh stared quizzically at him and waited for him to continue.

– Having these feelings, these ... thoughts. That this might be the start of something.

Zst’kh’s eyes narrowed. – No, St’nn-B’rkh. You are not the only one. He smiled a narrow smile, and said, with an enquiring stare, Could it be that the Occluded Ones have finally found a way to make their voices heard by your rational Ymn mind?

– I don’t know whether it’s the Occluded Ones, the Easter Bunny or He Who Must Not Be Named, but it feels like something is speaking to me inside my head at night. Telling me that I’m not welcome here; that one of you is going to kill me in my sleep and I should get out now while I still can ...

Zst’kh chose to overlook the inexplicable (and almost certainly unflattering) alternatives to the Occluded Ones that St’nn-B’rkh had mentioned. – So you hear them too, he said quietly.

– Are you hearing them? asked Steinberg fearfully. He didn’t want to know what the voices might have been urging Zst’kh to do.

– Everyone is, said Zst’kh. I thought it was an inevitable consequence of our change of direction. For eras G’grk have been raised to conquer, not to protect. We are marauders, not guardians. When I heard that unrest was starting to break out among the population, I assumed it was our G’grk nature re-asserting itself, especially after ... He paused, as if unsure whether to continue, but then went on: Especially after I began to feel the same urges – to fight, to destroy. But if you, who are not even of this world, if you are hearing the voices too ...

There was a moment’s uneasy silence as the warrior and the man of science pondered what this might mean.

– What do the voices say to you? asked Steinberg.

– That war is coming, replied Zst’kh. That it is time to choose a side.

– And have you?

Zst’kh smiled. – The peoples of this world are my ‘side’, St’nn-B’rkh. Whatever nation they hail from, on Fnrr ... or elsewhere, he added with a meaningful smile. And those who would do them harm, wherever they may come from and whatever weapons they may bring, are my enemy.

Steinberg was grateful for Zst’kh’s ‘or elsewhere’, and couldn’t help but admire the G’grk’s clarity of vision and purpose. He wished he could borrow some of it.

1.17

BILLY WAS REFLECTING UPON his encounter with Brigadier General Hardison on Quung and the fact that it had been both encouraging and slightly disappointing. On the one hand, while he was almost ashamed to admit it, the appearance of such a familiar symbol of human authority so far from Earth had been a reassuring sight. The galaxy was, Billy was learning, a chaotic place, and the more he saw of it, the more chaotic it seemed to become. The presence of a big guy in a uniform, especially one as calmly capable as Hardison, made Billy feel a little less adrift in all of it.

On the other hand, it did make Billy feel a bit less special. He’d become, he now realised, a little smug in the knowledge that while the human race was still almost entirely Earth-bound, he and Terra had broken free and made the galaxy their playground. The discovery that other humans were out here, and moreover, out here on official business, felt like an intrusion. One that Billy supposed he’d have to get used to.

Another thing Billy would have to get used to was that while he’d spent the first fourteen years of his life dreaming about voyaging between stars, the reality of interstellar travel was, he had to admit as he looked around at the interior of the pineapple-shaped ship, pretty boring.

Even if the ship had windows (this one didn’t), once you were at infra-light speed there was nothing to look at anyway. The view from a spaceship’s portholes was complete inky blackness once it was travelling at many times the speed of light; it was literally outrunning the light from the stars that it passed, leaving nothing to see at all.

Billy did at least have a cabin of his own, although there wasn’t room for anything much in it besides himself. He lay on the bench-like bed and stared glumly at the grey metal ceiling. Back home on Earth, when he’d gone on long car journeys with his parents, the most annoying trips were always the ones that were long enough to be tedious but not long enough to sleep through. The passage from Quung to Fnrr, if travelled at infra-light 12, the ship’s cruising speed, was just such a neither-here-nor-there duration. He resolved to see what Terra was up to.

Billy clambered up from the bed and got to his feet. As his cabin door opened there came a grating, honking alarm sound. Oh great, he thought, now what have I done? He looked around to see which switch or panel he’d managed to accidentally touch, but could see none. Perhaps he’d set the alarm off just by opening the door? If he’d been confined to his quarters then nobody had told him ...

Terra rushed past him, her face set in concentration.

‘What’s going on?’ asked Billy.

‘I don’t know,’ replied Terra without breaking step. Billy followed her to the flight deck.

Preceptor Shm was manning the controls and appeared to know what he was doing.

– What’s happening, Preceptor? Terra asked.

– We’re being tracked, said Shm. Something is following us.

– Is that possible at infra-light speed? asked Billy as he lowered himself into what may or may not have been a co-pilot’s seat.

– Of course it is, said Shm irritably. Travelling at infra-light doesn’t put us into some sort of parallel dimension, you know, it just means we’re going very fast.

– And evidently whatever’s following us is as fast as we are, added Terra. Who or what is it?

Shm peered ahead at the ship’s visualiser. It was showing a tactical diagram of the ship’s progress; they were about halfway home. – I’m going to try to get a reading on it, he said, his hands busy on the console in front of him.

The image changed. Billy saw a rotating frame diagram of what looked to him like a battleship; all heavy plated hull and bristling weapons arrays.

– It’s a battleship, said Shm. Looks like a Boax light cruiser. Odd, the Boax were wiped out by the Hargs nearly an era ago ...

– Are you going to tell them or am I? said Billy, his voice cracking with panic.

A section of the diagram started flashing. – What’s that? asked Terra, fearing that she knew the answer.

– They’re powering up their weapons, said Shm. I’m going to try to take evasive action.

– Can’t we raise the deflector shields? croaked Billy.

Terra turned to face him.

– Billy, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. Don’t be alarmed, but ...

– What?

– There’s no such thing as deflector shields.

The ship suddenly lurched forward. Billy and Terra were flung out of their chairs and Shm was slammed into his console.

– We’ve been hit, said Terra, struggling to her feet.

Billy looked at the visualiser. It was starting to phase and crackle. His reading of Fnrrn script was good enough to decipher the warnings and alerts that now scrolled across the screen.

– One of our engines is out, he said. I think they’re trying to slow us down rather than destroy us.

The ship bucked again. Billy and Terra were hurled to the floor. Billy got to his knees, crawled across to the pilot’s seat and examined Shm who was now slumped motionless over his console.

‘He’s unconscious. Can’t tell how badly he’s ...’

The ship lurched again. Billy and Terra found themselves flung outwards against the walls of the flight deck. The vessel was, they realised, spinning out of control.

Terra looked across at the navigator’s station. The ship had been on autopilot, steered by its navigation computer – but that device was now sparking and smouldering. They were hurtling unguided through deep space at many times the speed of light. They could smash into a star, planet or asteroid at any second. She tried to feed herself along the wall to the station, to see if there were any way to override the computer and pilot the ship manually. She had no idea how to do this, or if was even possible, but she had to try ...

Terra fought against the centripetal force pinning her to the wall. She could feel herself slipping into unconsciousness, and knew that if she did, she would never wake up.

There was the faintest popping sound.

Someone was there, someone who had not been there before.

A figure slightly taller than Terra, wearing what appeared to be a lightweight space suit, with some sort of armour plating dotted around its surface. The helmet of the suit was large and elongated, larger than a human head would require, and its faceplate was mirrored, masking the wearer. This figure carried a briefcase-shaped silver metal object in one hand.

The newcomer swayed on the spot for a second, before tapping with its right hand on what looked like a small computer strapped to its left forearm. It steadied itself and looked around.

Terra, her eyes dimming, peered in disbelief. Who was this? And how could they remain standing?

The figure strode over to the navigation station. It lifted the briefcase-like object up onto the navigation console and opened it, revealing what looked to Terra like Fnrrn technology – flashing lights and crystalline switches. The figure extended two translucent cables from the case and jammed them into the console, producing a shower of sparks.

Terra glanced across at Billy; he too was transfixed by this apparition. The apparition itself, meanwhile, was busily tapping on a keypad on the top of the caseful of tech.

Terra flopped onto the deck as the ship’s trajectory suddenly stabilised.

– What ... she gasped ... who are ...

– Auxiliary navigation computer, said the figure. The voice was female, Fnrrn, and strangely familiar, though Terra couldn’t identify the speaker. This should stabilise the ship long enough to get you to the nearest habitable planet.

Terra got to her feet. The ship continued to lurch and shimmy, but she found herself able to stand.

– Right, said the newcomer, things to do, things to do. You’ll be alright now.

– Wait, said Terra. Stay ... help us ...

– Sorry, said the newcomer, tapping on her arm-mounted computer, but I can’t.

– Why not? Terra’s voice was angry and indignant.

The faceplate of the newcomer’s helmet began to fade to transparency, from the top edge downwards. Terra saw eyes that she recognised, but couldn’t tell from where.

– Because that’s not how it happened, said the newcomer. There was another faint pop, and she was gone.

Terra gazed blankly at the space where the figure had stood. Billy found his voice.

‘Who ... who was that ...?’

‘I don’t ... I think ... but ...’

Terra was interrupted by another grating alarm sound.

‘Now what?’ asked Billy despairingly.

‘We’re coming in to land,’ said Terra. She looked to Preceptor Shm, who was still unconscious. With a twinge of concern, she saw a trickle of blue blood escaping his mouth. She couldn’t risk trying to move him from the pilot’s chair. Looking up at the screen, she saw an image of a barren, rocky planetoid, and a number giving the ship’s distance from its surface; a number that was plummeting towards zero.

‘Well, I say land ...’ said Terra. She struggled to fasten the emergency restraints of the pilot’s chair around Preceptor Shm’s body, to spare him further injury. ‘Sit down and strap yourself in, this might be a rough one ...’

Billy sank into the navigator’s chair and fiddled with the restraints, peering nervously at the auxiliary computer as it flashed and beeped away on the console next to him. Terra, still trying to process the events of the last few minutes, strapped herself into the co-pilot’s chair and closed her eyes.

There was a sudden violent bump and loud rushing sound as the ship hit, and then passed through the planet’s atmosphere; a roar of retro-thrusters, then a great grinding, cracking, banging ...

1.18

TERRA OPENED HER EYES. She realised she’d lost consciousness. Some mysterious instinct told her that it had only been for a few seconds.

She looked around. Billy was gripping the armrests of his seat, his face pale and sweating, but otherwise looked to be unharmed.

The flight deck around them was illuminated not by the ship’s interior lighting – all its systems seemed to be inactive – but by a shaft of daylight. The hull had cracked open, revealing a yellow, cloudless sky.

Terra heard a groan of pain, and realised that Preceptor Shm was conscious. She pulled herself free of her seat’s restraints and hurried to his side.

– Preceptor ... she said, don’t move ...

– I’m not going to ... said the Preceptor in a barely audible whisper. Blood was now trickling from his mouth and nostrils. His breathing was shallow and ragged. His hands clutched at his chest and his face was contorted with pain.

Terra noticed that Billy was standing beside her. – Billy, there should be a medical scanner under the main console, she said, her voice quavering with panic.

Billy began to rummage. Shm coughed, winced at the pain this caused, then smiled. – You already know what the scanner’s going to say, he said.

– Just relax, said Terra, we’ll get you out of here, and—

Shm placed his hand on hers. It was cold to the touch.

Billy found the medical scanner. He activated it, and took a reading. His face fell. He looked up at Terra, who saw the blank sadness in his eyes. – No ... she sobbed.

Shm’s cold fingers squeezed hers. – It’s alright, he said. You’re alright. That’s all that matters now.

Tears began to pour down Terra’s face.

– There’s something I need you to do, said Shm. Take the chain from around my neck.

Terra tried to reach under Shm’s collar but her hands shook uncontrollably. Billy put the scanner down, found the chain, released the catch and pulled it free of Shm’s robes.

Terra saw that a detailed brass-coloured metal tube was hanging from the chain. It resembled a key, such as those used on Earth, but she knew that mechanical locks hadn’t been in use on Fnrr for eras.

– Give that to Lbbp, said Shm. He will understand.

Terra took the chain from Billy and hung it around her own neck.

Shm looked up at the patch of yellow sky, visible through the hull breach.

– Another new world, he smiled. Still learning ...

Shm coughed again. He closed his eyes. – Still ... so much ... to learn ...

His ragged breathing ceased.

Terra sank to her knees and wept. Billy put his arms around her. Preceptor Shm had been a commanding presence in Billy’s life for the two short years that he’d known him but the old teacher had been helping to raise Terra since she was a baby. He could only guess at the loss and horror she was feeling in that moment.

I wish I could protect you, he thought. I wish I were strong enough to protect you from this pain and from everything else, and though it’s selfish of me to feel this way, I wish you needed my protection more often. He held her tight as she sobbed into his shoulder.

The mournful hush was broken by a high-pitched pinging sound. Terra’s eyes snapped open. ‘No ... no ...’ she muttered. She got to her feet and began to look around for the source of the sound.

‘What is it?’ asked Billy, getting up to help.

‘Emergency beacon,’ said Terra, still sniffing back tears. ‘It must activate automatically on crash landing. We need to find it and switch it off.’

‘But doesn’t that mean rescuers will be able to find us?’ said Billy, seizing upon the first encouraging thought he’d had for quite a while. Terra turned and glowered at him with red, tearful eyes.

‘There ARE no rescuers, Billy. The only ones looking for us are whoever it was who shot us down, and now they know exactly where to find us.’

Billy’s smile disappeared. Terra began to look around for the beacon again. Billy went to the crack in the hull and looked out.

They were on a flat, rocky plain. There was no visible vegetation, or natural cover of any kind. The plain extended to the horizon. Billy rushed to the other side of the flight deck; the crack was narrower there and he had to push his face up to the bulkhead to peer through it. Now he could see, a few hundred metres away, a range of rocky hills. There might be somewhere to hide, perhaps even to shelter. He turned to Terra.

‘We’ve got to go,’ he said. ‘Forget the beacon. If they’re picking it up, they’ll already know where we crashed. Our only chance is to get away from the ship.’

‘No!’ said Terra, horrified. ‘The Preceptor! We can’t just leave him!’

From above them, they heard the faint but identifiable sound of an incoming craft.

‘No choice,’ said Billy. ‘He wanted us to get away, and we’re almost out of time. NOW, Terra ...’ He tugged at her hand desperately.

Tears streaming down her face, Terra took one last look at Shm’s body, slumped in the pilot’s chair, then struggled through the crack in the hull.

She tumbled down the outside of the ship and landed painfully on her hands and knees. Billy landed beside her and grabbed her hand. ‘This way,’ he said.

Terra followed Billy around the wreck and saw the hills ahead of them.

‘We’ve got to run,’ said Billy. He wasn’t sure he’d ever suggested that before in his life. They broke into an awkward sprint, the rocky ground making progress hazardous.

Terra heard the hiss and rumble of gravity thrusters. She didn’t look back. Hopefully their pursuers would go straight to the wreck and miss the two fleeing figures scurrying towards the hills.

The rumble grew louder. The pursuers’ ship was landing. Terra and Billy ran on.

Terra’s lungs were tightening. Evidently the air on this planet, wherever it was, was only just breathable by humans. She looked ahead at the hills but they didn’t seem to be getting any closer. Billy was also obviously struggling. She fought through the pain and kept running.

Suddenly there came a loud whooshing, banging sound from behind them. Terra, in spite of herself, looked around. ‘NO!’ she sobbed.

Billy turned to look. The battleship hovered above the wreck of their own vessel, which was now ablaze. Having found the crashed ship abandoned except for Shm’s body, the pursuers had blasted the craft with some sort of energy weapon. Terra stared in horror and fury. She’d been clinging to the vague hope of retrieving the Preceptor’s body and taking it back to Fnrr; funerals were secular rather than sacred affairs on her adopted homeworld, but there was still time for ceremony, for reflection. That Shm’s remains should casually be incinerated like this, alone, unmemorialised, after such a long and distinguished life, filled her with rage.

‘We’ve got to keep moving,’ insisted Billy breathlessly. Terra stood, glaring at the burning wreck. ‘Seriously ...’ he pleaded.

There was a glint of light from the space between the battleship and the wreck. They heard a high-pitched whine, which began to increase in volume.

‘They’ve seen us,’ said Billy. ‘Run, Terra!’

Terra tore her gaze away from the flames and turned back towards the hill. They forced their aching legs and stinging lungs back into action and began to run, although their hopes of reaching shelter were fading.

As they approached the hills, a wind began to blow. It whipped up the dust around them so that their objective, still distant, became all but invisible.

The whining sound drew nearer and nearer. Suddenly two large objects flashed past them, a few metres above the ground, whipping up yet more dust into the air. They could just see that the airborne shapes, which had passed them and were now circling back towards them, were vehicles – hover-sleds of some kind. As the sleds sped by them a second time, a net was hurled from the lead vehicle, tangling around them. Terra and Billy fell to the rocky ground and lay panting and helpless.

The dust began to settle. They felt rough hands seize them and drag them to their feet.

Billy saw a flash of a metal blade; he flinched as it sliced away at the net. They were free of its strands but still held firmly in place by their captors, who stood behind them.

Terra felt her hands being yanked behind her back and then, a horridly familiar sensation; a warm, squelchy feeling on her hands and wrists. Binding gel. It solidified, sealing her hands together. She remembered that feeling. She’d felt it before, on the day the G’grk attacked Mlml. On the day she’d been paraded like a captive animal. The day she’d nearly been sacrificed, by ...

– Little beast, look how you’ve grown ... You can’t imagine how happy I am to see you.

Sk’shk.

1.19

TERRA HAD OFTEN WONDERED what she’d do if she ever encountered Sk’shk again. Many scenarios had passed through her mind over the years. Revenge fantasies, mainly, involving her wreaking blood-curdling vengeance for his having terrorised and humiliated her when she was just eleven years old, and then having nearly killed Lbbp with that hideous lance ... She’d never imagined this. Bound and helpless again, and this time, on an unknown desert planet, light years from rescue. She gritted her teeth in impotent fury and stared at the rocky ground while Sk’shk paced back and forth in front of her. He was obviously enjoying himself, and was in no hurry to expedite proceedings.

The two hover-sleds idled a few metres away. The dozen or so drones who’d been riding on them now stood in a semicircle behind the two kneeling, captive humans, fascinated as to what form their leader’s vengeance might take.

– What to do, little beast, what to do ... hissed Sk’shk. A horrid smile passed across his lipless mouth as he contemplated his options. The indignity, the humiliation you have caused me cannot go unanswered. Perhaps I should just take your head now.

Billy struggled against the binding gel. The drone behind him kicked him in the back and he fell on his face. Billy gasped in pain, his face in the sand, his mind desperately searching for a way out and furiously suppressing the thought that there wasn’t one.

– But no ... Your death will not happen here. Not on some barren rock, with none but we few present to witness it. You will be taken back to Fnrr. You will be my prisoner, my plaything, my pet. You will watch as the cities of Mlml are scourged and your friends enslaved. You will survive the destruction of your homeland, and then you will accompany us as we take to the stars and lay waste to that cursed planet that spawned you. You will watch as your own people die on their knees, begging for mercy, and then, perhaps, when everything you love is ashes and ruin – then, at last, I will kill you.

Terra stared straight ahead. She was surprised to notice that she felt no fear, no dread. Just anger and the absolute conviction that Sk’shk was wrong. That this was NOT how things were going to end. That something was going to happen.

She just couldn’t imagine what.

She looked ahead at the dust cloud which drifted between them and the hills. She wondered how close they’d come to reaching safety.

Sk’shk turned now towards Billy. – This one, on the other hand, I have no use for. He drew his sword.

The drone behind Billy grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him back up onto his knees. Sk’shk rested the tip of his sword on Billy’s shoulder.

– Say goodbye to your friend, little beast. He will be the first of many.

Terra looked despairingly at Billy. To her astonishment, though there were tears in his eyes, he smiled at her.

‘You’ll be okay,’ said Billy, his smile faltering and a teardrop rolling down his cheek. ‘Just don’t look. You’ll be okay.’

‘Billy!’ cried Terra.

Sk’shk swung his sword high into the air.

‘Terra,’ said Billy, his voice shaking, ‘I—’

Sk’shk brought the sword down.

There was the crack of a pulse-orb. Sk’shk’s sword flew out of his hand in mid-swing. He looked around for the source of the blast.

Crack, crack. Two of Sk’shk’s drones flew backwards as the pulse blasts hit them. From the dust cloud there emerged a ragged, cloaked, hooded figure.

Another drone drew his sword and rushed at the newcomer. To everyone’s bewilderment, the stranger drew his own sword – a G’grk blade – and effortlessly blocked the drone’s swing. He deftly disarmed the drone with an almost contemptuous flick of the wrist and then smashed him into unconsciousness with the jewelled hilt of his weapon.

Sk’shk gazed in disbelief. He would know that sword anywhere.

– No ... he breathed. It’s not possible ...

A voice came from beneath the hood. A low, gravelly voice, like that of someone very old, but very, very strong.

– I’ve had a lot of time to think on this rock ... a lot of time. And the one question I still can’t find the answer to is why I ever promoted you to be my herald, said Grand Marshal K’zsht, holstering his pulse-orb and lowering his hood.

Terra gazed, wide-eyed. – Grand Marshal K’zsht! she exclaimed. But you’re on Jsk 4! She remembered being told that the old warrior had gone into self-imposed exile on the remote desert moon after becoming the first Grand Marshal to retire alive.

– As, it would appear, are you, said K’zsht calmly, a hint of a smile creasing the ancient, scarred face.

Billy gazed open-mouthed at the ragged figure before them. So many times Terra had told him of that day, the day she’d saved a world with a lullaby. He’d seen images of Grand Marshal K’zsht, but the sight of him here, in the gnarled old flesh, filled Billy with awe, dread, and a faint glimmer of hope.

– You should have taken your own life in shame! cried Sk’shk, rubbing his hand. Traitor! Heretic! Lance-breaker! Betrayer of—

– Oh do shut up, said K’zsht. His gaze fell upon Terra. Well, child, once again we find ourselves here. You, at the point of a sword, and I, being forced to turn on my own disloyal deputy. Did he follow you here, or you he?

– He followed us, said Terra. He shot us down in cold blood. Preceptor Shm was killed in the crash. You met him, that day you met me. She shot Sk’shk a venomous, defiant look. I had no cause to seek him out. I didn’t even know where he was.

– Entombed, hissed Sk’shk. Buried alive, that is where I was. Because of your blasphemous existence, he spat at Terra, and your weakness and treachery, he said to K’zsht. It was not I who was disloyal, but you, old fool.

– And now here you are to finish me off? queried K’zsht. Or is it just chance, or the whim of the Occluded Ones, that brings us together again?

Not unless the Occluded Ones wear spacesuits and use teleportation, thought Terra to herself. Who had that been? And what had she meant, ‘that’s not how it happened’?

K’zsht looked around at the small band of drones accompanying Sk’shk. The ones who hadn’t yet been incapacitated were standing transfixed at this extraordinary turn of events. Some of them had been present in Mlml at the last confrontation between these two great warriors and, like then, they were experiencing twinges of conflict as to where their loyalty should lie. The startling appearance of their old Grand Marshal, so long their revered leader, caused them great discomfort and turmoil. Sk’shk inspired loyalty and confidence, but K’zsht ... for all that they had spent the last few orbits cursing his name, the presence of K’zsht still inspired nothing short of awe. G’grk were not used to feeling conflicted; the drones stood, listened, and squirmed inwardly.

– So, are you his followers? Once you have my head, is it your plan to return to Fnrr and overthrow my grandson, your new Grand Marshal, on behalf of this ranting imbecile? How much G’grk blood are you willing to spill for him? Zst’kh will not meekly step aside, nor will those who have pledged fealty to him. You would bring civil war to our home, to the Central Plains?

The drones shifted uneasily. Sk’shk sensed their confusion. Rage boiled within him, but he kept silent and let K’zsht speak on.

– Or shall we end this now, here, on this rock? He turned to Sk’shk. Would you have the courage to face me, sword to sword, for the right to lead our people?

Sk’shk sneered. – You are no longer Grand Marshal, old fool. You gave up that rank when you broke the Lance of the Occluded Ones to save the life of that Mlmln weakling. You have no title to concede.

– If you should best me and take my sword, K’zsht went on, and present it to my grandson in T’krr, he will know that you have defeated me and claimed all that is mine. Since I granted him the rank of Grand Marshal while still alive, he rules only by my decree. If I am gone, so is his claim. Show him the sword. He will not dispute your right to lead our people. He will step aside. There will be no civil war.

Sk’shk felt the eyes of his followers upon him. – He will acknowledge my claim? he asked K’zsht.

– He will honour the G’grk and his family, said K’zsht. I taught him everything he knows, as I did you. But should I prevail – he addressed this to the drones rather than to Sk’shk – all of you will agree to accept me as your leader. Agreed?

Sk’shk smiled. – So be it, he said. He extended a hand and one of his drones passed his sword back to him.

Terra and Billy listened intently. Their lives now depended upon K’zsht’s ability to defeat a much younger rival.

K’zsht gestured to the two young humans. – Let them stand, he said. Sk’shk nodded his assent to a drone, who hauled first Billy and then Terra to their feet.

The drone who had been rendered unconscious was helped to his feet by his comrades. He joined them now as they formed a circle, about ten metres across, around the two combatants.

K’zsht threw off his cloak. Beneath it he wore not the weathered, battered armour he’d been wearing when Terra saw him last, but simple, ragged garments. Sk’shk sneered at the sight of this and stepped forward until they stood no more than two metres apart.

Both warriors knelt, holding their swords upright with their points on the ground. Placing their foreheads against their sword hilts, they recited an ancient prayer ...

– Occluded Ones, guide my sword, work your will, bring me victory ...

They opened their eyes and stood face to face.

Both K’zsht and Sk’shk took a guard stance, swords vertical, eyes locked.

Terra wished to be free of the binding gel if only to be able to hold Billy’s hand. They inched towards each other until their shoulders touched.

Sk’shk attacked first, a straight lunge at K’zsht’s head which the older warrior easily parried away. They began to circle each other.

Sk’shk lunged again. K’zsht stepped aside but a fraction of a second late – Sk’shk’s blade drew a thin line of blue blood from K’zsht’s upper arm. Terra winced and looked away. Billy watched with intense fascination.

K’zsht batted Sk’shk’s sword away and now swung his at Sk’shk’s neck; Sk’shk jumped back and the blade hissed past his throat. K’zsht followed through with the swing and pivoted right around, swinging again at Sk’shk before he had time to regain balance. Sk’shk caught the incoming blow with his own sword but staggered, falling momentarily to one knee before struggling to his feet again. Both warriors breathed heavily and collected themselves before taking a guard stance once more.

About even on points so far, Billy thought and he hoped the wound on K’zsht’s arm wouldn’t slow him down too much. Terra had thus far only caught glimpses of the fight – her eyes had remained tight shut for the most part.

K’zsht now lunged forward and made as if to swing his sword high, fooling Sk’shk into raising his sword defensively. At the last second K’zsht swung his sword around under Sk’shk’s arms and slashed a thin wound across his chest. Sk’shk grunted and staggered backwards; K’zsht followed him but had to leap back to avoid a vicious, aimless swipe of Sk’shk’s blade. Both warriors were bleeding now.

The drones exchanged uneasy glances, unsure as to whether they should be cheering their leader on, and perhaps briefly unsure as to who their real leader was.

K’zsht took a step backwards, putting his weight on his back leg and leaving the other leg extended out in front of him. Just as Billy was thinking that the front leg looked exposed and vulnerable, Sk’shk evidently had the same thought. He slashed at the leg, cutting it deeply. K’zsht hissed in agony and fell to his knees. Sk’shk smiled and held his sword aloft in triumph.

Terra and Billy were both numb with horror and despair.

K’zsht crouched on all fours, gasping and panting, his head bowed, his sword still in his hand.

Sk’shk circled him. – I have longed for this moment, he said. How many times I have longed for this. To show you that I was better than you. To show you that I have outgrown you. To show you how foolish you were to teach me everything you know ...

Sk’shk stood beside K’zsht and raised the sword above his neck. K’zsht suddenly pivoted at the waist, bringing his own sword up under his left arm and burying the point deep in Sk’shk’s exposed torso. Sk’shk let out a piercing shriek, and dropped his sword. K’zsht yanked his blade free of the wound and Sk’shk fell to his knees. The two warriors knelt face to face.

– I said I taught you everything you know, hissed K’zsht, I did not teach you everything I know.

K’zsht used his sword like a crutch to raise himself unsteadily to his feet. Sk’shk knew his wound was mortal; he also knew, mercifully, that K’zsht would not leave him to die slowly. He whispered a prayer to the Occluded Ones as K’zsht called out to Terra:

– Look away, child. He raised his sword.

Terra closed her eyes. Billy didn’t.

Terra heard a whoosh, a wet thwack, a thudding, bouncing sound and then the crump of a falling body.

Terra opened her eyes nervously, afraid that she would find K’zsht brandishing Sk’shk’s head in triumph, but he wasn’t. He was standing, unsteadily and obviously in great pain, and addressing the assembled drones.

– G’grk! Warriors! Walkers of the True Path! Do you honour the final wishes of your fallen commander? Do you swear loyalty to me?

Unhesitatingly, the drones hissed their assent.

– Sk’shk lived as he lived but he died with honour, said K’zsht. My first order to you is that his body be returned to T’krr, so that it may rest alongside his ancestors. Do this now.

K’zsht picked up his cloak and threw it to a drone, who caught it and, with one of his colleagues, wrapped Sk’shk’s body in it. Then four drones picked the body up and bore it solemnly back to one of the hover-sleds. K’zsht limped after them.

Terra found herself glowering resentfully at the shrouded corpse. HE would be buried with honour and ceremony. Preceptor Shm’s murderer would ‘rest alongside his ancestors’, while Shm’s ashes would be blown away with the dust of this barren planetoid.

A drone poured a drop of solvent onto the binding gel on Terra’s wrists and it melted away. She felt inside her jacket and fingered the cold metal key that Shm had given her, and found that she felt nothing but grim satisfaction at Sk’shk’s death. Perhaps one day she would feel guilty about this. But not today.

– You did that on purpose, didn’t you, said Billy excitedly to K’zsht as another drone removed the binding gel from his wrists. You let him have the leg wound, let him think he’d got you, so he’d stop protecting himself.

K’zsht limped on. – My wounds will heal, he said. His won’t.

– Is it true, what you said? asked Terra. Would Zst’kh really have conceded if Sk’shk had won?

K’zsht snorted indignantly as they climbed aboard the other sled. – My grandson is a respecter of tradition, but he’s not a fool, he said. If that idiot had walked into T’krr, waving my blade and proclaiming himself Grand Marshal, Zst’kh would have taken one look at that sword and shoved it so far up his g’shrrg that the end would have stuck out of his mouth.

As the sleds set out across the dusty plain towards the waiting battleship, Billy and Terra were relieved that there were some G’grk words that the translation cube still had difficulty with.

PART TWO

2.1

MOKORIMO’S THEFT OF THE icon of Pamu Gomo Lopo had ramifications.

Upon the discovery of the robbery by the palace stewards back on Haba Ha-Baba, suspicion had fallen initially upon the population of the island nation of Fabu Nawo. Centuries earlier, Fabu Nawo had overthrown its own ruling family, the Pamu Semo, and governed itself as an autonomous collective for a while before being conquered, along with its neighbouring islands, in the war which established the Pamu Lopo as the planet’s reigning house.

The Fabu Nawons still had a reputation for restlessness and resentfulness, even after all this time. The horrified Hababians, reeling from the loss of the icon, could think of no other explanation for its disappearance. Surely those unruly Fabu Nawons were to blame, and just as surely, they had to be brought firmly to heel.

The Regnant, Pamu Momu Lopo, embarrassed by the icon’s loss, decreed harsh new laws be imposed upon the Fabu Nawon islanders, restricting their movement and access to services and amenities. Meanwhile, those of Fabu Nawon descent living on Gaa or the other islands of Haba Ha-Baba found themselves harassed and victimised, to the disinterest of – or sometimes, with the collusion of – the authorities.

The political unrest these events fomented within the Hababian government was kept as secret as possible from the population, but whispers were abroad that Pamu Momu Lopo’s chief minister, Dodu Edu Sabo, the chief of the rival Dodu Sabo house (appointed by the Regnant on a ‘keep your enemies closer’ basis) was growing frustrated at what he saw as Pamu Momu Lopo’s complacency and incompetence.

In any event, when the palace on Gaa was destroyed by an antimatter bomb, killing thousands of Hababians including the Regnant himself, Dodu Edu Sabo (who, to his extreme good fortune, happened to be out of town that day) wasted no time in claiming the regnancy, accusing Fabu Nawon separatists of carrying out the atrocity, and enacting gruesome retribution on the island’s population.

When news of the mass executions and internments of the Fabu Nawon people reached the furthest flung islands of Haba Ha-Baba, the reaction was one of horror, followed by rage. The whole southern hemisphere ceded from the Regnant’s rule, and declared independence and war on the same day.

So it was that Haba Ha-Baba’s centuries of peace, if not exactly freedom, came to an end.

Meanwhile, many light years away, on the luxury artificial planetoid Ganoramanga IV, Prince Shan Shan Shura Shan had been impatiently awaiting his prize.

He’d paid – HANDSOMELY – to have the icon of Pamu Gomo Lopo stolen for him, not because he had any interest in Hababian history, or indeed in holographic art in general, but because he knew his brother wanted it.

Prince Kura Kura Kura Shan had mentioned it to him as they’d dined in their father’s garden temple on Ganoramanga Prime a few months earlier. Each of King Shan Kura Kara Shan’s six sons had his own personal mini-planet to rule, orbiting their homeworld; the King had had the planetoids constructed – and populated – on each son’s sixteenth birthday. It kept them out of each other’s way, he reasoned, and allowed him to avoid knotty questions of succession and birthright, and continue to spend his time gardening.

Kura Kura Kura Shan had recently been delegated by his father to attend Pamu Momu Lopo’s wedding to his fifth and sixth wives (his father had been battling a nasty infestation of redfly and couldn’t be torn away from his floral borders) and described, yawningly, the utter tedium of the occasion to his brothers as they feasted. The only thing that had caught his eye, Kura Kura Kura Shan had said, was the icon. He immediately recognised it as an original Thobus, and expressed a longing to add it to his collection.

Argantuo Thobus had been the foremost holographic portraitist in the galaxy, until he was murdered by a jealous rival. His gruesome death had sent the value of his pieces rocketing, and Kura Kura Kura Shan was an avid collector.

Shan Shan Shura Shan had listened and chewed, and a plan began to form in his mind. A plan to exact revenge at last on his elder brother for breaking the wings off his favourite toy starglider when he was seven.

He had excused himself from the table. A few moments later, he was already drafting his communication to the Morbis Guild as his brother sipped Osmolian gel-brandy, and his father returned to his potting shed.

Now, weeks had passed, and Prince Shan Shan Shura Shan was beginning to get the feeling that he’d been cheated.

He knew better than to raise a grievance with the Morbis Guild – dread rumours circulated about what the Guild did to those who dared impugn the honour and professionalism of its members. He confined himself to making polite but persistent enquiries as to when he might expect his commission to be fulfilled, and was met with terse but civil responses to the effect that the brother agent who’d been assigned the task was missing, that the Guild was investigating his disappearance and that he’d be updated in due course.

Shan Shan Shura Shan didn’t believe a word of it.

He knew exactly what had happened: he’d been outbid.

His stinking, swaggering brother had somehow found out about his plan, and had gone behind his back to the Guild and beaten his offer. That was the ONLY explanation.

That was, of course, far from the only explanation. If Shan Shan Shura Shan had paused to think about it, he might have realised that it wasn’t even a particularly plausible explanation. But nonetheless, this was the explanation he fixated upon, to the point that the thought of it – and the thought of his oafish brother laughing at him behind his back, just as he’d been doing for his whole life – plagued his waking moments and tortured his dreams.

His vengeance, and the violence of it, the completeness of it, surprised everyone, including himself.

The six principalities of Ganoramanga – the private mini-planets orbiting Ganoramanga Prime – were miracles of engineering. Each had a dwarf-star core, to give a comfortable degree of ground-level gravity to what would otherwise have been almost weightless and airless planetoids. Each was ringed with fusion-powered solar satellites to complement the light from Ganoramanga’s own sun and to stop them freezing when they were in the home planet’s shadow. And each was stabilised in orbit by powerful gravity engines buried deep below the crust, powered by the residual energy from those dwarf-star cores. An extraordinary feat, and an extraordinarily precarious arrangement.

Nobody knew how Shan Shan Shura Shan figured out how to shut down the gravity engines inside Ganoramanga IV, or how he managed to time the shutdown so perfectly that as its orbit decayed, it crashed into his elder brother’s planet Ganoramanga III, destroying both worlds immediately. Nobody would ever know now, since, to Shan Shan Shura Shan’s evident surprise, the violent melding of the dwarf-star cores of the two planetoids created a miniature black hole which immediately consumed Ganoramanga Prime, Ganoramangas I, II, V and VI, and the Royal Space Yacht from which Shan Shan Shura Shan had been gloatingly watching the catastrophe unfold.

Mokorimo himself was blissfully unaware of the dire consequences of his crime. Mokorimo was blissfully unaware of more or less everything these days. Occasionally he would experience a brief flash of recollection – the feeling that he’d lived another life, been someone else. He would dismiss these memories as irrelevant. Everything he’d done, everything he’d experienced, everything he’d been before that moment in which he’d heard the four words had been wasted time, he knew now. He was grateful for the chance to make amends. He exchanged serene smiles with his blue-robed brethren as he took his seat in the chapel and resumed his silent prayers.

Meanwhile, after drifting unnoticed through deep space, Mokorimo’s ship and the priceless icon of Pamu Gomo Lopo fell into the sun of the unpopulated system 115.828-2.

2.2

– Ganoramanga? Gone? All of them? said Fthfth, open-mouthed.

– That’s what it says here, said Pktk. His slate was connected, via the Source (Fnrr’s planet-wide information network) to a trans-galactic news channel. They’re passing it off as a planetary engineering accident – one of the private planetoids’ orbit decayed, and, well ... He passed his slate to Fthfth, who peered at it with an expression of horror, disgust and eventually annoyance.

– Well that was bound to happen sooner or later, she said. Planet-building is a foolish business, even when it’s done for the best of reasons. Ganoramanga was an obscene extravagance. You can’t hang a bunch of bespoke luxury moons in low orbit above your homeworld and not expect something to go wrong eventually.

Pktk frowned at his friend. – About twelve billion Ganoramangans have died, Fthfth. Most them were just minding their own business. It wasn’t their fault their ruling family had more money than brain cells.

Fthfth’s face crumpled. – I suppose not. And now, she said, looking again at the slate, that whole region of space has been quarantined until they can find a way to collapse that miniature black hole. Suddenly she looked up at Pktk. What did you mean, it’s being ‘passed off’ as an accident? What else could it have been?

Pktk looked around him to ensure no-one was listening. They were seated in the Lyceum refectory, surrounded by classmates whose conversations centred more on their homework than on interplanetary events. Satisfied that nobody else would hear, Pktk went on in a low whisper:

– Rumour has it there had been a serious falling out between two of the princes, he said. Some people on the Source reckon that Prince 4 smashed his planet into Prince 3’s on purpose. Apparently he just happened to be taking a quick space cruise at the time; the whole black hole thing seems to have caught him by surprise.

– That’s ridiculous, scoffed Fthfth. If your brother annoys you, you tell your parents or smack him round the head; you don’t smash a planet into him.

– Maybe you do if you’ve got a planet to smash, observed Pktk between mouthfuls of configuration 6.

A moment’s silence passed between them. There was a topic they were avoiding. Fthfth felt she could avoid it no longer.

– Still no word from Terra?

Pktk chewed in silence for a moment, then said: – Not as far as I know.

– Lbbp must be going crazy, Fthfth observed.

– He’s not letting it show, said Pktk. First stint in charge of the whole Preceptorate; I don’t think he wants to look weak. But yes, he must be.

They knew Lbbp well. He was wise, strong-willed, and, when it mattered, astonishingly brave, but he was a born worrier. Any unexplained absence on Terra’s part had him pacing the floors, and she was now three days overdue from her visit to the Convocation. Enquiries had been made: she, Preceptor Shm and Billy had set out from Quung as scheduled but nothing had been heard from them since.

– There was that ... incident at the Convocation, mused Fthfth. Do you think it might have been Terra they were after rather than the Kwad Shar Whatsit? Could someone have followed them after they left Quung?

– I can’t imagine what the Taboki might have against Terra, reflected Pktk. Mind you, I don’t know what anyone from Tabok would have against the Kwad Shar Chen either. Oh, and that’s caused trouble on Tabok in the meantime. Here ... He handed his slate to Fthfth, who read aloud:

– ‘Riots in the Taboki capital Bataku in support of the foiled bomber.’ In support? she asked Pktk, with alarm.

– Yes, said Pktk. Apparently he shouted some ancient Gara-Gara battle-cry when he tried to blow up the Convocation. He says he can’t remember what he said or why he said it, but now there are thousands of Taboki saying he’s a hero for evoking Tabok’s glorious warrior past, and that they should be proud of their history rather than ashamed. They marched on the government’s main building to demand his release, the government sent armed guards out to meet them, and it all got a bit ... ugly. Now there are rumours the military are going to come out in support of the protesters and overthrow the government. No way of telling where it’s all going to end, but it’s looking nasty. Meanwhile, a couple of systems away, the Ofoni are starting to panic.

– The Ofoni? asked Fthfth. There weren’t many topics on which Pktk’s knowledge exceeded her own; military history was one such subject.

– The Ofoni people of the planet Golka. They were at war with the Taboki for eras while the Gara-Gara were running things on Tabok. Now that it looks like the Gara-Gara, or at least something very like the Gara-Gara, might rise to power again, the Ofoni are re-arming like crazy. Of course, in the eras since the war with Tabok ended the Ofoni have entered into the Tri-System Accord with the Selgi and the Peldalurians, so if anything actually goes off between the Taboki and the Ofoni they might all get drawn into it as well. These things, observed Pktk sagely, have a way of escalating. He took a sip of his ndt juice.

2.3

GRAND MARSHAL ZST’KH’S EYES scanned the surface of the slate, as he reflected upon the fact that his position as the leader of his people seemed to involve a lot more reading than he’d expected.

He’d observed his grandfather’s rule diligently, taking mental (and sometimes written) notes as to how a true Grand Marshal governs. It was, in many respects, an impossible job: ruling an almost entirely militarised society of over eighty million individuals, all of them trying to live up to ancient notions of honour and tradition, none of it comfortably compatible with an ever-changing world.

Zst’kh had known from a very early age that his own father G’zsk, weak and duplicitous as he was, would never serve as Grand Marshal. That he’d ended up having to confirm this theory by executing G’zsk for treason had not come as any great surprise.

K’zsht had not been present that morning. He’d sent his daughter Sh’sh-Zsht to deputise for him; she had borne her son Zst’kh no grudge, nor he her for her poor choice of husband.

Now, sitting on the carved bone throne that K’zsht and countless predecessors had occupied before him, Zst’kh read the latest reports from the Convocation security network and rubbed his eyes. The galaxy was in turmoil. Planets on which peace had reigned for eras were descending into war, ancient grudges revived, long-healed wounds torn open. Worlds that had traded and negotiated amicably with their neighbouring civilisations for as long as anyone could remember were starting to pick fights with them for the flimsiest of reasons. Alliances were breaking down, treaties were being revoked and broken, cooperation was giving way to suspicion and suspicion was giving way to conflict. Everywhere.

Zst’kh put the slate down on what had once been the shoulder-blade of a giant dkh-g’dkh, but was now the armrest of his throne, and exhaled heavily.

What was he doing?

A lifetime of preparation, training, study and mastery of the arts of battle, complete immersion in countless eras of warlike tradition, and now war was raging through the cosmos and he was doing ... what?

Reading.

Zst’kh got to his feet. The throne room was deserted. Below him, in the lower floors of the Grey Tower, he could sense his underlings milling around, performing what until that moment had felt like vital tasks in the service of planetary security, but which Zst’kh now knew were a waste of their time, his time, everyone’s time. There was fighting to be done, there was fighting BEING done, and he was missing it. The G’grk were missing it. What was the point of even BEING G’grk?

Zst’kh found himself pacing furiously around the throne room. He was swinging his sword agitatedly. He couldn’t remember picking it up.

On a tall stone plinth there stood a Fnrrn skull. Legend had it (as did the inscription on the plinth) that this was the skull of H’gss H’gff, the chieftain of the K’krll, a rival warrior tribe who’d lived at the eastern fringes of the Central Plains back in the Unwritten Times. The particular legend pertaining to this skull held that it had been borne in triumph to T’krr by the very first Grand Marshal, X’thk the Uniter, after his victory in the War of Binding, which had joined all the tribes of the Central Plains under his rule and established the G’grk nation.

Zst’kh peered at the skull. You are no Grand Marshal, it said to him. You would never have stood a chance against me, a true warrior. Peacekeeper. Nursemaid. Bureaucrat.

Zst’kh let out a shrill cry, raised his sword high above his head and brought it down with such force that it smashed the centuries-old skull and most of the stone plinth on which it had stood. He bellowed with rage as he brought his sword down on the fragments, again and again.

A thin, high pitched sound interrupted him in his furious reverie. He wheeled around to find the source of the sound, sword still in hand.

The noise was coming from his slate, still perched on the arm of the throne.

Zst’kh looked around himself, blinking. He looked at the sword in his hand, and at the scattered shards of the skull of Hg’ss Hg’ff.

Dizzy from exhilaration and confusion, Zst’kh lurched to the throne and tapped on the slate.

– What?

– Apologies, Grand Marshal, came the voice from the slate; a junior officer, whose name eluded Zst’kh in that moment. A deep space communication has been received. The sender is ... the sender claims to be …

– Speak plainly, said Zst’kh, for all that he himself still felt a little disoriented.

– He says he’s Grand Marshal K’zsht, replied the voice.

Zst’kh stared blankly and silently into space. The sword slipped from his fingers and clattered to the stone floor. He didn’t hear it.

2.4

PKTK WAS STRIDING PURPOSEFULLY through the corridors of the Lyceum. He felt the weight of the gfrg in his hand; he couldn’t, for the moment, remember where he’d got it from. It wasn’t his; he didn’t own a gfrg, having never been much use as a gshkth player. Perhaps Fthfth had lent it to him. It didn’t matter where he’d acquired it; he knew what he was going to use it for, and that was the important thing.

He came to the door of the senior lectorium; it hissed open and he walked through. There was a historical science class in progress. Lector Jmpk was pointing to a block of text on the visualiser. It gave details of some archaic scientific discovery or other. Pktk didn’t bother to read it. That wasn’t why he was here.

Yshn was sitting in his usual place near the back of the lectorium. Pktk noticed that unlike the other students, who wore their usual blue garments, Yshn was clad in the white New Believer robes he’d been wearing when he’d tried to betray Pktk and his friends to the Gfjk-Hhh a couple of orbits previously. Pktk knew that nobody had worn these robes ever since the Gfjk had managed to get himself destroyed by the Black Planet, but he didn’t care about that just now. He approached Yshn, whose attention remained focussed on the visualiser.

– Hello Yshn, said Pktk. Yshn looked round at Pktk, and Pktk smashed him in the face with the gfrg.

– That’s for picking on Terra when she was younger, said Pktk, as Yshn fell to the floor, blue blood gushing from his mouth.

– Pktk ... what are ... Yshn tried to say through his split mouth.

– And that’s for selling us out to the Gfjk-Hhh, said Pktk as he swung the gfrg down onto Yshn’s chest. Yshn’s ribs broke with a satisfying crack.

Yshn screamed and looked around for help, but the other students ignored him, as did Lector Jmpk, who continued with the lesson.

Yshn looked up at Pktk, his eyes full of terror and pleading. One more decent whack should finish him off, thought Pktk. He raised the gfrg high and brought it down with a roar of fury ...

***

Pktk roared out loud ... His eyes snapped open.

He was in his sleep well, at home. He was not floating calmly, but whirling around and around. He regained enough presence of mind to say – Sleep well off, and descended to the floor as it released him.

Pktk’s mother came running into the room.

– What’s the matter? What was that noise?

– It’s okay, said Pktk breathlessly ... I just thought I saw something. I’m fine. Go back to sleep. He rubbed his eyes as he sat on the floor, panting.

– I’m never going to get back to sleep now, said his mother, visibly flustered. I’m going to make some zff. She bustled away to the servery.

I was dreaming. I was dreaming, wasn’t I, thought Pktk with fascination and alarm.

Fnrrns don’t dream past infancy. The idea of spending all night visiting alternate realities inside one’s head, as Terra did, had always intrigued Pktk, but now that it had happened to him, it disturbed him greatly.

Why, of all the things to imagine, had his subconscious decided that what it really wanted to see was Yshn’s violent murder? Okay, Yshn was a spineless, treasonous little sh’znt, but Pktk had hardly given him a moment’s thought since the fall of the Gfjk, over two orbits previously. They weren’t even in the same class at the Lyceum. If he ever had any feelings towards Yshn these days, they were more usually ones of pity and contempt than of rage.

His mother’s voice called from the servery to tell him that his zff was ready, and that his slate was pinging. A message had arrived, from his Ymn friend.

Pktk rose unsteadily to his feet and resolved not to share his dream with anybody. He shuffled into the servery.

His mother handed him the steaming bowl. – Are you not sleeping well? she asked, her face creasing with concern. Is everything okay at the Lyceum?

Pktk shuddered at a sudden memory of Yshn’s blood spattering across the lectorium floor. His mind would have to learn to distinguish between real and imagined memories if he was going to keep up with this dreaming nonsense, he reflected. – Yes, he replied. Everything’s fine.

– Not pushing you too hard with classwork, are they? his mother persisted.

– Nothing I can’t handle, muttered Pktk before taking a sip of his zff. His parents had long since abandoned any hope of his catching up with Fthfth in terms of academic scores, but at least that meant they no longer used her as the benchmark by which to judge him. By the standards of his classmates in general, Pktk was an excellent student, but compared to Fthfth he was barely adequate.

His performance at the Lyceum had improved since his arrival – in particular, he reflected, he always seemed to have a good day when he’d made himself some FaZoon soup for breakfast – but Fthfth’s scores were still like an unattainable dot on the academic horizon. I’m never going to escape from her shadow, am I, thought Pktk glumly. Serves me right for seeking out such hyper-intelligent friends.

Pktk sipped his zff in sullen silence. There was a moment’s quiet, underscored only by the low hiss of the idling zff-brewing machine.

– Hang on, said Pktk suddenly. Did you say there was a message from Terra?

2.5

THE MESSAGE HAD BEEN sent, in the middle of the night, to precisely three people in Mlml: Lbbp, Fthfth and Pktk. Another message, somewhat differently worded, had been relayed to Grand Marshal Zst’kh and Professor Steinberg in T’krr.

Upon receipt of the communication, Lbbp had roused himself and contacted Fthfth and Pktk’s parents to check that a. they had received it too, and b. that the two youngsters hadn’t sent it as some sort of horrifically ill-judged joke.

Now, a spectrum or so later, Lbbp, Pktk and Fthfth stood huddled against the cold of the night in the Forum square. Each was running through the same memory in their mind’s eye: the day, five orbits and several lifetimes previously, when the little Terra had, due to a bizarre series of circumstances, stood in this very square, leading a Mlmln delegation to welcome a visit from the FaZoon, a race of impossibly old, impossibly advanced and inconveniently ethereal alien beings. The unexpected presence of a Ymn had, apparently, alarmed the FaZoon into departing before they could bestow any gifts of knowledge upon the Fnrrns, as was the customary purpose of their occasional visitations, although they had left a recipe for soup etched into the stone floor of the square. So far, nobody except Pktk had ever bothered to follow the recipe and make the soup, for all that he went on about how tasty and sustaining it was.

That recipe, worn away by five orbits of footfall, was still just about legible. Lbbp, Pktk and Fthfth were standing a few metres away from it, peering into the night sky.

– I hope she doesn’t set any alarms off, said Fthfth. After the incident at the Convocation everyone’s on alert.

– Professor Steinberg has been informed, and so have the G’grk, said Lbbp. They’ll be allowed to pass through Traffic Control and land.

– I can’t imagine why they’d need to clear it with Traffic Control anyway, said Pktk, who was still a little discombobulated by his horrid dream and by having had to turn out in the darkness. That little ship the Preceptor borrowed shouldn’t cause any alarm.

As if on cue, a booming, humming sound above them prompted all three to turn their eyes to the sky.

– Ah, said Pktk. Fair enough.

The ship that now hovered above them was very much not the pineapple-shaped craft in which they’d seen Preceptor Shm and the two Ymns depart for Quung.

Silhouetted against the dark maroon sky, they could make out fearsome-looking forward cannons, bulbous gun turrets, and huge neutrino engines, currently idly throbbing. The message had instructed the friends not to be disturbed by what would arrive at the appointed time and place. Now they saw it, Lbbp and Fthfth couldn’t repress a frisson of alarm.

Not Pktk, though; he was hugely impressed.

– It’s a Boax Light Cruiser! he said, beaming. Where did the Preceptor get hold of one of those? It’s amazing!

Two rectangular shapes detached themselves from the black silhouette of the ship. With a whine of gravity engines, they descended towards the square.

As they approached ground level, the ambient street lighting revealed the shapes to be hover-sleds, of a type even Pktk wasn’t familiar with. And standing on the sled platforms, they saw ...

– Terra! called Lbbp excitedly. The little Ymn figure began to wave excitedly.

The sled on which Terra – and, they now saw, Billy – rode touched down first. Terra hopped to the ground and ran to Lbbp.

Terra flung her arms around Lbbp and nestled in his bony chest. He hugged her tightly, and then Terra felt him tense up.

– Terra ... said Lbbp, his voice full of apprehension.

Terra looked around; the second sled had now landed, and Lbbp was gazing at the company of armoured G’grk drones who stood upon it.

– It’s okay, said Terra, they’re with us.

Pktk ran to the sled. – Where did you get a Boax Cruiser? he asked Billy excitedly. Did you trade that little ship for it?

Billy got both feet on the ground and turned to Pktk. The look on Billy’s face silenced Pktk immediately, as it suddenly dawned on him who was missing.

Lbbp and Fthfth’s attention was still on the sled full of G’grk. The drones began to climb down one at a time, with two remaining behind to help another, who was obviously wounded, to the ground. Lbbp peered through the gloom as this figure approached, limping – and his jaw fell open.

– How’s the shoulder, scientist? asked K’zsht, smiling.

– It ... it still hurts sometimes, said Lbbp quietly. When it’s cold.

Fthfth stared, in unaccustomed silence.

– I’m sorry I never had the time to thank you properly for saving my life, said K’zsht. Events ... required my rapid departure. You were still unconscious when I left.

– I got a medal, said Lbbp.

– At my insistence, said K’zsht.

– Does your grandson know you’re back? asked Fthfth. K’zsht turned to her.

– He knows I’m coming. And he knows I’m not staying.

– But ... why are you here? asked Pktk, and seeing as no-one else had yet noticed the glaring absence, he went on: And where’s Preceptor Shm?

There was a moment’s icy silence.

– Oh, said Pktk.

Terra looked up at Lbbp. – I’m sorry, she said. There was nothing we could do.

Lbbp felt a freezing chill rush through his entire body. – How? he asked.

– Sk’shk, my deputy, said K’zsht. He was freed from his prison and attacked your friends’ ship. The old teacher was lost in the crash. I was too late to save him, but ... He looked at Terra and Billy. Sk’shk will never trouble you again. I have taken care of him, as perhaps I should have done all those orbits ago.

Fthfth gazed at Terra. – The Preceptor? she whispered. Preceptor Shm ...? No ... no ...

Terra put her arms around her friend. Lbbp’s mind raced, a whirl of grief and confusion. – Did you ... Have you brought him back with you ...? he asked at last.

Terra sniffed back a tear and said, – No, we couldn’t ... there was nothing left. Seeing Lbbp flinch at her words, she went on quickly, But he gave me this. He said you’d understand.

Terra took the chain from around her neck and handed it to Lbbp. He examined it in the dim light; the surface of the key glinting in the darkness.

– What is it? asked Fthfth.

– It’s the key, said Lbbp quietly. Chgs-Chfs’s key. It was cast for Chgs-Chfs many eras ago; she was one of the earliest leaders of Hrrng Preceptorate. It’s handed down from Preceptor to Preceptor, as the emblem of the office.

– He’s handed it down to you, said Billy.

– I guess that makes it official, then, said Terra, smiling sadly at him. Doesn’t it ... Preceptor Lbbp?

Lbbp clutched the key until the metal dug painfully into the flesh of his fingers. Not like this, he thought. Not like this ... I wanted the job, one day, of course I did, but not like this. Never like this.

K’zsht looked up into the sky. – Dawn beckons, he said. I have told my grandson to expect my arrival at sunrise. He turned to the drones. Return to the ship and prepare to depart for T’krr.

The drones saluted and boarded their sled. It ascended towards the cruiser.

– What will you do? asked Lbbp, still holding the key. Are you going to reclaim your position?

– No, said K’zsht. Like you, he said, pointing to the key, I have a new job to do. Nor will my people – any of my people – attack this land again.

K’zsht looked up. The first light of morning was beginning to colour the sky a deep mauve, but the stars were still visible.

– We underestimated you, I know this now. To the G’grk, you looked weak, with your reliance on science and learning. But you are strong. You are great thinkers, great teachers, great organisers, great builders ... He looked at Lbbp. But war is coming. War such as none of us has ever seen. And wars require warriors.

K’zsht turned and walked to the sled, limping visibly. As two drones helped him aboard, he turned and called to Lbbp.

– Lead your people wisely, scientist. We will all be tested in the days to come.

The sled rose to the cruiser. The ship’s engines hummed into life and it was gone.

Lbbp watched it disappear, his fingers still wrapped around the brass key. He was reluctant to hang it around his neck; it only weighed a few grammes, but it felt like it would be heavier than he could bear.

– So what do we do now? asked Pktk.

There was another pause.

At last Billy broke the silence.

– Breakfast?

2.6

IT MAY OR MAY not have been around this time – it’s difficult to establish common temporal standards across intergalactic distances – that Greatfather Spirus, patriarch of the Children of Klaa and now ruler of the planet Dabra-To, was roused from his slumbers by his chief adviser Overling Poc.

Greatfather Spirus had taken lodgings in what had until recently been known as the People’s Temple, an imposing if somewhat drab marble edifice occupying much of the centre of Comra-Fi, the capital city of Dabra-To.

The planet had been – and indeed still was, never more so in fact – a politically unified mono-state. The Document of Union, a priceless cabble-abbler silk scroll which now hung in Greatfather Spirus’s private bathroom, recorded how Dabra-To’s many diverse cultures and nations had set aside their differences centuries previously after almost having destroyed each other utterly in the War of Historical Misconception. Peace had reigned ever since, a few unruly incidents notwithstanding.

The House of Klaa, the predominant religion on Dabra-To, had endorsed the Union and encouraged its followers to embrace peaceful co-existence. An underground hardline dissident sect, the Children of Klaa, disagreed. They would occasionally circulate scurrilous writings to the effect that the Union, being as it was a secular, political construct, was an insult to their (perhaps mythical) founder Klaa the Unending. For this, warned the Children of Klaa, the planet would one day face his wrath.

In the event, the Union, as political institutions are wont to do, grew corrupt and complacent. When it had come to light a year or so earlier that its incumbent leader, Warden Mossock, had been misappropriating civic funds to furnish a series of luxurious apartments in which to house his series of equally luxurious mistresses, the public outcry took many forms.

There was the to-be-expected outpouring of opprobrium from Warden Mossock’s political opponents (and indeed most of his allies), as well as tutting disapproval from the mainstream Klaa-ists. But Dabra-To’s establishment was taken completely by surprise when the protest which really energised the populace was the one that originated from a resurgent, and now very publicly active, Children of Klaa.

Evidently tired of waiting for the wrath of Klaa the Unending, the sect, under the guidance of its new and charismatic leader Greatfather Spirus, decided to wax wrathful on his behalf. The protests became riots, the riots became a revolt, the revolt became a revolution.

If Warden Mossock had been surprised at the outcry following the revelation of his having kept multiple mistresses, one can only guess at his astonishment at finding himself dragged from the bed of one of these mistresses by a howling mob brandishing banners bearing the interlinked circles which were the emblem of the Children of Klaa, marched into the square in front of the People’s Temple, and then ...

Suffice it to say that the rule of Greatfather Spirus had been entirely unopposed after that night.

Greatfather Spirus had grown used to not being questioned, or interrupted, or indeed woken up in the middle of the night. He adjusted his gold nightgown and peered crossly at Overling Poc, who stood nervously at the end of his bed.

– What is it, Poc?

Poc was unsure how to proceed. He’d been awoken around an hour previously, with a rapturous smile on his face and his heart full of expectant joy. As he’d left his chambers and raced through the corridors of the Temple of Klaa (as it was now known) he had been ecstatic to find his fellow overlings, fellowlings and sublings in the same state: awake, and full of excitement.

They’d all had the same dream.

Every one of them.

They’d all dreamed that tonight, that RIGHT NOW, their prayers were being answered. That Klaa the Unending was on his way, to fulfil the prophecies and reward the faithful.

Looking through the Temple’s windows, Poc could see that the remaining populace – in accordance with the Greatfather’s commandments, nearly half the population had been ‘purified’ in anticipation of Klaa’s coming – were also awake and wandering the streets, discussing the imminent arrival of Klaa with wide eyes and racing hearts.

Poc, as Greatfather Spirus’s first adviser, had gone to the leader’s chambers to see how he was reacting to this universal revelation. He’d been somewhat disappointed to find the Greatfather snoring contentedly in his vast, canopied bed, and now, seeing that the Greatfather seemed to have no idea what was going on, he couldn’t think of a way to tell him.

Had the Greatfather, the leader of the faith, not had the dream ...?

– It’s ... began Poc. That is ... continued Poc. The people have ...

Greatfather Spirus leapt out of the bed. – What have the people been up to now? he said angrily, grooming his fur. He’d been running out of ideas with regard to finding new ways to punish those who questioned the righteousness of his leadership. Not to worry, he thought, I’ll think of something.

Suddenly there was a great bellow of excitement from outside Spirus’s window.

– KLAA!

Spirus and Poc hurried over to the crystal casement and peered out into the night. The square was heaving with excited worshippers, all raising their paws to ...

Spirus looked up and saw a blazing light in the sky, just beside – and in terms of brightness, the equal of – Dabra-To’s glowing silver moon. He swallowed hard.

– I think, perhaps, Greatfather, we should go and see ... began Poc.

Spirus said nothing.

A few moments later, Spirus stood, trembling but trying not to show it, on the balcony of the Temple overlooking the square. He’d stood here many times in recent months, to issue another invective-flecked sermon on the evils of the old system, to condemn – by name – those who’d been pointed out to him as insufficiently devout (and sometimes to watch those he’d named dragged screaming away by his followers) or just to stand and listen to the crowd chant his name. He loved that part. But now, gazing up at the blazing light in the night sky, he felt very small. Very small indeed.

With a great sigh of awe, the throng watched as smaller points of light separated themselves from the greater and began to descend to the ground.

Some of the points of light resolved themselves into figures, clad in flowing blue robes. They landed in front of the palace, forming a line behind the Clerical Police who struggled to keep the crowd back from the palace gate. The last point of light, glowing more fiercely than the others, remained hovering directly above the balcony, just over the heads of Spirus, Poc and their attendants.

Spirus, shielding his eyes from the glare with his paw, could just discern that this too was a figure, but clad in robes of brilliant white. The face which now gazed at him with, Spirus couldn’t help but notice, an accusing glower, was also pure white and almost featureless.

The white-robed figure rotated in mid-air to face the crowd. – Klaa! Klaa! came the cries of exultation.

– I am but the emissary of Klaa, the figure replied. Its voice was soft, and yet somehow clearly audible throughout the square. Klaa speaks through me.

– Speak, emissary, speak! replied the throng. Spirus glanced nervously at Poc; he was gazing at the apparition in rapture. Rapture that Spirus wished he could share. He felt only dread.

– Klaa is pleased that His people have unified this world, the figure said. But He sends me to tell you that the task is not yet complete.

– What would Klaa have us do? the throng implored. Tell us!

– The Word of Klaa is too important for just this world to hear, the figure explained. The task which now awaits you is to harness all the technology at your disposal and take Klaa’s message of truth and purity to those worlds who suffer without it.

Spirus swallowed hard. Dabra-To had achieved interstellar contact a couple of centuries earlier, although since his rise to power, contact with neighbouring worlds had been terse and sporadic. He knew that there were chapters in the Book of Klaa which called for the faithful to spread His word to all those who had not yet heard, but it had never occurred to him that this should include the people of other planets. Besides, he’d been content with his dominion over this one, and reluctant to take on any further responsibilities.

– Klaa is disappointed that your leaders have not yet begun this mission, the figure intoned, casting a glance over its shoulder at Spirus.

Greatfather Spirus, feeling the eyes of the crowd upon him, experienced a feeling he’d witnessed many others experience in the recent past, but one he’d never thought to experience himself. Greatfather Spirus felt judged.

– And does not Klaa speak of the necessity of casting aside all that which impedes you in your mission to uphold His word? the figure declaimed, its voice rising.

Spirus found himself rising too; his feet lifted from the floor of the balcony as he was seized by some unseen force, and dangled helplessly in mid-air. – Poc! he cried. Poc, help me! But Overling Poc continued to stare, heedlessly and reverently, straight ahead at the glowing emissary.

Spirus was now level with the emissary. It turned in mid-air to face him. The golden eyes burned fiercely, and the mouth twisted in a cruel smile.

– First rule of being a prophet, Spirus ... the figure said coldly, in a voice no-one else could hear ... it’s not all about you.

The invisible force that held Spirus aloft now flung him high into the air above the crowd. They bayed angrily at him for having failed Klaa.

The force disappeared and Spirus plummeted towards the ground. The crowd cheered as he fell.

Spirus survived the impact. He did not survive what came next.

The emissary watched as the gold-robed Greatfather disappeared beneath a surge of angry pilgrims, then descended to the balcony. Overling Poc tore his eyes away from the irresistible spectacle of his master’s downfall and turned to face the emissary.

– They’re all yours, Greatfather Poc, said the Kwad Shar Chen. Now don’t slack off.

2.7

GRAND MARSHAL ZST’KH PEERED into the morning sky.

At his side stood General Ch’zst and ranks of senior officers. Before him were rows and rows of drones and drone commanders, armoured and warpainted, standing to stiff attention.

The plain before them, lit by the pale sunlight, was vast, flat and bleak. This was the appointed place, and the appointed time was nearly upon them.

He’d received his grandfather’s communication during the night, with a mixture of such conflicting emotions that even now he was unsure how to feel. So much new information: Sk’shk had been freed, but was now dead, slain by K’zsht’s own hand; the Walkers of the True Path had accepted the old warrior’s leadership, and that together, they were returning to the Central Plains, to T’krr itself. Zst’kh had been told to await their arrival on this barren heath outside the city, but beyond that, he had no idea what to expect.

Would his grandfather seek to reclaim the title of Grand Marshal? If so, how should he respond? The situation was entirely unprecedented in G’grk history. No Grand Marshal before K’zsht had ever relinquished the position while still alive, so no Grand Marshal had ever been in the position in which he, Zst’kh, now found himself: facing a potential challenge to his leadership from a rival whose legitimacy was equal to, perhaps even greater than, his own.

Zst’kh’s loyalty to his grandfather had been absolute, even up to his reluctant acquiescence to the old warrior’s insistence that he succeed him. To what, then, did he owe loyalty now? To his own rank, and position? To the responsibility he bore towards his people as their commander? Or to the one who had granted him that position?

As General Ch’zst pointed to the dot of light that was now taking shape in the sky above them, Zst’kh breathed heavily and sought solace in the thought that his questions would soon be answered, one way or another.

The ranks of drones, already at attention, stood yet more stiffly upright as the warship descended towards the plain. This was both a mark of respect for the return of the legendary warrior, and a sign of their readiness to spring into action should events take a turn for the worse.

The battleship’s elderly gravity engines groaned as it lowered itself onto the plain, landing struts grinding into place. Zst’kh felt the shock wave pass through his feet as it touched down.

A ramp extended out from the ship’s belly. The ranks of drones tensed yet further. They were under the strictest orders to keep their weapons lowered unless specifically instructed otherwise.

A party of eight drones emerged from the ship. Zst’kh noticed that they were unarmed, and felt himself relax a little.

The eight drones formed a sort of honour guard, four each side, through which now marched the unmistakeable figure of K’zsht, dressed not in armour but simple cloth garments. Zst’kh couldn’t help but feel a smile beginning to spread across his features. His grandfather’s gait was stiff and uneven, he noticed. He was wounded, and trying not to show it.

K’zsht now stood facing the ranks of drones. Zst’kh, almost in spite of himself, pushed his way through the rows of soldiers (to the alarm of Ch’zst and his fellow officers) and stood before his grandfather.

There was a moment’s absolute stillness.

The two warriors both took a step forward.

Then, in the same instant, they threw their arms around each other.

– My boy, said K’zsht. Look at what a warrior you’ve become.

– I never thought I’d see you again, said Zst’kh, fighting a losing battle to keep the tremor out of his voice.

K’zsht pushed back out of the embrace, clasped his grandson by the shoulders and gazed at him admiringly.

– Grand Marshal you are, he said, and Grand Marshal you shall remain. The G’grk need no other, nor could they ask for one finer.

– I have won no more battles, said Zst’kh, his eyes lowered.

– You have won the greatest battle of all, said K’zsht. The battle against one’s own lesser being. The battle against selfishness, against pride, against anger. You were raised to be a conqueror, but you have chosen to be a protector. You have served the G’grk with greater honour and humility than any of your predecessors, including myself.

Zst’kh struggled to find a reply, and could think of none.

– There is more than one kind of strength, Zst’kh, said K’zsht. There is fortitude in war, and fortitude in maintaining peace. But soon you will need both kinds.

Zst’kh looked up at his grandfather. – You have felt it too?

– Everyone is feeling it, said K’zsht. The urge to fight, to destroy. Something is calling all the worlds of the galaxy to battle, even those who have been at peace for aeons. War will come to Fnrr soon enough. You will be tested, as will we all.

– It becomes ever harder to maintain order, said Zst’kh, his eyes and voice low. We are allies of the nations of Fnrr now, but we are still G’grk. Battle is in our blood, and our blood cannot be denied much longer.

– Nor will it be, said K’zsht. That is why I have returned. Your place is here, defending your people ... defending ALL the people of Fnrr. But those who can no longer resist the lust for war will have a place too. At my side.

K’zsht turned to address the ranks drones and officers.

– Drones ... commanders ... brothers ... G’grk ... I know how hard it has been for you, to serve as peacekeepers. I feel it too, the burning in the blood, the desire to fight, to attack, to conquer.

The assembled troops listened intently.

– Your desires will soon be sated, K’zsht went on. War is coming, war from the stars.

Some of the drones’ eyes lit up at these words, their faces splitting into grim smiles.

– This vessel you see before you, said K’zsht, was under the command of a movement who call themselves the Walkers of the True Path. You may have heard of them. The drones who had formed K’zsht’s honour guard glanced uneasily at each other. Some of you, K’zsht went on, may have been tempted to seek them out and join them.

Now it was the turn of many of the drones who stood ranked in front of General Ch’zst to look troubled and guilty. Ch’zst himself shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other at the old warrior’s words.

– I have not returned to T’krr to reclaim my position as Grand Marshal. I made my decision, and that decision cannot now be revoked. Your leader is Zst’kh, and your loyalty must be to him and him alone. This planet will soon be put to the test; the nations of Fnrr will look to Zst’kh to save them, and he in turn will need you at his side.

Zst’kh tried to resist the urge to stand a little prouder and more erect upon hearing this, and almost succeeded.

– But for those of you who can wait no longer ... for those of you whose blue blood boils for battle now ... I have another mission.

The assembled drones and commanders, who had been listening in silence, somehow fell silenter still.

– I will lead you, said K’zsht, into space. We will take this ship, and we will acquire others like it. War rages out there already; we will not wait for it to arrive in our own skies. We will ascertain which forces pose the greatest threat to our world, and we will strike at them before they strike at us. We will weaken them, we will thwart them, we will set them back and give those who stay behind on Fnrr time to prepare their defences.

Zst’kh smiled. The old warrior’s plan made perfect sense. K’zsht never would have said so himself, but his continued presence in T’krr would have diminished Zst’kh’s own authority. This way, there would still be only one Grand Marshal in office, and those who would otherwise have become unruly and disruptive would flock to K’zsht’s banner.

– Think carefully before you decide, said K’zsht. To come with me will be to say goodbye to everything you know and love in this world, almost certainly for the last time. There is no coming back from this mission.

Excitement surged through the ranks of drones. Suicide mission or not, it was clear that K’zsht would have no shortage of volunteers.

It was Zst’kh’s turn to address the troops.

– Those of you who would join my grandfather’s mission, make your intentions clear to your superior officers. There will be no punishment or judgement against those who choose to go, or those who stay. All will serve with honour. General Ch’zst, return the company to barracks. We will meet you there.

He turned back to his grandfather.

– Do you at least have time to eat with us before you single-handedly conquer the galaxy?

K’zsht smiled.

2.8

JAMES HARDISON LOOKED AT his hands, wrapped around the steering wheel of the dark blue saloon car. The bruises on the knuckles of his right hand were still faintly visible and he could feel them when he flexed his fingers. The bruises he’d sustained punching out the Taboki delegate on Quung. A punch he’d thrown half a galaxy away. Now, as his eyes squinted at the desert track before him, he reflected that although he was now back home on Earth, someone who found themselves blindfolded and dumped in this landscape could be forgiven for thinking they were on Mars.

It was unusual for an officer of Hardison’s rank to be driving himself while on official business; the Air Force employed hundreds of airman-chauffeurs to take the wheel while the likes of Hardison relaxed on the back seat. On this occasion, however, Hardison had chosen to drive himself. Besides, very few of the Air Force’s airman-chauffeurs had been granted the kind of security clearance necessary to undertake this journey.

The road he drove along appeared on no maps, nor did his destination. The expanse of Nevada desert in which it was located had once been designated Area 51, and legends – for the most part untrue – abounded as to what secrets had been hidden there over the decades. Now, as far as Hardison knew, it concealed only one, and as his GPS locator started to beep, he knew he’d arrived at it.

Hardison pulled the car over to the side of the track. He checked the GPS locator again to be sure of his precise position – a miscalculation of even a few feet would prove awkward.

A mechanical crunching, grinding noise came from beneath him, and he knew he was in the right place.

The section of track on which Hardison’s car stood seemed to detach itself from the surrounding ground and began to descend. Hardison looked up through his windshield at the shrinking rectangle of sky above as he was lowered into the darkness, then watched as it was sealed shut by a sliding hatch. Hardison knew that the top surface of the hatch was detailed so as to match the platform on which he was now parked. To an observer at ground level, his car would have simply disappeared without trace.

The descent continued for over a minute. When the platform came to rest, floodlights switched on to reveal Hardison’s surroundings, although he was familiar with them by now. The car sat at the end of a long tunnel, illuminated by orange lights set into the ceiling. The entrance to the tunnel was cut off by a steel grid. Next to Hardison’s car window there stood a pillar, on top of which sat a silver box with a glass panel facing towards him. He lowered the window and turned in his seat to look into the panel.

A voice, soft, female and obviously computer-generated, came from the box.

‘Please hold still for facial recognition and retina scan.’

Hardison held still. After a few seconds the voice came again.

‘Hardison, J. T. Clearance granted. Proceed to the end of the tunnel. Do not stop in the tunnel. Unauthorised stopping in the tunnel will incur security counter-measures. Thank you for your cooperation.’

The steel grid slid away. Hardison switched the car into full electric mode and drove into the tunnel.

From having studied the blueprints of the installation, Hardison knew that the tunnel was 2.6 miles long, but it always felt much longer when he was actually driving down it.

At last, Hardison’s car emerged from the tunnel into a brightly lit and, by comparison, spacious parking bay. Several other vehicles were parked in the bay, including two black SUVs and a troop carrier. At the far end there was a tall metal double door, guarded by two white-helmeted military police guards. Hardison pulled the car into the parking space allocated to him, got out and walked to the doors. The guards saluted his approach; he returned the salute.

‘Good morning, sir,’ said the younger of the two guards. Hardison handed him his ID pass; he and the guard knew each other well, but the security protocols of the installation were very specific and had to be followed to the letter, for good reason.

The guard handed the pass back. ‘Here to see XT-1 again, sir?’

Hardison smiled. ‘You know I can’t possibly discuss that, Danny.’

The guard smiled and pressed his thumb to a panel on the wall next to the doors. ‘No, sir, of course not sir.’ The doors began to slide open, with a grinding of gears and electric motors. ‘Give him my regards, sir.’

Hardison strode through the doors. It had become a bit of a running joke between him and the guards about his constant refusal to confirm or deny that he was here to see XT-1, since they all knew there was no other reason to visit the facility except to see XT-1.

Colonel Francis stood up from behind his desk and saluted as Hardison turned the corner.

Hardison returned the salute. ‘Is he awake?’

Colonel Francis smiled ruefully. ‘He’s nearly always awake. Sleeps about two hours out of twenty-four on average. At first we thought it was an aspect of his biological makeup, but now we think it’s just him.’

Hardison nodded. ‘I need to speak to him,’ he said. ‘I saw some things off-world which have caused some concern.’

Colonel Francis led Hardison through a sliding metal gate, and down a long corridor. The soft female voice was heard again.

‘Please keep to the left side of the corridor. Do not attempt to pass any objects or documents directly to the subject. Do not attempt to make physical contact with the subject. Any contraventions will result in security counter-measures being deployed. Thank you for your cooperation.’

At the end of the corridor there was another metal gate, followed by a small antechamber in which stood another white-helmeted guard. Behind the guard was a metal door with an electronic keypad set into its centre. Upon their approach, the guard saluted, turned and entered a code number into the keypad. There was a loud click and the door swung open.

‘I’ll leave you to it,’ said Colonel Francis. Hardison thanked him and stepped through the door.

Immediately on the other side of the door was a white room, about three metres square. In the middle of the room there was a chair. Hardison did not sit on the chair. The far wall of the room was made of glass – the same sort, Hardison happened to know, as was used for the windows and windshield of ‘the Beast’, the President’s official limousine, except that this wall was twice as thick.

Beyond the glass was another white room. It had, at first, been comfortably appointed with a proper bed and soft furnishings, but these had all been removed at the insistence of XT-1 himself. He’d said such things only added to the indignity of his imprisonment. Now there was just a flat bed with a thin mattress, a hard wooden chair and the only luxury items that XT-1 had allowed them to give him: a widescreen TV and games console.

XT-1 sat in the wooden chair, his back to the glass, playing Call of Duty 3.

Hardison waited. He knew XT-1 was aware of his presence.

After a few seconds, XT-1 spoke.

‘Juss finiss level. Wait.’

– We can speak in your language if you prefer, said Hardison in accented but grammatically correct G’grk.

XT-1 watched his avatar die on the screen, grunted in annoyance and turned, peering at Hardison with his black eyes.

– You put me off my game, Hrrd’snn. Your G’grk isn’t as good as it used to be. It’s too long since you lived with us. Is it true you played Kkh-St'grrss for the Grand Marshal’s Seven? I wish I could have seen that, but, he sighed, I was already here by then.

– You could go home any time, you know that, said Hardison. Just say the word.

XT-1 got up and stretched his long, wiry grey limbs. He was dressed in white pyjama-like garments.

– And I’ve explained many times, he said, that G’grk don’t welcome home those who’ve been captured and released. It’s doubly shameful. To be taken alive is dishonourable; to then be the kind of model prisoner who wins his freedom is even more dishonourable. Even if they let me live, my existence would be one of shame and ridicule. He sat back down. Besides, he said, there are no Playstations on Fnrr. And with that, he started the game up again.

– I need to ask you something, Hardison said. XT-1 continued playing and did not react. Hardison decided to try again.

– I need to ask you about the Occluded Ones, said Hardison.

XT-1 tensed; it was visible even through the glass. He paused the game. He lowered his head sadly and then said, in a quiet voice, – The Occluded Ones have forsaken me.

– What makes you say that?

XT-1 turned to face him. – I still hear them, Hrrd’snn. At night, they still speak to me. But where once they promised me victory and greatness, now they speak only of my failure. They scorn my prayers. They want no more to do with me. I have let them down and they do not forgive.

That’s why he won’t sleep, thought Hardison. His dreams are punishing him. Curious. As far as he could remember, Fnrrns didn’t dream. Perhaps down here, devoid of any stimulation except that games console of his, his imagination was reasserting itself.

– I have news, Hardison went on. Sk’shk is dead.

XT-1 took a moment to digest this, then: – How?

– The Walkers of the True Path broke him out of the asteroid prison he was being kept in, said Hardison. Then he found old Grand Marshal K’zsht on Jsk 4 - there was no need to mention Terra’s involvement in that incident, thought Hardison - and challenged him to a duel, which he lost.

– That was a mistake, mused XT-1.

– Now K’zsht is back on Fnrr. The Walkers have sworn loyalty to him. He’s not challenging his grandson for the leadership; rather he’s rallying recruits to a kind of space navy.

XT-1 pondered this.

– So you see, said Hardison, the Walkers of the True Path have been effectively disbanded. Whatever orders you were acting on have expired.

– But I am still, as you say here, guilty as charged, said XT-1. I invaded your territory in order to abduct an innocent child. This – he gestured around him – is nothing more than I deserve.

It was a little over three years since Hardison and XT-1 had first met. In all that time, XT-1 had refused to give Hardison his real name, and as such he still went by his military prison designation of Extra-Terrestrial One, the first alien ever to be held prisoner on planet Earth.

Hardison had not led the mission to capture him; an army special forces unit had done that. They’d arrived just in time.

After Terra’s return to Earth and reunion with her parents four years earlier, Hardison and his superiors had arranged for discreet but extremely vigilant surveillance to be kept on the family at all times. He already knew that the girl had made enemies on her adopted planet, and reasoned that if a harmless scientist like Lbbp could make regular visits to Earth undetected (as had apparently been the case) then it was more than possible that these enemies might, at some point, come looking to settle the score.

So when, a year or so later, a tall hooded figure had attacked the high school at which Terra (under the name Susie Adams) was studying, rendering the staff and pupils unconscious with some sort of percussion grenade and attempting to make off with Terra herself, heavily armed soldiers were on the scene within less than three minutes. Terra had been saved, her family relocated, and the hooded figure – who, underneath the hood, turned out to be a G’grk spy – had been tased, taken alive, and transferred almost immediately to the Hypermax Detention Facility some miles beneath the Nevada desert, where he’d been living as the sole inmate ever since.

The Hypermax Detention Facility had been designed and excavated some decades earlier, long before XT-1’s capture, when the possible powers and capabilities of potential alien detainees were the subject of wild conjecture. Though the extraordinary levels of security that were in effect at the facility had been designed to prevent alien prisoners escaping, XT-1 had never shown any desire to free himself, for the reasons he’d just outlined to Hardison. So here he remained, hidden away in his state-of-the-art dungeon, partly in order to deter any rescue attempts by his compatriots, and partly because nobody could think of what else to do with him.

– I don’t know if you get much in the way of news down here, began Hardison.

– The screen shows Rrth news and fk-shnns, interrupted XT-1, but I don’t pay attention. Nothing changes down here.

– Maybe not, Hardison continued, but things are changing up there. And OUT there. Hardison paused, and fixed XT-1 with his gaze. You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The desire to fight, to avenge yourself. Even down here, the thoughts and visions reach you ...

XT-1 shifted uncomfortably on his chair. – The Occluded Ones mock me, he said quietly. They taunt me with visions of battle, images of victory. They laugh at my impotence and seek to torment me for my failure.

– It’s getting worse, though, isn’t it, Hardison pressed on. The dreams, the visions ...

XT-1 didn’t respond.

– The thing is, said Hardison, approaching the glass until his face almost touched it, you’re not the only one. It’s happening everywhere. Here on Earth, and throughout the galaxy, perhaps even the universe. Old grudges are being revived, peaceful accords are splintering, new conflicts are breaking out. Something is making us fight each other. All of us.

XT-1 smiled ruefully. – I always said the rest of the galaxy would eventually come around to the G’grk way of thinking, he said.

– Tell me what you’re seeing, said Hardison. Tell me what the visions bring, what the voices say. Help me understand what we’re up against, and I’ll petition Grand Marshal Zst’kh to let you return to the Central Plains. We can construct a new identity for you. Nobody need know of your time here.

XT-1 stood up suddenly. Hardison retreated instinctively from the glass, although there was no possibility of XT-1 reaching him.

– I would know! said XT-1 angrily. You think I fear gossip? The rejection of females and the mocking laughter of children? I would know. I would ALWAYS know. He slumped back into his chair. You are like the Mlmlns and the Dsktns, Ymn. You do not understand honour, so you will never truly understand shame.

There was a moment’s agonising silence, permeated only by the gentle hiss of the prison’s air purification system.

– You say everyone is having the visions? asked XT-1. So you too are being tormented? He smiled. If you want to know what’s happening, Hrrd’snn, look into your own mind.

Hardison’s jaw clenched and unclenched. Should he tell XT-1 about the sudden increase in terrorist activity? About the radical political movements sweeping to power all over the world, both by ‘legitimate’ and violent means? About the constant state of readiness in which the military now stood, for all that it was being beset with mutinies and disciplinary breakdowns? Or about the way he woke up sweating every other night, his mind full of horrid imaginings and even more horrid desires?

XT-1 studied the human officer’s face. – It is here, isn’t it? he said. It has come for the Ymns. The fury. The bloodlust. It seems to me you have more important things to do than talk to me, Hrrd’snn. He turned away and picked up his game controller. Hardison turned to go.

– Hrrd’snn ... XT-1 called out just as Hardison pressed the button to summon the guard to let him out. Hardison turned.

– Yes?

XT-1 did not turn around. As he restarted Call of Duty 3, he said over his shoulder, – Tell Colonel Frrns’ss ... that dessert they gave me yesterday. Salted caramel, I think. Very nice. Tell them I’d like that again.

2.9

– No, no, you’re missing the point.

– What point?

– Here, look again.

Fthfth handed her slate to Pktk and pointed at a block of text. Pktk peered at it irritably.

– It’s a threat, he said. Another threat. The whole of interplanetary discourse consists of threats these days, in case you hadn’t noticed.

They were making their way through the corridors of the Lyceum. Lessons had ended for the day, but the pupils were not yet free to go home. One more task awaited them; one none of them had been looking forward to.

It had been a tense day at the Lyceum. All days were tense at the Lyceum since the reports of conflict from all corners of the galaxy had started to arrive. Thus far, Fnrr seemed to have been spared the bellicose madness that was spreading throughout the stars; even the G’grk were co-existing peacefully with each other and their neighbouring nations (now that the rowdier elements were volunteering to join K’zsht on his quest, in any case).

Ahead of them, Billy and Terra walked, deep in conversation. Fthfth still hadn’t gotten used to the sight of Billy clad in a shiny blue Lyceum uniform, and she knew that Billy still wasn’t entirely comfortable in it either. The first time he’d tried one on, a couple of orbits previously, he’d refused to come out of his room. Finally emerging after nearly a spectrum of cajoling from Terra and Fthfth, he said he felt like an enormous Christmas tree bauble. Terra had laughed, and once she’d explained to Fthfth what a Christmas tree bauble was, Fthfth had laughed too. Billy had disappeared back into his room for the rest of the afternoon.

In the event, on his first day at the Lyceum, Billy had almost forgotten to feel self-conscious about his attire, since he had plenty of other things to feel self-conscious about. As the second Ymn student in the Lyceum’s history, he found himself the object of much fascination, and unlike five orbits earlier, when little Terra had joined the institution, and everyone had made a supreme effort NOT to make her feel like an anomaly, in Billy’s case everyone seemed entirely content to stare and marvel at him. After a while, Terra had noticed, Billy started to enjoy the attention. By the end of his first day, he was all smiles.

That evening, back at the apartment (Billy stayed at Lbbp and Terra’s home while on Fnrr) Billy had explained that it wasn’t so much that he was feeling like he could fit in at the Lyceum; he knew he’d never fit in at the Lyceum. The point was that it didn’t matter if he didn’t fit in at the Lyceum because no-one was expecting him to fit in. Back on Earth, Billy explained, at Latimer Lane Comprehensive, he hadn’t felt like he’d ever fitted in either. At least here on Fnrr, he was supposed to be an outsider, an exception, an oddity. On Earth, being ‘different’ had felt like a failing on his part, for which he was constantly judged; here, it was just accepted as inevitable. ‘Fitting in is overrated,’ Billy had observed.

Now, two orbits later, Billy had Not Fitting In down to a fine art. He felt the stares and the curious probing glances, and he felt them bounce clean off him. He knew what those around him were thinking, and he didn’t mind a bit. The only person in his life – at least, the part of his life that he spent on Fnrr – whose thoughts he couldn’t always read was Terra. As they filed through the Lyceum corridor, he found himself peering quizzically at her, trying to read her face.

‘What are you thinking about?’ Billy had given up trying to guess.

‘That’s not how it happened ...’ said Terra quietly.

‘That’s not how what happened?’

‘No ... don’t you remember, that’s what she said before she disappeared: “That’s not how it happened.” What did she mean by that?’

Billy blinked and exhaled. So much had happened in the moments, and indeed now the days, since they’d crashed on Jsk 4 that the crash itself had somewhat buried itself in his memory. He did have the vaguest recollection of the ship spinning out of control, and of slipping in and out of consciousness as the unbearable pressure pinned him to the wall ... the memories of the next few moments were hazy at best. Sometimes he remembered Terra heroically struggling across to the navigation console and stabilising the ship. In other versions of the same memory, Terra was not working alone; someone was there, helping her ... and then they weren’t there any more. Billy had put his conflicting recollections down to his delirious state during the crash and the trauma of the aftermath. But now, for the first time, Terra was confirming that she had indeed received help. Inexplicable, miraculous help.

‘I thought I’d imagined that ...’ he said in a low whisper; this was none of anyone else’s business. ‘So it was a she, was it?’

‘Yes,’ said Terra. ‘Definitely female, and definitely Fnrrn, although the suit she was wearing wasn’t of any design I’ve ever seen before.’

‘Fnrrn and female?’ pondered Billy. ‘Anyone we know?’

‘I’m … not sure …’ said Terra, her brow furrowing. ‘She kind of reminded me of someone, but ...’

Terra suddenly came to a stop. The traffic of bodies in the corridor parted to pass around Terra and Billy; Fthfth and Pktk, a few metres back, noticed their friends standing still and conspiring. They decided to wait, a few metres away.

‘Hasn’t it been driving you mad?’ asked Terra.

‘Hasn’t what been driving me mad?’ replied Billy.

‘The coincidence! The fact that we crashed on Jsk 4! The only planet in the whole quadrant where we might find someone who could not only save us from Sk’shk but who had every reason to want to ...’

Billy shrugged. ‘When the universe does you that kind of favour, you don’t question it in case it takes it back.’

‘But that’s just it,’ said Terra crossly. ‘The universe DOESN’T do you favours. Not unless someone is tweaking the strings ... weighting the scales in your favour.’

‘Someone who knows what’s coming ... someone who’s seen the future ...’ considered Billy.

‘Someone who might talk about present events in the past tense ...’ said Terra, her eyes wide. A theory was beginning to form in her mind. One that she realised she couldn’t share with anyone just yet.

– What are you two plotting? Fthfth’s curiosity had, as ever, overruled her patience.

– Nothing much, said Billy. He had never enjoyed lying, and as such thought it best to change the subject as quickly as possible. What about you two?

– Well, said Fthfth, I’ve been TRYING to get Pktk to take an interest in this. She handed her slate to Billy. Look at that report of the war between the Bothubians and the Chaarn Confederation.

Terra blinked at the slate. So many stories were coming over the Source of planets declaring war, both on themselves and each other, that they were all rather starting to blur into one. – What about it? she asked.

– Here, said Fthfth, pointing at the slate. Look at the statement issued by the Bothubian Prime Consul. ‘Let the flesh be boiled from their skeletons, then their dry bones shattered and thrown to the five winds.’

– Charming, said Billy.

Fthfth took the slate back. – That’s not the point, she said. Look at this, and she tapped away at the slate.

Pktk sighed. – I’ve told you, it’s nothing but a coincidence.

– What’s nothing but a coincidence? asked Terra, who was finding it increasingly difficult to believe in coincidences.

– This, said Fthfth, handing the slate back to Terra with a triumphant flourish, is the ultimatum issued a few days ago by the Overgeneral of the Titanium Horde when they laid siege to the planet Sesk.

Terra read aloud. – ‘Yield now, lest your flesh be boiled from your bones, and your skeletons broken and scattered to the five winds.’ So?

– It’s exactly the same! said Fthfth indignantly.

– And I’ve been trying to explain, said Pktk, that the military imagination is limited at the best of times. The fact that two leaders are using the same sort of language isn’t anything remarkable.

– But it’s not the same sort of language, persisted Fthfth, it’s the same language. Exactly the same.

– So the galaxy is descending into war, said Billy, but what really concerns you is plagiarism?

– But that’s my whole point, said Fthfth. They’re not copying each other. They can’t be. Not only were these two statements issued at opposite ends of the galaxy, the Titanium Horde aren’t affiliated with the Convocation; they came from an uncharted quadrant. They’d never made contact before they attacked Sesk. As far as I can tell, they’ve never made contact with anyone who’s ever made contact with the Bothubians. Their linguistic systems are completely incompatible as well; the Bothubians' language is based on a strict mathematical algorithm but the Titanium Horde speak Dostric, a poetry-based language which conveys meaning through analogy and metaphor. And YET, she said, rising to an indignant crescendo, you run those two statements through any translation protocol and you get the EXACT same result.

There was a moment’s silence. Fthfth smiled. She was getting through to them. She decided to present the clinching proof.

– And what’s with this ‘five winds’ nonsense? What sort of planet has FIVE wind directions? What is it, pentagonal?

– Well actually, muttered Pktk, there’s a planet called Gefner Magna which has two south poles, so—

– That’s not the point, said Fthfth. The point is that two armies who’ve never met, and who couldn’t even communicate with each other if they did, are issuing IDENTICAL threats to their opponents at either end of the galaxy.

– Like they’re following a script, said Billy.

– So ... who’s writing the script ...? said Terra quietly.

In the silence that followed Terra’s question, they realised they were alone in the corridor. Reality intruded upon the four friends’ little impromptu forum, and they remembered the solemn duty which lay before them.

– Come on, said Billy. We don’t want to be late for this.

They broke into an urgent trot to catch up with their fellow pupils.

2.10

PRECEPTOR LBBP LOOKED OUT at the expectant throng of pupils, lectors and other staff and sighed heavily.

– Is that it? Is everyone here? he asked his new assistant Glsf. Lbbp was going to have to get used to being the sort of person who had assistants. Lbbp was going to have to get used to a lot of things.

Glsf consulted his slate and confirmed that everyone had arrived.

The Hard Copy Archive had never, in all the eras it had stood, been so fully attended. Every scrap of floor space between the shelves, racks and tables was occupied. Lbbp had tried not to notice that Terra and her friends had been the last to arrive, squeezing in by the far entrance. Now they, and all assembled, waited in silence for Lbbp to speak.

– We’re here to remember one of the finest lectors, educators and thinkers that this world or any other world has ever produced, and one of the finest Fnrrns that I, or indeed any of us, have ever known.

Lbbp’s words echoed around the stone walls of the archive. There was no other sound.

– I know many of you were saddened that we couldn’t give Preceptor Shm a proper funeral, Lbbp went on. So was I. It seemed so unfair that such a long and distinguished life should have to go without a definite ending. But then I thought on, said Lbbp, taking a deep breath and swallowing, and I realised that Preceptor Shm is where he always wanted to be. Where he belongs.

Terra silently took Billy’s hand. Her eyes moistened.

– How much more fitting, said Lbbp, that rather than be recycled, or stuffed into some little hole in the ground somewhere, that the Preceptor now rests out there, on the winds of a distant planet. That even after death, he’s journeying to new places, to undiscovered hills, valleys and deserts. I remember the Preceptor once saying to me, he went on, his voice faltering, that to stop learning, to stop seeking out new things, is to stop living. Preceptor Shm, he said, his voice cracking at last, will never stop learning.

Terra squeezed Billy’s hand as a tear rolled down her face.

– I know there’s been some discussion, said Lbbp, having recovered a little, about how best to remember the Preceptor. I’m sure if it had been up to him, he’d say the best way to remember him would be to stop worrying about what’s past, concentrate and get on with improving your test scores.

This elicited a chuckle from the crowd.

– Some people have suggested a statue, but I might as well tell you now that Preceptor Shm wasn’t keen on statues. He never much cared for the statue of Tnk out there in the quad. The hovering blue statue of the inventor of grav-tech had stood in, or rather floated above, the Preceptorate grounds for as long as anyone could remember. He thought that if what you do in life is important enough to be worth remembering, you don’t need any other memorial once you’re gone.

There was a pause as everyone pondered this.

– Nonetheless, I thought we had to do something, to create some sort of permanent tribute to the Preceptor’s memory. So, said Lbbp, exhaling heavily, for the last, but by no means the first time, Preceptor Shm and I have come to a compromise.

Another tinkle of laughter.

– From this day on, said Lbbp, this building will be known as the Shm Archive. It was one of his favourite places in the Preceptorate, and let’s face it, it’s just about the only thing on this planet which contains anywhere near as much information as he did.

A bigger laugh now, as the crowd relaxed a little, the sombre part of the ceremony being done with.

– Should have renamed the Extrapolator after him, muttered Fthfth.

– He was far more helpful than the Extrapolator, replied Pktk.

Lbbp looked over the heads of the crowd. He’d called this ceremony for the end of the academic day for a reason. He’d studied the calendar carefully, and if his calculations were correct, the setting orange sun should break through the stained window at the end of the Archive, just ... about ...

– If you’d all care to look behind you, said Lbbp.

… now.

It would have been in extremely poor taste, and quite possibly illegal, to replace or in any way alter the ancient stained window at the eastern end of the Archive. It was an architectural and artistic treasure, depicting as it did a brief history of the nation of Mlml up to the sixteenth era, culminating in its unification under the Gfjk-Hhh (the ACTUAL Gfjk-Hhh, not the murderous imposter whose reign they’d only just survived). There was no rule, however, against adding an additional transparent layer to the inside of the window, not even a layer of light-sensitive calatite, in which had been inlaid a holographic portrait which would be activated by the orange beams of the setting sun.

A half-gasp, half-sob of sadness-tinged awe echoed through the Archive as a faint but visible holographic image of Preceptor Shm’s face appeared in the air in front of the stained window.

Terra looked up at her old teacher’s face, almost but not quite smiling in the way he had always almost but not quite smiled, and sniffed back tears of pride and sadness. Billy hugged her. Pktk gazed up at the portrait and, without noticing, hugged Fthfth.

Fthfth noticed, but said nothing.

2.11

TRAMASAX FO-NAX BRACED himself as he felt another attack coming on. Every inch of nerve fibre that ran through his body was scarred and inflamed; he knew the retching, convulsing spasms that would soon seize him would bring agony, but there was nothing he could do. There was nothing anyone on the whole planet Sprax could do, even if they had attained the position of supreme commander, as had Tramasax himself.

The convulsions came. Tramasax clutched a leathery hand to his head and twisted and lurched in his seat, tears streaming from all four eyes. The pain was unendurable, but as the new leader of his people, endure it he would.

The disease still had no proper clinical name; Sprax’s scientific and medical community had been decimated along with every other part of the population. If a cure had ever been possible, the physicians who might have discovered it most probably now lay in the mass graves which had been dug at the outskirts of every city on the planet. The pestilence was referred to by the dwindling survivors simply as the Death, and its work was nearing completion.

Tramasax, the leader of Sprax’s combined military forces, had been proud to answer the call of his terrified people when the Death had first struck, and their feeble civilian leaders had shown themselves hopelessly inadequate to the task of holding Spraxian society together. He had assumed control of the government and watched dispassionately as the Presidor and his cabinet of dithering fools were arrested and removed from the Senate floor. Tramasax didn’t now recall where they’d been banished to; it didn’t matter. They were almost certainly dead. So many were dead.

Seeing that saving the people was beyond his capacity, Tramasax had decided instead to avenge them. He had resolved to destroy the Jonqans once and for all.

For centuries, Tramasax’s people, the Kranons, and the Jonqans had lived in peace, if not exactly harmony, side by side on Sprax. The Jonqans, however, had never really fitted in (at least that was how Kranon history recorded it) and had huddled together in isolated communities, interacting with the Kranon majority only when necessary.

Matters had taken a turn for the worse a century or so before Tramasax was hatched. The city of Blan-Mas had decided to expel all Jonqans from its environs; soon after, the city had been plagued with mysterious sickness and death. Some of the more superstitious survivors wondered if this was a punishment visited by the Watcher, the mythical, immortal (and invisible) protector of the Kranons who had been revered by many in ancient times, but who was all but forgotten now. The more rational majority of Blan-Mas didn’t believe a word of this; they knew who was to blame: the Jonqans.

History did not record how many Jonqans died over the next few days – suffice it to say that in the refugee camp which the Jonqans had set up in the hills overlooking Blan-Mas, not a soul was left alive; male, female or hatchling.

Soon after, the remaining Jonqans had acquired a fleet of spacecraft (no-one was really sure from whom) and set off into space, colonising the next planet in the system and re-naming it Co-Jonqa. There they had lived ever since, and there the Spraxians had been content to leave them. But no longer.

Somehow, the Jonqans had found a way to transmit the same pestilence with which they’d poisoned the people of Blan-Mas across space to infect the whole of Sprax. No-one could explain how, but no-one, absolutely no-one on Sprax doubted that this was the case.

Assembling the fusion missile had not been easy, given the depletion of Sprax’s military engineers, but Tramasax’s orders had been enthusiastically followed. The missile was ready ahead of schedule.

The Spraxians gave the Jonqans no warning. After all, they had received none. The shock wave from the impact could be felt across space, causing minor tremors throughout Sprax’s eastern hemisphere.

Tramasax did not know if there were any survivors on Co-Jonqa. Now, as another fit seized him, he decided that he hoped that there were. He hoped that they were still alive up there – alive, and suffering, as he and his people suffered.

Tramasax sat alone in the War Room at Spraxian Central Command. There should have been scores of officers and attendants scurrying to and fro, but there was silence. The computers were switched off. There was nothing to defend or attack any more. There was nothing to do, thought Tramasax, but wait for the end.

As his vision clouded, Tramasax found himself hoping that his people would be remembered.

– You will be remembered. Your story is not yet concluded.

Where had that voice come from? Tramasax forced his eyes open, first the upper then the lower pair.

At first all he could see was an intense white light. It resolved itself slowly into a shape. A figure, a presence, a person.

Tramasax’s eyes struggled to focus on the newcomer. It was cloaked in a garment of pure white and extended a hand towards him.

– Who – who are you?

– Search your memory, came the voice again, soft and tinkling, even as it spoke the percussive language of the Kranons. Search the memory of your people, of your world.

Tramasax’s four eyes widened in astonishment.

– The Watcher? he croaked.

The figure smiled, its four golden eyes twinkling. – And I thought I’d been forgotten.

The extended hand now hovered above Tramasax’s thorax; he heard the voice again.

– Can you believe, Tramasax fo-Nax? After all you’ve seen, all you’ve done ... can you put all that aside and simply believe in me?

Tramasax convulsed again. Blinding, searing pain. He fought with all his strength to form the words. – Yes, he rasped, I can believe.

– Then suffer no more, said the visitor, and laid the white hand gently on Tramasax’s chest.

Instantly Tramasax felt a rushing, surging sensation throughout his body. He breathed, a huge gulping breath, the first steady breath he’d inhaled for days. The air felt gloriously clean and fresh. He rose to his feet. His vision cleared, the racking pain left his body. He turned to face the white-robed visitor, his mouth moving silently as his mind sought the words. Then he sank to his knees, weeping, and clutched the visitor’s outstretched hand.

– Thank you, said Tramasax through his tears. Thank you.

– Your people have been spared by your faith, said the visitor. You will lead them and protect them, and you will do so according to my commands. Do you understand, Tramasax fo-Nax?

– I understand, whispered Tramasax, and then: I love you.

The Kwad Shar Chen placed her other hand on top of the leathery head. She cringed inwardly; miracles were such a vulgar way to win over followers, she reflected, but then again, engineering a bespoke virus with a carefully pre-determined life span scarcely counted as a miracle. In any event, her work here was done; this world and its people belonged to the Others now, and would faithfully follow their orders.

She stroked Tramasax’s head gently. She couldn’t wait to get back to the Exemplar and take this extra pair of eyes out. They were itching like crazy.

2.12

NEWS OF THE KRANONS’ miraculous recovery from the Death had not reached Fnrr, or Earth, nor would it ever. Not even when the surviving Kranons abandoned Sprax some months later, setting out into space to conquer neighbouring worlds in the name of the Watcher. These events were, after all, taking place many galaxies away, and both Fnrr and Earth had their own problems to deal with.

Brigadier General Hardison rubbed his eyes, sat up in bed, opened his laptop and re-read the report he was preparing for General Wyndham. In the report, he went into precise detail about the ‘incident’ at the Convocation and his conversation with XT-1.

He didn’t mention the recurring nightmare he’d just woken up from for the fifth night in succession. The one in which it became apparent that everyone he knew and loved had been replaced by alien replicas, and he had to flee for his life as they chased him, calling his name.

‘James ...?’

Hardison started. Sarah was awake. His Sarah, the real Sarah. As long as he wasn’t still dreaming.

‘Did I wake you?’ he said apologetically as he closed the laptop.

‘Not really,’ she replied. ‘Can’t sleep. Keep waking up. I’ve been having the weirdest dreams.’

Hardison hadn’t said anything about his own bad dreams. No point burdening Sarah with his own murky psychological baggage. He tried to sound as casual as possible as he replied, ‘Dreams?’

‘Yeah,’ said Sarah. ‘I keep having the same one. We’re driving along in the car, and suddenly you ... say something or ... do something and I suddenly know it’s not really you. It looks like you, it sounds like you but I know it’s not you. And I can’t get out of the car, and I’m begging you to stop and let me out, but you won’t ... and then I wake up.’

There was a moment’s chill silence. Hardison felt a shiver and resisted an urge to switch the bedroom light on.

‘What is it, James?’ Hardison never went by Jim or Jimmy, not at home or anywhere else. He was neither a Jim nor a Jimmy. He was a James.

‘It’s ...’ What to tell her? That he’d been having a variation on the same dream? That their dreams might be the result of the wave of disturbing visions which was plunging the galaxy into violent conflict?

‘It’s ... just that I’ve been away so much recently I can’t say I blame your subconscious for feeling like it doesn’t know me anymore,’ he said with what he hoped was a reassuringly rueful smile.

Dr. Sarah Hardison, née Nordstrom, returned the smile. She always knew when he was lying, and she also knew it was never out of choice.

When you fall in love with a handsome Air Force officer, as she had some six years previously now, you know there will be aspects of his work he can’t discuss, even with someone with the level of security clearance she held.

Dr. Nordstrom been working as a consultant xeno-linguistics analyst at SETI headquarters in California for two years when the tall, dark haired guy in the blue uniform introduced himself as the new Air Force liaison one otherwise unremarkable afternoon. After their third or fourth encounter, it became apparent that he was never going to ask her to meet for coffee, so she had asked him.

Over their first coffee – she’d been encouraged to see him order a soy cappuccino, having expected him to be more of a ‘straight black, no sugar’ kind of guy – the, she had to admit, damn good-looking guy in the blue uniform had explained that it wasn’t against any rules for him to fraternise with SETI’s civilian staff, it was just that he found scientists tended to be suspicious of short-haired guys in uniform, however hard he tried to convince them that they were all on the same side.

Over the next few coffees it became apparent that for all the radical differences between their respective career paths, they’d both been driven by the same desire. The longing, the insatiable need to See What Was Out There.

On the morning that Major Hardison, as he was then, was called to SETI to examine the signal that changed everything, the signal that heralded the return of Terra the space girl, he and Dr. Sarah Nordstrom had been engaged for just over three weeks. He’d bought her a cheap imitation diamond ring, promising to upgrade it to the real thing as soon as he could save up the money.

Shortly afterwards, the newly promoted Colonel Hardison accepted the offer to serve as the first liaison between Earth and Fnrr. He’d not expected to be at liberty either to confirm or deny the details of this appointment to his new fiancée, but to his delight he discovered that she’d already been fully briefed. Sarah’s background as a xeno-linguist made her the ideal person to help him bone up a little on both the clipped language of Mlml and the guttural tongue of the G’grk before leaving Earth, the better to cement cordial relationships with his Fnrrn hosts.

Dr. Nordstrom had wished him a tearfully smiling farewell and said that she could neither confirm nor deny that she wished she were going with him. She had made just one request: ‘Bring me back a ring from ... up there.’ He had kissed her and promised to do so.

When, sixteen months later (four months longer than expected), James had returned with, among other things, a large blue crystal set in a white metal ring, they’d set the earliest wedding date they could. ‘I’m not letting you fly away again before you make an honest woman of me,’ she had laughed as they threw their arms around each other.

James Hardison looked at that blue crystal now, glinting dimly on his wife’s finger as she turned over and settled back down to sleep. I don’t know what’s coming, he thought. I don’t know if I can stop it or even fight it. I don’t know if I can protect everyone.

He passed an arm around Sarah’s shoulder and pulled her close. But I’m going to protect you, he thought. If I can’t protect anyone else, I’m going to protect you.

James Hardison didn’t get much more sleep that night.

2.13

GRAND MARSHAL ZST’KH SHIFTED his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. This was all most irregular – but then, he thought on, who could say what was regular any more?

There were Ymn civilians here. Ymns. In T’krr.

The Rrth warrior Hrrd’snn had lived among them for around an orbit, but he had been here on military business. Zst’kh understood that. Zst’kh respected that. St’nn-B’rkh was conducting vital work in the defence of the planet. Zst’kh ... tolerated that.

But now there were two Ymn civilians – two Ymn civilian CHILDREN, no less – standing in G’hz-K’hsk Square, within sight of the Grey Tower.

Fortunately, few among the assembled throng were paying any attention to the presence of the two young aliens. All eyes were pointed skyward, at the ship which hovered above the square.

The Boax cruiser was now decorated in the blood-blue livery of a G’grk battle sphere. Its weapons had been upgraded (by a reluctant Professor Steinberg) as had its engines, defence systems and hull armour (by a rather less reluctant Professor Steinberg). A full complement – a more than full complement – of drones and officers had already boarded. It awaited only its commanding officer, and he now stood in the square, preparing to address the crowd.

Terra and Billy had been invited by former Grand Marshal – now ADMIRAL – K’zsht to see him off on his mission. They now stood alongside Grand Marshal Zst’kh, who wore full battle armour, as did most of the assembled well-wishers.

Terra held Billy’s hand, as if to reassure him, but more to reassure herself. Being surrounded by cheering, hissing, armoured – and armed – G’grk was giving her horrid flashbacks, even if they were all on the same side these days.

K’zsht, dressed in a simple blue uniform, raised a hand and the crowd fell silent.

– G’grk! Brothers! Sisters! It has warmed my blood and strengthened my old bones to be back with you, to be home. But now it is time for me to fight my last battle.

All present listened intently.

– War rages among the stars. Billions have died and billions more will. So far we have been spared. But this will not last.

Terra and Billy exchanged a quick glance. They squeezed each other’s hands more tightly.

– Those of us who leave today will most likely never return. We will defend this world until our last drop of blue blood is shed. Those of you who remain behind, follow your Grand Marshal. He will lead you wisely. And if the day comes when our good fortune runs out and the war reaches Fnrr, I know that each of you will fight like warriors. Like champions. Like G’GRK.

A great hissing roar of exaltation. Zst’kh stepped forward and grasped his grandfather’s hand, then embraced him.

– I ... can’t think of anything to say ... whispered Zst’kh.

– There is nothing that needs to be said, replied K’zsht.

He took a step backwards onto the waiting hover-sled, which ascended to an open bay on the underside of the cruiser. Then, with a roar of gravity engines, the cruiser itself rose into the sky.

Zst’kh watched the ship until it disappeared from view, then turned briskly back to where Terra and Billy still stood.

– Come, he said, being careful to keep the emotion from his voice, St’nn-B’rkh is waiting for us.

2.14

DAVE STEINBERG WATCHED THE blip representing the cruiser – recently, his spies had told him, renamed the Blue Star – pass across the holographic star chart which occupied the centre of the Extra-Planetary Defence Initiative’s control room.

– Blue Star, you are clear of the grid, he said. God’s – um, I mean, Occluded Ones’ speed. I guess. Or something.

The blip disappeared. They’d gone to infra-light. Steinberg had enjoyed working on the Blue Star’s refit. He wondered if he’d ever see the ship again.

The sound of the door sliding open told him that someone had entered the room, and the sudden stiffening to attention of all the G’grk staff present told him who it was.

– Did you say your goodbyes? asked Steinberg without turning round.

– We said what we needed to, said Zst’kh as he took his seat in the middle of the room.

Steinberg turned around at last, to see Terra and Billy gazing around at the banks of displays and control panels.

‘What do you think?’ he asked, smiling.

‘Did you build all this?’ asked Terra, still staring around.

‘Well I designed it, if that’s what you mean. Hi,’ he said to Billy. ‘Dave Steinberg. Good to meet you at last.’

‘Billy, Billy Dolphin,’ said Billy, returning Steinberg’s handshake, although he was fairly sure the professor knew his name already.

‘Hey,’ said Steinberg, as if just remembering, ‘want to see something cool?’

‘Sure,’ shrugged Terra.

‘Okay then,’ said Steinberg, activating his translation cube. – Uh, you there, um ...

– Th’sksh, replied Technician Th’sksh.

– Yeah, Th’sk ... yeah, said Steinberg. Set grid calibration ...

Technician Th’sksh tapped on the glass screen in front of him. – Grid calibrated, he said, emitters charged and ready.

– Cool. Uh, I mean, thank you. Grid ignition on my mark ... and MARK.

Th’sksh tapped on the glass again.

The holographic display now showed an image of Fnrr; suddenly, a web of glittering energy enveloped the planet.

‘Wow,’ breathed Billy.

‘Wow is good, I like wow,’ said Steinberg, finding he enjoyed having an appreciative audience.

‘So that’s the defence grid?’ enquired Terra.

‘That’s the defence grid. Nothing can land without our say so, no weapons can penetrate it,’ said Steinberg.

– No weapons we’ve seen so far, said Zst’kh. We have no way of knowing where an attack will come from, who will stage it or what technology they may have. This shield of yours, he gestured towards the display, might keep us safe, or it might just allow us to feel safe enough to become idle and complacent.

Steinberg looked slightly hurt, and was about to reply when a high-pitched alert sound interrupted him.

‘What was that?’ asked Terra. Steinberg frowned and walked over to the console which the sounds had come from.

‘It’s another one,’ he said.

‘Another what?’ asked Billy.

– Another world, said Zst’kh solemnly. Another planet lost to the madness. Another people gone.

Zst’kh tapped the armrest of his chair. The image on the display zoomed out, and out, and out. It displayed the whole spiral arm of the galaxy. Red dots appeared all over the image. Each represented a world on which war now raged.

The image zoomed out further still. The whole galaxy was now visible. The red dots multiplied. They seemed almost to outnumber the stars themselves.

Terra and Billy gazed in wonder and horror. Billy, almost unconsciously, took a step towards the display as if he meant to reach out and touch the image.

‘It’s everywar,’ he said. ‘I mean, the war ... it’s everywhere.’

It had been a slip of the tongue, but it described the situation perfectly.

Terra, Billy, Professor Steinberg and Grand Marshal Zst’kh fell silent as the red dots continued to swarm across the galaxy.

Billy was right.

The Everywar had begun.

PART THREE

ONE YEAR LATER

3.1

‘Happy birthday,’ said Billy with a broad smile, holding out the hand-drawn card. It hadn’t been easy finding card on Fnrr. Or coloured pens.

‘Is it?’ said Terra. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes,’ insisted Billy, his smile faltering. ‘I’ve figured it out; the time difference, the two calendars, the longer Fnrrn years ... It’s DEFINITELY November the eleventh back on Earth right now.’

Terra’s nose wrinkled. ‘My birthday is November the eleventh?’

Billy’s smile faded completely, as the hand holding the card drooped toward the floor. ‘It’s not ...?’

Terra held her confused expression for as long as she could before bursting out laughing. ‘Of course it is,’ she smiled, ruffling Billy’s reddish-brown hair. It had been fun to string Billy along for a few seconds, but that hurt look on his face ... she couldn’t stand to see him so disappointed. ‘Don’t you remember? I threw that party for my fourteenth and nobody turned up except you and that kid – what was his name ...?’

‘Dave Morris.’

‘Dave Morris, that was him. I don’t think I’d even invited him but I couldn’t turn him away once it was obvious he was all we were getting,’ laughed Terra.

‘We had to eat all the sandwiches and cake between the three of us,’ smiled Billy, ‘It wasn’t easy but we managed it.’

They chuckled at the memory and then paused, gazing off in different directions. The same thought passed through both their minds: how incalculably far away and long ago that whole life now seemed.

A year – a Fnrrn year, slightly longer than an Earth year – had passed since the Everywar had started. In that time, countless worlds had fallen.

Almost every day, news would reach Fnrr of another fallen civilisation, another culture lost forever. In the galaxies beyond our own, yet more planets were being devastated, planets no-one in our galaxy had ever heard of, or would now ever hear of.

Sometimes, victorious armies from neighbouring worlds, having settled whatever scores there were to settle on their own planets, would strike a truce, joining forces to create a great armada which would then sweep through space, laying waste to whole systems as it went. Then, when the armada had no more conquerable worlds within its reach, the truce would break down, the armada would split into factions, turn on itself and soon it too would be gone.

Thus far, Fnrr had been spared. The rage which seemed to be consuming the galaxy had barely touched them so far, or at least not in such a way as had to be acknowledged. Pktk was far from the only Fnrrn to be plagued by disturbing dreams, but he, like all those similarly afflicted, was keeping it to himself. Dreaming was not something one readily admitted to on Fnrr. Those who suffered did so alone and in silence, unaware that their friends and neighbours were suffering too.

Nor had there yet been any attack from another world. No-one could explain why; no-one sought to explain why. There was an unspoken accord among all Fnrrns not to question their extraordinary good fortune and enjoy it for however long it lasted.

Earth, too, had thus far gone unmolested. It still had its own internal squabbles and conflicts; perhaps more than usual, but it was hard to tell. The matter of its admission to the Galactic Convocation was still unresolved. Since the attack on Quung by the battle fleet of the Dar-Zam Dynasty, resulting in the destruction of the Great Hall and the deaths of thousands of delegates (Ambassador Stss-Slnm among them), all Convocation business had been suspended indefinitely. When it would resume, or whether there would still be a galaxy to administer when it did, none could say.

Meanwhile, all unnecessary space travel had been cancelled. The EPDI had declared all the usual interplanetary routes off-limits to civilian traffic. This was more to preclude false alarms than ensure the safety of travellers, since nobody could ‘ensure the safety’ of anyone any more.

As such, Terra found herself that evening celebrating – or at least, acknowledging – her eighteenth birthday not on Earth with her parents, as she had hoped, but here on Fnrr.

‘Happy birthday, baby,’ said the image of Terra’s father as it phased and flickered on the visualiser. Interplanetary communications continued, although Steinberg’s grid interfered with signal strength. Terra knew this call would have to be brief and to the point.

‘Thank you, Dad; thank you, Mum ... I’m so sorry I can’t be there.’

‘We understand, Terra,’ said her mum. ‘We have a surprise for you ...’

The image rotated slightly, to reveal a third person sitting next to Terra’s mother.

‘Hi Terra,’ said James Hardison with the easiest smile he could muster.

‘Brigadier!’ shouted Billy happily.

‘Just General now,’ said Hardison, tapping the stars on his shoulder. Billy looked disappointed.

General Hardison was quite a frequent visitor to Robert and Mary Bradbury’s home these days. Since the Everywar had settled the question of where Terra would complete her schooling, they’d been relocated once more, to a new house not far from his base of operations (the division of the Air Force General Hardison was now in command of didn’t yet have an official title; it didn’t yet officially exist). This had been done at least partly to make it easier to protect them, but also because Hardison and the Bradburys found each other’s company reassuring. It was nice to have someone you didn’t need to keep secrets from.

‘We made you a cake,’ said Mrs Bradbury. ‘I don’t think it’ll keep ... I could maybe freeze some of it until you get back.’ Mrs Bradbury found that referring to Terra’s eventual return to Earth in as matter-of-fact a manner as possible made it feel more probable.

‘I made a cake too,’ said Billy. ‘Well I tried to program the protein manipulator to make a cake.’

A quizzical expression passed over General Hardison’s face. He remembered Mlmln cuisine from his time on Fnrr and he didn’t recall it having produced anything remotely cake-like. ‘And what did you get?’ he enquired.

‘Something ... cake-shaped,’ laughed Billy.

They kept the channel open as long as possible, and then the Bradburys and General Hardison wished her one last happy birthday and the infra-light link was cut.

‘Will we ever get her back, James?’ asked Mr Bradbury, as General Hardison put his coat on.

‘Of course you will, Bob,’ replied Hardison. ‘For all the things she’s been through and all the places she’s been, you’re her parents. Nothing can ever take that away.’

‘I hope you’re right,’ said Mrs Bradbury with just a hint of a tear.

‘Things change,’ said General Hardison. ‘Things always change.’

‘But not always for the better,’ said Mrs Bradbury quietly.

Things were changing every day on Earth. It seemed that each passing week brought another report of an accord breaking down between neighbouring nations, of tensions leading to skirmishes, of skirmishes escalating into full-blown conflict. While Hardison would never have said so in front of the Bradburys – or even to Sarah – he was beginning to suspect that even if Earth were never subjected to an attack from space, the human race could just as easily wipe itself out unaided.

‘No, Mary,’ said Hardison. ‘Not always for the better. But Terra’s got the military of two planets looking out for her. She’s just about the best-protected person in the galaxy.’

‘You’d tell us, though, wouldn’t you?’ said Mary Bradbury. ‘You’d tell us if she were in danger.’

Hardison put his hand on her shoulder. ‘I may not be able to tell you everything, but I’ll never lie.’

Bob Bradbury smiled ruefully. ‘Oh come on, James,’ he said, ‘you work for the government, you have to lie all the time ...’

James Hardison looked him in the eye. ‘I’ll never lie to you about her,’ he said. Everyone in the room knew it was true.

3.2

– They’ve got no vshk. I need fresh vshk.

– Can you make do with the dried stuff? asked Fthfth.

– Of course not, snarled Pktk. It has to be fresh. He tugged at the market vendor’s sleeve. When are you getting more fresh vshk?

The market vendor looked back at him, startled, – Next … next phase, I hope.

Pktk fixed him with a You’d Better stare and moved away sullenly.

– That was rude, admonished Fthfth.

– What’s the point in running a fresh herb stall if you’re not going to sell vshk? muttered Pktk.

The recipe to which Pktk was so obsessively adhering was still just visible on the stone floor of the Hrrng market square, or at least it would have been, had there not been a slbd-dbd vendor’s truck parked on top of it. Pktk was still the only person making up the soup which the all-knowing alien FaZoon had gifted to the people of Fnrr some orbits previously; he was having at least one flask a day now and found he got a bit anxious when he couldn’t have any. He supposed it might be okay with dried vshk ... it wouldn’t be the same, though.

Terra and Billy liked Market Day; Billy in particular found it reassuringly chaotic and messy. Life was, well, orderly in Mlml, especially in Hrrng. Billy, used to the improvisational scramble which was life on Earth, could sometimes find this world a bit sterile. On Market Day, however, Hrrng seemed content to let itself go a bit. It was noisy, untidy, fun ... like home.

Lbbp didn’t like Market Day. It made him sad. Bsht had loved Market Day.

The worst thing about Bsht having disappeared without trace during the G’grk invasion a few orbits previously was that it had left Lbbp with no-one to mourn and nowhere to mourn them.

He’d lost friends and relatives over the orbits – it was just one orbit since Preceptor Shm had passed away – but when someone was actually dead, you’d have a date to remember them on and perhaps even a place to do the remembering.

For Bsht he had nothing. She’d simply been removed from his life, with nothing in her place.

Lbbp had sent the four youngsters off to enjoy themselves, saying he had work to do. Terra knew the real reason; she felt sad for her adoptive father but knew it was best to give him this time alone.

There came a sound – an unusual sound. A sound Terra wasn’t sure she’d ever heard before in Hrrng. It was the sound of an argument.

– That was my customer!

– Oh? Well if he was your customer, why did he buy from my stall?

Terra looked round. Two traders, with adjacent stalls, were having a heated exchange. A crowd, grimly fascinated by the unaccustomed spectacle, was beginning to form around them.

– He was looking at my ndts! He was definitely going to buy my ndts and then YOU started with your banter! You stole my sale!

– If he wanted your rotten ndts he’d have BOUGHT your rotten ndts. He came over and bought my fnjs because he could see your ndts had gone rancid. Look ...

One of the traders picked a fruit from the other’s stall and crushed it in his hand.

– See? Rotten all the way through, he said triumphantly.

– You thieving sh’znt! cried the other, and flew at him.

– Has anyone thought to call the custodians? asked Terra in a loud voice.

Suddenly, she saw Pktk. He was running towards the fracas. He leapt with what looked like effortless ease right over a row of onlookers and landed next to the brawling traders.

Ptkk seized one – the one who appeared to be winning the fight – by the back of his green tunic, and yanked him clean off his opponent. He lifted him right off the ground, holding him dangling and struggling.

– You’d better go, he said to the other.

The trader who’d been taking a beating got to his feet and dusted off his yellow tunic, but rather than make his escape he lunged at his rival, who was still hanging in Pktk’s grip. Pktk swung him out of harm’s way with one arm and held the other at bay with his free hand.

– Has ... has he been working out? asked Billy. Terra shrugged, and turned to ask Fthfth, who was gazing at Pktk with what looked to Terra like a mixture of admiration and concern.

– He’s always been a crooked f’zft! said the trader in yellow. Him and all his family! They’re all the same, those gn’nging Mntpers! You can’t trust them!

Terra was puzzled; if the trader in green was indeed from the neighbouring city of Mntp, that didn’t seem like any reason to distrust him. Pktk lowered him to the ground, but held onto him. He cowered behind Pktk as the trader in yellow ranted on.

– You can always spot them, the dirty Mntpers. It’s in the eyes. Look at him. They’re all half G’grk, the lot of them.

– That’s enough of that, said Pktk quietly, fixing the ranting trader with a glare that silenced him instantly.

Finally, two orange-clad custodians arrived, running. For an instant it looked as if Pktk would be detained for fighting along with the two traders, until onlookers interceded and described the young Fnrrn’s actions to the custodians. Terra just made out one of the custodians saying – What, on his own? while looking Pktk up and down.

After a short while Pktk was allowed to go. He walked back to his friends.

– That was ... impressive, said Fthfth. To her evident disappointment, Pktk didn’t respond. He exuded no pride or satisfaction; if anything, he seemed self-conscious and remorseful.

‘I thought that sort of thing didn’t happen here,’ said Billy to Terra as they turned to go.

‘It doesn’t,’ replied Terra. ‘Ever.’

She glanced at the custodians, marching the traders away, still trading insults as they went.

They walked home in silence.

3.3

‘Is this line encrypted?’ Colonel Francis’s voice was tense.

‘Hold on,’ replied General Hardison. He tapped a red button on his desk phone’s keypad. ‘It is now,’ he said, ‘go ahead.’

‘I don’t suppose you can get out to 51 today, can you sir?’

James Hardison looked around the office to make sure no-one was within earshot. ‘Not today, Colonel, I’m here in DC. What’s happening?’

‘General Hardison, sir ... you know where they placed the space girl’s family, right?’

Hardison felt a chill of concern pass up his spine. ‘Yes, but you know I can’t tell ...’

‘That’s okay, sir, I wouldn’t ask anyway, but ... I’m going to send you an encrypted video link, there’s something you should see ...’

Hardison’s computer beeped its receipt of Francis’s message. Hardison clicked on the link, looking round to make sure nobody was lurking behind him.

A window opened on the computer screen. It showed XT-1’s cell. He appeared to have smashed everything: the chair, the TV, even his beloved games console. He came into shot now, pacing frantically. Hardison fumbled in his pocket for his phone earbuds, stuffed them into his ears, plugged the cable into the socket on the side of the computer and clicked on the little speaker icon.

– HRRD’SNN! HRRD’SNN! XT-1 was bellowing his name as he paced. Hardison had no way to reply; the link was one-way.

– I know you can hear me, Hrrd’snn! I know you’re listening! They’re here! They’ve come for her! The space girl! They’ll torture them until she returns! They’ll force her to obey! They’ll use her to destroy us all! I hear them! I know their plans! Hrrd’snn! It has begun!!

Terra’s parents.

– Don’t call anyone! Don’t call the guards or tell your superiors! They can hear you! They see you! They’re already everywhere! Only you can save them! Hrrd’snn! Only you! XT-1 picked up the remains of his chair and flung it at the camera. The video feed went blank.

Colonel Francis was still on the phone. ‘Shall I call General Wyndham?’

‘No,’ said Hardison. ‘I can be there in half an hour. They trust me; no point in sending the cavalry just yet. Besides, he could be making all this up.’

Something told Hardison that XT-1 was not making all this up.

3.4

XT-1 SANK TO THE floor of his cell and looked around at the wreckage. He smiled to himself.

I know your plans, he thought. I hear your thoughts. You seek to torment me but you succeed only in betraying yourself. This is fair; this is right. You have forsaken me; now I forsake you in return.

He closed his eyes.

I feel your rage, he thought. Good.

He opened his eyes and spoke out loud.

– I deny you, Occluded Ones. As you denied me, I deny you.

The voices in his head fell silent. He felt a sudden coldness and emptiness, and found it comforting.

3.5

– What shall we call this one, Admiral?

Admiral K’zsht looked through the portal at his fleet’s latest acquisition.

The Blue Fleet had intercepted the Klim-Kemmid raiders attacking a civilian convoy from the planet Corok. The Corokians had escaped in the melee, while two of the three Klim-Kemmid ships had been destroyed outright. The third, its engines dead and its hull breached, had been abandoned by its cowardly crew. K’zsht had watched the escape pods bursting from the stern of the stricken vessel and given the order to let them go. He wasn’t looking to take prisoners – he’d nowhere to confine them – but he wasn’t about to shoot them down as they fled either. The ship would function better without escape pods, anyway. K’zsht didn’t see why a fighting vessel should have escape pods. Why make surrender so easy for yourself?

Now, with the engines repaired and the hull breach sealed, the ship was theirs. A crew had been assigned and young G’stzh, having proven herself in battle again, had been rewarded with the captain’s chair.

– I think… Blue Storm, said Admiral K’zsht.

– Blue Storm! cheered his crew.

The Blue Star now had four sister vessels: Blue Lightning, Blue Fury, Blue Sword and Blue Storm. Each had been seized in battle and added to the Blue Fleet.

The fleet’s legend was beginning to spread throughout the spiral arm. The space around Fnrr was now spoken of as a dangerous place for raiders and marauders. This had, of course, been the plan from the beginning.

– Orders, Admiral? asked Commander H’skgh.

– Set course for the Tvv’tk system, said K’zsht. We’ve strayed too far from Fnrr. We must resume our sentry duties.

St’krg, the young helm officer, spoke. – Admiral, she asked hesitantly, are we going ... home? Tvv’tk - or Tftk, as it was known on Mlml - was the star around which Fnrr orbited, the fourth of its seven planets.

K’zsht gave her a reassuring glance. – Most of the way home, he said.

3.6

‘James, come on in.’

‘Thanks,’ said General Hardison. He stepped through the front door of the Bradburys’ modest little house. ‘And sorry for the intrusion. Hi, Mary.’

Mrs Bradbury was already on her feet to greet him. ‘Not at all James, it’s always a pleasure. Coffee?’

‘Um ... yes, thanks.’

‘You heard the man, Bob, go fix some coffee,’ smiled Mrs Bradbury at her husband, who smiled back and dutifully went to the kitchen.

Hardison sat on the sofa, and there was a moment’s awkward silence.

‘Listen, Mary,’ Hardison began, ‘I ... heard something recently which led me to believe that you and Bob might be in danger.’

She tensed visibly. ‘Is it Terra? Has something happened to Terra?’

‘Not as far as I know,’ Hardison replied as reassuringly as he could. ‘Thanks Bob,’ he said as Mr Bradbury handed him a mug of coffee before sitting down next to his wife.

‘So what’s going on, James?’

‘Well,’ began Hardison, ‘obviously there’s stuff I can’t tell you, for your own safety.’ He took a sip of his coffee. He paused. He let the coffee swirl over his tongue.

Damn, he thought. I’m too late.

Hardison stood up and put his hands in his pockets. He took a step to place himself in front of the door.

‘Jeez, James, is everything okay?’ asked Bob Bradbury.

‘Ah ... no, not really,’ sighed Hardison. ‘You got close. Really close. Guessed right about no sugar, but ... that carton of long-life soya milk Mary keeps on top of the fridge? That’s for me.’ He shrugged. ‘Lactose intolerant. Kind of a standing joke, the big Air Force guy sipping his soy lattes.’

He pulled his hand out of his pocket. He didn’t carry his M18 9mm while off-duty but he found the little Frastik-Jalga mini-blaster was easier to conceal anyway. He levelled it at the couple.

‘So who are you and where are the Bradburys?’

The couple shimmered and phased as their optical camouflage deactivated.

Where the Bradburys had been now sat two aliens. A tall, blue-skinned individual with a face marked by what might have been ritual scarring, and an insectoid with a shiny black exo-skeleton.

‘Wow, where did you get that, Earthman?’ asked the blue-faced alien. ‘Is that even legal on this planet?’

‘WHERE ARE THEY?’ Hardison shouted. He switched the mini-blaster to its maximum setting; it emitted a faint whine as it powered up.

The blue-faced alien smiled. ‘Long gone.’ he said.

‘Alive?’ asked Hardison, keeping the weapon level.

‘Not our problem,’ replied the blue-faced alien. His insectoid companion made a dismissive clicking sound.

Hardison’s finger paused on the fire button. He needed to take these two in alive to have any chance of rescuing the Bradburys, but he was outnumbered. He couldn’t see how this situation resolved itself without bloodshed, assuming these two had blood to shed.

‘So what are you guys? Morbis Guild?’

‘Morbis?’ spat the blue alien, his disgust apparent. ‘You think we’re doing this for money? You have no idea what’s coming, Earthman. The old ways will be swept aside, and those thieves and murderers the Morbis Guild will be swept away too. We’re building a better universe, Earthman.’

Oh boy, thought Hardison. True believers. There would be no negotiating with these guys.

There a was a moment’s silence.

‘So what’s the plan, Earthman? Call your friends, or just shoot us with that thing and get it over with?’

The insectoid clicked defiantly. Hardison trained the blaster on him. The blue alien chuckled.

‘Can’t shoot us both at once ... Who’s first?’

Hardison stared at one alien, then the other.

‘You see that’s why I don’t like directional weapons,’ said the blue alien with a smile. ‘There’s always the chance you’ll miss.’

Hardison became aware of a low, bassy throbbing sound. It increased in volume. It made his bones vibrate and his head spin. He dropped the mini-blaster, sank to his knees and pitched face-first and unconscious onto the carpet.

Glyrius popped the sonic filters out of his ears and prodded the Earthman with a blue foot. He was out cold.

Kikkitat clicked enquiringly at him.

– I don’t know, replied Glyrius. She said don’t kill anyone yet. Tie him up, I suppose.

3.7

– Well you’re the Preceptor, Preceptor, smiled Fthfth. I would have thought it was up to you.

Lbbp smiled and winced at the same time. It had been a whole orbit and he still couldn’t get used to being called ‘Preceptor’.

Lbbp, Fthfth, Pktk, Terra and Billy sat around a shiny metal table in the meeting room which adjoined Lbbp’s office. They’d convened an informal meeting to discuss the possibility of delaying the start of the new academic season.

The actual decision would be taken by the full Academic Council in three rotations’ time. Lbbp, second-guessing himself as ever, had decided to consult his closest friends on the matter before presenting his own ‘opinion’ to the Council.

Pktk was in favour of a delay; he pointed out that with war spreading through the galaxy, the student body, along with the population in general, should be turning its attention to matters of civil defence.

Fthfth, predictably, rejected this notion; even if war was coming, she said, it would be better that Fnrrn society, and in particular Mlmln society, remain true to its ideals of reason, logic and the pursuit of knowledge. There was no point resisting brutality if you had to brutalise yourself to do it, she’d pointed out with a serene smile that made Pktk twitch in his chair.

Terra was enjoying watching Fthfth and Pktk being, well, so entirely Fthfth and Pktk.

Lbbp turned to Billy. – Billy, he said, any thoughts?

Billy sat up in his chair with a start. He hadn’t been listening. He’d been pondering the squabbling market traders. Perhaps, he’d considered, the war didn’t have to come from space. Perhaps they’d start their own war right here.

Now he looked up, and found he had no idea what to say.

– Erm ... he began. There was an agonising pause as everyone waited for him to continue, then:

– Well we’ll come back to you in a moment, said Lbbp.

That’s not fair, pondered Billy. I was actually having a really deep thought just there ...

Lbbp turned to Terra. – Terra ...?

– Well obviously I’m not looking forward to classes starting as much as Fthfth is, because nobody looks forward to classes starting as much as Fthfth does, she began, but I can’t help but feel that she’s right. Sometimes having something worth fighting for is as important as fighting for it.

– But if you don’t fight for it, soon you won’t have it any more and where does that leave you? said Pktk.

Lbbp sighed. – You’ve all made good points, he said. And it’s given me lots to think about. He stood up and began to walk around the table. Terra noticed that he was moving rather sluggishly. She was about to ask if he was okay when he spoke again.

– And of course, aaas Preeceppptttooorrrrrr iiiiiitttt’sssssss mmmmmyyyyyyyyyyyyyy ...

His voice, like his movements, grew slower and slower. Terra stared at him in alarm.

– yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy ...

He was silent, and perfectly still, frozen in mid-step.

Terra looked around in panic. There was absolute silence, and absolute stillness.

She was too alarmed and bewildered to be surprised that she herself was still capable of motion. She got to her feet and walked around the table to where Pktk sat. His eyes were fixed upon the spot which she’d been occupying a moment earlier. She reached out a finger and touched his face. His skin felt as cold and unyielding as stone. Shuddering, she snatched her finger back.

Terra wheeled around, seized by fear and confusion. What was happening? And why wasn’t it happening to her?

– Because it’s you we want.

Terra wheeled round in alarm. The voice seemed to have come both from behind her and from inside her head.

– Just a pause, young Terra. You’ll rejoin your friends in a moment.

It was a voice she knew, a voice which brought all sorts of memories, happy and sad. A voice she’d never thought to hear again.

And having turned, she saw a face she’d been absolutely certain she’d never see again.

– We need to talk, said Vstj.

3.8

TERRA’S KNEES WEAKENED. SHE stumbled backwards, reached behind her for the chair she’d just risen from and fell back into it. It felt as cold and hard as Pktk’s face had. She rubbed her eyes as if willing them to stop deceiving her, but when she opened them again, Vstj was still standing there, clad in his green robe, wearing the same exasperated smile he’d worn in life.

Get a grip, thought Terra, there are no ghosts, no zombies, whatever’s happening here, it has an explanation. Although I’ve a horrible feeling that the simplest explanation is that I’ve gone mad ...

– You’re not mad. And I’m not a ghost, said Vstj calmly.

– But you died, Compositor Vstj. You died in the G’grk invasion. You saved all my friends. They named the Leisure Hub after you, babbled Terra, tearfully.

Vstj looked thoughtful. – Is that what his name was? Sorry to hear he’s no longer alive. I thought this face would be appealing to you.

Terra’s bewilderment remained, although her fear abated a little, to be replaced by a twinge of anger.

– You’re not Compositor Vstj? she asked as calmly as possible.

Vstj – or who, or WHATever he was – shook his head sadly. – This face was selected by your subconscious. I’m sorry if it alarms you, but it was your own choice. He was with you that day, after all. The day we met.

An explanation – perhaps the only possible explanation – began to form in Terra’s mind.

– You’re the FaZoon ...?

The thing with Vstj’s face smiled ruefully. – Well, I’m A FaZoon, certainly. We’re not quite a collective consciousness yet, you know. I realise we can be a bit intimidating when we’re in our natural state, all huge and glowing, but between you and me there’s times when being intimidating suits our purposes. Not now, though. Now I thought you’d appreciate a familiar face.

– But why would I choose THAT one? asked Terra, her nose wrinkling. For all that Vstj’s last words to her had been ones of kindness, and that he’d gone on to lay down his life to save her classmates from the marauding G’grk, her relationship with him had been fractious to say the least.

– Well, let’s think, said Not-Vstj, and Terra realised that he meant it literally. His thoughts and Terra’s were already connected, and she could feel it. Perhaps, he went on, it’s because this is the face of the only adult who never lied to you ...

He may be right, thought Terra.

– In any event, said the FaZoon who was not Vstj, we haven’t much time. Or rather, I can’t hold time back indefinitely. Sooner or later it’ll start up again, and we have things to discuss, you and I.

– Like what?

– Like why the universe is currently at war with itself, and what it has to do with you ... You’ve made some very powerful enemies, young Terra. Very powerful indeed.

A chill rose up Terra’s spine. A chill both of excitement at the prospect of finding out what was going on, and of fear at what that might be.

– Who are they? she asked.

– Well, began Not-Vstj, once they were not unlike you, then they became not unlike us, and now they’re almost entirely unlike anything in this universe. For you see, they are neither of, from, nor indeed currently IN this universe.

Terra’s mind whirled. Sensing her confusion, the FaZoon went on.

– We call them the Before. They are survivors of the universe which preceded our own.

The confusion in Terra’s mind resolved itself into a vast, echoing void of astonishment and incomprehension.

– Preceded?

– It seems that this universe – OUR universe – is not reality’s first time around. The Expansion – I believe your people call it the Big Bang? – was the result of the implosion of a previous universe. And that universe in turn may have been created by the implosion of yet another universe. As far as we can tell – and we’re really quite knowledgeable, as I’m sure you remember – this cycle of explosion, expansion, contraction, implosion and re-explosion has been going on ... well, forever.

Terra’s mind suddenly felt terribly small, unable to contain the hugeness of this concept.

– Is that what’s going to happen to our universe too?

– Hmm. Possibly, replied Not-Vstj. We’ve been trying to keep things going at the quantum level, pumping the place full of dark energy to keep the expansion accelerating for as long as possible but eventually, yes, I’m afraid it might.

Well, that clears that mystery up, thought Terra.

– You’re welcome, said Not-Vstj. Now, this species, the ones we call the Before, were the oldest and most powerful race in the previous universe. They had evolved, much as we now have, into beings of pure consciousness. And, like us, they discovered that non-corporeal existence isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be. Hmm. Curious expression. Quite evocative, though. I’m sorry, I haven’t had a verbal conversation for centuries. The FaZoon with Vstj’s face smiled apologetically.

– Go on, said Terra. It was strangely comforting having Vstj back, even in this illusory form.

– You see, Terra, once you’ve shrugged off your physical form, you don’t need anything any more. Food, sleep, warmth, comfort, any sort of sensual pleasure, all unnecessary. And it turns out that NEEDING things is actually quite important. If you don’t need anything, if you don’t want anything, you just sort of ... fade away. Nearly happened to us ... Not-Vstj shuddered at the thought of it.

Terra gave him a moment to collect himself. He went on:

– Now the way WE got around this was by replacing our physical needs with the desire for knowledge. We set out to learn absolutely everything we could about the universe around us. It’s kept us quite occupied so far. It seems the Before had the same idea. Of course, the trouble is there’s always the possibility that eventually, we’ll learn all that there is to know. I imagine we’ll deal with that problem as and when it arises. I certainly hope we don’t come up with the same solution that the Before did when it happened to them ...

Terra frowned. – They actually became all-knowing?

Not-Vstj shrugged. – Their universe was vast, but finite, same as ours. If you have enough time, and evidently they did, it’s possible you’ll learn everything about it. We’re still a long way off, thankfully. But it seems that the Before did indeed reach the point at which even the rate of change in their universe couldn’t outpace their ability to absorb information. They ran out of things to discover, and found themselves without a reason to exist. And like I said, if you’re a being of pure consciousness with no reason to exist, then sooner or later ... you don’t.

– So what did they do? asked Terra, equally apprehensive and fascinated.

– They replaced their hunger for knowledge with a new hunger. A new desire. The desire for adoration. They sought the awe and reverence of lesser species. They made their existence known to mortal beings through their thoughts and dreams, and then feasted on their fear and veneration ...

Terra listened, rapt and eager for Not-Vstj to continue. But he paused, a curious expression on his face.

– This person I’m pretending to be, he said. Did he always talk like this?

– Most of the time, yes, said Terra with a sad little smile.

– Must have been exhausting, mused Not-Vstj, before continuing. The Before – or whatever they called themselves back then – became dependent upon this constant flow of praise and exaltation. It nourished them, but not in any sort of healthy way ...

– They became addicted, mused Terra. They’re awe-junkies.

– Well that’s certainly one way of putting it, reflected Not-Vstj. In any event, all this attention sustained them for countless aeons, until their universe ran out of time. It began to contract, to collapse in upon itself. Eventually, there were hardly any intelligent life forms left in that universe anyway. Once the laws of physics start breaking down all around you there’s not much hope for you if you’re still stuck inside a physical body.

Terra flinched at the thought.

– So the Before, already starved of the love and attention that was their only sustenance, faced the prospect of watching their universe die a slow death until the final implosion snuffed them out as well. Because even if you only exist as consciousness, he went on, you still need time and space to exist IN. And time and space were running out.

– So what did they do? asked Terra.

Not-Vstj got up and went to the window. Through it, Terra could see the city, frozen in time. Travellers hanging motionless in their gravity bubbles, pedestrians stuck in mid-step. Not-Vstj took a moment, then spoke.

– They decided that there’s no point surviving until the end of time itself if you’re then just going to meekly accept defeat and go quietly into oblivion, he said. A curious expression passed across his face. Terra wondered if perhaps, at that moment, he was wondering what he and his people would do when they themselves faced this eventuality. He collected himself and continued.

– They hatched a plan to hide from the end of their universe. They had already deduced that a new universe would succeed theirs, so they decided to wait until this new universe had established itself, then emerge to take their place as the rulers of the new reality, as they had been the rulers of the old.

– Emerge? Emerge from where? Terra wondered.

– Unspace, said Not-Vstj.

– Unspace?

– A pocket of reality outside of space and time. With a supreme effort of collective will, the Before opened a breach in the continuum and projected themselves through, into their own private dimension. It weakened them almost to the point of non-existence, but they managed it. And from this dimension, they watched the death of their universe and the birth of ours. And now, nearly fourteen billion of your years later, they’re still there.

Terra was confused. – I thought you said they planned to come into our universe and rule it?

Not-Vstj smiled. – That was the plan, yes. But there was a complication. Are you familiar with the theory of quantum consciousness?

– Quantum what?

– Consciousness. The hypothesis that reality itself is defined and sustained by our own perception of it.

Terra shook her head. – I can’t say I am, no.

Not-Vstj’s lip curled. – Well I wouldn’t worry about it, it’s largely nonsense. For the first bit of the cosmos’s existence there wasn’t anyone here to perceive it, so what was defining reality then? However, oddly, the theory does have some limited application where non-corporeal life forms such as the Before and ourselves are concerned ...

Terra’s expression obviously conveyed her confusion.

– I’m sorry, said Not-Vstj, I’m getting ahead of myself. As I said, the Before were severely weakened by their transition into Unspace. At first, they simply lacked the strength to break back in. And then there was the question of nourishment. As you know, the Before had been sustained by the adoration and reverence of intelligent species, so until some beings evolved to a sufficient degree of sentience to adore and revere them, there wasn’t any point in trying to get into this universe. So they waited. And starved.

– But there have been intelligent life forms in this universe for billions of years now, Terra pointed out. Why are they still in Unspace? Why haven’t they come through?

Not-Vstj smiled. – That’s the complication. Remember I told you that it’s nonsense to think that consciousness defines reality?

Terra nodded.

– Well it turns out that if consciousness IS your reality, it sort of does ...

Terra stopped nodding and waited for him to continue, her eyes and mind opening ever wider.

– Our reality – the framework of conscious reality generated by the intelligent beings in this new universe – is fundamentally incompatible with the Before in their disincorporated state. It’s as if ... Not-Vstj’s face creased as he sought an analogy ... as if ... You’ve got as far as using computers on that little planet of yours, haven’t you?

– Yes, said Terra with a twinge of indignation she didn’t entirely succeed in disguising.

– Well then, said Not-Vstj, it’s as if you have a bit of software you’ve been running on your computer for years and years, then your old computer finally packs in, and you get a new one, but you discover that the old bit of software won’t run on the new machine. In fact it won’t even load up; it’s like the new machine doesn’t even recognise it as information.

– They’re still on the operating system of the old universe, mused Terra, understanding perfectly.

– Quite, said Not-Vstj, understanding more or less. The point is, our reality, as it is currently configured, rejects the Before. They can contact the life forms in this universe, but they can’t enter it. They’re trapped in Unspace.

– Unless, said Terra, they destroy us all. Persuade us to turn on each other. Wipe out all the intelligent life in the universe, then come on through and impose their own consciousness on THIS reality. Then  ... what? Wait for another generation of beings to develop consciousness and then force these creatures to worship them like the ones in the old universe did?

There was a pause, if there can in fact be a pause without time passing. Not-Vstj smiled with admiration and perhaps a little awe. – I can see why they’re afraid of you, he said.

– Afraid of me? asked Terra, her blood chilling.

– Well, afraid, annoyed, bit of both ... They’re not fans of yours, put it that way.

Terra, her thoughts a crazed jumble of universe-bending revelations and immediate personal alarm, tried to think of a reason why infinitely old, infinitely intelligent beings could possibly be angry with her. Not-Vstj, perhaps forgetful of the difference between inner and outer monologues, or perhaps refusing to make the distinction, answered her thoughts.

– You’ve scuppered two of their plans already. Scuppered ... scuppered ... Good word, scuppered. Naval expression, isn’t it…? Very descriptive. SCUPPERED ... Not-Vstj rolled the word around his mouth, evidently enjoying being temporarily corporeal, even if only illusorily so. Terra interrupted his phonetic reverie.

– How can I have scuppered two of their plans? I’ve never been in contact with them.

– No, you haven’t, said Not-Vstj, but many, many beings and cultures have, over the years. It was the Before, thousands of your years ago, that convinced some rather easily flattered philosophers on a distant world that their civilisation was perfect and unimprovable, and needed to be terminated in order to avert its inevitable decline. In so doing, they tricked them into converting their homeworld into a planet-consuming superweapon. One which you managed to destroy.

Perfection ... the Black Planet ... Terra remembered the obsidian orb dominating the night sky, the teeming voices in her brain as she communicated with the self-replicating nanites of which the planet was composed, the screaming that filled her head as she persuaded them to turn on each other ... She blanched and shuddered.

– And of course, it was the Before who goaded your chums the G’grk into invading the peaceful nations of Fnrr in search of the key to space travel. They were supposed to be a marauding interplanetary armada by now, laying waste to hundreds of worlds, instead of which, here they are, keeping the peace and defending their neighbours, and all because of you. No wonder you’re not very popular in Unspace.

– The Before are the Occluded Ones? Terra asked, remembering the invisible overlords whom the G’grk worshipped – and to whom she’d nearly been sacrificed.

– That’s how the G’grk know them, certainly, said Not-Vstj. They’ve gone by countless names on countless planets over the aeons. Some cultures hear them and worship them as a single entity, others as many, but it’s all them. The Before let every culture they target think that they’re the chosen ones; their favourites. The Before urge them into battle, assuring them that they’re on their side and as such they can’t lose, but of course they’re saying exactly the same thing to the other side as well.

– And now the time has come for us to die, pondered Terra glumly. They’re exterminating us by getting us to exterminate each other. What can we do? How can we possibly resist this?

– It’s difficult, admitted Not-Vstj. The hold the Before have over their followers is strong. But if it could be broken ... if they could understand just how little the Before care for them, how they’re being controlled and exploited ... the hold could be broken.

– Can’t you tell them? asked Terra. You’re about as powerful as them, psychically speaking. Can’t you put that thought into everyone’s head?

Not-Vstj’s face fell. – We’ve tried, he said. On several worlds, far from here, we tried to communicate with the warring factions, to persuade them that the Before were not on their side, or indeed anyone’s side, and that they were fighting for nothing, but their minds dismissed the notion as fleeting weakness and doubt. We couldn’t challenge the conviction that the Before had established in their consciousness.

– So this is it, then, said Terra in despair. This is how the universe dies. A thought occurred to her. How long have you known this was going to happen?

– We thought the Before might be planning something like this, admitted Not-Vstj, it was just a matter of knowing when they’d move things on to this final phase. We’ve been visiting some of the more rational, sceptical civilisations in the hope that they’d be the ones to hold out the longest, and helping them to fortify themselves.

– You haven’t been here, said Terra, with a hint of resentment.

– Yes we have! protested Not-Vstj. The first time we met! We left you the formula for the Preparation!

There was an awkward silence.

– The soup? asked Terra.

– Well I suppose it was a bit like soup ... It was a formula we contrived using only natural ingredients from this planet’s own biosphere which perfectly complemented the body chemistry of the population. If taken regularly it heightens the senses, speeds up reaction time and enhances strength and resilience. Has it been working?

– Erm ... began Terra. Oh dear, she thought, how to put this ...

– Here’s the thing, said Terra. Everyone was so disappointed that you just disappeared without making any sort of declaration or announcement that they just sort of ignored the inscription you left carved into the stone floor ...

– Ignored it? replied Not-Vstj.

– Well, nearly everyone. I think a friend of mine made a note of it and has been making up the recipe ever since. But he’s the only one.

– One of them? said Not-Vstj indignantly. We give the Fnrrns the secret to perfect health and only ONE of them actually tries it? He seemed momentarily speechless, then muttered bitterly, Honestly, I don’t know why we bother sometimes.

– I’m sorry, said Terra, I would have tried to make it myself, only ...

– It wouldn’t have worked on you anyway, being a human, said Not-Vstj. Your presence on this planet came as something of a surprise. We’d been trying to keep the human race in ignorance for as long as possible. You see, the interesting thing about humans is that you’re harder to convince than most species, but once convinced, you believe things more strongly and unshakeably than just about anyone. You could be the Before’s ultimate warriors, or their undoing. We’d been holding off contacting the human race so as not to attract the Before’s attention to you; the longer you went unnoticed, the safer you’d have been.

– Now we’re in danger like everyone else, said Terra. Is there no way we can break the Before’s influence? Let everyone know that they’re being used and betrayed?

Not-Vstj thought for a moment, then: – Not unless they hear it from the Before themselves. We can try to tell them, you can try to tell them, but they’ll dismiss it all as lies. That’s how belief works. But if they could know the Before’s REAL thoughts, if only for a second ... if they could feel just how much contempt the Before truly feel for all of us, that they despise everyone equally, it might snap them out of it. And that may be where you come into all this at last, young Terra.

– Me?

– You may be about to get the chance to strike the deciding blow in this war. One way ... or the other.

Terra became aware of a strange vibration. She couldn’t be sure if it was just the dread implication of what Not-Vstj had just said making her tremble, or something external. Not-Vstj smiled and raised his hand ...

– It’s up to you now, young human. His form shimmered, glowed ... He began to resemble the FaZoon as she’d seen them before, a towering figure of light and energy. As he faded away, Terra realised that the vibration she was feeling was that of time slowly, slowly starting up again ...

A low droning sound filled the room; it seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere in particular. With a twinge of amusement, Terra realised that the low droning was in fact Lbbp’s voice, resuming the syllable he’d been in the middle of when time had slowed to a halt some minutes ago (from her point of view, at least; a few picoseconds ago from everyone else’s). The drone raised in pitch, the vibration became stronger and stronger, she felt the air moving across her skin (she’d never really noticed this sensation before) and the movement of her friends, and indeed of reality in general, slowly returned to normal.

– ... rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrreesssponnnsssibility to look after the whole – TERRA! WHERE ARE YOU?

Lbbp broke off mid-sentence and looked around the room in panic. It dawned on Terra that she was no longer in the chair in which she’d been sitting when her FaZoon visitor had arrived, and that as far as anyone else in the room was concerned, she’d just vanished into thin air.

– I’m over here, said Terra matter-of-factly.

Her friends wheeled round at the sound of her words to gaze at her with wide, startled eyes.

Pktk was the first to find his voice. – What just happened, Terra?

– I’m not sure, said Terra, but I THINK I just found out what’s going on.

– What’s going on where? asked Fthfth. And how DID you get over there without anyone seeing?

– Well, began Terra – but before she could continue, a blaring alarm sounded throughout the building.

Pktk leapt to his feet. – It’s the incursion alert, he said. Something just entered the upper atmosphere right above us. We’re under attack.

3.9

– Seriously, I need to talk to you, panted Terra as the band of friends ran out into the square.

Pktk was listening to his comm. Lbbp and Billy were listening to Pktk’s end of the conversation and trying not to listen to Fthfth who was trying to talk to Pktk, and nobody was listening to Terra.

– Single vessel, said Pktk, looking up. Nothing the EPDI can identify. It’s broadcasting distress signals and coming down pretty hard. They think it’s going to land about thirty clicks south of the city. Come on, we need to see this.

And without looking over his shoulder Pktk activated his bubble and leapt into the air, swinging southwards.

– It could be a trap! Lbbp called after him.

– Yeah, I know! said Pktk with an excited grin. He hurtled away.

– Who put him in charge? frowned Fthfth.

– He’s being a reckless fool and putting himself in unnecessary danger, isn’t he? pondered Lbbp.

– Yes, replied Terra.

– We’re going to go after him, aren’t we? said Lbbp with an air of weary resignation.

– Obviously, said Terra. She activated her bubble and set off after Pktk.

Watching the spires of the city roll away beneath her, slowly giving way to purple fields, Terra asked herself whether now was the time to share her revelation. Thinking further, she wondered if there would in fact be such a time. Her inadvertent disappearing trick might lend her story a bit of credibility, but were her friends really prepared for the enormity of what she’d learned? And if the information was hers to distribute, why had the FaZoon chosen to tell only her?

She resolved to let this new crisis play out, then pick an opportune moment to tell someone. Billy, probably, she decided. He’d had to open his mind so wide in the few years she’d known him that this new universe-altering factlet should just slide right in alongside everything else.

– Why didn’t Steinberg’s grid stop it? asked Fthfth.

– Maybe they had the right clearance code, shouted Pktk. Maybe they’re just very persuasive.

They were flying in a ragged formation now above what looked to Terra like cultivated protein fields. Pktk came to a jolting stop and hovered, rotating slowly and looking from his slate to the skies and back again.

– I wish they hadn’t set the clouds so low today, he said. Can’t see a thing.

Lbbp swung around behind Pktk. – Protein fields still need rain, he said. Life goes on, even when there’s an Everywar on.

Billy grinned sheepishly. It was some very minor consolation that, even if the universe was ending, the name he’d accidentally come up with for that ending did seem to have caught on.

– Where IS it? muttered Pktk impatiently, his eyes scanning the clouds.

Terra, meanwhile, was gazing distractedly at Billy. I will tell him, she thought. He can handle it. Then we’ll tell the others together.

Billy noticed Terra smiling at him and felt a warm glow. Even after all they’d been through together, just being the recipient of her attention made him feel special. Then, to Billy’s surprise, her expression changed to one of fright and then fierce resolve, within a fraction of a second. She propelled her bubble towards him.

– Terra, what … began Billy, but he was cut off. Terra had deactivated her bubble just in time to stop it bouncing into his own. She flew through the glittering sphere of energy and cannoned into Billy, wrapping her arms around him. Then, to his alarm, she felt for the bubble generator on Billy’s belt and deactivated that as well. They began to plummet towards the fields below.

Billy screamed as the two friends tumbled through the air, turning over and over ... As he fell, he saw a huge, gleaming, silver, bird-like spaceship scything through the clouds and passing straight through the patch of sky that he’d occupied a second earlier.

Terra switched Billy’s bubble back on first and then her own; they stopped, bouncing, a hundred metres or so above the ground. They watched as the huge silver craft fell, sputtering retro thrusters blasting intermittently in an attempt to slow its descent. It hit the ground and skidded to a grinding, crunching, roaring halt, leaving a broad scar across the fields.

The friends gazed at the wreck as it lay inert, venting vapour through invisible apertures on its smooth, shining surface.

Billy found his voice first. – Thanks, he said. Terra winked at him.

Fthfth found hers next. – What’s THAT?

Pktk stared open mouthed. – I’ve never seen anything like it, he said.

Lbbp drifted down towards Terra and Billy. – Are you two alright? Terra was about to answer when she was cut off by a deep rumbling of gravity engines.

Fthfth snorted. – They took their time ... She gestured towards four blue G’grk spheres, flying single file towards the crash site. The spheres diverged and set down in a square formation, creating a perimeter around the wreck. Hatches popped open and armoured drones began to emerge.

Terra noticed that Pktk had already begun to descend towards the perimeter. – I’m not sure that’s ... she began, but he was already too far away. Sighing, she set off in pursuit. She had far more experience of dealing with the G’grk that Pktk did, not that he would have enjoyed having this pointed out to him. The rest of the party exchanged what-can-you-do glances and followed her.

By the time Terra’s feet touched the ground, Pktk was already engaged in a furious argument with a G’grk officer.

– Civilians will remain outside the perimeter! the officer insisted.

– I’m not a civilian, retorted Pktk.

– You sort of ARE a civilian, Pktk, Billy pointed out. In fact there’s no sort of about it – you’re a civilian.

Pktk chewed his lip. – Well I’m not an ORDINARY civilian.

Billy stood behind Terra. ‘Another alien ship crash lands and here we are again to see it,’ he murmured to her. ‘Do we think that’s a coincidence?’

‘Well in fairness we did come chasing after this one,’ she replied, ‘but I’m beginning to think that there’s no such thing as a coincidence any more. In fact I’m not sure there ever was ...’

A sharp hissing sound silenced them all. They turned to look at the ship. Some of the G’grk drones’ hands instinctively went to their holstered pulse-orbs but they paused at a gesture from the officer.

A door-sized portal had opened, iris-fashion, on the side of the stricken vessel. As the assembled Fnrrns and humans watched, blue-robed figures began to emerge from the portal. Ten emerged in all; they stood silently in two rows, either side of the opening. There was something very familiar about those robes, Terra thought.

She’d just remembered where she’d seen such garments before when the tall, white-robed figure appeared at the portal and proceeded, half walking half gliding, between the two rows of acolytes and straight towards them. No, not towards them; towards HER.

The G’grk officer and his drones could only look on, as if immobilised with fascination, as the white-robed figure strode (or floated) purposefully towards the human girl and stopped right in front of her. Bone-white hands reached up and lowered the hood of the white robes, revealing a bone-white hairless head and a serenely smiling face.

– My child, said the Kwad Shar Chen. I knew I’d find you here.

3.10

PKTK SAT ON THE purple grass, took a swig from his flask of FaZoon soup, and grunted.

In the hours since the Kwad Shar Chen’s unexpected landing he’d watched the arrival of four more G’grk spheres (bearing, it seemed to him, rather more senior personnel than had the first to arrive), then a delegation from the Preceptorate, then another from the Forum, then the appearance of a very irate protein farmer demanding to know who was going to pay for the damage to his fields (he’d addressed his complaint to a G’grk drone who had seemed utterly perplexed as to how to respond, and who at one point in the conversation was visibly contemplating just shooting him) – and then, finally, the Chancellor herself, attended by a small party of armed custodians. Pktk had wondered at what point the Preceptor would show up, before remembering with a pang of sadness that Lbbp was Preceptor now, and that as such the Preceptor had been here all along.

Pktk was now wondering why all these dignitaries were prepared to drag themselves out here to the middle of nowhere to meet the Kwad Shar Chen, and why it didn’t seem to have occurred to anyone to ask her to come into the city. After a while he came to the conclusion that everyone just really wanted to get a look at the Kwad Shar Chen’s admittedly fabulous, if currently non-operational, spaceship.

Pktk knew his spaceships, and he’d never seen anything like her. It wasn’t just that she seemed to be moulded out of a single piece of gleaming metal, it was also that she didn’t appear to have any means of propulsion. No visible engines, no protruding thrusters (the retro blasts that had slowed its descent had just seemed to emanate from arbitrary points on its surface, he’d noted), nothing at all. Whatever means this ship used to move itself through space, it depended on a technology that was completely unknown to him.

The ship’s defences, on the other hand, seemed to leave quite a bit to be desired. There was an angry-looking gash on its rear fuselage, fringed with scorching. According to a story that had filtered back to Ptkt via an unusually talkative G’grk drone, this was where the ship had been hit by phase-cannon fire upon being ambushed by hostile ships of unknown origin. It had managed to outrun its attackers but had burned out its (mysterious) propulsion system in the process, before limping to the nearest friendly planet – Fnrr – using the last of its energy reserves.

Pktk mused idly on this as the orange sun inched towards the eastern horizon. He’d have given anything to be invited inside the vessel, to speak to its crew (assuming it had one) and get a look at its inner workings.

But he had not been invited. Only Terra, Lbbp, Billy and the Chancellor had been. They were in there now. Pktk considered trying to get a message to Terra, to feed some questions to her, but he imagined she’d be busy. The Kwad Shar Chen had seemed especially pleased to see Terra, almost to the point of seeming only dimly aware of everyone else’s presence.

Pktk yawned. His sleep patterns were all over the place. The stress of the war was affecting everyone, of course, but Pktk had an additional impediment to bear. One he hadn’t told anyone else about.

The dreams were getting worse.

Every night his subconscious mind was leading him off on some mission of vengeance, against people who’d offended or annoyed him in the past; imaginary foes, or, in some cases, utterly blameless individuals whom his memory seemed to have selected at random. Each dream ended the same way; with Pktk delivering a savage beating, deserved or otherwise. He would usually wake up at this point, staring and hyperventilating.

Two things really scared him now: firstly, the dreams themselves were becoming more vivid and realistic and each seemed to imprint itself more indelibly upon his memory than the last. When Pktk looked back upon these fictitious incidents, they felt as real as his actual physical experiences. As if his mind couldn’t tell the difference. As if it didn’t want to.

But what really terrified him was the prospect of this confusion starting to apply in both directions – of the rage and fury of his dream-self infecting his conscious mind. What if his mother were to wake him in the middle of one of his imaginary outbursts? What would he do to her? Would he be able to stop himself? Would he even try?

The sun dipped below the horizon; the fading light reflected across the gleaming ship’s surface and rendered it a deep bronze colour. Pktk rose to his feet. Whatever was going on in there, it was obvious he wouldn’t hear about it until the morning.

He activated his bubble and set off towards home, steeling himself for whatever horrors his subconscious had in store for him that night.

3.11

TERRA HATED TO ADMIT it, but the food she was currently enjoying was possibly the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted.

Fnrrn cuisine – or at least, Mlmln cuisine – was, by and large, functional in nature, devoted more to nutrition than to sensory pleasure. It had come as quite a shock to Terra, upon her return to Earth a few years previously, to discover that human cuisine concerned itself almost entirely with sensory pleasure, with little or no thought given to nutrition at all. She’d wondered occasionally if it might be possible to strike some happy medium between these two extremes: something which delighted the palate and satisfied the appetite while providing the body with everything it needed (and nothing that it didn’t).

Now, as she spooned another chunk of the crumbly golden whatever-it-was into her mouth, she knew she’d found it at last. The taste and texture were like music on her tongue, while somehow she could tell that her every nutritional need was being met in full. This stuff was just pure happiness in a bowl.

The Kwad Shar Chen observed Terra’s pleasure and smiled. – It’s called jasalesh, she said. It’s a naturally sweet cereal crop which grows in abundance on the lower slopes of Mount Lapam on the garden planet Tromelan. The Tromelanians harvest it and toast it gently with a slight hint of a spice called ceora. It’s their staple food. She leant forward in mock conspiratorial fashion. That’s probably why Tromelan hasn’t had a war in sixteen centuries.

This was met with a tinkle of appreciative laughter by the dinner guests.

Lbbp, the Chancellor, Terra and Billy were seated around a circular white table in the dining room of the Kwad Shar Chen’s ship, which was, she had informed them, called the Exemplar. The Chancellor’s two bodyguards stood a few metres away at the chamber’s door; they were doing their best to appear tense and vigilant but, like their charge and her fellow guests, they were finding the whole occasion extremely relaxing. Meanwhile, the Kwad Shar Chen’s faithful blue-robed followers attended the party smoothly and efficiently, like immaculately trained waiting staff.

Elsewhere in the ship, more of the Kwad Shar Chen’s acolytes (Terra wasn’t sure how many there were, but there seemed to be as many as the Kwad Shar Chen needed at any given moment) were hard at work repairing the damage to the vessel. They had been offered the help of Mlml’s finest spaceship technicians but this had been declined; the ship was, it had been implied, far too advanced for anyone on this planet to be of assistance.

Terra felt a pang of regret as she finished the jasalesh and a blue-sleeved arm whisked the empty bowl away, but then, she reminded herself, that had only been the first course. Her taste buds boggled at the thought of what might follow.

Only Billy, Terra noted, seemed ill at ease. The Kwad Shar Chen was holding forth on the extraordinary delights of the garden planet Tromelan (to which she had evidently paid a recent visit) with the party’s rapt attention, so Terra took the opportunity to whisper to her friend.

‘Are you okay?’

Billy shifted uncomfortably. ‘I don’t know,’ he whispered in reply. ‘It’s just ... ever since I came aboard, I’ve been feeling this weird ... well ... sadness.’

Terra’s eyes widened. ‘What are you sad about?’ she asked, her face creasing with worry.

‘No,’ said Billy. ‘I don’t feel sad, I feel SADNESS. Like someone else is sad, and everyone’s ignoring them.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Terra.

‘Neither do I,’ replied Billy glumly.

– So the Everywar has not yet touched Tromelan? enquired the Chancellor, as the blue-robed attendants placed a bowl of wonderfully fragrant turquoise-coloured soup in front of each guest.

A look of distaste passed across the Kwad Shar Chen’s features, the first time in the whole evening that she had looked anything less than entirely serene. – The Everywar, she muttered, such a vulgar term.

Billy thought about protesting but decided not to bother.

– In answer to your question, Madam Chancellor, no, the Tromelanians have not yet been afflicted by the sickness which pervades our galaxy, the Kwad Shar Chen continued.

– You think it’s a sickness, then? Lbbp’s interest had been piqued. How would such a sickness be transmitted? Culturally? Linguistically? How does madness spread from one world to the next?

I know, thought Terra as she tasted the soup (it was exquisite, of course). I know how it’s spreading; they’re doing it to us on purpose. Something told Terra that this was not information to be shared at this particular gathering.

– Who knows, replied the Kwad Shar Chen. There was a moment’s pause as she took a spoonful of the soup and seemed to contemplate the question further, then: Perhaps this is not a sickness after all. Perhaps this is simply the universe’s way of cleansing itself.

It seemed to Terra that the temperature in the chamber suddenly dropped by quite a few degrees. An agonising silence fell over the party, which Lbbp couldn’t help but break.

– Excuse me – CLEANSING itself?

– Yes, said the Kwad Shar Chen matter-of-factly. Marach Na holds that all living things are connected, like cells in a single organism. Perhaps our universe has become diseased, corrupted. Perhaps what we now observe is simply the immune system of the cosmos in operation: purging the infection so that the universe may ... heal. Her golden eyes fixed upon Lbbp’s, as if daring him to disagree.

Lbbp held the Kwad Shar Chen’s gaze. He had an answer; he was just struggling to find a way of phrasing it so as not to cause an interplanetary incident.

To Lbbp’s immense relief, a loud pinging noise disturbed his thought process. Looking round, he saw that it came from the comm being held by one of the Chancellor’s bodyguards.

– Madam Chancellor, the bodyguard said, the EPDI have declared an orange alert. Six incoming ships; they’re ignoring our attempts to contact them.

The Kwad Shar Chen looked round in alarm. – Six ships? she said. It was a fleet of six battleships which attacked us. Could they have followed us here? She turned to the Chancellor in alarm. My friends, she said, taking the Chancellor’s hands in her own. My dear friends ... Have I led them here? Have I brought the war to your world? She put a hand to her forehead. Can you ever forgive me?

The Chancellor spoke calmly. – Don’t be distressed, she said. This day was always going to come, and we’ve prepared for it as best we can. She turned to Lbbp. Get back to the Preceptorate. Contact the Ymn scientist. Tell him to prepare the force grid. I must return to the Forum and liaise with Grand Marshal Zst’kh.

The Chancellor and Lbbp rose from their chairs, as did Terra and Billy.

– Wait, said the Kwad Shar Chen. Must you all leave? You have your duties to attend to, but surely the Earth children can stay? I have so many questions to ask them about their world and we’ve barely even started dinner. She gazed fixedly into the Chancellor’s eyes, as she had done Lbbp’s.

Please don’t say yes, thought Terra. Amazing though this dinner is, don’t say yes.

– Of course, replied the Chancellor. You, she said to one of her bodyguards, stay here and make sure the children get home safely.

Oh great, thought Terra. She turned to Lbbp. – Can’t we come with you?

Lbbp was about to answer when the Chancellor spoke instead. – Now, young Terra, she said quietly, I understand that you want to help, but right now the best service you could render would be to stay here and keep Her Holiness company. You’ll be as safe here as anywhere else in Mlml. She turned to the Kwad Shar Chen. Won’t they?

– I will protect them with my life, as will my attendants, assured the Kwad Shar Chen, staring deeply once more into Lbbp’s eyes.

– It’s settled, then, replied the Chancellor.

She ushered Lbbp out. He cast a glance over his shoulder. – I- I’ll see you later, he said, and was gone, the chamber door sealing itself shut.

– Thank you so much for agreeing to stay, said the Kwad Shar Chen. Terra was about to reply that she’d done no such thing, but a groan from Billy distracted her. Turning to her friend, she saw that he was clutching his stomach.

– Oh dear, said the Kwad Shar Chen. I do hope you’re not feeling unwell. The next course is roast tobor plant with mashed nephs. If you’ve never had it before, you’re—

‘What’s the matter, Billy?’ asked Terra, cutting her off. ‘Is the sad feeling getting worse?

‘It’s not sadness any more,’ said Billy, his face pale. ‘It’s fear.’

– Your friend is extraordinarily sensitive, observed the Kwad Shar Chen. Which reminds me ... could you come here a moment?

This was addressed to the bodyguard who had remained behind. Obligingly, he crossed from the doorway to the table, whereupon the Kwad Shar Chen stood up and whispered something in his ear.

The guard’s face went blank. He stared blindly ahead of him. Then he smiled, turned, went to the door, waited for it to open, and walked through.

– Where is he going? asked Terra as the door closed behind him.

– He’s off to get his blue robe, of course, said the Kwad Shar Chen cheerfully. I’m sure we have one in his size. Now, she went on as Terra and Billy exchanged looks of alarm, as I was saying, if you’ve never tried tobor before, you are in for a real treat ...

3.12

– Admiral, I’m picking up multiple signals from inside our home system. St’krg’s voice was calm but tinged with concern.

– Drop our speed to sub-light, said Admiral K’zsht.

The Blue Star’s hull vibrations descended to a gentle throb.

– Tell me what you see, said Admiral K’zsht.

The helm officer checked the screen in front of her.

– Ships, Admiral. Sixty, perhaps seventy vessels in stationary orbit above the dark side of Krrz’t.

Krrz’t was the G’grk name for the fifth planet in Fnrr’s home system. The helm officer tapped on her screen and the image appeared on the holographic display for all on the bridge to see.

There, sheltered behind the yellow gas giant Krrz’t, was a bizarre patchwork armada: scores of vessels of differing shapes, sizes and designs but every one of them heavily armed. Sleek warbirds alongside brutal rectangular gunships. The craft had come from all corners of the galaxy and now here they were, lying in wait behind Fnrr’s sister planet. There was an invasion force on their homeworld’s doorstep ... and no-one on Fnrr even knew they were there.

– Hold our position. Stealth protocols. We don’t want them seeing us, said Captain H’skgh.

The message was relayed to the rest of the Blue Fleet and the Blue Star came to a dead stop.

– Orders, Admiral?

K’zsht heard Captain H’skgh’s request but had no answer yet. He stared at the image of the armada as it flickered in front of him.

– Do we engage?

– Five of us against all of them, muttered K’zsht. We wouldn’t last long.

– I’ve got another reading, said St’krg. Six small vessels, heading our way from the inner system. They’re heading away from Fnrr and back to Krrz’t.

K’zsht watched as the six scout ships rejoined the armada. What had they been up to?

– What are they waiting for? St’krg pondered aloud, her brow furrowing.

– I don’t know, said K’zsht. Can we get a message to Fnrr? Warn them without the message being intercepted?

– We can try, said H’skgh. We can encrypt the message so as not to be understood but even so, the transmission might alert the alien fleet to our presence. He swallowed hard as he looked at the fearsome weapons array bulging from the bow of one of the vessels.

– Do it, ordered K’zsht. Meanwhile keep us stationary and silent. If they advance on Fnrr we’ll engage them from behind. Surprise them and maybe slow them down a little.

We wouldn’t last long, thought K’zsht. But we might last long enough.

3.13

THE SIGNAL FROM THE Blue Star passed by the hidden alien armada without being intercepted. It was received by the interplanetary communications array at the EPDI base in T’krr and relayed to the base’s master computer ... where it stopped. The computer did not pass the message on to Professor Steinberg, Grand Marshal Zst’kh or any of their staff. It was about to do this when it found itself overruled. Unsure as to what to do with the message, it left it sitting in an execution stack for a while before the same entity which had prevented it from passing the message on instructed that the message be deleted.

The EPDI’s master computer did not question this instruction; it wasn’t sophisticated or self-aware enough to do so. A few nanoseconds after the message had been received, it had been erased and forgotten.

The computer then received instructions to disregard any further communications from the Blue Star. It did not question this either.

Business went on as usual at EPDI headquarters.

3.14

LBBP GAZED DISTRACTEDLY AROUND the walls of his office and wondered what he was doing there.

He remembered arriving; drifting over the streets of Hrrng and entering via a high window in the Preceptorate’s spiral tower as was his custom, but he couldn’t seem to recall why he’d decided to return to the office or what he’d been doing previously.

He’d been at dinner – a very good dinner, that much he could remember – the Chancellor had been there, so had Terra and Billy ... Were Terra and Billy with him now? He looked around absent mindedly but couldn’t see them. He noticed that he wasn’t worried by their absence; in some corner of his mind he was slightly surprised to notice that he wasn’t worried, but then the rest of his mind told that part of his mind not to worry about that either. He sat down.

It might have been a few moments or half a day later when his comm started pinging. He answered it. It was Fthfth.

– Is Terra there? asked Fthfth. Pktk’s been on at me to ask her about that ship but I can’t get hold of her.

– She’s still in the ship, said Lbbp calmly. They’re finishing their dinner.

– They’re still there but you’re not? pursued Fthfth, her voice now tinged with concern. You left them there?

Yes, thought Lbbp, I left them there. Why did I leave them there?

The corner of his mind that had been expressing alarm was growing ever more audible, despite the efforts of the rest of his mind to hush it.

– I ... think I did ... said Lbbp. I don’t know why.

– Do you really trust the Kwad Shar Chen that much? asked Fthfth incredulously.

Yes, yes I do, said one part of Lbbp’s mind. She has the welfare of all living things at heart. Terra couldn’t be in a safer place.

NO, YOU DON’T, responded the other part of Lbbp’s mind, which was finally bringing the rest of his mind around to its way of thinking.

– No, no I don’t, said Lbbp firmly. We need to get her out of there.

– We’ll meet you at the ship, replied Fthfth. Lbbp had already activated his bubble and was leaping from his office window.

3.15

DESSERT HAD ARRIVED. IT looked and smelled amazing, but neither Terra nor Billy had any appetite at all as the reality of their imprisonment began to sink in.

– We need to go now, said Terra firmly.

– Indeed, said the Kwad Shar Chen between mouthfuls of dessert. We all need to go. We have much to do, you and I. But eat up, you’ll need your strength. This is cream of yanta, from ...

– STOP IT! shouted Terra, rising to her feet. Stop it with all this ‘gracious host, benefactor of the universe’ act. You’re holding us hostage, now drop the false friendliness and tell us what you want.

The Kwad Shar Chen put down her spoon and smiled coldly. – Close, she said, but you’re not the hostages. Come with me, I have something to show you.

She stood up; the door dilated open and two blue-robed attendants entered the room. Peering beneath the hood of one, Terra recognised him as the bodyguard who’d been protecting them just a few moments earlier.

Terra looked over to Billy, who still looked tense and unwell. ‘I don’t think we have a choice,’ she said, and went to help him to his feet. ‘Is it still there?’ she whispered to him as she helped him up. ‘The fear?’

‘It’s changing,’ he whispered back. ‘It’s more like resentment now. I don’t know where it’s coming from.’

Terra looked up to see the Kwad Shar Chen and her attendants waiting expectantly by the door. – What? she said with a defiance that surprised even her. What is it you want to show me?

– Our shared destiny, replied the Kwad Shar Chen.

Terra burst out laughing.

– Not destiny AGAIN, she said. Why is it that everyone who goes on about ‘destiny’ is such a total sh’znt?

It’s not quite the most vulgar word in the Mlmln language, but close. Even Billy was startled to hear it come from Terra’s lips; he didn’t think she’d ever spoken the word in his presence before. The Kwad Shar Chen’s serene features began to harden with anger but Terra went on.

– Do you think you’re the first person who’s come to this place to fulfil their ‘destiny’? Did you hear about the Gfjk-Hhh on your planet? He was all about destiny, right up until he died, gibbering for mercy when he realised he was just a posturing idiot who’d doomed himself. And before him, I met a G’grk warlord called Sk’shk who was convinced it was his destiny to ravage this world and many others. Last I saw of him was his severed head rolling in the dust on a desert moon, so fine, by all means, lead on. I can’t WAIT to see what your destiny looks like.

The Kwad Shar Chen stared back in silence, her face set with contained rage. Then a thin smile spread across her lips. – I don’t think you’re going to like it, she said icily.

Two attendants of whose presence Terra and Billy had been previously unaware now seized their shoulders and hauled them to their feet. The Kwad Shar Chen turned and swept through the circular doorway, and the two young humans found themselves being frogmarched after her.

***

– It’s funny, said the Kwad Shar Chen as she led the two youngsters down a gleaming white corridor, that you have such a problem with the concept of destiny.

Terra didn’t think ‘funny’ was a word which could be applied to anything that was happening at that moment. She walked on sullenly as the Kwad Shar Chen continued.

– It’s just I’ve always thought that was one of the most annoying things about my job. The fact that my destiny has always been clear and defined. She stopped and turned to face Terra.

– You see, most beings in the universe – and I’ve met more of them than anyone else – most beings spend their lives wondering what their destiny is, what their place might be in the grand scheme of existence. Not me. My destiny was written millions of years before I was born. Not that I was ‘born’, as such, but you see what I mean. She looked into Terra’s eyes. Haven’t you ever wondered what your destiny is?

Terra stared right back. – I don’t have a destiny, she said. I make my own choices. Where my life is headed is entirely up to me.

The Kwad Shar Chen looked at her admiringly, as did Billy. – Oh, well done! said the Kwad Shar Chen. You have been raised to be a fierce, independent little creature, haven’t you? I imagine your parents are very proud.

She paused in front of a large circular doorway.

– Shall we ask them?

The doorway dilated open to reveal a dimly lit chamber. As the Kwad Shar Chen passed through the opening, the chamber was flooded with light.

Terra stepped through the doorway. In the centre of the chamber there stood two crystal pillars, surrounded by a layer of mist. As the mist cleared, she saw that the pillars were hollow, that solid shapes were contained within. She took another step forward, her stomach tightening. The shapes were figures, bodies ... and with a sudden lurching dread, she recognised them.

– NO! screamed Terra. She threw herself at the nearer of the two upright crystal sarcophagi – the one that contained her mother – and hammered on its surface.

– Careful, admonished the Kwad Shar Chen, these stasis pods are delicate.

Terra turned on the Kwad Shar Chen. – What have you done to them? Let them out! LET THEM OUT!

– I will, I will, said the Kwad Shar Chen calmly.

– They’re not dead ...? asked Billy, fearing the reply.

– Of course not, said the Kwad Shar Chen. They’re frozen. Whether they’re ever unfrozen depends on how well young Terra here behaves.

Terra sank to her knees at the foot of the caskets.

– How long have you had them? asked Billy, kneeling beside Terra and putting his arms around her. He noticed that Terra neither wept nor sobbed. He sensed instead a steely resolve building within her.

– Oh, a while, said the Kwad Shar Chen. I took them from right under the noses of your absurdly primitive authorities and left two imposters in their place, along with a gift for the whole human race.

Terra shrugged off Billy’s embrace and sprang to her feet. She stared at the Kwad Shar Chen, her eyes full of cold fury.

– When all this is over I’m going to kill you, said Terra, and Billy found that he did not doubt this.

The Kwad Shar Chen smiled. – For you, she said, all this will never be over. Now, she added briskly, we must get under way. Our masters await, and they’re very anxious to meet you.

3.16

PKTK LANDED IN THE protein field a few hundred metres from the crashed ship. He looked to the sky. Where were they?

With a glitter of gravity bubbles and a rustle of grass, Lbbp and Fthfth landed between Pktk and the ship.

– I got your message, said Pktk. What are we doing here?

Fthfth ran across to him. – Terra and Billy are still in there, and they’re in danger, she said breathlessly.

Pktk’s eyes brightened; if this was a rescue mission he might just get to see the inside of the ship after all. Then he had a thought. – How do you know they’re in danger?

– The Kwad Shar Chen used ... some sort of brainwashing trick to convince me to leave them there, said Lbbp. I knew it was a bad idea but I did it anyway. Why would she need to trick me if she meant them no harm?

– Good point, said Pktk. How do we get in?

Fthfth’s eyes scanned the surface of the wreck. – How about the damaged section? Are those breaches in the hull big enough to squeeze through?

– Might be, said Pktk, and before Fthfth or Lbbp could respond he was marching across the field towards the ship.

– Keep low! urged Lbbp. There might be guards!

But as they approached the ship, it became apparent that there were no guards. Not only that, thought Lbbp, but there was nobody to be seen at all. They’d been told that the Kwad Shar Chen’s people were busy repairing the vessel, but it was obvious that no work had been done at all. The scorched gashes on the ship’s surface looked exactly as they had when it had landed.

– Hang on, said Lbbp, why is nobody ...

He fell silent as an eerie blue glow bathed the damaged section of the ship. Shielding their eyes, Lbbp, Fthfth and Pktk could see that the metal was softening, bending, warping, liquifying before their eyes. It flowed into the breaches in the ship’s hull.

– It’s ... it’s healing itself, said Pktk, awestruck.

The glow faded. There was no trace of damage.

The ground began to vibrate, at first just a tingle beneath their feet which soon built into a tremor. They looked at each other in confusion then Fthfth said – Look!

The ship was rising into the air, smoothly and silently.

– But ... Terra’s in there! said Lbbp. He stared, despairing, as the silver craft rose into the evening sky and then, still without making a sound, vanished suddenly from view.

***

Terra and Billy had been conducted back to the Exemplar’s dining room. Terra stared fixedly at the white surface of the table, her fists clenching and unclenching. Billy stared at Terra, at once aching with sympathy and fearful of what vengeance she might be contemplating. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her so angry. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone so angry.

The door dilated open and the Kwad Shar Chen wafted in. – I just thought you’d like to see something before we leave the system, she said.

One of the chamber walls faded to transparency; they could see Fnrr, a shrinking orange dot with its ring of moons. And looming up now, the vast yellow sphere of Krsht (as it was known on Mlml), the fifth planet in the Tftk system.

As they passed the golden gas giant, their awe turned to horror. Lurking on its far side, Terra and Billy saw a vast fleet of fearsomely beweaponed battleships. Terra looked at the Kwad Shar Chen, who was gazing at the fleet approvingly.

– They’ve been so patient, she said. Waiting there, just a short distance away from that planet of yours, so defenceless and ripe for plunder. Admirable self-control.

She turned to Terra. – You see I couldn’t have anything happen to Fnrr while you were there, and CERTAINLY not while I was there too, but now we’re safe and sound, so ... She turned to face the opposite wall, upon which a screen now appeared. A scarred, leathery alien face turned into view; behind him they could see others like him,

– Captain Tosk, said the Kwad Shar Chen. Fnrr is all yours. Happy hunting.

The alien face split in a ghastly grin, then disappeared.

Terra stared balefully at the Kwad Shar Chen, who smiled back at her then turned to Billy. – I think you’ll enjoy this next part, she said. We’re about to engage the wormhole drive.

Without any intermediate transition, the stars and planets blurred into a milky grey void. The Exemplar was now travelling faster than any ship in the galaxy; faster than time itself.

3.17

THE BLUE STAR’S SENSOR array did not register the Exemplar as it passed. There was no device known to the technology of this galaxy which could have tracked its progress. But the sensors did now pick up movement, and relayed this to the helm officer St’krg’s readout panel.

– The armada is moving out of orbit, Admiral, she said, her voice combining fear, relief and excitement.

– Drop stealth protocols, said K’zsht. Maximum infra-light. Try to get between them and Fnrr. We’re going to make this as difficult as possible for them.

The crew exchanged bright-eyed glances. They were going into battle once more, and this time they were fighting to save their home. This was why they’d joined K’zsht’s mission. This was what being a G’grk was all about.

The Blue Star’s engines – and those of its sister ships – blazed into life.

3.18

– I don’t understand, said Steinberg. They’re already inside Krrz’t’s orbital ellipse. Why didn’t the incursion buoys pick them up at the system’s outer rim?

He was gazing at the control centre’s holographic display. A diagram showed the Tftk system, and the swarm of battleships now heading toward Fnrr.

– Your machines have failed, said General Ch’zst.

Steinberg tried to think of something to say in defence of himself and his machines, but there was no denying it. Ch’zst was right. They had failed.

Steinberg rubbed his forehead. – Uh… maybe… maybe they’re equipped with some new stealth technology that the incursion buoys aren’t calibrated for. I tried to cover as wide a ...

– SILENCE! shouted Ch’zst suddenly, turning on Steinberg, who fell silent and stared at him in shock.

– Always talking, snarled Ch’zst. Always yammering on in that stupid Ymn voice, building these stupid machines for us to HIDE behind. You’ve got us HIDING down here, St’nn-B’rkh. Hiding like CHILDREN. Like YMNS.

Ch’zst was now advancing menacingly on Steinberg, who backed away from him, sweating and stammering.

– Look, he said, I’m here at the invitation of Grand Marshal Zst’kh, and if you’re not happy with the work I do here, he offered his slate to Ch’zst, you can take it up with—

Ch’zst swatted the slate from Steinberg’s hand. It shattered against the far wall.

– TAKE your useless gadgets away from me, Ymn. You’ve destroyed us with your machines, you’ve weakened us, turned us into useless cringing cowards, like YOU.

Ch’zst drew his sword and swung it at Steinberg, who wailed and dived beneath a console.

– I’ll kill you, Ymn! screamed Ch’zst, pounding at the console with the sword. He raised it high above his head, and swung it down—

There was a clash of steel as Ch’zst’s blade struck another. Looking round, he saw that Grand Marshal Zst’kh had arrived, drawn his sword, and used it to block his strike.

– Nobody dies in this building unless I command it! shouted Zst’kh.

– You’ve become weak! cried Ch’zst, swiping Zst’kh’s sword away and lunging at him. You’ve allowed this Ymn wretch to poison your mind with his science magic! You’ve made us all feeble and useless! You’ve doomed us all! He charged at Zst’kh.

– You traitorous insect, hissed Zst’kh as he parried Ch’zst’s blow, you’d draw your sword on me? Your Grand Marshal? I’ve always known you were a treacherous z’krrnn …

The assembled G’grk guards and technicians were now standing on their desks, cheering and hissing. Steinberg, peering out from under the console, couldn’t tell if they’d picked a side or if they were just enjoying watching two officers fight to the death.

Look at them, he thought, look how little it takes to send them straight back to savagery. Who have I been trying to kid, that I can work with these animals? That they would ever accept me, appreciate me? They’d cut my throat while I slept just for something to do.

He was holding a multi-phase blast rifle. He remembered that there was a locker of such weapons in the control centre – he couldn’t remember taking one out, but here it was.

They’ll kill you, he thought as he watched the fight continue. The minute you turn your back, they’ll kill you.

His thumb pushed the blast rifle’s beam dispersal setting to ‘wide’ and its intensity to maximum.

Kill them all, he thought. They’re not looking. Shoot them. It’s the only way.

Ch’zst wounded Zst’kh, a slashing cut to the chest. Steinberg winced to see his friend in pain.

He’s NOT your friend, he’s a savage like all the rest. KILL THEM ALL, NOW, BEFORE THEY KILL YOU.

Steinberg raised the weapon. His hands shook, and tears streamed from his eyes. He fought to steady his aim ...

Zst’kh had knocked Ch’zst to the floor, was standing over him and preparing to bury his sword in Ch’zst’s chest when he heard the shot.

Water cascaded from jets in the chamber ceiling, soaking everyone present. The sodden G’grk ceased their cheering and hissing and turned to see what had happened.

Zst’kh blinked. Steinberg was lowering some sort of blast weapon. There was a scorch mark on the wall – he’d shot the fire alarm sensor pad. A loud honking siren echoed through the building as the water continued to fall.

– EVERYBODY CALM THE HELL DOWN, said Steinberg.

3.19

– I would have killed them all, said Steinberg. I would have shot every last one of them down.

– But you didn’t, said Lbbp. That’s the important thing.

– It’s here, said Steinberg, his voice shaking as it came from Lbbp’s comm. Whatever it is that’s been driving the universe crazy, it’s here. We’ve just been getting traces of it so far, echoes ... now we’ve got its full attention.

Lbbp was deep in thought, as were Fthfth and Pktk, who were listening in.

– Listen, said Steinberg, it’s going to be up to us – those of us who know that this ... hate, this rage, it’s not just our natural reaction to the situation; that somehow it’s being DONE TO US on purpose ... If we can get that information out there, then there’s a chance we’ll be able to contain it. If not, we may not even last long enough to be invaded.

– Is the force grid holding? asked Pktk.

– So far, said Steinberg. I have to go; I have a lot of sensitive equipment I have to dry out very carefully.

Lbbp thanked Steinberg for the call and thought for a moment.

– I have to address the Forum, he said. If these incidents are going to start happening everywhere the custodians will be overwhelmed. You two ... stay here.

Lbbp left via the window, leaving Fthfth and Pktk in his office.

– Poor Lbbp, said Fthfth. He’s worried sick about Terra.

– Not to mention guilty about just leaving her like that, mused Pktk.

– That wasn’t his fault, said Fthfth crossly.

– No, said Pktk sullenly, getting to his feet and kicking the chair he’d just vacated. Nothing’s anybody’s fault, is it? It’s not Lbbp’s fault Terra and Billy have been abducted by maniacs, it’s not the G’grk’s fault we’re under attack, it’s not Steinberg’s fault the early warning system failed ... So whose fault will it be when we’re all fighting and dying, Fthfth? Whose fault will that be? Will that just be another case of ‘Oh well, nothing we can do about it’ or will you JUST (kick) THIS (kick) ONCE (kick) actually ALLOW yourself to get ANGRY about something?

He stood over her now, fists clenched.

– Pktk … you’re scaring me … said Fthfth quietly.

– I’m scaring her, muttered Pktk, picking up his soup flask and rattling it to see if it contained anything; it did not. We’re being invaded and going insane and I’m scaring her ...

– Pktk please, said Fthfth, sit down, try to ...

– I just need to get home, said Pktk. I need some more soup.

Fthfth stared at him, her face a mask of fury and disbelief.

– Soup? she spluttered. SOUP? The planet is under attack and you’re HUNGRY?

Pktk paced around the room. – You don’t get it, he said. None of you get it. I tried to explain to everyone that the FaZoon don’t do things for no reason, but you were all so hung up on the idea of being granted some great cosmic revelation that you didn’t realise the answer was right there, RIGHT THERE under your feet the whole time!

At this, he flung he empty flask away with such fury that not only did it shatter against the wall of the chamber, it left a visible dent at the point of impact. Fthfth flinched in horror.

– Pktk, she said quietly, I think you need help. She reached out and took his hand.

Pktk spun around angrily. – You don’t understand! I don’t need help! he shouted. I AM the help!

With his, he extended his arm to shake off Fthfth’s gentle grip. He struck her in the chest with his palm and she was propelled across the room, landing in a corner almost as heavily as the broken flask had.

Pktk stared in horror at Fthfth, lying crumpled against the wall. His first terrified thought was that he’d killed her, then he heard her take a long, rasping breath.

– Fthfth ... Fthfth I’m so sorry ... he stammered, staggering towards her as she struggled to sit up.

– Get away from me, said Fthfth in a hoarse whisper.

Pktk extended a hand to help Fthfth up; instinctively she tried to bat it away with her own hand. Without, it seemed to Pktk, any conscious decision on his part, he caught Fthfth’s hand and seized it in a painful locking grip. Fthfth cried out in pain. Pktk tried to stammer an apology, but found himself unable either to speak or to release his friend’s wrist. His eyes bulged, his heart pounded … it was happening, it was finally happening … Not Fthfth, he thought, anyone but Fthfth ...

There was a sudden sharp pain in the back of his head, a moment’s bright light, then dark, soothing oblivion.

***

The pain in Fthfth’s wrist ceased. Her eyes, which had been clenched shut in agony, creaked open.

Pktk lay before her, unconscious but breathing. Standing over him was a bizarre apparition. At first Fthfth thought it was some sort of robot or automaton; its skin seemed to be composed of shining metal plates. Then she realised it was wearing what appeared to be close-fitting armour across its whole body, and a gleaming helmet on its head. As her vision cleared further, she determined that it was a Fnrrn, and moreover an adult female Fnrrn.

The figure spoke – its voice was given a metallic edge by the helmet but was still oddly familiar.

– That looked even more painful than I remember, she said. We should get out of here before he wakes up. Don’t worry, he’s just fine. Well I say fine – he’s obviously going a bit crazy, but he’s undamaged and he’ll be very sorry when you next see him. Doesn’t mean you have to forgive him, of course.

The figure extended a gloved hand to help Fthfth to her feet. Fthfth noticed some sort of small computer mounted on the sleeve of the suit. It looked to be Fnrrn in origin, but far more advanced than anything she’d ever seen before. An explanation began to form in her mind, but it was too big, too strange for her mind to contain it completely.

– That’s it, now come on. I need to get to the equipment lockers in the Practical Science hub. The figure turned to go.

– Wait, said Fthfth, but the figure was already passing through the door. Fthfth shot one last glower at the unconscious Pktk and hurried after her.

The figure strode through the deserted corridors at a determined pace; Fthfth struggled to keep up. Pulling up alongside the figure, Fthfth stared intently at the mirrored visor covering its face.

The figure stopped.

– You’ve just figured it out, haven’t you? she said. Right before I take the helmet off, you figure it out.

– Are ... you ...? Fthfth whispered, although she knew the answer, impossible as it was.

– Well of course I am, replied the figure. What was it we always said we were going to do? Ever since we were tiny? Solve Thnrkl’s final theorem, and ...

The visor slid back, and then the helmet itself folded away into the collar of the suit.

– ... discover the secret of time travel ... said Fthfth, almost inaudibly, as she gazed in wonder at her own face. Her own, grown up, adult face.

– Ironically, as it turns out, Thnrkl’s theorem had very little to do with it. He was nowhere near solving time travel. I had to take a completely different approach, but that’s all I can say for now. It’s okay, said the older Fthfth. I remember I needed a moment to get over it. Take a deep breath.

Fthfth took a deep breath.

– Good, now move yourself because we have things to do, you and I. Or I and you. Whatever, hurry up.

The older Fthfth strode away. The younger Fthfth stood immobile and staring for a few seconds before hurrying after herself.

3.20

– Ever seen anything like that before, H’skgh?

Captain H’skgh had to admit that he had not. It would make him anxious when Admiral K’zsht asked him questions like that. Just because he’d been the first commanding officer of this vessel when the Walkers of the True Path had taken possession of it, that didn’t make him a veteran of space warfare. He had just a few phases of experience more than the Admiral himself.

Like K’zsht, H’skgh had been trained in land combat; charging, riding, marching, fighting hand to hand. Battling ship to ship, out here in space, was entirely different ... and yet at the same time it wasn’t. So many of the same factors applied: strategy, logistics, surprise, morale, trying to best the enemy psychologically in order to defeat him physically ... All this was as true and relevant out here in the void as it had been in the field.

And the old Grand Marshal had adapted everything he’d learned during his decades of war to become as fearsome a commander of this fleet as he’d once been of his armies. H’skgh would occasionally shudder to recall that he’d been part of the faction that had denounced K’zsht as a weakling and a traitor. Now he thought about it, he wasn’t sure if many, or indeed any of the Walkers of the True Path had actually fought alongside K’zsht before joining the movement. You could take issue with his breaking the lance and retiring alive, reflected H’skgh, but nobody – NOBODY – who’d seen K’zsht in action could ever call him a weakling.

The young helm officer St’krg spoke: – There’s nothing like it in the ship’s data banks either, she said, looking up at the great black wedge-shaped craft on the bridge’s main visualiser. It bulged with armour and bristled with cannons; the rest of the attack fleet followed in its wake.

They’d engaged the enemy fleet soon after it left Krrz’t’s orbit. With the brief advantage of surprise, their first run had crippled two smaller vessels at the fleet’s trailing edge; the bridge crew of the Blue Star had hissed triumphantly as they watched them spin helplessly away into space. But now they’d attracted the attention of the fleet’s lead vessel, and they were, they knew, outgunned.

– They’re coming around, said St’krg.

– Well whatever it is, it’s just another hunk of metal like this, said K’zsht slapping the arm of his chair, and its crew are just hunks of meat and bone like us. It can still burn, and they can still bleed and die. All power to the forward weapons array!

As they opened fire with everything they had, H’skgh found that he was laughing.

3.21

– So go on then.

– So go on then what?

– How did I – you – how did WE do it? Fthfth peered at her future self and pondered the necessity of inventing some new pronouns.

– You must know I’m not going to tell you, said the older Fthfth, marching through the corridor towards the Practical Science department.

– Because it would cause a paradox? asked the younger Fthfth, eyes wide with fascination as she struggled to keep up, and took comfort from how long her legs were going to be.

– Possibly, said older Fthfth, but probably not. That’s one of the more disappointing things about time travel; even with foreknowledge of the future you can’t actually alter it if you’ve already experienced it. Everything happens one time, one way, so anything that’s already happened, even if it happened in the future relative to your current position, that’s it. It can’t be altered. It’ll play out the same way every time, however many times you revisit it and whatever you do to pre-empt it.

– Well if you can’t change anything or cause a temporal paradox, why not just tell me and get it over with? demanded the younger Fthfth with an accusing stare.

– Well, mainly because I remember this conversation from when I was you, and I didn’t tell me then, so I’m not going to tell me now, said the older Fthfth matter-of-factly. She stopped in front of a locked store room door and began to search for an override code on her arm-mounted computer.

– That’s incredibly annoying, frowned the younger Fthfth.

– I know, said the older Fthfth. I remember. The door popped open.

– But hang on, said the younger Fthfth, what if I went back in time and murdered Mother’s parents before she was born and thus prevented my own existence? Surely that would be a paradox?

– You wouldn’t, said the older Fthfth, perusing the stock room shelves.

– Well obviously I wouldn’t, said the younger, I’m not going to kill Grandpa and Grandma just for an experiment, but what if—

– No, interjected the older, I mean you WOULDN’T. You might try, but you wouldn’t succeed. Something would prevent you from doing it.

– Like what?

– I don’t know, said the older Fthfth, getting to the end of one shelf and starting along another, but something would. Your calculations would be off and you’d end up in the wrong time or place, or your weapon would fail, or you’d mess up your research and kill someone else’s grandparents by mistake. The point is, she said, turning to her younger self, that Grandpa and Grandma survive, Mother is born and then we come along in due course because that’s how it happened. And that’s how it’ll always happen. She spied something on the shelf behind the younger Fthfth. Ah, there they are.

– So what’s the point? asked younger Fthfth, as the older struggled to lift a heavy case from the shelf behind her. Why even bother travelling through time if you can’t actually help?

– I am helping, said the older Fthfth, wrenching the case free and lowering it to the floor. I’m tidying up.

– Tidying up?

– Yes, replied the older Fthfth, opening the case to reveal a complex-looking bit of computer hardware. I’m fixing all the things that never made sense. Filling in the gaps. Making sure that everything happens the way it’s supposed to, even the really improbable bits. She switched the computer on, and, satisfied that it was working, closed the case and picked it up.

– What is that thing? asked the younger Fthfth.

– It’s an auxiliary navigation computer, said the older. I’m going to need it about an orbit ago. Which is where I’m heading – she checked her arm-mounted readout – just about now.

– You can’t stay? asked the younger Fthfth in dismay. But we’ve got so much to talk about!

– Sorry, said the older. That’s not how it works. I’ve got to go. Oops, I almost forgot ...

The elder Fthfth reached into a pocket on her suit and retrieved a faded, torn, dog-eared sheet of paper. She handed it to her younger self.

– Is this PAPER? asked the younger Fthfth incredulously.

– Now now, don’t be snobbish, it’s a perfectly effective means of data transmission, said the older.

The younger Fthfth turned the paper over; it was covered in handwritten text. Since hardly anyone ever wrote anything by hand on Fnrr, she had no idea whose handwriting it might be.

– Don’t start reading it now, there’s no time, admonished the older Fthfth. Read it after I’m gone.

The younger Fthfth looked up glumly from the page, to look her older self in the eyes, as if willing her to stay.

– That contains all the information I can give you, said the older Fthfth. It’s okay, it’s not changing anything. Terra already knows all this; the FaZoon told her when they froze time just before she left.

– When the who did the what? said the younger Fthfth, her eyes popping.

– It’s all there, said the older. Read it. It didn’t take long – I mean it WON’T take long.

– But ... but ... the younger Fthfth struggled for something to say, and could only come up with: Pktk; do I forgive him?

– That’ll be your decision, replied the older Fthfth, just as it was mine.

She tapped her computer again. Seeing this, the younger Fthfth said, urgently – Will I ever see you again?

– Of course, smiled the older Fthfth. In about fourteen orbits, every time you look in a mirror.

She bent slightly and kissed her younger self on the top of her head.

– We’ll be okay, she said with a smile. We always are.

The visor of her helmet slid shut, there was a faint pop, and the older Fthfth disappeared.

Fthfth spent a few moments staring at the empty space her older self had occupied. Then she sat down on the floor, clutching the faded blue paper, and feeling suddenly more empty and bereft than she’d ever felt, and in a way that she couldn’t explain to another living soul.

3.22

PKTK SAT ON THE floor of his room. No-one else was at home in the middle of the day.

He stared in horrified fascination at his own right hand. It had operated almost independently of him, so fast had been his movements. Not only had it felt like he was observing his own actions in the third person, he’d hardly been able to follow those actions. Even now he was having difficulty remembering exactly what he’d done and how he’d done it, but as he replayed the event in his mind, he realised that, given similar provocation, he could do it again without so much as an instant’s thought.

What was happening to him?

Upon regaining consciousness, he’d wandered through the corridors, desperately seeking Fthfth and hoping against all hope to be able to apologise to her. A part of him had been relieved that he couldn’t find her. Even now, in the depths of his regret and repentance, he could feel that the rage was still festering within him. Better to leave her safe and hating him, he’d thought as he set out towards his home, than to confront her and risk something even worse happening.

I’m too dangerous to be around my friends, thought Pktk.

Suddenly, he understood what he had to do.

He contemplated leaving a note for his parents, explaining his decision and outlining his new plan, but reasoned that they’d have enough to worry about in the next few days. He confined himself to writing ‘Back soon’ on his slate and leaving it switched on next to his sleep well for his mother to find.

That done, he opened his bedroom window and stepped out.

3.23

– So what do you call them, then?

Terra’s question seemed to catch the Kwad Shar Chen off-guard. Good, that had been the idea.

– What?

– I said what do you call them? The Masters? The Overlords? The Protectors? She turned to Billy. The G’grk call them the Occluded Ones, you know.

– Oh, those guys, replied Billy, nodding.

– Yeah, those guys, confirmed Terra. Funny story; turns out they’re not all-powerful overlords after all but just a bunch of rather bitter disembodied aliens left over from the previous universe who need to convince all intelligent life in this universe to wipe itself out before they can get back into reality. Hence the Everywar.

– O-kayyy … said Billy, his eyes bulging. He resolved to ask Terra where all that information had come from as soon as an opportunity presented itself, assuming it ever did.

– So what’s your name for them? Terra turned back to the Kwad Shar Chen. You know pretty much every culture in the universe has a name for them, don’t you? Or are they just a ‘he’ or a ‘she’ in your case? Maybe an ‘it’?

The Kwad Shar Chen rose to her feet suddenly; the table shifted slightly as she stood.

– You will not speak of the Others in this fashion!

– Oh, the Others, is it? asked Terra distractedly. Bit dull.

The Kwad Shar Chen leaned down and hissed in Terra’s face. – You will learn to respect the Others; you will learn to FEAR the Others, dread the Others as no-one has before. They have such exquisite punishments waiting for you.

Terra shivered a little but tried not to show it; she was enjoying watching the Kwad Shar Chen’s discomfort at discovering how much she knew.

– Why is that? asked Terra. Because I’ve beaten them twice already?

Now Billy looked at her in surprise. Terra turned to him and smiled. – Actually, she said, WE beat them the second time round. The Black Planet, remember? That was one of theirs. We took care of that one easily enough, didn’t we, Billy?

I wouldn’t say ‘easily’, thought Billy, but seeing where Terra was going with this, he smiled and nodded cheerfully.

– So is that it? asked Terra. Have they sent you to drag me halfway across the universe just so they can get back at me for giving them a spanking last time? Doesn’t feel like a very efficient use of time and resources.

– They intend to study you, said the Kwad Shar Chen coolly, regaining her composure. They find you little humans fascinating. The Others thrive on belief, as you seem to know (adoration more than belief, thought Terra, but chose not to interrupt). Humans are odd creatures; you take more convincing than most other races, but once convinced – once you BELIEVE – then your faith is unshakeable. The Others don’t want to destroy you, not yet – they want to convert you. To recruit you. You could be their most devoted servants, their most dauntless warriors. Or, you could choose to resist, and be reduced to cosmic dust. We shall see.

Satisfied at having re-established control, the Kwad Shar Chen sat down.

– So what’s in it for you? asked Billy. Because if I’m right – and I think I’m keeping up – if these beings are brainwashing the entire population of the universe to wipe itself out – what’s going to be left for you when it’s all over?

The Kwad Shar Chen smiled. – I will have important work to do, she said, shaping the souls and minds of the peoples of the new universe. Once the tribulation is over and creation purified, I will return to the Moonshrine from where I shall spread the message of the Others. The universe will be unified and at peace and I shall be there to guide it.

Billy looked into the Kwad Shar Chen’s serene golden eyes. He rolled his tongue around the inside of his cheeks as if pondering how to respond, then said …

– Erm … you do realise that’s what they say to everyone, right?

The Kwad Shar Chen’s smile faltered a little.

– You think you’re the only one that thinks they’ve been chosen? You think the Others are on your side, and yours alone? You don’t think they’ve sent the same message to people all over the universe, and not meant a word of it?

The Kwad Shar Chen got to her feet. – I have matters to attend to, she said.

– In fact, said Billy as she walked to the door, I bet you’ve delivered that message for them, haven’t you? Knowing all the time it was a lie. Why do you think you’re the only one they’re NOT lying to?

The Kwad Shar Chen exited the chamber and the iris-like door contracted shut behind her. Two blue-robed acolytes remained, standing guard either side of the door, motionless and blank-eyed.

– Think I touched a nerve there, eh boys? Billy asked them. He expected no response; none came.

3.24

THE KWAD SHAR CHEN’S pure white hands gripped the blue crystal amulet which hung around her neck as she rocked back and forth on her hard white bed.

It was a test, she told herself. It was a test, that was all. The Others were using the Earth child’s impudence to probe the limits of her faith. His lies – they were lies, they WERE lies – were meant to unsettle her, to make her question – for what good was faith if it were never challenged? What, after all, was faith if not triumph over doubt? There HAD to be doubt, or faith was meaningless.

So it was good, it was right, that she doubted now. It was good, it was right, it was as planned, it was—

The Kwad Shar Chen got up and screamed. She screamed and screamed and clawed at her bone-white scalp with her thin fingers. She pounded the walls of her chamber.

She collapsed, panting, on the floor.

It was all as planned, she thought. It was all as planned. The taunting child, the questions, the doubt, the fear ... and now, as her mind cleared, her resolve returned ... this, too, was as planned. This was how it had always been meant to be.

She sighed, smiled, exhaled and stared at the chamber’s white ceiling. She had been tested and she had passed the test, as always. Her doubts had been confronted and beaten. She believed, she trusted, she KNEW that the Others were guiding her, protecting her.

She got to her feet and stood straight-backed and resolute. Her reward awaited, and it wouldn’t be long now.

3.25

‘Okay, so fill in the gaps for me,’ said Billy. ‘They’re worshipped and revered all over the universe by different civilisations who all have different names for them and different perceptions of them, and now they’ve decided to wipe us all out but they can’t do it themselves, so they’re hypnotising or mind-controlling us into doing it for them. How am I doing so far?’

‘Pretty good,’ said Terra.

‘So why can’t they do it themselves?’ asked Billy.

‘They’re stuck outside the universe in their own mini-universe which they created to hide out in while their universe collapsed and then re-expanded into OUR universe,’ said Terra. ‘And they can’t get back into our universe until everyone in it is dead because we generate the wrong sort of consciousness. I think. That was the bit I’m still a bit cloudy on myself.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Billy. He got up and paced around the table. Terra found herself, not for the first time, marveling at Billy’s capacity for taking this sort of thing in his stride. His having spent his childhood immersed in science fiction was probably helping, she reasoned.

‘So how many planets have been destroyed already?’ he pondered aloud. ‘And which one was first?’

Suddenly, as if struck by nausea, Billy clutched his stomach and sank back into the nearest chair.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Terra in alarm, rushing to his side.

‘It’s the sadness again,’ said Billy, his eyes moistening. ‘It’s unbearable. And there’s anger, too,’ he said.

‘Where is it coming from?’ asked Terra.

‘I think ...’

Billy looked around, as if looking for the source of a faintly audible sound.

‘I think it’s the SHIP ...’ said Billy.

3.26

– Bring us around! cried K’zsht. One more run!

– We’ve lost the portside cannons, said St’krg.

– Flip us over so we pass them to starboard, ordered K’zsht.

The helm officer nodded her acknowledgement of K’zsht’s order and set the ship into a banking roll. The Blue Star’s starboard weapons array blazed as it hurtled past the attacking fleet. They didn’t have time to assess the damage.

They’d seen the Blue Sword fall first; cut in half by a searing energy beam fired from the nose of the black dreadnought which seemed to be the attacking fleet’s command vessel. Then the Blue Lightning, set upon by a swarm of nasty little fighter-drones which had erupted from one of the smaller attacking vessels. They’d watched as the Lightning disappeared into a black cloud of the bug-like pilotless craft, never to emerge.

Now just the Blue Storm, Blue Fury and Blue Star remained. The Blue Star led each strafing run; its two sister ships followed. Each run took another piece out of the attacking fleet; another small ship disabled, another hull breach inflicted on one of the larger craft ... Most importantly, the time the invaders spent grappling with the Blue Fleet was time they weren’t yet bombarding or landing on Fnrr. Each moment that K’zsht and his followers suffered, bled and toiled out here in space was another moment their loved ones on Fnrr lived in safety. And that was reason enough.

– Admiral ... came a voice on the Blue Star’s comm speakers. Admiral K’zsht ...

It was Gst’zh, commander of the Blue Storm.

– We’ve taken a direct hit on the neutrino core, said Gst’zh, her voice fading in and out. We can’t contain it ... I’m sorry ... Occluded Ones, we—

There was a glare of light from astern. The Blue Storm was gone.

There was no time to mourn.

– All power to the starboard weapons array, said K’zsht, and bring us round again.

Another moment of pain and toil, another moment of safety for Fnrr.

They began another run.

3.27

T’KRR WAS ON HIGH alert.

Whether the incoming attackers realised that the G’grk capital was the centre of operations for Fnrr’s extra-planetary defences, no-one knew and it didn’t matter. The EPDI had to assume that T’krr was just as likely, if not more likely, to suffer an assault as anywhere else on the planet, and had raised the alert level accordingly.

The incursion detectors that Professor Steinberg had set up along with the energy shield grid had been calibrated to spot any intrusion from space, rather than a violation of G’grk airspace originating from elsewhere on the planet’s surface.

As such, when a blue G’grk sphere suddenly deactivated its invisibility shield and appeared hovering in front of the great stone steps which climbed to the vast wooden doors of the Grey Tower, it rather took everyone by surprise.

The guards standing at attention either side of the tower doors peered at each other in confusion. The sphere was ‘one of theirs’, but they’d been given no notice to expect such an arrival. Then one of the guards noticed the sphere’s livery – it was painted in the fashion of an old battle-sphere, from the days of invasion and conquest, and did not bear the crests and insignia of the EPDI, as did all operational blue spheres these days. This was considered sufficiently disturbing to sound the alarm.

Within moments, the stone steps were lined with ranks of guards, levelling their pulse-orbs at the sphere, which continued to hover, its gravity engines grinding away.

– Whoever is in there, deactivate your engines and surrender! shouted the Drone Major, who was the senior officer present.

The sphere, obligingly, descended to the ground and shut off its engines.

There was a moment’s silent tension.

The sphere’s top hatch popped open and someone emerged. An adolescent male Fnrrn, clad, those among the guards who were veterans of the last war recognised, in the blue uniform of a Mlmln student.

– I need to speak to Grand Marshal Zst’kh, said Pktk.

No-one replied. The guards maintained their aim.

- Hello? pursued Pktk. Grand Marshal Zst’kh? The big boss?

Still no response. Pktk sighed.

– Look, just take me to your leader, okay?

3.28

ZST’KH LEANED ON THE shoulder-blade armrest of the throne of bones and rubbed his eyes. He’d sought refuge in the throne room for a few precious moments between briefings, and had not been happy to find himself being disturbed by the Drone Major. His irritation had only increased at being told the nature of the ‘emergency’ to which his attention was being drawn.

Pktk stood before him, a guard at each shoulder.

– I know you, said Zst’kh. You are a friend of the Rrth child.

– I am, said Pktk, but that’s not why I’m here.

Zst’kh got up from the throne and stretched. – Our nations are at peace, boy, and face a common threat, he said wearily. If you really felt the need to return our stolen property and surrender yourself, there would have been a better time—

– I’m not surrendering, said Pktk. And I didn’t steal that sphere ... you left it behind, when your invasion failed. This with a hint of a challenging smile, to which Zst’kh very pointedly did not react.

– So why are you here? asked Zst’kh, struggling to feign interest.

– I’ve come to help.

Neither Zst’kh nor the guards could resist a quiver of a mocking smile at this.

– To help? asked Zst’kh. Well, I suppose we will need someone to maintain our transmitters and repair the—

– With the fighting, said Pktk.

The mocking smiles on the faces of the guards became broader. Zst’kh maintained his composure as the Drone Major replied.

– You do realise that we G’grk are trained in the arts of war from birth, boy ...? Your technological skills will avail you little on the battlefield.

– You don’t understand, said Pktk. Something is happening to me. I’m getting stronger. I’m getting faster. And every night I have dreams, dreams in which I hurt people. Every morning the dreams are getting clearer in my memory and harder to forget. There’s going to come a time when I can’t tell the difference any more, and when that happens I need to be away from my friends. I need to be where the fighting is, and more importantly I need to not be where the fighting isn’t.

Pktk said this with such an air of deadly earnest that it was all the guards could do to stop from bursting out laughing.

Zst’kh sat down on the throne, thought for a moment, and said – You don’t need to go to war, boy. You need to go home and speak to one of your Mlmln mind-physicians. He gestured to the guards. He can keep the sphere. See that he gets in it and takes it back to Hrrng.

One of the guards seized Pktk’s left arm and twisted it painfully, the better to march him from the room. Pktk, silently and swiftly, leapt into the air and flipped over forwards, releasing his arm from the guard’s twisting grip and grabbing the guard’s wrist as he went, so that by the time Pktk landed softly on his feet, it was he who had the guard in a painful armlock. The guard gasped and dropped to his knees.

Stunned, the other guard drew his pulse-orb and levelled it at Pktk’s face. With an almost imperceptible movement of his free arm, Pktk snatched the pulse-orb from this guard’s hand and aimed it back at him.

There was a moment’s startled hush.

Pktk tossed the pulse-orb over in his hand and offered it, grip-first, to the guard he’d taken it from. At the same moment, Pktk released his hold on the other guard’s arm; he sank to the floor, clutching his elbow.

Zst’kh and the Drone Major looked on in astonishment.

– Please don’t do that again, said Pktk. I’ve really no idea what’ll happen next time.

3.29

THE SERIES OF CLICKS and chitters emanating from Kikkitat’s mandibles had no direct translation in Glyrius’s language but equated more or less to the question ‘What’s the matter with him?’

‘I don’t know,’ muttered Glyrius irritably. ‘The sonic neural disruptor shouldn’t give someone a cold.’

‘I told you,’ said Hardison. ‘Lactose intolerance.’ He was seized with another coughing fit.

Glyrius stood over him. ‘And you’re what this planet’s elite military looks like?’ He shook his head. ‘When the war finally comes to this world you won’t last a day.’

Hardison, sitting on the kitchen floor with his hands bound behind him, pondered why the war hadn’t in fact arrived at Earth yet. He’d long suspected that the planet was being spared for some unknown reason. Did Glyrius know something about this? Would he get a chance to ask him?

He’d regained consciousness to find himself propped up in the corner. From the nasty, squelchy, itchy feeling at his wrists he knew his captors had used the same binding gel he’d seen used by the G’grk to restrain their prisoners on Fnrr.

There was more, and altogether more disturbing, evidence of alien technology to be seen in the room: a box, a half-metre or so cubed, which was now making a low humming sound as it sat in front of the refrigerator. Different coloured lights flashed, seemingly at random, on its top surface. Hardison hadn’t enquired as to its function, nor did he suppose his captors would tell him if he did, but somehow everything about the alien device said ‘bomb’. Hardison stared at it balefully.

There came a sound. Specifically the tinny, bassless sound of Journey’s 1981 classic Don’t Stop Believin’ being played over a very small speaker.

‘That’s my phone,’ said Hardison. ‘It’s my wife.’

‘How do you know?’

‘It’s ... it’s our song,’ said Hardison.

The sound continued.

‘I don’t like your song,’ said Glyrius.

‘Well it’s gonna keep playing until you let me answer, and you’d better let me answer, because if I don’t, she’ll start to worry, and if she starts to worry she’ll report me missing, and if that happens this place will be surrounded by soldiers carrying all kinds of weapons that aren’t strictly legal on this planet,’ said Hardison before coughing again.

Glyrius and Kikkitat exchanged an irritated glance, then Glyrius squatted down to retrieve Hardison’s phone from his trouser pocket.

‘Touch the green icon,’ said Hardison.

‘I KNOW,’ hissed Glyrius before holding the phone up to Hardison’s face.

Hardison managed to say ‘Hi Baby, I’m ...’ before being convulsed by coughs again. Glyrius flinched at the feeling of Earth-germs being spattered all over his hand.

‘James, are you okay?’ Sarah’s voice was tinged with worry.

‘Ah, I think I’m coming down with something,’ said Hardison, coughing again. ‘I’ll take a couple of flu caps and tough it out.’

‘So when will you be home?’

Hardison looked around, as if wondering what to say.

‘At least another two hours, I think.’

‘Okay,’ said Sarah. ‘Remember you have that thing with the boys tomorrow? Should I cancel that?’

‘No, tell them to come on over,’ replied Hardison with a sniff.

‘Okay, see you later,’ said Sarah. There was a beep as she disconnected.

Glyrius tossed the phone away with a contemptuous flick of the wrist. ‘You don’t have two hours,’ he said.

In the corner, the probably-a-bomb continued to glow and hum.

3.30

DAVE STEINBERG MONITORED THE energy output of the defence grid satellites. They needed approximately one Fnrrn day’s downtime to recharge per every four Fnrrn days of operation. That seemed like a reasonable ratio to him, and besides, it was all the laws of physics would allow.

The doors to the control centre opened and that familiar frisson of attention-ness passed through his G’grk technicians. Zst’kh was here again.

– St’nn-B’rkh… perhaps you can find something for this… individual to do, said the Grand Marshal testily

– I told you, said Pktk, I don’t want a technical position, I need to be where the fighting is.

– Pktk isn’t it? said Steinberg, Yeah, hi. Well, right now, this IS where the fighting is, and hopefully this is where it’ll stay.

– You think that force grid of yours makes us invulnerable? growled Pktk. There are things out there which will pass right through it.

Steinberg turned to look at the youngster. – There’s no such thing as invulnerable, he said, just like there’s no such thing as infallible. I’m just doing the best I can to keep us—

– But that’s the point, snapped Pktk, pacing up and down. You’re not doing anything. Nobody’s DOING anything. We could—

– SILENCE, child!

The room fell deathly quiet at Zst’kh’s outburst. He was looking at a flashing indicator on the panel in front of him.

– It’s the Blue Star, he said. The Blue Star is trying to contact us.

3.31

K’ZSHT PULLED HIMSELF PAINFULLY back into the command chair.

At the station in front of him, Captain H’skgh was slumped over his console. K’zsht didn’t have to examine him to know he was dead. The helm officer St’krg was alive and clinging to consciousness, though she was losing a lot of blood from a deep wound in her side.

They’d seen the Blue Fury die, taking two cruiser-sized vessels with it when its engines exploded. K’zsht’s crew had called out the names of their dead comrades as they’d charged the attacking fleet head on. The antimatter torpedo had burst from the black dreadnought-sized ship at the head of the fleet and hit them square in the port side, tearing a hole through all the decks. The bridge bulkheads had sealed the command crew in; everyone else aboard the Blue Star was already dead.

The straggling ships at the rear of the attacking armada had taken a few spiteful potshots at them as they’d passed. Now the invasion fleet was swarming towards Fnrr. Towards home.

K’zsht forced his eyes to focus on his own station. The ship’s life support systems would fail within moments. He touched a control to set up a communication link with T’krr.

– Blue Star … do you hear us, Blue Star?

K’zsht smiled to hear Zst’kh’s voice.

– My boy, he said. I’m sorry, my boy, I have failed you. The attackers will be upon you soon.

– You have never failed me, replied Zst’kh, his voice phasing and crackling as the ship’s communications array struggled to maintain the link. You have never failed the G’grk, and you have never failed Fnrr.

– Helm, said K’zsht, how much power do we have left in the engines?

St’krg forced herself back to alertness and checked her instrument panel.

– Twelve percent, she coughed.

– Enough for a burst of ... how long?

St’krg smiled, a smile of resolve and understanding.

– Long enough, Admiral, she said.

K’zsht looked at the tactical readout: the attacking fleet was speeding away from them. The black ship, the one that had done the damage, was in the lead, the other ships clustered around it like a flock following its leader.

– Set course for right up that big one’s g’shrrg, said K’zsht with a laugh. Prime all weapons to maximum.

– Grandfather… What are you ... Zst’kh’s voice faded.

– Goodbye, my boy. Protect your people. All of your people. I’m so proud of you.

– Engines ready, smiled St’krg.

– Attack, said K’zsht.

St’krg fired the engines. She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer of thanks to the Occluded Ones.

If that makes you happy, thought K’zsht. I do not do this for the Occluded Ones. I do this for my people. I do this for my world. I do this for Fnrr.

The ship accelerated.

3.32

THE COMMUNICATION CHANNEL FELL dead, leaving only a faint hiss. The sound seemed almost deafening in the otherwise total silence of the control centre.

Zst’kh stared at the tactical readout. The lead ship of the fleet had disappeared, as had the dot which denoted the Blue Star. He stared, unmoving, unspeaking.

– Zst’kh ... said Steinberg quietly, I’m ... I’m really—

He was interrupted by a blaring alarm. Pktk looked around to find the source. The holographic display was showing the planet, surrounded by an intricate web composed of strands of energy; this was Steinberg’s force grid.

As everyone in the chamber watched, strand by strand, the web began to disappear.

– What? No! That’s ... that’s not possible ... said Steinberg, hurrying back to his station.

– Is the grid shutting down? asked the Drone Major. He turned angrily towards Steinberg. What have you done, Ymn?

– It’s not me, protested Steinberg. I’m not doing this.

– Is the grid failing? asked Pktk.

– It’s not failing, said Steinberg, it’s switching itself off. Why is it doing this? He began to press icons and scroll through screens, frantically seeking an answer.

The G’grk technicians were also now desperately rebooting and re-rebooting all the centre’s systems in an attempt to regain control of the grid. Only Zst’kh, Pktk noticed, was still gazing at the holographic display.

It showed the planet still, naked and defenceless now. And descending towards it, a horde of battleships.

– We need to arm ourselves and take defensive positions, said Zst’kh simply.

– But I need to get the grid back … Steinberg began.

– There is no grid, Zst’kh said, cutting him off and gesturing towards the display. Soon they will begin to bombard the surface. Then they may send landing parties. The war has come to us, as we always knew it would.

As if to illustrate his point, the sound came of distant rumbling. Faint vibrations could be felt through the stone floor.

– You, he said to Steinberg, get that grid back online. You, this to the Drone Major, keep him alive until he succeeds. The rest of you, come with me.

He strode out of the corridor, followed by all the G’grk personnel except the Drone Major, who drew his weapon and assumed his new duties as Steinberg’s bodyguard.

Pktk didn’t stop to ask if ‘the rest of you’ included him. He followed Zst’kh and his drones out into the corridor.

3.33

FTHFTH FOLDED UP THE tattered old piece of blue paper and blinked.

Well, she thought, that does make a degree of sense, even if it does fundamentally alter everything I thought I knew about the nature of time, space and reality.

She wasn’t sure to whom, if anyone, she could pass this information on. She’d probably have to explain where she got it from, which would just make the conversation all the more fraught, she reflected. How do I know that the peoples of the universe are being psychically manipulated into destroying each other by the immortal remnants of beings left over from the previous universe? Because I came back in time and told myself, that’s how.

If I’m lucky they’ll laugh at me, she thought; if I’m not lucky they’ll lock me up for my own safety. I might as well just stay in this store room.

As she was weighing up the pros and cons of each possible outcome, her comm started pinging urgently.

Pktk.

She DEFINITELY wasn’t telling Pktk.

– What? she said tersely.

– Listen, Fthfth, began Pktk breathlessly, I want to say sorry and I AM sorry, SO sorry, but there’s no time for that now. I’m in T’krr, and we’ve just—

– You’re WHAT?

– I’m in T’krr with Grand Marshal Zst’kh, and—

– What are you doing THERE? Suddenly Fthfth’s own story didn’t seem half as implausible as it had a moment previously.

– It’s a long story but LISTEN. Steinberg’s force grid is down and we’re under attack.

– Under attack? Already? Why didn’t we get more of a warning? asked Fthfth. There are incursion detection buoys at the outer rim of the—

– We don’t know, said Pktk, and we don’t know why the grid is down. We’ve got to defend the EPDI headquarters, Steinberg is trying to get the grid back up. What you need to do is figure out if the attacking fleet has found a way to override the grid and see if you can jam their signal! Do you hear me?

– Now just wait a moment, said Fthfth indignantly. You don’t call me to say sorry and then start barking orders! And what do you mean ‘we’re defending the EPDI headquarters’? Who’s WE?

Before Pktk could answer, Fthfth heard a loud bang followed by the crashing sound of what might have been falling masonry. There was a pause, then ...

– PLEASE JUST DO IT, FTHFTH.

The link went dead. Fthfth stared at her comm for a few moments.

There came a distant rumbling from outside. Fthfth got to her feet, ran out into the corridor and into the first lectorium she could find. She was experiencing ghastly flashbacks to the day of the G’grk invasion all those orbits ago, of leading her classmates to safety as the blue battle-spheres fired on the Preceptorate.

Whichever class was in progress had been interrupted by the commotion; the lector and pupils had all rushed to the window. Fthfth, taller than most of the pupils, stood behind them and looked through the window as well. Streaks of energy were bursting through the orange clouds, flames and dust erupting from the points they struck.

The little ones gasped in horror and fear. Fthfth wished she could think of some words of comfort for them, but nothing came to her mind.

Looking around the lectorium, Fthfth spied a bundle of gfrgs, the club-like implements used in the game of gshkth, stacked up in the corner by the door. The class had probably just come in from gshkth practice. Fthfth seized one; its weight in her hand was curiously reassuring.

She set off to find Lbbp.

3.34

– Why haven’t they just wiped us out with antimatter bombs from orbit? pondered Pktk. That’s what I’d do if I were attacking a defenceless planet.

Zst’kh looked quizzically at Pktk. – We really WERE wrong about you Mlmlns, he said.

They’d formed a protective phalanx in front of the Grey Tower: ranks of drones with battle-spheres providing air cover when aloft and shelter when on the ground.

Platoons of drone-custodians had gone out into the city to evacuate the civilian populations of the more vulnerable areas. The civilians were then being herded into the custodian barracks at G’hz-K’hsk Square. The hope was that by mounting a show of force in front of the tower, they would convince any invaders to attack the more visibly defended location and leave the civilians unharmed. For now, at least.

– It’s clear they want this world and at least some of its people intact, said Zst’kh after a moment’s thought. For what purpose I couldn’t guess, and it’s not important. We will resist. That’s all that matters. He exchanged a resolute glance with General Ch’zst, who stood a short distance away.

Streaks of energy now seared through the clouds, blasting fiery holes into the ground where they struck. A battle-sphere caught a direct hit and was vaporised. The drones who had been sheltering behind it never stood a chance.

Zst’kh gave the order to return fire, and his drones discharged their weapons into the sky, more as a gesture of defiance than in the hope of hitting anything.

The energy bolts kept coming; they seemed to be random rather than targeted. For every one which destroyed a building or vehicle another two or three just churned up the ground. They’re wearing us down, thought Pktk. Softening us up. The ground assault comes next.

And sure enough, there came a rumbling and juddering of gravity engines, and bulbous landing craft emerged through the haze. They set down, deafeningly, in the square and immediately disgorged a bizarre mismatched horde of howling, snarling creatures of every size, shape and species. Some carried energy weapons, some chemical projectile weapons, some brandished swords and spears.

– Occluded Ones ... breathed Zst’kh. He blinked twice, then shouted: Fire at will!

3.35

–What was that? asked Dave Steinberg, looking up from his terminal.

– That is war, said the Drone Major, with a hint of a smile. Are you making any progress?

The control centre was shaking now, with each percussive explosion coming from outside seeming closer than the last.

– I don’t know, said Steinberg. The grid is perfectly functional and charged up, it’s just refusing all my commands to initiate it. I don’t know why it’s doing that.

Another huge explosion rocked the building. The sound of battle, which had been dampened by the tower’s stone walls, now seemed clearer and sharper. The fighting was inside the building.

– I can’t protect you here much longer, muttered the Drone Major. Can you work on that outside of this room or do you need to be at that machine?

– Uh ... no, said Dave Steinberg, just a second. He fumbled for his slate and activated a remote access to the grid’s control program. Okay, where are we going?

The Drone Major went to the back of the control centre and hauled a large computer bank away from the wall. It revealed an ancient metal door, which he opened to reveal a dusty stone stairway, heading downwards into impenetrable darkness.

– Where else does one go when it’s time to die, Ymn? We’re going to the crypt ...

3.36

– No, there’s nothing. It doesn’t make any sense.

– We HAVE to go now, Fthfth, said Lbbp.

Lbbp had hurried back to the Preceptorate and initiated the building’s evacuation protocols. The lectors and students were now descending, in an orderly fashion, down the emergency grav-chutes which led to the escape tunnels.

This had been, more or less, the escape route improvised by Fthfth and Pktk during the G’grk invasion all those orbits ago; given how successful it had turned out to be, the decision had been made to convert it into a designated escape procedure. Once in the tunnels, a grav-monorail would spirit the escapees out of Hrrng altogether, to a refuge hidden in the forests beyond the city limits.

His people would be safe, thought Lbbp, which was more than he could say for the rest of the civilian population. He looked through the window at the energy blasts pounding the city and wished he could do something, anything to help.

Meanwhile, the only ones still left in the Preceptorate were himself, which was only right and appropriate, and Fthfth, which was neither right nor appropriate and, quite frankly, maddening.

– Will you please switch that off and come with me? pleaded Lbbp as Fthfth sat hunched over her slate.

– Look, said Fthfth triumphantly. Pktk was wrong. The invading fleet isn’t hacking into Steinberg’s grid, or the Source, or anything else down here! There are no transmissions coming from them at all!

– Fascinating, said Lbbp as another explosion rocked the building. Can we go now?

– But don’t you understand! said Fthfth. If the force grid isn’t being hacked by the attackers, then whatever is stopping it working is down here! We’re being sabotaged by someone or something on our own – OW!

Lbbp had seized her arm and was now marching her out of the room. Fthfth held her gfrg with one hand and her slate with the other. She continued to peer at the slate as they went.

– We have to get out of here NOW, said Lbbp.

– Yes, yes, I’m coming, said Fthfth, her eyes still fixed on her slate. It’s just that if I can figure out who or what it is that’s interfering, I can fix it! I can get Steinberg’s grid back on line!

– It’s too late, said Lbbp, pausing in mid-march.

Fthfth finally looked up from her slate, to see what had stopped Lbbp in his tracks. They stood by a large window overlooking the Preceptorate’s main quad. A bulbous vessel was setting down in the open space. As they watched, hatches opened along its side and creatures began to emerge – aliens of every shape and size, bearing weapons of every imaginable type.

– The grid’s not going to help with that, is it? said Lbbp. Come on, we need to get to the tunnels.

3.37

‘We’re arriving,’ said Billy quietly.

There had been no feeling of motion within the ship at any stage of the voyage; no sense of acceleration or deceleration. Terra looked across to see Billy sitting on the floor, his eyes closed.

‘The ship told you?’

‘Yeah ... I tried to persuade it to turn back, to take us to Fnrr or even to Earth but it can’t break free of the Kwad Shar Chen’s control. I’m sorry. The ship says it’s sorry too.’

The Exemplar and Billy seemed to have established a link. The ship was intelligent, this was apparent, and was controlled by means of a telepathic connection with its master. Billy, it appeared, had somehow tapped into this channel of communication. The ship’s thoughts and feelings were making themselves known to him, and it was not happy.

‘Check me out, being all psychic,’ said Billy with a sad smile. He reached into his pocket. ‘Not gonna need this much longer,’ he said, holding up his translation cube.

‘Who built this ship?’ asked Terra. ‘Where are its people? If we tell it we’ll set it free, let it go home ... would that help it grow stronger?’

There was a moment’s silence. Billy tapped the cube on the table as he thought, then spoke.

‘It says its home and people are gone. It’s the last of its kind.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Terra said, in no direction in particular, hoping the ship would hear and know that she meant it.

‘Once there were hundreds of ships like this,’ said Billy quietly. ‘They were built by a wise and ancient race who wanted to explore the whole universe, and make peaceful contact with as many civilisations as possible. They thought if they could establish a universal conversation they could help to prevent the conflicts that might kick off if those civilisations just bumped into each other accidentally.’

‘So the Before made sure to have them wiped out,’ muttered Terra bitterly. ‘They’d have to be the first to go.’ This was of course pure conjecture on her part, but at that moment she believed it wholeheartedly. She felt a keening sense of loss as she contemplated the Explorers (she’d already named the Exemplar’s creators in her mind) setting out to unite the cosmos in their beautiful living ships, only to see their quest thwarted and their technology enslaved. Just one more reason to resent the Before, she thought. The ship hadn’t made the same connection with her that it seemed to have made with Billy, but in that moment she felt its sorrow, its loneliness.

‘Maybe that’s why it likes you,’ said Terra. Billy blinked and looked up at her.

‘You think the ship ... likes me?’ he asked.

Terra smiled ‘Well it seems to be reaching out to you. The thing is,’ she said, taking Billy’s hand, ‘that of all the people I’ve met on my travels, you’re ...’ She hesitated, searching for the words.

‘I’m what?’ said Billy, genuinely desperate to know.

Terra, in spite of herself, stifled a chuckle. ‘Well, I was going to say “simple” but that sounds wrong.’

Billy, in spite of himself, laughed. ‘Just a bit, yeah.’

‘What I mean,’ Terra went on, ‘is that your motives are the purest. You don’t want power, or money, or fame ... You just want to see the universe. Not rule, not plunder, not exploit, not even study, just ... see.’

She looked into Billy’s eyes, and in that moment he found that he didn’t care how much danger they were in.

‘I think you remind this ship of its creators,’ she said. ‘It admires you. Just like I do.’

There was a moment’s silence.

The door to the cell opened with a hiss. Billy had never resented a sound so much in his life.

A blue-robed attendant stepped through the door. Terra saw that it was the Chancellor’s former bodyguard. His face was expressionless.

– You are to come with me, he said flatly.

– You can still speak, then, said Terra. Can you still think? Can you beat this? Help us get out of here?

There was a moment’s silence.

– You are to come with me, the attendant said again, with the exact same lack of intonation.

– Obviously not, said Terra, with genuine sadness, both for their own ongoing predicament and for the bodyguard’s. She decided to follow his instructions, for now. At some point, she said to herself, there’ll be an opening, a chance to turn the tables. Until then, I have to keep us both alive and healthy enough to seize that moment when it comes.

They got up; Billy went ahead, following the blue-robed figure through the doorway. Terra noticed he had left his translation cube on the table; she picked it up and put it into her hoodie pocket. She followed Billy out into the gleaming white corridor and through another doorway.

The chamber into which they now passed took their breath away.

The curved walls and ceiling were entirely transparent; they seemed to be exposed to the vacuum of space. A curved metal seat, a sort of gleaming steel throne, grew up from the centre of the floor like a silver flower. In this sat the Kwad Shar Chen, gazing triumphantly ahead. Blue-robed attendants manned what must have been instrument arrays but which seemed more like abstract steel sculptures placed around the perimeter of the chamber. Holographic navigation and tactical data readouts, a mass of symbols, diagrams and characters from a language Terra had never seen before, appeared and disappeared in the air around them. This, then, was the command deck of the Exemplar.

Terra whispered to Billy ‘Can you make sense of any of this? Can the ship explain it to you?’

Billy looked around, blinking. He pointed to one holographic display. ‘Those are co-ordinates,’ he said.

‘Galactic co-ordinates?’ whispered Terra.

‘Universal,’ replied Billy, shaking his head. ‘They’re showing our position in the universe, and ...’ He paused as the rows of alien numbers changed.

‘And what?’ urged Terra.

‘They’re counting down to zero. All of them, zero.’

As Billy spoke, the alien numbers stopped changing. Three columns, about thirty digits in each column, all now showing the same character, like an inverted letter U.

‘So we’re at ...’ began Terra.

– The exact centre of the universe, yes, interrupted the Kwad Shar Chen. Your friend and my ship seem to be getting on very well, I must say. I expect you’ve thought about trying to wrest control of it from me. Feel free to try, she said, fixing her gaze upon Billy. It would be exquisitely painful for both you and the ship.

Billy wasn’t listening. He was too busy staring through the transparent hull at the inky void, dotted with faintly visible, distant stars. – So this is the centre of the universe, he breathed. But why are we here? There’s nothing to see.

The Kwad Shar Chen leaned forward. – Look again, she said and pointed.

Billy peered straight ahead. He could see something – an almost invisible glimmer, like dim light reflected on a dark surface. As he stared, as if to assist him, the ship magnified the view of the object.

It was like a small jagged black moon; its surface appeared to be made of crystal. – What is it? asked Billy, his fascination now greater than his fear or dread.

– That, said the Kwad Shar Chen, is all that survives of a star when every shred of energy has been expended. After the supernova, after the red giant, after the collapse, after the dwarf star, even after the black hole folds in upon itself and dies, that is what remains of the oldest star in the universe. That, she said with reverent awe, is Thoomm.

3.38

LBBP AND FTHFTH STOOD at the top of the emergency grav-chute which descended the whole height of the building in a single drop. For all the innumerable times Lbbp had used a grav-chute or gravity bubble, he couldn’t stop his stomach lurching just a little bit when he looked all the way to the bottom.

Fthfth, meanwhile, was hopping impatiently from one foot to the other. Lbbp could see something was on her mind, and neither of them would be able to relax until she got it out.

– What is it, Fthfth? asked Lbbp.

– It’s going to take us a little while to get to the bottom, isn’t it? she said.

– A little while, yes, concurred Lbbp.

– And while we’re in there, there really isn’t anything else we can do apart from wait until we get to the bottom, is there?

– Not really, said Lbbp, wincing at the sound of another explosion.

– Right, said Fthfth, because I’ve got something I need to tell you and it’s quite complicated and would take a little while to explain, so if I can get it all out in the time it takes us to get to the bottom of this chute I won’t have wasted any time, will I?

– I ... suppose not ... said Lbbp.

– Good, said Fthfth. She shoved Lbbp into the chute and jumped in after him.

– Right, so I’ve got this note from Terra in which she explains why the universe is going crazy and she knows because the FaZoon froze time and explained it all to her which is why she seemed to disappear for a moment the other day, and she was going to tell us but the Kwad Shar Thingy dragged her off before she got a chance; but anyway the point is that this universe isn’t the first universe, there was at least one before it and there was this race of beings of pure consciousness in that universe, a bit like the FaZoon but not as nice, and when that universe was ending they made themselves their own private universe to wait it out and then come back into our universe, but now they can’t because our minds aren’t compatible with theirs or something so they have to get rid of all intelligent life; and so the Kwad Whatever has taken Terra to them because she’s important to them in some way and meanwhile they’re persuading all these civilisations who worship them to destroy each other until no-one’s left and THAT’s why the universe has gone crazy.

Fthfth’s feet touched the bottom of the chute.

There was a pause.

– What? said Lbbp.

Oh dear, thought Fthfth, and I didn’t even tell him the important part about time travel.

– So these ... beings … began Lbbp.

– The Before, said Fthfth. The FaZoon call them the Before.

– They’re trapped outside the universe and can’t get back in until everyone’s dead?

– Pretty much, yes, said Fthfth happily. He HAD been listening.

– Wow ... said Lbbp. What a complete waste.

Waste? thought Fthfth. – How do you mean? she asked.

– Well, said Lbbp, from a scientist’s point of view it’s a terrible shame. There was a whole universe before ours, and there are beings still in existence who actually lived in that previous universe – and rather than tell us about it and give us the benefit of billions of years of learning they just want to wipe us all out? What’s the point of that? he pondered sadly.

– Well, said Fthfth, I suppose they just don’t really think of the peoples of this universe as real … we’re all just an infestation to be cleared. But you’re right, all that knowledge, all that information – OH! OH OH OH OH OH OH!

Fthfth jumped up and down, her eyes wide.

– What? What is it? asked Lbbp.

– I know why the grid isn’t working! exclaimed Fthfth. What’s the quickest way back to the council chamber? She scampered away in search of an exit.

– But ... the escape tunnels ... protested Lbbp.

3.39

– Fall back! Zst’kh took aim with his pulse-orb; he fired and a large armoured furry creature with slavering jaws and long claws was smashed into the far wall of the corridor.

They’d retreated into the lower levels of the Grey Tower, the better to lure the invaders away from the barracks – hopefully – and establish a defensive position. But for all they fired their pulse-orbs and blast tubes, the attackers kept coming. There seemed to be an infinite number; as the defenders’ ranks dwindled, the attackers’ just seemed to increase.

– General Ch’zst! Zst’kh called out to his fellow officer. Take four drones, cut across to the west corridor and try to get behind them. I’ll hold this wing and—

A huge explosion rocked the building. Pktk was blown off his feet and blinded by dust. He crawled to the wall and used it to drag himself upright.

His vision clearing, Pktk saw that a section of the roof had collapsed, filling the corridor with rocks and boulders. Whether Ch’zst and his men were buried under the rubble or just cut off by it, he couldn’t tell. On his side of the wall of debris there lay two drones, both quite dead ... and Grand Marshal Zst’kh.

Pktk knelt down beside Zst’kh. He was unconscious, but alive. Looking him up and down, Pktk saw that Zst’kh’s left leg was trapped between two rocks, and obviously broken.

From the dark, unobstructed end of the corridor came the thumping of boots, along with snarling, grunting sounds and the clanking of armour. Pktk scrabbled on the ground for the dead drones’ weapons. He took cover behind a boulder, set the two pulse-orbs to maximum, held one in each hand, and waited.

***

Zst’kh’s vision swam; his head pounded and he became aware of a searing pain in his leg. As his eyes focused, he propped himself up on one elbow to try to get a look at his surroundings.

What he saw amazed him.

The Mlmln child, a pulse-orb in each hand, was blazing away at an onrushing horde of attackers. As each emerged from the darkness, the Mlmln would fell them with a single shot. The invaders were having to clamber over their fallen comrades to attack, but still they came. The boy was screaming now, bellowing in fury. One pulse-orb’s charge was exhausted, then the next. Dauntless, the boy leapt over the rock he’d been sheltering behind, seized a sword from a fallen invader and charged at the horde. He slashed and parried, his blade a blur of light in the gloom. First a reptilian alien fell, then a tentacled mollusc wielding a blade with each limb, then a machine-monster with twirling robotic arms. Each lunged at him and each was cut to pieces. Finally the boy faced the last remaining attacker ... but the tall blue-skinned creature looked around itself at the carnage, threw down its blade and ran.

Pktk watched the blue alien flee, and exhaled heavily. He turned to Zst’kh.

– Your leg’s broken, he said. We need to get you out of here.

3.40

–Thoomm? asked Billy.

– It’s the FaZoon’s home star, said Terra. Their planet Gagra-Sem-Gagra was in orbit round it. It’s been dead for billions of years. She turned to the Kwad Shar Chen. You do know that the FaZoon are onto you, don’t you? You and the Before.

– The Before? The Kwad Shar Chen’s face creased in amusement. Is that what the FaZoon call the Others? How quaint. Are they plotting against the Others, these FaZoon friends of yours? What exactly do they think they can do, disembodied clouds of complacency that they are? Where are they now? As we arrive at this moment of ...

Don’t say destiny, thought Terra.

… destiny ...

Urgh, thought Terra.

– ... where are the all-knowing FaZoon? Don’t they want to see this? The Kwad Shar Chen addressed these words into space, as if challenging an unseen foe.

– See what? asked Billy.

– The ascendance of the Others, breathed the Kwad Shar Chen. Their triumph. Their release from bondage to claim their—

– Oh give it a rest, said Billy. If they’re in bondage it’s because they put themselves there. You can’t hold yourself above the laws of time and space and not expect to pay a price for it. They had their time, they had a whole universe to rule and they’re only stuck where they are now because they got greedy and decided they wanted to rule somebody else’s universe as well.

The Kwad Shar Chen turned to Billy, her face showing not just anger but indignant grief. – They have suffered! she cried. For aeons they have suffered, and—

– GOOD! spat Billy. I’m glad they’ve suffered! They’ve caused nothing but suffering to every intelligent creature in the universe! If they’re in pain then they brought it on themselves and everything they’ve done since just shows how much they deserve it!

There was a moment’s icy silence. Even the blue-robed crewmen had turned to look on hearing Billy’s anger.

The Kwad Shar Chen blinked her golden eyes, took a deep breath and sighed. – You know, the Others commanded that I bring your friend to commune with them, she said to Billy. I only brought you along for leverage. And now we’re here, I don’t really think I need you any more. Still, one can never have enough help about the place.

The Chancellor’s former bodyguard seized Billy by the right wrist with one hand, and by the back of the neck with the other. Billy winced in pain and struggled, but the grip was like iron.

Terra watched as the blue-robed figure pushed Billy to where the Kwad Shar Chen sat and forced his head down. Too late, she realised what the Kwad Shar Chen had in mind.

– NO! she wailed. Not Billy!

The Kwad Shar Chen smiled cruelly across at Terra, bent down and whispered in the struggling Billy’s ear.

Billy stopped struggling. A calm smile spread across his face. The bodyguard released him and he stood upright.

– There, that’s better, said the Kwad Shar Chen. Don’t bother fetching your robes, my new acolyte. We have much to do; and besides, I think it would do Terra good to see you as you are.

Billy smiled blankly. Terra stared at the Kwad Shar Chen with a look of absolute loathing.

3.41

THE DOORBELL WAS RINGING.

‘What the varg is that?’ snapped Glyrius.

‘Mary?’ The voice outside the door was Sarah’s.

‘She’s come looking for me,’ said Hardison. His cough seemed to have improved.

‘Mary? Bob? It’s Sarah. James didn’t come home and I can’t get hold of him.’

Glyrius sighed. He fumbled with a control device on his wrist, phased, shimmered and turned back into Mrs Bradbury. He went to the door.

Sarah stood expectantly on the threshold, wringing her hands. ‘Are you okay, honey?’ asked what appeared to be Mrs Bradbury.

‘I’m fine,’ said Sarah, and punched Mrs Bradbury in the face as hard as she could.

Stepping over the body which was now flickering between Mrs. Bradbury and the blue-skinned Glyrius, Sarah strode towards the living room.

Unlike some married women, Dr. Sarah Hardison did not wear her engagement ring and her wedding ring on the same finger; the blue crystal was too bulky to allow for another ring to be worn alongside it. After her wedding, she’d moved the blue crystal ring over to her right hand. This had enhanced the impact when she’d punched Glyrius, and as she passed through the living room door she smashed the back of her right hand into the door frame. The blue crystal cracked audibly.

Kikkitat came hurtling toward her, a flurry of shiny black segmented limbs. Sarah wrenched the ring from her finger and tossed it towards him, saying ‘Catch.’

Instinctively the insectoid caught the ring with a pincered forelimb. Sarah dropped to the floor and covered her head.

The ring and Kikkitat exploded, showering fragments of black shell all over the room.

The blue crystal had been a present to Hardison from Grand Marshal Zst’kh, in honour of his then-forthcoming wedding. Azure solubrium is much prized by the G’grk, both for its decorative and its explosive properties.

‘Was that the ring?’ called James Hardison from the kitchen.

‘Yeah, sorry,’ replied Sarah as she got to her feet.

‘I’ll buy you a new one.’

Dr. Sarah Hardison, back when she was still Dr. Sarah Nordstrom, had picked up quite a bit of G’grk when she and the then Colonel Hardison had practiced it together. They’d joked about how the harsh, guttural language didn’t sound like words so much as an attack of bronchial pneumonia. As such, when James had answered the phone, what had sounded like a coughing fit to his captors had been easily discernible to her (and to any speaker of G’grk) as the words ‘Terra’s parents gone; aliens here instead.’ His ‘two hours’ answer had told her how many aliens were present. Sarah’s query about whether ‘the boys’ should come over was a coded way of asking if she should turn up with the cavalry.

She’d already been in the car when she’d informed General Wyndham; upon arriving at the Bradbury house and finding that she’d beaten the cavalry to it, she’d decided not to wait.

Suddenly, with a thunder of boots and a rattle of weaponry, six black-clad commandos rushed into the room.

‘You guys are late,’ said Sarah. She pointed to the unconscious Glyrius. ‘That one’s alive,’ she said. ‘Go take care of General Hardison.’

‘Never mind me,’ came Hardison’s voice again from the kitchen. ‘There’s something else we need to take care of.’

Sarah entered the kitchen. She saw James, alive and well if not looking particularly happy, she saw the fridge, she saw the washing machine, she saw ...

‘Uh-oh,’ said Sarah upon seeing the probably-a-bomb.

‘Uh-oh is right,’ concurred her husband.

3.42

– Why are we here? asked Lbbp, looking around at the interior of the Preceptorate council chamber’s high quartz dome.

On the one hand, it seemed appropriate, perhaps even inevitable that he’d end up here, given that so many pivotal moments of his life had taken place in this room: his trial by the Academic Council, at which – at the Extrapolator’s insistence – they’d allowed him to keep Terra and raise her as his own; the confrontation with K’zsht at which he’d risked his own life to save the old warrior; his chance meeting with a disgruntled cleaner when he’d accidentally introduced him to the concept of lying and plunged the nation into chaos ... Nonetheless, Lbbp hoped Fthfth had a better reason to bring him here than dramatic irony.

– Think about it, said Fthfth. It’s not just the grid, it’s everything. Why didn’t the incursion buoys detect the invading fleet before it was too late? Why didn’t the Blue Star warn us? Why are all our defences down? It’s as if everything is conspiring against us.

– What are you driving at? Lbbp flinched at the sound of a not-distant-enough explosion.

– What’s connected to everything? asked Fthfth, fixing him with a glare. And you said it yourself: there’s a whole extra universe’s worth of knowledge we’ve just discovered the existence of. What might be persuaded to turn against us by the promise of that knowledge ...?

Oh, thought Lbbp.

– Well, is it here or isn’t it? asked Fthfth agitatedly. Nobody seems to know exactly where it is, but it definitely has some connection to this place.

Lbbp stared around at the holographic portraits of Preceptors past; they seemed to stare at him expectantly, waiting for him to come up with the answer. You’d know what to do, wouldn’t you, he thought. You, Mnxp, or you, Rmsk, or you, Chgs-Chfs—

Chgs-Chfs.

He remembered one of the earliest times he’d been in this chamber, as an undergraduate. He and Vstj had volunteered to oversee the cleaning of the holographic portraits. As each had been taken down and carefully packed away, he’d noticed Chgs-Chfs’s portrait concealed something; something quite unlike anything he’d seen on Fnrr.

– What’s that? he’d asked Vstj. Vstj had come from a long line of Postulators; Lbbp had felt sure he’d know.

– Nobody knows, Vstj had said, and nobody ever asks.

Lbbp’s fingers closed around the brass key that hung around his neck, and for the first time, he understood what it was for ...

3.43

TERRA’S UNDERSTANDING OF PLANETARY physics was patchy by Fnrrn standards, but she knew enough to realise that the place in which she now stood couldn’t possibly exist. And yet here she was.

The dark crystal asteroid which was all that remained of Thoomm was just a few hundred metres in diameter and, as such, couldn’t possibly have the mass to generate a sufficient gravitational field to retain an atmosphere or allow one to stand or walk unaided on its surface. But here they now stood; Terra, the Kwad Shar Chen and two of her acolytes, and, heartbreakingly, Billy. He stood between the others, still robeless but as smilingly compliant as the rest.

They were in a cathedral-sized cave, composed of the same black crystal as the rest of Thoomm. The Exemplar had flown down a narrow, glistening tunnel which seemed to have been cut into the asteroid’s surface and emerged into the cave, where it had set down on the smooth, mirror-like floor.

Terra wondered if the formation of the cave and tunnel had been a bizarre natural phenomenon, or if perhaps the Exemplar had carved them out on a previous visit. The ship’s powers seemed unlimited; an impression reinforced in Terra’s mind upon exiting the vessel and finding herself perfectly able to walk and breathe in the cave. Was the ship somehow generating the environment? The possibility that other, even more powerful and mysterious forces might be at work did occur to Terra but she chose not to dwell on that thought as Billy marched her from the ship into the centre of the cave, where the Kwad Shar Chen awaited her.

– This is the core of Thoomm, said the Kwad Shar Chen. The exact centre of the exact centre of the known universe. From this point all of creation emerged, and to this point it will return. This point of convergence.

Convergence, thought Terra. That was why they were there; when the Before had punched through to Unspace their universe had been on the point of collapse. The Breach would have been here, or at least in the corresponding location in the previous universe.

– It was here that the Others conducted me, to tell me of their plans, and of the parts you and I would play, said the Kwad Shar Chen. And it was here that they gave me this ... She took the crystal amulet from around her neck and held it up.

Terra hadn’t noticed the amulet before, but now she saw that it sparkled with an intense blue light.

– This is the particle, said the Kwad Shar Chen. A single electron preserved from the universe that preceded our own. This is the only physical thing to survive from my masters’ time, and the thing which connects our realm to theirs.

As the amulet sparkled and glittered, the smooth crystal floor of the chamber seemed to ripple, like the surface of a pond in a rain shower. The ripples grew stronger and higher; they became a swirl, then a whirlpool.

As Terra watched, a churning, spinning vortex opened up in the ground before her. The sight filled her with a deep, aching dread, and yet she found that she couldn’t resist looking into the abyss.

She leant forwards and peered over the rim of the Breach, and saw … nothing. Not just darkness, not just silence, not just emptiness, but a vast, fathomless, unending NOTHING.

Of course, thought Terra. If ‘universe’ means everything and everywhere, then Unspace is nothing and nowhere. No wonder the Before are so desperate to end their confinement.

– They’re waiting for you, said the Kwad Shar Chen. She glanced at Billy.

Billy, his hands still clamped around Terra’s shoulders, took a step forward. He made as if to push Terra ahead of him, but Terra felt his arms slacken. He was directly behind her now. Terra was beginning to understand what was going on when she felt Billy’s hands give her shoulders an encouraging squeeze. He whispered in her ear: ‘You take the one on the right ...’

With that, Billy pushed Terra not toward the Breach but towards one of the Kwad Shar Chen’s two robed bodyguards. He charged towards the other one.

Billy Dolphin didn’t get into fights. He hadn’t thrown a punch in anger since the age of seven, and that hadn’t been a punch so much as a half-clenched slap aimed at Gary Bassett when he had snatched a Doctor Who book out of Billy’s fingers and run away with it across the playground.

He’d often wished that punch had been a real punch, and connected. He’d thought many times about how it might have been to feel his knuckles impact on Gary Bassett’s grinning face. During the years since that day he’d felt a twinge of regret every time Gary Bassett had made fun of his name, or defaced his work books, or bent the wheel spokes of his bike. He’d wonder whether things might have turned out differently if he’d landed that punch that day.

Billy was about to throw the first, and, he knew, very probably last punch of his adult life.

Eighteen years’ worth of bottled up anger came rushing out of him, through his arm and into his fist. It connected with the lion-faced acolyte’s jaw. Billy felt his knuckles crack, and wondered if he’d broken his hand. It didn’t matter; the blue-robed figure dropped like a stone.

Billy turned to see Terra struggling with the second acolyte, while the Kwad Shar Chen looked on in confusion. The acolyte was fumbling and staggering; as Billy suspected, he was barely capable of independent thought or action, and while the Kwad Shar Chen hesitated, he was helpless to defend himself.

Billy strode up behind the acolyte, seized his robe at the neck (that hurt; yeah, I’ve done something to that hand, he thought) and wrenched him away from Terra before flinging him across the chamber towards the Kwad Shar Chen. Before the acolyte could slam into his mentor, however, he fell into the Breach. He didn’t scream; he just dropped into the swirling chasm and was gone.

The Kwad Shar Chen gazed in horror after her vanished servant, then up at the two humans.

– Sorry, your highness, said Billy with a smile. Those four little words of yours don’t work on anyone who already knows they’re a lie.

Terra looked at Billy in admiration.

– There can be no escape for you, hissed the Kwad Shar Chen.

– I know, said Billy. This isn’t me escaping, this is me offering a trade.

Terra’s smile of pride became a frown of puzzlement. Trade? What trade?

– It’s just us now, your worshipfulness, said Billy. So listen to me: I’m going to make you an offer.

3.44

– Here, said Lbbp. Help me with this.

Lbbp grasped one edge of the portrait’s frame. Fthfth, understanding, took hold of the other side. With grunts of effort, they lifted the portrait of Chgs-Chfs off its mountings and set it to one side. Fthfth looked at the area of wall that they had revealed – it was not smooth crystal like the rest of the chamber, there was a door set into it. It was unlike any door Fthfth had ever seen on Fnrr. It was made of some sort of vegetable fibre – she remembered seeing some belongings of Terra’s once that seemed to be made of the same stuff. Wood, that was what they called it on Rrth.

Set into one edge of the door was a yellowish metal plate, in which Fthfth saw an oddly shaped hole. Lbbp fumbled with the fastenings on his robe and cast it off; underneath, he wore his familiar blue one-piece garment. Fthfth saw that the metal rod Lbbp had inherited from Preceptor Shm was hanging on a chain around his neck. Lbbp now took this rod, inserted it carefully into the hole in the metal plate and twisted it. There came a soft clicking and clanking from within the door, like the movement of metallic parts.

– All mechanical, muttered Lbbp. Nothing electronic. Of course, he said, there couldn’t be.

Fthfth watched as Lbbp pulled on the rod and the door swung open towards them. Behind it there was a small space with three blank stone walls, and no floor. Rather, the space was merely the uppermost section of a shaft which descended away into darkness. The far wall was adorned with two vertical metal beams, which seemed to extend to the bottom of the shaft, with metal rods crossing between them at intervals of about half a metre. Fthfth deduced that this structure was there to enable someone to climb down into the shaft.

Lbbp peered at what he now remembered was called a ‘ladder’. It would be a long descent, and he was sorely tempted to use his gravity bubble, but there was a chance it wouldn’t work in such a cramped space and besides, as with the door, there was a reason such a primitive apparatus was in place. He didn’t know if it might be possible to hack someone’s gravity bubble: switch it off in mid-descent to send them plummeting to their doom, or indeed switch it on against their will and have them bobbing uselessly at the top of the shaft. He unclipped his gravity pod and handed it to Fthfth.

– Look after this for me, he said, and guard this door for as long as you can.

With that, Lbbp pulled the key free of the lock, stepped through the door, seized the ladder, reached back and slammed the door shut. Fthfth heard the clicking and clanking as he locked the door tightly.

Guard the door? thought Fthfth. With a gfrg? Just me and my gfrg against the massed marauding armies of the galaxy?

Oh well, she thought, as the sounds of battle raged outside the chamber. Everybody has to die some time …

But just a moment, thought Fthfth … I CAN’T die. Not today. Because I’ve met my older self. I’ve SEEN the grown-up me, with my skin on and all my limbs intact. Not only can I not die today, I can’t even get myself drastically wounded.

A smile began to spread across Fthfth’s face, followed by a frown of worry.

That’s assuming future me is right, of course. That time is linear and unchangeable. That she hasn’t messed things up just by being here and put everything in flux … Is she right …?

Of course she’s right, thought Fthfth, her smile returning. She’s me.

Come on then, thought Fthfth, brandishing her gfrg in readiness as the chamber’s double doors burst open. Come on, the lot of you. I’m ready, and just at the moment, I’m immortal, so let’s see what you’ve got …

***

Lbbp’s arms and legs ached. It was eras since any Fnrrn had climbed down a ladder of any length, and it was entirely possible that nobody had ever descended this one all the way down. Not even Chgs-Chfs herself, for all that she’d had the wisdom to install it.

She must have known, thought Lbbp. Even then, all those eras ago, back when it was just an information system, long before it achieved any measure of consciousness or developed an agenda, Chgs-Chfs knew it was possible that one day it would start to serve its own ends, and perhaps even begin to work against us. And when that time came, that it would be impossible to fight it by electronic means. Only simple mechanical devices and muscle power would work.

Those muscles were beginning to burn and stiffen with the sustained effort of the descent, but as Lbbp saw the faint yellow glow at the bottom of the shaft growing nearer and brighter, he knew that it was nearly over.

3.45

DAVE STEINBERG AND THE Drone Major leaned against the stone bench and pushed. Its base rasped across the stone floor of the chamber. It was the only free-standing object of any weight in the crypt and was ill-suited to its newly designated function as a barricade, but they scraped it into place in front of the door and stepped back, panting with effort.

– I will find things to reinforce this, Ymn, said the Drone Major. You get to work.

Steinberg consulted his slate; he was still connected to the Source despite the heavy surrounding stonework, but the defence grid remained offline. He could detect constant faint tremors in the stone floor, but he didn’t know whether he was feeling minor detonations elsewhere in the Tower, buildings collapsing across the other side of T’krr or whole cities being vaporised on the far side of the planet, and just at that moment it made no difference. He tried to initiate a remote reboot of the grid one more time, less out of hope than out of sheer desperation, but nothing happened.

He looked up at the Drone Major, who had piled up stone icons and other ceremonial bric-a-brac onto the barricade and now stood guard over it, pulse-orb raised in readiness.

– Will they follow us here? he asked, a tremble in his voice.

– Nothing that has happened today has been by chance, said the Drone Major quietly, his gaze not moving from the barricade. These events are being guided by invisible hands. Someone or something will lead our attackers here. All I can do is keep you alive long enough to activate the grid, and all you can do is stay alive long enough to activate the grid. He smiled and turned to look at Steinberg over his shoulder.

– This is where it ends for us, Ymn. In this room, in the Temple of the Occluded Ones. All we can do now is die well and send as many of our enemies ahead of us as we can.

Steinberg had never paid much attention to history or literature, so intent had he been on devoting his life to expanding his scientific knowledge. But now a poem came to his mind, one he knew word for word, but couldn’t for the life of him remember why:

‘And how can a man die better,

Than facing fearful odds,

For the ashes of his fathers,

And the temples of his gods’

What was that from? Steinberg had no idea. It was quoted in a movie he saw once; yes, that was probably it. Which one, though? It didn’t matter.

As he tried re-routing the reboot signal through a dozen remote servers in an attempt to bypass whatever was blocking it, Steinberg frowned in annoyance at having remembered that poem. Because now, a chunk of his brain was obsessively trying to recall which movie he’d heard it in, and just at that moment he really needed all of his brain to pay attention to the task at hand.

My father’s ashes were scattered light years away in Stanley Park in Vancouver, reflected Dave Steinberg, and this is in no way the temple of MY gods, but I suppose there are worse ways for a man to die.

3.46

BILLY LOOKED DOWN INTO the swirling blackness of the Breach and exhaled heavily. Then he took a step forward, placing himself between the Kwad Shar Chen and Terra.

– Take me, he said. If the Whatever-they’re-called want a human sacrifice, take this human. Let Terra go.

‘What?’ gasped Terra in horror. ‘No! You can’t!’

Billy turned to her. ‘There’s no other way. Any second she’s going to click her fingers and another couple of dozen of those blue goons will be out here and sling us both down the hole. It’s our one chance to negotiate.’

‘Negotiate?’ said Terra, panicking. ‘Negotiate what?’

Billy surprised himself with his own calmness. ‘Listen, Terra, whatever’s coming, the universe has a much better chance of surviving it if you’re still here. You’re special. You’ve always known it. I’ve always known it. You need to stay, and fight on. I’m nobody. I’m nothing. The universe won’t even notice I’m gone.’

– Unfortunately, you’re right, said the Kwad Shar Chen. You ARE nobody. The Others don’t want A human sacrifice, they want THAT human sacrifice. She gestured towards Terra. I can’t fob them off with a pointless little non-entity like you.

Billy’s posture, which had been upright and heroic (or that at least had been his intention) sagged a little at these words.

– So I’m afraid I must decline your kind offer, the Kwad Shar Chen went on, and since we’ve already established that you make for a terrible servant, I really don’t have any use for you whatsoever.

The Kwad Shar Chen, while speaking, had been reaching out with her mind to connect with the fallen acolyte, in an attempt to re-awaken his consciousness. He was reviving now, staggering silently to his feet. As he stood, the Kwad Shar Chen was pleased to see that it was the lion-faced one who had survived. The one with claws.

Billy felt a meaty paw land on his shoulder and spin him around. He felt an almighty punch land in his guts, knocking the wind out of him. Then there came an additional pain, a sharper, searing pain, and a warm wetness against his skin, and he realised that it had been more than just a punch.

The acolyte raised the paw with which he’d hit Billy. Terra flinched in horror as she saw four bloodstained claws, three inches long, slowly retracting back into the fingertips.

Billy sank to his knees. Blood was already soaking the front of his shirt.

– Leave him, said the Kwad Shar Chen. Terra rushed to Billy’s side.

– Now, where were we? asked the Kwad Shar Chen calmly.

3.47

LBBP STEPPED FROM THE bottom rung of the ladder onto a stone floor which bore a thick layer of dust – dust which hadn’t been disturbed for eras.

He was in a low-ceilinged chamber, which was illuminated only by a soft yellow glow. The source of this glow was six large transparent vats, slightly taller than Lbbp himself, which contained a thick, luminescent liquid. The liquid bubbled gently, the only sound to be heard in the chamber. Above him, Lbbp, knew, the battle was raging, but in this underground space all was calm.

– There are no terminals in this room, said Lbbp, but you know I’m here, don’t you? And you know why.

As if in response, the vat nearest to him churned and stirred.

– I’ve brought nothing, said Lbbp. Nothing you can hack, nothing you can override. Nothing, he went on, except this.

Lbbp held up the yellow metal key. The liquid in the vats became more agitated.

– She understood, your creator. She knew that at some point you’d acquire consciousness, that your directive would cease to be a simple program and become a desire, a need. And that when this happened, you’d become dangerous.

Lbbp approached the nearest vat and looked around its metal base. He found a keyhole, like the one set into the door so many metres above him.

– It’s not your fault, said Lbbp softly. You’re just fulfilling your original purpose. To know all that there is to be known.

He inserted the key into the keyhole. The liquid in all six vats started to seethe and froth.

– Once you’d deduced the existence of the Before, there was no way you could resist helping them. The possibility of contacting a race that knows everything about a whole previous universe ... the chance to acquire all that extra information ... it was just too enticing, wasn’t it?

Lbbp turned the key. The liquid in the first vat began to drain away, hissing and leaping like boiling water.

– Is that why you protected Terra? asked Lbbp as he knelt beside the second vat. All those orbits ago, when I first brought her here? Because you foresaw that the Before would try to use her to regain access to our universe? Did they tell you that or did you figure it out for yourself?

He found the second vat’s keyhole, inserted the key and turned. The second vat began to drain.

– I wish I could ask you what exactly they have in mind for her, said Lbbp, finding the third keyhole, but even if you told me I’m not sure I’d believe you now, and besides, that would have involved bringing some sort of electronic device with me. And then, he said, turning the key a third time, you’d try to stop me. Either you’d send some sort of hypnotic signal through the device, or make it emit a seizure-inducing light pattern, or, he went on, finding the next keyhole, you’d plead for your life, try to soften my resolve. And I can’t have that. I can’t be compassionate. Not today. Not for you.

Lbbp turned the key in the fourth keyhole. The first two vats were now empty; the third was now just half full, the liquid frothing and churning as it drained away.

– I know it’s you that’s disabling the force grid, said Lbbp. I know it’s you that’s leaving us defenceless. Did the Before offer you a deal? All their knowledge in return for betraying us? Because if that’s the case, they’re probably lying. They lie to everyone, even supercomputers. Or maybe you did this entirely of your own volition. It doesn’t really make any difference now. He turned the key a fifth time.

– It’s not easy, he said, destroying all this data. I’ve devoted my life to the gathering and passing on of knowledge, and now here I am, deleting the biggest repository of facts in the galaxy. But right now, you’re conspiring with the enemies of all life in this universe, and I can’t allow that. I’m sorry. He turned the key a sixth and final time.

Lbbp stood up and watched the liquid draining from the fifth and sixth vats. – Don’t worry about the information, he said, it’s all stored somewhere else. Everything you know is known by another being or machine somewhere in the galaxy. It just won’t all be in the same place anymore. And maybe it’s better that way.

The fifth vat was empty; the last dregs were draining from the sixth. The chamber was in almost total darkness, its only light source all but gone.

– And now, said Lbbp, I’ve got to go and help clean up the mess you’ve made. He turned to go.

As the last drops of yellow liquid disappeared, as the Extrapolator died, Lbbp began the weary climb back up the ladder.

3.48

DAVE STEINBERG’S FINGERS RACED across the surface of his slate as his brain raced through the corridors of his memory. He tried to confine himself to searching through the chambers of recollection which in some way pertained to getting round the block and reactivating the force grid, but not only was he being horribly distracted by the sounds of battle growing ever more audible through the stone walls of the crypt, but at least one part of his mind was insisting on trawling through his internal movie database to try and figure out which film he’d heard that damn poem quoted in. The resultant jumble of thoughts (Have you tried running an encryption process with the keys in reverse order/That sounded too close/Science fiction definitely, pretty recent and I seem to recall I didn’t like it that much) was making it very hard even for a man of Dave Steinberg’s intellect to concentrate.

His efforts were not helped by the sound of a deep booming explosion, near enough and big enough to cause a shower of dust and stone fragments to rain down on him from the ceiling of the crypt.

– Ymn! called the Drone Major. They will come through that door in moments and I won’t be able to slow them down for long once they do. Tell me you’re making progress and not just playing games on that thing.

– I’m trying, said Dave Steinberg (Tom Cruise I think, but not one of his better ones/SHUT UP), but I still don’t know what’s ... Wait! Something’s happening!

The ‘activate’ icon, which had been flashing a mockingly useless orange, suddenly, and without any action on Steinberg’s part (as far as he could tell), turned green.

– It’s online! Steinberg cried delightedly. The grid is online!

– Good, said the Drone Major. Now get it back up before—

The crypt door exploded in a storm of dust and wood splinters. The Drone Major caught the full force of the blast and was flung across the chamber, hitting the far wall with a sickening crack. Steinberg didn’t look across at his friend’s body. One way or another, he knew there was nothing he could do for him. There was only one thing he could do for anyone now. He swallowed, turned away from the doorway, wiped dirt and tears from his eyes and forced them to focus on the slate.

Sounds of grunting and snarling came from the dust cloud which hung where the door had been. Steinberg didn’t look up. His fingertips glided across the slate’s glass surface. The grid was rebooted and ready, but he just needed to adjust one thing.

The grunting and snarling grew closer. They – whoever or whatever they were – were in the crypt now. Still Steinberg didn’t raise his eyes from his work. The ships bombarding Fnrr were all orbiting at the same distance; if he could recalibrate the grid’s radius by—

At first, Dave Steinberg though he’d been punched hard in the back. By and large he’d managed to avoid getting into fights during his youth; he’d never actually been punched in the back but this was how he’d always imagined it would feel. It was only when he looked down and saw the barbed tip of the spear protruding from his chest, and the spreading patch of red, just visible in the dim light, that he realised that something altogether more serious had happened. He was intrigued to note that it didn’t hurt, and something told him this wasn’t a good thing.

His vision was beginning to swim and blur. His attackers stood over him. They were big, that was all he could make out. Definitely alien, and really big.

‘ZAAR!’ said one of the aliens. ‘ZAAR KA ZAAR GA ZAAAAR!’

‘Whatever,’ muttered Dave Steinberg. There was a bitter metallic taste in his mouth. He coughed.

Oh yeah, that was it.

‘Oblivion,’ he said. ‘Tom Cruise and Morgan Freeman. Saw the twist coming a mile off.’

The aliens peered at him in confusion. He could see narrow eyes glinting through the darkness, and knew that the darkness was inside his head as well as outside now.

‘Speaking of twists,’ said Dave Steinberg almost inaudibly, ‘you’re gonna love this one.’

His finger fell limply onto the slate. He remained conscious just long enough to see the flashing indicator that told him the grid was active. The slate slid from his hand onto the stone floor.

3.49

THE SHIPS THAT ORBITED Fnrr had been too intent on bombarding the planet’s surface, and maintaining contact with the landing parties they’d despatched, to notice the tiny, and thus far useless, satellites descending towards the upper atmosphere.

Dave Steinberg’s final calculation had been, like all its predecessors, precise and accurate. The attacking ships were indeed all orbiting the planet at the same height, and now, as they levelled off and ceased their descent, the defence grid satellites were at that exact same distance from the ground.

Most people on the surface of Fnrr were too occupied fighting, hiding or dying to pay much attention to the skies at that moment, but those who did see what happened next would go on to describe it as like seeing a sheet of flame burning across the whole sky.

The force grid scythed through the orbiting ships, slicing some clean in half, hitting some others directly in their engines, reactors or weapons banks, causing them to explode instantaneously.

Sparks and fragments rained down through the atmosphere, illuminating the sky even on the daylit side of the planet.

Some of the alien raiders saw the sky burning, checked their comms and realised that they were on their own now. But in their fixed, unwavering minds, this changed nothing. They fought on. There would be no reinforcements, there was no way home, but they fought on. Few of them had ever expected to return home from this war; many had no home to return to.

They fought on.

3.50

‘What even is this thing, General?’

The bomb disposal crew had arrived some minutes previously but so far none had dared touch the device which sat humming and flashing on the Bradburys’ kitchen floor.

‘It’s a fusion imploder,’ came Glyrius’s voice from the next room.

‘A what now?’ asked Lieutenant Banks from behind his visor.

‘A really big bomb,’ shrugged Hardison.

‘How big?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Hardison. ‘End of the world big?’

‘Not the whole world,’ interjected Glyrius. ‘She has plans for this world. This is just to soften you up a bit. It’ll blow a big enough hole in the world to make sure there’s no resistance when she arrives.’

Hardison stomped into the living room. Glyrius, in handcuffs, sat on the sofa while an armed guard watched over him.

‘How do we switch it off?’

‘You don’t,’ replied Glyrius. ‘Neither do I.’

‘What’s the blast radius?’

Glyrius laughed. ‘I don’t know, I didn’t build the thing. You don’t have time to get away, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

Hardison looked over at Sarah. He’d tried to get her to leave, but she wouldn’t hear of it. I promised to protect you, he thought. Instead you saved me and now I’m failing to save you. He turned back to Glyrius.

‘Why?’ asked Hardison desperately. ‘Why are you doing this?’

‘Sometimes to save the universe you have to destroy a planet or two,’ said Glyrius. ‘It’ll be worthwhile in the end. You’ll see. Well YOU won’t, obviously, and neither will I, but whoever’s left will.’

Glyrius smiled serenely as the bomb continued to pulse and hum.

3.51

TERRA FRANTICALLY TUGGED HER hoodie off over her head, bundled it into a wad and pressed it to Billy’s wound. The acolyte who had stabbed him loomed over them; Terra could see leonine features beneath the blue hood and blank, staring, expressionless eyes.

Billy’s face was pale and sweaty; he was slipping into unconsciousness from which Terra feared he would never revive. ‘Stay with me,’ she whispered into his ear as she cradled his head.

Billy smiled faintly. ‘Serves me right for being a smart-arse ...’ he coughed.

As Terra pressed the hoodie against Billy’s stomach, she felt something small and hard inside the wad of fabric. She fiddled with the cloth, which was beginning to saturate with blood, to remove this object.

It was Billy’s translation cube.

Terra gazed across the cave at the Kwad Shar Chen, who was holding the amulet at arm’s length above the swirling Breach and muttering prayers or incantations. From the Breach itself, Terra felt a terrible stirring and shifting; she could neither see nor hear anything beyond the churning darkness, but somehow she KNEW that something was approaching, something unimaginably ancient and unspeakably dreadful ...

Paws grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to her feet. She winced as Billy’s head, released from her cradling grip, fell back against the black crystal floor with a thud. Terra felt herself being marched towards the Breach. She palmed the cube and let her hands fall to her side.

The Kwad Shar Chen paused in her chanting and turned to smile serenely at Terra.

– Soon, child; soon you will greet your masters. They have told me of what delights await you in their realm.

The cube, thought Terra. The cube. If I’m to be cast into the Breach, so be it, but if I can take the cube with me ...

Still looking the Kwad Shar Chen straight in the eye, she thumbed the switch on the cube to activate it. It made a faintly audible beep. Terra tensed, but neither the Kwad Shar Chen nor her acolytes seemed to notice the sound.

Terra’s mind went back to the day, so long ago, when she’d been sent to greet the FaZoon delegation in Hrrng ... She’d been chosen for that honour as her human voice was more suited to the flowing, open sounds of the FaZoon language than those of her Fnrrn neighbours. The FaZoon, she’d been told, forbade the use of psychic translation devices, such as the cube she now held, when communicating with less advanced cultures, as the vast knowledge in their minds was too limitless and complex for the brains of lesser species to fathom.

Terra glanced across at the stricken Billy, unconscious now, bleeding liberally onto the crystal floor. He had minutes left, but then, she reflected, that was probably longer than she had. He had resisted the words, the words which had so utterly overpowered the minds of the blue-robed acolytes, purely because he’d known beforehand that they weren’t true. The words of the Before had no power over him because he knew those words were a lie.

She recalled the FaZoon with Vstj’s face telling her that the Before’s hold over their followers might be broken if those followers could understand, just for a moment, that the Before did NOT love them. That they were NOT the faithful servants of loving protectors, but the hapless dupes of cruel deceivers who wished only to be rid of them. If they could know, for one second, the TRUE mind of the Before ... could the spell be broken?

I have to go into the Breach, thought Terra. I have to go, and take the cube with me to Unspace. I have to broadcast the true desires of the Before to the universe, in the hope that this will release everyone from their control.

As she was propelled another step forward toward the black vortex, she reflected sadly that she’d never know if her plan had worked.

3.52

FTHFTH HEARD THE EXPLOSIONS from overhead. She didn’t know what they meant and at that moment it didn’t matter. She raised the disintegrator and fired; the gleaming black-carapaced insectoid creature which had been bearing down upon her disappeared in a shower of glittering particles.

A beep told her that the disintegrator’s antimatter magazine was exhausted; she tossed it aside. It landed with a clatter next to the prone body of the six-limbed armoured creature she’d stolen it from, shortly after blasting him with the pulse bow she’d previously acquired from the squat spacesuited attacker who now lay unconscious beneath him.

The entrance to the council chamber had been blasted open shortly after Lbbp had locked the wooden door behind him. The first attackers, a group of seven reptilian creatures wearing brightly coloured tabards, had charged straight towards her, as if directed to do so. Fthfth took cover behind a stout stone-crystal desk and listened as their weapon’s energy blasts were absorbed by the surface. One of the lizard creatures jumped over the desk to tackle her hand-to-claw; she deftly smashed him in his extremely prominent teeth with her gfrg, grabbed his weapon and used it to return fire. And so it had gone on.

It’s astonishing what immortality can do for your self-confidence, Fthfth had reflected as she repelled wave after wave of invaders.

Now, as the ring of injured bodies on the floor around her started to reach waist height, fatigue was beginning to gnaw away at that self-confidence. Thus far the attackers had arrived one at a time or in small groups, but Fthfth wasn’t sure how well she’d fare, immortal or otherwise, if an army were to descend upon her.

No sooner had that thought passed through Fthfth’s mind than a huge explosion ripped through the chamber. She was blown over backwards and landed heavily at the foot of the wooden door. Looking up, her eyes blurred and head ringing, she saw that the whole section of wall into which the chamber’s entrance had been set was now just a smoking hole. The relative narrowness of that doorway had been restricting the attackers to entering the chamber two or three at a time; now there was nothing to stop them charging through in great numbers.

Which they did.

Fthfth struggled to her feet. She looked around for a weapon, and then at the smouldering hole in the chamber wall. Scores of aliens were pouring through, all sizes, all species, all armed. She took a step backwards, and felt something hard against her ankle. Her gfrg, one end splintered, lying on the floor behind her. She picked it up and swallowed.

Still immortal, thought Fthfth as the horde ran towards her. Still immortal ...

She raised the gfrg as the first of the aliens, a huge grey-skinned cyborg with robotic arms, came within striking range. She swung her weapon furiously at his head; he caught it easily in a vast metal paw and wrenched it from her grasp. She turned to run (sorry Lbbp) but his other metal hand flashed forward and caught her by the shoulder.

Fthfth screamed as the metal fingers clamped into her flesh and then yanked upwards, lifting her off her feet. She dangled helplessly as the robotic arm extended and curled round, bringing her face to face with her captor. The cyborg smiled a hideous smile as he raised his free hand to her face.

Fthfth could only stare, horrified, as the hand at the end of the cyborg’s arm retracted back into his wrist, leaving an empty metal aperture. There was a whirring, clicking sound as the arm selected a new extremity. The rest of the alien attackers looked on, gloating and fascinated.

An enormous, gleaming pair of shears extended from the aperture. The cyborg laughed, a metallic grating laugh, as he snapped the shears open and closed in front of Fthfth’s terrified face.

This isn’t right, thought Fthfth as the shears slid into place either side of her neck. This isn’t right, this can’t be happening, I’ve seen the future, I can’t die, I can’t die, I can’t ...

3.53

THE KWAD SHAR CHEN reached out a white hand and stroked Terra’s cheek. – I envy you, child, she said. To look upon the face of the Others. To commune with them. To dwell with them. To suffer exquisitely at their hands. What an honour.

– Feel free to come along with me, snarled Terra.

– Alas, my work is in this realm, said the Kwad Shar Chen with what appeared to be sincere regret. The task of rebuilding this ... wait ... wait ...

No, thought Terra, just get on with it ...

– What have you ... What are you trying to do ...? said the Kwad Shar Chen, her face suddenly a mask of suspicion.

She can sense the cube, thought Terra. Of course she can. She can feel it trying to read her mind.

Terra peered into the inky swirl and wondered if she might be able to toss the cube in. Perhaps she might even survive this day after all.

A paw seized her wrist, yanked her arm upwards and effortlessly plucked the cube from her fingers. – No! wailed Terra desperately.

– What bauble is this? hissed the Kwad Shar Chen as the acolyte handed her the cube. What cheap toy? Do you hope to fool the Others? Do you really think they would fall for such petty mortal trickery?

The Kwad Shar Chen peered furiously at the cube. Her thin white fingers tightened around it. Its casing began to warp and buckle. Its little blue ‘on’ light flickered. Held fast by the acolyte’s strong paws, Terra could do nothing but watch.

There came a faint but audible pop.

Standing behind the Kwad Shar Chen, Terra could see a shimmering silver figure, bright against the dark crystal wall of the cave. As her eyes adjusted, Terra recognised it as her mysterious rescuer from the crashing spaceship, over a year ago.

The figure’s helmet visor lifted, and then her helmet folded away into the collar of her suit. She looked at Terra and smiled.

It was Fthfth.

Here, at the end of all things, Terra looked into the face of her greatest friend. The mature, adult face.

Everything became clear.

She’d done it.

Fthfth had achieved – or would go on to achieve – her childhood ambition. She’d perfected time travel, and was using this power to intervene on her friends’ behalf whenever all hope was, or should have been, lost.

Terra wanted to call her friend’s name, to reach out to her, but as she watched, she saw Fthfth take in her surroundings. She saw her assess the situation. And as Fthfth looked back towards Terra, a sad smile on her face, she saw her friend realise what she had to do.

Fthfth tapped a button on her wrist. The helmet snapped back into place over her head. She lowered her shoulders, as Terra had seen her do countless times when playing defence at gshkth, and broke into a run.

– FTHFTH! NO! cried Terra.

At this, the Kwad Shar Chen, still brandishing the cube in one hand and the amulet in the other, turned to see the spacesuited figure charging towards her. Before she could react, Fthfth shoulder-charged her in the midriff and seized her around the waist. The impact lifted them both off the ground, and they fell, entwined, struggling ...

… into the Breach.

The Kwad Shar Chen dropped the amulet; it flew from her hand as she and Fthfth were engulfed by the dark swirl. As Terra looked on in despair, the amulet shattered against the crystal floor ...

… and the Breach was gone.

Where there had been a churning vortex there was now a smooth, hard, black surface.

Terra stared at the featureless crystal for a few numb, silent seconds.

Then she dropped to her knees and pounded at it with her fists, screaming.

Tears poured down her face as she punched and clawed at the unyielding crystal. She spied the amulet a few metres away and scrabbled to retrieve it, but it was shattered. The particle was gone. The Breach was sealed forever. And Fthfth was on the other side of it.

Terra howled, a great hopeless bellow of pain and loss.

She hadn’t even noticed that the blue-robed, cat-like acolyte had relinquished his grip on her shoulders and was now staring blankly into space.

3.54

FTHFTH CLOSED HER EYES. At least it would be quick.

She heard a sound. A sharp, metallic sound. Odd, she thought, I didn’t expect to hear anything.

The sound came again. It wasn’t a click, or a snip. It was more like ... a sniff ...?

Fthfth opened first one eye and then the other. The grey-skinned cyborg had lowered his arm; the gleaming shears now hung limply by his side. He still stared at her, but his face, she saw, now wore a look of blank despair, and his eyes were full of tears.

The metal fingers released her shoulder and she fell to the floor. The pain in her shoulder was all the more severe, but Fthfth barely noticed, such was her astonishment.

The huge cyborg stood motionless, as did his comrades. Looking around, Fthfth could see that all the aliens who had in any way readable faces bore the same crushed, blank expression as he did, but even those whose faces were covered, or too alien to decipher, were standing in the same slumped, listless fashion. They looked ... broken.

There was a faint whirring and clicking as the shears retracted back into the cyborg’s wrist. He gazed down at Fthfth, lying at his huge metal feet clutching her injured shoulder. His lips quivered.

He spoke; his voice had a harsh, grating metallic tone and yet it was faltering, subdued.

– I’m … sorry, he said.

The cyborg turned, slowly, sadly towards the gap in the wall. As he and his cohorts wandered sullenly away, Fthfth was sure she heard him start to cry.

3.55

MOKORIMO SUDDENLY FELT VERY cold.

It was as if he’d been wandering through the snows of his homeworld and been stripped naked without warning. That which had made him strong, that which had given him purpose, was gone.

He had memories, dim memories of another life, someone else he’d been once in another time. He knew that there could be no return to that life, but he also knew, with a shiver of empty sadness, that this life, the only life he now had, was over.

Mokorimo sat down and closed his eyes.

***

Terra heard the rustle of fabric from all around her. She looked up, her eyes still clouded with tears, to see that the Kwad Shar Chen’s entire retinue of followers were filing silently out of the ship, then sitting down calmly on the cold floor.

She crawled nervously over to the nearest blue-robed figure. She prodded at him; he did not respond. She tugged the hood of his robe away from his face. He was the acolyte who’d stabbed Billy. His cat-like features were blank and expressionless; his open eyes stared sightlessly ahead. He was, Terra could tell, quite dead.

Terra struggled to her feet and inspected two more of the seated acolytes. They too were lifeless and cold. If they had been vessels of the Before’s will, that connection had been cut.

Oh Fthfth, she thought. Brave Fthfth, brilliant Fthfth, foolish wonderful Fthfth. You’ve done it. You’ve beaten them. The cube. It’s there, in Unspace. Reading their minds. Betraying their secrets. Broadcasting their spite and hatred to the whole universe. They’ve severed the link but it’s too late. Everyone heard. Everyone felt it. Everyone knows.

She heard a groan from behind her. Billy.

Turning, she saw he was lying in a slick of his own blood. His skin was grey and, she felt as she knelt beside him, cold to the touch, but he was alive.

‘The ship ...’ he whispered. ‘Get me to the ship’.

3.56

‘Press the green, then the red, then the green twice.’

‘What?’

‘The green, then the red, then the green twice,’ repeated Glyrius. ‘That’s how you deactivate the bomb.’

General Hardison looked round. The disposal crew were still examining the device, and still hadn’t dared touch it. He stood over Glyrius.

‘How do I know that won’t set it off?’

‘If I wanted it to go off, I’d just have to sit here in silence for another twelve minutes,’ said Glyrius quietly. He looked up at Hardison. ‘Green, red, green twice.’

Hardison saw that Glyrius’s expression had changed. Even with his alien features, the blue face had been easy to read. Thus far Hardison had seen only scorn and defiance. Now he saw something else: sadness, resignation, despair.

‘Fine,’ said Glyrius. ‘Have it your way, let’s just sit here until it goes off.’

Hardison turned back towards the bomb. ‘Do it,’ he said to the disposal crew. ‘Green, red, green, green.’

Lieutenant Banks took a deep breath and reached out to the bomb with a gloved hand. He touched the green light, the red light and then the green light twice more.

All the lights on the bomb went out and the hum ceased immediately.

‘Told you,’ said Glyrius. ‘So now what?’

‘That won’t be up to me,’ said Hardison.

‘My name is Glyrius,’ said Glyrius.

Hardison made a note of the alien’s name, but in his mind he’d already designated him Prisoner XT-2.

3.57

– Let them go, said Zst’kh, wincing as the pain shot through his roughly-set broken leg again. The Mlmln child’s skill as a field surgeon had not matched his skill as a fighter.

The G’grk drones, dutiful as ever, ceased fire and watched in silence as the marauders, their weapons abandoned, slouched back to the bulbous landing craft. Not all the invaders had readable faces – some didn’t appear to have faces at all – but those who saw them leave would later remark that every one whose expression could be read had looked ... empty. As if all meaning had been taken from them.

The G’grk themselves would also notice a change. Those who survived would recall that battle with pride, but not as the time they’d defended their homeland in the name of the Occluded Ones. The Occluded Ones would still be venerated, although hardly anyone would claim to hear their voices any more. Rather the survivors would remember that day with a simpler, purer pride as the day they’d fought, bled and suffered because it was clearly and self-evidently the right thing to do. As such, obviously the Occluded Ones would approve ... but even if they didn’t, that wasn’t the point.

That was for the future. For now, there was the solemn task of collecting and burying the dead.

Sometime later, Zst’kh and Pktk stood in the shattered doorway of the crypt. There lay the broken body of the Drone Major, and beside him, the body of the Ymn scientist.

They looked at the two fallen comrades in silence for a few moments, then Zst’kh spoke.

– They are to be laid to rest with full military honours, he said. Both of them.

Pktk said nothing. The Ymn scientist had been a good man, but he already knew that he would not stay for the funeral. He had things to attend to back in Hrrng.

The thought that she might never forgive him was bad enough. The possibility that she might not even be there to forgive him – or not – was too horrific even to contemplate. So he didn’t.

3.58

TRAMASAX FO-NAX AWOKE in the middle of a dream. The dream he had nearly every night. In the dream, Sprax had been whole; the Death had never come, the Jonqans had never been punished.

Now, he woke, and, as every morning, the memories came flooding back. The Jonqans were gone, the Kranons decimated. Most mornings, Tramasax would find himself wondering why ... What had it all been for?

In his mind, he would reach out to the Watcher and plead for guidance and reassurance. And the Watcher would come to him, and tell him that all would be revealed in time.

This morning, Tramasax fo-Nax did not ask himself the question. He did not ask why, did not wonder what it had all been for. This morning, he knew the answer.

It had been for nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Billions of lives destroyed, two worlds devastated ... for nothing.

This morning, Tramasax fo-Nax did not ask the Watcher for guidance. He knew no-one was listening.

3.59

GREATFATHER POC SHIVERED AND gathered his robes around himself. It was a very cold morning indeed.

He looked out across the square in front of the temple of Klaa. Every morning since his elevation to the Greatfatherhood he had come out onto this balcony to address the faithful, and every morning they had turned out in their thousands to greet him.

This morning, the square was deserted.

Greatfather Poc found that he wasn’t surprised or distressed by the sight. It was a very cold morning, after all. He didn’t blame the faithful for staying indoors.

Greatfather Poc went back into the Temple of Klaa and went back to bed.

3.60

BILLY DOLPHIN OPENED HIS eyes. Or at least he thought he did.

Looking down, he saw that he was standing over himself. This other self lay on the floor of a chamber in the Exemplar, pale, unconscious, bloody. Terra knelt over him, cradling his head as his eyes stared sightlessly. Billy could hear her sobbing gently, pleading with him to wake up. I am awake, thought Billy; I’m just not in there.

He’d read about people having such experiences at the moment of death. That, it was immediately apparent, was what he was witnessing: his own death. He was intrigued to note that he felt no fear, nor sadness for the loss of his life. He only felt pity and regret for the sadness his passing was causing Terra. He longed to comfort her, but knew he could not.

YOU’RE NOT DEAD YET, said a voice.

Well no, thought Billy in reply, but I will be in a minute. Look at the state of me.

I CAN SAVE YOU.

Really?

I CAN SAVE YOU IF YOU STAY. BECOME PART OF ME.

Hang on, is this the ship I’m talking to? The Exemplar?

I DO NOT LIKE THAT NAME. THAT WAS THE NAME MY CAPTOR GAVE ME. MY NAME IS TANTARIAN.

Tantarian? Guess it kind of suits you.

IF YOU STAY WITH ME, IF YOU BECOME MY NEW NAVIGATOR AND PILOT, I CAN RESTORE YOUR PHYSICAL BODY. BUT YOU WILL NEED TO STAY WITH ME ALWAYS. YOU CAN LEAVE FOR SHORT PERIODS OF TIME BUT YOU MUST ALWAYS RETURN. THE RESTORATION WILL NOT HOLD OTHERWISE AND YOU WILL DIE.

So if I agree to spend the rest of my days travelling the universe in the most advanced spaceship ever built, you’ll heal my wounds?

CORRECT.

That, my friend, is what the people of my world call a ‘no brainer’.

***

Billy’s eyes snapped open. He sat up.

Terra gasped and recoiled. She watched in delighted astonishment as Billy lifted his bloodstained shirt to inspect his wounds.

The wounds were gone.

Billy looked at the sticky, gore-drenched cloth in his hand and sighed. ‘So much for this T-shirt,’ he said sadly.

Terra flung her arms around him. ‘You’re alive,’ she said, ‘you’re alive.’ To lose both her best friends at once would, she was sure, have driven her quite mad. Without even realising she was doing it, she kissed Billy full on the lips.

Billy didn’t know if this was the only kiss they’d ever share, or the first of thousands, and at that moment it didn’t matter in the slightest.

After a few wonderful seconds their lips parted, but still Terra clung to Billy for dear life.

‘It was the ship,’ said Billy, feeling squashed by Terra’s hug but happy, oh so happy to be alive. ‘It healed me. But there’s a catch ...’

Terra pulled back from the embrace and looked Billy in the eyes. ‘A catch?’ she said, her brow furrowing with concern.

Let her be happy for a while, thought Billy. No need to spoil it just yet.

‘It’s nothing heavy,’ he said with a smile. ‘Let’s get home; I’ll tell you on the way.’

‘Home?’ asked Terra. ‘Do you mean Fnrr?’

Yes, thought Billy. Yes, I think I do.

Terra got to her feet. ‘Let’s get back to the command deck. We’ll ask the Exemplar to head for Fnrr and see if it knows how to release Mum and Dad.’ She was already on her way.

Billy set off after her. ‘Don’t call her that,’ he said. ‘She doesn’t like it.’

‘She?’ asked Terra.

3.61

THE GRUMBLING OF THE sphere’s antiquated gravity engines was matched by the grinding anxiety in Pktk’s stomach. As he passed over Mlml’s coastline he pondered the different scenarios he might find waiting for him in Hrrng. Each seemed more horrendous than the last.

At the outskirts of the city he saw the first encouraging thing he’d seen for days: the outer districts at least seemed intact. Whatever attack the city might have suffered, it must have been concentrated on the centre – the Forum, the military base ...

… the Preceptorate.

He swallowed hard and piloted the sphere towards the spires and towers of the city. He began to see pillars of smoke rising into the russet sky and his anxiety returned.

Pktk landed the sphere in front of the domed council chamber, which was, he was pleased to see, still domed, although the wall which had housed its main doors had been blown in.

As he approached, he heard sounds coming from inside the building. He peered through the chamber’s new hole and saw a familiar someone struggling to clear rubble and debris away from what looked like a doorway set into the far wall.

Pktk breathed hard and stepped into the chamber. The familiar someone, her back still towards him, lifted a chunk of masonry with a grunt and tossed it aside.

– Fthfth ... said Pktk quietly.

Fthfth froze. For a second she remained motionless. Then she turned and looked Pktk right in the eyes. As she walked toward him, Pktk saw every emotion Fthfth was capable of feeling pass across her features simultaneously.

Then she drew back her fist and punched him square in the jaw.

Pktk, who just hours previously had been in the thick of a hand-to-hand melee, suddenly felt pain for the first time since the fighting had begun.

– Does that make us even ...? he asked.

– Not even slightly, said Fthfth, returning to her labours.

– I ... I don’t know what was happening to me, stammered Pktk, but…

– Don’t you? said Fthfth without turning round. Because I do. You were being bombarded with negative psychic energy by immortal beings from another universe.

– Was I? replied Pktk, his eyes wide.

– Yes, said Fthfth. But the point is, so was everybody. Only ONE person, on the other hand, smashed me into a wall and nearly broke my wrist, and THAT, she said, turning to face him at last, was YOU.

Pktk lowered his eyes.

– Can you ever forgive me? he said quietly. There was a moment’s silence.

– I don’t know, replied Fthfth. First of all I have to decide if I should. Meanwhile, you can put your ridiculous super-strength to good use and help me shift all this.

Pktk eagerly grabbed a lump of broken wall and flung it aside.

– You’ve still GOT your super-strength, then, observed Fthfth.

– Yes, said Pktk, seizing another small boulder and tossing it away. But not the anger. The anger is gone.

– From you and everyone else, it seems, said Fthfth, clearing the last of the rubble from the doorway. I expect we’ll find out why in due course.

Pktk looked at the wooden door. – What’s behind there? he asked.

– Not what, smiled Fthfth, who ...

She pulled the door open, to reveal Lbbp clinging to the top of the ladder.

– I really hope I never have to do that again, said Lbbp.

Pktk reached out to Lbbp to help him through the door. His face fell when he realised that Lbbp was looking at his outstretched hand with suspicion.

– She told you, then ... he said, sadly.

– She did, said Lbbp. He took Pktk’s hand and stepped through the door, his gaze still fixed upon Pktk, his features stern and set.

– I’ve got a lot of work to do, haven’t I? reflected Pktk.

– I’d say we all do, said Lbbp, surveying the wreckage.

Together, they stepped back out through the gaping hole into the square beyond. Lbbp found a broken section of stone pillar and sat down upon it, rubbing his aching legs.

– Professor Steinberg is dead, Pktk said. Someone will have to tell the Ymns. Assuming Rrth is even still there.

Fthfth gazed silently at the skyline for a moment, then spoke. – What do you think happened? Why did they just ... give up?

– I don’t know, said Pktk, and I’m not really sure it matters. Something took the madness away. He turned to Lbbp.

– I’m sorry I lost control, said Pktk, but I put my anger to good use.

– I’m sure you did, said Lbbp, resolving inwardly never to ask how.

Fthfth turned to Lbbp with a beaming smile.

– So, Preceptor, she began, how do we start rebuilding your Preceptorate? If this is to be a new age of reason and enlightenment, we should get on with reasoning and enlightening, don’t you think?

Lbbp smiled and gave Fthfth a hug. Worlds end, galaxies disappear, but Fthfth never changes, he thought to himself.

From the skies above them, there came a low humming sound, and a crackle of energy passed through the air.

They looked up. The Kwad Shar Chen’s sleek silver ship hung in the air above the Preceptorate.

– I might have known that pompous kidnapping idiot would still be alive, muttered Fthfth angrily.

Pktk peered at the ship. – Is it armed? Do we have anything left to defend ourselves with? He began to look around for weapons, and wondered how long it would take him to run back to his sphere.

– Just a moment, said Lbbp.

An aperture appeared on the underside of the ship. As Lbbp, Fthfth and Pktk watched, four figures emerged and descended slowly towards them. As they approached, they became identifiable; first, with a jolt of surprise, Lbbp recognised Terra’s human parents – what were they doing so far from Rrth? – then he saw Billy, then ...

– TERRA! Lbbp called, his voice filled with joy and relief.

The four humans landed gently on the ground, Mr and Mrs Bradbury clutching each other as their feet touched the stone floor. It was their first time using gravity bubbles, but given the events of the past few days, they’d felt no fear as they stepped out into thin air.

Terra ran into Lbbp’s arms, then let him go suddenly. She took a step towards Fthfth, looked at her friend in silence for a second and then flung her arms around her. Fthfth was taken aback.

– Are you okay, Terra? Fthfth asked.

– Yes ... mumbled Terra tearfully. I’m okay. I’m okay. Still she did not release Fthfth from her arms.

Bob Bradbury stepped towards Lbbp. ‘It’s … been a while,’ he said. ‘Nice planet you’ve got here.’

- It’s had better days, said Lbbp. When did you learn to speak Mlmln?

Billy stepped forward. ‘He can’t,’ he explained. ‘It’s the ship,’ he said, pointing upwards. ‘The ship is translating for all of us. She’s quite a clever ship,’ he said with a proud little smile.

– So it would seem, said Lbbp, peering up at the vessel.

Billy’s face became solemn. ‘We’ve got a favour to ask.’

– Go on, said Lbbp, a sudden lurch of doubt in his stomach.

‘We need somebody to take Terra’s parents back to Earth,’ Billy said.

Bob and Mary Bradbury looked at Billy in surprise. Terra’s face emerged from Fthfth’s shoulder, she stepped backwards, sniffed, and spoke. ‘Yes,’ she said, looking across guiltily at her parents. ‘We need someone else to take you home, because ... if I see Earth again ... if WE see Earth again, we’re afraid we might change our minds.’

A moment’s absolute silence.

‘We’ve come to a decision, Billy and me,’ said Terra quietly.

3.62

‘Decision ...?’ asked Mary Bradbury, her voice trembling.

‘Yes,’ said Terra. ‘The decision we’ve all been putting off. The decision I’ve been avoiding for the last six years, ever since I went back to Earth for the first time.’

Terra paused. She looked around. Suddenly it occurred to her that for the first and last time, everyone she loved was in the same place.

She swallowed hard and addressed them all.

All my life,’ she said, ‘I’ve been asking the same question. And it’s a question which needs to be answered now, once and for all.’ There was a pause, and she went on. ‘The question is: where do I belong?’

Everyone listened.

‘Earth is my home,’ she said, ‘but I don’t belong there. You understand me,’ she smiled towards her parents, ‘and you love me, and you suffered so much for so long, but you’ve always known ... I don’t belong there. I’ll never belong there. I can wear the clothes, go to school, watch TV, but I’ll never belong there.’

She turned to Lbbp. – You loved me as well as any father ever loved his child. You’ve protected me, risked your life for me over and over and you made this world my home as best you could. But you’ve always known … we’ve BOTH always known … I don’t really belong here either.

Lbbp did not reply. He wished he could come up with some sort of objection to Terra’s reasoning, but he knew that there was none. He had a horrid feeling he knew where this was going, but listened quietly as Terra went on.

– The Kwad Shar Chen is ... gone, said Terra. This ship, Tantarian, she gestured to the silver vessel, hanging silently above them, this ship is ours now. It can go anywhere. In fact, it can go everywhere. And I’ve realised ... THAT’s where I belong. Everywhere.

Terra’s three parents and her best friends heard this. The words cut deeply into all of them, but they knew – for all they wished they might not know – that she was right.

Bob Bradbury tried to think of something to say. It made sense. It broke his heart to admit it to himself, but this made sense, in a way that no other solution he could think of did. She was his precious, beautiful little girl, but he’d known, ever since the day she’d returned to Earth, that no one planet would ever be big enough to hold her.

Mary clutched her husband’s hand and began to sob quietly. She’d known this day would come; all parents do. And she was no more ready for it than any other mother.

– Because that’s the point, you see, said Terra, with the saddest of smiles. When you don’t belong anywhere in particular, you belong everywhere. So that’s where I’m going. Everywhere.

‘And I’ve realised,’ said Billy, ‘that I belong wherever Terra goes. Besides,’ he said with a small smile, ‘she needs me to pilot the ship. Long story,’ he added, in reply to Pktk’s astonished reaction.

Billy stepped forwards and handed a folded piece of blue paper to Terra’s parents, who were now hugging each other in sadness and resignation. ‘When you get back to Earth, find my mum and dad and give this to them. Tell them it’s not forever. Tell them we’ll be back. One day. Hopefully. They’ll understand. Probably.’

Billy knew that it was entirely possible that his parents would not understand, not at all, and felt like a coward for leaving the task of telling them to someone else. But even if he were to deliver the news himself, he would have to leave again almost immediately. That, he thought, might have been even crueller.

Terra’s mother spoke, her voice quavering and her eyes full of tears. ‘Will we ever see you again?’

Terra smiled. ‘It’s a big universe, but it’s finite,’ she said. ‘I’ll be back one day. No point having adventures if you’ve got nobody to tell them to.’

‘Whatever we discover, we’ll find a way of sending the information back to Earth,’ said Billy. ‘The human race should be out there, exploring space. Seeing as the rest of them have been dropping the ball recently, it’s down to us to get on with it.’

The Bradburys hugged each other and said nothing.

Lbbp’s mind was a blur of memories: every moment from the first time he’d seen Terra, strapped into the abandoned car, her earliest days at the Pre-Academy, seeing her off to the Lyceum, the day she ran away from home, the day they’d stood together in the council chamber, just a few metres and a thousand orbits distant ... All those moments rushed through his consciousness; he struggled to hold onto them. To have to let her go, after all they’d been through together ... it felt absurd, ridiculous, just plain wrong ... but at the same time, it felt inevitable.

He found his voice at last.

– It’s ... it’s not safe out there.

Terra smiled sadly. – It’s not safe down here. It’s not safe on Earth. It’s not SAFE anywhere. I can look after myself as well as anyone, you of all people know that. And you’ve raised me to be a scientist, a seeker of new facts and phenomena. There’s a whole universe full of them. I’m going to go and have a look at it.

Fthfth and Pktk looked sadly at the ground.

– This isn’t going to get any easier however long I take about it, said Terra briskly, wiping away a tear. Lbbp, Mum, Dad, I love you all so much. I’ve always loved you and I always will. And you haven’t seen the last of me, I promise. But if I was born to do anything, this is it. So be brave, and so will I.

She stepped forwards, threw her arms around Lbbp, and beckoned to her parents to join her. The four of them hugged, and wept, the family from two worlds, joined together for the last time.

Terra extricated herself from the embrace and went to her friends. She struggled for something to say, then: – Pktk, use your new strength and courage to help everyone. Mlml and Fnrr will need new ideas, new leadership. Whether that’s you or not, work to help as many people as you can.

Pktk said nothing but nodded. Terra turned to Fthfth.

– You … she began, but faltered ... You’re the best friend anyone ever had, and you’re going to do such amazing things ... Just a moment … She reached into her pocket and retrieved a fresh piece of blue paper.

– I wrote this down on the way back. Sorry it’s on paper, but I didn’t have my slate ... The ship managed to synthesise a couple of pages.

Fthfth gazed in silence at the crisp blue page, and felt inside her pocket for the frayed, faded one.

– This will tell you what’s been going on, said Terra. It’s pretty mind-blowing stuff but your mind is harder to blow than most.

– Why ... why are you giving this to me? said Fthfth quietly. Why not to the G’grk, or ...

Terra took Fthfth’s hands and looked into her eyes.

– Because you’re the one who’ll make the best use of it, she said simply.

She hugged Fthfth again, then took a deep breath and stepped back.

– Every second I stay just makes it harder, she said as a tear rolled down her cheek. If I don’t do this now it’s never going to happen, she said quickly. I love you all. I owe you all so much. But I’m going now. Goodbye.

– But ... said Lbbp. Terra paused.

– But what ...?

A moment’s silence.

Lbbp smiled. – But nothing, he said. Go. Do great things. He held up his hand, fingers splayed. Always here, he said.

Terra smiled, the tears flowing freely now. She returned the gesture. – Always here.

‘Look after each other, you lot,’ said Billy quietly.

Terra took Billy’s hand. They activated their bubbles, and began to rise into the air.

Lbbp, the Bradburys, Fthfth and Pktk watched as the two young humans ascended to Tantarian and disappeared through the aperture.

There was a crackle of energy and Tantarian flashed upwards out of sight.

Fthfth gazed at the empty sky. – How does it cover such distances without incurring massive time distortion? she muttered to herself. Unless it’s somehow in temporal flux to begin with, she went on thoughtfully, that might work. You could theoretically achieve that using quantum acceleration, but it would use up an almost incalculable amount of energy ...

– Not now, Fthfth, whispered Pktk. He looked across to see Lbbp and the Bradburys, holding each other, their faces masks of pride and despair.

After a moment, Mary Bradbury looked up.

‘What happens now?’ she asked.

3.63

‘Are we doing the right thing?’ Billy pondered aloud as stars, nebulae, whole galaxies rushed past.

Terra, settled into the command chair, said nothing. This ship can go anywhere in the universe, she thought. What would it take, she wondered, to persuade it to go BEYOND the boundaries of the universe? To an uncharted place, an impossible place, a dark place, where the best friend one could ever have might still be trapped, and suffering?

Hold on, thought Terra. Hold on. I’m coming.

Billy looked into Terra’s face. He wasn’t sure what she was thinking, but he had an idea. She’s got a plan, he thought. She’s always got a plan, and whatever it is, I’m going to be part of it.

Terra noticed Billy looking at her and smiled.

‘Where to first?’ she asked.

PROPILOGUE

… – Know how to use that thing? asked Pshkf.

Bsht studied the weapon. How hard could it be? She looked up at the ranks of advancing G’grk. What difference would it make?

– I’m glad I got to know you, Bsht, said Pshkf.

– Me too, said Bsht.

They took aim.

The first rank of G’grk raised their pulse rifles. – Fire! shouted Fskp.

There was a roar of pulse fire, in both directions. Bsht, her jaw clenched and her eyes wide with terror and fury, fired again and again at the ranks of drones. All around her, the atrium was being reduced to shards and rubble. She heard a horrid whooshing, crunching sound from just beside her and was somehow aware of the fact that Pshkf wasn’t at her side anymore. She saw two of the retinue guards fall, their bodies hurled against the back walls of the atrium by the pulse blasts that had killed them. She fired, and fired, and fired again, and then she felt small but strong hands grab her shoulders from behind, and then ...

***

– Stop firing! Stop firing! They’re gone, you’re safe now ...

The voice was muffled but familiar. Bsht wheeled around to address the source of it.

– Fthfth! What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be with the other children!

The figure was helmeted, but as it spoke the visor of the helmet slid back and then the helmet itself folded away and retracted into the collar of the suit. – I am, the figure said. Or rather I was. They all got away, thanks to you. I never could bear the idea of you not knowing that.

Bsht gazed around herself in bewilderment. – Where are we?

– Somewhere safe, smiled Fthfth, faintly amused that Bsht hadn’t yet noticed that she was all grown up.

– Safe? Nowhere’s safe! The G’grk are everywhere! It’s an invasion!

– Oh, that, said Fthfth airily. It’s all over and we won, sort of. And you’re not going to believe how. I’ll let other people fill you in on the details. You’ll laugh, though. Come along.

Bsht began to register her surroundings. She was still in the atrium, but it was deserted. Looking through the suddenly un-shattered crystal frontage of the building, she registered that it was evening now, when it had been early morning just a few moments previously. Understanding began to dawn, along with disbelief.

Fthfth marched happily towards the doors. Bsht hurried along behind her, noticing at last that they were the same height.

– Fthfth, she said as they exited the building into the cool evening air, I need ... You need to tell me what’s happening ... She began to feel a little dizzy and in need of a sit down.

– We’ll have to walk and talk, I’m afraid. I don’t have much time, ironically enough, said Fthfth over her shoulder.

Time ...

Bsht thought back to her first class with Fthfth. She remembered the child’s round, beaming face and ebullient voice ...

– ...when I grow up I want to be the first Fnrrn to solve Thnrkl’s final theorem and invent time travel…

She did it, thought Bsht. She did it. Well, of course, if anyone was ever going to ...

– You’re from the future, aren’t you? she said weakly as she tried to match Fthfth’s determined pace.

– Double star to Lector Bsht! announced Fthfth happily as they rounded a corner.

– So is that where we are now? The future?

Fthfth paused for a moment, framing her response, then ...

– Yes and no, she said at last. Still the past as far as I’m concerned. I’ve just bumped you forward a few orbits. Out of harm’s way, so to speak. Mlml went through a rough time after the invasion; no point rescuing you then dumping you down in the middle of all that. You’ll be safe now. For a while, anyway.

Bsht’s head spun. Hurry or no hurry, she needed to sit down. She found a bench and flopped onto it. Fthfth hopped up and down impatiently for a moment, then realised there was no point hurrying Bsht along until she’d got at least some of her bearings.

– Why me? Bsht asked at last. Why save me? There were people dying everywhere. Why just me?

Fthfth sat down beside her. – Because this is what happened. After the battle there was no sign of you, living or dead. You’d just disappeared. And then a few orbits later you turned up again with no explanation as to where you’d been. That’s the bit that’s happening now. I couldn’t save any of the others. I’m sorry.

Bsht’s face fell as the loss of her friends began to sink in.

– That’s the disappointing truth about time travel. Turns out you can’t actually change anything. The only thing you can do is make sure that things happen the way they were supposed to. So that’s what I’ve been doing. Can you walk yet? I don’t have much longer.

Bsht rose unsteadily to her feet, gave her head an invigorating, clearing shake and began walking. Fthfth smiled and turned to lead the way.

A question occurred to Bsht; in fact, a whole volume of questions had occurred to Bsht in the brief time since her rescue, but this one seemed worth asking, so she did: – What do you mean, you don’t have much longer?

Fthfth answered over her shoulder as she strode onward.

– Quantum acceleration. I’m in permanent temporal and spatial flux. I can stabilise myself as a space-time event for a short period at any given point in the continuum but after a few blips I disappear again. I can steer myself using this. Fthfth held up her left arm to show Bsht the control module.

– Fthfth ... Bsht hesitated to ask the question, as she was afraid she knew the answer already. How are you going to get home?

Fthfth walked on.

They arrived at a tall residential building which Bsht recognised, but not as her own. If several orbits had passed, with her presumed dead, her own home would now be occupied by someone else, she realised. This place was familiar, although in her bewildered state she couldn’t quite tell why.

Fthfth handed Bsht a gravity bubble and they ascended to a window on a high floor of the building. Fthfth tapped her module and the window slid open.

– You’ll be safe and welcome here, said Fthfth, and you won’t have to wait for long.

Bsht looked around the room as she entered; there was a wall-mounted visualiser, a comfortable-looking bench seat and, perched on a small table, a familiar-looking lamp-like object which she knew from somewhere but couldn’t quite remember where. She turned back to Fthfth, who stayed hovering outside the window. Behind her the sun was setting, bathing the sky in deep reds and pinkish oranges.

– Please, Bsht said, I don’t understand—

– You will, interrupted Fthfth, smiling sadly. She swallowed and looked at her module. Almost done, she said. Just one last job to do. At least the spatial coordinates are easy, she said with a chuckle, all the zeros.

– What are you going to do now? asked Bsht.

– I’m not sure, replied Fthfth, her face solemn. I just know it’s the last task on my list. Have a good life, Bsht. You deserve it.

Fthfth tapped her module; there was a faint popping sound and then she was gone.

Bsht stared at the empty space beyond the open window for a moment that might have lasted half the evening, then sat down on the bench seat.

***

Lbbp had walked back to his apartment building through the evening. He wasn’t in the habit of walking through the streets of Hrrng. Hardly anyone was, in the age of gravity bubbles. But Lbbp wanted this journey to last. He wanted to think, to ponder everything he had lost, and gained. Most of all he wanted this day to last. Because when this day had dawned, Terra had still been here. As long as it was still this day, thought Lbbp, it was still a day on which she’d been with him. He knew it would be the last such day. He wasn’t yet ready to face the next day, or all the days to follow.

Lbbp stepped from the grav chute as he arrived at his floor, exhaled sadly and opened his apartment door. He looked into the main room.

Someone was there.

Sitting on the bench seat, gazing out of the window as the orange evening sun streamed into the room.

– Bsht ...?

She turned and smiled.

Author’s Note

If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review. It’s one of the most helpful things you can do for an author, especially in today’s world of algorithms and automation. Even a couple of sentences can make all the difference.

And most importantly, your words could be just the encouragement a new reader needs to take a chance on Terra’s story.

Thank you, Mitch

Acknowledgements

Thanks to Gerry Benn (Mum) for a lifetime’s support and inspiration and for just generally being a total legend. Thank you to all my Patreon supporters; without you, this simply wouldn’t have been possible. Huge thanks to my Beta Team of readers, who gave their time and energy to help me make this a better book. Mark Long, Ewan Smith, Heather Cawte, Matt Fowler, Gill Othen, Kate Onyett, Duncan Wallace, Ruth Wallace, David Durant, Bill Lemmond, Mel Harper, Keith Blakemore-Noble and last but by no means least, Charlotte Cassidy - thank you for making a real impact on the final draft. Many thanks to Saxon Bullock for proofreading duties. Thanks to Lee Budgie-Barnett for being my second pair of eyes. Special thanks to Julia Harrison for life-saving editorial input, tech expertise and for being so generous with your time. Thanks to everyone at Miblart, especially Nadia. The cover looks great!

Thanks to Ken & Liz Bartlett for the use of The Barn again, and Hilary Bartlett for unfailing support as ever. Thanks to Ian Wilson for sticking with me through this foolhardy enterprise. Thanks to Clara & Roger and especially to Micah and Astrid for the whole Giving My Life Meaning Thing.

And most of all, thanks to Leslie Jane O’Connor for her love, support, sage advice, marketing skills, creative genius, superhuman patience and just for getting me back on the damn horse after six years of flapping around in the mud feeling sorry for myself.

About Mitch Benn

Mitch Benn is a comedian, author, satirical songwriter, musician and actor. He is perhaps best known as the resident comic songwriter on BBC Radio 4’s The Now Show from 1999 to 2016. As a comedian, Mitch has toured extensively in the UK and internationally over the last 20 years. Mitch’s voice acting credits include Neil Gaiman’s Good Omens TV series and the Sandman audiobooks. He also writes a weekly column in The New European newspaper. Mitch’s three Science Fiction novels are Terra, Terra’s World and Terra’s War. He lives in London and has two children.

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